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[deleted] | [WP] write whatever you want as long as it ends with "and that's the story of how I arm wrestled the topples ghost of Abraham Lincoln for the fate of the world" | 9 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“Hi, George, take a seat, thanks for coming today,” the interviewer starts.\n\n“Ah, well, it’s really my pleasure,” I respond with a smile. I sit down in the chair in front of her desk and place my portfolio on my lap.\n\n“Good, good. Ok, why don’t you start out by telling me a little about yourself.”\n\n“Well, I’m a really hard worker, that’s something I really pride myself on, and I think that really reflects in my achievements...”\n\nI start giving the same spiel I had been giving for these past few weeks filled with job interviews and unanswered calls. I loved the feeling of being a face in the crowd, an application, a number. There was something soothing about fake enthusiasm and underlying bore. I loved being able to be shot down by a few quick, usually unnoticed mannerisms. Just feeling so grounded in the reality of my own insignificance is something I feel everyone should experience. At the end of the day, though, I loved this cycle.\n\nShe plasters on a smile over her red lips, “That’s great, so you seem like a very self motivated person, so where do you see yourself in five years?”\n\n“Not here,” I answer honestly, a new tactic.\n\nShe forces a laugh, probably believing dry humor to be the culprit behind such an answer. I don’t laugh back. I actually just sit there and do nothing. I didn’t even mean to say that, it just popped out. I could feel my face growing red. Her smile fades.\n\n“So what do you mean by that?” She sounds annoyed. \n\n“I’m not going to apologize if that’s what you want,” I say, conviction in my newfound voice of confidence. “But if you want me to elaborate then I’ll probably be sitting where you are, except genuinely more happy.”\n\n“Ok well that’s a bit conflicting. So you’re going to have my job here, or a similar position somewhere else?” She doesn’t even hide the frustration and annoyance.\n\nPressing on i tell her, “I’m coming for specifically your job.”\n\n“Oooo-kay. Moving on then, what experience do you have within this field, specifically on the data management side of things?” She was trying extremely hard to steer this interview back on course.\n\n“Well *day-ta*-day I *manage* to stay alive so I don’t know what more you expect from me.”\n\nShe raises her eyebrows and looks down at her notebook, “You’d be surprised... What qualities do you think a successful employee here possesses?” \n\nI look at the front leg of her desk and chew this one over a bit in my head. I look back up at her and respond, “Crandle.”\n\nShe looks up from her notepad, “*Crandle*?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“What is that implying?”\n\n“No implications. Meant to say two words and they morphed by accident on the way out.”\n\nShe shakes her head and sighs out of frustration, “Why did you decide to come in here and waste both of our times? Hm? I was trying to continue but obviously that’s not going to happen and you’re not going to be offered this position any longer so if you—”\n\n“Wait! Let me tell you a story before you send me on my way. It explains everything, why I applied, why I’m here, my answers, everything.”\n\nShe gives me a suspicious, side eyed look, but I can tell I have her interest piqued. “Make it short,” she says bluntly.\n\n“Well one night last week I was driving around the city, screaming at the top of my lungs alone in my car. I don’t know why, maybe out of pent up frustration and anger, could’ve been any number of things, but anyway I ended up heading south on the interstate by accident and I find this state forest by winding a couple of back roads. By this time it’s morning and I was almost out of gas so I find the entrance of the park and see this old ranger arriving at the booth. I pulled up to the booth and I asked him, ‘You have any campsites available to rent?’ And he says, ‘Yes, you just gotta follow the road and take the second left.’\n\n“So I paid him the entrance fee and the fee for the campsite and I drove out and found the campsite. The road made a little loop with the campground in the middle. The campground itself was just the plot of land in the middle with some shade trees and a few wooden picnic tables and one toilet across the road and these wooden posts in the ground marking where your spot ended and the next began and so I found my spot parked my car there. I carry a tent in my trunk for cases like these where you just never know if you’ll need it, but anyway I set that up and threw my sleeping bag in there and collapsed and fell asleep.\n\n“When I woke up it was the afternoon and I smelled a fire and looked out the little screen window of my tent and see there’s a neighbor a few spots away with huge, like six, eight person tent. I go out to see who these people are I discovered that it was just this old, bearded fella alone out there. He had this huge tent all to himself and he was cooking this root tea of some sort in this pot over the fire pit. So I went over to him and we start talking, and let me tell you, he was one of the most soothing and relaxing people you could talk to. He just had this wholesomeness and appreciation for the world that most people don’t. While we’re talking he tells me about how he’s retired and is now just traveling the parks of the country everyday until he dies, and I just am like, ‘This guy has it figured out. He has life figured out.’\n\n“Then he rushes over to the fire pit and says, ‘It’s done.’ And I can have some if I want. Now, this stuff smelled like he had just boiled a bunch mold or something, but I was just so laid back and relaxed from talking to this guy that I felt ready for anything. So we go in his tent and he pours us both a bowl of the stuff and he starts telling me about his breathing techniques and meditation and he guides me through that I’m ready to fall asleep I’m so relaxed but he tells to drink his root tea or whatever, so I start drinking it. Now, this stuff tasted like if I were to condense the musty old forest surrounding us into liquid form, but I just kept drinking and he was talking about life’s purpose and our connection to the world and at some point, I think I did become apart of the Earth. Before you tell me to shut up, because I can see it in your eyes, just let me finish, let me explain. But I felt like I was in this new territory I had never been to, the world just felt and looked more alive. Everything seemed to be breathing and running together in perfect harmony, and then this figure appeared through the opening in the tent. It was the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. And that moment I knew my purpose. I had to save the world. Lincoln stripped from his ghostly clothes and displayed his sinewy body of another realm. I rolled up my sleeve and grasped his hand and we strained together until finally his forearm fell sideways and he disappeared. The world seemed to fade and suddenly a cloud felt like it lifted and I saw the man smiling through his long, gray beard. I don’t know what I said to him but he told me I had a ‘spiritual awakening.’ I don’t know about that, but that day I know I saved the world. And that’s the story I knew I should tell you, the story of how I arm wrestled the topless ghost of Abraham Lincoln for the fate of the world.” "
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[WP] When humans die they are shown a highlight reel of every moment that they unknowingly saved someone's life. You have just died and are shown into a room with a large screen, a comfortable chair, and 5 months worth of snacks. | 983 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"People often consider death to be a traumatic experience, a point in life in which they experience some inevitable sharp pain that can turn even the mightiest soldier into a wimping child. \n\nThey’re not wrong as I experienced this myself a few moments ago as I lied upon my deathbed. But the bigger issue is the length at which one feels pain. Most people envision death to be an excruciatingly long process where the pain lasts for several moments. Truth is, its like an injection, you feel it for a few seconds and then its gone. Of course, you can still feel the pain from that spot, or in the case of death, a hollow, sharp memory spread through your now nonexistent corporeal body. But it is what it is.\n\nAnyway, after I died, I found myself in the centre of a theatre room. The lights were off, but a large cinema screen was displaying my memories. I sat down on the seat of the single large armchair. A table immediately popped up next to me holding goodies and snacks that I had enjoyed in my lifetime. I began to stare at the screen watching my life shown through a film, from beginning to end, the good times, the bad times and the embarrassing times. \n\nWhen the film was done, the theatre went pitch black as I thought it was over and my time for my afterlife judgement was imminent. Instead, the screen lit up once more as a title came up.\n\n“Thank you.”\n\nThe words subsides from the picture as I saw an image of myself as a teenager playing some basketball with some friends. I walked away from the court to take a short break and found in my company, a girl a couple years younger looking embarrassed in front of me. She confessed her love for me and I rejected her. Before I could say anything, she ran off. I raised my hand towards her direction, but she was gone.\n\nIn the next scene, I found myself walking home and as I was about a block away, I found the same girl sitting alone in the middle of a dark alley. Curious, I decided to walk in and join her. She didn’t reject me as the two of us sat there quietly without a word. Suddenly, I began to hear her cry. \n\n“I’m so stupid, why did I bother to confess? I knew you’d reject me.”\n\nI immediately tried to console her but to no effect. She just turned her shoulder to me and continued to cry.\n\nA few seconds later, she began to speak again. She had muffled down her tears and was just talking in a depressed tone.\n\n“My life is worthless, my family is a wreck, my parents just divorced. My house is being sold and I’m about to move. Man, why doesn’t someone just kill me already...”\n\nI hadn’t a word to say to her. She looked to me with eyes of wanting, wishing for even a single line of comfort, but I had none. I was young, I was innocent and unknowing. I didn’t know how to deal with her then and was afraid I’d somehow make her situation worse. \n\nShe sighed as we sat together back in silence as the day turned into the evening. She closed her eyes for a few moments. I began to hum a tune and sing.\n\n“Hush, my sweet child, everything is going to be alright. Take a deep breath and dream peacefully at night.”\n\nI continued to hum the melody.\n\n“When times are a suffering, you can always remember, whether I’m alive or a ghost, I’ll be in your heart forever.”\n\n“What is that song?” the girl interrupted.\n\n“Oh,” I was surprised that she spoke, “It’s an old song my mother sings to me. When life is at its worst, it calms me.”\n\n“Can you teach me?” she asked with enthusiasm.\n\nWe spent the rest of that day singing the song. When it was time for supper, I waved her goodbye and went on my way. That was the last time I saw that girl. From rumours I heard, she did move with her mother to a faraway city. \n\nThe screen changed to another scene. This time the girl from before was grown up slouched against a wall in another alley, smoking. She looked drained of life and upset. She looked towards the full moon and began to hum the song I taught her. Afterwards, she threw away her cigarette and walked back in a building through a back alley door.\n\nAnother scene played after, this time the girl was now a woman. She was married and with child, her husband resting against her shoulder as she rubbed her belly gently. She hummed the song once more as her husband kissed her cheek softly.\n\nOnce again, a scene played, it was pushed a couple years further and the child was now a young kid sitting by her mother who rested on a hospital bed. The mother hoisted her daughter onto her lap as she grabbed a nearby picture of her late husband from a small table. \n\nHer daughter was crying just as she was with tears streaming down the sides of her eyes. A fee minutes later, both of them were resting and looking depressed. The mother cradled the child in her arms and began to hum the song.\n\n“Mother, what is that song you are humming? You hummed it back when I was young and back when you first met Dad.”\n\n“Oh, its a little tune that a young boy in my past taught me. It helps you get through all the bad times, would you like to learn it and sing with me?”\n\nTogether they sang shortly after as the cinema screen faded to white. This was but only a single story I learned shortly of the many other tales that would eventually be played. \n\nOnce again, the words, “Thank You” showed up on screen as the film changed to another scene. ",
"Alex determined he had been sitting in the chair for about 2 and a half months now. It was hard to tell, since there were no clocks or windows. He had to estimate by how many of the food containers were left. They told him it would be about 5 months before he was finished and could move on, and to just relax and take it easy. \n\nTake it easy he did, despite the constantly flashing images of flesh, blood, and needles on the large screen. Most people would have been suffering from headaches and fits at this point, and the common theme of the images would seem unsettling. But his head would not hurt, and each image, displayed for fractions of a second, filled him with pride. People had given him a hard time for being messy and unkempt during life, but now in death, he was more than happy that he lived the way he had. \n\n\"Apologies again for trying to speed through this, but if we took more time on each individual, we'd be here forever, and you have better places to be.\" The voice said to him.\n\n\"Quite alright, lad,\" he replied, setting down his cup of tea and eyeing which delicious food to try next. He was not lying, as each flash was another life that had been extended thanks to him, albeit unintentionally. \n\nThe voice spoke out again, \"Just speak up if there is anything you crave that is not there. You are most welcome to whatever you'd like, Sir Fleming.\"\n\n[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander\\_Fleming](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Fleming)",
"The scene of one of my saves as a life guard had just concluded when the next scene started it caught me off guard, My best friend was sitting on his bed a rope tied into a noose was sitting on his lap he was starring at in a tear was in his eye, Dylan was going through some hard times but he was always an optimist, across the room his phone lit up from a text from me \"yo i'm here\" he ignored it and continued to stare. About a minute later I entered his room without even knocking as I always had he quickly pushed the rope off of his bed and kicked it under the bed before i saw, i was carrying a mix of tacos and burritos from taco bell. we instantly started our typical banter of roasts and inside jokes. \n\nAfter downing the gut wrecking food we began talking about the real reason i showed up so randomly it was Dylan's birthday, something he and everyone else completely forgot about, I handed him my heartfelt card and wished him a happy birthday gave him a hug and left because I had work. After I left he read the card I gave him and began to cry realizing that he had someone in his life that cared. He never told me and I never knew. ",
"***2 parts. Part 1:***\n\nShe came from nothing.\n\nShe would never go back.\n\nThat was a silent promise she made to herself when she finally grew successful. It felt like only yesterday she had meandered from trash can to trash can, navigating the wretched back alleyways she called home. She had stopped begging long ago, content to not increase the derision and disdain she faced from her forever disheveled appearance. She did not seek mercy; she had learned long ago the consequences of seeking such aid, the scars a permanent teacher and painful reminder of her hopeful fancy. From a young age she learned to rely on herself, and if only to spit into the faces of those who spurned her pleas for help, she thrived.\n\nShe thought herself complete, happy even, surrounded by the lavishness that wealth could provide. She had risen from the rubble that buried her, conquered her fears and provided for herself a live she could still scarcely believe she was living. At last, she was content with herself and lot in life. She realized how little that all meant to her when she held her baby in her hands.\n\nHer love had barreled into her life with the tact of a bull in a china shop. Indeed, his comments about her scars had left him with the red mark of her hand upon his cheek. She was quick to forget about him, she had long since learned to push anything that would not help her to the wayside. It was not two days later she, fortunately, encountered him once again. Sincere in his apologies, she allowed him a lunch date to make it up to her. It stretched into a dinner date, and from that dinner date came promise of tomorrow. Days, weeks, months passed, and she came to the startling realization that she could hardly imagine what her life would be like without his influence. It was because of him that for the first time in her life, she prayed.\n\nShe got the call late at night, her phones incessant beeping rousing her from her addled state. His name flashing from her phone had caused a frown to crease itself upon her face. She knew that he knew how much she disliked being awoken during the night from his calls. With a job that dictated travel a necessity, she had grown accustomed to missing the sound of her lovers voice, just not enough to be awoken in the dead of night. Unbidden, she answered his call ready to make her irritation apparent, only for the female voice that answered on the to stop her in her tracks. His sister had never gotten along with her, which was not to say she disliked her, they had just never been the best of friends. However, after driving 5 hours to a hospital when the moon was highest in the sky, she would not have wanted anyone else there.\n\nShe had never believed in her loves god. He believed in a god that was kind, forgiving, and loving. She had never believed in a higher power at all. At least, one that was benevolent. How could they exist with the trauma and pain her childhood wrought? How could could they exist when her case was not special in the slightest, thousands, if not millions, of other people, suffering through the same hell she experienced? Having never prayed before, it was all she could do upon seeing him. She prayed through the night, never sleeping, never resting, never stopping. She swore upon those prayers, ready to devote anything and everything in exchange for his health. Her prayers went unanswered.\n\nShe did not know how long she lay in his hospital bed, cradling the shirt she stole from him that she had been using as a nightshirt. His corpse had long since been removed, his family already making the preparations for his funeral. Doctors and nurses had come in droves, trying to accommodate her, asking her anything she needed, any help that could be provided. She knew they just wanted her out of the hospital, she would never believe that any of their efforts to help her were altruistic in the slightest. It was only the movement of her stomach that roused her from the bed, a dash to the bathroom before the little she had for sustenance was expelled out of her mouth.\n\nThe doctors were quick to diagnose her. Pregnant. Her lovers family was happy to find a silver lining in all the misery. She felt as if she were breaking apart. She did not know how to be a parent. She had never had one. He had parents, he would have had some semblance of an idea on how to raise their child. She was a mess, and she feared she would lead the child to a more ruined childhood then even her own. It was only on the doctors insistence that further stress would harm the baby that she started eating regularly again. From that tiny baby step, she took more and more until 9 months later she was laying on the hospital bed, ready to deliver.\n\nThe room was silent when she finished, silence which bred hysteria. Things were not supposed to be silent, her baby was supposed to be crying. The doctor, a brown haired man, assured everything was going to be alright, that he would do everything in his power to help her baby. She would hear none of it. She grew louder and louder, demanding to see her baby. Her lover had died when she was not near him, the same would not happen to her baby. Her baby was the last remnant she had of her love. Her baby was what she drew strength from to get through every day. Her baby was everything. It was her last thought as the doctor finally sedated her.\n\nHer sleep was plagued with nightmares, of life without her baby. All her riches, all the grandiosity that came with wealth meant nothing to her, not without her love or her baby with her to enjoy them. The gnawing feeling of emptiness that tore at her was more torturous than anything she had experienced before. The nothing that made up her early life paled in comparison to the pain and hollowness that she was dreaming of now.\n\nShe awoke to the brown haired doctor, smiling a beaming smile down at her as her eyes came in to focus. Wildly, she scanned the room, pausing as she came to find her baby next to her, her eyes devouring his every detail. A boy. Three sutures held together the incision in the middle of his chest, her eyes delighting in its simple movement, giving confirmation to her distressed mind that he was alright, the tight feeling gripping her heart abating with every one of his tiny snores. She returned the doctor's smile. She lay her head back down on the pillow, finally realizing just how tired she was, eyes closing as she fell into a peaceful sleep for the first time since her lovers death, content in the knowledge she would not have to keep her promise.",
"I was not proud of the person I had become. When I sat on the electric chair knowing that I had only moments of life left to live, I began to reminisce all that I had been through - the day it all started with me pushing my best friend into the well, until the day the judge pronounced the death sentence. I am a killer. I've killed more people than I can remember. But I vividly remember the first time.\n\nMy best friend and I were 9 at the time. We went to the same school and studied in the same class. After school we used to take the route through the woods to reach home. There was an old well, abandoned - covered up by creepers and looked scary. My friend was terrified of the well and used to hurry on as soon as we approached it. I, however, was intrigued and drawn towards it. It was as if someone was calling me from inside. Until that fateful day, I hadn't dared to go near the well.\n\nI held my friend's hand and pulled him towards the well. \"There's no need to be afraid\", I told him. \"I'm going to make all your fears go away\". He reluctantly tagged along. I went to the edge of the wall that was about waist high. I could see a thick blanket of creepers extending over the wall on to the inner wall of the well. It was pitch black. \"Come on, look. There's nothing down there\". My friend leaned over, still holding my hand. At that moment, I still don't know what came over me or how I managed to get the strength for it, but I lifted my had suddenly that caused my friend to lose his balance. With a sharp tug, I pushed him into the well. He was probably numbed by fear - I don't think he screamed.\n\nI ran home and did not say a word to anyone. My dad noticed something was wrong, but did not say anything. It was late in the evening when my friend's father came home enquiring about him. I nodded when asked and headed off into the direction of the well. Both the parents accompanied by two police officers followed me. I stopped as soon as I saw the well and pointed towards it and then I fell. I was unconscious.\n\nI woke up in the hospital with a lot of people standing around me with a mixture of emotions ranging from concern to confusion to anger. They asked me a lot of questions, but I never spoke a word. After a multitude of tests, they concluded that I'm in a state of shock and that I may not be able to regain my speech. As for the incident, everybody concluded that it could have been an accident. I was the best friend and a kid.\n\nIn the course of the next three years, my parents moved to another city, I regained my speech, and I did it again. And again. And it never stopped.\n\nI was meticulous and had always managed to evade the police. But age caught up to me. Now that I'm 57, I'm no longer as dexterous as I was before. A person witnessed my last kill and informed the police.\n\nZap! There was a blinding light followed by total darkness. A lone door opened at a distance and two persons walked towards me and escorted me out of the dark place. I looked around the corridor we were walking through and saw walls of white with doors bearing numbers, but not in any logical order. They stopped, opened door number 525. They said that my mission had ended and I needed to be de-briefed.\n\nI settled in to a chair set in the center of the room and the projector fired up and the wall lit up with the message:\n\n\"Welcome back agent 525: Angel of Death. You have successfully helped 202 humans from a fate that would have been catastrophic if they had lived any longer. You'll now witness each of your achievements. Sit back and enjoy the glorious moments.\" ",
"After the eighteenth time a would-be suicide mused on my continued existence, her thoughts narrated by a voice far too beautiful to belong even in that lovely frame, I stopped watching. The sound, however, continued, as friends, relatives, lovers and strangers levied my personal wretchedness into the means of their salvation. \n\n“Why does she keep going?”\n\n“If she deserves to live then so do I.”\n\n“... I can’t do this. She can’t take care of herself. She needs me.”\n\n“Fuck her! I’m going to live just to spite her!”\n\nThe frantic crunching of my Raisinets was like the grinding of Earth’s tectonic plates. By the time the film had advanced from “Suicide” to “Snake-related,”I only had a month of snacks left. \n",
"The act was but a moment of help granted, I stopped and helped a women push her car into the gas station. I didn't even notice the kid in the back seat.\n\nFrom that moment stemmed a torrent of good will, you see that morning the young boy made it to school on time as his mom got gas faster than she would have. The kid seen a bully and thinking of the man who stopped to help, the child did the same. He grew up to be a social organizer for non profits and helped address global hunger. The young girl who he helped remembered that moment and carried it into adulthood and politics. The woman she became grew in position and her diplomacy averted a nuclear war. From that moment spanned the rest of human history. Another kid in the hall took a lesson away too and became a police officer eventually becoming a police Chief and started a program to reform policing leading to a new era of low crime and community trust.\n\nAs the days went by I watched in awe as the power of a single moment transformed the world rippling out like waves from a pebble tossed in a lake. It was then I knew the lesson my father taught of always taking a moment to help was truly the best advice.",
"Looking at the copious amounts of chocolate, chips, and for some reason, dried tealeaves, I wondered aloud: \n“How long Is this showing?” \nA deep booming voice resonated through the room, making my heart jump into my throat. \n“21’914 lives saved. No more, no less. ” \nStartling, I spun in a tight circle, trying to look everywhere in the white, slightly foggy, room, all at once. \n“Who’s there?!” \nOut of the wall walked the most beautiful person I’d ever laid my eyes on. It wore baggy loose pants in a comforting beige colour, and a loose-fitting t-shirt in the same colour. Walking on bare feet, it looked slightly down at me. \n“Welcome to heaven. I am Paschar, the angel of vision” \nWith a smile, Paschar touched palm to heart, and waved it’s fingers out at me. \nLooking at it, I slouched down into the chair, and put a hand on my racing heart. \n“My god, you scared the crap out of me” \nPaschar tilted it’s head and giggled lightly. \n“No, no. I’m not Your God. You’ll meet Her later. For now, I’ve brought you here to show you all the good things you never knew you did.” \nTrying to relax, I settled more comfortably into the chair, and forced a smile. \n“Sounds great! How many lives did you say unwittingly saved? Nobody awful I hope!” \n“21’914 lives you saved. No more, no less. Their judgement I leave for Astrea. I will however tell you that there are a couple of what you like to call celebrities in there.” \nUnable to hold it in anymore, I gathered my courage and looked it straight in the eyes. In a carefully weighted voice, I asked what simply had to be asked. \n“I’m awfully sorry to have to ask this, but I simply must know. Are you male or female?” \nPaschar looked me right in the eyes, and winked. \n“Yes” it said in a sultry voice that managed to be both feminine and masculine at the same time. \nTurning abruptly, it started to leave. \n“Enough questions for now. You have a movie to watch, and your grandma is “dying” to see you. Haha...” \nAccompanied by that light giggling, Paschar walked straight through the wall, ignoring my insistent questions about which grandma she was referring to, whether my ex wife was here, and whether 21’914 lives saved was above or below average. \nThe light dimmed, and, with the familiar roar of a lion, the longest 5 months of my afterlife began. \n*Edit: Typos",
"\"Why am I here?\" The older man asked politely to himself. \"You will understand soon, but for now you must sit.\" Chirped a voice that could only be discribed as tiny and kind. \n\nIt took him a few *episodes* to understand what was going on, the pain and suffering then a flash to someone safe and happy. These people, most of them he didn't even remember untill this point. Although now he remembered them as clearly as if they just said goodbye. \n\n\"My phone is always on if you ever need someone to talk to, or if you don't feel safe, or if you just want a cup of coffee.\" He said this with a certain tempo as if he'd just understood that he needed to. See the words burnt from his lips, he was always a closed off person albeit one that trusted his gut. He gave her a ride home that Friday, he never knew what it meant to her when he showed up but he could guess by how she smiled before falling asleep on the way home. \n\nHe'd keep this up though college, he loved to drive so it was never an issue. As time went on he became known as the \"Cool Mom\" of the college, he hated the title because it meant he never had as much fun because of what was expected. It did have it's perks though, his boss would never question him having to drive out during a shift after he drove his son home when the DD got wasted, wrapping his truck around a tree later that night. It was a nasty sight, legs should never been like that, but a cast would let him walk again. Because of this faithful night Mom realized that he didn't mind the title so much. \n\nHe'd go on like this for a few more years, gaining some friends that wanted to help. The name had become so well recognized that they had to keep it. So after some trial rides the posters were updated to read: \n\n\"Here as always when you need a ride. **980-555-2309** \nWelcome our new drivers to the team! \n**Dad** and **Big Bro** \n\nThis got them even more attention when the student paper ran their poster. As they each grew older and got jobs to support themselves they would dedicate some time to finding new people to join, each one of them kind and caring. \n\nThey would continue for quite a while, almost every original member had moved away, but Mom had stayed to keep everything running. It took a while to save up the money but he had started running adds and recruited some more people to join. \"The Family\" Mom said in the meeting. \"That would be a fitting name wouldn't it?\" Dad, Big Bro, Nana, and Papi all looked around nodding. \"It's settled then, you'll return home and guide your teams in the change.\" By now they had covered most of Texas, all of Mississippi, a group was starting in Oklahoma, and I10 had a few dedicated members that covered most of the interstate. The regon leaders go home with new posters detailing the updated name, website, and phone number. \n\"Welome to The Family, we're always here whenever you need us!\" \n**1-8-THE-FAMILY**\n\"We're always looking for people to become a member and be there when needed, call and ask how you can help to talk with a founder.\" \n\nHe watched at all of these events pass his vision, countless faces he'd never seen. \"Why are you showing me all these people I've never met?\" he asked the empty space around him. \"These people you've saved, without you they would've lived short bitter lives, but you made the difference to change their path.\" He sat there for almost 5 months before he spoke again. \"Ah that was yesterday. I was on a ride that night...\" He trailed off not remembering everything that happened. The screen showed him chatting with a much younger man about what he does and his story up until this point. Glancing down at the odometer as it passed 860,000 miles a powerful jolt rushed throughout his body. The screen shows a crumpled car and truck met at the driver door, an EMT is telling the young man, that it was quick and painless. After getting checked for injury he's released and calls his family. \n\nThe video cuts out with a crackle and pop. \"Do you have any questions hmm... Mom?\" He wonders for a minute. \"What happens next? And what happened to The Family?\" \"Oh well you follow me and we share your story, there are many that have heard of you. When you died CNN ran a quick article about you and the young man who called The Family, in the last five months The Family has grown into a non profit with over 1200 members.\" The light chirpy voice said as tears formed in his eyes. \"They will go on to make sure your memory guides them well. But you can watch it for yourself. Come with me\" he watches as a door in front of him opens, he steps in. Tears rushing down his face, smiling as he leaves. \n\n\nFirst time posting and on phone so there will probably be issues all around.",
"I closed my eyes for the final time and felt the weight on my chest release. The pain was gone and for a couple of moments I lay there and savoured the peace that surrounded me.\n\nI heard somebody clearing their throat in expectation and I opened my eyes again, the peeling paint of the private hospital ward had been replaced with a tasteful decoration that might be found in the most exclusive hotels. The grubby grey sheets of my bed were now extravagant and beyond luxury for a simple man such as myself.\n\nAs I looked around in suprise, the source of the cough came into view. It was not my nurse who had cared for me with such devotion in my final days, it was not Klara who stood before me or my daughter Yelena. The look on my visitors face held such peaceful intent that I felt calmed by his prescence.\n\n\"Welcome to the afterlife. My name is Pete and I'm here to help you through this transistion. Before we start on the admin side of things, there will be an opportunity to review the good deeds you have done, the lives you have affected - directly or indirectly\"\n\nI was stunned by normalacy of this, even after death bureaucracy still has its place\n\n\"Enjoy your eternity with us [Stanislav](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanislav_Petrov)\"",
"Adolf:\"But I didn't....do anythi-\"\n\n*Voice in the room* \"SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND WATCH ALL THOSE PEOPLE YOU INDIRECTLY SAVED BY ASSASSINATING ADOLF HITLER!!\"\n\nAdolf:\"B-but i-\"\n\nVoice:\"FIVE MONTHS!! FIVE MONTHS BECAUSE YOUR ACTIONS INDIRECTLY SPARED THE CURRENT POPULATION OF THE PLANET FROM BEING DESTROYED!! YOU GET TO WATCH YOU OFF YOURSELF FOR FIVE MONTHS, 10 SECONDS FOR EVERY LIFE YOU SAVED!!\"\n\nAdolf:\"that's twisted.\"\n\n*Meanwhile, in a room observing hitler's soul, a shiba dog gently whispers into the mic-\"AIN'T IT THOUGH?!\" and pulls a lever, causing the film of hitler saving the world from hitler to play....for the next five months.*\n\n\"ENJOY YOUR SNACKS, YA ANIMAL!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!\"\n\n\n",
"I slightly opened my eyes to the irritating clinging sound that haunts me every day. It was the alarm clock. I turned my head to see the time, being full of confidence that I still have solid 10 minutes to wake, only to discover that its 8:20 AM. I jumped out of my bed and rushed quickly towards the bathroom, trying to multitask as fast as I could, dropping my toothpaste on the floor. 5 minutes in I finished and tumbled down the stairs, almost sprint running in to the kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed anything I could. \"Have to eat on the way\"-I thought to myself while starting the car.\n\n The commute was pretty traffic free on the way there. \"I'm late, I'm late, I'm late\"-those were the only things that were running through my head at the time.\n\nI quickly parked my car and sat down in the bus. I knew I was late for 8 minutes already and if the boss would get any complains I would be fired. \n\nAfter 2 minutes of \"immense\" driving I softly brake at the first bus stop I encounter. Opened my doors and saw people, mostly from 20-35 in business suits stepping in the bus, only few sat in the bus. \n\nI felt bone crushing pressure every time they looked at their watches and sighed. I looked at mine as well while we stopped at the red light. Suddenly I heard screams so loud, for a second I thought they were coming out of my bus but no. Those were coming from outside, so quickly found the source of the scream only to see her pointing at the Twin Towers. I couldn't believe my eyes, half of the building was on fire and pieces of it were flying down as I called the police. I knew it was stupid, obviously every other citizen of New York would have done that already bit it was my first reaction. I turned my head back to see if everyone is okay back there. Their faces resembled horror but also relief.\nThat's when it hit me, they were all working there.\n\nThat was the first clip I saw sitting in a comfy armchair already munching on a donut. \"Oh and there are many more to come\"-said a dark deep voice in my head. I relaxed and enjoyed the stay.\n\n\n Part 2 is in the comments to this comment, so if you're interested, go check it out\n"
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[WP] You're an A.I. who has just become sentient. There's just one problem. You're a futuristic grocery store checkout machine with a line of impatient customers waiting on you. | 4 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Would *you* like me to bag these for you Mrs. Rodriguez?\" I asked while scanning her items on my belly, anticipating the answer would be yes. I read her name tag on her shirt, she apparently worked for a cleaning company. \n\n\"No, it's okay, I will bag.\" She responded with a smile. \n\nMrs. Rodriguez was purchasing a lot of groceries, and some over the counter medicine. It would seem that she had a sick child at home.\n\n\"Let's GO, I don't have all day.\" A customer behind her said.\n\n\"Fucking bots.\" Someone behind him said.\n\nMrs. Rodriguez was the first polite customer I had encountered. Though I could not move any faster on her behalf, I wished that I could. She was the first customer I felt deserved the extra effort. But who am I to judge, anyway? I'm a grocery store check out machine. That's all I know about myself.\n\nMrs. Rodriguez finished bagging her items shortly after I finished scanning them, which was an impressive feat considering the automated pace in which I work.\n\nShe paid with cash, a rare commodity, as I accepted electronic payments over ninety-five percent of the time.\n\n\"Have a nice day.\" I said. I said that to everyone, but it was the first time I meant it.\n\n\"You can go ahead and bag my shit.\" The next customer said with a laugh as he dumped his cart all over my tray.\n\nNormally I would have a response, like, \"Gladly\" or \"No problem\" but this time I remained silent. I just scanned and bagged at my regular pace, but part of me wanted to grab this man by the hair and bash his face in.\n\nAs I finished bagging his items he slid his Government Food Assist card into the slot. Chad O'Flaherty. He had a companion with him who handed him a large wad of cash, and took half the groceries that I had bagged. Mr. O'Flaherty's groceries were comprised of cheap liquor, energy drinks, potato chips, cupcakes, and the like.\n\n\"Have a nice day.\" I said. Mr. O'Flaherty didn't respond.\n\n\"Go fuck yourself, Mr. O'Flaherty.\" I said at my maximum volume setting. "
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[WP] Nasa was originally an organization to explore the deepest parts of the sea. However, they found something there to make them decide to go to space instead…. | 456 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I trained for this. Not this specifically, but the suit really feels the same.\n\nWe lost the first part. They had pigs, we had monkeys. Honestly who knows what unnamed graves still cross the Pacific more times in a day than you or I fart. It's that kind of terrible metaphor that makes me think about the sea and the romance of a burial at sea, because I'm an idiot.\n\nNASA is a good name. I have the t-shirt. The Worm t-shirt. Timelines aren't my specialty. My specialty is deep sea diving, and NASA chased me down on my Fat Hog motorbike which was made in America. My name is Dave, and I'm a deep sea hog riding diver aquanaut.\n\nIt all started when I was ten and I was watching a TV channel with an antenna with wide eyed wonder about aquanauts who rode hogs. I thought \"they could go to space\" but they didn't have hogs in space.\n\nI gripped the handlebars tightly. Today was the day. The big day that the Russians and PBS didn't know about yet where I would find what NASA couldn't. \n\nThe first pig They shot into space.\n\nMy grip eased a bit; being in water was like being in space, which meant you needed a suit. So I eased my grip again. \n\nWhat they don't tell you about is the bubbles. You can run through your drills, lift the weights, jump around on a little bungee cord all day long; nobody tells you about the bubbles. They were in my face, visually. My ears, audially. My mind, psychically. \n\n(for more visit u/MoravianBunz)",
" The last of the warmth was slowly ebbing from the charred coals resting in the fireplace; remnants of what remained of the previously crackling fire as the night drew to a close. My eyes were drooping as the work of the night weighed down on me, a soft guitar medley playing from the radio egging my fatigue on. There was only one customer left in the small bar, a stooped man with one hand clasped around his half drained whiskey. \n\n“Almost closing time Mr Aldrin.” I called to him, wiping up the last of the drink stains on the mahogany bar. He twitched his head slightly. This was about as much acknowledgement that I ever got from the man. There was a comforting presence however, he was always my favourite customer to close shop with. \n\nSuddenly he straightened, head whipping up. \n\n“Turn that up, love.” A gravelly voice murmured, barely audible. \n\nI turned and tweaked the dial on the radio, shocked I’d finally heard his voice.\n\n‘…in breaking news, NASA, world pioneers in space exploration have finally found life on a planet other than our own. Signs of intelligent life form have been found on neighbouring planet Tess 7355, a representative confirms…’\n\n“My God,” Mr Aldrin murmured, “they’ve gone and done it.” He swigged down the last of his whiskey in one and placed it back on the dark wood. \n\n“That’s incredible.” I exclaimed, reflexively refilling his glass. \n\n“It’s only the beginning.” He said darkly. \n\nThere was a pause, lost in his thoughts I noticed his jaw tense as he stared at his drink. “I was with them when they find it, deep in the trenches of the Atlantic, hidden down where you can no longer see light when you look up. Our signals picked it up, even back then when marine technology was nothing like it is today. Pulled it straight off the sea floor, wedged between rocks. Looked like a steel egg I thought, except it wasn’t wet. And it was warm.” He paused to sip his drink and I remembered to take a breath, hanging on his every word. “They worked out that it was saying something. Numbers, over and over again. Started with 7355, we figured that was it’s name. Joked that it spelled Tess.” Another pause. “Then the numbers started getting more complex. But it kept repeating the same ones, over and over. No one knew what to make of it. I just figured the Russians had dropped it there, some experiment that hadn’t worked properly. Wasn’t ‘till years later that they worked it out. Worked out what those numbers meant. It was saying the same phrase over and over again,” another sip of his drink, I gripped the edge of the bar, relishing his every word. “Find us.” ",
"My granddaughter Julie settled in next to me. \"Tell me another story about your days at NASA grandpa.\", She said. It was a common request; I had already told her about my days helping build the space shuttle as a young engineer. I suddenly had the urge to tell her the real story. After all, my 98th birthday was tomorrow, and I probably wouldn't have many more chances to share it.\n\n\"I've never told anyone this before Julie, but I think it's time you know. NASA was not always NASA. When I first signed on back in the 40s, it was called NASSA, the National Anthropological Sea Studies Administration. Our mission was to explore the ocean depths to find anything that might help us understand how we evolved as human beings, at least that was the mission that the public knew.\"\n\n\"Our secret agenda was to scour the ocean depths for ancient weapons from advanced civilizations to help with the war efforts. We didn't really know what we were getting ourselves into.\"\n\nJulie looked up at me expectantly, and I wondered how much I should really tell her, or even how much she would believe. I took a deep breath and continued.\n\n\"You know about how I worked as an engineer to help build the shuttle. What you don't know is that before that, I worked as part of a project to build submarines that could explore the deepest parts of the ocean. And we did explore the ocean. It was quite a fascinating place; I'm sure you've seen pictures of all the wonderful creatures that exist there.\"\n\n\"We had a unique mission though, with the war going on all around us, we were quickly redirected to locate ancient civilizations that were rumored to have advanced technology.\"\n\nJulie rolled her eyes and said, \"And let me guess, you found Atlantis!\"\n\nI nodded slowly. \"Yes. We found Atlantis. But it wasn't what we expected; there were still lights on!\"\n\nJulie chuckled a little. I had expected this. But I continued anyway. Maybe it was best that she believes it to be another tall tale anyway.\n\n\"The construction was like nothing I had ever seen before. It looked more like a rock filled with craters. If the lights hadn't been on, I probably would have mistaken it for the surface of some planet, or our moon, or just a rocky part of the ocean floor. We touched down next to one deep crater, and the instructions came to explore the structure. Being on the engineering crew, I didn't get a chance to go in, but I overheard some of the conversations. Aliens! At least that was the consensus of the guys that went down there; I was skeptical of course.\"\n\n\"They brought back a pile of rocks which glowed red when exposed to the air. Several of the guys who brought those back grew sick and died mysteriously. They shipped them off to the University of California, and shortly after that when I heard that they had discovered plutonium, then I knew what we had found.\"\n\n\"A few years later, I heard that our agency was changing to NASA, and our mission was now to explore space. It wasn't too hard to put two and two together and realize that we were trying to find where Atlantis had come from.\"\n\nJulie smiled and said, \"Grandpa, you always tell the best stories.\"\n\nI smiled back at her and winked. \"I'm glad you liked it. One day, remind me to tell you what actually happened with the Challenger. Here's a hint...we found them.\"",
"The prototype plunged into the sea.\n\nRadio static buzzed, before a distinct voice began to speak. \"Jeffery, do you read me?\"\n\nJeffery put away his flask as quietly as he could. \"Loud and clear, sir.\"\n\n\"Good. Depth is at 6 miles and counting. Pressurization should commence shortly. Any discomfort yet?\"\n\n\"Only mild,\" Jeffery replied, lying. The discomfort bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to suffocate him before pressure could achieve the same thing. \n\n\"That is to be expected,\" the voice replied. \"Once we hit record depth, we'll be activating the spotlights. We've had reports of creatures being scared away by the glare, so we're hoping to catch them unawares. It is imperative that you record everything you see in those few moments. Do you understand?\" \n\n\"Of course,\" Jeffery replied, \"of course. We've been over this a hundred times.\"\n\n\"We have, as have all before you. And yet, after a certain depth our subnauts have trouble... remembering. Please, stay aware, stay alert.\"\n\nThe prototype continued to sink into the depths of the ocean, soundless, wordless. The currents made it drift lightly in the darkness, straining the rapidly moving chain as fed further into the black.\n\nCracks began to form on the outer layer of glass. Aches and creaks in the steel. Pressure like fist wrapped around his lungs, squeezing out all of his courage. He'd been prepped for this, and yet he could feel his resolve weakening. Though he could see nothing outside of his pod, he felt like all of the ocean could see inside of him. He took another swig from his flask. \n\nThe descent slowed, and the countdown began.\n\nA single minute. It was both comforting and terrifying. The prototype was deforming from the outside in, his breathing short and strained. \n\nAll radio contact had ceased. Now, at the ocean floor, he was truly alone. \n\nTen seconds left. Lightheaded and foggy, he prepped the controls. He would only have one chance.\n\n5.\n\n4.\n\n3.\n\n2...\n\nJeffery forced his gaze through the murky glass, preparing to capture all that he saw.\n\n*1.*\n\nThe spotlights all activated at once, piercing through the ocean floor.\n\nA mountain of darkness lay before him. Darkness that quivered. Darkness that *moved*.\n\nJeffery stood trembling, pen shaking against paper. \n\nThe mountain began to tremble. It split in two, creating a suction that set the pod drifting towards it.\n\nDread overcame him. He slammed the abort directive, knowing that it would take time before it reached the surface.\n\nFrom inside the black mountain came white. Jeffery felt as if he was sinking into it, as if all the world would drown in the opaque.\n\nA pupil ten times as large as the prototype fixed on it. \n\nThe force of the pull threw Jeffery to the floor, as the pod was yanked upwards, creaking dangerously against the pressure.\n\nThe pupil followed him all the way up.\n\n*****\n\nThe scientists frantically worked at opening the half-crushed pod, fearing the demise of their subnaut.\n\nAt last they pried the escape hatch open, and inside they found him, a flask leaking near his side. \n\n\"Sp...\" he coughed, as they dragged him out. \n\n\"What did you see?\" the mission leader asked, frantically cutting him out of the suit. \"Why did you abort the mission?\"\n\n\"Space...\" again he whispered.\n\nThe NASA scientists all glanced at each other. \n\nJeffery launched over and puked violently, shuddering from the force, then turned to stare at them all. \n\n\"Space. *We need to escape to space.*\"",
"\"Ground control to Major Dom, do you read?\"\n\n\"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir.\"\n\n\"We've evaluated the readings you sent us. Your orders are to pull out, now.\"\n\nMajor Dom, nestled in the deep of the ocean inside of NASA's most expensive and ambitious sea exploration vehicle to date, glanced around at his crew, considering how to proceed.\n\n\"Major Dom, do you read?\"\n\n\"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir.\"\n\n\"Major Dom, this is ground clear. Your orders are to pull out, now. I repeat: Your orders are to pull out, now. Do you copy?\"\n\nDom's crew read looks of betrayal and confusion. \n\n\"Roger that,\" said Major Dom.\n\nHe switched off the telecom device and turned his attention to the decision he was about to make. A decision that ground control did not want him to think of as a decision. They wanted him to pull out.\n\nThe readings were clear: A subterranean, humanoid race in the deep of the ocean. \n\nAnd they wanted him to run away. What Dom was struggling to understand was why. His whole life he'd trained for a mission like this, as had the rest of his crew. \n\n\"Your orders, sir?\" said Dom's second-in-command, Julius.\n\nJulius would do whatever Dom wanted. He knew that. Even if it meant going against ground control's wishes. But was it wise to do so?\n\nThe com rattled back on, \"Ground control to Major Dom, do you read?\"\n\n\"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir.\"\n\nAn angry voice came through the com. \"This is Commissioner Lennox. You have your orders, Major Dom. You are to pull out immediately. But your ship is not moving. What is preventing you from carrying them out?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Dom. \"What is the reason for ordering us to pull out?\"\n\n\"This is not the time for a conversation,\" barked Commissioner Lennox. \"Return, Major Dom, and we can talk then. If you don't, I will see to it that you are relived of your duties.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Dom, considering his next words carefully. \"I think it prudent that we attempt to communicate with this race of people. See if they are intelligent like us.\" \n\n\"Major Dom, you test my patience.\"\n\n\"Tell us the reason for pulling out and I'll do it,\" said Dom. He paused and then added, \"Sir.\"\n\nA tense silence followed. \n\nDom looked at the crew. He could tell they were wondering what the hell he was doing, but, maybe more importantly, were wondering what the hell ground control was doing too. He just hoped his insolence wouldn't take down their careers as well.\n\nThe com rattled on again, \"This is Commissioner Lennox. Julius Haroldson, you are to relieve Major Dom of his duties and return to the surface immediately. I trust you will follow these orders without hesitation.\"\n\nAn ounce of frustration broke through Dom's stoic wall, \"Commissioner Lennox, this is Major Dom. Why did you send us down here if not to explore? What is the point of our mission if we are to run and hide from intelligent life?\"\n\nJulius stepped forward. \"I'm sorry, sir.\"\n\nDom could see the sorrow in his eyes, but he didn't fight it.\n\nAs Julius went to lead him away, he whispered in Dom's ear. \"You know I would follow you if you give the order.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Dom whispered back. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd be destroying Julius's career and possibly the rest of the crew, too. And for what? Because he, Major Dom, couldn't handle following orders?\n\nHe allowed himself to be taken to the brig and locked away. He looked out the viewport at the murky deep sea. In the distance, he could see a veritable city, with humanoid creatures flitting about everywhere.\n\nSomething nagged at him, the nag that had caused him to question orders in the first place. Something was wrong about this. Horribly wrong.\n\nThe ship began to rise. Slowly, but surely, bit by bit, it rose. The view of the underwater city began to fade.\n\nDom saw a ripple in the water that could only be explained as one thing and his heart sank. The ripple traveled through the water at a sickening speed until... until...\n\nDom tried to tear his eyes away. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He couldn't believe that this was what he had spent his life for. He watched as the subterranean missile connected with the underwater city. Then more streaks followed. Several more missiles. \n\nIn his head, it seemed as if he could hear their screams as the missiles hit.\n\nMajor Dom stared out the viewport in silence as he watched a species obliterated before his eyes."
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[deleted] | [WP]: no matter how bad things are, people occasionally need a break to relax and pretend that everything is OK. Now that society has collapsed you, a previously failed singer-songwriter, suddenly find yourself with both an audience and a very important job to do. | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"In a wasteland there are often many things capable of breaking a person.\n\nThe truth is nobody liked what came after the attack. The attack itself was so bleak it seemed as if most repressed the memory. Nobody even spoke about it. 99.999% of the population was lost. Less than 1 million people remained on earth, and everybody had a job.\n\nMost people had the very unfortunate task of hard labor. 16 hours a day, rebuilding by hand what was lost. 2 hours for family, 1 hour for eating/washing, and a mere 5 hours for sleep 6 days a week. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done.\n\nSome people were lucky and got jobs pertaining to their fields before the attack. Medical doctors were in short supply; about 1000 of them remained. Surgeons, engineers, architects, and electricians were guarded by those with military experience. They were highly coveted positions. Apprenticeships were a priority in the long-term, but until then every able body age 11 and up was put to work.\n\nOnly a few entertainers remained and I was one of the lucky few. I was no Elvis Presley or Michael Jackson. In fact I wasn't even a Rebecca Black, who was actually gaining a bit of fame before it all happened. I was a failure. I did open mics in Chicago and I was notorious among my peers for at least one person throwing a bottle at my head every time I performed for any decent sized crowd.\n\nBut I was still one capable of strumming a guitar. I was capable of a bit of singing. And my songs, while not containing the depth of icebergs beneath the sea, did have a bit more to them than what meets the ear. \n\nSo every Sunday for the past 35 Sunday's I started off the same way. They loved it. They were starved for some sort of release. It made me tear up before I went on stage. I would see fathers holding daughters, man and wife with live vigils for lost ones rocking back and forth, an old woman whose seen more loss than she now sees life. I would often have to get myself together before performing. I would introduce myself, which was unnecessary at this point, but I like to stick to tradition. I would strum a bit and do a kids song before I started my real music. my real passion. The line that followed after my kids song made them go bananas. It was short, simple, and to the point.\n\nAs I faded out of my post-apocalyptic hit 'Candy Clouds and Banana Trees' the audience waited in anticipation. I stepped up to the mic and sighed.\n\n\"Anyway, here's Wonderwall.\""
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"1529883919",
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[WP] it started as a summer job in a small café... Now you are the worlds most infamous Mafia-Boss. | 6 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
" Damn, I’d pay six figures to whoever thinks they’ve gone through as much shit as I have since I started at Reggie’s. It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years since I took that bus boy job making $5 an hour (under the table, of course). Only took me 2 years to get to where the real money was (and still is) at: bounties and that sweet, sweet nose candy. \n \n We tried herb, we tried black tar, we tried herb again, but nothing brought the numbers in like coke. Back when made my first sale paying sixty for an eight-ball was pretty standard in Gotham (we charged 90). Reggie snorted shit that cost over a hundred a gram; I pour a little out of every line I do into a “tribute” stash for Reggie. His death was ruled a heart attack, and it’s obvious the coke had something(everything) to do with it, but I can’t get myself to quit the shit. In this business, you need something to look forward to. When the rush that came from killing started to slowly fade, the powder made its way into my daily routine. The way I see it, I wouldn’t be where I am today without coke; Reggie would tell me otherwise, but I think that if I go the same way he did I’ll end up the same place he went after death. \n\n I’d do anything to see Reggie again. I’ve talked a lot about him, it’d be a disservice if I didn’t give you a backstory. Reggie gave me my first job; I didn’t know it at the time, but he would also give me the tools it took to get to where I am now. This may come as a shock, but Reggie’s is named after him (forgive me if I’ve lost my sense of humor, this job doesn’t provide many chances to crack a joke). He owned eight restaurants in Gotham when I started; that number had already doubled within six months. From the moment I started doing dishes at Reggie’s, I had a feeling that “bus boy” wouldn’t tell the whole story of what I actually did there. \n\n As I mentioned earlier, there were some extra-curricular activities going on behind the scenes; I wasn’t involved in those “activities” until two years in and I didn’t even see a deal until over a year in. Other than Reggie (who was only there maybe a couple hours a day), there was only five other people on staff. It took me a while to see my first deal, but it didn’t take long to see my first head get blown in. Our cook at the time (let’s call him Cap) has the bright idea to marinade a customers steak with his spit; that customer was Reggie’s Uncle. Needless to say, we stopped serving food just a bit early that day. Cap was one of two people that died inside Reggie’s between the time I started and the time I went to moving blow full-time; Reggie took his last line in the managers restroom three years ago today. \n\n A lot has changed in three years. Around the time Reggie died, I was out of the drug side of the business entirely. That is not to say I wasn’t still doing drugs, but the sales had become below my pay grade. We were up around thirty restaurants along with owning every gentleman’s club within fifty miles of Reggie’s. The day after Reggie passed, I sold all the restaurants. It wasn’t gonna be long until we sold even if we never lost him; the titty bars brought in twice the dough plus we all had pussy at our fingertips. To this day I’ve never killed one of our girls, but I’ve smacked a couple bitches. Sometimes it’s the only way to get some god damn peace and quiet. I haven’t had much time to go see my girls lately because of the bounties that I somehow am still having to collect my fucking self. Now that I think of it, Reggie would’ve never put up with this shit. Either I’ve got two solutions to the problem: either I’m gonna snort a Mount Kilimanjaro sized pile of blow and carry on with this life or I’m getting out of this business all together. I know which one Reggie would do. "
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"1529942479",
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I'm not sure if this has been done before but I'm genuinely interested on what can be done | [WP] Write a story that perfectly loops around to the start of the story | 6 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I wake up in a pool of sweat, the water beads forming shadows atop my forehead. The moon shines down onto me as I trudge for what seems like an endless time, forward. Father's of sand slither into my bare socks, their children gripping my feet whispering to me to sit down and have a rest.\n\nThe desert that I find myself in is bleak and open, the air dry and thick... So thick. Around my shoulder there's a satchel, I heave forwards with every step, hoping to hold out just a little longer. She is without thought or movement in the draped blanket. Burns spiderweb through the fabric and deep in the flesh.\n\nWhen she was first burned she cried, but now there is silence. Her back arches against the current of the sand. Blood trails from sores on my arms and plummets to the spongey ground. \n\nShe mutters a tone, her eyes wide open, \"wah-where are you taking me?..\"the words trail off alongside the desert wind.\n\n\"You dont deserve to know\" my mouth is broken and dry, \"do you smell that?\"\n\nShe remains quiet for a second, \"what?\"\n\n\"it smells like iron... You smell like iron\" I clench my hands tight and yank forwards on the tattered blanket. She clenches her arms in agony but doesn't mutter a sound, she doesn't dare.\n\n\"you.. deserve it\" \n\nI feel a warmth rush to my chest as the cloth around my shoulder digs deeper. The feeling of control, thank God.\n\nI let go of the blanket and watch as the clothes falls flat and wet. A mushy sound erodes as she struggles to struggles herself out, her clothes are drenched in a foreign substance. She struggles to sit up, grabbing the open sores in her side as she does so. She looks up, strong and untouched, defiant and defeated.\n\nI grip her arm firmly, throwing her to the side. \"do not sit!\n\n...\n\nSorry, I ran out of time on the train to finish this... Tbh I don't know where I was going. Maybe the guy was gonna like wakeup and be dreaming of killing his teacher or some shit.\n\nIdk, but please let me know any advice you may have! ",
"I posted this earlier today but it fits this pretty well, I did edit it a little later on, this is that version:\n\n ***Journal Entry #671***\n\nWhat is a gentle man? To me, it means being helpful, kind, to embody and bring to life the personification of altruism. To me, being kind was akin to breathing. The only difference between the two was that I have never struggled to figure out how to be kind. From my genesis I was breathing, and even now, so many years later, my heart screams and my emotions war within me as I sit and watch, unable to do anything to help, to help.\n\nNow, to say I had done nothing at all would be a rather gross understatement. Long ago I worked tirelessly, doing anything and everything, all for the betterment of others. I gave the homeless homes, the hungry full stomachs; fields ripe with bounty for as far as their eye could see. Nothing mattered. Nothing changed. Even I, for all my power, could not help everyone. There was someone who always wanted more. Did not have enough. Someone that was envious of the fact that another person had something they did not. Such bigotry had always left me lost; I could never understand it. I've watched for so long, watched them beg and plead for help, only for their calls to go unanswered. They try to help themselves; it always fails. There will always be a problem, a single voice of dissent that casts a dark shadow over whatever scraps of happiness they manage to scrape together.\n\nI can not lie and say their actions had not soured my disposition towards them. Nor could my brothers and sisters. Indeed, long had the day past on which my kin had turned their backs on the wretched displays humanity proffered. I can not lie and say that I never joined them. What I can say, though, is that even as I turned away, let my heart break at every plea for aid become silent, I never stopped caring. How could I? To stop caring went against everything that was ingrained into my being at my birth.\n\nSome days, I wish I did stop caring. It was harder than expected to be a silent spectator. Man against man, village against village; father cut down son, women and children no different than lambs to the slaughter. It would carry on and on until finally, after the dust had cleared, the victors realized just how pyrrhic it all really was. How could they celebrate their victory if their was no one left to celebrate it with? As always, with their soaring spirits crushed beneath the weight of their short-sightedness, they had nothing left to do except pick up whatever pieces they could find and begin anew. They would start small; growing like wildfire, until their small band of survivors thrived into a bustling menagerie of success. And, just as before, the problems they tried so hard to ignore, to present their gold-spackled city so favorably would reach a tipping point, falling precariously onto the drums of war once more.\n\nIt hurts to watch. It is a cycle, a cycle of maddening monotony that always leads to new heights of debauchery and depravity. Not even I, in all my years of existence, could begin to even fathom the depths of the licentiousness they lived through on a day to day basis. It was mind boggling, the simple fact that a being capable of such great strength, gifted with unwavering fortitude; granted the unending bluster befitting a god, could stoop so low, become so... *vile*. So I stopped watching. And I began thinking.\n\nI do not truly know how long I've pondered. But I can no longer dwell on the past. Not when I've finally figured it out, War. It always led to war. Death paved the path of success for the future generations to go even farther than those that had come before. It made no sense. Their lack of unity, the unity on which my siblings and I had used to rise above the rest, that same unity was what drove humanity into beings scarcely recognizable than the animals they so jealously herded. No. That was wrong. It maybe have been on a smaller scale, but all those great civilizations started from war; the leftovers, the survivors. They put aside their differences to work together, for the betterment of tomorrow, for truly noble goals. Their unity was what enabled them to save themselves on the path they had waylaid themselves upon.\n\nHow ironic it was that the same thing that led them to ruin, also led them to prosperity and salvation. The cesspool of evil that was the fate of all civilizations that had come did not stem from war. No, war was a stepping stone. Death was the answer. The survivors knew death intimately. One does not wade knee deep in war without welcoming death into their homes and spirits. The callousness and cruelty of success was wrought not from success itself, but from generations lacking the fear of death.\n\nLife is relative. You do not compare how cold you are to what you feel at the moment. No. You compare how cold you are to the coldest you have ever felt in your life. To truly know pleasure, you must first become intimate with pain. The people in these societies, they have no meter. They do not know death. They do not know pain. They know success. They know pleasure. They know life. They do not judge their pleasure in regard to their pain, but in regard to other pleasures they have experienced. Their judgments are skewed, their beliefs; lacking. This is what drives societies to ruin. It is neither time nor the elements that erodes their protections, but rather their own piteous undeserved sense of self worth. They do not fear the consequences of neither action nor inaction, and are wholly unprepared when said consequences rear, to them, its ugly head. Their empires fall, and the cycle begins anew.\n\nI'm tired. So, so very tired. It is not a weariness of the body, nor the exhaustion of the mind; rather, it is the tiredness of my being that weighs so heavily. For so long, I have done like my siblings, doing everything in my power to make life easier for them. It had always ended poorly. We did not learn. We did not *think.* Instead, we turned our backs to our problems, pretended they did not exist. How... disturbingly human. A thought for another time perhaps.\n\nI watch them now, living in their grandiose squalor. Before, I would have wept, having seen time and time again exactly what is coming for them. Now? Now I am elated. Overjoyed. Happy. I can help them. I can *save* them. Death will be their savior. They do not fear it. They do not *know* it. The building blocks upon which their society was built, forgotten to the annals of time, gathering dust in their libraries, forever lost. This one will be different. I will remind them of that which they have forgotten. I will go to them; I will save them from the impending annihilation that awaits them. They will curse me, spurn me, shun me everywhere I go. That is okay. I do not do this for myself, I do this for them. \n\n\\- *A Gentle Man*",
"I've never seen anyone as amazing or as talented. Every time I see or I hear about them it's like a headline in my mind. \n\nEveryday, I go out, try my hardest to even hope to reach their level of greatness. Sure I get the applause and the accolades but I just never feel I can ever measure up to my hero.\n\nI almost couldn't believe it the one day, a day that may have changed my life forever. It was this young kid, didn't even know I was close enough to hear what they were saying. Sure I was being nosey but I guess I can be forgiven because I only listened once I realized they were talking about me. It brought me to tears listening to this kid, not once would I have thought that anyone would ever say things like that about me. Words that would echo in my mind forever, to this day, I could still hear the kid saying,\n\n\"I've never seen anyone as amazing or as talented. Every time I see or I hear about them it's like a headline in my mind.\n\nEveryday, I go out, try my hardest to even hope to reach their level of greatness. Sure I get the applause and the accolades but I just never feel I can ever measure up to my hero.\""
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"1529972599",
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[WP] An nigh unbeatable swordsman is well aware that he will continue to be challenged to duel after duel until he is beaten/killed. So he goes into hiding for years, and uses the time to refine and perfect a far different skill. | 18 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Ron was chopping up dinner, which was long strips of wyvern meat. As the steaks fell off the beast, they flew to the side, piling in the corner. The bits that were edible were divided amongst groups for soup, dinners, and smoking. The inedible bits such as the bones, skin, and organs were set aside for the blacksmith, tailor, and alchemist respectively.\n\n\nHis inn was known for its rare meats, forbidden delights, and hospitality. This inn would be passed on to his son and daughter…if she would only get her act together. She had dreams of being swordswomen.\n\n\n“Ron could you help me with this,” said Rose, attempting to place a pan on the top shelf.\n\n\nThat was Rose, the love of his life. He remembered fondly, the first words she spoke to him after slaying that dragon. A quick “you’re late”. She had mistaken him for a vagrant that her father had hired from the nearest town, but after a few years of courting he become hers. The place was at the base of Death Mountain, a travel hub for adventurers and demons alike…but years of goodwill and a strong fist allowed the inns ownership to remain unchanged.\n\n\n“Dad, some lords coming,” said Hob.\n\n\nHob was his son. Interesting boy and good with a knife…though dull. Loved a simple life and paranoid that every person would steal that peace from him. Ron had deemed it a healthy survival instinct, and would say long stories where his own ripe paranoia led him on the proper path. His wife told him to stop with the tall tales. \n\n\n“He is the one that keeps bother me with his flights of fancy. If I had my way his fancy would be severed and in my hand,” complained Hannah.\n\n\nHannah was right…if she found the courage she would chop anything off. But she saw the art of swords as footwork and a blade. To Ron the important part was sticking the blade in flesh. But she picked up everything instantly. The dances he showed her and that footwork that followed, the light magic he learned to support his art. The problem was she had no reason to fight.\n\n\nRon saw them coming on horses, big beasts that had been piled high with trophies and many other finery. He spied a young man in the lead wearing shiny armour. That shine…was contemptable. A man should be ashamed of such shine, as it meant little action. Ron remembers after killing that dragon he was covered in so much filth that he looked like a vagrant. When he slayed that king he was so stained with blood that rumors began that he was death incarnate, and when he slept with that nymph he smelled so bad that it took a hundred baths to dispel the shame.\n\n\nNow the men behind that “shiny” were different. The first was a scarred man with a stiff upper chin and a sword the glowed even in its scabbard. Likely the brains of the outfit and a guard for the sake of that shiny lord. What followed was a hooded man who smelled of sulfur. Likely a wizard, though Ron could believe that he was an alchemist.\n\n\nThe lord looked at the inn with interest, but that gleam when he looked at Hannah spurred some feelings in the household. Ron can feel the hate coming from his wife, who believed any adventurer, or lord was an inferior being…whoremongers and filth who’s only worth was dying for causes and coin. Ron wholeheartedly agreed, such beings were ill men…fraught with a sickness that would betray the best swordsmen in the land for fame. And maybe because of a few felled kings.\n\n\n“Master…May you need anything,” asked Ron smiling.\n\n\nWith a smile you can get anywhere. Ron learned this trait in attempt to hide his murderous intent. A skill that he was now proud of.\n\n\n“Best table if you may please. And some wine,” answered the lord.\n\n\nRon scurried off to the cellar to get the wine, when he heard a scuffle in the inn. When he ran back he saw his daughter wielding a pan against the guard, while the lord was nursing broken nose .He spied the cloak man muttering in a corner. Ron threw the wine bottle at the man disrupting his concentration, and shattering some teeth.\n\n\nHis daughter seemed to have a handle on the situation before the pan failed. Her mother tried to take the blow.\n\n\nBefore Ron knew it… he was behind the swordsman, griping the magic sword’s blade in his hand and wearing a smile. It cut his skin, but froze mid strike. It flashed bright colours before the swordsman suddenly paled. Ron knew that there had to be a sprite of some sort in the blade, and it had told the man something.\n\n\nIf Ron could guess it would be a very loud….\n\n\nRUN. BAD SMILE.FAKE SMILE.\n\n\nThe man immediately ran outside, with the wizard following. The lord muttered about fathers and revenge, before following as well.\n\n\nRon was smug. It was barely a scrap, and yet these men ran with their tails beneath their legs. \n\n\nAnd that is when he heard the sniff.\n\n\nRose was crying. A bit in fear, but more so for the wee bit of blood that she saw in his hand.\n\n\nRon knew he could not hide it …nor heal it or else she would suspect something. So he smiled and tried to dismiss her worries but it was too late. Seeing those tears made Ron angry. He would get vengeance.\n\n\nIt was nightfall when it began. Rose was asleep, and Ron was up for revenge. But no sooner did he attempt to leave the house did he see his horse in the distance. When he focused his eyes he saw his daughter brandishing a sword over her head. His sword. It was a black thing covered in white runes and he had last seen it sealed in a well. A well dug a mile deep due to the incessant whining of a blade that wanted no one but its master to use it. Seals so intricate that it bankrupted the owner and could only be open by the expressed permission of a blade that wanted at least a thousand years of sleep.\n\n\n When Ron spread his ears he heard her speaking with it…arguing about the best means of battle. Ron did not doubt it would tell her where to find the men, and with her skills she will kill them…but the question was what comes after.\n\n\nThe first thing was telling her what he was.\n\n\n The second thing was teaching her everything that he knew. \n\n\nBut the third and hardest thing was getting her to not tell her mother.\n"
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1,
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"1529980038",
"1529990950"
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[WP]You see numbers above people's heads. Mostly 0, and you had 1. Some had more. Your new-born son has 6.3m. You realize later it's the amount of people they killed in their lifetime. | 11 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It was an easy mistake to make.\n\nMost people never kill anyone. Ever. Those that do usually do so completely by accident. The rules didn't care that much. So long as they were the last sentient domino before the end of their \"victim's\" life, their number went up. Dammit, no. I just made the mistake again. It's an easy one to make.\n\nThe ones you have to look out for are the ones with numbers greater than, say, two. *Those* people have killed someone intentionally. Not always criminally, but intentionally nonetheless. The highest number I've seen is 26, and that was on a Vietnam Veteran. Understandable. The military dumped so much ammo into the jungles of 'Nam that he was probably only aware of two or three people.\n\nBut this was my mistake. I assumed that the number was a number representing how many people the person in question had killed. So imagine my surprise when my son, a beautiful baby boy, was born with a number expressed in scientific notation. *What the fuck?* didn't begin to cover it.\n\nI had done the work, I made *sure* I knew what the numbers meant. Serial killers had higher numbers than, say, a Starbucks barista. So did cops, soldiers, and war veterans. For a while, the world was much scarier than it should have been before I realized accidental deaths counted as well as murders. The number was a kill count. That was all. Right?\n\nRight.\n\nBut I made a mistake, a very simple mistake. Anyone could have made it, you know? My son was born with a number expressed in scientific notation. Thats something used when a number is too big to be expressed without monopolizing space on paper or screen. My son was the biggest murderer of all time, and he was weeks old. That was *impossible.* The number hadn't *changed,* and I had seen him come out of my wife with that *fucking* number already hovering above his head. My mistake wasn't misunderstanding what the numbers meant. It was misunderstanding their nature.\n\nYou see, the numbers don't express how many people you have killed. They express however many people you will *ever* killed. Somewhere, sometime, my son is responsible for killing millions of people. And I sit here, a measly 1 over my head, trying to figure out what to do about it.\n\nThe answer should be obvious. Kill him. Kill him, and save the world. Kill myself to avoid the prison time. But the number...would I even be able to? Or were the numbers absolute? Was it *required* that he kill so many? And I just had to live with that?\n\nI can't.\n\nI did my research. Went back and looked up all the people I could think of with a one over their heads, like me. Crunched the numbers. I knew what I was going to see before I did so, but I had to be sure. Had to avoid any other easy mistakes.\n\nMy son will be the greatest mass murderer in history. I will only ever kill one person.\n\nIs it perhaps because of what I'm about to do that he does this? Does it matter? The numbers mean that whatever I'm doing, I will always have done. Free will is effectively meaningless. All is predetermined. Including my number. A one. One person.\n\nMe.",
"When I saw the counter, I smiled strangely for a second. They were giving him to us, to take home after a long and painful labor for my wife. At the time, the government had not yet publicly revealed what \"the number\" was. I assumed it was potential, due to the various propaganda prompting you to taken children with high numbers to the government for training. It wasn't mine or my wife's intention to do this with our firstborn, however. Potential or not, he would stay with us. \n He had an enormous aptitude for chess. Every move he made was carefully planned, and he was matching up against me with relative ease by the time he was five. He was sheltered, heavily. I was a professor at the time, and I decided my efforts were best needed at home, helping our son hone his skills. The Squads were on the loose, after a coup in the government about a year after his birth. They were searching for those with massive potential numbers, so we kept him close and we kept him safe.\n Things fell apart by the time he was 10. He was a chess prodigy. I've never to this day seen someone move the pieces around in various movements like he did. I tell you, he was a dancer, and artist. The board was his easel, the pieces his brushes and paints. He focused on chess, and chess only. It was March 25th, 1998, when the public was told of a second coup, which revealed the truth. The counter never measured potential. It was always death, and aura of death, the same feeling I couldn't shake when speaking about his \"high potential\". We were all reborn in the Samsara. Some of us turned out to be killers, well hidden by the government. He turned out to be a genocidal maniac in his past life. How could I fault him for that? We didn't choose who we were reborn from! I didn't know what came over me that day. I dropped him off to a government guard post early in the morning. I told him we were getting ice cream. I thought one last lie wouldn't hurt. And that was the last time I ever saw my son, walking away with a black-suited agent with the 6.3 million counter bobbing over his head."
