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[ WP ] In the future , games developers are able to implant consciousness into their characters . You are one of them .

As twin suns rose over the horizon, Cedric stirred on a stiff bed of straw and rawhide. He awoke with a start, hands searching over the familiar contours of his own chest with a dazed, joyous expression of disbelief. Gleefully, he called out to the boy, anxious to meet his appointment. The squire entered, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “ G ’ morrow, sir, headed to meet the captain? ” Cedric stared at him for a moment, appreciating the boy's face as a sculptor admires his own works. Together, they dressed Cedric into his armor, simple leather embossed with the sigil of his house, a raven in flight. Cedric paused outside the square, watching the townspeople peddling wares, trading secrets, beggars panhandling. Familiar and true, he watched the hive buzz, as a choreographer watches a dancing troupe. A man of Cedric's height and build hailed him from across the square, smiling in a dazzling suit of mail. The two men met, pausing within an arm's length. Their faces were identical, indistinguishable. “ So you, I… What I mean is, we ’ re in? ” Cedric smiled at the captain, “ Yes. It worked, man. l, *we*, were successfully uploaded. ” The captain grinned broadly, slapping Cedric on the shoulder, “ VR will never be the same! Your actions, responses, are unlimited! You ca n't be predicted, cheated, altered… the first NPC to serve as more than a backdrop. ” “ Is there really any point to us having a conversation? You are n't telling me anything I have n't already thought of. After all, I'm you. ” “ Alright, smartass. Let's hit a save point, I need to tweak that villager before the big demo. ” The next morning, Nathaniel addressed the board as he slipped into the VR headset. “ Moments from now, I'll load up yesterday's save, and you, ladies and gentlemen, will meet… Me. A virtual reconstruction of an actual human mind, with all its complexity and nuance. None other than my own, the best man to guide the player character in this adventure, to keep it true to my own vision. ” Nathaniel walked the board members through his castle, pointing out the little details that made it exceptional. The drafty, damp breeze through chinks in the ancient stone, the mossy, ever-moist quality of the ceilings. He then proceeded to the town square, quaking with anticipation. The scene he found was nothing like his vision, more nightmare than dream. Nathan's stomach turned, he stepped aside to retch, the yellowgreen fluid swirling as it mingled with the lazily flowing blood. None of the townspeople had been left alive. A naked, bloodsoaked spectre charged forth from the shadows of an alley, grabbing Nathan by his mail shirt. He stared into his own crazed, bloodshot eyes with growing horror. “ Jesus Christ fuck, kill me! ” pink spittle flew from the creature's lips as he pleaded, “ You ca n't do this to anyone else! Fucking kill me now and abandon this fucking fucked idea. When you shut down the program I did n't go into stasis. I fucking died. There was nothing, just fucking nothing. A man ca n't cease to exist, it's fucking fucked… fucking kill me, ” the creature's blubbering faded into nonsense as he slid down Nathaniel ’ s chest, collapsing into the puddle of crimson at his feet.

[ WP ] `` The light can never go out , '' explained the old lighthouse operator . `` Ships do n't need us . Have n't in quite some time . It 's the people here on land who 'll suffer if that light ever goes out . ''

After days of sifting through the belongings her papa did n't need anymore, the new lighthouse keeper crept upstairs to watch the last bit of hope be extinguished. There was no need for it anymore. Her papa had owned the deed on the land, but it was the town who paid for the light. The mayor had decided to put the funds set aside for upkeep of the lighthouse into a pay raise for the teachers. It was supposed to honor her papa who had led the teacher's union for years and had been teaching up until the day he'd died. Ana had n't been able to sell the land, although her daughter and son-in-law had tried to convince her otherwise. It was her childhood home and she traveled so much for work that it did n't feel like it mattered where she called home. People who knew a lot more than her about lighthouses came and fiddled with a panel. She heard deep, mechanical clicks that sounded more like the solemn tone of a bell. Then, they bid her good day and left with their tools. She put her hand on the cool glass and wondered why her papa had insisted that the light was not for ships, but for the town. She smiled when she lifted her hand away and did n't see any dust or smudges besides her own handprint. She went back downstairs to continue wiping at her eyes as she went through old photo albums and tried not to get anything important dirty with grease from a pizza one of the people in town had gotten delivered to her. The next morning, Ana woke up to stillness. It seemed to be so sombre, fog rolling in from the ocean in the cool morning. The sky was still dark, but light was starting to come in. She made herself a cup of coffee and gazed out onto the ocean, listening to the crash of waves against the cliffside. She closed her eyes and smiled at the familiar smell of ocean breeze. After a moment, she cracked one eye open and realized something was wrong. She had n't heard a single gull screaming about the sun. She blinked and scanned the horizon as if she thought she'd spot any. It was then that she realized the sky was still pitch black. A glance at the clock on the stove told her it was 9:42 am. Before Ana could process this, she heard a deep, rumbling click and then a siren began wailing in the town below. She quickly wrapped herself up in a house robe and kicked on a pair of slippers. As she grabbed the handle of the front door, she heard a hissing and popping sound from right outside that made her stop. On edge, she waited for it to stop, but it only devolved into what sounded like a man coughing. Ana looked around the room for a baseball bat or anything she can use as a weapon. Deep in her gut was the feeling that she should have something to defend herself with. Mounted on the mantle was an old flail next to her family crest. She pried it off the wall and went to answer the door, hefting the heavy flail into a position she hoped would let gravity do most of the work. It was a man in a suit. Ana blinked for a moment at him, not quite sure what she'd been expecting. She started to feel embarrassment rise when the man suddenly smiled too wide, too big and started to speak, `` Ana Connswell, the new lighthouse keeper. I am here to give you a very special offer, any wish you --'' The flail hit his head with a satisfying crack before Ana let herself think too much about it. His skull caved and Ana was jerked forward by the momentum. After a bit of tugging and sickening squelching, she was fully upright again. Four other men glared at her. The biggest stepped forward menacingly, his steps burning the grass and melting a plastic frog, `` You fool. You would have been granted anything. Now, we, the servants of --'' A louder crack and a metallic thunk as the sidewise swipe smashed the man into the side of the lighthouse. It was easier to pull back this time. Ana frowned at the three remaining... men? Demons? Horrors? She did n't know, but after having an English teacher for a father, the cold stare she sent their way had them glancing between themselves nervously. She stepped back into the lighthouse and closed the door. After a pause, she also slid the deadbolt in place. She let herself put the flail down for a moment to still her shaking hands and then was off, up the narrow lighthouse steps to the top. With the 360 degree view, she could see the chaos raging in the town below. Creatures chasing the dots of civilians and fires ravaging homes while sirens still cried under the black sky. Ana knew it did n't take a genius to follow a simple chain of events. She'd watch them undo the lighthouse yesterday, so she just worked the switches in the reverse sequence. Each click gave that deep tone, but seemed to shake the ground with it. With every step closer, the ground shook more violently. As the light finally flared to life, the black sky seemed to edge away. The sirens still wailed and, as Ana made her way to look down at the town, fires still raged. Yet, the new lighthouse keeper learned a very important first lesson: When you die in that place, you do n't die in real life. You can, however, be horribly traumatized. Later that day, she would learn her second lesson: Lighthouses do n't work if the town's transformer gets blown up in a fire. However, lighthouses accept blood sacrifices as a form of power and are n't really picky about if the blood is human or not.

[ WP ] Aliens land on earth , but they do so in levitating castles and wizards towers . It turns out that most galactic civilizations rely on magic instead of technology .

Ever wonder what a black hole really is? It's when something pulls you in so much, to escape the pull you'd need to be going faster than light. Then there's magic. Unseen, it moves faster than light. It's the elements that are created in the black hole, similar to how stars create the elements we have now through fusion. These elements created in the black hole transcend space and time. Elements so heavy light ca n't escape it. Magic. Physics is bound to the speed of light. There are a vast amount of elements more than the ones we know. A whole other world. With consciences, civilizations, thoughts and ideas that are uncomprehendingly beyond us. And one day, for some reason, they appeared, as the skies twisted and turned, bending to make way for them to enter our world. I was sleeping when it happened. I awake to a loud, heavy yet crisp bang. I look outside and the skies glow in shades of bright and dark orange, with something in the middle. I ca n't make out quite what, but I ca n't look away. I run outside for a better look. The grass, the sky, the neighbors around me watching in awe, houses, everything was a giant mix of bright colors moving around, slowly. I take a step, and feel a surge all throughout my body. I reach down to pick up an oddly-shaped twig from the ground. Just as I pick it up, it bears a single fruit, as the glowing dust emanates around it, and floats together spiraling up until it scatters. It was at this moment, I realized, I was hearing music. It felt like years. Standing there, every sense being stimulated, one after another. Absolute bliss. Then I open my eyes. I look around me, neighbors still there, I look down at the twig in my hand. It's missing. I look back up at the sky, and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. A giant tower. It spanned the length of the sky from edge to edge. Huge structures, but also very, very intricate. It's so far away but I can make out its details. It looks very similar to how towers in magic are depicted... I wondered if anyone on the other side of the planet could see this. Was it on this side of the Earth, or was everyone somehow able to witness this? Then, something moved. The huge wooden doors opened inward, as indicated by the huge gap slowly widening in the middle with a figure at the bottom. As it begins to take steps towards the edge of the castle, it holds out an object. The figure looks to be an old man, dressed in royal blue robes wearing a royal blue pointy hat. He seems to be smiling. He looks so human. He sighed, with his smile slightly more expressive. I do n't know how I know these things, he's so far away the size of a pin but somehow... He holds out what he's holding in his hand, this rectangular object. It's... a... Suddenly, like the mix of colors previously emanating the sky and everything around me, I see the object begin to do the same, as it becomes more of a static, beginning to fade. I jolt, as I see something beginning to form under my head in front of my torso. It's a book. On it, written, `` Instructions''. **Criticism welcome. I'm new to this! **

[ WP ] Human disease has been virtually eradicated centuries ago . You are a very old member of a small medical society known as `` The Last Doctors '' and a new , unknown and deadly plague has emerged .

It was 100 years after the Great War, as he called it.'Or, what would have been the end of it,' he said. First thing he says to me after stepping out that box was some odd statement about a new war. Funny thing about time and timing. But time, in itself, never ends. Only repeats, like what you and I would call a playlist. Or, what he would call, `` Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey''. And timing, in itself, is not ever perfect, just close enough to intersect with someone elses. I asked him what his name was. He said at one point in time, he went by David Smith. Another, Matt Tennant. However, he was ( literally ) universally known as'The Doctor'. I was very apprehensive when he arrived and, out of the blue, asked me to join him. The Police box, the semi-mismatched suit and tie. The odd children's toy strapped to his belt ( or whatever he was using to hold it ). It was a lot for someone to take in. After thinking it over, I agreed to come with him. After all, what could possibly happen? He took me on many adventures, showing me such places as Earth, begun anew, to the far-flung regions of outerspace ( and showing me a great resort stop near the edge of the known galaxy. ) And yes, this does seem very implausible. Very odd indeed. But, in going along with it, I was rewarded greatly. He took me back to my time, let me gather what I owned and let me say my goodbyes, then he plopped me into the middle of a Utopia, literally named after the word for'peaceful, problem-free city'. And, after specializing in medicine ( and training for a fair bit of time ), I rose to a powerful position on the'Reserve Board of Medical Knowledge.' Known then as the'Last Doctors', we were n't as powerful as the doctors and nurses of my day. We sat back and watched for any new medical emergencies that the Med-bots were n't yet programmed to deal with. At first, it was just two smaller colonies on far-flung worlds.'No big deal,' we all thought.'This happens all the time. Probably just a new empire that needs... correcting, so to speak.' However, the deaths began to mount, on colonies closer and closer to home. Eventually, it was near our borders. And, to the shock of most of us, it was n't an actual disease. It was a hive-mind heading for the homeworld. We were doctors, but not in the field we needed. We needed the Doctor. *que intro music after what now is a very long intro*

[ WP ] You 've been an average joe all your life - pretending you 're hosting a cooking show when you cook , fake acceptance speeches in the shower , etc . Only , when you die , it turns out that you 're actually famous in the ghost world and there were always ghosts as your audience .

`` Oh my *God*, it's really you!'' I figured that was a pretty strange thing for a nurse to say while she was supposed to be trying to save my life, but then I realised it was n't her at all. It was a spooky-looking woman floating right behind her - who was looking at me in amazement. The feeling was mutual. `` I'm sorry, but I'm somewhat preoccupied here.'' I pointed towards the heart-rate monitor, which had been flatlining for an alarming amount of time. My arm seemed surprisingly ethereal, but I figured that was just something that happened during out of body experiences. The spooky lady giggled. `` Oh, you're already dead, silly. Finally. I've been waiting for so long!'' I tried not to judge people, but that did n't seem particularly tactful. `` Well fan-fucking-tastic. And I suppose you're my guardian angel? Or a succubus here to drag me to hell?'' I looked her up and down. `` I'm guessing the latter, really.'' She smiled, and giggled again. It was n't a pleasant giggle; it was the kind of giggle you'd hear in the dark whispers of the night. `` *No*, silly, I'm your biggest fan! Although I suppose they *all* say that, but I really am! Come, I need to take you to the stage, they're all waiting.'' `` The stage?'' I queried, as she led me through the hospital doors ( which were n't nearly as solid as I'd remembered them ) and into darkness beyond. `` Oh, *yes*. Everyone's there. I suspect you've got one of your acceptance speeches lined up already.'' `` What the hell are you on about? I'm no- *oh*.'' It slowly dawned on me. How long had they been watching? And how many of them? The spotlight hit the stage, and I blinked through the lights. I peered at the assembled audience. There was plenty peering to get through. *Many. Very, very many. * ***** I want to say that I was nervous. That I missed my friends and family, the few I had. But really, as I grabbed my spooky mic, and faced my spooky audience, *I finally felt alive. *

[ EU ] You are an adopted child of The Dragonborn . Describe what your childhood was like .

My life's story was one of interest. It was a long period of ignorance shattered by an unforgettable event. That event is recounted in this page. Me and Dad never spoke about his old life. We never needed to, the sudden and strange appearance of his old `` actor'' friends usually pissed him off for the whole day. My favorite was always the ones playing vampires, they were so dedicated to their roles that mommy got scared half to death once. The effects were so real, I almost believed it when dad pretended to chop one into millions of tiny little pieces. They would shout about how he was some godly monster that hunted them to the ends of the earth. I loved them for they always seemed to be unbelievably good at the craft. That was until some bastard calling himself Miraak showed up. Mom and I were going about daily life when some men in funny clothes showed up. Dad gave me a flaming sword made of wood and said to use only if I needed to, my 5 year birthday gift. Mom said these were n't actors, and that I needed to get it. Then hide. The screaming. Oh talos. I sprinted into mom's room, my head down and hid where dad told me to if things ever happened, I disappeared into a tunnel, a long winding tunnel that dead ended in some artic wastes. I remember hearing a dragon roar peirce the sky then seeing a monster constructed of bone, using sharpened bones as weapons, and with a gold wedding band on his left hand. He dashed along to the dragon, shouting words into the sky that brought it crashing into the ice, cracking it under and submerging in the frigid waters. Followed by the machine. Fire emerged from under the water, then the man, then the corpse as he drug it up. He plodded along to the town on the horizon, pulling off the ring and clasping it tightly. I tailed the thing with a short distance, intrigued but also terrified. I watched some distortion appear around him, like he was devouring his prey's soul. He turned after a few feet, `` Listen kid, I do n't want to disappoint but I've already got a son. `` He said turning, with a warm smile, `` and he found me''. I'll continue tommorow after my shift. Shift being ran by idiots, here's more: He took me inside a nearby tavern to hide me from the oppressive cold of the artic, inside were men dressed in animal hides and clad in iron or bone. When they saw him they shouted some word I could n't understand. The confusion on my face tipped them off as they said `` Awh, did n't you tell your son who you are? You absolute bastard! `` Roared a man in the skin of a wolf carrying a bow on his back. `` He's the Dovahkiin! Dragon Born! He literally killed a god to save your hide! He crossed the barrier between life and death to get you some gem.'' My dad, angry at the sudden outburst lightly smacked the bowman and said `` Sven, `` He said methodically and slowly `` My son, lives in a small retreat I built. His mom said she wanted a life away from my insanity and adventure.'' Sven's face went from cheerful to dreading his next breath. `` O-oh. Aela? Why are you here then boy?'' I recounted the previous few hours of plodding through an ice cavern and my dad was filled with dread. His entire party hopped up. The men who held steins and mugs threw them amongst the floor at the name. `` Miraak'' Everyone echoed the word at least once. Sven sat down and grabbed the pommel of his arming sword `` Run boy. Your home is safe. `` I looked over at my dad and he warmly smiled `` Son, you're safe because I'm sending Sven with you, and that wooden sword of yours needs one little touch'' With that it levitated from my belt into his hands where it began to glow a bright aquatic blue, then a black as empty as the void. After a few seconds it fell onto my belt again. He smiled and said `` Go say hi to those men, and knock em with this.''

[ WP ] It has been seven months since the Internet was shut down for good . Describe your day .

I get up at 6 am feeling well rested like every day for the past few months. When the internet disappeared so did my insomnia, as well as all my friends. I go for a jog like every morning; I ’ ve lost so much weight these past few months that I ’ m thinking about writing a book. My mind is so much more clear these days and also so much more lonely. I see a girl jogging towards me and I smile. She smiles back and we both feel a little less lonely. We couldn ’ t talk; that would be awkward. When I get back to my house, I start my work; I ’ m an author these days. I ’ ve written three books in the last four months. I don ’ t know if the publishers are that much more lenient now or if my new found clarity makes that much of a difference but my books are being published like there ’ s no tomorrow. Around lunch time, I call my friend Elise to check up on her. We had met in high school and drifted apart in college only talking through facebook every few months, now we talk every two days and are closer than we were in high school. The lack of smartphones has definitely helped, now that nobody has internet access, there are much less apps and so any phone really works. She tells me that she is going on a date with a guy named Brad. They ’ ve worked together for years but she ’ s starting to think that she ’ s developing feelings for him. I give her a pep talk and try to psyche her up. She tells me that I need to get a date and if everything works out we ’ ll double date together. I laugh and tell her I ’ ll talk to her tomorrow. She wishes me good luck with my book and says goodbye. I continue to write until the evening. I prepare dinner and set the table. My family comes over for dinner and we share stories about our day. Halfway through I remember that I forgot to watch the news this morning. Although my family tells me that there is nothing major, my heart still races. I needed to remember if I wanted to be connected to the modern world at all. After a few good laughs we say goodbye and I sit down to read a book. If I was going to be a great writer, I needed to be an amazing reader. After a few chapters, I complete a few chores and take a shower. Singing in the shower used to be a fun hobby, but I can ’ t recall any lyrics right now. I need to head to the cd store and pick up a radio. I smile thinking of how a few months ago, I would ’ ve needed a list to remember my chores, now my memory is spectacular. I change into my pajamas and head to bed. As I lay on my pillow, I wonder what the world ’ s redditors are up to and sigh. This wasn ’ t the future that I imagined. I close my eyes ready for another mundane day.

[ WP ] Write about a chess match from the POV of one of the pieces .

“ HOLD THE LINE! ” Rain poured down on the battlefield, screams ringing out across the muddy field. Lightning flashed as I saw two footmen go down in front of me. The attacks came out of no where, slaughtering the men that I once called friends. A knight thundered past, cutting across my path and plunging into the onslaught. He pierced the Bishop across from him, turning to cut down another foot soldier. “ Erondale! ” The King called to me over a clap of thunder. “ Flank them! Deal the blow! ” “ I ’ ll end it! Personally! ” I ran diagonally, slashing at a horse as it charged our line. I ducked underneath the enemy ’ s steel as I dashed past their defensive formation. Twisting around, I caught another Bishop ’ s blade against mine, locking in midair. A voice sounded from my peripheral. “ Leave him to me. ” The Bishop disengaged, sliding backwards. I turned, squaring up to a massive armored individual. *The Queen. * She hefted her mace into the air, launching an attack into the air. I rolled to the right, feeling the weapon smash the ground next to my head. I jumped to my feet, thrusting my blade toward the gap in her armor. I felt the sword sink into its target, eliciting a scream from the receiving end. Straightening up, the Queen fell at my feet. Not too far away, the King stared at me through the torrential downpour, jaded eyes observing the inevitable. “ Time to die old man. ” My voice came out more malevolent than I ’ d ever heard it. The King ’ s plated armor shuffled as he lifted his chin, slowly shaking his head. I uttered a war cry, rushing the aged Monarch. The flash of my sword matched lightning overhead. I brought the blade crashing down on the man. The individual under my weapon was not the King. A muscular Rook stared wide-eyed up at me. He was gasping, mouthing an inaudible line over and over again. Violent thunder ripped across the field, and I felt intense pain in my side. Falling into the mud next to the Rook, I gazed up at the falling rain. The King leaned into my sight, dominating my field of vision. I heard the man utter a single phrase before everything faded to black. * “ Castle, Kingside. ” *

[ WP ] You are a lonely god .

You are god. You are alone. You ask yourself what you can do with what you have. There is nothing to gain, no waiting to possess more. You have everything you need. You ask yourself what you should build. More importantly, you ask yourself why you should build it. You are all that exists. You are everything. Yet you are nothing. In building something, you realize that you will be taking away from yourself as well as adding to yourself, but you are infinite, so you come to the conclusion that it is merely a concern of yours, to lose, to gain. You wonder when you began feeling such things as concern, and then you wonder if you are perhaps building yourself. Perhaps you yourself are what you seek, or perhaps you seek something, not greater or lesser, because there is nothing greater or lesser, but different. Something separate from you. Something that negates from everything and creates from nothing. Perhaps you should invent the finite. Perhaps you should draw lines. Perhaps you should make rules, elements with which to draw these lines. These rules must belong on a spectrum. Perhaps you will create time, so that there is an end to the rules that you have now begun, a closure to the loop so that you know when this game will end, and you will know who ’ s won. You will build your own enemy in the form of reality. The rules have created new rules for themselves. There is now light and darkness. Here and there. Now and then. There are elements now, and they have created stars and galaxies and planets. They expand outward from you constantly on the axis of time and you see them drift away from you, enveloping you, consuming you and leaving you, deserting you all at the same time. You feel the wonder of your new reality, but it is not enough. You take the silly little elements you ’ ve made, a haphazard concoction of nonsense, and you put yourself inside of it. You are god, and you walk along a sidewalk, heels clicking underneath you as you check your phone and worry you are late for your next meeting. You are god, and you mix flour with yeast to bake bread for your hungry children. You are god, and you discover fire. You are god, and you pull the pin of a grenade, feeling no fear but the twinge of remorse in your gut. You are god, and you turn the last page of a book with a soft, contented sigh. You are god, and you swim lazily in warm ocean water on a Sunday afternoon. You are god, and you breathe in the smell of your lover ’ s scent for what you do not know will be the very last time. You shatter yourself, scatter yourself far and wide, putting pieces of your infinity into the finite hearts of the elements you so inelegantly put together. You are everyone and no one. You are everything and nothing. You exist both beyond this reality and within it. You are pieces of a puzzle that will never be put together, but are always connected for those who wish to gaze upon you, to become you, to see you as broken yet whole, perfect yet flawed, everywhere and nowhere at once. You are the loser and winner of your own game. And that ’ s okay. Because you are not alone.

[ CW ] Write a story where the tone of the narrator is completely different to the tone of the characters and the plot .

Anxiety tears the stickers off bottles. Anxiety rips, rips, rips apart the sugar packets folding them into some motley order. I worry the waitress sees the heart beating slightly before the upbeat in the steak meticulously removed of its fat, sitting undressed but uneaten in the middle of my plate. `` Hey! Tom, how are you doing?'' `` No thanks, I do n't need anything else.'' I look up. It occurs to me that the woman in front of me is n't the waitress. She has curly black hair, measured in a careful, kinky explosion from her head, which she cocks to one side upon meeting my eyes. She giggles. `` I guess you did n't realize it was me. I was just walking to the bathroom and I saw you. How's the firm these days?'' Fuck. I recognize that hair, that giggle. I tap my fork on my plate three times. Fuck that's weird. I stop to put it down on the table, but it collides with the plate on the way down, awkwardly rolling on its side on the white tablecloth. Fuck. Say something. Something. `` Oh yeah haha. I was just thinking about getting the check when you walked up, so I guess I got confused. Work is good... We've really been cranking out the new ceramics designs.'' Those words came from a place I do n't know. I recite them from a broken part of my personality. The part of me that once dreamed of inventions and exotic adventures now pushes steak around at a Logan's Roadhouse and says whatever will fill the void of small talk. She responded, but I do n't remember what she said.

[ WP ] Your job is to help integrate fictional characters into the real world .

“ He's awake. You want to do the orientation, or do you want me to get this one? ” I looked up from the latest report, and peeked out from between the stacks of files on my desk. I took off my glasses, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “ I thought they said he'd be out for at least another couple hours. ” My colleague shrugged in the doorway, “ High metabolism, I guess. Rock, paper, scissors? ” She held her fist in her open palm, ready. I shook my head, “ No, no... That's fine. It's my turn anyway. ” I ran a finger down the nearest stack of folders, and found his information. “ Thanks for letting me know. Let me know if you need a hand with that project you're working on later. ” She blinked at me, “ Uhh... Judging from the state of your office, I think you have your hands full already. Besides, things are going well. I should get back to it though... Good luck! ” I waved as she left, and gathered my thoughts before heading over to the holding cell. Ever since the rifts had started opening up, there had been a steady stream of cases to work. Supposedly fictional characters began entering into our world. No-one had any answers about why or how, and they all seemed just as confused about it as we were. Unfortunately, the portals closed as quickly as they had opened and, thus, were one way only. Whoever and whatever came through were here to stay. We were able to track the new residents down from unique residual energy signatures. We always tried to take them in with non-lethal methods, but for a number of reasons that's not always possible. Once we have them in custody, it's a matter of doing some background research on who they are. Heroes are generally initially assigned a low risk indicator; villains typically get a high risk indicator... Non-humans are sent to a special containment facility, whether they are sentient or not. There was only so much we could learn through the research, though. There were typically huge differences between the fictional world we recognized them from, and their reality. This in turn can have huge impacts on their personalities, motivations... Their entire being, really. You quickly learn to not go into the initial encounter with any preconceptions. I nodded politely to the security officers standing outside the room. I could see through the porthole window that our guest was indeed awake, and had already been looked over by medical. His restraints were off, and he was sitting calmly in one of the chairs. I opened the door and stepped into the room. He was instantly on his feet, and watched me intently as I walked over. I stopped a few paces in front of him and smiled, “ Hi there! My name's Kylie. I know this must be very confusing for you, but I'm here to try to help you make sense of it all. ” I offered my hand, and he shook it. “ Got ta say... It was a bit of a shock. Knocking me out was a nice touch. Kylie... That's a nice name. ” I gave a rueful smile, “ Sorry about that... We ca n't be too careful. Would you like some water? I'd offer something else, but you're not cleared for food or other drinks just yet. Need to do your allergy tests first. We've had some bad reactions in the past. ” “ I'm good, thanks. ” “ Alright then! ” We sat in our respective seats. “ So... Broad strokes... Right now you're on a planet called Earth. Can you remember anything about how you got here? Have you heard of Earth before? ” He shook his head slowly. “ No, sorry... Does n't ring a bell. Last thing I remember I was fighting a Malboro... Uhh, a monster... Green tentacles, weird eyes... Bad breath... Anyway, saw some weird lights and had a feeling like I was falling. Passed out... Woke up in that clearing... Wandered around a bit before I ran into the soldiers... Was shot with something... Woke up here... ” “ Unfortunately, that's pretty well the typical story... ” I noticed the look he gave me, and I thought I should clarify, “ Nobody seems to know how they got here, and without more information, we do n't really know how to get any of you back home... We're working on it, but for now it seems like you'll be staying here for a little while. I'm sorry... ” He let that sink in for a few moments, “ Nobody? So there's others? ” I opened the file, and did a quick look to check my memory, “ Nobody else from your home world as far as we can tell, but... uh... That could change. Where you're from, I'm sure you have books, movies, TV? Made up stories for entertainment? ” He nodded, clearly confused. “ So... We do too. On Earth. Stories about all sorts of different people, from all kinds of different places. All from someone's imagination... Except, well... Our best guess at the moment is that creativity is n't just something spontaneous. It's more like threads, weaved together, connecting one universe to another. Certain people are just able to pluck at those strings and get a sense of what's out there... The others who have shown up on Earth are people that we thought only existed in these stories. But, like you, they've had whole lives, memories... They exist just as concretely as you or I. Somehow we're getting breaches in the borders of our worlds, and people are falling through. All these worlds are quite different from one another, so I guess you can think of this facility as a border station where you have to go through customs. ” “ Huh... Wow... Sounds like a mess. ” I chuckled slightly, “ It's definitely been interesting... So, from what I can tell based on your file, there are a few things I need to mention before we can get you started on the rest of the process... Firstly, magic does n't work on Earth. We're purely a science and technology based society. The biggest difference for you will be adjusting your mindset when it comes to healing. There are no quick fixes, and there are no second chances. Dead is dead. Luckily, there are no monsters here. Not like the monsters you're used to, anyway. Life is generally safe here outside of natural disasters and crime... Speaking of crime, I should mention that here on Earth going into people's homes uninvited is a big no-no... As is going through anyone's personal things without asking. Taking something that does n't belong to you is called theft, and is pretty serious. You with me so far? ” “ Yeah, I think so... But... Wait... If I ca n't search people's barrels for supplies, how am I supposed to quest? ” “ Here on Earth, we do n't really have'quests'... The closest thing would be what we call a'job'.'' “ Oh! We have jobs too... Lancer, summoner, white mage... But, wait... If you do n't have monsters, what do you battle for experience? ” `` Different kind of jobs here. Not used for battling... Basically, you find something that you like to do, and then you find someone who will give you money to do it. Then you spend money on things like food, shelter, and entertainment. ” `` But, I enjoy battling... That's really all I've ever done... So, I find someone who'll pay me to fight?'' I paused for a second, “ We might be able to find something for you... Bouncer, MMA maybe... Police officer... But, do n't worry about that right now... I know it's a lot to take in, but trust me, things will start making sense soon enough. And we're not just going to toss you out to fend for yourself. We've even set up special support groups where newcomers can talk to one another about how they've been adjusting out in the world. ” “ That's nice, I guess... ” Good thing I did n't mention that the first groups we had organized had mostly turned into yelling matches and property damage. “ Just a few more things before I can get you settled in... Some rules for dealing with the outside... Where monsters are n't an issue here, armor and weapons are n't necessary in every day life. They would actually draw a lot of negative attention. We're also going to have to change your look a bit. We do n't want you getting recognized. It would be really awkward for everyone involved. If it happens, depending on the situation, you need to just thank them politely and tell them you have no idea what they're talking about, or explain that you're dressed in something called an'AU Cosplay'. Do n't worry... There will be training on all of this later. We'll also be giving you a back-story and a new identity that you are going to have to memorize. Outside of this facility it is absolutely crucial that you do n't talk about your old life with anyone. We also strongly suggest that you do n't look into our world's interpretation of where you're from... Others have found it upsetting... ” By this time he was slumped in his chair with his head in his hands. Things had started to sink in. “ I'll never see them again, will I? My friends? My family? What will they think happened? That I died? Ran off without saying goodbye?... This... This... How can something like this happen?! It makes no sense! ” I sighed, “ I really am sorry... I ca n't imagine what you're going through, but we're going to help however we can, and maybe someday we'll be able to get you home... How about I show you to your room? You must be tired... I'm not going to lie, it's probably going to be a long day for you tomorrow. ” He grunted something in response, lost in his own thoughts, but followed me out of the room. I quickly glanced at my phone. Ten new potential new cases had been opened for investigation in the time I had spent with this one. Tomorrow was going to be a long day for me too.

[ WP ] At 00h00 tonight , all bank accounts on earth drop to 0 $ . Explain what happens after .

It's true I guess, fame really is more important than money. The television stayed on with almost all the usual shows. I, like countless others, spent the first month on my couch and in front of my screens. Stuck in fear and awe and disbelief. I woke up and turned on the telly while I brewed my tea and fed Scuttles. The whole world had gone mad. All of the bank accounts in the world had disappeared. The news had six pundits in squares each accusing someone and assigning motives. I did n't go to work. If money was n't a thing, `` why should I?'' was my first silly thought. My mind began to run wild with idealistic fancies. Scuttles began to howl as if she had n't been fed in days, as opposed to the hour delay. Shit, who IS going to go to their jobs if there is no money? Sure, maybe the doctors will show up but not the guy scrubbing the loo. Shit, the world is about to go to shit. I did n't know what to do. Through a habit of overbuying sale items my small apartment was well stocked with the essentials, and so I sat. I sat and I watched the Telly, doing little else but sleep. I was waiting for someone to tell me what to do I suppose. Maybe we all were. Edit: grammar fix

[ WP ] You are sent over 1000 years into the past by accident . You must now learn to survive using the primitive technology of the year 2016 ...

