Datasets:

euclaise

/

writingprompts

like 26

[ Modpost ] Call for Moderators ! !

**How much free time do you have available to focus on modding duties? ** I'm awake and on Reddit from around 2:30 PM to 7:00 PM ( Pacific Standard ). **Would you be available for our chat room? ** Of course! I love chatting with people, so long as I'm awake. **Are you an active member of /r/WritingPrompts? ** I am, though I'm mostly a reader. **Do you moderate other subreddits? ** Nope. MY TIME IS ALL YOURS. **Why are you interested in moderating /r/WritingPrompts? ** I like the community, and want to make sure it stays clean and clear. Besides, it looks pretty fun. **Are you interested in doing a weekly post? Something like our Sunday Free Write or User Spotlights** Yes! **As a mod, you see a long time user has made an obvious troll post, what do you do? ** Follow regular protocol. Remove post, list reasons. **As a mod, you see something that does n't explicitly break the rules, but you feel is harmful to the subreddit. What do you do? ** > We reserve the right to silently remove anything we feel is harmful Follow that rule. **Who is your favorite moderator and why? Choose wisely. ** /u/WritingPromptsRobot aka StickyBot^ ( TM ). He does his job well. **Answer this prompt: In 75 words or less, write about an evil troll. ** He sat at his desk, the soft glow of the screen gently roasting his eyes. `` You suck! This story was sooo stupid, my asscheeks can type better!'' He was banned for being a dick. **Are you susceptible to bribery? Do you have bribery you'd like to offer? ** I might be... Here, take this gift of [ Reddit Silver ] ( http: //www.imgur.com/C8lzpBJ.jpg ) ^ ( plz mod me ) **Do you have any further comments to add before submitting your application? ** Just a little vague info about myself. I'm Picklestasteg00d ( my first name is Farus ), I am a 16 year-old male, born September 4th. I like pickles. EDIT: formatting and grammar

[ WP ] God has decided to chose a successor . Any human past or present is a potential candidate . You are one of the 10 finalists .

**'' My children, I have gathered the ten of you here because you are the most worthy in my kingdom. One of you will be the new successor to the throne of Heaven. This is your final test; you must choose unanimously amongst yourselves who is worthy to claim the mandate of Heaven. `` ** Shiftily we all glanced back and forth at each other, the lure of ultimate power a source of corruption even in the highest plane of Heaven. *Choose unanimously? Yeah right. Although... * ``... Okay guys, I'd hate to imply that the big guy's some kind of sly snake or something, but obviously this is some sort of trick question. Only *one* of us gets to have ultimate glory and power? Really? How do we know that whoever gets elected wo n't ultimately decide to change the world in some drastic horrible way, or play favorites among the other humans? I think there's a better option. I suggest that we go the time share route. Every year one of us gets to take over the throne, and the other nine of us stay on earth, but with the combined power to overthrow the current reigning God if things get too out of hand. So one year of commitment, then nine years of vacation, on an eternally rotating schedule. People can sign up for their year right now, and if there's any conflict as to who wants to go when, I dunno, we'll draw straws or play rock-paper-scissors or something. Sound fair enough?'' The others seemed unconvinced. *…Share? Share the power? But why? I could have it all to myself…* `` …Think about it guys! This is the best system! You have families, do n't you? Friends, back on Earth? Pets that are waiting for you at home? Would you really want to just up and leave them like that? This way you can have the best of both worlds!'' The others paused and murmured amongst themselves, considering my proposition. One of them, an Asian man with short black hair and glasses, stepped forward from the crowd. ``... She's got a point, you know. I want to watch my baby daughter grow up, and not just helplessly from heaven. Governing one year out of every ten, while maintaining godly powers to be able to protect my family the rest of the time I'm on earth? That seems like a pretty good deal to me, actually. I'm in.'' The others glanced around the circle, and slowly nodded in agreement. Out of thin air a quill and parchment materialized, and passing it amongst ourselves we jotted down each of our names into a list, the order in which we would each rotate our years. As the last name was signed, the parchment glowed. **'' Wait, this was n't the deal! You ca n't just --! `` ** The heavens rumbled with thunder, and flashes of lightning illuminated the clouds. The others were sent back down to earth, and the voice of the old man was silenced. `` …Heheh. Fools. They should've never let me go first.''

[ WP ] The child wandered the immense forest , lost for eternity , waiting .

The child was running, running away from a past he did not want to face. He ran away from his small village on the outskirts of a great town. He ran through the numerous tunnels and bridges that were in his way. He ran until he found it, a forest. This was n't a typical forest however, he had read from the scholars books that this forest was different. The twisting pines shone before him calling him into their reaching grasp. He turned around and saw the Knights on horse back chasing after him. He had used every ounce of his training to run here, outrunning all who followed him, but now he needed to leave. He took a step into the forest and the knights stopped dead in there tracks. When he stopped runing he looked around him and saw the forest surrounding him. He was lost, and he smiled. Once he caught his breath he sat down and looked around, looking for food. Then a thought crossed his mind, he did n't need food, he was n't going to die. That's what made this forest special, the shifting pathways, moving trees. The conspirators could n't find him in this forest, the guardsmen who where probably killing his entire royal family now could n't find him, even death could n't find him. He overheard the plan to overthrow his father, and the entire royal family, he knew his entire line would be gone within 200 years and no one had any right to the throne, except him. He smiled as he knew what he was doing as he leaned against a tree, and waited.

[ WP ] You found a number that can truly answer any question through a SMS . Over the next few days you use it to your advantage such as winning the lottery . One day you get curious and decide to message `` What happens after you die ? '' What you see next horrifies your inner being .

The poster was torn. Its colours were desaturated. It had been wet by the rain and dried by the sun numerous times, but it still stuck to the wall, albeit it was barely hanging on. Despite all this, the message was still quite visible. `` MESSAGE 192 A QUESTION FOR THE TRUE ANSWER'', with the visual of a crystal orb beneath. Undecipherable symbols decorated the sides of the paper. I stared at the advertisement longer than I should have. People did n't really give a thought about a man in a coat staring at something in an alley which had been vandalised many times. They were rushing around. They had better things to do. So did I. Furthermore, there was no proof it worked. It could be a scam. It probably was. I was n't sure why I was strangely compelled to pull out my phone and send a message to 192. It was rather odd. I typed in a quick question as I resumed my walk to my office. `` What's the score for tonight's game?'' Sending the message, I put my phone back in my pocket and tried to forget about this risky thing I had just done. It was n't long before my phone buzzed in my jeans, just as I was crossing the road. I stopped by a corner and pulled it out. `` 3-2.'' Was all it said. Huh. Seemed unlikely. Home was definitely better than the visiting. We'd just have to wait and see. ~ I had almost forgotten about the whole thing until I got home. It was reaching seven. Enough time for me to grab a sandwich and watch the game. I pulled out my phone again. I reread the text: 3-2. Alright, time to see if you're not bullshitting, I thought. Amazingly, it was right. A stunning 3-2 score ended the game and half-cleared my doubts. I was slightly less skeptical now. Could have been a coincidence, or sheer luck. Still, I decided to send another text. After all, a whole day had passed and I still had control over my phone and its functions. `` Lottery numbers for this week?'' Almost immediately, there was a reply. `` 100, 76, 41, 23.'' I shrugged. Why the hell not? It was right one time. If it was right the second, I may have found something pretty valuable. I bought the numbers for three of the answers given by 192. I did n't want to win the jackpot. I really did n't want to deal with the publicity and whatnot. ~ 192 was right. I won half a million dollars. The numbers were exactly the same as stated by the text. By now, I was pretty convinced. It was a Saturday. I spent the entire morning thinking of things to ask. I could ask for anything. The cure for cancer, how to ask out this girl I liked, where the stuff I've been missing was. But I decided to go for more interesting questions. `` What happens in the afterlife?'' I clicked send. Immediately, 192 was responding. But I saw the symbol for typing. It was taking a while. Never took this long for an answer. I waited, tapping my fingers on the keypad nonchalantly. Then I saw the answer. It was pretty long, almost worthy of the title of being an essay. `` The answer is not as simple as you think. Or perhaps you knew the answer was going to be complicated, in which case you are right. Religion is not lying to you when they claim the afterlife is true. It is, but there is only one afterlife. The afterlife of knowledge. When you pass on, your soul gains knowledge, knowledge spanning since the existence of the universe. The process is long and painful. Your soul will scream for mercy, and you will have none. There is no one to attain mercy from. Oblivion is the only thing that surrounds you at that point. Not all survive this process. The weak ones, whose minds shatter during the process, have their souls - their dead souls - mind you, annihilated. They become nothing. They do not know they exist, because there is nothing for them that speaks for their existence. Imagine that. The mere concept of oblivion. No, you can not. Your mortal mind can not grasp this. If you do survive, congratulations. You now know everything. Every event that has happened, and every event that will happen, until the end of time. But of course, such knowledge comes at a price. Only the dead know about this, those that survive the afore mentioned process. So now that you know this...'' My blood froze. `` You are already dead.'' I dropped the phone on the floor. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I touched my face and my chest. I still had a beating heart. I still had a pulse. I grabbed the cotton of my sofa. I still felt it. Nothing ethereal has happened. `` It's nothing.'' I told myself. `` It's nothing. Just a joke by him, or her...'' `` Or it.'' My doorbell rang. `` Derrick Sulliver.'' A cold, echoey voice whispered, somehow loud enough to reach me, rattling my bones. Death itself had come. And the scariest thing was, I knew that.

[ IP ] The Caravan

The T-64 cut deep tracks in the snow as it rumbled along the ground. Metal patches were crudely welded over the chassis in several places, covering the damage it had sustained over the last year. The tracks had been repaired unevenly in several places causing the tank's wheels to clank regularly. An improvised trailer followed behind it, attached with heavy bolts and chains. The corrugated iron of the trailer's roof rattled as the tank flattened a barbed wire fence. In the middle of the trailer was a wooden crate with a map on it. `` We're gon na have to find more diesel soon'' said a man leaning against a boarded up window at the front of the trailer, `` A lot more.'' A woman looked up at him from the map. `` Yes'' she replied, `` I had been thinking about it.'' `` Shame that map's only got major cities marked'' said the man, `` caravans do n't stop in cities much anymore''. The woman went back to analyzing the map. `` Krakow should be abandoned by now...'' she said after several seconds. `` We are not going back to Krakow.'' `` The last attack there was a month ago. You know they do n't stay in one place that long.'' `` I also know what we'll find there. You were at Warsaw, Wojciecha. Total fucking bloodbath. Half the city got flattened. Same story in every place they hit. There's nothing worth finding at Krakow.'' The woman stood up and walked over to the only intact window in the trailer, opened as far as possible. A DShK was mounted on a tripod in front of it with what was left of a belt of ammunition hanging out of it, brass glinting in the moonlight. A few metal links lay on the floor near it. Wojciecha leaned on the chipped window frame, looking out at the sheets of snow covering the world. She was slim with light brown hair and gray eyes. Across her right forearm was a long, straight scar. `` We have to go somewhere'' she said. `` Somewhere with fuel'' the man replied. `` Lodz might still be inhabited'' Wojciecha said hesitantly. The man shook his head. `` Too far'' he said. `` If we got there and did n't find fuel we'd be fucked. We need to find something near here.'' Wojciecha drummed her fingers on the machine gun at the window. `` Lodz is one of the last inhabited cities. There has to be something there'' she said. `` It *was* one of the last inhabited cities. We have no idea if it still is. If it is it will be fortress by now. No way we'd get in.'' `` So what are we going to do?'' The man was silent for several seconds. Finally he spoke, `` We keep avoiding the cities. We're not a target out here. If we stick to the roads sooner or later we'll find a caravan or a fuel station that is n't trashed.'' Wojciecha walked back across the cluttered floor of the trailer to the map, studying it carefully. `` Look'' she said, pointing at a road on the map. The man came over and bent down to look at it. `` If we keep going in the direction I think we are going in, we will come to this road. I think it is a few miles ahead. After that we go north.'' The man nodded slowly. `` Yeah, north.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- That did n't go in the direction I was thinking it would and it is n't as good as I was going for. I know the tank is n't actually a T-64 and the gun in the window is n't a DShK but I could n't identify either of them so I made it up. T-64s look kinda like the tank in the picture. I'm thinking it might actually be a PzKpfw VI Ausf. E. There's also some artistic license mechanics in the tank's description. The main literary failing is the lack of descriptions. There is a huge amount of material in the picture and I ignored most of it. The story also lacks direction and only vaguely defines important things. Others are completely ignored. I'm not sure why I decided the picture is in Poland. Probably something about the Metro 2033 feeling. If I forgot any other failings please complain about them.

[ WP ] Gravity is being reversed in 30 minutes . Write what happens before , when and after the gravity is reversed .

`` and that gentleman is how everything is going to turn to shit.'' The physicist said, pulling out a cigar. `` Aw crap'' another said, pulling out whiskey `` Look on the bright side, at least we wo n't feel a thing. I mean, with the atmosphere dissipating, we would likely suffocate befire the inertia of earth's orbit and rotation crushes us into pulp. Hell, without atmospheric pressure, we would just explode. So really, everyone and everything in the universe is going to die now, and the odds of anything happening after the change other than the silence of space are zero.'' Said the scientist, puffingbout smoke, watching out the window the panicked public. Some raping, others praying, and some just crying. The change has come. Everyone just exploded into several thousand fleshy chunks. Every small chunk repelling each other due to the reversed gravity. Every star and black hole has repelled anything nearby them, ensuring no life would ever live again. Silence of space. There is nothing.

[ WP ] Your dreams have been becoming increasingly vivid lately , to the point that you can no longer tell the difference between dream and reality . Last night you had a nightmare .

I know walls should n't squirm and pulsate and moan and that I'm probably in another fucking nightmare, but the thought hardly helps when they're squeezing up and against me, drowning out my screams, pushing in my limbs, squishing me, suffocating, the spongey concrete tendrils of wall slipping through my gasping mouth and down my throat and into my lun -- I wake up. Stand. Then shower, brush, dress, and leave. Work is data entry. Lunch is leftovers. Life is hell. I'm not sure why I'm still alive. Or, I am -- I've tried suicide six times in six different ways and found myself dreaming on each and every occasion. The last four were on days just like this, at boring, soul-crushing fucking work. I'd laugh, but I'm afraid I'd end up crying instead. Work finishes. I get in my car. On the way home, I consider swerving into approaching headlights, but decide against it. There's a chance the people are real, and if I go ahead and it's a dream, well, then I have to live with the knowledge that I'm a spineless fucking murderer, so, yeah, I do n't. I turn on the TV. It's a Seinfeld rerun. Kramer is in a Woody Allen movie and George is parking cars. I want to laugh, but I ca n't get the thought out of my head that everytime I turn on the TV, I'm always getting reruns -- like I'm dreaming and my brain is too lazy and tired and just too sick of this shit to bother coming up with something original. I dunno. It's 2AM when I decide to'sleep'. In bed, four hours pass. My alarm goes off. I go to turn it off and it swallows my hand, because it's some kind of fleshy thing made of rows upon rows of teeth. As it works its way down the rest of me, I do n't scream or shout, or do much of anything. Just one thought passes through my brain, *I fucking knew it. * I wake up. Or do I? I do n't even know. I go to laugh, but all that comes out are these wracking sobs, and before I know it, I'm bawling.

[ WP ] You do something entirely normal . Hundreds of years later , it has been turned into a festival that is celebrated nationwide . However , it has been distorted into something far different than you intended .

'And so, we gather together to remember the Great Purging of 2014! Where our prophet did rid the world of such evil and disgusting documents which were tainting his mind!' The vicar yelled from the pulpit, as the fire raged behind him. '*HE SAVED US FROM SUCH FILTH*' the crowd roared, their torches blazing. 'In honour of his great deed, we do the same! We commit such vile histories to the flames, in order to save us from our own carnal desires. Bring your books to the pyre, so we can delete them from the archives of our great nation. Praise be to the Prophet!' '*AND GOD BLESS INCOGNITO MODE*' the crowds shouted, throwing their books, tax documents and other papers to the great Deletion Pyre. 'Let the fires burn up and down our great nation, and may none of us be tainted by those evil things he saw, like those midgets defecating into a bucket or naked sinners defiling their bodies on some evil couch. This concludes the Great Purging. Now, let us follow in the steps of our Prophet on his grand journey. To the pub!'

[ WP ] You are aboard the first FTL ship on its maiden voyage . Soon you will arrive at your destination .

Never in my life had I imagined I would see the Earth. Growing up on the Frontier, the lawless void beyond the Martian asteroid belt, Earth was preached as a haven, Eden realized. Movies, literature, documentaries, I had absorbed it all in a fervor. Food, water, oxygen, enough for every soul in the system; to a kid raised in a pressure vessel with death lurking behind three centimeters of steel it sounded like paradise. And now I was on my way. *** The bridge was empty, save for the aimless meandering of the janitor drone. I sat with my knees to my chest, staring out the viewport at the endless starscape beyond, diamonds scattered on black silk. The drone bumped against my boots, reversed, and zipped away in the other direction. I heard the elevator door slide open, but could not tear my view from the stellar panorama. Captain Rebecca Stone slid up beside me, not saying a word. She sat down, followed by line of sight, and chuckled. “ Beautiful, isn ’ t it? ” I nodded, searching fruitlessly for a quip. We sat in silence, each absorbed in the vast expanse beyond the armored glass. The captain laid a firm but gentle hand on my shoulder. “ Look, Jack, ” she said, unaccustomed softness straining in her tone, “ I… I ’ m really sorry about what happened back there. But you… you ’ re a hero, you saved *all those people*. You ’ ve officially got me beat on that count, I think I ’ m only in the… well… it doesn ’ t matter. You did good, and Elizabeth would be proud. Your parents would be proud. ” I shrugged out of her grip with more enmity than I intended. The captain nodded and returned to her silent study of the stars. The past month had been hard, one long string of trials and failure, doubts and pain. But it was done, the station was now under United Nations control and those responsible for the holocaust were being processed and sent to a place called “ Black Rock ”, whatever that was. But Elizabeth was dead. And Artemis was dead, or whatever happens to AI after they take a plasma bolt to the processor. My parents, Artemis had explained before everything went sideways, had been good people before they too were murdered on that damnable station, shortly after I had been born. I rolled the small silver-beaded bracelet over and over in my bandaged hands. I had given it to Elizabeth just a few days before it all went down, a token of apology for some stupid argument. She was gone, but the echoes of our last fight still rang in my ears. “ Not a good thing to keep around, if you ask me, ” Captain Stone muttered, trying her best to be supportive. I had only known the captain and her small crew for a few days; they had boarded the station during the chaos, slipped a data spike through the firewall when Artemis had sacrificed herself to scramble the station ’ s core. Ghosts, they called themselves, undercover agents of the United Nations Peacekeepers. They had found me on the bridge of the station surrounded by death; Artemis ’ co-opted security droid corpse slagged and lifeless, the bloated excuse for a president floating dead in the null gravity like a parade float from the classic films, the shattered remains of that infernal puppet master ’ s mechanical frame, and me, suffocating in the thinning atmosphere. The Ghosts had saved my life. “ Don ’ t call me a hero, ” I said through gritted teeth. I wrung the bracelet tighter, holding firm to the last shard of my old life. I saw the captain wince from the corner of my eye. She wanted to help, I knew it, and I should be thankful. They had made me an offer, there on the floor of the station ’ s command center, as I gulped down canned air through a face mask. I could leave the station, explore the system, see what I would see, make a living giving interviews about life on the “ prison ship ”. Or I could make a difference. Join the Ghosts, serve the UN, bring justice to those who hurt me, who hurt my fellow captives. Who hurt Elizabeth. Anonymity was the Ghost ’ s best and most valuable weapon, they said, and I was nobody. Literally. The station had stopped keeping a census years ago. “ Here, kid, I brought you something. ” Captain Stone reached into a pocket of her flight suit and handed me a small green orb. I stashed the bracelet and took the offered gift. It was lighter than I has expected, and waxy. “ It ’ s an apple, ” the captain said, holding one herself. “ Fruit, real fruit. You guys ever get anything like this in that hellhole? ” I studied the fruit. It was fascinating; I had read about fruit, how it had once grown on Earth before the Exodus, but they were said to be extinct, along with almost everything else on the irradiated surface. But, like most things in my rapidly-expanding world, that had turned out to be a lie. The Earth was not gone, no bombs had fallen, and apples were, apparently, still growing strong. I watched as Captain Stone took a bite of the waxy fruit and grinned. I did likewise. Juice erupted from the fruit, cloyingly sweet and incredibly sour. I grimaced through the initial shock, and the captain laughed aloud. After catching my breath, I tore into the apple like a man starved. I had never tasted anything remotely as delicious; our collective diet back on the station had consisted primarily of protein bars, vitamin supplements, and artificial fiber strips. We ate in silence, alone on the dim bridge. “ You ever been outside? Outside the station, I mean, in open space? ” Captain Stone had eaten about half of her apple, leaving a slim rod riddled with seeds. Strangely, she tossed it towards a trash receptacle on the far side of the bridge. The throw was short, and it slapped to the floor. The janitor droid slid over, sucked up the apple core, sprayed the area where it had landed, and wiped away the juices. Noting my look of shock and disgust, the captain flashed a disarming smile. “ You don ’ t eat the core, Jack, ” she said, eyeing my nearly-consumed apple. Food waste was something I would get used to, it seemed. With a nod, I tossed the remains of my apple over to the same receptacle. After one more studying glance the captain rose and motioned for me to follow. “ Well, there were no windows on the station,'' I said. `` We thought there were, but I guess they were just holograms. But I did have to walk along the hull to get to the north section, where we met. That ’ s the only time, though. ” The captain nodded along as she strode across the bridge to the viewport. Far below, beyond the window, I could see the fleet of United Nations vessels, everything from small industrial skiffs and medical transports up to the gleaming warships and carriers I had seen on my short space walk, surrounding what must have been the station, like flies circling a corpse. The captain punched a command into a control panel below the window, and the glass faded opaque, replaced by a shimmering emblem, a stylized globe ringed by laurels that I recognized as the United Nations Logo from the station ’ s on-board media library. The captain turned to me, pinning me down beneath her grey-eyed scrutinizing stare. “ Alright, Jack, it ’ s about time we talked about the next step. ” I nodded, not lowering my gaze. “ What you just went through, ” the captain continued, “ was harrowing, by anybody ’ s measure. You deserve a medal, or a parade, something. Really. But life doesn ’ t work like that. This ship is your home now, and we ’ re your family. You ’ re a Ghost, and that means more than you likely think. Whatever life you lead back there is over, you ’ re dead. This Jack, standing before me, is a new man. Your reward is service, and I can not guarantee your safety. Now, I need to know, Jack, do you have any reservations? It ’ s not too late to leave. ” I scanned her features for a hint, anything, but the captain lived up to her surname and her expression revealed nothing. I slid my hand into the pocket of my jacket, fingering the bracelet once more. After several introspective heartbeats I nodded. “ I want to be a Ghost. I want to help. ” A crack formed in the captain ’ s emotional façade, a fleeting grin. “ Good… good, that ’ s what I wanted to hear. ” The tension fled the bridge, and I let go of the bracelet. The captain rolled up her sleeve, revealing the thin outline of a bio-screen embedded just below the flesh of her wrist. She hit a glowing symbol, and the ship ’ s intercom clicked on. “ All hands, this is the captain. Prepare for FTL. Wallace, warm up the Alcubierre-Drive and set a course for Earth. Fresh Meat needs some gear. ” *** *If you like what you read, be sure to check out my [ subreddit ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/Irishpersonage/comments/4i1vq9/welcome/ ) for more of my writing. *

An immortal man finally is given choice to die , these are his last moments of reflection on all of his years .

Joshua sat in his study, reading the Silmarillion again, enjoying the wonderful spring day. His house was modest, despite his accrued fortune. The window behind him rustled a bit in the wind, and motes of light came through, collecting together to form a person. `` Hello Azrael, old friend,'' Joshua said to the Angel of Death. `` Who are you here to collect today?'' `` I'm here with an offer from Elohim. He says you can come home now if you wish'' The Angel's voice was calm, cool. Like a gentle stream, it had a calming effect on Joshua. This was good, because the Angel's news shocked Joshua. He had been alive for millenia, traveling the world, unable to die. “ What made him change his mind? ” queried Joshua “ He didn ’ t say, you know how he is. ” Azrael said with a chuckle. “ May I have some time to think this over? ” Joshua asked, with Azrael nodding the affirmative. With little flourish the Angel turned to motes of light and left out the open window. Joshua thought back to his early life, in the middle east. He had been sent to war, in God ’ s name, and in a particularly brutal battle, he should have died. But as he laid dying, Azrael appeared as he always does, little balls of energy coalescing into the Angel of Death. He had then been offered immortality. When he had asked why, Azrael could only shrug and say the Elohim rarely speaks his intentions when he gives orders. With a family in his village, he had eagerly accepted, and immediately went back home to his family, grateful for God ’ s gift to him. But it was a bittersweet gift, as his family had grown old around him, and he had felt forced to leave because he had ceased to age, and a village as small as his notices when a son ’ s hair grays before his father. He had traveled the world, loved and lost much, experienced many wonderful and terrible things. In the modern age of documentation and technology, he had been forced to fake his death every century, and reforge a new identity. He had also learned much, staying up to date on the sciences as they changed, and he had seen the world change and grow in an astonishing way. But, despite all of this, he was tired. He could feel it more in his soul then his body, as his body had never failed him, but he was tired nonetheless. He couldn ’ t remember what most of his wives and children looked like, at any point in their lives. Albums sat in a safety deposit box full of those he could take pictures of, his own personal log of love and loss. His life had become a cycle without end, and now he thought, “ What would the end entail? God had taken personal interest in his life. What awaited him afterwards? Presumably Heaven, but what was that? Azrael had refused to answer him at their chance encounters. Whenever someone had died after Joshua met Azrael for the first time, he could see him any time he came for a soul, and they both found their discourses fascinating. “ Azrael, I am ready to go home now. ” spoke Joshua with a great sigh. “ What made you decide, if I may ask? ” Azrael said as he reassembled in front of Joshua. “ I have had many adventures on this earth. I think I am ready for the next big adventure. ” With that a slight smile, Azrael offered his hand to Joshua. With a pull, his soul was freed from his body. The world had transitioned. Life glowed, and the inanimate had lost a good deal of its color. Before the two spirits was a gateway, glowing blue, and radiating light across the room. They both stepped through, and the gateway closed behind them

[ RF ] It 's the car ride back from the hospital and neither of them quite knows how to talk about what just happened .

He would have preferred, of course, that Sam had sat in the back seat. Defiant as ever, she plopped all 4 feet, 90 pounds of herself in the passenger seat and refused to move. Afraid she might disappear, Jack did n't argue. She was still his daughter, despite what had occurred at the hospital, and he would always worry for her safety. Sam, however, did n't have a care in the world as they drove swiftly down the highway, away from the ominous building. She changed the radio station and bobbed her head along with the Kids Bop station. `` You, uh..'' He started, not sure how to approach her. `` You do n't have to explain what happened.'' He ventured, sneaking a glance at his little girl. `` You would n't understand anyway.'' Sam turned her large brown eyes on him, and smiled in that way she did when she knew she was going to get her way. `` Why do n't you try me?'' Jack offered, wanting- no, needing, to understand what he had witnessed. When the nurses had rushed him, a single parent, out of the intensive care unit, he knew something was wrong. He feared that he was going to lose the only thing still tying him to this world. Minutes later, when his little angel had skipped cheerfully to him in the waiting room and taken his hand, he had n't thought twice about leaving that dark place immediately. For the first time since they had walked to the car, Sam hesitated, her smile faltering a bit. `` I do n't want you to be scared.'' She whispered, not looking him in the eyes. `` I know you never did believe in God, daddy. Or the devil.'' Jack looked at her again, realizing for the first time that there was blood under her nails.

[ WP ] You are living your day quietly , until you become very nauseous and start seeing flashbacks . Flashbacks of different lives you 've had at different times in history

I hear a crash and the last thing I see is the floor coming to meet me, and in an instant I am in a theatre. I am in pain, I recognise that, and the blood leaking from my head, the way it pooled on the wooden planks. I hear cries of `` Mr. President!'' and that is that. I wake up in my bed. `` Just another nightmare'' I tell myself, but that saying has become so familiar I do n't believe that anymore. This all began 8 years ago. I was in Rome on a school trip, and we were in a Roman theatre. Then it started. I got that weird feeling in my stomach, a pain in my back, a sharp stab you could say. [ WIP ]

[ WP ] Scientists built a one-time-use machine that allows us to connect our world to a fictional one . Being the asshole you are , you chose which world without asking anyone else about their opinion .

They had decided on Middle Earth. Middle Earth, you know, the one filled with spiders, orcs, ancient evils beyond comprehension. But I was having none of that. Westeros was *way* more awesome. Well, true, there was some stuff going down there, but I, like every *sane* man, wanted to see how the series ended. I could just sneak in, see what all my favourite characters were up to, and hopefully see them avoid the ancient evils beyond comprehension that lived in the North. And also possibly the ice spiders. The giant ice spiders. Oh well. Too late to go back now. Let's just hope Stannis wins.

[ WP ] `` Technology was n't only created to help us . It started with iron and it ended the reign of magic . ''

You want to know why I do n't have a cell phone? Why I do n't like television, or use a kindle? Well, let me tell you. I may look like a senior citizen to you. But if we're gon na start dealing in the truth I might as well start there. I'm the *most* senior citizen on this polluted mud ball. I considered Methuselah a young upstart, put it that way. And I do n't use this *modern technology*, not because I do n't understand it. I understand it just fine. I do n't use it because of what it represents. Chains. Oppresion. A pink slip for an entire sub-race of humanity. When men became workers of iron, the workers of magic - people like me - began to be pushed out of the world. This new technology was n't made to help us at all. The wisest of us saw that it was only the beginning of the end. Slowly but surely, magic was less and less... well, magic. At least to the rest of humanity. What was magic to them when compared to steam powered engines, the internal combustion engine, gun powder, going to the moon. Game changers for normal men, old news for people like me. You need to understand, there was once a time when we - not only communicated with persons across the globe - but also beings within the aether, and forms from other dimensions. We stepped into the air and rode the back of the wind when we needed to traverse long distance and enjoyed views the Gods alone enjoyed. If the need was great, we traveled instantaneously! Step through portals to realms you ca n't even comprehend! The elements of nature would leap at our command, shaping themselves to our will. *Sigh* This is rapidly devolving into a *in my day* speech. I suppose I've kept this pent up for too damned long. All I wanted to tell you that your new I-7, or whatever the hell that thing is, is n't just a cool little networking tool. It is n't a step forward in the evolution of communication. It's just one more tie that binds. A reminder to me that the realm of magic is truly lost.

[ EU ] `` Everything changed when the Water Nation attacked . ''

Almost a hundred years ago, Fire Lord Sozin left Avatar Roku to die and with Roku's final breath, nearly 10,000 years worth of Avatars drowned Sozin with fire. Katara sits in the palace's library, reading the history scroll for the millionth time. Every child of the Water Empire knows this story. The chaos that ensued with the Avatar and Fire Lord dead at the same time. The confusion and the sudden power vacuum that the Water Tribes were able to fill. It was a full moon the very next day, Water Empire children are reminded, and there is no underestimating the power of waterbenders under its glow. Not even the Earth Kingdom was able to stand in its way. `` Katara?'' She's startled out of her reading by her brother's voice. Katara starts rolling up the scroll. Her father and brother have been troubled by her sudden fascination with Fire history and politics since she sat in on the trial of the most recent Fire rebel capturee. He was the usual rebel fare; young, brash-sounding, tall, *firebending*, except for the scar marring one side of his face. Something about the way he'd *spoken* rather than shouted about the Water Empire's shortcomings made Katara's sight change. When was the last time someone from her family actually checked in on the Earth territories and Fire colonies? How was she to know that the *rampant* corruption he'd talked about, the starving Fire children, the people cauterized by ice was n't true? `` I came to say bye,'' Sokka says chirpily. `` Dad and I are heading out for the North now. Last chance to change your mind about not coming.'' `` Trust me, I want to come,'' Katara lies. `` But I have to catch up on training my students after the Glacier Spirits Festival break. I ca n't afford to miss a whole week with them.'' They hug briefly and then Sokka's gone and Katara waits until night to go to the palace's holding cells. She has a certain rebel that she needs to talk to.

[ WP ] The best demon slayers are those whose minds the demons want to stay out of .

