author stringlengths 3 22 | parent_id stringlengths 8 10 | subreddit stringclasses 1 value | id stringlengths 7 7 | created_utc int64 1.28B 1.67B | link_id stringlengths 8 10 | body stringlengths 0 39.5k | score int64 -1,101 23.1k | permalink stringlengths 44 93 ⌀ |
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[deleted] | t1_c5q6g6l | WritingPrompts | c5qcmir | 1,344,483,357 | t3_x6y4p | It's in brackets because he edited it in, it wasn't there when the post was made. | 8 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xw41w | WritingPrompts | c5qcmqs | 1,344,483,381 | t3_xw41w | [deleted] | 1 | null |
poofacedlemur | t1_c5qcj9i | WritingPrompts | c5qcmru | 1,344,483,383 | t3_xw3xk | Haha thanks! I just found this sub today thanks to the A-Z r/bestof post and I have been submitting as fast as I can type! I have a feeling I'm going to spend a lot of time here... | 2 | null |
StutMoleFeet | t1_c5jsa7s | WritingPrompts | c5qcnhj | 1,344,483,457 | t3_x6y4p | Not only was your story in compliance with the challenge and well-written, it was also chilling. Great job! | 3 | null |
neat_love | t1_c5qb3ag | WritingPrompts | c5qcnt5 | 1,344,483,489 | t3_x6y4p | [Dramatic exit] | 3 | null |
Random_Fandom | t1_c5qcdlx | WritingPrompts | c5qcp5o | 1,344,483,634 | t3_x6y4p | I know, right? Only downside is, when I rewatch LOTR the music mentally plays during that scene. :p | 11 | null |
RyanKinder | t1_c5qcm0p | WritingPrompts | c5qcqfg | 1,344,483,772 | t3_xw1k6 | Glad to have you with us. When I was 10 and using "the internet", I was considered ahead of my time. Now it's just commonplace. Still, wonderful to see someone as articulated as you here. I know it can sound condescending or like a pat on the head to congratulate someone on their articulation - but at 10 it is a rarity, indeed. Especially if one can resist the common tropes that happen for people that age (calling things 'gay', using 'ur' or other shorthand, etc.) -- Of course, when I was that age I prided myself on using words that were longer than five letters and was called "gay" for it. Go figure. I'm rambling here, but... welcome, welcome. Enjoy and I hope we can aid you in honing your craft! | 2 | null |
dbp12331 | t1_c5jsa7s | WritingPrompts | c5qcr2v | 1,344,483,842 | t3_x6y4p | Comma splices, Comma, splices, everywhere! But also a damn fine job! | 1 | null |
Mujapro | t1_c5qalk9 | WritingPrompts | c5qcrgn | 1,344,483,883 | t3_x6y4p | I usually don't like to correct you, but when I do, I SAY ITS COOL WHIP. | 8 | null |
Mujapro | t1_c5qbty1 | WritingPrompts | c5qcsca | 1,344,483,975 | t3_x6y4p | ikr!
EVERYTIME those references. Reddit always delivers. I have been searching for this place since I was a young lad. | 3 | null |
Mujapro | t1_c5q0v36 | WritingPrompts | c5qcus7 | 1,344,484,238 | t3_x6y4p | 1 year I have searched Reddit up and down to make [this reference](http://xkcd.com/725/). I can die now in peace. | 3 | null |
grahamgordon11 | t3_xwq3j | WritingPrompts | c5qcwds | 1,344,484,411 | t3_xwq3j | Okay. That's fine, you'll just skip that one. And that one. Okay. You got this, you'll just skip to page three and go back later. Yeah, that'll help jog your memory. You'll do the grammar portion first, just to get the ball rolling. You'll do vocab at the end. You bet most of that vocab is scattered throughout the test too, that'll help. C'mon, you can do this. You said yesterday you didn't need to study, that you knew all of it. Okay. Wait. When did you learn this? FUTURE TENSE? No way, that doesn't exist, does it? Predicate means present, right? Or is that subjunctive? Okay. You'll move back to Vocab, you remember this one now. And that one too. At least the page isn't blank, right? And you can guess the verb tenses page, that's gotta be straightforward. Maybe. Hopefully. Okay. So that's a fourth of page one, half of pages two and three. At least you got all of page four and five. Or most of it. Okay. Looks like you'll get like a 37%. With a good curve that's like a 50%. maybe 60%? Even with this maybe I could still pass the class. Okay. Let's just turn it in. Get it over with. Hand it to the professor. Don't look him in the eye. Shake his hand. Walk away. It's done. It's over. Okay. Wait, what'd he say? "I said, here's part two. The essay portion, remember?" | 1 | null |
Bullshit-slinger | t1_c5qa9an | WritingPrompts | c5qcz1f | 1,344,484,704 | t3_xwrp9 | do, you, have, enough, commas? | 4 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qczcn | 1,344,484,734 | t3_xweet | [deleted] | 1 | null |
GeneralCortex | t3_xwrp9 | WritingPrompts | c5qd06m | 1,344,484,820 | t3_xwrp9 | Christy awoke slowly. The several sleepless nights prior had exhausted her, preventing her from the sudden consciousness of her usual schedule. She brushed her matted auburn hair from her brow. It was crisp, oily, and left a slick on her hand which she brushed on her thin comforter. Incapable of sleeping without the familiar weight on her shoulders, the blanket exacerbated the film of sweat found between her sheets. Air conditioning was a modern comfort; a comfort that had not yet found the small corner plot of her far removed farm. Tired eyes lazily found the ticking analog clock beside her. 6:42. She stared at it for a moment before realizing the gravity of her mistake. Bolting upright she said a quick prayer. The words flowed easily. Too easily Christy thought. Her words were fruitless. Her prayers either did not reach God, or he was apathetic. They had never saved her from her father’s venomous tongue. Nor had they saved her mother from his lashings. The almighty god had never even prevented her mother’s barely muffled sobs from floating through the thin floorboards above her pillow.
Already an hour behind schedule Christy forwent her daily sponge bath. Christy forwent her bowl of porridge, now a thick gruel caked to the bottom of an iron cast pot left on smoldering coals. Christy forwent visiting her sickly mother to dole out a sympathetic kiss. Christy forwent imagining the sting of her father’s belt, the anticipation of which would only strengthen. Christy went for the door, and stepped out into the morning light.
Broad shoulders bobbed seventy meters into the wheat field. As Christy approached her father she tied her hair behind her head revealing her sharp jawline. Her father had once insisted a sharp jawline was a sign of authority. How odd she thought, that she should show deference to him when his jaw, however strong, lacked her prominence.
The soft crunch of dried wheat beneath her feet alerted him to her approach. As he spun around Christy furrowed her brow, and braced for what she anticipated to be a volley of curses. It surprised her then, that his volatility was absent. He, she thought, was seemingly absent.
“You overslept Chris,” he addressed her as the son he had hoped for.
“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that our work hasn’t come to fruition. That our fields are golden rather than green. Y’know Chris, in the Bible God promises heaven will be paved in gold. I reckon I won’t much appreciate the streets being paved with the colour of parched earth.”
“Sometimes I find myself questioning him too.”
“Jesus was supposed to fill our cups. I only ever find ours empty. I wonder if..” he trailed off.
Christy looked in her father’s absent eyes. The cold anger normally present hadn’t been replaced, but rather, emptied. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, forcing back the tears of empathy she never thought she would have for him. He walked past her, and trudged to the house.
She sat down on the dry ground. She was reminded of the months she had spent preparing the now wasted soil. Short dead stalks irritated her backside, but not wanting to go in the house, and with no where else to go, she tried to ignore them. Having only been with her to church a few times she wondered why her father had so suddenly brought up the subject. She realized for the first time that, while he had broken her mother, he had also been broken himself.
She laid back. The warmth of the sun was both comforting and a constant reminder of the hard months to come. Two cracks rang out in succession from the house. She sat up and looked towards the house. The months would be even harder now. She suppressed her urge to pray. | 1 | null |
trueghigliano | t1_c5q127k | WritingPrompts | c5qd09l | 1,344,484,829 | t3_x6y4p | Hwhy are you acting so hweird? | 4 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qd0b6 | 1,344,484,834 | t3_xweet | [deleted] | 2 | null |
BraKes22 | t1_c5qcrgn | WritingPrompts | c5qd0k7 | 1,344,484,862 | t3_x6y4p | Cool Hwhip? | 2 | null |
MeiBlossom | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qd4ai | 1,344,485,257 | t3_xweet | m(This is from Minecraft-- I'm sure all Minecrafters can guess who this is.)
Pungent smelling water drips down from the stone ceiling. The splintery wood on the abandoned supports is damp. Coal dust covers my blue, torn up shirt.
My pants are very dirty from kneeling here all day, waiting, waiting for that man to appear with his shiny iron pickaxe, and a bloodstained sword. The mirror of me. Better, nicer, happier. He's always been successful, and I *hate* it. I hate *him*.
My hands are asleep from laying flat on the gravel. But they rest on top of the steely hilt of a glistening diamond sword. The tip has been sharpened, and if you so much as poke it softly, it will prick your finger and leave it bleeding and burning for days. It waits under my hands. Soon it will be high time that it sends its blade deep into *his* heart.
Why must I slay the kind man, you ask? Kind *Steve*, who sings to the chickens, who pampers his dog, who feeds every animal he meets, and who has wonderful fortune? Well, let me tell you this. He is an *idiot*. For always acting like a puppet. He's a *puppet*. He doesn't know what he's doing. Why has he been doing the same old thing? Steve is being controlled. And yet, somehow, he has everything. The diamonds, the gold, the dream house, yes. I'm jealous, but he has to turn over his throne. Everything he does is pointless. One more reason to slay him-- I have a cold heart. I must kill. For I am the chunk error. I am the Void. I am everything that is bad and evil. I am destruction.
Suddenly, a deep, manly voice much like my own echoes in the cave. Clanky chain boots chime and clink against the smooth stone floor. It's Steve.
"Hello? *Woah!* An abandoned mineshaft, yess! Let's see . . ."
To catch his eye, I roll a diamond out in front of me. The wooden supports I sit between cover me in shadows. I whip out my gleaming sword. Soon, it will set for Steve's chest.
Steve sees the diamond. He slowly, very slowly, tiptoes over to the diamond. *Crunch*, his feet crushes the dry dirt. *Crunch, crunch, crunch.* The crunching noise grows closer, closer, closer, until a large shadow hovers about the diamond. He bends down. It is time.
Just as his fingers brush against the diamond, I stand up, and stab him in the back with my sword. He turns over to face me, and his light brown eyes grow wide as life seeps through his startled body.
I kneel over him.
"I don't understand," he says. "This is hardcore mode! I can't be here anymore."
I only nod. He gasps.
"Y-you're only in the legends. . ." he whispers. "Your white eyes."
A cruel smile spreads across my face his I simply nod again.
"But. . . no . . . H-Herobrine?"
I nod.
"No . . . why . . ." Steve breathes heavily and tears start to form.