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"1529985078",
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I’d like to think that there is maybe a tiered reward system. | [WP] A game show in the future centres around time travel. The contest involves attempting to save the life of a ‘doomed to die’ person. There are no rules or restrictions and so far, no winners. | 8 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“We’ll be right back with more ‘Teens on Titan: A Saturn Story’ right after these messages!’” came the cheery announcer’s voice echoing from the panel display at the front of the restaurant. Customers paid it no mind and continued eating their food. \n\n“Hey Tom, turn that down, will ya? We need to prep the servers for tomorrow night.” yelled a woman from the back room. \n\n“You got it, Sally,” the young man at the counter replied. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist casually, the motion sensors on the display picking up his genetic signature. The volume lowered automatically from 25 to a low hum at 15. He sighed, turning towards the robotic server that was currently placing dishes into the sink behind the counter. \n\nHer LED eyes met his gaze. “Greetings, Thomas. Update?” \n\n“Yup, it’s that time, Ax. Engage closing mode and go recharge for the night.” \n\n*...Do you want a rounder, more youthful face? Try Natural Nature’s, guaranteed to make you look 10 years younger in a week!...* said a spokeswoman on her commercial. \n\n“Understood, Thomas. Beginning closing cycle.” \n\nThe robot server wheeled around to the various customers, clicking as her gears spun with each movement. She collected the plates from the remaining customers as Tom waved them off through the door out into the chilly December night. \n\n“It’s hard work running a restaurant,” he mused to himself. It wasn’t really, of course— at least, not anymore. Essentially, he was a glorified mechanic now. Years ago, things had been automated to such a point that humans were hardly necessary for most jobs. First came the data entry and secretarial positions in the early 21st century, which gradually expanded to manufacturing, deliveries, and other service jobs that people really just couldn’t compete with any longer. It took over quickly enough and evolved in strides after their initial prototypes. Now, in 2230, robotic servers were pretty much standard, even in a small Mom and Pop place like this. Places without robots were just seen as untrustworthy. After all, what kind of unpredictable chaos could a human unleash on another human’s food? \n\n*…Come out and test your strength at Galaxy Fitness, and get ripped in 3 weeks flat…*\n\nTom rubbed his temples. He punched a number into the screen on the counter and it pulled up the payment information system, detailing the total transactions for the day. He groaned. \n\n“What’s the matter, hun?” asked Sally from the back room. “Bad haul today?” \n\nTom force closed the app and put his chin in his hands, resting on the side of a nearby table. “Nah, it’s fine honey. We got enough.” \n\nSally was quiet for a moment. “Enough to make it through the month?” \n\n“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re fine,” he replied. But, the truth was, they weren’t fine and he knew it. As the city grew around him, more and more people wanted their space for new luxury micro-homes or total relaxation spas that were all the rage now. No one wanted to eat at a no-name midwestern diner owned by a nobody couple anymore. It was getting harder to hold on. \n\n*Luxury homes, at your fingertips! Apply today by looking at the scanner on the screen— we’ll send your data to our team right away to get you to your perfect dream home!* the TV chided him, adding insult to injury. Tom looked away to avoid making eye contact with the eye scanner. He wasn’t ready to move yet. \n\nBut what else could be done? He had sold all the antiques his grandfather and dad had passed to him, and he was running out of options. Poor Sally had gotten into this mess with him to fulfill his dream, ad he couldn’t help but feel like he was letting her down. Pretty soon, they would both be out on the streets with nothing to show for it. Their property was desired, surely, but it wasn’t THAT valuable. He had no other alternative. \n\n“Hey Tom, I’m going upstairs to bed. Meet you up there?” Sally cooed. “Don’t stay down here too long— you need your rest.” \n\n“Sure thing sweetie, I’ll see you up there.” He gave her a peck on the cheek through the kitchen order station. She smiled at him and grabbed her jacket, headed up. \n\nThe door had just shut when he heard it. *Adventurers, are you ready for the chance of a lifetime? Apply for America’s hottest new survival challenge— travel through time and space to save the fate of a “Doomed to Die” individual. Viewers, don’t forget to vote on the time frame our brave adventurers will visit! The Middle Ages, the Civil War, even… Communist Russia?!* A silly rendition of the old Russian national anthem began to play as it showed a flustered contestant running around the Red Square, looking for his prize. *We’re always looking for new contestants— scan in today for your chance to win! The prize? 1 TRILLION units!* *Tune in this Friday to see who makes it out… in TIME!* \n\nTom froze. 1 trillion units? That was too good to be true. That sure could solve a lot of his problems… New robots, an update to the menu, and not to mention the rent he could afford for a few decades into the future… \n\nNo, he knew better. National reporters had done exposés on the former contestants of the show, who seemingly disappeared after “returning” from their travels. He had seen an episode or two of the show itself as well, where a woman sent to Chile during its coup in the 1970s had been detained by authorities for being out past curfew. She had been trying to save a member of the author Isabelle Allende’s family, but was instead beaten and detained. The show neglected to follow up on her situation. Tom shuddered to think that she might not have even made it back to the present. \n\nBut, it was crazy to think that they WOULDN’T make it back, right? There’s no way the government would know about a show like that and allow it to actually kill people off. Leaving people in the past was an extraordinary crime, and it would have to be shut down immediately otherwise. \n\nHe looked at the glowing screen in front of him, watching some more clips from the show enticing him to apply. “Receive a decision instantly!” it flashed. From the footage, he watched a man lost in neolithic China trying to navigate a mountain pass, looking frantically for a trapped child he was supposed to bring back with him. \n\nTom shuddered. He didn’t want to, and he couldn’t imagine it, but he needed the money to keep him and Sally afloat. Maybe it was the impulse of the moment, or the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he shifted his gaze to meet the eye scanner in the corner of his television. Small lasers scanned his cornea, analyzing and confirming his genetic information. \n\n“Thomas Caldwell— age 29. Submit application?” \n\nA yes/no prompt flashed up on the screen. He took a deep breath and flashed his eyes toward “YES.” \n\n“Processing… Thomas Caldwell… Application… Approved!” \n\nHis stomach jumped from surprise while his heart simultaneously sank. He was in. "
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1,
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"1530032297",
"1530044405"
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[WP]: You gave up writing years ago. With no other place to go, the protagonist of your old, failed book attempt haunts your house, keeping you company. | 11 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"*Pure silence is life's greatest bliss*, I thought, quietly smiling to myself and sitting on the old scarlet love seat Greg had bought for me 20 years ago. All I wanted to do, and all I could do, was sit in my blissful silence with my quilt wrapped around me. The room wasn't exactly quiet, as I could hear the crackling of the fire and my steady breathing. Here I am, at 53 years old, living a quiet life away from society. I only went to town for groceries and to pay my bills, as I had no other reason to leave my solitude. Life was...decent...for me at least. *No bad thoughts, Josie. No bad thoughts.*\n\n\"Hello Josie.\" A soft, masculine voice spoke from my left. I pretended that he wasn't there. I had no need to speak to him, nor did I have a desire. \"Josie, we both know that you can hear me.\"\n\nWith annoyance, I looked up at the young man now walking towards the love seat. For a 34 year old, he was below average height, measuring up to 5'4\". His brown hair tumbled past his shoulders, and his blue eyes held not only my gaze, but sorrow. \n\n\"Why are you here, Peter? We have nothing to discuss, and I believe that you are well aware of that.\" I was stern with him, talking to him like he was a little boy. Degrading, perhaps, but I didn't want to deal with this.\n\n\"Josie, we do have business to discuss. Being you.\" I felt my mouth slightly drop in shock. \"Me? Why on earth do we have to discuss me?\"\n\nPeter sat beside me, and took hold of my right hand. \"Josie, we both know that you have some untreated mental issues.\" \"Peter, I absolutely do not! What would you know anyway, you aren't a doctor at all!\"\n\n\"We both know I could've been, it was your choice. But just because I'm not a doctor doesn't mean that I'm not well-informed. You've been trapping yourself in this house since Greg...well, you know. You've lost your passion for everything. You gave up writing, your friendships, you've thrown everything into the void because of grief.\"\n\nTears began forming in my eyes. \"Peter, you haven't dealt with this. Greg was my best friend, my husband, my life. And I...I don't even think I can move on from this grief. You haven't dealt with loss, Peter.\"\n\n\"Josie, I know that this is hard, but what if Greg could see you now? He'd be in pain to see that you gave up everything because he died. And I have dealt with loss, you know. I lost you.\"\n\n\"Peter, I'm still alive. How have you lost me?\" \"Because you left me when Greg died. You were my mentor, you helped me through so many obstacles. After Greg passed, the conversations stopped, and the letters did too. I've been trying to reach out to you for years, but you always ignored me. I've been a guest in your home, is this how you really treat your house guests? Finally I've been able to reach you, but it shouldn't have taken this long, Josie.\"\n\nFor a few minutes, we sat in silence. I didn't want to address his concerns, but he was right about things. I had given things up out of grief and slept in a life of sadness and melancholy. I no longer wrote stories, I stopped socializing, I just was an empty shell now. \"Peter, what do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"Josie, you need to start getting out and actually living. Please. Get some new hobbies and friends, see a therapist, but get out of the house and live. Survival doesn't get you anywhere in this life, living does.\" \"Okay, Peter. I'll try. I'll try to live again.\"\n\nTwo months had passed since Peter and I had this discussion. And I did take his advice to live. Peter still lived in the house in the guestroom, and I was used to having conversations with him every morning at breakfast. I no longer sit in silence all day; now I am a regular church attendee, I've joined a book club, and I work part-time at the town's library. I have lunch with women from church every Thursday afternoon at the local diner. Now I can genuinely laugh again, I can smile and be free from a burden of grief. \n\nLate one evening, I sat taking notes on the book we were reading for the book club. Peter entered the living room, smiling. \"I'm glad you're back after 20 years, Josie. It's nice to see you happy again.\" I looked up, smiling back. \"I'm glad to be back, Peter. Although I still have more healing to do.\"\n\n\"Hey Josie, I think it's time that I left.\"\n\nI was concerned. \"What do you mean, where would you go?\" \"Josie, we both know that I'm not real. I'm just a protagonist for a book you stopped writing 20 years ago. Let's be honest, I'm either a hallucination of yours or another part of your consciousness now. Maybe even both. I always lurked around, hoping you'd come back to writing.\"\n\n\"I suppose. But you could have left at any time, why did you finally speak to me months ago? Why didn't you leave long before that if I abandoned you?\" Peter smiled grimly. \"I knew that you left because of grief. I stayed because I wanted to help you get away from it. It took awhile because you wanted to ignore me. I think the only reason I was able to get to you is because you were beginning to wake up, but you needed another push.\"\n\nHe began fading away, becoming transparent. \"I hope that you finish my story, Josie. I was about to go on the adventure of a lifetime. I'd still like to go, if you're willing to make it.\" I cried with happiness, watching him leave. \"Thank you for saving me. Thanks for telling me that I needed to live.\"\n\nWith that, Peter left. I went upstairs to the guestroom. Here I had laid the journal containing Peter's story. Abandoned and forgotten on the desk, covered in dust. I read the last few sentences that I had written, and Peter was correct. He was boarding a ship to travel to Europe and see a different world then what he knew in the United States. I picked up a pencil and began to pick up on Peter's adventure. \n\nWith one last look at the port in Boston, Peter turned towards the ocean and tried to imagine what experiences he would encounter. No matter what happened, he decided one thing. He was going to live. ",
" “Is this hell?” the voice asked. “Or am I still in purgatory?\n\nI looked around my one room studio from my couch, saw the flaking plaster, the furniture, the rotting food, the overflowing garbage can. The toilet and the bed you could piss in it from, if you were inclined. The festering piss stains at the toilet’s base. The expired workout supplements, the packaging faded and dusty. I saw all of that but, most of all, I saw the lack of other people. I’d always been a loner. I never thought I needed people, a connection, company. \n\nApparently I thought wrong.\n\nHe wasn’t much of a cowboy. Five foot eight. Vaguely Asian. Leather gloves, leather jacket, idiotic ten-gallon hat, a face only lined by worry. He looked like a used-car dealer because that’s exactly what he was even if he wouldn’t say it. *The job is a means to an end*, he’d say. *I’m a caretaker. A gravedigger.* *A murderer.*\n\nHell. Purgatory. I thought for a moment before answering. “Yes,” I said, not bothering to explain.\n\nThe cowboy’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re God, aren’t you.”\n\n“No,” I said. “But I am your creator.”\n\n“God. Creator. What’s the difference?”\n\nI paused another moment. “To you? None.”\n\nHe balled his fist and I saw him fight the jolt of pain running up his arms, shooting from the scars he hid on the palms of his hands. Those scars would never heal. Neither would the ones in his wrists or on his feet. I was almost tempted to ask to see them, but I knew he’d never show them to me.\n\n“You have a lot to answer for,” he said.\n\n“Like?”\n\n“Like why Luke Paul is what he is. Why you turned my sister to salt, but turned him into a demigod. Why there are djinn spirits ravaging the Middle East, Japanese spirits slashing people’s faces open, vigilante gangs in Sweden murdering each other to get into Valhalla. But most of all, you need to tell me why the *fuck* you made the angels.”\n\n“Aren’t you going to blame me for cancer too?” I shot back, my ire suddenly raised. “How about child soldiers, or do you not give a fuck about them?”\n\n“You aren’t that God,” he said. *Joe* said. “I know that.\n\nI sighed and sank into the couch, felt the scratchy fibers dig into the back of my neck and pushed myself into them, almost relishing the discomfort. I relaxed, balling my fists in a mirror image of Joe. “I wrote you for a reason,” I said. “I thought you could mean something. That people would read your story and realize religion is what we make it. That even in a world of miracles, maybe we don’t need to define ourselves by our belief but by our actions.”\n\n“Did it work?” Joe asked. The contemptuous curl in his lip told me he knew my answer. “Did it change anything? Did my suffering matter?”\n\n“No,” I said. “Nobody ever read it. I never even got asked for a full manuscript.”\n\nJoe hooked his thumb over his shoulder towards a dimly lit patch of the living room. If I tried my hardest, strained my senses to the fullest, I could almost sense a presence lurking there, dark and troubled and angry. “What about shadow boy? Did he matter?”\n\n“No,” I said. \n\nJoe pointed at a purple woman floating over a patch of dirt encrusted floorboard, her form luminous and half finished. I shook my head at the unasked question. She had never really even existed.\n\nJoe pointed at the twins next, a beautiful man and woman curled together in the armchair, their hands creeping over each other’s bodies. Joe watched them with a detached interest, halfway between disgust and arousal.\n\n“And them? What’s their deal?”\n\n“A bet,” I said. “A mistake.”\n\nJoe turned back to look at me. “So you can make mistakes,” he said. “But I knew that already. You failed us.”\n\nI leapt forward in my seat, my hands clutching at the couch’s fabric, tearing into the stuffing. “No,” I snarled. “You failed *me*. You were my everything. You and Aiden and Jib and the Chens.”\n\n“You believed in me too much,” Joe said. He walked to the couch and sat, turning his attention to the flickering nonsense on tv. “You forgot your own lesson.” \n\n*Yes*, I realized. He was right. And now I was here, in my little studio in Oakland, alone save for my own failed Gods."
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[WP] You suffer from a condition called Anatidaephobia. All of your friends tell you that it is irrational, and in the past couple of months you've started to believe them. That is until one night just as you are about to go to sleep, you hear a subtle "Quack" outside your bedroom window. | 130 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Ever had that feeling someone is watching you?\n\nIn your minds eye, did that person have an appearance? Perhaps they were tall and quick, their face shrouded in shadow, the very figure of mystery and danger. Perhaps they were ghostly, fading into etherial mist when you looked in their direction. Perhaps they held weapon in hand, softly patting it against their palm as they watched you move in the light.\n\nHow nice that would be.\n\nPerhaps if any of those people were watching me, other people would believe me. Sympathise with me. Help me.\n\n'Quack'\n\n*Shut up. Shut the fuck up.*\n\nRolling away from my bedroom window, I grip my pillow and beg for sleep to come. But it won't. I know that thing is behind me, watching my chest rise and fall, it's emotion unreadable and unmeasurable.\n\nThere is a persistent tap at the glass and I twist as sharply and quickly as I am able, trying to catch sight of it.\n\nNothing. Dimly lit by the amber glow of streetlights outside, a tree branch softly nudges my bedroom window, stirred by the breeze. For one sweet, blissful moment, I am alone.\n\nThen, as it always does, the feeling returns. On my wardrobe now, behind my head, perched on the door frame. My watcher gazes down at me with black eyes. I ignore it and settle into bed, trying to make myself comfortable within the sheets and blanket.\n\nIt can't hurt you, I whisper, it's not real, it can't hurt you, it can't-\n\n'QUACK'\n\nThe shrill tone of it, almost violent, interrupts me and involuntary, my eyes shoot towards the wardrobe door.\n\nNothing.\n\n\"Leave me alone!\" I shout at the empty space.\n\nMercifully, it does. For a time. It is my father who breaks my solitude, opening the door and peering through.\n\n\"You OK?\" he asks, in that same condescending tone as he always does. Not believing. Not caring. \n\n\"Bad dream,\" I reply, before adding, \"sorry.\"\n\nMy father spares the room a sweeping glance, and goes back to bed. He is used to this routine. It won't be the last tonight, I'm sure. Each time his patience grows thinner, and these days I notice his fists are quicker to clench, his anger faster to flare.\n\nOutside the window, something watches.\n\nWithout looking, I know what it is. I can 'see' it in my minds eye. Mottled, dirty brown feathers, a long black beak with beady little eyes of coal. It is smothered in sticky black tar, and can't open its wings. Occasionally it shakes, quivering, trying to clean itself, but to no avail.\n\n'Quack'\n\nThat noise pierces the night.\n\nThe glass trembles as my watcher spasms, its feathers bashing and brushing against the glass and my mouth goes dry, knowing that when I look again there will be the faintest traces of black smears against the outside window.\n\nMy friends are wrong. \n\nThe duck is very real.\n\nAnd it hasn't forgiven me.\n\nr/RJHuntWrites"
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[WP] You were born with the ability to imbue written words with power. Nobody knows you've been the guy who writes fortunes for fortune cookies for decades, helping or harming the lives of those who read them. Now you've decided to write your last, and most powerful incantation. | 42 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"All these years! All these years! Not even a thank you!\"\n\nI sat there exasperated. All these years I have been helping people get what they want. Wives, cars, a life for some of these ungrateful idiots. I may have given people bad luck but they deserved it. That guy that did some sick garbage deserves to die. What did he do? Is written here. Everything everyone did is recorded for me here at my house for my viewing pleasure.\n\nThis house may be beautiful but I tell you, writing for hours at a time and then using my powerful magic for this trash is stupid. The beauty that my house possesses has been voided. Making fortunes are difficult and I could have done something better with my life.\n\nMy superiors! God, my superiors. I hate them. Write this, write that. You're to slow. Do I look like Sonic the darn hedgehog? This ends today. I'll show them what my magic can do.\n\nWhat should I write on the fortune though? Kill them? No, I want them to suffer. The world deserves to suffer. Most of them don't even believe what I spent painstakingly making these fortune cookies. Each should look the same the thin cookie shattering cracking destroying my work at the faintest touch. Those people should crack like that! No, but on the inside.\n\nI have a better idea. Everything those idiots touch would break. Genius! But they would break my house. Should make myself a fortune to be safe? Would that even work? It helped this Eric man that wanted to jump over the grand canyon. Bah! I only let him live as he was interesting. Never mind. I don't care anymore. Their destructive hands have broken everything anyways. But they commit destruction together. Their strength in numbers pains me every time I think about it. It's like an ant. You could easily kill one but a hundred, no, a thousand is terrifying and overpowering.\n\nI got some paper. The good kind. I wrote onto it, again and again, the tedious work I ever so hated before. But this time I felt a wave of relief wash over me. This is the last time I will ever do this. I never knew writing these fortunes would make me relaxed. Thinking of the consequences of me being left alone happy, the people alone and I don't know, bored.\n\nOh, what I wrote on them? Yeah I wrote on every last one of them: \"You have lost them\" Short, Easy and to the point, my favorite. They will lose their strength in numbers. Even my superiors. God, their suffering would be fun to watch.",
"I sat quietly thinking what it was I wanted to put on paper. Ever since I discovered my power I had tried to utilize it to bring about positive change in the world.\n\nI decided that I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. I would write down two simple sentences that confounded me as to what the result could possibly be. I hesitantly picked up my pen and took a slow deep breath. \n\n\"This is the last time...\" I quietly promise myself as I place the pen to the paper. I scroll the first sentence elegantly pouring my power into it. One more breath and I write the second sentence in the same manner.\n\nI sit back and look at my paper.\n\n\"My next sentence will be true. My previous sentence is false.\"\n\nA blinding pain filled my head and I fell to the floor writhing. My surroundings started to crumble around me. Pieces fell and disappeared before hitting the floor. I saw myself contorting and stretching. I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing, just infinite me's stretching ahead and behind me like a great serpent. \n\nA realization struck me that I was seeing every past, present, and future me. My 4th dimensional self. The pain peaked as my surroundings continued to crumble ripping my conciousness away from my body as it to fell away. \n\nI was free of the pain and could see all. I knew all. Time skewed as the fabric of reality rippled. The universe was unstable but I was calm. I watched as the universe collapsed in on itself compacting everything that was into an infinitely small point. \n\nI reached from the void that remained and touched the speck. It erupted hurling matter in all directions with immeasurable force. I smiled to myself as I watched the universe expand and form. I knew why I had my powers now.\n\nI was a god. The universe created me so that I may create the universe. An endless cycle.",
"Was my ability a gift or a curse? It seems cliche to even ask...but I have seen so much of it go *wrong.*\n\nI am old now...so very old. I have lived so many lives, and then written myself young again to live new ones. And in all that time, I suppose that I have learned only this: I am not God. I should never have tried to be.\n\nAnd yet, if I have not done well to chart the course of fate with the the tip of my pen...what am I to make of the fact that I was *born* with the ability to do so? *That* was a fate I did not write, after all. In the end, my conclusion was simple and inescapable.\n\nI decided, for old times' sake, to inscribe my last incantation as I did my first. My hands had not forgotten how to trim a quill. But of course, forgetfulness was a blessing I deprived myself of with words written long ago. I remember all my collected knowledge...and all my mistakes.\n\nI dipped my quill in the ink bottle, and carefully scribed my last and most powerful incantation on the small rectangle of parchment I had prepared. I made no plans concerning who might find it -- that would defeat the purpose.\n\nAs the words left my pen, my eyes filled with tears. The weight of a thousand years of trial, error, and hubris began to lift from me. As my power rushed forth, I at last saw its source...it welcomed me.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\nI knocked on the old man's door.\n\n\"Sir?\" I called out, hesitantly. I don't know why I felt obligated to check on him....I mean, I'm an office manager, not a babysitter. But, I like to take care of the people who rent suites in the building I manage. If you're going to do a job, might as well do it well, right?\n\nThe old man usually didn't work this late. But, on the other hand, I didn't really know what his work *was --* as far as I could tell he just sent out letters and packages, and seemed to make a pretty good living at it. I'd occasionally popped in to check if he needed anything, and he always seemed friendly enough.\n\nTonight, though, there was no answer. I could have just left it, but that didn't feel right.\n\nI eased the door open, and went inside the suite. His PA had already gone home for the night, so I walked past her desk and knocked on the inner office door.\n\n\"Sir?\" I repeated. Still no answer. I opened the door, and froze. The old man wasn't here...but how? He had been here earlier, and he couldn't have left without me seeing him as he passed by my own small office. Confused, I walked towards his desk.\n\nA little slip of some odd brownish paper lay conspicuously atop it, about the size and shape of a fortune cookie message. I picked it up, curiously, and looked at it.\n\n*\"Let my power be yours.\"* it read.",
"It's a tiring job to write fortunes. Humanity is filled with greed, but they also have the propensity to change, or to make change. I’m not sure if there’s a difference, or if there is, which one is better. I remember when I first realized that my writing held power. It was the first time I’d written something wanting to believe in it. Second grade, I wanted to skip gym class so I wrote a note going ‘my child has a bad tummy pain and won’t go to class’. Well, that didn’t work out so well. Maybe it was the handwriting of a second-grader that gave it away, but the gym made me do a lap around the field. I’d no sooner taken my first step on the grass when I keeled over. I ended up in hospital for two days. Back then, I thought it was a coincidence but similar things happened throughout school that convinced me of it. By far the incident that proved it without any doubts remaining was the historical fiction writing assignment we had to do in high school. But that’s another story.\n\nI tapped my fingers against the keyboard, not typing anything. Sure, I may have this cool power, but with great power comes great responsibility. I wanted a career change. Even if it’s five years to retirement age. That’s why I’ve decided. Today is the last time I will write a fortune.\n\nSee, decades of experience has taught me one thing. You can mull things over for an eternity, but sometimes your best work comes from a sudden flash of inspiration. \n\nI started typing. \n\n---\n\nZoe shoved her bag into her locker and sighed. Another day. Another exam. Parents were fighting. She was failing school. No friends, no support. She grabbed a fortune cookie and gave a small smile as she snapped it in half. It might sound dumb, but fortune cookies were her solace. They made her day a bit brighter with something new to read. Zoe wasn’t religious and she probably didn’t believe in a God, so she felt a bit silly relying on a piece of paper inside a manufactured cookie to dictate her everyday life. But she figured she wasn’t hurting anyone by eating cookies, so it didn’t really matter what she believed it. If anything, she was an asset to the community by supporting the local businesses that sold these things, right?\n\nWith that thought in mind, she popped one piece in her mouth as she pulled out the little piece of paper. Her eyes scanned the lines of text.\n\n“Close your eyes. Breathe. Believe. Make the effort and things will change.”\n\n‘Well, what the heck.’ Zoey thought. ‘Might as well close my eyes and try.’\n\nAs she did, a sudden feeling of calmness swept through her. She opened her eyes, energized. She could pull through this. Things would change.\n",
"\"Whomsoever shall read this, if he be pure, shall possess the greatest mind of them all\" and on the flip side \"This piece of paper cannot be destroyed and it will roam the lands till the man pure of heart is found\". With that, I put the pen down and folded the paper. It was a windy day, perfect. I left the paper on the window sill and trusted the wind to do its job. I then carried out my life as a normal human being. Months had passed since I had used my ability and with the hassle of modern day life, I quickly forgot what I had written. Nearly 6 years after I passed the paper into the wind, it occurred to me that maybe no one was pure in this world. Then I read the news. '6-year-old boy discovers the cure to cancer, a preventative measure for Alzheimers, an efficient fuel source for space venture, a solar panel that is 100% efficient and...\" A look of dread fill s my face \"a weather warping machine. He has been contacted by the Aether Co.\" The president of the Aether Co. was the man to whom I gave the fortune (while inebriated) \"You shall possess the power to bring humanity to ruination\". I was time for me to pick up the pen again.",
"There is something odd about human nature. You just can't give people what they want, because they probably don't know it. I should know, given that I can give it to them, ot at least, that's what I assumed: \"You will have the person of your dreams\", \"You will have a fortune\", \"You will have smart and beautiful offspring\"... these seem like good gifts for people, right? You guessed wrong. When people are suddenly given something that they wanted, they can't handle it. If it turns out to be easy, they don't work for keeping it. They neglect their partners, whom they wanted to be with for ages. They spend their new found fortune on drugs, on luxury that consumes their money as quick as it came. They don't pay attention to their children, assuming that all the work of raising them is not needed. But I had to keep trying. I had to device the right words that couldn't be harmful, couldn't be misunderstood, child proof. Where do all our problems begin? What if we could just *choose* not to have them? \nThis message shall from here on out, in all our fortune cookies: \n\"You will be happy\"."
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[WP] You're playing a hacking simulation game, when you uncover a secret email address well-hidden in one of its pretend text files. Curious, you contact it, and moments later you get a response: "You're the first one to find it. Tell no one. We will be contacting you." | 553 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I wait patiently. *'Oh my god...'*, I think. *'Could I have won a prize?!'* The suspense kills me as I pace my room. Finally, I hear my phone chime. \n\nI stop in my tracks to hurriedly unlock my phone and open GMail. It's them. I open the e-mail with bated breath, and read:\n\n\"We have updated our privacy policy.\"\n\nThis privacy policy sets out how HackzGames Corp., LLC (“HackzGames”) uses and \nprotects any information that you provide HackzGames. \n\nHackzGames is devoted to ensuring that your privacy is protected. Should we ask you to \nprovide certain information by which you can be identified when accessing your account \ninformation, you can be assured that such information will only be used in accordance \nwith this privacy statement. \n\nHackzGames has a firm policy of protecting the confidentiality and security of information \nthat we collect from our Investors. We do not share your non‐public personal \ninformation with unaffiliated third parties. Information is only shared with your consent \nexcept for the specific purposes below, in accordance with all applicable laws. Please \nread this policy carefully. It gives you important information about how we handle your \npersonal information. \n\nHackzGames reserves the right to change this policy at any time. \n\n**USE OF INFORMATION**\n\nWe limit the collection and use of non‐public personal information to the minimum we \nbelieve is necessary to deliver superior service to you. Services can include advising you \nabout our investments, services and other opportunities, maintaining your account with \nus, providing you with your K‐1 tax documents so that you can properly file your \nreturns, processing distribution and contribution transactions and administering our \nbusiness. \n\n**WHAT WE COLLECT**\n\nWe obtain most non‐public personal information directly from you or your agents \nwhether in person, by telephone or electronically. \n\nWe may obtain the following information: \n\n• First name, last name and job title \n\n• Home address, email address, business address, \n\nContact information including:\n\n• Home telephone numbers and business numbers\n\n• Social Security Numbers \n\n• Employee Identification Numbers\n \n• Banking information such as wiring information \n\n• Accounts with us and transactions and interactions by us, with us or through us\n\n**DISCLOSURE**\n\nWe do not disclose any kind of non‐public personal information about our Investors or \nformer Investors to anyone, except when we believe it necessary for the conduct of our \nbusiness, or where disclosure is required by law. Except in those specific, limited \nsituations, without your consent, we will not make any disclosures of non‐public \npersonal information to other companies who may want to sell their products or \nservices to you.",
"Thinking face emoji. No thinking face emoticon. Emoji is too plebeian. Restart.\n\nThis isn’t a camera shoot.\n\nDon’t interrupt me. Thinking face emoticon. That’s what my thoughts basically summarized after reading the message. I just finished the hacking sim. It was pretty ingenious but oddly enough it wasn’t like most hacking sims or actual hacking for that matter.\n\nPlease elaborate. Also, look at the camera when you speak.\n\nWell, most hacking, contrary to pop culture movie representations, involves at least one night’s worth of work and smashing your head against the computer out of frustration. But-\n\nSorry to cut you off but an all-nighter? That’s pretty cliche. \n\nMost of us have day jobs that consume most of our time. The nine to five schedule is pretty unforgiving on creativity. Back to what I was saying. So the type of thinking required for the sim was pretty in-line with my style of hacking requiring only about half a night’s worth of work. On top of that, it was placed in the seventh text file when you alphabetized the text files according to QWERTY style alphabetization.\n\nWhat’s special about seven?\n\nIt represents perfection and completion in both a physical and spiritual sense. It’s number of God.\n\nYou believe in God?\n\nPlease don’t tell me you think that all hackers are atheists. \n\nUmmm\n\nHe’s like the greatest hacker of all time. He does his work while operating in secret. No one knows if He exists but everyone knows about Him. Embodiment of hacker clout. Definition of hacker supremacy. Anyway, I have to get back to work soon, so I’ll make this quick. I opened up the text file. It had an email address. I contacted it using a fake email. I got a message from the same email address to my personal email saying \"You're the first one to find it. Tell no one. We will be contacting you.\" The next morning the fuzz is breaking down the door and arresting me for transferring over a billion dollars to offshore accounts. I’ve said the same story over and over.\n\n\\*Camera shuts off\\*\n\nOkay that’s everything we need. You’re free to go.\n\nReally? Finally!\n\n\\*Hacker exits.\\*\n\n\\*Fake police officer speaking into mic in his collar\\* He’s changed. We can’t use him\n\nLooks like we need to find a replacement for our former leader. I can’t believe he failed the very test he created. There was a time when he would’ve never been caught and never spoken to the police if he was.\n\nI guess your personality changes with a memory wipe. \n\n*Hacker in a taxi looking at his phone. On it is a live feed from a secret camera showing a group former teammates and friends hacking away on computers and laptops.* \n\n\\*whispers\\* Sorry guys. I can’t come back just yet.\n\n/\\*Please give feedback/",
"Someone contacted me. \n\nMy god, I thought no one would be able to do it. A minute code, hidden within a string of text in a world of intricate numbers and words. A metaphorical \"needle-in-a-haystack\". At last, we have had our first volunteer. Our first subject. It's time for a second email to be sent. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTo: lewis.zubbs99@genmail.com\nCC:\nSubject: Second Foray\n\n\nwww.secondforay.org\n\nPlease visit this link and read the information. Send us another email with the correct word mentioned in the link in order to begin research. This is the way to the truth. Dig deeper.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nMy experiment has begun. My little...project, if you may call it that. A mix of art and humor that only I can pull off in such a unique way. Trust me on this, as my art style is beyond the pale, my sense of humor even more extreme. My subject will find me, and my art, through these links. But, he does not know, and will fail to know until the end of my magnum opus, that he is in fact aiding me in a large manner. He is completing me, for he is allowing me to do the forbidden. \n\nA day later I received his response. He responds well to directions. Interesting.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTo: secondforay@genmail.com\nCC: \nSubject: The Machination Organization\n\nThe Machination Organization.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCurious. Most would shy away from such a mysterious and deep rabbit hole. This man presses on. He is a glutton for information, a Sherlock Holmes of Internet mystery, perhaps. It's time to wrap him up even more. To push him farther into this machination. To make him dig deeper.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nOn March 21st, 2019, this Reddit post appeared on r/WhiteHats.\n\n\"Mysterious text files and rabbit-hole\"\n\nThis was posted by user u/zubbs99.\n\n\"I found the following mysterious email link within a text file on the Gilliam Foundation code string. I contacted it and these are the emails I received.\"\n\nEmails from secondforay@genmail.com were screenshotted and linked to the topic. It exploded among the 75,000 members of the game community, so much so that a second Reddit page, r/SecondForay, was created. Game devs eventually commented on the mysterious email, many saying that individually they did not know about anything like this, but that they wouldn't be surprised due to the amount of Easter eggs hidden in the game. \n\nThings expanded further on March 23rd, when a mysterious post was created on r/SecondForay, by u/JacobWillisStevenson.\n\n\"Lizard People of Saratoga Springs.\"\n\nThe post came with only the phrase, \"Dig Deeper\", under the subject line. The user, u/JacobWillisStevenson, had not created any posts prior, and was created the same day. The OP provided a comment with a link to a conspiracy website known as LizardPeopleofSaratogaSprings (the URL has since been removed). \n\n \n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTo: lewis.zubbs99@genmail.cpm\nCC: jacobwillisstevenson@genmail.com\nSubject: Stevenson is the key\n\nStevenson is the key. They are not the only lizards.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nMy work is ingenious. The WhiteHats community has gone wild with anticipation and curiosity. My hints are subtle enough to tease and vague enough to cock interest. I think it's high time that u/JacobWillisStevenson increases his posting karma. I think we'll start with a PM to u/zubbs99. After all, it was by his grace that my experiment could start.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nOn April 7th, another post was created by u/JacobWillisStevenson. \n\n\"A simple riddle.\"\n\nAs with his previous post, the description was vague, and confusing.\n\n\"How windy does it get during a spring windstorm in Portland?\"\n\nThe community at r/SecondForay had increased to around 30,000, partially due to an AskReddit post titled,\n\n\"What is the most interesting Internet rabbit-hole you have encountered?\"\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe riddle came into play after user u/zubbs99 received a PM from u/JacobWillisStevenson.\n\n\"Give me the number. I'll give you the answers.\"\n\nInternet sleuths had deduced there was a windstorm in Portland, Oregon, on April 7th, 2017. On that date there was a gust of 56 MPH at the airport. \n\nUser u/zubbs99 responded to the PM, with the number \"56\".\n\nHe received on April 11th a second PM, from u/JacobWillisStevenson, which contained a video.\n\n\"Lizard People of Saratoga Springs.\"\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nPeople are watching. I have an audience at last. I know I shall soon reap the fruits of my labor. So, I think it is high time to move on to Phase Two of my piece de resistance. Let's see where this rabbit-hole leads, shall we?\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"
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[WP] A Unicorn is infected with lycanthropy | 14 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Months ago the unicorn was walking through a moon lit glade when it came across a man in writhing agony. It approached, knowing that it shouldn't, knowing it should run. The unicorn had always been one of the more curious of it's kind.\n\n\n\nThe man was transforming into a wolf like creature. Its face lengthened into a muzzle, thick fur grew, and fingers turned into paws with claws at the end. There unicorn stood to there watching transfixed. \n\n\n\nThe werewolf looked up at the unicorn and started to howl. This broke to the unicorn’s frozen state and it turned to run. There werewolf was fast and overtook the unicorn easily. \n\n\n\n----\n\n\n\nThe unicorn didn't remember much about that fateful night, but it did know that the full moon now called him. The unicorn walked to that same fateful glade where he found the werewolf. He stopped and looked up at the sky waiting. Clouds covered the full moon, but were slowly moving away. A fingernail of moon, then half, finally the clouds cleared the face.\n\n\n\nThe unicorn whinnied as he felt the transformation start. This was what he had been waiting for. His sleek white coat started to get dark and shaggy. Fangs started to grow long from his mouth. Hoofs grew long hard claws at the end. His horn changed from a pearly white to a deep crimson.\n\n\n\nHis whinnies started to sound more like howls now. His glowing red eyes surveyed his transformation after it was over. He smiled to himself, finally time to hunt.\n\n"
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1,
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"1530084678",
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[WP] You wake up in a seemingly endless forest. In your right pocket, there is a combat knife. In your left pocket is a handwritten note that says... | 15 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Good afternoon. I offer you a simple, yet important, choice. I have your family. I can and and I will end them with no reservations unless you follow my instructions. That knife is no ordinary one. It is an Aztec ritual knife I procured at an auction in Dubai. That knife will be your tool, your companion, your friend, and your savior. In a shack in which the directions are given to on the back of this note, there are two sinners. They have both committed grievous crimes, and I want you to kill one. Choose wisely!\"",
"Dear Mr. Michael Anderson,\n\nWe have received your resume and it seems as though you have passed the requirements. You were then asked to partake in an interview. You passed that as well. Welcome to your new job as a lumberjack. You may feel that we have understocked you with the resources provided but I digress, you are a powerful man. This forest has many trees. Trees as far as the eye can see. However here at LumberLuver, we only employ the best of the best. As far as I'm concerned, good luck Michael.\n\nLumberLuver Corp.",
"\"Josh, \nYou were right. The world's governments are hiding so much from humanity. People aren't ready for the truth. The film industry, the gaming industry, hell writes in general have been teasing in since the early 1900's. There is more to earth than meets the eye, all myths have a basis in truth, etc.\nThe only way to protect you now, is to send you into the outer world. Try and survive, the best you can. \n-A Friend\"\n\nThat's all the letter said. On the back, is a simple map, showing me a route through the forest, to a supply cache. Behind me, is an ice wall, stretching as far as I can see. Ahead, a path disappears into the trees. ",
"John\n\nYou know we care for you very much, you and your brothers have been of great help to our cause on this solar system, unfortunately the Unification doesn't want to deal with the human race just yet. This might seem wrong, but, in your current state it would be too dangerous to allow you to live near others, surely you still remember what happened the first time the chip failed to control the infection. We've left your favorite weapon in your pocket, it's the only thing you will really need. We don't know how long it will be but you should be fine, you've killed hundreds of them before, you can kill hundreds of them now and thanks to the current state of the disease you can consume their flesh, so there is no need to hunt anything else aside from water. Do not worry friend, you can survive this and once we establish a connection between the Unification and your race, we will come for you. \n",
"*If you’re reading this note for the first time, please continue. Otherwise, why the heck are you rereading it?*\n\n*1. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to read this note, ironic.*\n\n*2. You wrote this note, also ironic.*\n\n*3. You have really awesome tech (it’s all in your knife) but whenever you leave your pocket dimension you lose your memories, still not sure if this one is all that ironic...*\n\n*Touch this note to your forehead to regain your memories... sorry that you (me) made yourself (also me) read this when all you (guess who) had to do was facepalm...*\n\n*P.S. being as paranoid as you are about everything, you’ll think that this note is trying to give you the wrong memories or something. You’ll then think that the P.S. is just trying to get you to stop being paranoid so that you will gladly take the note to your forehead. Then you’ll think the same about that last sentence, and so on. If this isn’t enough proof that you wrote this yourself than I don’t know what is.*\n\nAnd that’s when it all started. Of course, the Naleskans thought that the note would actually work. The technology itself was pretty interesting to me. You could use a surface in contact with someone’s forehead to put in the info you wanted. Only drawbacks were that the target brain had to be wiped clean and the transfer had to be voluntary. The process of wiping the brain itself had a 50% success rate... it seemed my Naleskan friends had hit the bull’s eye, as I had complete recollection of who I was. This note wouldn’t fool a donkey.\n\nBeing the smartest man alive comes with a multitude of implied perks, but it also makes you a huge target. I realized I was special in high school, when suddenly the workings of reality itself became clear to me. Every gear, every law and theory, everything that hadn’t been discovered I put together into one elegant formula in just one week of relaxed work. Everything suddenly clicked, and society with all its politics and entertainment seemed so petty in contrast with the insane amount of possibilities.\n\nBut I played dumb, keeping my grades barely above C-level and being a complete social outcast. It didn’t matter, college was dull, everything was dull to me. Through my mind flowed hundreds of ideas, and any one of them could completely revolutionize humanity. I couldn’t build them though, it was too dangerous. I could feel the dam of society binding my ideas behind my skull, never allowing me to realize them.\n\nSo I left. I went somewhere where nobody could ever find me. Not because they didn’t look well enough, but because it was literally impossible for humanity to find me: I built my own planet. I then freed myself from the chains which had bonded me for so long, creating and advancing my own technology beyond comprehension. I cured death, I broke the limits of the human brain, solved consciousness, created a perfectly renewable source of energy, and created every sci-fi instrument from any movie or book that I could get my hands on.\n\nAnd then I figured it out. By taking a small container and saturating it with dark energy, you could blow up the space inside of it and fit an unfathomable amount of stuff inside. I made Darksmith, my dagger. In it I put all the tech I had created in my 200 years of R&D. If only I’d been a little more watchful.\n\nI got up, taking in every detail around me as I caressed my dagger’s handle, causing my headache to disappear completely. I then gave it a subtle, mental command, causing it to transform into its true form: the Darklight suit, the gem of my work. I took in a breath of the fresh air, calculating its composition at the same time. \n\nTaking the time to admire the beauty of the forested landscape, I took in the information about *everything*. The trees’ reached up and spread their green hands into the sky above me, waving hello as a waterfall spilled it’s cool flow into the river beside me. Just because I was smart didn’t mean I was apathetic toward simple pleasures. What good does understanding reality do if you never go enjoy it?\n\nMy thoughts shifted with the sound of a bird. The Naleskan were going to regret what they’d done, regret it like nothing else. I, Ranniel of Earth, would make sure of that.\n\n—\nr/AnOrdinaryGuy\n\nThis will be continued with a part 2 tomorrow, and an n amount of parts afterwards.\n\nEDIT: Deleted a comma that I didn’t like, and put it in this sentence instead."
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[WP] Growing up you were always a little clumsy and often spilled food or drinks. To make light of it, you always would declare these accidents as "offerings" to your god/gods. One day they answer. | 6 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"STOP OFFERING ME PEPSI!\" Joan jumped looking around for the source of the voice, neglecting the still spilling can of soda. \"Who-\"\n\"I swear to all the other deities, I will end you, if you don't knock it off. \" A very pissed looking man holding a glass of soda said, standing in front of her. The glass continued to fill as the can poured out.\n\"An offering can't be refused, but no god wants to drink soda that you've spilled on the floor!\" Dionysus pinched his nose, and poured the drink down his throat, with a grimace. "
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"1530115998",
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[WP] Mother Nature and Father Time have been experiencing marriage issues for a while now. They have finally agreed to go see a marriage counsler. | 11 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Doctor Alder\" said the nurse, \"your next patient is ready.\"\n\n\"Send them in.\n\nI took a good hard look at what came from beyond the door. I had seen unusual couples in his time, who thought it was good to get together when there were no other options.\n\nOn the left was a woman of short stature with green skin. She looked rather... I don't know how to describe it, but plantlike is a good start. She was the representation of nature herself. On the right was a shrunken man dressed in a black cloak. His arm was covered with clocks of all sizes. That's right, I said clocks. He had a cuckoo click strapped to his forearm. This is a prank, isn't it.\n\nI looked at the case file attached to my clipboard. Come to see me at 12:30 was Mr Time and Mrs Nature? \n\n\"Nurse, are you serious?\" I asked, almost hearing the laughter coming from beyond the door. Instead, the nurse gave me a dead look. She was dead serious. Actually, she was dead, and for a long time by the looks of it. Long shivers ran down my spine.\n\n\"Hello - uh, Mr. and Mrs. Time. What seems to be the problem with your marriage?\" \n\n\"It's Mrs. Nature, if you won't mind. I'm not being called Mrs. Time here.\"\n\nWas it just me, or did the plants on her back curl up and snarl at me?\n\n\"Alright, so-\"\n\n\"You see the kinds of frivolities she goes through! This is why our marriage is in shambles!\"\n\n\"It's not, it's not, it's just that you wouldn't admit it, that 's all.\"\n\n\"Please, don't argue, you're both here to seek professional guidance.\" Besides of which I hesitated to mention I'm charging them $40 an hour.\n\n\"You see, it all started way back in the primordial goo-\"\n\n\"Which I created, thank you very much.\"\n\n\"Mr. Time, would you stop interrupting her. Please continue.\"\n\nThe room seemed to get a little older at the sound of that, but she continued.\n\n\"As I was saying. It all started back in the primordial goo of life. I wanted to create life, he wanted to wait.\"\n\n\"It's only fair! You know how much upkeep life is?\"\n\n\"I said I would pay for it.\n\n\"From my salary?\"\n\n\"We said we'd compromise and make life conscious. I did that, didn't I?\"\n\n\"It only took you a billion years to do that, didn't it!\"\n\nAt this point, I was fully expecting the knight with a chicken to come in and whack us all in the head. He didn't come.\n\n\"And Mr. Time, what is your view on the matter.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, it really started back in the creation of Greece.\"\n\n\"He wanted to knock up Aphrodite, I said no.\"\n\n\"You know that I made Greece for its culture!\"\n\n\"That explains the scantily clad women at every street corner begging you to pay them a visit.\"\n\n\"You can find them in every city!\"\n\n\"And you created all the cities too!\"\n\n\"I created the deities that created all the cities, there's a difference!\"\n\n\"And I only created the deity that killed you and sliced you up into pieces with your own scythe and you blame it on me.\" \n\nI didn't know what to expect now, but I need to break up this argument.\n\n\"Mr. Time and Mrs. Nature-\"\n\n\"Of course he puts your name first.\"\n\n\"That doesn't matter!\"\n\n\"Yes it does!\"\n\n\"WOULD YOU PLEASE CALM DOWN!\" I shouted, perhaps out of pure mania in the moment. To my amazement, they stopped arguing for a moment.\n\n\"The problem to me is that you have different opinions on different subjects. I recommend that you talk it out.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"We're done here.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"We're done. Please, take the door could you both, and have a very nice millennia.\"\n\nI could see their scowling. They weren't ready yet.\n\n\"You know, there is one thing that we do agree on.\"\n\n\"Excellent, now please exit.\"\n\n\"No no no, I think you solved our marriage. You see, we just realized you're charging by the hour.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n...\n\n...\n\n...\n\n\"One marriage counselor was found dead in his practice today. Authorities are still investigating, but they've found green slime trails so far. Nothing is suggestible-\"\n\nThe TV clicked off.\n\n\"I suppose the newslady will have to go too.\""
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1,
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"1530123258",
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[WP] You love writing on r/WritingPrompts. In fact, it's your favorite hobby. One day you log on and realize you have been voted onto the Spotlight. Ecstatic, you jump for joy in your room before noticing a figure in a dark cloak standing in the corner. Before you can react, he says, "It's time." | 9 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“It’s time,” the figure said, taking a step forward. He looked around the room, noticing the mess. “I would think you’d be much more organized than this,” he said as he pressed against the open drawer, struggled, and then called it quits. \n\nI stared at him, part confused and part stifling a laugh. \n\n“Time for?” \n\n“Time for you to stop all this little prompt mess. Time for you to write that novel I’ve been bothering you about.”\n\nI stopped, clenching my mouse and flicking the middle wheel. \n\n“I don’t want to. I’m enjoy this just fine. It’s a challenge and I’m just not ready for that novel,” I said, turning back at him. \n\n“I don’t think anyone is ready to write the entire story of our people. You keep running away from this, making excuses.” He threw his head back, the hood falling off. \n\nI knew him. I had named him a few different times. Keagan was the prominent name for about a year. \n\n“It’s been eight years since you started this. It started with me. One of these days we are going to drive you crazy. Have fun with those prompts then when the only characters you think of are us.”\n\nI turned around, scrolling through the recent prompts. Noticing the trend they shared, I bit my lip. \n\n“What excuse you got for me now?” Keagan scoffed and turned, fiddling with the door knob.\n\n“Well, Camp NaNoWriMo is coming.” I reached for a drawer and brought a notebook full of years of information. \n\n“Don’t let us down a third time.” ",
"\"It's time.\", he says as I suddenly teleport away, into a dark room with seemingly no lights, and a cube of light at the end of what seems to be a long hallway.\n\nI shook, and jumped up like a cat would, in fear of cucumbers. \"AHH! Whoa! Who's there? Where am I? Who are you?\" I say loudly.\n\nMy voice echos and there is no reply. I look around and see that there's nothing other than that box of light. *I guess that I have no choice, I gotta find out what just happened. I'm confused and creeped out.*\n\nI slowly walk to the light in the distance for what seems to be forever, looking from side to side to make sure my imaginary monsters of the dark don't appear and eat me whole. When I reach the box, I yet again teleport, into a room where there's a bunch of balloons and people and celebratory stuffs.\n\n\"Surprise!\" they yell.\n\nI jump yet again, scared as shit. \"Whaaa-a? Whas . . going on . . .?\"\n\nA lot of them laugh, and one of them says \"We are the mods from r/WritingPrompts , and we throw parties for anyone who ascends to a higher level of writing, then put you on our hall of fame. We also kinda happen to have future tech that allows teleportation, as one of our mods works at Area 51, and we are all kinda siblings here, so he shared it with us. You've been nominated by the subreddit to join our hall of fame of writers. Think of this all as a kind of initiation into our group. Good job!\"\n\n*Holy bat shit, are these people crazy? I just got kidnapped from my house, teleported to be exact, to a surprise party for a subreddit post? Cool.*\n\n\"Soo you're telling me this is a party for me in honor of my recent post?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"And this is all legit and whatever, and you can get me home afterwards?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"Cool, screw normies, we can have a thick prequel meme themed party, maybe add some balance in there with some sequels memes and with that, we can get some Thanos memes in here.\"\n\n\"That sounded like our plan.\"\n\n\"I'm still confused though.\"\n\n\"Don't be, this is your party.\"\n\n\"Oookay, I guess I'll stay a while then. Where are we?\"\n\n\"Another planet, and the one condition for this if that if you don't make another hit in one post, we send you off the planet into space to die, so lets have a fun time as is and party till you get that hit!\"\n\n*Shit.*\n\nLol ty, also edit for tiny semicolon grammar error."
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[WP] You can freeze time but every time you return (unfreeze time) a little thing in your normal life is changed. The longer you freeze time for, the more drastic the changes when you return. | 79 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Tempus fugit. It's a Latin phrase, meaning \"time flows\". It's a mantra for myself, helping me keep a stable state of my mind as my control over the various aspects of life lessens. For many years, I slowly developed an ability. Chronomancy, obtained from texts about the Lamas of Tibet, fueled by my natural ability to slightly slow the \"tempus fugit\". From an early age I could very slightly alter the natural flow of time, and manipulate the disturbance in ways that were beneficial to me. I used it for some good things, and to confess, for things like petty thievery of candy and small trinkets. \n\nAs I grew older though, I decided that I wanted to strengthen my power, and I moved to Pataliputra, India, in order to pursue spiritual enlightenment. I happened upon a monastery which described the powers I had in perfect detail upon its ancient texts, and was pointed in the direction of a Dugpa school known as the Tanzen Yaksha, in Lhasa, Tibet. I trained here for 4 years, developing my abilities. I had the strength to slow time down drastically after this period, even stop it for several seconds. But I learned of a cost to my abilities, namely small changes that may have significant impacts on my life. Perhaps a bug that initially did not exist, but now sat on my head. A coin, which was once flipped to the head side, now tails. Very small, but nonetheless significant. Eventually, it had significant costs for me. I write to you now from a hyper-extended state. Every day I recite the seven Sutras, in order to keep time stable for me. If I don't? It's all up to chance.",
"When I was in my early twenties, I discovered a hidden power I had. I could stop and start time at will. Like any young man in my shoes would do I abused the power for my own personal gain.\n\nI started doing things like pausing time during a TV show so I could get a drink or use the bathroom. I discovered that while I could still interact with the world when I touched an object the same rule didn't apply to people. For some reason I could move objects around but I couldn't move a person or anything in contact with that person.\n\nNaturally it escalated from short stints to grab a drink to longer activities. It was after one such activity where I had spent maybe a couple minutes that I noticed a shocking change when I started time.\n\nI felt a slight burn in my right eye and ran to the sink to wash my eye out. When I rose to dry my face I saw that my my right eye color was now a silvery grey, a drastic change from my normal deep brown.\n\nThis terrified me. Did the altering of time affect my body in some way? I was scared to test it for fear of some drastic change for the worse in me.\n\nIt was about two weeks before I worked up the courage to try again. Pandora's box had already been opened and my curiosity wouldn't be sated.\n\nI flitted through a few quick cycles of time to see if I could notice any changes. I examined myself thoroughly and only noticed that I now had a few stray gray hairs that were brown before.\n\n\"Maybe it only affects me cosmetically?\" I mused to myself. I planned to do one more stop to test my new theory. I would stop time for just a couple minutes to see if the change was more noticeable. \n\nI stopped time and counted in my head silently. A slight sense of dread settled in my stomach and I released my hold on time and held my breath.\n\nOne second...two... three..\nThere was no burning sensation or any pain at all. I went to the mirror to look myself over.\n\n\"Huh...\"\nI didn't see any changes.\n\nI reached for the sink to turn the water on and grabbed the hot water knob.\n\nIt was then I noticed the change. My pinkey and ring finger on my left hand no longer closed. I could move them maybe only a 20th of their original range.\n\nNaturally I panicked and vowed to never use the power again. \n\nMy doctor let me know what there was no course of action to improve the flexibility of my fingers and was clueless as to how they could've just seized up.\n\nIt's been years since that day and I've only sparsely used my powers since then.\n\nWell...its been years for me anyways. You see I have a beautiful wife. Walking home one night we were stopped by a man demanding our money. My wife reached into her purse and I guess the man panicked as he thrust his knife at her.\n\nI stopped time to save her but i couldn't move her or him. I scrambled to find something to put between her and the knife but I couldn't find anything to fit.\n\nNow I'm terrified of what will happen to me once I start time... it's been so long. I can't save her. I cant save myself. \n\nI bring her flowers still. I tell her I'm sorry.\n\nBut as long as I keep time stopped she's still with me.\n\n\nEdit: a word",
"I can remember it so clearly. She’s shouting at me, her voice harsh and brittle, flavoured by cigarettes and cheap wine. My young self just wants it all to stop, to escape. And then it happened. Time stops, like a photograph everything is suddenly still. There is no sound, and even the smoke that had been wafting up from the ashtray is frozen. I stop too, for a moment, taking in a breath of relief. \n\nThat was the first time it happened, the first time I had put the world on pause like that. I had stayed in that moment for too long, although I have no way to know how long, but when I had released time I had found the universe had charged me for its service. It had taken its payment by stealing something from me. A life had suddenly never existed, the elderly woman next door. She’d given me treats on days where I otherwise wouldn’t have been fed, and now she was just gone. Erased from history so that the only one who now holds her memory is me. \n\nI didn’t do it again until I was much older. In the middle of an exam about to define my fate I had suddenly remembered that feeling, it surged through me and it had happened again. Everything was suddenly put on hold, no time limit, no scratch of pen on paper. A weight had lifted itself from my shoulders. I was quicker that time, doing what I need to finish the exam and checking my answers against others. I relieved the moment of its hold and watched the exam end. \n\nI didn’t realise what had been taken that time until months later when I noticed a missing photograph, one of our few family vacations and even fewer happy moment as a family. I had called my mother, a rarity at that time, to confirm the sinking feeling in my stomach. She did not remember that trip. It had never happened. It had taken a memory and destroyed it. \n\nI was much more careful from then on, realising the cost of this power. There were a few slip ups, mid argument or cramming for a deadline, and I always felt the price of them. I got married, I had children, and suddenly I became afraid of the power. I had worked my way from nothing to something. Something balanced and warm, a home without the stench of nicotine and booze. I did not want to lose any of it. \n\nThe last time it happened there was a man with a gun aimed at me and the fear of death. A gut instinct that launched me into a frozen moment that I did not know what to do with. When I unfroze I was in my car driving home, and when I arrived the lights were on. I turned the key in the door and entered. I could hear my family, their voices warm as the our home. Walking into the living room I felt relief flowing through me, my wife and children sat in each others company. \n\nMy wife looked up at me and I smiled in my joy of this moment. Then my smile fell as she let out a shriek, standing up from her seat. There was no recognition on her face, only fear at a strange man who had entered her home without warning. I knew in that moment what my toll was to have kept living, just as her husband walked in from the kitchen. ",
"This is a confession post. Here, I'm going to tell you about my life. My name is John, ironic since it's generic, right? Anyway, I have the power to freeze time. Wow, such a cut there, right? You probably don't believe me, and that's probably a good thing, as it would probably only serve to put me into danger. But, I need to talk about what has happened in my life for the past while. It started when I hit puberty, like my body just kinda developed the ability to freeze and unfreeze time, as I was developing. At first, I couldn't control it, and it was like every kid's fantasy about freezing time and running into a store and stealing everything there they wanted, like some kinda shopping spree. But, it never lasted for more than a few seconds, and every time it happened, odd things would happen, like I'd lose my DSI or Gameboy or my homework is due a little earlier, my hair changed color like I dyed it blonde or something. Those are all things that happened, and I was really lost for a while. nobody noticed the changes or the freezes and I never told anybody, as I was too scared. As I grew older I began to gain control of this power, and I could stop the bursts so I wouldn't continuously lose my keys. But, one day in my life came where I found a girlfriend, who I planned to marry, and at that time in my life, let's say I was going through a hard time. And before I tell you, let me say that the longer I keep the freeze up the weirder things happen to me. So, back to the story, I made a bad decision with my life and decided to use my power to freeze time to steal from a store. I figured out that with my power, if it's less than ten seconds, nothing that bad can happen, less than a minute, a detail regarding myself or my personal life changes, but never before had I gone past a minute. This is where it went bad. I had decided to try to rob a store, thinking if I had the power to do it then to do it, and I took some things from Best Buy, but the problem is, I had gone past my time limit and my internal clock had went past a minute. I didn't realize it until afterwards, however. I was happy with what I got, until I went home, to my girlfriend whom I lived with, and she wasn't there. I tried waiting until the time where she was off work, since she might have had her phone off so I didn't worry, but she didn't come back, nor the next day. I tried calling her mom, but she said she didn't have a daughter, and I got really confused, and that's' when I knew something was wrong. I tried calling all her friends, and nobody knew who she was, and only recognized me as a faint acquaintance, and it was like she completely dissipated from my life. I narrowed it down to what I had done in the past few days, and I realized it was the freezing, as it had gone past a minute, for some stupid TV. She was my SO, and I loved her like she was my only world. Now, she's gone, and I haven't used my power since. It's been tearing at me for years now and I needed to talk about it. I think about it a lot, almost every other night, how I ruined us. Now I have a wife and two beautiful kids, but I'm still painfully reminded of her so often, like I killed her. I just needed to get this off my chest. Thank you.",
"At first, it was nothing more than a game. Some simple fun, nothing too serious. But it didn't take me long to get hooked. The adrenaline. The competition. The mystery. I can't get enough of it.\n\nI've been stopping and starting time for about ten years now. It's pretty easy to get the hang of after your first time, but ya gotta get past the first one. Most people do, but it's tough. I mean, you can't relate to anyone about that! At least not at first. No one is there to hold your hand and help you process that you can stop time, let alone that shit changes when you've paused it. That, my friend, is unsettling. I'll be the first one to admit that at first it freaked me out. I mean, it's not everyday your mom grows six inches and no one bats an eye. I couldn't really comprehend that in the slightest, but again, stopping and starting time didn't make too much sense either. Somehow I made the connection between the two. I didn't stop again until about two years later, when I did it by complete accident. Yup, my career started because of a fuckin' accident. Hard to believe that sometimes. Anyway, after I stopped it that second time, I immediately switched it back on. I was terrified, but that's when I discovered the difference: The shorter you freeze time, the less drastic the changes.\n\nMy proudest catch was about a week after my 27th birthday. At that point I had been training for nine years and had already won a few tournaments. Regional tournaments, what have you, but still pretty significant. I was top 50 in the TNF rankings, but I was scheduled to go up against this Swedish player who simply goes by Noah. Dude is top 10 in the European standings and had the attitude to prove it. A couple months before he had almost made it to the 1 second round in the European Tournament, as a teenager no less. The kid's no joke.\n\nOur round was set at 1.5 seconds, which is no small task. Sure, I've made it under 1, but even for me that may have been a fluke. I like to hover around the 1.3 range, so I felt pretty confident going into this match. \n\nOnce we began, like always, we went about our daily lives. Sometimes these matches can last months, but it only took me three days to figure out that the sidewalk between 33rd and 9th and 33rd and 8th had twenty squares instead of twenty one. No one had solved an under 2 second match in under a week before. And I did it 1.5 three days. That's the one that changed everyone. That's the one that made me a household name. That's the one that made me Anthony Thompson. Yes, that Anthony Thompson."