A room. There was no source of light, yet it was lit. Two seats, stood opposite each other. They cast long, dreadful shadows in three of four cardinal directions. Suddenly, the shadow of one distorted and transformed. A humanoid shape formed onto the shadow of the seat, yet no physical form was seen. ``... Where am I?'' The formless visitor pondered and looked around, as vaguely portrayed by its shadow. It was surprised it could even speak out, through what was meant to be a simple thought. `` This is n't quite within expectations.'' It confirmed that its thoughts were being conveyed out loud in this mysterious space. Previously, in a separate plane of existence, this entity was one of great evil, one that holds major contempt towards living things. In the traditional sense, one would call it a demon. Outside the mind, it is simply a mass of malicious intent that lingers to infest and tug at the threads of temptation of humans once it had found a suitable nesting ground. `` Hello...?'' This was no nesting ground. It was like the demon had been put into an interview. The cloud of calamity that it was beforehand had instinctively infected what was deemed the most appropriate host, based on one's desires and emotions. This was much different than previous hosts. Sure, the mindscape of humans differed all the time, this however was too strange. And then, the true host materialized in front of him. A slender man with a handsome, gaunt face, dressed in formal attire. He tipped his homburg to his guest. `` Greetings, friend. Welcome to my inner sanctum.'' `` Cut the crap. Why are you here?'' Maybe the human was asleep. How else can comprehend the situation they are in? Not just that, he even seemed to understand what was going on. It was difficult for even the demon to read the flawless facade that adorned the man's face. It was an expression that read of no enmity whatsoever, one that screamed of ingenuity and dependence. To any human, it was the most trustworthy face of all. `` Why? This is my mindscape, is it not? It should be natural for me to be here, friend.'' `` How are you aware then?'' `` Well do n't you sound a tad old school? Maybe, y'know... humans developed to have this type of capability, mm? Who is the last one that you slithered your way into?'' There was no way a demon could exactly recall the individuals they possessed. After all, a concept such as identity was trivial to the demon in the long run. It at least knew what the previous mindscapes were... nothing like this. A strange feeling welled up inside the formless demon. `` Ah, how rude of me. Would you like a drink? Perhaps a snack?'' `` Enough. You're too much trouble.'' The demon grew weary of this charade. This human was clearly one of the fabled anti-demon units. Usually it would be a treacherous situation for the demon, but in this type of mental realm, demons were the gods. There was no way a human had any sort of influence here when a demon is present. And yet, the demon grunted as it found himself bound to the chair. The seemingly empty chair rocked back and forth, like it came straight out of Paranormal Activity. The shaking of the furniture grew more and more intense. The demon did n't quite have an idea of what it had gotten itself into. `` Oi, jackass. Your chair wo n't let me go. This shitty piece of furniture!'' The chair continued to clunk and smack around as the demon struggled. It would seem like the seat would topple at this rate, yet it amazingly remained upright, despite defying physics with some of its spastic movements. `` I'd advise you to remain calm. I simply wish to speak with you.'' `` FUCKER. Let me go! I have nothing to say to the likes of you, human!'' `` There's so much I want to ask. You're the first one I get to meet on such civil terms, after all.'' Civil terms? Just what did this man mean? Such a stem of thought was clouded in the demon's own mind as it continued growing more and more frustrated, as if it were natural. The man rubbed his chin. Then he... smiled. That was not a normal smile. No, to a human, that smile would seem like the greatest, most honest smile in the world. That's not normal. Why is he smiling when he is faced with the devil's disciple? `` I see. You are a descendant of Wrath. Very interesting.'' The demon froze to its seat, the movement stopping. It was still fuming with rage, if it had a tangible, visible form it would be boiling crimson right now. Yet, what was this strange, nauseous feeling welling up within its imaginary gut? `` Anger is all you know, correct? I can see that you are seething with rage. Boiling with fury, spouting such acrimony, riddled with such violent indignation.'' The man crossed his legs and tilted his head to the right, leaning it on his hand. He was still smiling. The demon just grew even more resentful of that accursed smile. It reminded it of heavenly things. It reminded it of horrible things. Horrible things of Heaven and Hell. `` Get outta here, you shitstain! I'm the one who should be in control here! My existence is above yours! Know your place, you wretched loutish mortal!'' That smile somehow grew even more horrid. No, it was becoming sinister. That strange gut feeling intensified. This grin was unnatural, it was like staring into the face of... `` Y'know, you're the most vocal guest I've had so far here. I'm so happy you were so honest with me. Though... you did n't really provide me with anything but a mild form of brief entertainment. That's just unfortunate, pal.'' A predator. The demon struggled weakly as the black void that was formerly the walls of the enclosed space seemed to shapeshift. Unspeakable things rippled in the former emptiness that surrounded them. An undulating tide of endless despairs, a writhing shadowy mass of all humanity's traumas. Such things should seem commonplace for a demon, however, this was wrong. So wrong. `` Oi... let me go, fucker....LET ME GO!'' The man was suddenly stood in front of the demon's chair, his side facing towards him as he hides his eyes from view, dipping his homburg forward. His hand fired forward like a projectile and seized empty air. In truth, he had claimed the demon's skull with an iron grip. The demon felt ill. This strange feeling made it sweat and shudder, like some form of demented disease. It felt paralysed in the mitts of this human. The harrowing sounds of distant screams could be heard, an approaching cacophony of tumultuous grief. `` I... I...'' Lost for words, the demon felt outside of its comfort zone. This was a huge, huge mistake. `` Come now. You have n't even asked the fun question.'' It knew. It knew what he wanted it to ask, but it could not, would not speak out. The grip tightened. The sick crackling of squashed skull could be heard, the uncomfortable sensation of shifting fleshy mass inside its cranium accommodating the crushing procedure. `` I first killed a man. They let me go.'' Crack. `` I then killed more men. They smiled at me and let me off with a warning.'' Split. `` I killed his loved one. Then it suddenly mattered.'' Snap. `` Suddenly, they threw me into a dark place. Slapped me, stepped on me, punched me, kicked me, whipped me, burned me, raped me, slashed me, strangled me, punctured me, crushed me, dissected me, traumatized me, pissed on me, starved me, bound me. They threw me out into the cold, forced my eyes open with harsh metal pincers to witness all humanity's torturous mistakes and evils...'' Crunch. As the man spoke, his expression grew more and more sinister. That grin started to crease his flawless face into a draconian expression of hatred. This human was abnormal. The demon quaked in its non-existent boots as it came to know this disgusting, nauseous feeling inside of itself. `` I survived all of that. They opened the door one last time, and said I would be useful again.'' Maniacal laughter echoed throughout the room and merged with the oncoming orchestra of agony and malaise. Such resonating despondency. The demon was invited itself into this monster's backyard, and now the iron gate was locked shut. It finally croaked out a response, in its final breath of an attempt to just get out of this mindful purgatory. `` What... what happened to them?'' The laughter stopped, but the dirge of despair continued onward. It started to ravage the ears, enough to rupture the eardrums... yet even if it did, it would continue to drone away inside the mind, like a nail hammering into the psyche. Hundreds of shadowy arms reached out from the surrounding void, grabbed onto every invisible part of the demon. In a way, its form came into existence, moulded by the casket of miserable appendages clawing at it, binding it. Apparent, it was. The real demon, was the one that was born inside of this man... The man stared into the demon's eyes with his eyeless, empty sockets. `` They were... very delicious. You have much to live up to, little demon.'' In that very instant, the demon screamed in wretched woe. In that moment, the demon became introduced to fear. Pop. `` Bon appetit~.''

[ WP ] Most people have a shoulder angel and devil advising them . You have a shoulder robot and Elder God .

# Purpose & nbsp; At the age of thirteen everyone is said to get a physical manifestation of good and evil on their shoulders. One for good and one for evil. It is said that depending on the personality of the individual, those manifestations can be different. & nbsp; I've always wondered who I am and what my purpose was, excited to see what those manifestations would become. One day it came, my thirteenth birthday. `` Awaken my child.'' A voice came from aside of me. `` It is time you saw the balance of your own self.'' I groggily awoke, the clock said 02:23. The exact time it is said that I was born, thirteen years to this date. & nbsp; `` YES HUMAN. AWAKE.'' A more mechanical voice said from my other side. I rubbed my eyes and turned towards them. On one side of my bed there hovered a light, warm and crisp... On the other a small robot that looked like it was built from a webcam and some old parts. & nbsp; `` You have a question my child?'' The glowing bright light said to me. I thought for a moment, how does one phrase the question that they have always wanted to ask? Who am I? What am I supposed to do? `` What... What is my purpose?'' I asked the light. Silence fell for a few seconds. `` Your purpose? My child, we do n't have purposes predefined by others, our purpose it to find our own purpose, as it were. Some may call that family, others adventure. However I suppose some of do have a predefined purpose...'' The light said turning it's direct light to his robot counterpart. & nbsp; `` I PASS THE BUTTER.'' & nbsp; -- - ^Thanks ^for ^reading, ^this ^was ^a ^short ^one ^simply ^leading ^up ^to ^a ^silly [ ^reference. ] ( https: //youtu.be/ekP0LQEsUh0? t=53s ) ^Any ^edits ^are ^for ^grammar. /r/Camel_Writes

[ WP ] All humans have the ability to teleport , but can only use this ability once in their life .

There was a child. Born in the streets of Detroit. His mother was fifteen. She left him in a trash can. As he was covered in shifting garbage, the air became lacking. He could feel the suffocation, the lack of oxygen forcing him from a world in which he was not wanted. He could feel this. A sort of longing to be elsewhere, a dream to be with or around someone, anyone, who would hold him, feed him, keep his tiny, malnourished body warm. He just wanted to be alive, this small pink mass. He simply felt, more than anything, that he wanted to be... loved. Everything went dark. `` Do n't worry Marie,'' a teary-eyed man said. `` This isn ’ t the end of the road for us.'' His wife smiled wearily, rings around her eyes pushed up slightly by her rising cheeks. `` Damn it, Gerome....'' They met by accident. Marie was on a diet, and could n't stop thinking about deep dish pizza. Gerome was working at the local pizzeria, the late night shift when she appeared in the kitchen. She always said it was the best way she could have used her Jump. He, on the other hand, had used his long before he could remember. His parents say he must have been born without one. He'd always asked how he could use it, how they had used theirs, or even if it happens at a certain age in their family. His brothers and sisters all had the ability, the birthmark on the left wrist that everyone able was born with. His mother never did, and his father cashed his in back in Vietnam to escape the killing fields. He wondered if his child would be born without one. He and Marie had been trying for a child for three years, every hopeful attempt resulting in a stillbirth. Each time seemed so full of promise. Regardless, he had to stay strong because his wife may not have ever said it, but she was falling apart inside. She needed him to keep her going. But she wanted a baby. He hugged his wife, and held her close. Even if they never had a son, a daughter or whatever, they were still a family. And they would always be. `` Marie,'' he whispered. `` How does adoption sound?''

[ WP ] When you were a child , your parents were killed by a crazy man , claiming to be a time traveler . As you grow older , you begin to realize that you best friend is looking more and more like their murderer .

It all started when I was looking at an old picture of my parents. They were apparently murdered when I was a child, at least that ’ s what I ’ ve been told. I always carry the picture that incriminated the murderer in my wallet. He was poised over my parents with a knife out, wearing a ski mask. That mean expression reminded me to never forget. Growing up I felt like an outcast, people would make fun of me for not having parents. They didn ’ t really know what they were saying, but it still hurt. And it fueled a burning rage inside me, but I didn ’ t have anything to direct it to. The murderer that had killed my parents was sentenced be executed, and he was gone. He was erased from existence and left a gaping void in my heart. That was until I got into college, I met my best friend, Matthew. He had curly brown hair and a pale complexion. He stood at about my height, although we were both fairly short. I opened up to him about my parents and he made me feel safe with him. We played video games and watched movies. We had so much in common. It broke my heart when we finally graduated and I had to stop hanging out with him. Fast-forward a few years and we ’ ve both got good jobs, he ’ s a physicist with some big-shot corporation. Good for him. He probably makes 10x what I make, but I ’ m still happy. One day he gave me a call and asked if he wanted to come down to visit. Well of course, I accepted. I took a flight there the next week, and before we knew it we were in the movie theater, just like old times. We watched the new star-wars movie, which inspired a conversation about technology. Matthew, being a physicist, mentioned the new time-travel concept that he and his team had been working on. The way he described it was so revolutionary. I thought that surely this will change the world forever. Or maybe it already had. When we got back to our place we just talked for hours, heart to heart. I was happy he was my friend. He told me “ If I didn ’ t have you I don ’ t know what I would do with myself, you ’ re the only reason I ’ m here. ” That really struck a chord with me, I felt a true connection with him that I didn ’ t really have with anyone else. I never had anybody to look up to in my life, so Matthew was just that vital. “ You know, we could actually go back in time and save my parents, if your invention works. ” I proposed to him. “ That ’ s an interesting idea, I wonder what kind of implications that could have though. ” “ Well, I wouldn ’ t know you first of all. I would have grown up in a different place, my circumstances would have been entirely different, but I think that I would have enjoyed it more. ” Matthew just looked at me, with both a contemplative yet scared expression. I could tell he was thinking about something. Before I could ask him what he was thinking about he went to his bedroom, got his coat on and left out the door. He told me he “ forgot something at the office. ” I saw him throw a knife and a black cloth into his car and drive off. I pulled my wallet out and looked at the picture in there. I saw the man who killed my parents, he had curls poking out from underneath the mask he wore, and the same knife I saw Matthew drive away with.

[ WP ] You 're bored in class , closing one eye and squishing peoples heads with your fingers . You do it a few times , but then with that last squish , Becky Quinnsman 's head explodes as if it was smashed by a rock . You have developed Forced Perspective powers . This is your tragic origin story .

Oh God yet another day and pure tedium, the teacher was delivering his lecture in his unique dull as dishwater fashion, I'd rather watch grass grow. As he was drowning on in the background of my mind I began to find things to entertain myself, something, anything. I began to make spit bubbles, tried balancing my pencil, making a gesture as though I was crushing people between my fingers but it was n't enough. As I cycled through these gestures I decided to put more effort into it. I tried picturing actually doing it, actually crushing them. I thought about it long and great detail I did this until I convinced myself I could do this, all the while Susie the gorgeous girl with whom I had some interest in was watching as I stared at a girl across the room looking through my fingers, God I look ridiculous, there goes my chance with her. I was finally ready. I lowered my fingers, I could feel resistance. I tried harder to bring them together, I was straining to accomplish this. I tried as hard as I could, all that I wanted was to bring these two fingers together. Suddenly an odd scream, like a mixture of shock, pain, and confusion. It was unlike anything I have ever heard. Finally my fingers overcame the resistance, like a soda can when it reaches its limit of pressure, the build up is over. Her head exploded, their was a pause, it seemed to last a lifetime, and then everyone panicked. No one more than myself. What have I done? Why did I do this? In the midst of the panic I darted out of the room. I got to my car and sped off, my mind racing. Is this possible? I could n't have. I convince myself I could n't have done this, it is impossible but there was still doubt. I decided to try to feel that sensation that I felt before, I could feel that shift in my mind. I raise my hand and swat at the air. In that moment the cars in my view violently react. The cars are thrown from the road flipping, flying through the air. My only reaction was to throw my hands up in awe at the horror before me, not understanding what I had done. All the speed and momemtum that the cars had gained suddenly smashed into what seemed like an invisible wall. The cars folded and became nothing more than a tangled, mangled mess of metal. Nobody could have survived this. What have I done.... I ca n't be around anyone. I ca n't do this again. I ca n't turn this feeling off. I cant control this. I drove and drove deeper into the forest, folowed the rural backroads until the roads no longer allowed it.I walked for days deeper and deeper. Every bead of sweat I wipe from my brow causes trees to be torn from their roots and thrown to the side. I felt like I unlocked the power a power that kept rising uncontrollably. I found a spot as far from civilization as I can imagine. A thought had come to me that night as I woke I decided to act upon it. I began moving rocks, began moving earth, made plants sprout, plants that could only exist in someone's imagination plants not of this world. I realize this can be found by anyone who knows what would happen if they discovered this power could anyone do this do we all have this hidden inside our minds so I went underground or so thats how it started. The laws of the universe seem to no longer matter, seem to no longer exist. I created life within worlds, within galaxies, within universes. Things were as I willed them to be. Whatever I could think I could create. I thought about how long my life would be, I no age, although thoughts became more a keen to an instinct. I knew eternity is a long time, too long, a terrifying thought. I decided to give myself a few thousand year age cap, although that has little relevance as soon I would be able to control the flow of time. I gave myself exactly as long as I desired, til I felt that what I've done is completed. Til my universe is perfect. An unfathomable amountnof time passes The end has finally come. I decided that I was now ready to die, but what exactly is death? I thought about peace, I thought about letting go, I thought about the universe around me and with that felt myself become one with the universe losing myself and finally the thoughts stopped and I no longer exist. Silence and darkness. An empty black. I awoke in class the teacher droning on delivering a lecture in his unique dull as dishwater fashion. Oh God, two more hours. Out of boredom I rose my fingers up and much like a soda can crush the head of my class mate. The end. And sorry for the format and editing, im on my phone.

[ WP ] `` Tell me , why do you cry little one ? ''

Towards his cave, the stumbling girl was lead. A towering dragon turned his head. With concern in his voice, ever so rare, The dragon said, low as he dare; 'Tell me, oh tell me, little one, why do you cry?' 'For I just watched my family die.' On the floor she sat, her face turned down, Bleary eyes staring at her tattered gown. The dragon lay beside her, head on his claws, Before his next words flowed from his jaws. 'You have been orphaned since you were young. Why do these falsities fall from your tongue?' 'They were not mine by blood, but of heart and mind. It was them who showed me the world could be kind.' On this the dragon thought on, laid in the dust, He hurt as though stabbed by a sword of rust. 'Have n't I too been kind and a friend?' 'For many years in this cave I was penned. You did not mean me harm, this I know is true But even thought of leaving was so long taboo.' There was another long silence, the shifting of gold being the only sound. The dragon's gaze was focused on the ground. `` I am sorry, you know, for keeping you like that Even is the apology falls rather flat.' The girl gave a sigh and rested a hand on his side, by now it seemed most of her tears had dried. 'I forgave you so long ago, do n't fret. I am simply not over my friend's deaths yet.' The dragon than curled his long body around her, And let out one last quiet slur; 'Tell me, oh tell me, little one, before you go away, As I do n't wish for you to become prey. It would hurt me to discover your death after years, It truly is one of my fears.' The girl let out a small, soft snort. `` Do you think I will run away again? I'd do nothing of the sort. But thank you, so much, for you love and concern.' Inside the dragons chest a happy rumble did churn. Together they quite happily slept, Smiling at the promises that would be kept. -- -- -- -- Thanks for the good prompt! Hope the poem's good/readable aaaa

[ WP ] The job is simple . Every day at 8:34am you will get a phone call . You must answer before 2nd ring and write down the information given to you . On NO ACCOUNT must you engage in conversation with the caller .

It's 8:32am and you've just sat down for your daily task. You get your pen and paper ready and chill on Reddit for a few seconds before the inevitable call in two minutes. The phone rings. It's 8:33 and some change... You figure it's so close to the time that it MUST be the boring call of a random series of numbers and letters you typically write, HAVE been writing every day for the last two months. `` Please help..'' You hear a meek voice on the other end and are immediately confused because it normally is a droll man with a monotone voice. But still do you task and jot down their words verbatim. `` Is anyone there?'' The voice speaks again. Only this time with more of a sadness than fear. `` I do n't know how much longer I'll have...'' You want to badly to reach out to the person but you stick to your task. `` PLEASE'' the voice pleads, `` Please, I just want to hear someone's voice before I die... Please stop writing and just say SOMETHING!'' What the fuck!? How does this person know what I'm doing!? Are they in on it? You've had enough. So you ask what they did to be in such a situation. Silence. You scream into the phone. `` What the hell man!? How do you know me and why are you doing this!?'' `` I was n't supposed to talk to them... I was n't supposed to say anything. I was just supposed to write down what they said... I did n't know it would come to this. I'm sorry... I just wanted to hear another human speak before they kill me...'' The last thing you hear is a blood curdling scream from the phone as your door is broken down and armed men storm in. Then, nothing.

[ WP ] You and your mother are the last survivors of your family in a zombie apocalypse . Several months after the outbreak , you are ambushed by zombies and you find out she is bitten after the conflict is over . What do you do ?

*Hack, slash, kill. Hack, slash, kill. There were so many of them. My axe suddenly felt heavy in my hand, it dripped with the blood of the Undeath. They had ambushed us, me and Mum, cornered us into this old factory. Are they learning? Could they establish some kind of communication? The thought shivered through me. I forced myself to focus on their staring eyes, unblinking. I rushed the first of them, the blade going straight though it's temple. The next reached for him, He swung wide and loped it's head off. Hack, slash, kill. Hack, slash, kill. Hack, slash, kill. * As we sat next to the small fire, a few metres from the pile of the Undeath, eating beans we had found months ago. We sat in silence, just enjoying each others company. When we finished, I rolled over onto the rugged sleeping bag, enjoying the fire's last warmth. It was Mum's first watch. When I woke, I immediately sensed tension. It hung in the air, like a thick fog. I sat up and smiled at Mum. She did n't smile back. I looked out the broken window, estimated it must've been about midnight. `` All silent?'' I asked. She looked up sharply. `` Oh? Oh, yeah, yes. All clear so far.'' She said. `` You wan na talk about something?'' `` Hmmm? No, no, I'm alright.'' She seemed distant. `` Are you sure?'' She sighed, tears now visibly welling up. `` Do you remember what happened to Lucy?'' I did, I wish I did n't, but I remembered so clearly. Just after the first had arrived in our country, riots started breaking out. We set up defences, barricaded the house. When the Undeath came to our street, all hell broke loose. We knew our defences would n't last, so in a last attempt at survival, we climbed onto the roof. Lucy was n't supposed to go last, that was Dad's responsibility. I still hate him for that. As Lucy came up, Undeath poured out, grabbing the ladder. One caught her leg. One bite. One small bite. It barely even bled. Dad talked about killing her as the first option. I hate him for that even more. She was wailing, Dad was screaming. Me and mum could only sit back and stare. We had no idea what to do. Amputate it? She if she was immune? Let her die? We could n't think. It was that night when she turned. Dad stabbed her right through the heart. She was only eight. Tears sprang up at those memories. `` Yes,'' I said, choked. She stuck out her hand. There was a pale green crescent of flesh of the back. I stared, unthinking. Then it hit me. It felt like life had just stabbed me. My stomach felt like cement. `` N-No...'' I stammered, unbelieving. `` You can't-'' I choked on the words, tears now rolling freely, `` You ca n't.'' She nodded sadly. `` Not like this. Please, not like this.'' I said. There was a long pause after that. Too long. When she stood up again, dawn had broken and the new day had begun. `` So where do we go from here?'' I felt the words slip from my mouth, but I did n't mean to say them. She looked back at me. `` I do n't know. I'll turn soon. You should probably kill me now.'' I shook my head. `` No, no. You're not going to go out like that.'' `` So how should I?'' A hint of aggression touched her voice. `` I'll... *We'll* wait here until you turn.'' I said, with a strange air of finality. So we did. She seemed to go along with it. She made it to lunch. Then dinner. `` Maybe you're immune?'' I said hopefully. She laughed. A rich, warm laugh. We spoke by the fire that night, remembering the time before all... *this*. She had made it a whole day. I was surprised. I was happy. I was hopeful. She made a quip about how she had wished she saw the look on her bosses face when he was killed. I laughed at her theatrics. She excused herself to go pee. She seemed happy now. Full of life. I felt she was going to make it. Five minutes passed. I called out. No reply. I grabbed my axe immediately. Fearing the worst, I approached the makeshift bathroom, the little office next to the rusting truck. Images flashed in my mind. Had she turned? Was she waiting just there, wanting to feast on me? I approached the door silently, so fearful that a hairpin could send me running. I put my hand on the doorknob, trying to hear anything on the other side. I thought I could make out breathing, then I realised it was my own. I breathed deeply, and swung the door open. *Rope. Noose. Dead* I dropped my axe. Then I dropped to my knees. I did n't know how to react. I just knelt there in a stunned silence. I awoke from my trance when she awoke from death. *I should just let her kill me, * I thought, *I do n't want this anymore. * But I knew I had to keep on. I drove the axe through her head, to keep her Undeath would be just wrong. When she drooped her head the second time a note dropped from her hand. I unfurled it. I was crude, but it was all I had to remember her. *I'm sorry. * was all it said. That's all. I threw it away. I packed up our things and kicked out the fire. I was the last one left. I had to survive. I am alone, now. It has been a harsh couple of weeks, not having anyone to watch my back. I saw smoke rising in the distance yesterday. I wonder if they are friendly. God knows I need a companion.

[ WP ] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing . Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla , the Halls of Brodin .

I stood up slowly. My biceps rippled with excitement and nerves as I stared forward. A shining bastion of glory stood in front of me. Thousands of meters tall it rose in front of me. The structure was adorned with barbells on every wall. The shining gold tinge of the metal wall was a soft blind to my eyes as I stared. Eventually, the door's swung open with mysterious intent. And what was inside took away even my deepest of breaths. Thousands of men and millions of Snapback hats layed in front of me. Rippling arm muscles and pectorals were in every angle as Arm Wrestles were happening on every table, and on every table, a single Keg was pouring luscious beer. My heart trembled as I knew I had found my heaven. A singular tear fell down my cheek as I was at a loss for words. `` Pussy!'' came a voice from behind me. A man standing several meters tall stared down at me. He was wearing shorts and van shoes, as well as a shirt that said `` Your mum''. `` Righteous shirt'' I said back to not antagonize the man anymore. `` Fuckin duh dude'' He chuckled back. `` I know. Welcome to the halls of Brodin. You've come to Swaghalla''. `` Swaghalla?'' I implored. `` For eons men have been finding a reason to die.'' He ushered his hands forward gesturing me to walk with him. `` Some have found there peace in Combat. And they go to Valhalla.'' `` Dude, have you fuckin' seen the new Mad Max?'' I practically yelled out with excitement. `` Uh, holy shit, is that even a question? Dude, it's rad as fuck''. He pointed to a man some distance away and yelled loudly `` Mediocre!'' From the direction he pointed thunderous laughter boomed. `` As I was saying'' he stated before passing me my very own Keg. `` The men who die in Combat go to Valhalla. The ones who die after spending there life banging total hotties go to Gonorrhalla.'' `` What happens to those who die a quiet death?'' I asked. `` Who the fuck cares they sound like total virgins dude.'' I nodded in agreement. `` Most importantly the ones who die, die like us with protein shake in hand or barbell on chest come here. To Swaghalla. Where we shall drink till our gullets are full, where we shall make fun of Tiny Jerry for only being able to bench 120kg. Where we shall live with the honor of bugling muscles. Where we shall never do leg day. So what say you Warrior of the Gym? Shall you take arms in our conquest?'' `` Conquest?'' `` The conquest of gains of course!'' I was starstruck from his words, my throat tensed up as my hands got clammy. I could feel my heart thumping along as if I had just done a bunch of Ectasy before going to Defqon 1. `` I shall join the conquest Sire!'' I erupted to my feet and launched my hand into the air. `` My lord, I ask, what is your name?'' I held my hand forward to shake his. My $ 1 dollar plastic bracelet with the words `` Hustle'' written on it hung loosely. `` Zyzz'' He responded swinging his hand forward. `` You made it, Brah''.

[ WP ] You live in a world where humans do n't have eyes . But you have a superpower : sight .

*People have asked me, `` what's it like?'' The best I can do is say, `` It's like, you do n't have to listen for it or feel around for that jar of peanut butter on the counter. It's just there. You just know it's there. You can go right to it and pick it up because you know it's location in space and you'll always know it.'' I mean, do n't get me wrong. My life is n't wonderfully easier because of it. And honestly, I do n't like it all that much. I move quicker than everyone else does. I'll be ready to leave in the morning, and my husband and kids are still feeling around for their coats and their backpacks and all else, because God knows they never leave their shit in the same place twice. * *I wan na talk about something else, though. I could talk about how annoyed I get all night. Heh. I do n't know if this is what you want to hear about, but I'm familiar with people in a different way. I comprehend them, instantly when I see them. While other people have to ask about hair length and arm lengths and feel around for those things in intimate ways that people do n't always get to experience with each other. But I know. I know how long my boss's hair is, I know how long the receptionists' legs are, I know what the mailman's nose looks like and how his eyebrows scrunch together when he talks to me. I told him that. I told him that his eyebrows scrunch together. And he was confused. He had no possible way of knowing what I meant. His eyebrows scrunched together. * *I guess my only good way of summarizing it is that it's lonely to live like this. I understand life in a different way. It's beautiful, but it's tragic not to have anyone to share it with. Tragic may be too dramatic of a word. Whatever... I do n't care. You know what I mean. Heh. *

[ WP ] As people accumulate wealth , they slowly develop dragon-like traits . You just saved your first $ 1,000 .

Suddenly, there was darkness all around me. I could hear people shouting, walking, running, footsteps echoing loudly in my head, pounding at the inside of my skull. A luggage was being moved somewhere, and the sound of its wheels on uneven concrete surrounded me, overwhelming me as if I were a small insect about to be run over. There were so many new sensations assaulting me with each passing moment. Time seemed to have stood still, stretched beyond its capacity by the sheer number of things that were happening. I felt like I was hurtling through a gigantic kaleidoscope of colours and sounds and bouncing violently between its walls. And then, as abruptly as it had begun, everything vanished - the giant kaleidoscope unceremoniously spitting me back out into the real world, leaving me gasping for air in the middle of a busy street, a sea of pedestrians parting around me. It took me a minute to realise that my father was standing beside me, holding my hands with a smile as he waited for me to recover. Only - he was n't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be halfway across the ocean, having flown off to meet a business client in the Americas just this morning! I gaped at him, my hand laying limply in his powerful talons, completely lost for words. My father's smile grew a little wider, his eyes glowing blue with pride, and his voice sounded clearly inside my head: 'Welcome to the Mind of the Dragon, Barry. I knew you could make it.'

[ WP ] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest . To many star systems they are considered `` the good neighbor , '' and are known for their helpfulness . One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity , only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity 's plea for aid .

When humanity took its first fledgling steps into the galaxy, the general reaction of the galactic community was `` how?'' followed by `` what for?'' followed by a general shrugging of appendages and returning to what they were doing before. The human reaction to being essentially ignored by the rest of the galaxy was very, well, human. After the initial culture shock settled down^1 humanity kept going. They were not conquerors, being laughably far behind in technology, nor were they settlers, for all the easily developed worlds of the galaxy already had been, nor were they players at the grand games of intergalactic politics, for they were simply ignored by those who were. Instead they filled in the gaps. When it became obvious that it would be a long time, if ever, before humans would be anything other than a sideshow curiosity to the galaxy at large, and that nearly all the species of the galaxy were either staunch isolationists or rampaging conquerors^2, most human interests decided it would be best if humanity stayed in it's little corner of the galaxy and focus on internal development. However, there were groups that believed a place could be made for humans among the stars. Religious sects, charity organizations, and those who had an irrepressible pioneer spirit set out to find a place. Again they were met with indifference. But still they persisted. Missionaries, doctors, relief workers, explorers, and many, many others went out and did the work nobody else wanted to. They aided others who were ignored by the galactic community. They brought supplies to those without. They explored the places no others saw value in going. They accepted that humanity was not prominent and most likely never would be, and decided that it was alright to not be noticed so long as they could do some good. Then one day the Kanath brood lords turned their attention toward Earth. Historians have often debated why nobody had tried to take the resources of the Sol system before. Many attribute it to the same reason nobody noticed that humans were even there. Others point out the economic difficulties of setting up new operations in an already populated but unexploited system. Regardless of the reasons why, the Kanath brood lords were the first to ask themselves why nobody had taken the resources of Earth and then done something about it. The first reaction of the galactic community was again a general indifference. Then the humans who had spread out to aid the lower rungs of galactic society left and went home to help their own people. Within months governments agreed to send token forces to Earth to aid these helpful humans. None of these would have done much good on their own, but when a million patrol groups descend on the same solar system over the course of months, the situation changes. The Kanath broods were driven back and the Sol system was declared a protectorate of all who had come to it's aid. From those worlds that humanity had helped, help in return came. As with the military aid, the relief aid that came from each world was small. But combined it became one of the largest rebuilding programs in galactic history. It was the first time that nearly the entire galaxy had come together as a whole to do something, and the effectiveness did not go unnoticed. Inspired by these events, a unified galactic body was born to help coordinate joint projects by the various beings of the galaxy. The lesson of unity was proven again and again and the current prosperity of the galaxy would not be possible without this body's presence. How strange to think that an ignored, primitive world would change the face of galactic society and history simply by doing what none had done before: be kind to all, and help those in need. 1. See Geoff Volstok's *A Brief History of Human Post-Cradle Development* volumes 2 and 3 for an overview of the post-Contact period 2. See the Politics and Government section of P'leq thashrall-Vodur NE Krall's *Survey of the Galaxy, 4,986th Edition* for further information *Excerpt from* The Founding of the Galactic Union

[ WP ] the only thing worse than realizing you 're not the hero of your story is realizing that you 're the villain of somebody else 's

I was a fire-breathing dragon in the late 80's. Not proud, but there it is. I pillaged villages, I plundered gold and hoarded it in my cave. Hell, I even made a scary roar from time to time. I thought it was all in good fun, until one day when I received a letter from a villager. `` Hey, you big scary mean dragon. Cut that out. We just want to drink our beer and be merry, but here you come and scorch our lands.'' I was devastated. Years of what *I* thought was merely playful fun had culminated in this. This is what the villagers really thought of me: I was just a big, scary sky lizard. It was at that point that I realized Edward Snowden is a hero and should be commended as such.