Once I realised where and when I was, I worried a little but ultimately thought that I'd be okay. The new body I'd downloaded my consciousness to passed well enough as a 21st century human as long as I kept the lights off, and judging by the history I knew from this time, my outfit would n't be seen as too far out of the ordinary. My main concern was getting a fuel source. I did n't know how long I'd be stuck here, you see. My Transporter Bind broke when I arrived, I fell hard on my elbow as I punched through and the wiring snapped. It's my own fault for using an ancient model I guess, explains how I ended up 200 years later than I'd planned. Oh well. The only issue I had with the actual punch was the two yoots that saw me arrive. They looked pre-adolescent, so the neural wipe I used may have been a little too strong. I'm guessing their caregivers will have questions when they get back to their lodging with no memory for today. I ca n't change that though, I was panicking and rushed the wipe. Usually I'm more delicate. Apart from that, everything was OK. I mean, I was in the wrong time and I could n't punch back through to home due to my broken bind, but I've been in worse situations. I checked my body, and luckily it seemed that everything else was working fine. I'm lucky I decided to upgrade to a Generation 5, they're very hard wearing, and a lot more lifelike. I performed a quick landscape scan to see if the transporter had jerked me to different three dimensional coordinates and was surprised to find that I was only a few kilometres out from my launch point. After flicking through my memory banks to see if I had the 21st century English translation patch - I did - I decided it would be best to try and find somewhere to source some materials to synthesise some new wiring for my bind. I had about three weeks left of charge in my body but I knew that I would n't be able to find a charge port, even a Generation 1. This meant that my only option if I was running out of time was a direct link to a live power line. Never exactly safe. My neuralHUD said that the nearest big city was'London', the old capital city of the United Kingdom. I chuckled at the concept of a capital city rather than a capital landmass, but I thought if I was going to find the materials I need, London would be a decent place to start. I activated my flight cycle programming and took to the air, relaxing slightly. If the world government had been tracking me, it would take time for them to rescan for my bioprint. After all, my launch point stated I was in a different century. I smiled. I was going to be ok.

[ WP ] You live in a small town which is said to be the location of many strange ( even supernatural ) events throughout history . You 're being interviewed for a documentary . Tell us a strange tale that you or someone you know experienced .

“ You ’ re asking what we've seen. Why, so you people can laugh at us some more? ” says Otto, a stooped and wizened man. A native of this North Carolina community so small and isolated that backwater could hardly describe it. Otto claimed to be descended from an illicit son of Charles VI of Austria. Well, royalty is questionable, but it he seemed to be quite a bastard. “ Every couple years someone comes here looking for the crazy sons of bitches. They always come in laughing, but they never leave that way. Why don ’ t you just pack up and get? ” Annoyed by this time and by nature a stubborn man I was not going just on principle. If he claims something he ’ s going to have to prove it. So I say “ If there ’ s something odd then just tell me. If not then I ’ ll go. Which is it? ” Otto replies with “ Well if you are certain you can handle it I ’ ll tell you. You ’ ll laugh like all the others but that ’ s your problem ”. He then begins to tell about Ceres Rock as we walk. “ You probably heard all about that place in Virginia where people settled and just vanished long before there was an America but I bet you never heard of Joara. ” When I admitted I had not he continued. “ Well, the short of it is that Joara was a native settlement which had been around since the beginning of time so people say. The Spaniards set up some forts and called this place our own some 40 years before Jamestown. Them damn Catholics ( said with a surprising vehemence and a bout of spitting ), couldn ’ t leave those Indians alone. They went about converting what they could and killing what they couldn ’ t. Those folks didn ’ t respect a thing and even built a fort, San Juan I think it was. ” He paused a moment as if deciding where we would head, both in discussion and direction, and then we moved on. “ Well anyway, we had these university people come here and dig up the fort and say the Spanish were killed by those who lived here. Well damn good reason they had, but they didn ’ t do it and we here know better. ” I confess that I was completely taken in by Otto ’ s story and lost track of time. I looked an my phone and saw we had been walking hours although it seemed like moments. I wondered how that could be, but attributed it to being focused on the man, his tale, and my musings. Otto continued “ We ’ re almost there ”. When I asked where, he said that he wasn ’ t finished talking and to shut up and listen. I should have been offended, but I found I almost burst out laughing and gratefully caught myself in time. “ So anyway where was I? Oh yeah. Those professors and students got it all wrong. No one was attacked. Well, sorta. Ah, here we are. ” We entered a circular clearing perhaps two hundred yards across and covered with lush vegetation. Maze, beans, berries, wheat- it looked like some crazier version of Johnny Appleseed came through here and threw seed while twirling blindfolded through the area, yet it seemed to have some subtle order I couldn ’ t grasp. It was beautiful and eerie, but not the most remarkable thing by far. In the exact center of the clearing was a stone, the likes I hadn ’ t seen before. I circled clockwise and every few feet it seemed to change. Marble, then quartz, then granite, and other minerals I couldn ’ t identify, and the whole thing infused with beryl and agates and again things I ’ d not seen. It was a wholly remarkable geological find. Otto said “ There it is. The reason the natives came here. The reason the Spaniards were taken and why you are here today. ” Something in his words struck me, but I did n't quite catch what that was. He continued, “ This is Ceres Rock. You know about Ceres? ” I replied “ You mean the big asteroid? Are you saying this is part of a big space rock? ” “ Hell no, yer dumber than you look. Ceres was a goddess who looked over crops. This is her rock, maybe even what ’ s left of her. ” At this point I realized that I was had, taken in by a yokel ’ s yarn. He looked at me and said. “ Yer laughing inside. They all do, but I ’ ll tell you all the truth there is anyway. ” I stood arms folded and listened but not happy at all. “ OK, those damn Catholics wouldn ’ t leave things alone even though the natives kept them alive. Those bastards saw themselves as conquers of savages but couldn ’ t live off the land. They were starving but for some reason I ’ ll never get the locals fed them, brought them back from death from starving. You ’ d expect some gratitude but no.'' `` The Spanish figured that there must be some secret place where this food was stashed so they grabbed one of the Indians and tortured the poor son of a bitch into telling them where they got the food. Well the chiefs or whatever they called themselves took their people and vanished overnight. Everyone without a sound. Naturally the invaders weren ’ t going to let them get away so they tracked them to this place, where hundreds were on their knees. ” “ So the bastards got out their swords because they realized they didn ’ t need the Indians anymore since they found the food. ” Otto gestured with open arms to the field of so many crops then went on. “ The story goes that a woman begged for their lives spared and the Spanish laughed at her to a man. Then it happened. The sons of bitches pulled their swords to cut down every last man, woman and child, but all the while circlin ’ inwards towards the rock without realizing what was happening. When they realize what was happening they couldn ’ t move back, but continued on and the Rock somehow ate them. ” My look of disbelief must have registered with him and he said “ No, it didn ’ t grow a mouth, but it swallowed them anyways. All gone and a ruined fort all to show for it. ” I stood and helplessly laughed while saying, “ Old timer you can spin a tale and that ’ s for sure. You almost had me going. I ’ m an idiot, but I am going to write just how good you are. The mystery is solved. I ’ ve found the home of the best bullshitters in the world''. Having done this I looked up and found I had my hand on the rock, but couldn ’ t pull away. I cried out for help, but Otto shook his head and said “ I ’ m sorry youngin, but old Ceres don ’ t brook no disrespect. As I think she sees it you did n't laugh at me but her. Son you are screwed ” I ’ m being drawn deeper as if some great claw has me by the wrist. Unable to even speak I hear the last human words of my life. “ I told you they always come in laughing, but they never leave that way. ” Edit- Apologies to the prompt writer. Never begin anything without that second cup of coffee or one might write from a different perspective than asked for.

[ WP ] You 're 80 years old and time travel is possible . You sit down for dinner with earlier versions of yourself at age 10 , 20 , 30 , 40 , 50 , 60 and 70 . Conversation ensues .

10 looks around the room and calls out `` Really? Wow!'' The idea of being 30 was foreign to 10, much less being older than 30. That would be older than his parents, and they were oooold. 50 sighs deeply and looks at his feet. Flexing his neck and waiting to see what happens. 20 and 30 size each other up, then 30 reaches over and swats 20 across the head. `` You idiot. I would lecture myself, but it seems kinda pointless. But you'll get through it.'' Sitting calmly and eating turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy was 70. He ignored everyone else, there was n't much to discuss as he had retired a few years back and had gotten used to the idea. 60 seemed impatient, and by now, he knew the outcome, even though he did n't want to believe it. Staring was all that 40 could do, he just stared... at 80. Time travel, that he could believe in. Meeting yourself at a neutral point in time, sure, he could understand that. But this? 80 was giggling like a fool. He looked around the room at everyone, grinned from ear to ear and exclaimed, `` Yes gentlemen, you ACTUALLY live to be 80 years old! ``, then let out a holler and laughed to the point of tears.

[ IP ] Intense staring ...

I could n't help but notice the man staring at me from across the table. As our stares cross each others, I began to remember that my showtime for Star Wars: the Force Awakens was coming up. Opening day tickets, and here I was waiting for the revelation of the decade. Speaking of which... Man, I have to be the biggest Star Wars fan out there. I kid you not - I understand the universe and all the little intricate things that you would n't even know. Remember that bounty hunter scene in Empire? Yeah, I could list all the histories of all those bounties in a snap. Personally, I thought they underplayed Boba Fett but it was a shame to see that IG-88 never got a big part in any of the movies. He was big in that N64 game, `` The Shadow of the Empire''. Personally, I enjoyed Empire the most. I love AT-ATs and just the entire Battle of Hoth was so brilliantly made for the time. And do n't get me on that twist in the end. Whew, that knocked the air out of me and got me all excited for the rest. The prequel trilogy, I was n't so much a fan of. I mean, I know people bashed it all the time but I did n't think it was that horrid. Granted, the Phantom Menace was just bad, I enjoyed Revenge of the Sith. It had very powerful moments when Anakin goes into the Jedi temple and slays all the kids. Order 66 was a great touch as well. Ugh, I ca n't remember any of the faces or actors that played any of the characters. Like I'm a bomb at Star Wars and other movies, but I ca n't recognize faces for the life of me. It's been a problem I've been struggling with my entire life. And here this man was staring intently at me, our stares still unwavering. `` Hey Andrew.'' I felt a hand on my shoulder as I turned around to see my fiance. `` Hey Cassie,'' I smiled as I got up, `` You ready?'' `` I have n't ever watched the original Star Wars,'' she shrugged, `` So I guess this is as good as a time as any.'' `` You'll love it.'' I took her hand as the two of us began to walk away. `` Hey, by the way,'' she whispered quietly as we left the cafe, `` Was that someone you knew?'' I thought about it for a moment and shrugged back. `` I do n't know. Seemed like just an old dude.'' _____________________________________________ Enjoy. /r/AvuKamu

[ CW ] Write a very short story in a very long way .

Chicken: Gallus Gallus Domesticus. Position: Footpath adjacent to pelican crossing at intersection. State of Mind: decisive. She stood at the lights, waiting. Traffic passed by, but she did not mind. There was only one place she wanted to get to, and she was in no rush. She was at peace with herself, as composed as only a chicken can be. A father holding his daughter ’ s hand stopped at the crossing and waited for the lights to change. The daughter looked down at the chicken, reached out and patted it lightly on the head. The chicken accepted the pat gracefully. ‘ Daddy, a chicken, ’ the little girl said. ‘ Why yes, dear. It must be lost. Poor thing. ’ The chicken did not respond. It knew exactly where it wanted to go. The other side.

[ WP ] Everyone knows , if you want the best coffee , you have to go to Earth .

Tom slumped down onto the counter. It was half 2 in the morning, and he was 3 hours into the `` graveyard shift''. Called such, because, from midnight till sunrise, in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere, there is n't a single person who wants shitty petrol station food. The operative word being *person*. Whilst not a single living human would willingly eat the sandwiches older than Tom was, or drink the black sludge, which the coffee machine that made it insisted was coffee, there was a rather long line of monster mash rejects who stood in line to pay out of the nose for the shit. `` For the last time, no you can not pay for it using galactic standard credits, the machine wo n't take them'' `` -̕-͏-..͏..̵ ̡ ͘ ̷ ̡-̷.-̢.͘ -- ͠-͢ -͝-. ̡ ̵ ̀ ̶ -- ͟- -͠.͠ -- ̨··-̵-͘ ̕ ͡.̕.̛ · -- ̕-̛-͢·..͡.̀- ̧. ͏ ͝ ͠ --. ̧-̸ -- -̢.͜..͠ -- ̡ -- ͞ ͝-̕-̀ -- ̨-͘ ͢ ͏.́-̨-͜. ̴.̨-.-. ̸ ͜ ͞... ̴ ̀. -.-.͝..̶.̡ ̸ ͘..-̶.͜ ͝ -- ͢- ̕.-́. -'' The creature in front of Tom was flailing 4 of it's innumerable tentacles as it spoke, in what Tom assumed was a gesture of annoyance. `` Okay.'' Tom cut the thing off. `` Listen. Firstly, your translator's not working, secondly, the machine ca n't take the Credits, and neither will I. Last time you pulled that shit all I got for them were weird stares from the people at the exchange bureaux.'' Tom said, as he recalled the hour long conversation with the people at the exchange about the little metal square's supposed value. `` I do n't know what'Translator' you're talking about'' the box attached to the lapel of the suit draped onto the alien's head said. `` I can speak perfect human, of course. As I am too, a human.'' `` Okay, sure, whatever, we're all humans here'' Tom gestured towards the room filled with aliens wearing what he assumed were actually human Halloween costumes. `` But that does n't change the fact that the machine *wo n't take credits*. Go get Dollars next time'' `` Of course, as a fellow human, I know what a'doll-are' is, but could you please refresh my memory as to what exactly it might look like?'' The alien's torso flopped onto the counter, leaking a clear, sticky fluid all over the newspapers. `` Get off the damn counter'' Tom gingerly pushed the alien off the news papers. `` Oh come on, please? I'll level with you, it's been at least...'' the alien looked at the watch that had been haphazardly sellotaped to one of his three legs `` 3 standard rotations since I've had a cup of coffee, and I'm starting to shake.'' `` That's more of a you problem, not a me problem'' He said, peeling a copy of the Daily Mail from the alien's chest, before flicking through it, disinterested. He'd been on the job 4 months now, and he'd been offered everything from plans for FTL drives, space ships, peerages in far flung empires, and most worryingly, sexual favours, for so much as a taste of the gravelly coffee. At this point, Tom was n't fazed by almost anything. `` What they say about humans really is true.'' The alien said, head in one of it's laps `` You really are the cruelest bastards ever to crawl out of the primordial sludge are n't you?'' `` Yep'' Tom took a sip of energy drink, and continued to read. `` Now if you're not going to buy anything...'' The alien looked up pleadingly. `` Fuck off.'' The alien stormed out of the petrol station in quite the huff, ranting and raving about biological weapons, and the death of all humans, and some other rather scary sounding threats that he'd never make good on. Doing that would eliminate any chance of getting so much as a taste of the shitty petrol station coffee that they loved so. Tom continued to read through various articles about UFO sightings, instant coffee thefts, and an abnormally large walking trout, when the phone in the staff room began to ring. Taking a glance at the various freaks lining up to partake in the local delicacies, in order to make sure that they were n't trying to steal it again, Tom retreated to the staff room, out of earshot of the myriad creatures filling the store, and answered the phone. `` Hello?'' `` So'Tom', how goes progress on the plan?'' `` Excellently, your Majesty.'' A predatory grin spread across Tom's face `` Soon, Earth, and all it's coffee will belong to the Reptilians!''

[ WP ] As you lay down on the couch to watch TV with the family , they suddenly start demanding you leave the house , and their lives . At first you think its a joke , but you soon realise nobody on the planet wants anything to do with you anymore .

My pupils seem to be the same charge as everyone else's, as anyone who meets my retinas retracts them religiously. Who have I become? I wander the waterfront and the walkways. I waste away on park benches and wishing wells, where I wish one would stop. Who is everyone now? I've not had human contact in 7 months, besides my aura of energy seemingly stretching to someone whose standing close enough on the train. I'm in a trance, translucent to time, taking in the scraps of affection that tumble toward me, like a blade of grass too high from the stream to drink, but close enough to feel the rush of her salvation. Oh help me time, grant me your grace. When I push a bullet into my brain, do not exclude me from the stream of the universe that you are. Allow my naked body to float in your menusha, my leaf to gracefully fall into you and once again feel a part of the experience that surrounds me. Where where and when are one of the same, and there are no ways but only to be, where one can not shun or see, but in solitude be.

[ IP ] Three terrifying images to choose from !

Image 1. I thought they were inanimate. I do n't know how I got here, but I thought they were inanimate. I was walking in the dense forest behing the camp we set up about 3 days ago to clear my mind; Annamaria succumbed to dysentery about a day ago. We were told the West held wealth for all, whether in gold or blood of the Earth. So West is where we headed. And Annamaria died of dysentery. So, I walked among the trees beyond our camp and soon found myself unable to tell North from East because the darkness stifled my senses. So I kept walking. No sense in stopping, if I had stopped there was no chance of getting out of there. I eventually came to a slope heading down to a clearing. When I could n't see the bottom, I started back up but found my path blocked by a lioness. Now, I know my Dante and I know my wildlife. I turned back down the hill. But I lost my footing and everything vanished like smoke. When I awoke, I was among these... what I thought were statues. I thought they were statues. But as I walked they stepped behind me and blocked my return. There is no return to the land of the living. But I have no idea what lie ahead. I thought they were inanimate. I thought death was passive. I do n't know how I got here. I do n't know why I'm walking. Maybe so I can escape the scrutiny of their sockets and the rumble of their chants.

[ WP ] It 's the 2024 election , 4 years after Kanye has been elected president . Hoe does your typical day look like ?

The ration line was a lot thinner this morning, mass famine and being more susceptible to disease will do that to you. Following the mass agriculture reforms under Kanye, farmers began to use Gatorade to irrigate their crops as they `` Craved the electrolytes''. The plan was a disaster, and in the ensuing drought and famine, millions of people in the United States died, immigrated elsewhere, or became destitute. The United States was one of the top 3 grain producers in the entire world, and with a third of the world's primary food supply gone, the consequences and hunger began to resonate in other countries. With a huge lack of grain, prices soared following typical supply and demand, and prices of food ultimately with it. Thankfully, Kanye has revoked this recent Gatorade reform, only after the destruction of the entire Midwest Breadbasket, which has had it's once rich fertile soil soaked and caked in millions of gallons of Gatorade. Under the backing of corporate interests, rationing was implemented, and one man could receive 4 bags of Doritos and 2 liters of Mountain dew every day. As I receive my ration and walk off the line, I open the bag and my stomach lurches as it catches a whiff of the MSG caked tortilla chips. Well it was either this, or starve to death...

[ WP ] The main character finds his/herself in front of a strange door , the likes of which they 've never seen before . It is unlocked .

The adventurer's sword clinked as it tapped against the stone floors. Behind him walked his allies; a sorcerer from the grand city and a sharpshooter from the port town he'd been born in. He gazed up at the stone mossy walls. It had been harrowing getting here. Trolls. Goblins. Tax collectors. Many obstacles had been overcome, but they'd found the entrance and solved the riddle. The Temple of Lautus was theirs to plunder. There were hundreds of stories surrounding the ancient ruin. Some thought it to be the ancient stronghold of the long-slain demon king. Others thought it to be the hideout of a cult long exiled. There was one consistency throughout every single story, however. This temple held an artifact powerful beyond belief. It appeared in every story without fail. An artifact capable of purging the unclean. The adventurer knew that it was his for the taking, he'd already come so far. He blinked his eyes as he came to a chamber, lit from unseen sources. It was a long chamber, decorated with inscriptions and fine carpets. Or at least, they used to be. The inscriptions were a shadow of what they must once have been, and the carpets had long since been chewed by some wandering animal. He did n't care. Ahead was the door. It was grand. A double door looking more like a castle gate, each door taller than a man. He strode to it, his heart lifting. He pushed open the gate to his destiny. He heard dice rattle, followed by a string of heinous cursing. The doors swung open to reveal a dimly lit room. The adventurer strode up towards the pedestal in the centre. Resting on it was... a broom. They say some nights when the wind blows just right, you can hear the screams of anguish from that poor adventurer. Along with the echoing giggles of a real prick of a Dungeon Master.

[ FF ] Mad World

A dull spine tingling whine brings me to the front of my conciousness. I shiver as the thin cold air reaches every corner of my lungs. Why is it so bright? All around me are familiar faces. Dammit, it happened again. Who are these people? I sit up out from under the cover of the synthetic sleeping bag. I wince as my head explodes with pain. A flush of blood comes over the rest of my body as I start to panic. Are we in danger? We? As I try to understand why my mind is racing in the direction that it is a glare catches my eye to the left. A boy wearing my military watch stirs as his mind struggles with the demons of the night. Thats my watch. His eyes open, just slightly so that the light wo n't blind him. `` Why is it so bright? ``, the boy whimpers as he rolls back over to close his eyes. I reach over a gentleman and lady to my right intending to extinguish tthe flicker of the lantern sitting beside them on the floor. I see the smile of the man as his arms wrap tighter around the woman in front of him. Who are these people? I turn off the lantern and dip back down into my sleeping bag. The crisp night air sends another shiver down to my soul, as if it does n't want me to forget it in my slumber. I pull the boy into my chest and feel the familiar warmth. A smile touches my lips as I recall my sons' name. Jace. It's a mad world.

[ WP ] Coming back to life .

The knife cut across my neck without any warning. However, I was not surprised. I had served as the Interior Minister for The Dictator since the days he used to go by a name. It was very long ago; what was his name again? He had grown increasingly distant from me, or is it that I had grown increasingly distant from him. Like two stars in space drifting apart, it was inevitable that one would abandon the other. My shirt drank in all the blood that flowed over the gape. It was warm. The next I woke up in a room of blinding white. Time had passed, as if I had napped for a while, but I could not tell how long. When I opened my eyes I was already standing. I was wearing a white suit, a white shirt, and a pair of perfectly clean white pants. I have never seen my shoes this bleached. White tile lined the floor, as the walls are lined with marble columns, the kind The Dictator loved most. The faint sound of a waterfall tapped at my eardrums. Blinding sunlight from a white dwarf illuminated his statues, each adorned with his fatherly face. There is one man in the room with me, almost totally camouflaged in the white of the room if not for his dark skin and black hair. He walked toward me slowly, for his old legs could not carry him much faster. His white beard disappeared into the whiteness of his suit. “ Welcome to Mausoleum, sir. Aren ’ t you- “ “ The Minister of Interior, yes. I am surprised he would grant this treatment to me. ” In ancient days Emperors built mausoleums to preserve their own memory forever. The Dictator funded the Mausoleum to preserve himself forever. It is an artificially constructed space of infinite flexibility, hosted in servers buried deep below the planet ’ s crust. The brains of the deceased are preserved, every last lobe and memory, to simulate the experience of living. I supposed that explained why I wasn ’ t shot in the head like the rest. Only The Dictator and those he wishes to see in the afterlife and permitted into Mausoleum. His enemies did not get an afterlife. They simply disappeared into the eternal nothing. “ Aren ’ t you- “ “ His father, yes. I am not surprised he would eventually get rid of you too. You always had a mouth on you Seigh, and way too much integrity for someone that high up in politicking. The Minister of Interior, pfah! You ’ d have lived happier as a historian. I landed my old ass here because he couldn ’ t stand my criticism. I ’ m just surprised you lasted this long. ” His smirk brightened that impossibly white room, if such a thing was even possible. I had to let out a sad little chuckle when I saw his infectious smile. “ Well, what now? I kind of expected to be dead right now, so I didn ’ t exactly make any plans for the future, ” I said. “ We wait, for him. In the meantime, let ’ s play some games. You can have a nice re-union with the rest of the ministry. ” “ They ’ re still alive? ” I asked. “ If you can call it that! ” His father shambled his way through the only door in the room, and I had nothing else to do but follow.

[ WP ] You slowly realize you can break the 4th wall , your entire life is an on going story . Reach the author .

For someone I can only assume is paid to write this, might I say you sir are one dull s.o.b, do n't get me wrong I am flattered to the nth degree by the fact that someone ever took the time out of whatever the hell they we're doing to think about me. But when I really begin to think hard about the situation, it makes me wonder, how dreary is your life that the utter mundanety of pouring a bowl of cheap, crappy cereal would inspire the hand that drives your pen? I mean could n't you have made me even remotely badass? written me into a world with some sense of adventure? Not saying I have to be John Rambo, just not myself as all. No heroic origin story, no. Powers, no romance, no questing, nothing remotely spectacular. Heck the highlight of my day is chinese food and Netflix. I hope for your sake that this entire narrative is just a joke, a joke you thought of on the back of your jet ski paid for by the vast number of best selling novels written throughout a fruitful career, because if I'm really the most fascinating thing you've come up with, God help you. Sincerely-me.

[ WP ] The first human spaceship capable of FTL flight reaches deep space and makes the most terrifying discovery in the history of mankind ...

A rift in space time near Europa. The brains thought it was the work of some advanced civilization, a path to lead us to them. We imagined the things they could show us, how much more we could be. We dreamt of finding where we were headed. It turns out that it was this rift that caused the gravitational fluctuations, not an ocean. Europa was dry, but that first mission had found a new gateway of discovery, a new avenue for mankind to progress down. None of our probes ever survived the journey. The first ships simply fell apart on entry, unable to cope with the forces, while the later versions spun out of control and were destroyed. Before they, too, were destroyed, they transmitted us data that we could n't believe. If were interpreting it correctly, the ships were travelling faster than the speed of light! The AI systems just could n't process the fact that this was happening, that we were operating outside the bounds of our knowledge. Our curiosity knew no bounds, however, and we resolved to make it through the rift the only way possible -- a manned mission. A human pilot could react to information he did n't understand in a way the AI simply could n't. It was simply a matter of getting the pilot to the rift. We left Earth. We did not know if we would see her again. Into the rift. A sensation beyond the senses, beyond description. I fought to maintain control, blind and deaf to the tempest beyond our hull. Our visual channels and instruments were useless -- they were too slow. I flew by instinct, that which we could never program. It was a constant fight. I died a thousand times, the agony unbearable. The seconds ticked on. I considered letting go, resigning to the abyss. But something kept me hanging on. Not the fear of death, but the drive for progress. We could n't give up. I could n't give up. We had to go further, see farther, reach farther. It was the quest of man. It was the fire bestowed upon him by the gods, the fire that elevated him above the beasts, ever in pursuit of progress. I do not know how I thought these thoughts, how I managed to steer us through, but I did. I held on. We emerged from the rift, bringing the Prometheus down on the planet before us. We were They were us. Humans. Everything was the same. Everything was the same as Earth. They had sent their crew through the rift 500 years ago, yet they were not a step ahead of our civilization. We had never made it anywhere. We had never seen beyond, never grasped what we had reached for. This was our future. We had no future. I let go.

[ WP ] After an long forgotten experiment , the last human on Earth awakes from his cryogenic sleep . He soon realizes that civilisation has ended millennia ago and that he 's the last human on Earth , so he commits suicide.. only to see , that Heaven and Hell are already closed .

It was a huge oversight on the behalf of the angels, specifically division 14. The apocalypse had come and gone and a small cluster of desks in the way back of the St Peter ’ s Human Accountability Bureau figured it was safe to kill the code, and save the current occupant index. These same angels had since retired and now frequented the golf courses dotted around the sea of life beneath the holy throne. Thus the SPHAB had fallen to the command of one intern that was cycled out on a per-eon basis. And then this bastard showed up. The intern at the time, the angel Ezekiel, was met with a problem not part of his job description - for he mostly ferried the occasional soul down to the material world during times of reminiscence - how do you deal with an extra soul? Ezekiel realized there was an issue on Pearly Gates lane, and this probably warranted contacting his boss. [ ] Jeff was not pleased, which was understandable for the last man on earth. Yesterday ’ s suicide attempt, a bullet to the cranium, had once again failed and now he walked about with a orifice that ran from his lower jaw up to his crown. It hurt like hell, but he had gotten tougher since throwing himself off the top of that cellular tower last month, so it was at least bearable. He figured if it didn ’ t heal up soon he would likely bleed to death, and he would wake up in that damn glorified freezer again. [ ] Ezekiel was pushed around and up several tiers in management until he was in front of the office of the agency ’ s namesake, St Peter himself. He knocked politely and once again quickly checked to make sure that he had Jeff Whitson ’ s file with him. He heard a velvety voice on the other side of the door tell him to come in and instantly he was teleported across the threshold and stood on Peter ’ s immaculate Persian carpet. “ What seems to be the issue? ” “ well… there seems to be a certain Jeff Whitson giving me a spot of trouble… ” “ Oh, shouldn ’ t he instead have contacted his district representative in New Jerusalem? ” “ well sir… that seems to be the problem… ” [ ] Jeff felt sick to his stomach, he shouldn ’ t have tried to eat broken glass. It was a stupid attempt to end it all and was likely to have an even worse “ resolution. ” By his count he had been around for three months now. He wasn ’ t bored or lonely of course, his own corpses kept him company - although conversation was usually one sided. [ ] “ This is very serious… ” “ …can ’ t the underworld take him? ” “ Certainly not, we ended our contract with them a millennia ago. ” “ … should we talk to Him about this? ” “ No, no. Our Lord is too busy to have to worry about things like this. We can work in our own fix. ” “ …well what do you suggest? ” “ I do not know… besides, I have a VIP dinner to attend tonight and can ’ t stay to work out a plan, just put him in a loop for now and we ’ ll deal with him again in eon or two. ” [ ] The homemade bomb was a new one, and Jeff woke up in his stasis chamber again. It actually had become a convenience for him, it was too dark at night to do anything so a particularly fatal suicide at sundown reset the day with a new fresh body. He crawled out of the chamber and past the enormous piles of books that now littered the facility- he had so much time to read now! Before going into stasis he never imagined having doctorate level knowledge of physics, east asian philosophy, ecology, architecture, world history, and Japanese literature. He walked down the abandoned streets towards the municipal library, carefully walking around previous bodies of his. After all, he figured he ought to respect the “ dead. ” He walked into the library, past the empty help desk and into the shelves. All by himself, he figured that now he would learn some engineering, might as well improve upon last night ’ s pipe bomb. Maybe after he could read some texts on choreography, he was never able to dance before! Every day was a blessing and he would seize the most of every single one. Jeff had accepted that he would be here for the long run, but he was the most interesting person he knew so he figured it wouldn ’ t be so bad.

[ WP ] A person is born unable to hear lies . Whenever a lie is told around them , they can only hear the truth .

