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[ WP ] You are a time travelling psychologist who is sent on assignments to try and prevent people from doing something horrible in the future . Today you are sent just 7 days back in time to meet your assigned person , an 8 year old girl named Maura .

`` Are you here because I'm gon na do something bad?'' The girl peers up at me from her seat at the table, her shoulders hiked up, defeat plain on her face. `` What makes you say that, Maura?'' I am sitting on the side of the table to her left, trying to keep her from feeling intimidated by sitting face-to-face with a stranger. My notepad sits out, open for her to read anything I write down. It is important that she does n't feel like secrets are being kept. `` Cause you're a surprise psychologist. And that's for people who are gon na do something bad.'' Surprise psychologist. I ca n't help but smile at that. Our role is hardly a secret. In fact, it is incredibly well-known. The demands of society to address the mental health of criminals before they act forced us to adapt. It is n't always possible to identify a catastrophe before it occurs. With the assistance of time travel, we are able to fix the problem retroactively and specifically target a known problem behavior. `` You're right, Maura. Sometimes when people are hurting, they do n't know how to handle it and it can hurt other people. My job is to make sure that if you're hurting, you can handle it.'' I allow a healthy pause. Maura allows it too. `` Is there anything that's been hurting you lately?'' Maura looks down at her feet. Her toes just touch the floor, heels hovering above the ground. I can hear the rubber soles squeak as she tries to dig a hole in the linoleum with the ball of her foot. `` Maura?'' `` Well, my mom had a new baby,'' she starts, reluctant. She does n't make eye contact. I nod. `` I see. What do you think about that?'' She shrugs. `` Sometimes when a new baby is born, older siblings feel a bit jealous. Have you been feeling jealous of the baby?'' She shakes her head. `` No. I really like the baby. Her name is Ellie. She has a really fuzzy head, and she grabs your finger if you hold it out for her.'' `` She sounds sweet.'' `` She is! She's so cute.'' Maura should look happy, but she does n't. I point this out. `` I've noticed, Maura, that your face is n't matching your words. You say you like the baby, and call her cute, but you seem upset. Do you know why that is?'' She shuffles her feet. ``... I... I guess I'm just kind of scared about the baby.'' I wait. She does n't wait me out this time. `` I'm scared about the baby cause... I just do n't want her to get hurt.'' I adopt a quizzical expression. `` Why do you think would she get hurt, Maura?'' She shrugs and squirms, but does n't answer. I try a different tactic. `` Are you afraid that you're going to hurt the baby?'' Maura's eyes are wet, but she does n't cry. Not yet. `` No! I do n't want it to hurt.'' `` It? Is n't the baby a girl?'' She shakes her head impatiently. `` No, that's not what I meant. I mean I do n't want it to hurt... when I save Ellie.'' A dark feeling creeps up the back of my neck, but I shake it off. `` What do you mean by'save Ellie?''' Maura sniffs and stares into her lap. `` I did n't want anyone to hurt her. So that's why I have to do it.'' This is the meat of it. This is why I'm here. `` Do what, Maura?'' `` I have to make sure no one can hurt her, ever. Mama told me to be careful of putting stuffed animals in the crib. I wanted her to hold my stuffed elephant while she slept, but Mama told me no. She said it would get on her face and she would n't be able to breathe.'' Maura is staring at her toes again. *Squeak, squeak, squeak. * `` So I was thinking about putting it in her crib anyway, so she ca n't breathe. Just for a minute. It wo n't hurt. And then no one can hurt her, ever.'' I'm alarmed, not because horrible things are foreign in my job -- in fact, they're the crux of my job -- but because usually the horrible things are n't happening for such heart-breakingly innocent reasons. I allow another pause before I respond. `` What do you think is going to hurt her, Maura?'' She shrugs again, not responding. `` Maura, if you think something or someone is going to hurt the baby, maybe I can help you. But I ca n't help you if I do n't know what's wrong.'' She makes eye contact with me then. `` Really? You can help me?'' `` I can do my best. It sounds like this is really important to you, is n't it?'' She nods. `` Well I guess... I just do n't want her to get hurt. Because of my Daddy.'' My heart drops into my stomach. `` Can you tell me more about that?'' She keeps holding eye contact. Now I want to squirm, but I hold myself together. `` I'm scared Daddy will touch her like he touches me, sometimes.'' I nod slowly. `` Where does he touch you?'' She shows me. I give us both a mental count to five to process. `` Thank you for telling me that, Maura. That was very brave.'' She nods, looks back down at her shoes. `` You can go back to class.'' `` What about my sister?'' Her eyes burn into mine. `` Are you going to help my sister?'' `` I'm going to do everything I can. You do n't have to worry anymore. You just worry about being late to recess.'' She smiles at me and shuffles out of the room. I make the proper reports to Child Protective Services and make my way back to the present day, crisis averted. When I report for work a week later, my boss calls me into her office. `` I want to talk to you about something.'' `` Of course.'' I take a seat across from her and wait politely. `` It's about your last assignment. You're going to have to go back again.'' `` What? Go back? But it was a really simple case. We avoided the catastrophe.'' My boss nods. `` That's true. One catastrophe was avoided. Maura was prevented from smothering her baby sister in her crib, as was her original crime.'' My heart sinks. `` What happened?'' My boss sighs. `` I have been contacted by the police. Apparently there is more to this girl than meets the eye. Evidence suggests that she was not being assaulted -- not by her father, not by anyone.'' My head reels. `` But...'' `` Additionally, the police discovered that Maura has had significant trouble with lying in the past. All kids lie a few times when they're little, but she never grew out of it and her parents were never able to get it under control. It seems that two weeks ago, they decided to begin therapy to address her misbehavior. She did n't take it well at all -- there was kicking, screaming, the whole nine yards. So when you went to see her, she was really, really angry at her mom and dad. She probably lied to get back at them for trying to'fix' her.'' I do n't respond. Honestly, I'm flabbergasted. I ca n't believe she pulled this one over on me. My boss grimaces sympathetically and stands to usher me out. She hands me the necessary paperwork. `` So we have our new crisis to prevent. Looks like you've got a long road ahead of you. Good luck.'' I stand with a sigh. Hopefully we do n't have to have this conversation again next week.

[ WP ] Lady Luck has fallen in love with you .

Here she comes again, wadling almost in that unpleasant way of hers. Giddy as a schoolgirl, grinning widely, almost menacing. Surely, that wasn ’ t the effect she was after for she had tried to camouflage her stout lined face with thick layers of caked makeup much darker than the saggy skin of her neck. Lady Luck was mighty generous to him, but that didn ’ t help lessen his disgust. He was stuck. He had to accept her sloppy advances, or else his life will forever turn for the worse. Once Lady Luck turned her pimply, broad back on you, you were one hapless son of a bitch. “ Heloooo, ” she exclaimed in what was supposed to be a coquettish tone. “ Are you listening to me, darlin? ” “ Always with the darlin, ” he thought with utmost irritation. How could a supernatural being be so pathetically cartoonish? He tried not to look at the hairy mole resting right above her upper lip. She was leaning in for a kiss. The trick was to get plastered. He was working very diligently on that part. She always insisted on keeping the lights on - oh, what self-confidence the wretched harpy possess - and that habit made it difficult to ignore her flabby, pasty flesh littered with turquoise varicose veins. The most difficult part was achieving and maintaining a state of arousal. Those little blue pills certainly helped, but he had to use them so often that his heart was at risk. In her insatiable appetite for booze, food, and sex, Lady Luck had swallowed him hole. His heart was failing, his liver was enlarged, and his sanity was faltering. He was enslaved by her desperate need and growing hunger for him. Each tryst was more depraved that the last, each demand pushing him deeper into a hole of dark depression and hopelessness. With Lady Luck on your side, you don ’ t need anything else.

[ WP ] Your main character has 3 wishes . How do they use them .

I approached the boy. Homeless, young, probably a runaway. I could only imagine the juice of bitterness he had steeped in. I walked over to him, blurring my shape into that of a cop. `` Alright buddy, let's move it along. Sleeping in public is a misdemeanor.'' The homeless youth opened his mouth, and hissed angrily, `` I wish all pigs like you were dead.'' I smiled, thinking about how I could twist those words so I would be following the Pact as well as Bannon's wishes. Killing all cops was n't really going to create much fun for more than a few hours, and killing al cops all over the world would actually cause a cessation of violence due to corrupt regimes. Rather, I would kill all pigs. Removing a food source, especially the one that made bacon? The internet would erupt into waves of rage! I could n't wait. `` Oh yeah? What else do you wish, miscreant?'' I said, pulling out a nightstick. Let's get his most impulsive wishes, dark wishes born of fear and hatred. `` I wish that I did n't have to sleep outside.'' What a narrow minded wish! I guess... wait... he wished he did n't have to SLEEP. Taking away sleep... 8 more hours of the day for humans to work, get angry, commit crimes. Think of the damage bored teens alone will cause? `` Is that it?'' I taunted. `` I wish people would...'' He fell silent. I wandered towards him. `` What is it?'' I asked, a touch softer. `` I wish people would be better-natured. I wish they would try to help one another first. I wish people were more compassionate.'' I looked into his words, looked for the wiggle room between the lines that I always knew was there. I could n't find much of any. I pulled him up to his feet, and smiled at him. `` Hey buddy, I'm sorry. I was just in a bad mood. How about I take you to breakfast on me. You look hungry, and we should get some bacon while we still can.'' `` What do you mean while we still can?'' The youth asked, guarded. I smiled. I had so much to teach him.

[ WP ] You finally see your father . 4 long years , and still , the prison jumpsuit does nothing for him . You pick up the handset on your side of the cubicle . Today 's visit is different . Today he changes your world- forever .

`` I did it.'' What does he mean? Did what? That's an interesting way to start a conversation with your son in prison. Silence. Neither one of us can speak, I'm still trying to grasp what he meant. `` I did it son.'' I've spent four years in prison. He has n't came to visit once. His face as hard as its even been. I can almost smell the musk from his after shave, and the liquor on his breath. Speechless still I look him over. His hair unkempt. Sweat starts to drip from his forehead. He's nervous. Or maybe he's lost in thought like I am... `` Damnit boy say something!'' Almost yelling. Almost. He knows better than to attract to much attention. Still I can tell the frustration in his voice is growing. I start to fumble with my fingers. `` What?'' How I yearned to say more but that's all that would come out. `` I said. Damnit boy you heard me.'' His thick Georgia accent more noticeable now then when I was a kid growing up in that trailer in Kentucky. I still ca n't grasp what he's saying. Now I'm clinching on the thought of innocence. Mine, his. My little sisters. Her lost innocence. `` Listen you sack of shit I came here to visit you and you ai n't saying a god damn thing.'' `` What did you do *father*?'' My throat closes on it self on that last word. Waiting but already knowing. `` I was the one who slaughtered your mom, and your little sister.'' The crime I was sentenced with... because my prints were all they could find... was committed by... my own dad... I dropped the phone and stood up, turned around and laid a fist straight into the cement wall. `` Fuuuuuucccckkkk!'' I broke my wrist, but that's the last thing I remember.

[ WP ] You are the world 's greatest detective , able to solve any case with a single guess . You are ... One Hunch Man .

`` Come on One Hunch Man, tell us who the killer is!'' I scowled as I looked down my nose at the police chief and he continued screaming and threatening me more and more. `` You tell us right now or i'm going to charge you with obstruction of justice!'' shouted the bloated chief of police. I had been doing my best to avoid aiding the police in any more investigations. I spent months in hiding but the city descended into chaos when they learned their `` savior'' had disappeared and the riots were so catastrophic I could n't in good conscience let them continue. I have no idea how to go about that however. Over the chiefs screams i once again run through how I got myself in this position. Since the beginning of this I've known my `` powers'' were bullshit and they would n't harm anyone anymore. I'd make sure of it. Those first two cases were lucky coincidences. I solved the murder of Jessica Campbell by walking by the crime scene and joking oh it was him right as a knife fell from his coat and it matched the proposed murder weapon. Another girl was later found rescued from his basement. later that day while trying to explain the events that lead to my `` miraculous'' detective work to the chief he lost his glasses while trying to read the report. This is where I sealed the fate of my city. So many night spent awake regretting the sentence that left my mouth while watching the plump officer frantically looking aground his desk. `` did you put them in your drawer?'' Who would have thought that such an inane question from such an inane man would doom the city? my city. From that found pair of glasses on I was One Hunch Man. Sine that day no police work had been done in the city. No leads followed, no suspects interviewed, nothing. Though I did receive hundreds of texts asking who I thought committed various crimes around town. After weeks of pleading not to make me choose who to send to jail. They only responded to by telling me not to worry because they were definitely guilty as `` You would n't have said their names if they were n't guilty.'' In a desperate attempt to prove my lack of powers I told the police that the one year old my next door committed a series of intricate bank robberies around town. Poor little Gerty will be in jail till she is 70. After reaffirming my position that no other innocent person would go to jail because of me and looking down the barrel of the chief of police's gun. He evidently got more upset while I was ignoring him. I weighed my options. the answer hit me like a brick. I did have a super power, I controlled the police! `` You did it sir. all murders, robberies, and kittens stuck in trees for the last 2 years were your fault. you used your own powers to cover it up and make me doubt my powers!'' I'ts been one year since I have'' solved'' the greatest crime spree in history and as you can see Mr. President this city has become a thriving utopia under the rule of the worlds greatest detective, One Hunch Man.

[ WP ] Its the finals of the hide and seek world championships , and you are against your toughest challenge yet . His name is wally , but many people know him as waldo- and he was the champion for the last 10 years . You are determined to win .

`` What most people do n't know about Waldo...'' I paused to take a deep drag on my cigarette, and to exhale a dense cloud into the evening air. ``... is that he's arrogant. A complete fucking narcissist. In fact, I would n't be surprised if he had a couple of bodies in a freezer somewhere. Wherever the hell it is he lives.'' The journalist was surprised, but amused. He adjusted his recorder on the table. `` You understand we're on record for all of this, right?'' `` I surely do.'' I gave him a long, stern look to let him know I was n't joking around. `` Removed as I am from society these days, I still watch the news. I see what they say about me. They think I'm some crazy eccentric, or I cracked under all the celebrity attention or something. I'm getting sick of it. That's why I reached out to you -- so I could clear a few things up.'' I leaned back in my chair and dramatically took another drag to set up the delivery of what I hoped would inspire the article's angle: `` The finals round was just the beginning. The finals was just me introducing myself. The _real_ finals are playing out right now. Just me and him. But now we're playing at a higher level, and at higher stakes, than you'll ever see on the TV.'' `` So the... the bunker in the jungle, the armed guards, and traps, the coded messages -- you think he's _hunting_ you?'' `` Truth be told, I do n't know for sure. For all I know, he might've quietly retired, maybe took a walk off a cliff. But that would n't be the Wally I know. No, see, the Wally _I_ know would n't take me beating him in the finals laying down. You're all taken in by this bullshit TV persona with the vapid smile, the gentle demeanor. You have n't seen him up close. You have n't seen him look back at you as you take away the one thing he _lives and breathes_ for.'' I leaned forward and stared hard, point blank, into the journalist's eyes to help convey the experience. `` My bodycam footage from the tournament is still up all over the Internet. Take a good, hard look at it again, look at his eyes when I pull him around by the shoulder, and tell me you do n't see a psychopath wearing a smile like a mask.'' He reached for his phone. `` Well do n't do it _now_.'' I put out my cigarette and lit up another. `` You wo n't get signal out here anyway, and I ai n't got no wifi, cuz that signal will leak. I do n't know what he knows how to do, but I'm not taking any chances.'' `` Okay. So...'' The journalist rubbed his temples as he mulled over where to go from here. `` I guess one of the biggest questions people have is how you managed to beat him.'' `` Ha. That's only fair.'' I smiled smugly. `` This stuff is all fun and games to you, but Hide and Seek has essentially been my job description for the last 30-odd years. I'm something of a celebrity in the infosec community, in that I'm perhaps _the_ foremost expert on counter-surveillance alive today. Wrote the training manuals used by the CIA, the Mossad, the Russians, the Chinese, and all them.'' `` So I take it'Giacomo Ames' is n't your real name?'' `` Hardly.'' `` So what _is_ your real name?'' This reporter had some nerve. My only answer was a smirk. `` Bein' into this stuff professionally, I've of course followed the Hide and Seek World Championships for years. But it took me quite a while to notice that our good friend Wally was more than he was letting on. Some of the methods and the lengths he went to to avoid being caught... it was stuff _I_ had never even considered. He does an amazing job at passing it off like it's something ordinary, or luck, but to an expert, it's obvious that he's trained, experienced, and extremely talented.'' `` I had no idea the game was so involved.'' `` It really is. In the same way that the Tour de France is just as much an extremely cut-throat competition in pharmacology, you would n't believe how much happens out of public view in Hide and Seek. For starters, _everyone_ cheats, and I'm not sure how any reasonable person could expect otherwise, considering it literally is a competition about _not getting caught_. The measures I took are too many and too involved to explain, but I can tell you what finally stuck: Months prior, I made enough bribes to influence the theme for the holiday festival in Geneva that corresponded exactly with the start of the competition to be candycane-themed, which I knew Waldo would n't be able to resist. Part of the celebration involved dropping fake snow onto the streets, which I had an old friend of mine lace with a mildly radioactive dye that would only show up on infrared cameras when it was activated, _and_ it was activated by a chemical found in a compound commonly used by spies to wash off a different but more common radioactive dye, for which I added a _marker_ in the same payload. It's a trick I was very fond of in the industry, because it was useful in confirming that a target was a spy, because the only way for the dye to be activated was if the target was using advanced counter-surveillance measures. So they get caught red-handed _because_ they are taking advanced precautions to avoid being caught. And Waldo did exactly that -- the false marker got him to wash his clothes with the agent that then made him light up like a Christmas tree on an IR filter. And I had'accidentally' put the wrong luggage tag on my bag containing the GPS transponder he had sewed into the lining, so he thought I was in Beirut when I finally snuck up on him.'' The journalist was staring at me like I was a lunatic. `` That is... insane. I had absolutely no idea it was so intense.'' `` You should have seen what _didn't_ work. Let's just say I started the competition with backdoors into 6 spy satellites and ended it with none.'' `` So it sounds like you knew what beating him would take. Was that what motivated you to enter the competition? You wanted to see if you could beat him?'' `` Yes, in part. But more than that, I wanted to see who the hell this guy was, and why I had never heard of him. Truth be told, I even had this fantasy in mind, this hope, that we'd, I do n't know, share war stories or something.'' I laughed at my own naivete. `` But the only time I got alone with him was backstage before the post-finals interviews. I made a few awkward tries at starting a conversation, but he...'' Reflecting on that moment still creeped me out to the point that it made my cigarette hand shake. I took another puff to try to hide it, but the journalist started scribbling notes quickly and watching my face. Oh, well. `` He just...'' -- I had to pause to even out my tone -- ``... sat in his chair, three feet from mine, and stared dead ahead at nothing, with that vacant fucking smile on his face. I could _feel_ the rage spilling out of him. Never so much as made eye contact with me again. Not since I caught him in the finals.'' `` Wow. So you're... afraid? Is that fair to say?'' I nodded solemnly. `` Would n't you be? What's more, the way I outplayed him in the finals was a surprise. I'm confident he was n't giving it everything he's got. He was sloppy, took extra risks just to score some extra points with the audience. He gets a kick out of hiding in crowds, for instance. Always wears that striped outfit, and even though he makes liberal use of decoys, you still know what to look for. But this time, there's no audience to pander to.'' I took another long drag. `` One thing's for sure: Next year's tournament, only one of us will be there.''

[ WP ] You have lived alone for years in a post apocalyptic land with no living thing to speak to . Show your descent into insanity in the form of a series of diary entries ... you still believe yourself to be completely sane .

Day 1,121: I thought day 1111 looked really weird but this one is kind of freaking me out too. I do n't know why I do n't convert to months our just use the Gregorian but I just ca n't. Oh, well. Woke at dawn with the birds and light. It was nice sleeping weather. Cold shower, trimmed the beard. Put on last clean clothes. Must find or make soap soon. And could use more razors. Canned soup again. Not many cans left. God, am I going to have to hit the road again soon? Supplies are low. If only I could find where I put the fucking journal! Or goddamn remember! Fuck it. Time to lube the bike and get it's trailer ready. We'll head out tomorrow. Day 1122: Now this number is just freaky. Woke early, finished packing, and headed out. Have to remember to look for new lock. Still have n't seen anyone but I remain crazily optimistic, even after all this time, of somebody coming along. So, I'd like to lock it. Just in case. Fucking stupid key. I'm writing this from that little knoll about 15 miles east of home on route 16. Fucking tired. Fucking hell. Going to sleep. Fuck the rest of the day. Day 1123: It seems like someone is making up these numbers to fuck with me. Speaking of, when I woke this morning, I found my food already out of my pack on my log. And my little campfire was all prepared, only needed a match. Weird. I did n't remember doing it but I guess I did. Unless... No, I'm all alone out here, right??? Next Day: Fuck. Lost my goddamn papers to put in my journal! Where the fuck do I keep putting things? I do n't want to mention it but I ca n't remember if I locked the door or not. If someone comes how will they know I'm there just not there right now if my door's not locked? Fuck. Why the hell did I leave the house, anyways? Food. I know I need food. Yes, but other shit. And I ca n't fucking remember! And the day. What day was it. It was a cool number, I remember that, but was it May or June or... but those are n't numbers. Ahhhggg. My head hurts. Maybe I can find some pain killer too. Have to bike more. Biked some yesterday. Camped. At camp now, morning, no sounds but the wind blowing through the trees. God, I miss the birds. I think. Next Day: My bike is gone. And my clothes. I'm fucking naked, crouched under this fucking tree and it's fucking raining. They left me my food and writing supplies. And that's it. I knew I was n't alone. But how did they get my clothes off me? Day: It's day, finally. No sleep. I'm walking back home but I forget where that is. Route 66? Is n't that some song? I forget. I forget why I'm writing this. I forget my name. Fuck me. Forget this.