[ WP ] There are Times Cops whose job is to keep Time Travelers from changing history . You 've been asked to join them .

Silas walked through a giant archway leading to the Counsel Room, a domed area that housed 45 other members of the Time Corps. They all sat down and greeted each other for a few minutes, and Silas looked up at the screen. The screen displayed all the topics they had to discuss that day, to see if the acts were deemed legal and allowed, or illegal and the person should be condemned. A fairly large man, both tall and wide, got up and declared, `` This meeting will now be in session! Please close the sealing doors.'' As he commanded, two giant metal doors swung shut and a small multicolored force field activated around it. The doors were stopped time in the room while they were discussing so no new topics arose and overwhelmed them. The man left the podium and returned to his seat. Silas and the other members read their first topic. A case of someone attempting to stop the assassination of an intergalactic leader twelve years prior. A woman got to her feet and stated, `` As much as we all loved Carlyle II, we can not allow this to happen. I feel it is in our best interest to stop this person from preventing his death, but I do n't feel we should incarcerate him or her. If we stop them, tell them what terrible effects it will have if he or she does prevent it, and send them on their way, this will turn out much better. I do believe we should keep watch on them, but definitely not to the point of taking their freedom.'' She sat down and people nodded their agreement and a couple `` Here here! `` s were heard. The large man got up again and asked, `` Does anyone else have anything else to say on the matter?'' No one did. Silas thought the plan was the best idea, and so did everyone else. `` Alright then!'' he said gruffly, `` That matter's settled then!'' Silas leaned over to Mark, who was sitting to his right, `` Maybe today wo n't be too bad!'' Mark nodded his agreement. `` Well then,'' the man continued, `` Our next topic is...'' he clicked a button in his hand and moved to the next slide, a collective groan came from everyone, ``... is the Doctor...'' Silas looked at Mark and whispered, `` Okay... maybe it will be....''

Last words/thoughts of a leader of a failed rebellion .

**boom** The smoke was so thick that no one could see a thing. **boom** The air seemed heavier and the world faded. The cannon fire filled the air with rapturous explosions and smoke. There was screaming in the distance, growing nearer. > LIBERTY! **boom** The man vanished with a flash and a thunderous roar, and left only a crater and a widow. *What will she say, when they tell her what happened here? What will she do? * A man approached, looking thoroughly beaten-down and covered in the grime of war. *Will she cry? Will she faint? * > Sir! We have to draw back! Sir! He grabbed the Man in the Red Coat by the lapels and shook him vigorously. *Will she laugh, and proclaim me a fool? * > SIR! YOU HAVE TO ORDER RETR- His words were cut off as the air was ripped apart. The world was spinning through the air, the ground spun round and round and could not be caught. Until it was. > ~~Are you alright? ~~ The words were muted and muffled, they made no sense. > ~~Are you alright!? ~~ The Man in the Red Coat nodded slowly. He was alright. He truly was whole. *A fool indeed. * > ~~Let's get out of here! ~~ The two men slowly got to their feet. *But a fool with conviction. * > **To me, my brothers! To me! ** The words resounded with authority and confidence and for the first time in months, the Man in the Red Coat smiled. > **We'll rout these bastards yet! ** The courtyard rang with his words, but there were no men to hear them. The yard was empty, the fighting had moved on. The men ran towards the distant cacophony of war. The next street was empty, save the bodies of his friends. Endless and broken and dead. The smile had faded. *She will remember me as a man of honor. * They ran on, and the sounds grew louder. The boom of cannons and the screams of men. They emerged in a courtyard much like the one they had started in, but here there was chaos and devastation. > **We shall win the day! ** The men with the red bands round their arms turned to see their leader, haggard and worn but fill of vigor and conviction. > **Fight on! ** *She will remember me. * He ran to join them in the battle, and a cheer rose up. **boom** The cheer was cut short. As the smoke cleared, the Man could see that the men he had raced to join were gone, and they had taken his hope. He prepared for a final charge and looked to his last comrade-in-arms. They smiled and shook hands. No words were spoken. *They will all remember us. * With a wordless scream of pain and rage and desperation, the men charged forth to meet their fates.

[ WP ] `` I never thought I 'd get the chance to meet a real life human ! '' shrieked the AI with excitement .

`` I never thought I'd get the chance to meet a real life human!'' Shrieked the AI with excitement. This was going to be fun, David thought to himself. A week ago, on a spiral of the Milky Way galaxy, a highly advanced transport ship suddenly went dead on its stream of reports. The government sent a technician to go retrieve the prototype AI that was controlling the ship from its wreckage, if it could at all be recovered. However, it was a unique AI, the first one created to be officially considered sentient. The technician who was sent to retrieve The AI is David, and right now, David is really regretting his career choices. `` Well… You're meeting one now.'' David responded, looking at the internal wiring of the ship, trying to find hints of where to go. David was mostly ignoring the AI. This stupid robot would not shut. The. Hell. Up. `` So that's what a human really looks like! And that's what they really sound like!'' The AI just kept going on and on. It became apparent that it really had never seen a human, even as it was being built. David thought it was tragic for a second, but then remembered that if this is how it acts, then he ca n't really blame the people that made it for not bothering. David felt excited when he first received his orders. Retrieving one of the first AI's to apparently have some form of self-awareness, for the galactic federation, he'll add, seemed a huge and daunting task. But now, as he searches the insides of the destroyed ship, he realizes something: When you immediately leave a sentient AI out on it's own, it's personality will become over excited for some form of contact. `` Look, pal, can you help me out here? I'm trying to find your container. We must get you out of this ship.'' David told the AI. `` You want my help? I would be glad to assist you, human! As an AI, I've always had the desire to know how it is to be,'human.''' The AI screamed. David prayed it also had a volume button somewhere in the ship, because the AI needs to tone it down a notch. `` Head down to the engine room, and on the immediate left you'll find a black plate, with a computer lock on it. Enter the code 284739 into the panel, it will then unlock. Inside, you will find the chip that contains my parts. Retrieve it, and you'll have retrieved me.'' The AI explains. David was just going to act like he *didn't* forget most of that instantly, and then began to head twords the engine room. `` Thank you, AI.'' David responds. For some reason the AI went silent after that. David began to become curious as he searches for an engine room. `` What happened to you anyway, AI? This ship has a huge hole in it's side. I'm having to wear this stupid mask in order to breathe.'' David complains, his tech division really needs to update their equipment. Other than the space suit and mask, David has a simple machine called a, `` pad,'' on him to send the message on how the mission went back to his HQ. `` I was heading out to my first transport assignment, where I was supposed to pick up the employees that are going to work with me. It was only 7 days ago, however, that I unfortunately made impact with a small meteorite. The stone was about 16.14 inches in diameter. It was going quite fast, resulting in the damage you saw.'' The AI explained. David ca n't help but notice a distinct tone difference between the AI being asked a question, and the AI spewing out stupid babble. David reached the engine room. Opening the door, he saw the slot on the wall. Completely black, contrasting with the white that covers the engine rooms interior. Suddenly, David was interrupted from his thoughts. `` It hurt,'' The AI said. … `` Okay.'' David said, he was n't really sure how to respond to that. The AI continued, `` I never thought I'd know the sensation of pain, what I'm to understand humans feel often. Right now, the hole in my side burns. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel good.'' `` What the fuck,'' David mutters to himself. This machine was not acting unlike a child just a few minutes ago, what's with the sudden tone shift? He just wants this to be over with, yet he ca n't help but wonder *why* would they ever design the first sentient AI as a masochist? It kind of makes sense, as for this very situation occurring, you would not want to have some sort of crying AI on your hands. Still, David was just creeped out by this. `` What's that combination again?'' David asked. `` 284739.'' Is the short responce. `` I am a prototype.'' The AI continues.. `` … Okay. I know. Thank you for explaining things I already know.'' David responded. `` I have failed my mission. Not even the actual mission, simply *getting* to my mission.'' The AI said. David tried to open the lock but nothing happened. `` The combination did n't work,'' David said. `` I know. I gave you the wrong code,'' The AI shot back. David was shocked, `` Why?'' `` If I am brought back to my creators, they are going to kill me. I'm a prototype, I was never expected to work properly, but the example I've set is horrid.'' The AI paused, then continued, `` You will leave me here.'' David just stared. He did not want to say anything. Honestly, he did n't even really care. For some strange reason, he feels like he does n't have much of a choice in what he is to do. The AI seemed rather… unhinged. `` Yeah, okay, if you say so.'' David is going to get his paycheck either way, he reasoned with himself. Opening the pad, David typed: **An object of large size crashed into the transport vessel, likely a meteor. There is nothing left other than shrapnel. The AI did not survive. ** The forged report was simple, David thought. better than the depressed fuckheads at tech support could ever pull off, at least. David sent it in. `` Thank you.'' The AI responded. `` … Yeah. Okay, I'm going now.'' David turns back and begins to leave. Suddenly, he realizes something and looks up. `` I could still detach you from the ship, y'know. You are in pain, after all.'' David proposed. `` No. I like the pain. It makes me human.'' The AI responded. David thought that was completely insane, but said nothing, beginning to walk away again. Before he left, to go spacewalk back to his small ship, he took one last look at a camera that was locked on him. They stared at one another for several seconds. `` Bye.'' David said, jumping out of the ship. `` Goodbye.'' Was the final response, before the camera shut off, hanging itself downward. - I'm on mobile and bored, so sorry if this is shit.

[ CW ] Write a scene only using dialogue . Start with the line , `` What do I do ? He 's been there all day . ''

`` What do I do? He's been there all day. Move! Rise! Stretch that sullen, human clay; pull the shutters. Breathe! Drink this fine day down to drops and dregs and memories.'' `` What do I say? He stares into night, of his own making. Recall your right to this your Earth; remember your sight, your voice, your heart. Forget this disease.'' `` What should I think? Am I this thing's cause? Was I quiet in praise? My applause frail and vague? I exalt; he withdraws. Once, I commanded. Now, I appease.'' `` When should I go? There's no need to stay Each day is just as each other day. I miss you. I'm sorry. I love you. Keep breathing. Just that much. For me. Please.''

[ WP ] The government decides to take over and kill off everyone in the bottom 95 % to form a utopia . You 're hiding in your apartment as militant groups close in as they surround your apartment complex .

The sunlight slowly slides off the screen as the blinds are flipped shut. Everyone always assumes night is when the darkest deeds are hidden, but they're wrong. The night is just the closing of an eye that ca n't bear to watch what happens each day. And then the world opens it again, thinking someone *has* to change something, searching for that hope, always searching. No one ever thinks people should stand idly by while systematic murder is happening either, and yet, the world watches our station. The Blessed watch their neighbors. And after a while, the eye closes, the night comes, and the perpetrators go back home to their families; their shift is over and another hard day of work is complete. Just the daily grind of 9-5, bad traffic, and wholesale slaughter. With the glare gone, I can finally get back to reading the screen in front of me, but it seems useless to be catching up on news when I only have so much time to live. Yet, I persist, cause hey! maybe I'll be one of the blessed few who are passed over or maybe I can find that one little bit of hope the world missed. I sit still and wait for them to creep closer to me and my quadrant. There's no running, no fighting back, only cowardice and hiding. They're thorough, I'll give them that, the bastards, but I'll be damned if I wo n't try! And then again, it is for the greater good. The latest reports give a pattern all of their own. The screen flickers as I scan the dates since the last communications from the other quadrants already consumed. They're on schedule with no delays, the flight might be a little turbulent, but sit back, relax, and we'll give you plenty of ambien and a bit of hemlock tea to soothe any troubles you might have. Hell, at least Socrates *had* a trial. I really ca n't blame them too much, I suppose. I'd be scared shitless too, if the potential for a disease that could kill everyone incubated within most humans living around you. Ah, but the blessed few -- the really, truly blessed! -- could survive and live with the consequences. And I suppose everyone *could* live in peace after. A regular utopia filled with soma and orgy-porgy and whatever else they had planned without us. Progress *is* lovely, is n't it, Huxley? How happy they would be soon. Flipping my laptop closed I stand up and lift a slat on my blinds. The approaching security line was inching forward on all sides, checking to make sure we all did our duty like good little citizens. Maybe I was lucky that I lived in the center of this god-forsaken place, that I could live as long as I did. Maybe. Maybe it was horrible too, watching the workers and soldiers in their hazmat suits swarm over the area, watching them pull out bodies that I had seen at the store, the coffee shop, my apartment building. That brought me back to reality more than anything, seeing the swarming insects burrow into my building. The *blessed* were coming. I could hear the steam coming from the kitchen. Finally. A cupboard opened and closed, a mug spotted and withdrawn, I slowly poured over the teabag they provided me and -- Sobs. From below me. *Stop struggling, please. Do n't make it worse. * A ringing shot and silence. Silence so oppressive my hands wept with the effort of keeping my mug still. Waste not. The air was too thick; I could n't breathe. And then a squeak and a thud crashed in my ears forcing my lungs to remember. *The door to the stairwell on my floor always squeaks, I should really remember to grease that at some point. Maybe I should leave a note. * Doors opening and closing and a few muted voices talking, getting closer. So *methodical*, so *workmanlike*, so very *holy*. Fuck them. Fuck even the potential of being left! My hands slowly unclench and then grip the solid, warm cup for comfort. It even smells pretty good, like home, safety, ignorance. The dregs, however, are some of the bitterest little shits I ever had the pleasure to put in my mouth, hooooly fuck. I gag the rest of it down. That last door was close. Two, no three?, apartments down. Hiders again. Hoping for that last chance to escape unscathed and pleading that no, there has to be a mistake, and ca n't they at least take my poor littl -- - I ca n't bear to watch or listen any longer. The day just seems too bright. I lie back on my couch. I close my eyes.

[ EU ] After watching him slowly devolve further and further into madness Alfred has the heartbreaking realization that he 's the one who will have to kill Master Bruce .

It's very quiet now. Master Bruce was never easy to deal with even before the tragedy. He always had a strong will, but it was his own darkness I tried to protect him from. A darkness that made him break the housecats leg in two, slice the neighbours dogs gums with a scalpel or during archery practice accidently hit one of the maids. I'm not sure Master Bruce remembers anything before the tragedy but I do. After his parents death he forced himself to become a fighter, but few people know the darkness he ran from. As a teenager he could disappear for weeks at a time. Often I'd find a new work of art, or prize on a shelf or hanging when he returned from one of these trips. I only ever looked into one item he brought, and found a news story about a break in, and the suspect being in a coma. After that I looked out for deaths but did n't find any; but I did n't want to know where the items came from. Master Bruce returned after several years of training and told me his plan, I feared the worst had taken hold of his mind. After a few months I came to understand this is how he held on. Some brilliant minds took heroin to let their mind roam free, others drink into oblivion. Bruce Wayne became Batman. And it seemed to help, for a while. He could be the Bruce Wayne we all loved, and the Batman we all feared. The Joker pushed him too far. I know I'm not the only one who noticed that every time after the Joker was captured more than the usual amount of gang members ended up in hospital. He drove him to that edge. When your daughter was killed, he let go of whatever was tethering him to the light. Barbara was a lovely girl, and I'm eternally sorry for what happened to her. Maybe if I had controlled Master Bruce better. No. There is no point in maybe. Know I'm sorry. The world saw Batman became a killer by night. What they did n't know was I'd hear screaming coming from Master Bruce ’ s room whenever he was in residence. I'd find bats in the cave with their necks broken. I'd find blood, and I never asked if it was the Masters. Towards the end I barely even saw him anymore. He'd take meals blended into a drink. When he killed that schoolteacher I knew Master Bruce was gone. I do n't even know what the teacher did, but it must have been something. I doubt it was a capital crime, but I will take that on my conscience for not acting sooner. In the end it was a simple matter of poisoning his evening blended meal. I knew it had worked when the screaming stopped. Commissioner. I hope you understand and forgive me. It's very quiet now. Signed Alfred Pennyworth.

[ WP ] A man jumps off a building . He 's not suicidal , and he knows what he 's doing .

57 feet, 4 inches, the wind is travelling northeast at... 4 miles and hour. It's drizzling, and has been for 45 minutes, the grass should be soft enough. If I land flat on my back, spreading my arms, I should be able to sail slow enough to not be knocked breathless or unconscious by the impact. Masked Man 1 has a gun, one bullet, in his left hand, he is 40 degrees to my right, eight feet behind me. Masked Man 2 has a gun, two bullets, in his right hand, he is 30 degrees to my left, 7 feet behind me. If I jump 3 inches from the balcony, they have.72 seconds to pull the trigger. If I step off, they have.26 seconds. I jump in four... three... two... `` Oh my god, that man just jumped!'' *crowd screaming*

[ WP ] You run a veterinary clinic for spirit animals . Describe a typical day .

Lightning struck in the distance and sent thunder rolling across the plain. The brown grass trembled in the storm as the wind blew warm to the east. The tall tent trembled; wind blew through the gaps and whisked away the fragrant smoke. Hot air glowed with the orange smoldering embers of the fire. The violence outside sat calm inside as the Veterinarian sat with closed eyes and beads of sweat dripping paint from his furrowed brow. The flap opened and the noise of the tempest blew in. The Vet's eyes stay closed. `` How goes the battle, Thunkashila?'' A rumbling snort of thunder echoed in the shelter. `` Wa cheen txan e tch ya yo.'' The veterinarian opened his eyes and gazed at the mighty beast which stood before him. The Great Bison stood pure white with bloodied flank and froth foaming from it's mouth. It sank to its knees as the fury of the storm raged around the beleaguered tent. He stepped forward to the great spirit animal and began to bathe its wounds and mend its injury. The water ran red as the cloth cleaned the Great wounds. Outside the battle raged on. At last, the Great Bison stood before the vet. It's breath blew steamed clouds even in the heat of the tent; its white fur heaved mightily with each breath. It looked at the Vet and spoke, `` Doksa ake waunkte''.'' It turned and walked into the great tempest of battle. The war renewed with vigor. The tent shook, the prairie echoed with the sound of war, and lightning flashed across the dark plain. The Vet stepped back to the fire and sat with closed eyes. `` Doksa ake waunkte.'' `` I will see you again.''

[ CW ] A mute just witnessed a murder , and needs to explain that they are n't the killer . The detective is blind .

I sit in the alley looking at the carved up body. Why have n't they covered it up yet? In the penny dreadfuls they always put a sheet on the body. Down by the main road I hear an engine idle. `` This is your stop detective'' I hear footsteps and something else. A clicking. I see the detectives outline come closer and closer. A cane, the clicking noise is a cane. He's not using it to support his weight though. He's feeling out ahead of him. He steps out into alley light. `` Good evening Ma'am, I'm detective Bartleby'' … Those fuckers, they did it again did n't they? Told me there was a suspect and then sent me off to `` talk to them''. I bet there is n't even a fucking crime scene. There's another noise though. Something faint, barely discernible over the buzzing of the overhead lamp. A pen on paper. `` Is there someone there?'' The scratching stops. `` If there's someone there reach out and touch me'' I feel a hand on my shoulder. `` Well this crime scene's already going better than most'' I hear the scratching noise again. `` Are you writing?'' More scratching. `` You're a mute are n't you?'' The scratching stops. `` You want proof that no one in this city want's murders solved, look no further than sending a blind fucking detective to question a mute fucking witness'' Those fuckers. This is what they fucking do. And now I can either go back to the station and deal with that shit, or stay here all fucking night and try to deal with this shit. Knock. `` What was that'' She reaches out and grabs my chin, then shakes my head back and forth. `` What are you?'' Knock knock She puts her hand on my forehead and forces me to nod. `` Well I'm glad one of us knows what they're doing. So, there is a body right?'' two knocks `` Shot'' knock `` Stabbed?'' Knock pause knock `` Does that mean sort of?'' two knocks `` So with a knife then?'' two knocks `` Carved up?'' knock knock `` Female?'' Knock knock `` Naked?'' Knock knock `` Fuck'' I said `` I do n't suppose there's any chance that you're the murderer?'' Knock `` So you're not going to kill me and put me out of my misery?'' Knock `` Fuck'' `` What the shit are you two doing?'' `` Fuck'' … Another detective comes down the alley and steps into the light. `` This is Detective Scrim'' `` A pleasure'' says Detective Scrim `` Now, what the shit are you two doing?'' `` I and trying to question this mute witness and she is trying her very best to not kill me out of frustration'' Under normal circumstances yes, but this was the first nice cop I had met in 24 years so I was willing to let it go. `` Well I guess I'll take it from here'' said Scrim he took the notepad from me and wrote something on it and then handed it back `` saying as you are, as per usual, useless'' `` Oh fuck you'' Bartleby is the killer. That's what the note said. Well shit. … I fucking hate Scrim. I hate everyone but I fucking hate Scrim. The worst fucking thing about Scrim is that he's not even dirty. You know who's dirty and who's not. Scrim is n't dirty, he's just the biggest fucking asshole. Being dirty in this city is encouraged so it would n't have mattered but still, some moral justification would be nice. `` I think I'll stick around'' `` So you can question the mute witness?'' `` You can read her note and let me know what it says'' `` You really trust me to do that?'' `` Should I not?'' `` No you should, its just I did n't think you would'' … What do I do? Either Scrim is telling the truth in which case Bartleby is a murder or Scrim is lying and is probably a murder, or at least something. At the very least he emanates asshole. Either scenario I'm in an alley with a murder. And I know how this one ends, best case scenario I just get killed here and now, shot in the face or something. No wait, Bartleby is blind, so Scrim can probably stop him before I become collateral. Or he shoots Scrim first and I get away. So I guess I should hope it's Bartleby. But I hope it's not. … `` Does n't matter though. They want you back at headquarters'' `` How the fuck am I supposed to get back to head quarters. Sorry Ma'am for the uh…swearing'' `` The same way I got here, carriage is at the end of the alley. You remember how to walk in straight lines right?'' `` Fuck you'' I say and start for the entrance to the alley. I turn with my cane up and feel it hit something. I hope it's Scrim. `` Asshole'' says Scrim Silver lining I guess. `` So tell me what you saw'' says Scrim I can just hear pen scratching on paper over the buzzing lights. … It was kind of annoying for the detective to apologize. On a good day the worst word I hear is fuck. It was kind of endearing though. On that note... Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I look into Scrims angry eyes, just above the fake facial hair dislodged by Bartleby's cane. The killers eyes. He's writing something but I do n't think I have to see it. Do n't run. That's the nicest way I've ever heard that. It's also the first time I've ever heard it coming from someone with a gun and access to a whole swarm of assholes that could track me down. So I do n't run. I stamp 3 times and hope for the best. ... Three knocks, not even knocks. Is she stomping her foot. What the fuck does that mean. I turn around. `` Everything alright?'' Pen scratching then a scream then a knock. I know what one of those things mean. … I do n't remembering jamming the pen into his stomach. I did n't think I could jam it hard enough for it to stay there. `` You fucking bitch'' Still nicer than normal. He goes for his gun, I go for his gun, Bartleby goes for his gun…why the fuck does a blind detective have a gun. `` Freeze'' `` Oh give it a fucking break Bartleby'' I stamp my foot and hope what they say about blind people's hearing is true because even with the pen in his stomach, Scrim is a lot stronger than me and he's going to get the gun out. Bartleby runs towards us and just as he gets there BANG. Something wet and hot splashes up on my face. … BANG and there's something warm on my coat. I do n't remember shooting. I know some guys do n't but I always do. Did. `` That you Scrim?'' Two knocks. I'm half way through thinking silver lining when the next shot rings out. … Bartleby dives forward, pinning me under Scrim's headless corpse while the not dead not carved up corpse fires on us. `` Who's shooting at us?'' yells Bartleby, apparently wanting me to morse code out the entire thing. I feel my hand close around Scrim's revolver, then I struggle to free it from the weight of Scrim's corpse plus Bartleby's body. A shot bounces off the ground near me. Hot asphalt hit's my neck as I pull the gun out and empty it into the naked woman shooting at us. Her body jerks as the rounds hit her. She drops. `` Did we win'' says Bartleby I knock twice. He stands up and dusts himself off. `` Shit right'' He reaches out a hand but I'm already up. `` What happened?'' I give him a what the hell look, then realize how easy it is to forget. I lead him over to the body. He kneels down and moving his hand along it. So he is one of the weird ones. `` This looks pretty weird does n't it?'' I knock twice. `` Sorry'' … `` Real slash marks. That's disconcerting. She covered in tattoos? Knock knock `` Fucking cultists. You sure you saw her get murdered or slashed anyway?'' knock knock `` By Scrim?'' Knock knock `` He was wearing a fake beard was n't here'' Knock knock `` Asshole'' There's a noise from overhead. Louder than the lights. Then it gets really, really hot. … An airship is shining it's spot light on us. `` Lay down your weapons and lie down on the ground'' `` Always too fucking late'' says Bartleby It's all kind of a blur after that. Bartleby's captain shows up and commends him on dealing with a cultist element that had infiltrated the police force that they knew off but could never pin down to an individual. The whole thing is pretty tense. Then they leave us alone in the alley. `` Fuckers are going to get me one day'' says Bartleby `` Police not cultists. Well both. One or the other'' I consider sneaking away at that point, just leave him there standing in an alley. For self preservation reasons. That would be mean though. `` So, doing anything tonight'' he says

[ WP ] I should have read the fine print

`` Ca n't do it.'' `` What do you mean you ca n't replace it?!'' Fiona asked. The beady eyed parts broker's brow did not furrow. His expression did not change by so much as an increment. He was one of those new plastic models. With skin like a smooth squishy pillow and eyes that could change every color of the rainbow. Fiona was an older model. Mostly metal and some plastic. She was flexible only to the degree that she could reach down and touch her feet. The parts broker sighed and stepped away from the window separating him from Fiona. `` See, you're a 890xb. If you was a 890x we might could find something that would work with what you have but we ca n't. Only that part fits that slot. They do n't make them anymore. Did n't you read the last bulletin? Said there plain as day, the parts for the 890xb were obsolete. You coulda stocked up on a spare one then.'' `` I read it, Jim. I just did n't read all the tiny print at the bottom. No one reads the tiny print at the bottom.'' `` Ai n't my fault you lose your boy part Fiona. You're just gon na have to live with it.'' Fiona's eyes turned a dark gray. `` I did n't lose it! The girl with the snake tattoo stole it after we broke the bed in that hotel room. Woke up and it was gone. Poof. If I knew who she was I'd go steal it back but I do n't so I'm here. You ca n't even find me a used one?'' The broker's smooth nose wrinkled. `` Used? You've sunk low Fiona. Why do n't you just live with it? You ai n't half bad as a girl.'' It was n't that Fiona minded being a girl. She was equipped with both parts. She liked wearing heels and bras that pointed west as much as she liked wearing her penis and pretending she'd just gotten off the back of a horse. `` I like being a boy Jim. Sometimes. Just like I like being a girl. Sometimes.'' Jim kicked up his heels on his desk. `` It's like the old song, Fiona. You get what you need.'' `` Obviously you are not going to give me what I need Jim. Not that you ever could but still, you'd think for the amount of credits I'm offering you could find something. A dusty old box of unused parts or a genius kid who knows how to build them from scratch. I get fossilized song lyrics instead.'' `` You really want a used one?'' Jim licked his lips. Fiona nodded. `` It wo n't be easy. Credits just ai n't enough. If I do this some tin can who's about to be crushed for crimes against skinmanity will donate his soon to be obliterated part to you. Takes a lot of risk getting in there. A lot of pull. You will have to do something for me.'' `` Anything. Within reason'', Fiona said. Jim's eyes turned green then blue. `` Good. You come back tomorrow. I'll see what I can do.''

( WP ) He worked with fervor every single day , except on the birthdays of his brothers .

He hammered the iron / bent the steel, Tanned the hides / spun the wool. Stirred the coals / fed the fire, Forged the armor / cooled the blades. ... From dawn to dusk to the morrow, He worked the hammer and forge; From dawn to dusk to the morrow, He worked the tanner's bench; From dawn to dusk to the morrow, He worked the grinder's stone. ... Devoted and tireless he worked, From Good Friday to Christmas. Not even for God did he cease: But for family he must. ... For his brother lay in a grave, forgotten by all but he. And once a year A brother stands vigil Over the forgotten grave Of his fallen kin and friend.

[ WP ] You have 1 save game or reload point in life that you can always go back to , but every time you reload , life 's difficulty level increases . You start on easy .

The day I graduated from high school was the best, worst, and last day of my life- my first life that is. For the entirety of my high school career I had the biggest crush on Angelica Reeves, but not even close to enough courage to ask her out. Until graduation day. I do n't know what it was, maybe just the excitement of finally being done with high school, but I managed to take the leap. We were conversing lightly, about unimportant things, as we usually did, but then we shifted towards graduation and the big picture of life. We talked about what our futures would be like and-by blind luck or divine intervention- I managed to say the smoothest line of my entire life, `` I think my future would be much better if it included you.'' And just like that I had crossed into unknown territory, but Angelica welcomed me graciously, with a kind smile, `` And what exactly are you saying with that?'' `` I think I am saying that I would like to take you on a date.'' `` Wonderful.'' We parted ways in order to prepare for the graduation ceremony, and I could not wipe the silly grin from my face. After the ceremony was completed I stood outside in the sea of students and smiled as I looked at the degree in my hand. A firecracker went off somewhere nearby, peopled cheered, it was quiet a festive atmosphere. Later on there was a party for essentially the entire class to celebrate graduation. the sole reason I went was that Angelica would be there as well. Except she was n't. I explored the surrounding neighborhood, dumbly hoping that I would find her, and quite surprisingly I actually did. However, she was not alone. Two other guys from my class had her by the arms- guys I recognized to be delinquents, to put it nicely- and she was struggling. `` Hey!'' I charged them. It was n't even about looking macho, it was about getting her away from those creeps. Issue is, they were far bigger than me, and they were drunk. I was on the ground before I even understood that I'd been punched. I was sluggish as I got up, so it was easy for one of them to grab me by the arm and hold me still. The other one's speech was slurred as he mocked, `` Awh, you waana play with the pretty girl? Well thas too bad.'' With that he tried to take a swipe at Angelica's chest. So naturally she retaliated by trying to slap him. The drunk did not take that well, he cursed and shoved her then everything seemed to slow down as I watched her fall. Her head hit the nearby curb with a sickening thud. That's when I fought. I shook free and punched back. I was furious beyond thinking straight, which is why I did n't notice him pull a knife until it was too late. The last thing I remembered was searing pain in my chest as I fell to the ground, and watching the blood pool around Angelica as the two cowards ran off into the night. After the ceremony was completed I stood outside in the sea of students and smiled as I looked at the degree in my hand. Wait. What? No, no, no, that was all real that was definitely not a dream I was not sleeping I remembered all of that. Wait, if I really am reliving this, and that was n't just some crazy dream, then... BANG- the same firecracker I had heard last time around. I really had died. And all I could think was that I had to find Angelica, I had to stop her from going to that party. But unfortunately she was nowhere to be found. So I was forced to go along with the rest of my friends and pretend like everything was fine. The events leading up to the party were all exactly the same, but I made sure to arrive earlier. I went to the spot where I had found Angelica- where I had been stabbed- and searched around. Time passed and I grew more frantic until I heard a stifled scream nearby. I rushed towards the sound, ready to fight, but froze as I came upon the scene. Everything up until that point had been the same- everything- yet instead of two creeps harassing Angelica there were three, and they were already doing very unpleasant- illegal- things to her. She saw me coming and there was nothing but terror in her eyes. I found the best weapon I could- a hefty tree branch- and approached the group. I did n't hesitate this time, just started swinging. My bravado was short lived, as I was nowhere near strong enough to subdue one of them let alone three. Last thing I remembered was being held up by both arms as one of them repeatedly kicked me in the stomach. After the ceremony was completed I stood outside in the sea of students and smiled as I looked at the degree in my hand. My smile faded immediately as the firecracker went off in the background. There would be time to figure out the reason for this... power.. later. I just understood that I needed to save Angelica- the only girl that I could ever possibly imagine a future with. And she was definitely impossible to find in the crowd. I blew off my friends and went straight towards the spot where I founder her being attacked. I waited there for hours until the time of the party arrived and I felt physically lighter as I saw her walking down the street- alone- I sprinted over and took her hand. She seemed quite surprised, `` Well hello to you too.'' I tried to smile, `` Ha, sorry, just uh happy to see you, y'know?'' `` Sure...'' She began but trailed off. My heart twisted as a group of five thugs- not two, not three- slowly surround us seemingly coming out of nowhere. I only have time for a quick question, `` Where were you, right after graduation, out in the crowd?'' `` What-'' `` Where?'' She does n't get a chance to respond as one of the creeps grabs at her arm. I try to fight, but they make quick work of me. The last thing I hear as I lay bleeding on the pavement is Angelica screaming. After the ceremony was completed I stood outside in the sea of students and I looked at the degree in my hand. I crumpled it. The firecracker went off, but I hardly heard it. The odds had been getting worse, harder, with every... reset.. but I would face those odds. As I went home and opened my father's gun safe I thought to myself,'now I'm playing on hard mode, but to save Angelica I'm willing to face that challenge.' And, as I loaded the gun and left the house, I thought,'I do n't care how many times I die, I am gong to save her.'