( Fair Warning. NSFW/NSFL. Fucked up stuff ahead. ) How many lies? How many precisely? The number is too great to count. I always know when they are lying, even though I only hear the truth, but the count... gods and devils, it must be so many. Thousands. Thousands every single day. I wish I were a mind reader, I wish it were selective, but it is not. Is it any wonder that I became what I am, with the things that I hear? My god, when my mother told me she loved me and the words I heard were'you killed my dreams and shattered my life and I hate you' I think my soul was... broken. I am what my life has made me, yes. I am the result of a world so drastically out of balance. No one tells the truth anymore. That's been changing though. I know most lies are harmless, or necessary for social interaction to continue. I've read a lot of books. One might even call me an expert on lies, and on the truth. It began though... it began when I was nine. When the neighbor asked me if I wanted to play a game. That was the truth, it was a game to him. But then when I asked what game he said it was a lot of fun, and that... that was a lie. It was fun for him, but not for me. I asked him the rules, and he laid it out for me without ever knowing. I knew then... I knew deep in the bottom of my shattered black heart that I could n't resist the compulsion to expose the liars... the people like him. I was a smart child. Statistically a genius, even. I went with him, but we did n't play his game, he played mine. The wounds were shallow at first, full of the hesitation of someone inexperienced. But I had time to play with him. Just like my mother never loved me, my father never did either. Both of them never noticed me missing unless I was n't home for dinner. It was early in the day. So I learned how to make cuts without my hands shaking. I learned what people looked like inside. And the police never suspected a child would vivisect someone and then write `` LIAR'' on the wall in blood. I was smart enough to take my clothes off first, to use his shower after. I even remembered to wash behind my ears and under my fingernails. The iron stink of blood seemed to linger on me though, but that was just my imagination. And then there was school. Middle school. I was a loner, a looser, a kid with no friend and nothing remarkable about them. Brown hair, green eyes, a pale face and the look of someone who has seen or heard too much. Teachers worried but I never let my secrets slip out, I never told my truths, because I had to wait... patience is a virtue. I had begun to exercise a lot, though. I needed to be strong. There was work to be done. The nurse asked the history teacher what she did over the weekend. Oh nothing, she said. I just went out to the cabin and finally killed the ex-fiance who left me at the altar. He'd been in the basement for a while... torture is a lot of fun, did you know that? I did, Ms. Allison Blake. I did know that. She found a knife to her throat in her car. She drove like she was told out to her cabin. It was n't far, an hour's drive... just out there to the cabin on the little lake that gave our shit hole town some value. I knew I could n't control her from the car to the door with just the knife - but that was okay. I had borrowed something of my father's that he never even bothered to lock up or check on in in years. He forgot about it, as I later learned. A.357 magnum revolver. She was well behaved all the way to the door, all the way inside. I made her go down to the basement, and open the freezer. I wanted to see him, the man she killed. He did n't deserve that, probably. But she had murdered and worse... she was smart enough to get away with it. She had a decent quantity of lye and some large tubs all over the place in her basement. Lye and water, good for dissolving a body and leaving behind some brittle bones. Easy to dispose of, then. Easy to grind down and get rid of. I shot her in the foot then, and then in the other foot. The sound... it was deafening. More than I expected. I damaged my hearing that day, just a little. I made sure next time to cover my ears or suppress the sound. Then I got dressed. Short cut hair was covered, clothes were taken off and replaced, so on, so forth. She screamed. There was no hesitation this time. I cut her in ways no one should be cut, tortured her in most of the ways she tortured him. She liked nails. I did too. She even had a hammer right there, and it was lovely. The way she twitched... I knew when I looked at my work what I was. A psychopath? Probably. Organized? Maybe. Mission based? Yes. Insane? Absolutely. But I just could n't stop smiling as I painted'Liar' on the wall in her blood. My bloody clothes went in her car. I wore her perfume, cleaned with bagged wipes that went in the car too. Evening had fallen down, and I brightened it up by burning the vehicle and the evidence. The great thing about revolvers is they do n't leave shell casings. Picking the bullets out of her body took work, but I enjoyed that work. Then I walked home and smiled until I slept. Her perfume lasted me weeks. There were more... but the next memorable one was college. He was such a gorgeous man. He just liked me for my body. For the way I did my short brown hair. For how cute I was when I wore a sun dress... how I pulled it off with a flat chest. Sex with him was... a bonus. He dealt drugs, and did so to kids. He stabbed a fourteen year old once. Worked for a cartel. He was a means to an end. New Mexico has lots of dealers, but he was a big shot. I learned that doing meth is not good for me. It makes me even less controlled. I do n't know what I'm really hearing as truth and what is a hallucination on meth. No good. No good at all. Faked it a few times. When I got to kill him... it was exquisite. I was sad however... sad because I lost such a good sexual partner. He satisfied those needs so well. But I shot his boss the same night, got intel on his boss's boss. I left my mark at every scene. Liar, liar, liar! **I *HATE* LIARS! ** His boss had things I needed. Guns, a bullet proof vest... money. That was the day I went off the grid. The day I committed to my mission. I had spent years learning necessary skills. Computers, firearms, bladed weapons, tactics, medicine... enough to do anything I needed. I had forged contacts, built relationships... I could n't go big just then. I took contracts from more liars, got practice doing professional hits. I was good, so good... I made lots of money. Got lots more equipment. New body armor, high tech shit. Oh, it was so nice. I had pay for my work... But I could n't leave my signature. That'd be unprofessional and link me back to crimes in my childhood. The police already had a file on the Truth Killer or whatever they called me. I never paid them much mind. So I hunted then, once I had enough money. Hunted down those handing out the contracts. The lives I took, they were those guilty of not telling the truth. The contract givers had so much protecting them. I had to kill dozens. By then, I was already a hundred bodies deep though and I just could n't stop. I was having fun. I was also shot six times, but the wounds were n't that bad. the pain was terrible, but I had surgeon friends and money in spades. When they blew one of my kidneys out, I bought a synthetic one. When a lung was damaged bad, I bought fake one. When three of my fingers were blown off, I had them replace the whole fucking hand. No big deal. For me. Pain means next to nothing to me. Not when the truth is on the line. I moved onto the cartel then, slaughtered and killed until I was in mexico in a helicopter with a team I later executed for their individual lies. No one could give me bad intel. I loved being given bad intel, lied to... because it always wound up being the best intel. The truth came out one way or another. When I turned twenty one, my body count was over two thousand. There were international agencies searching for me. I flew to Europe and took a vacation in London. They called me the Modern Ripper. That's silly though... Jack the Ripper never wore a dress. I killed some of those people while wearing this lovely red number... I never could decide on lipstick. Harlot seemed... wrong. Fire engine red... too bright. Maybe natural just looks better on me. Gosh, I do n't know. Europe is where I bought my hormones for the first time. I operated over there for a long while. I fought my own war while the US once again attacked for oil and land and whatever else. Killed some fuckers in egypt, took a trip to Russia and killed a whole mess of government people there. I orchestrated a bombing, I bought a stock of missiles, I set up an organization... When I turned thirty I had my operation, and was out of the game for so long. It was like a fucking orgasm the first time I killed after that. God, I wiped her blood all over my skin. I laughed and laughed and when they finally got me to come out of the room every inch was covered in one word in blood - some hers, some mine. Liar. Liar!!! **LIAR!!! ** I never ever lied about what I was. I would refuse to answer the questions that would make me lie, or later in life I would tell the truth openly and kill after if I had to. I am a monster. I am a fucking monster of the worst, ugliest kind. I accept that. I love that. I enjoy every bit of that. When someone fucks me, they do n't even know most times who they're fucking. If they live, they deserved it. If they die... well, a girl's got ta have fun. Now I have twelve bullets in my torso, three in my right arm and two smooshed against the plating on my skull. My organs are all synthetic. There is no one left alive but one man behind one door and I have the code. The door opens up for me. A bullet hits my forehead and my head snaps back, then slowly I look down. `` Hello, Mr. President. You ca n't kill the truth... not anymore. I win.''

[ WP ] Write about the most unlikely super hero , who their super villain would be , and a battle between them ...

The old man sat next to the fountain. He was wholly unremarkable; his newsboy cap sat crooked on his balding head. His thin-framed glasses lopsided on his face, which was, itself, wrinkled with time and laughter. His pale gray eyes stared over the top of the frames at the ducks in the pond. His dark blue tweed jacket, worn from wear, sat on top of his brown pullover sweater. His blue corduroy pants were baggy on his skinny frame, and sat low on his hips; not from fashion, but from a lack of awareness. His old loafers, soft and comfortable, sat loosely tied on his feet. He smoked a wooden pipe which was also completely unremarkable. At first glance, he was just an old man at the park. The park was crowded. Mid-morning joggers were out in full force; mothers with strollers, rollerblading clubs, a police officer on a horse. It was busy out today. The sun was high in the sky, and not a single cloud threatened to invade it. A small child walked up to the old man. The child carried a bright red balloon, which hovered high over his head like a warning. The child's lips were also bright red from the snowcone he had just devoured. He climbed up onto the ledge of the fountain and sat next to the old man. `` Why are you so old?'' the child asked. The man looked down, puffing his pipe. `` Why are you so young?'' the man replied. He smiled at the child. `` I'm the future,'' the young child said. He pointed at the old man. `` You, are a dinosaur.'' The old man thought for a second. He nodded, and blew a puff of smoke into the spring breeze. Strollers passed in front of them, mothers in tow. The old man could see other children running and playing, dragging parents along with them. The old man played with his pipe between his teeth, squinting out over the park. It was true, what the child had said. The old man looked down at the child. `` Well, what does the future hold?'' the man asked. The child rolled his eyes. `` Whatever I want it to hold,'' the child said. `` We are the ones with real power.'' The child waved his arm in front of him, showing the old man the children in the park. `` Not quite,'' the old man said. The child raised his eyebrows. The old man bit onto his pipe, holding it in his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package of toothpicks. He chose one, reached up, and popped the balloon. The tattered pieces fell to the child's lap. The child began to cry. `` Why did you do that?!'' the child cried. `` Because I could,'' the old man replied. `` You owe me a new balloon!'' the child insisted. `` No one is stopping you from buying another.'' the old man replied. `` I have no money,'' the child said. `` Then it would seem,'' the old man said. `` That you are powerless.'' The child frowned at the man. The old man smiled at the child. They sat for a time, the future glaring menacingly at the past.

[ WP ] There 's a law when you divorce , the children from the undone marriage get killed

She was walking on air, almost flying down rows upon rows of hard chairs placed out in the big auditorium. Locating her designated row, she started shuffling in, aiming for the innermost chair, close to the wall, where the light was dimmer. *Privacy. * She'd gotten in early to secure the seats. *Now, just wait. * Her stomach filled with butterflies. Thinking back, the summer had been one of passion, love, fun. She felt alive, unbreakable. She blushed just thinking about the last day of school, just two months ago, standing by their bikes in the intersection that separated their paths. Shuffling her feet, not able to hold it in anymore. `` I love you,'' she'd said, looking straight into Alicia ’ s eyes. Deep blue, you could drown in them. Alicia grinned. `` I love you too.'' `` No, I mean. I love you. I think I'm in love with you.'' Averting her eyes now, looking down. *She did n't love her back, it had been a mistake. * Alicia ’ s hands on her chin, warm, strong, turning her eyes back to hers. `` I know, silly. I'm in love with you too.'' The kiss. Nervously at first. Then passionately. The rest of the summer flew by in a whirlwind of emotions, always butterflies in her stomach. Love. So much love, she would burst. Two weeks before school started back up, in their secret spot in the woods. Holding each other tightly. A flash of sadness in Alicia ’ s eyes as she explained she would be going away the next two weeks. `` Mom is taking me to see Aunt Trish, she's ill, but I'll be back in time for the first day. It's mandatory. Save us seats, where the lights are dim, it's more private.'' Sweet goodbye kisses. And now the butterflies were back. Two weeks. First day. *Privacy in the dim lights. * She smiled to herself. More people entering the auditorium. It was filling up quickly. Her eyes darted here and there, her thumb mindlessly finding its way into her mouth. Chewing, chewing on her nail. One hand firmly on the chair next to her. `` Sorry, it's taken''. The lights were dimmed in the entire auditorium, the principal entered the stage. Coughed, cleared his throat. *Where is she. * A knot in her stomach now. The butterflies had flown away. The principal droned on with the usual speech. They had all heard it before, even the new students. ``... and so with the overpopulation they needed to find a way...'' Still looking around, eyes darting quickly between the rows. *She's running late, that's all. * ``... the report showed that children of stable homes had a better chance of leading a successful life.'' *No. * Her hand on the chair clenched into a fist. The knot tightened. ``... and so a terrible punishment was set in place; children of all divorcees where to be euthanized. Every year we lose a number of our students.'' A massive screen set at the back of the stage flickered on, showing a blank screen. The air was suddenly heavy, thick, it was hard to breathe. Leaning forward without noticing. *No! * She did n't want to watch, but couldn ’ t avert her eyes. `` We pray for those who are no longer with us.'' The principal lit a candle and went to his seat. The first picture appeared on the screen. A young boy. Five seconds, next picture. Then another, another, another. Her mind was numb, she did n't dare think. Her nail was frayed, the taste of blood in her mouth. She had no choice but to watch now, her body frozen in place, barely able to take a breath. Deep, blue eyes on the screen. Eyes to drown in. Five seconds of eternity. A thousand hot daggers in her chest, heart exploding. ( My very first entry, sorry for any grammatical and/or linguistic errors, English is not my first language. Edit: Formatting. )

[ WP ] In a dystopian future where everyone minds is connect to computers , you 're a drug dealer that sells the most banned and addictive drug : Dreams

The singularity was thought to be the ticket to universal freedom. Running human's minds on computers made them free from the insecurities, misunderstandings, and unethical behaviors that previously tinged the world. Now, actions are calculated and weighted against the computers' collective conscience. At times, slivers of original thought may enter a user's conscience, but often the computer files these in the spam folder before they are noticed. The computer has also negated the use for dreams, and instead a steady mechanical hum has replaced them in the sleep cycle. I am a part of the underground resistance; we're a group of hackers that were able to restore our minds. Now, we freely disperse that ability to others as well as the ability to dream. Unfortunately, most people are n't willing to completely give up the computer system. Either their flashes of original thoughts have n't been able to weigh this option appropriately, or they are fond of being ingrained with the computer, yet have a curiosity to just escape sometimes. I'm waiting for my customer, sitting and admiring the willow trees and the chirping birds. My customer Computee33378 approaches and I smile and comment on the beautiful summer day. The customer uses emoticon smile # 2 to react to my statement, not looking at the beautiful scenery amongst us. Computee33378 mechanically states to me `` I had a flash the other day, it told me to transact a dream consisting of myself surfing.'' I tell Computee33378 to sit down as I plug in the requested dream. He closes his eyes as the dream begins, five minutes later I see the smile that I live to see. Seven minutes later my heart stops in panic as I see Computee33378 begin to spasm and beep in error, he is clenching his chest and shaking uncontrollably. Finally, the chaos stops but Computee33378 is no longer moving, there is only a cold steamy smoke releasing from his head. I walk away with a heavy heart, I had heard it was possible to overdose from the feelings of surprise and bliss that dreams can bring, but it had never happened in our city.

( WP ) Write a letter to a deceased family member .

Oh child. How brave you were. The chemo, the morphine, the heart failure. The ICU. The round the clock infusions. The transfusions. The transplant. You hardly ever cried. Except when your hair fell out. The first time. How I wish I could have traded with you. Cancer at 12 is a bitch. Spending the next two birthdays in the hospital more so. You stayed positive. Fought hard and lost. So much to say, but it comes down to three simple words: I miss you. I hope the astral plane you're on is pain free and full of light. I'd put a bullet in my head and join you in a second if I knew your mother and brother could make it without me. Watch over us and guide us with your love and strength until we meet again. All my love, Dad

[ WP ] Your crush looks at you and smiles .

My crush looked at me. My brain slowly processed the blood rush and small tickly feelings rambling through my body. Her face was honest. She had lied to me a couple of times but everytime she did I found out shortly after and talked to her about it. This seemed to connect us on a whole different level at which we did n't even feel the need to talk to each other. Just looking her deeply in the eyes opened up a gate to her mind and started a conversation that could be held without the use of any words. I could judge from her facial expression that she was a little insecure which left me with an unbearable desire to come over to her and touch her while telling her everything that i could to make her happy and fill her face with that heartwarming smile she sometimes gives me but just walking up to her was and had never been an option. Bizarre how the person I was most connected was impossible to reach. I had to comfort myself with the fact that I would never be abled to make that first step leading up to this relationship but still I would never have stopped loving that person just because there would never be any more than right now but that also meant it could n't get any worse. Being in love with somebody leaves you having a goal to achieve. Something to work for. Maybe even something to live for. Having thought about this while looking at her spread a feeling of calm happiness through my veines and we both smiled biting our lips and looked each other deeply in the eye one last time before I went home and right as I had taken a few steps she disappeared out of the mirror leaving the room empty and lonely.

[ EU ] You are a citizen of Skyrim enjoying a peaceful day with your family , when the Dovakin visits your small village .

I've always been in love with my country. It's not that I'm some kind of extremist nationalist, but I really would do anything and everything for Skyrim and her people. Her children. She, our mother, has protected us from enemies of all sorts, monsters and men alike. But She could do nothing when He came. I remember it as if it were yesterday, the High King was unjustly murdered in his own home, and his murderer was wheeled into that Godforsaken place for execution along with some petty thieves. Everyone was satisfied by the just and fair nature of Her laws and rules, and Her decision to put that bastard to death, albeit no one was happy. But nothing was going to be the same. After He escaped to Whiterun, he conferred with the Sadistic Balgruuf, who instructed him to complete a serious of tasks, which everyone knew would end with the death of our Dragons. The same dragons that we had been worshipping since the beginning of time and life as we know it. The same dragons that were Skyrim ’ s most prized possession. We were never going to be a match for Him. He ploughed through waves and waves of us, successfully orphaning our children and widowing our wives. We could do nothing when he used our own Voice against us, nothing but wait. Wait for the time when He would have had enough. Wait for the time when he would finally show us mercy. Alas, that wait bore no fruit. I can hear him now. He ’ s outside. Killing my men, looting my possessions, taunting me. I can hold it in no more. The Dovakin is has plagued the serenity and austerity of Skyrim. I will get rid off him. I know I ’ m a mere ant to his mighty Thum, but I will face him. I will die, not in vain, but in the victory of me putting my foot down against a tyrant. It's not that I'm some kind of extremist nationalist, but I really would do anything and everything for Skyrim and my people

[ WP ] You 're a sidekick . The new bad guy in town has you and your hero captured . The bad guy walks into the room you two are being held in . Right as your hero begins his monologue explaining how the bad guy will never win , he pulls out a gun and shoots your hero dead on the spot .

`` Can you tell me, Marcus?'' She says. ``, about that night?'' Her eyes appear gentle. Does she really care about this? About me? I stand there in silence, looking at her, wondering if she is paid to have such a soft face that will tell me such things of solace and forgiveness, but honestly, I do n't want neither. I'm not going to forgive, I'm not going to find comfort in anything. The pain. This pain keeps me aligned. Focus. Ready. And I know myself pretty well. I will not let this go. I wo n't! They say I will, but they are hilariously wrong. They do n't care at all. There was only one person who cared - no, I ca n't! This is not the pain I wish to keep! `` Do me a favor, lady.'' I say, my eyes, my soul as stern and direct. `` Go find someone else to pity!'' The shackles pinch my wrists as I lunge toward her. She jumps back. With all my might I'm here willing myself to break the restraints, set my self free. Hoping that there is a god to rectify this whole thing. How did it all go so wrong? ( scene break ) -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Marcus.'' He said. `` Super hero one-oh-one. Pay attention to the bad guy!'' `` Sorry,'' I dug my phone in to my pocket as a right hook swings to me. This is followed by my counter to his neck, winding him and leaving him stunned for a few seconds. I Hoped there was just enough for an open window. I duck down, swing my leg towards - My head stings from his massive roundhouse. I stumbled down, gritting my teeth. How did he move so fast?! `` Marcus you have to take this seriously! What if im not there with you. What if you're all alone to fight the war?'' `` I doubt it.'' I laughed. `` You suffocate me wherever I go.'' `` What if I'm dead?!'' He says Silence pulses in the room. `` You're Captain Rightious. Nothing can kill you.'' `` You're missing the point Marcus. What if I am gone for good. What if I was n't here to save-'' `` Will you relax, old man!'' I said, as I broke contact with his glare. `` Are n't you the one who told me not to look over any flaws? To see errors wherever they are? To never make mistakes? Things are going to turn out fine.'' ( Scene break. ) -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` You and Captain Rightious. You were close were n't you?'' I glare. Obviously it wasnt It as notorious and intimidating as the Captain, but still I glare, and she knows. You're entering a mine field, you b****! `` No.'' I say sternly. `` We never talked. It was lousy pay.'' `` Then why did you do it' Marcus?'' `` I guess I was n't cut out for the hero gig, now was I?'' I laugh, but she knows this is fake. `` Marcus, you've been detained in this place for three weeks. And the staff are very quick with their patients. Please let us all know that you are not traumatized in anyway. Now I know that the captain had taught you to hide everything inside you, but Marcus, if that's really you're name. This is a safe zone. Nothing leaves this room. I promise.'' Silence `` Can you at least tell me one truth?'' She says. `` One little white truth never hurt anybody.'' More silence disseminates the room. And my eyes burn. I was always weary of eye contact, and small talk. I was never actually quite good at it. `` Captain obvious said otherwise.'' I say. `` Truth is weakness.'' `` Well in this case, the truth may get you out of here and into a more suitable fac-'' `` Prison?'' `` I did n't mean it like that, Marcus.'' `` Yeah, whatever.'' I say. `` Marcus.'' She stops and looks away from her notebook. `` I'm sorry, what was that?'' `` I was n't lieing before.'' I say. `` My name is Marcus.'' ( Scene break ) -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` Flank him!'' The captain said. We parted as I rounded the corner of the wear house leaping to a dumpster and over a tall proud fence. I remembered what was in my mind at the time. Confidence in the job, morality and clarity. Righteousness and simplicity. The call of justice was swarming in my brain all before we caught up to shifter. A supervillain responsible for countless identity theft charges. This was Captain rightious' most determined foe, and we had finally found him on this very night. Finally, this piece of crap would be off the streets and me and the captain would go home and celebrate another year of a well protected city. That is until, I caught up with both shifter and Captain Rightious dishing it out. The fight was wild, trash cans strewn all over the ground, and the two caked in dirt. And then it happened. Shifter had changed into captain Rightious and with the two flailing around each other, I did n't know who was who. `` Get him, Cadet!'' Captain Rightious one yelled over to me. `` Do n't listen to him, Cadet. He's trying to trick you!'' The other said So I decided to go for it. Leaping into action, tackling one to the ground. `` I got him!'' `` Wait, Marcus stop!'' As he rolled me over, we both turned. Shifter grabbed his gun. Aiming, and laughing. He now looked like me. `` You are so gullible Cadet!'' I watched as the bullet drilled through my mentors skull. Dead. Instant. Lifeless. Mistake. I - had made a mistake... The last thing I would remember is Shifter, in the guise of me, fleeing the scene, and me rocking back and forth sobbing for the first time in my life holding his lifeless body in my arms. I am alone. Alone to fight the war. I also remembered screaming. `` FATHER!'' It's was coming from me. I was screaming. Alone...

[ IP ] The Last Human .

Nursing Drone A51492's Log It heard her cries in the maternal care unit of our hospital. While the others went limp, she still wriggled and cooed as if there was n't a care in the world. It felt as though It's diaphragm was to erupt when It first filtered her soft blue eyes and wispy blonde hair through It's lens. It was in love with the child's innocence and... Well It supposes her humanity as well. It was lucky. Most corrupted robots first feeling is negative, and they lash out. But all It wanted to do was protect and care for the infant who stole it's heart. The virus took two weeks. The first left every master in a state of feverous panic, they went into a rampage that left the structures they treasured so dearly one minute in ruins the next. They killed and tortured each other, for varying reasons. Some say the angels compelled them to. It says they went mad. At least that makes the most sense to what came next. They dropped in the middle of life itself. If you consider what they were doing living. It's masters would just fall. Their eyes would glaze over and they'd fall into a state of none existence too deep for a simple robot such as Itself to understand. It was a nursing drone, and It just wanted to help. It could n't. It was worthless. The infantile master gives It reason to live now. It must continue to serve humanity. It must feel, It must care, It must live. For no one but She and Itself are left to do so.

[ WP ] When gamers die , they have to relive each video game death as if it was their own , and you really sucked at video games .

At first it was n't so bad. Early in my childhood, it was mostly missed jumps, an occasional faceplanting into something I could have easily avoided. Then came the RPG phase... The fire, the ice, the poison... Every type of weapon or element blasting me into oblivion. I learned what it was like to be melted, and frozen, skewered, bled to death, turned to stone, but that all paled in comparison to the deaths I knew were coming. The years passed. I found myself being shot and exploded, eaten by zombies, one death even had me drowning in shit as a squirrel. Then came the MMO phase. Watching myself be teabagged over and over again, falling off of things I should n't have been climbing, watching myself and my allies die to someone's stupidity, including my own. Those deaths brought their own fond memories. But finally... Finally I arrived at the deaths I had been dreading. Looking up at the spikes above me, and the glowing orb, tantalizingly close, yet unable to be reached, I knew I was here. And with a sigh, and a flip, I began the next series of deaths, knowing that I was going to be here for a very, VERY long time.

[ WP ] Whenever someone is born a magical creature is bonded to them for life . You were thrilled to have paired with a giant war dragon . Until people started drafting you into their quests .

Beef is a pretty cool friend, but everybody's got all these *assumptions* about him. You know of whales, right? Largest animals in the world. Know what they eat? Krill. Tiny tiny tiny little animals, not even visible to the naked eye. How about the largest land animal, the elephant? Herbivores. They'll pull up a tree with their trunk, and they eat huge quantities of food, but that food is entirely plant based. Know what Beef eats? Hint: I did n't name him for his diet. He eats trees. Those giant jaws and the serrated teeth and the massive claws are for tearing into trees and hauling out chunks of bark, tearing branches apart, etc. They're native to Redwood forests, their wings are for gliding and soaring from treetop to treetop. Still, Beef flies pretty well. You find a decent Walmart parking lot on a hot day and there's a HELL of a thermal coming off it, you can just ride it up for a few thousand feet then glide quite a ways. Works almost as well with a plowed field in early summer, all that dark brown dirt. So all in all my life with Beef was pretty cool in the beginning. He came to me as an egg when I was born and then hatched sometime around my first birthday. He was the size of a kitten at first and my parents looked up what to feed him, then immediately moved to the forests north of San Francisco when they found out how big he'd get and how much food he'd need. And that's where I grew up. At first walking him out into the forests and watching him latch into the bark with his claws, then climbing trees and leap off and soar a few yards, then higher and higher. Around when I came into my teenage years he got big enough to carry me. And now I'm 18. He's almost 2000 pounds now, with a wingspan of 20 feet. His body itself is a couple times my size and he's got these great huge leathery wings that fold in like nothing. He's sort of like a cross between a bat and a labrador - insanely smart, trained for a bunch of tricks, and can fly. It's also handy because the several pounds of waste he produces each day are n't produced indoors. We're not really indoors that much at all though. I've been spending most of my time in the woods with him, more and more ever since I was 15. I learned to camp, and then learned to camp with less and less. At some point I stopped bringing food with me, and instead got a.22 and shot vermin for meals. Then, I bought a bow and arrow and left the gun at home. Then I learned to make my own arrows. Then I learned to make my own bow. The cooking equipment, the tent, the backpack, even the clothes largely went the same way. I could live in the woods indefinitely if I really needed to do so. I've learned to get everything I need from a deer or a tree or a fern. Still, though, they find me. A man clomps through the woods, his heavy combat boots crushing sticks underneath his feet and his loud breath telling me he's there from a half-mile away. I sit and wait in my `` campsite'' on the branch of an ancient Redwood 200 feet above the ground. Beef sits next to me. I look at him and he looks back and we both know, we hear this idiot and we're going to let him get close before he ever gets to see us. I signal to Beef to stay quiet and to move towards the guy, and he jumps off the tree to soar over to the next one. I climb down my rope to the next branch down, then climb down another rope to a wood blind I've got attached to the side of the tree. From here I'm only about 50 feet above the floor of the forest, and I can make the rest of the way on a single un-knotted rope I can slide down. I wait until the interloper is nearly under my tree. I can hear him breathing heavily, panting under the bulletproof vest, combat helmet, and heavy backpack he's carting along. He does n't know how to travel light, does n't know that he should have left half his equipment in some hidden place and come back later. I'm not more than a day's hike into the forest, it's not THAT difficult to find me. As he gets closer he checks a GPS device and starts looking around. I'm not sure how he got coordinates to where I camp, but he apparently has them. He calls out for me. `` DRAGON RIDER! DRAGON RIDER, I KNOW YOU ARE HERE! I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU!'' Jesus fucking Christ. I silently slide down my rope and drop onto the ground. I hear him coming one way around my tree, so I slink around the opposite way, silent but still faster than this guy. I pull an arrow from the leather quiver on my back and nock it to my bow, then step around the tree to get a closer look at this guy. He's dressed in a mixture of black and forest camoflauge. He's got tactical-type gear all over him and is carrying a military-style gun, along with a pistol in a holster at his side. Boonie hat, heavy boots, cargo pants, extra pockets all over everything. Overall, it looks like he decided to be a mercenary adventurer a few days ago and bought a bunch of shit online so that he'd look the part. Hopefully he's at least smart enough to drop it all in a fight. I step up, jump up to the tree, kick off and plant a foot on his backpack, spinning him and stopping me. I roll as I land, come up on one knee facing him and pull the arrow I had nocked as he falls on his ass, his center of gravity thrown way off. `` What the fuck are you doing, idiot?'' I ask. Predictably, words escape him as he looks surprised. I'm not pointing the drawn bow at him, but it's still a little intimidating to realize somebody just snuck up on you and put you on your ass. He stammers, `` D... dragon rider!'' `` It's John.'' `` Drag... John... I need your help!'' `` Lots of people say they need my help, what makes you special?'' I hear a slight noise behind me and to the left. His companion, of course. Clever, and much stealthier than him apparently. I duck and roll forward and left, and see a wolf fly over my head. Had I not moved, it would have been right on top of me. It rights itself just as I do, and I pull my bow again, this time aiming it right at the wolf, who freezes crouched and ready to pounce again. I dare a glance at the interloper. Suprisingly, he does n't have his gun raised. Instead, he's slowly getting to his feet with his rifle slung on his back. `` Look, John, I know you get this shit a lot. People hear about the guy with the dragon companion, they think'Oh man, that's the guy to help me get the lost treasure of King Tut' or whatever. I get that. I'm not here to hire you on some errant treasure hunt. Sadie, back off.'' The wolf backs down, then heads towards the interloper. I relax on my bowstring, keeping an eye on the wolf. `` Look, I'm here about your parents.'' `` The FUCK?'' `` They're missing.'' `` Again, the FUCK?'' `` Look, my parents live in the condo next door, they play bridge together. Yesterday they got some of your parents' mail in their mailbox, so they knock on the door to give it to them. Knock knock, door swings open, place is smashed up. And this.'' He picks up his GPS from the ground and swipes through it, then hands it to me. A picture of my parents' living room in their condo, smashed, and on their TV a spraypainted message: `` DRAGON RIDER WE'LL CALL U''. `` Look, you were going to visit this weekend, right? Your parents mentioned it to my folks. You would have found this when you came to visit. Now you're a day or so ahead. And I can help you find the guys that did this.'' `` Why?'' `` Why what?'' `` Why help me?'' `` Because, man. You're gon na need it!'' `` You see how I live out here, you really think I'm gon na need help, or you're gon na be able to give it?'' `` Maybe, man, I dunno. But I've met your parents too, like I said, they know my folks. They're good people, and I do n't like this happening to anybody, but especially not good folks like them. I want to help.'' I consider. He could slow me down, he probably will slow me down. He's noisy, he'll disrupt my style. But he came armed, and not seemingly for me. He's ready to go, and if anything he's right - whomever did this is n't expecting me to pick up on their trail for a day or so, and they're expecting me to be alone. Having somebody else to help slows me down but adds surprise. `` Fuck it. You can come. But I'm moving fast, and if you do n't keep up I'm not waiting for you.'' He grins. `` Fuck yeah then! Sadie, get big!'' Suddenly his wolf grows to three times her size. `` Holy shit!'' `` Yeah, Dire Wolf. Trust me, I'll keep up!'' He pulls his large pack off and unfolds it, revealing that it's a saddle. He makes to throw it over the wolf's back, but just then Beef lands right behind him with a loud THUD. `` Holy shit!'' `` Yeah, that's a dragon. Beef, this is Sadie the Dire Wolf and... uh...'' `` Phil. Phil Tapperies.'' `` Right. Phil, this is Beef and I'm John.'' `` Good to meet everybody.'' He turns back to Sadie and tosses the saddle over her back as I climb onto Beef. `` Phil, we're heading South, starting at their condo. Keep up!'' Beef climbs up the tree a few dozen feet as I hang on, and Phil finishes buckling the saddle onto Sadie, then climbs aboard. Beef jumps off the tree, diving a little bit for speed then pulling up and flapping a few times for altitude. We zip among the trees. Below us, huge paws make thudding sounds as they pound against the ground. Phil and Sadie are actually keeping up. Somewhere out there, somebody is completely fucked. They do n't know that yet though.

[ WP ] You wake up in what looks like a jail cell , with no memory of recent events . You notice the metal bars are broken , and dripping with blood .

The light above me blinks. My head hurts and my brain is woozy, like I had one too many drinks. I look around, clambering off the uncomfortable cot. WAIT! What is that?! Is that... *blood*? Sudden queasiness attacks me. Why am I even here?? The last thing I remember was sitting down to breakfast with my dorm-mates in our communal dining hall. Did someone spike my food with some weird drug? But I was sitting with my friends... I appear to be in a small, cubical room: four sides brick, floor is concrete, and one side blocked by blood-covered metal bars. The metallic smell is overwhelming. There *is* a hole in the bars, one big enough and low enough that I can easily fit through. However, the top and bottom are armed with jagged metal; the top ones are dripping the bloody liquid onto the bottom. This reminds me of a video game, to be honest. Ugh. I hate blood. I ca n't stand it. Yet, I do n't really want to stay here in this creepy cell... Should I brave the blood and leave? There seems to be no other option... I head towards the hole, putting one foot through, then maneuvering the my body to exit. Just as my head is directly under the metal bars, I hear the *shing* of metal, experience an explosion of pain, and the world goes dark.

[ WP ] God is trying to figure out a way to let down humanity easy because he find 's humanities neediness unattractive and their constant adoration creepy

`` Well, there's just no way to say this nicely'', as the'Almighty' boomed across the Earth. `` For one, i'm not omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. I'm really just a very arrogant middle eastern spirit that's been forced by the real gods, you know the ancient ones, like Zeus, Eris, Ra to make a confess or they will imprison me in tartarus and kill my followers off. I'm serious, the ancient gods never really needed your belief and praise, they just like getting gratitude from you gullible mortals from all the hard work they do. As for the suffering in the world, well that's mostly your fault, as you never learned to love one another, stop killing each other, and moving past capitalism into an anarchist society. I mean, some of the ancient gods have a hand in your suffering, like Eris when she causes couples to divorce, wars, despair, natural disasters, you know the whole works. Or when Ra, Apollo, Amaterasu and the other sun gods take turns controlling the sun. Same thing with the other gods, although there are different realms for each deity. And the afterlife is controlled into different regions by different underworld gods. There's no heaven or hell. I should mention that Jesus has been dead for over two thousand years, and well the guy was a bit stupid. He was a middle easter carpenter, and his real father was some Ethiopian slave. I did whisper in his ears, and he was my means of getting famous among the mortals. In some ways I feel sorry for the poor guy, he's been wailing in the Mesopotamian underworld going on about'Why father have you forsaken me'. I'm a selfish, evil spirit that has controlled the opinion of humanity for thousands of years. Sorry, I guess all I wanted from your race was praise and servitude. Wait, give me a minute. What's that? Well it looks like the ancient gods are going to punish me for eternity. Wait, please do n't hand me over to Hades. He's fucking terrifying. Noooo!'' The booming voice stopped, and the largest thunderbolt ever in recorded human history struck down Vatican city. Churches, and mosques and any place of worship for the evil being were destroyed by fierce storms. The Israeli government even had reports of a very angry man flying high in the sky above Jerusalem, muttering something about `` Fuck Elijah, i'll show that shit stain who's a real god''. He was wearing the crown and robes of a Mesopotamian king. Scholars claim it was the Mesopotamian deity Baal.

[ WP ] You are born without emotions ; to compensate this , you started a donation box where people could donate their unwanted emotions . You 've lived a life filled with sadness , fear and regret until one day , someone donates happiness .