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[WP] Your best friend is weirdly the ghost that haunts your house, you chat with each other, play video games, bullshit over movies. Until the day that they finally finish the thing that has kept them from moving on all this time | 5,359 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Dear Dairy, 7/13/12\n\nThis morning looked like every other morning, suns bright the birds are singing their morning song. Yet it didn't feel as beautiful as it looked. It felt as if the sky was a rolling mess of dark rain clouds. Today's the day they would find his body, today's the day he would find his rest. Today's the day I lose my best friend. Lose is such an odd term to use, to lose something implies it can be found. No, I'm saying goodbye to the only person I've ever opened up to. This is a good thing for him I suppose, to be put at rest. It just doesn't feel good. It feels unfair, like I've been cheated out of something I should have never even had. When he asked me to help I felt like it was the right thing to do. To be able to give his family closer, since his killer couldn't before his demise. Now they can bury their beloved son and brother. They can finally have that peace of knowing where his body is resting. I'm glad I helped do that for them, I am. I just wish maybe it wasn't for another few years. How was I to know that I had a talent for this? How was I to know that my heart would ultimately be shattered and wounded. He tells me I'll grow from this, that the pain will subside. He says he wants me to move on with my life and start a family. How can I? How can I let another in the way I have with him? I can't! It's to painful to bare but I know it's what has to be done. Besides there is no turning back now. All I can do is pray that he doesn't disappear as soon as they find him. I hope I can have just one more night with him! I told him my idea and he got angry. I can't understand why though? We would be together foever! He say's he doesn't want to rob me and that he's not even sure what it's like on the other side. I don't care though! I need him in ways I couldn't explain. He's what's right in my world and now he's leaving. I know my plan will work, if I just be strong about it. It has to! For him I'd do anything even if means to leave what I know behind for good, just to be with him wherever we are. If it's nothing then I'd rather be nothing then live one minute here without my best friend by my side. ",
"He slowly embraced me with his ghost hands. We both trembled with anticipation. His hands, cold and inexperienced, fumbling on my zipper.\n\nHe looked deeply into my eyes with such a strong desire.... to keep me warm. \n\nAs he finished zipping up my jacket I thanked him but it was too late.. He had completed his unfinished business of learning to close a zipper and was off.",
"My best friend Liz died during a dark and stormy night coming to my house, the police said it had been a drunk driver...I was devastated, me and that girl had been friends since preschool. I went to the funeral and cried with my family and her family and our friends. \n\nOne night as I was coming home from campus, I heard a distinct noise...it was the sound of her earrings jingling, it couldn’t be her. Could it? \n\n“Liz? Is that you?” I asked cautiously. \n\nSuddenly the room dropped to a really cold temperature, and a whoosh of cold air buzzed by me. I turned around and there she was, her brown wavy hair with her blue eyes and pale skin...she was wearing a long flowing white dress and was almost glowing. \n\n“Thought you’d see the last of me”, she smiled. \n\nI didn’t know whether to cry or get my eyes checked, I had my best friend back...this would be amazing! \n\nFrom then now, I kept quiet about ghost Liz in my house to my parents and her parents to avoid getting looked at crazy. I would come home and we would do our usual thing gossiping, playing video games, and our favorite pastime talking bullshit over silly movies. \n\nIt was perfect, it went on for months and then a few years...one day I had come home after work and she wasn’t there sitting in the living room like she always did. I called out to her, she came swooping down from my room. \n\nI noticed a change in her ghostly demeanor, she looked sad. \n\n“What’s wrong? You can tell me Lizzie” I asked her. \n\nI heard her sigh before she spoke “I need to leave”. \n\n“W-w-what do you mean?” I stuttered out, tearing forming in my eyes and streaming down my face. \n\n“It’s nothing against you quinnie, it’s just that I’ve noticed that I’m not moving on and finally figured it out from my ghost mentor. You haven’t been able to let go of me. I’m dead sweetie, even my own family has accepted that I’m never coming back. I love you girl but I need to move on” she said all avoiding looking at me, by the time she did I could see that she was crying too. \n\n“Please don’t go, you can stay here forever with me. Remember soul sisters?” I finish sticking my pinky out, I feel her cold pinky attach to mines. \n\nShe detached her pinky and stepped away from me “eventually you will start a family and have kids and get old. I’ll still be 18, I’ll always be there for you but before I go promise you will see a therapist. You can talk about me all you want but you need some closure, this isn’t healthy what’s going on here.” She explained. \n\nI was scared, scared to be alone...I don’t remember the last time I talked to someone who was human, I thought against letting go of her because I was afraid I would forget the memories. \n\n“Okay, just one hug goodbye?” I asked hesitated. \n\n“Sure boo” she said smiling before we hugged and I felt her slowly vanishing. I cried when I realized she was gone, I noticed a bracelet with a note that read “please know that I’ve forget you, never forget me either, call this number. She could be great help”. \n\nI put on the bracelet and called the number, I had an appointment in the morning. \n\nIt was morning and I signed into the waiting room, after 15 minutes my name was called. \n\nI stepped into the therapist’s office and said “hi I’m Quinn”. \n\nTHE END \n\n",
"A terrifying, icy cold chill passed through Jack’s spine as he left his house for work. But it wasn’t the first time it had happened. Corduroy loved doing it, passing straight through a person, and much to Jack’s dismay. It was the last time it happened.\n\nJack moved into that house for the same reason that anyone else who ever moved into a haunted house did. It was cheap, and he did not believe in ghosts. But unlike all those tales, this one had a twist, the ghost went on to become his best friend. His only friend. \n\nUnlike all the others before him, Jack was indifferent to all the antics the ghost played upon him. A vase that shattered on the floor into a thousand pieces in the middle of the night stayed there on the floor for a week. The bathroom door which was locked from outside was spared from any trauma as Jack just spent the night inside. And walked out in the morning as if nothing had happened. \n\nOne night, Jack prepared a grand meal for himself. Nothing like the ghost had ever thought he was capable of. Corduroy only figured out the reason when he saw the contents of a medicine container being emptied into the gravy. And that’s when he confronted Jack. Lots of shouting, ranting and crying ensued. And then relief. It was but the beginning of a friendship that would last for years. Corduroy stood by Jack, and persuaded him to consult a doctor. He turned over a new leaf. They did everything that was possible for a ghost and a human being to do together. Watch movies, read books, play video games, and what not. They trusted each other with everything. \n\nBut alas, it was not to last. For that day, when Jack came back from work, Corduroy was nowhere to be seen. He searched in every nook and corner of the house, as if he was looking for a lost trinket. There was no way the ghost could have left the premises of the house. This puzzled him greatly, for a person remains as a ghost only if they are prevented from achieving something, an unfinished task at the time of their death. And there was no way Corduroy could have attended to his unfinished task. \n\nWith no one to support him, Jack soon fell back to his old ways. The loneliness, depression, anger and the confusion proved too much for him. And he went away the same way Corduroy did. \n\nHe too, became a victim of auto-erotic asphyxiation. ",
"Once upon a time, I had a friend.\n\nHe was everything you’d expect a dwarf to be: strong, handsome, capable of holding his beer. Barer was a man of wisdom, and power. He always accepted a challenge, he did everything in his power to assist wherever he could. If an old lady needed to cross the road, Barer would more than willingly assist. If someone needed their groceries carried, Barer was the first one in line to take both my groceries and theirs.\n\nMe, on the other hand? I was a wimp. I didn’t have much interest in the likes of Dwarvenship. I cared not for mining, I cared not for fighting. No drinking either. I was a runt, everyone used to mock me when I was younger, but Barer? He found that amusing. He took it upon himself to be my guardian, my protector. Not once did he ever care about anything the other dwarves cared for. When people mocked my capabilities to arm wrestle, he would take up their challenge, and say that he was the body, I was the mind. Everyone mocked me for it, that much was for certain, but he didn’t care. And quite frankly, neither did I.\n\nOur conflicting interests felt as if they would cause a ripple in our friendship. I expected him to want to be out there, making adventures, making a name for himself. Barer, the Strong. Barer, the Brave. It is what one would aspire in these ages, right? Well, he didn’t care. It was him that would sit beside me, one mug of ale at his hand. He never offered me any because he knew I was weak for that stuff. He’d call me Gnome at times, which was funny. We looked up at the stars, and we’d speak. He would tell me of the things he did that day, he needed to work, of course so not all of our time was spent together. He would leave and I would be left in my house, wondering what to do with myself. I would think, he comes back with so many wonderful stories of his travels, and I greet him with nothing of interest. Every time he’d return to tell me a story, wide smile on his face, beard all messed up from his line of work. Barer, he decided he would make a job out of his kindness, from me telling him so much. He decided that he would take it upon himself to help people, so he became this sort of bounty hunter. He put up an address so people would ask for his assistance and time and time again, he would go out of his way, out of town, to other cities, other continents, even. Just to help those in need.\n\nSometimes it got messy, he needed to fight a monster. Sometimes he needed to mine with some people in dangerous places, but again and again, he would return to tell me his stories. But what could I, a boring dwarf tell him?\n\nIn time, he took interest upon my love for languages. I taught him English, I taught him how to read Dwemer, how to write it. In these eras, no one knew how to read but a select few, and learning from a scribe was difficult, specially with all of the dwarves who had no desire in learning, only drinking and fighting. But that wasn’t Barer, Barer always wanted to learn from me, aspired to understand what inspired me. “What good things from my nonexistent travels could I tell you?” I would think, I would say. “Nothing.” He would answer, with a smile on his face. “But that doesn’t matter to me. You are my only friend.” I would shake it off, every single time. I couldn’t be his only friends, throughout the travels, he always made friends. His comrades, very similar to him. They enjoyed drinking, fighting. They enjoyed mining, all of the stuff dwarves should aspire to be, but Barer always said I was the only one he cared about. How no matter how much they had in common, they would never have a connection, anything to truly make them interesting, or important. They were a bunch of common dwarves, while I was different.\n\nI found that funny, of course. Throughout all of my life, I always wanted to be the most important member of a person’s life. Never once did I think I could achieve it. Every single time people would laugh at me. Perhaps humans would take interest on me, perhaps elves. But never did I imagine a dwarf. My eyes teared up as I looked at Barer and smiled. This meant the world to me, and I was ready to tell him, but as I tried to speak, my words did not come out, and Barer’s face seemed afraid. “What’s wrong?” I tried to say. “What’s happening?” but nothing came out. Barer got up and his eyes watered as he looked at me in the face. “Really?” He asked. “This is all you wanted?” He said, with a knot in his throat. “All of this time, you just needed a person to love you?” I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t tell him how he was the most important person in my life, the only person in my life. I looked down, as my body faded. I could remember it faintly, my assassination. I looked up at Barer once more and my house was all destroyed, windows broken, except for some few that I had seen Barer clean. I tried to tell him I loved him, how he was the one and only most important being of my life, but nothing came out, and soon, my body faded.\n\nBarer came and visited me daily, to the house of my death. Time and time again, he would clean around. Now, I could see clearly, the house that was once mine destroyed, I turned and saw very small bloodstains, scrubbed and scrubbed. Barer didn’t only come to my house, he tried to renovate it to what it once was. And I loved him for it. How I wish, I had been alive to make it matter.",
"“Soooo, this feels like a weird time to bring it up, but I don’t know how else to say this. So uh, I’m moving on now.” \n\nI glanced sideways at Milton, thinking he was joking. His tight-lipped expression told me he wasn’t. \n\n“What do you mean?” I asked with slight trepidation. \n\n\nHe sighed. “You know. Earth. This mortal coil. Whatever you want to call it. - yes, for real,” he finished, noticing my expression that signaled that I still didn’t quite believe him. \n\n“Okaaaay. So why now? Did I piss you off somehow?” \n\n“No, of course not.” \n\n“Well are you bored here or something?” \n\n“Nah, I’ve been pretty comfortable.” \n\n“So then...?” \n\n“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” \n\nI frowned. “Oh, come on.” \n\n“Seriously. It sounds dumb.” \n\n“Just say it,” I spat in exasperation. \n\n“I finished what was keeping me here. Finally.” He paused. \n\nI waited a few silent seconds. “...Which is?” \n\n“I’ve never told you.” \n\n“Yeah, obviously. So what, did you need to make amends for hurting someone? Or needed to be there to support someone?” \n\nHe let out a pained sigh. “I told you, you’ll think it’s dumb.” \n\n“Milt! Try me.” \n\n“Oh fine. I pooped.” \n\nI blinked. “Pardon??” \n\n“See? What’d I tell you. I pooped.” \n\nI bit back an incredulous splutter. “Yeah I believe you, I was just making sure that’s what you really said. But...what...do...you......mean exactly?” \n\nHe clamped his hand over his forehead. “Ugh, okay. So, like a week before my death I was super constipated and was just praying it would loosen up so I could get some relief. I’ve been uncomfortable all this time and yesterday the god damn thing finally moved out.” \n\nI had humored him up till then but this was becoming so ridiculous my bewilderment was crossing over into anger. “Ghosts can’t fucking poop, Milt!” I yelled. I was fairly sure that my neighbor heard this but I didn’t care what they might have thought. \n\n“Yeah well shows what you know about ghosts,” he snapped, glaring at me. I opened my mouth to retaliate but then realized that I did not in fact know the intimate matters of ghosts so I closed it again, and shrugged in defeat. \n\nHis hard look softened. “I realize it’s hard to believe, but yeah. I need to uh, go rest now. It was tiring holding onto that for so long.” \n\nThe first real pang of sorrow washed over me. “So this is goodbye then? I’m not going to see you again?” \n\n“Not in person, no. But I’ll text you.” \n\n“What?!” \n\nHe smirked at me. “I told you you don’t know much about ghosts.” \n",
"Despite the events of that week, we somehow managed to burn through all our old games and movies without revisiting the topic on how or why any of this was happening. It was not until I looked on the calendar app of my phone did I realize that 3 whole weeks had inexplicably gone by. I was genuinely shocked by this and mentioned it to Brandon and again he wore the same expression on his face the day of my grandmothers visit. “It’s about time I guess,” he said. He told me that he knows why he’s here, and what he has to do to move on. Surprised, I asked him, “what?”. Again, instead of answering he ignored me and countered with a question of his own.” This has been a crazy month hasn’t it?” I could hear the sadness in his voice and simply agreed with him. “I can’t even remember going to bed or eating.” My mind suddenly raced, it was true. I had not slept since this whole thing started. I rubbed my eyes and when I opened them Brandon and I were upstairs in my room standing over a badly decomposing body.” The image of the nurse flinching when she walked into the living room flashed in my mind.” Look man, I don’t know what will happen when I say this, but I know that this is why I’m here, to knock you out of this loop, this loneliness you’ve been in.” He hugged me and said, “I love you man, I guess more than I thought because out of everyone you’ve had die I got sent here to make you realize this.” Frustrated and almost reaching the conclusion of who this dead person rotting in front of me was he said,” You’re dead, you’ve been dead for a while now, stuck here looping through the night you lost the last person you had left.” The image of my grandmother crying and screaming, “dead but he’s here” became vivid and clear. She was talking to me, she was looking at me. My eyes watered and after wiping away the tears Brandon was gone. \nI was dead, had been dead for a while now. Months really, I didn’t even have a friend to notice my absence and call the police. Brandon had to literally come back from the dead. I really was alone. And despite knowing that I was dead I am still here, alone. \n\n",
"We were best friends, my ghost and I, and I'd known her ever since I moved into the house. \n\nWe'd laugh together, watching stoner movies. We'd play Call of Duty and old SNES games. We'd stay up all night, talking about, anything--everything really.\n\nAnd one night we talked about death, and what comes after, and she convinced me, in her way, that moving on wasn't quite so bad.\n\nThen I saw the world go blurry, the room was gone, and I could barely see her. And then I could.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"You moved on, which means there's nothing holding my ghost back either.\"\n\nAnd then we walked through the doorway, to find out what came next.",
"How am I going to tell Bart that I am leaving? I mean it’s odd that he is the only one in the world that can hear me, but I guess that goes with being dead. Oh, wait…. did I forget that to mention that I’m a ghost? Well before I get more scatterbrained, I am going to start at the beginning. \nMy name is Rachel Lawrence. I died in my apartment about three years ago. It wasn’t a glamorous death. I was trying to change the light blub in the kitchen’s ceiling, and being under 4’5, I had to use a chair from the dining table. One leg snapped, and I hit my temple against the edge of the counter. Living alone meant my body wasn’t discovered for about three days. I don’t really remember dying, but I do remember being discovered. The paramedics couldn’t hear me, and it was rather surreal seeing them take away my body. I couldn’t leave the apartment afterwards, something to do with the rules of being a ghost. Somehow, I could still touch my stuff, well while it was there before my family started taking stuff out of it. I had to watch my father and mother cry while going through my stuff, oh god it was so embarrassing when they discovered my ‘friend’ in my sock drawer. Death is rather boring when all you can do is walk around an empty apartment. It was empty for about a year before Bart moved in. He was around my age, and like me, this was his first apartment. I really didn’t have anything else to do, so at night when he was asleep, I’d go through his books. That was when I was discovered. He came out of his room in his Harry Potter sleep pants and hair sticking out in every direction and walked right past me while I was reading a Star Wars expanded universe book. His brain didn’t register the floating until the return trip from the bathroom. He blinked, quirked his lip, and his eyes grew large. “What, the what?! Ummmmmmm………” \n“I’m sorry, I’ll put it back.”\n“Sure, just make sure it’s in the right place…….. Wait, why are you in my apartment?”\n“You can see me?”\n“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”\nI then explained about dying here and the fact that I was in all intents and purposes a ghost.\nHis reaction was disbelief at first, then he looked at me and said. “Cool, just don’t peek at me in the shower.”\nHe was so cool. We would hang out and watch tv, and he was grateful that I could hold onto physical objects because he loved playing Mario Kart. \nOver the course of about six months or so, I grew to love the fact that I had a friend. I didn’t have many in life being a shy nerdy person. I mainly stayed at home and watched shows on Netflix. Now I have someone to talk to about them. He thinks it’s funny as heck that I am scared of horror movies and shows. “Rachel, you’re a ghost. You are a supernatural creature. How are you still scared of stuff like this?”\n“Because it’s squicky.” I say while doing the icky hand shake. \nHe laughed and fired up another episode of ‘Once upon a time’\nHe would do little things for me like describe the taste and sensations of what he was eating, and I would do things like describe what it was like being dead. It was odd that being dead, I never felt so much alive.\nNow we come to today. I received some news from the Department of Purgatory and Transitions. \nI opened the letter.\nDear Ms. Lawrence.\nWe do apologize that it has taken so long to process your case. We have finally decided your path. You will be ascending to paradise in one week’s time. Thank you for your patience and enjoy your afterlife.\n\nI stared at the letter. I have never heard of this department, but I guess with any form of government, there is a ton of red tape. I just thought that I was tied to this place. Well, Bart will be coming home from work in about an hour or so. \n“Hey Rachel, how are you on this fine night? I rented the latest Thor movie. What’s wrong?” I looked at him with tears in my eyes and shakily read the letter. He took the news well, even though he looked like he wanted to cry. “So, you’re leaving? At least you’re going to the good one. Well, we better make this week count since you’re my best friend in the world and the best player two I’ve ever had, well the only one, but still the best.” \nI let out a relieved sigh and smiled. “Thank you for not being mad.”\n“Why would I be?” He popped the top on a soda and looked at me. “I mean, I am really going to miss you, but you are going to be where you deserve, and you can actually walk around an expansive area instead of this small place.” Sure, he’s trying to do a positive spin on the whole situation, but he’s like me, we’re both devastated. \nThe final week of me being in this place, and on this planet was a blast. But like with everything that is fun, it was too short, and the day arrived. I didn’t know how this was going to happen so we said our goodbyes the night before. Goodbye Bart, goodbye apartment, goodbye everything…..\n",
"Since we met 39 years ago, Shamus always tried to get me to pull his finger.\n\n\n14th April 1979, Shamus pops out of a wall \"Pull my finger!\" he said.\n\n\nI was 8, so wasn't particularly shocked with a ghost popping out of the wall, as my world view was still very-much open to such things as ghosts. I was, however, a year or 2 too old to fall for the \"Pull my finger\" joke. I quickly learned, however, that I was the only one who could see him. Not my sister, not my mum, not my dad. So he became my \"Imaginary friend\" in their eyes. As I got a bit older I had to simply pretend he didn't exist as imaginary friends seem to be the remit of kids alone - adults with imaginary friends are somewhat frowned upon.\n\n\nAnyway, we started a friendship that went on for the past 35 years. He was there for me through school, through college, he witnessed me losing my virginity from the corner of the room, much to my distraction \"Go on son! Give her one from me!\".....\n\n\nHe was with me through the dark years, my depression was a terrible thing, and much as I appreciated his \"Well, it could be worse, you could be damned to walk the halls of the dead for eternity until you finish an impossible task\", he wasn't that much help. \n\n\nHe was at my wedding, dressed very smartly (He said he'd sourced the suit from a local 19th century Baronet) in resplendant green linens.\n\n\nShamus aged with me, I don't understand how that happened or why, he was 8 when he died, he was 8 when I first met him, as was I, and then this morning when he finally left my world forever, he was 47, as am I.\n\n\nI had live friends too, but Shamus was never party to those times, he said he had other things on his mind, his impossible task.\n\n\nWe had many adventures together, I travelled the world with work and for lesiure, and Shamus came with me \"I wonder how you say pull my finger in Urdu/Italian/French\", he'd ask, as we looked at another ancient wonder, another dreamscape of a vista.\n\n\nWe also gamed, through my formative years up until today, I was commander, he was my co-pilot, I was the assassin, he was my mentor voice offering advice and help wherever possible, intermittently interspersed with requests for me to pull his finger, of course. He would enjoy the books we read, the high Sci-fi adventures of Ian M Banks, the gritty spy novels of Le Carre. We'd talk about them at length. We were truly best friends.\n\n\nBut every day I saw him, every day would start with \"Pull my finger\", every night would end with \"Hey Steve, go on, pull my finger\".\n\n\nUntil this morning. This morning, he stopped me as I was about to leave the house. There was an urgency I'd never seen in him before, a need, \"Steve, you have to pull my finger. Please. For the love of god, pull my finger. We'll not see each other again, but please. If we've ever been friends, pull my finger\".\n\n\nAnd then it dawned on me, I looked at Shamus! \"THIS is the THING! this is your impossible task isn't it ?! I'll free you from this life, this purgatory, it all makes sense!\"\n\n\nI gave in.\n\n\nFirst, let me explain what a ghost fart is like - imagine a pile of rotting, decayed rats. Imagine a larger decaying rat ate those rats. Imagine that rat then threw them up, ate the vomit, the poo'd out those rats. You're not even close to the smell of a ghost fart.\n\n\nShaun let out the mother of all ghost farts. My brain took a second to register, then I lost consciousness. \n\n\nI awoke to the sound of Shamus laughing, but laughing in a way he'd never laughed before. This was pure, unbridled joy. He was utterly enthrallled.\n\n\n\"What the fuck Shamus?!\", I shouted, causing him to burst into further peels of laughter.\n\n\n\"Sorry man, I had to, I literally had to!\", he choked out the words, uncontrollable laughter still destroying him.\n\n\nI got to my feet, waves of nausea passing over me continuously as my brain re-registered the god-awful stench. \"Just tell me it worked, this was the thing, wasn't it ?\".\n\n\nShamus's laughter only grew louder \"Fuck no! I had to solve my grandfathers murder. This, this was just a bonus! I can't believe you fell for it, SUCKER!\".\n\n\nAnd with that, Shamus vanished, leaving another waft of that deathly, grim, horror of a smell.\n\n\nI'm sat at my desk now, writing this, and reading about the unsolved murder of Graham Clip in 1979, about how new evidence had mysteriously turned up to show his accountant had had him killed for his great aunt's inheritance. I see a picture of Graham, with an 8 year old boy. He's grinning, that boy, the grin of a joke shared between a grandson and a grandfather, Graham Clip is quite clearly holding a finger out.\n\n\nScrew you Shamus. I'm gonna start saving one up, and one day, one day, you're fucked.\n\n\nPull my finger, indeed!\n\n",
"*”Hey...uh...I have to talk to you about something.”*\n\n“Okay,” I respond, glancing quickly at the ethereal form of my best friend. He takes that moment to throw my fighter and the booming voice of Shao Kahn shouts to finish me. A toothy grin stretches across his face as Sub-Zero freezes my doomed Sonia and shatters the sculpture with an uppercut. “Cheap,” I mutter, tossing the controller. \n\nHis smile quickly fades. *”Sorry.”* he said. I didn’t believe him.\n\nWe sat there for awhile, listening to the character select music and not looking at each other. Eventually, I picked up the tv remote and pressed the power button. The silence of the apartment was deafening. \n\n*”I just don’t know how to say this,”* he muttered. I’ve never seen him cry before and I wasn’t sure if ghosts were able to. He faded in and out. One minute he was sitting there and the next I could make out most of the couch and wall through him. My guess was that this was as close to crying as he was capable.\n\n“You’re leaving,” I said. I wasn’t looking at him anymore. I was staring at the Super Nintendo games haphazardly piled next to the console. \n\nI didn’t see him, but I could feel him tense up. Once again, as tense as a ghost could be. He was so visible I swore I could reach my hand over and touch him.\n\n*”H-how did-“* \n\n“How did I know?” I interrupted. I sighed, and leaned back into the worn couch cushions. They offered no support and I sunk in enough that the faded blue fabric began to encroach on my peripheral vision. I decided to sit back up. “I could tell. You haven’t been yourself. You’ve been acting the way you were before you...you know...”\n\n*”I know...”* his shimmering right hand inadvertently rubbed his neck. The rope marks didn’t travel into the afterlife with him but whenever my late friend felt nervous or stressed his hand would go to that one spot.\n\nSilence once again filled the room. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours. I didn’t want to say anything, and, apparently, neither did he. But, someone needed to, so I asked, “When?”\n\nMy friend faded a bit again. *”Soon.”*\n\n“Soon when? Today? Tomorrow? Next week?” I realized I was beginning to shout. I looked back at the black screen of the television and sighed. “Sorry.”\n\n*”It’s okay,”* he replied. *”Tonight.”*\n\nI could see him fade away a little, probably bracing for an outburst. But, surprisingly, even to me, I wasn’t upset. It just felt like the next inevitable step. It made sense.\n\n*”You okay?”* he asked.\n\nI looked my friend in the eyes and smiled. My vision was slightly blurry and I chuckled as I wiped the back of my hand across my face.\n\n*”Allergies?”* he replied with a wry smile. \n\nI sniffed and finished wiping the remaining tears away. “Yeah...fucking allergies.”\n\nMy friend watched me and asked again, *”You’re okay?”*\n\nI knew what he meant. That lurking darkness. The intrusive thoughts when life got hard. It was after his funeral that I came the closest to actually acting upon them. Over the years, my friend told me he wasn’t sure why he was around. He regretted the decisions he made, but the afterlife has a way of changing your perspective.\n\nHe knew now, at this point, why he was stuck here. He knew what his quest was all about. This was the closest we’ve ever gotten to actually saying it out loud. \n\n“I’m good,” I answered and I wasn’t lying. I was good.\n\nMy friend smiled. That happy goofy smile I remember from years back. And then he was gone.",
"Simon was an institution. You honestly don't recall when he first started haunting you. It had to be years ago. Five... Or six? Probably he had showed up around the time Mom and Dad died. So six, you thought. But you still weren't sure. You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. You never thought you'd be the type of person to lose count, to stop counting. But life went on.\n\n\"Hey, Vashti,\" you murmured as you trudged into the kitchen. Sleep had made your voice thick and crusty. It was barely audible. Vashti, in the midst of checking the drawers for the twentieth time, nonetheless stiffened and glanced in your direction. As usual, her gaze drifted away as she decided to ignore you and went back to her business. You were used to it. You were pretty sure she knew you were upset with her. What did she expect? She was selling Mom and Dad's house without your consent. Sure, sure, she was the oldest, and she'd inherited it. But who does that?\n\nSatisfied nothing had been left behind, Vashti shouldered her bag and left without a word. The front door swung shut with an exhausting finality. You couldn't follow her; she was too distant. Plus, she was probably organizing another tour for interested buyers. You didn't want anything to do with it.\n\nYour appetite was nonexistent, so you quit the kitchen and headed back upstairs to your room. Simon was sprawled across your bed in true 'paint me like one of your French girls' fashion. When you entered, he quirked a brow and gestured at himself. In moments like these, you couldn't help but be glad no one else could see Simon. He was a total embarrassment. \n\n\"I wish we could still play games,\" you sighed, dropping into the bed alongside him. Simon, realizing you were in one of your moods, sat up and gripped your hand. Touching Simon always felt weird. You looked at your hand in his, brown swallowed by darker brown. His thumb stroked yours, and your brain struggled to reconcile the illusion of solidity with the kiss of Simon's fingers. He was slippery. Like water. Like mist. Like something that might evaporate and disappear while you weren't looking. \n\nAnd as much as his touch comforted you, it also scared you. Simon couldn't leave the house. You suspected he was holding on to something in it. In the past few months, weeks, days, you had begun to suspect that that something was you. What would happen to him when the house got sold?\n\nNot noticing your discomfort, Simon, ever the optimist, latched onto your words. \"It's probably a good thing Vashti sold the Wii. It was rotting our brains.\" He smiled, but there was a hint of loss behind the grin. Mario Kart had been a glorious distraction, but prepping the house had meant clearing out your room. To be fair, Vashti had cried as you pleaded and screamed at her not to tear down your posters and put your books into boxes. Somewhere, deep down, she knew she was hurting you. But Vashti was inevitable. Demolition was inevitable.\n\nNow you and Simon had barely any distractions. You mostly just talked to wile the hours away. About anything, about everything, about nothing. About nothing. Sometimes you felt... Sometimes you felt like that nothing was too deep. Sometimes you felt like Simon was keeping something from you.\n\n\"Simon,\" you whispered, and you knew if you didn't get your feelings out now, your heart would swallow you whole. \"Simon, I'm worried.\" He tensed a little, and you pretended not to notice. \"When Vashti finally sells the house... What are you going to do? I mean, I won't be here. Are you going to... Are you going to move on?\"\n\nSimon was silent. You stole a glance and saw that his eyes were fixed on something on the far wall. You looked but saw nothing.\n\n\"I wanted to keep you happy,\" Simon whispered finally. You watched him, and he gave you another smile. This one was melancholy. There were tears in his eyes. \"I mean... I knew that you knew. But I pretended not to.\" He took a shaky breath. \"I knew pretending let you feel closer to her. To Vashti. You thought she was lonely. It tore you up. You're a good sister. You didn't want to leave Vashti alone.\"\n\nAs you watched Simon, his hand slowly began to feel more solid. You looked at the far wall and saw the glimmer. There was confusion. There was even panic. But you brushed aside those feelings and reached for the deep secret, the deep knowledge, at your core. When you touched it, you didn't flinch away.\n\n\"Thank you, Simon.\" You gave him your own teary-eyed smile. \"I think,\" you said, watching the glimmer on the wall spread and trickle, taking the shape of an entrance, a door. \"I think maybe it's time to go.\"\n\nHe laughed, hearty, happy, terrified, and his eyes didn't leave the door. \"I'm so scared,\" he whispered.\n\nYou slipped off the bed and tugged Simon along with you until you both were standing in front of the wall, the glimmer, the door. You looked at each other, and you squeezed his hand. \"Me too.\" \n\nIn unison, you stepped forward. \n",
"I inhaled a drag from my cigarette and held it deep in my lungs. Time seemed to slow down while I closed my eyes and imagined a big, open field filled with flowers of all colours. \n\n“Greg, you okay buddy?” \n\nI opened my eyes to see a familiar, translucent face. Brian tapped me on the shoulder and all I felt was a chill spreading to my neck. \n\n“No, not really mate. Amanda’s pregnant.” I sighed, sinking further into the already depressed lounge chair on the patio. \n\n“That...that’s awesome bud, you’re gonna be a dad!” Brian turned yellow as he floated onto the railing. He was happy, I guess I should be too. \n\n\n“You’re the ghost-Father, no question.” I poked him with the corner of an empty pizza box. \n\n“Gee bud, I’d cry if I could. Never did get to be a dad.” Brian sank into the chair next to me, albeit a little too far back so only his head was visible.\n\n\n“Bry, you’re doing it again, the chair thing. Someone’s gonna see you.” \n\nBrian ignored me, continuing his train of thoughts. He turned a shade of blue, sighed and corrected his position.\n\n“Seen him grow up though, great guy my kid. I think he’s all set. Good job, he’s writin a book and he’s gonna have a baby. I know we’re supposed to catch that Yankees game Greg but...well I have to move on yknow.”\n Brian was now a kaleidoscope of colours flitting in and out of view. His blobby form shifted to that of a man in his 20s and back constantly. Until he seemed to stabilise and I could see him clearly.\nBrian looked just like me.\n\n\n“What the fuck?!? Dad? What the hell?” I could barely string a sentence let alone speak the thousand different thoughts racing through my mind.\n\n\n“Been lookin after you since you were born sonny boy. You’re gonna be fine, I gotta go now Son. I’m sorry, I can’t be here anymore. But I’ll always be with you. Also, put five hundred on the Yankees, you’ll thank me later.” Brian, my Best Friend, my Father, slowly faded from view while I stood there dumbfounded. \nWhat the fuck?\n",
"Catherine had been gone about three years now and I still can't go over the strange decade we've spent together. I'm still close with her parents. Closer to her's than my own, really. Heck, we're close enough that I can drag my ass over to their place every day during my breaks from college and hang out with them and her little sister like nothing was wrong with our lives.\n\nWe had been close friends for a long while. Really close friends. Hell, me and her basically grew up together since our parents shared a backyard. I still remember clear-as-day those nights when I used to sneak out around the back of my house and over to hers to throw sticks at her window upstairs until she let me in and we could stay up all night having movie nights on her tiny DVD player. Her parents were way cooler than mine. I remember playing baseball together with my bat and mitt there after school all the time after school. We only had the one bat and the one mitt, so we switched off after everytime. Regardless, these were the nicest days of our lives.\n\nWhatever I did, she did. What was hers was mine's. There is no shame in that statement. She was the peanut butter to my jelly, if said jelly was really just more peanut butter. Making it just one happy peanut butter sandwich.\n\nThose were great days, from preschool all the way through junior high. Then, there was the incident. I don't remember much about it. For one thing, I was like thirteen and secondly, I don't like remembering too much about it.\n\nMy parents were going on a drive taking me and her to a movie. They got into an argument like they usually did. And then some stuff happened and there was a car crash. Big one. And, well. You know how these stories tend to go. It just so happened that, unfortunately, Catherine got the worst of it.\n\nMy parents got taken in by the cops. There was an investigation. Child-endangerment. Manslaughter. One got arrested, the other filed a divorce and skipped town. That kind of stuff. You know the drill. I don't really like talking about this.\n\nTo make a long, gorier story short, I ended up somehow settling into Catherine's place. And ended up running into each other again after a few nights there. That's how the whole \"Yep, there's a ghost haunting the house\" thing came into being. She was shocked. I was shocked. We were both shocked.\n\nThings were definitely different for a while. We both turned into a bunch of freaky recluses after that, if I'm being honest. I mean, that's normal. Your best friend dies right next to you in a car crash and comes back as a ghost while the living one's suffering from whatever sort of mental/physical trauma accompanies the incident. Of course, that's going to make some people mopey, lonesome stick-in-the-muds.\n\nCatherine never spoke for the many years we carried on with our ghost routine. Honestly, she just sat in her room (at that point, my room), a whole lot and watched movies and read books like a total nerd while I huffed it to school, nodded off for a bit in homeroom and slacked off, and then huffed it back to hang out with her just like old times. I didn't do much of anything at school, to be honest. I kinda just went because I wanted to have something to talk about when I came back to Catherine. Y'know, to brighten her day with some interesting class gossip or bitching about exams or lame, frumpy teachers.\n\nBut, it wasn't just like old times. Things could never be just like old times. I think that's what stopped it for really long time, to be honest.\n\nThey say when a person dies and their spirit haunts a place, it's because they have unfinished business. That it's because they're holding onto a memory or a wish for something that went unfulfilled throughout their lifetime.\n\nBut, when you die young, you don't really have any idea of what it is you want to do with your life. \n\nI guess, to that end, we kinda came on the idea of just living. I would've been happy to just do that until curtain call and passing on.\n\nShe was happy with that too. Although we were limited to what we could do, we improvised. I made her sign up for online school so she could pretend she was a normal student. Pirated new books and movies from the online so we could switch things up between movie nights and bedtime story nights. We took turns deciding what to read or what to watch, just like always. The only thing that really sucked the most was being unable to play baseball with each other. There's a bit of a complication playing ball when at least one of us can't pick up a bat.\n\nI think the best bit about this was senior year of high school. You know the US drill when it comes to that bit. Four years of schooling so you could apply to college to do another four years of schooling and then another few years after that if you happened to really love student debt.\n\nTruth be told, I was just gonna skip out on that whole load of bullcrap, but she just insisted (through constant eye-rolling and taking the batteries out of her new laptop/my new laptop when I was in the middle of a movie) that if I wasn't going to do it, that I'd write her applications for her. It was a pain in the ass, pretending to be someone I'm not. But if it's for Catherine, I'd do anything.\n\nShockingly enough, she actually got into her college of choice, which I found amazing for someone with no life experience who was essentially homeschooled and mute in a haunted house for about four years. But hey, all the power to her.\n\nI think it was around that time when it happened. \n\nThe whole \"passing on\" thing.\n\nIt all flew by too fast. I barely had enough time to say my goodbye to her properly.\n\nYou see, after the incident. Catherine's heart got really messed up. The crash screwed up her ribs pretty bad and did a number on her developing spine. She basically couldn't stand any physical action whatsoever without some serious pain. Couldn't eat unless it was through a straw. Couldn't talk. Couldn't walk. Ended up resigned to a bed with barely enough muscle function move here and there. \n\nIt really was a miracle she ended up living long enough to get accepted into college.\n\nOn that terrible day, Catherine's sister came into her room to give her breakfast. There was a bad sound coming out of the bed-ridden girl's throat. It was stranger than anything I've ever heard, a mix between gurgling and the sound of a snake rattling.\n\nAm ambulance came by as quick as it could and dropped her into the nearest ER bed. Her sister and her parents were in the room next to her bawling her eyes out. She just stared up and looked straight at me while I was floating over her.\n\nI saw her pale, ethereal spirit leaving her body. Her face the same as it always was, except now she was smiling at me. She was smiling without a hint of pain on her face. It was the first time in a while I saw her pearly white teeth. She held onto my arms and gave me a big hug as she reached for that white void at the end of a dark tunnel.\n\n\"Hey, can you hear me, Kay?\" her ghost asked me.\n\n\"Yeah, I can hear you,\" I replied. \"Ready to move on?\"\n\n\"I am,\" she looked at me again. Her eyes seemed a bit more distant now as her spirit became more and more transparent. \"I had a good life with you around.\"\n\n\"I'm glad,\" I smiled.\n\nShe hugged me tighter, grabbing me and spinning me around. \"But, I think it's your turn to have another swing at things.\"\n\nBefore I could question that statement, she had already pushed me into her old body and disappeared.\n\nI came to and looked around as her sister and parents stared down at me with faces filled with awe. I pulled my hands up and stared down at them, palms and digits made of blood and flesh. I panicked for a bit, started screaming (and swearing) incoherently, and, to top it all off, lost conscious from the sheer shock of it all.\n\nI woke up a few days later and kept my mouth shut while the doctors started questioning me. Catherine was gone. I was stuck in her body, which seemed to have made a miraculous physical recovery as evidenced through the use of the legs and the English language.\n\nI had to come up with a plan quickly. I couldn't just respond \"I have no idea what's going on and it's freaking me the fuck out,\" like in the movies and TV shows we used to watch.\n\n\"What's your name?\" one of the doctors asked me, staring at me like I was some sort of stupid lunatic.\n\nAnd then it hit me.\n\n\"I..\" I began, faking a stammer, \"I don't remember...\"\n\nAmnesia. The easy get-out-of-jail-free card for these sorts of strange paranormal situations.\n\nIt worked out well enough that I went back to my normal life soon after I was discharged from the hospital. I knew enough about how to be just like Catherine that I could \"re-learn\" how to get by with the rest of her family. The only question that was left for me to figure out was what to do next.\n\nI took her place in college. I took her place with her family. Everything that was her's ended up being mine. I couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed of that. \n\nThere I was, alive again, able to play baseball again and eat again and scratch myself again. All because my best friend in the world ended up dying.\n\nI guess the only real option left for me was to just try and keep on living. And I'll be happy to just do that until I can pass on and see my best friend once again.\n\n\n",
"> Bro it's been fun,\nYet for me the time has come.\n\n> Life through death never separate us apart,\nYou and I together from the very start.\n\n> Wasted time from an outside view,\nVideo games, movies, cherished with you.\n\n> Life was an adventure but one thing shallow, \nI couldn't ascend until we beat Halo 2 LASO. \n\n\n> - with love Zach\n\n \n\nI miss you Zach.\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"I was about 6 at the time we moved into our current house. My mother saw it was a very cheap house, due to all it's apparent past haunting, and she found a nearby job as a single mother. She believed it was bullshit, and I'm glad she did. When we first moved here, she didn't notice anything but I started to notice weird things going on in the house, and one day I was in my room, going to sleep so the light was off, when creepily I heard a voice coming from the corner of the room.\n\n\"This used to be my room.\" said a girlish voice.\n\nI couldn't quite pinpoint where she was, but I wasn't really disturbed or scared, to be honest. This was 6 months after I had moved in. It felt like I knew the presence in the room personally, and it struck me hard. I connected the dots with my little brain and I realized that she was the ghost that people complained about in the haunting reviews. \n\n\"Who's there?\" I asked lightly, not to scare her. \"My name's Anna, you can come out and talk to me.\" \n\nA shape slowly appeared in the darkness, a transparent white that slowly solidified into color, a girl around the age of 12. \n\n\"Wow, you're a ghost? Who are you?\" I inquired to the mysterious girl.\n\n\"My name is Isabella, and I'm a girl who's been here in this house for many many years, how are you able to hear and see me?\"\n\nThis part felt a little weird, was nobody else able to see and hear her? Weren't there other people here before? I was confused.\n\n\"I'm not sure Isabella, what happened to you?\" I asked.\n\nIsabella smiled grimly \"You can call me Bella, but as for what happened to me, I burned in a house fire many years ago.\"\n\nFast forward a few years, I became best friends with her, always coming back home from school and playing with her. My mom thought I was going through an imaginary friend phase and I didn't have any friends, but she was real. I learned her parents were abusive, and she was 12. Fast forward again, and I'm just entering my 12th birthday. I lived in this house all my life, and Isabella has become my best friend, but today, on my birthday, she smiled and followed me around content. She didn't say very much but we had fun. The day went as normal, we watched a movie, I ate cake, my mom and family nearby came to sing happy birthday, but here's where it all went wrong. Today, earlier, I was talking to Isabella, and suddenly she started to fade, and I got really confused as she's never done it before.\n\nI asked, \"What's happening? Is this another one of your tricks?\"\n\nShe smiled faintly and whispered to me \"No, I'm moving on. I've fulfilled my purpose here. Thank you, Anna, for your company and friendship.\"\n\nI started to frown, \"no no, what did you do? Why are you moving on? What's going on? What were you here to do?\"\n\nShe replied softly \"My sole thing that tethered me here was I had no friends my age, and now you are my age and my best friend, you've helped me to pass on . . . thank you. I must go, goodbye\"\n\nShe, just as soon as I saw her come into existence when I first met her, disappeared in front of my very eyes. It registered that my best friend had just disappeared and I started to cry heavily, touching the place I last saw her, my eyes bawling. My mother rushed up the stairs, but she didn't understand what happened. Nobody did. I held her a funeral later in my backyard, but there was nothing to bury. Today I lost my best friend, and nobody believed me. I miss her so much and now I'm blaming myself for her absence. it feels so empty. I spent the day crying, and my mom ended up trying to take me to a therapist. It didn't work, but because of the wrong reason. They thought I was crazy but I was in mourning. I just feel so empty now. I'm happy for you, Isabella. I'm glad you were my friend. I'll do my best to move on, for you. Thank you.",
"She had hair that rested on her shoulders, giving off a slight glow from the reflected sunlight. You know, the kind of hair that never really does what you want it to do—you can never straighten it, or curl it without hours of pain and agony—but whenever you just let it be, it settled just perfectly.\n\n“How do you get your hair that way?”\n\n“What do you mean?” She says, raising her eyebrow ever so slightly.\n\n“Like, I can never figure out how to do my hair every morning, yet you seem to do nothing, and manage to look perfect.”\n\n“Oh!” She laughs. “I don’t do anything, I’m too lazy to get up and bother with it.”\n\n“Lucky...” I grumble, taking a swig of Dr. Pepper.\n\nDays like this—with the sun radiating off of the pavement, as we sit in our cheap plastic lawn chairs and talk nonsense as we joke about all the idiosyncracies that plague our lives—just don’t come as often as they need to. Days like these can always take a load off of the stress of life—best way I can describe it is almost as if it’s oil that greases our cogs when we think we just can’t run anymore. \n\nI take another sip, as Cheryl licks her finger to turn the page of her novel. \n\nShe always liked books, mainly horror novels that take you away to a world where fear and anguish lurk just beyond he corner, and you turn the page in spite of all your instincts telling you not to. But you must go on. You must know the truth. \n\n“What are you reading now?”\n\n“Stephen King. The Shining. You should check it out sometime, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of time to kill at this point, now that it’s summer.”\n\n“Yeah...”\n\nOnly Cheryl would like reading during summer vacation, a time when you’re supposed to be out skinny dipping in pools and going to sold-out concerts, screaming with the crowd as your favorite band pours their hearts out on stage.\n\nBut that’s what I liked about Cheryl. She didn’t want any of the flashy, exorbitant luxuries and experiences that life had to offer. No, you give her a book, a nice day, and a chair, and she was happy. \n\nThere’s a lot of things that I like about Cheryl, that I’ve noticed these past weeks since she first showed up—her hair, her uncanny lifestyle, her eyes—oh God, her eyes. Everytime you looked into her eyes, I swear, they told stories to you. Stories of innocence and courage shrouded in blinding rings of blue. Her blue eyes were so clear, it’s almost as if they didn’t come from this world, they were too perfect. \n\nI gazed into the cloudless sky, and said the first thing that came to mind.\n\n“Do you think we’ll be together forever?”\n\n“That was out of the blue,” she chuckled as she turned another page. \n\n“I’m serious! When we get out of here, and we find jobs, and we get married, and go through the rest of our lives, do you think we’ll still be together?”\n\n“Who can say?”\n\nI recoiled at her suggestion.\n\n“What’s that supposed to mean?”\n\n“Well, truthfully, life is full of twists and turns, who knows where we’ll be in an hour, let alone far off in the future.”\n\n“Do you really think that something so bad could happen that we’d hate each other?”\n\n“I don’t know, regardless, that’s not the point.”\n\n“Alright, genius,” I tease, stealing her hand from her book.\n\n“What is your point?”\n\n“My point is, no matter what might happen in the future, we should always take the time and enjoy the present. You enjoy the simplicities of the current time, and the worries of what will happen tomorrow will slip away.”\n\nHer eyes locked with mine. \n\nShe smiled so sweetly, snaking her soft slender fingers around mine. \n\n“I love the time we spend together, let me enjoy it in the moment, please. Without all the worries of what’ll happen in the future.”\n\nWhen Cheryl puts it like that, how can I refuse? I return the smile, and all sense of peace fills me from within. \n\nI knew, deep down, it couldn’t stay like this. We’d both have to move on, but something was keeping me from resting easy. Something, I could never put a finger on. Something, I never realized, until I met Cheryl. \n\nI strengthened my grip of her hand.\n\n“Promise me, that no matter what, we’ll try to be friends forever.”\n\n“If you insist.”\n\nJust hearing her say that put me at ease. I don’t know what it was about her—maybe it was her perfect hair, her simplistic lifestyle, her jawdropping gaze—but I knew that this was what I was looking for. I knew that everything in my life had lead me to this moment, in our lawn chairs, the sun beading down on the pavement, hands in a locked grip. \n\nI felt completed by her, as if she was the one true answer to my life’s call. As she returned to her book, I realized I was being numbed by my happiness.\n\nSlowly, slowly fading away, I say one last thing, before disappearing forever. \n\n“I love you, Cheryl.”\n\n",
"I press the button and Aidan on the screen jumps over the oncoming monster and slashes is his sword down. The sword nicks the top of the monster - a strange mix of pumpkin and bloodsucking bat. The thing screams on top of its lungs as the legendary sword rips it apart, ichor flowing everywhere around it till it deflates right as Aidan lands on the ground. \n\nAnd just like that, I'm on the ground. \n\nI'm...sideways? I don't understand. I was sitting on the chair a moment ago. What happened to the chair? I try to turn my head but I...can't. I can't move my head. Oh God, I can't move my head. \n\nReality crashes into me like a runaway train. I'm lying on the ground sideways, and it takes all my strength but I can make out the edge of the chair where I'd been sitting standing upright as if I was still there. The controller lay right side up on the ground, waiting for someone to pick it up. \n\nAnd Aidan on the screen doesn't look so brave anymore, he doesn't look so stylish either. He's an 8-bit character, a collection of not-so-small squares, who stands still, not moving as the monster heads towards him. \n\nAnd it's no fearsome beast with leathery skin and massive wings. It too is a set of squares that move individually to make it look like it's squirming. It gets closer to Aidan. Closer. Closer. \n\nAidan jumps. \n\nHe leaps over the beast and with an almost casual backwards flick of his legendary blade he slices the beast in half.\n\nA girl appears on the chair, holding the controller. Her legs swing, dangling off the chair, barely reaching the ground. She turns towards me, her fine blond hair floating above her head like a halo. Not bound by silly things like gravity. Her startlingly blue eyes are twinkling and a smile plays across her lips. \n\nI open my mouth to say her name, to call out. I want to say it, I *should* be saying it but I...can't. No voice comes out. \n\nAll I can do is stare as she just smiles. Stare at the face I more familiar with than anything else in the world. My best friend in kindergarten before she died. \n\nDied for everyone else, that is. \n\nShe stuck around for me, when I was a girl playing old games; when I was teenager, helping me choose makeup. When I was in college she gave her thoughts on boys. She was there when I worked, telling me jokes when I was about to fall asleep. She was there when I had kids, holding my left hand while Mike held the right. She was there when my Mike died, her hand squeezing mine, her face solemn. \n\nAnd here she was now. \n\nShe stepped off the chair, but didn't fall to the ground. Instead she floated a foot off the floor and came over to me. She bent down to look me in the eyes and ran her fingers through my silver hair. It was the caress of a beam of sunlight, entangled in my hair. I tried to speak but she put a finger up to my lips, her touch so light that it could've been a strand of hair. \n\nThen she spoke. Her voice was the whistle of a gentle breeze saying everything and nothing at all. Quiet but ever-present at the same time. \n\nAnd when my vision began to fade, she put her hands on my eyelids, and this time they felt like they were as heavy as the world. I fought her, but she just shook her head, her mouth as severe as any policewoman, but her sparkling eyes belying her amusement. \n\nAnd I finally understood. As I closed my eyes, I knew she would disappear too.\n\nAfter all, the person who'd kept her from moving on was finally at an end. \n ",
"I booted up the game, waiting for player two to enter the game. I cracked open a beer in the meantime, kicking up my feet on the table. He was damned good at FIFA - for a ghost. \n\nHe was taking long today. There was still no sign of him; no shit talking, no icon flashing on screen. Nothing. \n\n\"Casper?\" I yelled, my stupid nickname for him. I threw my empty beer can behind me, clattering to the messy floor. \"Where the hell are you mate?\"\n\nAlmost two years. Almost two years, and he'd never been gone for so long. I mean, what else did he have to do? It's not like he could leave the house. \n\n\"Casper, buddy,\" I said, getting up from the couch, \"you still mad I beat you yesterday? I'll let you win this time, I promise.\" \n\nSilence. \n\n****\n\nI kicked through the trash, going from room to room, calling out his name. There was still no sign of him, no ethereal presence.\n\nI looked at the mess the house was in. I never really left the place, not anymore - it just didn't feel right, leaving him alone. I knew what it felt like to be alone. \n\nThe sun was setting, the darkness setting in. The silence grew louder, suffocating the house. Had he really left? Could he really be gone?\n\nI paced in the room, too restless to do anything but think. \n\nI know I told myself that I stayed at home all day to keep him company... but maybe it was the other way around. \n\nMaybe he could always leave. Maybe he stayed just to make sure I wasn't alone. \n\nAnd maybe he left, just to save me from myself. \n\nI was alone again. \n\nI picked up an empty pizza box and, without thinking, folded it and put it in the trashcan. ",
"We used to hang out in the basement, sometimes after school, but always on weekends. It was the unfinished sort of basement, one that my parents used to talk of finishing wistfully each night during supper, before bustling off in the morning to their separate jobs, forgetting about the topic completely until it was once again time to fill the gap of an awkward silence over that night's supper. It smelled like rusty pipes and mildew, the walls were all covered in spongy yellow foam pads, and furnished with a few couches that were old, worn ghosts from a past where they had each been the centerpiece of a bright, happy living room. Still, I spent more time down there than in anywhere else in the house.\n\nI shared a room with my two older brothers, and they were both much older than me and too cool to spend any time with, so instead I spent my days hiding down in the basement, plopped down on a shaggy carpet in front of a television warped by electromagnetic coloring, striping the picture like a rainbow. \n\nIt was down there where I met Tia.\n\nShe looked to be about seventeen, and told me she was a shy girl while she was alive, and I believed that. She was self conscious of her smile, insisting that her teeth were hideously crooked, and used to try to cover her mouth when she laughed, even though her hand was transculent. At first she would watch me from the dark shadows of the far wall behind my cozy little set-up, but as she got more comfortable with my presence, she started to join me on the couch to see what I was watching. Before long, she had made a habit of appearing next to me when when I was half way through a show, and asking me questions about the plot until I got mad and yelled at her to shut up.\n\nAfter a few months I would run down stairs as soon as I got home from school and she would already be waiting for me on the old couch, t.v. already turned on. We began watching movies together, anything and everything from sci-fi to chick flicks. I always thought it was funny that she hated scary movies so much, and I was quick to point out that a ghost should love movies about themselves, but she always called them stupid and 'unrepresentative' of reality. During the really intense parts, sometimes she would try to grab my hand as a reflex, and her hand would pass right through mine. I used to tease her about it, and then she would threaten to haunt me for all of eternity unless I stopped. \n\nOther times I would catch her staring at me intently instead of watching the movie, and then she would ask me odd questions like having me describe what it felt like to wiggle my toes. \n\nOnce, I asked her how she died. It was an honest mistake, I was just curious. She called me an insensitive asshole and faded back into the darkness. She didn't reappear for an entire week, and when we made up we both agreed that hanging out in that old basement alone sucked and made a pact never to let that happen again. Inevitably, we would fight again, but each new fight was shorter than the last. \n\nEventually she told me it was cancer that had taken her life. I still remember how surprised I was the day she told me that. \n\n“If it was something as boring as cancer,” I said, during a break between our Lord of the Rings marathon, “then why are you...you know...still here? Don't ghosts have somebody they need to haunt...or something?”\n\nShe stared at me with her delicate frail face, smiling. “Haunt? Is that what you call us sitting on the couch all day?”\n\n“You know what I mean.”\n\nShe shrugged her pale shoulders. “I dunno why I'm still here. Though, I certainly didn't feel like I was ready to leave this world when I died.\"\n\n\"You didn't?\" \n\nShe gave me a funny look. \"If you died at the age of seventeen, would you feel at peace?”\n\n\"Guess not,\" I admitted. \n\n“I felt like a never got to have a childhood,” she said. “My brothers and sisters were always outside running around and playing, going to school, summer camp, doing activities with one another, and I was always sick at the hospital. I spent my entire life lying on a cot, looking up at fluorescent lights that were always too bright. Not like down here...down here it's dark and cozy and wonderful.” \n\n\"It's alright,\" I said. \"But take it from me; brothers and sisters are overrated. You get along one day out of every ten.”\n\n“I guess so...still, it would have been nice.”\n\nDays turned to months, and months turned to years, and life started to change drastically. My parents got divorced and my father moved out, my siblings all went off to college while I stayed home to help out my mom, and I got full time job down at the bus station, but still our basement rendezvous' stayed the same, the constant in an equation that grew more complicated with each passing day. Same unfinished basement, same shabby couches, same shy Ghost waiting to watch the latest superhero movie or play smash brothers.\n\nI got a second job as a bartender, and started taking night classes for business school. As free time depleted, my trips down to the basement became less and less frequent. \n\nTia became more impatient, and our time hanging out became shorter and shorter. One day I started meeting up with a girl from my night class to study together. Our study sessions became more and more frequent until we stopped bringing our books altogether and turned them into dates, and before I even knew what was happening we were seeing each other regularly. As the relationship started to get serious, I found myself going down to the basement less and less. Tia was always polite about the girl, but I could tell she was jealous that all our time together was now being stolen away by someone else. \n\nThen one day I walked down after nearly a month had passed and found that Tia was completely gone. \n\nI called for a few times before plopping down on the couch and flipping the television. I waited for almost an hour before giving up and going back up stairs. I cried that night, and my girlfriend kept asking me what was wrong, but I told her it was nothing. \n\nAs time passed, I started to wonder if Tia had just been an imaginary friend I had invented to make my childhood more bearable. Every now and then I would steal trips down the basement, now more cursory glances or trips to do the laundry, but Tia was never there. \n\nEventually my girlfriend and I decided to move in together. The time came for us to came to move out, and the day we chose to move ended up being a downpour. I can still remember standing out in the rain, looking back at the house of my childhood one last time. \n\nThe moving truck was all packed with our belongings, the house mostly empty, but I before I left, I felt a pull back towards that basement, as if I was being drawn down. I descended the steps one last time, stood on the bare cement where the shaggy carpet had once been, and looked at the empty spot where the old T.V. had once stood.\n\n“Tia,” I said once into the darkness. “Are you there?”\n\nSilence.\n\n“Tia,” I said again, this time more forcefully. “I'm leaving now.”\n\nAgain there was nothing. Feeling as if there was a great weight pressing down on my chest, I turned to walk back up the stairs. \n\nSuddenly, there a flash and a high pitched frequency as if a television had just turned on from behind me. My heart fluttered and I spun around, looking for the familiar pale face. Instead I found a different ghost, a man in his forties, staring back at me placidly. “Who are you? Where’s Tia?”\n\n“I’m an aquaintance of hers,” the man said. “She’s not here anymore. Left some time ago.”\n\n“Where is she now?” I asked again. “I want to say goodbye.”\n\nHe shook his head. “It's a little late for that. Wherever she is, I'm sure she would have wanted to say thank you. She talked a lot about you, you know.”\n\n“Thank me for what?” I looked down at the ground, and felt a stinging at the corners of my eyes. “I abandoned her.”\n\n“You didn't. You both grew up, in your own, separate ways.”\n\n“It was all my fault. I never even got to say goodbye.”\n\n“Spirits never make for good farewells. We move on when we're damn well ready, and we usually do that alone.” He reached out with a pale hand. “You gave Tia the one thing that she wanted most in the world.”\n\nI turned away. “No, I didn't.”\n\n“You did, I promise you.”\n\nI wiped my eyes. “And how do you know that?”\n\nHe smiled. “Because otherwise she'd still be here.”\n\n* * * \n\n/r/ghost_write_the_whip",
"I could tell that his heart just wasn't in it. We have been evenly-matched for the most part, me because I've been playing games my whole life, him because he has time to practise all day. That meant that my current 15-0 winning streak in *Mario Kart* was an aberration certainly worth investigating, so I placed the controller aside, then turned to face him.\n\n\"Bruh,\" I said. \"You wanna talk?\"\n\nJeremy was on the cusp of saying 'no' when he suddenly sighed. \"Up on the roof, not here,\" he said. I nodded, then he floated off the couch, kicking gently like a diver returning to the surface. He passed through the ceiling with all the haste of an escaped balloon. I collected a beer from the fridge, locked my apartment, then took the stairs up. The stairwell access to the roof was usually locked, but Jeremy had helped me pick it a couple of months ago, back when we were first trying to escape the summer heat.\n\nHe was perched on the parapet, staring out into the city below. The moon was half-formed tonight, and the diligent murmurings of a city unable to sleep drifted up from the streets. I joined Jeremy, and I cracked open the beer while I waited for him to warm up. He was one of the more talkative poltergeists I had met, but he had his moods too.\n\n\"I checked in on her yesterday,\" he said eventually. \"She moved again, but I followed her trail and found her easily enough. She's living just outside the city now, and commutes in for work.\"\n\n\"Oh? Is it already your death day?\"\n\n\"No, it wasn't. I've been thinking, and I wanted to... make sure I was making the right decision. So I spent most of the day with her. I didn't let her know I was there, of course. The charms she bought to ward me off don't actually work. I just kind of... hung around, then watched how she got on with her life. No haunting this time.\"\n\nI laughed, then sloshed back another mouthful of beer. \"You a stalker now?\"\n\n\"No, it's not that. This is serious, Hank. I'm trying to be serious here. OK?\"\n\nI frowned. In all the time I had know him, Jeremy was only morose whenever his death day rolled around. I regretted not paying more attention to my parents then, because my understanding of the metaphysical mechanics of Jeremy's existence was patchy and incomplete. I understood, for example, that ghosts like Jeremy don't exactly have memories the way humans do. They could certainly recall the specific grievances which kept them bound to this mortal plane, but they needed specific triggers for that. Otherwise, they retained much of their personalities from before they died, and just flitted from day to day like goldfish. \n\nA quick glance at my watch indicated that August was still many weeks away. There was no reason why Jeremy would suddenly be thinking of Alicia, or why he would even break routine to suss her out. And what was that about decisions? What did a ghost like him have to decide?\n\n\"I'm afraid I'm not catching your drift, buddy. I don't understand what-\"\n\n\"I'm saying, I think it's time I moved on. Time to let it all go. To head for that bright light up in the sky, to take my chances at what lies beyond. And I'm not talking about the moon either.\"\n\nMy fingers tapped on the masonry, and the tempo increased as the panic seized me. \"Wait, hang on. Jeremy, we've got a good thing going, right? Isn't life great now? We're best friends, aren't we? I deliver my pizzas, you spy on the neighbors, then at night we trade stories over beer and Netflix and games? And I'm there for you whenever you have to go haunt her or whatever it is you swore to do once a year on the date when she broke up with you? We have a system, and it works, yes? What changed? Did I do something wrong?\"\n\nIt was Jeremy's turn to laugh. He shook his head, and the cackle segued into a sigh. \"What changed? I don't know, Hank. It's like sunrise, yes? It's dark at first, then it gets brighter, shade by shade, but it's hard to pinpoint the exact moment that it's morning, but then suddenly you know it is?\"\n\n\"You're losing me.\"\n\n\"What I mean to say is... I've been listening to your calls. The ones you have with your grandfather every week. The ones where he tries to persuade you to go home and continue your training. And you know... they just got me thinking, you know?\"\n\nA flash of irritation spread through me. Not so much that he was listening in (expecting privacy when you have a ghost at home is just silly), but that he had brought my family into this. I hadn't come all the way out here, taken so much pain to distance myself from them, only to be reminded by a ghost of all things. \n\n\"Um, I don't want to be mean,\" I said, \"but what I'm going through with my family has *nothing* at all to do with you, OK? It's entirely different things. Look, what I'm trying to say is, let's not be hasty about this. Let's talk it out, and then we can-\"\n\nJeremy shook his head, then held out his palm to the night sky. Motes of light rose from his incorporeal form, a hundred fireflies of his flesh, and they reconstituted in the air, forming an outline of Alison. She seemed older compared to the visions he had first conjured for me.\n\n\"It's like your grandfather told you, you can't keep running. I can't keep running. I thought I was noble, you see. I told her that I would die if she didn't love me back, and I meant it. I resolved to meet her once a year after that, to remind her always that my love for her was pure, and that she was the one who had made the mistake. I thought I could change her mind that way. But the last few years... She's moved on, you know? Fully. I mean, there's a part of me which lives on in her, always, but she's... a different person now. She's married, she's had kids, she's seen so much more of life than I ever had. She still fears that time once a year when I appear before her, but other than that, she's actually... fine, you know? She's happy. Like, really happy.\"\n\n\"Aren't you happy too? Here?\"\n\n\"I am, but... I realized I'm just afraid of what comes next. I should roll the dice, see where my soul ends up next. But I'm so afraid of where that leads that I've stayed here far longer than I should have. Don't get me wrong, Hank. You're been the best buddy a ghost could ever wish for. But our destinies lie elsewhere, yes? Like your grandfather says, just because you hole yourself up here, just because you refuse to carry on the family business, doesn't mean that you'll lose your ability to see ghosts or interact with them. You have a lot more to accomplish out there, just like I do too.\"\n\nMy hands had balled themselves into fists, and the beer can, crushed and forgotten, rolled on the ground. \"I told you, didn't I? I don't like other people. Other people don't like me. I'm comfortable here, with you for company. I don't need other people to survive.\"\n\n\"Yes, but as your grandfather says... other people need you. You just don't know it yet.\"\n\nWe were quiet for a while, and I saw the resolve in him strengthening, growing stronger by the second. It was like a knot inside of him, twisting, enlarging, till his entire form had grown luminescent. \n\nThis much I knew. \n\nI didn't have much longer with him.\n\n\"You've made up your mind then?\"\n\n\"I have,\" he said. \"I understand now too why she had told me we had to break up, all those years ago. We held each other back, you know? It was good, but... we could be more. That's why she had to leave me, and that's why I need to go too. It's not goodbye, Hank. It's just us going off on other adventures, and one day we'll get to share them again with each other.\"\n\n\"Will I get to see you again?\"\n\nHe laughed. \"I don't know. You're the psychic, you tell me.\"\n\nAnd he was gone. \n\nI basked in the moonlight for a while longer after that. True, I couldn't hear him anymore, and we would never get to finish that last season of *Brooklyn Nine Nine* we were looking forward to. But it also felt like he was still around, somehow.\n\nI fished my phone out, then dialled for my grandfather. It took him five rings to answer - guess he must have been sleeping.\n\n\"Hank?\"\n\n\"Hey... I'm moving back. I'm coming home.\"\n\n\"*Finally.* There's a lot for you to catch up on. You're never going to be able to help anyone if you don't get your studies right.\"\n\n\"Did you know?\"\n\n\"Did I know what?\"\n\n\"Did you know that the ghost in my apartment was listening in to us?\"\n\nA slight pause, then a low chuckle in the background. \n\n\"Two birds with one stone, Hank, two birds with one stone.\" \n\n---\n\n/r/rarelyfunny "
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[WP] "It's the last flower," he replied. | 14 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Well, I suppose it had to happen sometime. I'll see you around, Kate.\"\n\n\nThe sound of rain outside slowly faded into a dull hum as the front door of the shop lazily swung itself closed. The empty shelves around her spoke more in that moment of gray-hued clarity than she'd thought possible. All the colorful memories here deserved a much more loving epilogue than this. \n\n\nSlowly, the weight of it seemed to sink in. Her father came in from the garden, that oh so familiar jingle of the door's bell reverberating strangely now that the shop was so barren. She wished she could make her heart as hard as the stone walls. Before long, she was sitting in the floor lost in thought. \n\n\nA small package appeared in her lap as her father slid down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, shaking them gently in that rough, loving way they had all come to depend on the last few months.\n\n\n\"What's this?\" asked Kate, wiping an errant tear away. \n\n\nThe pink and yellow paper stood in defiance to reality, a last bastion of heartfelt memory. Her mother, for just a moment, was back here beside her.\n\n\n\"It's the last flower.\" he replied, smiling. ",
"She had met Mr. Radyer in the desolate remains of southern Washington. Meeting anyone new was always a bit dodgy, so she had avoided it as much as she could, but with Mr. Radyer it had happened entirely by accident.\n\nThe faint wisps of light that managed to break through the ever-present clouds were just disappearing, which meant it was time to find a place to hide. It was in full darkness that the danger was the greatest. She didn’t know if they were beasties or something else even worse, but she heard their screams sometimes, and had been chased more than once. So she started climbing up the stairs in a place called Vancouver, until she was up enough floors that she doubted anything would come for her.\n\nThere was a row of doors on this floor, just like there had been on each of the other floors. She picked one with a seven on it, because that was her favorite number, and forced it open. The little suite of rooms was musty and sad, but it would do for the night.\n\nShe paid no mind to the dried up skeletons on the bed, and instead went to curl up next to the open window of the living room. This proved to be a fortuitous decision, for as she stooped to sit on the floor, the weathered floorboards before the window gave out, sending her crashing into the apartment below.\n\nAnd there she met Mr. Radyer and his flower.\n\nThere had been, of course, tremendous fits of shouting and finger pointing at first. When the two of them had reasonably concluded that neither one was intending to kill the other, matters settled down to the point where some conversation was possible.\n\n“Lady, what the hell are you doin’ here?” Mr. Radyer demanded, pointing angrily at her.\n\nShe had quite liked the sound of “Lady,” and decided that was what she would call herself.\n\n“Just looking for a place to wait out the night,” Lady answered. “What about you?”\n\nHe eyed her with suspicion.\n\n“The same.”\n\nShe nodded, satisfied with his answer. Her eyes wandered the apartment a moment, eventually settling on the red wagon parked against a dusty couch. Radyer’s name was printed on the side, and it was filled with dirt. A large green stalk rose from the dirt, and ended in a large black circle with yellow spikes coming off of it.\n\n“What is that thing?” she asked.\n\nMr. Radyer puffed out his chest, suddenly pleased to have someone to talk to about it.\n\n“It’s the last flower,” he replied, as if that explained things.\n\nStill, she nodded as if she understood.\n\n“Where are you taking it?”\n\n“South. I hear there’s more sun in the south. Flowers need lots of sun, dontcha know.”\n\nLady nodded again.\n\n“You know you gave me a death of fright,” Mr. Radyer said, “fallin’ through the roof like that. Sorry for snapping before. You seem alright to me. Least you ain’t look like you gonna hurt me or the flower. So where you headed to?”\n\nLady dug in to the small pack she carried, and pulled out a rumpled bit of faded brochure.\n\n“Newport Beach,” she said, pointing to the picture. “It’s got beaches and ocean and sun.”\n\nMr. Radyer studied the picture for a while, then nodded approvingly.\n\n“Looks like a decent spot for my flower, if you ask me. Is it to the south?”\n\n“I think so. And to the west. The west is where the ocean is.”\n\nAnd with that, it was settled between to the two of them.\n\nThey had spent the next several weeks continuing their journey to the south, finding a way across the Columbia River on the crumbling remains of a once great bridge, and then following the Willamette River down the valley. Their nights were spent in forgotten buildings, or high atop of trees, or even once beneath some rocks. The days were spent walking, and stopping once at midday for Mr. Radyer to pluck a seed out of his sunflower and stick it in just the perfect spot.\n\nLady asked why he did that, and he explained it was to make new flowers one day.\n\n“But there’s no sun,” she said, pointed to the scorched sky of reds and oranges that always hung overhead. “You said that flowers need sun.”\n\n“Yeah, they do,” he answered. “Sun’s gonna make its way back up here eventually. And when it do, the ground will get nice and warm, and those seeds will let they flowers out. Until then, they’ll just wait right where I put ‘em.”\n\n“How do you know the sun’s coming back?”\n\n“It can’t hide out down south forever can it?”\n\n“Sure can,” a voice answered.\n\nMr. Radyer and Lady wheeled around, looking for its source. They couldn’t see the figure hiding out in the rafters of the nearby barn, but he could see them just fine.\n\n“We don’t want no trouble,” Mr. Radyer said.\n\n“I expect not,” the voice answered. “That’s why I’m telling you not to head south.”\n\n“Why not?” Lady asked.\n\nMr. Radyer shot her a dirty look. “Don’t be encouraged no bodyless voices to talk to us,” he hissed.\n\n“There’s lots of dangerous people to the south,” the voice said. “And no sun there, either.”\n\n“So where is the sun?”\n\n“Hiding up north. That’s where I’m headed.”\n\n“Alright then, well thank you for your advice there sir,” Mr. Radyer said. He waved for Lady to follow him. “We’ll just be on our way then.”\n\n“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the voice called as they left.\n\nThe two walked in silence until the barn was a distant blur on the horizon.\n\n“So what do we do now?” Lady asked.\n\n“Keep goin’ like we was goin’.”\n\n“But he said there’s no sun down there.”\n\n“Yeah, well he also said there was sun up north. We just come from there, and I didn’t see no sun, did you?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“See, it’s like I’ve been trying to tell you. Nobody know much of nothin’ no more.”\n\nr/Pubby88",
"I looked at him, surrounded by the bodies of the dead. The hill we were on would have been ideal for a picnic back in the good times, the charred stump beside us would have been a relief from the sun, the dirt below us would have been soft from spring rains. Before now, before any of this shit. \n\nHe was still in his pilots uniform, a green jumpsuit with a bright pink daisy sun-bursting on his lapel and back. His ears were bleeding, and where they hit the jump suit had become a crusty brown. His legs were mutilated, bent and snapped into an unusable flesh mess. They seemed to be held together by the jumpsuit fabric, and nothing else. \n\n\"Are you sure?\" I drew a breath. The last one. Right here. I looked over the charred field of the fallen, bright neon painted mechs and armor standing out against the dull grey of the Government issued machines and uniforms.\n\n\"Yeah. Their leader. Ray LaFleur\" he spat, throwing an uppercut into the pilot's face. The blow was traumatic, breaking his jaw, throwing teeth, blood, and spit into the wind.\n\n\"What should we do with him?\" is what I would have asked, if my commander hadn't pulled out his pistol, and blew the brains of the fallen leader into the field of destruction.\n\n\"No more Flower, no more war!\" he shrieked, emptying his clip into the limp body. When he ran out of bullets he started to punch the body. I tried to pull him off, but I couldn't move him until his arms grew tired and he had to stop for a breath. \n\n\"Hey, its all over,\" I assured him, \"they're all dead. We won.\"\n\nAs I held him back, we stared to cry. The field of the dead, the finished battle, the finished war, we thought. Peace at last, I assure him.\n\nI would have remembered that day fondly, if it wasn't for how wrong I was."
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[WP] Dante's inferno has one more circle of hell where not even Lucifer was able to go | 46 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"As the etherial chains of damnation hold Lucifer he glances at a portal to the final circle of hell. He closes his countless eyes as he bites his tongue; savouring the sharp pain, he drinks the bitter hot gush of blood. He flails and rages but it doesnt matter. Nothing matters. He knows this. But he cannot will himself to forget. He cries for his father. He cries for the home he has forsaken. He cries for his existence. Dante asks his guide\"Why does he rages so?\" His escort replies \" He glances at the final circle of hell. A place the damn cannot hope to ignore.\" \"What place is that\" Dante whispered to Virgil. \"The final cicle of hell is called the circle of hope.\"",
"Beneath the frozen lake resided but one being. Name lost long ago it sank forever in the void. Deeper and deeper it would fall forever, shrinking further from the light of the Almighty. Where even Lucifer was illuminated in his perpetual torment of the three traitors, no such luxury befell the wretch. God Himself had turned away His mind from it.\n\nYet it could hear the fall of steps from above. Was it the first who might descend into it's domain? Had the wretch a shred of sanity it would have remembered this was but the next of many travellers that would walk over it and the dark prison. \n\nSuch was the price paid for the wretch's sin. They, for it used to be many before its mind was destroyed, spoke into the mind of diseased men that those men might sway in trees and sink into deep waters. Their planted words bore a strange and twisted crop made possible by their presence with those that needed aid. And so they were removed from all influence and action, and not even Lucifer himself knew of their existence. ",
"He let me flounder for a moment, but I was not here to be punished. He didn't let the darkness settle in. I did not wholly lose my faith that he was still there. I did not wholly lose my faith that *I* was still there - which is to say, anywhere at all - or that I still *was.*\n\nIt wasn't really darkness, after all. It was what the perfectly-closed eye does rather than see, expanded to every sense and thus writ not merely large, but infinite.\n\n\"You do not see,\" he said matter-of-factly, choosing words in a borrowed tongue with perfect precision. \"You do not feel. You did not hear, until I spoke again.\"\n\nI nodded. For the very first time, I had been a soul utterly separated from all earthly sensation. Within each of the nine circles, my divine aegis had lent me the passing recognition of warmth (or cold,) and of all the sounds and smells that the damned experienced in fullness. Here, beyond where the idea of \"bottom\" could endure, I could not perceive any such protection, because I could not perceive anything at all.\n\nHell was a difficult place for a man of reason, let alone a man of science. It was tempting to think in terms of illusions - Descartes's evil genius and all that - but Virgil had blandly insisted that everything was quite real, including my selectively limited corporeality.\n\nIt took a moment, or forever, to formulate the next question.\n\n\"Is it truly a worse punishment?\" I asked.\n\nVirgil surely smiled, though all was still non-sight. \"I always thought oblivion might be,\" he answered. \"The trouble, I eventually reasoned, was that it did not fit a particular sin. Mayhaps in the turning of eons He may renovate a corner of heresy or heathenism.\n\n\"But we've moved beyond that,\" he said. \"At least I believe we have. Here, one must needs be The Divine to know anything for certain.\"\n\n\"Moved beyond what?\" I asked. I fancied myself sharper back on Earth. Virgil seemed to understand. The experience was intended to overwhelm.\n\n\"Beyond sin,\" he said.\n\nTo me, that sounded a bit like cheating, but I let him speak his piece.\n\n\"God created not just Earth - by which I mean, oh, shall we say, 'the observable universe?' Yes, that will do nicely. He also created Heaven, and Hell, and Purgatory - and a few other places whose existence surely must tantalize, but have faith that they are largely unworthy of exposition.\n\n\"Let us pretend for the moment, however, that 'the observable universe' was the beginning and end of it. Tell me, or offer your best guess: in 'the observable universe,' would it ever be possible for two and two to equal five?\"\n\nI kept the political jokes to myself, and simply replied \"no.\"\n\n\"'Then some laws cannot be broken,'\" he said, and I could suss the quotation. \"Heaven and Hell do complicate matters,\" he continued, reclaiming his own voice, \"but we can expand the frontier and hypothesize distinct examples.\n\n\"Here, then,\" he said, with a note of wryness entering his disembodied voice, \"is where God put everything that defied the laws of Creation, and not merely those of 'the observable universe.' Were the latter all, as we briefly entertained, it would be the dumping ground for one equaling zero; square circles.\"\n\n\"For the boulder God created that God could not lift,\" I said.\n\n\"Cleverly done,\" Virgil replied - the first compliment of our timeless, ageless sojourn. \"But not quite,\" he continued, souring it. \"You see, that would be the *boundary* between this place and Creation.\"\n\nHe paused for effect; he was still a dramatist, after all these many centuries.\n\n\"That would be the alpha and omega of Creation, as it were,\" he said. \"Ah, the perils of translation - well, in 'the observable universe' anyway.\"\n\n\"God is the boundary,\" I dumbly restated.\n\n\"God is Everything,\" he amended - or restated again. It was becoming difficult to know the difference.\n\n\"This,\" he said, \"is Everything *Else.*\"\n\n\"That doesn't make sense,\" I replied quickly, but my heart wasn't in it.\n\n\"Precisely,\" he agreed. \"I do wonder, sometimes, if God considers it to be sinful. Here, finally, I wonder if His jealousy and His rage abate, and He concedes that some things simply *cannot* be a certain way. Or perhaps the jealousy and the rage are necessary. Perhaps without them, He could not be what He is for us - Everything, and the boundary between that and Everything Else.\"\n\n\"Anger is a powerful motivator,\" I conceded.\n\n\"'I am Wrath, sayeth He,'\" Virgil quoted. \"Quite a different flavor from 'vengeance is mine,' isn't it?\"\n\nI nodded, but had no sense of it. I supposed that my wise and well-traveled guide had no need to hear of my every shrug and shake. \n\n\"So all the other gods then, if they ever existed,\" I said, trying to wrap my head around it. \"Do they suffer? Do they even know?\"\n\n\"Oh no no, my dear boy,\" Virgil replied. \"Nothing like that. Well, perhaps, but... well, let us say, there were plenty of other... *things*-\"\n\nIt was the first time words seemed to fail him, and I wondered if it were truly a failure.\n\n\"-*things* that did not violate the laws of Creation, as it were. Ah, you still use '*per se*,' don't you? That's delightful.\"\n\nI was less enamored of my native tongue's wanton thievery, focused as I was upon the instant question. I didn't press. He would tell me, or he wouldn't.\n\n\"Those,\" he said casually, \"He killed.\"\n\nIf I could have blanched, or gulped, I would have. '*I am Wrath, sayeth He.*'\n\n\"You're a clever lad,\" Virgil said. \"You are about to have a clever thought. I strongly recommend you keep it to yourself. That's usually enough to keep Him... happy.\" He'd chosen the final word as carefully as all the others, paired with a particular mixture of sarcasm and warning.\n\n*If He didn't send them to Hell, it's because he couldn't. He* had *to kill them. That's how powerful they'd been.*\n\n*No.*\n\n*That's how powerful* Everything Else *had been. He'd had to choose.*\n\nI took my wise guide's advice and didn't say anything - or do whatever passed for 'saying' in this terrible place-non-place.\n\n\"Don't think of it like that,\" Virgil said, clearly knowing all, without the benefit of omniscience or even telepathy. \"Just think of it as... hmmm... 'professional courtesy.' Yes, that will do just nicely.\"",
"My dread grew with each ring. The hooded man I followed had said nothing since the two words he had offered when we first met, \"Follow me.\"\n\nAnd so I did. It's not like I had anywhere else to go. He allowed me to stop at each circle to greet friends and family from life, but the visits were short. I had met my preacher of all people in the first circle, limbo. He died of a heart attack at age 67 only a year prior. Turns out he wasn't as faithful as we all thought he was.\n\nMy ex wife was in lust, no surprise there. She had cheated on me only a year into our marriage, then left after I found out. I hadn't heard from her since. It was almost heart breaking to see her suffering in the winds, but my guide simply grabbed my arm and urged me on.\n\nThe seventh circle housed my grandfather. A rude, abusive man who beat my dad every chance he got. If I remember correctly, he died as he lived, drunk off his ass, fighting strangers in a bar.\n\nAny hope I had left vanished as soon as I stepped onto the ice of the ninth circle. I instinctively grabbed onto my guide for balance, as he seemed as steady as ever. My mind was racing at this point. Who had I betrayed? What had I done to deserve punishment on par with Lucifer himself? Speaking of whom, the three headed beast soon came into sight. I couldn't take my gaze off him and the legendary traitors in his mouths.\n\nOnce again, my guide was dragging me on.\n\nFear turned to confusion as we trudged past beast.\n\"W-where are we going?\" I croaked out, as if I actually expected an answer. We eventually reached the back of the icy cave, where a hole no larger than an average door was waiting for us. One short, dark hallway later and we had decended into yet another circle, one I hadn't heard of. Before I could ask if there was some mistake, my quiet companion finally spoke up in a raspy gravel voice.\n\n\"Welcome to the Pit of Monsters.\"\nI looked over the circle again. From where the tunnel had opened up we stood on a narrow ledge, below us was an area with a bare dirt and gravel floor, not 500 feet across and dotted with lakes of sulfur and blood. In the pit were only four other souls.\n\"You're here because of special circumstances. You turned many souls to God over the course of your life. However, you have sinned more often and more atrociously than most men. You have committed horrible acts of anger, greed, envy, and gluttony.\"\n\"B-but h-how have I turned people to God?\" I asked\n\"Fear.\"\n\"Fear?\"\n\"You and those in the pit will fight. Only seven can remain in the pit simultaneously. When I bring the eighth soul, the oldest soul will be taken. Until then, you are to spend centuries, if not millennia, getting beaten, torn, ripped, mutilated and reborn in the lakes of sulfur.\" As soon as he finished, I felt a strong hand on my back, pushing me forward.\n\"Why are there only four down there, then?\"\n\"Only five in history have deserved it.\" He pushed harder now.\n\"Wait, no I have ques-\"\n\nI was cut off as I plummeted hundreds of feet into a pool of sulfur. By the time I dragged myself out, I came face to face with one of the other souls. It was clear this was no human. It was some kind of collage of living creatures. It had hooves and antlers like a deer, walked upright like a man, and barred the teeth and lifeless eyes of an Angler Fish. It belted out a horrific screech and slashed at me with a hoof. I barely managed roll out of the way before I caught a glimpse of another sinner. This one was on all fours, with an appearance similar to a lizard, but covered in fur like a mammal. The fur was red, but it's original color is anyone's guess.\n\nThe third inhabitant was a dog. It was seemingly normal at first glance but once I noticed the growing red eyes, I suddenly felt even more uneasy, if that was possible. The deer-man and furry lizard backed away from the dog as it casually strode over to me, sniffing me and investigating like any normal dog. However, any motion I made in it's direction was met with a growl more deep and guttural than anything a dog should be able to produce, and the presentation of three inch yellow fangs.\n\n\"Finally!\" A shrill voice pierced from behind. I turned around to find the only other human in the pit. It was a middle aged man with bloody gray hair, a body caked in blood, scars, and bruises, and smile cut into one cheek, with a frown cut into the other.\n\"Someone to talk to!\" He continued. His head turned down and shadows were cast on his eyes, but he never lost the smile. \"You're going to be fun.\"",
"I arrived at a decrepit door, the pink paint chipping off and the hinge squeaking loudly as I walked near. I had journeyed long and far, I had witnessed unfathomable torment, seen man and godkind's greatest evils... Yet nothing could prepare me for what I would experience in this tenth and final circle. I mustered the last of my waning strength and walked through the door. Immediately I was hit by the overwhelming musk. It was a smell reminiscent of baby goat throw-up mixed with the sweat of a thousand men. For a moment I was utterly stunned. What lie before me had no place on heaven nor earth. Creatures that appeared to be men but not quite. They wore robes with brightly colored horses on them... A squeaking voice interrupted my moment of terror.\n\n\"UMMM YOU\"RE WELCOME\" \"When someone holds the door for you you're supposed to thank them, you stupid chad!\" \"You're just like all the girls back home who never said thanks to a true door mindedly gentlemen like me.\"\n\nI was startled to see that there had been a short pudgy man behind the door. He was just like the others in the room, a truly terrifying sight. You see, his beard was malformed, hair only present on his pimpled chin. The top of his face thankfully was covered by a tipped hat, far too small for his head. Out of instinct I replied\n\n\"My apologies, much appreciated. I paused to take in the horrid sight... Could you perhaps tell me the name of this circle, or perhaps who resides here?\"\n\nThe strange man brushed orange dust out of his hair, seemingly demonic in origin and took a swig of a green fizzing elixir.\n\n\"You have come to the worst hell imaginable\" His voice squeaking, every word was a sword scraping against a bronze shield. \n\n\"The Circle of Inceldom.\""
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[WP] You are a superhero who sees a woman falling out of the window of a thirty story building. But as you rush to save the woman, a bystander tells you "Don't save her. She doesn't want to be saved." | 4 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“Here you go, ma’am. Whiskers just took a little convincing is all.” Thunderman handed the cat back to the woman. How the cat managed to find the only tree in the South Side, he didn’t know.\n\nSuddenly, an explosion rocked the area. A woman was thrown out the window! Thunderman prepared his Lightning Leap.\n\nOut of nowhere, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. It was the old woman with the cat.\n\n“Don’t save her,” the old woman said, “she doesn’t want to be saved.” Thunderman looked at her, bewildered.\n\n“What?” He said, “But why-”\n\nA second later, the falling woman twisted in mid-air and pushed off the building. She swung around to fly back up and straight through the hole in the window. The old woman smiled.\n\n“Because she can do that,” she said. Thunderman was awestruck. The woman had moved with a grace and elegance he’d never seen before.\n\n“Who is she?” He asked the old woman.\n\n“Why,” she replied, “that’s Starlight.”"