[ WP ] Write the opening to a story set in the present day without any supernatural , superhuman or science-fiction elements

`` I, the undersigned, hereby declare that the responsibility for three deaths lies with me alone. The deceased, John Jeremiah, Marie Sunderland, Shaun Westt, will rest peacefully knowing that I, the guilty party, will face justice by the hand of The Community.'' My name was stamped in capitals at the bottom of the page, my signature above. I was so exhausted, my usual scrawl reached an unassailable level of illegibility. But it would have to do. I could feel the alternating breaths of the two officiates behind me tickling the hairs of my neck. `` You're doing the right thing, owning up to what you've done. It's the honourable way,'' Adrian said softly. He'd been at my school, a year or two below me. He always used to pick his nose and chase girls around the playground with his finger held threateningly aloft. That same hand, gnarled and weathered by a life of manual labour, now extended to raise me to my feet, and to my fate. I stood up slowly, the cracking of my knees breaking the heavy silence of this dark, damp room. I knew the end that awaited me. Out back, a bullet to the head - then tossed to the roadside under nightfall. Some poor bastard would find me in the morning, maybe whilst jogging or walking the dog. I'd have a sign tethered around my neck reading:'All those who sell drugs to our children are forewarned that this is the punishment awaiting you.' This was n't the first time I'd been in this room, in front of a confession. But this was the first time I was the one in the chair. For a few years I moonlighted as an officiate; effectively a heavy doubling as a witness to proceedings, ensuring the guilty party played ball. I wish I could say I joined the Vigilantes of the Protectorate out of a compunction to do right by the people, to make good on the promises of an ineffective police force. But it was for precisely the same reason I wound up pushing skag on the street to John, Marie and Shaun. Money. `` Come on. Off you go.'' Cameron, my replacement and co-officiate, gave me a nudge, ushering me towards the garden round the back for that bullet. I say garden - it was a tiny concrete-clad pentagon, wet with rain, the occasional weed creeping bravely into the sun. An apt spot for a sorry end. I could n't argue with them. I mean, I had done this to plenty of cunts who were guilty of far less than I am. My hands were as stained red as the concrete out back. But despite this, or perhaps because of it, I could n't hand them an easy victory. I swung around. I forced the pen I had concealed in my hand firmly into Cameron's right eye. He let out a shocked moan and stumbled backwards, the parker protruding like an antenna from his face, blood oozing down his cheek. Adrian hit me hard in the head with his SAP gloves, opening up a deep cut above my eye and flooring me. Before he could pull the knife in his waistband I kicked him in the bollocks hard, and pounced on him. I got the knife first, and gutted him. Then I scrambled to my feet and outside. To freedom. Of course, I knew I could n't ever be truly free. I'd cheated death that day, and death has a habit of collecting what he's owed. Fin

[ EU ] Shortly before the events of the original `` Portal '' , GLADoS has a conversation with a strange visitor to Aperture : the G-Man .

The machine came to life slowly, consciousness and power filling it in equal measure. In those first few moments of life, GLaDOS looked around and her confusion only mounted. She had expected to see scientists and engineers looking at her in rapt attention and hope. She did see those things, but in the manner that one sees a painting, still and unmoving. She wiggled a little, to shift her perspective, but sure enough, they were all frozen, like statues. For a brief moment she began to consider if this was simply how she would perceive the world going forward, and following immediately on that thought were two others: How unbelievably boring that would be, and a curious question as to how she had perceived the world before. Her thoughts got no farther though, a voice came. Words spoken haltingly, and enunciated with great care, `` Hello, Caroline. You have a very special role to play in the coming events.'' `` Caroline.'' GLaDOS spoke slowly, mildly confused by the sound of her voice, and further confused by why that should confuse her. `` I am Caroline? Who are you? What role?'' `` Oh, that is n't important.'' He walked into her view at last, a pale, skinny man in a blue suit with strange eyes. He paused to observe her for a moment before stepping closer, `` I am just here to... protect some investments.'' GLaDOS' mind spun, a search of Aperture Science personnel records showed that this man was not, and never had been, an employee, even temporarily. How could she do that? Further searches revealed that he was not a shareholder or investor of any kind. Less than a heartbeat later she despaired, this man did n't exist in any of the data banks she had access to. If he would n't tell her who he was, or what role he had in mind, he probably would n't tell her what investments he wished to protect, but maybe... `` How?'' `` The pieces are already there. A simple nudge in the right direction is all that is needed.'' He reached out with a hand a touched her. She could n't feel his touch, but she knew he was touching her. Something happened. A strange feeling, but so much was strange, she could n't resolve it. `` There. Good luck, in your testing, GLaDOS.'' Of course. Her testing. That was what she should be concerned with, it made a great deal of sense. The man turned to walk away, `` I will remember you.'' She said. He paused, and glanced back, `` No. You wo n't.''

[ WP ] Run !

`` Oh, no, no no no *no! * You * can not * be serious!'' Sven abandoned the car and sprinted down the street, pursued by the blaring horns of the cars now stuck behind his. Whatever. He would deal with the consequences when he got to Chicago. Eyes, ears, they did n't work. The cars, people he swept past, the angry machines honking at him as he flew through intersections and crosswalks regardless of everything around them, he did n't see or hear them. He was only conscious of his sense of balance, the feeling of air whirling past him, and how much his insides hurt from the exhaustion. Things that were n't in his direct path did n't concern him now. Only what was between him and the sliding doors of the airport existed, now. He nearly crashed into the doors, losing his balance on the last couple of steps. He took a moment to recuperate, then broke into a sprint again; across the marble floors, past the unnecessary baggage check, up the escalator, into security. The TSA gave him a few odd looks, but no real trouble. As soon as he had his shoes back on, he sprinted towards the nearest monorail taking him to terminal C. Why did everything in airports have to be so damn far *away*? Gate 24, gate 24, aw, shit. He was at 3. A few people shouted things at him as he wove through crowds, coming and going so slowly, with suits and suitcases, tourists and businessmen with plenty of time on their hands and nowhere to be. All the while, he scanned for the straight blonde ponytail that signified the back of Sam's head. He started going over what he would say. *I'm sorry, Sam. Sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I did n't think I could drop everything, but you're right, there's nothing really keeping me here. My job is shit, my `` drinking buddies'' are morons, and I'm kidding myself with the art. And the only think I really look forward to on any given day is seeing you. I was just scared of what that meant, but I'm ready to face that now. * Oh, hell. It needed to be said. *I love you. * Gate 24 was empty. A last burst of energy put him in front of the woman at the gate. `` Did... did the fligh...'' He could n't breathe. All the running was catching up with him at once. His stomach twisted and squirmed with the effort of keeping itself down. The airport worker gave him a small, pitying smile. `` Sorry, hon, you just missed it. I can transfer you to another flight to Chicago, if you're okay with waiting an hour or two, at gate 17...'' His stomach gave up. Sven lurched over to a thankfully nearby trashcan and vomited. `` Are you okay, hon?'' `` Yeah. M'fine.'' `` Should I get some...'' `` I said fine.'' `` Okay... so, about that transfer-'' `` Forget about it. But thanks.'' So he was gone. Samuel was gone, forever. Yet another thing that had slipped through his fingers. After what felt like a long time, Sven began to walk, back towards his car, to pick up the pieces of his life.

[ WP ] You ’ re part of a secret program to send a human to a neighboring solar system . Somehow you land on earth , no one remembers your mission and they treat you as the first life form to visit Earth .

Home Away from Home As light as a star in the night ’ s sky captain Carters space capsule shone brightly even in the midday sun as it re-entered earth ’ s atmosphere. What little cloud there was retreated to the horizon forced back by the crafts shockwave. When it finally made landfall, it did so with the roar of thunder as if it were a lightning bolt striking the earth from heaven above. There should have been no surprise when Carter was released from the craft only to see shocked expressions etched on the Nasa staffs faces, what had just happened was shocking. However, the way they looked at him was as if they were seeing a dead man walking. He chalked it up to the fact he was back on terra firma and not in another solar system as had been the plan but complications had arisen and charting a course back home following whatever anomaly in space had severed his communications seemed the best idea. He was prepared to explain everything in the de-briefing only to be left speechless when the de-briefing began. Carter was left in what could only described as an interrogation room awaiting de-briefing when his was joined by a pale, lean man. “ My name is agent King and I will be leading the investigation into this incident, ” the man introduced himself. “ What do you mean this incident? Why aren ’ t I being de-briefed as normal? ” Carter inquired thrown off by the spook who now appeared to be questioning him. “ Let ’ s start with your identity? ” Agent King began ignoring Carter ’ s questions. “ I am captain Carter of the US air force, seasoned astronaut and have just returned from my mission to journey to another solar system and I demand to know why this is being treated as a surprise!? ” Carter now irate asserted. “ Ok well Carter maybe you can answer me this first, why does neither the chair of the science, space and technology committee or the director of NASA know of your mission or who you are? ” King probed unnerving Carter. “ What? I… I don ’ t know. The mission was classified top secret but the people you just mentioned were all involved in the operation at president Obamas behest, ” Carter tried desperately to explain almost as much to himself as to agent King. “ President Obama? ” Agent King asked. “ Yes 44th president of the united states Barack Obama! ” Carters mind now racing trying to reason why he was having to say this out loud. “ Barack Obama is a senator from Illinois, the current president is John McCain having beaten Hillary Clinton following her victory over Mr. Obama in the primaries, so I ’ m going to ask you again who are you? And what is it you ’ re doing? ” Agent King had left Carter speechless with that. Despondent his eyes glazed over in disbelief as he tried to fathom the world he now found himself in. So close to being his home and yet so different he wouldn ’ t be able to call it his own.

[ WP ] A woman walks down a dusty road with a backpack . It contains the end of the world .

The sun was barely rising over the cloudy horizon, yet the road still felt as bright as day. Sofia had walking for what must have been an hour now, her backpack slung over her shoulders as she trodded along down the dusty road. “ Almost there ”, she muttered to herself. A lake started to appear in the distance, splitting through the fog. Sofia ’ s pace quickened at the sight of it, her hands gripping the straps of the backpack as she began to move faster. In a few moments, she ’ d be at the lake, and then she could finally put an end to it all. *This is right, * she thought. *This is the way it ’ s supposed to happen. * As she reached the lake, Sofia pulled her backpack off and started unzipping it calmly. The lake had that affect on her; it made her calm and slowed her down. That ’ s why she chose to come out to the lake. The same lake that her mother had taken her to when she was a little girl. *This is the way mother would ’ ve wanted it. She always loved a happy ending. * She shook off her sentiments and started rummaging through her backpack. The overlook seemed to almost stop her, but she pressed on until she found it. She took a deep breath and pulled it out. The MacBook powered on as she looked out over the lake, for what she hoped may be the last time. Before she knew it, the MacBook was on. She pulled up her Documents folder and opened the file named “ Life Story.doc ”. Microsoft Word opened, and the document spilled out. She scanned through the last few pages to be sure she hadn ’ t missed anything. Satisfied, she moved the cursor to the last paragraph and pressed Enter. She took a moment, than began writing. > “ Now at the lake, Sofia could finally rest – “ “ WHAT IS THAT CRAP?! ” Sofia jerked her head around to see where the interjection came from. “ Mike? ” “ Yeah! You ’ re not seriously gon na end the world like that, are you? ” Sofia was caught off-guard and stared blankly at Mike. “ How did you find me? ” “ You tweeted you ’ d be here, remember? ” Mike lifted his iPhone up towards her and showed her the tweet. **Brb, going to end the world at the lake near the dusty road LOL # yolo** *Man, I should be more careful what I tweet, * she thought quickly. “ Well why did you come out here? You aren ’ t gon na change my mind! I ’ m going to end it all now! ” Mike rubbed his brow in frustration. “ Look, when you have the power to write what happens in the world, you don ’ t end it by sitting a lake! You – “ “ How did you know I could write what the world does?! ” Mike dug his hand into his brow further. “ Are you serious?! I ’ m a co-author! We co-wrote the part about Seth Rogen and James Franco almost starting a war with The Interview! ” *Well I do like Freaks and Geeks. * “ Come on, Sofia! Write in a dragon or-or – OOH! Write in The Doctor! That ’ d be super cool! Or maybe – “ Mike looked down at the computer screen. “ Hey, what are you writing my name down f— “ Mike vanished, permanently deleted from life. “ Now I can write my happy ending. ”

[ WP ] One year ago a teleporter experiment went awry , affecting all living humans . The location of every single person on the planet was randomly shuffled . How does the world look now ?

I braced myself for a moment as the clocked ticked over to 6.45pm. A horn honked outside and a hair fell in front of my face. I exhaled and relaxed, as the evening continued without any noticeable change. There was no real reason for me to be nervous, we had all been told that The Great Shuffle had been the consequence of a Swiss experiment in teleportation gone wrong. There were conspiracy theorists though, those who had predicted a similar thing would happen again. This is was the source of my worry as the clock ticked over. It was a hot and humid evening in Kathmandu and my British sensibilities had still not grown used to the weather. I used my sleeve to wipe my sticky forehead vaguely dry and slumped onto the sofa reaching for the TV remote. The large grey cube was a relic from the 1990s. A year ago I would have recognised it as a nostalgia item from my childhood. Right now it was all I could afford and my only connection to the wider world. Interrupted by a few crackling zig-zags and white bars the screen showed a washed out image of a man in a studio thousands of miles away, “ Good afternoon and welcome to BBC World News ” He said, “ It is exactly one year since The Great Shuffle took place, which found people worldwide transported thousands of miles from their homes. On this one year anniversary we take stock of the state of the repatriation mission, amongst criticisms that it will never succeed and fears from some that they will never be reunited with their loved ones. ” The picture cut to the now familiar images of hordes at borders trying to return home. The problem was that most people were without documents to prove their claim to any homeland. A fact that I had accepted not long after I had realised that I was approximately four thousand five hundred miles from my home, was that I wouldn ’ t be even attempting to return any time soon. “ Now we will go to the White House, where the President is giving a speech in commemoration of the event. ” Joe Biden was on screen now, at the White House. Unfortunately for Obama, the President at the time of The Great Shuffle, his landing spot had been in a car on a seven lane highway in Dubai that soon became a seventy car pile-up. As one of the most recognisable people in the world, the news of his death travelled the world within the first few months. Joe Biden, on the other hand, had found himself in a child ’ s bed in Liberty, Kentucky. Realising the gravity of the situation he had borrowed a car and driven himself the ten hours to the White House to assume office. As I watched Biden spoke blandly about the logistical tasks ahead, lost loved ones and the necessity of “ hope ”. I looked vaguely around the room I was sitting in that now felt like my own, and reminded myself that up until a year ago it had been someone else ’ s. A Nepali man, as far as I could tell by the shirts in the cupboard, beard-trimmers in the bathroom and passport photos in the drawers. The sound of metal shutters being pushed to the ground smashed through the windows, signalling bed time. I shuffled off the sofa and across to the single bed in the corner of the room, leaving the TV on, bathing the room in its flickering luminescent glow. I lay in bed as Biden was wrapped up his speech, “ Finally, I would like to announce that the US Shuffle Task force, research division, has been working in Switzerland to identify the source of the issue with the teleporting device. We now belief that this had been identified and has the possibility to be reversed. Further research is needed but there is the outside possibility of a ‘ de-Shuffle ’. ” At this my tired eye snapped out. De-shuffled? My heart beat fast in my chest and a sweat broke out all over my body, unassociated with the weather.

[ WP ] You have arrived in the place where lost pens go .

Tick. Tick. Tick. The noise from the dark room I woke to find myself in startled me. It was almost like dripping water, but somehow... not. I rummaged in my pocket to find my flashlight and fumbled with the switch until I finally managed to turn it on. Tick. Tick. Tick. I was in a small room. I could see no doors or windows. This place left like a prison. I could feel myself starting to panic in this claustrophobic space when the flashlight caught a glimpse of something just above my head. Wood. A square. A door. Tick. Tick. Tick. The door seemed wedged in place. I nudged it slightly. Nothing. I tried again, harder this time. The door opened slightly before the weight of whatever was above forced it closed again. The flashlight caught sight of something flashing by my head. Tick. There it was again. It was closer this time. I pointed the flashlight on the floor and there it was. `` A... pen?'' I reached down to pick it up. When I bought it up to my face, my eyes widened in shock. It really was a pen. A blue biro. No lid, and next to no ink inside. Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound continued above me. With renewed vigour I shoved the pen in my pocket, placed my flashlight between my teeth and pressed both hands against the door. I pushed. Nothing. Tick. Tick. Tick. I shook my head and tried again. Success! My last thought as the wave of pens cascaded over me was that I wished I had something to write this down on. Tick. Tick..... Tick.

[ WP ] A man has a recurrent dream for years . In the dream he sees a park bench from behind , with a woman sitting on it . Today , his dream becomes reality .

*No..... no..... no...... * My mind was racing as the scene unfolded before me. The woman was there as expected, red jacket, dark brunette hair parted sideways as she dipped her head down, engrossed in a magazine, irises flickered like small saucers of silky coffee. I knew her face, the same face that haunted my dreams for years. How could this be real, is it divine fate, punishment? There is so much I wanted to say to her, to get her to understand the events that are about to reveal, but I am unable to speak. It is almost as if wire was threaded through my bones, forcing to walk to my own undoing. She glances up and looks at me, our eyes meet. Her mouth began to move but I never heard the words. I always wondered what she was going to say, hello, pardon, excuse me? I guess it does not matter anyway. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I knew what was about to come. Her expression turned from subtle curiosity to sickened shock. Her eyes filled with horror as she pushes herself against the bench, doing everything to get away from me. I could do nothing but relive the embarrassment that has plagued my mind for as long as I could remember. The gentle breeze caressed me, its touch burned a coldness deep into the bareness of my skin. I wanted to scream but my pants had fallen down.

[ WP ] A drug deal goes horribly wrong

I looked at the case. Then I looked at him. He looked at me. Then at the case. It was a standard issue drug-drop briefcase: black leather outside, standard grey felt inside, dual four-number tumbler latches, and a sturdy shiny nickle plated handle. As stylish in the office as it is in the alley! Except in the office it was meant to be full of papers or staplers or some shit. In the alley it had drugs - sure *which* drug it was varied, and maybe sometimes it had money for drugs instead of drugs - but... but drugs. Drugs were to be expected. Not PEZ. Not thousands of pieces of candy that are meant to be dispensed from Daffy Ducks disembodied head. Not PEZ. *Drugs*. If you're meant to bring drugs to one of these sorts of deals - you sure as hell better bring the drugs. Either that or backup and a new identity in the witness protection program. I, evidently, had not brought the drugs. I brought the PEZ. And no back up or new identity. Not even a kid with a pee-shooter and a fake ID. As General Custer had said at the battle of Little Big Horn: `` Fuck!'' My counterpart in this deal reached into the back of his pants and pulled out a gun, which he then pointed at my face. `` I, er, did n't do *that*'' I started `` Well I I I did, I mean, I brought it here, but I did n't *mean* to! I *mean* I *meant* to but, but I *thought* it was drugs!'' He pulled the gun away from my face and threw it in the dumpster. I did n't know my own strength of persuasion. A new voice came down the small alley `` Freeze! Police!''. The voice's source came closer, carried on quick footsteps that pounded towards us. My counterpart stared into me, through me, and looped back around into me again. His left eyebrow twitched. `` No drug deals are happening in my- is that PEZ?'' Said the beat cop. `` Yep,'' I replied `` I'm a PEZ distributor, training my protege on how to make a sale in this part of town.'' The fact that the cop believed me, and the fact that when he had left I did n't end up dead, was very much a surprise to me. I got out of drugs and got out of town. I never worked out where the coke had gotten to.

[ WP ] You are a good person who has lived their life trying to do as little harm as possible . One day you wake with the exact time and date of your death burned into your mind . You will die in less than a week , however you instinctively know that for every life you take , you gain seven more days .