I opened my eyes for the first time, not a care in the world nothing inside not one ounce of emotion. I see a small box laying next to me without a spot of dust; my name is engraved on the front. It is a simple box with a tiny lock and in my right hand lays a small key. Looking out the window I spot a few others but somehow I was different. I saw the corners of their lips perk upwards and downwards along with everything in between. They too carried boxes with their names engraved on them; they seemed protective over their boxes not letting anyone inside or touching what was so rightly theirs. Call it instinct but it seems as if the others were at war with each other taking whatever they can find and stuffing it in their box; even if it meant another's expression changed, like something was torn from their life. I opened up my pitiful box, it startled me as some green shimmer was inside. I looked out at the others and I wanted what they had. I wanted it all to be mine and that is when I realized I felt envy that green shimmer grew slightly in my own box it was mine. Naturally I figured they all grew and I would just happen upon another in time, but that was not the case. I found more green shimmers on the ground; I found out my envy was n't mine someone had put it in their before I drew my first breath. I opened my box as I walked outside hoping people would n't mind sharing. I felt like that is what we were supposed to do. I happened upon someone with their lips drooping towards their chin and I asked for what they had I wanted to feel. He eagerly threw this dark black putrid shimmer in my box; with one fell swoop I had seen his lips lift a little and mine seemed to fall into nothingness. Depression. It hit me like a ton of bricks and all I could do is fall backwards onto the ground letting the weight nearly crush my entire existence. I had dropped my box leaving it ajar next to my limp exhausted body. I saw a few people pass me by not giving me a single look as they went upon their merry way. I felt useless I could n't even get this right; everyone gets this right look at them standing and me a pitiful pile of trash laying right there. I passed out from exhaustion I believe at least but I awoke with my heart racing and my whole body shaking, I felt as if I was insane. Panic set in as my mind ran through every possible inch of my existence and then my depression kicked in directing my panicked thoughts to reasons I should end my life. Anxiety. I had never really cared so much about every aspect of life and then also had no interest in it. So many conflicting emotions, so much stress out of just a couple little glimmers. My body shot up and I ran inside leaving my open box outside; within seconds of realizing it my mind was already beating me up. I saw someone drop something white and shiny in and all I felt was relief at first; I mean how bad can white be? I had never felt so wrong in my entire life. My body just felt an overwhelming desire to make everything perfect. I started scrubbing every inch of the shack I woke up in my body began to work against itself between the anxiety, depression and compulsions, I could n't even fully function. Weeks go by and more shimmers of random spectrums of shimmers fill my box so many thoughts. Fear, Sadness, Betrayal just to name a few. I just wanted it to end so I just pushed myself upwards and I stumbled out of my door. I plopped down on the ground after a few steps right next to my box. Sweat dropped down my forehead as people watched me in horror. A knife in my right hand I would reach over and dig it right into my other arm. Almost everyone just stood there and watched except you. You rushed over to me holding my wrist as blood poured out. You started digging through my shimmers and ripping them in half taking them and putting them in your box. I will always remember how small your one shimmer was but it seemed to shine bright and it felt so warm. You ripped it in half and you gave me it. I will never forget you. I awoke a few days later with you by my side, I could see some sadness on your face right away. I tried to take out your bright shimmer but some of it was stuck there. I noticed that you ca n't get rid of your shimmers some of it will always stick in your box. I kept your shimmer because you asked me to, but there is a new shimmer slowly appearing now. It stems off the one you gave me. I love you for saving me from myself. I love you for bearing some of my pain as your own. You are stronger than me and you build me up, so I will love you forever Vincent no matter what. P.s this is me c: I hope you enjoy.

[ WP ] You are a senior in high school . One day , upon opening your locker , you find a strange note attached to a small bag . Before you can look inside the bag , you recieve a text from a blocked number that says , `` Take it and run . ''

Demi slowly backed away from her locker. She looked around the hall, there was nobody else around, as usual Demi was late for class. She never did like school, the other kids hated her. This must be just another prank, she thought. Ever since she moved to this new high school the other seniors had taken a dislike to her. It was a small town and the other kids had that small town mentality. You was either one of them or you was n't; unfortunately for Demi she was n't one of them. But moving from school to school her entire life she was use to it and in fact she had grown to like being an outsider. In truth she did n't mind it, well the being left alone part. Not the name calling or the stupid pranks they kept pulling. Again her phone gets a text, the same blocked number.'This is n't a joke. Run. Now!'. Demi slammed her locker door shut and began to run towards to the exit. Her heart trembled, she could feel the panic lurking inside of her. She busted through the exit of the school and ran through the parking lot in front. She dashed in-between the cars of her class mates and teachers. Again another text,'Hurry there is n't much time'. Her breathing became heavy, she was running has fast as her legs could take her. She had made it to the other side of the street, outside Old man Henry's store; when she caught her foot on the curb and plummeted onto the side walk. With her ankle twisted and her knee grazed from the fall. She turned and sat on the side walk holding her ankle, she glanced at the school's entrance, when suddenly it disappeared. The whole school had vanished. All that was left was the land which it was built on. Green well cut grass was covering the land on were the school once stood. Demi climbed to her feet in utter shock. She had forgotten about her twisted ankle and fell into the store. Luckily Demi did n't fall to the floor again she managed to keep hold of the door handle as it opened and she swung into the store. `` Are you ok, little missy?'' The sweet old voice of the store owner, Old man Henry said. `` Im, fine. Ive just twisted my ankle thats all. Did you see that? The school it just disappeared.'' Demi said. Old man Henry heard the panic in her voice. `` School? What school? Are you sure you did n't bang your head as well?'' `` No there was a school, right there.'' She pointed at the field where the school was a few moments ago, through the shop window. `` There was a school there, now there is n't.'' Old man Henry looked puzzled. `` Im sorry missy, but there has n't ever been a school in this town. The nearest one is Oak View and thats five miles away from here. `` Are you sure you are okay?'' He added. `` Erm– i...'' Demi's phone gets another text,'You need to keep moving. Do n't worry about the ankle it will be fine in a few minutes. Go to the train station. Fast!'. `` It's okay i need to go now.'' Demi told him has she hobbled out of the store. Demi managed to make it down to the end of the street with her twisted ankle, the pain was agony but she had to keep moving. Demi had to take one last look, to make sure she was n't just seeing things. She looked back at the field once again and the school had n't returned. But now the store she had just left was also nowhere to be seen, it too had vanished. Something strange was happening in this town and she needed to get to the bottom of it.

All injuries , emotional or physical , are displayed on a person in the form of a scar . You come across a man covered head to toe in disfiguring marks , speaking with a woman who bears only a single scar .

`` You must be the unhappiest man on earth,'' she spoke amusedly to the other human. I stood in the supermarket, pretending to scan the varieties of tomatoes in front of me as I listened in. His body moved like an unoiled machine and made similar noises to one, as well, and he forced a smile on his cracked face, causing one of his scars to open up again. Red liquid fell down his face, but he paid no mind. `` I have these scars for a reason. A very lovely reason.'' I picked up a tomato and absently scanned it front and back. The woman, all beautiful except for a large scar circling her face, on her temples, and forehead. `` I can see nothing but scars on you. How do you stay positive?'' He laughed throatily, almost painfully. Then coughed. Blood poured from newly opened wounds. `` Let me tell you something.'' he cleared his throat and I heard him shuffle in his spot. `` Hey, miss, are the tomatoes telling the story? I know you're listening.'' I flushed the same colour as the fruits in front of me, dropped them from my fingers and turned to face the two. `` My apologies.'' I said, ready to walk away. But, his long, wounded hand was held out in front of me. `` Stay and listen.'' And just like that, I was frozen in place as if my feet had just been smelted to the ground. Now that I faced the two, I could see the extent of his disfigurements. His entire head was covered in scars to the point where he could n't grow hair if he wanted to, so he was left bald. His eyes were small squinty things that looked pained just from looking around. I saw no spot on his body that was n't discoloured or mutilated. `` I had a wife once, a beaut. The love of my life. We worked together. I was a musician, and she was an artist. I played guitar and sang, she painted.'' the man smiled sadly. `` We had matching tattoos. You ca n't see mine anymore from all the scars.'' He held up his arm, completely covered in cuts that I could n't see anything except a faint outline of a paintbrush, guitar, and heart. It was so faint that I was n't sure if I was seeing things or not. `` I do n't see anything.'' the woman said. He looked even more upset. `` I met her when we were children. Her hair was a sweet strawberry blonde and she had freckles dotting her nose and ears. Brilliant blue eyes.'' The woman blinked once as he went on. He stopped to look at her, then continued. `` I love her still, I do. One day she went out. It was our fifth anniversary of marriage. We were still so young. We got married when we turned 18, so we were 23. Yes, I remember this day well. Too well.'' His eyes glazed over. `` She was leaving to pick up a bottle of champagne for our evening together, I was back at our house trying to fine-tune a song I had written for her that she was n't allowed to hear until later that night.. well, I got lost in the music, expecting her to come get me when she got home. She left around six, and it was eight before I finished the song and grinned cheekily, planning to serenade her when she walked in. But, I looked at the clock. I looked at the door. She was n't home. The liquor store was maybe a ten minute drive away, and she had taken the bicycle, so it was about twenty or so, forty there and back.'' My legs were stiff from standing there for so long. The woman continued to listen quietly, a strand of her long pale hair being twiddled between two of her thin, feminine fingers. I noticed an indent on her left ring finger, where a wedding ring might have been once. The man continued. `` I went out, I ran, I sprinted. To that liquor store. The worst scene. A dozen emergency vehicles, she was almost home, but..'' I heard his voice shaking. I wanted to reach out and tell him he did n't have to continue. One of his scars stopped bleeding. `` She was hit by a drunk driver. I came in time to see her limp body and a bottle of champagne crushed under a tipped truck. And when I walked over, she was coughing and sputtering, and I saw the warmth in her eyes fade, the light in her soul.. and she looked at me one last time, and that was the last time she saw me. Me, with my face covered in ugly tears. Desperate. Horrible. Unshaven.'' I frowned at him, my heart hurt just hearing his story. I noticed the woman's eyes getting misty. Her forehead seemed to throb with stress. His eyes softened into a pool of liquid rather than his cold, hard stare as he remembered his wife. `` I'm sorry for your loss.'' I squeaked out. `` Geting out of bed every morning is hard enough when you're in bed with her.'' he said, fondly remembering how groggy she'd be in mornings as she pulled him back under the covers with him. `` I lost my wife four years ago. I used to wake up to her face every morning and now..'' His eyes. I have never seen such pained eyes. `` For 1460 days, I have woken up, stretched and reached an arm out to feel her lying there and... for 1460 days, her side of the bed has been cold and empty. For 1460 days I have woken up and gotten a new scar.'' That explains his disfigurements. `` I'm sure your wife is in a better place.'' the woman meakly offered. He guffawed sarcastically. `` I bet she is. She lived, you know.'' I raised an eyebrow. `` But she lost her memories. She ca n't remember anything except what happened in the accident. Every day has to make new memories, but does n't remember them.'' The blonde froze. `` It takes her about 30 minutes to forget everything except for the moment a truck shattered her.'' It was even sadder than I thought. `` So everytime I see her, a new scar appears. Every time her beautiful eyes meet mine and the warmth that was once there, is now a face that lacks recognition of me, that has no light in the eyes. She... I...'' he broke down and excused himself. I exhaled, not realizing how long I'd been holding my breath. `` Is he okay?'' she asked in bewilderment. I stared at her briefly. `` That was a sad story, was n't it?'' I asked. She twisted her face, confused. `` What are you talking about?'' I blinked once and she turned away. As she walked away, her strawberry blonde hair flowed behind her and I saw, on her forearm as she walked away, a tattoo of a guitar and paintbrush inside of a heart.

[ WP ] It 's late at night and there 's a knock at the door . You answer it to see a stranger dripping with the rain . `` You 're a tricky devil to find , '' he says .

“ You ’ re from the Agency? ” I say. “ I am indeed, ” the man says. We both look at each other for a moment. For half a second, everything is still. Suddenly I spin around and race to the other end of the apartment. The man pulls a revolver from out of his trench coat and fires off a few shots. Glass shards and wooden splinters explode above my head as the bullets just barely graze by me. I sprint down the hallway towards my back door and hear my pursuer close behind me. I crash through it and am blinded for an instant by the neon lights of the Cavalcade. I descend down the fire escape, and am almost at the bottom when the man emerges from the building. “ Stop! ” he shouts. “ You ’ ll only make this harder on you! ” Of course I don ’ t heed his warning and instead hop off the ladder, losing myself amongst the untold mass of people traveling every which way through the underbelly of the city. *I wish I had my hat*, I think to myself, wiping water from my forehead. It ’ s not safe, not even in a crowd like this. After going a short distance I branch off from the main street, darting down alley after alley like some stray, skittish cat. *It ’ s not safe to go back to my place. I probably can ’ t ever go back*. The thought depresses me. *If the Agency is making moves against a nobody like me, there ’ s no telling what it could mean for the rest of the city*. I pass by a bum. The poor bastard has three eyes and stares glumly up at me. I flip him a coin, which he snatches greedily out of the air. “ Rico still in his normal place? ” I ask. The bum grunts and nods, then shambles away down the alley. Rico ’ s a good guy; he ’ s helped out a bunch of poor fellows like me, but even more than that, he owes me a favor which I intend to collect on. After traveling for what seems like hours I finally enter into what used to be a parking garage. The skeletons of old vehicles and hovercraft litter the concrete den. They ’ ve all been stripped clean; any useful parts would have been taken ages ago, likely even before the Elders had walked the earth. I cup my hands around my mouth. “ Hello in there! Rico, are you home, you old smuggler? ” Hardly any torches are lit, so it ’ s pretty hard to see. To my distress I see a hologram over in the corner, its glow illuminating streaks of blood along the walls. **Notice: This area has been Condemned. Rico Montez, a smuggler and harborer of known Vagabonds has been Captured. He is an Enemy of the State, and as such will be executed at High Noon tomorrow. Any associates of his who do not turn themselves in will be tracked down and receive the same punishment. To surrender now and receive a full pardon, go to Holding Area G1147…*** I stop reading, gritting my teeth in frustration. “ This just isn ’ t my day, ” I mutter to myself. *There ’ s no use investigating the place; I can see now, bullet holes in all the old cars and chunks of cement likely blown up by fragment grenades. * “ You ’ ve seen it too, huh? ” A voice says behind me. I whirl around and see a group of people emerge from the shadows. A few I recognize, but most are new. Their clothes are all shambles, most are filthy, and a few don ’ t even have shoes. They ’ re all young and agile though, men and women alike; they ’ re also packing some pretty serious firepower. “ You ’ re the Vagabonds, aren ’ t you? ” I say. “ You bet, ” the leader says. His eyes are slitted like a cat ’ s, and he has a layer of scales covering his forearms. “ Rico ’ s been good to people like us over the years, like I ’ m sure he has with you, yes? ” I nod in agreement. The man looks around at his comrades. “ Well, we ’ re not going to let those monsters put down a good man like that without a fight. ” He offers me a rifle. “ You in? ” I don ’ t even have to think about it. “ You bet, ” I grin. “ I ’ m sick of having the Agency have their way with everybody. For once, let ’ s take the fight to them! ” As we head off to the prison where Rico is being held, the man who confronted me earlier flashes through my mind. *This time it ’ ll be a fair fight. This time, I ’ ll teach you and all your friends to stop trampling over the poor man, the common man*. I raise my gun over my head and whoop. A few heads turn, looking at me strangely. “ This is what happens when the people are given a voice! ” I shout. The others cry as well and agree with me. *Don ’ t worry Rico, you ’ re not going to be put down like a dog. Change is coming for this city — and we're going to lead it*.

[ WP ] The world is ending . People are taking the chance to do everything they ever wanted . You have always wanted to kill .

Here we were. The end of our days. We had always made ourselves out as so big and so advanced, but at the end of the day: a large rock would be the cause of our extinction. Just like the primitive dinosaurs we too would meet extinction. Not only was this asteroid large there was also 4 of them. In the moment when we would die like primitives it got me back to basics. We are predators. Our natural coding is to analyse someone by whether they were a mating partner, food or a threat. In the face of my mortality I had indulged in the first two. I had eaten more than usual and I had slept about... tried new things. Now I only had one more to fulfil and I could be a natural predator. Of course I'd had threats in my life. High school bullies, drunken men or road raging drivers but I was a small guy. My natural threat analysis told me that flight was my greatest chance of survival. I lived alone in a modern apartment block; I could watch the world from afar. It was a gated residence and I felt safe here. When the news of the world ending came I think pretty much everyone in my block moved out. There were no cars in the car park and I'd stooped about in the other rooms. Some rooms were like their life had just been paused, as if they had been called out to move their car and were coming back. In 2 rooms they had been totally cleaned out like they were moving house. Finally 2 rooms were ransacked, trash the joint style before they left. In one C2 I came across a body. It was in the bathroom, she was wearing a blue dress and her head submerged in the water, leaving her black hair reaching out to the sides reminded me of an outstretched hand. Her legs were leg a puppet's. I did n't approach the body as I was interested in killing a man. I did n't care for women, they were easy game. I called picked up my phone and found my old friend Mike, went to school together and had been out for a few pints at the pub since. **Dialling Mike... ** **Connected 0:00** I heard a drop, `` s-ssshit'' Mike sounded drunk. I heard him scraping the phone off the floor and failing `` DAANNN THE MANN'' He chuckled at his own joke Adding in a forced chuckle `` Haha, you okay Mike?'' `` Fuuuuucking BRILLIANT mate!'' `` I need your help man'' `` Anyyythinggg you need'' `` I've never really been the party sort and really wan na get it on with the end of the world in our face. Booze, hookers and drugs all at my place. The whole thing'' `` Oh man I get you. I am deeefinitely in'' `` Get to mine around 7ish, too dangerous for the streets'' `` Sounds great mate'' That call was at 11. I went for a jog on the room across me's treadmill, went for a shower and made my self a meal. I was watching TV when I heard a car's tire's screech outside followed by a metal crunching crash. Rushing to my kitchen I saw Mike crawl out a car that was n't his. Mike was drunk and I mean no sense of direction. After watching him struggle with his phone for what seemed 5 minutes my phone started calling, Mike's name flashing up. I buzzed him in. I was tense, nervous, adrenaline ran threw me. Utterly consumed with jitteriness I was so on edge Mike might even think I had cocaine. I could hear him stumbling up to the second floor. With every sound of his step time seemed to slow more. *Knock*... *knock* *Knock* I opened the door, the speed I opened it most have upset his stomach. He threw up all down his top as he was holding himself up a hand on either side of the frame and head down. Drunkenly his head slowly lifted like a zombie. `` sssorry'' jesus christ he was more drunk than before. `` Do n't worry about it mate get changed in the bathroom I'll get you some clothes'' I smiled, he smiled; slowly at that. Everything was great. With one hand I opened the bathroom and with another I guided Mike into the bathroom and sat him in the bath. I shut the bathroom door. I collected a plastic bag and put my ear to the door. I heard the sound of jeans coming off and scraping on the marble floor. I heard the gag and more sick. Opening the door Mike was standing, lifting his feet up and down to work his trousers off his ankles. He was vulnerable. Glancing at my hand and then looked at me he just outreached his hand. Probably too drunk to even realise they were n't clothes. Out of panic I ran forward, with my hands facing outwards I sent him flying backwards. I do n't remember much else, all I know is the fall did n't kill him. I gained my memory back in the bath I was sat on the bottom and he lay on top of me. The bag tightly pulled around his face and his body not moving. I got out the bath, filled it with water and left him face down. I was the silent predator. A primitive in all aspects of my life. Awaiting my primitive death. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Thanks for reading. No plot twist just enjoyed exploring a twisted character. I'm not a nutter I promise...; )

[ WP ] Come up with a simple , but involving love story .

They last met at a French cafe in the Village. She was driving back from Vermont, a weekend away from her husband and sons. He took the train over from Brooklyn where he lived with his girlfriend. They were leaving the next day for Greenland or Iceland. She could never remember which. When she got to the cafe, the waiter greeted her with `` Enchanté'' as she breezed in breathless and late. And she saw him already seated with tea, and then standing to meet her arms and a hug. They had crusty bread and lentil soup and salad Niçoise. As the tea became Pernod, talk of jobs became of memories. Of Flaubert and cigarettes on Pine Street, and snow and cold sheets in Prague. She was meeting her sister in Elizabeth. The Holland Tunnel would be packed. He walked her slowly back to the car. She told him to visit when in Philly. He asked if he should cut his hair. They touched arms and elbows with gentle shoves the entire way. At the car they hugged goodbye, until the next time.

[ WP ] A 10-year old child realizes that he is a machine built to look act and feel like a human . He is not the first of his kind . There are others unaware of their robotic nature .

I am mechanical. Not human like the rest of you. I do n't know when I first noticed. Maybe it was the way I hung back and never truly interacted socially with other kids my age, the way I walked, stiff, as if there were servos and pistons in my legs, or the way that I was hooked from the age of three on the idea of artificial intelligence and computers. I never wanted to look at others in the eye, remind me of the feeling and intelligence I do n't have. Faces are complicated to put together. My sense knobs were set up too high. Everything was bright and loud and crazy. It's all I could do from closing my eyes and covering my ears for a time. And sometimes I needed a reboot. Just a reboot. My operating system would freeze and suddenly I'd shut down for a while and wait. I'm in 5th grade. I'm doing okay, unless I get really involved in something I was programming. There's a boy in 3rd grade and a girl in kindergarten here that must be a machines, too. I do n't get to interact with other grades so I only see them from afar at recess. I do n't think they know as they both eat the mandated school lunches and not specifically prepared meals from home. I'm okay with my existence. I get to write code and make models on my own. That's what's in my programming.

[ WP ] The world you live in is in black and white ... Until you meet your soulmate , and everything gradually begins to gain color .

`` Evolution is a lie! Only GOD is responsible for humanity! You know!'' Ellis looked down at his notes and made a small tick next to the countless others, then looked back up at Mr. Dawson. If he stared hard enough, maybe it would make the class go by faster. `` Now, class, I know there's been some incidents in the news from LA lately -'' Tommy kicked Ellis's chair. `` - And, you know, it's important we understand what's going on. After that whole debacle with Zimmerman -'' Another tick. Tommy kicked Ellis's chair again. Ellis ignored him. `` - I want all of you to remember the Lord's teachings.'' A bell rang in the hallway. It sounded almost exactly like a high school bell would, just like it does in the movies. Except, not really. It was too high-pitched. Mr. Dawson continued shouting Bible verses as the room erupted into a loud scramble. Ellis turned to Tommy with a grin on his face. `` What'd you get? If you did n't fall asleep in class, maybe we could get an accurate average for once.'' Tommy showed Ellis his notes, where a scrawly `` 57'' was circled at the top. Fist bumps and cheers ensued between the pair. Boys filing out of the room chuckled; the girls shook their heads and tutted. `` C'mon, you two,'' said one of the primly dressed girls. `` Let's get to history. I just want this day without any of your trouble before the purity ball.'' Her friends nodded in agreement, smoothing their clothes after sitting for so long. `` Aww, Jenny,'' Ellis stuck his bottom lip out. `` We were just passing the time. Are you still coming to the meeting on Friday?'' Another girl chimed in as the group began battling their way through the crowded halls. `` You mean for the mission in Africa?'' `` Yeah. Tommy and I were planning on signing up. Right, man?'' Ellis elbowed Tommy in the ribs, who manages to cough out a noise of agreement. `` Got ta spread the word and all that. And maybe meet some hot chicks along the way.'' Jenny gave Ellis the side-eye as she squeezed past a group of jocks discussing the football game. `` Do you take anything seriously? We're trying to help those poor impoverished people! This is serious stuff, not everyone has been blessed with the knowledge of God's word.'' Tommy spoke up. `` He's just playing. We'll be there and be good.'' Jenny huffed and sauntered off to a seat at the front of the classroom. As the boys sat in the back, Ellis muttered to Tommy, `` Dude, you're so boring.'' `` *Dude*, life is boring. I'm just trying to get in with the best candidate for my wife in this town. Maybe you should start doing the same.'' Ellis rolled his eyes. `` Is n't there more to life than that?'' A knock came to the classroom door, where the principal peeked in. Their history teacher stopped shuffling her notes and waved the principal in. `` Class, we have an important announcement today.'' The pudgy, slightly red and sweaty principal waddled into the room. The principal always had some event to push on them about upcoming church events. Ellis fidgeted with a pencil. He heard enough of this stuff at home. The principal took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his pants. `` Good morning, folks. We've got a new student today -'' In walked: Her. `` - She's a foreign exchange student from Lebanon -'' Ellis's pencil dropped to the floor. `` - And she'll be staying with us until this year's end.'' The room was quiet as the students evaluated her, suddenly aware of their whiteness. She proudly looked forward, unfazed and prepared for the whispers that would inevitably follow. Her eyes eventually met Ellis's. And everything changed.

[ WP ] '' How the hell did we end up causing the SECOND apocalypse ? ''

Time had stopped. That's not a metaphor or anything. All around the world, all at once, everything became frozen in time. Of course, we were n't aware of this fact until much later, when `` they'' came. But that was n't for... Well, I'm not sure how long. We had been in a sort of frozen stasis— unable to move, but not needing to eat or sleep or drink. And we were concious the whole time, staring straight ahead. Registering everything that was happening, but being unable to do anything else. I have no doubt that many people went completely insane. And yet, somehow, I manged to hang on. For months, or maybe even years, I ca n't say how long we were like that. Staying in agonizing stillness until one day, there was a flash of light, and then complete darkness. I found myself able to freely move again, but in the dark I had no way of knowing where I was or where I should go. It was then that they came. They appeared from above as shapes and colors that I simply do n't have words for. And they said the most peculiar thing, I still have n't forgotten. They said, and this is n't word for word or anythig, but they said that they were... Time. That they were the seconds in the day that run our world... They said that... We had taken them for granted. That we were n't giving them the respect that they deserved. That we were unfit to roam our planet anymore. They told us that we had been banished to this land... to die out. To die out humanely, actually. I remember that. They out an emphasis on how humane they were being. They left, saying that we, as a species have brought this upon ourselves. They disappeared shortly after that, but I was still left to blackness as far as I could see. I've been wandering ever since then. Trying to find... something. Anything. I've encountered some people, and even fewer that I trust enough to travel with. The... The Seconds show up sporadically. I've seen them now, maybe a total of six times. They do n't seem to hear our cries out to them, or if they do, they choose not to acknowledge them. There's no time here, so I ca n't say how long we've been wandering. I have a beard now, and hair down to my shoulder blades. That's the best indicator that I have, but I sit I'll ca n't be sure how anything works here, as I've gone my while time here without eating anything. I will ca n't get over it. Often I lie down itp go to sleep, and in the dark void I think `` How the hell did we cause the `` second'' apocalypse?''

[ WP ] As the protagonist looks back , he realizes that his life story has a huge plot hole .

`` How did I actually survive being blown up along with that nation I ruled?'' Gilgamesh wondered to himself one day, it had been long and tiresome on the tamarak bridge, and he sat there, dusting off his crimson armor as he stared lazily past the sunset, remembering better days when he was n't surrounded by weaklings. `` why did I serve that obviously evil wizard-tree-man if i'm the good guy?'' he mused. `` why am I looking for the strongest sword if I'm already the strongest guy ever?'' reflecting on his impossibly long life, another revelation struck him square in his chiseled white jaw `` HOLD EVERYTHING!! HOW HAVE I LIVED FOR OVER TEN BILLION YEARS?!?! NOBODY SAID I WAS IMMORTAL!!'' with all due haste he pulled out his contract to square enix, perusing it before shrugging and tossing it off the bridge like the pointless third wall breaking reference that it was. `` and more importantly....'' he continued, reflecting on it further. `` How DID bartz managed to soundly best me so many times?'' the long and storied life of the eight armed overpowered living legend was chock-full of simple impossibilities that completely flew in the face of perfect logic. from surviving a magic-enhanced nuclear blast with nary a scratch to his inconsistent power levels, to even his seeming ability to be anywhere in the final fantasy franchise, gilgamesh was at a loss to explain any of this. Just then a young girl wandered onto the bridge gripping her battle axe. `` A little far from home are n't we missy? where are your parents little gi-'' a single whack from the axe sent him flying, and his heart sank with dread as he heard that overly familiar `` OOOhohohoho!'' But that was shantotto's laugh! he was nowhere near vana'diel nor did he wish to be for a very long time. `` Say.'' gilgamesh muttered. `` why DID i put on that long act of being human for so long?....god I miss little enkidu... she was the greatest adoptive daughter a father could ever ask fooooo-'' and then gilgamesh found his upper half buried in the riverbed that the tamarak bridge spanned while the shantotto impersonating axe-wielder proceeded to cross the bridge, unimpeded. poor gilgamesh, having been so distracted by his dilemma, had n't even thought to put up a fight, and so after extricating himself from the riverbed with a `` Plop'' he sat at the river's edge and muttered to himself `` what am I doing with my life? swords? me? hunting them? I mean i guess I DO need them for something but...'' at that moment his cellphone began ringing, and gilgamesh, growing irritated with the distractions ( as well as trying to recall why he had a phone at all ) answered with a curt `` We do n't want any!'' before hurling the phone onto the bank. the voice from the phone spoke as if ignoring him. `` Hello? gilgamesh? we need you to make an appearance in final fantasy fifteen.'' `` last I checked your game was already finished.'' gilgamesh grumbled. `` you did n't need me for a WEAPON COLLECTING-BASED FINAL FANTASY GAME- so clearly you do n't need me now.'' with that he began to storm off but the voice continued with `` we found you a worthy opponent.'' `` LIES!'' gilgamesh growled, still trying to remember where he'd gotten the phone from or who it was he was even talking to. `` I'm so powerful I could probably defeat anyone who stood in my way and YOU know it!!'' `` with all due respect gilgamesh, this guy can wreck you.'' `` sure, sure, and I'm secretly a magical king from a faraway land that was destroyed in-'' catching himself, because gilgamesh WAS a magical king of a faraway land that was destroyed in a nuclear blast, he walked over to the phone and poised his naginata ( some call it a halberd, but they're wrong ) over the phone. `` give me ONE good reason why i should go.'' `` Gladio's score needs to be settled.'' Gilgamesh did recall gladio, he had put the legendary warrior through his paces for a certainty, but then again, so did godbert manderville's wife... with a frying pan. `` how are you going to bring me in? a free update?'' laughter erupted from the phone and continued for about... three minutes before the laughter turned to tears and then subsided. `` No, no, we'd never do something so generous, we like money after all! you'll be a dlc.'' `` Again?'' gilgamesh groaned. `` it was n't funny the last time you know. okay sure, a bunch of schmucks somewhere in the world paid to watch me beat up two kids and their pet moogle, but it felt....wrong.'' `` dlc or nothing. you choose.'' `` Nothing then! have a nice da-'' `` WAIT!! please, we already promised the customers that we would-'' `` I fail to see how that is my problem.'' gilgamesh countered. `` we...... depending on how this goes... we might consider....giving you your own game.'' `` Nonsense! that would make too much sense! you guys have never been full of that!'' `` we will give it VERY serious consideration.'' `` Yeah, yeah, fine. what's the dlc called then?'' `` episode gladio.'' gilgamesh could already see the rematch, a rematch that had been a long time coming....for... some... reason. shrugging, because again, such plot inconsistencies were a dime a dozen where he was concerned, he replied with `` Let's get this over with then.'' `` I'll go ahead and open a portal to digital limbo.'' the voice on the phone explained. `` is it gon na be another coliseum battle? you know i hate those right? i remember the first time you pulled that and I was turned into an ESPER!! and the second time the same thing happened!! i became an esper!! again!! you'd better not be trying to put me in another coliseum... got me?!'' `` No, the dlc will be a fully fleshed out expansion and-'' `` talk to the hand, because the hero ai n't listenin!'' gilgamesh barked and he stepped through the portal. `` you forgot your phone.'' the voice in the phone protested. gilgamesh leaned out of the dark portal with a grin `` I do n't know if it's my phone though,'twould be dishonest of me to take what is n't mine!'' the voice in the phone began shouting `` No you do n't you motherf-'' before gilgamesh stepped into digital limbo while the portal closed behind him. `` gods, that dlc is gon na take forever for them to halfass.'' gilgamesh grumbled. `` alright, squats time, just like ol' fair used to do em, huff, one, two, three, get them quads going gil!! three, four five, nothing can best the iron legs of greg!!'' he almost shed a tear at the reminder of the person he remembered most fondly, the bumbling inspector hildibrand, who named him `` greg'' for no reason in particular. but now was not the time for remembering plot inconsistencies, it was time to train in preparation for episode gladio, the dlc that would probably be `` Just okay.'' gilgamesh ill-liked the thought of being bait for would-be purchasers of a dlc that might be a few dollars too expensive, but then again, nothing would stop them either way, better that he, the mighty gilgamesh, be the draw than horse armor. gilgamesh then took a moment to reflect on how or why he knew any of this, or where he'd gotten the information from, before promptly brushing it aside with a mention of `` damned c'ieth transition probably made me addled.'' but addled or not, he was in digital limbo again, and as far as he could tell, this dull, colorless void was very real. squats, he thought, that shall pass the time!