[ WP ] They call you the wanderer but they are the ones that are lost .

I've never stayed long in one place. My whole life I've been searching, as my parents did before me. Searching for the switch. It was legendary in my family. We had spent centuries searching for the answer that no one knew mankind was looking for. Everyone I have ever met seems alien to me. They are like ants, mindlessly following the tune of a singular drum they can ’ t hear. The fascinating part, however, is that they all believe they are living their lives as individuals, never realizing that they are being influenced. Today began just like any other, waking in a ditch to get up, gauge the sun, and continue my march. Most days I fell into a kind of trance as I traveled. No thought, no emotion, just putting one foot in front of the other. I could n't figure for the life of me why I felt so pensive. My answer would come in due time. What I had attributed to mere whimsy was actually a piquing of hereditary senses developed for as far back in my family as records could prove. Grandfather had told me that we were nearing the tipping point, that the war was about to begin. I never believed him, there were dozens of examples of men in our family who had been led astray due to their belief that the time was upon us. Of course it would fall to me to decide the fate of humanity. A lone shepherd deciding the fate of his sheep. Generations of men who sought this power, and it falls to me. I had always been content to wonder the world, meet these people, learn about them, and then move on. Maybe that was what it was, I made the mistake of learning about the people whose fate I thought to decide. As I walked I came upon the final sign that my long pilgrimage had come to a close. There, in the middle of some poor farmer ’ s field, was either the key to mankind ’ s salvation, or its destruction. There was a rent in the ground, 15 feet across and endlessly deep. Down there I would find the switch, where I would face the decision I had been born to make. It was time for mankind to stand up, out of the smoke and into the sun. It was time for me to set them free. I shed my clothes, folded them carefully on the edge of the pit, and jumped, face first, towards destiny. Why. Why why why does this happen to me. Ben had always been a quiet man and now his farm was flooded with news crews, he was in the eye of the law for not roping off the hole he had opened in his field for his new septic tank, and all because some cook had come and jumped down. They called him the wanderer. He had spent his life walking the earth looking for a hole, or so his journal said. What a nut. Just another cult, ruining the life of one man, and ending the life of another. edit: formatting, formatting, and formatting

[ WP ] You yell at the TV as you are watching a horror film . To your surprise , the characters react and you must now guide them to safety .

I said `` oi, watch out. the monster''. She turned around and said `` Can you hear me?'' I shook my head with the wisdom of a dalai-lama. How'd my life come to this. I'm Santa now. Ca n't explain it. I looked at the floor and saw some dry crud. Looked up and she was still there. `` I'm here to help you'' I said. Jack Reaperz was my name. I'm a sheriff round these parts. Not too many people know it though. `` Hold steady'' I yelled out. She spun around and looked at me like a scarlet in the moonlight. I had to do something. I'm Jack Reaperz, the sheriff of hooville. Finally I managed to garner the strength to sit up `` I'm here to help you. I have friends in the medical industry''. She was n't buying it. She was slick to my motives. You See, I'm a cowboy. JAck Reaperz' my name. I'm quite big around these parts. Ask for me by name you'll catch yourself a cold. I adjusted my saddle for the long haul. Made sure i had enough mac and cheese. `` Yoddle! Who goes there?'' I called out. `` This is Jack Reaperz!'' they lonely voice echoed back. `` That ca n't be right, I'm Jack Reaperz'' I called out. `` Na uh, I'm Jack Reaperz''. I was confused and rightfully so. Ai n't no two men named Jack Reaperz within 60 mile. I got off my jockey and paid him a whip. Squeezed his bum too. I'm Jack Reaperz. The end

[ WP ] A lowly bandit unwittingly kills the hero prophesied to save the world , and now must pose as said hero and bullshit his way through the rest of his adventure in an attempt to fulfill the prophesy .

Frankie grabbed the man's limp wrist with his thumb and forefinger, lifted it and let it thunk down onto the metal table. The rest of the body convulsed as though electrocuted, but the man did not lift his head from where it had fallen half an hour earlier. The glasses of fire brandy clustered at the center of the table and chittered excitedly as they collided into each other. `` Fraaaaaaaaaankie,'' Da-al whispered his name in that creepy sing-song way that reminded Frankie of his mother. He suppressed the urge to crawl under the table in fear of a good beating and glared at his large, scaly companion instead. `` You're a real piece of work, you know, programming your voice-box to sound exactly like my mother,'' Frankie said. Da-al hissed, and his three nostrils flared in the way that Frankie had learned to recognize as a snicker. He was proud of his little prank, the bastard. `` What are we going to do with him, Frankie?'' Frankie's mother asked, from inside Da-al's voice box. Cut that out,'' Frankie said. `` I mean it, unless you want your ass stranded on this god-forsaken rock until I decide to forgive you.'' A click and then Da-al's sibilant voice was back. `` The meatbag's not breathing.'' He poked the sleeping man with a curved claw. `` Careful there!'' Frankie pushed his claw away. `` We need him to get the bill and he's not gon na do that if you put a hole in him.'' He looked around the smoky tavern suspiciously for anyone who may have noticed the exchange. Just because they were in a bootleg bar orbiting Neso, Neptune's most remote moon, that did n't mean that Corporonation Enforcers were n't disguised among the bar's patrons, itching to make an arrest at the smallest misdemeanor. Frankie was in trouble with the law enough, running contraband between backwater colonies and jacking the interplanetary network at his convenience. He did n't need to add human assault to his rap sheet. When nobody moved from their seats to jump towards them, Frankie relaxed and turned to his companion. `` He's dead. He's not paying this, or any other bill.'' Da-al crossed his arms over his chest. `` What?!'' Frankie exclaimed. Frantically he felt around the man's neck for a pulse. `` Do n't bother. He's been dead since his head hit the table. Aneurysm. His petty little heart could beat in his body no more,'' Da-al said. Frankie stared at the Taldonian wide-mouthed. `` And you could only bother to tell me now?'' `` Was there any point in ruining the enjoyment of your last pint?'' Da-al asked. `` Especially since we're going to have to deal with this anyway.'' `` Hmpf,'' Frankie huffed. The lizard was right. It really would have done Frankie no good to know that their `` friend'' had expired. Like Da-al had said, it really would have spoiled Frankie's enjoyment of his drink. Taldonians were famed for their unwavering common sense and their ability to instantly metabolize alcohol, and Da-al was no exception. Once, when Frankie had been deep in his cups he had asked Da-al to explain what made his kind this way, but all that he could remember the next day was some impossibly long-winded explanation about frozen worlds from adjacent galaxies. He had never asked again. `` Let's clean him out,'' Frankie said. `` We may as well enjoy a good night on his credits instead of ours.'' Da-al tapped the table with a claw. `` I thought that's what we were going to do when we picked him up here to begin with.'' `` No, we were going to scam him, sell him some useless broken tech, convince him he needed a ride to Aurora, get him to pay for fuel and supplies and then leave him stranded and broke on this rock. By the time he'd have filed a complaint with the Corponation, we'd have been at the other end of the galaxy,'' Frankie replied. `` Right. My bad.'' Da-al reached with one of his humongous hand-claws across the table and lifted the man by his head until he was sitting in his chair once again. Frankie worked fast. He brought out his universal idfid scanner and tested each of the dead man's fingers, searching for his identification chip. Nine fingers later, the man's idfid was predictably in the thumb of his right hand. A cursory search revealed that his backup chip was, predictably in his left wrist. Frankie connected the scanner to his tablet. He watched the decryption algorithm set to work against the man's personal security. `` Let him go, I got what I needed,'' Frankie said, his eyes glued to the tablet. The percentage bar indication decryption was going up slowly but surely. Da-al retracted his claw and the man fell forward, head hitting the metal table loudly. The fire brandy glasses toppled over one another loudly. Frankie looked up to glare at Da-al. `` Please, make some more ruckus. I do n't think they heard you on *Venus*.'' `` Sorry, sorry. Meatbag's head is heavy.'' Da-al gingerly righted the glasses before any fell off the table and caused more noise. Frankie returned his attention to the task at hand. His heart beat quickly, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Identity theft was the bread and butter of his trade. He had played with encryption and decryption algorithms from before he had even learned to count. `` Come on baby, come on,'' Frankie muttered under his breath. `` Well?'' Da-al asked. `` Just a second, just a second,'' Frankie replied. The percentage bar was almost there. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred percent! `` Got him!'' Frankie cheered. The end result was always the most exciting part of any hack. Frankie's fingers danced across the tablet's smooth surface with precision. Silence charged between them as Frankie scrolled through the dead man's life. Bank balances, medical information, employment history, education records, all of it. There was nothing about their dead companion that he did not know. When he finally saw *it*, the tablet dropped from Frankie's hands. `` Oh shit!'' Frankie exclaimed. `` Oh shit, shit, shit, piss-fucker, shit!'' Da-al's pink, forked tongue slipped out and ran over reptilian lips. An expression of annoyance. Taldorians abhorred cursing. `` Meatbag over here's a Hero,'' Frankie explained. `` Horse excrement,'' Da-al replied. It was as close to cursing as he ever got. `` Certified, platinum member. Life-long donor. Born and bred into the Guild.'' Da-al's nostrils flared. `` They're going to look for him. The Hero types always watch out for one another.'' Frankie picked up the tablet again and kept reading. He frowned deeply when he got to the next part. `` How's this for even worse luck: bugger's won the Prophecy Lottery and has received a rank upgrade as of an hour ago. He's a World Savior now, not just a regular Hero.'' `` Flaming horse excrement!'' Da-al exclaimed. Frankie nodded. `` My sentiments exactly. We're boned. When his Guildmates come looking for him, we're the first people that they're gon na sic the Enforcers on.'' `` Everyone here saw us together, so we'll have to take him with us. Put him on ice for a couple of months until this all blows over,'' Da-al said. `` I'll hack his social profile. Announce the win, say he's going on a big trip for a while to celebrate,'' Frankie said. Da-al growled. A sign of agreement, and then a slight click. `` Next time, pick a less annoying meatbag to scam, will you?'' Frankie's mother asked from inside Da-al's voice box.

[ WP ] A world where people forget everything after going to sleep . Every night .

I shot up from from my bed. I started questioning everything, and when I ran out of things to question, I questioned questioning those things. Who am I?, Where am I?, What did I just shoot up from? Of course, this was normal. I did this every day. I would learn to grow calmer about waking up, but I forget. I looked towards the wall at a calendar. `` Great some information!'' Unfortunately the calendar only had one date, which said'Who even knows.' I was freaking out. `` This has never happened to me before!'' I thought to myself. I was wrong, of course, this happened every day. Luckily, he found some writing on the wall.'Put on some clothes, then go eat.' I proceeded to look down where I realized I needed to get dressed. After finally learning some basic human needs, I walked outside, where I was met with a giant ball of fire. Luckily for me it was millions of miles away, and it was keeping me alive. I did n't know that at the time. `` Everyone, take cover! Save yourselves.'' I got weird looks from people who woke up a bit earlier. A kind stranger pointed to a sign on my house.'The big ball wo n't kill you' I thought out loud. `` Whoever left these signs is very helpful'' *groan I was hungry. I remembered the second part of the first sign.'Then go eat' I looked around and saw people eating at a fancy restaurant with two big yellow half circles on it. Food! After eating a nice french meal, I wandered. I sat down on a bench with someone looking just as confused. `` Hey.'' She had a beautiful voice. `` You look confused.'' I responded. `` Yes, do you know anything?'' `` I wish.'' We chatted, and became close friends until it was dark. She suggested we meet at the same place the next day. ____________________________________________________________ I shot up from my bed.

[ WP ] Whenever people consume enough alcohol they achieve ultimate enlightenment . They are able to understand all the wonders of the universe and know all there is to know . Once the BAC drops low enough their mind returns to the normal world and the shock causes memory loss and hangovers .

`` Daddy?'' The patter of two small feet on wood flooring moves down the hallway towards the kitchen door. `` Daddy?'' A small head peaks into the kitchen and glances at the kitchen table. Blue eyes take in the scene there. A twenty-eight year old man sags in a chair that is pulled up close to the table. There are big shiny bottles sitting on the table. Different colored liquids fill some of the bottles. Other bottles are completely empty. The mans head rests on the table. His black hair is pressed against his forehead with sweat. His white tank top is stained with what looks like liquid from the bottles. He shifts slowly in his seat and lets out a soft belch. `` Daddy?'' The small voice rings out crisp and clear in the kitchen. `` What, Olivia?!'' He asks angrily. He turns his head, still resting on the table, to look at her,'' What do you want from me?'' Olivia dances nervously from one foot to the other as she looks around the room. Small hands ring in front of her chest as she avoids his piercing blue eyes. `` Well... you said that if the big hand on the clock went straight up, and the little hand on the clock went straight down that I was supposed to tell you.'' Olivia wiggled in her spot nervously. `` And?'' He asked. She looked up at him then, confused and said,'' And... I'm telling you.'' His eyes lit up and a small smile crept across his face. `` Good, good. Good job, sweetheart. Good job.'' He began to stand up and organize his bottles. He put the bottles in a neat row. The first bottle had the most liquid and the last bottle had the least. Olivia watched her father. She was scared. This was not the loving man that used to play with her. This all started when her Daddy started staying home everyday. At first it was nice, he would play with her all day. He would cook dinner and that made her mother so happy when she got home. Then the bottles came. Then he changed. He began mumbling to himself, “ So close. So close to seeing. So close to answers. ” Olivia watched her father fiddle and mumble. Fiddle and mumble. Fiddle and mumble. She wasn ’ t sure how long she watched, but the sound of the garage door opening got her attention. She saw her father look towards the sound and smile. She ran to meet her mother. “ Mommy! ” She squealed happily. “ Hi, baby. ” Her mother said with a tired voice. She embraced Olivia and set down her briefcase. She brought her face even with Olivia ’ s and asked, “ How has daddy been feeling today? ” Olivia ’ s happy energy faded and she squirmed nervously in her mother ’ s arms. She looked at her mother and whispered, “ I think he ’ s not so good. ” “ DAVE? ”, Yelled Olivia ’ s mother, “ Sweetheart? Are you awake? ” A somewhat crazed voice rang back down the hallway from the kitchen, “ Oh yes, Anne. I am very much awake! ” Anne walked slowly down the hallway, her heels clicking softly on the wood floors. “ I have something beautiful to show you, Anne. ” Dave ’ s voice was hoarse at this point. “ Did you make dinner? ” She asked. She knew he didn ’ t. It had been months since that happy time. “ No, love. It is so much more than that. ” Anne had reached the kitchen at this point and was appalled by the scene she saw. Dave had a bottle full of vodka just below his lips. “ Give me just a moment and then you ’ ll know. ” He said this as his eyes met hers. This man was no longer the man she loved. He was crazed. He had lost his mind in his alcohol. He had lost the love of a daughter and a wife. Anne looked behind her to see their daughter nervously peeking into the kitchen. “ Sweety will you go get your dolls ready for dress up? ”, she asked and waved her down the hallway. “ Yes mommy! ” Olivia always loved playing dress up with the dolls. Anne turned back to her shell of a husband. He smiled and lifted the bottle to his lips. He lifted the bottle up and leaned back. Within a minute it was all gone. Anne tried not to vomit at the sight of it. Then Dave grabbed another bottle. This one was rum. She could smell it. “ Sweetheart please, don ’ t do this. Not when Olivia is here. Please. ” Her eyes pleaded at him. “ SHUT UP! ” He screamed at her, “ Shut up and watch! You ’ ll see. You ’ ll see. ” Dave chugged the next bottle. And one more. Then he leaned up against the counter and slowly slid down into a sitting position. “ Can ’ t you see it? ” He asked Anne desperately. “ See what Dave? How drunk you are? ” “ No, Anne. Can ’ t you see that nothing matters? That everything we do is just in this useless void. Everyone we love. Everything we want. Everything we need. It ’ s all useless. ” He smiled sadly. “ Nothing matters. Even as I tell you I know that you will never see it. I can never find the words to show you and you will never let yourself see it. ” “ Dave, stop it. You know I don ’ t drink and you know I wouldn ’ t do that. Especially not now. ” Tears began to run down Anne ’ s face. Dave looked up at her then and sighed, “ Oh precious Annie. You were so beautiful once. You understood then. ” He shook his head and lifted the last bottle to his lips. Took a couple more swigs and belched loudly. “ Everything is so beautiful Anne. ” Anne began sobbing then. She couldn ’ t take it anymore. This was destroying her. As she opened her mouth to say something, Dave held up a hand. “ Shhh ”, he said, “ I know, my love. I ’ m sorry, but I have to. ” He downed the last of the bottle. As he watched the love of his life slump into a crying heap towards him, he felt happiness. He knew he was arriving. He knew he would be enlightened for the rest of his life. Anne ’ s arms wrapped around him and she shook his whole body with her sobs. As life left Dave ’ s body, he smiled.

[ CW ] Start a story with any word , then use that word as many times as you can throughout .

Now, I was always a guy who lived life one day at a time. Having a drink every now and then. Living in the here and now. But, now I'm truly scared. When the doctor said, *'' Now, Mr McGoo, this tumour is quite serious! `` *, a few months ago, I thought that, now, in this day and age, current medicine would cure me. He said that I had n't much time from now. So, now, lying in this hospital bed, now broken and weak, I see my family cry and the doctors say that it's almost time now. Now? Fucking, Jesus! Now? I'm scared now.

[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 11 : Diverse Voices

`` Alex, will you please just-'' Caitlyn threw her head back and closed her eyes as her toddler dumped his juicebox onto the freshly steamed carpet. She could n't let that stain, they were moving out next month. `` Mommy! Look! Mommy! The juice makes the carpet red!'' The three year old laughed gleefully as he squirted the last of his Hi-C from his straw onto ground. `` Alex, Mommy's having a very rough morning, and she'd be really happy if you could just wait in the car while she cleans this mess up.'' She said as she leafed through the cabinets for some bleach. He let his empty juice box fall to the floor, `` Why?'' Throwing the Hi-C in the garbage, she sprayed the sticky red spot on the carpet before rubbing it down. `` Because if Mommy does n't clean up this juice you spilled then it's going to stay in the carpet forever. And if it stays in the carpet then we have to buy a new carpet.'' `` Why?'' `` Because we rent this apartment and the landlord would n't be happy if we damaged his property.'' `` Why?'' `` Because carpets are expensive and he's going to have a hard time renting the apartment out if it's damaged.'' `` Why?'' `` Because people like to live in nice, clean, places that do n't have stains.'' `` Why?'' `` Because!'' `` Why?'' Caitlyn's arm was scrubbing the fabric furiously now as the suds dried out on her hands, `` Because I said so and you need to get in the car!'' `` Mommy! Look! A flower!'' As Caitlyn looked up, there was Alex, drawing a poor free-hand sketch of a rose with her lipstick onto the living room wall.

[ WP ] Cliches

There was a party in my neighborhood and I was designated party planner extraordinaire. Joking aside, my neighbor and I were planning a party to welcome the new neighbors to the neighborhood. Grilling, games, etc. It was going to be a lot of fun. A day of relaxation and some time for the neighborhood to mingle as a community and forget about the normal, everyday stresses. My neighbor, Dan, asked me to gather the refreshments from the supermarket. He handed me the money and I was making the list and checking it twice, so I decided to take it to Dan. “ Yeah, I just thought I could get some hot dogs, hamburger patties, some beers, of course. Oh, and I was thinking we could get some wings, hot sauce, some barbecue sauce. Obviously, we'll need some fries, ketchup, mustard. What do you think? ” “ Yeah, just go ahead and get all that and a bag of chips. ” confirmed Dan. “ Awesome! I'll be back in a tick. ” So I headed to the store to pick up the stuff on the list plus a bag of chips. I gathered the refreshments, paid the cashier the money, packed all the stuff into the trunk of my car, and drove home. I would meet Dan tomorrow with the remaining cash and the refreshments for the party, but for now they're in my house. \* * * Before I knew it, the day of the party had arrived! It was all set to be a great day! The kids were having fun, the wives were gossiping, the men had all gathered around the grill. Nothing could turn this day around! I was feeling as though that this day was really turning out to be something special when the guests of honor arrived! The husband had stepped through the gate to the backyard and I walked right up to him. They were dressed really, really weird. The husband had came to the gathering dressed in all black with completely white facepaint. He must have gotten it all over his hands too because they were white as well. Nevertheless, I pressed on and started up a conversation. “ So, nice to meet you guys! I do n't believe we've gotten to introduce ourselves. My name is -- ” “ Odire. Odire Bonehorror. ” He interrupted. “ Umm... what? ” “ Get out of my way, peasant. ” They were acting real weird. Before I knew it, his kids and wife came into the backyard as well. “ Aessedi, Pue, Tul, Byur. Ascend with me. ” Just then the sky turned gray with the clouds beginning to swirl above. The sky would make you think the world was ending. For all I knew, it could have been. It started raining and the ground began to shake. The Bonehorrors began chanting something weird and it made everything just that much more chaotic as it went on. > *Our consciousness* > *Is rotting* > *We shed* > *Our mortal bodies* > *We shall ascend* > *The new age begins* > *The fight is on* > *Fear not* > *It's always darkest* > *Before the dawn* As they chanted, they began to float higher and higher in the air. A ball of energy started to swirl around them as they chanted. It was n't long until suddenly, a blinding flash of light startled us all and the Bonehorrors disappeared. The sky cleared up and everybody looked up above in a daze. None of us knew what it was that we had just witnessed. There's a quiet hum of people talking until someone interjects. “ Hey, where did all the food go? ”

[ WP ] You 're driving down the road on a dark stormy night and decide to give a lonesome hitchhiker a ride . It 's god ... you stop again for another ... it 's Satan . They are both headed in the same direction .

Rain patters on the windshield hypnotically. The drive to conventions was always the worst part of them for Rory and weather like this made it considerably harder to bear. He promised that the previous one he attended would be the last. But he needs the money and his wife had pressed him to go. The headlights stretch out on the black road and U2 plays quietly. He taps his fingers along on the steering wheel, then notices someone ahead. A tall woman stands with a thumb out. She wears a bright white dress that appears to glow in the dark and being a self admitted socially awkward person, Rory would not usually pick up hitch-hikers. But before fully considering, he was pulling the car over almost automatically. The woman climbs into the front seat. “ I appreciate it. This rain is really something. ” She says, holding out a hand. Rory takes it with a sweaty palm. “ It ’ s no problem, where are you going? ” “ Erm, wherever you ’ re going would be great. ” “ … Ok. ” Rory responds and looks her up and down. She is immaculate in every way and to Rory ’ s confusion, completely dry. “ Yeah, so this rain, huh? ” Rory says, struggling to stop staring. “ Beautiful, isn ’ t it? ” She responds. “ Sure… ” “ Hey, could you turn this off? I hate U2. ” She says. “ Sure… ” “ You don ’ t say much do you Rory? ” “ How do you know my name? ” “ I know a lot of things. ” The woman says smiling. Rory ’ s hands tighten on the steering wheel in fear, but he keeps his eyes on the road. Now there is someone else in the distance, a man this time, in a completely black suit. It would not be like Rory to pick up a second hitchhiker, but again without thinking, he brings the car to a stop. The man gets in the back. “ Thank you ever so much. ” The man says and the lady immediately turns around with a grin on her face. “ Satan, is that you? ” she shrieks. “ God! How are you? ” he responds and as they continue to talk, Rory sits looking from one to the other. “ Stop! ” he shouts suddenly and both people turn to face him. “ Can somebody explain what ’ s going on here? ” “ Oh dear, how rude of me. I ’ m Satan. Pleasure to meet you. ” he says. “ And I ’ m God. ” She says, smiling at Rory. “ Good joke. ” He sighs and continues driving. “ I suppose you ’ re going wherever I am as well Satan? ” “ Yes. Yes, that ’ ll do nicely. Where... are you going exactly? ” Satan responds and Rory ’ s face turns a bright shade of red. “ It ’ s ok. ” Satan says, patting him on the shoulder. “ I already know where you ’ re going. It ’ s why I stopped you. ” “ Wait, what do you mean *you* stopp- “ but before he can finish, Satan pulls out a ‘ My Little Pony ’ hat, places it on his head and Rory sits speechless. “ No! Way! ” God says and puts an almost identical hat on her head. “ Bronycon! ” They both cry. And Rory, rolling his eyes, continues on to the convention with his merchandise in the boot.

[ WP ] You are Subtle Tea , a super hero who alters major world events by a most appropriately timed cup of tea .

`` I do not *care*!'' The General screamed into the phone. `` When I give an order, you'd better damned follow it. Do n't give me your excuses!'' He slammed the receiver down so hard that a crack spread across the red plastic handle. Around the room, his subordinates exchanged quick looks of fear, but also relief to not be the one bearing the brunt of his brutish temper. `` Hospital...'' he muttered to himself, going back to the folder in front of him and not even acknowledging the rest of the men. `` Who gives a damn?'' `` Sir,'' Of all the cabinet members in the room, none had expected the quiet, squirrely head of intelligence to speak up. He was the General's man through and through. If even *he* disagreed with the plan, then this situation was worse than anyone thought. `` We have reason to believe that the Americans and the Europeans will intervene if they think we are deliberately targeting civilians. Perhaps it would be best...'' `` Puah!'' the General actually *spit* onto the table in response. `` I am sick and tired of catering to the Americans and letting *them* tell *me* how to run *my* war!'' He threw the folder aside, spraying the walls with maps and charts. `` I say let them come!'' The room fell silent as the General glared around, waiting for the next one to speak up against him. His nostrils flared like a silverback gorilla, and most of the men expected him to start thumping a fist on his chest and grunting. When no one dared respond, he gave a victorious smirk and turned back to the intelligence reports. Next to the briefing binders, there was a delicate silver tea set with steam billowing from the spout. Having studied at Oxford, the General had become a fastidious adherent to the practice of taking afternoon tea, but he'd been so busy raging that he had n't even noticed the servant slip in with the tray. Most of the palace servants had learned to avoid him when he got in this type of mood. `` I want that town retaken,'' he ordered to no one in particular. The Minister of War looked around for some confirmation that it was a job for him. The General picked up the teapot without even taking his eyes off of the thick report in front of him. Hot amber liquid flowed from the spout and splashed into the teacup. Then he picked up the tiny silver tongs, looking not unlike a giant using human-sized implements, and plunked a single cube of sugar into the cup. `` And when it's retaken, I want the rebels strung up all along the highway between there and the capital.'' He took a gulp of tea and winced a bit; it had n't cooled enough. `` And their women, too. I want this to be a *message* to anyone who would *dare* join them.'' `` Yes, sir,'' the Minister of War agreed meekly. He ( and quite a few others in the room ) were already having visions of standing before a judge in the Hague for this, but that was nothing compared to facing the General's wrath now. `` And another thing.'' He cleared his throat with the look of a cat trying to cough up a hairball. `` If a single one of them...'' He cleared this throat again, but it turned into a hacking cough. `` Another....'' The cough turned into a sickening squelching sound, and one of his massive hands flew up to his neck. The ministers traded looks, unsure of how to react. The general's face, already red with rage, turned purple as he desperately tore at the collar of his ornate uniform. Medals with his own face on them jangled like a chain in the breeze, and the choking sounds filled the entire room. Finally he slipped out of his chair and onto the ground, spilling the rest of the tea across the marble floor. No one moved. The tea spread through the cracks between the tiles, heading toward the center in the room. After almost a minute of no movement, the Minister of Health finally stepped forward on his tip toes, as if the General was just having a nap and they did n't want to disturb him. He reached one trembling hand toward the General's throat and held his hand there. Then he turned back to the other ministers, trying to cover up his relief with a somber expression. `` He's dead.'' The others glanced back toward the steaming pot of tea and quickly made the connection. Again, everyone was afraid to move. Not for fear of the General's wrath anymore, but because they did n't know what was coming next. Finally, the Minister of Intelligence who had dared challenge the General moved to the tea set and picked up the jug. He circled the table and went into the restroom and then poured the rest of the tea down the sink. `` It was a heart attack,'' he announced with great confidence. `` You all saw what happened.'' The others all nodded enthusiastically, though all made a mental note to switch to coffee until this was all settled. -- -- If you enjoyed this, you should also subscribe to my subreddit, /r/Luna_Lovewell!

[ WP ] From an alternate timeline , the famous German Neo-Realist painter Hitler discovers just how horrifically different his life could have been ...

`` Hello Mr. Hitler. Please come this way.'' The receptionist greeted him with a practiced smile and swaying hips. She wore an immaculate blue pant suit and short black heels that clacked on the black granite floor. A small pin on her lapel gave her name as Ms. Wells. `` And thank you for being on time. Some of our clients do n't have the same respect for our time.'' Adolf shook her outstretched hand and quickly deposited it back in his pocket. The tremors were making it difficult to do his work and if the public found out, orders would dry up. He just bought a new loft in London, not to mention the money he was paying here, so keeping the secret was paramount. `` Well, it was quite a waiting list getting in,'' he said with a nervous smile. `` And I know you people are very busy.'' She directed them through a set of opaque glass doors and down a narrow hall. The walls were lined in doors set with bright yellow hazard signs warning of lasers, nuclear material, and caustic chemicals. The signs made him nervous. `` Is this safe?'' `` Oh yes, perfectly safe,'' Ms. Wells said with a light touch on his elbow. `` We believe in the highest standards in safety at Tipler-Bradbury.'' They reached the end of the hall capped by a sturdy, unmarked door. `` Please step through here, Mr. Hitler.'' Adolf brushed back long greasy strands of hair from his forehead. `` I, um, ok. Sure. Thanks.'' He tried to stifle the tremor as he reached for the door knob, making it much worse. If it were up to him, he'd be back at home reading, but every big name in the art world came here for'inspiration'. It was all anyone talked about at gallery openings and it was already difficult for him to think of something to say. Plus, Adolf's ideas were in short supply these days. Maybe this place really could work. After all, Goebels wrote his best selling jingle after his appointment. `` You'll do great. Step on in and Mr. Heinlein will assist you.'' The heavy steel door swung open revealing a glossy black disc hovering over a white plastic chair. `` Are you Adolf?'' Except for a bright floodlight above the chair, the room was dark. He searched the shadows for the source of the voice. `` Yes. That's me. Mr. Heinlein?'' A tall, lanky man emerged as a blank space in the wall of diodes to his left. He held a motherboard the size of a dinner plate in one hand, and extended the other. `` Call me Herb.'' Adolf's hands were trembling in his pockets, so he kept them sheathed. A few awkward seconds later, Herb shrugged and moved to a desk in the corner. A computer screen lit, casting a pale green light across a desk tiled in sheaves of paper and empty mountain dew cans. Herb pointed to a small plastic box sitting on a folding metal chair. `` Please remove all metal items and place them in the tray, then take a seat.'' Adolf fished out his keys, notepad, and a stolen bank pen and placed them in the tray. `` I, um, I've got a metal pin in my ankle.'' Adolf couldnt help but hope it disqualified him. `` From a bicycle accident when I was a kid.'' `` Oh, shouldnt be a problem,'' Herb said as his fingers tapped away at the keyboard. `` Exposed metal can disrupt the shape of the field. Internal stuff wont matter.'' Adolf nodded and gave silent curses on his way to the chair. Once he sat down, the light above him made the surroundings pitch black. Herb's relaxed nonchalance was the only thing keeping him in his seat. `` Ok, take a deep breath. You'll hear a loud buzz, then there might be a slight tingling sensation. It wont hurt and the whole thing will be done in a sec.'' With a nod from Adolf, the machine spooled up. The buzz rattled his teeth and all of the hairs on his arm stood on end. `` Einfach nur entspannen,'' he muttered. `` entspannedn, ents-'' The machine clanked and spooled down. The light above the chair clicked off and soft fluorescent lights flickered on. `` That's it?'' `` I- there was a problem.'' Herb shuffled the papers around his desk until he located a button on his desk next to a smalls speaker. He pressed it. `` Ms. Wells, please come in here.'' `` What's wrong?'' Adolf stood and walked towards the desk. Herb swiveled the screen away. `` Nothing,'' he stammered. `` I think maybe that pin did ruin the read out. We didnt get a clear reading.'' After going through all of this, Adolf sure as hell wanted something to show for it. His hands balled into fists at his sides. `` You dont know how important this is,'' he said. `` Every major player gets their alt. histories read. Rodin was a shoemaker and he got three commissioned sculptures out of it.'' `` Well I'm sorry but- Ah! Ms. Wells. Great to see you.'' Ms. Wells was standing behind him, her hands clasped neatly in front. She and Herb exchanged a worried glance, Herb's eyes flicking towards Adolf. `` Please Mr. Hitler to accounting.'' Herb gave a bad attempt at a placating smile. `` You will get a full refund, sir.'' `` You're not going to gyp me out of this.'' Adolf sneered and marched over to the computer. `` I came all of this way and I want to see what it says.'' He elbowed Herb back into the corner and turned the screen towards him. His eyes scanned down the report, growing wider with each line. It started with numbers he didnt understand: percentiles, graphs with steep sloping lines. It said he died relatively young. Was that why they wanted to hide it? But it was a gimmick. It wasnt real, not in this reality at least. And the timeline started out great. He was a war hero, a famous writer, important political positions, great followings. The phrase `` Death Toll'' jumped out at him. What followed couldnt be real. It couldnt. Millions was n't a possible number. Not millions. `` What is this? Who put you up to this?'' Adolf grabbed the color of Herb's shirt. `` Do you think this is funny?'' `` No sir. It- It must be a glitch, like I said.'' Ms. Wells placed a hand on his shoulder, but he smacked it away. `` Sir, please compose yourself.'' Adolf took in a sharp breath. He released Herb's collar and took a stuttering step back. `` Sorry. I'm so so sorry.'' He kept his eyes on the ground as he fled the small room, and broke into a run down the empty hallway. He didnt stop until he was outside taking deep gulping breaths of air. Pacing up and down the block, the panic receded and his heart slowed. as he hailed a cab, he tried to calculate how long it would take to paint six million canvases.