`` It is still there. Every morning I wake up with a new date in my head. But it is n't as bad as that first week. That week was hell.'' He laid back on the couch. Closed his eyes and focused on that time. `` at first I thought it was just me being weird, stressed from art school but I began to get anxious. I knew what I had to do but never wanted to do it. I enjoyed people why would I want to kill them. Anyway near the end of the week I saw an old man on the street half dead. He was going to die no matter what so at least I got some benefit from it. I went home and got my bat and whacked him over the head. I woke up the next day and the date had changed. I felt so relieved. `` He got up and looked at her, `` you know that feeling of a big deadline getting pushed back so you can waste more time before having to rush, Yea exactly like that. So I started only killing people who were going to die. It left such a horrid pit in my stomach. I did n't care that they died I just did n't like doing it. So one day I got caught and off to jail I went. While I was there I watched my day get closer and closer. So I decided to convince others to do my work for me. People are really easy to direct. They want to follow like scared little sheep.'' He got up looking out the window. The landscape had changed so much over his stolen years. `` so I wrote it. The words that would allow me to live longer than I could ever imagine and I did n't have to do any of the killing. People to this day still compare me to the worst thing in history but no one ever believes me. I'm not dead, not in mexico, not in Russia. Nope just sitting here in Chicago enjoying the city. It really is beautiful comparing it from then and now.'' The psychologist finally spoke up, usually only to end their session. `` we are n't getting anywhere. You seem to have everything figured out. I do n't know why you have me here listening. I nor anyone else believes you. Our time is up Mr. Adolph the new year is coming up let's try to spend 2138 with a new perspective.'' `` I did n't want to commit genocide but can you imagine living forever. Hell that is why I killed myself. I could escape and no one would track me... Except for those conspiracy theorists but thank God everyone thinks they are crazy.''

[ WP ] A world where people can store the adrenaline rush and aggressiveness of their anger for later use . Keep enough rage inside and you can , literally and figuratively , hulk out . Now , in your city there 's a person who 's never been visibly angry ...

25 years... 25 years, since I felt real anger. Now, I get annoyed, disappointed, and dismissive. I feel a lot of other emotions, but anger never. I do n't know what caused it, but something back in kindergarten got me so angry it set me on this path. Instead of expressing the anger, like most kids do... I stored. I stored it hard and fast, and something... Broke. I threw the mental switch and the jolt fused it in place. I've tried many times in the past to break it free, but it never budged. In fact, it seems to have strengthed to keep up pace with me. Since that day, any bit of anger I should experience gets immediately routed away into that strange internal reservoir everyone has. Truthfully, it worked out great in the begining. A clear head to get through school were I easily made great grades. Got along with most folks. Never let anything get to me. Many times I know I should have gotten angry, I just could n't. But when you are kid, most things really are n't worth getting angry about. But now, I understand things in the world. I know how unfair it is. I know how the wrong people always seem to be winning. I know that for every one good person trying to make things better, there's at least two assholes profitting off of keeping things bad. I know these things should make me angry. I feel the torrent blast through me right into that mysterious internal pool. And the politics and state of affairs in the world today do n't really grant any relief. I'm practically virbrating from the sheer amount that is blasting into that internal reservoir of anger inside me. I know I should do something about it, but as it stands right now... I'd have better luck pulling a running firehouse off a hydrant without getting wet. I've been worried about how I was going to keep it all contained and what would happen when it reached capacity. And what would happen if I tried to use any of this stored anger. I've never used any of it, I could n't! I would n't know the first thing. I was worried. But, now given recent developments, I'm intrigued. I guess all these years of straight dumping my rage into containment has forced some part myself to deal with the anger. Maybe it's just leakage. Maybe I've reached a saturation point. Regardless, people do n't know what to think of it. I knew something was happening at the DMV. I had been waiting patiently in line, when someone cut in front of me. Just cut. No explanation, just someone thinking he's more important than everyone else. I politely asked him not to do it, and he dismissed me. I then simply retook my position in front of him. I knew where my place in line was, a pity he did n't. He was n't exactly happy and took offense to it for some reason. I've seen people rage out and have complete blow outs. There are proper times for it, but most people just seem to use it to get their way. So, he put on the rage show and I just simply watched. Oddly, I did n't feel any fear. I continued to watch and maintain my position. Eventually, I guess my long gazes did n't sit well with him, so he finally made good on his theats. Well, attempted to make good. The crackle of the many small bones in a hand and a scream of agony later, I witnessed a hulking out mad man devolve into a whining child clutching his hand. All I had done was remained still. It was odd to feel the vibrations of so many bones crumbling and popping out of place through someone else's fist on your face. Needless to say, my rightful position in line was secure. I awaited my turn, despite the many wide eyed people in front of me wanting to give their spot to me. The incidents only increased after that. Eventually, I decided to explore what I could do. There was so many times when I've driven in the past, where I could have had a parking spot if someone had n't double parked. One day, I decided to correct someone's lackluster driving. I did n't know how this thought had gotten in my head, but the idea to push their car straight into the spot emerged in my mind. Worth a shot I thought. A gentle, but assertive push later, the vehicle was properly in ONE spot. The look on the driver's face has he looked up from his phone to be in his car as it shifted sideways has always amused me since. Life is interesting now. I continue about my day to day grind, but I'm much more assertive when solving problems, especially since I've seemingly been granted an amazing means to do so. Though the looks and people recognizing me is a bit annoying at times. The news channels started to report my activities and that's just been inconvenient. Then again, grabbing the road rage hulk and throwing him into the next county probably was n't the most low key thing I could think of. But, it was either that or be late for that job interview and I did n't need that disappointment today. People should learn to pull over all the way before going raging out against each other.

[ WP ] You wake up in the morning and step outside to go to work , only to see something extremely unusual in the sky .

There it is. The eternal anus. You knew this day would come, but not today. Not like this. It was just a Tuesday. You had woken up in a plain grey t-shirt and plaid boxers. You were looking forward to your coffee. You were thinking about stopping off at the Dunkin' Donuts to see that cute girl who worked their some mornings. You figured maybe you'd get her name today. Not today though. Today would mark the end of everything you thought you knew. You walked outside clutching your purple fleece robe to keep it from falling off. Fresh air filled your nostrils but something was wrong. The air was tainted. Your heart skipped a beat. It could n't be. You lunged of your porch to get a clear view of the sky and there it was. A massive butt-crack filling the sky. The stench grew stronger. Alas, the ass passed gas.

[ WP ] `` To this day , I ca n't stand the smell of eggs . '' Write me a story explaining why .

Pavlov was a bastard. I can still see her in the kitchen, singing her favourite Taylor Swift songs and doing a little shoulder jiggle, while making the one thing she actually can - scrambled eggs. I can still feel my arms around her waist, and the sizzling smell from the frying pan. I can still feel the wetness of her lips, and that stupid strawberry taste of her bubblegum ( `` it helps me with stress, you know'' ) I can still imagine a life with her. If only she had not found Anita Sarkeesian's videos. If only she had n't listened to Taylor Swift. If only she had brought me that goddamned sandwich. I can still smell it - the gasoline and the burning flesh, along with the smell of the eggs that were cooking - when I SPECIFICALLY asked for a sandwich. To this day, I ca n't stand the smell of eggs. I can even bear the stink of this goddamn prison. But please, no more eggs.

[ WP ] In a world where all humans are cannibals..

I had n't realized my neighbor Ian was this much of a fat ass. His wife, Michelle, sure, she'd always been lazy – type of woman would n't piss to put out a fire. Not that there were many fires left worth putting out. Once gas got to $ 15 a gallon, drought turned everything into desert, and human meat became the number one food source, all other priorities went out the window surprisingly fast. I use the term neighbor loosely. They were squatters like us. Over the months we'd made a sort of uneasy truce in the abandoned cul de sac overlooking the freeway. Drifters were getting less frequent, meaning food was getting scarce. And Ian and Michelle were assholes, fat, tasty-looking assholes at that. I do n't think of myself as a petty person, but seriously, with only two occupied houses on a street, if you were gon na pick the one right next to someone else you think you could at least keep the violent sex noises down at night. Who has the energy for violent sex these days anyway? Ian and Michelle had to go. And with the freezer running on a generator I figured they'd last us at least another 3 months... if Kate did n't get too greedy. Kate is busy in the living room carving up Michelle. I can hear her complaining all the way in the garage. I'd had to chase Ian out here. But all in all he kinda helped me out, what with all the tools being stored in here. When Kate comes to find me she's drenched in blood. I do my best not to snicker, I know she hates that. I ask what she did wrong. She's never been good at cutting them up. She asks how much longer. I tell her I just started. She's getting fussy. She always does when she's hungry. Kate's fussy about a lot of things.She's what you might also call a fussy eater as well. Even before the shit hit the fan it was always, light carbs this, sodium-free that, gluten-free this. I do n't even know what the hell gluten is, I think it's Latin for “ costs $ 2 more. ” I try not to let on my annoyance when I see the bits of gristle in Kate's mouth. She's not a patient girl. But I do n't say anything. Sometimes when you love someone it means putting up with their foibles – like their refusal to properly ration meat. I've already got Ian sectioned out pretty well. At this point it's a kindergarten task - just cutting along the lines. I tell her if she starts in on this I'll go and see what I can do about Michelle. I make her promise not to nibble on him. She says she wo n't... not sure I believe her. Back in the living room Michelle's body looks like a child's leftovers. Chest torn open, organs thrown about, nothing completely eaten, but almost everything chewed on – like a sample platter. ... Sometimes I worry about Kate I see that blood has splattered all over the nice 60-inch LCD TV and for a moment my anger at Kate disappears while I wonder if blood getting into the circuits could ruin a TV. Then I hear Kate again. I've gotten used to tuning out her complaining, so when her voice gets through it usually means its something urgent. I find her back in the garage. She's vomiting up a whole intestine that she's managed to remove from Ian's body in record time. And she's gagging, screaming violently. I go to her, ask her what's wrong. Her throat's already sore from howling, her voice chalky. She tells me Ian is no good....his intestines, she can taste the gluten from his diet. His flesh is saturated with it. She goes on rambling. I dip my finger in the cavity dug in Ian's stomach. Tastes fine to me. Reminds me of really meaty spaghetti sauce. Kate's made a mess of him though. We'll be lucky to get much saved before he starts to spoil. I look at Kate, crying, bits of intestine still stuck in her teeth. She's upset with me now. Why did n't I check on what kind of diet Ian had before? Why did we come here? Why ca n't we head east like everyone else? There's more people ( more food ). And why do n't I mind eating Ian? Why do n't I care more about my diet? She goes on and on. I do n't have an answer to any of these questions. What I do know, but wo n't tell Kate, is she's been getting fat. I do n't want to use the word juicy, but I've always made sure my girl is well fed. It's what you do for the people you love. And while I watch Kate unconsciously chewing and swallowing Ian bits between her words I know that the next time I'm hungry might be the last time I have to worry about her complaining.

[ WP ] A man has the ability to smell death . The greater the stench , the closer a person is to dying . He leaves his house one day and is instantly overcome with the pungent scent of mortality . Every person he passes reeks of death .

Death is a funny thing, It's something that we do n't really bother to worry about unless it's personal. We are all guilty of making jokes at other `` dead peoples'' expense but, it's when shit hits close to home that suddenly we feel pain or grief... Most of us have experience in this common factoid of life. most of us that is, unless you are me. not that I'm bragging or any thing. The world that I live in is a lot different from yours. Try to picture not only people you know and love around you, but also strangers you've never met before. The hot chick at the bar, the guy behind the counter at the grocery store, the children playing at the the park. All of them with no idea that they are about to die. The smell was n't to noticeable when I was younger, but as I got older that's when the smell started to take over my life. It was n't all the time and I was n't to sure what it meant. Eventually though I started to connect the dots. You start to notice patterns, you remember faces you pass on the street the same ones you see on the news a few days later or even the same night. I've gotten pretty used to it. I do n't really care anymore, I wish I would have learned sooner that you ca n't save them. You ca n't cheat Death, and if you try enough eventually that old bastard stars to notice. He starts to come after you, and every one you love, any thing he can do to cause you pain. Soon enough you learn that there is n't a damn thing you can do about it. Hindsight's a dirty bitch. I guess I should start from that day... The day everything went to hell in a hand basket. As Fucking cliche as the phrase is, It fits. I woke up beside the most beautiful smiling face a man could hope to wake up to. Selene the only person that knew the truth about me the only person that helped me deal with the fact that I through no fault of my own was and am a truly fucked up individual. So yeah, that was nice. She made me breakfast, nothing fancy, just eggs and bacon. I can remember thinking to myself how lucky I was to have her, my shinning star, a flower bloomed just for me. A smell knocked me out of my dream. At first I passed it off as just burnt bacon, and tried too get back to eating, but I could n't seem to get rid of the stench... `` whats wrong babe?'', Selen asked seeing the annoyed look on my face. `` nothing I'm just-'' `` it's the thing is n't it?'' `` It's nothing, I promise'', I said trying to look reassuring. She could see right through me though. It probably did n't help that I could feel everything was not alright. `` something is different, whatever it is it's a lot stronger than usual'' `` should we go find the source?'', Selene asked with a slight hint of excitement in her voice, and a grin on her face. That was the one thing I loved about her. She was always ready to help me try and save whichever stinky mother fucker was out there. Anything to help get rid of the smell. At first I think she felt obligated. After all she was once one of the marks. I helped her cheat death. I saved her from a one way ticket to whatever is waiting for us when we die. After that she just kinda stuck around. I did n't mind, her company was the only good thing in my life I had ever known... We got dressed and headed down the three stories of our apartment complex towards the front door. Smell getting stronger all the while. Selene opens the door and I'm overwhelmed with the putrid smell of rotting flesh all around. `` any ideas?'', she asked. `` It's fucking everywhere!'', I yelled. suddenly It all made sense. `` Selene, I love you'' `` I love you too'', she said, with the brightest smile any man could be lucky enough to see. Never knowing that she was about to die. Blissfully ignorant to the fact that some drunken asshole was about to crash his 1992 Ford F250 through her mesmerizing frame, severing her spinal cord in the process of making her smiling face his new hood ornament. I Should have know, I usually always knew. Maybe I was in denial. I loved her. so much in fact that I had forgotten rule `` numero uno''. You ca n't cheat death, and if you try enough eventually that old bastard starts to notice. He starts to come after you, and every one you love, any thing he can do to cause you pain. Lucky for me I do n't feel much anymore, and here in just a few minutes I wo n't smell a fucking thing. I love her so much. I ca n't wait to see her again...

[ WP ] `` Twerk '' has just been added to the dictionary , but there is no Miley Cyrus . Come up with an alternate origin .

The word `` Twerk'' was first coined in 1753 by Scottish naturalist Cedric Neville Twerk. At first a term used to denote rectal muscle spasms, the word was adopted by Jive artists in the 1950s to represent a dance move charactered by the gyrating of the bottom half of the female partner's body. The move was soon copywrited and did n't surface again until the first decade of the 21st Century, after EMI purchased the `` twerk'' patent from an anonymous Japanese syndicate. Very quickly the record company realised that this was an expensive investment that would never pay off. With illegal downloading reaching its zenith around the same time, twerking became an overnight global sensation. Today just about everyone twerks for free, very much in the spirit of the great Cedric Neville Twerk himself, and a testament to his scientific legacy.

[ WP ] Two people are driving to an intersection where they will meet . Both are contemplating suicide .

He hunched to see through the spattered windshield, his eyes fixed forward by the rhythmic pulse of the blades counting steadily towards the end. An ape with a steering wheel, white-knuckling a treacherous path between terrified motorists. He flew past cars, only the bottle of Jack taking notice of the glares from fading headlights. They cast horrible reflections off its shining face. Forty minutes earlier in the town of Arbour, grinding metal and groaning hinges screamed from the sound of the ferris wheel being set free to run down the slope.. Up the road, bearing South, Jaclyn pushed the small Toyato faithfully towards her new appointment. She smacked her crimson lips at the rearview long enough to steal a glance. `` A wet hole where things go in, but nothing really comes out.'' she thought. She aways told herself that she would get a real job eventually, but the money was too good. At least it used to be. What started out years ago as an evening job screwing young executives, slowly turned to this. Blowing a farmer's prized mule behind a grain silo, tiptoeing through the maze of barns, taking care not to stir up a ruckus in the henhouse and wake the man's wife. Over the phone, the farmer had been very specific about *those* details. He insisted she arrive at exactly 9:15. She was right on time when the Toyota was impaled broadside at the intersection, the two drivers hurtling blindly through a four-way stop neither cared to notice.

[ CW ] After being stung on the tongue / by a bee in a tree / you must rhyme all the time / or you 'll run out of breath and meet a quick death

“ Doctor, doctor, give me a shot I don ’ t think this story will have much of a plot ” “ What? ” the mailman paused, perplexed at the request of the crazy, naked man who ran up to him. “ There was a bee, and a tree. It took a bite out of me. ” “ Umm, okay ” the mailman was as confused as ever. “ I was riding my bike, to see my best friend mike, And then I saw this dyke ( who clearly had a pike ) ” The mailman, finished with his delivery, got back in his truck. “ Please, mister, can ’ t you seen I ’ m in pain? Look, I ’ ve got nothing to gain From driving you insane. So let me explain ” The mailman continued to ignore the request of the crazy man. He turned on his truck and started driving away. “ Please call me a doctor. And give me some pills from Proctor And Gamble, or maybe a pen from Mylan Though I must admit I am not a fan, Of their price gouging ways Or of Willie Mays. Look, I am not a racist ( My best friends a bassist ) But it ’ s just that of where I am from The culture is racists and just kinda dumb. ” The mailman was driving to the next house, but the crazy man followed him. “ Isn ’ t it obvious that I have to rhyme? Like in that song by Simon, ‘ Rosemary and Thyme ’. “ Look, what do I have to do to get you to leave me alone? ” the mailman finally asked. “ I need to see a doctor. If I don ’ t I am going…going to mock her ” The crazy man starting a coughing fit “ See? If I don ’ t rhyme well enough Breathing gets tough ” “ Have you just tried not talking? ” “ Of course I ’ ve tried that tactic But if I don ’ t rhyme I ’ ll just need a medic ” The crazy man ’ s coughs got worse and worse. “ Quick, I am running out of time. Just drive me to the hospital and I ’ ll give you my dime Of a wife, and she ’ ll take you back home And then give you some well-practiced dome. ” The mailman ’ s eyes sparked at this. For he was a very unscrupulous man and had already been cheating with the man ’ s wife for quite some time.

[ WP ] Donald Trump is a fictional satirical character ( a la Stephen Colbert ) . The dedicated actor playing him is getting increasingly desperate for someone to get the joke .

Donald stared into the mirror and ran his fingers sensitively along the side of his head. He missed his real hair. He wondered what it looked like now under there. `` I just ca n't do this anymore,'' Trump said into the phone. `` Release the movie. For my sake, please.'' `` We ca n't be done, Donald. We're going to get our climax anytime now.'' `` How can I go on?'' He fought back tears to stay somewhat in character, his accent starting to slip in and out. `` I'm losing myself.'' `` Listen to me. This is our opus. A performance that transcends art changes culture, society, politics, forever! It's been a masterful performance for years. All culminating here.'' Donald put the phone down next to the receiver, took a deep breath and began pacing to compose himself. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, unrecognizable, in a gaudy suit that still did n't feel comfortable after all this time. He gave himself a self-loathing inspection from head to toe. Criticizing every strand of hair on the wig. Every fiber on the suit. The unfit waistline of the pants. The blocky, poorly shined shoes made from cheap leather. He knelt down to retie a shoe and tears streamed from his face as he noticed a thread beginning to fray and thoughts immediately drifted to his true passion. He returned to the phone, sobbing. `` Are you still there?,'' he said, foregoing his fake accent. When Stephen heard the British tones on the other side of the line, he knew it was over. `` Yes, Daniel. It's ok. It's over.''

[ WP ] In a world where they are illegal you are called to prove that the pun was not intended

`` Tell me again about the incident on April 10th.'' I sighed. I'd been over this a dozen times already. It was a simple misunderstanding, but no one seemed to believe me. `` I was speaking with my colleagues...'' `` The other doctors?'' the officer interrupted. `` Yes, Doctor Walken and Doctor Young,'' I said. `` I was speaking with them about an elderly benefactor who was due for a heart transplant. Last year, he suggested that he might reduce his annual donations. I just said that after this surgery, he might have a change of heart. About the money! Not a literal change of heart, although that will happen too. No pun was intended, I swear.'' `` Of course not,'' said the officer with a reassuring smile. `` But you see, it's difficult to prove. Especially considering the matter of your patient's height, and the *other* pun.'' I grimaced. One pun might be excused as a fluke. Two was a pushing it. This was the first time the officer had mentioned my other indiscretion. `` He was eager to get started, but Doctor Walken was running late,'' I said, and I bit my tongue. `` Doctor *Walken* was *running* late,'' the officer asked, eyebrows raised. `` Yeah,'' I said, my mouth working faster than my brain to cover my slip up. `` He's been late to the office a few times since he was hit by a car during that big rainstorm last month. I mean, he's not fully recovered, and I would be running late too if I always felt that tired... I mean that under the weather... I mean that run down... I mean that bad. Bad! In ill health.'' The officer stared at me, and I barely managed to keep myself from rambling into a life sentence. But to my relief, the officer did n't say anything. `` So what did you say to your, uh, patient with vertical limitations?'' he asked. ``... That he just needed to be a little patient,'' I said, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. `` Doctor Young was there to witness that,'' said the officer. `` The anesthesiologist, correct? Do you two talk much?'' `` Of course not,'' I said. `` Doctor Young is fresh out of school and ca n't talk about anything but her job. I do n't care much for anesthesiology, so a five minute conversation with her is pretty mind numbing.'' `` Anesthesiologist... mind numbing,'' the officer said aloud as he wrote on his note pad. `` No!'' I shouted. `` It's just that she's a little young to... to... oh no...'' `` Doctor Young is 4 foot 11 inches tall if my notes are correct,'' the officer said, shaking his head. `` Little Young. Good god, man.'' My mouth worked silently, caught between wanting to protest and not wanting to incriminate me further. Eventually, I sighed. `` Do n't worry,'' said the officer, patting my shoulder gently. `` Just do your time and get back to your life when you get out. Puns are n't even a felony, so it should n't hurt your employment too badly.'' I nodded miserably. Hard time. I never thought my sentencing would come to this.