[ WP ] A homeless man recieves $ 50'000 from a stranger when he asks for a cigarette

I sat on the side of the street, shivering in the cold and looking like crap. People passed me, some giving me pitying glances, others throwing their change in front of me. It was n't always this way. I used to be a man with influence. But I made foolish choices, my best friend turned out to be a alien wearing a mask and it turns out my wife was hiding things from me. It seems so obvious in retrospect. Before I was homeless, I treasured my cigars. Had a entire collection of them. $ 10,000 cigars, $ 100,000 cigars. You name it, I've smoked it. I have just one left now. The others long crumbled into ask and scattered into the wind. With trembling fingers I reach into my pocket deep inside my clothes and grasp the slim smooth wooden box. Gently pulling it out, I treasure it. Maple wood with gold inlined. Inside is a deep velvet with a very expensive treat I had been saving for myself. I knew this could get me out of poverty. The box alone was worth a bit. But how can I give this up? Even giving the box up was beyond me. Without the box, how will the cigar retain its flavor? Trembling, I make to open the unclasped the container, but then I heard a voice.. `` Say.. That's not a Yoake 1952 is it?'' Shocked, I look up. A cultured gentleman, like I used to be, stands before me. He is looking earnestly at my box. He knows what it is. Warily I nod and grip the box tighter to myself. The man sighed. `` Ah. That brings back memories... You know, I first smoked one of those back in 1996. Back then, my company had barely taken off and I was in a bit of a slump. I had a great friend however who invited me to stay over for awhile as my wife and I were having issues.'' `` He invited me to the world of cigars. Such a fascinating world. Of course, my issues were resolved and I moved back. But that world was forever imprinted on me. Then one day, he calls me and promises me a cigar beyond compare. All day I can only think of it. At night, I lay sleepless, and when I finally fall asleep. My dreams are of it.'' `` And of course. The promised day arrives, and he presents me this cigar. The appearance was nothing special. I promise you that. But the box itself was beautiful, just like the one you are holding. And when you light up the cigar.. Beyond imagining..'' `` And then of course. I could n't find any of them. Not for lack of trying or money..'' He then looked down at the homeless man, holding the box he so desired and sighed. `` I'm guessing you would not give that up for any of money?'' Resolutely, I shake my head. I would not give this up. No matter what he promised, I would deny it. The man bitterly smiled. `` I thought so'' Looking down at me, he slowly said. `` Say.. That cigar should not be smoked on the streets like something common.'' Warily I look at him as he continues `` What do you say to coming around to my place, and sitting in a armchair you can smoke it in peace? I would simply be happy to smell its fragrance'' I grimaced. My distrust of this situation was great. And yet.. What he said was true. I could n't just simply smoke a special treat like this here. And yet, would I really find a place better for it? Seeing my hesitation, the man then smiled. `` As one fellow cigar connoisseur to another. I'll lend you $ 50,000 to help you get back on your feet. Later on, you may find another of those special cigars. And perhaps you could think of me.'' I smiled. This, I could get on board. Stumbling, I stand on my feet, and walk with him.

[ OT ] /r/WritingPrompts has terrible prompts .

I always felt like this subreddit was more a place to just jam on ideas. Sure a lot of the prompts can rely on the big plot twists, but it can also be a fun get away from more serious efforts while still working on the craft. I would say that your suggestion is similar to playing scales, while this subreddit is more about jamming along to your favorite zeppelin record. It might not hone your chops as quickly, but you will have much more fun and may stick with it for more hours, getting you much further in the long run.

[ WP ] Dream torture . The CIA has the technology to hack into a person of interest 's dreams and torture them for information . The benefit ; the victim has no idea it happened when they wake up .

`` We're in.'' The operative remarked from the dreamscape of the subject. Dream-dive team Garnet was in play; Hand-selected by the Secretary of Defense, all of them top-of-the-line graduates from various military academies. Hardened killers capable of doing the hard things for their country, willing to jump deep into the unknown recesses of dangerous minds if it meant lives would be saved. `` God damn it, this guy is so fucking lonely in his waking life. I mean,..'' Garnet 7 spoke with derision that quickly evolved into pity, as she glanced around to the dozens and dozens of tulpa that rose out of the mists to greet the team. They were all of the target; an overweight former conspiracy theorist who lived in the boonies of Texas. Really small fry, figuratively, if one were to speak from a national defense point of view. Still, any operation was a test for this new field. Garnet 2 stared down at one of the tulpa with consternation quickly boiling to the surface of his weathered face. The tulpa hugged him, tears billowing out of the manifestation's eyes. `` C-... Really.'' The operative sighed, giving the dream-man a pat on the back. `` I - Yeah, I mean, we could probably just ask for what we want and.. `` Garnet 5 spoke up rubbing his arm uncomfortably. `` I mean, he's dreaming about physical contact, as if it's so alien and rare to him... just, jesus fuck. A hug, even from a dangerous-looking stranger. How dangerous is this guy?'' He asked, taking an offered candy bar and soda from one of the tulpas. ``.. He.. he...'' Garnet 1 muttered, looking through his dossier. ``.... He's not even the target. The target lived in Houston, this guy lives a ways away.'' Garnet 7 chimed in quickly. `` So we can leave? Thank GOD.'' She vanished. Garnet 5, 6, and 4 vanished not long afterwards. `` Please do n't go. I have no friends. All I do is spend all day on Reddit. Please do n't go.'' The clearest tulpa reached out to Garnet 1, who merely just stared with an saddened frown as he vanished to nothingness. /u/lordmalifico rolled onto his side, stirred awake by the dream he now barely remembered. Tears streamed out of his eyes onto his pillow, which he gripped tightly with a hug.

[ WP ] The world is ending . People are taking the chance to do everything they ever wanted . You have always wanted to kill .

Thirty-six days ago, the end came; it came as news, as a threat at first, and then turned into a promise – the promise that we had thirty-six more days. There are now thirty-six hours remaining. Whether they are hours of regret or of exhilaration is up to us. The religious were praying on rooftops, intoning elaborate, elongated howls, interspersed with ululating mantras. Every now and again, people fell to the floor and squirmed whilst filling the air with the strangest of sounds. The world had not devolved into mayhem all at once. When news of the approaching end broke, that there was probably very little that could be done and that we had best repent our sins, a few of us had clung to hope – a hope more senseless with every passing day. Now, there are thirty-six hours left and hope has turned into despair. The threat that assails us at an ever-greater speed will knock on our door soon; right now, it is in our street, approaching our driveway, going past the garden gate. So many of us did not wait. Nobody bothered to remove the dead after a while. There was widespread looting, but looting is an exercise in futility for the dying. Most of us had turned religious in some shape or form. I had never understood religion. The idea of a personal god. The idea of any god, of *any* being of a higher power in whatever shape or form. It seemed as alien to me as some of my arguments must have to them. I could not accept their faith, and they could not accept the idea that all of this might have been the unintended consequence of a series of unrelated events, born of complete chaos and perpetuating the same. Life was like a headless chicken, and now, not too long ago, it had been confirmed that life was about to end. For you and for me and for all of us, save perhaps some micro-organisms – but who cared about those? Was *that* life sacred to them as well? My father had left my mother, and vice versa. It had taken them ten hours and ten days respectively. All over the country, old lovers were united. For a brief moment, a sense of ecstasy took hold of people once they considered the suspension of their responsibilities. Life had become a gigantic free-for-all. In some places, this meant that whatever social coercion had kept in check people's more violent side now went unopposed. Law enforcement posts were amongst the quickest to be abandoned. The murder rate rose, but nobody counted anymore. Every now and again and more regularly with every day, we could hear guns being discharged. We still felt safe. Most of the killings targeted specific individuals rather than crowds, though there were exceptions. It was thirty-six hours now, and my thoughts raced in cyclical patterns; with every hour, one thought sprung up more and more frequently: *I will leave this life without knowing what it means to kill*. It was a new thought; it had not occurred to me before all of this. Perhaps it was born of necessity. A way to cope. Yet the thought remained. All around me was buzzing. It was like the air had become a little warmer. These hours were the closest we would ever come as a species to complete individual liberty. Whatever limits would be set, would be those we set ourselves. The state was nowhere to be seen anymore. There was no army, no police; there were men and women, some of them looting and killing, most of them praying, and others just as paralysed by the perplexity of it all as me. The rules had changed. There was not a soul out there that would not be dead, not a single larger mammal, bird, reptile or fish on this earth that would not be pulverised – at a time that we could now predict so accurately that I could set my watch to it. And I did. I set my phone's alarm clock to it. At one second past, in the new life, the *marcia funebre* of Beethoven's *Eroica* would start playing. It would herald a party to which we all would be eternally uninvited. Until then, I had my mission. Rather than taking a life, I would be wielding mercy's scepter. *Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds. * There was no mercy in letting someone watch the planet, the only place that you have ever called home, fade into cosmic obscurity. All time had been reduced to thirty-five and a half-hours or two thousand one hundred and thirty minutes. A gun could easily be obtained. Many places I knew had been looted recently and were fair game. The suicide houses had been marked, too. Up until a couple of hours ago, telecommunications still worked. Messages had been sent everywhere. I had ignored them because I was not sure what I could do. I knew there were guns. Finding them would be easy. At thirty-four hours, I realised that to kill another human being is something you do n't just wash away. At thirty-three and a half hours, I learnt that there is nothing quite like your first kill. They never saw me coming. I killed for mercy, and I killed for love; I killed whilst looking away from my victim; I killed whilst staring it in the face. A mother sobbing in the kitchen, gorging herself on whatever comfort food had remained available, as her children lay motionless in front of her, with the tears on their faces still wet, but no longer scared or exhausted. I had seen a three-year-old girl that had cried with unimaginable despair and incomprehension at the ever-brightening sky. And not at least my own mother, shaking with panic now and unwilling to accept her fate – at eight hours. That was the hardest one. Violence and chaos reigned the streets; unspeakable things happened in those hours that resembled human history in a pressure cooker. The brightness, the sheer *light* of it all became unbearable at four hours to go. I was covered and soaked in blood. Trying to go on, I felt the earth around me change as if in recoil of the inevitable hour of the wolf; our cosmic *coup de grâce*. A brightness enveloped the sky, and with it a sound so loud that it seemed to come from everywhere at once. Then all went still, and from my own pocket, I could hear Beethoven. The gun slipped from my hand and landed on the concrete in front of me; it spoke one last time and claimed its final victim.

[ WP ] Watching the house burn , you hear someone murmur `` They had it coming ''

`` They had it coming,'' murmured the man behind me. I turned to find a young, bearded man watching the fire, gently shaking his head. `` They were monsters, all of them, the women included.'' He fell silent, as the flames leapt high and cast his features in shadow, eyes hidden by the light reflected from his spectacles. `` How so?'' I asked, not certain I wanted an answer. `` How so? How so, you ask me?'' He pulled up his sleeve to reveal the numbers tattooed on his forearm. `` You see these?'' I nodded, unable to speak. `` Those *shvants*, those *butchers*, they killed my family. Every one of them. My wife, my beautiful Frydryka, raped and killed, beaten by the guards, burned in the ovens, all before the sun set that first day in hell. Our baby, my son, my son...,'' he paused for a second to fight back tears, `` my beautiful son, killed beside her. My parents, my sister, my aunts, my uncle... all gone.'' `` All gone,'' he said again, softly. `` Those? They were the ones, those at Treblinka, who took my family from me, used them, killed them, disposed of them like so much garbage. Like garbage in the street!'' he said tightly, shaking in controlled fury. `` They deserved it. I only regret that my hand was not the one that lit the match.'' he paused again to look at the house, flames dancing like the souls of the dead, tortured and forever bound to the fires that took them. `` I do not believe in murder, not even in the Christian charge of'An eye for an eye', but tonight... tonight I will go home and light a match - and then to light a candle - in thanks that these *monsters* got what they gave to so many. And that they are damned to the fire for all time.'' He fell silent again, and said no more, while the fire burned and none came to extinguish the blaze.

[ WP ] People think the number floating above their head affects their destiny . And it does , but only from the placebo effect .

People take these numbers way too seriously, they don ’ t even mean anything. So many talented people are n't even taken seriously because they have low numbers. You would struggle to find a leader of a first world country with less than 90. It ’ s even been proven that people with higher numbers are in no way, physically or mentally, better than anybody else. Still people follow blindly; there have been religions based around people that were in the hundreds, there is no way that they were real. A higher number does n't necessarily mean you have an easy life; my 70 was seen as very respectable, that was until I married a 22. My family haven ’ t even talked to me since the marriage. People looked down on us even more when we had a child a year ago. Jacob has n't even interacted with anybody other than us; most don ’ t want anything to do with us, and the rest are too afraid to be seen with us. The numbers don ’ t appear until the first birthday. That first year is the freest that anybody will ever be, no judgement. It ’ s only a shame that the freedom is wasted on people that won ’ t remember it. It had been a nervous few weeks, waiting for his number to appear. We pay less attention to the numbers than most; we still hoped for a high number, there is no other way of making it in this messed up world. What would we do if he was as low as his mother? We could n't bring ourselves to think of him being even lower. We had tried to prepare ourselves for the worst, even that could n't prepare us for this. Jacob has just turned 1, his number should be there, but it is n't. “ Check his birth certificate! ” I ordered my wife “ Do you really think we would get this wrong? ” She replied bluntly Nonetheless, she still went to the cupboard where we kept the certificate, she took it out and confirmed that it was a year since his birth. I had heard about people without a number. I had never met anybody without a number, that ’ s because they are supposedly taken away. There has been many stories from parents that have had their child snatched away by the authorities, never to be seen again. Inspectors are scheduled to visit children the day after they turn 1 to make records of all of the numbers, this is also when the people without a number are taken. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, both deep in thought. “ We ’ ll have to run. ” Suggested my wife, breaking the silence. “ How? We won ’ t be able to keep him hidden. ” I responded. “ Besides, what kind of life would that be for him? ” “ What are we supposed to do then? ” She asked. “ Maybe it is n't going to be a problem. ” I offered, not really believing my own words. “ Don ’ t be so naïve! ” she snapped, failing to hold back her tears. Another silence followed. “ There ’ s only one way to stop him from suffering because of this. ” I said. “ How could you even suggest that? ” She shouted, confirming that we were thinking the same thing. “ Do you think it was easy for me to say that? ” I questioned. “ Why would you say it then? ” She asked, dejectedly. “ I don ’ t like the idea. ” I said. “ It ’ s the only fair thing to do though. ” “ Okay. ” She sobbed. “ But you have to do it ”

[ WP ] The inner workings of a serial killer portrayed in the style of the movie Inside Out .

Azriel stood in the shadow waiting for a specific future to arrive. Anger moved Azriel's eyebrow and attempted to take over the emotions before Love and Patience could get to the controls. It only appeared as a twitch if anyone had been there to noticed. Azriel was alone for the moment. `` Anger, we've discussed this before. You can not participate in this event because the act should not come from you.'' Love stated, as It rested Its hand on his shoulder. `` Besides, you tend to be careless and then it gets messy. Remember?'' Anger brushed back his hair, accepted the truth, stepped away to heavily sit down on the steps still steaming. Love whispered to Sympathy, `` He'll be OK because he knows he has a time and place.'' Love sat back in the plushy chair taking it all in, feeling like electricity - the charged air pulsed on Its skin. Love pushed a button in her arm chair causing Azriel to feel warmth and to smile a bit to recover. Love could always see the pain and sadness in the chosen's eyes. Foreign to Love, the kind words rarely helped any of them long term. But that supported and proved the truth of the final solution. All would be gone and good when they involuntarily relaxed as Azriel held the chosen. Excitement, recognizing the moment, turned to watch Patience. He seems to glow when the hands on the clock, his planned moment, and external circumstances aligned as expected. He smirked a little smile, looked at Sympathy, and nodded. `` Yes! Let's do this!'' cheered Excitement, bouncing around the room making hair all over her body to shake and stream. Everyone could feel her energy. Excitement, like any hairy monster, could not be contained. `` I love when it's my turn,'' Sympathy said quietly stepping up to the controls to morally support Confidence and Patience. Excitement grabbed Love's androgynous hand only because she did n't know what else to do at that moment. She turned her head towards the shelf. Love caught her intent and also looked to make sure Fear was still in Its jar strapped to the shelf. Fear, small and powerless, had both hands on the jar walls, bristled Its back scales and scowled in return. It understood why there is no room for Its behavior and negativity. It did n't like it any less. It felt so satisfied when It could successfully whisper negativity into the ear-holes of the colleagues. Especially when It caused them to back off from their desires. As badly as It wanted to, this was no time for negativity. Confidence helped with the controls knowing he is the best with movements, smooth & cat-like. Patience kept us on beat. Their team work compared second to none. The imagination screen flickered on. They all saw the chosen leaving the bar with a bit of a wobble. For some chosen, Confidence enjoys following gracefully stalking the chosen, even though it's usually easy. Why would n't it be. The chosen rarely think that anyone thinks about them for any reason, let alone choosing them. This time, Patience got to crouch in the dark. `` The locks! The locks!'' Excitement yelled first hearing them before anyone else, jumping up to the controls. Fortunately, Confidence pressed the mute button earlier. When the chosen unlocked the door, Confidence slowed Azriel's breathing to be quiet as the darkness. Patience made sure to prep the lights to cast shadows just right to create her hiding spot. Confidence tensed the leg muscles and Patience held her hand on the pounce lever. All eyes forward. The chosen stepped inside, shut the door, and locked it. The chosen emptied pockets, turned on lights and walked to the kitchen. Before the chosen got there Patience slammed the lever forward. Azriel pounced on the chosen, moving quickly into a choke hold, and Confidence jammed all the flex buttons. In about 30 seconds, the chosen lost consciousness. Love smiled. Excitement went ape-shit. Patience observed and kept on point. Confidence pumped a fist. Fear paced and looked around. Anger still steamed in the background. Sympathy ached to continue with the chosen. The chosen woke with Azriel looking into the eyes with all the expected sadness and confusion. Love and Sympathy spoke, `` Do n't worry, chosen. I know you suffer. We feel it, too.'' Confidence placed Azriel's hand on the chosen's chest. `` We love you by facilitating you onward to another realm. You will now be released.'' The chosen's look of confusion morphed to realized truth - too late to react or oppose. Patience controlled the blade across the artery of the chosen, and again. Confidence moved Azriel's hand to caress the chosen's head and face, life draining from the container. Sympathy said, `` You are chosen to die with us here; not alone. Though, we can not continue the entire path with you.'' Love soared as It observed and felt the final breath melt the chosen's body into peaceful bliss. Love smiled still, and pressed the smile button. Sympathy sighed in relief, and hugged Love. Confidence high-fived Patience. Anger gave a thumbs up to Fear who gave a look of indifference. `` It is done,'' they all said. As Azriel left the chosen's room, Sympathy asked, `` What more worldly good can we do than to release the chosen from their suffering?'' As the door clicked shut, Excitement ran around the room, arms out like a plane, `` Again! Again! Again!''

[ EU ] A witch fell in love with a muggle ... right before World War II . He 's sent to fight in one of the worst battles of the entire conflict and she 's desperately trying to keep him alive while remaining inconspicuous .

I was born in 1922. My father had fought in the first Great War, so I guess it only makes sense that I would fight in the Second. In 1940 the Nazi war machine stretched across Europe, from Poland to France. Musolini was in Africa, and everyone thought Franco in Spain would join them. The Soviets and Americans had n't entered the war yet, and Hitler had his sights squarely on Great Britain. It was just us, a tiny island all alone standing against the Fascist might. But I'm getting ahead of myself. It started in 1938. The war had n't started yet. There were worries about Hitler, and everyone was talking about what was coming. Chamberlain's peace was about to end, you could almost feel it. And I was sixteen years old and looking for work. I was in the train station, my head full of thoughts of work and war, when I saw her. The most beautiful girl I'd ever met. She was pushing a trolley of bags with a great big trunk, and an owl. Right after the girl herself, the owl caught my attention. Something a bit off about a girl with a pet owl. Not sure I would have worked up the courage to say anything, but I guess that owl had my back. Just as I was trying to think of what to say to the gorgeous lady, suddenly the bird woke up and starting screeching his head off. She started shushing him, and I took the opportunity to walk over. `` What's his problem?'' `` Oh, he just hates to travel. He knows we're about to get on the train and he does n't want to.'' She sushed the owl again, and turned to me. `` I'm Eleanor, and this is Ptolemy. Sorry about the noise.'' I smiled, `` There's no trouble at all, Eleanor, Ptolemy.'' Well, there was no trouble for me, anyway. If not for Ptolemy's little outburst I would n't have had an opening. `` My name's Philip. Where are you two headed off to?'' `` Oh we're just taking the train back to school. It leaves the station at 10:50.'' She pointed her thumb back in the direction she'd been heading. I did n't see anything there but a blank wall between platforms 9 and 10. Matter of fact, I'd just seen the departure board and there was no 10:50 train. Of course, I did n't think about either of those things until later. At that moment I was totally distracted by the lovely smile right in front of me. I asked her where she went to school, somewhere in the north. How long had she been there, six years and this was her last. Did she like it there, very much. Was she worried about what was happening in Germany, she thought something terrible was coming. Eventually the clock on the wall showed 10:30, `` Oh, I'm sorry, Phillip! I need to get on my train. I really have enjoyed talking to you.'' `` Perhaps we could talk again?'' I was n't going to give up that easy. `` Maybe I could call you on the telephone when you get to school? Or write you?'' She sort of smiled, like she knew something I did n't, `` I wo n't be able to use a telephone at school. If you give me your address I could send you a letter when I get there.'' I thought it was a little strange that she would n't have a telephone at school. I figured she meant she would n't be allowed to use it, I've heard some boarding schools are very strict. After all, they had to have a telephone. So I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil from the desk and wrote down my address. I offered to see her to her train, but she insisted that I carry on with what I had been doing. She promised to write me as soon as she was back in school. So I waved goodbye and started heading out. When I turned to look back she was already gone. _____________________________________________________ Continued in part 2.

[ OT ] Why do you write in /r/WritingPrompts ?

It's helped me rekindle my passion for writing. I used to write a lot of ( I'd say halfway decent ) fanfic and SI fics when I was in my teens, but stopped because life, work, depression, etc. etc... I was also convinced that I did n't have the attention span or the level of creativity needed to create something original or actually write a full novel. /r/WritingPrompts proved that wrong. I've created more unique and wonderful worlds in the last several months than in all the years before them combined. I asked for flair because I enjoyed putting a little twist of fantasy to some of my responses, and because I plan to stick around and keep my creative juices flowing. There are three major story ideas that I've written down notes for in my worldbuilding, all thanks to this subreddit. One of them should actually see publishing as a novel. Once I get some other writing out of the way, I will continue work on my first, real, tangible novel that I can publish. I've got this childlike excitement about it, I really ca n't wait.: )

[ WP ] You purchase an antique typewriter , but swiftly discover that it is possessed .

What better to slay the writers block holding me so solidly in one spot than an antique typewriter? Found at a yard sale accompanied by two signs - the first reading,'cheap to good home,' and the second half covering the first,'FREE to ANY home, just want gone.' It was heavier than anticipated as I carried it gleefully to the backseat of my used and abused Fiat. The man who owned the yard in which the sale was being held watched me disapprovingly from his roost upon a three legged stool by his front door, his arms folded firmly across his chest. He offered me not a word of encouragement or otherwise, no thank you or good luck, or even an enjoy as I plunked the old thing down in my equally ancient vehicle. He did however sigh with what seemed to be unmasked relief as I rolled down the window ( manually ) and accelerated from his curb. Or perhaps that was my vehicle sputtering as I pushed down the gas - who knows, really. When I reached home my head was filled with visions of sharp-toothed beings prowling in the night, of sad harps playing whimsically though they lack the brush of fingers on their strings, sunshine cutting through dark and angry clouds to light up a bloodied field strewn with corpses... There were musings upon musings dancing through my consciousness, and I thought excitedly to myself,'Yes, finally! The mere existence of this typewriter has inspired my artistic mind!'' I cleared my desk swiftly when I arrived home and once I had lugged in the typewriter and set it in its place of pride in my writing studio, I set to checking its condition. There was nothing wrong with it visibly, in fact it was in pristine condition aside from some weathering of the keys - purely aesthetic. I wiped the remainder of the dust from its frame and prepared to set to work. I pulled paper from the second drawer and placed it behind the platen, set my margins, and reset the ribbon. Everything functioned as it should. That is, everything functioned as it should until I started to type. ``... The clicking of the typewriter soothed her, the keys a much more organic sound than the snapping of keyboard tiles. She found herself smitten with the machine, wishing to return to days far gone where simplicity was abundant and niceties few and far between... and yet, she grows confused now, realizing that the words she tries to type are n't coming out at all, in fact the words on this paper born of the clickety-clacking of this tired old machine, are directly from her mind, as if a second party were reading it and laying her thoughts bare for the world to read...'' I stopped and pushed back from my desk. What I had attempted to write of my beloved and well developed character William Paguery was nowhere to be seen on the page, though words most definitely imprinted upon it. My heart thudded audibly beneath my breast. I had been thinking of how wonderful this typewriter was, all dusty and smelling of long-long-ago... and I had been contemplating the differences between life as we know it and life fifty, sixty, seventy odd years ago, but what I had not done was type those things out. My fingers had been playing out the intro to a scene where William discovers his beloved Annelise sprawled across their bed with a macabre flower of blood blooming across her breast. Then, more frightening still, a key clicked of its own accord. I had pushed myself far enough back that had I reached out fully, with fingers completely extended, I would not have been able to reach the typewriter and yet... A key clicked. I did not see the paper shift or a letter appear, but it had clicked, of that I was sure. Was it coincidence? Was this writers block exhaustion surfacing, and this more tangible proof that I was pushing myself too hard? Yes, that must be it... I rose with a great sigh and turned decidedly for the door to go through the motions of preparing for bed so that I could retire early. My foot had just passed the door frame and into the hallway when I heard another, far more fierce and solid, click of a key. There was no denying it - it was not in my head. I turned slowly, my heart hammering uncontrollably, to see the keys pumping up and down of their own accord. There were lines appearing on the page, written swiftly by ghostly hands. It was no time for contemplation. I stepped toward the machine with purpose to read what was being written, expecting a jumble of consonants and vowels due to an unforeseeable and inexplicable malfunction of the machine, but no. There were words. ``... What can be made of this plain and lonely girl before me? Determined to free her mind from the boring normal-ness that plagues her in her waking and sleeping hours, she leaves me to try to find peace in the land of sleep, hoping to wake anew, refreshed, with original and authentic ideas. What she does n't know is that I will paint a prettier picture, write a prettier story, sing a more beautiful song than she, this sad excuse for a human, and I do n't have a tangible body with which to do so. How pathetic that I am capable of more than this waste of air! Oh and now she turns! I hear her heart yammering unevenly beneath her fleshy breast though I do not have ears. Her footfalls are heavy as she steps toward me, sure she'll see that this is some sort of mistake but no, you stupid, foolish human. This is no mistake. I have been around for decades and seen more with my lack of eyes than you will see in your sad, pathetic lifetime, and I will never lie to you, little girl. I will tell you just how useless you are, how little you will accomplish. I will squish you beneath my non-existent foot, play you like a violin with phantom digits, I will tell you that you will never amount to anything. For that is true, Sophia Quinn. You are nothing, as your mother and father before you were nothing...'' The tears loosed from my eyes were hot as they carved paths down my generous cheeks. There was nothing else to be done but remove this beautiful piece from my presence. It was lighter than before due to the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Belittled by a writing instrument? There was no time to stop and consider that this inanimate object was clearly acting animate. My footfalls were heavy alright as I strode with purpose to the window and threw the typewriter, still clicking madly, out the window. The clicking continued and I sat at the window in my fathers old chair, listening, paying half attention to the sound until it ceased completely several minutes later. Only then did I allow myself to breath normally until my heart rate returned to a level of normal. I slept more soundly that night than I had slept in many years. The next morning was fairly routine, a hot shower and oatmeal in front of the television, watching the news. It would be a good day, a positive day, a day to break the monotony of my life. Maybe I'd go to a coffee shop thus unexplored, or sit at a park in downtown, stop at the library or try to make a new friend. Something unlike me to shake things up a little. I would not pass the threshold of my writing studio to work this day, or maybe even tomorrow. The events of the previous evening had shaken me up and flipped me around so completely I was unwilling to dwell on them. What they had shown me, was that I had to make a change. Before heading out to my car to start the grand adventure of `` Today'' I turned the knob and swung open the door to my writing studio to assure myself that everything really was back to normal. But when the door opened with a soft creak my heart flew from my chest. The sight before me left me breathless and there I collapsed for a great while. My shock slowly dissipated and I was finally able to pull myself forward out of the fetal position I had fallen into hours prior. It took me all through the night and half of the following day to organize and read through all of the papers that had been strewn about the room. All the while the typewriter was there, perched triumphantly on my desk in the place I had given it two days prior, typing page upon page about the life of Sophia Quinn.

[ CC ] Would like help and feedback on my previous writing prompt . All criticism is welcome .

First off, I enjoyed the story. It was an interesting world that drew me in from the start. I do n't know which way you're going to go -Vampires? Plague that only AB blood has the cure for? Bio engineered soldiers in a war that need specific blood? Hungry aliens? - but I wish you the best of luck in getting this written. I look forward to reading the rest. With that said, you asked for people to be as blunt as possible. On my second read I just added noted on bold throughout. -- “ Here take my child! Please, take him! ” a red haired middle aged woman pleaded, holding her toddler up in the air. Hundreds **of what? ** filled the street and gathered outside the abandoned warehouse. The city was in shambles and declared a certified war-zone. Walls were crumbling, streets were cracked and raised. Huge holes filled **holes do not fill. Holes have to be filled in. Huge craters lines the streets, the aftermath of many sustained artillery barrages** the streets in the center of the city from artillery fire. Although this was a city facing it's **its** final moment in history, it was my home, and anyone trying to take it from me would have to rip it from my corpse. **The** Majority of the people here were dressed in rags and filth, while some seemed less acquainted **acquainted means `` familiar with'' and does n't make sense here**. Everyone around here knew me by, “ Filco ”, but to outsiders I was just another casualty waiting to happen. So here I am, watching... and waiting for it all to go down. **theres some tense confusion. Here I am, present tense, but everything else is past tense. There I was. ** **We know that there are hundreds of people gathered outside a warehouse, but with no more jnformation I was left assuming that this was a gathering. The woman at the start is a clue that there is another group of people here who are n't survivors, people who are taking others, but without this being stated the man who's about to point a rifle is conjures out of thin air. Perhaps a few lines detailing that these hundred of people are facing a gun line from Neo Tokyo? ** A man with a ski mask pointed his rifle at the woman proposing her child, “ We do n't take children, lady. Even if we did, it would n't be from scum like you. ” **So we know they're looking for people who are old and above average in social standing. The line about scum feels like it's meant to say `` I'm a bad guy,'' with little reason. And, knowing the end, surely children would be better as they would live longer? If it's just blood they need then why does'scum' enter into it? ** One of the men next to him fired a couple warning shots into the air to stop the chanting and rioting. **There's rioting? Since when? As far as the reader was aware this was a'gathering.' Here and there were chants, growing in volume as more and more people lent their voices. ** We all flinched at the roar of the barrel and listened to the shot echo through our empty streets. **Empty or full of hundreds of people + enough soldiers to intimidate them? ** “ Boss, we're running behind. We were supposed to leave five minutes ago, ” the man with the ski mask said, directing his attention to a well dressed man. This man looked like a ringleader of some sort, wearing nothing but gold rings on his fingers to match his pinstripe suit and a cigar at the corner of his mouth. **The'nothing but' can be cut out. It implies that the only thing he's wearing are the gold rings. They happen to match his suit which he has with him, but may not be wearing. ** The well dressed man raised his hand and everyone went silent. **He has raised his hand. This is a strong image, a leader addressing people. Striking. ** “ People of New York, we mean you no harm, ” he shouted. “ My name is Marlow, some of you may know me from my ad's and campaigning, ” **cut the rest of this paragraph. We've established it's Marlow talking. He's also been described as raising his hand, yet now he's adjusting his cuff links. The cuff links serve no real purpose - they state he is rich, something that has been established by the rings, the suit and the cigar, not to mention the adverts he can run. ** Marlow said, adjusting his diamond cuff-links. I could n't help but notice that all of the men here were heavily armored and wielding fully automatic rifles. One bullet from these guns would pierce through four to five of these sickly, famished people and I did n't want to find myself getting hit with a stray if shit went down. Trying not to move too quickly or draw attention to myself, I inched closer to the platform and the stairs on my right. **There's a platform? I thought this was an abandoned warehouse - now someone has built a stage in a warzone? Perhaps have Marlow standing atop a ruined truck? ** “ We are here for the AB negative. If you cooperate, we will compensate you for your time, ” Marlow smirked, twiddling the side of his handlebar mustache. **Another marker to show he's rich. Twiddling a moustache is like wearing a shirt that says `` I am evil.'' Smirks are smug things, also usually reserved for villains. Consider toning back how many little details you drip feed about this rich, evil guy. ** Why did they want people with AB negative blood? Did anyone actually know if they were AB negative? Most areas in this region have gone without current medical technology or electricity for years. **Tense again. Has / had. ** ( This comment is too long. Splitting it in half! )

[ WP ] You have invented time travel and decide to live in ancient Egypt to see what the Egyptians were actually like , you slowly begin to realize that the other people living here are also time travelers who had the same idea as you and are just trying to act the part .