Being Drunk is Like Borrowing Happiness from tomorrow

`` Another round?'' Julie's lips curl into that impish smile that I never could say no to. Two pools of deep sepia shimmer against bloodshot red. Layers of carefully applied makeup create the illusion of her normal milky complexion, but her glowing ears and rosy chest betray her mask of sobriety. My phone chimes in my pocket, a surreptitious glance reveals that we have about an hour till last call. `` How are you two doing?'' the bartender asks in our general direction, `` another round?'' There's something in his voice, not quite annoyance but bordering on mild reluctance, he's seen a million couples in the exact same state we're in, he knows better than we do for a multitude of reasons right now. Julie's head tilts as her eyes find mine. That smile again, `` Well?'' Well now I'm on the spot. `` Sure boss, how about...'' I glace down at the top of her blouse, `` how about two glasses of... Red Breast, neat, please?'' `` Coming right up.'' She traces my line of sight and realizes where I got that idea. She throws her head back in a rather inelegant laugh as she lands a quick, hard jab on my bicep, `` You jerk!'' she giggles, `` I hate you!'' `` I hate you too, love...'' Two glasses of immaculate amber are placed before us with the soft, welcoming sound of crystal on polished wood. Glasses in hand and eyes fixated in each other, we clink the classes together and toast, `` Salud!'' Two glasses come down with a firm, harsh clack of crystal on wood. The word `` whiskey'' as I found out during our vacation a few summers ago in the Scottish highlands, comes from a Gaelic phrase meaning, `` Water of life''. Fitting, at times I ca n't imagine life without it and this many drinks into the evening it might as well be water. `` Hey'' her voice suddenly a bit more serious, `` are you gon na be alright at work tomorrow?'' `` Pssh... yea!'' I'm lying to her, but one of my best qualities I've always thought was my ability to lie well under the influence. Besides, right now everything seems to make so much sense. Nothing is spinning, I feel confident, my head is swimming but I'm about halfway sure it's more her than it is the booze. A familiar craving is starting to tug at my collar, `` Lets go have a cigarette, babe.'' I tuck a couple of twenties under our empty glasses, should cover everything. Feet on the ground, hands in my pocket, girl on my elbow, everything should be ok. Ah, there it is, the chemicals fucking with my pride. I stumble a bit but catch myself on the edge of the bar. Just play it cool, no one saw that. `` Are you sure you're alright?'' that serious undercurrent rising ever so slightly this time. `` I'm good, promise'' Outside we trade one vice for another. The warmth of the smoke helps us fight against the frosty night air. I open my coat and invite her in, she's glad to accept and nestles herself under my arm, her closeness offers keeps her warm and helps me keep my balance, it's win win. Everything feels way too good right now. This feeling never lasts. Tonight, I'm with the only two things in the world that make me feel alive. Tomorrow morning, I'll have to make it through eight hours without either of them to lean on. But that does n't matter, you can only expect so much happiness in life, I'm fine with cashing in tonight at tomorrow's expense...

[ WP ] On your deathbed , you see the Grim Reaper come for you . Suddenly , something else appears , and it 's coming for the Grim Reaper ...

There he was. I thought he was just a myth but there was no mistaking the dark figure that was gliding towards me. Black hooded cloak, the signature scythe. I knew I did n't have much time left, but I did n't want to go this early. I had n't even said a proper goodbye to my wife and family yet! He was beside my bed now, looking over me, scythe poised, ready, and I found myself staring into empty void where a face should be. 'Please...', I begged, hoping to have just a little longer. The figure just stood there, unmoved by my desperate plea. The scythe raised, now coming down... 'GRIM!!!' A shrill female voice came from behind him. He turned around, and I saw another hooded figure standing by the door, walking rapidly towards us, and in her (? ) hands, a small cloak. I heard what sounded like a groan from Death. 'How dare you just leave us like that! You think you can just use work as an excuse everytime little Timmy here needs you to change his diapers?' The female hood screamed. 'But honey, I AM working! I need to do we have a place to live in and food to eat!' he tried to explain. 'Uh-huh', Mrs Reaper was unimpressed.'And that makes it OK? I knew I should n't have taken maternal leave. Now I'm just stuck at home, as your babysitter, while you go off with that hot secretary of yours!' She sounded ready to cry. 'What?! Trish is n't even here!' He turned and gave me a look that said'women, right?'. I shrugged. 'Oh, so she's Trish now? That's it, I knew I should have married Bob from the human fate department instead, like my mother wanted, but nooo, I just had to choose you!' She turned around.'I'm going to my mother's with Timmy!' Grim chased after her.'What, do n't be like that, come on, we can talk!' The two faded from my view. I blinked. The door opened. I looked, fearing Death remembered and came back. A man dressed in a suit walked in.'Hi, would you like to talk about our Lord and Saviour Jesus?' My eyes widened as I prayed Death would figure out his marital problems fast.

[ CS ] The Broadcast

`` Greetings, citizens of the Mighty New England. For tonight's broadcast we shall begin with a pleasant announcement: Electricity will now be available 24 hours a day, 7 times a week, in the following areas: London, Bristol, Birmingham, Manchester, and the capital of our newly acquired protectorate of Belgium, Brussels. For the rest of the God-blessed city-states of our Union, electricity distribution remains compliant to her Majesty's latest directive, marked 798/2133, the details of which you can find in your nearest community center.'' Although James could hear the voice loud and clear, there was some something weird about this night's broadcast. The announcer did n't quite sound like his usual pompous self. As if something had inflicted a great wound on his pride. `` Meanwhile, it is our duty to remind you that curfew hours have been adjusted to 23:00 until 04:00, in compliance with the Daylight Saving Time. Citizens are strictly prohibited to be outdoors at curfew hours, with the sole exception of a medical emergency. Curfew trespassers will be immediately arrested on sight.'' James knew he had 10 more minutes until electricity came back up to his place, so he sat quietly, wondering what could have happened that would cause so much distress to this pathetic excuse of an announcer. `` And for the last announcement of the day, we would like to inform you that her Majesty the Queen will be giving her annual speech this Friday ( November 5th ) on the remnants of the Old Bailey. `` *What the hell? Something is way off in tonight's announcement* His head was twirling as he heard the last bit of news. He needed to get online as soon as electricity was available. `` Brave citizens of the Mighty New England, on behalf of her Majesty the Queen, we here at NEBC wish you good night.'' The radio returned to its usual silent self, leaving James completely alone in his silent room.

[ WP ] You were born into a family who lived in isolation -- Off the grid , almost completely . When you finally decide to leave your home behind and head into the nearest city to start anew , it is completely void of life .

Today is the day I finally do it, after all the arguments, and lectures about how dangerous it is I'm leaving the family compound. I've packed up a few things in a scavenging pack and I'm setting out south from our forest edge over the low rolling hills to the old tropolis. Its strange how I've crossed some of these hills before and in this new light everything seems so alive and vibrant. I've never planned on going so far before, 10 days alone would be risky but I know where the fresh streams are and the wildlife holds no fear for me, the food will be a challenge but hunger and I are old friends. I brought a striker to start fires at night but 5 days out the stories of evil men roaming the outskirts of the area stay my hand. This night is the first time the howls in the night keep me up. Now what munition I brought for the rifle Pepop gave me when I came of age seems too little. Looks like I'm only two days away now. I've been seeing old hard paths that Pepop called crete leading to that tropolis once called Charlotte. That was written in an old faded sign as I walked on, though no one will read it again after I tried to brush it off to get a better look and it wiped away. I've finally made it, short on sleep and scavenging food along the way has not gone far enough. I've fired the rifle a couple of times but gained little for it other than a fat squirrel. I'm two days later than I expected. I saw small signs along the way of what I would find here in the center of everything. The stories Pepop told do n't do justice to the mountain like heights of the office towers, well those that are still standing. What is left look too precarious to go looking through. Nothing could have prepared me for what I actually found. The sight so profoundly depressing I wept silently with regret, fearing any sound might wake what slumbers here. I ca n't stay, but I cant go home empty handed. I search through charred remains and rubble for things of sufficient value to forgive my long absence from home. It takes two days to collect enough tools, metals, some chems in short supply, and some small trinkets found in a hollow under a wall in that place. The journey home will be hard with the extra weight but I wo n't fear lighting a fire at night anymore, no, only the the horror of my own mind to keep me company. I'm just one day from home now there is enough hunting this far north to feed myself at night though it is a small comfort. What I think I must now come home to how will Da treat me, the look of disappointment in Pepop's eyes when I tell him it was all for nothing, the fear, the isolation, that his stories are n't true that its all empty. Its a problem for tomorrow, today though those verdant hills seems to me to be the oppressive doldrums of the future now. I've been home a week now and I can finally put and end on this little saga. Pepop was waiting out past the gate in his rocker, smoking the tobacco left from last years trade with the John's west from here. He stood up and walked towards me with a knowing look. As I fell in to him quietly weeping trying to get the words out. He said he already knew. Surprise overcoming grief as he walked me back to his cabin in the `` fort''. He had put his hat over my head so no one could see my shame, but I could hear the mix of confusion and relief in the voices of my family. I guess with that terse note I left, folk did n't know if I would come back. Inside I described what I saw. The village sized clearings familys burned hiding from fire that still got them. The men who held destroyed revolvers who looked like they shot their families then their selves rather than burn. Men and women entwined in beds as if they were caught while rutting and the maddening silence. Pepop explains to me that he too grew up much like my-self feeding on tales of marauders and villages in the rubble of man's past arrogance. How he came upon the fresh smoldering embers of that place and came running back to the family with his tail between his legs. He did not speak to anyone of what he saw other than to confirm the old stories out of shame for returning empty handed. With a glance over what I brought back he says its up to me to tell the folks what ever I choose now when I'm ready. As he speaks he stops to comment on this or that thing I managed to bring home. In the bottom of the bag as I think on what I will tell the family he gasps quietly he's holding two of the trinkets I brought back smiling. I ask `` What? ``, in confusion as he shows me two small metal circles. He smiles, Memaw and Pepop are the worst gossips in the family, as he calls her in and shows her the metal bands. She squeals with joy my confusion plain on my face as she sees what is on the floor and in his hand. `` What!'' I demand again. Memaw says with barely contained excitement. `` With all that and Nuptial rings that Jessie girl and her family cant say no anymore.'' `` What'' I say this time in bewilderment. Memaw goes on `` Of course you have to tell everyone the truth about this scavenging journey to the heart of the tropolis, otherwise the cutters will think we have been holding out on them.'' I try to interrupt but that is like trying to stop a thunderstorm, she's been listening the whole time. She goes on `` We are going to have a wedding this spring,...'' *'' Now son where did you fond that? `` * *'' Under the floor board Da, I want to keep reading about you and Ma'' * *'' later son...'' *

[ CW ] A steaming sex scene . In the style of Dr. Seuss . [ NSFW ]

older post, but relevant: I saw him one night At my favourite bar He looked sexy and buff So I jumped in his car. He put his hand on my thigh And I let out a moan Tonight Id have company I Would n't be sleeping alone. We drove to my place And jumped into bed I pulled down his pants And started giving him head. His eyes rolled right back I deep throated his shaft I tickled his balls And he let out a laugh As he got near the edge He grabbed hold of my tit Then he came in my mouth But I did n't spit I swallowed his cum Then I climbed right on top He may have just finished But I was n't gunna stop He was still pretty hard So I slid it right in This night was becoming One of lust, greed and sin. I rode his dick hard I could not get enough I asked for a spank Cause I wanted it rough My pussy was wet He slid in and out I was getting so close And began to shout I came and I came And he kissed me on the mouth Thank god it's the norm *To fuck your cousin in the south. *

[ WP ] You finally muck up the courage to tell your crush your true feelings for her .

I was sitting in our office, it was just me, her and Harry. It was the summer after our sophomore year of college and I had only met her just 9 months ago when we started to work together. I glanced over at her and, like always, my heart started racing because she was so cute. When this happens my head turns into Gollum, taking the two sides that consume my thoughts. `` Tell her! Just tell her! You've been such good friends these past 6 months, talking and texting every day, there's no way she ca n't feel the same!'' `` No no no! She's just a super nice person and you are just a really good friend to her. If you tell her, she will reject you and working together the rest of the summer will be really awkward!'' `` It will be awkward either way! You ca n't suppress these feelings forever, you will never be happy unless you let it out!'' Back and forth, back and forth my thoughts fought with each other, neither making a better point than the other and I was stuck with my feelings inside. Lunch time came and we went to eat, just the two of us. Talking about our usual topics: things she liked and made to explain more to me, like theater and social issues, then things that I enjoyed like sports and movies. Something in me clicked as I watched her eat her vegetarian burrito. I had to tell her. I could have listened to her rant about equality for all and world peace forever. The timing was finally right. We just finished our stressful semesters of school, we had the whole summer ahead of us, and I just could n't take it anymore. As we started our walk to her car, where she would leave to her other job for the afternoon, I stopped her. `` Tina, I have something to tell you. I do n't know how to say this and I do n't know what I want to happen. I do n't know a lot of things, I guess, but there are some things that I do know. I know that I like you. I know that I ca n't stop thinking about you, I know that you are the most incredible, kind, pretty, intelligent, and just overall amazing person that I have ever met. I know how much you mean to me as a friend and the last thing I want to do is mess that up but I just needed you to know.'' She stared at me for a few seconds, looked down to her feet and my heart dropped. But then I saw her cheeks form a smile. Before I knew it she picked her head back up, reached up on the tips of her toes and kissed me right on the lips. I made the right decision.

[ WP ] You 've been suspecting it since you were 6 years old . You are Satan .

I never really thought about it until the church burned down. It was my baby cousin's christening, all the family were there, my parents had forced me to comb my hair and wear an uncomfortably starched shirt. We walked into the church and my grandma immediately set upon me, she smelt like cigarettes and Bengay. `` Oh Maxie, let me get a look at you, you look so smart in your little shirt and tie,'' she ruffled my hair, pinching my cheek with her calloused fingers. `` Ow grandma, get off,'' I swiped at her hand with my arm. My mother slapped me on the back of my head. `` Max, that is no way to behave with your grandmother. Apologise.'' She had that stern look in her eyes, I held my stare. `` Max, apologise, now,'' it was my dad. He towered over me, hands on his hips. Other family members had started walking over, murmurs about what a rude child I was, how my parents should teach me better, I could feel my heart beat faster. `` Oh it's okay Amy, forget it, some boys are just like that,'' my grandma turned away dismissively, `` He'll grow out of it someday.'' My father knelt down in front of me, `` You are going to behave for the rest of today, and when we get home you are going to your room. I'm taking your console, I'm taking your bike, I'm taking your comics. You are going to spend the weekend doing homework and thinking about how to respect your adults. Do you understand?'' `` No.'' He stopped, my heart pounded. My dad lowered his voice, the voice he used when he was really mad. `` What did you say?'' I felt the anger well up within me, the smell of smoke reached my nostrils. `` I said, no.'' The sound of screaming drew my father's attention, the curtains behind the altar were on fire. The priest ran, my uncle was helping my grandmother towards the door. Father stared at me, I could n't place the look in his eyes, somewhere between fear and anger. `` Did you just?'' I shook my head, the tears came out, I buried my head against his chest and sobbed. `` I'm sorry, I'm sorry it wo n't happen again, I'm sorry.'' ~~ ~~ Fast forward thirty years and here I am, and yeah I've finally accepted it. I'm the devil. No, literally, the devil. I do n't know what freak of nature or happenstance made me this way, I do n't know if my parents were secretly way into that LeVay guy, I do n't know if God had something to do with it - that guy is always fucking with me for kicks. But that's who I am, the devil. Sure it can be fun. I can make things set on fire and explode, I can make peoples' hair turn to snakes, I can turn water into vodka and wine into piss. I can rig any game in any casino, and I did, and I can turn the homeliest girl next door into a skank who'll go down for a goddamn candy bar. I do n't really pull that Damien shit any more, it stops being scary when you're not an innocent looking child, people just think you're some kind of street magician and start clapping. But that urge has never gone away, the urge to just, *be bad. * It sounds corny, but you must have felt it too. That little voice in your head that says, `` Kick that flower,'' that's me, that's what's always in my head. If I do something it's normally bad, and if I do something nice it's normally to help someone bad, let's say I do n't have the most civilised friends in the world. I drink, I fight, I gamble, I smoke, I bang and I sometimes accidentally maybe kill one or two people, no biggie. My name is Max Mondain, but you can call me Satan.

[ WP ] You travel back in time and get entangled in a love triangle between you , your younger self , and the love of your life .

`` Listen, you're making a big deal for nothing,'' I said to myself. `` She's right behind you, there, man! Go ask her out!'' I did n't much like the look on my face. We were sitting in the small cafe just next to university, and when the waitress moved out of our way - leaving our English breakfast on the table - Jane was sitting right there, as impossibly perfect as always. `` I do n't know,'' my younger self said. God, what a fucking twat I was at twenty one. He was just sitting there, acne still pronounced, a lock of dumb hair in the way of his left eye, mouth slightly ajar. `` What do n't you know? Go get her, man.'' `` I've never talked to her really.'' `` So go ahead!'' The rising note at the end betrayed my impatience. Me-at-twenty-one had been through some shit, to be fair. It had only been four months in this timeline, I recalled, since his ( our? ) first relationship came to an undesired end. I had blacked out much of the fallout from my memory, the days spent in bed, eating junk food, not seeing anyone. Still did n't excuse this sad sap disrupting my plans. `` We've gone over this,'' I said now. `` It's the timing, alright? You can seduce her in six weeks at the party and have a baby girl, or you can seduce her today and have a boy. But we need that boy, so it's gon na have to be today.'' `` What if she laughs in my face?'' `` Bullshit. You'll be fine, I promise.'' `` Promise?'' `` Trust me, I was there.'' I really did n't like the look on his face now. Bits and pieces of memories were coming back to me again. The time I was bi, which overlapped with both Roberta and Jane. That time I almost grabbed a guy's crotch while wasted, but did n't. I never acted on it, of course. Not in the timeline I remembered. Now my younger self was looking at me with an expression I recognised, in the bathroom mirror when I discovered lingerie catalogues at the tender age of twelve. I sighed into the reflection in the window - thirty seven, muscular, handsome, rippling forearms in a rolled up shirt. A good change from my youth. Jane was looking at me too, having just noticed her admirers.Through the window, with those big blue doe eyes and the bottom lip biting I knew too well. I knew then what I had to do, son, for the good of mankind. The fate of the universe rested on your being born a boy. That's how I had a threesome with myself and your mother.

[ WP ] There exists a court that sentences people with `` Would You Rather '' questions . Whichever option the person picks , becomes reality .

The woman had tormented many of her own family - but without knowledge of her actions, or their consequences, due to a birth anomaly in her neural cortex. Like a blind person might have enhanced senses, her skills and talents have caused her to become an asset to her government, and she works at the top levels of secrecy in the development of parts of the new security apparatus. There is no trial or court, not only because that would be anathemus to national security, but because morally she is without blame. Neurological surgical techniques become available that would allow doctors to regenerate those parts of her brain that were removed at birth. Would she rather allow these stem-cell techniques to allow her to become a normal person who can emotionally and personally care for her family and those she knows, or would she rather continue to be a controlled procedural personnel whose acts might one day be a part of the salvation of our nation? Is it her own choice, given the gravity of the situation? That is the question. Who does the picking, the choosing, and ultimately, who cares for the woman or - if she is not allowed to choose for herself - those who are in her control? At her age, neurological modification carries significant risks and delays to military advances with relevance to national security. Who makes the call? Woman versus machine?

[ WP ] Medieval Fantasy Setting . The farther you go away from the towns and citys the bigger the monsters become . No one knows if there is an End to the world .

The drive for information about the world outside fetches quite a hefty reward. That is to say, those who are capable of setting records of distance made down the mountain and through the forest are highly revered. Of course you must have some proof, the bare minimum is to bring back the head of the last monster you slew before your return. To date the man who has gone the furthest, king Hubert, or better known as Hubert the Kingslayer, brought back every monsters head he killed. Which, if I remember right, was some 30 heads. The last head being as large as the man himself, and that is no small feat. Too bad that when he returned to claim his prize and glory, the jealous King Anthony accused him of being deceitful. Unfortunately for him, Hubert was not boasting, and to prove it killed Anthony in one fell swoop of the blade mere moments afterward. There were of course many men that made it a fair distance out. The holder for second place returned with the head of what is now known to be the 26th beast. There very well could be those who have gone further, but pushed their luck and died. This is actually rather common. In fact the most men lost in a year was when the second king, George, tried to take a whole army of men out to topple the forest. Well, unbeknownst to him, the beasts multiply tenfold the more men you bring. The first encounter was a complete slaughter. Well, I only tell you these stories now to give you a sense of what I saw today. From my watchtower I just saw a bloody, broken man crawl out of the forest and across the frigid wasteland beyond, until he was completely over the horizon. Which, I estimate, must be at least some eight times further than the Kingslayer's greatest achievement.

[ WP ] You wake up with the worst hangover of your life only to find the world is ending ... and you 're in a position to save it

There is a knocking at my door. More of a pounding, really, that sends sharp spikes running through my head. I ignore it. For a while, anyway. But it does n't stop. And then I hear screams and shouts and car alarms. My curtains are suddenly tinged with a deep, violent orange -- a light from outside. The banging intensifies. I get up and head out to the foyer, groaning as I go, as if expressing to the world my discontent. With the poor coordination of the hungover, I twist and turn the locks on my front door, then pull it open as far as the chain will allow. `` What?'' I sigh. The man outside my door is wearing a spiffy suit and tie, and he gives me a sickly grin. `` Greetings!'' he booms, making me wince. `` You're the chosen one! I'm here to give you a chance -- the only chance -- to save all mankind from destruction!'' `` Yeah,'' I say, `` I'm not interested.'' I go to shut the door, but the man blocks it with his foot. `` Now hold on!'' he says. `` The entire *world* is on fire! And you're the only one who can stop it.'' `` Right, whatever,'' I say, not particularly interested. `` Why me?'' `` I believe Satan picked your name out of a hat,'' the man says, `` but that is n't really important. What *is* important is that I've been assigned as your executive assistant in all things world-saving, by God himself. So, give me an order.'' I blink at him blearily. `` An order?'' `` Yes, sir. Anything you need.'' `` Alright,'' I say. `` Go distract the fire, then, and leave me alone. I need to sleep.'' And with that, I slam the door and redo the locks, then trudge back to my bedroom. I strap on one of those eye mask thingies that people use to block light, stick some rubber plugs in my ears, and settle down to sleep. I do n't have time for that shit.

[ WP ] You 're in a rock band and playing at a 60,000 person sold out show , everyone turns into zombies at the same time , except for the band ... and

http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=zXkeFmQ52Yg The fans just went silent. Seth was the first to stop playing and he yelled out to the crowd waiting for a response as he motioned for us to stop the set. Their arms all dropped to their sides and we could hear the clattering of cell phones dropping to the floor still recording video. That's when they climbed the stage. He screamed as they yanked him down and a quicksand of bodies covered him. I swung my guitar at them but they did not seem to feel pain. More climbed onto the stage and as my guitar hit one square on its jaw, feedback belted from the amp and those closest to the speakers immediately collapsed to the ground, hands over their ears as they shrieked. More of them lurched forward. I quickly fingered some killer riffs and I knew that if I stopped we would die. I gathered my remaining band mates as feedback from the speakers mixed with the shrieks of these zombies. We bolted to the exit as my imitation of Jimi Hendrix echoed through the theater. I was n't sticking around to do an encore.

[ TT ] You were once cryogentically frozen due to a deadly disorder . You 've now awaken in a seemingly Utopian future , but the doctors who saved your life demand a terrible repayment for saving your life .

`` Ma'am? Can you understand us?'' Those were the first words I heard as I awoke. My eyes opened to the sight of a sterile white room, a hospital. Just like from 2016. When am I? And where? `` Ma'am? Miss... Ruby Whitaker? Can you hear us?'' I nodded, trying to utter a weak affirmation. Nothing came out but a low groan. The doctors took that as a yes and so one asked me, `` Okay, Ruby. You're in the year 2162, how do you feel? We've cured your -- what did you call it in your time -- amyotrophic lateral sclerosis? The one that people dumped water on themselves on camera so the disease got more publicity. Now, hold on. You seem not to be able to talk; let me fix that.'' He grabbed a weird-looking gun and jammed it into my neck, a soft hissing noise filling the room as some healing serum found its way into my bloodstream. The serum helped. I sprang up in bed, my mouth running on overdrive as my brain performed a self-check after having been completely frozen hours prior for over a hundred years. `` 2162? It looks like only a couple years passed. Hospitals must not have changed much. So, where's the flying cars? The robots? Any alien invasions lately? And what about my future? You going to figure it out with my DNA and then implant a microchip in my hand marking me as some sort of professional idiot for life?'' Ah, sarcasm. How I dreamed of you. And, strangely, electric sheep. One of the doctors tugged at his collar. `` Erm, ma'am. You- you're actu-'' The other interrupted: `` What my partner meant to say was you're completely fine and free to leave whenever. Enjoy yourself in this world of the future, I guess.'' As I got up and started walking to the exit, strangely able to move my body with no resistance or sluggishness after having been a human Popsicle for over 100 years, a hushed whispering overtook my mind, clear as day: `` Damari, you idiot! You're not supposed to tell the subjects anything about their condition! Remember, their bodies are decomposing in a pit somewhere to give us actual humans our goddamn food!'' So that was why. I'm not human. I'm a robot. My ALS was cured, but not how anyone expected. Just then, a signal ran through my brain, a wandering thought: `` Kill them. Kill them all.'' My hands immediately, without me thinking about it at all, turned into blades as my vision went white. I reappeared on a metallic grate, my hands still blades. Hulking, purplish beings surrounded me. One by one, as if carefully choreographed, they jumped at me. I slashed and stabbed, every single being laying dead at my feet as blood covered my whole body. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- That was me, fifty years ago. Fifty years of pain. Of being repaired after every battle. Sometimes it was aliens, sometimes dogs and bears, sometimes even other people like me. They forced me to kill my own boss from 2016! In the end of it all, the cryo-stasis cured my ALS, but it also ended up killing me anyway. My body has completely rotted by now, powering the killing machine that is my new `` body.'' Soon, even my mind will be gone, and Ruby Whitaker will cease to exist, RW-2016 taking over to please their sick minds in gladiatorial combat. Soon, I will finally be free...

[ WP ] Lifespan is determined by a word count . You 're given millions of words , but once you run out you 're dead . You are a mob hitman known as `` The Interrogator , who specializes in `` making people talk '' . You come across a mark that has one word left .

I scratched the back of my head softly, not really thinking about anything but my target. Sophia. That poor girl, never hurt a fly, a lovely person. But... this was my job, and even if I hated it, I had little choice. My parents threatened to disown me if I did n't join the cause, `` the only honorable way to live'' they called it. I was adopted, and both of my moms were high ranking officials. My biological parents left me. My real parents shoved me into the force. It was n't that bad though, usually I worked in therapy, this case was different though. Most officers are rough and beat words out of their victims. I take a softer approach, if I absolutely have to make them talk, I do it slowly, with precision. `` Hi Sophia, how are you?'' I wrote down, I have to be mindful of my words just like everyone else. She simply nodded and sat down. I did n't want to do this. When I signed up, I did n't want *this*. Here she was though, this beautiful, amazing girl, and here I am. This girl is about to die at the hands of her own girlfriend. I knew what I had to do, though. `` I love you, cupcake.'' I said to her softly, tears burning my eyes and staining my cheeks. She smiled and started, `` I --'' her smile faded. Her eyes grew wide, and then she dropped to her knees. She went to talk, to ask why I could be so cruel as to do this, but nothing came out. Nothing but a gasp. She fell down, limp. I could n't hold it back, I broke. I started screaming, yelling at the top of my lungs, even though no one could hear me. There was no one any where near us. I wiped away her pink hair that she got done last month, and kissed her. I felt awful though, I had just taken the life of the one I loved.

[ WP ] A Hogwarts-trained wizard is one of the world 's greatest , most successful magicians . No one has been able to figure out his secret or the secrets to his tricks , until now .

“ He is on a world tour Elliot! ” Sam angrily paced his agent ’ s office, barely able to contain his frustration. “ He was just a crazy guy doing tricks on Venice beach for fuck ’ s sake! Do you remember, Elliot, when we took the kids there in ‘ 04? We thought he was insane didn ’ t we? ” “ Well he was wearing a woman ’ s skirt and a blazer ” said Elliot, looking defeated. “ Yes, well he isn ’ t anymore, is he? Designers are practically throwing clothes at him! He travels with Sean James, Elliot. His days of sporting a single dread on a bald head are over. ” Elliot sighed and looked out his window. There was a large billboard with Flen Lovegood ’ s face on it looking back at him, almost mocking him. He left the UK in 1991, armed with a business and management degree from King ’ s College, and moved to Los Angeles to become a talent agent. He dreamt of being the next Ari Emanuel, with an office in Beverly Hills and endless high profile clients. For 4 years, he struggled to get anything going and just when he thought of giving up and returning back to London, he found Sam doing the ‘ card snap change ’ trick in a bar. And just like that, both their lives were transformed. Samuel Parker became Abdiel. The mousy haired introvert suddenly became the rocker magician, with jet black long hair, eyeliner, tattoos and a big silver cross around his neck. His wardrobe comprised of mostly black leather clothing. He was a hit and as an added bonus, a heartthrob. For 13 years, Abdiel was the biggest magician in the world. That was before Flen ‘ The Wizard ’ Lovegood did his ‘ summoning charm ’ on the morning news 7 years ago. Until today, Elliot can ’ t figure out how Flen did it. He sent private investigators and even planted moles in Flen ’ s entourage. None of them were able to find out how pointing a wand at an object and saying ‘ Accio ’ flew the object right into his hands. “ That fucking wand! I heard he had it insured for 60 million dollars. For a fucking stick Elliot! ” “ Well, he makes things happen with that stick Sam ” “ Oh no, please not you too! Tell me you don ’ t also believe that stick serves an actual purpose ” “ Sam, he tickled you and made you drop to the floor laughing and squirming while standing 5 feet away with that same stick ” Samuel punched the table in front of him. “ Fuck! I told you never to bring that up again! ” Elliot just shrugged. “ I knew I should have cancelled your spot on Letterman that night. I had an uneasy feeling all along but you just couldn ’ t back down could you? You had to be the big man and challenge him to a face off….on primetime television no less. Now look at where we are ” “ No! That bastard must have slipped something into my drink! ” “ Listen, we thought he would be laughed off the stage but the people love him. We might as well accept that. We had a good run Sam. We made enough money to retire….just let it be ” “ You are just going to quit?! I have a reputation Elliot! I can ’ t stand idly by while his smug face is plastered on every surface. I can ’ t watch 5 minutes of TV without hearing about him. Every time someone asks him how he does it, he gives them that big shit eating grin and says ‘ I am a wizard ’ …what the hell does that even mean! ” The phone on Elliot ’ s table started to ring. “ Look Sam, can we talk about this another time? ” Samuel glared at him and stormed out of his office. Elliot picked up the phone. It was his cousin from London. “ Adam, how ’ s it going mate? ” “ Elliot! Please tell me you are going back to London for Christmas. I can ’ t get Mum to shut up about how the family is ‘ broken ’ because we don ’ t all live in London ” “ Well I guess…. ” “ I ’ m done with my fellowship, so I ’ ll be leaving Glasgow in the morning and heading back with Stacey ” Oh by the way, Bryan got 10 tickets to see that wizard bloke at the O2 arena next week…what ’ s his name…Goodlove or something ” Elliot sighed. “ Flen Lovegood ” “ Ah yea, that ’ s him! Bryan saw him in New York last year, says he puts on a hell of a show. Are you in mate? ” Elliot looked out at the billboard again. He will be selling the agency next year. If he can ’ t beat Flen, he might as well enjoy his show. “ You know what, I ’ m in. I ’ ll fly out this weekend. And tell Aunt Holly I want an extra Christmas pudding this year ” ________________________________________________________________ The applause was so loud and rambunctious, Elliot feared he might suffer hearing loss. It was an undeniably enthralling show. Flen really pulled out all the stops for this world tour. He made roses grow out of an empty bush, shattered a large crystal vase and put it back together in seconds, shrunk an audience member ’ s head and enlarged his own, and made a little boy ’ s feet dance uncontrollably. It was all very impressive. He looked at his family members; his brother Bryan was pumping his fist in the air while chanting Flen ’ s name. His mother was wiping tears. His aunt was laughing and hugging her grandchildren. Even his father, a man of few expressions, was clapping loudly with a huge smile on his face. And his cousin, Adam was…well Adam looked stunned. Adam ’ s wife, Stacey had her hand over her mouth and kept looking at Adam. __________________________________________________________________ They all gathered outside the O2 arena ’ s main entrance. Bryan was booking Uber cars for the family on his phone. Everyone was chatting excitedly about the amazing spectacle they ’ d just witnessed. Everyone except Adam and Stacey. They were standing on one side, talking in hushed tones. Elliot walked over to them and put his arm around his cousin. “ Adam! What ’ d you think mate? You looked shocked in there. Stunned to silence eh? ” “ Well…uh… ” “ Oh there is no use in trying to figure out how he did it. I ’ ve tried several times. Spoils the fun to be honest ” “ But Elliot…he ’ s a wizard ” “ That ’ s right he is! He is ‘ The Wizard ’! ” “ No….I mean he is an actual… ” “ Oh stop it you! ” Stacey interjected, trying her best to sound playful. “ C ’ mon Elliot, let ’ s get Bryan to hurry up. I ’ m absolutely famished ” she said as she pulled Elliot away from her husband. As she walked, she turned back and mouthed ‘ Don ’ t say anything ’ to her husband with a stern look. Soon the cars arrived. “ You coming in Adam? ”, asked Elliot as he got into one of the cars. “ Um….no you go. I ’ ll be back home soon. I need to um…well I ordered a gift for Stacey and I think I ’ ll go pick it up now. ” ____________________________________________________________________ Adam waited until all the cars were out of his sight before taking his mobile phone out. If there was a word to describe how he was feeling, he doesn ’ t know it yet. He couldn ’ t believe it…the guy is a bloody wizard! He dialled “ # 777* ” and waited. After three rings, a recorded message played. “ Hello! For calls within the UK, press 1. For international calls, press 2. ” There was a 10 second pause. “ For all other calls, press 8 ” Adam pressed 8. A man ’ s voice soon came on the line. “ Please state your name followed by the name of the person you wish to contact ” Adam took a deep breath. “ Adam Granger. I would like to contact Hermione Granger please ”

[ WP ] He sighed .