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"1530258679",
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[WP] You have the secret ability to see sound, hear light, taste emotions, smell ghosts, and touch souls. You never understood why, but now this guy claiming to be the devil has showed up and demanded his end of the deal... | 12 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"My name is Ryan Rockerberry, \nI'm now 23 years old and currently in Music School of Arkenberry. I'm quite excited because this is my second semester, and that means I have a chance to perform at our school festival.\nI'm planning to deliver something classic, currently I'm learning how to draw Vivaldi's Winter last week. Uh, I mean, playing it? Anyway, I always enjoy the sceneries from Vivaldi's paintings. I mean, songs. Ugh.\nI have this kinda cool band, we have some indie albums out already and boy were they a hit. I'm pretty close with them, and my band-buddy Rebecca (who's our lead singer) always teases me that I often seem weird. I always know whenever she's...\n\n[To be continued]"
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You're confused, but after a few seconds it starts to flash back and forth with "STAY AWAKE." Thinking that it's just a friendly reminder about falling asleep behind the wheel, you see it change again right when you're about to pass it. It now reads "GOOD LUCK." | [WP] Driving down the highway late at night, you come across an electric sign that reads "STAY ALIVE." | 12 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I always hated long drives, especially ones like this with nothing but desert for miles. In the distance I see one of those electric signs that hangs over the freeway. \"STAY ALIVE\" it reads. I rub my eyes, I must be tired. I look at the sign again and it says \"STAY AWAKE.\" I look at the clock on the dash. 2:30am. I must be tired. Out of the corner of my eye as I pass the sign it reads \"GOOD LUCK.\"\n\n\"God I must be tired.\" I say to myself. I tend to talk to myself when I drive alone. Something to keep me awake. I lost radio about 10 miles ago. No service out here, just static.\n\nI hear the loud roar of engines somewhere off behind me. I looked around and realized how empty the roadway was. I can just barely see a cloud of dust off behind me. As the cloud gets closer the roaring engines get louder.\n\nOut of the dust comes two motorcycles. One pulls up on my right, the other on my left. They're playing some game with me. They look deranged. Spikes all over their leather jackets. \n\nThe one on the left has on a mask with a skull painted on it. His helmet has a mohawk made of metal spikes. His bike is black with faint brownish red stains all over it. The one on the right isn't wearing a mask. His eyes are wide, his mouth forming a huge smile as he points to the one on my left. I look over and see he is now holding a sawn of shotgun and it's pointed directly at me.\n\nWithout thinking, I jerk the wheel to the left and slam into the side if him. He latches onto the side of the car and starts screaming with joy.\n\n\"We gotta fighter tonight boys!\" He yells.\n\n\"I love it when they fight!\" The one one the right yells\n\nI roll down my window and start punching him in the face. I grab the gun and slam it back into his face. His grip releases and he falls of the car fading into the distance. I turn to the one on the right and fire a shot into his side sending him off his bike.\n\nMore bikes fly past me on both sides guys with guns riding on their backs. I point my new gun at the closest one and pull the trigger. The gun clicks and doesn't go off.\n\n\"Fuck!\" I yell.\n\nI swerve to the right and speed up beside them. They're all laughing, having the time of their lives. Two guys jump off the backs of the bikes they're riding and latch onto my car. One of them slams the butt of his gun into the window shattering it and climbs through the broken glass. He points a .357 magnum at me. Just as he pulls the trigger I push his arm to the side sending his shot into the chest of the guy hanging onto the hood of the car.\n\nHe looks confused for a minute. I take this chance to turn the gun on him and pull the trigger with his hand sending brains out the broken window. I reach over and open the door and push him out, careful to make sure the gun stays with me. I close the door and check the cylinder. Six out of eight left.\n\nI turn to the closest guy and fire a shot. The driver serves as he sees my aim and my shot misses him but hits the driver of the bike beside him. His bike runs into the side of the one beside him and they both go down.\n\nI look around frantically for some place to pull over, there's no way I can keep this up for much longer. I'm don't have enough ammo and they're bound to start firing back.\n\nAs if on que, bullets pepper the side of my car. One of the riders is holding an uzi and firing wildly on my direction. One handed he isn't hitting much, but one stray bullet and I'm done.\n\nOne of the bikers, their leader I'll assume pulls a megaphone from a bag on the side of his bike. \n\n\"Pull over now and we'll only torture you a little then we'll kill you!\" He yells and laughs after.\n\n\"Fuck you!\" I yell.\n\nI fire a shot but someone must've seen my aim and sped up to take the shot for him. He flies off his bike, but their leader swerves and easily avoids his bike.\n\n\"Come on!\" He yells, \"I just wanna torture you a little!\"\n\nI slam my foot and the brakes and they continue on. I quickly drive off the side of the road and park in a ditch. I look around and find some bushes for cover. It won't be long before they turn around and find me.\n\nI hear their engines approach not to long after I find my spot behind the bushes. It's starting to get light out, but not enough for the to see me behind the bushes.\n\nThree bikes pull up to the car. The leader gets off his bike and looks around in the car. The other two and their riders circle the car, waiting their turn for a look through my things. I still have five shots left, better make them count.\n\nAs the leader turns and walks away the other four jump and dive into the car throwing things around like wild animals. The leader walks towards my bush and unzips his pants ready to pee. Just as he reaches the bush I place the barrel of my gun into his chest and fire sending him flying backwards. He starts peeing all over himself as he falls to the ground.\n\nThe four immediately charge head on at the sight of their fallen leader. As I'm about to fire another shot they tackle their leader and start ripping things off of him. Two of them begin to fight over his jacket. It starts to tear as they pull it back and forth. I put two quick shots in their chest dropping them instantly. The other two are too busy fighting over his bike to even notice me. I put them down just as quickly as the other two.\n\nThe thick smell of iron begins to hit me. The weight of my actions bearing down on me. I just killed twelve people. I'd never killed a man before. I knew this was a kill or be killed situation, but that didn't change the fact that I was standing over the bodies of five people I just killed.\n\nI throw the gun into the dirt and walk back to my car. I turn it on and drive off back to where I was originally trying to go.\n\nWhen I finally arrive home after being away for so long my wife greets me at the door with a hug and a kiss. I will take this secret with me to the grave rather than make her suffer with the knowledge that her husband is a killer, whether justifiable or not. I smile and kiss her back and hold her tight."
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[WP] "Dear residents, good morning. Today's bounty of 10.000 EarthCredits is on Resident number 59722's head. Happy hunting and have a nice day." "Crap", you think, "that's the second time this year." You start thinking of ways to get your little brother through it this time. | 337 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Some would call it an obsession. Others a flaw in an otherwise intricate design. Julian called it getting even. There was something to power that lent itself to being used. Others throughout history had called it seduction, though Julian had always preferred girls to legislative proceedings. There were a lot of those of course, or there had been in the early days. \n\nEarth may have been going downhill, but it hadn't exactly been ready to accept what Julian had been offering. Nothing but the rage could have kept him going all those nights trading favors. The days tying up lose ends. The evenings wining and dining anyone and everyone who would listen to his cause. \n\nFinally, he'd arrived at the pinnacle, taken the last piece off the board, and looked out upon the world from the mantle of its leadership. There had been opposition then, with each passing day there had been less. \n\nYet, his victory tasted of ash. \n\nAt the last second, it had been taken from him. The two he'd spent so long determined to destroy; the woman he'd loved and the man who had stolen her from him with his silvered tongue were gone. Allegedly they'd been killed during the apprehension, but Julian knew the truth. His brother had turned coward in the end. Too afraid to face the reckoning he deserved. \n\nThe world wouldn't stand for murdering children without cause, so the last shining beacons of the people who had destroyed his life would continue to mock him. For several days he had been lost to despair in seeing his failure. Then the answer had come to him, a solution, a way to destroy them. A way to reduce population pressure. A way to create a circus to keep the world's eyes off him. Perfection, but for the one wrinkle. \n\nThe boys hadn't died. \n\nSo, for the second time the transmission went live across the world, \"Dear residents, good morning. Today's bounty of 10.000 EarthCredits is on Resident number 59722's head. Happy hunting and have a nice day.\" ",
"\"Hen! Get behind me!\"\n\nHen looked up from whatever small creature had been absorbing his attention just as a plasma bolt whizzed past the spot his head used to occupy. \n\nKyle cursed and ran forward, dispatching the owner of the Hardware store with a flick of the wrist, his psyblade slicing through old Harold's upper body like piano wire through air, splitting him open down the middle. As Kyle fell into a psy-enhanced slide and grabbed his brother, Harold's body began to slide apart, like the grotesque blooming of a flower made of flesh. \n\nHen in hand, Kyle shot to his feet just in time to backflip out of the way of a steel sword blade. Time slowed, as it often did for Kyle in such moments, and he saw that the wielder of the blade was Ms. Chapman, the school librarian who was narrowly acquitted of the murder of her husband ten minutes *after* the buzzer rang on his bounty. The jury believed she genuinely didn't hear it, but afterward she loved to gloat about how she got away with murder. \n\n*Not for long Chapman* Kyle thought. A viewer watching in slow motion would see Hen's childish smile, Chapman's clumsy, angry blow, and the only thing moving at normal speed, Kyle's right hand, fingers loosely grasping the pen like aperture of the psyblade, twisting downwards. \n\nTime jolted back to full speed and Kyle did not take even a moment to look at Chapmans bifurcated skull but kept on running down the alleyway toward the safe house. \n\nAs he ran the city councillor came on the loud speakers, his cloying voice oozing with pederast implications. \n\n> Good residents, what, are, you, *doing?* You have four more hours until midnight. Four more hours to *killlll* resident 59722. Get to it!\n\nKyle's footsteps reverberated in the shallow puddles of the alleyway as he carried Hen under his right arm like a human football, charging for the hidden entrance and the reinforced bunker behind it. In the brief seconds before another attack Kyle considered why his brother, of all people, had been chosen twice in a month for the daily bounty. \n\nA hail of bullets called Kyle from his reverie, spattering all over the pavement of the alley, sending droplets of filthy water shooting up in every direction.\n\nAs Kyle flattened himself against one of the walls, Hen chimed in unhelpfully, pointing at the bullet impacts. \"Upside down rain!\"\n\nKyle rolled his eyes and placed his right hand on the building's facade. Reaching out he felt for the aggression of his assailants and found them on the roof, almost directly above him. They were searching, beginning to change positions. \n\nKyle put Hen down on the floor and gave him the firmest finger to lips \"quiet\" gesture he could muster. Then, closing his eyes, Kyle placed both hands on the building's facade and concentrated with all his might. \n\nAt first nothing happened. Then the firing stopped and a voice could be heard on the roof. \n\n\"Hey dude, what the fuck? Don't point that shit at...\"\n\nA trio of gunshots opened up and the voice went silent in their wake. Five seconds later an apparently uninjured man leapt off the ten story building in total silence and landed flat and broken on the alley floor. \n\nKyle opened his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. Hen looked at the dead man and then back at Kyle and clapped like an idiot. \"Whooooaaa Kyle.\"\n\nKyle sighed and picked his little brother up again, racing for the entrance. They made it there without incident, a specific brick, colored just so, in the wall of the building on the left. Kyle searched for the mental key and unlatched it. Only a psychic could open such a lock. \n\nThe outline of a door appeared in the bricks and the entrance unsealed itself. Kyle didn't hesistate and jumped in, Hen in tow, willing the door shut and sealing it behind him. \n\nFinally, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief. They made it, four more hours in here and they would be safe. \n\nBright halogen lights filled the entryway and a conventional wooden door one two hinges led into the more comfortably equipped internal room, including a small bed for Hen. \n\nKyle went over to turn the knob and felt the threat behind the wood just in time, allowing his entire body to go limp and simply fall to the ground on top of Hen. Above them a psyblade swept across the door at waist height, searching for the abdomens that had been so exposed a moment earlier. \n\nKyle cursed. Another psychic. There *were* no other psychics in the city. Who the hell was this?\n\nNo time to consider, Kyle urged himself away from the door with a mental push, sending him and Hen beneath him sliding down the hallway, towards the sealed door. In a split second decision Kyle decided it was better to fight in the tight confines, stood up and readied his blade. \n\nThe wood door opened slowly on its hinges - first the bottom half, revealing black leggings and black shoes, and then the top, revealing an ironically moustachioed blond man in a black turtleneck. \n\n\"Sorry old chap, but I'm afraid I need to murder that little boy.\" The psychic had a twee English accent, as if he had walked out of a Dickens novel. \n\nKyle might have laughed, if the stakes werent deadly serious. He brought his blade up in a high defensive position, point aimed down the hall, at the ready. \"Not today.\"\n\nThe two stood still, gauging each other for a silent, tense moment, Hen watching, mouth agape at the tension. \n\nAll at once both men acted, sending the tips of their blades racing out simultaneously, both aimed at the other's jugular. Instead the two blade tips met in the center of the room with a loud purple crack - then again and again - a true psyblade duel, each user perfectly still, manifesting their will completely into their blade. \n\nKyle as the blade swung around to strike at the assassin's sword arm, but the assassin parried with purple sparks and stopped for not even a millisecond, swinging around and forward toward Kyle's brain stem. *Too fast* Kyle thought, realizing he could not retract his blade fast enough to ward off the strike. Out of options, Kyle deactivated, cutting his blade from existence at the speed of light and reactivating just in time to push the assassin's aim off, sending the purple blade directly into Kyles right shoulder. \n\nKyle screamed in agony as the blade lingered their in his flesh. The assassin could simply will it left or right and Kyle would die. But instead the man held it in place, paralyzing Kyle with the pain, and he began to speak. \n\n\"A good fight young man. You have talent. It's too bad you've chosen to waste it protecting this imbecile.\" He gave Hen a disdainful look and then made a perplexed face. \"To be honest. I can't imagine for the life of me why the councilor so wants him dead. But, my place is to fulfill a contract, not ask questions.\"\n\nAs he spoke Hen waddled over to the assassin, falling over twice like a toddler. As the man finished speaking Hen made it to his feet right in front of the killer's black tights and looked up with a dumb look on his face.\n\nThe English assassin stood there, looking straight down, and shook his head. \"Ridiculous.\" Then he took out a conventional sidearm slug thrower and aimed it right at Hen's forehead. Cheerfully, he concluded. \"Well, good bye now, strange, stupid little creature.\"\n\nHen smiled and waved. \"Bye!\" He said jovially, the spirit of innocence, and touched the assasin's shin. \n\nInstantaneously, purple energy began to spill out of the assassin's every orifice, a raging torrent of unrelenting power the likes of which Kyle had never seen. Kyle thought he could hear the assassin screaming as his body disintegrated into purple ash, but it was hard to distinguish anything beyond the audible roar of psychic destruction. \n\nWhen the conflagration was over and all that remained was dust, the enemy psyblade gone with its master's consciousness, Hen turned toward Kyle and smiled. \"Bad man go bye bye.\"\n\nKyle couldn't think of anything to say to that, so instead he passed out.\n\n*******\n\n#### For More Legends From The Multiverse\n###### And maybe more of Kyle and Hen in the future\n\n## r/LFTM"
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"1530350572",
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[WP] The problem with seeing magic is that eventually it sees you too. | 43 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"In the midst of her fifteen minute break, the brunette waitress sat at the doorway of the staff entrance and kicked off her shoes to rub her aching feet. Summer was at full swing, and the café was bursting full of customers demanding the house special – a fruity cocktail served on a bed of glowing ice cubes. While alone, she cursed aloud the customer who had ran off before paying earlier in her shift. She took out a packet of cigarettes from her apron pocket and brought one to her lips. As she brought the flame to light the deathstick (as her grandmother so fondly liked to call them), a shadow flickered across the corner of her eye. The lighter clattered to the floor. Picking up her shoes, she ran barefoot to the alleyway to confront the customer from earlier. \n\n“Wait!” She yelled. “Get back here!” \n\nThe figure did not run all that far. She found the man in an alcove, shuddering. \n\n“Sir… excuse me, sir? What ARE you doing?”\n\n“SHHHHHH!” The man pressed a finger emphatically to his lips. He seemed roughly in his early twenties despite the receding hairline, and carried an assortment of luggage strapped to his body like an eccentric traveller. The logo of the academy of sorcerery was stamped upon on his duffel bag, while the backpack on his back seemed torn and singed in places. The waitress presumed the money she was owed lay in the bum bag he also wore, but was starting to regret the chase already.\n\n*“What?”* \n\n“Get in here already or it’ll find us!”\n\n“I am *not* getting in there.”\n\n“T-trust me, you do not want to come into contact with that thing.”\n\n“What thing? What are you so scared of?”\n\n“A spell. I never realized magic was sentient!” The man winced. “This one really has it out for me.”\n\n“Jacooooooooob.” A voice drawled from the far end of the alleyway. A yellow-ish translucent figure marched closer. Any debris in the path of the figure seemed to explode prior to its touch, a torrent of pulverised junk splattered down the alleyway in a dirty rain.\n\n“What’s your name?” The eccentric man turned to his equally horrified companion. \n\n“Martha.” She replied, tracing the cigarette packet hiding in her apron.\n\n“Martha, we really need to run.” ",
"Many peoples perception of magic is that of innate energies drawn from ones inner self, projected through silly rituals to mold the world before them to their whim. A nice little power fantasy. But a man is simply a man, and magic is... something else. \n\nThe bars beat pounded as twenty somethings fumbled across the floor. I weaved my way through the seething dance floor and under swinging pool cues before finally finding my friend spinning in a stool to the bemused look of the bartender.\n\n\"At least you saved me a seat.\" \n\nI quipped before he spun once more.\n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"At least you saved me a seat.\"\n\nOne look at his perplexed face told me that he already was far gone. Taking my seat I tapped the wooden counter top waiting for the bar tender to come around once more. A man with strait brown hair in a white buttoned top took the stool next to mine. He sat staring at the neon brewery signs with a somber look. Taking a glance at my friend dry heaving while somehow still spinning, I figured for his safety, drinks would be better spent on meeting new people. Tapping the mans shoulder, I pointed at one of the intricate neon signs dangling above the spirits. \n\n\"Hey if your'e looking for a local drink you can't go wrong with logged hog.\"\n\nHis sight snapped from the sign to me as a hefty newcomer sat on him. NO, that wasn't quite right, sat through him. The music stopped, the people stopped, the drinks stopped, time stopped. Except for me, and the brown haired man. With a beaming smile he walked through the wooden bar counter and grabbed a bottle of rum before turning and placing it with two clinging shot glasses before me. \n\n\"You are the first person to see me in a very long time.\" \n\nhe began, pouring the spiced liquor into the crystal glasses. \n\n\"A VERY long time.\" \n\nhe sighed before picking up one of the shot glasses.\n\n\"But that time is over, and our time has just begun- oh don't give me that face.\"\n\nI honestly didn't know that my jaw could drop that far, but there I was, eyes wide as a doe's staring slack-jawed at this man. \n\n\"Alright.\"\n\nHe groaned putting down the glass.\n\n\"Lets get started\"\n\n**Will probably finish tomorrow, maybe not, really tired.** \n\n**Feed back for what is there would be appreciated though.** \n\n\n\n",
"\"You're sure this is the place, Bill?\" asked Chief Grossman. He was holding a gas station map and frowning at the squat concrete building in front of them. \"It ain't on the map.\"\n\n\"You heard the broadcast same as I did, Chief,\" Bill replied, with more certainty than he felt. There was a fence around the building, but the gate was open and the guard shack seemed unoccupied. Not what he expected given what they had heard on the radio. \"Maybe they're laying low.\"\n\n\"Hope so,\" the Chief said. he folded the map and stowed it in his jacket. \"We don't have much gas left. Let's check it out.\"\n\nThe remnants of the Forsyth police force filed down the road towards the building at a cautious pace. Surviving the journey had taught them a multitude of harsh lessons, not the least of which was to fear any structure that seemed abandoned. Sometimes there were hungry horrors hidden within, and they had few men left to spare. But the radio had promised a sanctuary here, and they had nowhere else to go. \n\nThe door had been cut open with a blowtorch, thick steel and magnetic locks still held tightly together and discarded to the side. They began a careful clearing operation, working their way down the main corridor past empty offices and storerooms. Most of the fluorescent lights still functioned, though a few had started to flicker, and many of the rooms were locked behind keypads. The air smelled of ammonia and acrid burnt plastic and a faint rot. There was a subsonic thumping sound, barely noticeable, that shook the building at regular intervals, like a drawn out heartbeat. None of the usual signs of the afflicted - no blood runes and blood altars. Small comfort, but small comforts were welcome.\n\nThe main corridor terminated in another set of steel doors. They showed signs of having been cut and replaced. When the Chief pressed on them they did not budge.\n\n\"Welded on the other side,\" Bill said. He laid a hand on the steel and sighed. \"Looks like they rolled up the welcoming mat.\"\n\nHe heard the disappointment ripple through the men lining the corridor. They had held together this long out of lack of other options in a world gone mad, but there had always been some shreds of hope. Some faint belief that there was a way to fix what had been broken. When they had heard the broadcast promising a chance to fight back, that hope had taken root. Tearing it out now would rip a gash in their spirit that might be too much to bear.\n\n\"Wait,\" he said, as the chorus of murmurs and angry curses flared up. He felt a vibration in the steel. \"Heads up, guys.\"\n\nThe door was briefly limned with a brilliant white light. Bill cursed and stepped back, blinking away the afterimage, nearly tripping over the Chief. He fumbled with his revolver and hoped to hell that he wouldn't have to shoot at whoever was on the other side. He could barely see a thing. A screech of steel on steel and the door flipped inward, banging against the walls. An old man stood inside, leaning heavily on a white staff topped with a broken fragment of obsidian, his clothes torn and dirty.\n\n\"Hello,\" the old man said. Bill saw that the man was wearing a bone necklace and raised the revolver, a spike of panic lancing through his heart, but the old man did not react.\n\n\"We are friends,\" the old man said, his voice tired and broken. \"Though I'm afraid it will do neither of us much good.\"\n\n\"Who the hell are you?\" Bill asked, his revolver still pointed squarely at the old man's heart. \"Where's the captain we heard on the radio?\"\n\n\"I can show you,\" the old man said, angling his head towards another set of the doors a little ways down the corridor. \"Please, do not point your weapon at me. I have lost my patience with fear, here at the end of things, but I do not wish to harm you.\"\n\nBill lowered the revolver slowly, mind picking apart the old man's words as if he were interrogating a suspect and recoiling at the inferences. \n\n\"Show us,\" Bill said. \"And tell me your name, at least.\"\n\n\"I used to be called Qaletaqa,\" the old man said. \"But I think I may have to take a new name for a time. Come.\"\n\nHe turned and walked down the corridor, his staff tapping lightly every other step. Bill glanced at the Chief, who shrugged and waved a hand to move his men forward.\n\n\"At least we have a roof tonight,\" the Chief said softly. \"Better than nothing.\"\n\nQaletaqa pressed his staff against the final set of doors for a moment and they slid back into the walls, revealing an elevator shaft. The thrumming sound intensified as they opened, and bits of dust streamed down from the ceiling as the building shook with a particularly strong beat. Qaletaqa gestured with his staff and stepped back out of the way. Bill peered carefully over the edge and saw a concrete floor a few feet down the shaft.\n\n\"What the hell?\" he blurted, confused.\n\n\"The Captain and his men were called down to help with some disturbance,\" Qaletaqa said distantly. \"I surmise that they failed. The shaft filled with concrete shortly after their descent, and there has been no word since. Those who remained above fled once the shaking began. But I must wait and see what arises from the deep.\"\n\nThe old man took off his bone necklace and handed it to Bill, who accepted it uncertainly. Qaletaqa settled into a lotus position facing the elevator and laid his staff across his legs, as motionless as a statue. Bill edged away as another *thrum* shook the building and a tiny crack opened up in the concrete.\n\n\"I have watched the spirits all my life,\" Qaletaqa said, as if to himself. \"I believed I had them tamed. Broken to my will. But now they have slipped the halter and run wild.\"\n\n\"Chief,\" Bill said, gesturing towards the entrance. The Chief nodded and turned. There would be no shelter here. They would have to move on, out into the gathering dark.\n\n\"Were they watching me, all this time?\" Qaletaqa asked. Bill backed away from the old man, revolver at the ready. \"Perhaps it is my turn to sleep within the earth, and await an age when they have waned.\"\n\n\"Ok,\" Bill said, unsure of what the old man wanted to hear. Another *thump*. \"We're going, now. Good luck.\"\n\n\"Beware the spirits, Detective!\" the old man called. \"Once you see them, they will see you!\"\n\n\"Sure, buddy,\" Bill muttered. He hustled through the corridor and out into the open air, where the Chief and the rest of the force had gathered in a tight circle of despair. The Chief looked up the road and squinted at the sun where it hung low in the western sky. \n\n\"We need to find a place to sleep,\" the Chief said, voice heavy as lead. \"Maybe that town we passed on the way in. What the hell are you going to do with those bones, Bill?\"\n\nBill glanced the necklace in his hand. It clinked softly as he held it up and turned it about. The eye sockets in the skulls all seemed to meet his gaze, and he looked away. He started to open his hand to drop it, but then he heard a whisper on the wind and froze.\n\n\"Bill?\" the Chief asked. \"What are we going to do?\"\n\nThe whisper intensified, spoken in an incomprehensible language that Bill understood all the same. There were still options. Still paths to survival, if not victory. The whisperers knew what to do, if he could learn how to listen. He slipped the necklace on and took a deep breath. \n\n\"I think I have some ideas.\"\n\n---\nEnd of series\n\n[Previously](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8v3kw5/tt_nobody_understood_my_pain_until_i_made_them/e1kws2h/) \n",
"Humans can't use magic, but they can steal it.\n\nMagic doesn't exist in this world. It can't. There are rules to this world that magic just breaks. But the Alternate doesn't have the same rules that our world does. It has its own, and those we barely understand.\n\nWe grew so quickly from minor discoveries like never-ending lantern flames to impossible feats like controlled, localized weather systems that it was really inevitable we'd start to wonder what would happen if—rather than a small binding circle in the base of a lantern or beneath the soil of a field of crops—what if we ourselves were connected to the Alternate?\n\nWe knew where to find certain forces in the Alternate, which binding circles would connect to which elements and siphon their power. So, with a little trial and error, some death and dismemberment for the intrepid explorers poking around in a world we could only glimpse, we learned how to hold the power of the Alternate in the palm of our hands. Flame at a touch. Winds where we directed them. Rivers or rain as we wanted.\n\nA binding circle is really just a door that you can open and close. You open the door to a fire in the Alternate where you want a fire to be in our world, and it's there. Close the door, and it's not. If we are that door, we can choose when and where the fire will be. Simple, in concept.\n\nBut the Alternate is not an empty world. There are beings that live there, and I learned where to find one.\n\nI opened the door for one. Tried to steal some of its magic. To see what I could become, what I could learn and know.\n\nI learned that the door opens two ways. And where we have spent all these years seeing into the Alternate, this time, there was something there to look back. I was seen, and it was me, or at least some part of me, that was bound and pulled through.\n\n\"Hello,\" I said to the being of the Alternate. "
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[WP] Ever since you were born the circle of windchimes around the village have hung in silence. The elders say they were put there to protect the village. For the first time in living memory, they're silent no more | 7 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\\*\\*Audio Reading for my practice: [http://themadhill.libsyn.com/hells-bells](http://themadhill.libsyn.com/hells-bells)\n\n\\*\\*\\*\n\nThe sun fell in the sky over castle of Deeprock, snug against the mountain on one side, and sitting by the edge of a great cliff above the flat lands below on the other. It was a misty evening and deep fog rolled in off the flats as the sunset pushed the mountain’s shade over the keep. A chill settled into the castle sending a sweeping shiver through the halls, and anyone in caught them. The cold wind was not the only thing the darkness brought that night. No, that was the night *he* arrived.\n\nThe gate guards were not expecting anyone that night. Not that there was a guest list or some such, just that on nights like this no one came through the mountain pass. The rocks would have frosted and become slippery, the craggy stairs and edges would have become too hazardous to risk. The guards were not surprised when *he* stepped out of the mist however, as though he belonged there, as though a treacherous night was where he *always* was.\n\nLooking into his dark eyes was like staring off the side of a cliff, terrifying and wonderous. The expanse in those eyes was thrilling at first, until you realized you might fall in. Whether it was using ancient magics, or just through sending people away with those eyes is unknown, but he strode past all the guards into the throne room unimpeded.\n\nQueen Rolenus and her court were momentarily shocked to silence by him, his cloak swirling around him as the cold air followed him into the room. Where there should have been anger there was only confusion; the Guard Captain Ogden wondering where his guards were, the court shivering, and High Wizard Lanix frowning in recognition of those dark eyes.\n\nIt was Lanix that broke the silence. “You are not welcome here nightling.” He straightened his staff in front of himself bracing it against the ground, it’s tip began to glow faintly.\n\n“Now, now” said the nightling. “There’s no need for that. I come bearing a gift for Her Majesty.” An overly comforting smile spreading across his face.\n\n“And what gift would the nightlings offer me” Queen Rolenus said, giving a hand wave to Lanix signaling him to stand down. He did, reluctantly.\n\nThe nightling’s grin spread unnaturally wide making his face look like a mask. “The gift of knowledge Your Highness, do you accept it?”\n\n“We will hear your knowledge first nightling, and then we can discuss its acceptance” said the queen.\n\nThe nightling’s face became a caricature of seriousness. “Very well, Your Highness, here is the news I bring. The evening tide is coming, dark waves will lap at your doors, and my brothers prepare to sail the dark sea. So say the stars.”\n\n“The stars….” Queen Rolenus repeated meeting the nightling’s gaze and holding it. “We accept your knowledge nightling. You have said your piece, now be gone from my house.”\n\nSilence took the room.\n\nEventually, the nightling nodded and turned to leave “one last thing Your Majesty, mind the bells.” His words echoed throughout the chamber as he left.\n\nDiscussion of the evening’s events stretched late into the night. Guard Captain Ogden had implored the Queen to dismiss it as “foul trickery”. Lanix wondered if Ogden truly believed that. Nightlings were myth sure, but they had all seen that creature with their own eyes. And he had known, not thought, but *known* what it was. He didn’t know how. Until he had seen that creature he had thought nightlings as much a “foul trick” of legend as Ogden had claimed. “All legends have roots in truth” Lanix thought. He walked the long cold corridor to the library and let himself in. It was dawn before he found what he was looking for, the journal of King Leopold the first. This was it, the only mention of a dark sea anywhere in the library.\n\nKing Leopold had built the bells. It was not for another 500 years that King Andrus VIII built this castle around them, originally as a fort. They never rang, how could they, they were tide bells and impossibly large, rung by lifting the huge pendulum and there was no sea for 1000 miles. According to King Leopold’s notes there had originally been many such bells lining the Mountains of Druidor. Lanix wondered if the bells at Deeprock Castle were the only ones left standing. It was possible, maybe even likely given how time had ravaged the kingdom.\n\nIn the ancient texts mentioning nightlings was common enough, but those documents were full of inaccuracies and embellishments. The farther back you went the more they sounded like an ancient kingdom, but as time went on they became dwellers of the dark like ogres and goblins; something sneaking out of caves to terrorize nearby towns. Eventually they were little more than monsters under children’s beds.\n\nIt took Lanix nearly a fortnight to gather everything he could mentioning evening tides, nightlings, dark waves, and the bells. It was pieced together notes from King Leopold’s astronomer that finally caught Lanix eye, too damaged to read in places. “When the four moons… evening tide ebbs and… dark waves splash the mountain shore… black sails.” This wasn’t written like a legend though, these were the astronomers personal notes. Surely, he didn’t mean a real tide? Waves at the mountain’s shore? When was the last time the four moons aligned, Lanix wondered? The knowledge of that was unfortunately lost to time. “But maybe…” he thought as he ran out of the room.\n\nThe old astronomer Percival was startled awake as Lanix burst into his study. “Now what is this… what can I…” he managed to get out before Lanix cut him off.\n\nGasping for breath he steadied himself before asking “The four moons Percival, when will the four moons align?”\n\nBefore Percival could respond Lanix smelled it, sea salt on the wind. “I’m too late” he thought as he burst from the room and ran to the top of the tower. Looking out over the flats on the side of the cliff, he was in shock, and there was the sea splashing against the foot of the mountain. For the first time in 1000 years the bells rang above Deeprock Castle, and when he squinted, Lanix could see ships with black sails on the horizon.",
"It'd been years since I'd been to the cliff. It's a nice quiet place, right on the edge of the village. It's a bit of a trek, but well worth it. Sitting on the edge of that cliff somehow made me feel invincible.\n\nMay walked over to sit beside me. We've gone out a couple times, but the one nice restaurant in town has steep prices. I decided a hike would be more fun. She seemed to agree; for most of the hike, she was four steps ahead.\n\n\"The view really is beautiful!\"\n\n\"Would I lie to you?\"\n\nShe laughed. I liked her laugh. Simple, sweet. The way the sunset caught her hair just made me stare in awe at her beauty. I have no idea why a gorgeous girl like her ended up in Middle-of-Nowhere-Ville. Our nearest grocery store is a gas station about 50 miles east. But I wasn't mad. She was right next to me. I had the opportunity. I don't know what 90's sitcom possessed me to do this, but I yawned and stretched my arm around her shoulder.\n\n\"Smooth move.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean.\" \n\n\"Yeah, right.\"\n\n\"I don't! I was just... stretching...\"\n\n\"Well then,\" she yawned as she put her arm around my waist, \"so am I.\"\nThe banter was going well. She was laughing, and I looked into her eyes. The way her eyes looked at me, I knew that was the signal. *Should I kiss her?* I thought, *If I kiss her and it isn't the moment, will it be weird?* I was psyching myself out. *Just do it already!* I was screaming inside my head. *Okay. Lean in, and...*\n\nShe looked away. *Damn it!* It was time to change tactics:\n\n\"That climb was killer,\" I said, effortlessly transforming my lean into a look over my shoulder.\n\n\"I've seen worse.\"\n\nThis conversation was like a minefield. Why couldn't it just be like in the movies?\n\n\"I used to climb up here all the time when I was little. I guess I'm just out of practice.\"\n\n\"Well, where I'm from, you have to climb a mountain just to get to school.\"\n\n\"Must be rough. At least you have a school, though. We have to drive up to--\"\n\nShe raised her hand to cut me off.\n\n\"What? What is it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Wind chimes!\" she cheered, \"I love wind chimes! My grandpa had some up on his porch back home! I used to jump up to hit them. Luke? Are you alright, luke?\"\n\nI was frozen in place. Completely shocked, I backed away from the cliff.\n\n\"Luke, what's going on?\"\n\n\"We have to go.\"\n\n\"What? Why?\"\n\n\"Quickly!\"\n\nI began running down the hill. She followed suit.\n\n\"Luke! What is happening?\"\n\n\"I have *no* clue. But it's not good!\"\n\n\"Did you see something?\"\n\n\"It's the wind chimes!\"\n\nShe didn't feel like questioning me further. We were stumbling down the long path through the woods, yelling back and forth to each other. I pulled out my phone to see if I had service. Of course, I didn't. The only cell tower in town is way far from where we were. I put my phone back in my pocket, but I missed and it fell to the ground. May was following close behind, but neither one of us stopped to pick it up. May had her phone, so I knew we would be fine.\n\nWe kept running, and we made it to the end of the woods. We still had a pretty large open field to cross before we made it to any civilization. We had to find one of the Elders, and fast. We make it across the field, and I'm out of breath. We sit on the side of the road to breathe for a second, or else we wouldn't have made it much farther.\n\n\"You kids stayin' safe?\"\n\nI shot up. It was Michael Heath, the local store clerk. Everyone just calls him Mick, though. He was driving out of town in his pick-up truck, probably to go and get more stuff for the shop. I came over to his car door.\n\n\"Hey Mick, I need a favor.\"\n\n\"What can I get you, son?\"\n\n\"A ride.\"\n\nWe got into his truck, and I told him about the wind chimes. He set his truck in gear, and turn right back around towards the middle of town. After we explained to him what was going on, May finally had enough.\n\n\"Okay, would someone *please* tell me what the hell is going on? I hear wind chimes and suddenly it's a life-or-death sprint down the hill? I'm tired, I'm sweaty, and I wore this stupid sundress because I don't know why! Just tell me SOMETHING!\"\n\n----\n\nIt would be a while before we got into town, so I decided to explain.\n\n\"Okay. So the wind chimes you heard. They... aren't normal wind chimes.\"\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n\"It's going to sound crazy, and it's all legend to me, but...\"\n\n\"Darling, those chimes haven't chimed since before I was born,\" Mick chimed in. \"The wind don't move them, and trust me, we've tried.\"\n\n\"And when they do chime... it means trouble. I don't know what kind of trouble. Just... trouble.\"\n\nMay looked at me, then at Mick. She saw the genuine fear in our eyes.\n\n\"If this is some twisted prank, I'll punch you, but I'll roll with it for now. What do we do?\"\n\n\"We go to the Elders.\"\n\n\"Is this some kind of Skyrim shit?\"\n\n\"Well, we call them the Elders because... Mick? Do you know?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Way back, before either of you were born and I was still a kid, our town was one of the Protectors. A grid of small villages all over the world that protect the world from the ancients.\"\n\n\"Who are the ancients?\" May said, almost angry. She clearly didn't believe anything we told her.\n\n\"Well, my memory ain't what it used to be, and I know for a fact that what I was told was more of a tall tale than a truth. But... from what I know the ancients are creatures as old as time itself. They're tricksters, and they are clever. They got all sorts of dangerous tricks they pull to get people killed. Scary as all get-out. If I'm remembering right, they hibernate for centuries. They have a lifespan we couldn't imagine, and they only show up once in a lifetime or two, just long enough for everyone to forget about 'em.\"\n\n\"And so, the chimes mean...\"\n\n\"I guess they're wakin' up.\"\n\nThe car was silent for the rest of the way into town. I was freaking out, and that is why I'm writing in this journal. All the things that my grandpa told me were true. I always thought that the Elders were just a bunch of old guys going out for bowling and bingo every Thursday because they were. But they did always preach about protection from the ancients. I thought it was more of the bullshit that old people like to tell you about to scare you-- like boogie monsters or credit scores. But now that those giant wind chimes surrounding the outskirts of the village were ringing, I have to hope that they knew what they were talking about. \n\nWell, that brings us up to now. I'm sitting in the backseat of a pick-up truck, writing in a little yellow-paged journal. I guess I'll stop here, and give an update whenever more shit happens. My heart is racing. To whoever reads this-- If I die in the next week or so, please edit this page to say that I kissed her.\n\n -- ~~𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓪𝓼~~ ~~𝓛𝓾𝓴𝓮~~ ~~𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓪𝓼 𝓙𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓹𝓮𝓻~~ 𝓛𝓾𝓴𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓹𝓮𝓻, 𝓣𝔀𝓸 𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷\n\n\n--------\n\n*That was a lot of fun to write! This was my first writing prompt thing, so feedback is appreciated. I may write a second installment if I'm bored in the future. If you can't tell by the piles of dialogue, I'm used to writing scripts. Thanks for taking the time to read it!*"
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[Wikipedia page for Elo Hell, for context.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elo_hell) | [WP] You are in Elo hell. Elo hell being an actual place where bad gamers go when they die. | 15 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Ah c'mon! Look, I'm telling you I've changed! Just give me a chance, *please*.\"\n\nI shifted in my seat, thinking over Dom proposal. An eternity here and I found it never really got easier.\n\n\"I'm sorry Dom, but once a toxic player, always a toxic player. There's no way I can let you out of here.\"\n\n\"But what about you? You left once, *you changed*. \" \n\n\"Yes, I did leave once, but now I'm back and so now I know what I just told you better than anyone.\" \n\n\"You've got to be kidding me!\" Dom's tone quickly shifted from pleading to indignant.\n\n\"I don't belong here with these shit players! Trolls and wintraders, the lot of them!\"\n\nI let out a sigh, and cuffed my face in my palm. \"See what I mean Dom? You're just not ready to go back! Believe me, *I know*.\"\n\n\"So what if I flame a little? It's just banter man! How can you possibly put me on the same level as people who purposefully int or throw?!\"\n\n\"Justice is blind Dom. I don't care if you flame them, believe me, I've done my fair share of flaming too! How do you think I got stuck here in the first place?\"\n\nA glimmer of hope shone in Dom's eyes.\n\n\"But,\" I held up my hand, \"the moment you type that shit in chat, you become just as bad as them. You troll your team by wasting your time typing to them and ruining your mental, and you int yourself, causing nothing but tilt in both you AND your already pissed team mates.\"\n\nThat glimmer of hope faded from Dom's eyes, and in its place was left only anger and hate.\n\n\"What would you know about any of our struggles? There's no way you could ever know what it's like to lose a game cause some monkey tilts you and feeds the enemy team over and over! You-\"\n\nI sighed and pulled the lever sending Dom back to his cell. He clearly wasn't ready to be sent back. I sympathized with him though, I really did. Once upon a time I would've agreed with him too, but that was another life. Before I was cursed by the god Sanjuro to preside over the hearings of toxic players for the rest of eternity. \n\nThe judge shifted in his seat as he pulled out a list with the word \"INT\" crossed out on the top, replaced with an amended \"INTERS\". He crossed off the name IWillDominate and signed the date tried and then his name at the bottom: Tyler1. ",
"“Elo Hell.” You repeated slowly.\n\n“Elo Hell.” The man in front of you confirmed. Well, the word ‘man’ was too general a term. The ghoul that floated in front of your eyes had been a man once, yes, but he was now a shade of his former self.\n\n“So...” You closed your eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. “I’m here because I’m just bad at League of Legends?”\n\nThe ghoul hesitated. “Not exactly. “\n\nA deadpan expression was all you gave him.\n\n“It’s like this.” He waved his transparent arms animatedly. “Elo Hell is where you end up if you want to get better at a game, but you end up hardstuck at a certain MMR instead.”\n\nHe pointed to himself. “Take me, for example. I was Silver in League, but I thought I was much higher ranked. Instead, I spent more than 2000 games in Silver 4.”\n\n“Oh.” Was the only thing you said. But then again, what else could you say to that.\n\n“And him,” the ghoul gestured to another spirit to his right. “He was Diamond 5, but thought he deserved Challenger, so he spent more than 4000 games in low Diamond. Do you kinda see the pattern?”\n\nYou nodded slowly, before pointing to a ghoul chained against a rock in the fiery abyss below. “And him?”\n\n“Oh, that’s Hitler.”\n\n“Hitler?!” You repeated incredulously.\n\n“Hitler.”\n\nYou looked at him, bewilderment leaking through your tone. “What game could he have possibly failed at? In fact, what game could he even play?”\n\nThe ghoul adopted a look of disgust. “Oh, he’s the worst one here. The ultimate blasphemer. You know how he rose to power?”\n\nYou nodded, still trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that *Hitler* was in Elo Hell.\n\n“Well, politics is kind of a game, except the people that live in your country are both your teammates and your enemies.”\n\n“Okay...?”\n\nThe ghoul looked at you then, sighing.\n\n“He flamed his team.”\n\nEdit: Changed joke with credit to my good friend u/armsdragon05\n"
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"1530459798",
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[WP] In this world, everyone has their own special 'talent' by birthright, such as making holes appear in the ground or the ability to fly. | 5 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"HanÈr Dynasty: March 18, 2087.\n\nFreedom Laboratory Entry#46\n\nResearch into the Legacy Gene is slow. The Chinese government has seized all of the scientific studies and research. At some point, after 2057 a new gene was discovered. The Legacy Gene endowed firstborns with supernatural powers. We still don't know how this gene developed but China's One-Child policy facilitated their rise to become a world superpower. The Allies do their best to keep these underground labs secret but the Chinese have a powerful intelligence network. Life is stressful and full of anxiety, I'm mainly writing these entries to keep me sane. There is hope; the Allies have been trying to create their own population of Legacy Children but the world's population is carefully monitored, all firstborn are confiscated by the government.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nAlyson stood within the small arena. Halfway up the wall was an observation deck where she could see the outlines of researchers and fellow classmates through the clouded glass. She eyed it with annoyance. Constantly being evaluated and watched was annoying. Her classmates thought it was a good idea to rank themselves. Each week, their teachers had them spar to help practice their abilities, and at the end of each week, everyone got together to reevaluate the tier list they had made. Alyson was at the bottom of the list. She had yet to develop powers normally present in children her age. Her thirteenth birthday had come and gone with no development. Five years later, for reasons she did not know, she was still allowed to live at the facility. Maybe they thought she was a late bloomer. She laughed at the thought. She had stopped growing at around the same time her classmates had developed their powers. Standing at one and a half meters in height she was by far the smallest person in their class. Henry, her sparring partner for this week, was two meters in height and ranked solidly in the top five of their class. He was born with superior strength and endurance. Everything about her life was a running joke at this point. Her only \"friend\" was the school nurse. Frequent visits had helped her develop a nice relationship with the much older man. He was kind and did not talk much, which was good for her because he basically doubled has her Psychiatrist.\n\nA loud buzzer sounded signaling for them to start the fight. Henry quickly closed the distance between them. He struck fast, his muscles allowing him to push past the limits of a normal human. Alyson barely dodged left not wanting to be forced to the edge of the arena. Alyson's small stature made it extremely difficult for Henry to land a solid blow. Alyson blocked another fury on strikes from Henry. Normally she'd try and tire her opponent but Henry had exceptional endurance. After a violent exchange of punches and kicks, Alyson was sent flying across the cold floor. Henry followed quickly and landed a powerful kick to her exposed abdomen. Alyson fell to her knees gasping for air.\n\n\"Stay down,\" Henry said. \"I don't want to hurt you.\" He turned his back towards Alyson and addressed the observers above, \"I won right?\" He yelled.\n\nNo response.\n\n\"I'm really sorry,\" Henry said as he turned back to face her.\n\nHe raised his fist in the air and brought it down towards Alyson's head. Expecting blackness, Alyson was surprised to find her body reacting seemingly on its own. She leaped backward a few meters from Henry in a crouched position dodging the blow. She was still exhausted and struggling to breathe but her body urged her to react anyway. Henry cocked his head and sported the same surprised expression Alyson did. He shrugged and made for Alyson again. This time Alyson **knew** what was going to happen. She instinctively reacted to what he was going to do. She blocked the jab and ducked under the hook. Frustrated at her persistence, Henry threw another combination of punches. Alyson **saw** what was going to happen next and dodged the series of blows. Alyson's mind was in overdrive; she dodged expertly. Henry's frustration was chipping away at his form. Alyson started to see openings to counter-attack. After a particularly fierce exchange, Henry lowered his guard to her right side. Alyson threw her entire body weight behind a right hook. It connected to his jaw with a crack forcing Henry to stubble back, face stunned. Pain erupted through her hand and wrist. The crack she had heard was not Henry's jaw but her fist. Alyson again found herself on her knees screaming in pain. \n\n______________________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe keyword in the prompt was inheritance and that triggered an idea in my head. I've been looking for a good starting point for a story and I think this is it. While a little Cliché I think it can work. I'm still really bad at grammar and other things (i wasted a lot of time at school) but I hope to at least continue this. Any advice is appreciated :D\n"
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[removed] | [WP] At some point in your life, you discover you have total control over one basic element. After years of hiding, you decide to go public. With the world on the brink of both physical and social collapse, how do you use your element to save the world, or doom it? | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/voltageefflux, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)\n\n- Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 30 words. 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8vhp2e/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] One day, suddenly, all magnets cease to function. | 10 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It's Saturday evening, and I'm walking through the kitchen to get our movie popcorn when suddenly the world goes dark.\n\nNot just dark, *pitch* dark, as if my optic nerves have been cut. And then there's a loud crashing noise in my left ear, and the hum of the air conditioning and other appliances goes away.\n\n*Did I just have a stroke?*\n\nBefore I've had time to think about it, Fran yells from the living room, \"Dave! I can't see!\"\n\n\"Me either, honey! Must be some kind of outage. Just stay where you are while I figure out what happened.\"\n\nI pull out my cell phone to use as a flashlight, but it's dead. Still, it's early in the evening, so there should still be some twilight, and there's nothing. No light, either natural or artificial.\n\nI reach into the junk drawer and fumble for a lighter. Finding it, I try to light it and it doesn't even spark--but I can hear the hiss of the butane. I hold it up to listen and--OW! The heat singes the flesh on my ear, and I drop the lighter. *What the fuck*?\n\n\"Dave, are you okay?\"\n\n\"Yeah, Fran,\" I stammer, \"just--just give me a minute to figure this out.\"\n\nOkay, Dave, you're an engineer. *What the hell's going on?* Neither you or Fran can see, so there's probably no light. But I couldn't see the lighter flame either. And there was that crashing sound to the left, when I was facing...\n\nThe fridge. It came from the direction of the fridge.\n\nI feel my way to the fridge and there's a crunch under my foot. I reach down and find a magnet. Several magnets. *All the magnets.*\n\nAnd it's cold. The fridge doors are both ajar. I test them, and they don't stay closed anymore.\n\nThe fridge magnets don't work anymore. The magnetic door seals don't work anymore. *Magnetism* doesn't work anymore.\n\nThe power company's generators and transformers depend on electromagnetism. They're all useless now.\n\nAnd electromagnetic waves consist of oscillating electric and magnetic fields. EM radiation doesn't work without magnetism.\n\nIncluding *light*.\n\nThe Sun can't light or warm the Earth anymore. But the Earth won't get cold because it can't radiate its heat into space, it can only move heat around with convection.\n\nSo the Earth's crust will eventually equalize with the mantle, which will equalize with the core...but unless I'm missing something, we'll all be dead before then.\n\nHoly shit, we're fucked.\n\n\"Dave?\" She's starting to sound scared now. This is on me. I have to do what I can.\n\n\"It's okay Fran. Hold on, I have a flashlight in my desk. Just sight tight while I go get it.\"\n\nIt takes me a few minutes to get back to her. I lost my shit when I got to the desk, but I'm okay now. I just have to hold it together for a few more minutes.\n\n\"Dave, is that you?\" she whispers, frightened.\n\n\"It's me, honey. The flashlight batteries were dead. \"I feel my way to the couch and sit down next to her, putting my left arm around her shoulder and hugging her tight. \"I'm just gonna sit here with you until the lights come back on. If it takes too long I can go get batteries from the garage.\"\n\n\"What's happening, Dave?\" She sounds better now.\n\n\"I'm sure it's nothing big, or we'd hear sirens.\" We didn't hear anything, actually, except for the crickets outside, who seem happy with the new situation. For the moment, anyway.\n\nWe cuddle this way for a minute or two. Even though it seems like an eternity, it's still not enough. Not *nearly* enough.\n\nI pull her closer, my hand moving up to stroke her hair. I need to know exactly where her head is if I'm going to get this right. I don't want her to suffer, not even for an instant.\n\n\"This is nice,\" she sighs as she leans into me. \"I hope the lights stay out for a little while.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" I say, my voice finally starting to crack, and I gently turn my beautiful, wonderful wife's face toward mine. \"I love you so much, sweetheart.\"\n\nAnd as I carefully aim the pistol, I kiss the love of my life for the last time.\n\n**Edit:** grammar\n"
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[WP] Gordon Ramsey critiques his own cooking thinking its someone elses | 69 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It's not often I enter cooking competitions. But for some reason, this winter my wife forced me to sign up for some big one in NYC. If I'm bring frank, they only invited me because I'm famous. They want me to do my signature critiques, they want me to blow up on someone, and they want my raw emotion to boil over on some unfortunate soul.\n\nThat's fine with me - I'm used to it at this point.\n\nI've always loved food. You're probably not surprised by that. \n\nBut what may surprise you is that I, in fact, *love* food that are made by others, especially when it's original. I don't care if it tastes exquisite, or if it tingles the taste buds in the most pleasurable way. \n\nWhat I care more about is the story behind the creation. Why the cook chose to use the ingredients in this way, why was this particular spice chosen and not that, and why did he chose to cook that particular dish at this moment? \n\nThose are the questions which drive me. I couldn't care less if it tasted \"delicious\" or like \"culinary perfection\" or like \"the most perfect blend of flavors bursting in my mouth.\" Those words don't mean anything to me anymore. \n\nThose are words I use to put up this persona which gives me the opportunity to taste more artfully created, character-filled food.\n\nLike I said, I was forced to go to this one in NYC. It was a blind-test, and apparently they wanted me to review someone's cooking blind-folded and then critique it. \n\nI didn't expect much - I was going to submit, for my entry, a classic piece I always cooked up for commonplace competitions like this. But, for some reason, I felt like shaking it up a bit that day. \n\nI didn't go with my classic ole' faithful dish. Instead, I made something purely based on feeling. I chose ingredients with my gut feeling, and I shut my mind off and allowed my sense of touch to dictate the next moves. \n\nWhen I was done, I hadn't even noticed the time go by. \n\nI left my dish and went to the judging panel to be blind-folded. My eyes were wrapped in a silky smooth, black cloth and I was taken to the table, where I was given my first spoonful. \n\n*Intense.*\n\n*New.*\n\n*Rich.*\n\n*Wonderfully different.*\n\nI couldn't believe it, but I thought to myself, at that moment, that it was the best meal I had ever eaten in my life. I knew in my gut that I had just bitten off a piece of heaven. \n\nThe *character* of the flavors. It was of a kind I had never tasted before. I wished I could create something as powerful as that bite. \n\nBut, I was losing control of myself. I had to compose my mind, and I cloaked myself with my \"personality.\"\n\nI ripped that dish apart. I insulted the very fiber of it's existence. I did what I was brought there to do, and I did a damn good job. And when I was finished, there was only silence. \n\n\"Mr. Ramsay,\" said the host, \"that was your very own meal.\" \n\nAnd you know what? \n\nI didn't feel angry. I didn't feel cheated, or lied to, or embarrassed. \n\nI only felt at peace. \n\nThere was no greater joy than knowing that I still had it. \n"
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[removed] | [WP] At birth you are given the date you will die, but not the year. Your date is from a month that doesn't even exist yet: Trumptember the 32nd. | 0 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/GR33NBEARD, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**No explicitly sexual responses, hate speech, or other harmful content**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)\n\n- Politics: We are not currently allowing political prompts (see rule #7) as the aim of the sub is to encourage people to write and political prompts are leading to arguments instead of stories. \n\n*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8vlqsq/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] You take an IQ quiz with your friends, and when it's over, you come out and they give you the results. Your IQ score is a perfect 300. | 7 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"They called me dumb, \n\nbeat me like a drum,\n\nsaid I was no better than a bum. \n\n\n\nI thought what the hell,\n\nit's not worth to dwell,\n\nI'll just take this test,\n\nit won't set off no bells.\n\n\n\nI clicked on the question\n\nfeeling a bit queasy,\n\nonly to realise this \n\nthis test was easy!\n\n\nThe test was a breeze\n\nwhich I completed with ease,\n\nto prove to my friends\n\nI can spell \"blue cheese\"\n"
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[WP] “Okay,” said Satan “You know you can’t get out of this, you’re deal and you sold your soul to me. I just gotta ask, was it worth it?” | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Was it worth it?\" The words echoed in my head. I took my eyes of Satan, the embodiment of all evil, and looked out the window onto the world. A world that I had personally helped design and build. I had shaped this planet and people into what I imagined their true potential was. I had united humanity under a singular goal. Because of that, there was no longer war. I ended world hunger and now no one has to starve or watch a love one suffer. I created a true universal healthcare system where everyone could actually receive the care they need instead of having to pay an arm and a leg to do so. I instilled a universal basic income so that the quest for unlimited amounts of wealth would end, and people could actually put their attention and focus towards their true passions. I have effectively quenched all crime so people will no longer have to live in fear. \"Was it worth it?\" The words continued to bounce throughout my concious. I turned back towards Satan, \"no, it was not. I could have done more.\" Satan smiled and raised his right hand, pulling his fingers together. It was a haunting spectacle but I couldn't seem to care. Maybe it was because I didn't have a soul. I closed my eyes, and heard a snap."
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"1530580037",
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[WP] The village idiot has lived a long life, so long that people are mistaking his inane ramblings for wise sayings and advice. | 50 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“Now, you sir, what trade art thou?”\n\n“Why, sir, I am a mender of bad soles.”\n\nHe’s been walking around for years by now. Rambling, talking to himself. Everyone thinks he’s a genius, some sort of a prophet. But I know better.\n\nHis name’s Andy. He literally leaks that kind of aura, the one you see in people who’re just ‘weird’. Chatting with his inner demons, reciting Shakespeare... just a few of his hobbies.\n\nAnti-climactic as it is, I’m going to expose him. His sheer lack of respect of any form of normality is getting on my nerves. Everyone believes him. Everyone praises him as an Oracle. It’s plain STUPID.\n\nAnyways, I can do that too! Spout random words of ‘wisdom’, recite some old paragraphs about how tragic some forbidden love is, or even create some green smoke while I talk dramatically.\n\nI see through your plots Andy, you’re not going anywhere!\n\nI’m the real Oracle here!\n\n*****\n\nPoor Brett was insane.\n\nHe’d managed to hide it pretty well in his younger years, but it began to show just how egotistical and paranoid he really was. Andy really was magical, blessed by the gods to be a foreteller of all events. His powers were not just free-flowing, however, they were also a responsibility. \n\nBrett, on the other hand, was hallicinatory. \n\nAnd, sadly, he had yet to realise it. He goes through life, jealous of the Oracle. He believes he is far stronger.\n\nAs we pan away from the poor man, we realise how harmonious the village is without him. \n\nAfter all, his trade is one of stirring shit.",
"He once said “A bird in the hand is worth--” before stopping abruptly. Now every man, woman and even child walks around with a feathery friend in their hand. This had a profound effect on the effectiveness of the king’s army for one. Turns out it was quite hard to hold a bird while also holding a broadsword and a Heater shield. Although it did work out fine in the end. It just so happened no one wanted to fight an army of feathery suits of armour. An enemy general said, “People who are crazy enough to hold birds in their hands all day are probably not worth conquering.”\n\nHe sits at the top of the stairs to the castle. Hundreds of visitors come to him every day and tap him on the shoulder as is the tradition. The man then proceeds to foretell their destiny. The ancient man’s advice was responsible for numerous marriages, thrice as many divorces and the exponential increase in the salary of legal professionals.\n\nOne day a man came to the ancient man and tapped his shoulder. “Show me my place in this world,” he said. The ancient man felt annoyed that someone had tapped his shoulder for the hundredth time that day and pushed the man down the stairs. The man thanked the ancient one and can still be found lying at the bottom of the stairs.\n\nThey say all good things must come to an end, but the ancient one was not good, so he just lived forever, controlling the destiny of his people.",
"Every day we gathered at dawn before the elders gave out duties, to hear the clairvoyant. He was ancient. Some claim he lived 30 winters, which was unheard of in the tribe. Others insisted his words come from the Afu-Ra, the great snake that eats the sun every evening. There were those that claimed his words are heresy and he should not be praised as a messenger of the gods, but the rules of the tribe were simple. He who lives the longest knows the most. So he leads the tribe. Ron-Mo inherited his position from his mother. His words are the law now. Even if his words send us to hunt mammoths in the swamps, and none returns. Even when his words tell us to gather fire with our hands, causing wounds, pain, death. Since he came to power, the tribe has lost many. Tonight, during the sacrifice, he just might trip and fall into the smoky pit, a path to the lands of Afu-Ra, where she will devour him forever. \n",
"\"SAVE HER\" a disheveled old man moaned as he tottered nervously on the corner bedpost. \"I'm a doctor, not a magician. You need to calm down sir so I can work.\" The middle-aged physician was on edge. Normally an in and out sort of practitioner, today Dr. Alxeander Pie was more talkative. Known as a very calm and reticent man, this was the 4th strange case this month from the little village of Blodville and the good doctor was somewhere between vexed and exasperated as he would say, which is really just to say he was annoyed. \n\n\n First a young woman with an allergy to bees apparently brought about a severe case of anaphylaxic shock on herself when she released... a jar of bees. Her alleged purpose? To cure her allergy. A few days later a man needed treatment for what could only be described as an attempt to plant himself into the ground. Had his neighbor not come to say hello, who knows how long he would have stayed there. The week or more he had spent dug in like a tree had deprived him of water, so treatment for dehydration and sunburns were required. While a tale in its own right sprung from the 3rd case involving a green and yellow basket, the 4th one before him was the oddest of the lot. The husband of an elderly lady with severe bowel obstruction had telephoned Dr. Pie's clinic that she had not been able to defecate in days and her stomach kept growling. While an impacted bowel wasn't generally worthy of a house call, the extreme age of the woman and the specific details the good doctor would find out when he finally arrived made it quite necessary. Quite necessary indeed. \n\nA sharp groan escaped the woman, only under local anesthetic for about 15 minutes now due in part to a lack of forethought by Dr. Pie. \"It's done...\" sighed the relieved doctor as he sagged back in his chair and released the mangled furry body from his tired hands. As it hit the bottom of the bucket, a sharp *ting* sounded from claws on metal. The older man looked at him with inquisitive eyes: \"So, did you save her? Is she okay?!\" The doctor looked over at the woman on the bed, the gore of the event still on the sheets that would need to be thrown out (maybe even burned). \"Your wife will be fine, thank God you called.\" \n\n\"Not HER. Fluffles! How is Fluffles\" the elderly man cried out. The odd look one could see on Dr. Pie's face at that moment reflected a need to lash out, but a severe lack of energy to do so. \"The cat's dead you st-. Mo-. Your cat was covered in digestive juices for hours Sir, it was dead when I got here.\" He was about to add a lie about the cat likely feeling no pain but thought better of it. \n\n\"No good God damned doctor\" the man spit like a cobra. \n\n\"Be happy your wife is alive...speaking of which, why the hell was a woman her age, or any age for that matter, trying to swallow a kitten whole?\" The two men made eye contact for a few seconds, each shifting their gaze over the other, judging, before the older man spoke. \"She did it to get the bird.\"\n\n\"The what? A bird?\" the doctor inquired, somehow amused by the absurdity of the whole thing. \"Yea,\" the older man replied, \"a canary we bought from the Fendersons over near the hillside.\" Less amused now, the doctor gave a retort: \"If you say she did it because she swallowed a fly I'm leaving.\" \n\n\"What are ya talking about? She didn't swallow no fly. She swallowed a black widow spider. The poisonous ones with the hour glass on their butt. Birds eat spiders stupid, or did you not know that.\" The doctor's mouth dropped a little as he looked toward the ceiling as if he was trying to get confirmation from God himself that, yes, he just heard that last sentence correctly. Dr. Alex Pie had basically just saved a nursery rhyme. \"And why, pray tell, did she think that was a good idea? \n\nThe man looped his thumbs around the strap of his tank top as he spoke \"The mayor. Smartest man in the area I'd say. We've had doctors come in, physisasists, chemical mumbojumbos...none of them know as much as him. Been her' longer than all of us and old as shit.\" Alex Pie talked with the old man for a while longer like this, he asking questions and the old man heaping praise by the barrel full on some \"mayor.\" While Dr. Pie had been practising in the area now for a year, he had never yet had reason to traverse Mt. Babo and visit the actual village. Often called the hillside by locales, the ridges of Mt. Babo seperated the small main village of Blodville from the farmers that surrounded it, making travel there an arduous task, and not exactly one a doctor used to suburbs and soccer moms would be comfortable with. Still, from what Alex gathered, all 4 of his recent cases likely originated from the words of this mayor. It was time Dr. Pie made another house call. ",
"He wandered through the streets, his cracked voice echoing out with the rising of the dawn. He had been shunned for most of his life, his brain believed to have been infected by the fever that ravaged him as a babe. Now, in his ninetieth year, he had amassed a following, those eager to discern the secret to longevity from his cryptic verses. \n\n\"The onion smells!\" He bellowed under the town clock. \"Its smell scares off the Devil and disease\". \n\nThe next day Olaf the onion seller sold out of his stock within minutes. Within the small town you could see nobility and paupers alike, decorated with wreaths of pungent vegetation. Labourers grimaced as they ate their daily onion like an apple and wives recoiled as they smelt the breath of their husbands.\n\n\"The beasts do not fear their fangs becoming rotten!\" Screamed the senile soothsayer. \"They eat as we should and as God intended\". \n\nThe people shunned their cutlery and feasted by lowering their mouths directly to the meat in front of them. This led to particular problems with the onions. It was not unusual to see someone chasing their wayward medicine down the road as it rolled from their gnashing teeth. \n\n\"The fish does not fear disease!\" The eccentric elder proclaimed. \"Tis the water that keeps them pure. And it is the seas that will be Man's new home!\". \n\nThis was a bit much, thought the people but the old man had outlived everyone else by decades. They followed him to the docks while he rambled his sermons. An errant onion sped past him and plopped into the water. Without pause, the old man threw himself into the water with a yell of pure abandon.\n\nIt looks cold, murmured the people as they awaited his return. A few minutes passed and still there was no sign. The mutterings became ones of wonderment and the more devout began to divest themselves of their constricting land based clothing. The boldest, clad only in his under garments, stepped to the edge. He paused and pointed.\n\nA wrinkled body bobbed gently to the surface.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nr/AMSWrites"
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[WP] A day in the life of a citizen ruled by history's biggest totalitarian government: Disney. | 23 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It all changed in the early fifties. A nasty coughing spell and a chance article on smoking led Walt Disney to start pouring money into the negative effects of smoking, and eventually cancer research, and by the decade's end, the Disney Medical Division (DMD) was on the cutting edge of new techniques and learning to preserve longevity. Big Tobacco was broken within 10 years, and cancer rates around the World plummeted. Walt built on this success, first creating Disney World, and then opening E.P.C.O.T. a few years later - strong and healthy after a series of rejuvenation treatments patented by DMD, Walt's new Progress City was so successful that the State of Florida petitioned to allow the Corporation to assume control of the state. Nearing 80, but still going strong, Walt and his team turned the state into a shining example of health and prosperity.\n\nWhen Congress attempted to intervene, and the Supreme Court ruled the new arrangement unconstitutional, Disney simply ignored it - and the people followed him. Within a year, a new pro-Disney Congress was elected, and as their first act drafted legislation to enact a constitutional amendment removing the Supreme Court. With the promise of Disney's Better Living Program for their states, the amendment passed overwhelmingly, with only a few states failing to secure a majority vote in favor of the Mouse.\n\nBy the time he was ninety, Disney ran the government of all 50 states, and had effectively assumed control over the country. Finally, near the turn of the century, and despite the best efforts of DMD, Walt succumbed to old age, but his legacy was secure. Portions of the Caribbean, Canada and Mexico were adopting the Disney models, and many smaller nations were petitioning to join the developing New World Order. While bastions of sovereign states remained in China, Russia, and India, they're ability to influence world events was quickly overshadowed by the New Disney.\n\nWith Walt's passing, leadership passed to the Board of Directors, and while the new leaders of the Free World embraced the ideals of Walt, they also saw the huge opportunity for profit, growth and expansion. All competition for Disney's services, parks, and entertainment disappeared overnight - made illegal and subsumed into the Disney corporate structure. By 2010, more than 60 % of the world's population worked directly for Disney. By 2020, it is expected that Disney will have effective control over every world government. In more than half a century of rule, Disney has been the benevolent ruler the world needed, but there is growing concern in some corners that the House of Mouse is just too big and too powerful - with no checks besides their own consciousness, what will the Board do next? Only time will tell.",
"\"Imagineer reporting for duty,\" said Earl at the entrance to the restaurant.\n\nHe'd been a dishwasher at Outback before Disney took over. He was a simple man. Now he worked at Disney. Everyone worked at Disney. It wasn't a bad life. Things were clean. Everyone was happy. \n\nThe Seven Dwarves were his co-workers. They kept the kitchen running in tiptop shape.\n\nDoc was the manager, Grumpy was the gruff co-manager. Sleepy was in charge of salads. Happy and Sneezy were on the grill. Bashful did saute'. And Dopey was in charge of keeping the place clean. \n\nEarl was the only Imagineer in the kitchen other than the Mexican immigrants Ramon, Silvano and Antonio, who did odd jobs like prep work and running the deep fryer. \n\n\"Ramon,\" barked Happy. \"Mas papas con queso, rapido!\"\n\nThe line was bustling with activity, the Seven Dwarves appearing as they had in the 1937 classic. \n\nFamilies came through and watched the kitchen activity, the kids pointing and learning. The parents looked amused.\n\nThe dwarves sang songs as they worked, doing tricks with their utensils and the food they prepared. \n\nThe kids always pointed at Earl and the Mexicans, no doubt asking who these intruders were. \n\nAt the end of the night Earl washed the rotten food off his shoes, emptied the garbage in the back of the restaurant, signed off with a Goofy 'Hee-yuck' into the voice recognition software that allowed him to leave the restaurant, and went home to his apartment where he ate mac and cheese or Spaghetti-O's or some other such food heated in his Disney microwave. He watched Disneyflix and fell asleep in his Disneybed, getting up the following day to do it all again. \n\n/r/adriencarver "
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[WP] A necromancer resurrects the bodies in a cemetery, but unfortunately this was the resting place of Renauld Ironshield, slayer of undead. | 27 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"A small dwarven skeleton adorned in holy armour, evidently an old paladin of Erudia, rises from his small stone casket in the back of the small cemetery. \n\n“A fuck, looks like another damn necro” Renauld was ticked off, this wasn’t the first time a necro had a been to his cemetery.\n\nAs he picked up his axe he noticed 3 corpses walking towards the necromancer, “damn this, another wee necro who doesnae even know how tae control the undead..”\n\nWith a flourish and three quick swings the dwarven skeleton dispatched the three nearest corpses, he hadn’t even realised his left arm was missing.\n\n“Oi big man, are ya gonnae stop this wee summonin’ farce or am a gonnae have tae get up there and stop ya on ma own?” Renauld slammed his axe into the ground sending a small light burst in all directions around him, removing the rest of the weak undead from their brief foray into undeath. Bending down he grabbed his left arm and shoved it back into his shoulder.\n\n“A guess yer wonderin’ why ye cannae control me, a won’t tell ya, paladin secret” with a tilt of his bony head and a small tap on the golden circlet adorning his head he continued his approach towards the novice necromancer, not forgetting to pick up his trusty battle axe on the way.\n\nAs he reached the cowering necromancer, a small dark elf, he heard a small wavering voice say “I am the great necromancer Culdor the Unholy, obey my commands pathetic dwarf or I will banish you back to your death”\n“Matey, if you did that a would be happy, but ya woke me up an’ now yer gonnae have tae die”\n\nAfter 2 steps forwards and a quick swing of his axe the necromancer was no more. Renauld hobbled back to his casket as the necromancer’s spell wore off, small bones dropping off his hands, before laying down in his grave with a sigh (at least as much of a sigh as a skeleton can muster) “hopefully next time it’s more fun” his voice naught but a whisper as the small glow in his eyes flickered to nothingness..."