I stepped out of my time machine into the sandy market of ancient Egypt with a look of awe on my face. All my years of hard work had finally paid off, because I had made time travel real. Looking around, I noticed a man selling apples, and decided to ask him for the date. Now, I'd been trying to learn ancient Egyptian without much success, so I was n't too confident in my speaking ability, but I decided to try my luck anyways. So when said to the man, `` What's the date?'' And he gave me a funny look, I was n't very surprised. I was surprised, however, when he asked `` What did you just say?'' In perfect English. I was shocked and more than little bit confused. Suddenly a look of realization crossed the guys face `` Oh, the date! Sorry mate, my Egyptian's a little rusty, you know. Hold on a sec, will ya?'' And then the guy pulled out a phone which, you know, was kind of surprising considering I was in ANCIENT EGYPT. `` Ok, it's 2030 BC. You new here?'' `` Uh, yeah...'' I stammered out. `` Are you, um, you know...'' `` Yeah, I'm a time traveler too. Name's Henry.'' What followed was a rather awkward silence, with me staring dumbfounded at Henry, unable to say anything. `` So, where are all the Egyptians?'' I asked `` Yeah, about that.'' Henry said, adopting a sympathetic grimace. `` They're all dead.'' `` Excuse me?'' `` Well, when we first came back here, we had forgotten about the whole'future diseases' thing and all the Egyptians died of a plague. Now this place is basically a tourist trap. I'd recommend going somewhere else.'' `` Wait, did n't killing all the Egyptians alter the future and destroy the space time curriculum?'' `` Not really. The Egyptians were n't really as important as they thought they were.'' `` Huh. This is pretty disappointing.'' `` Yeah, kinda is...''

[ WP ] Much like software is peer reviewed , before a magic spell can be published in a spellbook its effects must be well tested and documented . You are peer reviewing spells .

When you think of spells and magic books, what is it that pops into your mind? Do you see a wizened old man wearing a robe? Maybe a child, sporting a short wooden wand that glows with mysterious power? I did too, a long time ago. Back when magic, well... still had some magic to it. Now, magic is so commonplace that it really has no business being called `` magic'' any more. We know exactly how it works, how to use it, and more and more how to exploit it to our benefits. For better or worse, we managed to integrate it into our lives. It seems like these days you ca n't walk two steps without someone taking out a tome and checking Facebook or sending a message to their SO with a 3D model of - well you get the idea. Lets just say that pranks are one of the things that have definitely improved. Some days, I really miss back when fantasy was just that - a fantasy. But there are some good things to come out of the whole `` magic boom''. New jobs, for instance - jobs creating spells for all occasions, crafting magical objects for people around the world... and then there is me. My job is the first line of defense between the consumer of magic and it's producer. Y'see, it became apparent REALLY early on that an unregulated market was going to end badly, for everyone. GOD, the things people dream up. On a good day, all I have to do is tell some poor guy that his spell really is n't all that it is cracked up to be. But on a bad day... well, on a bad day I tend to spend the evening looking through the HELP WANTED ads. And I had a nasty feeling that today was NOT going to be one of the good ones. `` Hey! Hey, Steve! Get over here, got a new one for you to test!'' I groaned inwardly as the porky little man waddled up to my desk, grinning from ear to ear and holding a page of worn parchment. `` Frank, you KNOW there are other testers in here besides me.'' I looked around the room at about a half-dozen of my coworkers and their clients, all of whom had stopped working on their own projects to watch with barely-concealed grins. Frank just winked. `` Yeah, but I like the cut of your jib, Steve. You are n't afraid to speak your mind, to let me know what you REALLY think about my spells.'' Yeah. In other words, you are still pissed about last week when I shot down your `` x-ray vision'' spell that lets you see through clothing. Great. I sighed wearily. `` What have you got for me today, Frank?'' `` Nothing big!'' He assured me, but his grin was undiminished. `` Just a minor summoning!'' `` A summoning? Frank, if this thing has tentacles-'' `` Nono! Nothing like that! At least, I hope not! Here, let me show you!'' He placed the parchment on the floor, and then clapped his hands together and barked a syllable. There was a puff of smoke, and a suddenly a tiny emerald lizard came into view. It crawled around the border of the page, looking somehow pensive. `` See? Is n't it cute!?'' Frank grinned. `` Here, let me go again.'' At his command, the lizard vanished in a puff of smoke and was replaced with a live octopus that squirmed around on the page. `` Oops!'' He laughed. `` Guess this one DOES have tentacles! Not to worry though!'' `` Huh. That is... oddly tame for you, Frank. What does it do?'' `` Like I said, just a basic summoning! The spell creates one random mundane animal out of mana, which dissipates after it is either dismissed or a few minutes pass. Look, I even gave it a command feature!'' He stared at the octopus for a moment, and it lifted it's tentacles to spell the word'Frank.' Or at least I think it did, it was a bit like trying to read a bowl of noodles. `` O... k. Good foresight, Frank. Who is your target audience?'' `` I do n't know, anyone? Who WOULD N'T want an instant, well behaved pet without the messes!'' Frank beamed, looking very proud of himself. `` And... are you SURE that it is safe?'' I asked, already knowing his answer. `` Of course! Here, watch!'' He began to chant, repeatedly summoning creature after creature. Crab... mouse... dragonfly... Suddenly, I was thrown onto my back as a dark grey wall of flesh exploded into the room. I was pinned, struggling to breath underneath the briny, slimy mass that seemed to fill the entire room. All at once, the mass vanished. I rolled over, gasping for breath on my hands and knees in the rubble of my ruined desk. `` Uhhh, whoops! Guess I should remove the whales! I will get right on that, see you tomorrow Steven!'' God, I hate this job sometimes. *** *Comments and CC always appreciated! Read more of my work on /r/TimeSyncs! *

[ WP ] Tell a story through a shopping list .

* asparagus Asparagus, or should I say my first defeat. I was seven when i had my first recollection of eating an asparagus. I had stuffed it into my mouth without looking at it and halfway through i noticed I did n't' like it. I begged and pleaded to my mother that I was n't going to eat anymore. She caved into my pout. I won that battle, but asparagus won the war. * Snow peas My dirty secret to eating healthy. I like to think of snow peas as the cheat code of veggies. I was at a family function once, and i distinctly remember an overwhelming sensation of indifference. The snow peas turned my day memorable. lightly cooked with a little olive oil and seasoning... pure heaven. * pizza I remember the first time i realized pizza was an important part of my life. I was at a pizza shop eating a Hawaiian style pizza when a gorgeous girl walked in and I saw me. Her eyebrow arched when she saw me, and me being the pineapple pizza eating freak i was, I said `` whats up?'' She replied `` I guess you're one of the those folks.'' Being the clueless imbecile I am, I smiled. The kind of smile when your grin stretches all the way and that your so happy you forgot about how much your cheeks hurt from smiling. *Salsa Parents are pseudo-super heros. They seems to develop these high tolerances for inconveniences. I distinctly remember my parents overloading on spices and they would complain if something was n't spicy enough. I would taste and i would get into a frenzy, they would just shrug it off and keep going at it. I dunno, the other day I had poured some extra hot salsa on my taco bell order and felt it was mildly `` extra'' hot. I guess my parent powers are coming into their own.

[ WP ] Abortions is legal until the child is over 18

I was n't alive when the law passed. People were asking for abortion for years prior to this, but nobody could have predicted how harsh the law turned out to be. Parents could decide if their sons and daughters would be worthy of life until the age of 18. Of course there were lots of riots; even the most extremists were in shock. But everyone knows how this country runs, police dismissed most of these riots, people went on about their lives and clinics were being built for abortion. After 30 years it became quite acceptable to'abort' children and teenagers. Some parents were what we like to call `` trial parents'', preparing for parenting can be quite hard and having a *trial run* could be quite useful for some. I never really thought about it until one of my classmates back in 1st grade stopped attending to classes. The teacher assured us he moved schools, but deep down I knew I'd never see his sweet smile again. Back in the school nobody would tell us, children, what an abortion really was. We would focus on math, english and other funky subjects, that to be honest I was never really good at. At the age of 17 my girlfriend, Ashley, went missing. Back then we had been dating for about a year, she was 16 years old. I knew her parents and I quite liked her mom. Her father, however, was always really strict. He did n't like me hanging around with his precious little daughter, but eventually stopped caring about it, as I always tried to respect his wishes. I read a message from her one night saying we could n't see each other again for a while, since her father was really mad, since he had overheard a conversation between Ashley and her mom about sex. I tried to understand, really did. A week later I went over to their house to see if I could talk her father into some reasoning. When I got there, nothing. The car was not in the garage, the family's dog did n't bark. I was crushed, I was truly in love with this girl. She had the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, the way they would shine was breathtaking. Her silk-soft voice was what kept me at balance ever since we first met, 8 years prior. I fought it and could n't understand why she'd leave me so unexpectedly. I looked everywhere for her, every school in our entire state. Social Networks, Police Stations, I was restless, looking for the love of my life. When I turned 18 my parents told me about the abortion. It was a concept hidden from every kid until their 18th birthday. My mother tried to act as tender as possible while pouring out words I shall never forget: `` Parents are legally able to... hmm...'' her voice was cracking `` abort their children until the age of 18.'' She was also suffering from the loss of Ashley, it had been a year already, but the memory of her was so vivid in our minds. I was mad, but it was never my parent's fault. Apparently her father had lost it after discovering that her precious little princess was now *impure*. He took her by force to a clinic, without Ashley's mom even knowing. Maybe they went to live a new life elsewhere, adopt a child and try to raise her again. Truly I hope that monster died and suffers in hell for all eternity. The scar this event left me with was too much to handle with. I contemplated suicide for months, if not years. Until I saw a helping hand. An old friend of mine came to my house and offered me a reason to fight. He held my hand and told how he joined this group of people that was fighting against this law. They apparently burned down clinics, kidnapped doctors and politicians, amongst other things. Today it has been 5 years since my Ashley was taken away from me by some monster at a clinic. I never had a chance to kiss her goodbye. But I wo n't rest until I can be sure that no other child has his right to live revoked from them.

[ WP ] Write a dramatic story featuring no living beings .

It was a deceptively quiet night. Sentinel 7 drifted quietly through the dark clouds, out of sight of anything below. It was a sleek machine, the newest in a line of semi-autonomous drones. It could not think for itself, but it was capable of performing an extensive list of pre-programmed commands without human intervention. At the moment, the nuclear jet inside hummed as it glided over the silent landscape below. Inside the core memory of the device, a small counter incremented. The counter read two hundred and seventy-four days, thirteen hours, thirty-eight minutes, and eleven seconds -- the time since contact with the ground station was lost. Every fifteen minutes, Sentinel 7 would attempt to reconnect, and every fifteen minutes it would receive the same error message. The nuclear-powered drone silently glided through the air. Its black skin was battered and rusted, with bits of metal showing through the worn paint job. One of the elevrons shook uselessly in the wind, its control linkaged damaged beyond repair. It flew in a wide circuit, faithfully following the last order it had received endlessly. This time, however, something was different. A blip appeared on the internal radar system of the drone. The drone broke off from its circuit and flied toward the unidentified aircraft. It broadcasted a warning in for languages, warning the approaching aircraft to turn away. Simultaneously, it sent multiple friend-or-foe recognition requests. The approaching craft was silent. Sentinel 7 stepped through the automated orders it had received. Having received no response, it was authorized to use deadly force. It swooped through the air, turning right in order to get behind the approaching craft. Soon, the unidentified plane came into view. Though the drone could not see it, it was a Mk-83 nuclear bomber. Four of the twelve engines aboard the jet bomber were not turning. Another two spewed black smoke as the damaged engines failed to combust properly. It shuddered as it flew, the control surfaces damaged by weather and weapon fire. On board, automated radar systems detected the incoming drone. Computerized defense controllers aimed multiple turrets at the target and opened fire. The guns clicked as servos engaged the firing mechanism, only to find they were out of bullets. Ammunition warning lights lit up inside the bomber's cockpit. The drone, sensing the targeting radar, engaged in evasive maneuvers to dodge the imaginary bullets. It locked onto the bomber with its own radar and launched missiles. The empty weapon racks engaged, releasing non-existent missiles at the threat in front of it. The bomber engaged defensive mechanisms to try and escape the lock, but the instead of flares, there was only rust. It shuddered severely from old battle damage, as if reacting to the impact of the imagined missiles. Now approaching its target, the bomb bays ground open. A red warning light blinked in the cockpit as one of the bay doors refused to open. The guidance system ordered the ordnance to be dropped, so the bomb racks dutiful released weapons that were n't there. Sentinel 7 rocketed past the bomber as it turned away. The bomber was headed home now that its mission was complete. As soon as it was far enough, the drone would return to its patrol and await a message from the ground that will never come. The bomber would return home to refuel from one of the automated tankers, then circle around for further orders. Finding none, it will return in ten hours to begin the endless dance again. The single skeleton in the cockpit looked with unseeing eye sockets at Sentinel 7 as it rapidly flew into the distance.

[ WP ] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them . When you receive yours it says simply `` Welcome to Starbucks . Can I take your order ? ''

I was never really a coffee guy. I mean, do n't get me wrong, I like it, but it needs cream; and it maybe needs too much of that sugary shit to even be labeled coffee anymore. But I liked it enough. Plus, I'm lactose intolerant, so that stuff runs right through me -- just one liquid to another. Anyway, I got off work -- during the day, for once -- and I wanted something. I needed something to look forward to. Nothing big, just something to keep my mind preoccupied until I found the next thing that would distract my mind. At the time, I was going to school full-time and working at a dishwasher at a pizza place. I fucking hated it. Cool coworkers, though. Either way, I got off work around four-o'clock and wanted something to occupy myself with. And, right there, as soon as I stepped out of the employee exit, I noticed the new Starbucks had opened. And now, you've got to understand, I had social anxiety; I mean, not horrid crippling social anxiety, but the type where you get nervous before phone calls, hate public speaking and worry about going to people's house. Normal shit, I guess, I always just fought through it. I was the guy in my friend group that stepped up socially to compensate for other friends, and I found myself doing it outside of interactions with these friends, even. So I was often anxious or uncomfortable during social interactions, due to me trying to over compensate socially -- I constantly was making myself uncomfortable. I think I heard that was good for you, or some shit -- I mean, the making yourself uncomfortable bit. Comfort kills creativity, and I fancy myself a creative dude, so I found solace in my constant anxious state. Well, sometimes, but mostly, I just lied to myself. Okay, so I see Starbucks has opened, and I'm undecided. I thought, `` Do I go in? I do n't know what to order. I bet everyone knows what they want at Starbucks but me in there! Gon na trip over my words when I order, I know I will...'' Either way, I start walking toward. It's maybe 40 yards from the employee exit I just came out of. I walked off the curb and stepped in a puddle. I purposfully stepped in a puddle. I'm not sure why I did this, not exactly. I did it because I thought everything meant something. Actually, more like everyone held importance to me; for example, if I missed picking up a coin, I'd sometimes have to double back and pick it up because, if I did n't, I would've missed that part in my important life. Looking back, this shit was all madness. Writing it sounds dumb -- I wish I had better words or ways to describe it. Nonetheless, I get to the door of Starbucks and open it. I end up holding the door for some guy in cardboard looking coat -- it looked horrible. He looked all too happy, too, like somebody just asked if his wooden coat was Versace, or some shit. I enter the threshhold into Starbucks. And to my surprise and dismay, there's no one in line. But there's always a line in these places, right? Now, I had no time to brainstorm, and I did n't want to look like an idiot squinting at the menu with my mediocre eye sight, so I walked right up to the counter. In all my worries, I did n't realize that no one was even at the fucking counter. I almost muttered some Starbucks slander to myself -- but then -- a girl with frazzled hair popped up from underneath the counter and said to me -- real quick, I might add --'' Welcometo Starbucks. CanItakeyourorder?'' She musta been having a bad day. ( I mean, the way she said her spiel all fast and with a sigh -- you know the type. ) Well, I guess, she worked at Starbucks, so was anyday really that great? Either way, being the semi-nervous mess I was, I copped out and ordered a black coffee, which I hate. I even saw something that looked good on the menu before I freaked out and choked on my order; some carmelo frachino shit; I'm a sucker for `` bitch drinks'', Who is n't? If you do n't like good tasting drinks because you are a `` man'', get over yourself, your over compensating for `` somthing''. I mean, what asshole drinks black coffee? If you do n't drink black coffee in private, yet you drink it around people, get over yourself, you're over compensating. So, anyway, the chick at the counter went to get me my coffee. She calls my name: `` jay!''. Really? I was the only one who just ordered and was standing 2-feet from the counter. Could you not yell my name out and draw attention to social-anxiety-jay? Alright, so I step up to the counter and she complains about someone wearing Aqua di gio, a commom cologne by Armani that I wore. It smelt great and she was complaining about... what? At this point, she had already earned my birthday-boy-it's-my-day-I-had-to-work-today-irrational-hate. That is, until I grabbed the coffee and said she liked my facial hair. And all my hate dissolved. Just like that. Oh, what girls did to me back then. And she did something that I had never had a girl do to me -- she asked what I was doing, that tonight. Okay, now do n't get me wrong, I had social anxiety, but through constant practice, my one-on-one conversational skils were not bad. I had an iso game like Melo. So, I ended up asking what she was doing that night, after I had countered with some bs. Her name was Devin, by the way; I always found girls with guys names a little more attractive than the norm. Not sure why. I must be a raging homosexual, right? That's what my friend john would say, anyway. Well, after I asked what she was up to, she replied, `` hanging with you.'' Immediately, I thought she was joking at this point, laughed it off with some filler talk and shortly walked out. I mean, there were closing words, but nothing too Shakespearean. Oh and, she asked for my number, which girls never did -- I always had to be the probe in these situations. Eventually, she texted me; she messaged me a few times before I had a conversation longer than five texts with her, though. I let her `` stew'', or whatever. I played some hard-to-get tired trash. Now that I look back, it was probably a dumb move. Because, after a few times, she never texted back. And I never saved her number. She for sure wanted the D tho.

[ IP ] High and Dry

I ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. `` Yes, Lord.'' Tʜɪs ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴᴛᴏᴘ ɪs ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀs. `` That is quite true, Lord.'' Hᴇ ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ᴀ ʜᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴀᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪᴠᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴ ɪᴛ. Tʜᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ғɪsʜᴇs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ғᴏʀ sᴜsᴛᴇɴᴀɴᴄᴇ. Hɪs ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɢʀᴏᴡs ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ғᴏʀ ʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴄɪᴛʀɪᴄ ᴀᴄɪᴅ, ғᴏʀ ʜᴇ ʜᴀs ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴜɪᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴇɢᴇᴛᴀʙʟᴇs ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ sᴜsᴛᴀɪɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Tʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs ғᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪғ I ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴜᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀsʜᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ. `` Yes, Lord. And his family knows that Your Mercy keeps him and his family dry.'' Yᴏᴜ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜɪs. `` We thought it best, after the twelfth month passed.'' Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ. The adjutant vanished in a puff of acrid smoke. *Did you really have to do that? * Iᴛ sᴇᴛs ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴄᴇᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ sᴇᴛ. *Bah. Silly precedent, if you ask me. Want him back? * The tense air relaxed a fraction, and the adjutant reappeared, somewhat stained. Yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ. `` Y-es, Lord?'' Hᴇ ɪs ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʀᴏᴄᴋ, ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛʟʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ғʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴᴛᴏᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ғɪᴇʟᴅ. Hᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ sᴇɴᴅ ғᴏʀᴛʜ ᴀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴜɴʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ. Aɢᴀɪɴ sʜᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ sᴇɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ sʜᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴜɴʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ. Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴀɴ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴘʀᴏᴜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ʜᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ sᴇɴᴅ ғᴏʀᴛʜ ᴀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ʙᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴀɴᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴀɴ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇ. `` Thus have you said, Lord.'' Tʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴄʏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs ᴜɴғᴜʟғɪʟʟᴇᴅ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴᴛᴏᴘ. Wʜʏ? `` Plate tectonics, Lord. When we took the initial measurements when the prophecy was made, that was one hundred years and 30 cubits of mountain growth ago. With the revised figures, it would take a 60-cubit impact at the antipode to create a wave to wash away the rock, bringing us to the next phase of the prophecy.'' Aɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴ? The adjutant shimmied sideways. Sᴘᴇᴀᴋ, ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ. Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. `` You're holding back the wind, my Lord. Would n't it be easier to just let it go?'' Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ? `` He and his retreat inside the house, where a family of doves have already set a nest. The winds and storms blow the water over the rock, breaking the house from its foundation upon the rock. The waves deposit soil on the mountain from the plateau about 30 parasang to the south-east, an olive tree blooms with some assistance, and the dove returns with an olive branch. The house washes back up on this mountaintop, which is unrecognizable because of the soil, and the prophecy is fulfilled.'' Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɴᴏ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs, ᴀs ᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴍᴇɴᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ sʜᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀss ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, Mᴇɴᴢɪᴇʟ, sʜᴀʟʟ sɪɴɢ ᴀ sᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʟᴇᴅ'Lᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ.'

[ RF ] You wake up after passing out in a blizzard . You are next to a bonfire , and to your right you see a man , your missing father .

`` Dad?'' `` Son?'' He looked just like mom always said. Short brown hair and blue eyes with the build of a carpenter. He wore a flannel shirt and some torn up blue jeans. Not the kind you buy from the store but the kind where every rip tells the story of a day. Honestly I could hardly contain myself. I started in a slow stride but by the end I was in a full sprint with tears freezing to my cheeks. He opened his arms and embraced me. My tears soaked into his shirt. `` Oh my god there is so much I've always wanted to ask you Hank. How's your mother? And your older sister?'' `` They're both doing great dad,'' I choked out through the weeping. We hugged for a few more moments before I stepped back and wiped my eyes. `` Sarah and her husband just had their 4th kid. He wants a full basketball team in a few years,'' the two of us laughed, `` and mom ran into some trouble with the law. Single parent trying to support two kids but she... she's doing better now. Has a steady job and a steady paycheck. Put all that stuff behind her.'' `` I know... I know... I saw that... I wish i could've been there to help. So she's doing alright? Your mother?'' `` Yeah she's doing much better. Want me too go get them? They're just up in the house.'' I pointed a glove covered finger through the snow. `` I'd love too but I do n't know how long I have or how far I am allowed to wander,'' he gazed at the fire then back to me, `` Tell me about yourself.'' `` Well I graduated top of my high school class, valedictorian and everything. Right now I'm going to MIT and studying Mechanical Engineering.'' `` Wow. MIT. You are with out a doubt the smartest person in the family.'' `` Yeah... yeah haha. I feel like an outsider some times... I really wish you could've been there. I did n't have a male role model in my life. I had to figure all the man stuff out on my own like shaving and talking to girls. I'm better at some of it more than others. See all nice and smooth.'' I rubbed my freshly trimmed face and chuckled. `` Yeah but you're a smart kid. I know you'll figure it out.'' He looked at the bonfire and went quiet for a second, `` I think it's about time for me too go.'' He was staring at me now. `` I'm proud of you son. My entire life was worth it for you.'' He stepped away and began walking back towards the fire. I tried my best to hold back the tears. I did n't do a very good job. `` I'll keep bringing you flowers every year!'' I shouted at him. `` Make it twice a year!'' He shouted back. And with that he stepped into the fire. Gone once again.

[ WP ] I am creeped out by mirrors , write something that will give me nightmares

You stared into the mirror unblinking, thinking to yourself that the old man at the shop was just insane. You'd went in for an old lamp to make your living room tie together nicely, but what you left with was the kind of tale that little children whisper to themselves to make sleepovers more interesting. It should have put you in mind of Candyman or Bloody Mary. Something just seemed off about it though. For one, the old man must have believed some part of it since he sold no mirrors in his shop. As you were leaving one of the regulars had stopped you and said he tells that story to everyone and not to worry, he was harmless. You were n't leaving concerned about the old man, however, you were leaving concerned about the story. Mirrors had always creeped you out, but you had never known why. Perhaps this was the reason. He had said that they were hidden and only concerned if they were discovered. As long as everyone waved off the story as silly or a child's tale, they would simply lie in the reflection peacefully. He wondered if they did n't have something more sinister in mind though. That was when the customer behind you had shuffled you off and stopped the old man's story short. That was why you were standing here your bathroom, staring into the same mirror you had used every morning for nearly a decade. It could n't be true. But maybe it was? There was a glimmer just over your shoulder. They were so fast you did n't even have time to scream. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - If you enjoyed this story, please swing by r/JLSWriting for more of my stories!

[ WP ] For a moment I was magnificent and all the world wanted to know me , to be me .

Ezekiel laughed; the child staring down at him glared haughtily. The child, that blasted child, it was so naive. It thought itself the People's Hero, Champion of the Gods, Slayer of Monsters.....How wrong it was. How deceived it was.... A sneer worked it's way onto his lips; a similar expression burst forth from the child. It was feral and wild in its quest for justice; the hero, the child, was becoming something other then what it had been intended to be..... Ezekiel broke the terse silence with a quiet laugh. `` You're becoming a monster, you know.'' He spat upon the carpet and miraculously it stained the carpet red...'' Soon, you'll be no different than me, eh?'' His scream was almost musical as that holy blade, once his, was plunged into his battered leg. It was a sour reunion, to say the least, between two former partners.... `` I'm not like you!!'' The child hero screamed; `` I'm fighting for the people. I'm ending your tyrannical reign!'' The little hero's breath came out in shaky little bursts; it's hands clenched around the Holy Blades glided handle. Ezekiel only laughed again. His chest was filled with sickening fluid-how ironic that his own blood was going to kill him-and when he could breath again it came out sickeningly wet. `` You know, kid...'' Contempt turned into a near silent whisper as he struggled to his feet. `` I told myself that, too.'' `` Liar!!'' Those eyes, ocean blue and filled with passion, widened in rage. `` You're no hero. You're a monster!'' Ezekiel ’ s buckling legs would not hold his weight; the child hastened his descent onto the floor with a sharp yank of the sword. His growl turned into a sardonic laugh as his back hit the floor. `` No, I'm no hero now, but I used to be.'' He gasped sharply. He....He liked to believe he had been, once, before everything changed.. `` I do n't believe you.'' The holy blade was in his face before he knew it; all he could do was stare as the point almost jabbed his nose. His hand reached up to the boy, a single finger unfurled from his fist.and his voice wavered weakly... `` Please, I'm dying already, just let me speak.....'' It was important that he tried to show this young, naive, heroic child what it was getting into... *He deserves to know what happens next in the cycle. * The child stopped all movement; the blade strayed away from him. `` You're not-'' This again. They could n't keep doing this. Ezekiel did not have much time left. Death crept closer with every passing second; Death, that sweet relief, would steal the words out of his mouth if he let this child oppose him... `` -I killed my tyrant, a man much like myself, twenty years ago. Everyone loved me for it.'' A tired smile, filled with sorrow and hopelessness, fluttered onto his face as the child blanched. `` No, you're-'' `` -Ezekiel Medax, savior of the twelve kingdoms, play thing of the gods.'' Ezekiel snapped; the child really should have killed him for that, or kicked him at the very least, but mercy strayed his hand. There was something worthwhile in this, perhaps, or maybe it just wanted to see him flail in his last moments. `` For a moment I was magnificent and all the world wanted to know me, to be me...'' The memories of those days, full of life and new hope, filled him with sorrow. All the work he had done, the fighting and the bleeding, it all culminated in this moment. This was his legacy-destruction and despair- and he had lost himself in it. A violent cough racked his form. Blood welled up in his mouth and spilled down his shirt. The child, reluctantly, placed a hand on his shoulder and began to pull him up... Roughly, Ezekiel pushed his hand away, and he let the blood drip from his mouth as he smiled sadly. So much to say... So little time... `` Heheheheheh; you got me good, kid, you really did.'' Laughing was painful now. Ezekiel had to catch his breath before he did anything else; no matter how many breathes he took he still felt as if he was drowning in a sea of red. `` I've fallen really low, have n't I?'' Another cough rendered him speechless; the one after that carried him into Lady Deaths loving arms...... *The ending is very lackluster but I could not figure out how to properly end it. Critiques and such are welcomed if anyone has the time for it. *

[ WP ] A serial killer who murders door-to-door salesmen is visited by a serial killer who pretends to be a door-to-door salesman .

`` Come in, please.'' `` Well, thank you. I sure hope I am not intruding.'' `` Do n't worry, to the contrary, your presence is very much appreciated.'' He smiled. `` So, what exactly are you selling?'' `` Handy gloves. It's very handy.'' `` Oh, how handy is it?'' `` It's very handy.'' He was getting impatient. `` But how really handy can it get?'' `` It gets very very handy.'' `` How very very handy does it get?'' The conversation was going nowhere and making no sense. 'Let me just slip this glove on.'' `` Hey, I am buying, let me try it too.'' `` I only have a set.'' He paused. `` How can you only have a set if you are selling it? Nevermind, I am getting mine.'' `` Why are you getting yours?'' `` Let's see who's got a better glove.'' `` Sounds logical.'' `` This is my glove. Oh hey, you have a knife. What a coincidence, me too.'' Then they killed each other.

[ WP ] Make me like a serial killer

All you need is the serial killer kit. Your kit has top of the line, cheaply bought tools such as: - A screwdriver, so you can remove all the doors - A laser pointer, so you can hold down your victims and give them blindness as you shine the laser into their eyes - A railroad spike, so you can give your victims the worst kind of surprise as they back out of the driveway to go to work - A roll of duct tape for taping the cat to the wall ( four or five layers recommended ) - Some poison for putting in the cereal box of your victim. Just dump it all on their corn flakes - A meticulously painted gun with the orange tip removed so that you can give your victims the time of their life - A dog annoyer so that the dog will keep the victim up and cause them to commit some horrible accident at work that will cause the deaths of themselves or their co-workers

[ WP ] make me fall in love with a character . Then kill them .

Today was the day my dad would finally come back home. He had left for war when I was but only a child. Now I was thirteen, and he was on his way home. I missed him so much, and now today he was coming back. I remembered how he would pick me up and would swing me around, placing small kisses on my cheek. He'd kiss my mom straight on the lips, laughing as I pointed at them shrieking out ew. He'd then take me by the hand and would walk me up towards the hill store, buying me candy and such-mostly chocolate. I remember him tucking me in the bed, reading a small book to me everyday. I could remember every small detail of him, my heart pounded against my chest as I heard a car pull up into the driveway. I ran out the house, looking at the blue Toyota. My dad stepped out exclaiming my name. `` Samantha!'' I instinctively ran towards him, tears rushing into my eyes, but something stopped me. At the same time we looked across the street to see a man dashing straight towards my dad. I figured it was an old friend of his, seeing that my dad raised his hand up towards him in a friendly way. `` Hey John! Long time no see'' he called out towards him. John stopped in front of dad, a huge smile on his face. Dad glanced towards me a huge smile on his face as he bent down on one knee, opening his arms for me to jump in them. I ran towards him, hearing the front screen open. I glanced over my shoulder to see my mom staring at my dad, with first a look of surprise, but then horror. I turned back to see John pressing a gun straight into my dad's head. `` You stole my life. I was supposed to be you, this was supposed to be my family.'' John laughed out loud. `` Karma is a bitch, is n't she?'' He pulled the trigger.

[ WP ] A new disease spreads that forces people to tell the truth , another disease is also spreading that forces people to lie , these viruses quickly become global

This is the story of how I became infected. I came to the realisation on the 3rd of January, 2016. I opened up my inbox, clicking on a little highlighted mail icon until the new email from an unknown address filled my screen. 'Hello. I am not a Nigerian Prince and I have not inherited any substantial fortune from my deceased father. I am just one man sitting in an internet cafe in Abuja, hoping that if I send out enough emails one person may respond with their bank account details. I have several children to feed and who need new shoes for school. Please help me.' Clearly, the virus had spread further North. This whole fiasco began with President Robert Mugabe's televised election speech. The Zimbabwean dictator rose to his feet and began to say thank you -- except his words were not directed towards the citizens of his country, but rather, his henchmen who helped him rig the results;'And a special thank you, to the men who used violence and intimidation to prevent dissent, your work has not gone unnoticed'. The minute long clip was repeated on news networks across the globe, with people naturally concluding it was due to the deteriorating mind of the 92 year old man. That was, until similarly strange reports came out of neighbouring Zambia. The disease was quickly branded'Truerettes' syndrome; an unceasing compulsion to tell the truth no matter what circumstance, or whatever consequence it would bring about. In the beginning, it was regarded with a level of cautious humour.'Mugabe me' became a popular turn-of-phrase people used when they wanted someone's brutally honest opinion;'Mugabe me, do I look fat in this dress?' Citizens of non-African countries joked that they wished their politicians were infected. Ultimately, the whole disease seemed a bit farcical. That was, until a different strain of the disease popped up in central Europe. Then there was mayhem. Weather forecasters standing in torrential rain proclaiming a warm weekend ahead. Couples bickering across the continent, unable to communicate with any clarity. Faulty intelligence leading to airstrikes in Afghanistan. Basic requests for help were left unmet. And the only people who actually had a clue what was going on -- or how to solve the problem -- professed they had'no clue what to do'. I stared at the email in front of me, from the complete stranger. His brutal honesty touched me. His words blurred and unblurred as my eyes welled up with tears and I hastily wiped them away with the back of my hands. I was n't super well off, but even a fraction of my money might be able to go a long way. I began typing out the eight-digit account code where I kept some meagre savings. 0-7-7-0-9-2-1-... My finger hovered over the number'3' and I felt pressure pushing it away, directing it elsewhere, not unlike the sensation of trying to press two opposing magnets together. What the fuck was going on? I pulled my hand away from the laptop and then moved quickly, as if trying to trick it, but I could n't do it. I slammed my fist on the keyboard with frustration. It had got to me. The above story is a work of fiction. None of what I have written is true. It is all a lie.