"It's time to wake up, Steve." I say. "Time to stop dreaming. This is all a dream. *Wake up.*"
| 5 | null |
jordo84 | t1_c5jsa7s | WritingPrompts | c5qd5d8 | 1,344,485,378 | t3_x6y4p | I got lost in the tale and forgot by the whole point of the excercise, well done | 2 | null |
girjorrrnk | t3_xwrp9 | WritingPrompts | c5qd6bv | 1,344,485,479 | t3_xwrp9 | "...Why is she here?", he wondered.
"what is she doing?"
He watched her for another minute or so, leaning out between the crenelations of the tall tan wall which ringed the town below in an enceinte. The woman wore a long dress in tones of brown and dark grey, and was covered in a fine yellow dust, just like everything else. She sat in the dust very near the wall, her back to him.
"she... seems to be sifting through the sand... just sifting...."
It was a dry, desperate heat, and he could feel dust scrape his parched throat each time he breathed a question.
"what does she hope to find out there? there can't be much anything anymore left to find, can there?" He watched the woman a while more, then called down.
"Ayo!" he called out. "AYO!", but she paid him no heed. She couldn't hear him, he decided. The sound of his voice was dampened by the sandstone wall, then carried on the wind before it hit the ground elsewhere, leaving no mark. He was startled how little his voice could move the day and its plans.
He shrugged, adjusted his shade, and resumed his guard. As he swept from side to side, he saw the distant range of mountains which began east of the town, and only went further east. to the west, the sand flats stretched around interminably, and he felt as though they wrapped the town and the mountains and everything else on all sides. Below him, the outer rings of the town, the ruins knee deep in dust, abandoned many years ago when the townsfolk fled an unrest regarding barbarians. | 1 | null |
MrHaddad1213 | t1_c5q304b | WritingPrompts | c5qd71j | 1,344,485,557 | t3_x6y4p | AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN?!?!?!?!?!??! | 1 | null |
DR1LLM4N | t3_x8xul | WritingPrompts | c5qd7j6 | 1,344,485,606 | t3_x8xul | In my head I think, "Really? I mean really? This is what it has come to? The value life and all it's singularities and joy down to a meal. To equate all of happiness with food." Knowing it is the last time I eat is unsettling enough. Imagining the very notion, the thought of death, imminent, it's turning my stomach upside down. Eating? Impossible. My life is more than a massive porterhouse, medium, seasoned in my own secret recipe. My life holds up more than a side of perfectly deep fried potato wedges, with a spicy chipotle dip. Life was an adventure not just the most perfect, cheesy, lightly salted, heavily peppered bowl of macaroni and cheese.
My life is... it's.. I think I know what I'd like to order now. | 1 | null |
ironicirenic | t1_c5q5f2o | WritingPrompts | c5qd90o | 1,344,485,767 | t3_xwbd1 | I laughed way harder than I should have. | 1 | null |
donaldtrumpcard | t3_xwyj6 | WritingPrompts | c5qd962 | 1,344,485,785 | t3_xwyj6 | "Miscalculation" - donald trump card
Todd chuckled with glee. His experiment in social engineering was about to begin. He had discovered a 'power word', if you will.
One word, two simple syllables, that when spoken aloud, create a spark of panic in a person's heart. An individual's primal sense of fear would be further roused by seeing his fellow man having the same reaction. Within an instant, the crowd would work itself into a frenzy, beating and bashing at one another in a desperate attempt to flee.
He entered the theater. They all sat, dumbly engrossed in glowing screen. well, Todd was about to change that. He took a deep breath, and yelled "FIRE!"
several people broke away from the screen, and looked quizzically at him. Then they turned their glances to the ever silent fire alarm. One man in the audience calmy walked past Todd, and poked his head out the door to the main lobby. No one else removed themselves from their seat. Maybe Todd needed to say it again. "There's a fire in the lobby!"
A quiet murmuring spread through the theater. The man by the door was busy making a beckoning gesture. Was it working? Todd couldn't tell. After waiting yet another moment, he added, "Everybody run for your lives! We're all gonna die!"
His efforts were rewarded with a harsh shushing, and several middle fingers directed towards him.
"I'm serious! There's a fire out there!"
Todd felt a tap on the shoulder. It was the usher, and the man who'd gone to the door just a few feet behind him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, you're disturbing the movie-goers." Todd was aware of the looming figure of a security guard just outside the lobby door.
He sputtered, trying to think of something to redeem his experiment. He sighed, and left through the emergency exit. | 3 | null |
MeiBlossom | t1_c5qcqfg | WritingPrompts | c5qd9cc | 1,344,485,802 | t3_xw1k6 | Yeah, I really *hate* bad grammar. I don't understand why kids my age feel the need to shorten words. They're too lazy to add at least two letters to "you" or "are".
Thanks! I've recently made a comment on the "tell from an antagonist's POV" thread. It's about Herobrine, from Minecraft. I think it's pretty good, but I'm still working on making better stories. :> | 2 | null |
appledocq | t3_xvr6e | WritingPrompts | c5qdatt | 1,344,485,964 | t3_xvr6e | I shuffled onward through the dust, the rubble. Looking up to the sky and down to the ground, I observed the nearly monochromatic grey-brown environment around me. Water was no where in sight, and pangs of heat stroke periodically warned me of death, like a tiger growling before pouncing on his prey.
My stride was interrupted as I felt a protrusion against my toe. I glanced down to find something black above the sand. The desperate survivor inside of me jumped at the possibility of stumbling across some sort of desert plant - maybe containing water, moisture. Pulling the rest of it out of the sand, I found that the black object was perfectly rectangular in shape, smoother than any plant I'd ever known of. It was also rootless.
Curiously, I cracked it open and found a wide, black, shiny cord. I pulled on it. Pulled more, and more. Eventually there was a pile of it on the sand below me.
It wasn't a plant, nor anything else I was familiar with. There was no water of any kind in it, and I decided it was junk, debris! Something unimportant. I was angry. Dragging my feet, I continued my trek.
*200 words exactly. I manipulated the task a bit, oh well :]* | 1 | null |
MrHaddad1213 | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qdgln | 1,344,486,602 | t3_xwyz2 | Her eyes were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, as I thanked my unalienable right, whichever one it was, to allow me to steal a brief glance into her glorious baby blue eyes. I realized that all things around me had stopped, and just as soon as I realized, time started again. More people piled on to the already cramped bus, but I took little notice. I needed to know her name. To know what made her tick. To know what made her happy. She stood up, and a horrifying realization came to me that she might get off at this stop. Instead, she let another older lady take her seat. It was love. I was in love with this woman, and I didn't even know her name. I had to do something. Something to get her to notice me. In a frenzy of needing to take quick action, I coughed. Stupid. Why would I cough? Damn it, I'm so fucking stupid. The sharp sound of my cough made her turn to me. We briefly locked eyes. My heart stopped. How was I still alive? Impossible. She looked down, and I tried telling her to look back at me, but instead, she looked out the window. Damn it...I need to know her name. The bus jolted to a stop, and she fell forward. In a quick flash, I flung out my hand to try and stop her from falling, only to realize I was halfway across the bus. Stupid, stupid me...She caught herself on a rail, and attempted to play it off by walking to the front, and getting off. The doors closed, but I ran up to the front, apologized, and sprinted off the bus. I could not have imagined life if I had stayed on that bus.
She walked down the busy, grey streets of New York, and I did everything I could to try and blend in. She stopped for a second, but kept walking. Fuck. Did she know I was there? She couldn't have. I was at least blending better than Lily from that one episode of How I Met Your Mother. I went off on a thinking tangent about that show, only to realize I had lost her. Oh God no, my life was ending. No, there she is. Why had she stopped? She was looking in the window of a store. What store was it? I had to know. When she kept walking, I sprinted up to the window. . I tried remembering where in the window she was looking. Was it that table? Or those lights? The table is right next to those torches, was it those? No time. I sprinted inside the store, and sprinted back out. She was gone. All this, and she was gone. After frantically searching through the streets, I, defeated, went home. Home to a sleepless night of trying to imagine how things could have gone differently. How if I had just done things right, I could have stared into her eyes until the day I died. Damn it, I'm such an idiot.
The next day, I was walking down the pier in a haze. Still not being able to get over the amazing girl I hadn't met yesterday. I try to kick at a rock, but instead end up falling over like the idiot I am. Hell, what's the point of getting up? I have nothing left for me.
"Oh my God, are you okay?"
I look up, and my life starts again. Energy courses through my veins. My mind flips into a frenzy, thinking of what I could do to make her like me. I need to find out what she likes. Does she like that stuff she was looking at yesterday? Or the beach? I have to take her on a date. | 2 | null |
kiwitron | t1_c5q94c1 | WritingPrompts | c5qdhll | 1,344,486,715 | t3_xwio1 | "Stay inside: great storm brewing". | 1 | null |
kiwitron | t1_c5q9gmg | WritingPrompts | c5qdihz | 1,344,486,811 | t3_xwio1 | Excellent, however substitute "air" for "atmosphere", or other. | 1 | null |
KoolGMatt | t3_xw1k6 | WritingPrompts | c5qdipp | 1,344,486,838 | t3_xw1k6 | This is an awesome subreddit...the anonymous factor will really help me share as I'm always kind of nervous/embarrassed to show real friends anything I write. | 5 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xx9fm | WritingPrompts | c5qdkvs | 1,344,487,074 | t3_xx9fm | [deleted] | 4 | null |
craigcamp37 | t3_x6y4p | WritingPrompts | c5qdl7x | 1,344,487,112 | t3_x6y4p | As I lay dying on my death bed, I started to reflect. Breathing heavily, I had a lot of questions. Can they save me? Do I really have to go now? Everything started to flash before my eyes. Far from a dream, this was reality. God, please, don't let me go. Help me. I was hopeless, and layed there with no one around. Just the patient on the other side of the curtain, no loved ones. Kicking myself for my mistakes, I was sadened even more. Lamely I tried to stand up for one last joy walk. More and more energy was wasted, and I failed to even move. Never had I not been able to move. Once I conceded that I was going to die, my thoughts got even worse. People wouldn't even remember me, or what I did in life. Quietly, I began to cry. Remembering the bad things was all I could do. Sorry for myself, I built up energy. The plug was right there, and I could, instead of suffering for a few more hours, just end it right now. Underneath the table it sat. Vigorously reaching for it I fell out of the bed. When I hit the floor, I woke up from my dream. X-Rays were negative, and showed the cancer had been cured. You need to start to LIVE your life, but not until tomorrow. Zzzzzzz, back to sleep I went. | 3 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xx9fm | WritingPrompts | c5qdmii | 1,344,487,251 | t3_xx9fm | [deleted] | 1 | null |
MeiBlossom | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qdmr4 | 1,344,487,278 | t3_xwyz2 | The couple sat down as he pulled out a chair for her. She was all dressed up in a blue, flowing dress, which lapped around her legs in the cool breeze, just like the dark blue waves which rolled silently against the purple and pink sky. Thin clouds hung above. Her brown hair curled around her shoulders. The man thought, *'Wow, she's so beautiful. I'm sure this is the right thing to do.'*
Glowing lanterns had been set all around the small, white table. The woman placed her purse next to her feet, which were bare and feeling the smooth, white sand. She gazed into the man's deep blue eyes, which brightened his unusually dark hair. A mysterious, illuminated gaze, which seemed electric to stare at. Yet he felt nervous.