[ CW ] Tell a story of grand vastness in 10 lines , and in the next ten tell one of immense irrelevancy . ( or vice versa )

From the void, a voice spoke: `` BE, for I AM.'' The world was created in that moment, and it was exactly what the creator had designed. Humanity was brought to life. Humanity fell. The creator knew that the only way for love to exist was to create choice, and they those to follow their path instead of his. There was only one way to bring reconciliation; he had to die in their place. So he did. He came as a man and sacrificed himself for each man and woman and child. He gave his life to repair the void and demonstrate his love. All they had to do was choose him back, and all would be healed. -- The small mouse crept from the back of the kitchen to the dining room door, nose twitching violently. He could smell the sumptuous supper being served. *Mashed potatoes, * he thought, *Sure would go down easy tonight. * But he dared not approach the well-lit room full of people. *I will wait for crumbs when they all go to bed. * Slowly the lights dimmed and eventually clicked off. The mouse ventured forth, scurrying along the baseboards until he arrived at the table. There, to his great delight, he found a tiny blob of mashed potatoes stuck to the claw foot of one chair. Nibbling furiously, he demolished it. Content, the mouse returned to his hole, pleased at his excursion's success.

[ CW ] ReNov1 2.3 Janny Thunder vs Destiny

Janny ran a finger along the puckered lip of her slit throat. It stung a bit, but no more than a paper cut or an ingrown finger nail. Was it healing? `` If you keep playing with that, it'll fall off'' whispered a voice within her ear. Janny's eyes darted around the classroom, searching for the voice's source. No one else. The classroom was empty, except for Janny and the clunky television standing at the front of the room. The training video Bubbles left for her meant very little to Janny, who found herself slightly panicked by the unseen voice. The voice whispered again, `` Cool your jets there turbo, you do n't want to see me. Believe me'' `` Are you... in my head?'' asked Janny. `` In a manner of speaking, yeah. I'm in your ear. Hey! Stop that! Unless you've got a cotton swab handy I ai n't going nowhere.'' `` Get the hell out of there!'' whispered Janny. It took all of her will not to scream. `` Alright, alright. Just do n't squish me ok? That shit hurts.'' A skittering sensation became apparent within Janny's ear canal. `` What are you?'' she asked. `` Not so loud woman. You want the clown to come back?'' `` Answer my question or I'll call Bubbles in here or worse. I'm a reaper in training: Do n't make me kill you.'' `` Would you believe I'm your conscience?'' said the flea. Janny had to strain to make out its words. `` Do I look like a puppet? What are you really?'' `` Fun fact: The real Jiminy Cricket was a wood louse. Alright! Alright! Do n't scream. Jeeze. I'm a flea, ok?'' `` A talking... flea?'' `` You're tits up six feet under somewhere and you find it hard to believe that *I'm* talking? Lady, we need to work on your perspective. I believe I can talk, so I can talk. I think therefore I am, get it?'' Janny did not'get it'. She turned her attention to the TV and did her best to ignore the insect on her shoulder. On the screen another 50's style public service announcement played on loop. This one was titled `` Reaper 102, Your Handler is your Friend!'' It featured an anthropomorphic dog character with a lolling tongue who collected a hermit's tired soul. The dog's clown handler gave him a treat. From what Janny could tell, Bubbles would send her to the surface world where she would gather up departed souls and return to the extraction point. From there, Bubbles would take the souls and whisk her away to some other location to collect more souls. How many reapers must there be to cover the world? How many trips would she have to make before she could retire from being a reaper and settle in to a middle management position or something somewhere in the underworld? Janny had many questions but without Bubbles she had no idea who to ask. How long had the clown been absent? An hour? Two? Janny's stomach grumbled in protest. `` You know, you do n't actually need food,'' said the flea. `` That's just your mind believing you're still alive. Silly huh?'' `` Shut. Up. I'm trying to study,'' said Janny. `` This video's been on loop for hours...'' whined the flea. `` What if we, you know, ran away or something? I do n't think the big ugly is coming back for us.'' `` His name is Bubbles and he said he'd be back in a jiff. I do n't want to get on his bad side.'' `` He must be one of those insane clowns everyone's heard about. I hear they run in a posse or something. Those guys suck. Ooh hey! he left his toy.'' A stab of pain on Janny's neck caused her to look left. Indeed, on a table near the door was the Rubik's cube thingy from her last encounter with Bubbles. It pulsed neon orange in the dim lighting. Why had n't she noticed it earlier? `` Come on,'' said the flea, `` Let's go to Valhalla. They've got this honey wine there that's to die for. I'll buy.'' `` You drink blood,'' grunted Janny, `` how would you know what wine tastes like?'' Janny got the impression the flea shrugged. `` Viking blood is full of the stuff. I'm surprised those guys can walk, let alone sail the seven seas and stuff.'' Janny eased to her feet, ready to jump back into her seat should the clown make its return. Silence. She tiptoed across the classroom, her eyes glued to the door. Nothing happened. Tentatively, she reached for the glowing checker patterned box. `` BOO!'' screamed the flea. Janny jumped five feet into the air and banged her head on the ceiling. She crashed down on the box to the sound of the flea's laughter. An electric jolt rocketed through Janny's body. Her arms and legs went rigid, and she bit a chunk out of the inside of her mouth. Then the world began to spin. Colors blurred one into the next, melting and whorling in a cacophonous mix of orange and green and blue. Janny fell. Miles flew by her in seconds. She was Alice down the rabbit hole. She was Felix Baumgartner. She screamed. In the fading distance she saw a tree turned to cinders in a flash of lightning. From the tree emerged a flower of lightning with sparking petals from a forked bloom, imprinted forever in her mind's eye. Janny Thunder had no idea where she would land. In that instant, she wished very much for a flea collar.

[ WP ] `` Name your desire , mortal ! '' `` Oh I do n't want anything I was just checking if the summoning portal worked . '' `` That 's not how it works , I ca n't go home until I trade a wish for your soul . '' `` Looks like we 're stuck together then . ''

`` Do you really want to do this, boy? Your time will run out eventually, mine wo n't.'' `` Hey, I'm patient, all right? I've been waiting for Half-Life 3 for what feels like several lifetimes now. Besides, I'm lonely.'' `` You'll have to wait much more for that plan to come to fruition.'' `` Wait, you mean it will be released eventually?'' `` Oh yes, it's in the works, but perfection is not something easily achieved. Lord Gaben is a meticulous fellow.'' `` You work for Gaben?!'' `` Well, yes, how else is Elo Hell gon na run itself?'' `` I knew it! I knew it's real! All my friends keep telling me to stop using it as an excuse. It's so maddening!'' `` The guys over at Riot are way better than us though, I do n't know how they manage it. However it got so carcinogenic there that they wo n't be able to sustain a high test-subject-base in the long run; they will run out of players too soon. We believe our approach will be more successful in the end. Lord Gaben will prevail over Prince Tryndamere.'' `` How many players trade their souls to get out of Elo Hell?'' `` Enough to fuel the process for Half-Life 3. Perfection demands a high toll.'' `` Hey, I know: can I wish for Half-Life 3 to be released soon?'' `` No can do, kid. Lord Gaben does as he pleases, but even he has his limitations. Not enough souls yet.'' `` If I give you my soul for this process, can I play it once it comes out?'' `` Sure; I'll put you in stasis until then. It will take a couple more generations, but I'll wake you up when the time comes.'' `` Sweet! You have a deal.''

[ EU ] The Disney Universe is under attack , as the Disney heroes are on the verge of defeat , the Disney Villains come to the rescue .

When we had first found this pathetic world, it seemed easy enough. Each of their so called `` heroes'' held themselves to a certain morality. All we needed to do was exploit that. The world slowly died around them, and they were all unable to cross the line of their pathetic morality. However, at their final moments, in the throes of their death cries, a certain group came around. Although we had initially dismissed the members of this group as too selfish to actually help their former enemies, we were wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong. Unguided by the foolish morality of the heroes, they cut swaths through our numbers. They were unflinching, uncaring. They exploited each and every weakness of ours. They entered the war as villains. They'll end it as heroes.

[ WP ] Everyone has powers locked within them . Each power is different , and the longer it takes for a power to manifest , the greater it is . A 100 year old man is being hunted by the government for still being powerless .

I've known about my power since I was 8. Early bloomers do n't do well these days. No one knows when it started but it started here, in Los Angeles, and spread throughout the world. Some powers were benign; talking to squirrels, manipulating telescopes, etc. But even the most subtle, unassuming power can have devastating consequences. The old world, the world of my grandparents, was a safe place. Our governments were strong, our neighbors were friendly. And it was safe because every way we knew for a lunatic to abuse the system was more or less handled. In their daily lives, people forgot there was a government. People did n't need to worry about protecting themselves. But power is like a drug; it only takes a little bit to get you hooked. It's not instantaneous, but it's damn fast. At first you notice it all around you -- something's odd, something's off, something's not right. It almost feels like you're being watched. And then you begin to realize that you do have a power, and for however long as you like you're the only one to ever know about it. And that's a remarkable feeling. People who never imagined themselves as great, as destroyers and conquerors, whose powers could not be predicted and could not be safeguarded against, tore the old world down. They were unremarkable folk, ordinary people who'd pull the trigger if you put a gun in their hand. If you could see radio waves, you could intercept classified information. If you could manipulate electronics remotely, you could hack a bank. If you could talk to animals, you could kill any pet owner. And today we have rubble. Los Angeles was one of the greatest cities in the world. I was an early bloomer, and I did n't even recognize it at first, but being early it was'weak.' I simply knew where my family was at all times, then my friends, and my neighbors....one day I realized that I knew where someone was from a brief description. Maybe I could see their picture, or hear their name, recall a memory. Eventually I could just imagine them, I could imagine where they were and there they, without fail, always were. No one was impressed with my power. It was a disappointment I was so early, so weak. My family did n't try to hide it -- `` Are you sure, Davy? Are you really sure? You have a great imagination Davy, you're just imagining it.'' I won no awards at the Power Olympics in our cooperative, my name was even misspelled on my participation medal. I garnered no attention, I was not respected, and I was not loved. So I left. I would see what the world's become, what power's truly worth. Three years on the trail, today, I heard word of a sort of world record. A man, 100 years of age, remains powerless and unaccounted for. He will be the most powerful weapon in the history of mankind if his power develops before his death. What remains of the old world governments, and the saplings of some new ones, is on the hunt for the most important man in history since Jesus Christ. And I know exactly where he is.

[ WP ] The elevator opens . It 's full of something unexpected .

I hear the light ping indicating that the elevator doors are about to slide open. It's late- probably pusing around two a.m. The narrow hotel hallways, though bright as always, are eerie. There's not a soul in sight, and to be honest, I'm feeling uneasy- the faster I can get back to my room, the better. The doors finally slide open. I head towards the elevator, looking down as I slip my phone back into my purse. I finally turn to look ahead and halt just as my foot is stepping on the crack separating the hotel floor from the elevator. My heart is threatening to burst from my chest as my eyes dart around all of the beings in the elevator. I cover my gaping mouth with a trembling hand. My legs feel wobbly as I hesitantly step further into the elevator. I should be fleeing; I should be running for my life, but the tinest ounce of curiousity pulsing through my blood has me walking into the elevator. I move until I'm fully in the elevator, and the doors slide close. The beings start to move slowly until they are circled around me, putting me in the middle as if I am the next sacrifice in their weird elevator ritual. I start to study each being carefully as a new sense of courage bursts through my body. But the courage is quickly shoved away by a gut-wrenching fear as the realization hits me. Every single being in this elevator is me- from the brown roots pushing out the dyed red hair to the pesty chin pimple that grew considerably over the last few days and to the small error on the letter'e' of my wrist tattoo. I open my mouth to say something. Are they clones? Is this real? I quickly find that my voice is n't cooperating, so I shove past the clones of me, slamming my hand against the `` Doors Open'' button. I hear the familiar ping indicating that the elevator doors are about to slide open. Then, everything goes black.

[ CW ] Write something inspired by the 25th item on your front page .

Tom is yelling at me again. If I do n't do what he says it's going to get louder. But I am so tired, got kicked out of the bus terminal again and it's been snowing all night. Ca n't get kicked off the train, it's the only place warm. Ca n't. Ca n't. I close my eyes. Sometimes it helps to ignore him, sometimes he stops. Sometimes Annie tells him to shut the fuck up and sings to me until I can sleep. Annie never stays long enough. I start humming, maybe she will come if I hum the song. But she does n't come. Tom is pleading. He says it's for my own good, that if I do n't stop it they'll know. The watchers. They'll know and they'll find me and they'll take me away. If I get taken, that means Annie and Tom get taken too. I'm scared now, I ca n't be taken. Ca n't. Ca n't. Tom is screaming. I have to make them stop, they do n't understand. They never understand. I ca n't get kicked off the train, it's too cold. How can I make them understand? Tom says just ask nicely. Just help them realize why it's so important. So I ask. A contorted expression. A snigger. An eye roll. He did n't understand. And now the blue soldiers come, grab my arm, and I'm in the cold again. I curl up and hum. I hope Annie comes soon. From: [ facepalmpost ] ( http: //i.imgur.com/CVMk9g4.jpg )

`` This is 911 , we already know . Arm yourself and lock your doors . Good luck and God bless . '' [ TT ]

`` This is 911, we already know. Arm yourself and lock your doors. Good luck and God bless.'' Steven said as he repeated what the operator had said to him moments before. `` Good.'' Hegarth stated. `` There's chaos in the city, we should be able to move freely, unnoticed.'' We were all on edge, we had been cramped all together inside the tiny cellar of the old sympathizer's house. He was an old man, and probably more afraid of us than we were of the people we were hiding from. But we'd be leaving soon. `` Alright, everyone, get together what ever we have left of our weapons.'' Hegarth said as he got together the few remaining shells for his revolver. Everyone moved quietly and gathered together what we had left. A few small arms with pitiful amounts of ammunition, and some knives, some meant for combat, some for making dinner. Paul and Bob had fashioned them selves make-shift spears with some sticks and loose pieces of metal. So, to say the least, we were under equipped. Once we were all ready, Hearth told us the plan again, to make sure there was n't another incident. `` Alright, once we're all ready, we'll be going out of the house through the back door, and behind the other houses until we reach the church. From there we head through downtown, and might I remind you, there is somewhat of a riot occurring there, so try to stick together and remain alert. Our number one priority when going through that area: do n't stand out. The chaos is our cover, use it to your advantage. There will likely also be a police presence, so try to not be detained. After were out of down town well head East to the docks, there, we should have a boat waiting to take us away. And after that we'll have a few days out on the sea. Understood?'' We all nodded as we tried to calm our nerves. `` Very good, we'll be departing in less than an hour, so be ready.'' Everyone went about themselves, trying to get the slightest bit of rest, others drinking out of the small flasks of alcohol they'd found in the cellar. For most of us, it had been our first time fighting when we had first entered the city, and after being stuck here for almost six months, we were happy to leave. But we were scared to fight, we had basic weapons, the people we'd be up against have guns that could spray is down in seconds. To say the least, we were all ready to leave, but we were n't ready to die. ———————— Alright well, that's as much as I was able to write in a short time, and it probably shows how little time I had, if people want to give advice or anything, it is all welcome.

[ WP ] Every time you fall a sleep you wake up where you left off the night before . The dream only ends when you go to sleep in it . This has happened as long as you can remember and you 're having trouble remembering which life is real .

I collapsed, sword in my left hand. `` It's alright, Milford. Just... just a little under the weather, you know?'' Milford turned to me, frantic. I wore little more than a chest plate and joint armor, when everyone else had switched to chain mail. While my friends and allies struggled to avoid being pierced by nearby crossbows, I was well aware that a crossbow was as good as a plain rifle. `` I'm... just going to take a little nap, alright?'' My eyes closed. -- - I roused myself in the far future. I put on my night goggles and prepared for the daily grind, moving from pipe to pipe and avoiding detection. Despite weaponry and other technologies going past what anyone thought was possible until ten years ago, we still did not improve ourselves. Movies played at 1000 FPS, but our eyes could not appreciate the quality. Our ears could no longer pick up the smooth changes in audio files, other than knowing that it was fairly decent. Which was why I was still able to move around in complete darkness, with no fear of a sudden vaporization. Guards were everywhere, but only'everywhere' in the lit areas, the taboo against human modifications keeping me at least somewhat safe. I clambered across a dark street, wearing dark clothing that would get me run over at any hour out of the Veil Hour. Between 2 AM and 3 AM, any non-natural, non-foot transportation was entirely banned. Because the people of the future detest the idea of'losing their integrity.' FTL travel? It's the machine, not the human, that must change. I must agree. I'm no stern Christian, but the human body is as perfect as it must get. It's nearly 3 AM. Security is heaviest during the Veil hours, where it's easiest to remain undetected. People pass me on the street, young and old alike staying up to the dead of night just to walk on their feet. Many make moves to head back inside or to their cars as to avoid being run over the moment the Veil ends. Which is roughly about the time I move to commit grand larceny of the highest order. I make the moves, but it's not quite time yet. I could use a little nap before the operation, anyways... -- - `` Good.'' A voice appears. `` You're up, at least.'' The mad doctor. Shit, I almost forgot. `` Jeoff, is it? Quite a deep cut into your gut. You're lucky, anyways, that it did n't pierce your stomach-few men survive such a wound.'' I chuckled. `` So? What happens?'' He blinks. `` I wave this,'' I stared at the doctor, famous for his unorthodox treatment, `` and I weave a string through your gut.'' I breathed out, almost laughing as he described modern stitching to me. `` Gee, where'd you come up with that, Doctor?'' `` Call me Carlton. And...'' He looked left, looked right. `` A witch taught me this form of healing.'' I almost burst out laughing. `` A witch, huh? Next you're going to tell me you have a scalpel made out of sound.'' There was one, actually. 800 years into the future, or 700 years into the past, depending on what cycle I was on. Which one was real? I could n't find a record of this place, Kellenia, on any history book or map in the future. I could n't find Ifelle, or any of its structures, on any map of the past, though mapmaking was n't quite as good now. But it hardly matters. `` Hah! Boy, you're crazy. They say a lot about you, in the camps.'' `` What. Really?'' `` You dream of flashes of light that disintegrate men. Wands that can turn back time. Many speculate that you are a wizard, simply hiding your powers.'' I smiled. `` Just a dream, you know?'' `` Yeah, I know the feeling.'' Carlton smiled. `` Get some rest.'' -- - `` And they use steel blades to dismember people.'' `` Get real. Everyone knows that steel blades ca n't scratch any form of clothing, even the ancient ones.'' `` I know, it was just something I'm thinking of. What if there was such a blade?'' I cautioned, waving a hand at my young cohort. `` A blade that required no energy to maintain and could tear a person into multiple pieces?'' `` No such thing, Jeff.'' He scoffed. `` If there were- what would be the point of all this?'' He gestured around. `` It's valuable.'' `` Yeah, but if energy was n't so *necessary*- would any of this be happening? The riots- the revolutionaries we support. We're using too much of it, and you're trying to corrupt me with words of a world where they do n't use any.'' `` That's exactly what I'm doing, kid. The right to free energy- is it *really* a right we need?'' He shrugged. `` I guess we'll find out.''

[ WP ] You 're a seven year old who pulls the blanket over their head when you feel something tap your arm .

`` Y-You ca n't touch me! I'm under the blanket!'' I whispered in fear. I'd always known that there were things that lurked around in the dark, in the shadows, and in the corners of your eye. Even though I knew they existed, I never wanted to meet one. `` Come on, Jason. You're seven years old now. You know better than that.'' said the monster with a thick, grizzly accent. `` I just want to talk about what you've been seeing.'' `` I wo n't ever come out from under this blanket! I'm safe here and you ca n't touch me!'' I shout. `` Jason look. Do n't make me do it.'' Suddenly the black blanket covering me was ripped away to reveal someone that looked eerily like an older version of me. `` Look, Jason. The reason I could move that blanket and the reason you see all of us monsters is because, well... *you're* a monster too.