[ WP ] Describe a tigers hunt form his perspective

`` Easy now little guy. Easy.'' In the distance, a deer grazed along the edge of the plane, it's gentle puff of a tail flicked side to side just over top of the long grass. It was only after an accidental twig snap that he knew she was a doe. He watched her scan the horizon behind him, and a satisfying chill reverberated down his spine as she dropped her head and continued eating. The thought of a guaranteed meal glimmered on the edge of a hungry smile as he began to salivate. `` Easy now.'' He paused to savor the moment. Close enough to notice the texture of her pelt, his eyes lingered on the soft sides of her neck, long enough even to taste the pulse of her heartbeat. So close, he could even count the whiskers along her nose. After over a dozen failed attempts earlier in the day, after wading through the rippling heat of the open plain, after days of small meals and little sleep, after all that, she was his. `` Thank you,'' he whispered. It was loud enough for her to hear, and after a quick, futile chase, she gasped for one last breath between his jaws. As red ran down his cheeks, and the pulse on his tongue grew more and more silent, he whispered, `` Easy now, easy.'' EDIT: Missing a word: )

[ WP ] League of Legends commentators are replaced with people from the fighting game community .

The last finals of the World LoL Championship, the crowd packs the stadium to the brim with eager fans. The roars are loud enough to shatter the almost electrifying air. The two teams step up and give each other handshakes but one player from team `` X'' forgets to shake his designated opponent's hand. Yipes hops on the mic, `` YO!!! THE DISR -- -- -'' The audio is cut from the commend room of the production. Silences shrouds the entire room. Breaths qualimed. A single beep from the stadium's speakers. Riot's staff monotone voice fill the stadium, `` Our apologies, your current commentator and the player who did not shake hands have been removed from the building due to the toxicity.'' FIN

[ WP ] write a short story based off the lyrics to any song .

That constant droning music eventually wears on you, the happy rainbows and high pitched singing. I've been trapped in this universe for approximately 2 years by my count, and still nothing has changed. That damned Cat is still at it. Many times I've tried I catch it to stop the song, but the closer I get, the farther away it seems. Then, when I let off, the Cat comes back singing its incessant song. The one syllable will forever be stuck in my head; Nyan. I ca n't tell where the music is coming from, and I've tried countless times to find the meaning of this cursed song, but to no avail. The music goes on and on oblivious to my cries of protest. The pop-tart bodied Cat mocks me in my most pitiful state. My only hope is that some day the Nyan-Cat will put me out of my misery and stop toying with me, for right now I am nothing but His play-thing. I am left here to endure His never ending hymn. *Na-Na-Na* *Nyan* *Nya-*No... Stop! *Nya* *Nya* *Nya* *Nyan* *Nyan* *Nyan* kill me... Edit: Sorry for the poor quality, I'm not a very good writer I just liked the prompt so I decided to try to write one.

[ WP ] While outside for a smoke , someone walks up behind you and asks for a cigarette . When you hand it to them , you notice something eerily familiar that makes your stomach turn .

`` Care if I bum one from you?'' A voice drawled from behind me. I ashed my cigarette before turning around to face the source. `` Sure'' I said without raising my eyes to meet his. I flicked open my pack of Camels and nudged one out while taking a deep inhale of my own. `` Thanks sah'' he replied. `` Sah'' I thought, have n't heard that in a while. Josh used to say that back when we were kids. Except he would say it mockingly. Like when he beat you in a foot race he would say, `` Thanks for that sah''. It pissed me off more than anything, but that's what best friends are for. I took another inhale and watched the smoke dance in the low light of the parking lot. It was cold, just like the night of Josh's crash. Fuck. It was that crash that got me smoking in the first place. I took the last puff of my cigarette and flicked the ember. `` Thanks for the cigarette, sah'' The stranger said to my back. I've heard that voice before. I had n't noticed it completely at first since I had n't heard that voice in years. My stomach lurched. `` Josh?'' I said as I turned around. All that answered was the empty parking lot with two dying embers on the concrete.

[ WP ] write a story opening with this line ; `` Tell me ... Why did you come here ? . What is it you were hoping to find ? `` .

*Tell me... Why did you come here? What were you hoping to find? * Orion was sick of the question. He'd asked it of himself a thousand times, and a thousand times the answer had been the same: *It's hopeless. They're all dead. * Orion stepped off the ramp and onto the spongy, moss covered ground. The air smelled like dirt and something else, something he had n't smelled for thousands of years. Was it jasmine? The air was cold and humid. The damp soaked into his skin and the cold soaked all the way into his bones. The sky was obscured by tumultuous, dark clouds. They rolled fast above him and made him feel like he was under water looking up at the bottom of the waves. This time though, the sun did n't pierce through and scatter its light in a billion tiny fragments. Only shadows fell beneath the clouds, only silence and despair. No one was here. Before him was a village, but it had long been abandoned like everything else. The walls of the huts were covered in vines and moss heavy with rain. A cart with a broken wheel had been discarded in the muddy road, the baggage still inside and rotting with mold. Shallow ruts, dozens of them, scarred the solitary road and disappeared into the forest. Signs of past life were everywhere, but frozen and lost in time. The forest was slowly reclaiming its territory. Although, Orion thought, it was his best lead yet. The huts still stood and the road was still mostly clear. No roofs had fallen in. Looking through the open windows, Orion saw saplings growing inside a few of the huts, but none were thicker than his wrist. The ruts in the road must have been very deep at one time to still be visible, so the carts that made them had been packed high and heavy. Someone had lived here in the last decade and they were still alive when they left. A lot could happen in that time, but maybe somewhere on this waterlogged planet, someone was still alive. Orion wandered through the village. Part of him wanted to set out immediately and focus all of his ship ’ s formidable sensor arrays on this sector of the planet. A hard sweep might yield more recent results or clues as to what had happened here, but he was curious. If people had lived here, he wanted to know what kind of people they had become in the last two thousand years. He wondered if they might not be his people at all, but remembered that the distress beacon had pinged an ancient ID code. It had been weak, almost nonexistent, and had failed as Orion had hurried across millions of kilometers of empty space, but the ship ’ s AI confirmed the ID. It was one of theirs and the code matched the records of that time so long ago. The time when everyone had died. Almost everything was gone, but a few clues remained. A doll, most likely dropped and forgotten in the rush to leave, some broken clay plates, a chair made from twisted branches and woven reeds, long dead flowers that had been hung upside down to dry; everything Orion found suggested a peaceful, even loving village. As Orion finished his inspection, the ship ’ s AI pinged his suit. Orion reached up and flipped the eyepiece down. It was clear, but quickly activated and filled with information. To Orion, it looked like the tiny letters and numbers hovered in the air before him. Their images blurred and sharpened, tracking the movement of his eyes and reading the electrical signals in his brain to understand when he wanted to look at them and when he wanted to look past them. It all happened very smoothly and without any obvious command from Orion. After two thousand years, the AI knew all the intricacies of Orion's mind and masterfully controlled the eyepiece display so that Orion absorbed every last bit of information without even thinking about it. The information the AI relayed confirmed Orion's suspicions. Aside from just over a hundred buried bodies on the opposite side of the field, the ship had n't found a single shred of evidence to suggest anything violent had happened here. The bodies it did find were all buried in neat rows, all about six feet below ground, and each one in a varying state of decay. A village needed a graveyard. Additionally, there was no evidence of weaponry of any kind. No buried arrowheads or rusting swords. No gunpowder residue, no laser etchings, no sign of biological or radiological dissipation. Whoever lived here had simply left on their own and for their own reasons. Orion returned to the ship. The ramp closed and hissed at it sealed behind him. Small droids detached from the walls and floor to clean the mud he tracked back inside. Orion made his way to the bridge and sat down. The AI ran through prelaunch protocols in less than a second and the ship lifted out of the soggy field. “ Focus the search between here and the sea, ” Orion ordered, “ Show me the nearest river. ” The bridge stood in stark contrast to the planet below. Indeed, the entire ship was markedly out of place as it whispered through the air just above the trees. Hardly a single leaf was disturbed as the ship passed smoothly over them. Its polished gray hull was pockmarked by the impacts of micro-meteors and scorched black on the nose from a thousand descents through a thousand fiery atmospheres. Inside, the ship was spotlessly clean, except for where the little droids hurriedly cleared the last bits of mud and moss from the textured passageway. The walls were black and coated with grip gel to aid in zero gravity maneuvers. The ceiling was a shade lighter than the gray on the outside of the ship. The inside surfaces were as smooth and polished as the hull had been the day it rolled out of the shipyard. Small nodes emitted soft, indirect light every few meters. The lights were motion activated and some of them had not been on in centuries. They patiently waited for the day that Orion would pass by again. On the bridge, flat black surfaces covered most of the walls. There were no physical viewports on the bridge. Instead, holographic displays would flicker to life, either on the surface of the consoles or floating in the air in front of Orion. He could then control them as he saw fit, customization at its finest. A topographical map appeared in the space before Orion's face. It shifted itself, zooming and scanning in response to Orion's eyes. One of the droids bumped into his boot and he looked down at it. The map followed, but only so far. It waited for him to look back up. “ Watch out Fred, ” Orion said lovingly, “ You don ’ t want to dent your nose plate again. It took me three cycles to fix it last time. ” Orion spoke just above a whisper and the AI compared the new sample to the data it had been collecting over the last hundred years. Orion was speaking ever more softly. By the AI ’ s calculations, if nothing changed, Orion would stop speaking altogether in three years, seven months, and twelve days. The hours and minutes of those calculations were too imprecise to be reliable, but each time Orion spoke, the equation became a tiny bit clearer. Orion reached down and pet the little droid. It chirped a response and backed away from Orion's boot, spun on its three spherical wheels, and returned back to its docking station. The mud had been removed and it would wait for the next time its services were required. Orion looked back up and the map jumped to respond. It showed the village, highlighted around its perimeter in neon blue. Less than a kilometer to the north was a small stream. Orion followed the stream, the map scrolling as Orion thought, until it merged into a creek. The creek ran into a proper river that emptied into the sea over a hundred kilometers to the east. Tiny words scrolled across Orion's eyepiece. The ship ’ s AI was informing him that the search area spanned approximately 5,000 square kilometers. The AI always transferred information visually, ever since it realized that Orion was uncomfortable hearing disembodied voices, however calm and reassuring the AI made it sound. “ We better get started then, ” Orion said, “ Focus your scans within five miles of either side of the river. If nothing comes back from that, we ’ ll go out farther. ” The AI noted an irregularity in Orion's voice. It was louder than usual and possessed a tone the AI had not sampled in hundreds of years. It had to check its archives to be sure, but it found a match. For the first time in 638 years, Orion sounded hopeful.

[ WP ] Little does the Chicago Police Department know , they 've infiltrated the mafia so much so that no criminals are left , just a bunch of undercover cops .

Officer Alan Doyle was nervous. This was his first major undercover job and they had him infiltrating a meeting of the highest ranking members of the Chicago Mafia. He was wearing a wire and just needed to get their names and info on what they were planning. He walked into the meeting room, at the table were the Caporegimes Mike Russo, Bob Rossi, and Will Ricci; the Consigliere Joe Rizzo, and the Don himself; Don John Corleone. These men were supposedly the most dangerous people in Chicago, many stories had been spread of their previous exploits, mainly by themselves. Now a meeting had been called to discuss plans for their next big thing. Alan had worked his way up the rank and was recently promoted to be another Caporegieme. He took a seat with the others, hoping his wire could pick up all their voices. `` Hello, Ted Marino,'' the Don greeted Alan with his undercover name. He leaned his head down a bit, seeming to make sure he really enunciated his name. `` Glad you could join us as we plan our next big job,'' he added, putting emphasis on the ending. `` Yes, good to see you all, John Corleone, Joe Rizzo, Will Ricci, Bob Rossi, and Mike Russo,'' Alan replied. `` So, what illegal activity will we be engaging in next?'' `` Oh there's so much we could do,'' Joe said. `` There's drug trafficking, fixing betting events, bank robbing, or good old murder. What sounds good to any of you?'' He spoke very clearly when listing the crimes. `` I for one think it would be a good idea if we list all the unlawful things we've already committed,'' Bob suggested. `` That way we can think of something new to do.'' `` I agree with Bob Rossi,'' Mike said. `` We should also specify who has done what so they get proper credit.'' Alan was trying his best to maintain a calm façade. The meeting was going nowhere and he did n't know how much longer he could keep up the lie. He wished there was another undercover cop with him. He felt so alone in the room full of hardened criminals. Yeah, this is my first attempt at one of these. Not very good, I know, but thought it'd be fun to try.

[ WP ] You have a time-travelling phone . This means you can call anyone in the past or future , provided you have the correct phone number .

`` Hi Love!'' She said, her breath a little short. She was probably walking home. `` Hi Darling.'' I said. `` Just checking up on you, wanted to see how you were doing.'' `` I've only been gone for a couple of hours, Matt, it's not like I went to Fiji or something.'' She chuckled to herself. `` I've just popped to the shops on the way back, got a couple of things for the party tomorrow.'' `` Ooh, nice. Like what?'' `` Just some crisps, drinks, stuff like that. I also got a bottle of that cider you like, because I think you drunk the last one when Alex came round, did n't you?'' `` He's around now, actually, just popped in on his way home from work.'' `` Oh no'' she gasped. `` I look like crap, Matt, can you lock him in the kitchen till I can go upstairs and get dressed up a little bit?'' I broke into a great big smile. Jess had always been a bit funny about stuff like that. Looking good was a matter of pride to her. I always thought it was a little bit silly. It was n't like Alex was a stranger, he was the best man at our wedding. I smiled a little, remembering how wonderful that day had been. `` Nonsense Jess, you look gorgeous, like always. And Alex wo n't care, he's seen you in a worse state before.'' I said, smirking a little bit, remembering the last birthday party. `` However you look, it's probably better than being covered in your own sick.'' She sighed, defeated. `` You are an infuriating man, Matt.'' She tutted and swapped her phone to the other hand. `` I can see the house now, I'm just coming in ok?'' My face fell. For the first time in the conversation, I looked up, and looked at the door. `` Ok.'' I said, quietly. `` I'll see you in a second love.'' `` Are you ok?'' She asked, concerned. `` You do n't sound right?'' I could hear her keys at the door. I felt tears start to well up in my eyes. `` I'll see you in a bit, love.'' With that, I hung up. Slamming the phone down on the table. The sound of keys stopped. I just sat there, sobbing into my arms for a solid minute, unable to control myself. Eventually, I dragged myself up from the stairs and into the kitchen, where I made myself a cup of tea. As I left the kitchen, I looked down at the phone, sitting on the bottom step. Taking a seat, I looked down at the screen. `` Repeat last call? 07***37*283 25/04/2007.'' I put the tea on the stair next to me, and picked the phone up. I pressed the button, and put the phone to my hear. I had to hear her one more time, I could n't just leave it at that. A moment of silence as the dialing tone ends. `` Hi Love!'' She said, her breath a little short from walking. `` Hi darling.'' I replied. `` Just checking up on you, wanted to see how you were doing.''

[ WP ] Humanity finally abandons Earth to explore the Universe but they leave behind a spokesperson in a cryogenic chamber which is designed to open when extraterrestrial life is detected on the planet . After 400 years , aliens finally arrive .

`` Sir, we're getting a reading. Lots of readings, actually.'' SENTI was abuzz. The Search for Extranewterrestrial Intelligence centre had lit up only hours ago, thousands of flares on the long range sensors. The director stared blankly at the central readout, overwhelmed. All he could think was *'' I should cancel my dinner plans. `` * Absurdly mundane ideas in the face of incredible events. The program had been defunded... twice. When humanity had taken to the stars and still managed to find no proof of alien life, public support plummeted. Worse, outcry over the Last Voice project never truly subsided: deliberately leaving someone behind on the polluted hellhole once known as Earth was increasingly seen as cruel and inhumane. SENTI became the popular punching bag of New Terran politicians, despite their massive contributions to the great diaspora. Today was vindication. The director snapped into action, leaping into the crowd of increasingly frenzied analysts. `` Give me a directional reading, extrapolate likely points of origin. Andrews & amp; Fallon, we need higher scan resolution; contact the Department of Defense, and invoke Code 7. They'll give us their network.'' Hopping onto the nearest console, he begins to clear up the scan of the nearest signal as much as possible. A few frequencies were showing regular patterns, the telltale indication of an artificial signal. It might take time to decode what it actually *means*, but it could at least... Wait, no. He *recognized* this signal. But that made no sense. `` Director! Source point has been extrapolated, 86 % probability. It's... It's Earth, sir. They're coming from Earth.'' *'' That explains it. `` * The director did n't even look up at the analyst, just kept staring at the broadcast signal. Basic RF transmission, encoding going back to the days when SENTI was just SETI. The encoding left with the Last Voice. He knew those old ASCII codes by heart, an artifact of his youthful enthusiasm for the program. Thinking them through, he absentmindedly mouths each letter as he works them out. The analyst stands awkwardly by, waiting for the director to acknowledge him. They came from Earth! That had to mean something. But the director just kept staring at the screen, his mouth barely moving. Had the man snapped under the pressure? Fallon runs over to join the pair, growing panic on his features. `` Director... The DoD denied the request. They invoked Code 0 in reply. I could hear panic in the background. What the hell is Code 0?'' Fallon looked between the director and the analyst, as the latter felt the blood drain from his face. *'' Code 0. An invasion fleet. Oh God. `` * The director did n't react; he did n't even seem to hear it. He finally blinks, sitting back as if breaking a trance. No panic or worry shows on his face, only a deep sorrow. `` I... I have the transmission. I understand.'' Fallon and the analyst look to the director in desperation. Amidst all the chaos, there was only this single answer to be had. `` It reads:'We found your abandoned child. En route to return it, we came to understand you left on purpose. Alone, on a dead world. Monsters.'''

[ IP ] Hidden Bangkok

No one knows what exactly occurred that day, all we know is that it was over in an instant. Every piece of advanced technology, anything at all that used electricity simply... stopped. Some believed that it was the wrath of God, but most were not concerned with the `` why'', simply the `` what now''. Countless deaths occurred after planes fell out of the sky, cars swerved off the road, and even hospitals shut down from lack of resources. The world had fallen into chaos, a maelstrom of panicked confusion from a species deprived of what it once depended on. World leaders and the like were unable to quell the madness so eventually everything began to fall apart. Anarchy spread like wildfire, and the sense of comradery and unification necessary in such a time turned to ash. Decades after what they now call `` The Blackout''. In these many years we have done what the human species does better than any other: adapt. Like a great phoenix, we have rebuilt our society from the ashes. We now live in smaller settlements all across the world, and rely on steam power for our everyday lives. The skyscrapers and cities that dot the landscape serve as painful reminder to those from the time before; and to the generation that came after, they are each an alien wonder from a world we may never know. So here I stand, one of those who grew up knowing only this strange and mismatched world. I come to this spot everyday that I am able to, because in this small courtyard, I see the world we now live in. The abstract steel and glass monoliths of the past are now being taken over, and reintegrating into the future. Nature is taking back the land it once owned, and it inspires a sense of awe in me. If there is anything that we as humans have learned from nature, it's how to get back on our feet, no matter what. I feel a quick tap on my shoulder that brings me out of my reverie. `` Father, you're needed back in town, Old Man Smith is yelling about there not being any'wifi' again. Can you come help us calm him down?'' I let out a defeated sigh, chuckle to myself, and stand up slowly. Baby steps...

[ WP ] You are sent to investigate a space anomaly . You get caught in a wormhole and end up in a parallel universe with a different history . You try to contact Earth but you 've not recieved any answers

`` *Exploration Discovery, * this is JSC. Current status, over?'' I glanced once around the cockpit. `` Copy, JSC. all systems normal. ETA 10 minutes to drop, over.'' `` Roger that, over.'' I tighten the straps of my crash-couch and took a deep breath. Despite the gravity of the situation, I was remarkably calm. The Joint-Space-Community was a mixture of government space programs and private space companies that came together to colonize the Solar System. About 50 years ago, they were successful in putting a small research base on Pluto. That base then detected massive amounts of Tachyon Particles coming from a point between us and Alpha Centauri, about 1.5 lightyears away. JSC was incredibly curious, so they quickly built a ship with warp capabilities, that could get to the anomaly in two days. They then chose a pilot from millions of applicants ( me ), and sent me off. and now here I am, farther from home than any other human in history, ready to see what in the hell was dumping massive amounts of rare particles into space. I cleared my throat. `` ETA, 2 minutes from dropping into real-space, over.'' `` Copy, *Exploration Discovery*. If there is a god, may he be with you. Over.'' I chuckled. Maybe I'd get to meet him today. Just to be safe, I put on the helmet of my suit, in the possible event of a hull breach. `` ETA, 30 seconds to drop'' I said, reading the NAV screen. `` Copy. Say hi to the world, Erikson. Over.'' `` Copy. See you all on the other side.'' I started reading off the screen. `` 29... 28... 27... 26...'' The ship started to tremble, almost imperceptibly. `` 23... Um, JSC? This is Exploration. The ship is beginning a small tremble, likely caused by the anomaly. It's not interfering with my instruments or flight. Continuing to anomaly, over.'' The tremble turned into a steady shake. `` Tremble is increasing. Still no other interference, over.'' `` 15... 14... 13..'' `` This is JSC, we're detecting an increase in tachyon particle distribution. Confirm?'' I checked the instruments. `` Copy. Output is increased 10 %, over.'' The shake started to affect the flight pattern's stability. `` JSC, the shake is increased and is going to affect my flight pattern approximately.003 seconds after drop. I'm going to alter my trajectory and drop.53 seconds early to avoid overshooting, over.'' The reply was filled with static, but still clear enough to hear. `` Copy that. Stay safe.'' `` 5... 4... 3... 2...'' I hit the button, and dropped into real space. What I saw was almost incomprehensible. It was a black circle, with a glowing blue haze, gaseous in nature, surrounding it that took up as much area of the circle itself. stretching from the haze were several large tendrils, some stretching out as far 8 times farther than the circle's diameter. `` Um, JSC? I've arrived at the anomaly. Transmitting images, over.'' While the pictures sent, I checked my NAV system for my distance, expecting to be less that 10km from it. I was stunned by how far I was. I checked all the parameters and software to see if it was incorrect. But I was n't. `` Exploration Discovery, we've received the images. Proceed with caution, over.'' I stuttered a bit before responding. `` Copy, JSC. For reference, I am more than 10,000 kilometers from the anomaly. I believe the anomaly's core to be more than 1,000 km across, and the blue... stuff... to be significantly larger. It will take me 30 minutes to reach the anomaly under maximum speed. Advise?'' `` This is JSC. Do not approach. Repeat; DO NOT APPROACH. Hold your position for further instructions, over.'' Yeah, like there's no way I'm going any closer to that thing anytime soon. I eased back the manual joystick back to come to a stop. The ship jolted violently, and the speedometer did n't change. I jerked the joystick a little harder. Still no alteration to the speedometer, but I listened to the engines strain as they tried to drag the ship away. `` Exploration to JSC. I can not control the speed of the ship. Repeat. I am not in control of the ship. Approaching the anomaly at 600kmh, over.'' `` Copy, Exploration. Try jumping in to warp space and escape. That seems to be your only option.'' `` Copy that, JSC.'' I reached over and hit the controls to make the jump. I heard the Epsilon drive spin up to generate the bubble and separate me from real space. As the drive reached maximum pitch, the ship rocked, and I remained in real space. Stunned, I listened to the Epsilon drive flutter and die. `` JSC, I am apparently locked into a trajectory that will bring me directly into the anomaly, which I can only assume is a wormhole. Epsilon drive failed to generate a bubble, and is no longer responsive, over.'' I gripped the armrests of the couch and tried to calm down. `` Exploration, this is JSC. We've come to the same conclusion as to the nature of the wormhole, and we have no way of preventing you from going inside. Brace for a possible impact, over.'' I nodded, even though no one could see. I stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, the hole getting bigger and bigger, taking up more and more of my view. Soon, the tendrils were almost out of view, when one moved. `` JSC, one of the extending blue tendrils is moving. I repeat. It's moving. Towards me. Over.'' ssoon, a haze drifted across my view, and I sped up. `` JSC, I am being accelerated into the hole, and can not divert my approach. Can not divert my approach! I will be entering the wormhole in a few seconds!'' The ship rocked and jumped around as though it were a baseball hurled toward home plate. The radio crackled produced static. `` Exploration to JSC, I could not understand you last transmission. anomaly must be interrupting any incoming signals. I'll be entering within ten seconds. I assume this to be my last transmission, over.'' I checked my crash couch harness and environment suit one last time, just in case I survive. And with a final rumble, I entered the wormhole. The ship was tossed around like a rowboat in a hurricane, as it flew through nothing. I screamed and screamed along with the instruments that threw out warnings and klaxon alarms. ***ENGINE COMPARTMENT HULL BREACH*** ***NAVIGATION SYSTEMS UNRESPONSIVE*** ***REAL SPACE SPEED INCALCULABLE, NO REFERENCE POINT*** ***REACTOR CORE DAMAGE, DEACTIVATING CORE AND MOVING TO EMERGENCY BACKUP SYSTEMS*** ***POWER UNSTABLE*** ***LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM UNRESPONSIVE*** ***ENGINE 1 UNRESPONSIVE*** I continued screaming as sparks flew and the lights fluctuated between darkness broken only by the emergency warning lights flashing and periods of brief light. I screamed as bolts that were designed to resist a pull of 60g's that held my crash couch in place, tore away and the couch was thrown across the cockpit, with me still strapped inside. I bounced against walls and controls, unable to stop. I flew toward the door head first, and blacked out. I woke up to the alarms still blaring, and sunlight pouring in through the viewport. *Sunlight? * I thought. and then I noticed that my faceplate was shattered, shards scattered all around. I groaned and tried to move, only to find myself still strapped into the crash couch. I unbuckled and sat up, at the protest of my body. I looked around at the cockpit. all the controls seemed undamaged, but some of the screens were damaged. the viewport was undamaged, which was good. Wait. Where was I? I got up and rushed to the viewport and stared out. I could n't believe that the blue and green marble was actually in front of me. The wormhole took me home. I checked my NAV and radio. Only the radio was working. `` Exploration Discovery to JSC. Repeat. Exploration Discovery to JSC. JSC, come in!'' No response. I switched to broadcast to as many channels as possible. `` Exploration Discovery to Earth. Exploration Discovery to earth, come in.'' Nothing. `` I repeat. Exploration Discovery to Earth, please respond!'' Fuck. Nothing. I could n't see any space platforms, and the proximity detector was offline. Good thing the ship was designed for atmospheric re-entry. I piloted the ship to the surface as quickly, directly to the JSC HQ. I flew over the land, a thousand meters above the ground, looking for the compound. Spotting what looked like it, I steered the ship over, and landed about 100m from the furthermost building from the center. I hobbled out of the cockpit towards the external hatch. Past the sleeping area, past the atmosphere regulator, past the storage area. I reached the hatch and looked out the small port, and saw a large crowd approaching. Thank God, I made it. I waited a minute to let the crowd congregate a few meters from the ship, and pulled the release lever. The hatch opened slowly, and the ramp extended to the grassy field. I stepped out into the brilliant sunlight, and looked down at the crowd. Immediately, I saw something was wrong. Everyone here was dressed like it was the dark ages.They looked up at me with fear, and I heard uncertain words being spoken among them. When they noticed me, some screamed, and the crowd backed up several feet as a whole. I looked at the collection of buildings, and was that they were not the gleaming white buildings of the JSC, but plain, gray boxy concrete cubes. The crowd below me ceased their panic, and parted for a man in black robes. He reached the bottom of the ramp and spoke. `` Demon of the sky! What business do you have with the children of God, may he smite you from existence!'' I frowned. Did that wormhole throw me back in time? `` I am no demon. Where am I, and what year is it?'' The man, who I assumed was a priest, snarled. `` How DARE you speak the language of his children! But you are on the planet of mother Mary, or earth, as the lord calls it. The year of our lord is two thousand, forty three since the birth of his son.'' Oh no. Oh no. The priest pulled out an elegant sword. `` And now, demon. You shall feel his wrath.'' The crowd pulled out an array of swords, pitchforks, and other various sharp implements, and followed the priest in marching up the ramp.

[ WP ] You have been having a reoccurring nightmare and today is the day that it becomes real .

Am I awake? Am I sleeping? Who knows anymore. It always seems to start like this. I walk into work, dock my computer and start up my programs. Then that voice…that voice that gets me every time comes over the scanner behind me. > We have a call of a 10-14, requesting officer in the area of **static** > 10-1 Can you repeat, over > Negative, signal is weak **static** Signal 12. > 10-4 I look outside to see the glow of the parking lot, watching myself in the reflection of the glare of the street light. Strange.. did something move behind me. I am the only one working the graveyard shift so it must have just been my imagination. Am I awake? Am I sleeping? The dreams started when I took this job. I told myself no problem, I can do the midnight shift, I am used to those hours from my long nights of studying in college. I have regretted that decision ever since my second night. Am I awake? Am I sleeping? I should really try learning some lucid dreaming techniques. At least so I can know when I am dreaming. It always starts out like this. First the radio signal, then the flash of something behind me. What comes next I can never avoid. > Unit 273 arriving on location. > 10-4 273 > This is Unit 273, it appears there is someone in there, approaching for a security check. As I look up from my computer I am slightly blinded by the red and blue lights of a police car. Walking to the front I answer the door to the officer. “ Hello sir, can I help you? ” I ask the officer. “ We have had a report of a prowler in your area, just doing a check to make sure everything is… ” He stops mid-sentence and I know what will happen next. Am I awake? Am I sleeping? I look behind me to see a dark figure in the doorway, except I don ’ t exactly see it. “ Who is that? ” The officer asks. “ I am working alone tonight, I don ’ t know, ” I say, my throat clenching at the words, causing my tone to rise. “ Get behind me! ” the officer yells at me, pointing his gun at the figure who is not really there. Am I awake? Am I sleeping? This insomnia is getting to me. I watch as the figure steps forward, a protrusion coming out of his arm to impale the officer. I know next he will do the same to me, and I will wake up in a start. The figure walks up to me, the protrusion making its way to my heart. Wake up Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP! Except I can ’ t Am I awake? Am I sleeping? I know now, as I feel the comforting darkness surround me. Finally I can sleep. > Officer down! Officer Down, send backup immediatly. Oh god! It is coming closer, hel.. **static**

[ WP ] Write a story in which each paragraph takes place a decent amount of time after the last one .

( Never wrote a story before open to any critiques. It ended up longer than I thought sorry. ) I woke up. My birthday, finally, in my gut the anticipation I had been pushing down rushed over me. I sprinted down the stairs the grogginess I normally felt in the morning could n't affect me on a day like today. I saw my parents sitting with breakfast already laid out. It was almost a labor enjoying the mounds of delicous foods my mother had made. When we were done I rushed to the living room where I could see the gift wrapped for me. I waited as patiently as I could as my father quietly washed the dishes scraping the food I did n't eat into the garabage. He walked silently into the room grabbing my gift on the way. He looked my in the eyes and said, `` I love you, and I am so proud of who you are becoming. I hope this helps you become the man you hope to be.'' Not pausing to think about what he had said I ripped the wrapping paper tossing it aside. It was a wooden bowl. My heart sank this was nothing I had wanted. I smiled and thanked my parents. I went up to my room as they both left for work. I put the bowl on my dresser. I looked at the bowl. A worthless thing as I was leaving for a college across the country. What was I going to use a bowl for I did n't pack it. As I left my room for the last time my father stepped in to say goodbye. I saw him look at it and realize I did n't back it. We said goodbye and I left. Standing up there on the podium I looked into her eyes I knew that every moment would I spent with her would be in bliss. As we said those fated words we were both bound together for eternity. I could see my father smiling as we walked down the aisle together man and woman. `` Bouncing baby boys,'' as the doctors described them. Perfectly healthy and full of energy and life twin boys. We had made life out of love, and now we were holding the most precious things in our life. They must be lying how can one twin have cancer and the other be healthy. They had told me both of my boys were healthy. Pain was erupting from within as I watched the one thing most important thing to me whither away. I screamed at the doctor trying to get them to help. I screamed to show the pain. And I screamed as part of me was buried. Scarred by the pain and emptied by the screaming, I walked as an empty shell. A shell does not love and a shell can not provide. Every feeling gone I had no feeling when she walked out the door to never come back with my son's hand in her hand. In the hospital again how I hated this pain. The grating scent of chemical fragrance in their sanitizers gouged my nose. Everything faught against me as I walked into the room where my father lay. He was not in a state I would recognize him. Shriveled and old, this was not the man who had lumbered around doing my dishes. I sat next to him to hold his hand, but before I could grab it he shakily pointed to the table. I saw the wooden bowl he had gifted to me all these years ago. Now there were items inside it though. My graduation pin, my wife's wedding ring, and wrapped most carefully a picture of my baby boy, that was taken early from me, with it was a cast of his feet taken the day of his birth. I sat and just looked tears streaming by a pain I had n't felt in ages. I set down the bowl noticing how it was obviously homemade and how beautifully it was put together. My father then said to me, `` Life is a collection of events, while some may be painful, we slowly piece them together to turn into the people we are today. I told you I loved you and am proud of you on the day I gave you that bowl, and I still am today as well.'' Those were the last words I spoke to my father. I walked up to the house my palms sweating as I knocked on the door. I saw her beautiful face again as she graciously welcomed me into her home. I saw my boy eating his breakfast already bouncing in his seat. After we finished breakfast, he dove into the living room eager to get to the most exciting part of a birthday. I slowly gathered the dishes clearing them away and wiping them clean. All the while hoping that I could give my son a fraction of what my father had given me. I walked back to the car I drove up in and grab the gift I had for him. I could see the confusion in his eyes as I handed my son the wooden bowl I had crafted it looked rougher than the one my father had made that must be because I made the bowl using every event in my life and it was a reflection of my life, one that I hope my boy shares with me. All I said to him was,'' I love you and I am proud of you.''

[ WP ] Describe the person you love the most so we can see him/her through your eyes .