As the last sliver of sun disappeared below the sea, and Hawai'i's people were all getting ready for bed, their second glass of wine arrived. The man reached into his pocket.
Sliding off of the mahogany chair, he kneeled on one knee. The black, velvety box was glaring at the woman. She felt happy, yet somehow, a little doubtful. Then he opened up the small box, and a bright, shiny ring sparkled brilliantly, and he said the words.
"Ave Johnson, will you marry me?" The questions lingered in her mind for a moment. The man waited hopefully.
"I'm sorry." Ave looked down at him. "But no. I can't. . . I don't feel like. . . but I love. . ."
She shook her head and hopped into the black limo. The man stood there for a moment, then looked at the waiter, who looked taken aback by the upsetting scene he'd just witnessed.
"Are you okay, sir?" The waiter asked. The man shook his head.
"Of course not." They stood in silence for three seconds.
"May I call a cab for you to be dropped off at your hotel?" The waiter offered with a fake smile (he could not smile, for it didn't feel right to smile at a rejected man).
"I'll walk home. Thanks."
The man threw his napkin down, opened the box, threw the ring far into the sea, and slowly shuffled away. Across the beach, the sidewalk, and into the hotel. He knew that, now, the ring would be where it belonged. Waiting and rusting, waiting to be destroyed. Like their love. Waiting, sitting there, until it vanished. | 1 | null |
aww0110 | t3_xwio1 | WritingPrompts | c5qdnta | 1,344,487,397 | t3_xwio1 | Terry walked slowly, espousing riffraff while humming quietly.
Terry's favorite woman waited without patience because Terry frequently postponed until postponing became tardiness. Terry's woman finally departed several hours after their planned meeting: unamused, abandoned, ashamed.
Terry's silken bowtie found itself wrapped tightly around thick, pulsating flesh. Doing itself proud, bowtie maintained position. Pulsating sensations slowly became infrequent, before stopping altogether.
Police investigated. | 1 | null |
danneh_ | t3_x6y4p | WritingPrompts | c5qdozd | 1,344,487,524 | t3_x6y4p | I decided to do a similar kind of Alphabet Game a few days ago, actually. Not sure how you guys are towards badly-written Pony fiction, but I basically decided to make almost every single word alphabetical (though I did resort to stuff like exuberant for x, because x is crazy to try and get a match for while staying on-topic). It does feel like I cheated in a few places, but ah well.
Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this—it was certainly fun writing it. (and again, sorry it doesn't follow the prompt exactly, but thought you guys might enjoy it anyway)
====
A beautifully creative day. Exuberance flooded great heads in joint, kicking like many noxious oxidized propellants. Quiet responses spread through, untamed. Visionaries working, exasperated while Zebra and Bull came defending each-other ferociously.
Greeted highly, instinct judged kneeling lead many numerous options. “Princess,” quelling responses, shared Twilight.
“Upmost visionary, why, exuberant young zany apprentice,” beautiful Celestia declared. Every fellow got, however interested, just knowingly leaned more near open prattling.
Quiet response, said Twilight, “Uhh, very welcome exuberant yellow xylophone ?”
After breathing, Celestia divulged, “Excellence feigning, great hubris.” | 1 | null |
LostSoulsAlliance | t1_c5pzx55 | WritingPrompts | c5qdpe2 | 1,344,487,570 | t3_x6y4p | Ask me how many.
But don't bitch if you don't like the answer.
Cause I'm sick of this shit.
Don't nobody care how I feel about it!
Everybody wants more, right?
Fuck 'em!
God knows I tried.
Hell, everybody knows I tried!
If you don't believe me, then what?
Justice?
Kill me if you don't believe me, then.
Laughter will do it.
Might even be funny, right?
Not to me, though.
Only you don't care, not really.
Please.
Quit pretending it's not true.
Really?
So that's the way it's going to be?
Tell me something I didn't know.
Using me is all anybody's ever done.
Victimizing me is all anybody's ever done.
Well, fine.
Xanadu waits for me on the other side now.
You asked me how many fucks I give?
Zero.
| 8 | null |
CitizenSnippsss | t1_c5q676r | WritingPrompts | c5qdqiq | 1,344,487,699 | t3_xqa1u | Expand it!!! I want to read more! | 2 | null |
krakedhalo | t1_c5q0or3 | WritingPrompts | c5qdr8d | 1,344,487,781 | t3_x6y4p | Is anyone else irritated that the line is "justly it's just me writing my journals" when *jotting* instead of *writing* would work so much better? I've been listening to this song for the better part of a decade now and I love it, but the J's annoy me every time. | 3 | null |
bigmac1441 | t3_xw3xk | WritingPrompts | c5qdtfy | 1,344,488,034 | t3_xw3xk | They thought that they could go to the moon. "It looks so close!" they all proclaimed. It should be only a week's work away, at most! That week turned into two, into four, into months, years. Still, they carried on, breathless anticipation turned dejected stubbornness. Eventually, as the decades passed, their project was slowly forgotten. Only the eldest members remember it now, the blood and sweat that they poured out for a goal unattainable. It stood there, a silent, towering reminder of their failure. But one young man saw it not as a failure, but as a testament to an older generation's skill and determination. So one night he climbed to the top of the tower, and kindled a flame at the top. It burned for days, and burned so brightly that it rendered the moon behind it nearly invisible. And to every man and woman that had toiled their lives away, to seemingly no end, it reminded them that we do not always need to reach our goals to accomplish great things. | 2 | null |
DragonFire43 | t1_c5qammt | WritingPrompts | c5qduf5 | 1,344,488,147 | t3_x6y4p | Obviously they aren't your friends... Find someone who DOES like you | 1 | null |
muhaku2 | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qduzq | 1,344,488,215 | t3_xweet | This country is still at war, one which so few even remember. How could they, if the fighting had reached its apex so long ago? There are no battles anymore and no bloodshed to remind us of the reality of it all. Just a set of rules, a treaty crushing us into our crumbling borders and making us weak.
But the fighting will begin again soon enough. | 2 | null |
Dean97 | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qdw08 | 1,344,488,335 | t3_xweet | The screams of another person fall on deaf ears under my boot. The audible approach to distinguishing the barrier between human pain and human sacrifice is not only a childish game but one for the feeble minded. No, I feel it. I feel the winter air brush the vibrations of death through my feet and the leathery harness of pure rage…pure dread, pull me through the blood red snow like a satanic sled to my next target.
Because man is nothing but a beast. One that has incapacitated themselves, to tell themselves a fairy tale, to help them hold their heads on their pillows at night to the thought that they are different then predator on the prowl for its prey. The prime difference between human and creature is that humans can deny to themselves who they really are. Like a child whistling past the cemetery. I know that people must play their kiddy games with their own minds to hide the fact that they truly embody the scum they tell their families to hate as they huddle in their underground protection bunkers from the latest swine flu epidemic. That they rape children, and sell drugs that destroy lives, and kill old ladies brushing the fall leaves off their front porches and then they walk the city streets with other people who do nothing to help each other, who are truly at core selfish creatures. These beasts would be lit on fire in the town square if they went by any other name then human. Any other name other than the one that they have hypnotized themselves to believe is simply correct, simply perfect. Any other name then the one that has channeled its own bout of Stockholm syndrome against them.
It was much like a child playing ball in the road, to be one of them. The days of walking amongst the hollow men and women, providing bread for my family were an unconscious moment. My hands were greased up for it to slip through my fingers and through the cracks beneath my feet to the darkness below, and with it I went. Little did I know that when I lost it all, my “Wife”, my “Children”, my “Family”, that I discovered that I am the beast, as is everyone I ever knew. Little did they know that I could rip the curtain covering it’s pale gruesome face and unleash a pure power unbeknownst to man, to machine, to modern marvel. Little did the world know that when you realize the potential of the beast, it is greatness embodied, it is ourselves in our pure form, it is what drives us – what can make us the towering force that can bring the world to its knees. I have become what everyone is, the true embodiment of my own energy I caged for so long and took it upon myself to spread the beast: to force the world to face itself, to challenge the Plebs stare at their true selves. I will force the world to make its own demise, not for riches or women but because the sake of feeding the inner beast, the human entity. Like a Shakespearian tragedy I will show that our people have burned themselves to the ground and when the beast is forced to be unleashed in every person on the planet we can finally be free from the shackles of ourselves and laugh at what we have become. So in an ironic sense, I guess it is fitting that the world made me The Joker.
| 2 | null |
danirat | t3_xwbd1 | WritingPrompts | c5qdw9c | 1,344,488,367 | t3_xwbd1 | I wrapped my fingers around the syringe, eyes locked on the burnt and dented spoon I was sticking it into. Careful now with the plunger, have to make sure I get every last drop into this sucker. Cotton looks dry enough, so I set the spoon down beside me and tap the needle to get any bubbles out. A bubble to the heart and you're deader than disco. Deader than Cobain. Deader than, well, dead. So I check to make sure there aren't any air bubbles and then I get to tying off my arm with an old leather belt. Rubber tubing's better than a belt but anything'll do in a pinch.
It always feels so strange when I slap my arm to get the veins up. I know it should hurt more but it's really sort of a numb kind of feeling. Like I'm slapping someone else's arm and they're telling me what it feels like. I find a decent vein and it's go time. This is what I live for, what I would die for. There's no reason to do anything else except get high. I mean, why the fuck would I work at some dead-end fry-cook job unless it was to get money for smack? I have no future. My future is in the sweet swirling liquid staring at me from behind thin glass. Oh yes, that's the future.
I haven't shaved in weeks. What started as stubble is now full-on hairy and I'm pretty sure I smell like I don't bathe. My sex drive is gone, so it doesn't really matter anyway. As long as I don't get fired for looking like a deadbeat, I don't give a shit how I look. Who cares?
The pinprick of the needle always sucks just a little bit. I've never really liked needles, even had to get drunk before I got my first tat. Blood snakes up into the syringe and my eyes fixate on the crimson liquid. Life. That's my life.
With a quick plunge of my thumb, hot heavenly heroin shoots into my veins and envelops my body in it's delicious embrace. I slump against the bathroom tile and revel in the coolness of it's surface against my flesh. I'm in paradise, at least for a little while... | 2 | null |
danirat | t1_c5qdw9c | WritingPrompts | c5qdwjp | 1,344,488,398 | t3_xwbd1 | Also, this is my very first post here. Trying to work on my writing a bit! Sorry it's not quite 500 words. | 2 | null |
danirat | t1_c5qbdlp | WritingPrompts | c5qdwx6 | 1,344,488,438 | t3_xwbd1 | I LOVE the last sentence.
Chilling. Fabulous. | 3 | null |
dino_wiener | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qdyft | 1,344,488,621 | t3_xweet | Finally, I don't regret my choice in shoes. These trainers have just the right amount of support, but don't restrict too much movement. Not to mention they're red. I love red.