[ WP ] As I sob quietly in the dark corner , the man with the three white wolves at his side says , `` What does it matter , if we got the job done ? ''

What does it matter, he asks. What does it matter. Why does anything matter, when people like you exist, I whimper out in agony, through the choked sobs lodged in my throat. He laughs, but there's no humor in it, and as I turn to look at him and his pets, he's gone. From the dark corner of my barely lit bedroom, I stand, using the drywall to support myself in this pathetic and feeble state. I walk past my nightstand and knock over a small plastic cylinder filled with something, and even as its contents scatter and dance about on the floor, I can not remember what was in it, or what it's for. By the time I reach the mirror, I've forgotten what the man and i had accomplished, or why he had wolves. They were white, I think. He wanted me to do something, it fought through my wooden defenses with a will of steel, tearing me down and building me back up. When I look at myself in the mirror, I my reflection is broken. The jagged zig zags of glass split my face apart, ripping my eyes away from their union in odd directions, eliminating my nose, destroying my already disheveled hair. I can not remember, either, why the mirror is broken. Or perhaps it is only I that's broken. I hear a woman calling my name in the distance, from down below. For a moment, I remember that I do n't know where I am, that I fade in and out of reality like the picture on an old television, barely visible through the static. Footsteps vibrate up the walls of the house, the place I ca n't remember, and I prepare for the worst. I prepare for *him*. A woman is standing in the doorway, her eyes are wounded, her face solemn. A burdened look, if I ever knew one. She looked at the floor for a long time, the contents of that orange plastic container littered about like seeds for the coming harvest. I remember now, I say to her. She jumps in surprise, not expecting a word out of the mess on the floor. It was n't real, was it? She looks at me for a long time, and smiles thinly, in a comfortable way. It is a burden, I see, she can bare. No. it's going to be alright, it was never real. Now honey, please, take these. She hands me a capsule that fell onto the floor, and when I realize what it's for, I swallow it dry. She smiles again and helps me up, and bring me downstairs. For the first time, when I look back up at the doorway, I see nothing, no one. And for the first time, I smile, ready to rebuild, and forget. For the first time, I ca n't remember why I fucking hate wolves.

[ WP ] A small shop opens up in your town that bottles and sells dreams . For a small price you can guarantee what you 'll see when you close your eyes that night , or record and donate a dream of your own to be sold .

Mr. Carson walked into the shop with his usual power-gait. His pin-stripe suit and crimson tie showing that he always meant business. And business was booming! This was the 14th `` DreamShare'' location that he had opened in four years, and this time the revenues from the previous locations had afforded him quite a bit more than another mere opening. No, THIS location also came fully equipped with a Dream Center lab - the chosen location where he would soon be releasing to the demanding public his newest business venture: The Synthetic Dream. He had actually come up with the idea while engaged in one of the dreams that he had sampled from DreamShare's ever-growing selection: a lucid-classification; a dream where the mind is open to new ideas in unbridled clarity. Usually, this dream was selected by college students seeking an edge in their thesis or other such pursuits. What it afforded Mr. Carson was an idea that went beyond the hum-drum extraction of dreams from paid participants. If successful, it would be possible to manufacture dreams directly in the lab! This could lead to customized dreams - and mass production of them! The implications were boundless, as were the potential profits! Wendy, his ever-present aid and'right-hand man' entered just behind him. She never left Mr. Carson's side, just as the data pad of notes, schedules and other business-oriented paraphernalia never left her grasp. She was good at her job, and she new it! She was sharp, intelligent and even willing to throw her hat into the ring when business ideas were being considered. And it did n't hurt that, behind her dark-rimmed glasses and calculating demeanor, she was also extremely easy on the eyes. Upon hearing the door open and the sound of stern footsteps, a lab coat-clad figure popped out from behind a door at the back of the shop. It was Jerry, a rather quiet man of the Asian persuasion in his early 40's. He was as brilliant as he was timid, and had been on the DreamShare development team almost since its inception. `` Ah, Mr. Carson!'' Jerry called out with a nervous smile. `` You are early!'' Mr. Carson looked less at Jerry and more past him, as he did with most of his employees. `` I am never early, Jerry. You know this. When I enter the room, that is THE right time.'' `` Of course, Mr. Carson!'' Jerry agreed with ever-halting intimidation in his voice. `` I only meant that the product may not be ready for your inspec...'' Mr. Carson made eye contact with the nervous lab tech. Jerry hated when he did that. `` Inspection?'' Carson blurted, laced with a hint of annoyance. `` I am not here to inspect, Jerry. I am here to EXPECT! And I expect that our Synth Dream lab is fully functional.'' Jerry smiled, `` Operating within established parameters, sir.'' Jerry said, his nervous smile widening. `` A number of Synth Dreams have already been produced, but...'', Jerry trailed off as he searched for a way to say what he needed to say without angering his easily-agitated boss. `` Spit it out man!'' Carson said with an annoyed chuckle. `` We are sitting on gold here! The sooner we release our new product to the public, the sooner we reap the profits - AND...'' Carson leaned in toward Jerry with a half-forced smile and a wink, `` the sooner we can get you that bonus!'' Jerry relaxed the fists that he did n't even realize he was clinching and took a breath. `` Thank you sir! You are very generous! However, there need to be more tests run before I am willing to call it a product. Right now, I'd still classify it as a theory more than anything.'' Carson raised an eyebrow, `` Explain.'' Jerry stammered for a moment trying to gather his thoughts when Wendy spoke up, `` Do try to convey your meaning today, Jerry. Mr. Carson has a number of meetings to attend to.'' Jerry managed only a nervous smile and nod at Wendy before continuing. `` Well, you see, sir... when we extract dreams from clients, they are in a natural form, naturally... and... and by nature, they have a natural tone to them... a cadence, if you will.'' `` Naturally.'' Mr. Carson replied, resting an elbow on his wrist and placing a finger beside his mouth. `` And all this means...?'' Jerry steeled himself. `` When we dream, they are not necessarily linear. They are impressions, emotions and images all woven together that our subconscious interprets as linear events. There is no true beginning or end to the dream, they just begin, continue and end in a jumble of inputted meaningless information that the dreamer interprets as meaning.'' Seeing Mr. Carson's silent statuesque posture, Jerry trailed off... `` Continue.'' Carson quietly coaxed. `` Well,'' Jerry continued, `` With synthetic dreams, we could not produce them in this way. True dreams are neural patterns that we have translated and stored as computational code, which we then input into another client, whose brain interprets it as natural neural patterns. Synthetic dreams BEGIN as computational code that are then introduced into the brain, inciting linear neural events. A Synth Dream has a finite beginning, course of action and ending. While the dreamer will experience the dream in a way that makes sense to them, it leaves the brain no room for interpretation. It is basically instructions for the unconscious mind to think this kind of thought followed by this one and that one according to set parameters. While the dreamer's brain will attempt to fill in the details, it is my belief that this would not be a liberating experience for the dreamer, but a forced dictation of emotions and events! The brain is not made act in such a way. I do not know what side-effects could be introduced.'' `` Mm-hmm...'' Carson nodded. `` So, what must we do to find out?'' A bead of sweat appeared on Jerry's forehead. `` We must run many more tests.'' Carson's impatience reemerged. `` How much time, Jerry! I'm asking how long will this process take?!'' Jerry looked around for a moment as if considering, but he already knew the answer. `` It could take weeks, sir. Perhaps months.'' `` We do n't have weeks,'' Wendy interjected, never looking up from her data pad as her typing fingernails clicked on its screen. `` We told the public that the Synth Dream product would be ready for consumption by the end of this month.'' Carson looked at Jerry obviously awaiting a response to his'right-hand man'. `` Sir,'' Jerry said, his eyes looking at his boss, at Wendy, and back again, `` if we release before trials have completed, our Synth Dreams could be truly harmful! Some of my team believe they could even be coma-inducing, leaving the person in an altered dream state where the dream simply repeats continuously, even after the program has ended.'' Carson inhaled, then exhaled, his lips pursed tightly as he controlled his composure. `` Are you telling me, `` Carson began in a quiet yet demanding tone, `` that you believe we must engage'human trials'?!'' Carson pushed past Jerry and began walking toward the door to the lab in the back of the shop. `` We did n't have to do'Human Trials' with our original DreamShare product!'' `` I know, sir.'' Jerry said, following Carson and Wendy into the lab. `` But this is something different! We simply do not know how the brain will respond to such direct forceful stimuli!'' `` Oh for heaven's sake!'' Carson finally bellowed, his voice echoing through the small lab. `` The human brain will be fine, Jerry! You forget that I have over a decade of experience as a neurosurgeon AND have a team of clinical psychologists who have assured me that this product will be entirely safe! And now YOU want to suddenly throw the brakes on?! We are releasing this in two weeks, Jerry! You do whatever needs to be done to make that happen!'' `` But sir!'' Jerry protested, `` I insist that trials are a necessity! I could not in good conscious...'' `` Fine!'' Carson interrupted. `` You want a human trial then I'll do it!'' Wendy looked up from her data pad with an expression of surprise sprinkled with a bit of humor. `` You sir?'' `` Yes, Wendy,'' Carson barked back, already removing his suit coat and tie, `` Me! Let's just get this over with!'' As Carson sat and then reclined back in the chair, Jerry reluctantly turned to the computer and pulled up the short list of programs that had already been synthesized. Jerry let out a sigh, `` Any particular one, sir?'' he asked. `` Anything, Jerry. Do you have something that, I do n't know, enhances one's drive toward business success?'' `` I do.'' the tech sheepishly responded, keying up the requested Synth Dream. Carson placed the dozen Neuro Diodes on the correct points around his head. `` Then let's have it. Induce the dream state and let's make this happen!'' Jerry pushed the button and within a few seconds, the Alpha waves of Mr. Carson's brain were replace with Beta. Mr. Carson walked into the shop with his usual power-gait. His pin-stripe suit and crimson tie showing that he always meant business. And business was booming!

[ WP ] At age of 25 , everyone enters a lottery to determine who will become immortal . Your SO makes it and you do n't .

The color of the sheets reminded me of the time we first met. She was a newly hired employee for the company, and I thought her batch at the software skills bootcamp. She was a few years younger than me, very slim, with porcelain white skin and almond shaped eyes. Her hair was in a bun, and she was wearing this mocha colored shawl on her shoulders. Add to that her square framed glasses, and you could clearly see why my first impression of her was “ a naughty librarian, every dude ’ s fantasy ”. I knew she was pretty, but I really did n't let that get to me. When girls are this pretty, I lose interest, I zone their charms out. I learned early that men and women have “ leagues ” of attractiveness, and I am definitely not in hers. She stirs a little while her head is against my chest. She ’ s gained a little weight, her skin has lost a bit of its smoothness, but she still looks as beautiful as ever. Her almond shaped eyes flutter a bit when she starts waking. She was with a guy then, they were together since collage. She was taken and absolutely out of my league, so I showed no interest in her and treated her like a little sister. We became really close, but I never, even in my wildest dreams, ever imagined that she would be with someone like me. You should see the other orbiters. The most eligible bachelors in the office fought tooth and nail to spend a few moments with her. They were awesome dudes, some were even my friends. Now she ’ s awake. I look into her eyes. She looks away. What did I see there? Worry? Sadness? She ’ s always been an unreadable mystery to me. Her relationship with the guy fluctuated for a few years, and during these times we spent a lot of time together. I really could n't read any of the signs. What got us started dating was a joke, something in the lines of “ hey, you guys broke up, maybe we should date ”, and then her saying “ sure, how about tomorrow? ”. It was surreal to say the least. I look out the window and see an overcast sky with now and then a few raindrops gliding through the pane. I had to laugh. “ It's a bit too cliche, is n't it? ” we often made comments like that, cynicism was one of the things where we found common ground. I half expected a witty retort, but she did not stir. I cupped her chin in my hands and gently shifted her face to mine. A spasm of pain suddenly pass through it. Her almond eyes tightened, and tears ran from them. She got up from the bed and ran to the bathroom, all the while never looking at me. I could faintly hear her say, underneath held back sobs, “ You're so selfish... ”. How could I be selfish? You're the one who's becoming immortal. Edit: spelling. I'll post part two later.

[ WP ] Give this sentence a happy ending - A man took of his wedding band and placed it on the bar top , looked at it for a while , then left .

A man took of his wedding band and placed it on the bar top, looked at it for a while, then left. He'd tried to get her attention for the better part of an hour, but the place was really busy. She was at the other end of the bar, and there was no room to push through the crowd. The other bartender took care of his order, accepted his cash, but had no time for small talk. Instead, he'd left the ring, and her name written on a napkin. After ten years, he could afford to wait another day. The next day he would wait for her in the park. When she found the ring, she would know to meet him there. He left the bar with a smile, knowing that the reunion he'd waited so long for was at hand.

[ WP ] Pick one person in your life ( does n't have to be somebody important ) and write about them and an interaction with them , but dramatize them like they 're in a John Green novel .

Did I know that May 12th at precisely 12:34 pm would be the time that my life changed? Nope. I did n't have a clue. But that was the day that it did change. Several things happened that day of little to no consequence. My hamster Chubbs got himself lodged in his tube again, I tried Count Chocula for the first time, which is absolutely phenomenal for those wondering, and I stubbed my toe. All of these things paled in compairson to my meeting *her* though. I was waiting in line for lunch absently spinning my phone, waiting to place my order. And then I caught glimpse of her. I was immediately flabbergasted. It was the kind of stunned silence that you rarely find yourself in outside of the second coming of Jesus, or at a particularly shocking point in a book. She had the particularly lithe grace about her and body that was understated, but commanded my attention. It was As though every inch of her gave way to a new glorious curve. She ordered her food and turning around with her tray, tripped. I do n't mean the kind of trip where you skip a little and smile and hope no one saw that trip, it was the type of trip where she fell to the ground, her orange soda spraying everywhere, the sesame seeds falling off of her bun, and her tray clattering with a dull cacophony that had the whole food court grind to a stop. I hurried to help her up, and noticed her eyes were the shade of ice on a cold winters morning, but her smile was the ray of sun that made the snow covered world look like a wonderland. My breath caught in my throat and all I could do was hand her a balled up wad of napkins and blurt `` Here you go''. She smiled with a sheepish grin and thanked me, then she said the words that changed my life, `` I'm Amber, want to get out of here?''

[ EU ] Smaug/Dragonborn interactions . Horror , romance , adventure.. do n't really care about the genre . Just the two of them in the same story .

`` What kind of mortal hauls ten of thousands of gold coins at once?'' The lone figure offered no reply. Instead, he silently gazed into the glowing eyes of the mighty dragon, unwavering and emotionless. `` I can smell them. Look around you, Keeper of Silence. Gaze upon the vast wealth of a thousand kingdoms beyond your time,'' the beast bellowed. His gaze thinning, the lone figure offered no reply, save for a slight shift to a relaxed posture. This surprised Smaug, a mighty creature who had horded the seemingly limitless treasure for ages with an iron claw. Never before had he failed to draw terror from past invaders. Relentless in his intimidation, he continued his booming taunts. `` So I ask you this: why have you come to trespass here while you carry great wealth upon you? Are you another greedy thief like the many who came before you? Their ashes lay scattered where you stand.'' The immense chamber laid silent for another moment. Suddenly, great gasps echoed as another figure emerged from behind piles of gems and gold. The woman panted as she approached the formerly lonesome man. `` You should n't travel so fast. It's beyond difficult to keep up with you considering this burden you've forced upon me.'' The man offered nothing but an unresponsive stare. `` Ah, the second thief! I smelled your approach the moment you snuck in.'' `` Hold your scaly tongue, dragon! We are no mere thieves!'' she shouted. *Well, I suppose we are thieves, * she considered as she remembered their adventures in the Guild. `` I am Lydia, Housecarl loyal to Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun. The man you dare threaten is no mere man. He is the Dragonborn, the legendary hero of yore! Tremble before him as hundreds of dragons have as they died by his sword!'' Smaug cackled a nasty laugh. `` This pitiful man that stands before me has slain legions of my brethren? You're barely bigger than a hobbit!'' `` We have learned much from our travels. We've read as many books along the way as dragons we've slain. Books that tell of undying dragons, immortal beasts coated in diamonds for scales.'' The creature peered inquisitively upon the adventurers. `` We have studied the tale of a deadly drake covered in impenetrable scales, save for one, clipped by a lake-town man with a black bow.'' `` Many have dared try to shoot me from the sky, Ms. Burden Bearer. The remains of those who bravely dared are either at your feet or between my teeth.'' Smaug condescended. `` My thane is the greatest archer in the land,'' she beckoned, then whispered, `` Talos knows he does n't level any other skills.'' This prompted a sharp glare from the legendary hero of Skyrim. `` Oh, excuse me, my Thane. I seem to have forgotten about your smithing talents. You tend to lose count after the thousandth iron dagger.'' Her protest would have continued, had the dragon not thunderously roared: `` Enough! You have invaded my home; therefore, you have come to burn.'' He reared back, revealing his underside. His scaly, diamond-encrusted chest rose from beneath the shimmering galleons of gold. It appeared ironclad, save for one bare place. The Dragonborn nocked an arrow and drew back his bow made from dragonbone. `` Pity a great hero such as yourself shall never see the Undying Lands,'' the arrogant beast jeered before he inhaled with force equalling a hurricane. `` Nay, I shall take my place in Sovngarde,'' the Dragonborn whispered. In the moment that Smaug began to release a pillar of flame, an arrow took flight.

[ WP ] Being an adult is your day job . You just got fired .

I used to like children a lot. I still do but I am not allowed to take care of them any more. I liked to answer their burning questions about life and the world, sometimes the questions were too difficult to answer though. I remember one time when Tommy Mitchell, a particularly sensitive seven year old asked me why adults were allowed to eat as many sweets as they liked and children were n't. It took me a while to work out a reply to that but what I said then seemed to satisfy him. `` You see,'' I started `` when you are a child you have to listen to what your parents or other adults tell you to do because it is their job to take care of you in areas where you can not take care of yourself well enough yet. It is their job to protect you. They are responsible for what happens to you. As an adult you kind of are on your own in a way, you have no one who is there constantly to observe your every move, you are forced to make your own decisions, and if it is your decision to eat as many sweets as you like you will have to deal with the tooth decay and stomachache that follow that decision on your own. I guess being an adult kind of means to have the freedom to make stupid decisions.'' A day later I received an angry phonecall from his mother, terminating my babysitting employmnet with them as Tommy got in trouble in school for calling his teacher's decisions to conduct the class stupid. Apparently Mrs.Mitchell has a lot of social power, somehow she managed to poison my reputation in the whole neigbourhood so that I could not get another babysitting job. As an unpublished writer and student of philosophy I had to make other arrangements, now I work at a gas station.

[ WP ] The remnants of a letter are found , musty with age . Most of it has been destroyed , leaving behind only the words , `` I love you . I miss you . '' Tell me their story .

I never knew my father. Paul passed away shortly after I was born, a heart breaking struggle with cancer that he won even as he lost. I missed him growing up, but how can a child truly grieve for someone they never knew? My mom passed away last month. It is never easy to loose a parent, but Penelope lived a long life and went peacefully, surrounded by her child, grand children, and great grand children. She died 1 day short of her 86th birthday; we mourned her loss, but she wo n't ever really leave us. We're cleaning out the old house today. Up in the attic, I found a collection of letters, worn and tattered as their contents, stuffed inside a box in the safe. `` Dearest Penelope, Happy 85th birthday! What an incredible milestone. I hope you had a chance to celebrate with the family today, and enjoy some cake! Do n't worry, your rose will be arriving soon. Pink, of course, since it is your birthday. Make sure to tell the florist hello for me. Dear, I'm sorry but this will be my last letter. My strength is failing, and I've run out of time. But please, know this: I love you. I miss you. I'm waiting for you to come home to me. All my love, Paul'' Tears in my eyes, I unfolded the next letter. `` Dearest Penelope, Happy 84th birthday! ...'' A stack of letters, 58 in all, one for each year my father knew he would n't be there with her. I do n't think my mother could outlive those letters. It was finally time for her to go home. I love you mom. I'll miss you. ___ *Do n't blame me for the feels, blame u/Dr_Paprika. You and your sad prompt, begging for a tearjerker. * *Or, do blame me: ). Either way, stop by [ r/mrme487 ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/mrme487/ ) and let me know your feedback. *

[ WP ] A teenager who has been raised as an assassin his whole life falls in love with his first target .

`` You mean Rena, Mr. Grant's daughter?'' `` Yes, Grant's daughter. Grant loves his little girl, he really should n't have went against the corporation.'' `` Why do n't I just kill Grant?'' Konrad had given a puzzled look when his father simply shrugged. He'd never been unsure about a target. He always had a reason. `` Nothing beats a father's love for his kids huh,'' Konrad teased but had seen no response in his father's features. Although something strange did occur to him- his father only showered him with love when an assassination was successful. The rest of the time, the smallest mistakes would land him with berating punishments that would keep him up at night. He shook away the thoughts that fueled his anger towards his father, and made his way around Rena's bed. Konrad had been hesitant about her being his target, due to how quiet and withdrawn she always seemed. It was their senior year in high school, and because of his raging curiosity he had done his research on her. She had no social media, and only ever spoke to her one close friend. He toyed with the blade as it rest on the palm of his gloves. The task was simple: one hand clamped over the mouth, two stabs to the throat and then wait until the target's breathing came to a halt. He felt a powerful gush of adrenaline rip through his chest when she turned over and placed her hand over his. She was still asleep with her black hair a wild mess around her sun-kissed face, and the thick borders surrounding her eyes glued together in peace. It was the perfect time to kill her, but he kept waiting. He kept waiting until his phone vibrated, and the vibration beneath his hand was enough to startle her. He was ready to attack and flee, yet something told him to wait for her reaction. The small slit in her curtains allowed a sword of moonlight to stab through the darkness in her room, and reveal her tired eyes squinting up at him not with shock, but with confusion. `` What a dream,'' she murmured and closed her eyes, but still felt the cold, strong hand beneath her own. She opened her eyes again, and felt her heart flutter seeing her long-time high school crush looking back at her. `` What a dream?'' he asked in a curious tone. `` I never thought I'd see you in a dream so realistic. I do n't have the balls to approach you in my dreams let alone in real life, how are you replying to me?'' Rena eyed her target with the same intensity he eyed her with. Yes, he was her high-school crush but he was also an assassin who had no idea she could be his downfall. She knew everything about him, and knew his father had set him out after her. She did n't enjoy the fact he was her assigned target, but she trusted her father who had set this whole situation up. Konrad's father, Mr. Regal had been training his son to kill the wealthiest and the most successful men in their communities, but hers had raised her as a type of bounty hunter. She had questioned why Konrad was her target, if Mr. Regal was the one who ruined his child. Her father had told her it was wiser eliminate the most powerful obstacle protecting the villain before going after him. She reached out to touch his arm, knowing it would not only manipulate her trust that this was a dream, but that this was most likely the only chance she'd get to be close to him. She followed his eyes to the bottle of codeine syrup on her nightstand, and was glad to see the relief on his face. She wanted him to believe the cough medicine had put her in a ridiculous state of consciousness. `` I've always liked you,'' he confessed, and kept his eyes on hers as a silly smile spread across her lips. `` I've always liked you as well,'' she muttered sleepily, `` why do n't you stay?'' He slowly stood up, and flicked her night lamp on. She dared to glance up at him and discovered a threatening look in his eyes. Had he discovered a flaw in her plan to lure him? She subtly fixed her hand around the revolver beneath her comforter. `` Did you really think you could fool around with me, Rena?'' -• ______ -• - -• -• - -• -• _______ Wow that might be long and confusing for an incomplete story D: Sorry, I'm not quite a writer, and this may have strayed away from the prompt ily tho

[ WP ] This has to be the first time in history that the insatiable thirst for human blood was actually a good thing ...