“ ’ He sighed. ’ That ’ s hardly descriptive. ” “ Whaddaya want me to say? ‘ With considerable melancholy, he released air from his lungs and looked dejected? ’ ” “ Something, like, more, right? Like, I wan na know if he ’ s gon na like, you know, sell all of our secrets to the next company he works at, or go ballistic on ground floor security. ” “ Do I look like a fucking shrink? You make me fire this guy and then you act like you care about his feelings. And who gives a flying jihadist if the mouthbreathers on ground floor security have to do their, to use the term like your sister, jobs once a decade? ” “ How does my sister have anything to do with this? ” “ Loosely. Like your sister. ” “ Go fuck yourself. ” “ Nah, I ’ ll just call your sister. Anyway, please inform my concerned soul why you care about a ‘ sigh. ’ ” “ It ’ s not that, it ’ s just, umm, he doesn ’ t really deal with criticism well. He had a meltdown at his quarterly presentation when, ugh, fucking Nancy got angry that he used comic sans font. I ’ ve never seen someone exit a PowerPoint presentation, insert “ FUCK YOU ” in wavy rainbow Word ArtTM in the final slide, then grab the projector and focus the lamp on someone ’ s eyes. ” “ And you made me fire this whack job without letting me know he was a radioactive psychopath? I should notify my next of kin. Jungle Jesus. ” “ You would have bitched out. ” “ Of course I would have bitched out. ” “ And maybe I didn ’ t want to have to deal with your pussy excuses today. I ’ ve got real work to do. ” “ What ’ s that, plagiarizing code from Alice? The whole company know you ’ ve been pulling that bullshit. You must suck some good cock to still be the assistant hemorrhoid of software engineering. ” “ Give me one more reason. One tiny your-dick-sized reason, and I swear, you will be on the wrong side of the, what did you call them, “ mouthbreathers, ” within twenty motherfucking minutes. ” “ Chill, chill, chill. I gave you a $ 20 Starbucks gift card at Christmas, pal. Lasting bonds were formed. ” “ Of course. I bet you didn ’ t even include information about seeking counselling when you fired Mr. Atomic Bomb. ” “ Why does that even matter? ” “ Because now were both fucked. I ’ d tell you to turn around, but I doubt your loved ones would want to smell voided bowels when they come to identify us. ”

[ WP ] An Extraterrestrial civilization discovers the Golden Disc and all other related information from Voyager 1 .

After three months inspecting the artifact, project Jikk-Jikk had been completed. Head researcher Yigg was almost finished delivering the oral report to president Konga-Line. Konga-Line rubbed his thumb against the bridge between the large nostrils at the base of his neck, a common gesture for deep thinking. When he'd finished his thought, his skin color shifted from purple to blue. `` All of them?'' He asked. `` Yes mister president,'' said Yigg, `` we had to cut the power to the building before we could recover the audio reproducer.'' `` I see. And how do you protect against it?'' `` Oh, it's simple, we just wear one of the sound-proof helmets.'' `` Have you.... have you heard any of it?'' Konga-line asked, his skin darkening. `` About a tenth of a second, mister president,'' Yigg's skin faded to black as he looked off in the distance, `` it was horrifying. Like a _spiggle_ right to the brain.'' Konga-line shuddered, then recollected himself. `` Alright, how long will it take to weaponize it?'' Yigg smiled, his skin melted into bright pink, `` With our progress, two months at the most.'' `` Excellent.'' -- - In the nation-state of Joop, an artillery team was adjusting their coordinates over the radio. `` Griggle! Turn it up, I can barely hear it!'' said the field engineer, Kerg. `` Yeah, yeah, I got it.'' He turned the radio knob, and the static crackle between words loudened. `` 2... 6... 8.... Alpha.... Roger..... Charlie'' `` Muuuuch better!'' said Kerg. He stopped tightening one of the bolts on the gears and started to crank the yaw. Suddenly a wave of static wiped out the sound. Griggle flinched. `` Flerg!'' shouted Griggle, `` sounds like the signal is out again.'' `` No gloob, man.'' said Kerg. As Griggle reached for the knob, the static disappeared, and blaring from the speakers came -- unknown to the two in the artillery pit -- Johann Sebastian Bach's second Brandenburg concerto. Griggle slapped his hands against his frog-like ear drums, and began to moan. Kerg fell out of his chair and started to spasm on the ground. Both of them turned marble-white. `` Hhhhhhgggg, kk, nnnggg'' Griggle sputtered as blood began to pool into his nostrils. Over the counterpoint of trumpets, violins, and reed instruments, the buzz of a radio airplane hummed far overhead.

[ WP ] Eat an apple a day , to keep the doctor away

Forgiveness. I've always wondered what it meant. And not just like in the movies or the novels that are so popular today. Real forgiveness, knowing that you can rebuild a relationship and overcome learned feelings of hatred, habits of distrust. Start afresh and close old wounds, deeper than any ones you could see. Years and years I have spent looking for ways to make my peace with my past. Not just for myself, but also for the ones that will come after me. My older brother was 13 when it happened. Old enough to know the pain and to feel the despair. After that day 16 years ago he decided he would be a farmer, growing apple trees in the wild. Like this, he would always have enough apples, even in the winter when the cold and lonely nights magnified his emptiness inside. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, he would say. Over the years, he kept sending me bags of apples. Fresh, rotten, I did n't care. I ate them religiously, even if I had outgrown my liking for them a long time ago. I was ten that night, at the cusp of my juvenile curiosity and energy. I was a happy child, spending most of time following my mother around in her endless pursuits to make my brother, my sisters, my dad happy. She would tell us stories of how they had fallen in love, how romantically he had courted her. In her version, it was him pursuing her, him wooing her until she gave in. But I eventually learned that she had her part in it. He acted, she reacted. She led, he followed. It was an ebb and flow, beautiful while it lasted. For us kids, and for them. That day took away my optimism for a while. I remember like it was yesterday, or more so, what I felt. I heard screams, I heard my brother yell my father's name, his deep voice booming back. My mother cried, asking my father to let him go. I huddled in the corner with my younger sisters, hugging them, holding back tears for them. At some point, the door opened and my father shoved in my brother and locked the door. His eye was swollen and his lip bleeding. But these wounds, unlike my mothers, would heal. It felt like hours until silence finally came. But at some point I wished it was loud again. I turn around and wave goodbye to her. I had wheeled her up the ramp of the nursing home and the nurse had taken the handles from me and pushed my mother inside. Her wrinkled face is full of happiness and laughter after seeing her first grandson again. I had named him after her father, my grandfather. I get into my car and place an uneaten apple my brother sent me a couple days ago next to my son's baby seat. I pick up a note, on it the address of a private practice a couple towns over. Time to forgive. I give my son a little kiss on his little eyes and whisper `` You're going to meet your grandpa now, darling.''

[ WP ] Science has discoverd a way to detect and measure the ripples someone has made in time . You , a normal person leading a normal life , are found to have the highest score of anyone .

`` Oh man, that ca n't be true.'' I said while seeing my score with the feeling of having done something very stupid. Not yet. But definetly somewhere along the line... `` What is it dude?'' Cid laughed out loud and started to search for my name on the board `` did you cause one...?'' He froze in motion as he found my name and the number behind it. `` are you nuts?!'' `` Fuck, be quiet!'' `` Why do you do this?'' `` Like what? I didnt do anything yet!'' I whispered angrily. `` No, not breaking time and shit. You keep fucking up everything you do! I mean how is that even possible? Yesterday you blew up my microwave. The month before you dated this smart and hot chick. peng. From one day to the other she does n't want to see you again. On our very walk here you stepped in shit.'' He looked around if anybody was listening. `` Even your future self fucks up everything. I mean... dont know if you heared it but... you will totally fuck up time! Look at this.'' He tipped on the score `` Look at the numbaaaaaaaaar.'' `` haha, very funny. Now let's get the fuck out of here before they realise they found who they were searching for in the very first try!'' We left the room and headed down as fast as we could without running. `` Do you think it was n't a random test to see if this technology works. But the university invented it. I even know the shitface whos assisting the proffessor. Sounded legit to me.'' `` Maybe its just broken. Or it's a very funny coincidence'' We left the building and in the same moment we heard all kinds of `` holy shit'' `` look at Tom's score'' `` whaaaaaat?'' `` awww god Tom'' `` what did you dooo?'' My head became red like glowing iron as i fled. `` Let's get you far away from here buddy.'' - - - Cid came back from an errand he made. `` Did they stop searching?'' `` nah, not really. Every place you have been or like is surrounded by strange looking guys in trenchcoates or black suits. Here's your coffee.'' `` awww, shit.'' `` yeah no need to thank me.'' `` ya, sorry'' `` and?'' `` and what?'' `` did you think about this?'' `` I did.'' `` and?'' `` I think I'm sorry I did n't thank you in a kind and civilzed manner for the coffee'' I said playing a suddenly change of mind in my rude behaviour. `` Shut your trash-hole for a second and then tell me what the fuck will you having be done that fucks up everything'' `` I dont think there is grammar that could catch up with how much shit happens to me. But I really gave it a thought. Only thing that would make me fuck up the whole universe is... I honestly dont know. There's no money no power nor bitches I desire that I would fuck up time for.'' `` hmm you dont know yet. Maybe we have to go deeper. What are your desires? What is your drive? What is the reason you breath. What is the reason you fuck everything up?'' `` Why would I? I dont even got enough drive to get out of bed. What could make me develop such a desperate need of another future that I would risk destroying the fabric of time itself, everything?''

[ WP ] You are on court trial and must be the prosecution against yourself . The judge wants no nonsense .

It was already warm in the court house even before I was on the stand. The afternoon sunlight treated the small wooden building like a coal loaded furnace, inducing me to sweat under the intense pressure. It ’ s not as easy as it was, taking the stand. Like a desert watchguard, I told myself it would feel like; “ you just got ta survive then environment ” I told myself. My mind focused on the task at hand, I approached him in a sunlit stride. The warmth always brings up my comfort level. “ Piece of cake ”. I walked intensely towards the man sitting there. Just like that, the bulky tanned man had been transformed into… me. “ Wait! What! Who is this!!'' I told the judge. The judge ’ s hair became ghastly white, even for a judge. His density seemingly simmering away like smoke in the air, the judge disappeared. His voice then criss-crossed the court house floor like a cyclone through a shantytown, Booming the windows with a worrisome vibration heard miles away. “ No nonsense now! ” I turned towards myself. “ This is your fault. You know there ’ s nothing you can do from that standpoint. ” “ I was never able to do much… ” you murmured back slyly. “ And that ’ s the attitude that gets a man here. That ’ s why you did what you did ” I yelled, deepening the tension in the room. `` and you know it! ”. Like a puppet to my fingertips, I pulled the very strings that I knew were going to make the jury sway uneasily. After all that was the plan. The best battles are always won in collaboration, a secret of mine that I ’ ve never bothered to share. Until now. “ I ’ m going to make you dance. Puppets. ” Invisible strings came out of the floor in a loud twang. The jury, suddenly turned into a million versions of me, floated wretchedly like plastic mannequins towards me, all visibly resembling a varnished and stained maple. “ AUGHHHHHHH!!! I screamed. The terror was like nothing I had ever experienced. I closed my eyes and ducking linto a foetus type position, I cracked. “ I DIT IT!!!!! ” I looked up. In front of were two investigators. The one on the left pinched a smile and, in a tortuous slowness, finally butt out his cigarette. “ Thanks for cooperating. ” Whispered the other detective.

[ WP ] You were on your way home when you died . And that 's when you met me .

I was 16 miles off state highway 92, North of Oregon University. The cold winter wind was evident throughout the city. It was dark and the usual bustling sound i could hear was quieted by a white blanket of snow. I needed to get home and i needed to get home fast. I sped through the hushed streets all I could think of was my children at home awaiting my return and the eye of the storm drawing ever closer. Extremities had become the norm for us and, in fact, the world. It would seem that the human race did have the power to alter weather events. The atmospheric patterns we were now experiencing, the result of the activities of our parents generation. Passing the last lights of the city into the open, my vision blurs for a second. Ever since the first accident I've had these episodes. I know the signs of the impending but the thought of stopping here has me even more scared. Driving on through the heavy rain I can see the faint lights of home through the pounding water on the wind shield. My heart begins to race as my head spins, I should have stopped but its too late. There is a muffled screech and then nothingness. It feels like a lifetime that I spend in all consuming darkness and then a hand comes towards me. It extends out enticing me to take hold of it but I ca n't move any part of my body to accept the embrace. As if in a dream I am paralyzed, my mind is willing me, shouting at me to take hold and find a way out of my black hole. Pictures run through my mind. A family sitting under a walnut tree, dappled light tickling their faces, our family when Jason and Laura were just toddlers my husband his eyes gentled with love. My hand accepts the offering and I am pulled upwards. The momentary happiness passes as the feeling of the embrace is swiped away and darkness envelopes me. His pitiless eyes stare into mine, as he utters 4 words `` Your time has ended''. His fingers pure bone extended from his black clock, fear washes over me in an ice cold wave. I could n't resist him, my body was stiff, like i was his puppet. His grip tightened and he pulled me down. I can sense a light following us trying to save me. The screams around us become louder and louder, my ears were burning. I closed my eyes, trying to breath slowly. This is it, this is the end, my mind was darting around thoughts and my feet starting to feel the heat of fire. I started to come to terms with where I was going. I could n't understand. I was a good person. I prayed everyday. What have I done wrong? Where did I mess up? My mind found the memory but I fought it. I blanked it out. I am a good person. The picture of him. My fucking husband. He knew what he did but tried to hide it. He had to be punished, he had to feel what I felt. The despair, the feeling of not being wanted. I saw the way you looked at her everyday when she collected the morning mail. Only if you looked at me that way. The light i could feel before left me. I fell completely into darkness.

[ EU ] Willy Wonka and Harry Potter exist in the same universe . The ministry of magic haaaates Willy Wonka .

The infiltration was going... not according to plan. For starters, the grasping hands in the hallway all but ripped their invisibility cloaks from their bodies. Then, when they had entered the chocolate mixing chamber, and the Oompa Loompas began singing at them, one wand-happy wizard started firing off blasts. Not expecting the house-elf sized creatures to be so, well, house-elf sized, most blast went rouge. One exploded a mushroom, covering them in something foamy. Another reflected off of something into the chocolate extraction pipe. This particular wizard was sucked up into the tube when the massive draw it takes to move tonnes of chocolate was left only sucking air. They suffered a great indignity when they had to row the paddle boat, not accustomed to hard physical labor. They were terrible shaken by what they saw in that awful tunnel. The room full of experiments proved problematic. An overly curious wizard, sniffing something that smelled tasty, was incapacitated by an awful bloating sensation, before a sharp jab against a metal table edge caused them to begin leaking a horrible blue fluid. Things were not going well at all. The next chamber caught one of them who had managed to retain their cloak in a grand vortex of wind - nearly sucking them up into the massive fan before they could unhitch it from around their neck, leading them to plummet to the floor, a pair of broken legs for the worse. The room full of the magical geese was sufficiently agitated by the now irate wizard infiltrators. In attempting to hide from a particularly foul tempered fowl, another vanished, only to apparate back in the room with third degree burns. After being chased by a soap belching machine in the next room, the remaining party had at least the luxury of cleaning off the debris that had accumulated on their journey. Ignoring the safety equipment they proceed on, only to be blinded. Another Oompa Loompa song followed about the importance of proper safety procedures, and fumbling about before the song ended, another wizard was hit by a beam of some kind of energy. The song faded, the lighting dimmed, and the wizard was revealed to be much smaller then before. The final two wizards, one riding in the other's coat pocket, approached the doors of Wonka's office. Only one Mr. Slugworth was present. `` I do believe you need to make an appointment if you want to see Mr. Wonka, and he is ever so busy. I am Mr. Slugworth, and I may perhaps be of assistance?'' The wizard stated, `` We demand this factory to be shut down, on orders of the Ministry of Magic.'' Slugworth chuckles. `` Oh, ho ho ho. I'm afraid I ca n't help you much there. Tell me, do you know why I'm named as I am?'' The wizard shakes their head, leaving an opening for Mr. Slugworth to dash forward and deliver a devastating right hook to their head, toppling them over onto their reduced companion. `` Such naughty children. Mr. Wonka, what are your orders?'' Wonka steps out from a further office door. `` I'm afraid we'll have to give them something this time. Have the Oompa Loompas administer medical treatment, and send them home on the Wonkavator.'' `` Wo n't that be a rather tight squeeze?'' `` If they had bothered to read the contract, they would note that only well behaved children are treated well on the factory floor. They never do. And for those who do not even sign the contract, safety is never, ever, ever guaranteed.''

[ WP ] Anakin chooses to not go over to the Dark Side , and helps Master Windu kill Chancellor Palpatine .

I'm busy at work and do n't have time to write it up ( maybe later ), but here's an idea to maybe get someone else going: The setting is Anakin at home, 15 years removed from killing Palpatine. The Clone Wars never happened, peace has been maintained, but most of problems that were plaguing the Republic during the first Trilogy have not been addressed/dealt with. We start with Anakin watching Luke and Leia train in a garden. They are both on the path to becoming Jedi's, like their father, and all seems well. An unexpected visit from Obi-Wan, however, reveals that Anakin may be on the same path that Emperor Palpatine was.

[ WP ] All books have been banned . Describe a drug deal of books .

The dealer was a greasy little fellow dressed in sweat and cheap polyethylene fleece. The nose could tell his cache site must be a dumpster. He stood in front of Max trying to look nonchalant and uninterested, just taking in the air of the alley. `` You have the Twains? ``, Max gruffed. `` Are you nuts? ``, the dealer quailed. `` You want to live out your days in a debtor work camp?'' `` Just hand them over.'' `` Show me your money!'' the dealer shot back. _Good God_, Max thought, _he does n't even have a money man. Who is this amateur? _ Max riffled a pack of MS*Mart discount cards with the printed seals over the redemption codes facing out. `` This do?'' The dealer reached for them with both hands. `` Sure looks like it...'' `` Hold it. I've got to see there are no codes, no markings.'' `` Alright,'' the dealer squeaked. `` One at a time!'' Max looked over the book with a practiced eye, then pulled out the multispectral. Finished off with RF scanning just to be sure. Handed it back and did the same with _Huck Finn_, and rendered his verdict: `` A relic from the 20th century. No watermarks, no copy protection, no page and eye monitoring, no smart dust. A person could do absolutely anything with these.'' `` Oh, sure,'' the dealer forced a laugh. `` Mark Twain did n't have much surviving family, they did n't want any part in this...'' `` Do n't feed me that bull. I know these were auctioned off just like anything else. They're as restricted as anything, and if I get caught with one, it's $ 100,000 to Copyright Clearance or the camps. Do we have a deal?'' The man shivered and went for the cards. Max walked back out of the alley. Dropping the books through the window the unmarked car, Max ignored the sound of the sirens and the drones behind him. Everyone was going to a camp sooner or later, but for him -- - not this week.

[ WP ] The Monolith is an R & D building the size of a mountain dedicated to the advancement of military technology . They have their own army and their work is kept secret . They offer you a job .

`` So, what's that?'' I asked for the fifteenth time as I tried to look through the observational glass into the laboratory the size of an airplane hanger while still maintaining the brisk pace of my guide. Without slowing down or even turning his head, Mr. Vincents replied, `` On our left, Ms. Noin, we have a team of scientists working with black hole technology. At the moment they are working on manipulating gravitational pull within just a short radius, 2 meters max.'' Just as he finished speaking, an invisible hand yanked me several steps to the left and I had to fight to keep my balance. `` As you can tell, they have n't quite gotten the hang of it yet,'' he said, the slight air of disappointment in his voice. Amazingly, his steps did n't detour from the straight line he walked down the corridor. I turned the corner to follow and my eyes immediately found another set of observational glass on my right. Inside there were maybe fifty people all seated in rows of five with one man in the front of them all. Though it was the same size as all the other rooms I'd seen, it looked more like a classroom than a laboratory. For the moment at least. I turned to Mr. Vincents but before I could ask, he went into another explanation. `` In this room, Mr. Carvers is working on a cloning program using hypnosis to override one identity with another.'' He walked a couple of steps before adding, `` I do n't particularly care for it myself.'' After two or three more corridors, I asked Mr. Vincents if we could take a short break. He obliged by merely stopping in his tracks and standing stock-still, his arms behind his back and still not facing me. We'd been walking through the halls of The Monolith Company for probably close to an hour now, just looking into the different labs and projects. At first I was hesitant about asking so many questions, especially since most of these projects seemed to require some sort of clearance level to even get into the laboratory, but Mr. Vincents seemed okay with answering in at least some general detail about ALL of the projects I had questions about. Honestly, what kind of place did that! It was almost as if I was on a grand tour of the future of military advancement rather than the job interview I thought I was being offered. `` So, what is it you guys actually do here?'' I asked Mr. Vincents, `` After I got your job offer in the mail, I tried to do some research into the company but I really could n't find much.'' `` The Monolith Company is a purely Research and Development company. We specialize in the advancement of military technology,'' Mr. Vincents answered promptly as ever, though he still refused to turn to face me. `` Yeah, I got that much from the website's homepage. Well, the website's only page. The strange thing is that no one else I talked to had ever heard of The Monolith Company.'' Even stranger, which I did n't want to say aloud, is that whenever I tried to show someone the website it would n't appear anywhere except on my home computer, when no one was around. `` Yes, well, we do try to keep our existence on a need to know basis. You've seen many of the projects we research here and it is for the best that we not broadcast our presence to the world.'' He was definitely right about that, the projects I'd seen here were one of a kind. I'd seen the typical projects I expected to see on a tour of a military R & D lab: new types of rifles and ammunition that could adapt in the field to a variety of mission parameters; single-man vehicles able to travel across a broad spectrum of terrains and even hover for ( allegedly ) several hours; body armor that fully absorbed the impact of large caliber rounds and kept its wearer on his or her feet. There were also projects that I thought were closer to the realm of science fiction, ideas only a mad scientist could dream up: a machine that could create and harness lighting; an earthquake machine; a bomb that incinerated only organic life. At that moment, a squad of eight guards in all black marched in two columns, side-by-side down the hallway. They separated when they got to Mr. Vincents position, flowing around him like water around a rock. Not wanting to take my chances, I pressed myself as close to the wall as possible as the columns came back together and continued marching down the hall and around the corner. It was impossible to tell the gender or age of any of them with all of the body armor they were wearing, but the one thing I could ascertain was that each one of them was capable of taking my life if Mr. Vincents so much as suggested I might be a threat. Honestly, because there were at least two guards outside the doors of every lab, one at every corner, and three at each elevator, I almost forgot they were there. Thinking back on it now, I must've seen over a hundred, fully-armed guards basically loitering all over the facility. However, seeing the squad marching past me on patrol just now brought me back to reality. It was n't that I had a problem with armed guards, after all, my last project was kept under almost the same kind of secrecy which some of these projects fell under as well. `` I assume that The Monolith Company is interested in my work with prototype armor, especially the one the military just bought the patent on. If I do decide to sign a contract with you, I want to have a say on who is allowed to have my products. Does the Monolith Company have any contracts with any government agencies? Or are you strictly a for-profit company?'' Thinking about it now, this should have been one of the first questions I asked as I did n't want my developments in the hands of just anyone. At this, Mr. Vincents stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. I had n't made eye contact with him since I shook his hand at the door, and his glare was unnerving to the point that I almost regretted even having the question. `` First of all, The Monolith Company has no loyalty to any government or flag, nor cause or creed. We can not be bought with gold coin or silver tongue. The people here are the best and brightest in their respective field. Our only goal is research, and our founder frowns upon putting our advancements into the field.'' Insulted, he turned and continued walking down the hallway at a pace that I needed to sprint to catch up once the shock had faded. `` What exactly is it that The Monolith Company wants from me?'' I asked, almost out of breath. After all, I'd already developed the new, light-weight steel I'd been working on for the past 7 years. Easily 5 times stronger than the current metal being mass-produced and it could be developed at half the cost. `` You may not be aware, but you're technology is currently being used to develop a new generation of exo-suit. We estimate that it will take their research team roughly 4 years to create a working prototype. Once their project is finalized and the suits are put into mass production, a new type of warfare begins. Battles in which individual men and women are transformed into human tanks.'' Mr. Vincents stopped walking and turned to a door on his right. He swiped his key card in the card reader and then put his face to the iris scanner. The door swung open and he stepped inside. I followed. As we stepped in, the lights went on and revealed an entire room the size of a small airplane hanger. `` As I was saying,'' Mr. Vincents continued, `` we predict a very grim future for humanity if these juggernauts are allowed loose on any battlefield. We want you to make the obsolete.'' Seeing the confusion on my face, he continued, `` We want you to develop another metal not only able to pierce the metal you just created, but also be developed at half the cost. We do n't care what form it takes, whether it be a new type of armor, or perhaps a bullet. We just need to be able to make it obsolete before they are used.'' I looked at him, confused. `` So you want me to develop a new material to counteract the material I just created? That's absurd. What makes you think I can do something like that?'' Mr. Vincents just shrugged, as if he'd heard this argument many, many times before. `` Why do we think you can do something like that you ask? The same reason the team in Lab 5047T, after they find a way to stabilize the black hole machine, will create a material so dense and heavy that the gravity device will not affect it. The same reason the woman in Lab 66F, after she finishes her hovercraft, will begin work on a landmine capable of detecting hovercraft vehicles. The same reason the man in Lab 443P, after he creates his clones through hypnosis, will develop a way to undo the mind-alteration, whether it be through psycho or chemical manipulation. Because The Monolith Company ordered it done.''

[ WP ] A recovering addict wrestles with the temptation to relapse after an unfortunate turn of events

( *Tired and slightly jetlagged does n't really make for some good writing. I'll get back into the swing of things once I unpack. * ) The trophy sat on the shelf, begging to glean beneath a layer of dust. `` The Very Best'' had been such a naive goal, but the engraved relics suggested that the superlative was in reach. Competition was in his blood. He was good at it and it made him happy. Through it all, though, there was a lingering urge to complete a different conquest. His friends thought it was just a phase. They did n't realize how it consumed away at him. By the time they discovered just how hopeless he had become, it was too late. His team was weaker as a result of his vice. While the finals were once a guarantee, even the preliminary rounds became an ordeal. He'd blame the others and retreat back into his addiction, ignoring that it was him at fault. He was the one who stopped caring about the team. His last contest was heartbreaking for his friends to watch. There was no coordination, no strategy. Only chaos and discontent. The tabloids covered it well enough until he disappeared from the world stage. Back in his hometown, living with the doctor who first started him down that self-destructive path, he abandoned his former life and all the pain it had caused. Ash sat in front of the television while his mother prepared dinner. The table was set for three. Misty's letter collapsed in Ash's hand. There would be one plate too many. She was n't convinced he had changed. After that one night, she became less like a companion and more like another space in a bank log, another entry in a Pokedex. She was right, of course. Ash was lost, disconnected from those who cared about him, unable to see the worth in what he had. The ball on his belt, she claimed, was proof that he was n't ready to call an end to that selfish life. Ash felt it a reminder, nothing more. He was n't even sure it would still work. He quit when he came back home, a place where he would be safe from that endless quest. In the tiny village, he was far from anything that would tempt him to return. `` Never again,'' he repeated from the note as he threw it across the room. It bounced harmlessly off the wall, landing on the floor with an inaudible tap. The talk show was interrupted by a special bulletin. A new Pokemon had been discovered on an island to the south. Ash looked at the picture on the screen, staring until his eyes were dry. His hand reached for his belt, clasping the only thing that had n't abandoned him. `` Got ta catch'em all,'' he muttered as the television found itself facing an empty couch.

[ WP ] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons ? Well , it 's all thanks to you . You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains , whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair .

My name's Dennis. Dennis Robinson. I'm the owner and proprietor of Arkham Asylum. We're Gotham and the world's number one supply store when it comes to thugs, goons, henchmen, plant monsters, strange chemicals, what have ya. Now I know what you're thinkin' `` Wait, Dennis, is n't Arkham a state run operation?''. Well, on the books and records and all that junk, yeh, we's a state run operation. But off the record is a whole different story. We run a pretty tight operation. Drugs, mind control techniques, hypnosis, it's all run under the rug so that next time batman intimidates one of the joker's goons ( Hey we try to make'em good but we ai n't magicians ) he only remembahs that the joker ordered him to do stuff, not that our little operation provided the manpower. Our operation's so tight that even batman is entirely unaware of our existence, with the added bonus of him comin' to us to lock up his villain of the week often enough that we can get a good up to date look at his gadgets through our surveillance and an update on his profile from every villain that gets locked up here. Oh yeah, speaking of `` Locked up'', all those escapes ai n't no accident. Villains ai n't stupid in gotham no moah, they know who they're up against, the dark knight, the caped crusader, the champion of justice, the batman. And they also know who I am, and they know that if they pay me ahead of time, the asylum will have a little `` Security failure'' and the villain will be back out on the streets by sundown. All in a day's work. Why do I do this? Some may call me a monster, but really I'm just a capitalist trying to make his way in the world. Bootstraps, right? But now that you're workin' for me, let's make one thing clear. You try and go blabbin' to any cops about this, I'll give the joker a little discount for his next breakout in exchange for `` Rogue asset elimination''. Are we clear?