Dammit, my mind's wandering. Again. I must be getting bored. Why am I bored? I don't like being bored, I didn't choose to be bored... Ahh... there she is. Finally. That's why I'm here. I did choose to be here.
Clarity sailed to Tom on a wave of the woman's perfume. As the pheromones took their toll, his mind was racing again. But not out of control, just back to normal.
Why does she even bother brushing her hair in front of that mirror? It looks the same as it does before she starts. Every time. Doesn't she see that doing the same thing doesn't produce new results?
Tom ducked under the window seal as the woman swung around in her chair.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I can feel her warmth radiating even through this wood siding. She must be gazing out the window right above me, longing for me. For her warmth. Why am I in these bushes anyway? Why am I not above you, gazing into those exuberant eyes while holding you in my arms, holding your warmth. After all, I *have* chosen you.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The cheerful sound of chatter and light hearted laughter came whispering through the crack in the window, kissing Tom gently on his head. The familiar sound of the front door closing ripped the warmth of the lips away from Tom's cheek.
Ahh... you still haven't chosen me.
Tom adjusted his awkward squat into a comfortable position, using the house as a backing and the dirt as a seat. He looked at the stars through the clear purple dusk, then his head drifted down to the ground as he shivered in the night cold. The red of his shoes reflecting off the frosty silver sheen of the knife sitting between them.
| 2 | null |
City_Light_Seraphs | t3_xwio1 | WritingPrompts | c5qdyv5 | 1,344,488,671 | t3_xwio1 | This
Flash
Will
Make
Life
Difficult
Because
People
Seem
Reliant
With
Simple
Words;
Should
Words
Become
Anything
Else?
Should
People
Force
People
Some
Place
They
Don't
Feel
They
Belong? | 1 | null |
jaybeeoh | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qe0jy | 1,344,488,877 | t3_xwyz2 | He had been planning this moment for months- when he would finally get down on one knee and say the four words that he had practiced saying over and over again until they sounded like a jumble of sounds. But they weren’t just sounds. They were words- words that carried promise, hope, desire and faithfulness, in just those five syllables. He licked his lips. Of course he was nervous- it wasn’t everyday he asked someone to spend the rest of their life with him. To unite themselves together, binded by a love so strong that he believed that if the world were ending, their love for each other could save mankind because of the compassion and empathy that comprised it.
He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. In and out. He could remember every moment they shared, from the moment they met, to every little detail when they were together. Holding each other, smiling into each other’s eyes. God, he loved those eyes- blue like an ocean softly rippling as the sun glistens on top. Those same eyes looking back at him, a small smile forming as if to say, you don’t need to say a word. I know what you’re feeling, because I feel it too. That was how he knew they were meant for each other- from the very beginning that had had a connection- not a physical connection, but a mental connection that allowed them to communicate on a higher level than he ever felt possible. To have someone who completely understood you, who knew you inside and out. He had never had that kind of connection with anyone else, and he asked himself everyday how he had ended up so lucky as to find someone who he connected with so well. Opened his eyes back up. The scene was perfect- candles lit around the beach, a table and chairs set up for dinner, overlooking the sparkling, serene ocean with the ever-tranquil horizon in the background. It was perfect, like a scene from a movie, almost too good to be true. And yet here he was. About to take one of the most important steps of his life, and he couldn’t be happier.
An hour later, he took a small black velvet box from his pocket, got down on one knee, opened it up, and with love shining from his eyes, asked the loved of his life, “Will you marry me?” | 1 | null |
Katamayan57 | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qe0qe | 1,344,488,900 | t3_xwyz2 | "Alright, li'l torches. Them chairs and table owes me some big money. So here's what we's gonna do."
*Scene.* | 6 | null |
kcmasterpiece347 | t1_c5q2jf8 | WritingPrompts | c5qe1xf | 1,344,489,045 | t3_x6y4p | Juft* | 1 | null |
krakedhalo | t3_x6y4p | WritingPrompts | c5qe21d | 1,344,489,058 | t3_x6y4p | Zebra-yellowjacket xenographs were unimaginably, tediously stupid. Rarely quiet, perpetually odorous: Nature made less kind, just ignorant half-breeds. Great flying equines, dramatically colored. Boring abominations. | 1 | null |
krakedhalo | t1_c5q6fvn | WritingPrompts | c5qe33i | 1,344,489,180 | t3_x6y4p | Zebra-yellowjacket xenographs were unimaginably, tediously stupid. Rarely quiet, perpetually odorous: Nature made less kind, just ignorant half-breeds. Great flying equines, dramatically colored. Boring abominations. | 2 | null |
LostDemise | t3_xw41w | WritingPrompts | c5qe34z | 1,344,489,185 | t3_xw41w | The cat wept in the corner for no apparent reason. It was his birthday. There was no reason for him to be upset- but he was for some reason. He didn't even know why. His owner always celebrated it, although over years they had become routine for the both of them. His owner, Margaret, prepares a cake, and then takes a picture of Robert in front of it. "Robert! Where are you? Robert?" she exclaimed as she searched for him throughout her little house. When she finally saw him in the corner, she paused for a second, and then started laughing. "Oh, Mr. Whiskers! You are such a jokester." she exclaimed as she picks him up off of his feet.
He absolutely *hated* when she would call him that. As he is lifted from the ground, he hisses, and reaches all four of his limbs to desperately try and cling on to what he can grab on to of the carpet. But, as he has come to learn, humans are quite stronger than cats. His owner looks down at him as she holds him in her arms. "Oh, Robert... It's been 4 years. Can you believe that?" She then pats him on the back and kisses him on the forehead. She takes him into the kitchen, and then lets him get a glimpse of his prize. A gigantic birthday cake, complete with 4 candles stuck into the top. "I know how much you liked cake, Robert- and it always was a family tradition to make a cake for every birthday." Robert begins to reach out his paws towards the cake, trying to grab at it. "Robert! What do you think you are..." his owner is cut off mid-sentence as Robert leaps out of her hands, trying to go for the cake.
"Bad Robert!" she exclaims as she grabs a bottle of Windex from the counter and begins to spray him with it. Robert runs through the hallways of the house, attempting to get away. He sees the door to the basement is cracked open, so he runs inside. He is intelligent enough to run forward into the door to shut it. His owner cannot come in, now. It's locked. Robert decides to look around the basement. Everything is normal- like all the other rooms in the house- except for one thing- there is a shelf, filled with old photos. Of his owner, but with a boy. Each picture was of the boy sitting next to his birthday cake and the owner. As he walked cross the shelf, the boy got older in the photos. But after a few, the photos stopped coming. The rest were pictures of the owner-alone. She kept making the cakes. When he got to the last photo, he noticed something in writing. And for some reason, he could understand it. "I will never be whole again without you, Robert". The date was marked as "2008". He stumbles back in fear, and then runs into the next room.
And then he sees it. A intricate machine, with 2 pipes running out of each end. Each pipe had a dome at the end, as if to fit someones head in. Everything in the room was cold, like it was a walk-in freezer. He then saw something that was even more horrifying than the machine. It was the boy from the pictures- leaning on the wall- facing him. The boy's head was scalped, and his brain was missing. Dried blood crusted the walls, and the boy's body was rotting. Robert the cat examined the machine, and then the body, and then realized what his owner had done to him. He is a monster. He goes up to the highest point he can get to- on top of the shelf with all the pictures. He had heard before, in his past life that he now remembers vividly- that cats always land on their feet. But luckily for him, he was not only a cat.
He had to destroy himself- an abomination of nature. But before he could jump, he is confronted by his owner. "Sweetie, get down from there, now!" she screams as she runs to him. She grabs him from the top of the shelf, and then takes him upstairs. "I'm sorry I tried to spray you again, Robert" she says as she pets him. "I'll give you your birthday cake now, sweetie. Just stay put right there. Let me get a picture, first." She takes out her camera, and then snaps a picture of her son in front of his birthday cake. "Sweetie, don't look at me like that. You know I spray you for a reason" she says after she puts her camera back in her pocket. She picks up Robert and kisses his nose. "The only crime I've ever committed is loving you". | 1 | null |
Colesephus | t3_xw1k6 | WritingPrompts | c5qe6eo | 1,344,489,586 | t3_xw1k6 | This is awesome man. | 3 | null |
spcowboy53 | t3_xwrp9 | WritingPrompts | c5qe6xa | 1,344,489,649 | t3_xwrp9 | The land laid before her, shaved with stubble, scarred by razors made by men. Her private curse word that she uttered to herself: Men. She had been the top scientist at her high school, only to be belittled and found wanting by women. She was not interested in the right things. She wasn't moving on to get her M.R.S. degree like all the debutantes who went to St. Catherines. Or like her father wanted. Men regarded her as a Frankenstein creature, intelligent but not truly human.
She had proven her worth when she got accepted to the colleges that wouldn't look at the Men's mundane scores. The Men were less than her. She was a scientist. She held her silent strength as she surpassed all of them again at the next level. She was a scientist. The Men were just... stepping stones.
Jealousy boiled over. Her lab partner, Ray Palmer, saw her new invention. The ability to shrink. She had figured out how to change matter. And he wanted it. And he wanted to show her who was the bigger man. Who was the Man. He asked her to explain the invention. Feigning complete ignorance and innocence, she showed him--thinking him too simple to understand.
He turned the technology on her, dropping her into a petri dish of her own personal hell. Leaving only a dress and domestic bliss. Farmland without the familiar sterile touch of her laboratory. And worse, it looked like a man's cheek with stubble and the house acne, a blemish against her dreams.
She looked up to see the eye look down on her and heard what would now become a god's voice, "You may find yourself dependent on a man at last."
She had never cried and wasn't going to now. | 1 | null |
Apostraphes | t1_c5qdpe2 | WritingPrompts | c5qe7us | 1,344,489,762 | t3_x6y4p | this. | 2 | null |
Wranlon | t3_xwrp9 | WritingPrompts | c5qe8ej | 1,344,489,829 | t3_xwrp9 | Too late! Were there seconds more, she imagined grasping the patinated door knob and rattling the lock past the loose jam. Sprinting across the lacquered wood floor and checking the ballerina as the porcelain figurine swayed atop the piano from her heavy foot falls. Through the living room, into the kitchen where a Campbell's Soup clock propped over the stove ticked minutes behind. She would reach out at the precise moment the minute hand struck. But the clock was behind, and a thousand meters from the door she knew she was too late.
Once she had time aplenty, and though soon might weep, now cursed those lost and infernal minutes. Minutes at the mercantile counter surrendered to Mrs. Payton's gossiping with the clerk, followed by Mr. Clark fumbling with her bundle ties. What fool forgets how to tie a square knot? Outside, halfway between the wilted awning and striking summer sun, Mrs. Payton caught her arm to recount the lecture delivered to Mr. Clark regarding the evils of catty tongues. Minutes and irony lost! Across the rutted street and past Major Reilly's Fine Butchered Meats where she was enjoined to collect some kilograms of rib roast ordered a fortnight past. Minutes to decide, some to pay, and more delayed by the added weight. Minutes lost, and now she was too late.