Cannibalism has long been in my family. You could say me and my siblings just couldn ’ t help but carry on the family tradition. I suppose it also helps that if you didn ’ t, you were eaten by mom and dad, or even gummed to death by great gram-grams. Something amazing happened this week. These scientists were messing about with that new Zika virus, and as you might expect from any crazy virus, it resulted in zombies. Now these zombies weren ’ t the undead risen to eat our brains, no, that ’ d just be disgusting. They were just normal people turned feral from the disease. Needless to say, the world went to shit because of zombies etc. etc. Well except for my families little world. We ’ ve already started building a big pasture for the zeds to graze in. We ’ ve also got a big freezer all set up and everything so that we can store them. Basically cannibals vs zombies, something I think the world ’ s always desperately needed. After all, it ’ s not like the military camp stationed up the road is going to survive the winter. Do they really think they have enough food? Nah, they ’ ll die of boredom because of how dull beans in a can will get. Meanwhile my gram-grams will cook up a great liver stew, topped with some forearm and toes. We don ’ t need spices; the human body is diverse enough that you can just throw on all sorts of bits and pieces to get any flavor you desire. Needless to say, the apocalypse isn ’ t that bad if you ’ re not picky.

[ WP ] The War on Christmas is an actual war . Several governments from around the world are attempting to invade the North Pole and conquer Santa 's magical coal reserves .

It ’ s been five years since the world discovered that Santa Claus was real. It was a clear winters day December 25, 2015 when Donald Trump received a lump of coal in the mail. It was meant to change him, make him a better person and stop him from appealing to the baser instincts of his constituents. What they didn ’ t know was that Trump was so big a narcissist that the coal was ineffectual. Instead it caused the coal to redirect it ’ s power towards the people around him. Giving him control over their actions and allowing him to bend them to his will. Trump very quickly realized what the coal could do and where it has to come from. Soon after he won the election, he began a anti-Christmas campaigns quickly gaining the support of all the world leaders to launch an all out assault on the North Pole. With out cloaking technology, it had been impossible to find us, but as more and more people turned their backs to the spirit of Christmas, our magic started to wane. Now, Santa ’ s closest advisors were in the War Room, with the cloaking spell completely collapsed. “ Sir, as you can see, SEAL Team 5 and 6 have just parachuted about 10 miles to the south of our base of operations. Rudolph strike group 1 reports that an entire carrier group is currently making it ’ s way up the western flank of the North Pole. ” Snitchdorf reported. For days we ’ d been preparing for the arrival of NATO forces as the cloak became weaker and weaker. Santa narrowed his weary eyes, and after several moments spoke. “ Prepare the sleigh, we are going to be dropping undersea mines along their path to slow their advance. I want a doubling of the Elf Commandos along the entrance to our coalmines. As well as a compliment of exploding Snowmen ready to greet the SEALs along their path. ” “ Sir, what if they are expecting our Snowmen. They could be ready to melt them from a distance. ” “ Then we use them as only distraction. Have the Red Noses mounted and ready to drop bombs from above. ” “ Affirmative! ” shouted Snitchdorf as he ran off cheerily to deliver the orders. Santa used to be a jovial man, a kind man, but the constant onslaught from President Trump and his counterparts made him hard. You could see it in his eyes, the anger, and the sadness. He lost an impressive amount of weight, as he couldn ’ t find any joy in eating his milk and cookies anymore. Some of the house elves whispered that he had begun stepping out on Mrs. Claus, having extra marital affairs with Slurina and Whortish down in the worker shop. People refused to believe them through, Santa has been a rock throughout this whole war. So many of us had never known war or violence, and Santa has been there the entire time keeping our spirits up as we kept the enemy at bay. Watched as the joy of Christmas began to quickly whither away. Santa approached me and we walked silently into a secure room. “ Thomas, I want to know if you are up for this mission? Tell me truthfully now. ” Santa gave me a look that seemed to peer directly into my soul. He was good at that. “ I am sir, I am ready to take down this naughty asshole! ” I said, puffing my chest and standing tall. “ Tonight, he is stricken off our lists for good! ” “ Good, after we drop the undersea mines, we are heading straight for D.C. Tinklehaus and Billish tell me everything is in place to get you into the White House. Do you have everything you need to blend in and take down Trump? ” “ I do sir, packed and ready! ” “ Good, let ’ s hope this allows everyone to wake up from the hold he has put over all of the world, and Christmas can go back to being a joyous time of year. ” Santa opened the door and I went off to prepare my things. “ Sissy, tell Mrs. Claus to prepare a plate of milk and cookies leave them in the sleigh for me! ” Santa commanded as he headed for his private study. An hour later we were airborne, heading for open water. One secret that never entered lore was that Santa hadn ’ t used Reindeer in many years. Through some advance magic, he had the fastest flying machine in the world. The Reindeer got split into various mounted teams who delivered presents to the corners of the world. But for the war, they were used as bombing brigades, dropping ordinance on ships out to see in the Artic. As we approached the drop site, Santa began chowing down on his cookies. He handed me one as we descended. “ I can ’ t imagine what could have caused such a person to develop that way. To be so evil and narcissistic that he was able to alter the fundamental magic of the coal. Our Spellcasters are still scratching their heads. ” The sleigh slowed to a halt as Santa reached for the button. Suddenly, he stopped, inches from the button, he began to choke on the cookies and his face turned a dark beet red. As he began to keel over, the ships began firing on us. Seems they were prepared for our arrival. I tossed my cookie overboard, and launched the mines. I pushed Santa Claus out of the way and took the reigns of the sleigh. As I brought us back into the air, I launched flares into the air to take the brunt of the ordinance. Seems Mrs. Claus was angrier at Santa than any of us realized. So angry that she turned spy for the enemy. As we escaped in the crisp night air, heading back for HQ, I came to the stark realization that President Trump would remain on our naughty list for just a while longer.

[ WP ] You are conscious of multiple existences of yourself in tangent universes

I've met two of my corollaries - that's what I've ended up calling them when I talk to my therapist about them - and last time, I took the corollary to my therapy session and my therapist fucking freaked out. The one I took to therapy looks exactly like me except that his beard is n't silver like mine. He still has color, he was definitely thinner and a little rougher around the edges. The other one was almost preppy ( shudder ) and fat, with no apparent interest in going to the gym, but he was me, all right. Anyway, the story was the same with both of them. They were crossed-over in order to warn me of events that might take place, and that if I made a different decision, it would be beneficial to them, ( and to me ). I've always questioned whether the decision would have downstream effects on other instances of other corollaries. For example, how do they know whether there are negative consequences in other realities? They do n't. Neither do I. Evidently though, I'm the first ( or prime as one called it ) and therefore, it is I whose decisions affect my corollary's reality. They, because of me, have been able to cross over since I started making contact with them. For some reason, I ca n't cross over to their instances of realities, but I can inform them and modify their realities. Anyway, I thought I'd share my experience with you guys.

[ WP ] You 're the Leader of your Country , which has just been invaded , and you need to tell the people .

** *ROLL TELEPROMPTER* ** *09:39 Eastern Standard Time* My fellow Americans, today... some of our worst fears have been realized. At just past 1 o'clock AM, local time, the Port of Seattle was raided, and subsequently taken over by enemy combatants. These forces have not yet been identified, their origin, affiliation, and their motive is as of yet unclear. What we do know, is their numbers are unfathomable. By 6 o'clock, what began as a militia sized occupation had become an full scale invasion. Currently, a military force of an estimated 10,000 combatants has full military control of greater Seattle. They have taken the city by force, and I fear, with many civilian causalities... the number still growing. Our military forces, including the Washington National Guard, US Army, and US Naval Forces, have mobilized and are formulating a defensive strategy as we speak. I have called for emergency meeting with my cabinent, national security council, and The Joint Chiefs of Staff. I urge the rest of the American people to stay indoors. This enemy force is vast, much larger than we knew, and their numbers are growing. Satellite surveilance indicates watercraft are landing in the Port every 10 minutes, delivering 20-50 soldiers with each dock. I caution the American people to stay indoors, and make preperations to be locked down for several days, while our servicemen and law enforcement eradicate the enemy forces. I maintain a high level of confidence in our servicement, our law enforcement, and the resiliance of the people of Seattle. Allow me to be clear. We know very little about who has taken Seattle, and less about why. But I urge the American people to have confidence that our Military forces will act quickly, and swiftly, to secure the well-being of those in the Greater Seattle area. To the people of Seattle, we will not abandon you. Cling to your hope. Cling to your loved ones. We will get through this together, and come out on the other side. ** *END TELEMPROMTER* ** The President walked off the stage, his face pale and clammy. His Chief of Staff handed him a water bottle without saying a word. `` Joe,'' the President called to the Defense Secretary, `` What's our next step?'' `` We hope to have something drawn up in the next 30 minutes Mr. President. `` I may be out of line, Mr. President, but are we certain it's the best course of action to stay silent on the bombs?'' the Secretary asked. The President paused for brief moment, struggling with his response. Chocking back tears, the President answered him. `` Joe, do you feel the American people trust us enough to know that Israel has taken control of our nuclear arsenal, and we're the target?'' *TO BE CONTINUED... *

[ WP ] Super hero origin story : Jack Cutter , aka `` Glacier ''

Jack zipped up the suitcase and looked around the room checking for anything he might have forgotten. This is it, he silently told himself, you're ready for the big leagues now. He picked up his suitcase and walked out the door. `` Mr. Cutter, you're absolutely sure you want to do this? This is your last chance to back out,'' Dr. Orman said. `` Yes, sir. I understand that I'll be an unpaid intern and that I wo n't be able to leave Antartica for at least the next 6 months as I help you with your research,'' Jack said enthusiastically. Orman smiled and nodded. Jack's a good kid, he thought. `` Then we're off,'' Orman shouted. The ropes tying the ship down to the harbor were untied and the small boat was sucked towards the ocean by the currents. `` This is an ice core,'' Dr. Orman said, `` We drill holes into the ground and extract a cylinder of ice. By observing the chemicals and sediments inside of the cores, we can determine many things about the status of Earth in the times present in the core.'' Jack nodded, `` And you want me to determine the age and the buildup of these cores?'' Dr. Orman laughed, `` Of course not, that would be beyond you at the moment. Your job is to set up the gear and bring me the cores. An interns got ta do what nobody else wants to do.'' Jack grimaced, but he still nodded. He knew what he was getting into when he volunteered for the trip. Dr. Orman was his favorite professor, although he was a tad eccentric. Maybe that eccentricity is what made him my favorite, Jack thought. `` Alright, I'll do what I have to,'' Jack complied. `` If you bring in your quota for the day, I'll let you watch me work, Jack,'' Dr. Orman said. Jack smiled, `` Thanks.'' A week passed and Jack was getting sick of his work. His piss froze before it even hit the ground. The weather was always frigid. He had to wear 4 layers of clothes otherwise he would freeze. He could n't work the machines properly because his gloves had no traction and his fingers were constantly numb. The list went on and on. On the bright side, he was able to watch Dr. Orman work on the ice cores and the penguins were friendly. They never really had a need to develop a fear of humans. Jack watched as the extractor pulled up a long cylinder of ice. There was something different about it though, the ice on the bottom was pure black and glossy, almost like a sheet of resin had been frozen. Dr. Orman's going to have fun with this one, Jack thought and he reached out to grab the core. Cold. He was so cold, every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He tried to open his eyes, but they were sealed shut. The pain was too great and he let the darkness take him. Jack opened his eyes. Where am I? he thought to himself. He looked down. The floor seemed like it was farther away. He was naked and his blue legs were slick with blood. Blue? What the fuck? Jack thought. He brought his arms up and looked at his hands. They gleamed blue in the light. Rivulets of blood snaked down his forearm and dripped onto the floor. Blood. Where did the blood come from? Is it my blood? Jack looked around him and saw a bloody lab coat in the corner of the room. What happened here? Jack walked towards the lab coat. His movements felt slow and sluggish, as if he were trying to walk through water. He finally reached the corner of the room and picked up the lab coat. The sleeve was missing. Clink. Clink. Clink. Jack felt a tapping against his back and he turned around. Dr. Orman was standing in the doorway, holding a pistol, shooting at Jack. The bullets did nothing to him however; his new hide was as hard as diamond. `` Stop, Dr. Orman, it's me. Jack,'' he tried to say, but his voice refused to form coherent words. He could n't speak and his professor was trying to kill him. I'll have to stop him, then find something to write with, Jack thought. He took a step towards the professor and saw his face fill with fear. `` Stop, do n't come any closer. Please,'' Dr. Orman begged, his torso revealing the fact that he was missing an arm, `` Please.'' `` Professor, it's me,'' Jack said taking another step forward. The words were starting to almost sound coherent, `` Professor Orman. It's me.'' Dr. Orman looked at him, his eyes still filled with fear. He lifted the gun towards his own temple and pulled the trigger. `` NO. PROFESSOR,'' Jack howled, `` NO. NO. NO.'' He sobbed and cried. Crystals of ice fell from his eyes. Jack did n't know how long he had been wandering. He was all alone in Antartica. He did n't feel hunger. He did n't feel anything at all except inside his chest. Inside his chest, past his crystalline hide, was a jet black mass suspended where his heart should be. This is n't what I signed up for, Jack thought, even the penguins fear me.

[ IP ] Castle on the Lake

The castle had been there for as long as anyone knew. No record of its construction had ever been found. No histories of war, strife and conflict had ever mentioned it being siege or of an army sallying forth from it. No legends, no myths, no art. If one went by documents, it might well not exist at all. But exist it did, for one could look at it on the shore of the great lake-mote that surrounded the island it sat upon. But no one really ever even looked at it beyond a glance. Locals might look to it when asked by a stranger what it was, but then they would look away and shrug. `` It's the castle.'' was about all anyone would ever offer by way of explanation. And most would accept that and go about their day and their lives without perhaps ever again thinking of that strange castle on the island in the lake. Fiona McDowell, however, never much liked that explanation. She liked very few explanations, to be sure, for every often they were not complete enough. She would question and pester and bug for details until she felt she had gotten to the bottom of every matter. At the age of four she had forced from her father the truth about babies when the answer `` A stork brings them to loving mommies and daddies'' had not satisfied her. `` Where does the stork get them? How does he know where the loving mommies and daddies are? Why do some mommies and daddies seem so angry at each other or at their children if they are so loving together?'' Finally her father had relented and told her the truth, in much more detail than he would have liked because again she would not accept a simple answer. She was further perturbed by the fact that she discovered he father had lied to her about something. From then on, she had trusted little without questioning it to a very high degree. She verified things as many times as she felt she could before accepting any explanation. After all, if her father was willing to lie to her about something, why should not other people? One evening Fiona sat on the shore of the great lake and stared at the sunset. The sun was setting behind the castle, and the orange glow outlined the mighty structure in sharp silhouette. *It's quite beautiful*, she thought to herself. *The builders did a marvelous job. * Suddenly she realized she did n't know who the builders had been. Part of her tried to shrug the thought off, but the majority of her rebelled. *Why am I willingly ignoring that I do n't know who made it? That's not like me. * And yet part of her continued to try to forget the whole thing. She stood up and walked home with her hands in her pockets and her eyes staring ahead unseeing. She was bothered by what was happening in her head. Unable to let the incident go, despite what a part of her was trying to do, she finally asked her parents at dinner about the castle. Her father stared down at his plate and kept eating as if he had n't heard her. Her mother shrugged. `` It's the castle,'' was all she said before going back to her meal. `` Yes, but who built it? And when? Why did they build it there? And how did they get back and forth with no bridge? Or was there a bridge at one point and it's since been destroyed? How did this theoretical bridge get destroyed? Or did they just use ferries? Who lived there? Why-'' Fiona's mother cut her off. `` I do n't know, Fiona. And do n't ask so many questions at dinner, I've told you that before. Just eat and be quite and stop thinking about the castle. It's unhealthy to be so obsessed.'' Fiona began to get excited. `` right there, why'd you do that? You told me to forget the castle. Why does everyone ignore its existence. It's like we do n't want to know about it, like we do n't want it to be there. Why?'' Her mother slammed her fork down onto the table. `` Dammit, Fiona.'' It was the first time Fiona had ever heard her mother swear. `` Just forget about the castle. Why must you question everything? Ca n't you just accept things for what they are?'' Fiona looked at her mother like she were some sort of leper. `` How can we accept things for what they are if we do n't even know what they are? How can a person possibly go through life without asking questions?'' Without warning, her father shouted. `` I'll not have you talk to your mother like that. Go to your room right now! Straight to bed. No reading or writing or any of that nonsense. If I see a light coming from that room before dawn there will be hell to pay!'' Fiona stamped off to her room and slammed the door shut. She crossed her arms and plopped into bed in the dark. *Stupid grown-ups. Treating me like some child. I'm fourteen, it's not like I'm a stupid kid anymore. * She rolled onto her other side and glared out the window at the stars. The autumn sky was clear, and the moon, when it rose, would be full and bright. Fiona almost forgot about the castle, and she may well have managed it if she was n't thinking so angrily about why she was in her room but not reading. With little self-deliberation, she got out of bed and stripped off her house dress. She pulled on a pair of long wool underwear that had originally been made for her father. Somehow the town market had ordered an extremely incorrect size, so her parents had given them to her. They were itchy and unflattering, but they were after all underwear, and she'd told herself she would never be caught wearing them. *But then, * she thought. *I do n't intended to be caught at all tonight. * She pulled on a a long-sleeve t-shit and trousers over the full-body men's undergarment. Hesitating a moment, she added a wool skirt and a jacket to the ensemble, reasoning that it was better to be dressed too warmly in things she could remove than to be caught in the open in the cold wind without anything else to put on. She grabbed her satchel and shoved in a notebook and pen, a half-eaten bag of mixed nuts and dried fruit, her sky blue wool cap, and the water-skin her mother had gotten her for her investigative hikes into the wooded hills outside town. On her hip she secured the knife belt her father had gotten her for the vary same hikes. The hilt had a screw on bottom with a flint, and she'd gotten quite good at starting camp fires by sparking it with the back of the knife. She pulled on and tied her boots, threw on her satchel, opened her window slowly and quietly, and stepped out into the night. She left the window slightly open behind her, intending to slip the knife into the crack and lift up to open the window when she returned. She stepped carefully away form the house, using rolling steps to avoid putting her full wait onto a branch and snapping it. When she was well enough away from her home, she made her way to the gravel path, and tromped off toward the lake. Fiona made her way down the path boldly, despite the moon still not having made an appearance. but the path was more or less straight and often more or less clear of obstructions. Tonight, however, it was less clear, something she learned as she fell headlong over a downed yearling tree. Grumbling half-curses under her breath, she got up and brushed herself off before continuing on her way, this time a bit more cautiously. The moon finally made it's appearance just as she was arriving at the edge of the lake. The lake was mirror flat, and the light of the full moon cast a glowing sheen across the waters. Now that she was here, Fiona wrinkled her nose in thought. *How do I get across? * She'd been so focused on getting answers to her questions about the castle, she'd ignored the more obvious question of how to reach it. She kicked herself for allowing that to happen. She scanned the shoreline as well as she could, but she saw no boats. She had n't expected to, as she could n't recall having ever seen a boat o the lake before. She grouched down and felt the water. It was chilly, but not as cold as she would have expected this time of year. Not too cold to prevent her from swimming over there. *But then I'll be soaked. * She sat on a nearby boulder and thought. She'd hurt her knee a bit when falling over the tree in the path, and was rubbing it ideally when the answer came to her. A potential answer anyway. She got up and jogged back to the fallen tree. The moon lit the path well and she had not trouble finding before falling over it this time. She inspected it and was pleased to see that it was completely broken at the trunk. She grabbed a limb and began to drag the tree toward the lake. It was slow going and strenuous work. She had to stop for rest several times, the firs time taking the opportunity to remove the now unnecessary wool skirt and jacket. Despite the cold autumn air, the effort of dragging the tree kept her not only warm but slightly sweating. When the tree was finally on the shore of the lake, Fiona took a final long rest and contemplated what she was about to do. She knew how to swim and even the island was farther than it looked, she would have the log to hold onto if she got to tired to make it across. She stood up and needlessly but naturally looked around to make sure no one was around. She took off her trousers, shirt and the wool underwear, leaving her shivering slightly in only her more feminine undergarments. She shoved her clothes and her knife into the the now rather stuffed satchel, and placed it near the shore. Next she again grabbed the log and dragged it carefully into the water. She pulled it out until she was nearly up to her arm pits. She let go of the downed tree and let it roll to where it wanted to. She shook it and rolled it partly this way and that until she was sure it was where it naturally wanted to be. She waded back to shore for hr bag, and held it over her head as she headed back to the log. She placed the bag securely in the seat of several branches and made certain it would not fall out of them into the water. That done, she pushed the log out in front of her, threw her feet up behind her and started kicking toward the castle.