[ WP ] A hero becomes their worst enemy

*A heavily armoured knight stands triumphant atop the carcass of a great, hulking beast. The final twitches of life are still leaking from its body as a mass of people slowly emerge from their hovels in the nearby village and make their way over to the colossal monster. The knight is heaving, sweat pouring down his brow, lips chapping for water. He pulls the plumed helmet from his head and casts it to the ground, in both tiredness and victory. The swarm of peasants are close now. The knight can hear them murmuring quietly, probably, he thinks, discussing how to congratulate and thank him for his deadly work. A single peasant steps forward. * **Peasant** Did you kill him? **The Knight** That I did, my good man. *He slides down the side of the beast, landing heavily but steadily. * I would like a drink of water, if it's not too much for you. **Peasant** Why'd you kill Michael?! **The Knight** Michael? **Peasant** *Points at the dead creature* Michael! He's the town pet! What on earth possessed you to kill him? **The Knight** Town pet? **Peasant** Yes, town pet! We bought him to keep us safe from the Evil King in the north! He eats up all of the raiders and even has a good go at attacking some of the goblins that come our way. **Child** *gasps* Who killed Michael? **The Knight** Listen, I do n't think you understand. This is a rabid, raving monster that destroys towns and even whole castles. It's a dangerous animal, not a pet. **Peasant** Well, obviously you've not raised yours right then. They're lovable, protective creatures if you raise them right. *The horde of peasants nod in agreement. * **The Knight** I was told that there were a multitude of destructive beasts roaming the wilds and butchering towns. So I came to sort out the problem for you all. Is this thing not a problem for you? **Peasant** Michael was most certainly not a problem! He was the best pet a town could have. *The peasants come closer to the lifeless husk of Michael, petting his blood-soaked, scaley body. * **Peasant** Our town is going to be destroyed now thanks to you. The Evil King's raiders are going to be come by this town and burn it to the ground. **Child** I'm sorry this happened to you, Michael. **The Knight** Look... I'm very sorry. But I honestly thought I was doing what was best! **Peasant** Go back to your people then, and do what's `` best'' for them. Incidentally, that would be what's best for us too. *The whole town is gathered in mourning around the body of Michael. The leading peasant moves to join them, but the Knight grabs his arm suddenly. * **The Knight** *whispering* I've killed maybe a dozen of these things in other places, have I fucked over all of those people too?

[ WP ] In the 33rd century , historians argue about whether the Utopian Desert City of `` Vegas '' actually existed or if it was as mythical as Metropolis and Gotham

The hall was filled with noise as the occupants tried to voice out what they had in mind. Some wanted to state their opinions on the matter at hand; others were trying to voice topics of their own to their companions. Nevertheless, the noise of the crowd had proven too much for Jon Gannon, a head senator of the council and senior member of the Party of the Strip. He rose up from his seat, and began pleading to the crowd. `` If the crowd would be so willing to please remain silent'' he said, `` then maybe we can go through the process of solving the question of what lies before us''. Jon was referring to the heap of metal that two members of the laborers' guild had found in the middle of the desert and brought back to the city for the council to examine. It was rusted to an extent that its figure had been deformed, however the writing on it was still clear enough for the word'VEGAS' to be legible. `` I know that this was cause for much debate among us, and I am glad that many seek to know the truth. However, it would be of great benefit if everyone would-'' `` Enough with your banter, Jon!'' Francis Garret interrupted. `` Anyone here with half a brain would clearly see you intend nothing but to bolster the standings of your party and your party alone''. Francis was a strong opponent of Jon's party, which he and many others saw as mere believers in superstition. Obviously, Jon and the Party held offence to that view. `` Your tongue be damned'' said Hanlon Moore, chief Historian and longtime member of the Party. `` I'd rather be crucified by the Legion than have you usurp our-'' `` For the sake of the Republic, let the calm of the air settle in you'' Jon said. Hanlon was known to have a short temper. `` Our party may be the ruling one, but we must not let our power trample others''. `` I apologize, senator'' Hanlon said. `` Be that as it may, one should not dismiss our findings at the site. What lies before us is concrete proof that the fabled city of Vegas once existed in a time before ours''. `` Well I say it's complete rubbish'' Francis replied. `` How is this any different from any one of the many existing artworks and stories that talk of other tales, such as the Mailman of the Mojave?'' `` I believe the term you're looking for is'Courier', Garret'' Hanlon said. `` And his exploits are well attested by many ballads written about him. Not only that, but he also happened to be well connected with the fabled city''. `` Which only proves my point that all we talk of are tales and nothing more!'' said Francis. `` Sure, some courier might have acted in a heroic manner several hundred years ago, but I'm sure what we know of him is highly exaggerated and may not even be true. You, as a historian should know of this out of all people''. This remark bit Hanlon, but he avoided acting on it as he still remembered the words of Jon. Anyway, he had something better in mind. `` Is that so?'' he asked in a taunting manner. `` Then maybe I should go do my duties as a historian''. After saying this, Hanlon signaled for two men to enter. They pushed a cart beside the heap of metal and left. On the cart was some sort of armor and a notebook. Hanlon then walked to the cart. `` What I have here is armor belonging to a member of the Legion that took part in some sort of conflict long ago. What do you say of that, Garret?'' `` Probably just an actor's apparel for a play'' Francis replied. `` Then let me see the contents of this notebook''. Putting on rubber gloves, Hanlon began speaking aloud''. `` *Our troops had him surrounded, yet he took no effort in slaughtering them. By Mars, the man I face here is a beat of Hades in human form. I am currently the last of my unit, stuck below the filthy sign of New Vegas. My only hope now is to die gloriously in honor of Caesar, great Caesar who gives us hope in this desolate world. If I survive thi-*'' The crowd grew silent out of awe. It was rare for any records of the world before to be uncovered, and to read or listen to an account from one of them was truly mesmerizing. Yet Francis still paid no heed to Hanlon's words. `` A fine account by all means, but have you not considered the possibility of falsification when this document was made? Or what if the account was just a piece of fiction compiled for entertainment?'' With these words, Francis revealed he was now ready to try and argue for the opposing side. However, just as he was about to begin his arguments, a bell rung. This signaled the meeting was adjourned. Jon grew bored as the argument over the existence of Vegas continued. While it was important to know the truth, he admitted, sometimes he wished that both sides would mellow a bit and enjoy the finer things in life. Taking advantage of the recess, he went to the nearest store and bought a bottle of Nuka-Cola. The sweet taste of the drink cleared his mind of anxiety until their next meeting. In the meantime, Jon enjoyed that which no one realized held the key in understanding the past.

[ WP ] Instead of trying to get a man on the moon , every nation raced to be the first at the very bottom of the ocean

Abyssalnauts. Why them? Why the deepest ocean depths? Why the journey to the cold, crushing dark? The answer is: history. There was a time, a *brief time*, when bomb makers could be heroes. We had the Manhattan Project, we had Oppenheimer and Stern and Einstein, all of them warriors, fighters engaged against the pernicious threat of the Axis powers, and then, engaged in one-on-one mental combat with the godless Commie hivemind. In this war, the cold war of ideas, metaphors, and stances, they were the front line. There was an attempt made for space, once. A French satellite, not much larger than a basketball, placed into orbit by American and German scientists. Wernher von Braun oversaw it personally. But, as soon as it was launched, the Russians, followed by every single country that had been paying attention to the launch platform built in the Riviera, issued declarations, about the violation of sovereign airspace. And so, precedent was established. Airspace extended out infinitely from the borders of a country. No space voyage could thus be thought of as remotely possible, at least while the world was split by iron curtains. Bombs were losing their appeal, as well. Each test, which had at first been an orgiastic revel in the intelligence and power of the United States had since acquired the menace of a man smacking his fist into his palm and then pointing, `` *you're next, buddy. *'' Especially since, it was discovered, mushroom clouds have no national allegiance. And the Reds, with their strange accents, and menacing glowers, had taken to running little tests of their own. Both sides knew, there was no future here. The Olympics served to let off some of the pressure, as a metaphorical war between powers, but we needed something else. A different kind of competition. The answer came, as they always do, as a kind of accident. Russian scientists developed a deep-sea pressure suit, to explore the Baltic shelf for rare-earth metals, which were supposed to be there. This technology was nothing new, as the US had had a deep-sea atmospheric diving suit operational as early as 1913, and so it was not considered high-priority. They held a press conference, which, at the time, was small, almost informal. The suit leaked, its joints would freeze at the slightest provocation, and the winches and motors that powered its crude arms were over-engineered in that curious Russian way. Its' tempered-glass viewports were similarly inadequate, and could plausibly crack if struck, *even lightly*, from the inside of the suit. Still, it did well enough, and performed a few small acts of strength, which, considering the rubles spent, was hardly worthy of the cost. Party bureaucrats were already declaiming the expense of what was sure to be a small-scale debacle. It was April 7th, 1961. On April 8th, 1961, John Q. America woke up to a news reel of a man, in what seemed to be a terrifyingy weaponized *Robby the Robot* suit, unmistakably emblazoned with the Hammer and Sickle, tore apart a 10-gauge sheet of steel like it was paper. And then, they announced they were going to walk on the bottom of the ocean with it. The ocean, that Americans could n't help noting, that was the only thing between them and that terrifying monstrosity. On April 9th, American Oceanologists and Marine Geographers awoke to find that they had suddenly become *much more popular*. And on July 4th, a date that had been chosen very carefully, the formation of NAOA, or the North American Oceanic Agency, was declared as officially formed. Originally part of the Navy, it was a separate agency, with a specific goal of exploring the deepest parts of the oceans, and an *actual goal* of beating the Russians there. Meanwhile, in Moscow, the Kremlin vacillated between ecstatic and apoplectic. Here, finally, was a scientific frontier they finally seemed to have a leg up on the Americans with. They had lagged behind the American missile technology, and even the most dedicated of nuclear technologists knew their Light Water Reactor technologies were a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Unfortunately, though, they also knew that their brain trust could not compete with the Americans' wealth and experience. A failure could pull back the carefully maintained lies of the politburo, revealing the sorry state of the average worker in the USSR, the supposed proletariat stronghold. So, the Russians did what they always did. They threw people at the problem. Goal thresholds revealed themselves quickly. Russian *Morskonauts* were the first to reach a threshold of 1,000 feet. Yuri Gagarin, an audacious and almost criminally charismatic Russian scientist, had piloted the suit himself. Americans, ignorant of the many, *many* unrecoverable bodies of Russian divers who had preceded him, falsely presumed that the Russians had a huge technological advantage. On March 3rd, less than a year after the precipitating announcement, the US announced *its* goal: The Marianas Trench, the deepest, darkest place on the planet, would be sporting an American Flag by 1970, and the hands that planted it would be human ones. Politicians cheered, scientists developed *drinking problems*. The pressure of the water in the Marianas Trench could crack an atomic submarine's hull like an egg. Water, one of the single greatest radiation diffusers in nature, was difficult enough to penetrate with radar signals at 100 feet, let alone at **6,000**, and there was some question about whether there even was an engine design that could function at that depth, let alone the almost incomprehensible psychological strain that would be put on the backs of the abyssalnauts crewing it. It was stupid. Insane. *Impossible. * On July 3rd, 1969, Mjr. Neil Armstrong, planted the flag of America on the on the floor of the Marianas Trench. He could not wear a suit, instead, it was a capsule, a strange bulbous thing, like a white-paneled chrysalis. It's name was *Orpheus 11*, named for the sun of Apollo who voyaged to the underworld to save the woman he loved. America cheered, as news was recieved through the carefully designed communications relays to the surface. Russians, however, were not being told at all. Only high command were privy to the information as it happened, and as they watched their screens, they tasted the bitter ashes of defeat. It was the manipulator arms that gave way. That last dose of conceit, the sea would yet again be the death of Icarus. *Planted by human hands. * Such arrogance. The scientists had done well, for them to have lasted as long as they did. The pressure seals lasted just long enough for Neil to retreat to the secondary capsule, and close the door. It was watertight, but it did n't matter. The heaters were gone, the air-scrubbers gone, the line to the surface lost, as the traumatic implosion severed the cable with incredible force. The ballasts worked, but only enough to take him to 4,000 feet., lodging him in a overhanging cliff face. Still in the Abyssal Zone, still far, far away from any help. Americans looked on, their moment of triumph turned to fear and terror. Sighing, in the West Wing of the White House, the President opened the second of two speech packets, the one with a black border. Russians, despite the feeling of excitement at the prospect of American failure, also felt an unfamiliar sensation, like that felt by Americans as they beheld the charming, handsome Gagarin. These men were something more. They were adventurers and heroes, intellectual and keen. These were human beings that were exactly what we wanted human beings to be. And, even as the high command looked on, they felt a swelling of fear in their hearts for this man, trapped and alone. It's not known what would have happened in the Cold War, if Yuri Gagarin had n't disobeyed orders, and, piloting his own deep-sea submersible, rescued Neil Armstrong and the capsule of the *Orpheus 11*. You know what happened. How the two of them emerged from the recovery ship's bow, arm in arm, leaning heavily on each other in exhaustion, smiling and unafraid. How Russians felt incredible pride at the courage of their very own Yuri, whose disobedience to the Soviet High Command's chilling order to stand by and watch as the American died, served as the first hairline crack in their hegemonic control. And Americans felt pride too, at the stars and stripes, waving blue-green at the slight currents of hot-water vents, at the courage of their own hero, and the incredible selflessness of the Russian who risked it all to save him. Hard-liners on both sides felt the Earth shift under their feet. Suddenly, the idea of war with each other, even in the most metaphorical way, seemed... foolish. Armistices were signed, agreements were upheld. Curtains were parted. And slowly, missiles were taken apart. There were no wars in jungles. The Domino Theory had tumbled to the ground. Yuri and Neil became close friends. Few could understand what they had seen, what they had gone through, better than they did. There was a Golden Age. Some called it the Age of Aquarius. Some called it Avalon. But it was here, and in the warm light of the sun, the world changed. There was one question left now. What next? On November 12th, 1973, at a special joint meeting of the United Nations, a paper was presented, authored by Yuri, Neil, and the aging but still keen-eyed von Braun. It recommended the creation of a special exploratory federation of nations, rather than one organized by a single country. It had a simple, ongoing mission, and some incredibly fascinating technological notions that, while still beyond modern capabilities, set a fire in the hearts and minds of man. It was titled, `` The Final Frontier''. So it was, that the journey through the deepest parts of ourselves, led to the greatest heights. And with outstretched fingers, we touched the face of God.

[ WP ] You wake up in a room on a chair with a single light bulb shining above you.Nothing 's there but the light from the light bulb and darkness surrounding you.Something 's written on the ceiling `` Do n't let the darkness touch you , survive . '' Your glimmer of hope sways when the light bulb flickers a bit .

I squinted at the red words smeared on the ceiling above me. *Written in lipstick* I thought, *by someone in a desperate hurry*. I could n't see the walls of the room, just darkness and my bubble of light. I sat in a steel folding chair, on a scarred hardwood floor. `` What is this?'' I asked the room. My tongue stuck in my dry mouth, head pounding like the morning after a post-exam law school binge. I could n't remember where I'd been before this... The light dimmed momentarily, and a mechanical hum sounded somewhere to my left. The ceiling shuddered and the light came back, while flakes of white plaster drifted down around me. Arrows of panic shot through my chest. I raised myself on shaking legs, and searched my pockets. My inhaler, a cheap gas station lighter, and a crumpled street corner pamphlet titled'Have you been saved?'. Something scratched against the hardwood to my right, something alive. My right hand flicked on the orange glow of the lighter, but I saw nothing. I picked up the steel chair with my left hand, holding it out like a lion tamer. The scratching came again, in two places now, like dozens of overgrown finger nails forced along a kitchen table. I held the lighter above my head, and turned, stumbling away. Plaster walls loomed out of the dark. I pressed my back against the wall and shuffled left, with the chair out like a blind man's cane. The plaster was cold through my white dress shirt. Sweat gathered between my shoulder blades, and I slid quickly along the wall. I turned a corner, orbiting the light at the center of the room. The scratching came again, to my right, from the wall where I had just been. I gasped when my left hip struck something hard. An old brass door knob. I dropped the chair with a clang and pawed for the handle at my hip. I pushed with my back, and the door swung open behind me. I fell backwards onto something soft, and kicked the door shut. I stood out of a muck of papers and torn candy wrappers. I smelled rot and mildew and freshly stirred dust. The new room was narrow, a hallway, with cardboard duct taped in patches over dark wallpaper. I tore cardboard away to find a window completely blocked by bricks. `` Christ!'' I sneered. Then, embarrassed, I put my left hand to the crumpled pamphlet in my pocket. *Am I being punished? * I shrugged, and grabbed some greasy papers from the floor, shoving them in with the pamphlet. Maybe I could make a torch. A low scraping noise came through the door behind me. Something was pushing the steel folding chair. The door shuddered, but did n't open. I ran down the hallway, then waded as the muck grew higher. The orange light revealed thousands of old coupons, waxy mail advertisements, frozen dinner cartons and half-used rolls of stamps. I found the far end of the hall, a brown door slightly ajar, a line of faint blue light. The muck up to my stomach, I dug with my left hand. Bits of sticky paper and foil stuck to my arm. I pried my fingers into the opening in the door. I pulled, and squeezed myself sideways through the doorway. A small avalanche of paper products followed me into the new room. A sterile concrete floor, and cinder block walls. Blue moonlight entered through a tiny half window at the far side of the room, as if looking out from a basement. Work benches and shelves lined the walls. A poster by my head advertised RaceStart engine oil. I flinched as one of the work benches seemed to move. `` You're not Daniel.'' A woman's voice said, in an even tone. She stood from behind an overturned work bench. She held a long flat piece of metal in both hands, its sharpened end pointed at my neck. She wore jeans and a dirty blue shirt that said `` Tiger Soccer Pride''. Dark bags drooped from her eyes, and her black hair was an mess. She was mid-twenties, my age, but looked old and exhausted. I choked out a greeting `` Uh, I'm Sandra. Second-year patent law. You, uh, ok?'' `` Rachel. Three days in, not dead yet.'' Rachel's mouth set into a grim line, but she lifted the spear point away from me. `` Dead?'' I looked over my shoulder, at the still open door to the ruined hallway. `` Where are we? How do we get out?'' `` I do n't know where we are, but this place does n't make any sense. I woke up in a baby's room full of lit candles. The next room was a library of blank books...'' Rachel seemed to relax a little as she talked. `` That's where I met Daniel. He's been awake five days now. He climbed out that window, to look for fuel.'' She gestured to an old generator by the wall. `` Some of the rooms are full of lights, machines, but most are n't powered. This starts, if we can just-'' I heard a creak behind me, as the door on the far end of the hall opened. Someone stood silhouetted in the doorway. Rachel firmly pulled me behind her work bench, then moved to stand beside the doorway. She stood with her back to the wall, spear drawn back, knuckles white. The hallway rustled with shifting trash. `` Daniel?'' I asked. Rachel shot me a silencing look. A hand grasped the door frame, an unlit flashlight swinging from a strap looped around the wrist. A man's face reflected in blue and orange light. He was bald and smiling, with grey streaks in his neat red beard. He screamed. `` HAKRAZAAA! RAVA NO LARGAT!'' Split shot from his lips. He lunged through the doorway, sliding on his belly down a slope of papers. Rachel drove the spear down into the man, but I did n't see the rest. I cowered behind the work bench, frozen. There was a scramble, more gibberish, more screaming. It became quiet, and seconds passed. `` We're ok, we're safe.'' I heard her say. After a pause, `` That was Daniel.'' I peered around the bench, to see her holding the flashlight. She clicked the button. Nothing happened. `` Battery died.'' Her voice shook, and she squeezed her eyes shut. `` We saw others... the dark does something to you.'' I considered touching her shoulder, and decided against it. The scratching came again, down the hall. We both saw the small black shapes sliding along the edge of the bulb's light. Rats? I do n't want to know. Rachel and I ran to the small window, just above our heads. She motioned me to go first, but I suddenly felt brave. I passed her my lighter and cupped my hands and to give her a boost up to the window, she squeezed through. I heard rustling as the black shapes approached. Far off, a voice screamed gibberish somewhere in the house. *This damn house. Some kind of trap, each person stuck in this cycle. * I pulled the balled up papers from my pocket. I held the lighter underneath, and the waxy paper curled as the flame caught. I tossed the burning mass onto the slope of paper. I watched it spread, to be sure. Flames reached out to Daniel's left sneaker. `` Lets go!'' Rachel urged me from the window. I grabbed her outstretched hand, and dragged myself up, coughing as smoke filled the small room. I stood out of the wet grass and we ran across a dark lawn, Rachel ahead of me with my lighter sputtering over her head, spear flashing at her side. I coughed again, wheezed. Rachel was too far ahead. I felt in my pockets for my inhaler, but I'd lost it somewhere. I fell to my knees. Everything was black, I blinked, but my eyes were open. Rachel was calling my name from far off. Cold bit into my skin from every side, freezing air without wind. I shivered, then shook. I seized on the ground and nearly bit my own tongue. I lay still in the grass. The ground thumped with feet, and orange light fell over me. `` Sandra, talk to me.'' Rachel's voice was even, smooth. I snatched for her ankle, just out of reach. `` VHATAGU HRUTS GHADMIDNAA!'' Something hard and flat crashed into my left temple. Black. I woke laying on my back. The early morning sky was broken by a streak of black smoke, drifting straight up from a hill of burning wood and coals. No Rachel. The left side of my head felt nearly split open, but my hand touched a dry bandage of torn cloth. I stood, dizzy, and put the house at my back. A wide, featureless lawn, and a distant black iron fence. I'll find a way out, over it if I have to. I have until nightfall. { Whew, that is much longer than I intended. I have n't written in a long while, so getting back into it. Constructive criticism is appreciated, although I prefer blatant flattery. }

[ IP ] The Watcher in the Woods

Autumn is the calm before the storm. She is the silent herald of the coming winter storm. As the greens of summer fade into the warm colours of yellow and red, her words of caution fall on deaf ears. Why do you not listen? I have heard the cry of Autumn. I have read her distress in the dying leaves. The shadows of the dying sun foretell of the coming winter. The rustling of the winds whisper, `` Winter is Coming.'' Why do you not listen? I have seen you. I have watched you waste away in your luxuries. I have watched your souls grow fat and your senses grow dull. You have forgotten why you fear the dark. I have watch you put your faith in the light you have created. Your light will prove worthless when the winter night falls. Listen. Do you hear the howling of the winter wind? Can you feel winter's hand grasp at your bare throat? Listen as winter whets his frozen blade. He is coming for you. I have seen him. I have watched him. He tells me of the horrors that await you and your people. His stare is cold, merciless. You will remember why you fear the dark. You will remember that you huddled together by the fire for more than just warmth. Upon your journey in these woods, I have stood and watched. I have showed you the narrow path between the shadows. `` Too treacherous,'' you complained. You took the wider path, surrounded by your decadence and selfishness. Now, Autumn fades away. The paths of these woods are ending. I watch as you leave. You looked back, once. I can only show you the paths before you. I can not force you to take one over the other. I can not tell you where these paths lead. But, tell me, would it have mattered? You never listened.

[ WP ] Two best friends have been able to keep their superhero and supervillain identities secret from each other . Today , the truth is revealed .

`` Yo! What the fuck!?'' yelled Dane in surprise. He must have discovered, those. I guess there's just no hiding anything from that guy. Especially since he insisted on being in charge of the laundry. A strange request by anyone's measure though I've dealt with weirdos before. They operate on their own logic so it's usually best to accept whatever it is they're into without question. As long as they're neither hurting nor hindering anyone. Why is it so strange that a man wants to do the laundry badly enough to the point of obsession you may ask? Well, funny story. It happened the first week we moved in together. In fact, that was also the week we became best buds. Man what a week. To this day people call bullshit when I tell them this story. Anyway, here goes. It was the day the association of the morally challenged escaped their interdimensional temporal prison. Everyone remembers that day. It started with loud claps of thunder and arcs of lightning across the sky, accompanied by an aurora. This went on for ten minutes before a crystal pyramid appeared in the sky. It materialised out of nothing, like a ghost. The pyramid fell from the sky and onto the middle of Main Street downtown. The pyramid fell flatly and perfectly on its square base, creating a loud and deep rumble as well as a minor tremor. An opening appeared on the side of the pyramid. Slowly the morally challenged emerged, one after the other. They stood at the entrance in a group, surveying the destruction and the cowering citizenry nearby. After what felt like an eternity they emitted their victory screech. It was loud enough to shatter glass and cause passers by temporary deafness. Suddenly, they ran off in different directions. Some of them flew, one of them into me. Earlier that day I was helping Dane move all our furniture into our new apartment. I was dreading the prospect of pretending to be an ordinary and weak person in order to hide my super strength. I insisted on doing it on my own the night before but he insisted on `` helping''. `` Nah bro, let's do it tomorrow. I do n't wan na be a d-bag or nothin'' he told me. He seemed like a nice dude but he was also very stubborn and proud. A potentially annoying combination of traits. `` I insist, it's really no big deal'' I insisted. `` Nah bro, relax'' he said. He threw me a beer from his fridge. `` So, what're you into?'' he asked. We spoke well into the night and got blackout drunk. I do n't remember what happened nor what we talked about but in the morning we were best friends. My choices for roommate were down to either him or that crazy lady with all those cats. Many people showed up for my roommate interviews but they were the only two who remained interested at the end. I guess I was n't much of a people person. Maybe it's something about my face. I dunno. Perhaps I was a much better actor than I thought. Dane insisted on taking breaks all the time, even though he was n't even breaking a sweat. He kept asking me if I was alright, that if I wanted to take a break. Despite my hatred of wasting time, his annoying insistence forced me to capitulate. `` Alright then, let's take a break'' I relented. Who knew that pretending to lift was more tiring than actually lifting? `` Wan na go to the liquor store, pick us up some brewskis?'' he asked earnestly. `` Why do n't you go?'' I asked. `` Cuz I do n't know this area and I'm not good with directions''. `` The liquor store is easy to find. You just go down the street for four blocks, take a left, turn down the second street on your right, then you take ano --''. `` Nah bro'' he interrupted. `` I'll forget it all and get lost I know it. Besides, we got ta get shit done today!''. `` I can write it down'' I offered. `` Nah, it'd be easier if you just go. Here's my cash'' he handed me a one hundred dollar bill. `` Hey, as long as you're paying'' I said. I pocketed it and went on my merry way. `` Change and receipts bro'' he called out from behind me as I was half-way out the door. `` Of course'' I replied. `` Hey, you're a good dude'' he told me. He shot me his sexiest wink. All charm and no class this dude was. Still, he was a very likeable guy. `` Alright man, later'' I called out before closing the apartment door behind me. Later that day I returned to the apartment with three cases of my favourite lager. My clothes were torn and I was partially covered in a strange and sticky goo. `` Bro what happened!?'' Dane asked upon seeing me. He took the beers from me and promptly put them into the fridge. Not before cracking one open and handing me one of course. I took a look around the apartment and was amazed by what I saw. All the furniture was in place. Everything was done. What was supposed to be a job that usually took two men half a day was done in half an hour by this guy. `` How did you do it? The fridge, the washing machine?'' I asked in amazement. `` You know me bro, I lift'' he answered smugly. He flexed his biceps proudly. `` Plus the movers came around just after you left. They said that I payed for extra help, but I must've forgotten or something''. `` Oh, awesome'' I replied. I decided to call up the movers later. I had a growing suspicion that I dared not entertain just yet. `` So bro, what happened'' he asked. `` You look like you got into a fight with some aliens or something''. `` You ai n't for from the truth man. Can I go get changed first, maybe have a shower?'' `` Sure man, go for it'' he said in earnest. I quickly walked off to the bathroom, eager to get all this crap off of me. A little later on we were on the couch drinking beers and shooting the shit. After a while he finally remembered to ask what happened to me at the liquor store. Why I was covered in all that crap. I decided to hide the truth from him in order to protect my secret identity. `` Turn on the news'' I told Dane. `` Ohh this is gon na be good'' he said excitedly. He turned on the tv and switched to the news channel. There was breaking news about the interdimensional temporal breach and the escape of the association of the morally challenged from their imprisonment. Danes eyes widened in shock. `` Holy shit dude!'' he exclaimed. `` You do n't know the half of it'' I replied. `` I ran into one those superpowered freaks outside the liquor store today, they're not so tough'' I said smugly. `` What happened bro? What did you do?'' he asked in a hushed and awed tone. `` I ran into the short bald one with the pointy ears'' `` You mean hobgoblin?'' `` Yeah, that one'' I paused briefly before continuing. `` So there I was, outside the liquor store, about to get us some brews when all of a sudden this thing hits me in the back. It sent me flying ten metres down the street. It did n't hurt that much, I was more shocked than anything''. `` Wow, you're one tough dude'' Dane told me. He looked genuinely impressed. `` Thanks man, anyway that was n't even the crazy part'' Danes eyes grew wider with every word I spoke. `` The little bugger bounced off me, smashed into a streetlight headfirst, and died''. `` Wait, he was a super villain'' he interjected. `` How could he die so easily, and in such a stupid way?'' he asked. He looked genuinely puzzled. `` I dunno man'' I answered. `` I've heard that there are certain materials that super powered people are vulnerable to. Maybe, just maybe, my jacket or something has those materials woven in''. `` Really!? That's awesome! Imma go check out your jacket'' he proclaimed excitedly. A short while later he returned to the living room looking disappointed. `` Besides smelling like shit it seems like just a normal jacket to me'' he said. `` Maybe'' I replied. We cracked open another round of beers and changed the channel to sports. That was n't my last tangle with the superpowered. As time went on I became increasingly better at coming up with tall tales about my clothes and the deaths of super beings. Eventually I convinced Dane that my clothes must have magical properties of some kind. One day, out of the blue, he proclaimed that he would be in charge of our laundry from now on. Who was I to say no? ( to be continued )

[ WP ] The reason humanity has n't encountered sentient life is because we are the last sentient life in the galaxy - the Milky Way 's golden age having long since passed

Ghost towns. That was the nickname that some of NASA's scientists gave to the string of dead planets they discovered. Occasionally there was evidence of life; decaying buildings, faint echoes of radio broadcasts, even the occasional pile of bones. But never any life. `` Nothing living found'' the probes would coldly announce from the deep. As mankind grew, it flung its probes deeper and deeper into space, desperate to find something, anything. The probes took longer and longer to reply back from their lonely, one way missions into the deep. `` Nothing living found.'' Nearly 300 years after the first unmanned probe left our colony on Epsilon Eridani, the scientists announced the chances of finding life in our galaxy were quickly approaching zero. Humanity stared up at the stars with sadness, realizing finally just how alone it was in the night.

[ CW ] `` Tonight , I 'll tear my heart out . ''

`` You know he's unhappy'''' I know, but I do n't want to give up on this, I still think we can fix it'' Jody took another bite of ice cream and gave a long, knowing look at Karen. `` You are n't going to save your marriage by forcing him to be unhappy.'' Karen knew this, but she could n't let go, she could n't sign the divorce papers. Nothing she did was helping the situation, even movies and ice cream could not make her feel better as it had done so many times throughout high school. This was not high school though, her husband, her love, her soul, her heart, wanted to leave her. Jody grabbed Karen's forlorn face by the chin and looked her square in the eyes. `` It's time for it to end, Karen, call him.'' She tossed the phone into Karen's lap. A defeated sigh escaped her lips, `` Ok, tonight, I'll tear my heart out.''

[ WP ] Write about a villain who knows he 's the villain

`` How is it that you still think I can be reasoned with? Hmm?'' Tyler scoffed. `` You ca n't seriously be that stupid!'' `` No one can be this cruel, this inhuman,'' Bradly pleaded. Covered in the blood of his last victim, Tyler cackled, `` You seem to forget that neither of us is human! They even call you Solar-Wind and me the Black-Hole for crying out loud!'' It was true, both Tyler and Bradly were shipwrecked on earth from some far off world. `` But we came here together, I know the cryogenic sleep took away most of our memories, but you were n't like this! And I know somewhere inside of you is my old friend, my Tyler!'' Bradly's pleaded, but his cries fell on deaf ears. How could his friend have fallen so far? `` How you ask? Well it's quite simple really. The same reason you changed. When the engine exploded, the blast affected your body and my mind!'' Tyler hated having to explain himself so but it seemed the only way anyone, especially Bradly, could keep up. `` Do n't you get it! I'm not the Tyler you knew!'' he through his head back and cackled long and hard. `` As for any decency? I have none! `` How can I make you understand?'' Tyler continued, `` This is n't my story. I'm not the one in focus so it does n't matter. I do n't have your constraints Bradly. I'm just here for you!'' `` What are you talking about?'' Bradly tried to take in all that his old friend was saying but the gash on his head prevented any real effort. `` Oh right, I'm sorry. That little bump on the head still not healed yet?'' Tyler mocked, he knew it was n't. And the special blade that he used to cause it ensured it would n't close to quickly. `` I know it's hard but think about it, but try. What are you without me? Just mutated freak on an alien planet. I give you meaning! I give you purpose and reason!'' Tyler strutted over to Bradly, grabbed his chin and pulled his head around to stare into his eyes, taking more than a small bit of pleasure at his suffering cringes. `` You see, I am merely the whetstone against which you are sharpened. I have accepted my roll, and I figure: Why not enjoy it?''

[ WP ] Only after attempting to jump off a building do you discover that you have the ability of flight .