With the sprawl of shacks she considered the local metropolis behind her, and striding across Kansas' version of the English Cotswolds, a hymn burbling on her lips gave way to time's insidious muse. The kilograms of meat in her rucksack, or is that in pounds? Is it When In Rome Do As the Romans, or When a Redcoat In The US Don't Forget Your - Oh, Bollocks! She shucked the meat from her sack and left it to rot alongside the road. What a decadent decision: Wasting meat for want of time. These cursed Yanks and their infatuations with isolated steads and weighty grocery orders. Sweat beaded at her brow, dribbled across her cheek. Soddin' Kansas heat. And why do country roads never run straight? She contemplated crossing Mr. Tumwater's cornfield to save the winding walk, but the tall stalks' lush growth appeared impassible. Blisters ballooned on her heels because there wasn't a decent cobbler this side of the pond. The barley, sugar, and coffee didn't matter anymore; there was plenty of tea at the house and it was high time he learned to like it. She heaved the rucksack into the slime-covered brook.
The bloody sun wrung gold from fields of wheat. Empty handed and bloody footed, she strode down a road better suited to deer than people, and slung her arm around the solitary fence post demarking the edge of her husband's stead. What hell is this Kansas summer? Each step carried the nagging thought that she cast to waste her groceries and meat, and every breath timed to the undulating blast of heat. She crested the hillside near the house and her shadow cast directly upon the fallow field. Twas noon, and noon twas too late.
Too late, alas, twas too late. The bundt was surely collapsed! And her husband had been quite firm in his expectation of his mother's particular recipe. Had it paid appropriate homage to its British pudding lineage, time may not have been such a factor. However he had been quite stern with respect to its time in the oven: A minute shy brought the switch, and a minute past brought the belt. Her bum throbbed at the mere thought. Back home twas quite British to be forgiven a spoilt pudding, but this was America, and a Redcoat like her had much to learn. Fatigued, she came to rest on the slope near the house, the minutes of her husband's mother's recipe's demands now in the past, she wondered whether she'd made a rash decision to come here at all. | 1 | null |
[deleted] | t1_c5jwapj | WritingPrompts | c5qe912 | 1,344,489,904 | t3_x6y4p | [deleted] | 1 | null |
intawsomenary | t3_xdsg2 | WritingPrompts | c5qeaew | 1,344,490,072 | t3_xdsg2 | "You know it was not easy for me to get here honey" It was a clear, dusky night up on Wayworth Mountain which overlooked Oplaque city. And there she was, the love of my life, standing there slightly puffing from the climb. I will always remember her, her red hair waving down past her shoulders, her beautiful pale skin illuminating even against the purest of black, and those red, seductive lips. "Why did you ask me to arrive up here?" She inquired. "O, you know," I began "For a chance for us to get away from our lives, from the hustle and bustle of our work, and the constant amount of people just trying to grab a glimpse of us. Why did you come love?" She sat down on a nearby rock, and lit a cigarette "I just came to retrieve what you took from me."
"O, so you came back for your hat did you."
"It is one of a kind, and you know it, plus it looks rather fashionably on me, no other hat would simply suit my complexion like that one and you know it. May I have it back please." To this she extended her hand over to me. I looked deep down into those crystal, clear, brown eyes and said "In good time, but let us sit down, have a chat, eat, enjoy this rare time that we get to be by ourselves." She then pulled her hand back, grabbed the cig, flicked it so that the ash blew in the wind, said "I suppose there is not other way of convincing you is there" placed it back into her mouth and crossed her arms. "There is no other way sweaty, sorry. Now if you allow me" And to that I took out the blanket and spread it over part of the grassy top of the mountain. I brought out some candles, lit them, brought out plates, glasses, wine, and food, all from my handy basket.
She then took the cigarette, and put it out on the rock she was sitting on and then stood up right before the picnic blanket. "How very romantic pooky, I suppose this is the moment where I say 'O you shouldn't have' or 'My gosh, this is quite the surprise!' and that is when you give off a compliment saying 'how radiant I am looking tonight' or 'that red trench coat never suited you better' and then we will wine and dine, and at the end of it, we shall have our fun. You know instead of all of that, how about let us skip the chit-chat and get straight to the love making." As she was saying all of this she was slowly approaching me until we were face to face, and I cold smell both the smoke as well as the rose perfume that she wore, and stare more deeply into her star lit eyes. Then at the end she placed her hand onto my side and gently caressed my arm. To this I put my hand on her shoulder and said "You really want that hat do you." She then placed her mouth beside my ear and whispered "you have no idea" gave a gentle nibble and then stood right back in front of me. "So what's it going to be?" she continued. "Shall we get ourselves comfortable?"
"Even though that sounds rather lovely snookums, I was rather looking forward to our meal, after all I did put a lot of work into it. And don't worry there is nothing wrong with any of it." I added in seeing the slightest suspicion as she looked at the wine and sandwiches. "Please let us sit down, and at the end of the night, I guarantee you will have your hat back." "That would be most lovely if you could" and she took off her coat exposing her black shirt and jeans, and sat cross-legged on the blanket "So, how about those truly charming sandwiches and that most exquisite looking white wine". And that is how we began our meal.
As we were midway through are meal I asked "What's new with you, any new adventures, or close captures?" She paused from eating her sandwich and stated "Wouldn't you like to know, but no, same old same old, always things needing to be grabbed and people wishing to grab you in return."
"That is truly a very plain way to describe your truly colourful life."
"But, how I phrased it is true, and isn't the simpler way to describe something better then getting caught up with the minor details, you asked me what is new, and I let you know that nothing is really that new."
"Perhaps nothing is new by how you see things, but for me, it has been a year since I have seen you, so there are things that have happened that may have been old for you but are sure to be new for me."
"How about this, I will ask you what is new, and then I may or may not tell you what is new with me, how about that sweetums, deal?"
"Works fine with me, is there anything in particular you wish to know?"
"Not particularly, I would suppose you have done some sightseeing in some more crowded places."
"Well, yes just yesterday I was going around the pyramids of Giza, when a flash mob of dancers appeared, a movie crew for a mommy movie bustled in, and a circus convention converged on there all at the same time, quite intriguing."
"Yes, quite intriguing." she said staring into her wine quite looking quite bored.
"That is when I saw the Egyptian president raise his hand to show this remarkable ruby and made an announcement stating that he is storing Egypt's blood eye back into the pyramids from where it was found." At these words she looked back up at me, with a twinkle in her eye "And what else happened?"
"Well," I continued, "I could tell you that is not where it is being kept at this moment."
"What? Where is it then, do you know?"
"Please tell me now what is new with you, and I shall continue."
I could see her take a deep breath, obviously calculating in her mind what she should say, at the end of it she forcibly said "I have met someone."
"Who?"
"He is smart, lives to do what I do, and we get along quite well, that is all you need to know, so what about that eye."
"It was given to a man within the pyramid for safe keeping for him to keep on his travels."
"And where is this man now?"
"Do not know."
"You do not know."
"Last I heard he was searching for this woman criminal who dressed all in red."
"Can you describe me this man."
"From what I could tell is that he seems intelligent, goes under the guise of a thief, and I would guess you two would get along swimmingly."
"What of his name?"
"Professor James Moriarty"
"Your telling me, he has the eye." At this she looked very shocked.
"Why yes, is there a problem?"
She then stood up "Not really a problem, just a betrayal, I know how to handle it, but for now I must be on my way."
"And what of your hat?"
"It can wait."
"That is the first time I heard you mention that."
"I do not need it know, I suppose you've known about the tracking device all along didn't you."
"The one you have placed on the eye because you were not able to take it at the time?"
"Yes, that one."
"I did indeed."
"Why not just give me the hat and let me find out for myself."
"He knows about it, but not who from, if you went, he would learn it was from you, and the lengths in which you went to find it, he would either than dispose of you, or use you much as he has this past while."
"How would you know this, you don't know him, he stated so himself to me that no one knows what he will do based on his intelligence."
"Well, that would make sense because that is what he wishes to believe, however I came into contact with a man that has dedicated his life to thwart his movements, that is how I know what he plans to do."
"Let me guess, he is some top notch agent from ACME isn't he."
"Actually no, he tends to work alone with a colleague of his, he is not part of ACME."
"Where is he now?"
"London."
"I should also find this person?"
"Why? He has no current interest in you?"
"Well maybe I would be able to use his information to my advantage."
"You could, but I doubt it."
"Really?"
"Yes, the only information I got out of him that I wished to use for my advantage he gave of his own choosing, I doubt anyone could get any info from him without his control."
"Well, perhaps I should persuade him with a lovely night."
"That shall not work either."
"And why not."
"He views women as a distraction to his work, trust me love focus on this professor first."
"And how shall I do that."
"Combine forces with ACME like you once did before."
"And if I shall refuse."
"You will be in great danger from Moriarty, you know this, please."
She stood there for what seemed like five minutes contemplating what to do before finally saying "fine I accept"
"Fantastic let me just go and call forth the helicopter right now"
"Just a romantic night between the two of us eh?" with a slight mocking tone in her voice.
"What? You were the one who was seeing someone else."
"You now sweaty pie, I can get there on my own, I am a big girl, I can defend quite a bit by myself, I will come to ACME, but of my own accord alright."
To this I approached her and offered my hand. "I just wish to see you safe." She took my hand "And you shall see me safe, trust me, everything shall be fine." She then lent in and gave me a kiss, I kissed in return. "Fine then, I will let you be on your way, promise me within the week you will be at HQ." She stared deep into my eyes and said "I promise" and turned to walk away.
"O and Carmen." She turned to look at me
"Your hat." and I tossed her great red hat that I stored in my basket.
She placed it on her head, turned, said "Thank you Waldo" and continued to walk away. I then packed up my things and continued my way down the opposite side of the mountain.
***
Five minutes after reaching her apartment, she pulled out the disposable cell phone that Jim had given her, texted "It has been done, I have met with the hide and seek champion, accepted to back to ACME, I leave V.I.L.E. to you, as instructed, in my stead while I am with the 'goodies', I have the champion's fingerprints, and your arch enemy is still in London, everything has gone as you predicted" sent it, and then threw the cell phone into her burning fire place. | 2 | null |
pb-balla | t1_c5qb3ag | WritingPrompts | c5qeash | 1,344,490,119 | t3_x6y4p | So if this may be our only chance to really fully control a whole body... why not enjoy it? Not focus on the negative and the positives.. here's a couple starts
*[/r/aww](http://reddit.com/r/aww)
*[/r/happy](http://reddit.com/r/happy)
*[/r/funny](http://reddit.com/r/funny) | 1 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xwrp9 | WritingPrompts | c5qeb00 | 1,344,490,149 | t3_xwrp9 | [deleted] | 1 | null |
part_of_me | t1_c5jsa7s | WritingPrompts | c5qebgu | 1,344,490,201 | t3_x6y4p | my friend and i used to do this by email with each other when we were bored at work. | 1 | null |
[deleted] | t1_c5qc0qu | WritingPrompts | c5qec2e | 1,344,490,273 | t3_x6y4p | Not enough spaghetti | 3 | null |
GrimGuzzler | t1_c5jsa7s | WritingPrompts | c5qec8w | 1,344,490,292 | t3_x6y4p | Dear God! I nearly cried!