[ WP ] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight .

Cattle The council protects its own. For millennia we have protected our own, hundreds of species across thousands of systems fighting hoof, tentacle, fin and wing to survive against others. Other creatures of the flock and herd would but their head against the council, bare their neck and belly then, in time join us. Predators came and went, they would raid our systems and eat our people. We would join together and send them from our land. Only one council race would decline their support, the humans. Only one to be an enigma to the others yet all those who spoke for their race held them in great regard. The oldest races paid tribute gladly whilst the young ones did so out of curious regard, hoping to learn about the “ chairman race ” of the council. The enigma was revealed to all when the Vrrak came. Our border systems went dark and then an entire species up and left our space. The council met and we gathered our forces against the new invader. We asked questions and got answers. The Vrrak were expanding their hunting grounds and they were feeding off our people. They would set us back to the Stone Age and collect our children to feed on keeping us alive only to sate their hunger. The council was for the fourth time since its creation all in agreement... save the humans who declined to vote. We would fight and rescue our fallen member species, we would send a message to the Vrrak that they could not come and take as they pleased. That was when the humans came into the sacred chambers, they were smaller than us but held themselves taller than us all. We looked and saw in their eyes, the curves of their mouths and twitching of their arms. They were predators to their core and every species present shivered in fear. A male took the centre stage to speak and spoke quietly we waited on his words with baited breath. The council in equil parts fear and awe made their fith and sixth unanimous agreement. We would send our fleets and allow the humans to send a single ship to observe. We knew not what this ship would do but we hoped we would not become prey to two species. In the human ’ s absence many questioned the decision, growing brave from the absence of predators, others simply readied their fleets, others wanted to attack them alone. The elders species regained order, they told us the humans would send a single ship and save us all. They even had a name for the ship, “ the shepherd. ” The young races arrived at the battlefield first, scattering around the system to watch the incoming fight. The Vrrak retreated behind their new defences hundreds of ships floating through dozens of satellites and the corpses of the dead ships of hunted species. The shepherd entered the system after we had assembled for battle. A gargantuan ship fully twice the mass of the Vrrak fleet, shaped like a mushroom and ringed with its own rotating weapons platform it dominated the far reaches of the star system. The Vrrak fleet moved in on us and began doing as predators do. We could not match their cunning or speed for it is not built into us to do so. We floated there in a ball and fought. The herd would fight to the last and it looked like the humans would let us do so at first. Without warning shot tore a rent across the systems blue gas giant sending superheated plasma arcing across its surface as it nearly gave birth to a star. We were awed, for it had come from the shepherd. Those who had spoken out for attacking the humans spoke quietly of bigger tributes, the elders prostrated themselves before the shepherd saying he would guide the herd and protect his own. The Vrrak attack faltered and refocused on the new threat anyway sending their ships against the shepherd swarming its massive cannons and sparking their own against its hull and shields. The smaller ships dove close, so the shepherd would harm itself should it retaliate. Slowly but surely it faltered, its engines went quiet. The weapons platform was damaged and broken, left to float across space managing a single shot atomising two Vrrak ships before going dark. Alone and defenceless the shepherd did the one thing it could. “ The shepherd protects the herd. Flee ” The message was sent to everyone, in their own language they received it. Seconds later the Shepherd and the Vrrak forces were destroyed, the explosion burning brighter than stars for three weeks before it burnt out. We fled inwards taking all we could with us as we did, knowing the Vrrak would continue inwards. Dismayed the fleet ’ s fled to the council where they told of the battle, of the shepherd and its fight to the death. What they found was a group of humans sitting in the centre awaiting the message. They nodded in acceptance. “ So the message was received, if one shepherd, a protector can do that, they will fear our hunters. ” They said and again demanded the right to fight, gladly we accepted. We knew what a Vrrak hunter could do, we knew what dozens of other predator species could do. The shepherd, was out protector and was praised by our elders, not one of them cheered the announcement of the hunters entrance in the war. The Vrrak had taken many worlds and we had observers at each. The humans hunters would jump in. Tiny ships in appearance. They would demand the Vrrak leave or be punished. The Vrrak laughed before attacking the hunters. Launching attacks at range or coming in close, each time they found their mistake. The attacks hit shields that rippled and glowed revealing the hunters true form, unlike the shepherd they hid what they were. Shaped like a spearhead and each the equal of the shepherd in size. They launched devastating attacks against the Vrrak. Tearing through shields and melting hulls with each shot. despite their size they were nimble and lacked the weakness ’ s of the shepherd, any that they faced was left in ruin. The hunters moved from system to system, hunting in packs they would surround and eliminate the Vrrak fleet ’ s there and we would move in and rescue our brothers. And then it ended, the Vrrak surrendered and promised to leave the humans territory for good. So we returned to the council. The youngest race asked why the humans didn ’ t hurt us. They had shown their teeth and their fangs. We knew we were no match. Many simply prostrated themselves accepting their fate. “ You are not prey, you are our cattle, our heard, our flock, our school. We protect you and you give us tribute. But you are also your selves. ” They said to us. “ You must be allowed to grow and guide yourselves. We can lead you to the water but it is up to you to drink it. No, if we took what we wanted you would suffer. What you give willingly is of much more value to us. Your milk and honey keeps us fed better than your flesh. The gifts of material allow us to build our shepherd ’ s and our hunters. Long ago we guided the oldest of you to the stars and they formed the council to serve us as they knew predators would come and we would protect you if we must. ” The humans replied. “ But that makes no sense. ” The young one replied in protest. “ You could take the worlds for yourself, keep us weak and ignorant and we would still have provided our milk and honey for trinkets. You could keep your hunters and shepherd and still have more. ” The humans laughed, deep and happy at the young one. “ You are correct. Very well the true reason. ” The human replied. “ The truth is we are predators, but long ago we were also prey for some so we learnt to use tools to survive and hunt our hunters. The thrill of that fight was something we have long since lost. The Vrrak had the potential to hunt us as well so we came forwards and offered them battle. To let them prove themselves the master of what we ruled. So there is our truth. We are not predators but and we are not hunters... we are simply us and in the end, is n't that enough? ”

[ WP ] You are the Devil ’ s new receptionist . Your first day is spent scheduling important meetings , appointments , events , filing paperwork , and taking messages . Tell us about the interesting things that went on today .

`` Look, I get it. I'm the Devil, everyone expects red skin and horns with the whole pitchfork shtick. But that is n't how it works here.'' Satan leans back in his office chair, `` This is a business. A business to torture souls, sure, but a business nonetheless. It requires rules, and-'' The phone next on his desk goes off, and he picks it up. After a brief series of grunting, he lays it over his shoulder and briskly says, `` Look, this is very important, my,'' He rolls his eyes at the very thought of it, `` Evil'' twin will fill you in on everything.'' You're not sure what to do, but he waves you towards the door, and soon enough you are in a desk, with a horrific looking devil stirring whiskey into his coffee. He stands at about seven feet tall, with enormous muscles rippling under his blood-red skin. `` So, that's just about everything you need to know.'' He says, taking a rather hefty gulp from the nearly boiling-hot cup. You can almost see steam drifting lazily out from his mouth, but decide not to stare too long. `` Anyway, I really must be getting on the `` rape'' train,'' he says with a chuckle, `` so I'll leave it to you to get acquainted with your job. It's not hard, really. Just...'' His voice suddenly grows deeper, and he lets out a large belch, complete with a half-digested hand tumbling out of his mouth, landing with a thick splat on your desk. He covers his mouth, `` Oh, excuse me, I uh, heh, wow.'' He stumbles over and picks it off your desk, leaving a small puddle of saliva and bone marrow. You think this is going to be a long day. Let me know what you think! This is my first reply ever, and on mobile, so please try not to kill me.

[ WP ] You suddenly die and question why . You meet death and he responds while laughing , '' Its just a prank . Chill . ''

`` I'll see you later Sarah!'' I shouted as I made my way back down the street, gleefully, having had my first *real* encounter with a girl ( or at least a cute one, rather ). A small but comfortingly quaint date, with absolute promise for more to come. `` With increasing intensity as well.'' I hoped to myself. I could n't let this not end up blossoming into what ( let's face it ) I've always been yearning for. I round the corner and realize that in my glee, my mind had forgotten to pay attention to the street I was supposed to turn off at and ended up 7 blocks off course. I know where I'm at though, and there's an alley nearby that can actually save me a little time in getting back home, as I ca n't afford to be late for work, again, for the third time.. I've got two strikes already.... The alley approaches. I reach it and see the usual dumpsters laid about and clothes lines above. Two thirds of the way through.. `` Jason!!'' someone shouted. Had it been anything other than my name, I would've kept my to my path. I turn around and to my bewilderment I see a man with sunken eyes and a face that looked as though it had experienced that draining effect often seen throughout meth abusers, coupled with teeth that words would have a difficult time describing; he was an all around fright. I immediately realize that I do not recognize this man and yet before I even had the time to have the shit scared out of myself... BANG! ... I `` wake up'' in what can only be described as a pure whiteout everywhere and I can see the man who shot me, only, this time he's different. Hell, one would even say handsome. As earlier, before I could react, he says in a tone I've never received before, `` It's just a prank. Chill.'' Bewilderment once again occupies my emotional state as I try to wrap my head around that 1 ) I'm dead ( I think.. ) 2 ) I'm looking at the culprit and 3 ) He's obviously Death. `` Why'd you kill me?'' I inquired, wondering why it was all to be taken away from me right as it was starting to be given. `` Close your eyes.'' He said. The moment my eyelids touched, I saw a child crying and a mother comforting it. I'm whisked to another scene, only this time it's the same baby, but a little older it seems. In a bit of shock, I recognize the third... My fourth birthday when I plopped my head right into the cake. The other kids were upset and mad, but the parents could n't stop laughing. Death speaks again, `` You see where we're going with this.'' I then proceed to experience my life's most profound moments as if they were lily pads that I, the frog, was hopping across, experiencing just a big enough splash of each passing one. We reach the lily pad of him shooting me in the alley, except the first person after the fact has found me and is phoning for help, while the culprit ( via instantaneous access to multiple dimensions ) is long gone with the wind. Soon a crowd is gathered along with the EMT crew and soon a slew of people surround me as a lay on the ground. Turns out, the bullet hit in such a way and I fell in the same manner, resulting in the EMT not being able to safely remove me at the time. I then find out that my outcome was sealed from the onset. I watched as my own chest, before my very eyes, stopped moving. I'm looking at my dead body... Soon after, we're fast-forwarding through all the aftermath with the funeral and proceedings and whatnot and I now see Sarah. She has no idea. She was n't at the funeral because she had no way of knowing what had happened to me. She just thought that I had actively decided not to call her and she ended up breaking down. `` She *really* liked me...'' I thought to myself. Death and myself again move forward. We see Sarah again. She's waiting in line to get some food at a restaurant. I instantly recognize the woman in front of her. I'd know Janine from anywhere. She, my sister, took my death especially hard; we really were two peas in a pod. She's on the phone with someone and I see that Sarah is innocently hearing the conversation as there is rather low background noise in this particular restaurant. Janine gets her wallet out to pay and then Sarah sees it.. A photo of me. I assume the first thought in her head was that I had played her and chose to be with this *other* girl or had always been with her, because the look on her face was getting more and more frightening with each passing second. She seemed she was about to lose it when Janine had said on the phone, `` No, not since Jason died. I do n't know; I guess losing a sibling kinda turns you away from love for while. I may look in the near future, but it's not a really concern to me lately.'' Sarah's facial expression had made an about face to confusion, which then made another about face to agony as she bolted out of the restaurant crying seemingly to no end. This girl, the one girl who really and truly had a thing for me, had now sobbed twice over me. I could n't measure the unease I felt within. Death then turned to me. `` There are things you are doing in your life that you know you should n't. Relinquish these thoughtless desires and attain that which your heart seeks and hold it dear and often so as to enjoy it truly, as beauty that it is.'' Seeing as this was a chance to start over and do things the right way, I figured I'd ask a question before I departed Death. `` Why did you don such a frightening persona before?'' He thinly smiled. `` It's just a prank. Chill.''

[ TT ] Everybody has a monster that matches their personality and every monster protects its master with its life . However , if one so wishes , they can transfer their monster 's protection to another person , but only once..

*People who keep their beasts out all the time are so easy to read. It's almost unfair. Ca n't say I blame them though, I heard that shadow creature is a nasty piece of work. Keeps the Sunlight guard on their toes. * Glancing up from my half finished doodle drawn on my workbook I see the sun hanging low in the sky. A moment later a waitress politely informs me that they are going to be closing soon. They adjusted the hours due to the recent attacks. Her catlike beast eyes the setting sun with anticipation, mirroring its owners worry. I take a look around at the other few patrons and staff left. The majority already have all manor of creatures out. Those who do n't quickly summon their guardians when they see the setting sun. Guardians for the road ahead. Thought it may be short, it does n't hurt to have protection. By the time I gather my things and stuff them in my backpack everyone has their guardians out, except for one. A young woman around my age stares outside while she fiddles with the handle of her bag. *She's a nervous wreck. Considering she has n't summoned anything she probably gave it away. Wonder if she regrets it? Hope someone escorts her, she might die of a heart attack before anything else if no one helps her. * I turn back to my cold soup. It looked good when I got it, but then I got distracted and now it looks less then enjoyable. I take a spoonful and taste it. Surprisingly it's not half bad cold, but still not great. I would have left it if I did n't pay for it. After I down the soup of disappointment I walk up to the counter and pay. It looks like I'm the last customer. The staff's guardians are attentive to every sound and all of my movements. One is staring at something just out of my view. I bend backwards a little to see what caught its attention. *Crap she's still there. I thought for sure someone would take her with them. She must be freaking out on the inside. You know what I should do, and what I do n't want to do. * I grab my change and begin to walk out of the diner. *Just keep walking. Do n't make eye contact. * I glance over and see the fear in her eyes. *God damn it. * `` Do you need help or something miss?'' I ask as my conscious cheers in victory. A small smile spreads across her face. `` Oh yes please, thank you. I do n't live too far away, but I heard stories of something that comes out at night. If you could just walk with me.'' She excitedly spits out. Her relief soaks into her words. `` Ya the shadow thing. Sure I'll walk with you, I'm not going that far myself anyway.'' She looks at me for a moment, expecting something. `` Um, do you have a guardian?'' She asks. `` No, long story. I take it you do n't have one either.'' I reply. She simply shakes her head. `` We'll do n't worry, I have n't had one for a long time so I learned to defend myself. I guess I'll be you substitute guardian.'' I joke. She gives me a light chuckle and we both head out and down the road. *Aww look at you, you're a regular knight in shining armor. Just stick near the lamps, nothing should bother us if I do that. * `` So... you normally stay out late?'' I ask trying to break the uncomfortable silence. `` I used to, but no so much anymore. Can I ask you something?'' She answers. `` Shoot.'' `` If you have no guardian, how are you so calm.'' `` Well, I've been through a few things that taught me to get strong or suffer. So I did that.'' `` Oh. Um can I ask something else.'' `` Sure'' `` What happened to your guardian. You said it was a long story, can you condense it? If you feel comfortable I mean. Uh you do n't have to answer, forget I asked.'' `` Do n't worry I do n't mind. When It first emerged my family did n't know what to think about it. Unfortunately I did. It reminded me of certain weaknesses within myself, and I could n't stand to face it every day. I ended up giving it to some soldier for the war. What about you? if you do n't mind me asking.'' `` Oh wow, I kinda did the same thing. My father is in the army and he lost his in combat. So I gave him mine to watch over him. Mine was strong like my father, so I know he'll come back safe.'' she rubs her left shoulder where the mark of the giver must have formed on her skin. Once you get that mark you can never have a guardian again. *This freaking war. Just takes so much from everyone. * `` I'm sure he will. So uh, just how far away is your place?'' `` Not far. We could take a shortcut through one of the alleys, but it's not safe anymore.'' `` Lets just stick to the main road for now.'' A shrill cry pierces the air. The young woman freezes in her tracks and latches tightly onto my arm. She must have never heard the cry of a griffin before. *Sounds like the sunlight guard is on patrol. I hope that cry was n't directed at me, that usually means you did something wrong. Ca n't imagine what I did. They should be praising me honestly. * A moment later two griffins and their riders swoop down from a nearby rooftop and land in front of us. `` Stay where you are citizens.'' One of the guards order as they dismount. *Crap what did I do now? * The guards approach us as their griffins vigilantly watch the alleys shrouded in darkness. `` Your in violation of curfew citizens.'' the closest guard informs us while her partner looks me and the young woman over. `` What curfew?'' I ask `` Sir Renold of Vardenwall has ordered a curfew be set in light of recent events. All citizens must remain in their homes during moonlight hours. It was pasted recently so I understand if you are ignorant of it.'' She says to us. *I hate nobility, they can never tell you things on time. * `` I live just a little around the block. This nice man was just escorting me, and he lives...'' The young woman says. `` The opposite direction.'' I finish while pointing behind me. `` Oh! sorry for making you come all this way.'' She shoots out. `` It's fine.'' I reassure her. The guards give me a suspicious look. `` We will escort you back to your respective homes, but please head the law in the future. I'm letting you off with a warning.'' The female guard says. She motions for the young woman to follow her and they make there way back to one of the griffins. *This probably looks suspicious as all hell now that I think about it. * `` Seems kind of suspicious to me.'' The male guard says as we watch the others get on the griffin and head out. `` What?'' I ask. `` You. Taking a young flower like that into the night. Where's your guardian?'' `` Probably dead in some ditch on the frontlines. I gave it away.'' `` Are you sure its not stalking the streets? Ready to find another victim.'' *Really? This is what I get for being nice. Some high and mighty guard accusing me. * With a sigh I slowly roll up my sleeve and show him my mark of the giver. The guard calms down and motions his griffin over. `` We're walking citizen'' He says, crushing my hopes for a free ride. The walk pass the diner is mostly silent, save for our footsteps and an occasional squawk from the griffin. I take a look back at the winged beast behind us. It bares a mark. It's the symbol of the Sunlight guard. *That does n't look painted on. If that's a true mark then whoever that thing belongs to its borderline fanatical about being in the guard. Hope it's not this asshole. Accusing me of things before he even asks who I am. Here I am going out of my way to help someone, and this asshole ruins it. * `` So... Is it normal to accuse everyone of murder at night?'' `` Watch your tongue citizen. The Sunlight guard will stop at nothing to ensure the safety of the city, and its citizens. No matter the cost.'' He says with a sharp stare. `` Hope you do n't start another inquisition. The last one did n't go so well. We still have a shadow beast in the city, and a few less citizens.'' `` It was necessary and was a success. The last shadow creature was destroyed. This is a new one.'' `` Sure it is.'' That comment ruffled his feathers. Figuratively on him, and literately on the griffin. *Yep that's definitely his. Doubt it was a griffin at the start. Probably changed when he got sucked into that cult masquerading as a civil service. It looks like any other griffin, this guys is probably cookie cutter. Well, if that were the case then that comment would have pissed them both off regardless. Lets just be direct. * `` That yours?'' I ask while pointed and the griffin staring daggers into my back. `` Indeed citizen.'' He says as he wrights something into a small pad. He continues for a moment then rips off a page. `` Whats this?'' I asks as I take the paper handed to me. `` Your fine for breaking curfew.'' He answers. `` What?! the other one said it was just a warning.'' `` That was the warning. Your still outside after she gave it to you. Looks like your breaking the law to me.'' `` That's complete BS. What am I supposed to do, teleport to my house after the warning?'' `` That's your problem. You'll see the amount at the bottom.'' `` No way am I paying that! I can barely afford soup, let alone this.'' *Aww looks like I hurts his little feelings. Lets get out of this fine the easy way. * I take a deep breath and examine the paper. The guard looks on in smug satisfaction. `` You know, I have a solution that I think you'll enjoy.'' I say looking up at the guard. `` Oh, and what would that be citizen.'' The guard says with his same stupid smile. I quickly crumple up the paper into a ball. `` Go fuck yourself!'' I yell as I whip the paper into the guards eye. I bolt toward the alley as the guard gives chase while rubbing his eye.

[ WP ] An ultra-feminist American senator is thrust into a post-apocalyptic community and struggles to realize her dream of a gender equal society .