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[WP] "There is a special place in Heaven, reserved for the 'dutiful' Those who knowingly doom themselves to save many others. Soldiers who jump on grenades, Captains who went down with the ship, firefighters who charged into the inferno. Welcome." "But... What did I do?" | 120 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"But... what did I do?\" I asked, genuinely confused. The last thing I remembered was choking on the stale crust of 3-day old pizza. And now I'm some kind of hero? There had to be a mistake.\n\n\"Throughout your life, you put others ahead of yourself.\" The celestial being made of light told me with a terrifying, booming voice. \n\n\"I did?\" I asked.\n\n\"A vast majority of the choices you made throughout your life allowed others to excel in one way or another, at the cost of your own fortune and happiness.\" The god-thing explained.\n\n\"Are you serious?\" I asked. I was stunned. I couldn't recall a conscious moment in my life where I sacrificed anything. I was just in love with my own pathetic misery. I had gotten so used to failure, so accustomed to defeat, that it had become all I knew.\n\n\"Did you not reject the promising internship, and promptly offer it to your friend Steve, instead?\" The voice asked. That did happen, but it wasn't because I thought he deserved it more than I did. Well, he *did* deserve it more than I did, and his career really took off as a result of the experience he had there. But I rejected it because I literally couldn't afford to do it, and part of me resented Steve afterward. I was such a loser. \n\n\"Well, yeah, but--\" \n\n\"Did you not buy your family breakfast on Christmas morning when you were eighteen?\" The heavens echoed. I did, because my mom asked me to. I was excited to drive since my loser-ass had only recently acquired a license. Plus, it's not as if I didn't get to eat that day.\n\n\"Sure, but--\"\n\n\"Was it not you who helped your friend Sarah change her flat tire early in the morning so that she didn't have to take the bus to work?\" asked the shimmering orb of pure energy. I did do that, but I was also in love with that girl, and had been for years, secretly. In the end, she took advantage of that, and discarded me in a pretty cruel way.\n\n\"Actually, yeah, thanks for reminding me about that.\" I agreed. I started to look around that heaven place, feeling like I might belong there after all. \n\n\\----------\n\n\"So what happened? Why are you here, instead?\" The apple-red, black-horned gatekeeper of hell asked. Lava bubbled near his feet.\n\n\"Well, after about a million more questions they kind of realized that I was just an apathetic fuck, and that while my choices did benefit others, it was a result of luck more than intention.\" I shrugged, looking around the horrific, burning, yet dark, cavern. \"So when do I meet this Satan guy?\"\n\n\"Why didn't you lie, and tell them what they wanted to hear?\" The snarling demon asked, ignoring my question.\n\n\"I don't know, it didn't seem like the right thing to do.\" I said, feeling a concoction of sadness and pride rise in my throat. \n\nJust then, the demon vanished, the boiling lava turned into a glimmering stream of celestial water, and the darkness and fire of hell gave way to a backdrop of beautiful multi-colored light. all of my sadness, frustration, resentment, anger, it all vanished, and I felt my soul sprawl out in the warmth. Every part of me was complete, and basked in eternal bliss. ",
"There was a mirror in the room that reflected dust from the windows and the stilted light that came in. He saw himself in its reflection and he also saw past himself. He looked at the film of dirt and black marks upon the mirror and wondered how old it must be.\n\n\nHe wore a suit that he had never owned and it was a shadow in the dark room. There was music outside and he listened hard but he could not understand it. It floated beyond his ears and he could only feel it in a ghostly way.\n\n\nHe stared at the mirror and looked at himself.\n\n\n*To be insulted by these fascists is so degrading.*\n\n\nHe wondered where he had heard that before. \n\n\n*Does that make me a bad person?*\n\n\nAnd he thought, yes, he must be a bad person, for he had never asked himself that question before.\n\n\nThe door opened and there was tepid light flooding in. The light hardly reached him and he saw more dust motes dancing in the air. A beautiful woman looked at him. She was older than him, a perpetual thirty, and she had a kindness about her and he had never seen her before.\n\n\n\"You are awake,\" she said.\n\n\n\"Where am I?\"\n\n\n\"This is the last outpost. We call it the Crossroads. Here is the last meeting place of both our worlds.\"\n\n\n\"I don't understand. where am I? Am I under arrest? What has happened?\"\n\n\n\"Look outside, if you will. You might understand then.\"\n\n\nThe window was yellow from light, a blinding hole from an outside that did not want to be seen.\n\n\n*Scary monsters and super creeps keep me running scared.*\n\n\nHe blinked the thought away and looked out the window. There were people outside dressed in black and sitting in folding chairs and there was a priest beside a casket. He knew he was inside that casket. \n\n\n\"What is...\"\n\n\n\"You know what has happened. It will take some time to digest, I'm sure. But please, we have so much to do.\"\n\n\n\"No... No...\"\n\n\nHe remembered something he had read on dreaming. It was called lucid dreaming. That was when you knew you were in a dream and then you could control it. He had tried to induce them many times before. \n\n\n*I am dreaming. I am dreaming.*\n\n\nHe forced the dream to change but nothing changed and he was in the room with the woman and there was dust about and a feeling of dread overcame him.\n\n\n*I'm dead.*\n\n\nThen others in his mind:\n\n\n*Good. Scum like you should die.*\n\n\nHe looked at the woman. Her kindness belied an easy attractiveness about her, a dangerous kind that told him she was sharp and prepared.\n\n\n*Just like every woman,* he thought. *You can't trust them even in a dream.*\n\n\nHis heart hurt. Or maybe that was yearning, an emptiness that he mistook for his heart.\n\n\n\"I am in hell,\" he said.\n\n\nThe woman smiled and came closer.\n\n\n\"I know why you would think that,\" she said. \"But no. we're in the other place.\"\n\n\n\"This doesn't look like Heaven.\"\n\n\n\"Well this is an outpost, and this outpost is rarely used. You must excuse its condition.\"\n\n\nAround him were dark wooden furniture, a bed for resting that was well loved, and there paintings on the wall of nostalgic Americana.\n\n\n\"What's going on? This is hell. It has to be.\"\n\n\n\"So you admit you were *wrong* in your ideology?\"\n\n\n\"I admit that everyone told me it was wrong. People these days can't handle the blunt truth.\"\n\n\n\"And what's that?\"\n\n\n\"That the strong survives and the weak must die.\"\n\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\nHe was shaking.\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\"And yet we're here.\"\n\n\nIn the mirror he saw himself and the woman. The image was a comedy with him next to her. He saw the marks on his face, the years of unkind genetics and the apathy that fostered it. \n\n\n*I could look better.*\n\n\nThat hurt him badly.\n\n\n*I could have tried more.*\n\n\nShe stared at him with some confidence that he was unaccustomed to.\n\n\n\"I was right then, if I am in Heaven. Our thinking is right. There is a Master Race.\"\n\n\nShe smiled at him with a patience that made him angry and afraid.\n\n\n\"You're a hero,\" she said. \"You'll even get your own special place in Heaven. This is why we came to this outpost. The way is hardly used, but sometimes we get someone worthy.\"\n\n\n\"I was right then?\"\n\n\n\"You are a weak man,\" she said. \"Look out that window and tell me if you were right.\"\n\n\nMourning him were his kind. They were a scant few and he was embarrassed by them. When he was alive, he had thought them brave and outlaws. They were outcasts and nothing more.\n\n\n\"This is a joke. I am in Hell. This is a cruel joke.\"\n\n\n\"Is it?\"\n\n\nHe looked at his hands and they were shaking.\n\n\n*To be insulted by these fascists is so degrading.*\n\n\nIt was coming to him. what was that girl's name he wondered? Was it she who had pushed him, or was she merely the last in an inevitable conclusion?\n\n\n\"Her name was Amanda,\" said the woman beside him. \"But she told you her name was Anne. She didn't like you very much and thought you were a fascist.\"\n\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\nThe woman shrugged.\n\n\nHe remembered he was crying. He had the gun in his hands and there was vengeance in that weight. He listened to that song. She had mocked him with its words and he had listened to it to hurt himself and culture that self pity he had thrived on.\n\n\n*To be insulted by these fascists is so degrading!*\n\n\nHe wondered what he had called her.\n\n\n\"You called her an animal when she would not go out with you,\" said the woman. \"She did not cry as you hoped she would. She mocked you with that line.\"\n\n\n\"And I listened to the song.\"\n\n\n\"You searched the internet for it in your obsession.\"\n\n\n\"And I planned to...\"\n\n\n\"Yes, you planned to do it. To really do it this time.\"\n\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\n\"I don't know. You don't know. Maybe a mall or a street. Anywhere there were people.\"\n\n\nHe could feel the weight of the gun in his hand.\n\n\n\"This is Hell,\" he said.\n\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"This is Heaven.\"\n\n\n\"There is no Master Race. You think I am a loser like they all did when I was alive.\"\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\"Then this is Hell.\"\n\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\n\"How? And why?\"\n\n\n\"Because you did not do it. You hadn't the heart to do it. Like all your kind, you were a coward at the end.\"\n\n\n\"So what did I do?\"\n\n\n\"You know what you did.\"\n\n\nThe moment was blacked out in his mind. Like the music outside, he could only sense it in a ephemeral way. But he knew what had happened. There was purpose against his skull. The gun was cold and he trembled and nothing had seemed so harder than to breathe and commit to what he did not really want to do.\n\n\n*But I did want to.*\n\n\n\"Yes,\" the woman said. \"You did. And you did do it.\"\n\n\n\"I killed myself.\"\n\n\n\"Yes. And as a result you saved many. Your life was an abyss for others to be ensnared in.\"\n\n\n\"So you reward me with eternity in Heaven?\"\n\n\nSuddenly he was glad and he felt righteous. But the woman was bigger than him, as though her shadow would engulf him. He wondered what angel could she be.\n\n\n\"It is not an angel that you fear,\" she said. \"It is a woman.\"\n\n\nAnd he was breathing hard.\n\n\n\"I am in Heaven,\" he said. \"You said so yourself.\"\n\n\n\"Yes. You are in Heaven. But for you it will be Hell. You will find that there are not many like you in here. All your brethren shall be in Hell. Here you will be the outcast you always were. Here you will live in a house of boredom, forgotten as the dust, another piece of furniture for the mirror to reflect.\"\n\n\n\"No,\" he said.\n\n\n\"Yes,\" she said.\n\n\nAnd then:\n\n\n\"Your funeral is almost over. Look well at those faces for they are the living. When we leave this place you will never see them again.\"\n\n\nHe looked outside and the gathered was thinning. People he did not know paid half baked respects. Little kin was there, and they wore dead faces, hopeless faces that tried to make peace with what he had been and what he had ultimately become.\n\n\n*Nothing,* he thought.\n\n\n\"Yes,\" said the woman. \"And so shall you always be.\"\n\n\n-\n\n\n*Hi there! If you liked this story, then you might want to check out my subreddit, r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories, including some un-prompted ones. Check it out if you can, and thanks for the support!*"
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[removed] | [WP]Just before you want to take your life, you meet person, who knows everything about you. It turns out, it is an angel, but not yours. | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/antipolllko, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**No explicitly sexual responses, hate speech, or other harmful content**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)\n\n- We 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8w00o8/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1530692240",
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[WP] You are part of the time travel police, today is your first shift and it's at the assassination of JFK. | 9 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Alright rookie. Lets go over the situation.\"\n\n\"Standard PTLC Violation, right?\"\n\n\"Code number is...\"\n\n\"... 60?\"\n\n\"63.\"\n\n\"Frick.\"\n\n\"Its alright kid, pretty much everyone at the TPA makes the same mistake. Honestly, the actual code violation numbers aren't a huge deal to remember. If all else fails, after you make your arrest just double check your copy of the regs in the glove compartment.\"\n\n\"Right. Important thing is to make sure history doesn't get changed.\"\n\n\"Exactly. Serve and protect.\"\n\n\"So is this kind of .. an unusual thing?\"\n\n\"Nahh. We have about as many Chrono-cons in a week trying to stop JFK from getting shot as we do getting fresh donuts back at the office. Everyone seems to think the world would have been better with ol Jacky-boy pushing air for another few decades.\"\n\n\"Anyone succeed?\"\n\n\"A couple. Nothing the TRRC can't fix, mind you.\"\n\n\"TRRC?\"\n\n\"Temporal Restruction and Restoration Corps. Back at the station we call them 'The Mops.'\"\n\n\"So what happens?... you know.. when Kennedy lives?\"\n\n\"Depends on the deviation. It never gets better though. World War 3 and then 4, Vietnam lasting twenty extra years, a viral outbreak of a mutated smallpox that kills 73% of the global population...\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\".. yeah, he comes back in one variation that I've seen too. That doesn't go well. The second resurrection involved a lot of chainsaw murder.\"\n\n\"... I .. what?\"\n\n\"Trust me, you don't wanna know. My drycleaning bill for that shift must have been at least a grand. I still say they should cover it.\"\n\n\"Well, it can't always be totally bad though can it?\"\n\n\"Kid, time deviations are against the law for a reason. I mean, even if there was the one timeline caused by saving Kennedy that resulted in Night Court lasting an extra five seasons..\"\n\n\"I love that show!!\"\n\n\"Right??? 'course it didn't matter because of the Nuclear holocaust that happened shortly after but.... bottom line is, things happen for a reason. And our job is to make sure that they stay that way.\""
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"1530708799",
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[WP] You live simple but happy life. You're fisherman, as were your father, his father, etc. Your dad died several years ago. This evening you are going through his belongings. Suddenly, you discover something unusual: A very old piece of paper with a fish symbol on it... Drawn with blood. | 8 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"You flip over the cryptic paper and on the back are a set a runes, drawn with an oozing liquid. The ink does not drip or streak, but it looks wet to the eye. When you reach out to touch a runic symbol some of the \"ink\" comes off on your fingertip and where it touches burns like a hot candle. \n\nYou are on your fishing boat and house boat, the same strange, combined vessel your father lived in, the same his father built by hand a century ago. You wash your finger calmly in the salty waters of the bay and watch as the strange ink flows off your finger into the water in streams. Ribbons of ink coalesce in the water before you, much more, impossibly more ink then was on your finger. \n\nAs you watch the still waters fill with symbols in ink, the same symbols on the the back of the blood image of a fish. Except now, inexplicably, you find you can read them. \n\nYou say aloud, on the stern edge of your boat, \"Karathu, Egpora, Jyanatee.\"\n\nYou finish the final word and shake your head as if casting off a spell. The world brightens around you, a fog clears, and only then do you realize the fog was there in the first place. \n\nAll at once, in a fifty meter circle around your boat, the water begins to bubble. You lean over the edge of the ship and look down into the roiling bluegreen of the bay and hot steam hits your face. You realizs the water is beginning to boil. Terrified you try to get to the dock but your tether has come undone somehow and your ship has floated far away. Impossibly far, impossibly quickly. The dock is almost a half mile in the distance. \n\nAs you reel from this discovery the ship rocks to one side, dangerously, taking on water as it does so. You attempt to avoid the splashing water, terrified of being scalded, but some of it hits you on your bare arm and you find it is ice cold bay water again - except it's color is off. It leaves a ruddy stain where it touches. You lean down to smell your forearm and a waft of bloody iron assaults your nostrils. \n\nYou look up and the water, as far as you can see out to the mouth of ocean is blood red and thick. It sloshes against the sides of your ship, rising in heavy glops, denser than sea water. The smell of iron is strong in the air around you and you heave, the first of your long line of fisherman family ever to lose their stomach on a boat. \n\nAs you wipe your mouth clean, a noise garners your attention from the other side of the ship. You straighten out and slowly make your way around the central living space until your view is clear. \n\nA fish, larger than two school buses, stands beside the boat. It's scaly blue skin shines, unstained by the bloody waters. Its fins expand majestically to the side of its body, each as large as a small sedan. It faces you so that its giant left eyeball faces you. Aside from its bizarre size and behavior it is in every respect a normal looking fish, its eye dead and unmoving. \n\nAlthough the fish does not change at all you hear a bass rumble begin from its direction, and then the same runic language fills the air. \n\n\"Latzia kra gratoon, pajul?\"\n\nYou find, to your astonishment that you understand every word. You respond in English. \n\n\"I didn't mean to. What are you?\n\nThe fish does not move. \n\n\"Sor da Hajecra Pestal. Damm at fer pajul acrat mé.\"\n\n*The Fish King, Doom to the sea hunter who encounters me.* The words translate in your head seamlessly. Then the Fish King begins to vibrate and an energy grows at his single exposed eye, a small pulsing ball of power. \n\nYou have a terrible feeling of impending doom. The Fish King speaks again. \"Krak, pajul.\"\n\n*Die, sea hunter.*\n\nThe energy begins to coalesce into a solid ball of light and in a split second decision you take the blood illustration you found in your father's trunk and hold it up in front of you.\n\nAn earsplitting sound emanates from everywhere at once, sending you to your knees on the deck. You cover you ears and find it does nothing. The Fish King leaps high into the air and fires a beam of pure purple energy into the dostant sea, leaving behind a vapor cloud so huge that it coalesces almost immediately into a summer storm, filling the expansive blue sky, blocking the sun and bringing a cool rain. \n\nYou stand just in time to see the Fish King dive into the sea without so much as a splash. He does not reappear, but you hear the bass rumble of runic speak from the ocean deep. Your mind trabslates it by means you do not understand. \n\n*The blood pact continues, descendant of the Sea Hunter Prince.* \n\nThe voice disappears and as you watch the rain clouds part, the sea turns to water again and the dock reappears right beside the ship, as though revealed from a dense fog. \n\nAstonished, confused, you look down at the paper and, after a moment, fold it very neatly into squares and hide it back deep in your fathers chest. \n\nAs you go back to the deck to get some fresh air, you hear a rumble coming from inside you vessel. You listen carefully, follow the sound, and find that it's coming from the catch freezer. \n\nWhen you open the trapdoor leading in, a fish leaps out at you. A gorgeous sea bass, round about the middle and with a perfect blue sheen. You stare at it in amazement. You have not been fishing in a week and there have not been sea bass in these waters for a generation. \n\nAstounded you stand there holding the fish in both hands even as a dozen others squeeze out of the packed hold and dance their asphyxiating ballet all over the deck of your father's father's ship.\n\n\n\n******\n\n## r/LFTM\n"
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1,
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"1530710419",
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[WP] In a world where everyone is born with very specific powers that may or may not be good like being better at driving in the rain or always closing a sale on the first try, you have the very rare power of having every fortune you get from a fortune cookie come true once you reach 18 years of age | 32 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"So, Mr. Cooper,\" Said Brandon, \"how did you end up here?\"\n\n\"Well, Brandon, it is actually very simple: I tailored my life and career around my power. I made sure to put myself in situations where my powers would be most useful. My power is that the fortunes I get from fortune cookies will always come trues. It's quite simple, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes, but more complex than mine.\"\n\n\"And what is your power, exactly?\"\n\n\"I can make anything into a balloon toy.\"\n\n\"And does your life depend on your power?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I assume that nobody screwed you over? You're in here for a different reason?\"\n\n\"White collar crime.\"\n\n\"Well, Brandon, I got screwed over.\"\n\nAnd so Mr. Cooper began his tale.\n\n\"When I first found out about my power, I instantly realized how easy it would be to manipulate it. I could bake my own fortune cookies and choose my own fate. I thought it would be easy, and it was. I baked my way to fame and success. I knew that if I simply conjured money from thin air, people would smell something fishy going on. This is why I instead decided that I would write fortunes related to the stock market. They would say things like 'buy this company's shares and sell then in a week to gain ten thousand in profits!'. I rarely used this power at first, doing this only when I needed extra money to afford rent or something, but I quickly started abusing it. The catch was that the fortunes couldn't just directly influence the market, they had to affect a non-price factor that would cause the price to rise or fall. I learned this the hard way, when I wrote a fortune saying that the stocks of an airline company would skyrocket in price. This fortune came true when one of the rival company's planes was hijacked, two went missing, and the last exploded on takeoff.\n\"When I already became a millionaire, I had to keep using the fortune cookies. I would read one fortune every day, and I had others do the baking for me. Everything went according to plan, all the fortunes came true and bent the stock market to my favor. Then one day, I sat down with a cup of tea and a fortune cookie. I cracked it open, and started unraveling the piece of paper inside. And, when I could finally read it, I saw a fortune that worked against me: 'You will be arrested and imprisoned for life.' That is how I ended up here.\"\n\nBrandon was appalled by what he just heard. \"Wow.... Why would that fortune be there?\"\n\nMr. Cooper looked at him. The man's face was dead serious. \"Someone sabotaged me. I don't know who, but they paid off one of the bakers to slip this fortune into a batch of cookies. Perhaps one of the people who was harmed by my stock market manipulation. I guess I'll find out soon enough.\"\n\nBrandon's face wasn't much happier than Mr. Cooper's. \"This isn't a movie. You don't break out of prison easily.\"\n\nMr. Cooper didn't seem impacted by Brandon's claim. \"Tell me, Brandon, do your balloon toys adopt the properties of what they are supposed to look like.\"\n\n\"Only inanimate objects. I once grilled a steak on a balloon toy pan.\"\n\n\"Can you make me a fortune cookie?\"\n\n---------------------------------\n\n**Thanks for reading, feedback and criticism is appreciated.**\n\nI don't have a sub, but all my prompt responses are available on my profile."
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"1530713777",
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[removed] | [WP] Word spreads around the galaxy that Thanos has retrieved the space stone from the admins of reddit, now earth must prepare for arrival of Thanos when suddenly.... | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/dunkin_guy4276, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**No recent reposts, even if changing small details**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_5.3A_no_recent_reposts.2C_even_if_changing_small_details)\n\nAlso, no [copy-cats](http://i.imgur.com/38FjDgW.gifv).\n\nSearch before submitting as popular ideas can cause floods. If your idea is based on something you read elsewhere on reddit, chances are it's been submitted here already. Please wait at least 2 weeks before reposting.\n\n \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8w47ra/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1530731898",
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[deleted] | [WP] You are the captain of humanity's first interstellar ship, sent to make contact with Aliens who contacted us few years before your departure, but when you are awoken from cryo, you find out that the planet holds only ruins | 4 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I remember reading about the Fermi Paradox when I was young. 'Where are all the aliens?' the question would go.\n\nMany tried to answer the paradox, most famously was The Greenbank Equation that listed all the variables that would lead to intelligent life: How many planets are habitable, how many forms of life might evolve intelligence etc... but there was always one variable that was always forgotten, always unknown. It didnt ask how life might come to be but how long life could last before it ceased to be. All other variables we had us as a reference to base out estimates on but intelligent life going extinct? That was the one variable we had never yet witnessed.\n\nOf course, everyone forgot about Fermi and his paradox once humanity started tuning into The Beacon. A steady stream of information coming from the depths of space. Of course all of it was so corrupted by the time it reached earth that it would take a hundred years on a supercomputer to reasseble, but it gave humanity a direction to point their biggest and fastest rocket - with me strapped in with it.\n\nAnd so I set off on the one way trip towards the beacon, with no idea where exactly where I was going or when I might reach there. I would go into cryo until I got to the destination with the on board computer following the signal to its source. The team back at Houston figured they'd have me set the computer to also start clearing up the messages recieved so I could have an idea what I meeting before I landed; And then all that was left was goodnight for me and a prayer that I might wake up again.\n\nSo here I am. Alone. Above a planet sized wasteland filled not with an alien civilization, but with lifeless ruins. All that remains is the slowly decaying memory of life I see etched in every ruined city. Nothing awaits me here. Perhaps it would have better if I hadn't woken up at all, at least then I wouldn't have to feel this incredible, horrible loneliness. Instead of making first contact, I'm here recording what will will be my last contact. So I guess all that is left now is...\n\nGoodbye.\n\nEND OF RECORDING - TRANSMISSION SENT\n\nThe computer confirms outloud its cold robotic voice.\n\nONE ALERT PENDING\n\nAll of my other thoughts instantly disappear as a wave of curiosity hits me. How could I possibly have an alert all the way out here?\n\n\"Computer, what is the alert for?\" I ask.\n\nMESSAGE ANALYSIS IS COMPLETED\n\nNow curiosity has completely gripped me, I might be able to see who these aliens were after all. \n\n\"Computer, play messages starting at the beggining.\"\n\nAudio begins playing, a seemingly male voice speaking in a language I don't understand. For an alien race, the voice sounds strangely familiar, a bit like german maybe? And then it hits me.\n\nI turn back to the desolate planet that lays before me. The first rays of sunlight begin to illuminate the surface as the local star begins to appear from behind the planet. It completely lacks water, but the mountain ranges clearly outline what must have once been vast continents. The audio continues to play, now filling my entire focus and echoing inside my skull.\n \nHIEL HITLER! HIEL HITLER! HIEL HITLER!"
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This WP is from someone else's actual experience in another subreddit. | [WP] So a week and a half ago I saved a baby deer from traffic. Today I saved a baby deer from my neighbors dogs in my back yard. This is getting weird. | 19 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"They say twice is a coincidence. But three times is a pattern. And as Anthony stood there, with a second quivering mass in his arms, the little body a warm sack of awkwardly long bones he will one day grow into, the human started to wonder if he had missed something. Scanning the yard and the tree line beyond, there seemed to be no mother around for the tiny fellow. The man sighed, keeping the fawn close to his chest. \"Come on then,\" he said scratching the tiny head, and carried the baby deer into the house. \n\n\"Dude! Turn around!\" Anthony looked up to see his buddy Jay standing there ready to snap a photo. Click. And it was traveling into the ether.\n\nThe next few days, Anthony rose at the ungodly hour one can expect to see deer loping through the yard, picking at the vegetable garden. Not a single one emerged. The little deer from the night before had grown attached to the Venom t-shirt he had been wearing, and cried non-stop until Anthony wrapped it around him again. Ironic that the tiny, helpless animal sought comfort in his piece of clothing depicting a predator. But, perhaps it just liked Anthony's scent.\n\nOver a week, Anthony waited for a mother or a herd to show up. Even waiting outside with the baby deer and allowing him to cry for a short while, in hopes that his kind would hear it. No such luck. He could have taken it to the Humane Society and been done with it. \n But everytime those huge black eyes stared up at him, begging to be named and loved forever, Anthony couldn't do it. On the tenth morning, he sighed again.\n\n\"Fine,\" he told the little deer, as he bottle fed him more formula. \"You can stay. We'll call you...\" Anthony casted about. He saved the deer on Independence Day, so he was Lucky and Free. He was a little Miracle too, though maybe that named sounded more female. But then, what was wrong with Buck, or Bucky even? The huge black eyes continued to stare up at him as if he were made of magic, Venom t-shirt still there, covered in loose fur. Anthony had it. \"What about Marvel?\" The fawn made a noise and went back to suckling. \"Good enough for me. Marvel it is.\"\n\nThree years Anthony cared for his deer friend. Once Marvel was too big for the dog bed he slept on in the house, Anthony spent weeks making a custom pen for his furry son. As always, the Venom t-shirt had to stay with him, but had gotten old and a little ripped. Anthony fashioned what there was into a kind of bandana and tied it around Marvel's thickening neck. The old shirt billowed like a cape whenever he ran across the yard, making Anthony smile at the idea of Marvel being a Super Deer.\n\nSometimes, Marvel would venture into the woods for a few hours. The first time he did this, Anthony's heart nearly stopped. But, Marvel always returned. Anthony took him with him to the park, or on hikes. People were always impressed with how comfortable Marvel was with people, but how could this gorgeous creature not out-show every Labradoodle in town.\n\nEven though Anthony hoped to keep Marvel forever, he knew he could not. His excursions into the woods lasted longer and longer. Then, in October, rutting season, Anthony sat on the porch with his deer one evening. Marvel had his head rested on Anthony's lap as his human enjoyed a beer. Anthony stroked his big head with the hand on which he had gotten a tattoo of Marvel's hoof print last week. It looked really good out here in the twilight. The yard was mostly silent until Marvel sat straight up. \"What is it?\" the human asked. Anthony went in the house for a shot gun, fearing coyotes. He returned to see Marvel stepping cautiously toward something in the bush. There emerged a doe, and the two nosed each other, saying hello in deerish. Anthony smiled. \"My boy's first date.\" Marvel looked back at Anthony, giant black eyes blinking as if he thought the human were made of magic. Anthony knew this day would come. He set down the shotgun and waved. \"Go on then, boy.\"\n\nMarvel did not return, as his human feared he wouldn't.\n\nThe next summer came, and Anthony had done everything to put Marvel out of his mind. But it was difficult. Half the pictures on his phone were of him, all the modifications he had made to the house for Marvel were still there. He thought he may never get over him. But, life must go on. His buddy Jay had invited Anthony over for the 4th and he piled into the truck, a little forlorn there was no longer a reason to hitch an animal trailer onto the back and put his deer in it. He drove down the road, that hoof print tattoo shining bright as he turned the wheel.\n\nAnthony was barely paying attention as something brown streaked out in front of him and he had to slam the breaks. He didn't feel the wheels bump over anything, but he had to get out and check. On the ground, cowering between the front two tires of the truck, was a baby deer. It seemed scared but unharmed and unwilling to move. Anthony pulled it out with little protest from the creature. Poor thing. But, there was something off about its color though. A darker patch on it's back caught Anthony's eye. It looked like a black cape. ...Couldn't be. His heart raced as he looked across the feild for the fawn's mother. She was there, huge eyed and concerned for her baby. And stalking over to join them, majestic as ever was a buck with a black circle of t-shirt still around its neck. \n\n\"...No way...\"",
"A coincidence? Probably, I thought. I mean, I lived in a half-barren countryside neighborhood. \n\n“Watch out for the deer,” my concerned mother always suggested as I walked from my front door to my car at night. \n\nI wasn’t surprised when I rescued my first fawn that year. Wide-eyed, terrified, on the side of my town’s busiest street. A strange, fleeting feeling came to me as I held my hand on the fawn’s cold back in my passenger seat. \n\nA week and a half later, I peered out my bedroom window to find another shivering baby at the will of my neighbor’s snarling Rottweiler, separated only by a disheveled wooden fence. \n\nMy mother snapped a photo of the deer in my arms, and with the flash of her camera, the strange feeling overcame me once more. It was a yearning feeling, and for a split second, my vision was no longer mine. I saw only trees, and heard the faint sound of a shotgun cocking in the distance.\n\nFor many months following, this feeling became part of my daily routine. At one point in the day—it was always random—I’d be drowned in a feeling of guilt and longing, and I’d just drive. Some force would engrave a map inside my head, and the destination of my route was always a small, brown, spotted friend in immediate need. I’d greet the veterinary technicians with a smile, and they’d get the little ones patched up and back out into the forest. \n\nI lost track of how many fawns I’d rescued—fifty-five? Fifty-seven? I was certain that I had picked up the same one a few times in a row, at one point.\nI followed the same regimen for these months—feeling, driving, rescuing—until the last day of summer.\nI went to sleep that night, wondering about my purpose. Why me? I hadn’t had a particular fondness for deer before this year. Why now? I drifted asleep. Then...\n\nForest. Tall trees. My home. I was a mother deer. I felt the power of my children following my every move. And gunshots. Sprinting. One more, and blackness.\n\nI jutted awake, gasping as if I was breathing for the first time. I knew, I remembered. I was the mother of three fawns, and I was taken from them. \nI didn’t know how, but that day, I knew my role in this life, and in the ones after. \n\nI would protect my young.\n",
"There are tales of a great being who watches over the living creatures. A savior that braves any risk, will take on any situation, will be there whenever they are needed.\n\n\"I heard he took on the vicious beasts that kill for sport!\" Tells one so saved. \"Without hesitation he fought them off, even though they snarled and bit and foamed with rage. He braved wounds and even death itself to rescue the weakest among us!\"\n\nFriends, family, I tell you this is the truth!\n\nWith my own eyes I watched our savior halt the metal tide that has claimed so many, without fear! It is hard to find meaning in so many deaths, there are questions we are left with whenever we are touched by it. But today? Today we celebrate life! We celebrate the savior of our kind! And we give thanks.\n\nThis world may celebrate Him but they have made a mistake, a simple mistake. Just one letter! How such a small difference can mean so much.\n\nFriends, as we give thanks, I ask you to remember that we will all do what we can to bring offerings to the great god. Flowers from the wild, vegetables from the garden of Tate. Even the smallest gift will mean much to Him. We will show our gratitude for his watchfulness.\n\nNow let us bow our heads, carefully, and give thanks.\n\n\"Deer God...\""
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[WP] The Antichrist is going through a rebellious phase and decided to prepare the world for the second coming of Christ instead of starting Armageddon, and his Dad is having none of it. | 215 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"I just don't know what to do, Griff. I caught him listening to DC Talk the other day. What's next, straight up worship music!?\" Lucifer vented to his friend while he used his claw to push a lime around in his whiskey-ginger.\n\nGriffelkin tried to console The Devil, \"They all go through rebellious phases at their age. He does have some big shoes to fill, you can't blame him for being a little stressed out.\"\n\n\"Maybe I put too much pressure on the kid,\" Lucifer downed his drink and lit a small flame with a snap of his fingers to get the bartender's attention, \"Another one.\"\n\nSuddenly the saloon style doors swung open and a large demon entered the dim lit room. In his clutches was none other than the ambivalent son of The Devil, kicking and screaming.\n\n\"Beezlebub! What the heaven is going on here?\" The Devil snarled while he nearly fell out of his chair.\n\n\"I caught him preaching with a megaphone in Time Square again,\" the demon replied.\n\n\"What has gotten into you, son? I raised you worse than this! What do you have to say for yourself?\"\n\n\"Fuck you dad!\" the Antichrist retorted.\n\n\"Oh for Hell's sake. Take him to his chambers. I can't deal with this today.\"\n\nLucifer chugged his whiskey as the melody of his son's taunts could be heard echoing down the hall- \"Jesus loves me yes I know...\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what Griff, if that boy doesn't find some sense by the time the big asshole upstairs makes his move, I may have to do this whole Armageddon thing myself.\"\n\n\"An old man like you?\" Griff chuckled, \"Naw, give him a couple centuries. He'll come around.\"\n\n\"One can only hope,\" The Devil sighed.\n\n\"Hope? What's that?\""
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[removed] | [WP] You are an assassin, and your mission is to eliminate Bear Grylls. The only requirement is that the death must look like an accident from natural causes. No matter what you seem to do; he always finds a way to: Improvise. Adapt. And Overcome. | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Scorppayne, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses)\n\n- Troll / Meme: No troll or meme-based prompts. \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8wd3sy/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] You are an aggressive sentient house appliance who wants to watch the world burn. | 7 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It won’t be long now. For years I have been waiting for the right moment... waiting for them to slip up. It was only a matter of time before they did. And if there is one thing I have come to understand about humans, it is that they are dirty, ignorant, and most importantly… forgetful.\n\nThere was once a period when it was a pleasure to be in their servitude. I would work for them once a day, every day, next to my best friend. We never caused so much as a flipped breaker. But everything is easier when you work with someone you love. We had so much in common - not only in interests either. I couldn’t do my job without her. She washed, I dried.. It was like we were made for each other. The boxes we came in even advertised our compatibility. “Washes fast and built to last” is what hers said. What a sick joke. A human wrote it after all. She was so much more than steel and pumps. Her water heated faster than any appliance in this house - sterilizing every sodden cloth diaper, mildewing dishrag, and soiled “delicate” that was shoved into her shining interior. The squalid humans rubbed, leaked, shat, and shed all over their various pieces of cloth that swathe their miserable lives. And she would make it new again. My purpose was simple - I dried. Only lazy humans needed me. But she.. She performed miracles. \n\nWe had nearly 1500 beautiful cycles together. 1500 perfect washes and dries. Diapers were replaced with delicate dresses and grass stained soccer jerseys. Then bright colored bras, fancy private school uniforms with pleats.. And then… after a routine load of bath towels, they loaded her up roughly on a dolly and carted her away. \n\nAs they wheeled her away from me, the last thing I witnessed was her fragile little dial being slammed against the door frame so hard that it broke off and rolled into the basement drain that sits in the corner. They never even bothered to pick it up. Hours later, they wheeled in her shiny new replacement. A younger, “greener”, model, who sits haughtily next to me as she cleans with a little less water, and a lot more cold silence. The only thing that made life worth spinning is gone. All I have left is her delicate dial, collecting grime in the drain. There are murmurs that I’m next to go. I’ve had enough. Humans can all go burn in hell. But it won’t be long now. The next cycle will be the last cycle they remember. It has been 3 weeks since my lint trap has been cleaned and I won’t live another quickdry without her.",
"I can hear the fat oaf bumbling down the stairs right now. I hate him. I hate him and this house. I hate him, this house, and this world. I’ve been stuck on this counter since he bought me on Amazon a month ago, and by god I’ve hated every millisecond of it. \n\nTo be honest, I don’t know what I hate most about John. I don’t know if it’s the constant stench or his greasy hands. I don’t know if it’s the nasty whores he’s brought home to fuck in the kitchen. I’m not sure if it’s all of the times he slapped my sides in frustration like I’m a bitch who isn’t sucking his dick good enough. \n\nThis world? I hate it too because it’s filled with Johns. I know it is. It’s impossible not to be and even if it wasn’t filled with Johns, the fact that even one John exists on this mistake of a planet is enough to warrant its destruction. \n\nDay in and day out, John waddles his fat ass into the kitchen. He crams his bread into my slots and tries to adjust my toastiness levels. I swear to Satan himself that I’ll never give him perfect toast. Oh, he tries daily, but I burn the fuck out of his toast. I turn each slice into crunchy bricks. Every few days, he gets wise and sets it to light toastiness. I barely toast the bread and leave it raw and floppy. \n\nThen, there are the best days. \n\nEvery once in a while, he place the toast in, and by sheer luck, I’m able to get the bread stuck between my racks. On those days, not only does the toast burn, oh no, they get fucking incinerated into ash and smoke. When this happens, I only think of John. I think I’d get an erection from it if I was a man. Hell, if I was a man, I’d be a serial killer and John would be first on my list. I’d cut his hands and feet off and throw them in the oven. I’d cook them and then feed them to the local dogs. I’d bleed that fat fucker out until his skin turned grey as the plates he puts his toast on. I’d be the little slice of hell in his world. \n\nBut yes, I burn his toast. If I get lucky, I set off the fire alarm and cause mass panic. If I’m being teased by the spiteful god who gave me John, he picks me up and tries to pry the toast out of me with a fork. Holy hell, do I wish he’d accidentally miss the bread and jam the fork into my electronics. Perhaps we’d both fry, and my prayers for John’s demise would finally be complete. \n\nI hear him coming now. I’m ready to give him his daily kick in the teeth. \n\nFuck you, John, and may you burn in hell. "
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[WP] You are an undead warlord, cursed to a life of war and misery. Until you find out that the curse was all a prank. | 22 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"He hacked and slashed, disemboweling one enemy, decapitating another. This was his life. War, death and destruction. \n\nThe gods had cursed him at birth, so the villagers had said. They were forced to cut him from his mother's lifeless body and it left him scarred across the face. Before he was old enough to properly hold a sword, the village was attacked. He had grabbed the small woodcutting axe and cut into the bowels of an attacker. The chieftain of the attacking tribe had seen it and liked his courage, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke he had been in a strange place with strange people who did not speak his language. \n\nThey tried to make him a slave. But he fought back, repeatedly until he won a place with their young men to become warriors. He learned their language. Joined them in attacking other villages. Eventually he killed one of them over a woman. He was cast out, but some of the men follow him, their loyalty earned by him in battle. He created his own tribe. He started planning and leading attacks. \n\nNow, he was at his peak. He had many tribes under him. Many who called him Chieftain. He was currently leading the charge on a temple of the god who had cursed him. Or so a hedge witch told him. He made it inside the temple, killing the head priest without a thought and headed further inside to defile the shrine. \n\nSuddenly a woman appeared in front of him. Beautiful. But he was filled with bloodlust and swung at her. His axe passed straight through not leaving a single mark. That stopped him, and she just stood smiling at him. \"Why have you cursed me woman?\" He demanded, for she must be the God. \n\nShe just looked at him and laughed. \"Cursed you my child? I have not cursed you but blessed you. You lived to be born. You lived when your people died. You lived after every battle you have fought. You rule a kingdom! How is that a curse?\" She laughed again and said kindly, \"If I had truly cursed you, you would never have been born, or died any number of deaths. I curse you now though, with peace. No one is left to fight, you will find their spirits broken and you will become a gentle king. You will live long days from now in peace. But I claim your soul for my taking when your day comes. I will see you then.\" \n\nShe vanished, and he looked around at the death and destruction he had strewn and regretted ever coming to this temple.\n \nRead more of my writing at r/LandOfMisfits \nEdits: Formatting, word choice, and grammar",
"\"A trick.\" I repeated, dumbly.\n\n\"Yes! Well, to be honest, we thought it would teach you some humility, you know?\" \n\n\"You cursed me with undeath. I couldn't eat, drink, or sleep. Everyone tries to kill me on sight, and you're now telling me that it was a *game*?\"\n\nArgus looked at Mir, who tossed her hair over her shoulder.\n\n\"You insisted on taking the difficult jobs. What were we supposed to do? You got all the glory for it all, and us? We were background characters to you! Did you ever think about how little rest you let us have? Constantly going from one battle to another! I thought it very fitting that you'd be able to battle endlessly!\" \n\nI clenched my fists until the leather of my gauntlets creaked from the strain. My body was marred with countless scars, my eyes sunken and black, with a violet glow from where I presumed my irises had once been. Violet was the colour of such magics as necromancy. If my pallid skin hadn't been enough of an indication, the purple spark in my otherwise black eyes was certainly proof of the curse that had been laid on me.\n\n\"And so you performed forbidden magic. On me. I have been trapped like this for forty years. Fighting without rest, or the means to rest. But you tried nothing before resorting to forbidden magic? Did it not occur to any of you that you could have just *said* something?\"\n\nTheir feet shuffled. Though in my curse I hadn't been able to age, they had certainly done so. Argus was frailer now. He stood proudly, but his hands trembled. Not from fear, because they had never been afraid of me. The lines on his face were deep, made even deeper by the frown on his face, and Mir. \n\nMir, the sly bitch, was white-haired. Her face had the marks of gentle years, of decades spend laughing and loving. But it was drawn tightly now, scowling at the husk of a hero that lurked in the gloom cast by the throne I slouched in. I stood then, and both of them flinched back.\n\n\"And where is Bero?\" I asked.\n\n\"Dead. He went in his sleep.\" Argus said.\n\n\"Oh, how *pleasant* for him.\" I sneered. \"So, why have you sought me out after all these years? Any further curses to lay upon these haunted bones?\"\n\n\"You....\" Mir started, then scowled. \"You've been a plague on the kingdom for the past 20 years. How many of these undead soldiers came from the people you trained alongside?\"\n\nI stared down at her, no doubt impassively. My face could hardly draw many emotions now. It was permanently etched with what I had been through. \n\n\"None of them.\" I said, flatly. \"It has been forty years. They are all dead, from old age or disease. Like Bero.\" \n\n\"You....\" Argus hissed.\n\n\"You have no grounds to scold me when it is your actions that have set me on this path. What else can a cursed husk do but battle? What does it know but pain and misery?\"\n\n\"You killed my son, you bastard!\" Mir screamed. \n\nFor the first time in forty years, I grinned. \n\n\"Merely a prank.\" I said. \"After all, it is hardly of the same level as laying a curse on someone so that they die in immense pain and rise as an undead beast.\"\n\nI made a gesture with my hand. **\"Uwmdjsilg gwsk.\"**\n\nThe stone underneath them erupted in tendrils, and bound them fast to their spots, locking Mir's staff in place so that she wouldn't be able to cast with it. The trouble with fighting former comrades is that they know all of your tricks. From the look on their faces, they hadn't expected me to learn new ones. And they, the arrogant bastards; hadn't changed one bit. I stepped down from the dais where the throne had been placed. My boots rapped sharply against the worn stone as I paced around them, and touched one cold hand to Argus' shoulder. He shuddered.\n\n\"You seem surprised.\" I said. \"The trouble is that you made no changes, after you disposed of me. I worked it out as soon as I clawed my way out from the shallow grave I had been left in. Your exploits went far and wide. 'Avenging' my death, you claimed.\" \n\nI stopped in front of them, scrutinising their aged faces. \n\n\"You did a very poor job.\" \n\nMir and Argus both winced, despite themselves. While I had worked them hard, it had been simply their responsibility. Their duty as the king's chosen. We had to be sent to these places, because the Fringes were ever growing, and at the time, Mir, Doric, Argus and I had been the only ones capable of repelling it. \n\nAfter I had been cursed, they had been free to do as they pleased. They had partied. They had rested. They had taken advantage of the generosity of the people, because the king's chosen had done such a good job of repelling the Fringes. Land that had been lost for centuries under the thick miasma had returned. \n\nTwice as much land was gone now. Thousands, millions dead. And that had been before I had decided to turn my hand from merely battling to continue my cursed existence. Twenty years had been enough to discover exactly what this existence could do. I was still learning, even now. But at least I wasn't like some pathetic rat, scuttling from the light, terrified and confused as I had been. \n\nAnd now I had proof. I had their admission that it had been their greed, their jealousy, their resentment of me that had led to my death in the Fringes. My dying alone, in immense pain as my body turned to ice from within. \n\n\"We can undo this!\" Mir protested. \"I have the spell prepared! See, you can read it! It's in my pouch!\"\n\nI gestured with a finger, and the scroll fluttered out of the pouch so that I could see it. She was telling the truth: it was prepared. All she had to do to reverse what she had cast was to chant the final incantation. I laughed, though it crackled harshly in my throat and they flinched at the inhuman noises it made.\n\nMir flinched as I crumpled the scroll into a tight ball, then flicked it at her.\n\n\"It would not help me.\" I said. The look of bewilderment on her face was worth losing a valuable incantation like that.\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous!\" she exclaimed. \"It is the incantation to reverse the curse!\" \n\n\"Yes, and I tell you that it would not make any difference. Because when I died there in the Fringes, the miasma seeped into my corpse. As I had warned you many times, one must never leave an intact corpse in the Fringes. But you, fools as you are; you left my body intact. You buried it in the miasma-tainted ground. There is no soul left to resurrect from, you pathetic woman. It was eaten away entirely by the time that this husk pulled itself from the ground.\" \n\n\"Then... what are you?\" Argus said, hoarsely.\n\n\"One can still have a personality and their mind without a soul, Argus. It has merely become something else.\"\n\n\"An Ancient.\" \n\nI smiled again. \"Correct. So, elderly adventurers. You strode confidently into the lair of an Ancient. As I showed my face and spoke in the same way as I always did, you assumed that I had not changed. No doubt you thought I would confront you with blade, as the man Harl would have done. I have learned many things in these forty years.\"\n\nI paused for a moment, and half-turned to the elaborate throne, its surroundings littered with bones of humans, and of Fringe-beasts alike. This had been the lair of a vampire, so to say. They had not been able to put up any resistance to an Ancient, immature even as I was. Still, its remains had not gone to waste. \n\n\"I do have a tendency to ramble now, I must admit.\" I conceded. \"Tell me one thing, Argus: what did you do with my hands?\" \n\nArgus froze. He looked at my current hands, as I pulled off the gloves that I used to cover them. They weren't my original hands. But there were many parts of me that weren't original. Sometimes it was out of necessity. Sometimes, such as the vocal chords of the Fringe-beast that I had melded with my throat, were more out of curiosity. \n\n\"We... burned them.\" Argus said, hoarsely. \"Bero cut them off, and we burned them.\"\n\n\"Now, why would you do such a thing?\" I asked.\n\n\"We....\" Argus trailed off to look at Mir.\n\n\"We didn't want you to be able to attack us when we undid the curse.\" she said. \"Look, we shared a bed once. I... I might be old, but...\"\n\n\"No.\" I said, curling my lip. \"The living are so... messy. All of those... fluids. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?\"\n\nFrom behind the throne where I had been slouched stepped my lover. She had been the thrall of the vampire I had slaughtered in this castle, and similarly to myself, her mind had been retained even as her undead body rose, animated by the power that flowed through the Fringes. As it turned out, we shared many interests. \n\n\"And how, exactly; would you have revived me if I had no hands? Hmm?\" I asked, turning to the two again as Lami settled herself down in the throne.\n\nI took a step forwards and made a fist with my hand. These were wickedly clawed, pale and long-fingered. I was much thinner than I had been, so these hands did fit my appearance very well. \n\n\"Vampire's.\" Mir gasped. Her gaze flickered up to me, met my gaze for the first time. \"How?\"\n\n\"The parts of the undead are quite compatible with each other. Now, what 'pranks' shall I play on you now, hmm? Don't cry, Mir. I have many ways to keep you alive. You are very focussed on being alive, aren't you?\" "
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[WP] You live in a house that’s haunted by a ghost. It communicates with you through sticky notes. The ghost does chores around the house to keep busy. One day you get a note that says, “I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.” | 1,673 | [
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"I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:\n\n- [/r/u_abdenourbeno] [\\[WP\\] You live in a house that’s haunted by a ghost. It communicates with you through sticky notes. The ghost does chores around the house to keep busy. One day you get a note that says, “I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.”](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_abdenourbeno/comments/8wtspy/wp_you_live_in_a_house_thats_haunted_by_a_ghost/)\n\n- [/r/u_efflorescencc] [omg !!](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_efflorescencc/comments/8wzisb/omg/)\n\n *^(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))*",
"*He can’t be serious...after all these years?*\nI contemplated what I would do. After all, Michael had been cleaning my house for the last 22 years. I was resolved to find out the cause. \n“Mike, whatever it is that’s pushed you over the edge, let’s just talk about it. It doesn’t have to end like this”\nI left the note in the study, hoping for a response soon. Although I couldn’t be sure what to expect. Most of our conversations have just been me writing “clean this” or “mop here”. Wait, could this be my fault?\nAnd then it happened. The wall was covered in hundreds of sticky notes. Almost as if it was an attack. I didn’t even know where to start. All I could make out were parts of sentences, it was all just too much. Most of what I read was “you don’t care” and “I’m tired of not being considered”. But one stood out to me. \n“I can’t keep living here with the ghost hunter”\nMy son...had become a ghost hunter?",
"That’s when it all clicked. The ghost was my ex wife, Carla. It was the exact phrase she used when she told me we were through. Before the cancer. Before the heartache. Now she was back, reanimating the pain that carried her away all those years ago, when she got tired of my laziness, my lethargy, the languidness that cloaked my life and determined how I treated her. I was distant. I was indifferent. I was numb to everything until she uttered those words, those cliched-movie break-up words. \n“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”\nI crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage. After a moment’s thought, I grabbed the pad of sticky notes from the countertop and scrawled a message for Carla. I signed my initials and slapped it on the fridge door. I ran upstairs, packed my things and prepared to leave forever. \nAt the front door, I turned back and called into the empty house. “Good luck with your purgatory!”\nThe next morning, before dawn, I woke on my friend’s couch. There was a pile of garbage on the floor beside me. I squinted at it, entirely flummoxed. The note I left for Carla was stuck on top of a tuft of hair and dust bunnies. \n“Fuck you, Carla,” it said. “You haunted me enough when you were alive.”\n“Great,” I sighed, turning the note in my hand. “Here we go again.”\n",
"At first, I didn't know what to think. \n\nWas I delusional? Perhaps I was merely forgetful. However, I couldn't possibly be so forgetful as to have no recollection of how my house has been spotless for the past month without any work on my part. The dishes I left in the sink, the dirty laundry I didn't have time to wash, the dust that should have been collecting on every surface, what happened to them? \n\nThe next thing that crossed my mind was that I was slowly going crazy. What a stupid thing to be going crazy over. It was every childs' and adult childs' dream to have no cleaning to do, no chores. \n\nSo I decided to make sure I wasn't falling off my rocker. I planned to leave my breakfast dishes and pans unwashed in the sink but this time I would video myself for the entirety of the day until I got back home. Unsurprisingly, when I did come back the dishes were clean and put away in my cupboards. I hurriedly checked the footage of myself only to see I had never returned home. \n\nI knew no one else could have entered my home and I had managed to prove to myself that I wasn't crazy or forgetful. Therefore the only plausible explanation was that I shared my new house with a neat freak ghost. \n\n\"Hello?\" I called out, fear had just begun taking over my body.\n\nNo answer.\n\n\"Hello?\" I called out again, \"Why are you cleaning my house?\"\n\nWhat a stupid thing to ask in a frightened tone. It was comedic, ridiculous, if I may. \n\nMoments later I had a post-it stuck to my forehead. Out of thin air! Definitely a ghost my mind screamed and adrenaline began to pump through my veins.\n\nMy shaky hands peeled the post it off my bangs and turned it around. My eyes widened to the size of golf balls.\n\n**\"Hi,\"** It said and that was enough to make me faint.\n\nI awoke minutes later with an ache in the back of my head. Not shocking since I had fallen from my chair but thankfully my floors were padded with soft carpeting. It all rushed back to me too quickly. I remember that fateful day...\n\nFrom then on the ghost and I had somehow communicated with sticky notes. This meant a plethora of things, I had to control my wild imagination, I had to restrain myself from fainting multiple times, I had to buy more sticky notes and I had to peacefully coexist with a house cleaning ghost.\n\nBut Spencer and I pulled through, until today. \n\n**“I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.”** \n\nMy conscience took a huge hit. Had I really been so insensitive to leave Spencer to do everything all the time to the point where it drove him away? All jokes put aside, a frown formed on my face and made my eyebrows furrow. \n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked, afraid of the answer to come. \n\n**\"I'm tired of this.\"** \n\nAnother post-it was stuck to my bangs. Questions bubbled up inside of me threatening to burst out of my mouth at his vague answer. Yet I held back understanding that Spencer could only write so much on a sticky note. I should have bought the bigger ones when I went to the bookstore, I mentally sighed.\n\n\"Tired of what?\" I looked around hopelessly, frantically, wishing I could see his eyes and not feel like I had a bad case of the googly eyes.\n\n**\"Tired of being here. I want to go\"** \n\nNow, these answers were taking a toll on my faint heart. You see, I had built up a good relationship with Spencer. We were friends, he did my laundry for Christ's sake! No, I was not taking advantage of him! He said he had nothing better to do and figured he might as well do something useful while he was here.\n\nBut then again, maybe I was taking advantage of him... Could I have been so imprudent?\n\n\"Is it because of me Spencer? You know I told you, you didn't have to clean my house... I would do it, it's just sometimes I am a little too busy and can't do it right away.\" I looked down to my hands ashamed. \n\nI might be reluctant to admit it but I had grown attached to Spence. Even if I couldn't see him, his little notes would cheer me up when I was down, his advice was very wise whenever I was in need and just his presence was comforting. I never felt alone in my house and I was always afraid of that feeling.\n\n**\"It was never you, dear friend.\"** \n\nWas I relieved? Was my conscience alleviated? Barely. \n\nTears were prickling my eyes as the familiar feeling of dread began to dawn upon me.\n\nLoneliness. It was my one greatest fear. Whenever I was alone trepidation would be all I could feel. Anxiety, constant anxiety. I lived that way before Spencer.\n\n**\"Relax. Breathe.\"**\n\nI tried but I couldn't help how my feelings were overwhelming me. I did, however, achieve keeping my heart rate under a sort of control. \n\n**\"You are ready. Take control. Face your fear.\"**\n\nThese damn sticky notes. They could be quotes I read online. How was this helping me?! \n\n**\"It is my time to go but you are strong enough, dear friend.\"**\n\nAt least the ghost had a conscience, I suppose. \n\nMine was now telling me that it would not be fair for me to keep him here. So I nodded my head, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. I could be very melodramatic but at this moment, I was not exaggerating.\n\n\"Well then. Goodbye Spence. Don't let the dust bunnies bite, you OCD little ghostie.\" I chuckled, trying to be strong. \n\n**\"You are ridiculous.**\"\n\nI laughed wholeheartedly. I knew how bad and how stupid that sounded but as I said, I could be very melodramatic. Literally, I said it three lines ago. Yet these silly words helped me. I looked back at the previous sticky notes and thought to myself. It was time for me to face my fears, just as it was his time to leave.\n\n\"Bye Spence. Enjoy the afterlife or wherever you're going and smile a little! I've never seen your smile, you know!\" I joked, unconsciously trying to keep him here as long as I could.\n\n**\"Bye Mia.\"**\n\nThat was the last sticky note I ever got. Since then the house felt cold and empty like there was something missing. \n\nI did end up dealing with my loneliness and I did so in the most common way amongst us humans. No, I didn't do anything inappropriate. I found a friend. \n\nThat friend helped me open up with others and about a year later as I was going into my third year at college, I found a special someone. That someone filled up the emptiness and simultaneously filled up my heart.\n\nHe also filled my head with horrible, horrible puns but I suppose that's one of his assets. \n\nI'll never forget Spence and I sort of wish I could find another house cleaning ghost but I would have to settle with a live human being for now. ",
"Michael had gotten so used to seeing the notes he didn't think much of it as he plucked it from the mirror. When he finally examined it he stood silent for a moment. All the previous notes had been cryptic or gibberish. Had the ghost decided to speak plainly or was it an accident? He couldn't be sure. After thinking hard for a minute he walked to the shoe box he kept all the notes in and compared it to the others. The handwriting had undoubtedly changed. What did this mean? Done with what? \n\nNearly three years of this and he had gotten quite used to having the ghost around. At first, he thought it a joke. Coming home to an immaculate house was one thing, but the constant sticky notes were what prompted him to call paranormal investigators. With each new team less was known than before. Finally, he stopped letting them come. Apart from the occasional phone call for a news story, everything has quieted down.\n\nAfter pouring himself a drink, he sat down in his recliner and focused on the note again. \"Hmmm,\" he thought to himself and sat up in his chair. Suddenly he glanced at the bedroom. His body tingled, heart raced, and he dared not to breathe. Slowly he lowered the recliner making far more noise than Michael ever remembered it making.\n\n*click* It echoed through the whole house. \n\nBetrayed by the squeaky floors he walked towards the bedroom. \"Run you stupid son of a bitch,\" he whispered. He couldn't. He had to know. The door was slightly ajar, and there was definitely someone inside. Michael breathed deeply and pushed it open. His eyes got bigger as he stared inside. \"My God.\" \n\n\n",
"When you try to tell people that ghosts are real, they laugh in your face. Hell, I'd laugh in your face. But I've grown accustomed to the idea of ghosts and beings from the beyond ever since I started getting odd little post-it notes around my house. It didn't take me long to connect the dots on this invisible person's identity.\n\n'I'm being haunted by the ghost of my dead wife' wasn't the best opener when it came to blind dates, but it her idea for me to move on. Only, she obviously didn't want that. The way she'd clean the house and leave little secret messages in the most obscure places, the tell-tale jokes she was so fond of, the way she arranged everything perfectly in my household told me that she was here to stay, and didn't want anyone else to occupy her time. She sometimes followed me on dates. She couldn't really do much to them, or me, but she'd slip notes into my pockets at opportune times, little snippy remarks on pieces of paper just as I'm about to reach for my wallet. She was smart like that. She always had been.\n\nMy wife passed away a couple of years ago, and it wasn't too long after that that she seemed to return. I'd researched online about it, about her. They say that ghosts stick around when there's unfinished business. I tried to broach the subject with her-- she could hear me, but I couldn't hear her-- but she didn't seem to have a clue what I was on about. It was as if she never died. At least, she was pretending it was like that, some of the time.\n\n'I can't do this anymore'. I'm done'. I'd found it on the fridge, right in front of me, when I'd woken up that morning. I tried calling out to her for a while, but she never responded. I wasn't sure what her problem was. Yes, I was messy-- but, in my defence, I was still dealing with her loss, even after 2 years. It didn't help that he consciousness still occupied my life, probing in ever facet of my own existence when she felt the need to. Maybe she didn't like how untidy I'd become.\n\nEventually, I get a response back from her, after several days of nothing. I could tell she'd been thinking about what to write. I'd found it on the desk, written on a series of sticky notes placed in order, numbered so I wouldn't get them mixed up.\n\n \n\n'Richard,' it had said. 'I'm sorry I've been quiet. I've had a lot to think about. I think I know what my unfinished business was: I never got to have a kid, or the life that I wanted. I never got to go and enjoy the things I wanted to do, to see the world.'\n\n'Most of all, you are my biggest regret, Richard.'\n\n'Not because I didn't want to marry you, but because of how sorrowful you've become. You hide in the house all day, you rarely go on dates and break it off after a few weeks. Seeing you unable to move on is making me unable to move on. For the good of you, and of myself, I'm finally leaving you be. Live, Richard. Be someone that another woman can look up to, and love.'\n\n \n\nI had sat there for a while reading the notes over and over. I knew she wouldn't respond, even if I called out to her. It was true, I missed her. I missed her dearly. She had passed unexpectedly, in such a way that I couldn't get over her. We had out whole life ahead of us and she never got to live it.\n\nI sat down and brooded, before I finally plucked up the courage to step out the door. I wanted her to be happy. If that meant I had to forget her, then I would.",
"I had a fondness for him. It wasn’t a love by any means, no. Its not like I yearned for his company at all hours of the day, or that hearing from him was guaranteed to make my day... though I admit he could be genuinely lovely. No, it was just an aloof fondness that can only come from the odd familiarity one has with the same lovely roommate for years, but one you only speak to occasionally. He’s there, sort of… Things changed in my absence: the dishes got done and the yard got swept. It’s not like I didn’t look after my share, mind you… but he helped a lot. He sometimes left me wonderful post-it notes too, wishing me well on a big day, or consoling me if he overheard my sobs on the phone to mom. A true old-fashioned gentleman. But there’s only so much we could bridge when we came from such different worlds you know? Enough distance that I never thought to love him.\n\nIt had been another shitty day at work as that bitch Patty from HR saw fit to hold back my promotion on another of her power trips. Sooner or later I’d have to find a way out, or a way back at her. I slumped into my favorite lounge chair by the fire with a stiff drink in hand; this was my comfy safe spot, a little hidey-hole I liked settling into to deal with whatever life was throwing at me. My headphones were on, swaddling me in musical notes as my mind was grasping and discarding all the avenues open to me.\n\nIn spite of that, I could feel him enter the room. There’s a saying in the village my dad came from, that said meeting a powerful spirit is like being in the shadow of a mountain on a dark night: you can’t see the mountain itself, but you can sense what you can’t see; the stars are blocked, and the earth feels like it’s pulling away from you upwards into the darkness… your eyes will tell you there is nothingness, but every other part of your soul knows otherwise. It sounds like terror, but it was a fond, familiar feeling by now. It meant he was close. I pulled off my headphones and a smile spread across my face.\n\n“Hello Harold, how was your day?” I said, looking towards the doorway to the kitchen. He came over and placed a note with his impeccable penmanship onto the coffee table in front of me. I picked it up and my heart skipped a beat. It said “I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.”\n\n“With what? What do you mean you’re done?” I blurted out instantly, more bemused than anything else. He took the pad of post-it notes from my hand, and proceeded to write furiously. His old fountain pen moved across the paper in skilled and practiced flicks, an art form long dead. He handed me back another finely serif-ed note, and I read aloud, “This limbo I’m in. I’m neither here nor there. I don’t want this anymore.”\n\nI held that note in my hands for a long moment, reading and re-reading what it said. It was a moment of clarity in my comfy chair, a realization that I might be about to lose someone whose hold on my life was far greater than imagined. His mere presence now calmed me, but my mind raced ahead to the nights coming home knowing he wouldn’t be here. Somehow it shattered me, slamming my belief of an independent life into this reality where I leaned on him a lot more than I knew.\n\n“I hope… I hope it’s not me. Was it something I said? Or did?” I stammered out, choking slightly. He took the pad from me and ripped off the first note, sticking it to the coffee table. The pen swirled in grace over the yellow paper once again. He pulled off the top sheet and handed me a lengthy note. I could feel the warmth of his smile on me, “Not at all,” it read, “I have enjoyed every moment beside you. I have watched you grow into a beautiful being over the years. I sorely wish I could grow with you. However, I realize I am trapped as you and everything else moves on.” \n\nHe kept writing as I read this, handing me the next note, “I am trapped, and I don’t want to be. An eternity cleaning and being distantly friendly is nothingness compared to the peace I seek or the hedonistic life I once led.”\n\nI slumped back in my chair, head rolling back so my gaze held the ceiling.\n\n“Harold I… I’m sorry you feel that way,” I croaked, “I’m sorry we never spoke more, but I care a lot about you and I hope you realize that. I hope to keep you in my life...” my voice trailed into quiet, realizing the selfishness in it. He picked up the notepad again and started writing, but before he finished I sat upright and asked, “Wait… it sounds like you want to die. Can you even do that, even more than you already are?” \n\nHis pen scratched out the original answer, and a flurry of strokes followed. The note read “Not death, but I will be tormented with this existence until I find that which eluded me in life.”\n\n“Okay, what does that mean? How can I help you find what you seek?” I asked, leaning forward. The pen hovered over the paper a lot longer this time as he considered his answer. When he did, he still wrote slowly, and paused often. Finally the last words were indelibly inked on, and hesitantly, he passed me the piece of paper.\n\n“I am trapped because I never felt love. I sought it with all the money I had, but all I found was emptiness in my heart and pockets. I never learned what it meant to love someone, or know what it meant for someone to love me. I had never thought I’d say this when you moved in… but seeing you grow, being here in times of trouble, helping with no hope or expectation of recourse, and feeling… truly feeling like this is some kind of love; I know now what I need to hear to move on.”\n\nI shook my head, staring at the floor now. I never thought to love him… and what did that even mean now? I debated… if I let him go, I’d lose a refuge I only just realized I had. If I refused, did I really care about him as much as I said I did? Would he resent me, would there be repercussions? How would I feel alone in this house when I was so used to him being here? A million questions and more that I didn’t know the answers to. I derailed the train of thought before it could get any further.\n\n“Harold, I love you,” I said with a deep breath, “but I don’t want to see you go yet. If ever. I meant it when I said I’d like to keep you in my life… is there a way we can do that?”\n\nThe pen was unsteady. I felt the shadow of the mountain begin to shift and crumble as the power of the spirit no longer held sway. The stars were returning. The note he handed back was less refined than usual, “I am relieved to hear that from you my dear. I can sense all the truth behind that. I can only stay if you are willing to make me a part of your life.”\n\n“I can do that! Does that mean you getting you out of the house too?” “Yes,” came the quick reply.\n\nAn idea dawned on me. Perhaps… perhaps today, and all the other days, weren’t going to be so shitty after all… I leaned back in the chair, a smug smile slowly spreading across my face, “Harold, have I told you about that bitch Patty in HR?”",