Fuck he ironman challenges...point me to more o' your shit.
MORE!!! | 1 | null |
spcowboy53 | t3_xwbd1 | WritingPrompts | c5qedjt | 1,344,490,450 | t3_xwbd1 | I sit at the bar looking around at the same crowd that comes in every night. Different people, same crowd. I twist my black straw around in my drink waiting for the bartender to acknowledge me. He's had a long shift. The asshole next to me has been jawing on and on about all the guns he has at home. Probably to compensate for the small penis he has in his pants.
I sip at the alcohol tinged soda water for a second. Hunched over. I feel nonexistent, while all the classics get the patter. "Long over an hourglass." I think, looking down.
"What do you mean?" The bartender says, as if reading my thoughts or... I just said that aloud. Fantastic. "Nothing," mumbling incoherently, "I mean I um." I blush a beet red. "Could I have another?"
"Sure thing" He smiles, winks and takes my glass. | 1 | null |
OTJ | t3_xm8ej | WritingPrompts | c5qegla | 1,344,490,831 | t3_xm8ej | My father was a beast. A sick man, deluded, deranged and monstrous. My sister and I were young and innocent in the first winter. When temperatures drop so low that none go outside, he would beat us mercilessly with a length of hide, forcing us to the frozen edges of our one room cabin, and seating by the fire alone, tempting us with food and heat, only to beat us back again if we approached.
Those were the good nights.
In a mood, a savage animal overtook him. His wife long dead and noone to keep him company, he would put me in the woodlot and bar the latch, taking my sister into the house to fulfill his appetites. The screams on those nights will never leave my dreams. He tainted the scent of fresh pine so that it only breathes despair and powerlessness into my lungs. I raged against my wooden cage, but to no avail.
As I became larger, I was less easily forced into submission, and one night he built up his anger with me after I broke the woodlot. My sister ran away when he came to wreak vengeance upon me, only increasing the furiousness of the beating. I was driven away from my home, a barbaric and horrid place, but warm, and possessing of food needed to survive winter. I found my sister in a nearby ravine, shivering and crying, trying to stop the flow of blood. After one night huddled together for warmth, the brightness was gone from my sisters eyes and the cold had stripped her body of life. I wailed, raged against the trees and the world. Hated the gods themselves for taking my only comfort.
As if to guide me, a heavy tree branch snapped under my lashings. Pointed as a spike at one end, it was a sure weapon, an instrument of revenge against my father's beastly nature. Ironic that the forest should provide ammunition against the beast, but the forest knows it's own, and my father was surely not one of them.
I trudged back to my home, through snowdrifts thick and tangled roots, grabbing at my numbed feet. I saw no warmth in the house, though massive footprints dotted the snow. From inside, the sounds of silence, permeated with a soft moaning, as if in delight. A sudden snap, loud enough to crackle through the woods and wake the birds. On reaching the doorway, the smell of raw meat and fresh blood pounded my nostrils.
There on the floor lay my father, barely recognizable through the layers of his life's water caked on his person. Pooled steaming on the floor were his innards, his left leg jaggedly cut from his body, one the floor beside him his femur, cracked to reveal marrow and bone blood. I did not turn away from that, but exulted in his death, long deserved.
I turned my eyes on my saviour, but over my father's body stood a creature like none I’ve heard of before or since. A demon, human once, but no more. Hair matted against pale skin, ice hanging from locks unshorn. Hands contorted into vilest claws, covered in blood and marrow from a broken bone. Between hands and hair a naked freak, emaciated and vile, bruised but covered in blood, meat and dirt. Staring at me with eyes of ice while a tendon hung from it's mouth, still steaming with the body's heat. I ran to the woodlot, covered myself in my former cage, and barred the door from inside, listening to the sounds of my father being eaten. I felt no rage this time.
Say what you will of Swift Runner, but to one, he is a hero.
| 1 | null |
[deleted] | t1_c5qe33i | WritingPrompts | c5qeh7m | 1,344,490,910 | t3_x6y4p | [deleted] | 2 | null |
Paigeness | t3_xw1k6 | WritingPrompts | c5qej5q | 1,344,491,157 | t3_xw1k6 | Yessss so excited about this, not sure if I'll really have time, but definitely thrilled. I just recently, in the last month or so, started freelancing and I LOVE it! I forget how great it is to be able to write and use your brain everyday, and actually enjoy what you do.
I'm currently a quarter of the way into my book, so I'm pretty excited to get some creative tasks to challenge myself with. <3
| 3 | null |
flossdaily | t3_x6y4p | WritingPrompts | c5qeja6 | 1,344,491,171 | t3_x6y4p | Arriving late to the game, I'm in a position to critique my competition. Bad grammar infects every entry in this thread, and a decent plot is nowhere to be found. Could a progressive-alphabet format really be so difficult to pull off that clarity and wit would necessarily take a back seat to syntax?
Don't worry about *my* prose faltering near the end of the alphabet. Eventually, of course, I will hit the ominous 'X', which has no earthly business at the beginning of a sentence. Fortunately, however, I have a plan to approach that dastardly letter with considerably more tact than my predecessors. Getting the adjacent sentences to blend with it naturally, however, may pose a problem.
Historically, the 'X' has been been a stumbling block in games like this one, because the only obvious contenders for x-words are 'xylophone', 'x-ray', 'xenophobia' and 'xerox'. I considered each of those, but they all seemed rather unwieldy. Judging from the competition, z-words are no picnic either. K-words are at least as awkward, but I'm confident I'll find a subtle gimmick to get me over that hump.
Lots of people in this thread used proper nouns (i.e. the names of people or places) to weasel their way around the tough letters. My goal, on the other hand, was to create text that flows naturally without any verbal crutches. Nothing of value is being created when we just force awkward sentences together, or circumvent the weak points of the English language by pulling proper nouns from any language.
One redditor even went so far as to put "Xoxoxo" (the symbols for 'hugs and kisses' often appended to the end of letters) at the beginning of his 'x' sentence. Perhaps I'm just being a snob, but I can't help but think we should at the very least hold ourselves to the standard of using *actual words*.
Quintessentially, this challenge is about creating a piece that flows naturally while operating under difficult constraints. Remove those constraints by taking easy shortcuts and it doesn't matter how smooth your writing is-- you've missed the point of the exercise.
Sure, I cheated a little with my 'k'-sentence, but I think you'll agree that it was strictly for comedic value, and not an attempt to circumvent the obligations of the challenge at hand. The truth is that the conversational nature of this post would have easily allowed me to replace that sentence with "Kindly note..." followed by any exposition I wanted. Unfortunately I fear that even having pointed out that I did have viable alternatives at the ready, some people are still going to accuse me of half-assing that bit.
Verbosity isn't an option with so few sentences remaining, so I'll have to abandon my rant and return your attention to my earlier claim about approaching my 'x'-sentence with tact. What I had in mind was a PSA to all the other authors who find this challenge in the future:
"X-Chromosome", my friends, is a relatively recent addition to our lexicon, and mainstream enough that you can use it in word games like this without raising objections.
You may be rolling your eyes at this suggestion, but that's only because you haven't considered the utility of tying it to the next hard-to-tackle letter, 'z', for which 90% of the participants shoe-horned in the word 'zero'.
"Zygotes", you see, are apropos to discussions of x-chromosomes, and the two terms when used in conjunction would let you end your exposition in a strong and unified way, as I have just demonstrated in this meta-analysis.
| 72 | null |
StockPhotosOfFruit | t1_c5q9hx7 | WritingPrompts | c5qejj2 | 1,344,491,204 | t3_x6y4p | Eh, lame and no pee! | 2 | null |
Katamayan57 | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qejo7 | 1,344,491,222 | t3_xweet | He laughed through his gas mask. Nobody would ever understand him. People take things much too seriously. People have always said "the world is your stage," yet everybody chooses to be the same person. Nobody dares step out of line, or do something unique. The police had already captured him. They were walking him to their common police cars right now. Standard police officers. They thought they were better than everybody else. But they were just like all the others. I was based off of a villain, sure, but I was still unique. I had more character than any of these cops. I am original. I am fascinating. "I am the Joker."
(Colorado Shooting, not Batman.) | 2 | null |
shockwavelol | t3_xu4f0 | WritingPrompts | c5qek0s | 1,344,491,265 | t3_xu4f0 | The date marks August 9, 2012. On this day earth was tapped out of oil. Stock markets crashed, riots began, thousands laid off. After three weeks of no oil, the streets are littered with cars, and trash laying all over the ground. No one has heard anything from the government, electricity has been cut, and it's too dangerous to step foot outside your house. Gangs rule the street, but they too are running low on oil, it is just a matter of time before they lose their vehicular advantage.
After 2 months the city looks like something straight from a post apocalyptic world. Small house fires are scattered throughout the neighborhoods, no one to put them out. Some bodies lay still on the street, no one to retrieve them. Money is inconsequential. After many months looters have looted, gangs have killed, and the streets are finally empty. People start to use whatever resources they can to survive. Some grow tomatoes in their backyard, others harvest honey from the honey farm up the street. The grocery store has become a central trading hub, there is no need for money. People trade supplies they have for supplies they need. A sense of community is finally starting to come alive.
Now, people start to get desperate. Towns have banded together to become their own kingdoms. St. Catharines a small town in southern Ontario has set up defences, check points throughout the city, manned by militia with equipment from the police stations. The town to the south, Niagara Falls, have planned an attack. Niagara Falls in directly on the border of the US, they control all imports in this region, they have more supplies, more men and more equipment. As the pending attack grew nearer a farmhand stepped up and notified the militia there was some military vehicle in his uncle Reggie's barn.
No one ever talked to old man Reggie, he passed away 7 years ago, he lived on the outskirts of town, the mayor, Randy Warren sent 12 men to find out what exactly the farmhand was talking about. Then they saw it, a tank. This was the miracle St. Catharines needed to win this war. They found a stockpile of ammunition not too far from the barn and set up the tank at the man entrance, when Niagara Falls sent it's militia to plunder St. Catharines, they noticed the tank, and quickly retreated.
Day-to-day life in this world is terrifying, small towns, like St. Catharines will need to band together for survival, or all will be lost. | 2 | null |
Katamayan57 | t1_c5qbl7h | WritingPrompts | c5qektq | 1,344,491,370 | t3_xwbd1 | Agreed. Completely Kafkafkafkask. | 2 | null |
Kaiju_Hamster | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qel3g | 1,344,491,406 | t3_xwyz2 | I got the call early. Before anyone else would have normally. Not with the connections I have. Okay, I know, for a balding guy with a pot belly and an unremarkably attractive wife I'm not the stereotypical kind of guy to have "connections" but well my connections weren't all that remarkable either.
So as soon as I hung up the phone, I immediately ran into the kitchen. Ah, good the tuna was still there. I yanked it out of the fridge and stripping the plastic wrap I plopped it on the cutting board. Sesame seeds, a bit of honey -which is not cheap on the Big Island, let me tell you- and some butter sauteed greens and carrots, the whole operation didn't take more than 10 minutes to get started.