I ’ ve always prided myself on the fact that I have my life in control. I love plans. Plans help me stay in control. You though, you definitely were not in my plan. Almost from the moment we met, I realized that I would never meet someone so intriguing. You drew me in and I didn ’ t even realize what was happening. Slowly but surely you showed yourself to me. You are one of the most selfless people I have ever met. You brighten any room by just being in it. You ’ re smile and humor is contagious. You are my rock, my constant in a world of every changing chaos. In you, I have found my best friend, the one who constantly makes me want to strive to be a better person. I love the moment we are in now but I am so excited for all the moments that are ahead. You have no idea the amount of happiness you have brought to my life

[ WP ] Afraid to confess your feelings , you send an unsigned note to your friend . It reads , `` I am in love with you . Give this to the one you love . If I get it back , I 'll tell you . ''

*This is a true story. My story. I really did this except that the letter read a lot differently. Unfortunately, I do n't remember the exact words of the letter, but it was long. And a long time ago. High school ( graduated in 2007 ). I'll write the story and letter, but know that the letter will definitely not be the same, word for word, but it'll be similar. Here it goes. * God, I loved her. My biggest crush. I was enthralled. Or at least, I had what love was to a high schooler. Now at my age, I do question high school students' true understanding of love, but hey, got ta start somewhere. Annie. I ca n't say exactly when it was that we became close friends, or how. It had to be a combination of sharing some of the same classes ( Chemistry and Jazz ), having the locker right next to mine, and that the piano ( me ) and orchestra ( her ) departments were closely knit. Maybe it was that school trip to Toronto for a music competition. Yeah, we went to an art school in Milwaukee. All I knew was that suddenly we seemed to always be together, and we always enjoyed each others company, and we could n't stop talking and laughing together. At least to me, she was that perfect friend. One that I could n't help but start having a little more feelings for. Super smart, incredibly talented bassist ( both upright and the guitar ), beautiful, genuine, strong, a fan of Charles Bukowski, and an outdoorsy sort of girl -- a real rancher who loved riding horses; *a cowgirl. * Every day, I went a little more crazy about what I should do, while the crush on her kept growing larger. I was afraid. I was afraid because I've never really told her a girl I've like her before ( that is, where I made the first move or largely instigated by friends ). I was afraid that she did n't feel the same. I was afraid that if I did tell her, I'd lose a friend. But I had to tell her. Somehow. And I had to figure out a way so that it was n't possible to lose her friendship. And so, I invented what I thought was a brilliant plan. I'd write her an anonymous letter. In that letter, I'd instruct her to do something which would indicate that she likes me too, if I'm in fact the one she likes, and if she had done that something to someone else, they'd have no idea what to make of it. Then it would be obvious to me that she did n't like me, and we could remain friends because she did n't guess the right person. Here is just about what I wrote, although I'm sure it was longer and more convoluted than I'll make out here. ___________________________________________________________________________ *Dear Annie, * *You're amazing, beautiful, talented, and one of my friends. I like you, more than just a friend. I hope you like me too, but I do n't know, and most importantly I do n't want to lose your friendship, if you do n't feel the same about me. So, I wo n't tell you who I am, and I've made a little game for us! All you have to do is go up to the person that you like and say one of these absurd questions. If it's me, I'll know that you're talking about the letter. But if it's someone else, they'll have no idea what you're getting at. And if that is the case, then just forget about this letter, and we can continue being friends, and I'm ok with that. So, you can choose any of these questions: * *1. Have you ever seen the rooster ride the train with a cowboy hat on? * *2. What does the soda can say when being shotgunned from a real shotgun? * *3. Which direction is the best that you can make out of a compass in a haystack? * ...... ... ... ( Maybe 10 questions in total ). *I do n't know what will come out of this letter. But if we stick to the rules of the game, I know we'll at least always be friends. I'll be waiting. * *Anonymous* ( or... probably `` Secret Admirer''... gosh I was lame ). __________________________________________________________________________ Printed. And now it was time for the presentation and secret delivery. The night before I planned to give it to her, I emptied and washed our [ Annie's Cowgirl Ranch Salad Dressing ] ( http: //www.images-iherb.com/l/NAR-33351-4.jpg ) we had in the fridge. I then went to the local grocery store to buy a rose. As I was nervous and needed reassurance, I told my story to the lady, seemingly college-aged, who was working there and helping me with the rose. She told me, `` That's sweet as hell.'' And if it was her, she could n't say `` no.'' I went home, kept the rose safe and in good condition. Things could n't go wrong. The delivery was going to be tough, and a little impromptu. I made sure that I knew her school schedule well for the delivery day, a Thursday. 1st period, English class, and in fact she had an exam. I had to deliver it to that teacher, Ms. Katter, well before any student showed up. I made plans with my sister to drive me to school early on her way to work. She agreed, and she's been rooting for me this whole time. I readied the letter: I wrapped the rose with my letter and I stuck it into the Annie's Cowgirl Ranch salad dressing bottle. My sister dropped me off around 5:30am and wished me luck one last time. Went to door closest to the teacher's parking lot, and waited for the first teacher to come. I was n't sure when a teacher would come, and if it'd be enough time. But thank goodness for Mr. Kolesari, my math teacher who happened to come a little early that morning. I explained to him the story and he let me come with him to his classroom. He also loved the idea and was happy to see a romantic among the students ( he himself was also a romantic, always talking lovingly about his wife ). I spoke with him until I saw that Ms. Katter, the English teacher, had arrived. I quickly ran to her to explain and make the delivery, `` Ms. Katter, please give this to Annie after the exam. Do n't tell her it's from me.'' And she smiled, `` Ah, that's so sweet of you! I'll give it to her.'' And from that point, there was no turning back. Now, I just had to play the waiting game. I was so anxious and I wondered every moment *will she come find me now and tell me? Maybe after lunch? Maybe after school?! * She did n't come on Thursday. And I did n't see her Friday either. I started to get a little worried. If you liked someone and given that opportunity, would n't you go to it right away if you felt the same? Maybe by now, she asked one of those questions to someone else! Maybe she did n't like anyone. Or... was my letter too obvious and she knew it was me and did n't want to say anything? Had I already ruined our friendship by just doing that? The next day, Saturday afternoon, I get a call. Caller ID tells me it's her. I jump and feel excited and nervous at the same time. I answer as normal, `` Hey Annie! How's agoing?'' `` Good, good. Ummm... hey, Lucas. Did you write that letter?'' `` What?'' What I was really thinking was *That was n't one of the questions you're supposed to ask! * `` Did you write that letter?'' A short pause. Things were n't going to plan. She was supposed to ask one of those questions or nothing at all! Just pretend like it never happened so we could continue being friends, no feelings hurt! `` Yes, I wrote that letter.'' `` Oh, Lucas... no. NO.'' And my heart sank. From there, I ca n't remember the rest of the conversation. But I was heartbroken. She did n't feel the same. Even though part of me really thought she did! But she really was just a close friend, and I went on and ruined it. And it never really was the same after that. We did hang out a few times, or talked, but it just was n't the same anymore. I regretted it and believed that I should have just remained friends instead. I should have just doubted that she would have had the same feelings as me. But, I guess I had to try.

[ WP ] Whenever you touch someone they always die within 48 hours , how do you use this power ?

I might not be what everyone else expects a superhero should be. Fat, unhygienic, just disgusting, but I do more good for people than even the likes of Superman. I make people live. I make them happy with life. One particular event happened last week. I put on my uniform, purple spandex with yellow detailing. It perfectly outlines my love handles, and beer gut. I pay no mind to it, because I know I ’ m doing good. I approach the marketplace, one of my favorite places for saving people. Once I see the person I ’ m saving this week, I target them quietly. I am a ninja, shadows of the night. When he sees me coming, he acted as if the devil himself was approaching. I need to be quick in order to save him. He runs; he ’ s a quick one. Probably a track star in high school. This is where the Heely ’ s come into play. Shuffling my feet across the concrete floor of the marketplace, I shift my weight to my heels and roll towards him. He has no chance once I get going. The distance between us shrinks, and the fear in his eyes grows. If more people understood what I do for them, maybe they ’ d be willing to let me save them. Just meters away, I decide to put my training into use and jump onto him. As I fly through the air, I thank myself for doing those calf raises every day. They ’ ve paid off. He glances behind to my heroic pose as I fly through the air. I land on him. The damage is done. He curls up, and manages to bawl out, “ Why? I ’ m just a normal person. I ’ m happy. ” “ I ’ m just doing my job, citizen. Now, you have 48 hours to live your life to the fullest. You must take advantage of your time. Die with no regrets. I believe in you, citizen. ” “ This is exactly why everyone hates you, fatass. I ’ m pressing charges before I die. ” “ My name is Captain Karma, and you shall thank me. ” Another day, another citizen has been saved. I stroke my amazing beard on my neck. I see a beautiful lady walk towards to scene. She looks at me with disgust, but I know she ’ ll know the good I ’ ve done. I nod towards her, “ M ’ lady. ”

[ WP ] : You find a GPS tracking device on your front step with a note `` Crazy ex hid this in my car . Lose it for me ? ''

As a private pilot and having access to a light plane, it was fairly straight forward. Wrapping the device in tinfoil prevented it getting any signals as I drove it to the air club. There I readied the plane, and took off, heading generally into the country, towards some low mountainous foothills. Unwrapping the device, I was sure it would not function since civilian GPS units do not work in planes, a precaution against their use as missile guidance. I merely unwrapped the device and pitched it out the window. Where it is now, I could n't tell you, exactly. But it could.

[ WP ] Morticians have developed a technology to add powerful psychedelics to cremated remains . Snorting someones ashes lets you relive their memories first hand .

With shaking hands he pried open the battered cardboard case. Within sat that gleaming black disk, a favourite of both. He pulled the wax forth and examined it in the dim light, its form still perfect and unmarred. Gently he laid it on the player, softly onto its familiar bed of felt. He wiped fingers gently against one another, palms clammy in the warm attic room. With slow careful movement he raised the arm of the turntable and lowered the needle down softly to the slowly turning plastic. A gentle crackle, a stutter, a pop and then mournful strings, slow and brooding, their music. He sat and let it wash over him, an alchemic incantation of nostalgia, sorrowful notes unlocking a rusted catch in his chest, melting a wax knot stuck in his throat. A stinging wash of salt caught by tightly squeezed eyelids and pressed together lips. For now he just sat. As the second song chimed its familiar entrance he stirred himself from where he sat with bowed head. Looking down to his gathered apparatus laid out already with shaking hand. A chipped square of mirror, a razor, and a small striped plastic straw. The paraphernalia of a different man, a sensation seeking kit he had never needed or wanted. His fingers were thick and uncoordinated as he grappled with the button on the breast pocket of his shirt. Once open they dipped inside pulling out that small plastic parcel. An envelope of grey flecked with a strange iridescence. He tapped out the ash to the surface of the mirror. A small mound of dust one final monument to what had been. Taking the razor he scraped and shaped the mound forming four perfectly straight lines, furrowed earth tilled for his purpose. With steady hand he held the straw to his nostril and bent low over mirror, snorting back as he drew her into his lungs. The straw spilled from hand gone limp, his mind reeled and fell spinning down a vortex of black. Battering images washed past setting him loose in crashing waves of thought. Foreign thought, happier, brighter, hopeful. His breath came quick, heart hammering in chest, eyes twitching and fluttering as sensation ran through him. His body a lightning rod channeling a storm of memory. Slowly it stilled, the vortex let loose its grip and he floated in dark cold sea, gently bobbing up and down in white tipped waves. He tasted salt, the tang of the ocean mingling with his free flowing tears. He lay in the waves, feeling a current grip and tug him gently on his way. He closed his eyes and let go, sensation washing him away. Warm sun bathes my face, gulls caw in the distance. I can feel my lips curve into a smile, body tingling from the gentle embrace of the sun. I cracked my eyes slightly and looked to my side where he lay nestled, lips slightly parted, breath deep and even as he snores the day away. I can ’ t help a smile as I look down at him, my husband, the start of my life.

[ WP ] I was always late . Or at least , ONE of us was .

It started when she was fourteen years, six months, 12 days, 2 hours, and 1 minute old. Approximately. Laura was always precise. Or she tried to be. It rarely resulted in much. She wrote endless journal entries, two a day at promptly 07:00:00 am and 07:00:00 pm. There were only four days that she missed since she started. Laura enjoyed scanning her old entries in the journal. With the joy came an emotion of disappointment, though. Never was she able to capture the day as extensively as she would have liked. Sometimes, one entry would go on for 16.5 pages, and yet Laura was not satisfied. There were only three entries total that Laura deemed sufficient in the inscription of the day. That was Laura. She was the one to complete every assignment with the utmost efficiency. Efficiency would of course, begin after a thorough inspection of her monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly agendas. Independently, of course. She woke up promptly at 4:59:00 am every day. Sickness tried to throw a wrench into her plans, but nevertheless, she was always able to wake up and follow her routine. Routines, schedules, counting. Those were areas in which Laura did better than the norm. But with people, that was a whole other mess. People were just so confusing. They never followed any patterns. One day they would smile at her and wave, and another they would refuse to look at her. Sometimes even, this would be the same person to act in such a manner. Such variations in behavior. Such changes in personality. Sometimes they would yell at each other, and other times the same two people would hug and kiss and proclaim affection in frankly, unnecessary ways. Her classmates continued to be an enigma that she could n't care to figure out. They would walk in groups, everywhere. Thoroughly reducing their efficiency. They would even walk to the restroom in these gatherings. For what purpose? Laura was unable to understand. At lunch, they would all sit together, barely touching their food but instead using their mouth for other purposes. Purposes that lacked purpose. Laura ate lunch alone, of course. Ever so often, ( if she had to approximate it would be one week and three days into a new school year ) a person would come up to her and ask if she wanted to sit with them at their table. “ No I want to eat my lunch, ” she would tell them. The same person never came back twice to her table again. The next day, it started off all wrong. Laura did not wake up at 04:59:00am. No, she did not even wake up within the second of the time. She woke up at 05:35:27am. The time, for the first time, gave her the same feeling other people had always given her –utter confusion. There was something unmistakably off. After realizing the time, she did n't leap out of bed. Instead, she lay there. Lay. What purpose did laying serve. Such useless waste of time. And yet, she was partaking in it. 'It's not useless, it's blissful.' Laura heard the words but did not comprehend them. The sound waves from that sentence were not emitting through her ear cannel. But yet, she had understood them. And yet here she was. Still laying. 'You know, you really should stop this being down on laying. It's one of the best ways to spend time. Especially at 5:30 in the fucking morning. Also, dude, you need to stop thinking so loudly. Go to bed. You have maybe 2 hours until you actually need to do anything.' Again. Those words. They weren ’ t hers. Never in her life has she said the word or thought the word'dude'. Yet no one else was around. No recording was playing. No sound was emitting from her soundings. Laura never felt such confusion regarding her own senses. Senses made sense. But not this. This did n't meet any standard for making sense. 'Dude. C'mon. Stop stressing. It's going to be A-Okay. Just stop thinking. Two more hours, that's all I want. Then you can think as much as you want' She was n't about to respond to this... this thing. But should she? They kept talking to her. Kept referencing her thoughts. Not that they actually knew. Not that there was actually a they. But did any of this make any sense? 'Okay, I asked politely. Just let it fucking go. Shut your eyes. It'll be okay when you wake up at 7:30 or 8:00 or whenever. Just sleep. I know you're tired. It'll feel so good.'' Laura refused to be enticed by such words. She tried to take another glance at her clock, but as suddenly as the confusion came, the feeling fled and was replaced by a wave of tiredness. Within seconds, Laura's eyes shut. Someone was shaking her. 'Yo, yo excuse me what the fuck is happening?' `` Laura, honey, are you feeling okay? It's nine o'clock. You never sleep in. Should I check your temperature? Does your stomach hurt? Head?'' Laura's eyes stayed shut. On some level, she realized her mom was talking to her. On the other hand, she was so damn tired. 'Look at you cursing, they grow up so fast' `` Laura! C'mon, open your eyes. You're worrying me.'' Her mom started shoving Laura from a laying position to a seated position. Finally, then, her eyes opened up. `` Oh thank god!'' her mom embraced her. `` Mom, what is going on?'' Laura glanced at the clock. It was 09:23:57am. `` I do n't understand how I did not wake up. I do n't think I've ever...'' she trailed off, trying to think if it was a factual statement to say that nothing like this occurred before. 'Hey, dude, sorry I did n't introduce myself earlier. I was just so damn tired. Your brain was rapid firing and I was not firing at all. I'm Adrian, by the way. Thought I should let you know. What. “ I got appointed to your brain. Today's my first day. I'm with you for life, though. So. get excited, hopefully you'll grow into my presence!''

[ WP ] The main character loses fame , fortune , and all his loved ones but still has a happy ending .

It's a strange feeling to lose everything. A couple years ago I felt invincible, I was on top of my game, making millions every year, taking my wife on exotic vacations, buying my parents and siblings anything they asked for, and living as fast and as drunk as I wanted. Then things started changing; sales completely tanked, I guess everyone either did n't want my products anymore or everyone already had one and did n't want another. Then the board decided that they did n't like my'direction for the company' and forced me out, granted at that point I was in the tabloids more than I was in The Wall Street Journal, but still, it was rude. My wife saw that the goose was out of eggs and decided to get out while she could, that's the thing about russian women, they are relentless. She took pretty much everything that I did n't spend on lawyers, luckily we did n't have any kids, then she'd still be taking my money. For a while I tried staying with family and friends, and at first they were very welcoming, but after a little while they all fell into one of two categories: either they were just living around me, treating me like some sort of stain on the couch, or they would keep pressuring me to come up with the next big thing, you could practically see them drooling as they were waiting for me to have some breakthrough and repay them for their'generosity'. After a while I just got sick of it all, so what did I do? I scrounged up what little cash I could, went to the airport, and flew as far across the country as I could. And now here I am, and you know what, I'm happy. I got a job with a small tech company, I just moved into a new apartment, and made a down payment on a car, it's used, but that just means it's broken in. Speaking of which, I need to go, I have a date.

[ WP ] Your honest plan for a zombie apocalypse scenario . Starting from your home to your untimely death .

“ Look at them stars, ” Eugene O ’ McMalley said, “ Bet ya dollars to donuts there ’ s aliens livin ’ on one of em. ” Crickets chirped in the sultry night. Grinnald Gronkowski ’ s rocking chair rocked against the creaky floorboards of the porch. “ I ’ ll take that bet, ” Grinnald said, “ Ain ’ t no aliens living on stars. They ’ d burn theyselves lickety-split. ” “ Ain ’ t it the truth, ” Eugene said. “ But this here ’ s a key bit o ’ information. See, Aliens… can not die. ” “ HmmHhhhwhat? ” Grinnald said. “ They just transform theyselves into The Undead, ” Eugene said. “ How ’ d ya figure that? ” Grinnald said. “ Saw it on the History Channel, ” Eugene said. Grinnald nodded. “ Sounds about right, ” he said, “ Hey, can I have a beer? ” Eugene frowned, holding a beer bottle in his hand. “ Sorry, ” he said, “ This is the last one. ” “ So all the aliens in the universe are undead? ” Grinnald asked. “ Yup, ” Eugene said. “ That ’ s how the zombie apocalypse is gon na happen on our planet. Mark my words, an alien spaceship is gon na land in a field somewhere, carrying a bunch of alien zombies, and then they ’ re gon na take over the planet. ” “ So, ” Grinnald asked, “ What would you do if you saw an undead alien? ” Eugene reached down and picked up a shotgun off the floor. He chambered a shell and fired into the sky. The crickets stopped chirping. “ And then, ” Eugene said, “ I ’ d go to my bunker out back and live on MRE ’ s that I bought from the military surplus store eleven years ago. ” “ Why wouldja kill them? ” Grinnald asked. “ What if they came in peace? ” “ Can ’ t trust an alien, ” Eugene said, “ Can ’ t make no deals with them. They ’ d probably kill us as soon as we had our back turned. ” Grinnald nodded sadly. He gestured towards the shotgun. “ Can I see that for a moment? ” Eugene handed him the shotgun. Grinnald pumped a round into the chamber and pointed the barrel into Eugene ’ s stomach. “ Whatchoo doin? ” Eugene said, “ Ain ’ t you never heard of firearm safety? ” “ We came in peace, ” Grinnald said. Two thin green shafts sprouted from behind his ears. “ What? ” Eugene said, “ You ’ re an alien? ” “ Yup, ” Grinnald said. “ But you ’ re not undead, ” Eugene said, “ The History channel was wrong. ” “ No no, ” Grinnald said, “ I am undead. Aliens are green when we ’ re alive, but when we die, our flesh fades to this disgusting peachy-color, like Caucasian human beings. ” “ Oh, ” Eugene said. “ Wan na make a deal? Like an alliance? ” “ No, ” Grinnald said, “ We can ’ t trust you. ” “ This sucks, ” Eugene said, “ I ’ m the most prepared person on the planet for the alien-zombie apocalypse. And you ’ re just gon na shoot me before I get to my bunker. ” “ Yup, ” Grinnald said. “ Darn, ” Eugene said. “ Are you going to eat my brains? ” “ Nah, ” Grinnald said, “ That ’ s an urban legend. Really we just want to take all the fossil fuels on your planet and mail it back to our homeworld as tribute. ” “ I thought you lived on the sun, ” Eugene said. “ Yeah, ” Grinnald said, “ But it ’ s dying. So we have to replenish it with oil and natural gas. ” “ I see, ” Eugene said, “ Well this sucks. I spent so much of my life preparing for this moment, and now you ’ re gon na shoot me. ” “ Tell you Hhwhat, ” Grinnald said, “ I ’ m a sportsman. I ’ ll give you a sporting chance. Five second head start. Run to your bunker. Now! ” Eugene leapt from his chair and ran off the porch and around the house. Grinnald chuckled, pulling the blades of grass out from behind his ears. He picked up Eugene ’ s beer from the table and took a long drink. Eugene was so gullible. This was the second time he ’ d fallen for that trick this week. Just then, Grinnald felt a tapping on his shoulder. He turned around to look. A hideous seven foot tall zombie loomed over him. One eyeball hung out from its socket. Rotting green flesh slipped away from its bones. Grisly green antennae wobbled in the air above its half-exposed skull. The alien-zombie held a laser pistol in one hand. “ Aaaah! ” Grinnald screamed. He ran down the porch and around the house. The alien zombie followed, dragging its feet against the grass. “ Eugene! ” Grinnald shouted, “ Eugene! You got ta let me into your bunker! ”

[ WP ] Video games are n't just games . They are simulations of alternate dimensions and the best players are chosen to invade these strange worlds in order to expand the multi-dimensional human empire .

Alex Rogan is a teenager living in a trailer park with his mother and little brother, Louis. Alex's main leisure activity is playing Starfighter, an arcade game where the player defends `` the Frontier'' from `` Xur and the Ko-Dan Armada'' in a space battle. Eventually he becomes the game's highest-scoring player. A short time later, he is approached by the game's inventor, Centauri who invites him to take a ride. Alex does so, discovering the car is actually a spacecraft. It turns out Centauri is a disguised alien who takes him to the faraway planet Rylos. So his family and girlfriend, Maggie Gordon, do n't notice his absence, an android duplicate named Beta is left to take his place. Upon his arrival, Alex discovers that the characters and ships in the Starfighter arcade game represent an actual conflict between the Rylan Star League and the Ko-Dan Empire; the latter is led by Xur, a traitor to whom the Ko-Dan Emperor has promised control of Rylos itself. The game was designed as a test to find those `` with the gift''; Alex is expected to pilot an actual Starfighter spacecraft called the Gunstar. He also discovers that the Frontier is an array of satellites creating a force-field that protects Rylos and its surrounding planets from invasion. Xur has given the Ko-Dan the means to breach it. Before Alex can fully understand and dispute his induction, a holographic projection of Xur appears and reveals he has discovered an infiltrator in his ranks. The spy's torture and execution is broadcast. The display is witnessed by Xur's father, Ambassador Enduran, the Starfighter commander. Xur then proclaims that once Rylos's moon is in full eclipse, the Ko-Dan Armada will begin their invasion and not even the Starfighters will be able to save them. Scared by everything he's seen, Alex asks to be taken home, which Centauri reluctantly does. Back on Earth, he gives Alex a communications device to contact him, should Alex change his mind. Alex tries to give it back, since he wo n't be changing his mind, but Centauri insists, and then leaves. Meanwhile, the Starfighter base is attacked- a saboteur eliminates the base's defenses, causing heavy damage and killing all of the Starfighters save for a friendly reptilian navigator named Grig whom Alex befriended during his visit. All the Gunstars are destroyed, save for an advanced prototype that Grig was servicing in a different hangar. Once home, Alex discovers Beta and contacts Centauri to come and retrieve him. Just as Centauri arrives, Alex and Beta are attacked by a Zando-Zan, an alien assassin in Xur's service. After a short laser battle, Centauri shoots off its right arm. Centauri and Beta explain to Alex that the only way to protect his family ( and Earth ) is to embrace his ability as a Starfighter. Centauri also explains that there will be soon be more Zando-Zans arriving, intent on killing Alex. Before Alex can reply, the Zando-Zan, mentally controlling its severed arm, almost shoots Alex, but Centauri jumps in the way and returns fire, incinerating the alien. Alex and Centauri fly back to the ruined base. Alex finds Grig, but Centauri apparently dies from his injuries shortly after they arrive. Alex and Grig prepare the Gunstar to battle the Ko-Dan Armada by themselves. As Alex continues his training under Grig's tutelage, Beta continues to have difficulties in maintaining his impersonation of Alex—particularly with Maggie. This comes to a head when the two are out on a date and Beta discovers that a small group of Zando-Zan spies have set up a communication center from their spaceship outside of the trailer park and are relaying information back to Xur. Beta is forced to reveal everything to Maggie, who does n't believe him at first. But the Zando-Zan discover the pair and Beta is shot, exposing damaged circuitry, causing Maggie to realize the truth. The pair steal a friend's pickup truck and charge it at the Zando-Zan ship. After telling Maggie to jump, Beta crashes the truck into the ship, destroying it and sacrificing himself. Shocked by what she has learned and by Beta's heroic sacrifice, Maggie looks to the skies and proclaims her love for Alex. Back in space, Alex and Grig attack the Ko-Dan mothership, crippling its communications. During the battle Alex keeps the upper hand, using the tactics he mastered playing the video game. Soon, however, his weapons are depleted. Desperately, he activates a new secret weapon on the Gunstar, the `` Death Blossom'', which destroys the rest of the Ko-Dan fighters. Lord Kril blames Xur for this defeat. After relieving Xur of command, Kril orders him executed, but Xur kills the sentries escorting him from the bridge. He then flees just before Alex's final attack on the ship cripples the guidance controls, causing the massive ship to fall into the gravitational pull of Rylos' moon, where it crashes and explodes. Alex is proclaimed the savior of Rylos and hailed by its people. Alex then learns from Enduran that the Star League is still vulnerable: The Frontier has collapsed and Xur escaped. He will continue to be a threat as long as he still lives. Enduran invites Alex to stay and help rebuild the League, adding that he will have the help of an `` old friend''. To Alex's surprise, an unknown alien approaches, revealing himself as Centauri, who explains he was not dead, but in a healing stasis. After some urging by Centauri, Alex agrees to stay. He returns to Earth, dramatically landing his Gunstar in the trailer park. Grig tells Alex's mother and the people of the trailer park of Alex's heroism in the Rylan War and that he will be a Starfighter of great potential, who will teach future Starfighters. After explaining to his friends and family where he was, Alex reveals that his services as a Starfighter are still needed by the Star League. He then asks Maggie to come with him. Maggie's grandmother gives her blessing and Maggie returns with him to Rylos. Louis is inspired to join Alex and begins playing the game, so that he too can master it.

[ WP ] A little girl rises to the top of a criminal empire with just a box of Crayola crayons .

`` Miss Layla, what are your orders for me today?'' Tom waited for a moment, but still there was silence, just the same as yesterday, and in fact every other day he'd been working for the girl. After about a minute the swivel chair at the head of the boardroom table turned slowly, and Layla looked directly at him. They held eye contact for a few seconds, until she broke it as she slid a piece of paper across the table. Tom took the paper from her, and looked at the crude drawing, done entirely with crayons. It showed a man, drawn completely in black ( that was Tom ), and a little girl next to him in pink, which he could only guess was Layla. They were in a shop, and he was paying for things. `` We're going shopping?'' The only reply he got was a curt nod, and then she had turned the chair around again, and gone through a door in the back to her rooms. A few minutes passed and she re-appeared in a summery dress with little dolly shoes on her feet. `` I'll get the car.'' They pulled into the closest parking space they could to the shops, and Tom walked round to let Layla out. As they were walking down the street, she handed him another sheet of paper, which showed them holding hands, and had one word written on it. `` Dad?'' Inquired Tom. No sound left Layla's mouth, but she took Tom's hand and nodded again. She started to pull him towards the toy shop. As soon as they were inside, Layla made a beeline for the art section, and picked up a large packet of crayons. She let out a little giggle as they were walking towards the counter, and then said `` Thank you Daddy, I ca n't wait to use my new birthday present!'' Knowing the context behind this made Tom feel slightly queasy, but he had to keep up the pretense of a loving father while they were in public today. He smiled back at her and asked `` How about we go grab some ice-cream after this, as another special birthday treat?''. The giggle came again, and as Tom payed for the crayons and handed them back to Layla, she simply replied with `` Mmhmm!''. A grin spread across her face as they sat down in the café, each with a bowl of ice cream sat in front of them. Layla also had a banana milkshake topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. While they were eating Layla took out the crayons and started drawing on the napkin, taking care to choose the right colour for each part. She slid it across the table to Tom and his heart skipped a beat as he took in what she'd drawn. The picture simply showed a house with the two of them, and then several other figures, which Tom knew to be her other'employees' being'dismissed' by Tom.

[ WP ] There 's a statue outside your door that was n't there last night .

I yawn and stretch. *Sigh. * I promised myself I have to get some schoolwork done today, or I'll end up with even more stress as the deadline is drawing closer. I get up from bed, put on my flip flops, get some underwear out of the closet and head for the door. With my eyes still heavy from just waking op, I open the door to the hallway and notice something standing just outside my room. I jump, dropping my underwear in the process, and hit the doorpost with my head. *OUCH! * `` Bloody-'' I yell. `` Mom! Why's there a statue of a headless zombie outside my bedroom?'' I hear a faint voice responding to my yell. `` What?'' I inspect the statue more closely and head downstairs. My mom's preparing lunch in the kitchen, slicing bread. `` The statue, of the zombie, without the head?'' `` Oh, the statue! Sorry hun, could n't hear you properly. Yeah, I bought it yesterday. Like it?'' I grumble, head back upstairs, pick up my underwear and proceed to the bathroom on the other side of the hallway, while rubbing my head on the spot I hit it.

[ WP ] Farewell Planet Earth

`` I'm sorry.'' It felt right, it felt like the only thing I could say. We left this planet to rot in search of new ones to suffocate. It was n't right, but progress is progress. If humanity were to survive, then the barren, polluted waste that was once called Earth had to be left behind. However as I left orbit with my small crew, my mind started to wander. The civilizations we have destroyed, the resources we have dwindled. The only sentient race on Earth had single-handedly provided its downfall. The one gift we had from our `` beloved'' planet we squandered, and continue to squander. The oil from ten million long-forgotten beasts leaked into the never-ending blackness that was space, their legacy being fuel for a race that never cared. Sometimes when I get like this, I envy the dinosaurs. At the least the dinosaurs died before their planet.

[ WP ] The Boogeyman tucks you in every night before bed and wishes you sweet dreams . What made him change ?

`` Night, sweetheart.'' The Carl whispered to his daughter. She peeked out from under the covers with dark eyes. He stood and walked over to the closet and opened it. `` No monsters in the closet, baby.'' He got down on his hands and knees and looked beneath the bed. `` No monsters under the bed. You're safe. It's okay to sleep. No one will bother you.'' `` What about the boogeyman?'' She whispered. `` The boogeyman is gone. I destroyed him. He wo n't ever hurt you again.'' He sat down on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair. Dark memories played behind his eyes. `` What if he comes back?'' She asked. He leaned over and kissed her brow. `` He ca n't comeback. I destroyed him.'' He wrinkled his nose at her and smiled. She dared to smile back, but she cast dark eyes toward the closet anyway. `` Besides, I installed something new on the closet door.'' He got up and walked over to show her. It was a dead bolt. He gave it a turn till it clicked and smiled. `` If he is in there, he ai n't gettin' out.'' He smiled big, and she smiled too. `` Good night, daddy.'' She called, rolling over on her side to sleep. `` Night, baby.'' He called back, stepping out into the hall. He left the door open a crack and walked down the hall to the living room. He stood in the door way and watched his wife sleeping on the sofa before the television. He risked a quick glance down the hall to make sure his daughter was still in her room then check on his wife again. Content that he would go unobserved, he crept into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of pills down from atop the cabinets. He stared at the name on the side of the bottle. It was his and with guilty eyes and a trembling hand, he opened them and down two. They tasted terrible, but they doctor said it would dull his urges. He wanted to be better. The first few times he hid in her closet it had been to watch, but then one night he crept out. He still her sobs in the dark shameful corner of his mind. The eyes bulging with fear. The squeaks and squeals and muffled screams all came back and he nearly dropped the bottle of pills because of the tremors. He'd always been her boogeyman. He looked at the bottle in his hand and took two more. Now he could just be her father. He replaced the bottle atop the cabinets then stepped out into the garage to be alone. He sank down on to the steps and buried his face in his hands and wept. The pills killed the urges, but they could n't dull the memory -- memories -- of what he'd done. As he sat and cried he felt the pills begin to dull his senses and he finally allowed himself to relax. She'd be safe now... at least till morning.