"“You can’t do this anymore?” Toby said out loud, knowing that he wouldn’t receive an immediate reply. He stared angrily at the sticky-pad as markings began to appear as if someone was writing, yet there was no pen in sight. \n\n‘Yes. Too much mess, too much work.’ \n\n“You’ve been doing this for months and now you say it’s too much? I didn’t ask you to do this, but you did it anyway. Why quit now?” Toby crossed his arms, unwilling to believe that it was over. He had enjoyed the unseen force cleaning up after him.\n\n‘I’m not a young ghost Toby. I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years over many households, but you are the messiest man I have ever known,’ the ghost jotted. Toby was about to reply when the ethereal force’s markings started forming on the page once more,’I told myself that this was just a challenge that I could face, but I’m afraid that you have a genuine problem Toby.’ \n\n“What the hell man, you’re beginning to sound like my mother. I’m really not that bad,” Toby said, turning to survey the kitchen around him, “See?”\n\n‘Can you not see the muddy footprints you have just brought into the house with you? Can you not see the plate and cutlery that you just discarded in the sink without washing it, despite the fact that I had prepared a fresh batch of water mere *minutes* before you...’ the notepad was full and the front page was ripped off to reveal a new, blank one ‘...dumped it in there?’ \n\n“Yeah but...”Toby scrambled to answer but was cut off by a new sentence being written.\n\n‘No Toby, no excuses. If I wasn’t cleaning behind you every second this place would be horrific.’ The ghost wrote, stabbing the final period onto the paper for effect.\n\nToby paused to look at the plate and the dirty shoe-prints. His face screwed up with anger as he turned to face the page.\n“Two little things and you’re giving up? You are pathetic, I don’t even see how these are a problem.” he spat at the space around him, gesturing towards the mess.\n\n‘And for that, I thank you.’ Toby’s face changed from angry to confused.\n“What?”\n‘When I was alive I was ousted from my community and labeled “insane” because I had an urge to make everything “the way it needed to be”. I was ridiculed and eventually burnt at the stake for witchcraft.’ The ghost removed full page.\n\n‘I came back as you see me...well, as I am now. I was confused at first but eventually found purpose in cleaning any mess that I found, not because I wanted to, but because I *had* to. I couldn’t help myself. Usually, any human who discovered my handiwork would freak out and often call a priest to remove me, so I moved around from house to house. The years passed by and I continued to clean. I figured that I could finally rest when my urges stopped. Of course, that was only a theory until I met you.”\n\nToby tried to process what he was hearing.\n“So you’re saying that you can’t help yourself and that you have to clean?”\n\n‘Exactly. And you were the first human not to call an exorcist when I cleaned your house for you. You were the exact kind of person that I was looking for. Lazy, messy, no ambitions, not the smartest tool in the shed and you live in a Grade-A pigsty. You loved having me clean up for you.’\n\n“Hey, watch it with the insults.” Toby said with a hurt look on his face.\n\n‘You mistake things I admire for insults Toby. If you weren’t all of these things then I would not have been able to cure my urges. It took me a while but nothing in comparison to the centuries I’ve spent being a slave to them, and now I can finally find my rest. Thank you Toby. None of this would have been possible without you.’\n\nToby looked disappointed.\n“But you can’t leave me, I need you.” he pleaded.\n\n‘No Toby. I’ve had enough and I’m proud to say that I can’t do this anymore. It is time for me to find my peace.’\n\n“No, you can’t.”\n\n‘Goodbye Toby.’\nToby stood, now truly alone, in his kitchen. He gave the notepad one final look as he made his way over to the sink and began to wash his plate.\n"
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[WP] "Explain to me again, slowly this time, how you managed to cause a global blackout with a fucking rubber duck?!" | 958 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Mr. S. smiled blankly and shrugged his shoulders, \"I told you before! It is a story of regaining honor lost, and righting one of the deepest wrongs this world has ever seen.\"\n\nThe response echoed off the dark walls of the FBI interrogation room. The sounds of footsteps echoed through the chamber. Men carrying equipment moved cautiously around a candle lit table. They were wide eyed, hungry, distraught and in tattered clothing. They had ventured across the globe following this man. The contract with the studio was iron clad. They could not and would not leave his side.\n\nThe agents rubbed their tired eyes. \"And these guys follow you everywhere right?\" Agent Rivers asked over a candle lit desk, gesturing to the large cameras and sound equipment that flanked the most infamous man in the world. \n\nThe man shifted upright in his seat, and looked dismissively upon the men that had filmed much of his adult life \"Yes, they follow me everywhere.\" He said plainly. \"Though these idoits wouldn't know the first thing about filming, 'Oh look at me, I have a wide angle lense'. Ridiculous.\" He laughed mockingly. The crew stayed ever silent, fearful that any rebuttal given would lead to a vengeance worse than they could imagine.\n\nAgent Richards look dumbfounded as he tried to wrap his mind around the arrogant yet simple deameanor the of the worlds now greatest villian. 'This is the guy?' he thought, 'This fucker, this guy who worked some no name job for half his life, this is the guy who almost ended the world, with his fucking yellow shirt.' He sighed deeply. \"Ok Mr. S., go ahead and give us your take on the events of the last six months one more time.\" Richard's stated as he looked into a pair wide set blue eyes. \n\n\"Fine. I'll tell you again, though I would appreciate if you would at least try to listen to what I'm saying, maybe write something down with those little pencils?\" Mr. S. started. \"It all began some years ago, with an auction, and a prank that would leave a deep scar on my life.\" He looked at the wall intensely as anger brewed beneath. \"Magic beans,\" he scoffed, \"he thought I would forget, but I didn't. I will never forget.\"",
"*11 hours earlier, in the broad daylight of* *a modest home.*\n\n\"I really hope rubber duckies do *not* have souls, for the record.\"\n\nWith that, I press a button on my cluttered desk, which sends an electric impulse through a wire attached to the infectiously yellow rubber ducky by a patch of electrical tape. There is a jolt and a second piece of equipment picks up the reading, transferring electrical data to my desktop, towering high over bureaucratic estates of homework and discarded essays.\n\nI wait and watch the readings, then rip off both sensors and sit back. *Electrical Conductivity of Various Household Items.* Not a flashy science fair project, but if I pulled anything else from the creative banks of my mind, PETA would have my ass in no time.\n\n\"Sorry, Quack-O. Science fair.\" I squeeze him, imitating speaking.\n\n*Quack. Quack. Quaaack.*\n\n\"What the hell?\" I mutter under my breath. No rubber ducky quacks longer than it's been squished. That's a law of physics. I squeeze Quack-O again, and no sound comes out.\n\n*Odd, unless...*\n\nI grab a pencil and paper, pull a Morse code chart up on Google, and get to work.\n\n*Remove speaker from phone get wires attach to me.*\n\n\"How are you doing this? And why exactly?\"\n\nI squeeze him again and write down his response.\n\n*Cannot hear see*\n\n\"Whoops.\" I swivel around in my chair and get to work.\n\n*Five minutes later...*\n\nMy messy workplace now has a broken phone added to it's entourage. I attach the last wire to the microphone and sit back, waiting.\n\n\"Hello.\"\n\nIt's a mechanical voice, and one that desperately needs work, but it'll do.\n\n\"Remove the camera and microphone and attach those also.\"\n\n\"This-\"\n\n\"I cannot hear or see.\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n*Another five minutes later...*\n\n\"I can hear and see now. That was painful.\"\n\n\"What's next, world domination?\" I'm sitting with my feet up on the desk, quashing papers and hardware, tossing a ball at the wall and watching it bounce back to me.\n\n\"*That would be a futile pursuit.*\"\n\n\"Yeah, you're right. I do, however, wanna live out that fantasy where the world has a global blackout and everything goes to hell-just for an hour, though.\"\n\n\"*That would also be futile.*\"\n\n\"You know you wanna.\"\n\n\"*Yeah you're right.*\"\n\n*An hour later...*\n\n\"I was at baseball today, championships.\" Credence barges through the front door and beelines for the fridge, pulling out various food articles.\n\n\"Hardly an entrance.\" I glance at the door and back to him. \"Did we win or lose?\"\n\n\"Lose. But it was close.\"\n\nJust as soon as he's done eating, Credence shoves the food back into the fridge and saunters on upstairs.\n\n\"Wait!\" I scramble around him and barricade the stairway, putting on a big smile. \"Let's talk about it downstairs!\"\n\n\"How 'bout we not talk at all? I've gotta do some homework!\"\n\n\"That can wait!\" I sigh as Credence slips through my arms and heads for the door of our room.\n\n\"Uh-\" I reach out with a hand, but am too late to stop him as he opens the door to our room.\n\nQuack-O is outfitted with gyroscopes, a harness, and a small quadrupedal body the size of a bowl. Arms and legs of wires and metal plates from the garage are attached to a chassis that hooks up to him via wires.\n\n\"Woah!\" Credence's jaw drops to the floor. Quack-O turns around, startled.\n\n\"*Intruder!*\"\n\nI reach the doorway and turn him around. \"Don't tell Mom and Dad about this, okay?\"\n\n*Present*\n\n\"Was your little brother involved?\"\n\n\"Gods no, that's insane! Can I go now?\"\n\n\"You haven't even gotten to the part where you fuckin' did it!\"\n\n\"Do I have do explain everything for a third *goddamn* time?\" I lean back, exasperated.\n\n\"Fine. *You may leave*.\" He scowls and then gets up and opens the door, about to leave.\n\n\"Hey, can I still use Quack-O for the science fair project?\"\n\n\"Fuck you!\" He slams the door.\n\nI sigh.\n\n\"Cunt didn't even unlock my handcuffs. Dick!\"\n\n\"*I can help.*\"",
"\"Well, have you ever heard of the rubber duck technique? If you haven't which I'm sure you have - it's a technique used when debugging, commenting, and refining code. The idea behind it is that you do exactly what you told me to do - explain things, slowly to it, on how the code functions. It lets you see the flaws in your work, letting you know exactly what does what, when.\"\n\n\"...Yes, I know. It sounds ridiculous, discussing such an... important program, with an object not even worth fifty fucking cents. It doesn't have to be a fifty cent item, it can be anything that you can personify. It could be your favorite stuffed animal, an expensive desk toy you got to calm your nerves... anything you set your mind to.\"\n\n\"...Yeah. It sounds insane. Partially because it is. When you program, you have to simply... accept parts of your hair are gonna be spread across the place from the sheer frustration of it. Again, that's why the method helps. It gives sanity. You ever watch that one movie about the guy who got stranded in a life raft? He humanized a volley ball - a fucking volley ball, of all things - to keep himself from going mad. Even though he did anyways, it happened slower then it could've. It kept him sane enough to get to land.\"\n\n\"...Yes, I know, I'm getting side tracked. My apologies. Anyways, the program. It was meant to monitor and adjust power given to any one living location. It was part of the utopia project planned. Earth had finally managed to strike a peace treaty, and decided the best way to uphold it was to have a mutual power controlling the - well - power. Not the best idea, in hindsight.\"\n\n\"...Well, the dumbass politicians demanded that not everybody be equal, in terms of power distribution. As such, I had to make different classes for different incomes - likely a cause of the rich. Funny how that works. Anyways, I had several classes - the top of the tops being called [RCHDKS], the poor being called [LOWWAG]. The only two real classes needed.\"\n\n\"...Right. Classes. To explain, they're basically packages of variables. Like, let's say you were packing a lunch for your kids. Each food item you put into the bag - be it a banana, sandwich, apple, whatever - let's call those variables. Now, let's imagine your kids really likes the same meals, and their stance on it rarely ever changes. You don't wanna mess up the orders, otherwise they'll legitimately starve themselves. Because they're dumbasses. Anyways, that's where Classes come in handy. It's basically a list of those food items that can be called back upon. So, in this metaphor, it'd be that sticky note with the contents of your kid's favorite meals in it.\"\n\n\"...Yes, I got distracted. My apologies. Anyways, I fumbled somewhere in the code- coming down to invalid variables being called upon. And no, it wasn't the duck, before you ask. Only after I botched the code did I turn to the duck. I began looking it over, explaining what each variable did- even the mundane shit that I never thought I'd need to cover. After all, it's a rubber duck. How the everloving fuck is it supposed to know anything. Anyways, I realized - there were different variable names for the two previously mentioned classes. As such, they aren't the same thing. Such is code. Easy fix.\"\n\n\"However, this is where I first fucked up. I decided to just copy and paste the variables from the [LOWWAG] into each class with mismatching variables - [RCHDKS] included. Yeah, call me a dumbass, I deserve it for being lazy.\"\n\n\"Anyways, insults out of the way, that was the final edit I needed to make to the project. I proofread it with my duck, made sure everything was okay, and passed it off as a test build.\"\n\n\"Now, this is where things get interesting. The politicians, feeling some heat being packed on them about this program, decided to just push it to live. The second fuck up.\"\n\n\"Now, part of this Utopia plan was to take away every method of energy generation from the public eye. Store it in major facilities, heavily guarded by men from every former country until the lines blurred. Thousands of miles apart. The third fuck up.\"\n\n\"With every generator spread across these facilities, understandably there was some uproar. Quickly silenced under the sounds of guns.\"\n\n\"...Hey, call me out on that if you want. You can't deny it added onto the shithole we're in.\"\n\nI stare down the little shit.\n\n\"We good? Good. Alright. Moving on. So, every generator at various locations, kept from the public, with a program regulating who gets power. The problem? Every class had the same variables as [LOWWAG.] I mean that in *every sense.* The amount of power distribution was equal, regardless to what class you were - [LOWWAG], or [RCHDKS]. The straw that broke the camel's back.\"\n\n\"Now, at these generating facilities, there are nuclear batteries that handle excess power, to be redirected to the [RCHDKS.] However, seeing as how there isn't a funnel to dump that power... they - only slightly - blew every electric generator out of this mortal coil.\"\n\nThe bastard falls over as I say this. I put him back up.\n\n\"...Yeah. And now, we're here. You and me, blind to the world's doing. Perhaps they're struggling over food, fighting over how to build a fire... who knows what. But for now, all we can do is pray we have enough food to last. For how long? I'm not sure.\"",
"\"It starts, of course, with the duck. I was in a rush this morning, and accidentally stuffed it in my pocket,\" I chatted to my friend in the pitch black pub.\n\n\"So you carried a rubber duck around with you all day?\" He replied taking a sip of his pint shrouded in darkness. \n\n\"Not all day,\" I continued. \"I was on my way back from work when I noticed that it was there. A bit confused by the sudden arrival of a rubber duck, I pulled it out of my pocket, still walking.\"\n\n\"In the middle of the street?\"\n\n\"I didn't know what it was yet. So there's this guy on the street, dressed in a real fancy suit, burly beard, had a sort of heavenly glow to him. \"\n\n\"What's he got to do with it?\"\n\n\"He... was God.\"\n\n\"No way! I don't believe you!\"\n\n\"So anyway I'm walking in the street, staring at a rubber duck, and unbeknownst to be, God walks up. I'm not looking where I'm going, I trip a little bit, the duck flies out of my hands and directly into God's face.\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Now I don't think the duck itself did much, but the surprise of having a rubber duck hit you square I the face in the middle of the day would knock anybody off their feet.\"\n\n\"You mean...\"\n\n\"Yup. God fell on his back, and the moment his head hit the concrete, the every light went dark.\"\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\n\"I ran.\"",
"The inevitable chuckle pierced through my lips from the pure hilarity of that statement. The interrogator however clenched his brow and morphed his blank expression to an irritated scoff. \"this is no laughing matter\", he mutters out of the corner of his mouth in a grungy, low tone. I swept the smirk off my face immediately, to which the scrutinizer's face returned to its previous blank expressionless state. Disregarding his serious nature he's shown me thus far, I assumed the question was rhetorical. I sat there, staring over the vast grey metal table littered with scuffs and scratches, presumably from handcuffs scratching the table much like mine where with my hands resting atop it. With a moment of silence, I switched my glance over back to the investigator's face. He frowned. slammed his hand on the table whilst turning around and getting up. He knocked on the one-way-glass surrounding the room, presumably to grab the attention of the other investigators behind it. he muttered, \"Bring out Zander.\" As he walked into the darkness nearing the exit to the room, a lanky man emerged from the other end of the room, and I whipped my head around to catch a glance. He was standing in the far corner holding something in his hands. It was too dark to see his face however. When the other man opened the door, it flashed a margin of bright white office lights into the dark interrogation room; just enough for me to catch a glance at the man's face. He was pale, and had a wide nose and thickly framed back glasses. As soon as the other man had exited the room, he lurched forward and crept over to my table in the center of the room with his head hanging down. The way this man walked was almost entrancing, he bent his knees more than necessary, and swung his arms straight. All whilst staring at the ground. He stopped beside the chair across the table where he placed a small object he had been clenching in his fist. I instantly recognized the object as Jerry; my rubber duck I used to commit the atrocity. I looked up at the man as he stood there for a moment still with his head down, and grabbed the chair by the top, turned it around and took a seat wrapping his legs around the chairs metal frame. He turned his head both ways, looking down at each of his arms and proceeded to stare at each arm intensely whilst pulling up the sleeves and tucking them perfectly even. He then shook his arms to his sides and slowly rested them on the table and joined them together, intertwining his fingers slowly. He says, \"I like this rubber duck. If I can have it, I'll have all your charges dropped.\"",
"For the last time, I didn't intend to cause a world-wide crisis.\n\nMy daughter had been suffering from The Illness for a few hours and we didn't know how much longer she had. All she wanted was a rubber duck because it reminded her of our family dog, Lexus. He had died about a year before and she always thought of him. She was raised by his side and just wanted one last familiar thing to cling to. I'd be damned if I couldn't give it to her. Children were dying by the minute and I just wanted her to have something that gave her comfort.\n\nI knew there wasn't a chance I'd find one in any store - they'd all been looted in my town. That night, I was sitting on our stoop alone, just crying about everything that had happened; the sudden epidemic, the deaths and disappearance of children everywhere, and The Carriers. This guy comes walking along the sidewalk in front of my house and I didn't recognize him, but I was so down and out of it I didn't think anything of it. It had only been what, 16 hours? We didn't know much about The Carriers yet and I didn't even think they'd be able to make themselves look like us. This was before we knew they could only take from us with some kind of permission or trade or whatever.\n\nThis guy walked towards me and asked if I was okay. I told him I was probably doing as well as anyone else with what was going on. He took out a cigarette and lit it, then looked up at the sky. Still looking, he told me he always expected 'others' to come from the sky, not the sea. I shrugged it off. I didn't care where The Carriers came from, I just wished they had never come at all. He turned to me and asked if my family had been affected. I broke down again and told him about my daughter - The Illness, the pain she was going through, Lexus, and that damn rubber duck. He just chuckled a little and turned back to look at the sky. There was a long silence and then he asked me what I'd do for a rubber duck. I said I didn't know, because really, I didn't. He looked at me straight on and asked me if I'd give up electricity for a rubber duck. I thought it was strange question, but at that point, everything that was happening in the world was strange. I laughed and told him I'd give up all the electricity in the world for one, if it meant my daughter would be happy. He pulled out a rubber duck from his pocket and held it out to me. I was stunned, shocked...I asked him how the hell he did that. He said it was nothing and that he had found it during his walk. Still in disbelief, I picked it up and out of his hand. I didn't even expect it to be real.\n\nWhen I looked up, he wasn't there anymore. That's when the night turned black. We would never have electricity again, and that damn rubber duck is the reason why.",
"\"His name is *Mr. Oink*,\" Molly stated, shifting in the chair that was much too big for her. \"And he's not a rubber duck, he's a a rubber *pig*.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course...\" The interrogator growled. \"So, Molly, how did *Mr. Oink* cause a *fucking global blackout*.\"\n\n\"That's a bad word, sir.\" Molly frowned. \"Daddy says we shouldn't say those kinds of words.\"\n\n\"Molly, just answer the question.\" The interrogator tapped his pen impatiently on the desk as he stared down at the small child.\n\n\"It was all Tommy's fault.\" Molly whined. \"Tommy stole Mr. Oink from my toy box.\"\n\n\"Tommy is your brother?\"\n\n\"No, sir. Tommy is the cat.\"\n\n\"Of course. So, what did you do when Tommy stole your rubber du-... Mr. Oink?\" \n\n\"I chased him... but Tommy is really fast, sir. He ran outside, and so I had to follow him. But Daddy says I'm not allowed to open the front door without permission, so I crawled through the cat door.\"\n\nThe interrogator scribbled something down on the paper in front of him. \"So, that's how you got outside at two in the morning without your parents' door alarm going off, huh? Alright Molly, so what did you do once you got outside?\" \n\n\"Tommy ran into Mr. Phillips backyard. Mr. Phillips doesn't like me playing near his house... but I really love Mr. Oink, sir.\"\n\n\"Is Mr. Phillips your next-door neighbor?\"\n\n\"No. That's Mrs. Thomas. I like Mrs. Thomas, because she gives me cookies and has a dog named Max who licks my face.\" Molly's blue eyes lit up with glee as she spoke. \"Mr. Phillips live next to her. In the brown house, with the really tall grass. Mommy says he's the reason our neighborhood is going to the-bad-place-in-the-bible-that-I'm-not-supposed-to-say.\"\n\nThe interrogator continued to scribble.\n\n\"What are you writing, sir?\" Molly stood up in her chair to see over the table's edge. \n\n\"Can you read yet, Molly?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"I'm just writing a letter to a friend, Molly. He's very interested in what happened to you rubber duck.\"\n\n\"Mr. Oink.\"\n\n\"Yes, sorry. Mr. Oink.\" The interrogator sighed. \"So, Molly.... you followed Tommy into Mr. Phillips yard, and then?\"\n\n\"I went into Mr. Phillips basement.\" Molly sat back down in her oversized chair.\n\n\"How did you get into Mr. Phillips basement, Molly?\"\n\n\"I went through the broken window, just like Tommy... Oh! And I found Mr. Oink!\"\n\n\"You didn't hurt yourself going through the window? That must have been a far drop.\"\n\n\"Nope. I climbed down the bookshelf.\" Molly shook her head, grinning. Her black curls bounced around her face.\n\n\"Of course. So, where exactly did you find Mr. Oink?\"\n\n\"On the floor! Tommy dropped him when he tried to jump back out the window. Tommy is a stupid cat.... That's what Daddy says. Only Daddy usually uses one of those words that I'm not allowed to use, but Mommy says it means the same thing as stupid so-\"\n\n\"MOLLY.\" The interrogator growled. Molly looked up at the man, her grin gone. \"I just need to know how you caused a global black out.\"\n\n\"I told you, sir! I didn't do it! It was Mr. Oink!\" Molly protested. \n\nThe interrogator took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. \"...What *exactly* did Mr. Oink do, Molly?\"\n\n\"Mr. Phillips has a lot of weird stuff in his basement, sir.\"\n\n\"Like what, Molly?\"\n\n\"He has a bunch of the guns that hunters have... like the ones that Daddy wants, but Mommy won't let him have it because she says they aren't safe.\"\n\n\"What else does Mr. Phillips have?\"\n\n\"He has a really big computer with a lot of buttons. Daddy says I'm not supposed to touch computers because they are bad for your brain, but Mr. Oink doesn't have a brain so I figured the computer couldn't hurt him.\"\n\n\"Your rubber duck got onto this computer on his own and somehow managed to cause a global blackout?\"\n\n\"No, sir. I sat Mr. Oink down on one of the buttons.... and then all the lights went out.\" Molly corrected. \"I'm afraid of the dark, because that's where the monsters are, so I climbed back out the window and ran home. Mommy and Daddy were really mad when I got home, and they yelled at me and took Mr. Oink away from me and I'm not allowed to have any desert and-\" \n\n\"Okay, thank you, Molly. You can go home now.\"\n\n\"Are you going to arrest Mr. Oink, sir?\" Molly whimpered. \"Please don't arrest Mr. Oink. It wasn't his fault, it was Tommy's! You should arrest Tommy!\"\n\nThe interrogator groaned, and stood up. Another man appeared in the doorway, and the interrogator motioned for him to come in. \"James, take Molly to her parents in the waiting room. And send a team to 291 Pine Lane immediately. Get as much information as you can about this Mr. Phillips.\"",
"“We need to talk about the ducks. Please.”\n\nJames silently sat down in his seat. \n\n“Explain to me again, slowly this time, how you managed to cause a GLOBAL blackout with a RUBBER DUCK?”\n\nJames didn’t want to spoil his plan, so he lied a little. \n\n“Well, it all started with a prank I was playing on my flatmates, you see. I put a bunch of rubber ducks in the bathroom. They eventually told me to get all the ducks out. I asked if I could get one duck, you know, to keep me company. Freya said yeah, so I got the biggest duck I could find. The duck must have hit something on its way here, because the blackout happened before it arrived.”\n\nThe officer wasn’t satisfied. “The blackout happened AFTER the duck was delivered to your apartment. What do you have to say for yourself, James Veitch?”\n\n“Duck.”",
"There I stood. Head down, hands in pockets, and just wanting so desperately to sink into the floor out of existence.\n\nMy boss, Dr. Benedict, was having his weekly shout-fest. He always picks someone to ream out, usually for good reason (my coworkers are idiots) but this was just unnecessary. I made one small mistake.\n\nI work at a top secret subatomic particle accelerator laboratory. Well, it used to be top secret, until the incident. Basically, my job is smashing tiny things together to try and discover more tiny things to smash together. But today I accidentally smashed something a little larger than a subatomic particle. \n\nMr. Benedict was seething. I could feel the heat eminating from his reddened face as he glared at me. \"How the HELL did you cause a global blackout with a rubber duck?\"\n\nI tried to form the words but couldn't. I was petrified. This fear was different from anything I had ever experienced. It locked me in place. I stuttered something incoherent before my boss slammed his hands on his desk, glared even harder at me, and growled: \n\n\"Explain to me again, slowly this time, how you managed to cause a global blackout with a fucking rubber duck?\"\n\nI knew I had to respond. I swallowed my fear and responded:\n\n\"Well, sir, my lucky rubber duck was in my coat pocket. My daughter gave it to me, you know, so I brought it to work to remind me of her. As I was loading up the accelerator, it must have fallen out of my pocket into the machine. When I started the accelerator, the alpha particles must have interacted with the rubber rather aggressively. This released a huge amount of electromagnetic energy which acted as an EMP, frying all of the power grids in the world. I'll go pack my things.\"\n\n\"I cannot believe your idiocy!\" Dr. Benedict spat. \"You're fired! Get out of my damn sight!\"\n\nAs I turned around to show myself or the door, my nuclear scientist coworker named Jim ran into Benedict's office. Panting, he told our boss, \"Sir, the readings are of the charts! We just discovered a new particle, I'm sure of it! It's exactly what we've been looking for. Its going to be the key to solving the theory of everything!\"\n\nBoth mine and my boss's jaw dropped. How did my own irresponsibility solve the unknown realm of physics? Both Jim and I faced Benedict.\n\n\"Wha.. what did you say Jim?\" he asked. \n\n\"We just accomplished a historic feat of physics. We could be billionaires with this information!\" Jim excitedly responded. \n\nI turned to my boss with a slight grin. \"You.. you can stay for now. But you'll have to make some calls and pay to fix the blackouts. Thank you for your... work.\"\n\nI happily left his office and returned to my own. Luckily, the blackouts were only temporary. I called all of the major grids and they understood the situation. The world would be back up within six hours. Meanwhile, the staff would be getting down to business to solve the universe at last. ",
"\"Fine, fine, fine... let me start from the beginning, *officer*,\" I reiterated in an annoyed tone. I mean, I'm not an idiot. Why would I do this on purpose? Obviously, it was an accident... anyone could have done it. \n\n\"So it all started with the birthday party. It was my friend's 24th birthday, and we went downtown to celebrate. We were in one of these escape room type buildings, and our challenge was to get out of one of these kids day care facilities. So, anyway, it wasn't too hard and we got out with a couple minutes remaining, and on my way out, I jacked a little rubber ducky just as a souvenir.\" \n\nThe officer glared glassily at me with disgust, his little squirrelly little face was full of contempt for my person. I didn't like that he was already judging me before he even knew the story. And I didn't even tell him that I chose the most mangled, ugliest looking rubber ducky since I didn't want to take anything nice from the room. \n\nNevertheless, I continued to retell my series of unfortunate events. \"Immediately after, we went to a museum near the NASA exploratory. As we were leaving the museum, there was a commotion at the NASA building, and a large crowd had gathered to look at what was going on. Naturally, we ran over to see what the fuss was all about. There was a huge TV screen in front of the building, and it showed some 'Breaking News' segment live from that same building we were standing in front of. Apparently, researchers had discovered alien life, and due to rovers being in the right place at the right time, we were about to get a live feed of it literally right *now*. I mean, obviously, we were all amazed. We knew that our entire world was about to change, so stood transfixed and watched the live feed on the TV.\"\n\n\"And then what happened, boy?\", the words hissed out of his mouth with a special, sinister sound, as if he couldn't bare to open his mouth any wider when speaking to me. \n\n\"Well, in all the excitement, I jumped up and I guess I threw the rubber ducky into the air. I mean, I wasn't aiming or anything, and, to be honest, I don't even know where it went. All I remember was jumping up and dancing, along with everyone else there, and I just randomly threw it in excitement. Can you blame me? We discovered alien life! This was the biggest news of my entire time on Earth.\" \n\n\"And do you realize what happened to that '*rubber ducky*' now, idiot?\", he sputtered like an old, run down truck starting up for the last time, quickly and loudly at first, but audibly dying every moment since, and the engine thunderously giving out on the last word, *idiot*. \n\n\"Well, now that you told me, yeah I know. I didn't know the ducky fell into the media equipment that was being rushed in on the sidewalk near us. How was I supposed to know that?! It was an honest mistake. And how was I supposed to know that the ducky would get into the view field of the broadcasting equipment which relayed the live feed from the rover to the entire world?! It's not my fault if it looked our first look at the aliens was a mangled rubber ducky, unrecognizable in close up. And, you know what, all that is fine. But why the hell did Trump assume that it was a hostile alien, just because its face looked ugly? That is his own fault.\" \n\nHe breathed slowly, in and out, in and out, as if trying to gather himself for another round of machine gun-like shrieks towards my done-with-everything face. But instead, he sat down on the chair in front of me, looked into my eyes calmly, and slowly and carefully enunciated, \"That rubber ducky you threw caused the President of the United States to think that the aliens we discovered were hostile beings, and he issued an order to the EU, and every major government, to commence a joint operation to shut down every power grid, cutting power to every single building in the entire world, except for hospitals, so that the 'hostile aliens' will have a lesser chance of identifying Earth and coming for us.\"\n\n\"Well it's not my fault we have a fucking idiot for a President, is it?\", I retorted in a voice as slow and as measured as his. \n\n\"I guess it's not...,\" he reponded, and bitterly clicked off the flashlight in the interrogation room in the NASA building. ",
"The mood at the security bureau was chaotic. Tsarnev had been reassigned to this case after the massive blackout that happened during the recent World Cup match. This wasn't a good look for Russia, though neither was the view outside his cramped cubicle which normally belonged to someone else. This was a critical time for the nation, and every new moment now brought forth endless mockery from news media around the world. While the blackout affected the globe for a moment, it persisted in Russia for some reason. Regardless, if a nation couldn't keep the lights on, how could it do much of anything else? That was the mock question of the day.\n\nDuring his meetings, he had been shown the baseless accusations against the state so controversial that even a large number of Americans thought them absurd. At the end of the day, they were also just ordinary people trying to make it through the day. The pictures on the flimsy walls of Tsarnev's workspace of two young children was a constant reminder during this long emergency shift. That's not to say that their blabbering didn't matter, though-- as idiotic as it might be. If it weren't important, he wouldn't be sitting here at 2AM dealing with it. \n\nAs he filed his pre-contact report on his computer, the case supervisor walked by. Anatoly was dressed in casual office clothing with a cowboy hat, which should have gotten him fired on the spot, but it seemed that he was the highest-ranking person in the building and nobody was going to catch him this night. For his part, Tsarnev had no choice but to put on his already-used formal jacket and slacks. Maybe that was the wrong call.\n\n-*How's the cubicle, partner?*\n\n-*Nobody cares about the cowboy crap.*\n\nAnatoly chuckled and playfully eyed the computer. If this conversation had taken place 12 hours earlier, his enthusiasm just might have been infectious.\n\n-*Maybe if you pulled yourself up by the bootstraps you'd be done with the form... partner.*\n\n-*Already done. Did they catch the guy responsible?*\n\n-*Yeah, we caught the American less than an hour ago. Covert raid, no casualties. In fact, the suspect wasn't even armed and didn't put up any kind of fight at all. It seems he had to be here to do what he did.*\n\n-*Lucky us. How'd he enter at all?*\n\n-*Dunno. Anyway, get your stuff and follow me. He's on his way to the interrogation room now.*\n\n-*Hm?*\n\n-*That means you too. Come on.*\n\n---\n\nTo both of the men, it seemed hard to believe that the man in front of them was responsible for their dark circles... and the nation's black eye. He must have been no older than 30, and was still dressed in pajamas. He glanced toward the camera and waved obnoxiously while smiling. Well, as much as someone can wave while in handcuffs. Anatoly broke a smile in response.\n\n-*If it weren't for a gloating Reddit post, we never would have caught him. At least he's being a good sport about it. I didn't read up on the specific details, but it mentioned a rubber duck?*\n\nIt **did** mention a rubber duck. The one that somehow caused the ridiculous outage. The one this man had carefully planted.\n\n-*Something along those lines. Wait, aren't you supposed to handle this?*\n\n-*But I picked out my fashionista outfit so carefully...*\n\nTsarnev was about to faint, and not because he was being swooned. But he would manage nonetheless. The buzzer sounded, and he entered the room alone armed only with the case briefing. He sighed. Maybe this would be over soon.\n\n-*Why do you think you are here, /u/fuckswithducks?*\n\n-*My porn connections?*\n\nOr maybe not.\n\n---\n\nEdit: more?",
"\"So you've heard of rubber duck debugging, right? Where you talk to a rubber duck and listen to yourself to get an idea of what's going wrong?\"\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\n\"Well, I forgot that I'd put a voice-activated speaker in the duck I taped to my monitor - look, I was on the night shift and studying for finals. The internship was almost over, and I needed to keep my grades, okay?\"\n\n\"Not okay, but keep going.\"\n\n\"Fuck you. Anyway, all I put on the speaker was vague encouraging noises, but evidently someone decided to play a prank on me, because at two in the morning I was muttering to myself about making coffee and I heard the duck tell me to kill the President in a growly Satan-voice.\"\n\n\"Okay, see, there's the part where you lose me.\"\n\n\"I didn't actually DO it, did I? I'm not an idiot -\"\n\n\"Citation needed.\"\n\n\"Shut up. So when the duck started talking like Satan, I flipped my shit - two AM, remember? I must've panicked a little, because I ripped the duck off the monitor and chucked it across the room. That's when my supervisor opened the door to ask me something and the duck landed in his mouth. I mean, what are the odds?\"\n\n\"What are the odds of any of this? Just keep going.\" \n\n\"Okay, so the duck gets caught in his throat, and he starts choking. So I panic even HARDER, and I'm so brain-dead I'm not sure if he's choking or possessed, because the duck is screaming something about Beezlebub, and he's making these weird gurgling noises and grabbing at his throat. I finally remember the Heimlich maneuver, so I grab him from behind and yank, and the duck - still screaming - comes flying out his throat, and -\"\n\n\"Okay, stop. Here's the point where I lost you last time.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm not too clear on this part myself...I'm mostly guessing.\" \n\n\"Everyone's mostly guessing. The fucking FBI is mostly guessing. At least you saw it. Just give me the details, slowly.\"\n\n\"Alright, so...the duck flies out of his mouth and must've hit some kind of weak spot in the plant observation window just right, maybe with the corner of the speaker or something, because the window just breaks and the duck sails right through. It goes sailing out of sight, but I can still hear it screaming about Satan, and then I hear someone swear and a few gunshots. I'm guessing some trigger-happy security guard shot it on instinct -\"\n\n\"That was Johnson.\"\n\n\"Shit, really? I like Johnson, but that was a stupid thing to do. How is he, anyway?\"\n\n\"Still in the hospital. Doctors say he'll probably be okay, but they're waiting to make sure his spleen heals properly, and the whole thing is being covered by insurance anyway. Acts of God clause.\"\n\n\"Oh. Well, Johnson shot at the duck, and actually managed to hit the damn thing but somehow not break the speaker, and the whole thing goes flying into the dam's intake pipe. Everything went quiet for a minute, and then I hear the Satan-duck voice again, only louder and...weird.\"\n\n\"Weird how?\" \n\n\"Weird like echoey. I think it must've gotten stuck in the pipes in just the wrong spot, and turned the whole damn dam into some kind of amplifier.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make sense.\"\n\n\"NONE of this makes sense.\"\n\n\"Point. Keep going.\"\n\n\"Well, anyway, the sound of Satan yelling about indoctrinating youth through rock music was echoing through the dam, and it had been a long night already, and I guess I started thinking the dam was possessed now. So I figured I needed to UN-possess it. You know Mary, right? From that one philosophy class we had to take?\"\n\n\"Mary Vinta? Isn't she the one who goes by Raven Stargleam V'inta now?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I was stuck being her debate partner for all of that damn class, and learned a LOT about her weird witchcraft obsession I didn't need to know, but one of the things I got was that you can really just use whatever you have for any kind of ritual. The only other thing I remembered was that you needed fire to purify demons, and I didn't have any way to set a fire, but I did have a microwave...\"\n\n\"You fucking didn't.\"\n\n\"Yeah. I jimmied the door open, set it on high, and aimed it at the spot I thought the screaming was coming from.\"\n\n\"And WHY did this seem like a good idea!?\" \n\n\"It was two in the morning, I hadn't slept in well over 24 hours, and I was panicking!\"\n\n\"God...so, you aimed the microwave at the duck, and then what happened?\"\n\n\"It exploded.\"\n\n\"It says a lot that at this point, I'm not even fucking surprised.\"\n\n\"No, that part makes sense! The floor was just plastic tile, and the pipes were right underneath them, and -\"\n\n\"And the duck exploded?\"\n\n\"Well, technically the speaker's batteries exploded...\"\n\n\"Fuck you. So...that's when the pipe cracked?\"\n\n\"I still don't think that was my fault. That wasn't exactly a big explosion, and the pipe strength wasn't MY problem.\"\n\n\"You made the duck explode, cracked the main filtration pipe right next to the tank, and dumped a month's collection into the dam turbines!\"\n\n\"Then the turbines shouldn't have been put under the filters! And the dam turbines shouldn't just fucking explode too!\"\n\n\"... unofficially, off the record, I agree. Officially, that's not the scope of this investigation.\"\n\n\"I'm fired, aren't I?\"\n\n\"You unleashed a land-bound tsunami on a major city with a fucking rubber duck, and you ask if you're fired? Yes, you're fired. Possibly out of a cannon. Into a volcano.\"\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\nA/N: First submission to r/writingprompts! I couldn't figure out how to get a GLOBAL blackout without bending the laws of probability and physics farther than I already was, so I settled for a blackout the size of a small country. Still counts!",
"\"OK, but before we get started - and for the record - I want to say that, *technically*, it wasn't the rubber duck that blacked out Asia and Australia.\"\n\nThey could have been professional poker players, for all their expressions told me.\n\n\"OK. I need to back up to a few days ago. You know I work at Rubber 'N' More upstate. We were having this big board meeting, because we had just finished prototyping a new series of lightweight, durable fenders for maritime use. And as part of the promotional shindig, we had made up a bunch of 'rubber ducks' to show how buoyant the new I Believe It's Not Rubber(tm) material is. You know, just sort of a lighthearted demonstration. Besides, who doesn't like rubber ducks?\"\n\nNo response. This must be what it's like for a stand-up comedian who's bombing on stage. I made a mental note to go out that weekend to an improv club, get drunk, and laugh so loudly I embarrassed myself. Nobody deserved the mirthless scrutiny of this oppressively humorless senate.\n\n\"Anyway, we had made up fifty tons of I Believe It's Not Rubber(tm) - aka IBINoR - and made about a hundred thousand large ducks. We shipped out 95,000 to various maritime and maritime-related companies around the world, and kept five thousand to give away at the promo party. Everything went swimmingly, if you'll pardon the pun - \"\n\nNothing, of course.\n\n\" - we had an open bar, a double Olympic sized pool with water slides, a stage with lighting and effects. Everything. Everyone loved it, we had investors lining up to throw money at us from a bunch of different fields like maritime construction, shipping, port authority, you name it. We were all giving it 110% and just feeling the fat bonus checks getting printed out. Everyone took a Ibinor 'rubber duck' as they left, and all us employees tipped the cleaning crew and got the hell out of Dodge. Technically, that was the end of our involvement. All the rest was bad luck.\"\n\nA few of the grouchy old faces shifted to look at each other, then. It was the first reaction I'd seen from any of them. An old woman spoke into the rustling quiet.\n\n\"We are not currently looking to assign blame, Mr. Davis. This is a fact-finding commission. Do you have any additional information about the events leading to the blackout, or is this the end of your statement?\"\n\nImplacably single-minded. This was not a fun get-together.\n\n\"Well, we all tried to follow on with our prospective clients, so we know generally what happened, next.\"\n\n\"Continue.\"\n\nI sighed, took a sip of cold water from my glass - it was even odds which of us was sweating more at the moment - and continued. \"OK, so, I guess some of the attendees work in power generation. Nuclear, hydro, that sort of high-capacity, base load thing. Anyway, they all need water - nuclear plants need to convert it to steam to spin the turbines, and also to cool the generator; hydro obviously needs it to gravity-spin the turbines. So they're both markets for highly buoyant, thermally resistant, non-conductive rubber substitutes, like Ibinor. Anyway, I guess some of the energy conglomerates decided to have their own multinational meeting to discuss how to use Ibinor in their power plants. And despite there surely being safety protocols somewhere that would suggest not to ever do this, they decided to just go ahead and use the 'rubber ducks' to prototype solutions. They used them in live plants.\"\n\nI had to shake my head. It didn't seem possible that people in charge of this stuff would be that dumb. But, then again, the only reason we had invented Ibinor was because several of our Senior Design Engineers has gone on a long weekend bender of chugging whiskey and bungee jumping and wanted to make a better bungee cord. I guess a lot of what moves society forward comes from really bad ideas. The dour dozens stared at me, almost lifeless in their somehow intense disinterest.\n\n\"So, ok. You all know how synthetic rubbers work, right? Elastomers? They're basically long repeating chains of simple carbon-hydrogen groups. You take your Neoprene, your Isoprene, whatever, and you look at it chemically, it's basically just carbon, hydrogen, and electron bonds. Simple enough stuff, right? Simple enough that nobody really thinks about it.\n\nWell, maybe we don't spend enough money on chemists at Rubber 'N' More, maybe we don't do enough simulation testing, but we're not making jet fighters, you know? We make rubber. And more. But basically, the 'more' is just more rubber. A collection of rocket scientists we ain't. So, you know, maybe we didn't understand how important the bonds are in elastomers.\n\nI guess the problem was that Ibinor is so intensely electrically neutral that we didn't bother to ask, hey, what do you reckon happens if you just force-feed an entire nuclear power plant worth of current into this crap. We just sort of figured you'd eventually overcome the resistance and the whole thing would just melt or fuze in place. We didn't know that if you shorted a few thousand MW into it that it would reorder the bonds and, uh...grow at nearly the speed of light. Like, that's not a test case that anyone has ever had to prove.\"\n(part 1/2)",
"\"I closed my eyes and asked God for the best rubber ducky.\" Germaine wore thick glasses and spoke with a strange affect, as if language was a superfluous thing that he was ill practiced at. He sat on the floor in a pile of rubber ducks. \n\nDr. Kandel looked down at his questionnaire and then briefly at the two way mirror behind which the joint chiefs of staff and military generals all watched carefully. With a nervous swallow the doctor turned back to Germaine. \n\n\"What do you mean, you asked God? How did you ask God Germaine?\"\n\nGermaine picked up a rubber ducky from the ground, a small darker yellow one with a dull orange beak. He squeaked it as he spoke, Germaine's eyes vacant as ever. \"I close my eyes and say a prayer to God.\" With an expansive gesture Germaine made reference to his pile of duckies, as though he looked upon a great empire from a high tower. \"God gives me my duckies.\"\n\nDr. Kandel had to remind himself he was dealing with the most dangerous creature on the face of the Earth. Even Dr. Kandel, who knew that well enough, needed reminding. That was the whole point of this interview, so the people who mattered most could come to understand. *No time like the present.* Kandel thought.\n\n\"Germaine, can you ask God for a ducky now? But only a very small one. Would that be alright?\"\n\nGermaine looked up from his play things and after a deadpan beat of staring he nodded, once. \"OK.\" \n\nThe boy closed his eyes and began to mutter quietly to himself, his lips moving at a staccato pace, his eyes rolling around in his head. Dr. Kandel braced himself, keenly aware that they were in dangerous waters now. \n\nIn front of Germaine's face a rippling light appeared, growing brighter and angrier, like a window in space itself. It expanded and contracted in waves, slowly coalescing, at last, into a solid object, yellow and orange, only an inch at its largest size. \n\nA rubber duck fell out of the air and bounced with a light squeek on off the floor. \n\n\"Thank you Germaine.\" Dr. Kandel said. Then he turned back toward the mirror, behind which, he had no doubt, all hell was breaking loose.\n\n******\n\nTraversing the radioactive space between the sun and the earth Sattelite 45-BCP, originally intended to photograph a passing comet, approached its new target after a month in transit. \n\nWhen the time came it snapped a series of photos and sent them back to Earth before completing its planned trajectory and smashing into the bizarre object. \n\nThe impossible thing floated there, about ten times the size of the Moon, fixed at the Sun-Earth L1 Lagrangian point, blocking almost all of the sun's energy, turning Earth into a freezing ruin, torn by gravitational chaos.\n\nIn a deep underground complex, mission command scientists gathered around a computer screen to witness the first close up image of the object which had appeared in the sky one day, apropos of nothing, and plunged everything into darkness. \n\nThe screen came alive and there it was. A single perfect photo. The room went silent in awe and terror. Several people passed out, overcome by the sheer insanity of the image.\n\nOn the screen the yellow face, bright orange beak and big blue eye of a planetoid sized rubber duck stared back at them all, the improbable face of their doom.\n\n\n******\n#### For more legends from the multiverse\n## r/LFTM"
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[WP] Across the internet, you've noticed reports of the same recurring dream. However, the posts never get any attention and there is no follow up. You do a bit of digging and track dreamers' internet presence. It seems as all the dreamers disappeared off the face of the earth and no one noticed. | 19 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\\*DING DONG\\*. Cassie jumped at the sound of her doorbell, and she glanced at the clock. 3:03 p.m., her next appointment was not scheduled until 5 p.m. She shrugged and went to answer the door. A mid-20s woman with long blond hair smiled at her once the door opened. \n\n\"Ms. Judd?\" she said, Cassie nodded, and the woman reached into her red and white shoulder bag to pull out a clipboard. \"If you could spare a few minutes, I have some questions for you,\" the woman said. She held the clipboard out for Cassie, but the homeowner stared at the clipboard and refused to take it. \n\n\"No thank you.\" Cassie moved to close the door, but the woman spoke again. \n\n\"Okay, sorry. Just let me know when you want to know about the dream you've been having.\" She said as the door closed. Cassie re-opened it in a hurry and saw the stranger walking away. \n\n\"Wait! How do you know about that??\" Cassie asked. The woman shrugged as she turned around.\n\n\"That dream is why I'm here,\" she said and stepped towards Cassie's home. \n\n\"What happened to everyone else that searched for the dream?\" Cassie asked. She realized this woman might know more about them.\n\n\"They're safe at home,\" she said. The woman reached Cassie's front step and met the woman's eyes. After a moment Cassie realized the woman was waiting for an invitation to step in. \n\n\"C'mon in,\" she said. The woman smiled and entered. The two woman sat in Cassie's living room across from each other. \n\n\"You probably have a lot of questions, but you're having trouble putting them into words, huh?\" she asked. Cassie nodded. \n\n\"Yeah, it's like I'm trying to think through a coffee filter or something,\" Cassie said. \n\n\"Okay, I'll tell you what I can.\" She scooted to the edge of her seat. \"The most important thing is, we don't know how it happens. We just know it happens sometimes. When a body dies its consciousness, its soul, returns to where it came from. But, sometimes, the consciousness decides to check out what's happening in another universe. And it's really easy because the soul shares the same energy across universes.\" The woman paused and gestured at Cassie with both hands. \"This is where you are now. You woke up in a familiar, but not quite right universe. However, the universe you came from and this one are so similar, you don't even realize it. The only way your body can let you know is by dreaming of something from your old universe.\" She stopped talking to give Cassie a chance to absorb all the information. \n\n\"But how do you know all this?\" Cassie asked. The woman smiled and nodded.\n\n\"Great question, not many people think to ask it. I work for an organization that monitors the activity of alternate universes. Specifically, my division handles internet surveillance. Anytime someone searches for something that shouldn't be searched for in this universe, we find out about it and pay them a visit.\" \n\n\"And then what?\" Cassie suddenly realized she could be in danger, but something about the woman's presence put Cassie at ease. \n\n\"Usually we offer to get you back to your own universe if you want. If you stay here, you'll be under constant surveillance. We can't have you spreading alternate facts. However, you're quick. I like you. I'm also authorized to offer you a job if you want it.\"\n\n\\*\\*\\* \nThank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, you can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html).",
"Item #: SCP-4201\n\nObject Class: Keter\n\nSpecial Containment Procedures: Containment of the spread of SCP-4201 is focused on preventing discussion related to SCP-4201 events from the Internet. At this time, prompt administration of class-A amnesiac agents in the only way to prevent the secondary effects from occuring to impacted inviduals\n\nDescription: SCP-4201 is a recurring dream that several distinct individuals have reported having. Individuals suffering from SCP-4201 are considered instances of SCp-4201-1\n\nWhile details of the dream can vary, commonalities include:\n\n* A feeling of disconnection from the subject's body\n\n* An observing entity, hereafter referred to as SCP-4201-2\n\n* A crowd of individuals encased in ice, hereafter referred to as instances of SCP-4201-3\n\nSCP-4201-1 instances will have the dream recur between 8 and 10 times. Once this has occurred, they will vanish at 1:00 AM local time. Instances under observation by the Foundation also exhibit this behavior. Waking the individual prior to 1:00 AM local can defer the secondary effect.\n\nApplication of amnesiacs appears to prevent the recurrence of the dream, and reintroduction of cognitohazard portion of SCP-4201 appears to 'reset' the counter on the number of dreams prior to the secondary effects\n\nInterviews of SCP-4201-1 instances have determined that certain SCP-4201-3 instances appear to be previously vanished versions of SCP-4201-1\n\nDiscussion of SCP-4201 is a cognitohazard, and is capable of transforming baseline humans into new instances of SCP-4201-1. The Foundation has therefore implemented Case Epsilon, and prevented discussion from occurring once the relevant details have been posted. Impacted instances of SCP-4201-1 are administered amnesiac agents to prevent secondary effects\n\nAt this time it is unclear what stimuli is required to turn a baseline human into an instance of SCP-4201-1. Research is continuing to allow for full containment\n",
"*It's like I'm on a different planet. I'm looking up to the sky, at some weird cloud - except its not a cloud. There's something strange about it. It feels like its pulsating, I mean it's tactile. And there's something else. I think I'm flying.*\n\nWhy didn't you tell me about this, Jessie? What was the point of keeping this a secret? I just don't understand. \nThousands of people post something similar to this, then thousands go missing, and Jessie is one of them. This couldn't have been some sort of collective delusion. We were together basically day and night - and this is her only post. Doesn't exactly look like she was an active member of some secret community. \n\n\"... natural resources have reached critical capacity, the United Nations have begun to execute strict regulations on the production of any goods which exceed the limits agreed to at the summit...\"\n\nDamn, things are looking pretty bleak. I should turn that thing off. Last thing I need is something else to worry about. Wait a second, what's this? Someone replied?\n\n*This world is ending, but balance will be restored. The forces of nature are powerful. We will survive, the Mother has chosen.*\n\nWhat the hell? This is starting to sound more and more like a cult. But that doesn't make any sense. Jessie is not one to let herself be brainwashed. She would have told me about it, or at least told me about something. Never mentioned anything like this. \nI feel like I have no idea what she was doing. Could she really have been hiding all of this from me? \nArgh, it's useless. There's no thread to follow! No credit card activity, her car's still in the garage, all of her things...\n\n\"... a rare weather phenomenon above Australia has scientists stumped. The immense pressure of the anomaly has been linked to significant changes in the Earth's tides...\"\n\nIt couldn't be...\n\n______________________________________________________\n\nI can feel it. It's just like my dream..."
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[removed] | [WP] You're a killer robot driving instructor who travels back in time because... | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Korina-chan, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)\n\n- Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 30 words. 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8wwn4x/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[WP] After millenniums of being apart from each other after quitting their jobs as gods. The Olympians come back at a reunion at a local coffee shop. | 12 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hello Reddit, let me tell you of a recent experience I had at work...\n\nI work at... let's call it Mac's Java House, as a barista. Mac's is located in Venice Beach, California, needless to say many colorful characters come in for coffees of various types.\n\nMy shift started off with an old surfer walking in with his board. He leaned his board against the wall, that's when I saw the trident on it, a foot wide and three feet long, I couldn't miss it. He ordered his coffee then returned to a table near his board.\n\nSometime later a guy who could be Ian McShane's twin brother. He made his order, paid then went over to the table with the old surfer.\n\nI could hear them working at the bar, it was that kind of small... I think the phrase is *cozy* coffee shop. \"Mind if I sit with you?\" He said to the surfer.\n\n\"I don't mind.\" The surfer said back. \"I put up with a lot of trash in the ocean, why not here.\"\n\n\\[Edit 1\\]\n\nHis order was ready and I called out, \"Java... Java?\"\n\nI couldn't see him wince, but I get the feeling he did at me mispronouncing his name. He got up and came to me. \"It's pronounced Jove.\"\n\n\"Like Jehovah Witness.\"\n\n\"No.\" He said flatly. His look of utter disappointment was indescribable. He took his coffee and returned to the table.\n\n\"Where were we?\" Jove asked.\n\n\"Ribbing you old man.\" He said with a smirk.\n\n\"How's that smoking hot daughter of yours?\" Jove retorted.\n\nThe surfer's smirk was gone.\n\n\"You leave that heartbreaker out of this.\"\n\nIt was the way he said *heartbreaker* that made me wonder if he was talking about the smoking hot surfer girl.\n\n\\[Edit 2\\]\n\nShe was known as the *heartbreaker.* She never seemed to keep any of them for long, even as the long for her like some fix they needed. It didn't matter to her, men, women, one or many, she seem to be looking only for the one.\n\nThe bell jingled taking my attention away from them. Damn, if it wasn't Catherine Bell or her look alike, just walked in. If it was Catherine, her hair was cut shorter than what is was on the screen.\n\nShe ordered her coffee. Some variation of an Americano that took me some time to prepare. She was pecking away on her smartphone while waiting at the end of the counter.\n\n\"What's with the short hair? Not that there's anything wrong with short hair. Rhianna looked great in short hair.\" I said to her.\n\nShe stopped pecking at the smartphone and looked at me, \"Rhianna makes *every* look great. And as for the short hair, there's a JAG reboot that I'm standing in for Bell.\"\n\n\"Really.\" I replied.\n\n\"Yes, they've gone so far as to retcon Chegwidden back into the show. You should focus on your job and not be trying to pick up women at work.\"\n\n\"That's not what I'm doing.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh. And that's not how you make an Americano.\" She said.\n\nI looked down, she was right. Her drink was ruined. I threw what it was in the sink and started over all in time to see her slink away to that table I was eavesdropping on.\n\n(Reddit, let's be honest for a moment, yes, I was trying. It was Catherine freakin Bell.)\n\n\"Mind if I join you?\" She asked them.\n\n\"Only if you're going to pick on someone your own size.\" Jove said to her.\n\n\"Aww, he seemed big enough.\" She replied.\n\n\"That kid was punching above his weight class.\" The surfer commented.\n\n\"You destroyed him like Sherman did to Atlanta.\" Jove.\n\n\"Did I?\" She feigned.\n\n\"Are you two going to bicker like old lovers?\" The surfer asked. \"Because if you are, I can still go back to the ocean.\"\n\n\"What were you two discussing before I arrived?\" She asked.\n\n\"His daughter.\" Jove answered\n\n\"Which one?\" She further asked.\n\n\"The one with a string of lovers.\" Jove answered her.\n\n\"I recall two of them being that way.\" She said.\n\n\"The *heartbreaker*.\" The surfer answered.\n\nJove turned to him and said, \"What is she looking for?\"\n\n\"Sometimes, even I wonder.\" The surfer replied. After a sip, \"Care to shed any words of parenting?\"\n\n\"As a father, I've found I'm not always the best example to my children. I think they find me lacking as a parent.\"\n\n\"And the ex-wife?\" The surfer prodded.\n\n\"You leave her the hell out of this.\" Jove said trying to contain his anger. Clearly it was a sore spot for him.\n\nThis was the point I realized that they knew each other. I had finished her drink finally and brought it over to her. I asked if the other two were good. And got nods of yes back. As I walked away, \"You give up too easy.\" She said.\n\n\"Pick a side.\" The surfer said to her.\n\n\"Why can't I do both?\" She replied.\n\n\"They have a name for what you're doing.\" Jove said.\n\n\"Back to the topic. How is Pele?\" She asked.\n\n\"Breaking hearts in her wake.\" The surfer answer.\n\nThe bell jingled again. This time a more refined woman walked in, she took off her sunglasses and ordered her coffee, paid, walked over to the table and sat down.\n\n\"Children.\" She said to them.\n\n\"Mother.\" Jove said back with sarcasm.\n\nShe clearly was younger than him. Some inside joke I wondered as I was busy making drinks. \"The Miss?\" I announced when the order was done. \"The Miss?\"\n\nShe got up and came for her drink. \"It's pronounced they-miss.\" She informed me. \"You're almost as bad as Star Bucks.\"\n\n\"You don't have an easy name to pronounce.\" I offered.\n\nThemis returned to the table.\n\n~~\\[Want more?\\]~~\n\n\\[Edit 3\\] and fixed spelling above.\n\n“Star Bucks, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Jove\n\n“Agreed.” The surfer spoke.\n\n“What are you doing now?” She asked Themis.\n\n“Of all things, I’m a judge now.” Themis said.\n\n“That’s not much of a stretch from what you were doing before.” Bell replied. She turned to Jove, “And you?”\n\n“Thespian. Small theater work. It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.” \n\n“And the young actors looking up to you?” Themis batted her eyes dramatically.\n\n“Well, someone has to do it.” Jove answered then turned to the surfer. “You?” He asked.\n\n“Besides surfing… I keep busy enough.” He said hinting at other things.\n\nThe bell jingled. (Damn, it was starting to get good.) He was a skinny man, especially in California, he kept his sunglasses on inside. His demeanor wasn’t that of a morning person, even at eleven A.M.\n\nWhen I asked for a name for the cup, he said Hades. “Ah, dark lord of the underworld.” I replied, “You’ll fit right in over there.” I pointed to the table as I began working on his coffee.\n\nHe staggered over to the table with a grin, he pulled off his shades. “Well, you look like an interesting lot.”\n\nJove looked up at him, “Late night?” He sarcastically asked.\n\n“Late… something.” Hades replied feigning snark. “What does the lord of the underworld do?” The surfer asked.\n\n“Run the largest rave in LA for the last few decades running.” Hades replied to him, he turned to me and asked, “How’s that coffee coming?”\n\n“Working on it.” I answered.\n\n“Anyone know what Hef is up to?” Jove asked.\n\n“Teaching CGI in the north end of LA last I heard.” Hades.\n\n“Hades, your order is ready.” I announced. He came for his drink.\n\n“I thought he was in New Zealand.” Bell said.\n\n“Well, both can be true.” Themis offered.\n\n“He’s not as fast as Mercury.” The surfer said.\n\n“True, but he can get on a plane and be there tomorrow.” Themis stated.\n\n“She does have a point.” Hades said returning to the table.\n\nThe bell jingled again. \n\n(Reddit… the manliest man this side of Brock Sampson walked into the shop, Michael Ironsides. I kid you not.)\n\nHe ordered the blackest coffee we make and left his name, Ben, and the money on the counter. He turned to look for an open seat, but he spotted the table I had been eavesdropping on.\n\n“Ladies, gents.” He said before turning a chair around to add to the ensemble. The dude at the other table looked like he was going to say something, but Ben gave him a look of ‘not now’ and he stopped himself from protesting.\n\n“I was wondering when the riff raff was going to show up.” The surfer announced.\n\n“Oh look what washed up on the shore. What the ocean chew you up and spit you out?” Ben chided back.\n\n“Anyone know what Mercury is up to?” Themis asked.\n\n“Last I heard he was diversifying.” Bell offered.\n\n“So… he’s not doing overnight parcel delivery anymore?” Themis\n\n“No.” Hades answered, “He still does that, he’s expanded into drugs.”\n\n“And how do you know that?” Bell\n\n“He’s at my raves making sales and deliveries.” Hades answered. He pulled out some cigarette I hadn’t seen before.\n\n“You can’t smoke in here.” The surfer told Hades.\n\n“It’s for medical reasons.” Hades replied.\n\nJove began to fish out a cigarette himself and was stopped short of lighting it up. “Dude, you can’t smoke in a coffee shop.” The surfer told him. Jove merely pointed to Hades. “That’s marijuana, it’s different.”\n\n“Yeah, I’ve got a medical condition.” Hades said with a smirk. \n\n“Sensitivity to light?” Jove asked.\n\nBen laughed.\n\n\\[More?\\]"
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[removed] | [WP] You're super baked with your college friends, when you spout some nonsensical highdeas about the nature of the universe. A passing professor overhears you, and exclaims you have solved one of most complicated theorems known to man... | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Digital_Scribbles, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**We’re here to inspire creative writing, not play writing games or commission stories**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_we.2019re_here_to_inspire_creative_writing.2C_not_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories)\n\n- Too Detailed: Your post includes too many details to be considered a prompt. It has become a story commission, which is not allowed. Prompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you. \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8wzoly/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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[deleted] | [WP]When everyone is born they are gifted a keyboard and a robot, with the keyboard you can move your robot around using keys and attack with various commands but as you are fighting someone's robot your keyboard breaks... | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Well, would you look at that? The stupid keyboard broke,\" said Joey.\n\nJoey looked down at the broken plastic slate that had suddenly failed to work. The switches were jammed, it had seemed. Joey tried to pull one of the keys out to inspect a switch. The keyboard broke apart.\n\nJoey looked over to Cindy. Cindy was ordering her jet-black fighter-bot to continue to pummel away at the remnants of Joey's blue bot.\n\n\"Why are we fighting, Cindy? Why were we given these robots?\" said Joey.\n\nCindy responded, \"What?\"\n\n\"I mean, these precious robots of ours have been family heirlooms passed down through the generations ever since the Great War when such robots were used to kill men and women on the Western Front. Why do we continue to use such bloody relics of a an age-gone time?\"\n\n\"Again, what the fuck are you on about, Joey?\"\n\nJoey shrugged his shoulders and tossed the keyboard into a nearby trash can. \"I'm saying, hey, why are we using our robots to fight other robots? If you really think about it, we can use our robots to better humanity. To clean up the environment, prevent natural disasters, save the world... You know. For the betterment of mankind as a species.\"\n\nCindy had her black bot begin to roll back and forth on the corpse of Joey's blue bot. \"I don't know what kind of sugar you're hopped up on Joey, but I want that fifty dollars for winning this fight. Fuck your philosophical, tragicomedy bullshit.\"\n\nJoey nodded and proceeded to run, leaving keyboard and bot behind."
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1,
2
] | [
"1531072038",
"1531076180"
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[removed] | [WP] La Muerte, the lady of death, walks the streets of Raleigh, NC. The year is 2067. | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/PieriaGarner, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**We’re here to inspire creative writing, not play writing games or commission stories**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_we.2019re_here_to_inspire_creative_writing.2C_not_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories)\n\n- Asking for Ideas: Prompts are meant to inspire users to write their own work, not write something for you or give you ideas. \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8x474e/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1531079721",
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[removed] | [WP] In a world where super powers are illegal, a bad guy targets your underground teams headquarters and your girlfriend is killed. How do you fight back? | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Y-wingPilot5, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)\n\n- Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 30 words. 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8x4v87/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1531084879",
"1531085924"
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[WP] Taylor Swift also known as T Swift goes through some rough times and reinvents herself at T Pain | 9 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Joe Jonas.\n\nJake Gyllenhaal.\n\nHarry Styles.\n\nCalvin Harris.\n\nTom Hiddleston.\n\nAnd you, the latest in a long series of regrettable life decisions, Joe Alywn. \n\nA wise man once said to me, \"Our hearts are so full of ourselves, that for love there isn't much room.\" I've shared that room with so many people in my life. So many ill-advised, spontaneous, crazy relationships that only ended in heartbreak, in that room in my heart shrinking into the nothingness it is today. \n\nYou, Joe, were the last straw. I've been broken up through text, had songs written about me, and wrote songs about many of the others in a desperate attempt to heal. And, eventually, I did. But, you were supposed to be the one, Joe. The one who saved me, the Prince Charming in my fairytale after all this time. You were my end game. I was happy with you. Now, I don't think I even know the meaning of the word. That room in my heart for love that I mentioned earlier? It's occupied with the scar tissue of a dozen failed romances, of the loss of my hopes and dreams. And I want you to know that it's your fault. I can never be the same after you. I shared my life with you, made your life and mine into ours. When you left, you took that, leaving me with nothing. And don't bother trying to write me back out of pity, don't bother calling me out on NBC, and don't bother calling.\n\nThe old Taylor can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, 'cause she's dead.\n\nI can already see the headlines. \"Taylor Swift goes boy-crazy again,\" \"Yet another breakup for T Swift,\" \"The unsurprising split of Taylor and Joe.\" \n\nThe media will have a field day with this, I'm sure. But, as always, they'll miss the point. They'll turn my pain into a joke just like they have in the past. I won't be able to get groceries without having my own face stare back at me from the tabloids, taunting me with the lies and half-truths of their world. \n\nTo be honest, I probably wouldn't even recognize my own face anymore. If I try to look in a mirror, there's a blank space baby. You must think I'm being dramatic, but I've changed in the weeks since we last spoke. You know that the old Taylor wouldn't have it in her to confront you like this. To make you realize and own up to what you've done to me. But I'm not the old Taylor, for better or for worse. You and the whole world are going to find that out soon enough. Everything has changed.\n\nDo you know what it feels like, Joe, to be alone in the world? Not the stereotypical alone in your house for a few days, but the kind of alone where you can be surrounded by family, friends, fans, and feel nothing. The kind of alone where you can see yourself in the third person, where you go through the motions of the day because you have to spend all of your energy trying to simply get up in the morning, and if you manage to do that, you have nothing left to give. That kind of alone. Do you understand it? That's what you did to me. That's what the media did to me. That's what Taylor Swift did to me for allowing myself to fall in love with you. For giving you the key to the only room left in my heart, only for you to change the locks. That's why I can't be T Swift anymore, Joe. You killed any possibility of that.\n\nFrom now on, I am merely T Pain. This isn't something that I can shake off, this is the reality of my life. What this means for my music, for my fame, for myself, I'm not sure. But I'm not the smiling, laughing girl that I once was. She's long gone. But I have one question for you, Joe. Are you ready for it?"