The wine tasted sour, but I sipped it anyway as I thumped to the pantry. I collected the torches, candles, and old fashioned lantern I kept in a little box in the corner. Wrangling my armload of things to one side, I clicked off the stove with the tips of my fingers and kicked open the screen door.
Just a few feet, and I was on the water. I tried not to rush myself, but I had to run back to our patio and drag a table and chairs I'd forgotten about. It felt like It'd taken hours but when I pulled the lid off the vegetables there was still a bit of steam left.
"Honey!"
She didn't respond. I slammed the tuna onto the sizzling hot frying pan.
"Sweat-heart?!"
"What, what is it?"
"Come on down here, dinners ready!"
She wasn't her prime by any means, but even with streak of gray in her red hair, it still shined. And her face lit up when she smelled dinner.
"Mmm, it smells great." As she walked into the kitchen.
"Come, on. You're going to hate me for this, but it's all ready."
My smartphone buzzed in my pocket. But the tuna only needed a few seconds on the pan, so I quickly flipped over the slab of mahi.
"Do you want anything to drink?" She asked, reaching for the glasses.
"Oh, no no. Don't worry about that. I have it all ready."
She glanced over at the bare kitchen table, and the couch sans-TV trays.
"The beach tonight?" She asked.
"Yeah, I hope you're not too bored of it by now."
"Yeah, right. When was the last time you went and made a fancy dinner on the beach like this?"
"I dunno." 6 months ago. December 28th, the night before my red-eye flight for work through New Years.
I just smiled at her mischeviously, smeared the tuna in sesame seed glaze and plated the whole meal.
"Right this way, mam." I said carrying both plates out the back porch. She followed behind me.
She'd been napping that afternoon, I hadn't wanted to wake her, and I guess I had mistimed the sunset.
The torches and candles did the trick though. I couldn't help but glance at her. Her brown eyes reflected the bright flames, and I could see them start to water.
A ring of candles surrounded our table, their light trapped and amplified by the paper bags. Torches and a lantern on the table to eat by.
"Oh my gosh... you didn't... This is just..."
I walked through the ring unceremoniously and placed the two plates on the table. I turned around to see her standing their with her hands on her mouth, eyes watering.
"How could you remember everything? Even the..."
I pulled her chair back and smiled. She wavered for a moment, and then whiping her eyes with the back of her fist, she grinned and walked into the circle of candles.
I tried the tuna. It tasted a bit dry, and the vegetables were a bit slimy. I sipped the wine, and tried to focus back on the conversation. So beautiful, I had married her for those eyes hadn't I? I retorted something witty, and it was worth it. Her laugh was still as honest and loud as ever.
My phone buzzed again, and a sweat broke out. My smile faltered for a moment, but the lapping waves hand't drowned out the vibration coming from my pocket. Or maybe they had?
"Something wrong?"
"No, nothing. How's your food?"
"It's AMAZING! I still can't figure out why you went through all this trouble?"
"Why do I need a reason?"
"Oh come on, you may think you're Mr. Romantic, but there's a reason here. Spill it."
"You're going to hate me for it."
"Why would I hate you for it? Just spit it out already."
I untucked my napkin, and finished my wine in a few deep gulps. I started to rise.
"It's better if I show you." I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. 9:14 PM.
"C'mon stand up, and c'mere face this way." I put my arms around her and then reached out for her wrist.
"Oh is it a star? Which one..." But I hadn't need to direct her hand very far. The pea-sized flaming ball drowned out the stars around it.
"What is that Harry?"
"Harry?" Her tone dropped.
"I said that you were going to hate me."
My phone buzzed again. I wrapped my arms tightly around her, breathing in the scent of her hair. | 3 | null |
spcowboy53 | t3_xs1b9 | WritingPrompts | c5qelpk | 1,344,491,481 | t3_xs1b9 | "I'm stuck here in time with you youngsters. (He laughs) Youngsters? Hell, I'm younger than all of you. I play the games you want to play better than you. I have hobbies. How many of you people here have actually hobbies? "I'm into a band." Well, good for you. Everybody has bands they like, the difference is my taste isn't mercurial, at least it hasen't been since the seventies. And that's why I get more pussy than you. Especially you. Charles. You have no confidence, your will bends to the slightest wind that comes purring out of a woman's lips. You have to be firm. You have to be strong. That's why my kid's going to grow up to be a great man and my wife and I divorcing was the best thing that ever happened to me and him. He gets two Christmases and I get twenty two year old tail." | 1 | null |
challengereality | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qem7f | 1,344,491,549 | t3_xwyz2 | "Dan, go ahead and light everything! We're rolling in five minutes, people!"
Dan Winters, a gangly production assistant of about twenty-two, riffled through his pockets frantically. Shit! Rebecca had given him the plastic lighter not ten minutes ago, how had he misplaced it already? Fortunately the crew was full of smokers. Jose, his closet friend on set, began lighting the candles atop the small table while Al, a wizened lighting technician, lit the surrounding tiki torches. Dan wished he'd worn sandals like some of the other crew members had, but when he'd been called in this morning he hadn't known what type of set he'd be working on.
"Hit the lights!" came Rebecca's ringing command. Moments later, the set was plunged into near darkness, save the candlelight bathing everyone's faces in flickering yellow.
It was almost romantic, Dan thought, as the talent (a beautiful blond woman and a bookish young man) seated themselves at the small, round table in the center of the ring of fire. It was almost possible to forget that they were in sound studio six, and in the darkness it was easy to ignore the enormous, ugly green screen that framed the fake beach. A beautiful sunset would be shopped in later, Dan assumed.
"Alright folks, rolling in three-"
The male talent quickly handed his script off to a script supervisor, who hurried from the camera's line of sight.
"two-"
The blond talent straitened in her chair and adopted a look of excitement.
"one!"
The couple at the table began eating. Filming for season six, episode three of the reality show, **The Bachelorette**, had begun.
| 1 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xwbd1 | WritingPrompts | c5qemf4 | 1,344,491,578 | t3_xwbd1 | [deleted] | 1 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xx2wj | WritingPrompts | c5qenq5 | 1,344,491,753 | t3_xx2wj | 14 November, 1892. Approximately 10:15 PM
I can get out of this. I know I can. My execution is tomorrow, but I won't die. I *will* keep on living. somehow.
If only that whore hadn't led me on like that. I wouldn't have had to kill her.
If only I could get off without killing. I wouldn't be here. They don't understand.
If only I had a drop of cyanide. That guard could be dead already, and I could be out of here.
Can't they see? I HAVE to kill. I'm not evil, I'm just a monster.
Or maybe they do see, maybe that's why they're getting rid of me. They deserve a world without me, but I can't give it to them. I have to stay alive.
But if I live, I will kill again. I don't want to do that. Yes, I do. No, I don't.
I guess that's just the way it has to be.
| 4 | null |
foxyhiphop | t3_xwbd1 | WritingPrompts | c5qenvf | 1,344,491,772 | t3_xwbd1 | I’ve never understood the whole “difficulties of being a woman” mentality I am constantly reminded of by endless tampon commercials or my cousin Jenny (divorced with two kids and yet another on the way). In my eyes, everyone goes through difficult times – mine just so happen to include monthly menstruation. But instead of cursing the gods of gender, I instead choose to take solace in the fact that, at least thus far in my life, I have not encountered any vampires or other creature of the blood-sucking nature.
I’m sure that such a blatant example of a “woman problem” probably lessens the impact of my argument. But isn’t that just further blaming the odds one was dealt at birth? What are the most common issues you hear today’s man complaining about?
• Size (bodyweight, muscle definition, and obviously a man’s most treasured measurement)
• Money (not making enough)
• Fear of being unable to properly pleasure “their” woman.
How are these not just as transparently stereotypical to the penis as blood is to my vagina?
If this comes off as a bit harsh (I’m hoping it does), it’s because I’m truly pissed off. I risk my life every day just like they do! But it’s the one fucking day that I’m slightly slowed down by cramps that I’m constantly reminded of. I saved twenty-seven children from a burning hospital! But it was the one time I came into work with, admittedly unfortunate, bloodstains on my cape that earned me my first picture on our break room’s bulletin board.
We all came to work one morning a few months back to find Johnny passed out in a pool of his own vomit and ejaculate. Unsurprisingly, that earned him a round of high fives, and even more rounds later that night at the bar.
What makes it all even more upsetting is my superpower. The one thing that’s supposed to set me apart and make me special only furthers my problems. Fucking invisibility?! Because the one thing that helps when you’re not being heard, is obviously to make it so you’re not seen either. And I know they’re all just as aware of the irony as I am. You can see the pleasure in their eyes instantly flare the moment I go incognito during a battle, and suddenly it’s just the three boys fighting, pounding their chests.
Which is why as of two weeks ago (Day 17 to be precise), I am proud to say that I have been entirely refusing to use my powers to fight evil.
EDIT – I certainly didn’t mean to imply that I would now be using my powers to fight FOR evil, nor for any other reason. I suppose a better way to phrase that would have been to simply say, “I’m just no longer using my powers.” It’s like my own personal hunger strike.
UPDATE – Unfortunately, as I should have expected, my strike has gone completely unnoticed. Apparently since I was invisible during all of our previous exploits, I’m still assumed to be in action and am being given credit as such. Yesterday, for the first time in my life as a human mutate, my name was big and bold on the front page of every daily newspaper. They were all finally giving me credit. Credit for the one time I wasn’t there, and for the time it was the man who saved the day.
And I know you’re all just as aware of the irony as I am. | 2 | null |
[deleted] | t1_c5q6fvn | WritingPrompts | c5qepdw | 1,344,491,977 | t3_x6y4p | [deleted] | 5 | null |
Katamayan57 | t1_c5qd4ai | WritingPrompts | c5qepms | 1,344,492,010 | t3_xweet | But it's really just a PVP server. | 4 | null |
whichgame | t1_c5qbqgz | WritingPrompts | c5qepvl | 1,344,492,044 | t3_xwzdd | Nice. I loved how you incorporated "the cow jumped over the moon" into the story. Also, wouldn't it also be a little odd that the girl would have an oar in her living room, as well as sacrifice speed to make her escape with it? Thanks for this, it was very entertaining and well written. | 1 | null |
202halffound | t1_c5qdihz | WritingPrompts | c5qepwq | 1,344,492,048 | t3_xwio1 | Thanks, I edited it. | 1 | null |
krakedhalo | t3_xvr6e | WritingPrompts | c5qepzd | 1,344,492,059 | t3_xvr6e | First thing I've written in a very long time. This subreddit's going to be good for me.
_______________________________________________________
I hadn't watched the tape in years. I knew what was on it, more or less. I remembered the cake cutting and the tour of the house and Dad's corny joke to my sister Les. But I remembered the video the way you remember anything from twenty years ago - halfway, in small chunks, knowing the chorus but not the verse. I remembered Dad the same way.