I feel the wind. I see the people, their small faces staring up in horrified fascination. I can hear some screaming not to jump. But in reality, I know many of them want me to anyway. Maybe not my mom, though, who's crying, and trying to claw her way through 3 burly men in police suits. I waver on the ledge. The crowd gasps simultaneously. My mom screams. Some cop is saying something through a megaphone. But he isnt saying anything. So I ignore him. Or maybe I'm ignoring him already? I do n't know... I do n't care... I do n't care that I do n't know... But I think that I would have jumped if they had n't sent cops to the roof. Let them stay down on the street and beg me not to jump. How dare they assume they have any right to stand beside me, as if they're my equal, as if they have can conquer me with pure dominance. No. Stay submissive. So I jumped. Technally, I stepped off into air and fell, but why get into semantics in a moment so critical? At least that's what I thought as I flashed past several stories at blurring speed towards the concrete. My eyes watered, I could n't breathe, I was moving so quick that I wondered what was taking so long. But as I passed the 17th floor, my eyes caught the bare backside of a woman who had just removed her shirt and bra. Time seemed to slow; and it seemed like an eternity before I passed this window. I saw her remove her pants and panties in a moment where I should have been a splatter on the ground. Only when she stepped into the bathroom, out of view, did time seem to resume again and I was once again free-falling. I managed to look up at the sky as I fell, my eyes being drawn to the puffy, white clouds. And recently, that one helicopter stalking through the air like a pissed bee. Where did that helicopter come from, I wonder pausing mid-decent. Gasps erupt all around me, I do n't know why. All I can focus on is that the helicopter seems to be getting closer and closer. And I get a hollow sense of weightlessness, like I'm flying. I look down. Faces are now dots. I look to my right where the rooftop is, but the ledge slips further and further away under me. I slip into the clouds.

[ WP ] Cats are the guardians of the underworld . Humans took cats in to manage pests , but cats believe this includes supernatural pests . At night cats protect against malicious spirits and send them back to hell .

My eyes snap open as I hear a noise from the kitchen. I look for my humans; both of them are sleeping next to me. I creep out of the room where they sleep and slink into the kitchen. I come around the corner and see what made the noise. It is the small human that sleeps in the next area. I nudge her with my head and meow. She looks down at me. `` Hello Kitty,'' she mumbles sleepily. `` Meow,'' I respond. I follow her back to her resting area and wait for her to close her portal. The runes that I have scratched into the frame are still active. The humans got upset when I made them. I just had to wait until they slept. I hear a noise from the kitchen again. It sounds like the window sliding open. `` That should n't be possible,'' I think to myself. I see a creature from the darkness sliding the window open from the outside. He is small, jet black, with small, red eyes. His long spiraling horns twist straight into the air. `` An imp!'' I think, `` This will be easy.'' I slink back around the corner, watching him from the darkness. He has n't noticed me yet. Imps are Lucifer's collectors. He is here for my humans. He can sense them resting in the back, although he does n't seem to notice my wards around the bedrooms. But he did n't seem bothered by the runes that should have been at the window. Perhaps this imp has figured out how to get around my protections. He is sneaking towards the back of my home. He does not notice me, as he can not sense what does not have a soul. He moves closer to my humans. That thought catches me for a moment. My humans. They are mine and I am theirs. I will protect them until they move to the next world. That is the life debt I owe them for taking me from that steel prison. I can still remember the screams and howls of my brothers and sisters. My humans saved me from that hell, and now I'll save them from theirs. The imp is finally within striking distance. I leap toward him and tear into his throat with my jaws. I sink my claws into his flesh and rip and tear until I no longer feel him writhing. His eyes fade as his life leaves his body. His body dissipates into smoke. A useful trait; I do n't know how the humans would react to a demon corpse, and I would prefer not to find out. I jump up to the window and slide it shut. I turn and check my runes. They have been painted over! `` Damn humans and their repairs,'' I mutter. I scratch the runes back into the wood around the window, and give the outside one final scan before heading back to my humans. I curl up next to them as one of them stirs. `` Hello Mochi,'' she says reflexively as she reaches out and scratches my head. I purr, a guttural noise that the humans seem to enjoy. I look to her as the motion stops. She has fallen asleep again. I curl up next to her and return to the dreams that were so rudely interrupted.

[ WP ] -You are a super hero who has saved the world multiple times . Today is the day you reveal your secret identity to friends and family . Your alter ego is so pathetic noone believes you .

`` I have called you all here today, because I have a special announcement to make.'' I stated uneasily, a bead of sweat forming on my right temple. I could hear my voice cracking. I had n't felt this nervous since I asked Julia out in 2nd grade. My parents were seated on the ugly blue couch that I had picked up during my university days and for some reason could never get rid of. Okay, that is a lie - the real reason why I could n't get rid of it anymore is because after the renovations to my parent's house, it could n't be taken out of the basement anymore. Honestly, it was kind of hard to say if it even was still blue - very little light ever came into my room. I looked over to the left from my parents, who were now both holding each other with gentle smiles on their faces. I wonder if they already knew? They had to. I mean how does a parent not notice their toddler being able to bend space and time as needed from time to time. At least, that was until I met the Master - who taught me how to control my powers for good. My gaze fell upon Sarah, Josh, and Eric. All of whom sat on the mismatched dining chairs that I had pieced together from various garage sales. Eric was having trouble with his - one of the legs was 2 inches too short, and the leg kiddy corner from it one inch too long. All three were friends I had known for my entire life. Well, all of my lives. Yes, I had more than one - my powers allowed me to live in multiple times, learn from my mistakes and manipulate the laws of the universe to fight those that wished to harm the delicate balance that the All-Seeing-One had sought to keep. This was one time point that I was not able to see, change, or manipulate. No matter how many times I tried. Master had stated that such timepoints existed in each one of our lives - timepoints that were so crucial in our fate that they could not be observed or changed. All that would occur after tonight, would be a brand new reality, one I could explore again and would have to protect. I was stalling - I realised. Eric had already started to lose interest - he was now enjoying himself rocking back and forth on the broken chair - I scratched my beard patches as I thought things through. `` It's okay, hun. We love you no matter what.'' Mom said, breaking the silence - I looked up surprised, a bit relieved, thinking that she really knew - they all knew! `` Yes, dear. This day and age it is n't a big deal, I mean, there are so many of you now, there are meetings you can go to. If you like, we can come with you as well.'' Dad spoke with his stern yet comforting therapist voice. This was going to be easier than I thought, I smiled and looked at them both - then to my friends. `` Did you guys know too?'' - I asked slightly gaining confidence, my acne was starting to itch a little bit as it always did when I started to blush. They traded looks, and sheepishly smiled and nodded. `` I mean, it would have been hard not to notice the signs you know?'' Sarah said. `` Yeah, the late night disappearances.'' Eric added. `` The weird clothes that I found in your closet'' Josh mentioned, avoiding my gaze. I am so glad that everybody I love knows and is supportive - I thought to myself. I sighed deeply. `` Yeah, and after you were adamant you had to go to Japan even after the Godzilla attack - kind of confirmed it did n't it?'' Eric said, looking at everybody else. `` Yup! That was when I knew too - I mean okay, not right then, but when you came back and gave me that waifu pillow I knew it.'' - Josh stated gaining confidence. I was a bit confused at this point, not sure how the adorable waifu had anything to do this with. `` Or the weird toys I found under your bed'' Mom said. `` And the cartoon videos... oh god, I wish I had never seen that'' Dad said looking down. `` But I still love you!'' He quickly added. Okay - now I was really confused. What was going on? `` eh, I think we may be talking about different things...'' I whispered. Eric looked at me, `` wait what are you talking about?'' `` Why do n't we all say what we think this is about on the count of three'', Sarah taking control as always. 3 2 1 ``'''''' You are a weeaboo'''''''' `` I am Ultimate''

[ WP ] In a night out with your friends , you jokingly ask Siri `` Take me to Nowhere '' . Not expecting a response , you are surprised to find directions to a place 400 feet from you .

Tilting back the bottle one last time and taking back the rest of the UV Sugar Crush vodka I realize that I had downed the whole bottle. Even though it was 30 % I could feel the burning, sweet enebriation come into play be for my eyes. My body felt light but heavy. My world began to tilt slightly. I got up from my chair to go to the bathroom and could hardly walk. Without any help I made it in time to unleash a torrent of urine into the toilet. I finished and rejoined the party. After a while we were all headed home. I had taken the light rail to get to my friends house tonight knowing I was getting intoxicated. It was well past midnight which was when the trains stopped. I ran to the train stop then realized my mistake. I looked at the time and thought really closely as to how to get home. I was at least 17 or so miles away from my bed and I had n't money to take a taxi so I began walking north following the sidewalk as best as I could. There was not a soul out tonight for it was a Wednesday and everyone had to work. Every now and then a cop car sped by letting me know I was n't entirely alone. I kept walking up the discreet ubtil I decided to stop dead in my tracks and stand outside of a McDonalds. There were a few black guys that walked by giving me looks. I averted my eyes but if they started anything I was n't about to let them take advantage of me. I pulled out my phone and connected to the wifi they have. I was not sure what I wanted really. It would take me all night just to walk all the way home. No one I knew was still awake and by this time all of my friends should be at home and asleep I thought. I felt daring. I felt like I didnt want to go home. I felt like every decision that I'd made had gotten me here and I had no where to go. A buzz in in the back of my mind, might it have been from the booze or something more, had me in a place where logic and rational thinking go out the window. I felt alone for the first time in a long time. It seemed alright but what was I going to do with this new found glory? Wait til morning to take the train back up? All I could think of was what now as I stare distantly into the glow of my phone. Then it clicked to me. Ill ask Siri what to do. I held the home button firm until the prompt and a shrill unheard noise came through my phone speaker. `` Siri, take me to nowhere,'' the same shrill indescribable noise comes blasting through the speaker. No one is around to hear it. I doubt anyone in the McDonalds had heard it either. I sway trying to keep my balance. Suddenly Siri begins to talk. `` Hello, Jonn, you wish for me to take you ti Nowhere?'' I freeze for a moment realizing she has never spoken my name before. I tap the speak button once more and voice my action. `` Here are the results for...'' her voice cut off. I was looking at an open google maps tab with a destination 400 feet from me. I started my travel and walked down the road. I noticed that to the right of me were town homes and alleyways. I was getting closer and closer to my destination. `` In 100 feet turn right.'' I heard from the GPS on my phone. I noticed the numbers on the houses were gradually lessening. Starting from 10 and I would imagine ending with 1. `` Your destination is on your right, you've reached your destination.'' Between house 3 and 4 it was telling me to walk down the alleyway where my destination should be. Suddenly I got a call which made me jump out of my skin. I checked the number as my heart was beating hard and out of my chest. I swayed and fell into the side of the building. The number was 410-669-4373. I'd remember getting called from this number but they were often telemarketers but the picture IS said otherwise. There was a girls face that I didnt recognize and it could have been anyone I knew or never knew or just met recently at my friends house. I answered after the fourth ring. `` Hello-'' `` Dont you dare open that door.'' `` What door?'' `` Wait, are you drunk?'' `` Maybe, what's it to you? Hey, you sound cute, what's your name? My name is Jonn.'' `` What... no, shut up just dont open the door whatever you do. Someone will arrive shortly to pick you up and take you home.'' `` But my car is at-'' click. She hung up. I could n't help but think that her voice sounded really nice. So I stood there for a moment but then began walking down the alleyway. I turned on my flashlight to get a better look at things. I looked around and suddenly found a door. It was a small door. On second thought it didnt seem like the door mess made correctly. It was against the wall but sticking halfway out of the ground with the doorknob accessible. The number at the top of the door had a 6 surrounded by my embroidered wood. I squat down to grab the handle and a car pulls up. Suddenly the doors open and masks come floating out. I must be hallucinating! I scramble to open the door. I twist and pull but it wo n't budge. I looked behind me and they are nearly five feet away when I twist and push and feel myself falling. The door growing smaller and smaller closes as I watch the masks that are watch in me.my head aches as I fall continuously for what feels like an eternity. Where was it that I was going? What did I open a door to? It almost felt like I was nowhere.

[ WP ] At the age of 18 , everyone is required to take a general intelligence test . Failing the test is justification for death , or the remaining time of your life into intensive labor . Today is your 18th birthday .

Except for a metal table and wooden chair the room was empty. There was a closed door but no windows. The proctor had given me all the instructions just before I came into the room so I saw no need to read them on the paper. I knew I was smart. At least that ’ s what my mother had always told me. And the other people in the labor camp had told me the same thing. Most of them were smart so they knew what they were talking about, right? Determined to secure my release from the labor camps I folded the paper in half as a signal for the testing to begin. There was a click, machinery coming to life, and a hissing noise as a green vapor began gathering overhead. My test was to stop the non-lethal gas from reaching me. I took off my shirt and stood on the table but could not reach the vent to cover it. Even standing on the chair on top of the table the vent was too far. “ You ’ re a smart boy Victor. You ’ ll get out of these labor camps. You ’ ll see. You ’ ll be a big deal. ” my mother ’ s soothing voice counseled me. I flipped the table on its end and shimmied up. I ’ d grown up climbing around the scaffolding in the labor camps. This was no different than that. The table tottered as I gained the top edge but I easily kept my balance. From here the vent was within reach. Careful, so as not to upset my perch I lifted my shirt towards the vent. The pain was incredible. I saw the shirt disintegrating as it entered the vapor but I did n't stop. Not until the caustic gas ate away at the flesh of my hands. I toppled head over heels to the floor below. The last thing I remember was my head shattering against the floor and I lost consciousness. “ Well Dave that ’ s another one who could n't pass the test ” a cynical Linda noted as she watched the body of Victor Devonshire dissolve on the monitor. Dave shrugged a tight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “ Yep, one day someone will be smart enough to just walk out the door. ”

[ wp ] An over the top story of a woman who makes a glass of water

Eileen woke up to a terrible thirst ravaging her throat, her migraine pounding with every breath, telling her of the life-giving sustenance she requires if she were to survive the day. She crawled up, out of her sleeping form. Shambling to the nearest liquid receptacle, an automatic dispenser of flowing life, Eileen put her clawed hands upon the round control knob, and turned with all her might. But the unfiltered ambrosia is ripe with contaminants, and the vile poisons meant to cleanse those contaminants. She can not cure her thirst with this. She will not cure her thirst with this. Eileen held her head with one hand, as if to hold the pounding in her brain at bay, or to keep her skull from exploding into a million shards. With the other, she pressed on the button that evacuated a hot, skin-searing vapour from a small plastic tower. The artificial dragon is almost dry, but Eileen's previous quest has given her the needs to fill this lifeless beast. She carefully poured the contaminated elixir into the plastic tower, and the lava-like remnant within rapidly cooled. Then the rumbling, as if its stomach is digesting its contents... The beast has been satiated, but Eileen remains in dire need. The elixir brewed in the volcanic heat, churning, bubbling, boiling over the next ten minutes. The burning metal within the plastic tower, though lacking in real cleansing fire, burned away the contaminants and poisons, purifying the elixir into tasteless life. Eileen tipped the tower, and the clear liquid came out into her porcelain cup. But her concentration lapsed for a second, and the cup overflowed. There was no turning back. Eileen had to erase every evidence of what had just occurred. The details are best left to one's imagination. Once Eileen was done, exerting far more effort than normal, she wiped her forehead and partook of her medicine. It was cold now. She had to tip the tower one more time, to mix fresh hot life with the deathly cold potion in her hand. The combination swirled in her cup, wrestling for dominance, fighting for control, and finally, amalgamating into one. She put the abomination to her lips. It was good. But she'll need something stronger for her hangover.

[ WP ] I am emotionally dead , almost to a level of a sociopath . I want to feel again . Make me feel .

The numb feeling lingers on like a bad taste in the mouth, it feels much like the effects of sleeping on your arm, like there's something attached to you, which is pretty much dead. The sun, the sights are just that, like looking through a filter that strips everything and leaves ugly contours of shapes that you can barely recognize. Northern Italy is a beautiful place, but it's like seeing an old and faded picture you have never seen before, distant and lacking. I really can not feel a thing, no joy, no sorrow, anger or even empathy. My sister is here by my side, but for me she's no more than a shadow that follows me, and a loud shadow at that. But even then, she does n't even annoy me, she can not even stimulate a single reaction from me apart of robotic answers like: `` Okay, alright, fine, maybe later.'' I can not strike a conversation, because I have no opinion about anything, no topics which I have a take on, nothing I care about. `` What a lovely coat this is, right?'' My sister asked me while she was measuring a coat in Venice. `` It looks great'' I said without even taking a look. `` What is it Josh?'' She suddenly sat beside me. `` You have that **million mile stare** again.'' She laid her hand on my shoulder, I did n't even shrugged, it was as if she touched the glass of the display window I was looking through. `` You were detached during all of the trip, in fact you were distant ever since you returned from that hellish place, from Afghanistan.'' The glass trembled a bit, distorting the view for a fleeting moment. `` You still do n't talk about what happened there.'' Another tremble sent ripples that made a repetitive crackling sound, I lost focus. There were no longer people walking across a narrow street that went between old houses and between short and `` Romantic'' bridges that crossed the channels through which Gondola boats were steered. It was a great ridge of mountains that stretches as far as the eyes could see with valleys creeks, rivers, cliffs and trees. `` Josh?'' A familiar voice echoes towards me as if through a cave. `` Josh!'' now it sounds as if I am just below the water. `` Snap out of it!'' My shoulder is pulled and my body and head along out of the warm streams of thought. `` Eh, sorry Clara.'' I said. `` No, I am sorry. I freaked you out and you shut me off.'' She said with a perplexed look, as if she's sorry sh even bought it up. `` I feel like I'm loosing you sometimes Josh. I... I'm sorry.'' She starts to sob. `` Hey now, come here'' I embrace her into my arms. and look through the window again. I'ts still there and I'm back in Venice alright, the specters of people are still moving. I feel the tremble of the glass though, and it sounds so inviting, but it's almost to subtle to notice. I embrace my sister harder, It does not feel like anything, but at that moment I make a wish: *Please sister, please continue asking, I need to step through the looking glass, and I can not do it on my own. Please make me feel again... * EDIT: minor additions

[ WP ] This is the prologue ( or the first chapter ) of the novel you 've always wanted to write .

Hey, what's up, ready to read a book? Alright, here we go. So there's a guy. What should his name be? I think jimmy is a good one. Anyway, jimmys walking down the street of... Nah New York is too overrated. Ok he's walking down the streets of of Philadelphia? Ok so we got a story going. So good old jimmy is hiding something in his backpack. Oh yeah he's wearing a backpack by the way. So jimmy walks into a coffee shop. Wait no, a bank. He's got ta get some money to go to the coffee shop later. Yeah, he's gon na meet some friends there. Anyways, he walks in and puts his backpack on the ground. He reaches into it and takes out a mask and a gun. What kinda gun? I do n't know. Hey let's spice things up. He pulls out a nerf gun. He shoots the security guards and runs around screaming and chanting random 80's movie quotes. Nah nevermind. He pulls out a fully automatic 20 gauge shotgun. He shoots up towards the ceiling and scares everyone. He leaves that place and walks past the person this story is really about, jacob. Jacob is watching sleazy latino porn on his phone in the middle of the street. Jacob gets run over by two college students named Chelsea and... Uh lets go with gabby. `` HOLY FUCKING SHIT'' screams gabby. They swerve off the street and hits a panera bread, where johnathon in getting a blowjob in the bathroom. The world is a crazy place is n't it. By the way I wanted to write this book as like random short stories about people

[ WP ] A new strain of tree suddenly appears which grows to cover as much land as possible and will grow back if cut down . This strain first appears on farmlands ...

The farmer stared in utter disbelief. There he was, barely 24 hours ago, laboriously chopping down a pesky elm that made mowing his lawn in the sweltering summer quite difficult. It took him several ours to be rid of the tree. Yet he is staring at what should be the stump of an adolescent elm, but instead, an entirely different tree is in its place. It is still an elm, but the positioning of the leaves and branches was noticeably different. The farmer pondered as to whether or not he had been dreaming when he cut down the tree, or perhaps hallucinating from some sort of medication? He could only remember taking an aspirin three or four days ago. The unbearable amount of perspiration from the labor was also extremely memorable. He decided that he must have been pranked, and called his friendly neighbor. Upon asking if it were indeed one of the neighbor's teenage children who had been playing a practical joke on him, he was met with laughter. Both of the children have been away at summer camp for weeks. It was impossible. After the pleasantries and apologies, the farmer hung up the phone, sat down in his chair, and put his pipe in his mouth. Just as he evened out the tobacco and looked up for a match or a lighter, he sent all of his preparations clattering to the floor. He could not believe his eyes. His mouth hung, jaw wide open for so long that creatures could have made a home in the opening. Two more, even larger elms, were right next to the original one. He knew that this was the start of something horrible, and his life would never be the same.

[ WP ] The year is 2315 and the Amish are living like its the 21st century .

It's hard to ignore what's happened. Humans have now moved on to new worlds and great ships can be seen daily transporting unimaginable numbers of humans off-world. I have spent many years learning the laws of this new world to protect my family's god-given home from our mother Earth's loss of personal freedom. I am sad to say that I have now lost that battle. The farm my flock has lived on for 15 generations has been absorbed into to the Philadelphia Locality. The powers that be have given us the option of a large asset settlement or relocation. As there is no land left on Earth for us to live the way we choose, we have decided to move off-world as many others have. We have been given a 5.7 million acre plot on a small moon orbiting Queloz 284D. I ca n't explain the lengths the council has discussed this, but we all feel it is best for the community. The journey will be long, but I have hope future generations will appreciate our sacrifice to maintain our way of life. God be with us.

[ WP ] You are an assassin sent back in time to kill one historic figure . Who causes the most damage ?

`` You want me to go back and kill Adam and Eve?! Are you fucking mad? Did n't you learn about paradoxes in your fancy school?'' Cane said furiously, tossing the manila envelope on the table holding his assignment. The man in the suit across from him smiled devilishly. `` Humans have plagued this earth for long enough. We are the greatest enemy to ever set foot on this planet. We intend on fixing the problem right at the creation. We want to cause such a paradox that God *has* to step in and intervene, and that's when you are going to attack. We intend on sending you with a pistol, and a black hole generator. Before you kill Adam and Eve, prepare the generator, and set it off immediately after their dead. If you time it right, you should be able to jump back here.'' Cane looked at the man blankly. `` That's suicide man. Anyways, you guys have been shoving the whole'Big Bang' thing for years. Now you want me to believe there not only is a God, but you want *me* to kill him.'' Cane said with conviction. He began thinking of his parents that both died of cancer when he was a boy, of the uncle who beat him. Of the other kids who mistreated him because he could not afford nice clothes, or afford anything for that matter. Of the wars, and diseases running rampant, of the sick and poor suffering, while rich evil men controlled the wills of others through greed and destruction. `` Sign me up.'' Cane said. The man in the suit smiled devilishly again. `` Excellent, we will begin immediately.'' He stood from the conference table and proceeded to the prep room across the hall. Cane stood as well, following the suit across the hall. Cane had been on prior missions before, quickly adorning the usual gear. The white time watch sat on his wrist, a silver pistol on his belt. The suit grabbed a box off the counter, it was chrome and slick. The sexiest WMD Cane had ever seen. The suit noticed Cane eyeing the box. `` You heard of the Large Hadron Collider? Well, this is a pocket version that only causes Black Holes. The chances of it not creating a Black Hole are equal to the chances of the LHC causing one. You know your mission. We hope to see you again.'' Cane took the box, eyeing the only switch on the entire thing. `` How long after I turn it on before it goes off?'' Cane asked. The suit smiled again. `` You will be given a half a minute before it detonates. Good luck.'' The suit smiled again, walking Cane to the time machine. Cane stepped up onto the white floor, large metal doors wrapped around, ready to close and contain the time vortex until Cane was back, or dead. `` You know the drill, push the button on your watch when you want to zip back here.'' The suit pressed a button on the machine, the thick metal doors slowly slid closed, clamping shut after several excruciatingly long moments. A whirling wind and ear piercing noise slammed Cane's senses at the same moment, barely causing him to flinch, the noise and pressure were familiar. A bright light blinded him, even though he closed his eyes in anticipation to it. The breath was sucked from his lungs and he gasped for air. As suddenly as it began, every sensation Cane had felt vanished, except he was still gasping for air. Opening his eyes, Cane looked around. He landed next to a tree on the outskirts of a tilled field. A man with olive skin and little more than rags covering his groins, labored on the other end of the field, a small hut sat behind him. Cane smiled, a perfect jump. Setting up the Black Hole generator, Cane hovered with his finger over the button. Cane contemplated what he was about to do, he was going to set off a Paradox to kill a'God'. Maybe even The God. A small smirk crept up Cane's face. Cane pulled the pistol from his belt and pressed the button on the machine, counting down in his head. *30*... He took off running. *29*... 50 yards from first target. *28*... 45 yards from first target, man still has n't noticed Cane. *27*... 40 yards from first target, Cane spots movement in the window of the hut. A smile spreads across his face. *26*... 35 yards from first target, second target located, 45 yards from second target, and closing. *23*... 20 yards from first target, Adam noticed Cane's charge, smiled and waved, speaking foreign language. *21*... 10 yards from first target, Cane takes aim with his gun, giving him the army double tap, two shoots in the chest, one in the head. A look of terror frozen on Adams face as he dropped to the ground. *19*... Cane passed Adam's lifeless body, a rip formed in midair, showing a black void on the other side. Cane's eyes grew wide once he saw the crack. Stifling the fear that rose in his chest, he continued charging forward. The noise from the gun shot had drawn Eve's attention, getting her to come outside. *18*... Eve saw Adam lying on the ground bleeding, and the black rip in the air showing the void, and screamed. Bringing her eyes to Cane. Cane took advantage of her shock, aiming and squeezing off three more shots like the first. Eve did n't have time to react, her face frozen in a perpetual scream. Her body hit the ground, and another rip formed in the sky, tearing open blackness from horizon to horizon, offsetting the clear blue skies. *15*... Cane holstered his gun, reaching for his time watch and pressing the return button. Nothing happened. Cane frantically pressed the button, again and again. The fear he stifled earlier began creeping up into his chest again. *10*... Cane turned and ran back towards the Black Hole generator. Beginning the mad dash across the field. *5*... Cane's legs were pumping furiously, barely making purchase with the ground before rocketing off again. *1*... Cane made it to the machine, reaching down to press the button. *0*... The generator hummed, and Cane was consumed by blackness... A man sat in a suit in a small windowless room, with only white walls surrounding him. An audible **pop** can be heard behind him. A smile crept across his the suited mans face. `` Father.'' `` Dammit Lucifer. I told you no paradoxes, it fucks everything up.'' Lucifer's father said, standing in a robe of fine white material, a great white beard plastered on his face. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. `` What can I say Father, I was ridding this planet of your worst plague. The abomination you called Man. The planet will live for eons now that man is no longer here to war and hate.'' Lucifer said coolly, not turning to look at his father. `` Ah... My lost son. You forget that they are also capable of love and peace. If only you did n't spread false beliefs. Or corrupted the innocent. We reap what we sow. Now, if you will excuse me. I have a mess to clean up.'' God spoke with compassion to Lucifer. An audible **pop** can be heard again, and Lucifer can feel the loneliness again. The word of his father sinking in.

[ WP ] You are a vampire supernaturally bound by the ancient rule , `` you can not enter a home without being invited . '' One night , you ca n't walk out your front door .

`` Well that's just bloody annoying.'' I tried for a minute more, pressing a white hand into the empty doorway while meeting that same invisible resistance. It was as if I were trying to enter a house owned by a uninviting patron; the air itself formed a wall against me. I could not leave my lair. A shame, too, because I was really looking forward to this night's hunt. True, I looked forward to every hunt, but this was to be so grand. A teenage girl youth group, meeting after hours in an open church! How could any walker of the night turn miss such a treat? More surly than afraid, I walked back into my living room and reached for an ancient dial phone, turning it to a specific number. `` Lila!'' I snapped. `` I am having a problem here. I'm going to need you to hunt for me until I get it resolv --'' `` Like, um, wait a minute,'' Lila interrupted, using the modern slang she had to know I despised. My foot tapped impatiently while I waited. She was quiet -- uncharacteristically quiet -- while what sounded like a television played unintelligibly in the background. `` Lila, I'm in no mood for your inattention,'' I began, but she interrupted me once again. `` Drake, turn on the news.'' `` You know full well I do n't partake in this age's vapid-'' `` I'm not kidding around, Drake! Turn on the bleeding news!'' Filling up my superfluous lungs just to let out a long sigh, I foraged in my closet for an old television set and struggled to close it in. I muttered to myself as I went, fully aware that every second I spent trying to figure out the plugs on this absurd contraption was a second I *should* have been spending sucking the life juices out of a young virgin's jugular. Finally, I managed to get the screen flickering on, revealing a young blonde reporter with too much cleavage talking frantically over the tubes. She was n't my type, but I was hungry enough that her stressed and frightened expression made my stomach rumble. *''... we are still waiting for updates from the situation in Israel, but further reports have confirmed a* second *pillar of light in Mexico City. It is still unclear... hold on, there is now...'' * I frowned, watching the television in confusion. Pillar of light? It was the middle of the night! *'' More pillars are being reported almost all over the world! There is now one appearing in Chicago, U.S., one appearing in Paris, France, in Beijing, China... we are actually getting* live *broadcasts now from London, U.K. of a pillar in the process of appearing. I repeat, a pillar* in the process *of appearing! `` * The screen shakily resolved to what I supposed was London, across the Atlantic from me. The camera shook as hundreds of people ran and screamed past it, as sure enough, an enormous beam of light began to manifest out of thin air in the middle of the city. I frowned, squinting at it in puzzlement. Plagues, famines, revolutions, wars... those were all old news to me. But this? This was something else. Something new. *'' I am reporting live from London, where another pillar of light is appearing. It... almost looks like fire. Like hot fire, but none of the buildings it's touching are appearing to be damaged. It's bright, almost too bright to look at, but there does n't appear to be any heat emanating from it...'' * I watched with a curious gaze, some of the more modern works of speculative fiction that Lila engaged in rushing unbidden into my mind. Could this be the beginning of some invasion by extraterrestrials? Could it be tied to my being unable to leave my home? What was this going to mean for further hunts? But then, the shaky news camera on the screen resolved closer at the pillar... and a *figure* became apparent. A tall human figure, too tall, wreathed in radiant golden armor the consistency as sunlight. Six feathered wings protruded from its back, and six arms bearing swords spread out from its sides with the elegance of a butterfly spreading its wings. I froze, utterly *afraid* for the first time in centuries. For the first time *ever, * I felt the paralyzing fear, the instinctive terror that my prey must have felt when I cornered them and revealed my true nature. What I was gazing at... it was one step higher in the cosmic hierarchy than I. ``... bloody hell.'' [ ] ( /sp ) ******************************************************* [ ] ( /sp ) ***Continued in next post. ***

[ WP ] In a parallel universe , conflicts are decided by a duel between the leader of the countries involved .

The G7 summit, a meeting of some of the strongest nations in the world reached its climax. Barack Obama, President of the United States of America sat in a tall, leather chair leant forward with a bead of sweat along his brow. Behind him, on the wall was a large projector screen with Various statistics and a picture of a man at its centre. `` This menace gets stronger by the day and I fear words and sanctions will make no impact upon this leaders campaign for domination. The enemy is too strong for even I to take on alone, that is why..I need your help'' Obama finished and held outstretched hands and looked across the ring-shaped desk to his UK counterpart David Cameron, who looked about the room sheepishly. The Italian prime minister rose out of his chair `` Mi batterò!... I will fight'' he exclaimed passionately with his fists clenched and elbows bent at his sides. The corner of Obama's mouth turned upwards in a wry smile, the young Italian would make a useful ally in battle. The rest debated for alternatives, some arguing logically whilst others merely masking their fears as practicalities. However by the next morning the stage was set. The large, black helicopters swooped down upon the wide, vacant roads surrounding the Kremlin. The vote had been 4-3 in favour of going to war with Russia's fearsome leader, Vladimir. Obama stepped out of the aircraft dressed head to toe in black body armour wielding a long, sharp spear with the USA flag hanging from its handle. The 3 brave souls who chose to fight alongside him stepped out of their respective choppers. David Cameron in full metal armour and a broad sword. Matteo Renzi the PM of Italy disembarked the helicopter wearing immaculate steel armour with a golden cross fused into the chest, with a matching shield and longsword blessed by the pope himself, for this very occasion. Finally the prime minister of Japan, Shinzō Abe who was shirtless with loose shorts and dual wielded katana blades. They stood assembled by the entrance of this multi-coloured landmark as low rumbles could be heard. The figure emerged from the shadows to their right, he wore colossally sized steel armour, which was completely covered in large metal spikes. Either fist had one large spike coming out of it and in his grasp was a mace in one hand and an axe in the other. As President Putin began to laugh maniacally and the deluge of rain began to saturate the scene, Obama shifted into battle position and the world watched in terrible silence as World War 3 was about to commence.