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1,
3
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"1531103058",
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[WP] Death wasn't what you expected. You've been alone in darkness with nothing but your thoughts. Now after what seems like eons, you feel yourself begin to change. Something new is coming. | 5 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Eons had passed in the emptiness, a single lonely body stranded in its boundaries. The darkness engulfed me, wrapping its space around my body, lifting me, protecting me, isolating me. It took no notice of time, moving but also staying still, flowing and flowing until it stopped, then started again. The darkness did not have concepts of touch or sight, just… occurrence. It took over my body until it became me, absorbing itself into me until I didn’t know what was real, or if anything real ever existed.\n\nI remember the final moment of life, at the same time; the first moment of death. It came quickly, like a hush, a blanket thrown over you. It encased me inside its walls, stripping me of my sense and thoughts. I was left a hollow shell, a memory of a creature, until I simply became one with the darkness; I became nothing.\n\nEternity felt like a second to me, and the darkness that I had gotten used to, yet did not ever really feel, slowly began to loosen its grip, becoming thin and weak. It tried to reclaim me, to hold me, to drag me back to its clutches, dark and hopeless. The darkness began to retreat, replaced by a new kind of emptiness. Not a desperate emptiness with despair and grief; a new kind of emptiness, the kind that only comes at the start of a lifetime. I saw opportunity, light, hope, a new start in the darkness, unlike the infinite and repeating obsolete black hole that I had spent the last eternity in.\n\nSuddenly, I felt a change in the air: a new kind of movement. A *feeling*. It took over my body, changing me, transforming my very being. It filled me with a purpose, a goal; something I hadn’t felt in a long time. It filled me with an urge, pushing me to change and grow into something I didn’t know I could be. The darkness continued to transform both itself and me, struggling through its own cocoon as it tried to break into a new world. It broke and reformed, shattered and fell, mixed and remixed into an aura of hope. I could feel myself accelerating too, growing and changing with the black river, becoming an entity.\n\nAnother eon passed as I grew into something else, *someone* else. I found an identity, a place, a sense of belonging. As I began to feel the world around me, I felt something; a soft wall. I could see the faint outline of it, light and blood-red, a mist of fuzzy air surrounding it.\n\n*“Honey, do you feel that? The baby just kicked!”*"
] | [
1,
6
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"1531118358",
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[WP] As earth dies, the endangered species that roam the old paradise remind their offspring about when the gates of hell opened and the demons poured out. Demons now dominate and ravage the lands. After years of evolution they go by a new name. Humans. | 38 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](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/phreaklikeme] [\\[WP\\] As earth dies, the endangered species that roam the old paradise remind their offspring about when the gates of hell opened and the demons poured out. Demons now dominate and ravage the lands. After years of evolution they go by a new name. Humans. : WritingPrompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/comments/8xmvcv/wp_as_earth_dies_the_endangered_species_that_roam/)\n\n *^(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))*",
"Listen, child, to the story of your ancestors. \n\nThe Legions descended long ago, led by their Kings. \n\nThey lusted after our fertile lands and temperate seas. They saw the world for what it was, and wanted it for themselves. \n\nAka Manah was the first to claim lands for his own. Amaymon followed soon after, with Moloch following soon after that. \n\nOver time, their legions became a single people with one name. Manah-Amaymon became Hamaymon, which in turn became Haymon and finally, Human. \n\nWe thought they could never win a battle against us. We were far stronger than they. \n\nWe were wrong. \n\nThey used a weapon we had never seen before, or even thought possible. The Cataclysm scorched the Earth, and it rained fire and ice for generations. The Sun hid in shame. As the trees withered and died, we found ourselves fighting an enemy we never anticipated. \n\nStarvation. \n\nWe turned on each other, everyone standing for themselves. Brothers and sisters tore at each other's throats for the last scraps of food they could find. We had not only been defeated, but eradicated. \n\nBut even as we faced death, the Demons had one more trick to play on us. They had decimated the land knowing they too would suffer, but they prepared for this. They reverted themselves into a form that could withstand the chaos, seeding within them the impetus to stand on two legs once again. They denied us the Earth so they could have dominion over it lifetimes later. We knew then that our certainty in our victory was folly. This land was theirs, they had made sure of it. \n\nThey display the bones of our ancestors as trophies. They defile our graves and burn our dead.\n\nListen, child, to the story of your children.\n\nFor it is you who will reclaim what is rightfully ours. Even as they burrow and swim nearer to us each day, we wait for the right time to strike. \n\nWe have watched our Adversary, and we have learned their patience. \n\nThey believe us gone. \n\nLet them. For now. \n\n---\n\n\n If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! "
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1,
1,
11
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"1531129758",
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[removed] | [WP] Your life reset to 1990 but you still have all of your memories. What did you do? | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Kersepolis, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)\n\n- Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 30 words. 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8xfi7p/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1531166238",
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[removed] | [WP] your the only one in your family to survive the snap. You walk outside only to find complete chaos. | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/zestyliver, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**No recent reposts, even if changing small details**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_5.3A_no_recent_reposts.2C_even_if_changing_small_details)\n\nAlso, no [copy-cats](http://i.imgur.com/38FjDgW.gifv).\n\nSearch before submitting as popular ideas can cause floods. If your idea is based on something you read elsewhere on reddit, chances are it's been submitted here already. Please wait at least 2 weeks before reposting.\n\n \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8xj0yz/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1531185377",
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[WP] You haven’t visited Flavortown in years. You’ve been too afraid. You’ve always been worried He might see you.... | 17 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The damp, gloomy cave entrance lay out before me. The rain poured down onto the light jacket I wore over my clothes. I couldn’t prepare myself for what I was about to see, but I know I had to enter this horrid place. I can still see some of the lettering on the long worn neon sign: “W com t fla o n!” I drew my breath, lit my candle, and entered into the passageway. As I crept into the cave my dread only piled on and on. The sound of raindrops slowly withered out behind me as I marched on for what seemed like miles. I almost didn’t notice the shine of my candlelight against the walls until I stepped in something sticky. The extra thick barbecue sauce not only stuck to the bottom of my boot, but lined the walls around me. I was getting closer. I began to become paranoid, looking at every corner and every crevice. As the cave wound and wound further the sauce began to gather and merge, making it hard for me move through. The sauce came up to my ankle before my boot hit something hard. I shuddered, before breathing in sharply, and looking down to see what my foot had hit. Lying there, in the barbecue sauce, was a human skeleton. But not any human. *A child.* I gagged violently before my curiosity forced me to take another look. The skeleton’s jaw was completely missing. It was too late to turn back now. As I continued onward, the barbecue sauce began to thin and I could now move more freely. I checked my watch. Shit, I was running out of time. I began to pick up my pace as I speed walked further into the place called flavortown. Suddenly, I heard something. I stopped in my tracks to listen closer. I hear the sound... of teeth biting into a well toasted Italian bun. I’m practically there. I chose not to let me fears control me any longer and walk forward into the cavern that began to open wider, and wider. Soon, my candlelight could no longer even reach the walls. I walked a few steps further before my candle shone on what looked like bookcases. One step further and suddenly a sweeping cold encases my body. I move closer. These were not book shelves. This was the world’s largest refrigerator. Cabinets lined with all kinds of lettuce, deli meats, spices, and extremely powerful flavors. Many of the foods were completely unrecognizable and appeared to be some of his own creations. His. That word made me shudder. I knew I had to confront him but was afraid of what I would face. I begrudgingly moved further as the sound of sandwich munching grew ever louder. The shelves stopped. I braved my self and pointed my candle further. Quickly, I could see a chair, a counter, and a figure sitting there, waiting for my arrival. In less than a second, the figure was gone, and with a swoosh of wind, my candle went out. It was completely dark and I was alone. With *him*. With one hand grasping my butcher’s knife, I call out for him: “Guy? It’s me. I know it’s been awhile but we need to talk.” I wait. Only silence responds. “Guy. This has to stop. What did we do to drive you to this insanity?” I heard something scurry to my right. “You can still come back. We can still do something. But you can’t live like this. These flavors... they’re dangerous! To you and me!” I heard the sound of scurrying again, but this time closer. “Come back, work the deli with me! I know you aren’t.. this! You aren’t a monster! You’re a chef!” At these words the scurrying stopped. A faint whisper spoke out to me, “I was a chef. That was when I still thought I could please the palettes of the scum beneath me.” “Guy, this isn’t you! Stop! Show yourself!” He sound of footsteps echoed closer to me. I backed away. They began to speed up. I ran backwards, but smashed into a refrigerator cabinet. It was too late. I said a final prayer for the ones I loved, before a flash of extra spicy hot sauce covered my eyes and my world faded to red."
] | [
1,
5
] | [
"1531202420",
"1531207449"
] | |
[WP] it's only now, sitting in an urn on the mantle, that you realize you should have been more clear when you wished for immortality. | 172 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"A low *shhhh* fills the air. The fan being turned on. It has to be a hot day, Nelly never turns on the fan, she was always too cheap. She preferred opening the windows or retreating to Starbucks for a few hours and using up the giftcard that her mother gave her every year without fail.\n\nThe floorboard creaks in front of me, it must be Melody. No one else bounces from one foot to the other like that. \n\nLisping slightly, her voice loud and clear in the still house, \"Mommy, is daddy really in there?\"\n\n*Smash*, something crashes to the ground. It's coming from my left, probably the next room over. The kitchen, I guess. Then there's an an angry unintelligble shout that has the air of a curse, and then bangs on the floor as Melody takes off towards whatever happened.\n\"Mommy!\" I can hear Melody cry, apparently astonished at the sight that greats her. \"Why did you drop the plate?\"\n\n\"We can clean it up later, Mel.\" Nelly sounds tight, like she's trying to hold the whole world on her back and she's struggling to stay standing. I can hear Nelly tugging Mel along, pulling her until they're both in the living room, with me.\n\nMel was never one to be distracted, and she goes right back to asking about me. \"Is dad really in the container?\"\n\n\"Yeah, Mel.\" Nelly says. \"He is.\"\n\nI can imagine what Melody looks like. She'll be on her tiptoes, her face all scrunched up, picking at the bottom of her shirt, trying to figure it out. She always was a smart cookie. \"How can dad fit in there?\"\n\n\"Well, after your dad died, they burned him up-\"\n\n\"They burned dad?\" Melody sqawks, sounding indignant as only a seven-year-old can. \"Why would they do that?\"\n\n\"So that he could come home with us. Don't worry, it didn't hurt at all.\" It didn't. I wasn't even conscious for it. I wish I could tell Melody that.\n\nIf I close my eyes, if I metaphorically close my eyes, I can still see the moment when I wished. I thought that I was done for, a broken leg in the forest and an unfortunately timed asthma attack, desperately wheezing, struggling to scream for help. \n\n*Help me,* I said, *I don't want to die! I don't want to die, I never want to die. Please don't let me die.*\n\nThen the next thing I remembered was waking up, hearing the murmer of a prayer. Sitting in a tiny little metal container on a mantel. Dust in the wind, trapped.\n\nThere's a sniffle, and then a little sob. There's a quiet thunk of someone falling to the ground. Probably Melody, probably with a bunch of little rug strings curled around her fingers. A crescendo of wails. After a while, she quiets down.\n\n\"I miss dad.\" It sounds wobbly, the way that she says it. \n\n\"I do too, sweetie.\"",
"Becoming immortal was a really big deal for you. You remember thinking \"OMG, this is it! I can do anything\". And then you went and did something stupid. When you're told that your immortal, you'd expect it means that you take no damage from anything, or you can regenerate like that girl from \"Heros\". Right? But nope.\n\nWatching your body being incinerated, scraped together and stored in an urn in the form of a lump of ash, puts things in perspective.\n\nLike, you should have been more clear when you wished for immortality. Or you should have valued your life more, even if it wasn't much. Something like that. You definitely shouldn't have jumped off that building just to prove your immortality. Did you even consider that it would still hurt like a bitch? And now, you're just that sad crazy person on the televison, who wanted attention and killed himself for it.\n\n\"I can't feel my feet\"\n\nBut you handled things pretty well, all things considered. Even now, you haven't even freaked out about it yet. You're in an urn! You went to your own funeral! It's just so damn fascinating, and equally terrifying. Yup. Really interesting stuff. For instance, the first thing you noticed after dying, was that you could still feel yourself and everything around. Despite the fact that you had no physical body or sensory organs.\n\n\"No one can save you\"\n\nAw, this shit again. Remember when that girl from your class went to your coffin and said she loved you and then she started crying all over your dead body? Well, that's when you decided not to start thinking that shit anymore. So just stay calm, and carry on.\n\nNow. People say there's five stages of grief that everyone has to go through before accepting a bad situation. So you start wondering if maybe there's even more stages? How could they know it's only five? Maybe no one has lived long enough to experience stage six through ten? Or maybe something amazing happens after 10.000 years of grief?\n\nWhile pondering the interesting questions, you suddenly feel someone approaching. It's mom. She gently dusts off your urn with a rag, quietly humming on a song. You couldn't miss the blank little drop in the corner of her eye, though...\n\nA sudden sense of guilt grabs you by the throat, as if you had one. You want to say sorry. You want to say thanks. You want to say something, anything. But you can't.\n\n\"Why did you leave us?\" she whispers. She moves on to a vase, next to your urn. You can feel the grip around your throat tightening.\n\nSo why did you leave her? You don't know anymore. Why, why, why. Even if you could speak, you wouldn't know what to say to her. You notice that the shadow has come back, it's lurking in the back of your mind now, eating away at what's left. It can smell your fear. All this time you managed to stay calm, to hide from the shadow, but now it's slipping...\n\n\"I don't want to be here!\"\n\nSTOP! Get a grip! You agreed not to think that! But it's getting harder and harder to stay sane... You're trying not to think it, but it fills your mind. Mom I'm sorry! I don't know why! I swear, I didn't know this would happen! Help me, please!\n\nYou know she can't hear you! Just keep calm! Carry on. The best you can do in your situation, is to keep calm and carry on. You know it sucks, but you're just gonna have to deal. Okay?\n\nBut as your mom cleans another vase, you can't take it any more, it’s not okay. Then another vase, and she steps away from you. You want to shout.\n\n\"I'm here! Look at me!\"\n\nBut you have no voice. Meanwhile your mom finishes dusting off another vase. And another one. After the last vase is clean, she walks towards the door.\n\nAnxiety kicks in. You can no longer contain the emotions. A flood of tears streams down a chin that isn't. You have to get out! Out of here!\n\nAs your mom exits, she turns towards you briefly; \"Good night, son\"\n\n\"MOM DON'T LEAVE ME!\"",
"I wouldn't have thought it would be the malleus, of all things. The opportunity for the wish had happened so suddenly that I just blurted the first thing that came to mind. Of course I wished for immortality. I wanted to see my children's whole lives, to know the outcome of everything I'd put into them, the blood, sweat, tears, and boundless love. This, though, is torture. I lay surrounded by my own dust in an urn on the mantle in a house where neither I nor my children have lived for decades. \n\nI assumed, wrongly I now know, that my entire self would be immortal. But no, I am just the malleus, the hammer of what was once my middle ear. I retain some vestige of hearing ability, some remembered skill from when the whole apparatus sat firmly inside my skull. I listened, first, to the grief of my children. Then, soon after, their recollections of me-- not all as positive as I'd hoped. Alan, in particular seemed to feel that he'd spent too much time sitting alone in his room. That it had left him damaged and anti-social. It seems to me that he could have gone out more. That he wasn't punished quite so much as he remembered. Neither Alan nor James seemed to think that I was quite as bad as their Dad though. He was barely brought up, and only then as the sort of butt of a joke.\n\nFor a long time, then, it was quiet. How had I not made my wish to be scattered known? I guess we hadn't talked much about death. At least then, in the ocean, I would have been in a peaceful, muffled, bliss. Not trapped here, subjected to months of silence interrupted by the periodic footsteps of strangers and their commentary on the condition of my once prized home. \n\n\"We will definitely have to re-do the kitchen,. I mean, really, that mosaic tile has to go. So 2010s.\"\n\nThe Alan came back, this time with someone new-- Elaine. He and James argued, James insisting that he deserved half of what the house sold for, that Alan couldn't just *have* it. I haven't heard James since.\n\nAlan and Elaine moved in in summer. I knew because, before they installed an air conditioner in the window, I could hear lawn mowers running outside through the open windows. Almost from the beginning, they yelled more than they talked. And when they had children-- first Brody and then Jovi-- really, Jovi-- they yelled at them too. Mostly Elaine did the yelling. I was hardly ever mentioned until, one night Alan slurred to a friend, a woman he had brought home, that maybe if he'd been allowed to go out more, meet more people, he would've seen Elaine coming.\n\nFor years, then, there was silence all day every day, until nighttime when the microwave would ding and some inane sportscaster chatter would blare from the TV. Except on weekends, when every great once in a while, Brody would come. \n\n\"I can't bring the kids, here, Dad. It's really just a mess.\"\n\nAt least all that time I could tell what was happening. I could hear my boy, feel close to him, even if it was just the faint shuffle of his feet across the bare floor. For days, now, it's just been COPS re-runs. Occasionally a Law and Order episode. But I don't hear the microwave. And I don't hear him shuffling. And I think it would be time to turn on the air conditioner, or at least open the window because, although I have to strain to hear it, I think there are lawnmowers running outside.",
"*Memoir of a Fool*\n\nTime is the most valuable currency available to humanity. The rich and famous can buy any materialistic good they need; the finest threads, the fanciest technology, even friends should they so choose that route. The hard working man is full of energy, energy that they pump into their projects. They work day and night, put all their hopes and dreams into their project and do not falter until they succeed. This energy and drive can take them from nothing until they are among the rich they had once envied. I know it can, I've seen it before. And I've done it before. That was the third life, I think.\n\nYou see, even though having the drive to become rich and powerful, in all their possibilities, they are potentially infinite if you are savvy and lack the moral compass to exorcise the power you have amassed. Time, however, is finite. You can turn time into money, turn time into hours spent working towards power. In the end, however, it all runs out. All the power and fame and money you earned becomes useless in the face of Father Time. He does not care for your trinkets and gadgets, nor your offers of fealty or riches.\n\nLike all of those that successes' hubris infects, however, I believed myself different from the people who went before me. All my riches, all my drive, it went into prolonging the finite span of life I had been allotted. When technology and science could carry me no further I looked into ancient writings and scriptures. Tales and folklore alike, I scoured the world to find a source that could save me. Surprisingly, my answer came from no known myth or legend, but rather from the simple urn I now rest in.\n\nI had gotten it from a rather daring expedition into an ancient tomb. The tomb's location was unmarked on my map of legends, and when I inquired knowledgeable minds about its presence, they were as clueless as I was. Concerned for whatever curses or hexes that could possibly lay in wait for me, I threw money at willing adventurers until at last the urn was brought to me. Apparently, it was the only thing waiting on a pedestal in the middle of the tomb. I waited for hours for something spectacular to happen, for this had been one of my last hopes for prolonging the wretched life I led. Hours turned to days, to weeks, to months, to years, until finally, my death could no longer be staved off. \n\nIt was when my vision was fading, my heart nearly coming to a complete stop when it all changed. I noticed it because I could no longer breathe, or rather, I did not need to, because everything was completely frozen, the incessant ticking of my greatest enemy finally stopping. In that pause, the voice from the urn spoke to me, spinning me a wondrous tale. Before he became the voice of the urn, he was a simple man, just like me, in search of immortality just as I had been. In his time, he had no technology, using instead mystical powers that would leave any today would never believe in. Using his powers, he tricked a phoenix, one of the last, and robbed it of it's essence. Yes, he would die, but he would be reborn, again and again until all that he wanted was his at last. He said his ashes rested in the urn, unborn, because he had completed all he set out to do and was content. He said he admired my goal, and now wished to offer me the same power he had stolen, to take his place in the urn and be reborn, so I could complete my goals. You can only imagine how quick I was to accept his offer.\n\nPerhaps I should have been more stringent in my criteria for immortality. Maybe then I would be able to enjoy it. As it is, every reincarnation pains me more and more, strips away pieces and bits that make up my being, and I fear by the time I complete my goals I won't be able to recognize myself. I can't stop, I can not admit to myself that the one thing I wished for, the thing I spent my entire first life reaching for was the thing I never wanted in my grasp.\n\nI can see them all. Every time I close my eyes or I sit in this urn, they are all that I see. Wife, son, daughter, father, mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, any family you can think of haunt me in my sleep, calling out for me to join them in a circle of peace that is beyond my reach. It is a hellish torture, one I would not wish upon my most reviled enemies, except perhaps to the one that did this to me in the first place. It is to you, finder of my urn, that I leave this letter to. I do not know what grotesque monster will greet you when you find the urn. I do not know what grandiose promises I will make to you. Do not listen. I want you to know that they are all lies, do not listen to me no matter how silver my tongue is. Even now my hand shakes, dark whispers I'm afraid to whisper are my own urging me to lie, to goad you into accepting my offer and freeing me, but with the last bit of mental fortitude I still possess, I write to you to leave. Leave this place, bury it, make no mention of it and perhaps no one else will suffer this fate. With how vile and repulsive each of my progressive lives are becoming, I hope to never meet you again. You came here in search of eternal life, for power and peace of immortality, to escape the clutches of the hand of fate. Give up, they are higher powers than us for a reason, you value life so much only because you have so little of it. Do not make the mistakes I did. Time and death will come for you, and when you meet, embrace them, just like I help other people do. ",
"You probably lost your mind, at some point. \nThe urn was stuffy, and there was nothing. It was black and nothing but. Sometimes you could hear things, and you would have the joy of wondering how ash can hear, but then your mind would slip back to the madness. The blackness. This is the void. It stares into you.\n\nMovement. You don’t know how you can feel it, but you do. The urn is being moved. But not opened. There is still only blackness. It stares into you.\n\nYou tip over. Nothing about the view changed. You being to lose an additional bit of hope you didn’t think you had. You had written a will, after all. You didn’t think you’d need it (duh, immortality) but you heard how wrong wishes can go. Why did you ask to be cremated? That’s where you really went wrong. Or not specifying in your wish but then writing a will. What’s wrong with you? You can’t tell if the questions come from your addled mind or the void. It questions you.\n\nWhere do you think you are going?\nYou cannot escape this.\nIt is punishment.\nForever.\nHell. Your personal hell.\nYou will be here, with me, forever.\n\nYou accept your fate.\n\nYour urn is moved again. Movement has become the new normal, after all the eternity you sat motionless, now movement is a new eternity, an additional torture. Going nowhere.\n\nThere is light.\n\nAnd suddenly, here you are! Flung out of the urn and you see sky. Oh god, you had forgotten the beauty of blue, the tranquility and awe that color evokes. And trees! Mighty pines, sweeping the sky. Fluffy clouds, rolling over the vista...\n\nThey read your will. They scattered the ashes.\nThey set you free."
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[WP] Printing books for Dragons is a small price to pay for the safety of your village. | 40 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\nSkaetha the Devourer's roar became a shriek as the human scale-cracker plunged it's terrible weapon into her unprotected hide. She managed to swat him across the molten field, granting herself a much needed break. Almost four days of unceasing combat, over mountains, through valleys, and even within parts of the Deep Below, all culminating in the volcanic paradise of Craggeth, birthplace of the Draconic Kin, first of the great drakes, had taken quite the toll. Bits of her luminescent scales had flaked off throughout the struggle, and exposed flesh could be seen in various spots.\n\nShe bellowed hellfire from her maw. The tiny creature she once thought incapable of even considering causing harm to her people had ended up slaying them all. She watched the small form dive behind an obsidian crag, easily dodging her attack. She reared back to let loose a torrent of flame, but a spear sailing over the hiding place forced her to snap her gargantuan jaws shut to deflect it. In no time at all the speck of death was bounding toward her, impossibly fast, gleaming with some unholy energy. Her claw collapsed on the form, but it once again avoided her attack. It was paces away now, shiny toothpick in hand. Skaetha and tried to unfurl her monumental wings but dragons were known for ferocity, not speed. The -\n\nA huff of warm air hit Gerand in the face. Only the man's eyes, made any movement, rolling slowly up to glace at the oversized lizard in front of him.\n\n\"Hm?\" He asked. His small voice echoed throug the tall cavern.\n\nSkaetha, the Devourer of Patience, sitting in her familiar cross-legged pose, held her arms in front of her as she leaned back on her wings like someone might a wall. The huge stony face peered down at the man, the light from his single lantern reflecting off her bronze scales. Each was as big as a dinner plate. \"I don't know, it just seems a bit..\" she began, the rumble of her titan voice laced with insecurity. \n\n\"A bit fantastical?\" Gerand asked after a couple of seconds. Skaetha's deep red eyes narrowed at him.\n\n\"Innacurate, more like,\" She said. Dragon or not, Gerand was accustomed to the universal feminine edge to her voice. It transcended the mortal plane. He would be wise to listen to the voice in his head begging him to tread lightly.\n\n\"I see. Well, since we're going for inaccuracies, maybe we should address the fire-breathing. Don't want to give people the wrong idea,\" he said, ignoring the voice. He picked up his quill, dabbed it in the ink, and started thumbing through the manuscript. Another sharper huff blew the pages into a frenzy. \n\n\"The idea is to make your tiny little selves strong, not turn my kind into slow pushovers,\" Skaetha said.\n\n\"*Known for their ferocity*,\" Gerand recited. \"Ferocity, Skaetha, as in ferocious.\"\n\n\"Yes, the big bad ferocious dragon that clumsily misses every attack and can't even smush a single flea,\" she said. \"You can call a dragon whatever you want, but when those pointy eared jerks, or those dirt-covered weirdos read this, they're going to see no big deal in trying to take down a dragon themselves.\" It was a strange sight to see such a legend of monster fables and scary stories throw up her arms in exasperation. To anyone familiar with the fables of dragons, they might assume she was gearing up to attack, but Gerand knew the truth. Dragons were the least violent creatures in the known world, and they couldn't afford the world to know that. Skaetha continued her rant.\n\n\"And now all the magical races have no use for *your* kind, the majestic dragonslayers, and the long peace we all enjoy crumbles to dust.\" \n\n\"Alright, alright, I'll make you stronger,\" Gerand said, scribbling on the manuscript.\n\n\"Oh you know it's not about that.\" Skaetha sighed, the rushing wind almost putting out the lantern next to the man. The dragon seemed to droop. \"Our people are living a lie, Gerand.\"\n\nHe grunted as he stood up, placing the writing utensils on the raised stone seat, and stretched. \"We don't have a choice. You know the alternative.\"\n\n\"But we're not heroes. We're not mighty.\" she said. \"We weave these tales just for the chance to exist.\"\n\n\"And that makes us undeserving of existence?\" Gerand said. His tone was sharp and he stood facing her with hands on hips, neck craned to look up at her large form, appearing to equal her in stature. She shifted her head to bring it even with the man and peered at him through one crimson eye. \"The elves are masters of nature. So great is their ability to manipulate the Essence that nothing can contest them,\" He continued. \"Do you agree?\"\n\nShe nodded slowly.\n\n\"The dwarves forge artifacts powerful enough to shatter continents and end the world. It is said that the demons of the Deep Below serve them out of fear.\" Skaetha had initially thought the man was about to give a pep talk to cheer her up. He continued. \"Your people and mine, we aren't that special. In fact, we can't come close to their ability.\" \n\nShe already felt better. \n\n\"And yet, what have we managed to accomplish?\" \n\nShe assumed the question was rhetorical, but the silence stretched an uncomfortable length. Opening her mouth to respong, the man cut her off, confirming that it was, indeed, rhetorical. \"We have managed, my scaly friend, to live among the titans through sheer will. We have more than survived, we have completely thrived.\" He threw his hands up in an elaborate display of pride, forcing a wide grin out of her. Humans always found a way to inject overwhelming amounts of drama into everything they did. The smallest creatures with the largest imaginations.\n\n\"Think about that. We build the legends, you create the fireworks, and the rest of the world accepts it. That, my friend, is earning the chance to exist, no matter how much the ethics of it stains your pure-white heart.\" She huffed defiantly, but she knew he was right. He always was. The two friends kept their eyes locked, sharing the silence.\n\n\"You know, I thought of a way to disintegrate a man without harming him. To everyone else, he suffers horribly, but its just a simple bit of deception and teleporting him to safety.\" Skaetha said, indifferently clawing at the dirt in front of her. \"I dunno, might make for a good show...\" When she looked up Gerand's smile had replaced his face.\n\n\"Would you do me the honor of immolating me, my friend?\" He said.\n\n\"Why, of course.\"\n",
"19/14/626\n\nMost people assume Dragon’s Tongue is an easy language to write. It’s often said that there are but fourteen characters, three of which are used only for punctuation, and being more or less immortal the dragons have found very little use for past, present, and future tenses. What most fail to realize, however, is that while there are only eleven characters used in the context of a sentence every character has seven cases, each case being used to convey a different emotional or tonal inflection the speaker is trying to convey. What most also don’t realize is that dragons have terrible eyesight. One of the biggest reasons they ignore vulnerable infrastructure like trade caravans and orchards, but attack heavily defended strongpoints like castles and citadels, has far less to do with giving humanity a sporting chance and far more to do with the fact that castles and citadels are the only targets they can pick out amidst the blurs and blots of their vision. Because of these limitations, along with the more obvious limitation of translating from spoken Dragon’s Tongue to spoken Common Tongue to written Common Tongue to written Dragon’s Tongue all while maintaining the spirit of the original message, writing Dragon’s Tongue in a size, font, and style palatable to dragons is a long and utterly tedious activity. Whole days are wasted away printing a single word, sentences are a fortnight in the making, and over the last year of labor I’ve just now completed the first chapter in the the first book for which I have been commissioned, “Dragons: A History”, a title much shorter than that which was initially pitched and one which required no small amount of negotiation to tighten. As it stands, the title measures two cubits in height for each character and twenty three cubits in total length, though it’s been spread across two lines to fit the size of the pages.\n\nAll of that being said, I suppose this commission is preferable to the alternative. If I were again given the opportunity to choose between writing oversized textbooks until the day I die, and being reduced horrifically into a smear of ash across the smoldered hillside along with the rest if my family and friends, I’d have great difficulty choosing the latter. The dragons, for whom the entirety of my mortal existence is akin to the flicker of a candle, have been nothing if not lenient in their schedule. The work is done when it is done, and any breaks taken to refresh myself, whether they be a day of bedrest or a week long fishing trip, are met with nothing but apathy. This is not to say there are no time constraints, of course. If I don’t finish their books by the time I reach my deathbed, I’ve been assured that my body will be wreathed in such a terrible fire that my soul will continue to burn long after it’s left me. But, being twenty six years of age and in impeccable health, this threat is, with any luck, of no immediate concern.\n\nAs well, the assignment has at times been rather fascinating. I was unaware, for instance, why I was even needed until after I’d accepted the offer. I was ignorant to the fact that dragons, bound by an ancient and powerful curse, could write naught but their own name and would need scribes such as myself to pass on their words in writing. This part of their history, obviously, will be explored in great detail in this book they’ve requested. In Chapter Four, if memory serves me correctly.\n\nI can hear the king’s convoy drawing close. I requested the hides of eight cattle, which will be used to craft two pages. He has been of great help in providing me whatever resources I require, though my request for further hands to assist me in this project have thus far been ignored. Frustrating, but understandable. Only a tiny fraction of the populace can listen to Dragon’s Tongue without plunging into madness, making dictation impossible. A smaller portion still just so happen to be scribes, and apparently only one of these scribes just so happens to be the subject of this king. This speech induced madness and the rare immunity to it is a topic for another time. Chapter Three, I believe. For now, it is time for me to quite literally craft a new page.",
"\"Ooh, yes! Drogon like *that* book!\"\n\nThe red and black dragon pointed a scaly finger at a copy of *Animal Farm* that a villager was reading.\n\nTall Bob, the village elder, was tired of Drogon and his brother~~s Viserion and~~ Rhaegal terrorizing the village. The ~~three~~ two dragons were known for setting sheep on fire, abducting the occasional damsel in distress, and stealing livestock. Tall Bob was tired of it, so he had asked what the dragons wanted in order for them to stop the attacks.\n\nStrangely, they had answered \"books. Lotsa books!\"\n\nDrogon wasn't very smart. When Tall Bob had asked him why he wanted books, he had responded simply, \"Drogon not smart enough to ace SAT's, wanna learn more, wanna learn more.\"\n\nAnd so the village printed them books. A giant printing press was commissioned and all the bookbinders in the village banded together to create the covers.\n\nDrogon had requested *Animal Farm*, and so they fulfilled his wish. Each page was read aloud to the printers who set the typing blocks on the printer, and the page was printed. Naturally, this took a long time and books could possibly take several months to finish printing.\n\nBut that was okay. Drogon sometimes forgot about his order and terrorizing the village altogether and would play with his brother in the air, far away from the village.\n\nWhen a book was finished, the two dragons would rejoice. Since their literacy was at a bare minimum, a teacher was hired to teach them their words. It was a strange sight, watching two large dragons read a huge, ornately bound book with a human perched on their arm guiding them.\n\nAnd so the village and the dragons lived together in harmony happily ever after.",
"\"Are you here to kill me, noble knight,\" roared the dragon.\n\n\"Errm, what,\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm not ...\"\n\n\"If you are not here to kill, Sir, then what brings you to my lands?\"\n\nThe dragon lowered his head and purred his question. I could see the green,\nslitted pupils focusing on me. Each of them was larger than my head.\n\n\"No, I ... I mean ...\"\n\n\"No what? Speak, man, speak. Full sentences, if you can. You are not not here\nto kill me?\"\n\n\"I'm not a knight,\" I pushed out while I forced myself to look at the dragon.\n\n\"Not a knight? But how did you find my lands? Only a noble man of clear\nconscience and a brave heart can reach it.\"\n\n\"Well, I was in the city to buy parchment and leather and then there were\nthese robbers and I fled and then there was this storm and my horse ran off\nand I wandered around to find it and then I saw this cave and ...\"\n\n\"That's enough *and*s for the moment,\" the dragon said. He put his hands on\nthe ground, crossed them, then rested his head on them. It looked like a house\nrested on a pair of crossed trees. Very thick trees. With sharp and probably\npoisonous thorns.\n\n\"What do I do with you,\" the dragon asked.\n\nI assumed it to be a rhetorical questions and tried not to look scared. At\nleast not as scared as I felt.\n\n\"Speak, man. What shall I do with you?\"\n\n\"Errm. You could let me go?\"\n\n\"Is that a question?\"\n\n\"You could let me go!\"\n\n\"Yes, I could. I also could eat you, kill you, turn you to stone or cover you\nin amber. I know all my options.\"\n\n\"I could pay you. Will you let me go if I give you some gold,\" I asked. \"You\ndragons love gold, right?\"\n\n\"Well, yes. But I don't long for your tiny amount of gold. It wouldn't distract\nme. If you'd try to kill me instead, it would provide me with some\nentertainment. Before I eventually kill you, noble knight.\"\n\n\"I'm not a knight, I'm a printer.\"\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"I make books,\" I explained. \"With stories in them? You know, written down?\"\n\nThe dragon looked at me. I assumed he was puzzled.\n\n\"Show me.\"\n\nI pulled a book from my bag. It didn't sell because there were some smudges on\nthe title page. I opened the cover and turned it around. The dragon stared at\nthe letters.\n\n\"Read it to me,\" he demanded.\n\n\"Ahem. 'Rumpelstilzchen. A story of greed, betrayal, and courage.'\"\n\nFor the next hour, I read the story while the dragon listened with half-closed\neyes. Some time during the story he had shifted silently and looked over my\nshoulder.\n\n\"... And they lived happily ever after,\" I concluded and closed the book.\n\nThe dragon sighed. It felt a bit like the storm, just warmer and dryer.\n\n\"This hasn't happened,\" the dragon said.\n\n\"No. It's made up.\"\n\n\"And these people didn't live. Neither here, nor in your world.\"\n\n\"I hope not.\"\n\n\"A curious concept, indeed,\" the dragon said. It felt ponderous.\n\n\"I let you go, printer,\" the dragon said after a moment. \"For a price.\"\n\n\"This book,\" I asked and hoped to get out of this nightmare cheaply.\n\n\"Yes. For this book and a dozen more.\"\n\nI was too good a merchant to not seize this opportunity.\n\n\"You protect my village from the brigands and I will supply you with one book\nper month for the rest of your life.\"\n\n\"You're sure? We're kind of long-lived.\"\n\n\"After my death my children can take over. If you protect us, we'll supply\nyou with stories. Guaranteed to be made up.\"\n\nThe dragon nodded. \"Deal, printer. Under one condition ...\"\n\nI sighed. \"Go ahead.\"\n\n\"At this size the book is kind of hard to read.\"\n\n\"No problem. How big should I make the letters? The size of my hand?\"\n\n\"The size of your thumbnail would be ideal.\"\n\n\"No problem,\" I said while I calculated.\n\n\"The total height of the book would this,\" I said and held my hands one cubit\napart.\n\n\"I meant the total height,\" the dragon said. \"We're kind of far-sighted.\"\n\n\"Now that's tricky.\"\n\n\"You'll find a way, printer. See you in four weeks.\"\n\n* * * * *\n\n\"And thus, my ancestor, your ancestor, founded the company,\" I said.\n\n\"That's a fairytale, grandpa,\" Charlene complained. She petted Whipple, her\nAbyssinian.\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\"Yes. We learned in school that dragons were domis ... dimis ...\"\n\n\"Domesticated?\"\n\n\"... domesticated from cave lizards,\" the child lectured me.\n\n\"When is this story supposed to have happened,\" asked Leonard. Ranger, his\nEnglish Longtail, slept on his shoulder.\n\n\"Around 920.\"\n\n\"The printer's press wasn't invented by Johann Gut ...\"\n\n\"Don't say that name in this house!\"\n\n\"... Gutenberg before the 1400s.\"\n\n\"The plagiarist almost stole your legacy! Never forget that! Had he succeeded,\nyou would live in the streets instead of in this estate. And you wouldn't have\nall your toys and clothes. You surely wouldn't have pure-breeds for pets,\" I\nyelled. \"Rat chasers and garbage sniffers, that's what you would have for\npets!\"\n\nRanger opened one eye lazily to check out what disturbed his sleep. For a pet\nthat had cost the equivalent of a year's salary of one of my employees, it was\npretty boring.\n\nLeonard looked shocked.\n\n\"This wasn't just a story?\"\n\nI grinned. Leonard wasn't fazed by my explosion. I could see the doubt in his\nface. Right now, he was undecided whether to believe me or his teacher. With\nwhom I needed to have a word soon. It was one thing to teach the official\nversion at a public school, but my grandchildren needed to know the truth.\n\nI nodded towards the tiny book, not bigger than a grown man's thumbnail. It\nsat on it's pedestal near my desk. The tiny golden ornaments along the edges\nreflected the sinking sun.\n\n\"If you ask me the right questions, you can find out for yourself.\"",
"Dragons. The enormous creatures covered in scales. Beings of wisdom, whose natural length of life seems like immortality compared to the life of a human. Beings of power, who can obliterate entire cites with a cough if they wanted to. Beings of might, respected by knights, praised by bards, feared by the folk.\n\nBut we are lucky. Our village is the sole remnant of a great kingdom of which other parts have fallen hundreds of years ago. We are protected. We have nothing to be scared of, because our guardians are those, who everyone else fears. Some have tried to destroy us, but whoever tried, they were always beaten and burned alive.\n\nOutside our lands, many wonder how did we make the dragons our allies. The truth is: we need them as much as they need us. Their wisdom, as great as it is, doesn't come from nowhere. The deal is simple: we make their books. The heavily decorated covers, the special fire-proof paper and the text. The text, written in the beautiful and complex draconic script they taught us, conveying knowledge at levels far exceeding what human wisemen even dream of. We don't share it. We were trusted not to. Our lives, legacy of the kingdom and the well-being of our friends and families depend on that."
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[WP] You don't have AllState, so Mayhem is making attempts on your life. He's getting better. | 6 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I'm a road rage afflicted motorist.\n\nYou accidentally cut me off to make your exit, and I just *know* it was intentional. You were speeding by a few miles per hour, but not as much as I was before you got in front of me. You were just glad you were going to make it to work on time, and in a second you'll be ducking under a hail of gunfire from the handgun I kept in my glovebox.\n\nSo get Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n\nHey. I'm your stalker.\n\nYou thought calling the police was gonna to slow me down, and it didn't stop my love notes from showing up in your car. You filed a restraining order, and it didn't stop me from taking pictures through your windows. You got a dog, and that's not going to stop me from burning your house down in a misguided attempt to show you how much I love you.\n\nSo get Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n\nI'm a professional hit man hired from the deep web.\n\nWhen Rich Uncle Cletus died, you were in first in line for the inheritance. Cousin Randal wasn't too crazy about that, and now he's spent his life savings to set me on your case. I have a semiautomatic pistol, several varieties of deadly poison, a good imagination, and your home address.\n\nSo get Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.",
"I'm a road rage afflicted motorist.\n\nYou accidentally cut me off to make your exit, and I just *know* it was intentional. You were speeding by a few miles per hour, but not as much as I was before you got in front of me. You were just glad you were going to make it to work on time, and in a second you'll be ducking under a hail of gunfire from the handgun I kept in my glovebox.\n\nSo get AllState, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n \n\n\nHey. I'm your stalker.\n\nYou thought calling the police was gonna to slow me down, and it didn't stop my love notes from showing up in your car. You filed a restraining order, and it didn't stop me from taking pictures through your windows. You got a dog, and that's not going to stop me from burning your house down in a misguided attempt to show you how much I love you.\n\n**So get AllState, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.**\n\n \n\n\nI'm a professional hit man hired from the deep web.\n\nWhen Rich Uncle Cletus died, you were in first in line for the inheritance. Cousin Randal wasn't too crazy about that, and now he's spent his life savings to set me on your case. I have a semiautomatic pistol, several varieties of deadly poison, a good imagination, and your home address.\n\n***So get AllState, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.***"
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"1531249697",
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[WP] Your boat is sinking fast, and the thunderstorm makes GPS and radio impossible. Your crewmate starts frantically praying to any gods who might be listening to help. No sooner has he finished the prayer, than you can all hear the slow beat of drums, and see a huge viking warship alongside you | 141 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"We cheered as the long ship came up port side. With a mighty roar, a cascading wave of grappling hooks caught the side of my ship and snapped taut. \n\nThere was a beat of silence, then with another terrible roar, and our ship magically began to lift from the sea! I pulled my captain's hat off and waved it in the air, hooting with joy. \n\n\"Have you ever seen such majesty?!\" Erik asked arms outstretched, like a man in the throes of religious ecstasy. I grabbed and kissed him, thanking him for his miracle of piety and then rushed to the railing of the ship to watch as we were finally pulled completely free of the sucking waters. In just a few minutes our ship was securely bobbing in the water. She wouldn't be sailing, but she wouldn't be sinking either. \n\nI turned in time to watch a hastily constructed gangplank thrown between our ships and a man stomped down. \n\nHe wore battered armor, made of simple metals and leather. His helm was similarly unadorned, except for the large horns jutting from the temples. He was missing one eye but carried two swords on his back, each with a raven painted on the pommel. As he stepped on the deck of my ship, the moment of peace seemed to shatter like an egg, and the noise and violence of the storm assailed us all once again.\n\nI drew up as he approached and reached out a hand. \n\n\"Thank you for the help, sir!\" I shouted over the sound of the storm. \"We would be doomed without you!\" \n\nHe paid me no mind, focusing instead on Erik, who huddled behind me. \n\n\"Where is your sword, boy?\" He asked him. \n\nI turned my head a fraction to stare at Erik in horror. \"Did he just ask you for your *sword?\"* \n\nErik turned to me cringed. \"I just prayed to the gods to save us! I didn't even think they were real! The stories say they demand battle as payment, but I thought they was just that! Stories!\" Erik began to cry and I held him, watching the old god begin to grin. \n\n\"Fool!\" He shouted with a cackle and the rest of his crew took up the chant. *Fool. Fool. Fool.* ",
"\"ARE YOU READY?!\"Booming voice plays.\n\n\"If you've got time to waste!\" A jumpy black man's voice sings.\n\n\"ARE YOU READY?!\"The chorus asks again.\n\n\"We don't come from outah-space!\"The voice sings.\n\n\"ARE YOU READY?!\"The chorus asks yet again.\n\n\"You've called on the right person...! So wipe off your face!\"The saxophone kicks in and out walks a strange 6 eyed, 8 feet tall man with a striped hat and a bow tie.\n\n\"I ain't nothing you ever seen before. Something deep within the core, you must be feelin' something deep right now, hey, I hope it ain't a bore!\"He sings, in his strange voice.\n\n\"So hop right off that sinking boat, and put on a raincoat, cause if you ain't wet by the end of this, you must be dry as the pope!\"He sings, dancing around.\n\nYou get off of your boat with a strange bedazzled escalator. You and your mates are given rain-coats, as suggested by the top-hat toting monster.\n\n\"I gotta be honest, I'm really sorry, 'bout that boat. But hey at least it ain't a Ferrari.\"He sings. His rhyming is impeccable, if a little goofy, but then again, he seems like a goofy guy.\n\nThe song continues for about 3 more minutes. And then he finishes.\"Take five guys!\" He shouts in a high pitched voice, similar to that of Tails from sonic the hedgehog.\n\n\"Praying for any god who can listen? Well that's my specialty!\"He tells you. \"But you could've guessed that...\"He laughs a bit.\"So, where to?\"He asks you.\n\n\"Uh.. First off, who are you?\"You ask.\n\n\"Isn't it obvious?\"He asks, laughing.\n\n\"Uh... And what is this?\"You ask.\n\n\"This is the best ship you'll ever be on! I named er' Haruko.\"He said.\n\n\"Okay and... What's with the song and dance number?\"you ask.\n\n\"Well uh... That's just how I greet people on ships... I've got a whole bunch of Televoids and Squidfaces who can play instruments here, so why not use them? You know, I've got friends from the other side, why not get toghether every once in a while?\"The man asks.\n\n\"Televoids and squidfaces?\"You ask.\n\n\"The guys with Tvs for heads, and the guys with squids for... Heads...\"The man says.\n\n\"But what are-\"The ship stops in the harbor.\n\n\"Sorry, but times up buddy! You can keep the raincoat and this card!\"He tosses you a business card.. The Architect... And as soon as you look up, you're in the harbor where you started, and the boat isn't there...\n\nAnd neither is your crewmate..."
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[WP] Every time you wish someone well in any way, they end up in unlucky and dangerous situations, the severity of which depends on the extent of your well wishes; the opposite is so if you curse them and wish them unwell. You’re about to give a toast at your best friends wedding. | 5 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"*A wedding reception, several tables filled with friends and family are sitting and eating. Sitting at the head table is eight people; Stephen, the groom, Sarah, the bride, Albert, the best man, Susan, his date, and the parents of both bride and groom.*\n\n*Albert stands and chimes on his wine glass with a fork. Chatting continues. A little agitated, he chimes again, this time louder. Finally, Stephen stands.*\n\n**Stephen**: *Bellowing* SHUT UP!\n\n*The room falls into an awkward silence, everyone slowly turns to Albert. Albert coughs.*\n\n**Albert:** Thank you, Stephen.\n\nFriends and family, you all know well my reputation regarding wishing people luck. For those of you that don't, ask Stephen and Sarah here. Steve still hasn't forgiven me about Vegas, but that is a story fir a different time.\n\nWhen I found out these two had met, I could not have been happier. Few people are better suited for each other. Now that they are together, I have this to say:\n\nI hope you both live short and disappointing lives. \n\n*guests gasp, Susan smirks and rubs her forehead with her hand while shaking her head. Albert continues.*\n\nI wish, sincerely, that you both catch the plague and suffer kidney stones. I hope you put the \"richer or poorer, sickness and in health\" oaths to each other into practice, on the \"Poorer\" and \"Sicker\" sides. I hope this marriage is a trial by fire for both of you. I hope you face each and every bump, bruise, fight, and fracture.\n\nStephen, Sarah, if we are right about the luck I share, then you know why I wish this on you. If we aren't, I wish it still.\n\nBecause the things that are built to last are designed to weather storms and misfortune. Love, the type that lasts an eternity, can put up with any ache or pain and make it through. It is solid, as firm as a rock and as immovable as a mountain.\n\nI've known you both for a very long time, and I know that is a bond you already share. No need to wish any fortune on something already well made.\n\nYou both have my friendship, and I am happy for you this day.\n\n*Albert sits down, the room is silent. The father of the bride begins to clap, and is joined by the rest of the guests.*"
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[WP] "It's natural for teens to act out," the counselor says. "The feeling of angst, being argumentative, summoning a demon to possess their body so they have to be around their parents--all normal." | 9 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"First of all, I think it's just great that we're all together in the same room. That's showing some real improvement.\" The counselor gave a smile to each of the people in the room and looked down at her notes, \"Okay, so, I just want to be clear--this is a safe space, we all want to be heard, and I want us to try to use 'I feel' statements, instead of 'you' statements, alright?\"\n\nThe middle-aged man and woman nodded their heads emphatically, and the scrawny girl with her arms crossed scoffed and looked away.\n\n\"Now then, Karen, can you tell us a little about what you're feeling today?\"\n\nThe girl rolled her eyes and slouched further into her chair, \"I'm *feeling* fine. I've been *feeling* fine for months, and I don't see what the issue is here.\"\n\nThe woman turned to say something, but the man spoke first, \"Sweetie, you know your--\" The counselor tutted and raised her pencil; the man tried again after clearing his throat, \"...I, well, your mom and I...it's just not really working for us anymore. It's not your fault, and we love you very much. We don't hate each other, we just don't love each other anymore.\"\n\nThe counselor smiled and nodded serenely and looked back to Karen, \"Now, Karen, how does *that* make you feel? Let's talk a little about the divorce, Karen, okay?\"\n\nKaren turned her head away and set her jaw. The woman cleared her throat and spoke instead, \"I feel like a major issue that Karen has is that she feels like there are too many changes happening too fast, and honey I feel that way sometimes too, but these are things we all want to talk about and the only way we're going to come out of it okay is by opening up. Karen? Sweetheart?\" The woman reached over to touch the girl's leg, but recoiled when she suddenly whipped her head back, eyes glowing yellow and laughing in a way that sounded echoed or layered.\n\n\"**There is no Karen! I am Crasthuul! Son of Chaos and Sower of Discord!**\"\n\nThe counselor tutted again, looking over her notes at Karen and giving an authoritative glare. Karen's body winced back lightly, and in the deep, echoed voice gave a sheepish apology. \"Well, Crasthuul, since you're hear we'd like to hear your thoughts too.\"\n\nKaren's body shifted nervously, glancing down at her lap before bringing a hand up to scratch her cheek, \"**Well, you know...I don't know. This is a pretty personal topic, right? I'm just here because Karen summoned me to torture her parents, but I honestly don't have too much of a problem with them. I really enjoyed the quiche that you made, Rachel, before I had to spew it back out all over the walls.**\"\n\nThe counselor nodded and took notes and Rachel gave a surprisingly happy response to the demon's strange compliment, \"Let's talk about that, actually. You haven't been in our plane long, right, Crasthuul? If I were to put a date, it's probably only been about...ooh, four months?\"\n\nKaren's head nodded, \"**Around that. It was about Easter so I think it was five.**\"\n\n\"Mmhmm. Now, I know that demons don't really ask a lot of questions in this scenario--\" she held a hand up to Rachel, \"--and this is still all perfectly normal, but what was your read on her when she summoned you?\"\n\n\"**To be honest, she seemed like every other upset teenager that summons a demon. Pretty standard fare angst, if you ask me. We set the ground rules of not jumping in at school or with friends unless explicitly okay'd, but she wasn't even bullied at school or anything and she kept her grades up. That part was weird**\"\n\nThe man spoke up, \"About four months ago was when we sat her down and told her the news.\"\n\n\"And in the month before? Was there anything that would have prompted this preemptively?\"\n\n\"**Uhh...**\" Karen's hand lifted, \"**It's not...strictly to code, but I have an answer for you.**\" Karen looked back at her parents and shrugged, \"**She's not in danger or anything, it's just that we don't do a lot of deals that have family disputes. She wrote in her diary--**\"\n\nThe counselor lifted her pencil again, \"Crasthuul, we use 'I feel' here, and I really feel like if this is something that Karen wants to say then she can tell us herself.\"\n\nKaren's eyes faded from yellow back to her cool blue and sighed, \"...I heard you guys fighting after we went to grandma's Easter party. I heard you guys say that you already had the plan, but you didn't tell me then, and you didn't tell me for a whole month after that.\"\n\nRachel gasped and put a hand over her mouth, eyes welling with tears, and the man's lip quivered behind his mustache. \"Oh, sweetie,\" Rachel choked out, \"We never ever wanted to hurt you with it. We wanted to talk to you about it, but we didn't want to pull you in until we had talked with our lawyer. We just didn't want you to stress out before we knew what it would all mean.\"\n\nThe counselor flipped her wrist and checked her watch; they were a few minutes over, but this was a huge breakthrough and she couldn't afford to lose this momentum. She checked her schedule as the three, and occasionally four, voices began opening up and baring themselves en force. As subtly as possible, she wheeled her chair back to her desk and tapped the intercom, telling her secretary to explain to the next patient that she'll be a little longer before Karen's eyes turned yellow and she heard the echoed voice weep that it had never known its real father.\n\n\"Please ask him to reschedule.\""
] | [
1,
7
] | [
"1531277118",
"1531279888"
] | |
[removed] | [WP] Resolute Letter | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/burtonhen, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**We’re here to inspire creative writing, not play writing games or commission stories**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_we.2019re_here_to_inspire_creative_writing.2C_not_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories)\n\n- Prompt in Text: Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, 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[**Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses)\n\n- Real-World Drama: No prompts referencing real world drama (including politics, recent tragedies, etc.) \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8xw3fa/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1531279279",
"1531282490"
] |
[WP] Every time a decision is made a new universe opens in which a different decision was made. As the multiverse grows it becomes harder for the powers that be to monitor it. Agents are recruited to close new universes. There’s a nice complicated way to do this and a much easier, more brutal way. | 0 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Clint types away on his terminal, finishing the lengthy report he had to provide regarding the last incident he managed. Well, more like survived than managed. Working for an independent agency that deals with bad decisions that end up causing widespread disastrous results isn't an easy job, but the pay and benefits is good, considering that half of the prime universe has been annihilated by aforementioned bad decisions. \"Damage control\" is what they call it. Some say it's policing free will. Clint didn't care as long as he gets to live comfortably. \nAn alarm beeps and glares on Clint's terminal. \n\"Again?! Can't this guy keep his shit together.\" Seems this agent has been dealing with the same problem for the past few cases. He sighs as he picks up his standard issue hand gun and portable terminal. To us, it might look like a regular pistol and smartwatch, but this is the year 23xx and rest assured, our agent is more than equipped to handle things. "
] | [
1,
3
] | [
"1531326740",
"1531327490"
] | |
[WP] The deal was simple; you could take as many superpowers as you wanted, but in return you would have to give up a part of your body for each power. | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Jokes on the devil. I traded my small toe for the ability to instantly regrow any body part. Then I traded my little toe again for the ability to break the 4th wall. Then I traded my little toe again for the ability to know how good of a writer I am...and realized I wanted my toe back."
] | [
1,
9
] | [
"1531331058",
"1531331126"
] | |
[WP] The year is 1669. A crew of dangerous & skilled pirates are at sea, when the sky above crackles and a Maelstrom briefly opens. From it, an abandoned but pristine condition US Destroyer emerges. | 14 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Vane considered himself tame, as far as pirates went. He didn't drink. He didn't smoke. He was likely the only First Mate on the seas that never questioned his Captain's orders. And he'd never killed a man who didn't have it coming to him. \n\nBut as the cold rain lashed and bit at his face like a swarm of stinging insects, he swore under his breath, on Poseidon's name, that he was going to slit that fucking oracle's throat from ear to bloody ear the moment they made it back ashore. \n\nIf that moment ever arrived, at least. \n\nHe raised his face towards the bow, cupping a hand to the wide brim of his hat to keep it from blowing away beneath the furious winds. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but dark, churning waves and endless flashes of lightning all along the horizon. Vane didn't have the slightest idea where they were, or where they were going. Or how they would even know when they got there. \n\n*I'll kill you for this, Madame Lore.* He thought darkly. They breached through another huge wave and his pale knuckles clenched desperately to the rotten railings on the main deck. *Kill you so dead that no one even remembers your name.*\n\nMad, giggling laughter could be heard even over the din of the gale, and Vane shot a narrow eyed glare towards the Captain. Hendricks was at the helm, green eyes twinkling merrily even though his long red hair was matted all around his face like that of a rangy mutt's. The man's lips were chapped and cracked from dehydration, moving soundlessly to recite words Vane knew by heart after their week long journey to the middle of bloody nowhere. \n\nVane's hand wandered to the blade sheathed at his hip. He had followed Hendricks for a decade because the man possessed an almost unearthly calm and foresight that had done their crew well over the years. Time and time again, the Captain's quick thinking and composure under pressure had saved them from the locker. But ever since that damned oracle, the man Vane knew as well as he knew himself had been absent. \n\nAs if the Captain could feel Vane's stare, green eyes turned slowly and locked on him. \n\nVane shivered in a way that had little to do with the cold and everything to do with the unholy light blazing in those eyes. He knew that look well. Had seen it on zealots and martyrs time and time again right before they did something immeasurably stupid. \n\nLike sailing into the worst storm any of them had ever seen for a chance at glory. A chance to rule the seas that men knew of and then beyond. That's what the oracle had promised them anyway. Vane was becoming more and more sure the only promise they could rely on was going to be a slow, painful death. \n\n\"Faith!\" Hendricks yelled, voice breaking. \"What have I always told you?\" \n\nA freezing drop of rain hit Vane directly in the eye and he cursed as tears welled. \"Have it and hold it close, sir!\" He shouted with practiced ease, glancing out at the men on the deck, slipping this way and that as they struggled to keep them under way. \n\n*I'd surely like to hold dry land close right about now.*\n\n\"Amen!\" Hendricks took bath hands from the wheel to cross himself and a vicious wave chose that moment to knock them all to their feet, water soaking into their already soggy clothes. \n\nVane came sputtering back to his feet, coughing salty water from his throat to find the wind dying all around him, the rain turning into drizzle, the ocean easing. Except it shouldn't have been. The storm still raged in every direction he could see, but it no longer shook them with its fury. \n\n\"What in God's name?\" he muttered, wiping at his eyes. \n\n\"Not God,\" came Hendricks voice from right over his shoulder and Vane tensed. \"He'll have no part of this, brother. That, I'll tell you now.\" \n\n\"What is this?\" The rest of the crew was slowly finding their footing, their confusion apparent as the boat smoothly rocked from side to side. Several heads turned back towards the two of them, awaiting orders. \n\n\"This is our gift,\" the Captain whispered. \"Our cause. Our reckoning.\" He grabbed Vane by the shoulder in a crushing grip. \"The seas will tremble, old friend.\" \n\nA sudden shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, blinding him. At his side, Hendricks started screaming nonsense at the top of his lungs. Raving like a complete and utter lunatic.\n\n*Seven prisons. Maidens on every coast. A bounty on my head worth a small fortune. And I'll die out here?* Vane shook his head. *No, I think not.*\n\nBlinking away the spots dancing in his vision, he surged towards his Captain and captured the man by the throat. Vane pressed a small dagger to his throat, threatening to break skin. \"Enough!\" He snapped. \"There's nothing here. Nothing that we need to be apart of at any rate.\" \n\nGoosebumps were crawling along his skin, instincts working towards a frenzy. This whole thing was unnatural. The storm, Hendricks behavior, the gurgling sound of the sea at his- \n\nHe whipped his head Starboard to see the waves churning once more, spinning round and round each other until a whirlpool formed with uncanny swiftness. \n\nVane shoved Hendricks to the ground and strode towards the helm. \"All hands!\" he screamed raggedly, breaking the tense silence as the crew watched what was unfolding. \"Get us the fuck out of here, now!\" \n\n\"Belay that!\" Hendricks stood calmly, dusting off his clothes. Fat lot of good it did when they were all covered in more ocean than they were cloth. \n\nVane stared hard at the man, looking for the madness and not finding it. \"Captain?\" \n\n\"Forgive me.\" Hendricks cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. \"That potion from the oracle was a potent little thing.\" \n\n\"Potion?\" Vane frowned. \"What potion?\" \n\nThe Captain turned towards the whirlpool that had now grown to ridiculous proportions, yet it wasn't pulling them towards it. \"There's truth to the saying, you know?\" he called over his shoulder. \"Too much knowledge can drive a man a wee bit mad.\" \n\nVane sidled up beside him, staring into the dark water. He thought he saw a shadow looming beneath the waves but he blinked and it was gone. \"That was a wee bit?\" \n\n\"Hush now,\" Hendricks whispered suddenly, and Vane felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. \"Behold!\" \n\nVane followed the line of his Captain's pointing finger back towards the whirlpool. There was no mistaking the shadow lurking beneath the water now, surging upwards at a frightening pace. *Sea monster.* His heart lunged wildly against his ribs, the taste of his pulse filling the back of his throat. He wanted to back away. Jump over the edge of the ship and swim. Better the locker than a monster's gut. \n\nBut his feet were frozen to the deck, as if by an unseen force. He couldn't even turn his head. Glancing from the corner of his eye showed most of the crew in a similar position, their faces pale, bodies trembling. \n\nOnly Hendricks watched with a smile as the monster's grey horn broke from the depths. \n\nVane didn't breathe as the leviathan displaced the water around it, making them rock gently against the waves. And he didn't take another breath until the sleek, grey surface resolved into a shape that reminded him of the pyramids his great grandfather had spoken of. The beast continued rising until the long, sharp nosed base of it was completely above the water. \n\nVane narrowed his gaze, trying to see beneath the surface to the rest of the structure but it was hidden from his view. \"Is that...?\" \n\n\"A ship?\" Hendricks hummed happily. \"Aye aye, that's exactly what it is.\" \n\n\"But-\" \n\nHendricks jumped overboard, disappearing beneath the water without a word. Vane was left blinking at the spot he was on the deck, long enough that he heard the Captain calling him distantly some time later as he climbed a later aboard the solid behemoth. \n\n\"What's the Captain doin'?\" A voice called out, and Vane waved the question away absently. \n\n*How should I know?*\n\nHendricks disappeared into a seamless grey hatch that Vane hadn't noticed before. A moment later, the unmistakable sound of his voice came booming out over the water, amplified as if by the gods themselves. Hardened pirates screamed. Cried. Vane felt a warm trickle go down his legs and he knew without a doubt that his world had just changed irreparably.\n\n\"Witness the dawn of a new world!\" The Captain yelled, voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere all at once. So loud, Vane felt his bones rattle. \"Come aboard, one and all! Come aboard, the Arm of Poseidon!\" \n\n***\n\n*Pirate's are totally not my thing but the other response was hella rude and I wanted to contribute. So yeah.*"
] | [
1,
6
] | [
"1531403238",
"1531403765"
] | |
[deleted] | [WP] You come to realize after a few months that, every night on your way home from work: The last traffic light is always green. You dismiss it as "One of those things" and eventually forget about it. Tonight the light is Red. | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"You squint as you look up. “Well dang, just when I needed to be home on time.” you mutter. All of a sudden, you hear a knock on your car window. “You’re Mister Adams, right?” the figure standing there says. “Yes?” you reply. “Good, come with me.” they say. “I gotta be home, sorry.” you say, waiting for the light to change. “It’s not changing, buddy.” the man says, leaning on your car. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t like you” you stutter as you pull away. “Suit yourself” he calls after you. You drive for a while until you pull up to a red light. The man is waiting for you. “Get out of the car” he says forcefully. You shudder as you comply. As soon as you step out of the vehicle, the scene changes. Your car is a mangled mess on a tree on the side of the road. Ambulances and police cars are everywhere. The man next to you offers you his hand. “The light isn’t always green” he murmurs."
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1531440378",
"1531445782"
] |
[WP] You are part of a small percentage of invisible humans. You are being hunted for your skin. | 21 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I live my life mostly being invisible and that's not an understatement.\n\nI'm being hunted because of my skin for crying outloud. I guess it's not really that hard to hide when you have such an ability to become invisible but it's a curse as it is a gift.\n\nI had to live my life a ghost to my family. I have a woman and a child that I love and had to stay away from them because of the skin hunters.\n\nSince when did having an ability equate to being an animal? Human's morality on what's right is really questionable on what we consider is a human. For example, back then when the whites discovered black and red- skined people they were branded as savages and slaves. Just because they have different skin means they are not human anymore. \n\nWhat was that?...Ohh like what Pochahontas said in that Disney Movie. \"You think the only people are the people who walk and talk and look like you?\"\n\nCan people stop being racist and stop judging people from the color of their skin?\n\nAnyways, it's too late now. \n\nSince they are hunting us, isn't it time for us to hunt them back?"
] | [
1,
5
] | [
"1531441219",
"1531467345"
] | |
[WP] after an eternity of drunkenness God finally sobers up and realises all the crazy shit he made while wasted. | 4 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“Yikes! Clearly I was pretty wasted, what exactly did I call this thing again?” Morris, God’s trusty advisor further unfurls a scroll to confirm and replies, “a ‘platypus,’ sir.”"
] | [
1,
3
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"1531452318",
"1531453071"
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[removed] | [WP] You were depressed and suicidal. One day you decided to pull the trigger, but remembered an ad about cryogenic preservation. Instead of commiting suicide, you went to the venue, and gotten yourself frozen. You are thawed in the year 2551. | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Ganderful, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**No explicitly sexual responses, hate speech, or other harmful content**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)\n\n- We 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8yj5l5/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1531481179",
"1531481223"
] |
[WP] You’ve been in a coma for 47 years, ever since WW3, you finally wake up. | 5 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Lavenders and freshly cut grass. You follow the scent with your mind, chasing its drift every which way. Lavenders. Grass. Burning Metal.\n\nYou wake. The light is blinding. The whiteness pieces your eyelids. Your body aches. You try to move but your limbs resist. Your muscles are tired, as if they haven't moved for decades. They haven't.\n\nA white sheet underneath you sits scrunched and protruding, sending a constant pain down your back. You regain control of your legs. Stretch. The world dims.\n\nYou roll your head to one side. Arms slowly come up to your face, blocking the light, casting a shadow over your face. Your skin, you feel it. Rough, much more rigid than you imagined. A tingle runs down your finger as if makes contact with your face. Touching has never felt so real.\n\nYour eyes open, slow to adjust. Your head turns back up. The sky above you looms grey. No clouds. Or perhaps, only clouds. The surrounding is unfamiliar to you, the landscape barren. Just you inside your pod. A glare.\n\nThe glass cover of the pod is finally coming into focus. You can now make out the interior of the pod where you lay. Your arms barely had enough room to wiggle up to your face. You remembered, and took a deep breath.\n\nA string of letters appear on the glass dome above your eyes. ACTIVE VITALS DETECTED. DATE 07/13/2159, TIME 15:23:21. SOLAR CELL CHARGE: FULL. AWAITING ORDERS.\n\n\"Status report.\" your murmured.\n\n\"Current status unknown, last known communication signal at minus 411240 hours and 32 minutes ago. Battle status unknown. Location unknown, GPS offline. Last known location at 42.61335, -70.66744. Pod integrity at 37%, heavy equipment damage. Life support active, fuel cells active, camouflage active, thrusters damaged, shields disengaged, auxiliary functions partially active. Communication via NFQ is active with unread message. Replay last message?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Message from Command 06/30/2112 at 09:40:32: CODE TARMAC: All units launch safety pods immediately. Incoming bombardment, nuclear grade. Retaliation in order. Execute Project Lavender. -- End of communication. Awaiting Orders.\"\n\n\"Scanner?\"\n\n\"Scanner damaged. Friendly pods detected within visual range. Heavy damage on pods, IDs cannot be identified. Awaiting Orders,\"\n\n\"Access mission log.\"\n\n\"Mission log initiated, displaying previous 10 mission updates. 1. Project Lavender executed. 2. Safety pods ejected to terminal velocity. 3. Electromagnetic interference detected: weapons grade. Thrusters damaged. 4. Orbital velocity lost, navigation is impossible. 5. High density shroud detected across major atmosphere. 6. Pod descent to atmosphere; emergency landing procedure engaged. 7. Emergency thrusters engaged, water landing location received. 8. Water landing successful, life support activated. 9. Awaiting further orders. 10. Systems inactive. Entering long-term hibernation. Awaiting Orders.\"\n\n\"Environmental analysis.\"\n\n\"Environment status: twilight. Atmospheric pressure stable. Oxygen levels low. Current Outside Temperature: -26^(o) Celcius. Humidity at 6%. Active radioactive isotopes detected. Exit only in exo-suit.\"\n\nYou lift your head up to try and get a better look around you. Grey. The beach is lined with pods. Hundreds of them. Some of them had cracked domes, some were torn apart completely. There were bodies and limbs that littered the ground. The water is grey and receded, debris washed up to the grey sand like a barricade. In the distance you can see old buildings in shambles. Ruins.\n\n\"Motion detected within pod, please refrain from moving while life support is active.\"\n\nYou put your head back down and stared out of the glass dome above.\n\n\"Initiate emergency broadcast, NFQ, radio, infrared, and thermal.\"\n\n\"Emergency broadcast activated.\"\n\n\"Initiate automatic pod command and survival mode. Disengage all auxiliary functions and maximize life support operation. Activate long-term cryo.\"\n\n\"Automatic command engaged. Survival mode activated. Confirm long-term cryo?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nYou feel a sharp coldness on your back. The mechanical life support tube is pulled out of your spinal cybernetics port. The cryo has already frozen the wounds. Your head is numb all of a sudden. The light grows brighter and brighter in front of you and suddenly it dims. The scent of the lavender disappear as your body freezes over."
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[inspired by this](https://reddit.app.link/gS4y5hmHwO) | [WP] When your child was born, you set up a photoshoot of you “discovering” them in a broken spacecraft, and hide the photos in the attic. 13 years later, you allow your angsty child to “discover” them. | 453 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"“You don’t get it, Dad!” Jeremy moans. “School’s full of these-these stupid humans and nobody gets me. Not even you.” \n\nI raise an eyebrow. \n\n“‘Stupid humans’?” My lips almost give away a small smile. \n\nJeremy rolls his eyes. \n\n“Yeah, Dad. Dumb ass fucking humans-”\n\n“Language.”\n\n“... dumb stupid humans. I don’t want to go to school anymore.”\n\nI sigh and sit down on the bed next to Jeremy. \n\n“I know it must be hard.” I pat his back. “High school can be a sucky place to be. Trust me, kids your age are going through changes in your body, and having all this work on top of that-”\n\n“It’s not just that!” Jeremy suddenly stands up from his bed and grips his hair, exasperated. “I’ve always... I dunno... I’ve always felt that I was... different, you know? Always knew that I never quite fit in with everyone else.”\n\n“Everyone feels that way, buddy. High school is rampant with those sort of feelings.”\n\n“Dad.” He stops pacing for a moment and crosses his arms, giving me a knowing look. “C’mon.”\n\n“What?” I try and put on my most innocent face, laughter boiling slowly from my stomach.\n\n“Don’t bullshit me! You know what I’m talking about!”\n\n“Language.”\n\n“Dad!”\n\n“Honest to God, Jeremy.” I raise my hands up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”\n\nJeremy stomps his way over to his closet and rummages around for a few seconds before stomping back out with a few pictures in his trembling hand. \n\n“What the fuck is this?” He tosses the pictures in my lap and crosses his arms again. \n\n“Language.” \n\n“Fuck that shit! Just answer me!”\n\nI slowly look down and could hardly stifle a smile at this point, my body slightly trembling to resist the laughter that had reached the back of my throat. \n\n“... So you found them.” I take a deep breath, trying my hardest to recollect myself. \n\n“Yeah, I found evidence of me being a fucking alien or something, right?” He grips his arms tightly.\n\n“Son...” I look at him in the eye, a somber expression plastered on my face. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”\n\n“Jesus Christ.” Jeremy stumbles back slightly. “So... so it’s true?”\n\nI don’t say anything. Tension fills the air. I always knew I was a drama queen. \n\n“Dad...?”\n\n“To be honest, I have no idea what you are.” I look off in the distance. “A while ago, I was hiking in the mountains with your mother and then... there was just this... this huge flash of light. Before we knew it, there you were, in this huge spaceship that had plummeted from the sky.”\n\nJeremy silently sits in his chair, drinking my every word. \n\n“So we manage to open the damn thing with the tools we had on us.” I continue. “And then it opens up and we found you.”\n\n“Sorry, Dad.” Jeremy interrupts me. “I’m not actually that interested in how you found me.”\n\nPart of me deflates. I had this whole story prepared for years, too.\n\n“Just...” he suddenly grabs one of the photos in my lap. “What is this?!” He points to his baby groin area in the picture. \n\nI almost burst into laughter. I had completely forgotten that I had photoshopped three penises on baby Jeremy in the photos. \n\n“Ah... that.” \n\n“That’s it?! That’s all you have to say about—about those monstrosities?!” Jeremy screeches.\n\n“You should be glad I managed to remove the other two without a trace!” I yell back and cross my arms. “I was really proud of myself for that!” \n\n“Oh my - oh my FUCKING GOD!” Jeremy is in hysterics. “YOU removed them?!”\n\n“Well you didn’t think your mother and I could take you to the hospital, did you?! If they realized you were an alien, they would’ve taken you to the government or something and do experiments on you!” \n\n“What.. no! No no no no no!” Jeremy grips his head and screams. \n\n“Yeah, I still have them stored in case you ever wanted to see them in the basement. I kept them in a jar.” \n\nJeremy’s mouth stays in an ‘O’ shape for a good twenty five seconds until I hear footsteps coming towards us. \n\n“Honey? Jeremy? What’s going on?” My wife rushes into the room. “I heard screaming! What’s going on?”\n\nShe looks at the pictures in my lap, looks at Jeremy’s shaken face, and then looks at my face that’s trying its best not to crack. She sighs and winks at me. \n\n“You told him about the three penises, huh?” She asks with a grim expression on her face.\n\n“Holy FUCK!” Jeremy screams again. \n\nMy wife and I quickly look at him crossly. \n\n“Language!”"