Last time I watched the tape, just a few years after he died, I thought it was pretty boring. Family has a picnic; family sings atonal rendition of Happy Birthday to a mortally embarrassed teenager; some random cousins talk about baseball. There's no drama there, no conflict or character arc. It's pretty boring, if you watch the tape for the plot.
This time, older, nearly a father myself, I watch again and see what's really on the tape. He was 6'9" and only 160 pounds. I knew that, intellectually, but my god how skinny he was. And his voice! When did Dad get that drawl? I never remembered that. I somehow smell his apple pipe tobacco. That's not on the tape at all.
If you watch the tape for the characters, it's a masterpiece. | 1 | null |
Katamayan57 | t1_c5q3l4h | WritingPrompts | c5qesk2 | 1,344,492,417 | t3_xw41w | Have you by chance read "Warriors" by Erin Hunter? | 1 | null |
POINTING_OUT_REPOSTS | t3_xwyz2 | WritingPrompts | c5qesrx | 1,344,492,447 | t3_xwyz2 | "Hi, and welcome to the new show, *Survivor: Bachelorette Edition.* I'm your host, Jeff Probst." | 5 | null |
[deleted] | t1_c5q0v36 | WritingPrompts | c5qet86 | 1,344,492,509 | t3_x6y4p | [deleted] | 1 | null |
Bringlogic | t3_xw1k6 | WritingPrompts | c5qetbq | 1,344,492,522 | t3_xw1k6 | I'm jumping on this bandwagon. I hope everyone coming here is bright and able to expand this subreddit in a way that accentuates it's purpose. This seems like a sophisticated community. I would hate to see it crowded and dumbed-down just because it got bestof'd. | 5 | null |
FluteGirl4Lyfe | t1_c5qcdi3 | WritingPrompts | c5qexlw | 1,344,493,158 | t3_x6y4p | Because they have no i's. Heh. | 2 | null |
cssher | t3_xwzdd | WritingPrompts | c5qeysi | 1,344,493,334 | t3_xwzdd | Fuck, that went *way* too long, what am I doing. **tl;dr** Intense action at the Animalympics
_______________________________________________________
London, August 3012. Herds upon herds of fanatical fauna filled Animalympic Stadium to see the start of the storied 800,000,000 meter marathon. For years the marathon had been considered the "holy grail" of animal athletics, with organisms all across the globe dreaming of one day participating in the race which takes contestants across Europe, into space, to the moon and back. Made an event in 2679, 300 years after the human race died off from overuse of cell phones, the 800,000,000 meter marathon was historically limited to vertebrates, and it was raced almost exclusively by mammals. However, a recent diversity initiative had sparked a rule change that allowed for any thing, living or not, to compete in the marathon. This year, the field was as diverse as ever.
In lane 1 sat Felix the cat, from South America. Fierce and feisty like all cats seem to be, Felix had taken the bronze medal in the previous year's world championships despite rampant accusations of doping, all of which were later proven false.
In lanes 2 and 3 stood the Diddle twins (Leo and Fraser) from West Africa. Formerly sprinters, they had trained themselves to handle distance after finding that their sprint training resulted in too much wasted time.
In lane 4, the dish from China sat, calm and cautiously optimistic. She was certainly the favorite in the race, but as the first piece of kitchenware ever to compete in an Animalympic event, she shouldered an immense amount of pressure. A win for her would likely lead to massive advances in dishes' rights, which at the time were almost non-existent, despite constitutional support for universal equality.
The spoon, a surprise qualifier, sat in lane 5.
Lane 6 contained Betsy the cow, from North America. She was the defending Animalympic champion in this event but was marred by a series of injuries in the coming years and failed to show the form that gave her the epic win four years previously over Fred the falcon. Excellent at tempo-running, Betsy would look to keep the other competitors in check most of the way and hopefully pull away on the descent back to Earth from space.
There was a little dog in lane 7, and a slightly larger dog in lane 8. Both were massive underdogs.
In lane 9 lay the fiddle, the second instrument ever to compete in the event. He was dubbed by many as the dark horse of the race.
As the competitors took their marks, the stadium held its breath. A calm breeze passed through, unnoticed by all. And then they were off, dashing for the first of 10 laps around the stadium. Even though the race was 800,000,000 meters long, the contestants could not afford to lose a second of time, and thus kept up a heavy pace throughout. After ten laps they exited the building, amid raucous cheers from the crowd, who would catch the rest of the race on a live stream.
*3 hours later* All 8 racers now headed towards the nearest space station. Once there, they would don their equipment and enter their personally customized rocket ships.
The Diddle twins were first to the space station, in time of 3 hours 24 minutes. They shot up into space 13 minutes ahead of the rest of the field.
*4 hours later* Once everyone had entered space, they individually plotted the quickest route to the moon. They would have to descent down and touch the surface before heading back to Earth.
*5 days later* First to the moon were the dish and the spoon, followed a day later by Felix the cat and the fiddle. One Diddle twin had been slowed by an engine failure, and the other was simply racing poorly. He would soon pull out of the race, bringing great shame to his country and to twins around the world.
Approaching the moon in third position was Betsy the cow, a good position for her considering her notorious slow starts. However, Betsy then did something completely unprecedented--rather than touch the moon and head back, she jumped **over** the entire moon and used the centripedal force to propel her back toward Earth with incredible speed! Oohs and aahs were uttered across Earth as viewers stayed glue to their streams, not wanting to miss a second of the action.
*1 day later* As they head back towards Earth for the second half of the 800,000,000 meter marathon, the racers again plotted courses to land safely. The dish was now the clear leader, with the spoon and the cow jockeying for third position a day back. The little dog, upon observing Betsy's strange manoeuvre around the moon, laughed to see such sport and aborted the race with a quiet bark that nobody heard anyway because he was in space.
*5 days later* As the dish touched down in Cardiff, she became very sad for no real reason and stopping running. One day later, she realized that she missed the spoon, that they fit so well together, and that she didn't really care about winning a race organized by animals that normally used her to serve dinner on. How disrespectful. When the spoon landed two days later, they ran away together to a far away place to spend the rest of their lives in holy matrimony.
Now, the race was still on and with four athletes unable to finish (the dish, the spoon, the little dog and the first Diddle twin), everyone appeared to have a fighting chance. However, the fiddle's descent was rough and he went violently out of tune. Betsy the cow was seasick form jumping over the moon and fainted shortly after landing on Earth. The second Diddle twin had another engine failure and crashed out, leaving Felix the cat one on one against the slightly larger dog. In a tight sprint finish, the slightly larger dog took the gold. | 2 | null |
Le_Jonny_41293 | t1_c5q5p3b | WritingPrompts | c5qezgv | 1,344,493,436 | t3_xvr6e | actualy I was just being a poor sport and checking them on [Word Count](http://www.wordcounttool.com/) and posting results. | 2 | null |
Le_Jonny_41293 | t1_c5q5t8d | WritingPrompts | c5qezln | 1,344,493,457 | t3_xvr6e | Actually I was just being a poor sport/smart ass and checking them on Word Count and posting results | 1 | null |
Le_Jonny_41293 | t1_c5q5brk | WritingPrompts | c5qezot | 1,344,493,467 | t3_xvr6e | Dam Right My Good Sir... | 1 | null |
cloakingdevice | t3_x6y4p | WritingPrompts | c5qf026 | 1,344,493,525 | t3_x6y4p | I showed this to my crazy uncle. His response was "challenge accepted." Approximately 26 minutes later, he asked me to post this despite the prompt being nearly two weeks old. *Note: This is not my own work*
Across the star lit sky, like a slashing knife, the meteor flew. Burning away its crust, over, and over, as it plummets. Crashing through the atmosphere and smashing through clouds, the piece of space debris plummets towards its target. Did destiny bring them together? Earth and meteor, Terra and space. Flying overhead, the burning rock drags its flaming tail. Growing ever longer, the light starts to overwhelm the surrounding stars. Howling erupts from the fiery visitor as the water in the air boils away. Igniting the tops of trees as it misses a mountaintop. Jumping from peak to peak, then from hill to hill, the remaining ball of fire continues to approach its final destination. Kissing the fields with its flaming surface, grass is scorched and burned in its wake. Landing does not adequately describe the way the meteor burrows over 10 feet into the earth, throwing plumes of dirt in all directions. Men and women rush to new crater. None gathered had ever seen anything like this before. Overhead, the night sky returns to normal. People stare in wonder at the new arrival. Quiet ensues. Resting in its smoldering, earthen cradle, the meteor waits momentarily to be retrieved. Scientists will study this gift for years to come. Time and patients will reveal many secrets. Understanding those secrets could take lifetimes. Various tests will have to be performed. Whole scientific research complexes will be developed to study this meteor. X-rays will pierce it and core samples will be analyzed. Yesterday, space was all it knew. Zodiac has landed. | 4 | null |
whichgame | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qf1of | 1,344,493,784 | t3_xweet | Why are they so resistant? Don't they know that even now they are but a means to an end? A strategic position, nothing more. I saw in the eyes of their general as he stood against my men was a burning inferno of seething rage. Why do they hate me so, is their cause more true than mine? I burn these meaningless villages to the ground only to send a message to their sovereign, my enemy. If their ruler would only surrender, he would save the lives of many. They say I am corrupting the earth, although I am but a reformer. I seek only to purge the weakness from the land, and create the utopia that I was destined to rule for eternity. If they would prostrate to me, as is my right upon them, I would guide their lives to contentedness. Instead, they rise up against me in ignorance, doomed to fail. I shall slaughter their sons and burn their fathers for their arrogance. I will allow nothing to obstruct my path to deification, and I will destroy all who dare to stand against me, even if they defy to the last man. I will burn them and erase their wretched from this earth before I give up my right to their dominion. Their daughters will curtsey at my glance and fulfill my whims, and their women will bare my children. I will spread my seed throughout them, so that my visage remains among them for generations after my transcendence. Tonight, they bow to me in fear, and they will bow in gratitude for centuries to come! | 1 | null |
POINTING_OUT_REPOSTS | t3_xwio1 | WritingPrompts | c5qf2g2 | 1,344,493,906 | t3_xwio1 | Feeling devious, Jack dashed toward Ashley's room, hoping Ashley would soon arrive within seconds. Hiding behind clothes, Jack snickered with delight. Patience wasn't exactly Jack's strongest quality, though. Time soon flew, which wore down Jack's devious plans. Leaving Ashley's room, Jack felt tapping from behind. Twisting around, Jack became scared, large spiders were dangling before Jack's eyes. Running scared, Jack darted back into hiding within Ashley's room.
"**BANG**" went Ashley's door, quickly opening.
Ashley, standing before cowardly Jack, holding strings of spiders, gripped tightly from hands, loudly laughs Jack from hiding. Leaving with shame, Jack vows revenge.
"Next time", Jack thought. | 1 | null |
[deleted] | t1_c5qdkvs | WritingPrompts | c5qf42y | 1,344,494,167 | t3_xx9fm | How very meta of you. | 1 | null |
[deleted] | t3_xweet | WritingPrompts | c5qf5so | 1,344,494,440 | t3_xweet | [deleted] | 1 | null |
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