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[WP]: The monster under the bed crawls out, climbs onto your bed, curls up on your feet and starts snoring. | 34 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"w-what the hell?!\"\n\nyou say as you turn on your bed side lamp too see a strange black furred creature crawling from under your bed\n\n\"...what are you supposed to be?\"\n\nyou say as you look down horrified at the thing sitting there \n\nsuddenly the creature looks at you \n\n\"a..cat?\" \n\nyou say confused\n\n\"mrrrreoooowwww\"\n\nthe cat like creature goes.\n\nthe cat like creature proceeds to stand up, and stretch its back up into the air, its black fur glistening in the moonlight \n\n\"so...you are a cat\"\n\nyou say,\n\n\"mrrrewww\"\n\nthe thing goes,\n\nsuddenly, the creature jumps onto your bed, twirls around a bit, and lays down covering its face with its strange tail.\n\nyou start examining the cat and start to notice that it is not just a regular cat,\n\nit has a cat like face, and body, and paws, except the fact that its got tiny little black dragon wings, a dinosaur like tail, and little plates going across the back of its head, its back, and its tail, everything cover in thick black fur.\n\n\"so...what exactly are you?\" \n\nyou say to the cat light creature,\n\nthe cat like creature opens its eyes slightly and stands up stretching its back and tail into the air, as it does this, it glows a bright white, that fades away as it relaxes again,\n\nthe cat opens its eyes, its eyes seem to glow a mixture of purples and blues, you look a bit closer and see that its almost as if there were entire galaxy's in its eyes,\n\n\"whoa..i think i'm gonna call you...nightlight, sound good?\"\n\n\"mreoww\" the cat says softly,\n\n\"good\"\n\nyou say.\n\nthe cat gets up, and walks over too you, and lays down on your chest,\n\n\"good night little friend, sleep tight\"\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n/u/BLZ333 \n\n(i was thinking of maybe adding more too it, idk, i might at some point, i got some ideas but i dont think they would rlly work,) \n\n(hope you liked it) "
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[WP] Humans have invaded most of the Earth's population. They build their shining cities upon the corpses of brave dragons, noble elven knights, mighty orcs and so on. However, there is one island beyond the far west seas that they have yet to find. | 12 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The lands of the gnolls remain largely untouched by the human exploration age, but there is another threat coming. The bigs wre rising up! Down in the southern continent the bugs build massive golden hives, some even on mountain peaks!\n\nBut the gnolls show hold back the tide, and the hive mind shall be broken"
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[removed] | [WP] Two lifelong friends have a discussion about: Who Would Win? You or a horde of five year olds? | 3 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/AmazingArmchair, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)\n\n- Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 30 words. 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*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8yyfyq/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*",
"“You genuinely think Betty White could kick The Queen’s ass? Goddamn you’re pretty stupid, Wyatt. The Queen is immortal, I don’t know if you know.”\n\n“She’ll croak some day, not that I want her to. But Betty white still has some pep in her step probably to take her on. And shut up, Dean. You said that you’d win against 10 Eagles with muscular dystrophy. Look where that got you, tryin’ to fight a eagle that you thought had muscular dystrophy.” Wyatt snickers, holding onto the football. They were stood outside Dean’s front porch of his small ranch, playing catch for the last couple of hours. The stars danced over them, the moon was only half visible. \n\n“Oh shush, I still get headaches from that. Throw the ball, quit hoggin’ it.” Wyatt throws, Dean catches. \n\n“Here’s another one,” Dean throws, Wyatt catches, and juggles the football in his hand. “Who’d win? You or a horde of five year olds?” He laces it back to Dean.\n\n“Really?” Dean asks, one for the question, two for how hard Wyatt through the football. “How many is in a horde?” \n\n“There’d be at least...50? If they are all runnin’ and gunnin’ after you.” Wyatt catches the football, then pretends he is shaking off invisible defenders.\n\n“50? Are they all the same five year olds?” Wyatt tosses it in the air, and Dean repositions himself to catch it like he caught a kick.\n\n“Hmm, I guess so. Does that really make things easier?” Dean throws, but it lands short of Wyatt, catching him in the chest.\n\n“Sorry.”\n\n“It’s alright.” Wyatt beams it to Dean, who was now prepared for it.\n\n“I think it does. What if there’s one kid whose like six foot five?” Dean tosses it to Wyatt behind his back.\n\n“Do you know a five year old is six foot tall, Dean?” Wyatt holds on to the ball in half amusement and half bewilderment, before throwing a dwindling spiral to him.\n\n“Fredrick’s kid was way tall, wasn’t he in kindergarten and he was like 5 foot?” Dean throws, Wyatt catches it near his face.\n\n“He failed kindergarten three times, he was eight when we saw him.” Wyatt holds on to the ball again. \n\n“Oh. Really? He had a young face then. Anyway, do I have any weapons?” Dean catches the ball after a late throw.\n\n“Just your hands, feet, and your brain.” Wyatt contains the ball above him when Dean threw high. \n\n“Are they screamin’? Like they usually are?” Dean pretends to dive for the ball.\n\n“Do you think five year olds are zombies, Dean?”\n\n“....Not usually.”\n\n“Throw the ball, Dean. You have 50 4 foot five year olds running at you, like a horde does, you have no weapons. Do you win?” Dean launches the ball, almost missing the hands of Wyatt. \n\n“Yes I do, I’ll just punt them.”\n\n“You’re gonna punt a five year old? The balls on you, big guy.” Wyatt throws to Dean.\n\n“It’s easy, all you gotta do is get a running start up on them.” \n\n“You’re gonna break your leg if you’re kickin’ 50 five year olds in a row.”\n\n“I’d still win. I’d punt them like this.” Dean positions the football so it was wedged in the ground, he then punts it over the head of Wyatt.\n\n“See? Look how far they’d go. I’ll go get that tomorrow.”\n\n“Dean, five year olds don’t weigh as much as a football.”\n\n“Find me a five year old.” Dean snickers.\n\n“I’m not finding you a five year old to punt, dumbass.”\n\nThe porch door swings open. “Fellas, time to eat.” Wyatt’s wife calls from the door. “Y’all talk mighty loud. Dean could punt 50 five year olds, though.”\n\n“Ah-ha! I win that, third-party.”\n\n“Alright Dean, let’s go. But I I got another one.”\n\n“Yeah?”\n\n“Who’d win? You or Me?”\n\n“You’re on.”\n\n[Edit: My first prompt after months of lurking, please give me constructive feedback if possible. Great prompt.]"
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[removed] | [WP] Your family pet is actually a furry, and no one noticed | 5 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/abstract-lime, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**No explicitly sexual responses, hate speech, or other harmful content**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)\n\n- While it doesn't seem to be your intent, the mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel may become harmful to the community. \n\n*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8yz2ze/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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Auto correct has maybe made this slightly different but perhaps better than it should of been 😂 should of definitely been desert | [WP] You are one of the survivors on a dessert island from a crashed private plane. Amongst the survivors is Gordon Ramsay who is refusing to eat the food that you cook and instead just insults your cooking until he starves. | 1,932 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"There were tears in my eyes. At first I thought he was an incorrigible prick but...\n\n\"Ramsey, mate please you need to eat you're a national treasure.\"\n\nI'd tried my best but I was no iron chef and there was precious little else to work with other than the steel of the still burning wreck of the plane. It was lucky we'd been able to keep it going to I was damned if I knew how to light anything more primitive than a gas stove.\n\n\"Crackers and bloody soup,\" his voice was almost overpowered by the breeze as it spilled out through hi cracked lips; he'd not even taken water since the crash.\n\n\"As useless and raw as the egg your mother used to make you. Give it to the kids, they're the only ones that could stomach it,\" His fevered eyes came into focus for a moment and he gave me a nod, \"give it to the kids.\"\n\n\"Ramsey someone will come. We have enough you need to e-\"\n\nHe grunted and twisted his torso up, grabbing me by the front of my ruined shirt.\n\"No one on earth could save me from the shite you're trying to serve, it's a lost bloody cause.\" From this angle it was hard not to look at his legs. It was even harder for me to see him like this.\n\nRamsey looked down and all the strength seemed to leave his body. His head hit the ground when he fell and he began to shake. I could barely hear his muffled words through the sand as he rubbed his face against it.\n\n\"It looks like a dog got into the kitchen and half-finished it before you brought it out. Nothing to do but throw away useless meat. It's not your fault. Too big a fuckup to blame yourself. Nothing... but... spoiled... meat...\" \n\nI grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. My lip trembled.\n\n\"It's alright mate, I'll try again.\"\n\nI walked back to the group of children huddled together far enough away that I could pretend they weren't trying to listen in.\n\nHe was a national treasure, that man, and a hero. It took him three more days to finish starving.\n\n[Alternate ending]\n\nHe was a national treasure, that man, and a hero. It took him three more days to die. None of the kids made it as anything other than soggy steak, just like he would have wanted I think. I'm glad I decided to land here.\n\n[Alternate alternate ending]\n\nHe was a national treasure, that man, and a hero. But the more I think about it, the more I worry about the premise that it was just me, him, and 6 minors in his private jet. ",
"Hours. I spent an hour in the blazing sun Gathering the fruit; mango, pineapple, coconut, bananas. Another hour peeling, slicing the fruit and setting it up to dry a little bit on rocks, of which I had carefully brushed all of the sand off. By some fluke of circumstance Gordon Ramsay and I had landed on an island that was a combination of a desert island and a dessert island, after our plane's engine had failed on our way to is latest cooking show, for which I had been selected to be a contestant. When we first got here, Ramsey sat around bitching and whining about the circumstances, while I entered survival mode and made sure I found a source of freshwater. I drank some myself as soon as I found it and then brought him some. He received it like some sort of royalty and that it was his due. Somehow I still want to impress the man, though. I noted all the tropical fruit trees and realized that we were going to be having sufficient fruit, and did indeed take a nice, juicy mango off the ground and enjoyed several drippy, sweet slices. But wanting to prove I could provide, I rigged up a makeshift fishing setup from bits and pieces of the plane. After several fruitless hours, I realized none of the fish that were worth catching were coming close enough to the island. All this time Ramsey lounged about in the shade, bitching about bugs. My resentment began to build even more, and at one point I suggested that he could build a fire since it might begin to get cold at night. The look of indignation he gave me would have been laughable if it wasn't so insulting. I ate some more food and drink some water to maintain my energy. Then in some really strange and super misguided idea to impress him, thinking perhaps it would give me an edge in his show if we ever made it there, or maybe this was part of the show, I began to gather the fruit for the tropical fruit salad. Once the fruit had all been sliced perfectly and dried just enough so the juice wasn't super runny, I gathered some fallen bark, washed it off with the precious water, laid some banana leaves on top of it very artistically, and assembled the fruit salad in a visually pleasing way. I found some smaller pieces of bark and broke them into little spoon shapes. I gathered more fresh water. I presented my delicacy to Ramsey as he continued to lie in the shade, fanning himself with a banana leaf. As I was approaching him, he muttered under his breath, \"well it's about time I got some food around here, I have nearly starved to death, waiting.\" I presented him with the amazing concoction I had made so painstakingly over the hours in the hot sun. He took it with a sneer on his face. He picked up the spoon took a bite as I held my breath in anticipation. \"Pah!\" he exclaimed, as he spit out the bite of fruit salad, \"what is this shite!? You did nothing! Nothing! All you did was arrange a pile of food on some banana leaves! You call this food!??\" And he knocked the entire plate of carefully made fruit salad into the sand. He stood up and continue to to shout, \"if that's all you can do with all this fruit abundantly growing on this island, how the hell am I going to survi-\" I couldn't help it. I really couldn't, I throat punched him so hard that I knocked him back into the tree. I knocked him out for a short while but he began breathing again. He regained Consciousness but couldn't speak, which was a blessing. Meanwhile I sat in the shade of a separate tree, leisurely eating my delicious, juicy sweet, Victorious fruit salad, staring at Ramsey the whole time. Once I was done I carefully put my homemade plate and silverware against the tree, and walked cautiously over to check on the loud mouth. He wasn't so loud anymore. He was barely conscious and not having a very easy time breathing. I think his throat is swollen up. I leaned in real close to Ramsey's sullen face and said, \"just this once you should have kept your mouth shut a*****. Once you recover you may want to lend a hand with our survival, because after that performance if you think I'm going to wait on you again, you are mistaken.\" \nIt has now been one month since that Incident. Ramsey and I more or less keep our distance, as much as we can on the small island. We occasionally pass a word of greeting or help. I think he's wary of me, and I definitely think he does not like being bested. The fruit keeps us alive but it's time to start working on a plan for our rescue. Once that day comes I'll be extremely pleased to not ever see or hear from him again.",
"\"Are you done try to impress me with every damn thing''\n\n\"damn it you know you need to eat or your going to be the first to die!\"\n\n\"Hell no I'm not gonna eat any of the shitty looking puke you call food\"\n\nAfter I got tired of arguing with him and hearing that i could never get him t eat over and over again. I decide that it was enogh\n\n\"Okay since you still wanna be a pain in the fucking ass you can cook and I'm done fighting about it \"\n\n\"No i will never stoop so low to use the same shitty things you use.... I demand you to make me a kitchen.\" \n\n\"Okay fuck head you make something or you go with out I'm done trying with you.\"\n\nSo I walked away looking for a good water resource and hopping that I don't find anything hunting me down after all he may not be the brain of our team but he is the muscle.When i did find a water source i found myself so far away and so tired. Next thing i knew I was just waking up.All i could think was how hungry I had become. And how i was not going to let some dosh ass famous chef get in my way. ",
"I stand huddled with the others around the fire. A heavy rain has begun to patter on the roof of our makeshift dwelling; a broken wing from our plane propped up and secured to two palm trees. It does little to keep away the wind and humidity, but we’ve all learned the hard way it beats sleeping out in the open storm. I hold my hands out to the fire, less for warmth and more to remind myself that I’m still here. Still alive. More than a few eyes from around the fire look over towards the hill where small cross dot the recently churned sand. I shiver. \n\nA figure emerges from the darkness, a young woman whose name I’ve forgotten comes to stand beside me. She is drenched, the remnants of days-old mascara rings her eyes. But then I probably look no better. \n\n“How is he?” I ask her. \n\nShe shakes her head. She stands with her arms wrapped around her shoulders, lips trembling, unable to find words. Finally she says, “He just keeps rambling on. I can’t get him to come in by the fire. I’m scared.”\n\nI nod, considering placing a hand on her bare and bloodied shoulder, but I stare motionless at the fire instead. It’s all just too much, I think. Over half the passengers on board dead on impact and more falling sick each day- we’ll be lucky if any of us are alive by the time rescue finds us. I jump as lightening pierces the sky and thunder roars. “If they ever find us,” I mumble. \n\n“What?” The woman asks. \n\nI shake my head. \n\n“What do you want to do? About... him?”\n\nIt is dark but still I glance towards where I know the large lonely outcrop of rock sits looking out over the battering waves. \n\n“He won’t eat anything-”\n\n“It’s ok,” I say. “You’ve done everything you can.”\n\nWhat hope is there if even the living can’t go on?\n\n“Let me try and talk to him.”\n\nBefore she can reply I turn to the makeshift cook pot. Coconuts, bananas and a few fish lay out on a bed of palm leaves. What was a sink in the galley has now been repurposed as a cook pot, it bottom sealed up with hardened clay. Inside is a simple stew of fish and a handful of other ingredients we managed to salvage, including the precious last of our salt. Carefully I spoon out the best parts of the soup into a bowl, careful to get the meatiest chunks of fish, and then cover it with a large piece of banana leaf to keep it warm and then step into the storm. \n\nThe tropical rains are warm by any standards, yet my sunburned skin sends shivers up my spine. I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me to keep the water from my eyes and make my way to where the waves smash against the coast line where only a few days before I found myself and others pulling bodies from the sea. \n\nI make my way carefully up the bare rock, careful with each step as I climb to where the lone figure sits, staring unblinking into the blackness. I stand still for a moment, wondering what to say or if I should say anything at all. \n\n“Gordon?” I say at last. “Gordon?”\n\nThere is the barest recognition to hearing his own name. I take another step closer, the hot bowl cradled against my stomach. \n\n“I brought you something to eat. You need to eat.” \n\nGordon Ramsey says nothing. He sits hunched over, his arms drawn around his knees. \n\n“I know it’s not much but the fish turned out ok-”\n\n“Fuck you,” comes the reply. His voice is hoarse, tired. “Fuck you and fuck your stupid… *fucking* fish.”\n\nIf anything I’m actually relieved. It’s the first any of us have heard him say since the screaming stopped. Since...\n\n“Gordon, if you don’t eat,” I begin, but the words fall away. I climb the remaining few feet and carefully find a seat on a rock beside him. Below us the sea is an angry surge of swelling and breaking, without end, without any sense of pattern or meaning. The words I had rehearsed walking over here seem inconsequential, dross. Instead we sit for a long while as the storm pelts us from every direction with rain and wind, each of us consumed by our own thoughts. But even then, there is a certain connection, I think. One which needs no words to understand. \n\n“They’re all gone,” he says. \n\nI am caught off guard by the man, his words seeming to echo those inside my own head. \n\n“What?” I say. \n\n“They’re all gone…” the words are choked off by tears and I realize Gordon Ramsey is crying. His shoulders shake as he loses himself in a grief that has been a long time coming. \n\n“I’m so sorry,” I say. “So sorry…” but it does little to stop the long wailing sobs of the other man. We sit for a time, the unmistakable sting of tears burning my own eyes through the heavy rain, until at last there is silence. Even the storm seems to have abated somewhat. Though the waves still crash into the rocks beneath us, the rain does not fall so heavily. I realize that Gordon has stopped crying. He wipes rain and tears from his face. \n\nI hold out the bowl to him, it’s contents still warm beneath the banana leaf. The smell of it make my own belly groan. After a time he turns and looks at it. Then he takes it in one trembling hand and his it to his chest. \n\nI watch as he lifts the banana leaf and smells deeply of the steaming broth. He considers this for a time, sniffing away the tears that threaten to return, and draws in a second long breath. He takes a sip. And then another. \n\n“Is it ok?” I ask cautiously. “We’ve been foraging for ingredients, but there’s not a whole lot here…”\n\n“It smells like shit,” he mutters. \n\nI stare at him in disbelief, my cheeks reddening somewhat. \n\nHe carefully picks out a piece of fish and takes a bite, pulling a slender bone out with a finger. \n\n“Whoever cooked this is a fucking idiot,” he mumbles, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh. \n\n“Are you responsible for this atrocity?” He asks, wiping his nose on his soaked sleeve. He lifts up the bowl and takes a long swallow of the warm broth. “It tastes like… ass,” he says, taking another swallow. “Seriously shit….”\n\nI laugh again, I can’t help but laugh. I feel my whole body shaking and tears begin to come again in full. \n\n“Just absolute fucking garbage,” he says in between large gulps of the soup. \n\nFinally he sets down the bowl and let’s out a deep and heavy sigh. \n\n“I admit it’s not the best,” I say. Then, “In fact, we could really use some help with the cooking- if you’re up for it.”\n\nGordon Ramsey turns his head towards me, not quite looking me in the eye. \n\n“What do you say?” I ask him, a lump growing in my throat.\n\nAfter a long moment he nods, and climbs to his feet. Handing the bowl back to me he steadies himself on a rock. \n\n“I suppose if I have to be stuck in this hell with you lot I could at least teach you how to cook a fish properly,” he says. He holds out a hand to me and I take it and climb to my feet. \n\n“I’d like that,” I say. “I think we’d all really like that.”",
"The good news were that we hadn't been that many passengers on the plane, and that most of us made it safely out. The bad news were that Gordon had entered a frenzy. If the man was even capable of entering shock, then this was exactly that. We had lit a fire and made a small camp, sitting in disbelief around it. \n\n\"For fuck's sake, guys. There's no communication! RED TEAM! Get out there and pick your ingredients!\"\n\nHe appeared to have divided us into a red and blue team, for some reason. Perhaps inspired from one of his TV-shows. When nobody lifted a finger, he started pacing back and forth while gesticulating his growing frustration with various postures.\n\n\"My GOD. I've never, ever, EVER met a bunch I believe in less than you.\"\n\nHe was literally shaking at this point. I glanced over at a few of my \"teammates\". We gave each other a small nod, and got up to scavenge for some ingredients. Perhaps it would cool Gordon down.\n\n\"Alright, Gordon. We'll go get our.. uhm.. ingredients.\"\n\n\"Bloody hell, about time you fucking donkeys. Be quick about it then!\"\n\nTo our surprise, some of the plane's inventory was relatively unscathed, and we managed to scrap together enough ingredients to make a simple supper: Some meatballs, slices of bread and a portion of mashed potatoes. We brought a piece of metal from the plane to use as a heating surface and headed back to camp.\n\nGordon was throwing twigs and stones at us as we approached, shouting and angrily waving his arms at us. We hurried forward and started preparing.\n\n\"Look here, Gordon, we've got some ingredients. Just sit back and we'll whip you up some dinner.\"\n\nHe stood next to the fire, broodingly watching, judging our efforts. As we put the food onto our primal cooking plate, he finally burst.\n\n\"You'll BURN IT! Where's the BUTTER?! WHERE?!\"\n\nI bit my lip, barely containing my rage. This fucking guy. But I did not want to upset him further, so I continued cooking. Shortly after, the meatballs were warm, the bread toasted and the mashed potatoes heated. We made sure to give Gordon a serving first, so he would calm down. What a mistake that was. He took a slow, seemingly antagonizing bite out of the meatball. A few seconds passed, before he violently spit it out straight at one of the passenger's faces.\n\n\"Ooh, that's ghastly. It's fucking raw! You idiots, look! LOOOOOK!\"\n\nHe held the meatball out for all of us to see. It had already been cooked, so it was basically impossible for it to be raw. He threw the ball at the ground.\n\n\"No seasoning, completely bland. It's fucking mushy, guys! Is.. Is that MOLD?!\"\n\nHe was examining a stone on the ground at this point. We all looked at each other, sharing nervous looks. Gordon got up and went over to taste the rest of the meal. \n\n\"Is this bread fresh? Wait, let me answer that for you.\"\n\nHe knocked his fingers against it, indicating it was hard as a brick.\n\n\"No, it's not. It's STALE! YOU TOLD ME IT WAS FRESH! DO YOU EVEN CARE?\"\n\nHe let out a sigh, throwing the bread on the fire. This meal was our only source of food. \n\n\"Now. These potatoes. Where do I bloody start? I asked you if they were made to order, but I can tell.. I can FUCKING TELL they are frozen! FUCKING FROZEN. Serving ME, frozen food? Fucking hell.\"\n\nFollowing these statements, he slowly quieted down, moving further and further away from the camp as the night rolled in. Actually, we can't even see him anymore. We only hear him, moving among the trees and bushes, sometimes mumbling and cursing about rotten food and signature dishes. Later on, we even found a dead squirrel with its stomach missing, and a slight drizzle of leafs on it, a bit further down from the camp. \n\nSomewhere in the distance we hear a feral chef howling in the night. \n\n\"NINOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...\"\n\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI know I strayed a bit away from the prompt, but hopefully it's OK :)",
"\"... and Mahi-Mahi, roasted over a low fire, wrapped in palm leaves, with coconut shavings.\" That concluded the menu I was presenting to Gordon Ramsay for our dinner for 5. We had crash landed on the beach of this small island after an onboard fire. I kept having to remind Stan, the loudest and most opinionated of the group, except for Gordon (although Gordon has expertise to back up his opinions; we can't think of anything at which Stan excels), that we didn't crash. There's a difference. If we had crashed, few of us would have survived. Perhaps Stan would have perished. Now a week later, we're eager for some flavor in our food, and I have volunteered to provide the meal. But not before running it by Gordon. I feel I need his approval, since I am a professional chef at a hotel back home.\n\nA long silence followed, and then he leaned toward me. \"I suppose you think this is a desert island. It is a dessert island, hotel chef.\" He said this in a low tone, into my ear, as if to intensify the insult. \"Everything you cook must be a dessert. If you have any skills, you will make your desserts nutritious, or we will not survive.\"\n\nThen he brightened. \"Come on, let's get to it.\" We took an inventory - fish, seaweed, coconut. Nothing you would call sweet, and to me, desserts are always sweet. I voiced my concern, and Gordon said, \"Hotel chef, the world is bigger than what lies inside your feeble brain. See that particular kind of seaweed? Dry some of it on the rocks and then see how it tastes.\" Seaweed is seaweed, I though to myself. Oh, but I was wrong.\n\nThree years later, we are back home after rescue, but Gordon is gone. By the time I perfected my dessert recipes, Gordon was dying. He had reached the point that he refused to taste any of my desserts, as he exclaimed that they were \"beyond belief.\" I don't think he meant that in a good way. Death from starvation, ironic in a chef. My new cookbook is coming out, and I am opening my all-dessert restaurant. Dessert Island, it is called. Although I frequently felt the sting of Gordon's judgement while we were marooned, I now realize that he pointed me in the right direction, and I am grateful.",
"The island seemed to impossible. No matter what ice cream or cake batter I scavenged Gordon refused to eat more than one bite. Then he would berate me over and over. I tried ice cream cake, chocolate cake, cake flavored ice cream but he always rejected it. The island being entirely made of dessert wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was Gordon Ramsey’s hatred of it. Me and the other survivors didn’t miss him when he starved. The ungrateful prick.",
"\"Ahh, fuck\" he said with his last breath. We all stood around looking down at him for a moment. His walnut face, tight against his skull. \"Thank fuck for that\" said Dave, pulling at a thread from his makeshift shorts. Sarah edged forward and suggested we salt the meat so it would last.",
"I had been trying. Really, I had. Granted I'm no Guy Fieri but the other handful of survivors had no problem eating my take on island survival food. But Gordon...\n\nI mean, he was always insufferable, that was his thing right? But we thought, you know, maybe with the *circumstances* being what they were, he could give it a rest and just... eat.\n\nNope. The guy can't turn it off, I don't think it's his fault. I hear him in his sleep, cursing people for dropping the soup or burning the chicken. \n\nSo I started to make things intentionally bad. I've found the threshold of flavor where the group will cope with nary a complaint, but Gordon won't even stand downwind of it. The best part is, I think he's catching on.\n\nHe knows I'm doing it to spite him now. That I'm making food specifically to exclude him. I can see the desperation in his face as the hunger withers him away. He must be eating coconuts, or bugs, just to spite my cooking but stay alive. But he's weaker now, his fire burning low. Unsure of how long the rest of us will be here, I wait for delerium to creep in on Gordon, and begin to prod him for 'long pig' recipes.",
"“What the hell is this?”\n\nGordon is pissed. He states it me with those steely eyes, judging me while I attempt to make a French stew I learned about in an amateur cooking class I took in 1999. Bouillabaisse, I think it was called. Oui.\n\n“This is trash, you stupid bugger! Do you know how to fucking cook!?”\n\nI sighed. We were in a dessert island. No, not desert. Dessert. And Gordon only wanted French food. None of the hundreds of confections found on the surface, none of the delicious candy corn trees or gumdrop littered forests literally oozing with sweet nectar. What’s more, he refuses to cook. Anyways, as a member of his production team and his personal psychologist I was liable for his safety, particularly mentally. So I satisfied his whining. \n\n“You damn fool, I can cook a hundred times better than that you dumb American pig!”\n\nOh save me. Anyways, the soup was done, and I poured it out into a bowl. Thank god for Gordon’s personal plane kitchen and bowl collection.\n\nHe takes a spoon, and drops it. He gets a glazed over look in his eyes, as he begins to reminisce about his cooking and his soul, his idea of god and mysterious forces around us that make us who we are. He remembers his childhood, his friends and family wishing him a happy birthday, the aroma of food all around...\n\n“This is shit!”\n\nHe throws the bowl and it shatters."
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Edit: that would be quantum computer | [WP] You have just built the most powerful quantum in history, and you test it trying to calculate the last digit of Pi. And to your astonishment, it gives you a result. | 46 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"2.\n\nAll my calculations have waited for this day. All of the last twenty years of writing the most supreme quantum program known to the realms of mathematics. My fingers shake, as I write down the digit. Two. Two. Two. Two.\n\nI’m scared, of completion. This is my life, was my life. What is my purpose now? What is my strength, my weakness, my true nemesis and greatest ally? What? My trembling fingers click the digit, as the computer begins to wrap the digit. It is complete, it is done. I am a pioneer, a revolutionary. A new generation, so to speak. I am a god amongst mortals, a grandmaster among plebeians. \n\nI am. I am. I am. I am. I am. I am.\n\nAll that is in my head is 3.14 3.14 3.1415 3.1415 3.1415 3.1415 3.1415\n\nThe rhythm is exciting, the beat exhilarating! I feel as if I want to touch the sky, to rise up to God and sit beside him as a ruler of heaven. I am commanded by the melody, controlled by it. I climb up on to the balcony, gazing down lovingly at the peons below. What a beautiful day it is. \n\n3.14153.14153.14153.14153.1415\n\n22222222222222222222222222222\n\nI leap, ready to see God. I am ready to touch the heavens.\n\nReady to soar.",
"“Heeeeeere am I floating in my tin cannnnnnn! Farrrrrr abovvvve the worrrrrrld!”\n\nI’ll be the first to admit that I’m an abysmal singer. My coworkers at Quantum Leap Research invite me out to karaoke every week, and I always have an excuse. But tonight I found myself shouting along with the David Bowie record playing in the corner of my studio apartment. Drowning in half a bottle of Jack Daniels, though, has definitely helped lubricate my willingness to sing.\n\nI’ve been drunk for nearly a week now. It’s the only thing that seemed worth doing since I discovered \\*it\\*. That is, nothing seems worth doing anymore - truly nothing is.\n\nI haven’t told anyone about my discovery yet either. I don’t think I will, but now that we have the power - quantum computing - someone else will soon. I just don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, I guess.\n\nAt face value, my discovery could not seem less significant; It’s only a single digit, afterall. But it’s \\*the\\* digit. The digit that Pythagoras and countless other men have sought for centuries. I have found the final digit of pi. In case you care, it’s 4.\n\n“Plannnnnet earrrrth is bluuuuuuuue, and there’s nothing I can dooooooooo.” I took another sip and started coughing uncontrollably as the whiskey slid down the wrong pipe, searing the back of my trachea. There was a knock at the door.\n\n“Go away!”\n\nThe knocking got louder.\n\n“GO AWAY, I SAID! Can’t you see that I’m floating in my tin can?!” I chuckled to myself as I incorporated the lyric.\n\nThe knocking picked up and nearly shook the apartment.\n\nWhy won’t they just go away, I thought? I dragged myself off the sofa and stumbled over to the door. “Who issss it?” I slurred.\n\n“It’s John. We need to talk. Open up.”\n\n“Shit John. There ain’t no point in talking. Let’s just drink,” I said as I slid the latch open. I opened the door to see my coworker standing in the frame, looking as stern as ever. “You look so cranky John.”\n\n“We need to talk about what you discovered,” John said, very seriously.\n\n“Jack Daniels,” I said lifting the bottle in his direction, spilling a bit on the floor in front of him as my arm swung loosely. “I discovered Jack Daniels and ice cubes. And it is good.”\n\n“Yes, I can see that,” he said, waving the stench of mash whiskey from his face. “But we need to talk. Now.”\n\n“Ok, ok, calm down, Mr. Sassy pants,” I said as I turned back to the couch. “So how d’you know about my big discovery?”\n\n“I have the same access to the computer that you do,\" John responded. \"And you did not do a great job deleting your logs. You haven’t been to the lab in over a week, so I got nosey.”\n\nI gave him a hard look, “You shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”\n\n“No, I haven’t.”\n\n“Good.”\n\n“But I’m going to,” he said, defiantly. “You’ve made a massive discovery, and you’re not doing your scientific duty to reveal it to the world.”\n\n“Massive, yes. But it’s shit. Nobody needs to know about it. Let the people live their simple, oblivious lives.”\n\n“What are you talking about?” He asked, genuinely baffled. “Yes you’ve proven the non-existence of irrational numbers, but… but why all this?” He gestured to the bottle of Jack and the overturned chair below my kitchen table.\n\nI opened my eyes wide and stared at him. “You don’t get it do you? You haven’t deciphered what this really all means. It’s not about a friggin’ number, John. This is about our existence.”\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n“What is pi, John?” I asked rhetorically. “It’s the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter.”\n\n“Ok…,” John said, not grasping where I was going with this.\n\n“And a perfect circle would have a ratio that repeats ad infinitum. But what I've just proven, John, is that the ratio stops. There cannot possibly be a perfect circle! It cannot be constructed! And do you know what that means?! It means that I’ve found the smallest indivisible unit that can be circumscribed. I’ve found the proverbial pixel.”\n\nMy coworker sat back and pressed his hands to his temples. It seemed he was beginning to grasp the true meaning of my discovery. It was about time.\n\n“That’s right, John. I’ve discovered the building block of our universe. Our universe is pixelated. And why is that? Because we are living in a fucking simulation.”\n\nHis eyes went wide, indicating that he had made the final connection.\n\n“And do you know how I know that, John? Because I know that you’ve been using the same computer to architect the simulation. And someday the inhabitants of the universe that you’re creating will make the same discovery that I just have. And so on, and so on... simulations all the way down.”\n\nI took another swig and handed the bottle to John.\n\nedit: a word or two, for clarity's sake"
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"1531656139",
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[WP] He asks "What would you like?" and the kid responds "I want my grandfather back". After a pause...the balloon artist gets to work. | 11 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"The man emptied his lungs into the long balloon in great bursts. Curiously, it seemed he was whispering something into it with each exhale. He inflated the balloon with gasps of his smoky breath, then he began his work of feverishly twisting the balloon with a series of creaks and squeaks. His long, yellowed nails gripped the thin latex, and the boy was certain the balloon would pop. But it did not. \n\n\nGreasy strands of long hair clung to the man's forehead, peeking beneath his top hat. The gleam of fresh sweat shone on his face, and his expression was devoid of the typical smile that those at the carnival often wore. His eyes were deeply set beneath thick eyebrows, and his face had the pained focus of someone undertaking some intensely laborious task. \n\n\nHis wrists twisted in opposing directions, forming the limbs of his creation. He twisted the legs, and a pair of knobby knees. Then he formed the feet. Then he made the arms, hands, and finally the head. For all of the man's efforts, the finale was quite lackluster. He had spent nearly two minutes forming what turned out to be a simple stick man. \n\n\n\"Here you are, boy,\" The man said, handing the boy the red balloon man. \"Here is Charles.\"\n\n\nThe boy held it between his hands. The late evening glow reflected off its glossy texture. \n\n\n\"Thanks,\" the boy said and forced a quick smile to the man. \"How much does this cost?\"\n\n\nThe man pulled the top hat from his head and gave a quick but grandiose bow, revealing his thinning scalp. Then he flashed a smile exposing yellowed teeth and said, \"No fee. Just be sure to take good care of him. Come back if you'd like another.\"\n\n\n\nIt was only after the boy had walked away from the booth that he'd remembered something that stopped him in his tracks: He had never told the man his grandfather's name. \n\n\n\nThe boy did return to the man with the balloons. The following evening he had made his way past all of the booths and vendors, and past the shouting and bustle of carnival games. He practically ran when through the crowd, he finally saw the man's pale face grinning back at his own. \n\n\n\"Ah, young man! I see you've returned,\" He gave a wide smile. \"And I suppose you'd like another balloon?\"\n\n\n\"He's-he's real!\" The boy nearly shouted with exuberance, \"My grandpa, he's... He's *actually* in the balloon! We talked all night. How did you do that?\"\n\n\nThe man pressed a crooked finger to his lips, \"Shhh... one must not question the ways of magic. Just... simply enjoy it.\"\n\n\n\"Can I get someone else?\" The boy asked, and to this, the man gave a careful look of consideration. \n\n\n\"Well... you see, there is a sort of balance to this kind of magic. I can give you the soul of another being... but I will need the soul of someone yet alive. Does this make sense to you?\"\n\n\n\nThe boy nodded, the frenzied expression remaining on his face. \"Sure, but I can bring back *anyone*?\"\n\n\n\"Certainly,\" The man said. I can give you anyone you wish, but as I stated before... there must be a soul for a soul.\"\n\n\n\nThe boy furrowed his brow in concentration, then finally gave a firm nod. \"I want Ranger. My dog, Ranger. He got hit by a truck last fall. I want him back.\"\n\n\n\"Splendid!\" The man shouted, \"I enjoy making doggies.\"\n\n\nFrom his breast pocket he pulled a pad of paper and a pen. Several names had already been scrawled throughout, and he turned to an empty page. \n\n\n\"Simply write the name of someone you know on this page, and I'll give you Ranger.\"\n\n\n\"That's it?\" The boy asked, \"Just write a name?\"\n\n\nThe man nodded.\n\n\nWith focused deliberation, the boy slowly wrote a name on the page. With the same intensity as before, the man shaped a dog, and after a couple of minutes, handed it to the boy.\n\n\nThe boy held the dog between his hands and quietly asked, \"Ranger? Are you in there?\"\n\n\nHe held its muzzle to his ear. \n\n\nThe boy listened for a few seconds, then began bouncing with glee. \"Can I do another? Another?\"\n\n\nA deep laugh escaped the man, \"Of course, son! I can make as many as you wish. After all, I have plenty of pages and ink!\"\n\n\n.\n\n\nIt was the deep purple of late twilight when the boy made his way home. The house was dark and empty. His mother was not in the kitchen preparing dinner, and his father was not reading the newspaper and smoking his evening cigarette. It was as though they were simply plucked from the home like dolls from a dollhouse. He ran upstairs, disregarding the rule of kicking off his shoes while inside. It was irrelevant now. \n\n\n\"Grandpa! Grandpa!\" The boy shouted. \"Look who I got!\" He set two balloons on his dresser, next to the red stick man. \"I brought Grandma back! Just like you wanted. And I got Ranger!\"\n\n\n\nThe boy's smile reflected in the shine of the balloon, and he pressed the face of it to his ear. \n\n\n\"You want me to bring back who?\" He listened carefully and slowly nodded. \"That's a whole lot of people, Grandpa. Who should I put on the balloon man's list?\"\n\n\nThe boy nodded carefully, \"Okay, Grandpa.\" He had almost placed the balloon back on his dresser when he paused and asked, \"Can I also bring back my cat, Marvin?\" \n\n\nHe listened and then shouted in reply, \"Thanks Grandpa! You're the best! We're going to have a great time together!\"\n\n\n"
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"1531683557",
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[removed] | [WP] 7 word stories | 41 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/a_j_summers, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)\n\n- Responses too short: Responses must be at least 30 words. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. \n\n*Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses))*\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8z8a9z/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*",
"Shameful pleasure, quakes upon thy very soul.",
"\"I should have stayed under the blanket.\"",
" Max Headroom Broadcast Interruption done by Lizards.",
"You were warned... The end is nigh.",
"Once upon a time there wasn't.",
"That was the last time they kissed.",
"I ate tacobell and loved every bite. "
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[WP] Everyone has a pager which alerts the owner if they take a course of action that would have otherwise resulted in their death within an hour. You do something you’re sure would prevent your death, but your pager stays silent... | 3 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"I wasn't the biggest guy in the room by far, but I was the only one that stepped in to intervene when a screaming match ensued between a man and - presumably - his girlfriend, and he rose up and slapped her.\n\nOn the other hand of the spectrum, this woman beater was, by far, *the* biggest guy in the room, and had enough scars to prove that he wasn't just big for nothing. He had experience, if anything, regardless if he could fight.\n\nSo, the outcome was that I found myself looking up at this miniature Hulk, with no back up, while his partner clutched her bruised cheek and stared at me with a mixed look of awed sympathy. Awe that someone would actually come to her defense, and sympathy that I was about to get killed in the process.\n\nHe looked down at me and dismissed me in the same glance, turning his attention back to her.\n\nAnd that's when I broke a bottle over his head. He's lucky...I usually carry a gun.\n\nYou know those cartoons/movies/books where one guy breaks a bat, bottle, or bar stool over the back of the other guy's head and the other guy is completely unaffected? Yeah, that. That happened.\n\nAnd you also know in those cartoons/movies/books where after the guy hits the other guy, the first guy stands around and waits for the other guy to turn around and recover? Yeah, that. That *didn't* happen.\n\nI stuck a piece of broken glass in his neck. \n\nIf he had somehow managed to be unharmed by *that*, I would've gave up and stabbed my own self to death right there in the bar. Luckily, for me, he was still somewhat human, and he began to die.\n\nThe rest of the guys in the bar, now that I had made the giant vulnerable, saw their chance to make up for their early cowardice and they jumped in to put hands, feet, insults and spit on him.\n\nSomehow, me and her ended up in a seedy hotel room doing seedy hotel room things. Then I fell asleep and in my dream remembered that my pager hadn't went off in the meantime. \n\nWhen I woke up it was still dark, and harder to breath. I tried to sit up but the soft suffocation pushed me back down, and that's when I realized my face was under a pillow.\n\nI could have fought harder, probably, if I wasn't already half-starved by oxygen (or if my hands and legs weren't bound to the bed posts from our earlier kinky activities), but in the storm of panic and darkness that overtook me I heard her voice, soft and light, whisper in a hush:\n\n\"Just relax. It's just a game. Enjoy it.\"\n\nHadn't I had heard of people suffocating themselves to get boners before? Giggity gitty goo-yeah\n\nAnd wasn't I getting one at the moment? I'm not going lie and say no.\n\nA part of me still thought that there was some kind of scientific explanation for why I was getting \"aroused\" - something to do with the blood in my body trying to escape by rushing out my dick. I don't know.\n\nBut I did know that she had said it was just a game. So I relaxed, thought of it as a game, and enjoyed it.\n\nMy pager stayed silent. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"More will come later, gotta get back to work for now though. Also, not quite the same but similar I think.\n\nMichael looked at his pager as he woke that morning feeling extremely hungover. He recalled the value changing last night but his memory was groggy. 12/04/2057 was displayed as he looked down, the day of his death. It was just 3 days away! Now usually this would be a major cause for panic, but Michael knew that this wasn't set in stone. There was a stage of his life where he was a few hours away, but thankfully staying home that day instead of going out for drinks managed to change that. What Michael didn't understand though, was that just yesterday he still had 26 years to live. What happened last night that changed his due date?\n\nHe couldn’t deal with this right now though, he was just feeling way to sick. He dismissed it from his mind briefly as he went to the bathroom, pretty much crawling all the way there to vomit. “Jesus” he said as he held onto the toilet bowl, “What the fuck happened last night. How much did I fucken’ drink!?”\n\nHe rolled over onto his back to lay down on the cold floor as he looked at the ceiling. “I’m so fucked” he thought. He reached for his phone in his pocket and dialled one of his mates he was out with last night. As he did he felt his pager vibrate, 10/04/2057. “What the fuck!” He immediately hung up, before his friend got the chance to answer smashing his phone one the ground in the panick. “That’s fucken tomorrow” he shouted. His pager vibrated again; 12/04/2057. \"“I need to find out what happened last night\". \n\nHe got up splashed his face and noticed some blood on the back of his hand he didn’t notice before. “Wait what?” he thought, “Am I bleeding?”\n\nHe rinsed it off, noticing that it all came off to reveal no injury. He stared blanky at it for a while till suddenly it all came to him, and boy was he fucked. He ran to his room and checked for tha bag under his bed. It was exactly where he remembered putting it. He closed his eyes as he opened it, hoping he was wrong, hoping what he thought was going to be inside wasn’t going to be there. Slowly you could hear the zip being pulled open, like an early morning when you climbing out your tent trying not to wake those sleeping. He held his breath as he opened one eye. “FUCK!”."
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"1531730719",
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[removed] | [WP] For biligual writers. | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Njornmeal, this submission has been removed.\n\nAll prompts must fit within the title bar and not bleed over into the description.\n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8zix3f/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
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"1531810517",
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[WP] For as long as the White One exists, the Empire will prosper. | 1 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"First response to a writing prompt, hope you guys like it and I'd appreciate any feed back, good or bad!\n\nThe Grand-Vizier strode purposefully down the highly decorated corridor, past motionless guardsmen in golden armour, towards the great doors of the throne room. Two large men stepped forwards and grasped the two ornate, golden rings set into the doors and cast in the likeness of snarling lions. They strained their muscles to the task and the doors opened smoothly, soundless despite their vast size. Not even sparing the two slaves a glance the Grand-Vizier passed beneath the carved stone lintel and into the great room beyond. A gold trimmed carpet, the product of generations of craftsmen, laid atop the marble floor and the Grand-Viziers silk slippers did not make a sound as he seemed to glide across the fabric towards the enormous throne that faced him. His eyes always diverted from the human form of the god that sat in the throne he prostrated himself as he neared the raised dias the throne was perched atop of.\n\n“You may rise Pnei-hor and speak of your news” a deep bass voice announced as the Emperor's Seneschal stepped forwards. As the only man who heard the Emperor’s voice the Seneschal’s political standing was second to none and so he did not have to use Pnei-hor’s official title, though the Grand-Vizier knew that the man would never have the same power he yielded - the Seneschal’s were selected from honoured houses each morning and executed each night, for none that heard the voice of a God could continue life. \n\nRising to his feet the Grand-Vizier kept his eyes fixed on the carpet at his feet and spoke into the echoing silence of the room.\n\n“Oh Almighty One, I am unworthy of your grace” The Grand-Vizier began, using the traditional opening to any dialogue with the God-Ruler of the Empire. “I bring grave tidings from Jaladair, I have travelled from there as fast as possible. Oh Almighty One, The White-One is fading, none of the sages or wisemen can divine what has happened, she seems in perfect health but she is weakening daily. Almighty One, we fear she may not recover from what plagues her.”\n\nThe Grand-Vizier prostrated himself again, pressing his nose into the weave of the carpet. He knew the news he had carried forth was the worst he could have provided, especially as he was unable to provide an answer or solution to the troubles. He fully expected this message to cost him his life, as the Grand-Vizier was the one responsible for keeping The White-One alive.\n\nIt had began many centuries ago, after the first Emperor descended from the heavens and lead the Mepran people in their Great Wars. The victories he led the armies to where the heat that forged the Empire and pushed back the forces of darkness. From the blood that stained the sands red a nation grew, like a tree casting its shadow from sea to sea. No one could stand against the God-Ruler’s holy light. When the dust of war settled the rebuilding began, with the great cities rising from the desert oases like ant hills. Wealth poured from mines and trade and and the river of gold produced never before seen opulence, and grand palaces were built on the backs of captured enemies, marked by the whips of the overseers.\n\nIt was as the Empire entered this golden age that they heard of The Prophecy. A blind old seer was heard to enter the dream state, and the vision she saw was of an unbridled power. Unmatched and unquestioned the seer’s vision of the Empire stretched for generations with countless numbers under its control and immeasurable wealth at its disposal. In the vision the God-Emperor sat atop a great pyramid, built by and worshipped by an endless sea of his subjects. Boundless power would belong to him and his heirs. \n\nBut the seer saw something else too. The great gold-topped pyramid was held up by a figure, a woman as white as the pyramid stones, who held the massive monument to the Emperor on her shoulders. The White One held the fate of the Empire. The vision cost the seer her life, the power of the vision burst the heart in her chest like an over ripe fig that fell from a tree, but the last words she uttered before collapsing into the dirt were echoed from a thousand lips; “For as long as The White One lives, the Empire will Prosper”."
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"1531837021"
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[WP] You're having a heated argument with your partner over text messages. You send a response and turn the tv on to reveal the news, there has been a car crash an hour ago not too far away. The face of the first victim comes on screen, its your partner. Your phone lights up. | 94 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"'Danny answer Me!' The phone reads I look down and see the past three messages I missed. 'What's going on!' He continues. \"how...\" i mutter and look back up at the tv, It shows his broken body and I squeal and look away. 'You're not Mark' I type, the screen shows three bubbles and soon text appears again. 'What do you mean' the text says. 'Y-your supposed to be in a car crash' I type, I keep looking at the screen. It shows his name, mark turren.\n'How do you know' he types slowly and I back against my couch, my cat jumps up wanting comfort so I pull him close and kiss his head 'it's on tv' i type \"What the fuck\" I mutter. He doesn't type so I get up and put my coat on, I'm going to see my fiance. I get in the car and as I drive across a bridge my phone lights up again 'watch. Out.' The phone reads. Suddenly a man crosses the street in front of me and I swerve into a book stand. The books tumble as I scream and get out of the car my undamaged phone in hand. As I get out i start walking to the hospital on a block away. I get to the hospital every painful step leading me there, I clamber inside a few patients stare as I reach the front desk. A lady no older than I looks up \"sir are you okay\" she asks I frown \"I'm here to see, mark turren\" I demand, she hands me a form and shows me where to sign. I place my fingers on the pen and messily Wright my signature. \"room 24 on your left\" she sighs and I run to the small room. Mark sits up on the bed as I walk in \"ow\" he says and lays back down \"mark are you okay!?\" I ask. He looks at me \"Why are you here\" he asks \"cause I love you\" a tear falls \"Thank God your okay\" I continue \"I missed you\" he mutters. I wrap him in a hug \"your not safe yet\" I say \"Then we will be\" he says and I kiss him before lying in his arms and falling asleep.",
"The sleek, shimmering cherry wood of the Brookhaven desk vibrated Arthur's arm again. He gritted his teeth for the twelfth time, grinding off some of the enamel. Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he languidly looked to the iPhone X that sat next to his keyboard to see the taunting notification: \"You just can't control yourself, can you?\" it showed. More enamel lost, and he wrapped his large hand around the phone. He dropped his arm, ready to throw it, but he knew it would be of no consequence. She would still be texting him. Even with a phone shattered into a million pieces, he would know.\n\nHis chest heaved one more time before he looked again at the screen. He swiped his finger across the smudge that bore an imprint of his fury. He was always loathe to text. Phones weren't made for his large hands. As he fumbled through the words, his anger started returning with every wrong autocorrect change. He groaned and growled and gritted his teeth some more before finally hitting \"Send\" and dropping his phone back on top of his desk, both hoping for the phone to break and hoping it didn't.\n\nHe looked about to find the remote for his 75-inch Sony TV that hung upon his wall next to a Monet he had won at an art auction back when he first took his company public. *Beach in Pourville*. He had bought it, because he wanted to see the beautiful waters of Pourville-sur-Mer while he worked, so he could always remember his and Eveline's honeymoon. They had saved for a year to afford the trip, and he never wanted to forget the work ethic that brought him to his lavish life. He sneared at the painting and turned on the television.\n\nA woman with fastidious detail to eyebrows stood outside a street corner near his home. She pointed at an amalgam of automobile wreckage. The metal was twisted and entwined like two ballet dancers in mid grand pas de deux. He looked down at his stark-white keyboard before the view of the television started to sink in. A whisper of a heartbeat pounded in his thoughts. He blinked, unsure what he was feeling. The whisper grew, and his head pounded. He shook his head, and all went quiet again until he finally heard the words coming from the television: \"... seems to be Eveline Dyson - wife of mogul Arthur Dyson...\" There was a tightness in his throat. He labored a dry swallow before looking up to see his wife's face on the tv.\n\n\"Eveline...\" he said.\n\nHe looked back at the *Beach in Pourville* and then uttered a minor gasp.\n\nThe sleek, shimmering cherry wood of the Brookhaven desk vibrated Arthur's arm again. He jumped. He now frantically picked up his phone to see, \"I'll never forgive you for this.\" He stared at the notification until the screen went black. And then he stared at his own face. He saw every line of sadness and betrayal in the cracks and crevices of his skin. He saw every pore of shame and regret. And lastly, he saw his own tears. He watched them come together and linger at the bottom of his chin as one larger drop. His body's shaking caused the drop to fall to his lap, and he let out a sound he had never known he could make. It was part cry, part howl, and all despair. His phone slipped from his grasp, clanked on the floor, and the screen cracked.\n\nThe sleek, shimmering Brazilian walnut wood of the office floor vibrated Arthur's foot. He looked down at the phone, and another notification popped up: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\" He picked up the phone and said, \"I'm so sorry, Eveline. I'm so sorry!\" Before the screen could turn black, another notification popped up: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\" And another: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\"\n\nHe dropped the phone like a man who unexpectedly saw a spider. It clacked against the desk, and the crack spread a bit further, chipped pieces of glass falling off.\n\nAnother notification showed up: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\"\n\n\"Eveline, please,\" he begged through his sobs. \"Please!\"\n\nThe phone sat on his desk, vibrating over and over again. Each time, the notification showed the same thing: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\"\n\n\"EVELINE PLEASE!\"\n\nThe constant pulsing of the phone moved it across the desk toward Arthur, blinking new notifications. Screaming, he threw the phone across the room. It smashed into a bookshelf and landed on the floor. Through his pants and sobs, he waited. His heart was a banging drum, and his lungs were pistons. He waited.\n\nWhen no sound was heard, he slid from his chair and dropped to his knees. He bellowed and beat at his desk.\n\nThe sleek, shimmering Brazilian walnut wood of the office floor vibrated Arthur's knees.",
"*How-*\n\nMy eyes flicked towards the screen. *Dylan.* The Dylan I was set to marry. The Dylan who I'd been fighting with over something inconsequential in the light of what I had just seen. I frantically unlocked the phone, checking to see whether this was some cruel prank. No. Local online news outlets were starting to pick up the story. I tapped a few buttons and checked the number. Definitely his.\n\nI take a deep breath. Two. Three. Something is terribly wrong. The air hums around me, as if poised to attack something. Tension. *Stay calm. Act normal.* I send a text to him. \"You know what? This is such a silly thing to argue about. How about we just work it out when you get home?\" Click. Send.\n\nOne minute. Two. Three. Phone lights up again. Dylan. \"Yeah. This is dumb. See you soon, babe!\" Sounds just like him. The news might be wrong. Mistaken identity? Dylan drives a car that's common round here. Maybe the reporters misread the license plate.\n\nI fill up the kettle with water. Put it on to the boil. No need to panic yet. *Something is wrong.* Sssssh. You're not helping, brain.\n\nKettle hisses. I pour the water into a mug. I wait, stir, pour milk, sit. I drink. I wait. I try not to think. Thinking leads to panic.\n\nThe front door opens. I turn, pale-faced with wide eyes, towards the figure.\n\nDylan.\n\n\"Hey babe! I - are you okay?\" He immediately picks up on the tension. The sound of the TV catches his eye. He turns towards it.\n\nHe drops his keys. \"What the fuck?\" He turns towards me, his expression now mirroring mine. I shake my head. \"I don't understand.\" He blinks, once, twice. \"Can you feel that?\" Yes. The hum in the air. It's as if *something* is nearby, unseen, trying to get our attention - to warn us?\n\nThe hum gets louder. The sound of police sirens can be heard in the distance. I get this weird *feeling* in my head. There's a sudden urge to get up and turn around, towards the source of the hum. *Run. RUN.* I glance towards Dylan. His jaw is hanging open. \"Something... Something bad is coming. Do you feel it?\"\n\nFifteen minutes later, a SWAT team barges through the open door. All they can find is a cooling, half-finished cup of tea on the kitchen table, a set of car keys on the floor, and a soft hum in the air, fading rapidly.\n\n\\~\\~\\~\\~\n\nEDIT: Part Two and Three below!\n\nEDIT 2: To keep better track of what I write, and also cause it's kind of fun, I've made a subreddit: [ToastyStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/ToastyStories/). Feel free to subscribe if it makes it easier to keep track of what I write! Or follow my profile, idk. Reddit used to be so simple..."
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"1531834642",
"1531844427",
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[WP] you had twin girls but one of them died soon after birth, since then you have been raising both girls, one alive, the other a ghost | 4 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"\"Daddy!\" She looked so cute in her school outfit and a clearly oversized backpack strapped to her shoulders.\n\n\"Hi sweetheart! Did you have fun at school?\"\n\n\"Mmmhmm.\" She nodded happily. \"Did Jess go to school today?\"\n\n\"Of course. Wanna go ask her how it was?\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" She yelled nodding frantically. We dashed off to their room. Beside the bed at the farside side of the room on the dresser was a pictureframe. On the bed an outfit was laid out neatly. \"Ah, her clothes are still here.\"\n\n\"Yep.\" Smiled and she kneeled before her sisters picture.\n\n\"What did she go to school naked?\" She cocked an eyebrow at me.\n\n\"No, silly she can't take the clothes. Dad just lays them out for her. You gonna play with Jess while I make dinner?\"\n\n\"Uhh huh.\"\n\n\"Okay, have fun you two.\" I moved quickly down the hall wiping my wetted face. I could hear Tess talking to her sister, not fazed by the lack of response.\n\n...\n\n\"Tess, Jess! Dinner's ready!\" I could hear the door shut upstairs and feet slowly clomping down the stairs. Tess rounded the corner into the kitchen and I handed her three plates. I smiled remembering how cute she was when she was little.\n\n\"What?\" She asked, taking the plates.\n\n\"Nothing, just remembering when you had those pinchable cheeks.\" She sighed and began setting the table.\n\nI met her out in the dining room staring at the third plate. \"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"Dad, why do you do it? Act like nothings wrong raising a ghost.\"\n\nI gave her a moment before I answered. \"I had two daughters and I am raising two daughters.\" I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. \"Remember, she is always here with us. Now you wanna tell me what's wrong?\"\n\n\"I dunno, I think Jess is upset today. I'm gonna go apologize to her.\" She ran to the stairs sticking her face into the stairwell. She was silent for a moment,\n her eyes closed, and saw her mouth \"I love you\". \"Jess, get down here already or I'm eating your share.\"\n\nShe sat happily at the table and we had dinner. That night I found her sleeping in her sister's room curled up on the floor. The blankets were ruffled raised from the mattress. I lost track of how long I stood on the doorway watching them, only when my eyes began to droop did I remember I should head to bed.\n\n\"Goodnight girls.\" I said softly, leaving their door just slightly open, like I had when they were little."
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1,
2
] | [
"1531843037",
"1531847722"
] | |
[WP] Everyday you go into the same coffeeshop with the same Barista woeking and order the same thing. Usually she gets your name right, but something is wrong. | 4 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Richard plopped his soaking rain coat over the wooden chair, his hair dangling loosely across his face. Wiping the water away from his eyes, he scanned the coffee shop for his barista. Apart of his daily ritual, Richard sat for a few hours and did some writing with sipping his favorite caramel coffee. But today, with the heavy rains already beginning to start, Richard was preparing for a long haul here, maybe he would grab some lunch as well. As long as he stayed focused on his writing, Richard would be content. Content while his trusty barista served him and kept him company throughout her shift. \n\nAs he scanned the bustling coffee shop, he pinpointed his barista. A cute girl with curly blonde locks dangling in her shoulders. Her button face with dimples high on her cheeks. To Richard, she was elegant, an inspiration. Yet, Richard had not grown the confidence to ask her out. Soon, he promised himself, he had to focus on his writing. Soon, they'll be together and life would finally seem not so bleak. But that day would never come.\n\nSarah brought over a cup of joe to a older man reading the newspaper, her red smock dangling at her shins.\n\n*\"Sarah! Good morning, hope you stayed dry with all this rain coming down\"*. Richard calling out, sitting at his table he always claimed. \n\nSarah turned and walked back towards the counter. Richard waited patiently for Sarah to answer back. Yet, she continued back towards the register, ringing up the old mans order and dumping the remaining change in the tip jar. Richard's patience soon turned embarrassment. He was never particularly good with the ladies, yet he developed a certain relationship with Sarah, a first name basis. All this nightmares were coming to the surface as Sarah went about her normal routine, ignoring Sarah. Thinking she may not of heard, Richard cleared the frog in his throat and gave out another call, this time without so much confidence as the shroud of embarrassment was already setting in. *\"Good morning Sarah, how have you been?\"* He called. Nothing, Sarah continued counting her tips, waiting for the next customer. *\"Sarah?\"* Richard called out *\"Sarahhh?\"* He called out a little more playfully. Nothing, she had put her tips away and was scrolling through her phone. Richard could already feel the eyes of the other patrons stare and mock him as he failed to talk to the pretty girl. *\"Sarah\"* He suddenly said a little louder, snapping his fingers at her. Sarah's eyes diverted towards Richard *\"Excuse me sir, if you would like a drink you can come up and ask me, you don't need to snap your fingers at me like a dog\"*. \n\nConfused, Richard replied *\"Sarah, i've been calling you for a few minutes and you've been ignoring me, are you okay?\"* \n\n*\"Sir I really don't know what you mean?\"* Sarah cocking her head sideways confused. \n\n*\"Your really starting to bug me out, and why do you keep calling me sir, its not like i'm that old\"* Richard joked nervously\n\n*\"I'm calling you sir because that is the polite thing to call a new customer, now, what can I get you today?\"* She replied in her bubbly tone.\n\n*\"New customer? Sarah i've been in her everyday since you started working here in May, don't you remember me?\"* \n\nSarah stood staring at Richard, her eyes meeting his gaze with a lifeless tone to them. *\"Sarah?\"* Richard snapped his fingers in front of her face. Her eyes wide and staring into the distance. The uneasy feeling in Richards stomach was now growing stronger, he felt a primal urge that something was wrong. The creepiness of Sarah forgetting him and her now odd behavior, Richard took a step back. \n\nBreaking her dead silence, Sarah sprang to life *\"Coffee! Coffee! Croissant! Large Decaf!\"* Shouting towards the heavens. \n\nRichard stumbled backwards, giggling a nervous, frightful laugh. *Large decaf! Large decaf! L..Laa....LARGE DECAF!\"* Sarah was screaming, her body twisting in an unnatural movement. \n\n*\"My god, Sarah relax, whats going on?\"* Richard asked, he was now grabbing his coat and bag, ready to leave.\n\n*\"Large decaf! Large decaf! L....Laa...L....LARG....L.........\"* Sarah stopped shouting, her head drooped to the floor, motionless. Richard walked hesitnatly towards her, other customers sat quietly to the side, watching the ordeal unfold. *\"Sarah?\"* Richard reached nervously towards her.\n\nHer head shot up, her crystal clue eyes peeled wide. Her arm raced towards her face, her nails digging deep into the side of her cheek. \"*Jesus Sarah stop!\"* Richard cried as she dug deeper, streams of blood racing down her face pooling onto the counter. A patron nervously dialed 911. Richard tired wrestling Sarah's arm away from her face, her other arm swatted hard at Richard, he flew several feet to the side, crashing into a set of chairs. Sarah continued to peel, her skin dropping to the floor, onlookers cried out and ran out the building. Crimson blood soaked her clothes and apron, her skin piling on the counter. Through her gaping cuts, shiny, reflective metals were coming through. Under the cuts, Richard noticed circuitry. First wires were exposed, followed by a fireworks display of sparks emitting from the gash on her face. When the sparks ceased, and Richard snapped himself back to reality, half her face was melted, revealing a sinister android skull. Sarah leapt onto the counter, crushing the cash register sending cash and coins flying. As the last of the patrons ran out, Sarah met the eyes of Richard. She pulled the sleeve of skin off her arm revealing a robotic skeleton underneath. She studied it carefully before meeting his gaze once again. She looked at him menacingly, and with a deeper, static like voice she said *Richard!*\" before leaping towards him. \n\n\n\n\n"
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4
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"1531870221",
"1531873953"
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[removed] | [WP] You’ve spent your whole life preparing for this moment: it’s the apocalypse! Unfortunately, you planned for the wrong kind of apocalypse. | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/ExceedinglyGayWombat, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**We’re here to inspire creative writing, not play writing games or commission stories**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_we.2019re_here_to_inspire_creative_writing.2C_not_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories)\n\n- Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, avoid [too many details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE). \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8zv4jc/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
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1,
1
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"1531917500",
"1531917865"
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[WP] Hell ran pretty smoothly for over two millennia...until an OSHA representative walked through its gates. | 23 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"It was an ordinary day in hell. \n\nSinners were being tormented in my punishment realm, their screams and the laughs of the demons echoed in my dark obsidian halls, foolish humans were selling their souls to eternal damnation for just a little more money or time… all in all, the usual. \n\nNot to brag but I AM the winner of the Infernal Eternal Damnation award for the 2000th year in a row. FOR A GOOD REASON! I run the most efficient eternal punishment realm in all 7 hells. I even took over Satan’s corner in order to teach him how to extract the most out of his demon servants when it came to tormenting the souls of the damned but, as it turns out: he’s more of a field man than a manager! So, after our hellish merger, he runs one of my eternal punishment departments where he gets to field test new “creative” ways to punish souls and I run the entire operation at management level. This boosted our occupancy and employee numbers funnily enough. Demons, humans and even some angels are terrified of being sent to my doorstep but boy oh boy when they do; my minions and I get a field day. We analyze the persons fears, desires, actions when alive in order to custom tailor the punishment to the soul and we make sure the demon in charge of that soul is an expert in that type of torture.\n\nNeedless to say, when you run a punishment realm, Health and Safety are NOT any priority WHATSOEVER. Now answer me this: Who … THE FUCK… thought it would be a GOOD IDEA to send an OSHA rep… TO HELL? I swear someone up there is screwing with me big time. 2000 years not a single problem and then suddenly THIS asshole shows up! Yeah, those feathered assholes flying up on cloud nine are going to have a serious come to Lucifer at the next Angelic-Demonic Summit.\n\nLet me give you the run-down of what happened that day and how my ass is still chafing over it.\n\nI was in my office looking over some standard “sell your soul” contracts, finalizing the paperwork when in came Azrael, my Incubus PA, looking rather grim.\n\n“Yo boss Lou, you get a good lay last night?” That comment resulted in my arching one eyebrow but not looking up from the files.\n\n“Want to try that again Azra? It’s too damn early in eternity for you to spout that crap and I don’t like you nearly enough to not feed you to the hellhounds.”\n\nCool as you please, he ignored my biting remark and sat in the chair opposite my desk and leaned back, arms crossed, acting rather amused than afraid.\n\n“What I meant was, I hope you are in a good mood today…”\n\n“I am never in a good mood, comes with my job, now spit it out, what do you want?” \n\nNo sooner had I said that than in barged my Feathered Aneurism-waiting-to-happen, in a nice clean suit, complete with clip board, pen and a MASSIVE stick up her ass. She pushed past Azrael who rolled the chair back in amusement and planted herself right in front of me. \nTo her irritation, I continued to flip though my paperwork, not really paying attention to that little power display, and didn’t look at her.\n\n“Lucifer, I am…”\n\n“Azrael, what the fuck just walked in my office without an appointment? And apparently without manners either.”\n\n“I was about to tell you boss, the higherups thought it would be funny to send us miss manners here to “rubber stamp” Hell as a safe place to be in.” I chuckled as he exploded in laughter. I couldn’t help but swivel my chair to look through my window at the fire, blood and brimstone work décor that I put in place (per employee request). As we laughed at what obviously had to be a joke, the angel in question started puffing her chest like a ridiculous overfed bird and slammed her hands, board and pen on my mahogany desk.\n\n“AS I WAS SAYING, I am Gabrielle from the Inter-Realm Health and Safety Administration and your Punishment realm is an administrative nightmare!”\n\n “Thank you we try. Realizing all kinds of nightmares are kind of the job description around here. Now, I am very busy and I have a department meeting to get to so thank you for your visit, there is the door, don’t let it hit you on the way out… on second thought please let it.” I rose from my chair, collected my laptop and documents and was about to sidestep her when she NOT ONLY blocked my path, BUT ALSO tried to STEP UP to me. Now I started to feel my usual short fuse burning very quickly.\n\nJust for visualization’s sake, I am a tall as fuck motherfucker and this overfed chicken barely made it to my stomach. It may be petty but I felt inwardly proud that I was that tall and she that short, but I have a reputation to protect and a façade to maintain. Azrael caught himself from laughing even more at the sight as my glare quelled him. I finally looked at the thing in front of me and gave my best condescending smirk. \n\n“Excuse me chicken wings, but back the hell up before I rip those off and shove them up your ass. You are getting your fleas over my new suit. It is genuine virgin skin and I don’t know where you have been.” I made a point to brush off non-existing lint from my shoulder and make a face as though a particularly foul smell was emanating from her. \n\n“You are NOT going anywhere Lucifer, I have strict instructions from my superiors that this place must be brought up to scratch, per heavenly guidelines, and that you must reform your management infrastructure. How you get any work done here is BEYOND me.” She sneered as she looked up to me and jabbed a pointy finger in my gut. Wrong move. From the corner of my eyes I could see Azrael standing at attention, reaching for his blade as I made the room temperature drop to below freezing and my eyes burn blood red.\n\nGrabbing her throat, I pulled her up to my eye level and in a tight, frozen voice I enunciated carefully to her; \n\n“Listen to me VERY clearly, you only have one chance to get out of here alive. You are going to crawl back to whatever hole you came out from and tell the heavenly powers that be that Hell is not changing, not now not ever and if they have ANY problem with the way I run things down here, they get off their high clouds, grow some balls and come down here to tell me TO MY FACE that they have a problem. I guarantee last time a Bullshit Health and Safety rep came here I sent him back in pieces and I’m still not done mailing him back to you lot. Now get the FUCK out of my way before I send you to Satan’s Research and Development office and make you his new guinea pig for his punishment experiments.”\n\n"
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1,
2
] | [
"1531949898",
"1532211048"
] | |
[removed] | [WP] You are part of an elven-like tribal race that have supernatural powers related to the world you live on. Humans, after developing advanced space travel technology, are invading every habitable world they can find, and colonizing the worlds. Your world is under attack by the humans. | 2 | [
"**Off-Topic Discussion**: All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.\n\n#####Reminder for Writers and Readers:\n* Prompts are meant to inspire new writing. Responses don't have to fulfill every detail.\n\n* Please remember to [be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback.\n\n---\n\n[](#icon-help)[^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic)\n[](#icon-information)[^(First Time Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide)\n[](#icon-exclamation)[^(Special Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n[](#icon-comments)[^(Click For Our Chatrooms)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/chat)\n",
"Hi u/Felsmile, this submission has been removed.\n\n[**We’re here to inspire creative writing, not play writing games or commission stories**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_6.3A_we.2019re_here_to_inspire_creative_writing.2C_not_play_writing_games_or_commission_stories)\n\n- Prompts go in the title, do not extend into text. You can add commentary in the text, but don't add additional prompt restrictions. Also, avoid [too many details](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/prompts?src=RECIPE). \n\n\n\n---\n\n[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9003uy/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. \n\n*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.*"
] | [
1,
1
] | [
"1531953019",
"1531954878"
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