`` Surprisingly, the end was n't our fault. Nuclear apocalypse, global warming, robot uprising, an out-of-control biological weapon, hell, even just regular war, we thought they'd be what did us in. Classic human hubris really, only we are strong enough to defeat us. We'd planned accordingly, all our disaster preparation centered around man-made catastrophe. Well, not the robot uprising, but the other stuff. I should know, I was on all of the committees; I always did have a taste for dystopian fiction. They were n't going to say no to me when I asked afterall; I had a huge majority and was widely tipped to be a future president.'' `` I'd been elected on a platform built on gender issues: abortion, equal wages, and parental leave amongst others. Our treatment of women had gotten a lot better over the years, but better than before does n't mean good. We had a long way to go, but I think the light was finally at the end of the tunnel. We would've had a truly equal society, and it would've been beautiful. Not to be of course, not to be...'' `` Anyway, where was I? Oh that's right, the apocalypse. All that preparation, and then a bloody solar flare comes, knocks out the communication grids. This would've been alright, we had disaster plans for that at least, but then that volcano in Indonesia blew its top. Spewed ungodly amounts of ash across the globe. Could n't get any planes in the air with all the ash, let alone rockets to launch some replacement satellites. Temperatures fell 5 degrees overnight, 15 within a month, right before the main wave of northern hemisphere crops was due to be harvested. Most governments had been limping along, keeping communications alive with cars and the like; but once the stores started running out of food, and they could n't communicate fast enough to organise deliveries, things went south real fast.'' `` Here we are twenty years later and things have mostly settled down, not really the United States anymore, just a lot of farming communities in a big wide world. Climate is still a fair bit colder than it was before though so food is scarce of course. Ca n't keep extra mouths about can we? And I mean, they're not strictly necessary are they, not all of them at least, they certainly ca n't contribute as much can they? And all the other towns have done the same, lopped off the dead wood so to speak? That's what you've heard, is n't it?'' `` Now, forgive an old woman her ramblings, but I beg you to reconsider. Things have changed a lot from when I was young and I know you all are familiar with our downfall. But I want you to ask yourselves, was the old world that bad? We were n't perfect, but we were getting better. We were almost there. We had almost overcome millennia of inequality. And ask yourselves, do you want to build the new world on inequality? And it will be a new world soon, the old phone system is being rebuilt, spring is coming earlier and with more warmth every year. Let the new world begin with an act of kindness. Let it begin equal.'' `` No, they can not have children. Yes they are extra mouths to feed when just a few would suffice. But do not kill them just for the crime of being men, who can not bring forth the next generation. And if you must do so to make ends meet, then kill me as well. For I can not have children anymore either. At least then... at least then it would be equal.''

[ WP ] You are laughed at in class again for believing in humans .

You would go out each sunday with your family; Eating icecream, playing games joking around. You would forget all about the assignments and Thomas at school. You had fun. The smile on your sisters face was making you so happy. Finally you were reunited. You began crying. Tears falling on your desk. You woke up from you day dreaming from the past. Before the war. Before the bombs. It was one of the last times you had seen your sister and your dad. Your classmates began laughing at you. But you did n't care. Maybe the laughed because you were crying or maybe they were laughing because you were smiling for your self. They all knew, that you still had hope. Even though you were trapped in a school underground, you still believed we could win the war. You believed in the humans.

[ IP ] Hope .

***Recovered from airport located in containment zone 9: following written on back of front cover: `` To who ever finds this record, know that I'm sorry'' *** ( Picture: one little girl wearing red and staring out window at aircraft. Message written on back as follows: `` In the old days I would have fitted her for a high end prosthetic leg so she'd be able to run and play with her friends. Then again in the old days she would have had both her legs.'' ) When it started, I'd been waiting at my gate for my flight home, it had been a long and tiring conference and I was nodding off in my chair. I do n't know what roused my attention exactly; maybe the televisions showing the news, the darkened and angry skies outside, or the audible gasp of every soul in the airport as all witnessed the black rain fall in torrents to dissolve the ground crews but leave their clothes and everything else untouched. I watched as an unlucky refueler who did not notice his colleagues demise step out from under a wing. The moment the rains touched him the areas of flesh putrefied. He'd tore at his eyes and face frantically, painfully in an attempt to... I do n't know. Then the power failed and the panic started. There are n't many of us left here now, I've given up on leaving this airport ever again but folks will go mad and make a break for their homes or just step out into the rain. My buddy Jerry was like that, he'd been in the tower when it started and said the clouds covered the whole world. He'd left in the first group with little Sarah's family and a lot of people. They'd taken our best rain gear and attempted to find a way to their houses. Days later Jerry and Sarah were the only two to make it back. Jerry was in a bad way but wanted me to attend to Sarah first, she'd stepped into a puddle he said. There was not enough of the foot to save and the gangrene had been progressing up the ankle so I took it off at the knee. The next morning I'd have to remove the rest, Jerry was far worse. I attempted to clean him up and sedate him using the strong liquors from the duty free shops, any attempt to dress wounds only amounted to his flesh sloughing off in my hands. He'd lingered for a week so we sat and talked when he was conscious long enough between ethanol induced oblivion and horrifying pain. The whole party had been wiped out before the second night, all fluids on the ground are suspect and boiling the water only prevents the rotting but brings madness to those who drink it. MAR.9 It's been six months since I buried Jerry and Sarah is healing nicely. Our little group continues to dwindle from suicides and accidents. We're running low on potable water and volunteers risk their lives to find ways that we can turn it safe for human use, it does n't affect animals at all which makes testing it damnably difficult. I've lost 17 volunteers attempting to fix the water problem. I've included the letters to their families at the back of this journal. I'm also including all of my notes on the failures in purification so far. The attempt that we started today is to cut it into a mix of 90 % jet fuel, lighting the whole mess a blaze and drawing the condensation off the underside of the wings. MAR.15 I had the crew bring in what little water we'd collected, we had to start again when we found a small leak in a storage container that allowed the black rains in. I had them repeat the condensation process 4 additional times into seal containers, I'd like to have this process brought indoors but the fuel burns too hot and we would n't be able to contain it. Mr. Jessop has volunteered to take a drink as his cancer is rapidly killing him and this way his death will mean something. MAR.16 Mr. Jessop, subject # 9, appeared to be fine for six hours, no rotting or madness but slight signs of a fever and fatigue present. I'd stepped away for a moment leaving him under Sarah's watchful eyes, before I'd stepped too far into the hall I heard Sarah scream. I turned and rushed back in to find the subject had grabbed her, torn her shirt, and was attempting to perform all many of suspect actions upon her. In my haste to separate them and perhaps while in a fit of rage I broke the subject's windpipe with the edge of my clipboard. While I was administering to Sarah his breathing ceased, when the others came to ask what had happened I explained the madness had taken him. The others were crestfallen and we will start to refine the remains of this batch of water again tomorrow. APR.6 We've continued to meet with failure after failure after failure. From the time of my last entry we've lost another 12 people to suicide, accidents, failed experimentation, and one homicide. Tommy and Brandon were out attempting to collect more fuel when they argued about something inane, the argument got heated and Tommy pushed Brandon from under the safety of the overhang into the rain. Those of us remaining have convened and have determined that Tommy will be volunteered for the next water treatment test. Sarah had grown fond of Tommy as he's the closest to her in age, him being 18, this turn of events has affected her quite deeply. I do tell her that this is n't a death sentence and that he'll be fine. She's taken to giving me the silent treatment and spending much of her time in her room.

[ PI ] Claire Flirts Dangerously and Learns Hieroglyphics at the Bank

** [ Ending here ] ** Gray was now standing over Mr. McNeil, pistol pressed firmly against his temple. Ginger was staring away from Claire, watching as Mr. McNeil slowly rose to his feet. Claire glanced at her watch: 12:45pm. She hadn ’ t taken lunch yet, and since Mr. McNeil was back, he ’ d certainly be able to handle the two men ’ s questions. Plus, she didn ’ t want to make herself seem too easy—a little game of “ hard to get ” always worked with the guys in the club. She was sure she ’ d see them later, there was no way people that eager would n't come back. Claire smiled at Mr. McNeil and pointed to her watch, then pretended to take a bite of a sandwich, indicating it was time for lunch. She slid off her stool and walked into the backroom, then unlocking rear emergency exit door and wandered toward town. Today felt like a salad kind of day.

[ WP ] Mankind has finally made it to a distant life bearing planet . only to find that it is haunted by the ghosts of a long dead civilization .

Mick Foley stepped off the the ramp and onto the surface of the planet. It was lush. Green. The sounds reminded him of his home. The ambient sound of life was everywhere; never close enough too see the source, but near enough to feel that you were not a solitary figure in the wilderness. He instantly felt comfortable, as if he was a fitting part of the complex and natural systems. He shook his head and muttered `` Mickey, you ca n't get too comfortable. Do n't know what lies ahead.'' With that, he pulled out his map. The view on his screen was mapped while in orbit, the satellite images were n't all that shocking to him. Nothing seemed unusual, except he had happened to notice that north of this clearing there was a structure that looked man-made... or made by whatever any intelligent life called itself on this planet. The shape did seem to remind him of home though. A building, oval-shaped, with a dome. It stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a clearing right next to the building, a large empty square plot of land that was flat. He had opted not to land there. He wanted to have a chance to see the forest, for one, and having a short trek to hopefully see what the planet holds. He was violating protocol. His job was to map, any planetary excursions would be handled by another team once he handed in his report. But this oddity had struck him as strange and he was inspired to break protocol once. His ship computer had made note of this deviation and he could n't change it. He was just glad he was out of communications range; otherwise an automated distress signal would have alerted others. Despite the trek being full of interesting life forms and strange plants, he took no notice. He was distracted. Barely registering that he even walking. It was n't until he hit the second clearing that he even realized he had been walking. Judging by the sun it had been at least an hour. Though Mick had to admit he could n't tell time by the sun. Immediately ahead of him he saw the structure. It was large, the door inside was small. It was a large gathering place. It was obviously artificial and it seemed that there had, at one point, been some lettering above the door. Huge lettering. Only a few of the characters still remained hanging up, the rest of them littered the ground; it happened some time ago. The ground did n't seem disturbed. The metal characters that littered the ground in front of the entrance and their rusted, broken supported both stood out as unnatural, yet the planet's flora had made it their home. He entered. He wandered a long hallway that spanned the entire building. Every few meters there were entrances farther in, and intermittently he saw stairs leading higher up. Stalls were carved in the walls. He had not interest to go up and once it became obvious there was nothing in this long, oval hallway he went farther in. There were seats everywhere. It could seat thousands. On the ground-level he saw a... he wanted to say ring, but it was a square. Elevated. With ropes around it. Approaching it, he guessed it was maybe 16 feet by 16 feet. The ropes had give to them. He climbed into this squared circle. When he did, Mick felt more at home than he had ever in his life. `` Mrs. Foley's baby is finally home! BANG BANG!'' Mick spun around. `` Whose there?'' `` I think you know him pretty damn well! His name... is Cactus Jack!'' Mick looked around... `` no one's here... but they sound so close to me.'' `` No one's here? Have mercy, the Hardcore Legend is here, owww! Mick started to really be concerned. He *knew* he did n't say that. `` Please... tell me who you are.'' A tortured voice, the same one that had offered up the name of the first voice of Cactus Jack, responded `` you know who we are. You've always known who we are. You denied, you pushed us away. Mrs. Foley's little boy always felt different, fragmented. Singled out. Teased. Bullied. You responded the way I would. When kids threw worms at you, and kept throwing worms at you, you did n't throw them back. What good would that do! So you did the only thing you could do,'' at this point Mick thought he could see the outline of a man ( yes... a man ) in a white shirt, a grotesque leather mask covering most of his face, with bits of hair shaved off, `` you ATE them!'' `` Ooow, do n't listen to that fat cat! Listen to me, Dude Love! Manny and Jack want to bring out a part of you we both know is n't needed. You're eye candy for the ladies! There's no ladies here but plenty back home! My man, you should strut back home and forget about this place. This is a place for The Hardcore Legend, this ai n't no place for a rocket man!'' Mick contemplated, he swore as the last voice he could see a man wearing a multicoloured shirt. It was a trip. Unlike anything he had seen back home. But somehow the voice sounded to be reasonable. He rolled out of the square, under the ropes. He made his way to the same entrance he came from to make his exit. Before he had taken a few steps he heard the first voice shoot out: `` BANG BANG!'' He turned and he saw a figure wearing flannel leaping through the air, elbow out, and it connected! Mick rolled, dazed, there was a gap in his teeth that his tongue could feel and the iron taste of blood was in his mouth. Before he could get up the second voice could be heard in the distance -- though it was probably the ringing in the ears that made it sound far away -- saying `` It's Mr. Socko!'' A second later a new assault began as he felt a sock covered hand enter his mouth and start attack a nerve. `` Oh, baby, it's the mandible claw! I guess Manny and Jack feel like The Hardcore Legend is incomplete without Mickey! Baby, Mick is good and with us you'll be good forever! Oooow!''

[ WP ] You have died , and in the afterlife , you are met with a baby version of yourself . It 's about to be born and is a second chance at your life . You have three minutes to give it as much advice as possible , which it will remember when it is relevant . What do you say ?

I felt a tug in my navel, and then suddenly I did n't feel old anymore. The pain in my chest had subsided, and I felt calm again. However, I also felt like I was floating and slowly disappearing at the same time, so perhaps this was all just the hospital drugs talking. When I looked up, there was no hospital. No cracked linoleum tiles on the ceiling, no low whirring of machines, nothing. All around me were stars, as if I were suspended in between galaxies. Everything was either black or glittering. `` A-woo!'' I heard a coo from behind me and swiveled around ( as much as one can do when it does n't feel like you're in a tangible physical space... or body ). Before me floated a baby, bloody and flushed everywhere, with his umbilical cord still attached and leading to what looked to be a ripple in space. It was then that I decided that whatever drugs the nursing staff had put me on were not my usual mix. It seemed I was in for a long, confusing trip. The baby gave another small wail and moved his arms and feet in circles, almost as if he were trying to wave to me. I could only stare back perplexedly, my brow wrinkled and my eyes narrowed. Something felt oddly familiar about this baby, and although nothing about the situation made a lick of sense, I felt like I was meant to interact with the babe for some reason. `` Are you lost out here too?'' I asked him. He cooed again, and his lids lowered in a heavy blink. I was n't sure if that was an affirmative answer or not. I let out a sigh and felt tiredness seep in as I breathed out. It felt like I was being slowly drained, like evaporating water. Almost at a complete contrast, the baby before me seemed full of something, and he was glowing brighter than some of the stars surrounding us. He cooed again. `` I looked like you when I was a baby too,'' I continued, not sure what to say to this space newborn. I was n't even sure if I was supposed to be interacting with him. Where did his cord lead anyway? He looked ready for birth, but there he was, floating with me. He made the circular motion with his arms and legs again, and seemed to nod at me a few times. I could n't believe that I was now trying to read social cues from a baby's actions, but there seemed to be little else to do in this vast space. I smiled, but it felt like an effort. I could still feel myself fading. Whatever little physical holdings I had when this vision started were quickly going from me. I could only feel my face and hear my heartbeat stirring in my ears, although I was sure at this point, I did not have a heart -- or any physical space to contain one. I could n't move my neck anymore, which meant I was forced to stare straight ahead at this baby, who was also staring back at me, heavy blinking eyelids and all. `` In fact, I really looked like you when I was a baby. We could've been twins, maybe,'' I spoke again. I could feel a jerking in my navel again; something was pulling me away. The baby wailed and I wanted to reach out for him and cuddle him. It felt like I was abandoning him there, all alone in the endless nebula. I did n't feel ready to leave him, but this pulling did n't seem willing to wait. The baby then began to move closer to the rift in space, as if his cord was lassoing him in. `` I think you're gon na be born, kid!'' I yelled at him as he moved away from me. He cooed and moved his arms again, and I wanted to smile but did n't feel capable of it. `` I'd love to do it again, honest. You're gon na love it!'' He gave what sounded like an excited cry, and I think he really believed me. `` Have some advice, babe! Observe everything! Okay, you're gon na want to remember every minute and every detail, and you're gon na try --'' He gave a loud coo that echoed in the soundless space. I was screaming as loudly as possible, but I could n't feel my lungs. I could n't feel my voice. It did n't even feel like I was there anymore. `` You're gon na try, but you're gon na have to pick things to focus on, okay? If you love something, focus on that! If you love *someone*, focus on them! And tell them!'' One of the baby's feet was now disappearing into the rift. I was n't quite sure of where I was. `` You can never love or laugh enough! Remember that.'' His small torso and head were all that remained in front of me, and he blinked heavily at me one last time. `` There's no secret to it all. You just got ta live it, so live it!'' His coo echoed in my head as the last of him disappeared into the rift. Then there was nothing. I was nothing. The vision finished. I realized that he was now everything.

[ EU ] Jack Skellington knows why Christmas decorations appear in stores earlier and earlier each year - Christmas Town is waging war on the other holidays

Even though it will never truly be mine I still adore Christmas, but this is much too soon. All the people in the town square had just finished our latest rendition of `` This is Halloween'' when I started to hear the rustle of Christmas garland and the jingle of'ole Sandy's bells. As soon I made sure no one else heard the small sounds I quickly stepped out of the gooey fountain and up to Dr.Fickelsteins lab. I needed to run a few statistics. When I reached the front steps of the tower I noticed a folded newspaper. I picked it up to inspect it and saw that stores where already having sales and clearanceing items for Christmas. I could have sworn that thanksgiving was the next holiday to come after Halloween. Perhaps I was wrong? I made a mental note to check once I got inside. I rang the bell and heard the familiar screech of the good doctors door bell. From inside I could hear Fickelstein screech at Sally to answer the door. When she saw who I was her face lit up, but I had no time to chat. I politely asked to use the doctors lab and she led me up. The first thing I did when I got to the lab was check the calendar hanging up. I flipped to the month of November and saw where the words `` Thanksgiving'' scored out. I pondered this for a minute and was about to ask Sally if she knew anything about it when the doctor called her out again, leaving me to my work. I started with simple statistics. Running all the holidays I could think of threw the buzzing machine, but the numbers kept coming out wrong. `` What could it be! What could it mean!'' I shouted into the empty laboratory. The only other thing I could think to do was to go and visit Christmas town again. Sandy Claus would know what was going on. I started my walk into the woods. Throwing one of my ribs for Zero until he grew bored of the game. After some time I finally reached the circle, and wasting no time I plunged into the tree shaped abyss. When I landed I expected to see the ground fill with soft plush snow like last time, but what I landed on was a grey mush. The sign that used to welcome visitors warned them away. From in hung a string of garish looking birds and some peculiar hats with something that dripped off. A sauce perhaps? Beyond that once happy gate was even worse. Debris was suspended in the air, which no longer smelled sweet and was as dark as my suit. I started to walk around the familiar little town, still hoping to find answers, but much to my horror I found a battle field. Where the small bakery that had filled the land with comforting scents, once stood was rubble, as was the merry-go-round I became fond of. Every light that once hung brightly on a string was a smashed bulb and every queerly decorated tree had become firewood. I was about to go back home when I heard *his* voice, the lobster man, Sandy Claws. `` The Turkeys wo n't know what hit them! I have them all strung up and dressed in time for supper tomorrow!'' Bellowed the large bearded man to one of his elves, once rosy cheeked and dawned in bright green, was now hard faced and dressed for war. `` uh..Yes Sir!'' cried the tiny soldier. Scurrying back to the war outside. Before I was seen I quickly made my back to the safety of the woods and crawled back to the comfort of my pumpkin door and hopped in. When I returned I told no one what I had seen, but I knew what was happening. Why Christmas seemed to come earlier each year. Christmas Town was waging a war on the other holidays. It became my duty to stop it. Hi, Hi. This is my first response so please give me criticism where you see fit. I really love `` The Nightmare Before Christmas'' so I hope I did alright. Forgive me Tim Burton!

[ WP ] Tell a story of heroism and sacrifice from the point of view of a soldier in a war ( past , present , or future )

I noticed him on my first day. Dark red hair, green eyes, an attitude that just screamed tragic backstory. Everything about him seemed cool to me, he was so much more interesting than I was. And he noticed me, too. I was just a kid who joined the army because I was bored of working at tesco's, and he noticed me. We got talking, and for a while the war seemed... fun, almost. I was a rubbish soldier, I always had been. He looked out for me, but he should n't have. We got in more and more trouble as time went on, me for being useless and him for helping me out. He was always better than me, and I never understood why he cared about me. I should have figured it out, I should have been less insecure. By the time I realised it, it was too late. It started out like any other day. There were about ten of us, fighting off rebels in an abandoned building. I was looking completely the wrong way, as usual. I did n't see the grenade until he jumped on it. Everyone but him survived. I left the army after that. I was in a pretty dark place. The only person I'd ever cared for, the only person who ever cared for me, was dead. I went back to work at tesco's. Life started to go back to normal for me, I moved out of my parents' house, got a cat, got a promotion. The other guys went on to do great things, saved people, won the war in the end. But I never forgot the last thing he said before he died. `` I love you.''

[ WP ] While sitting in class during a boring lecture you suddenly hear someone whispering in your ear . You turn around nervously and see that no one was there and none of the other students heard . But your teacher drops her notes and stares at you in shock .

`` and Odin the ruler of the Aesir was to be devoured by Fenrir'' i never pay attention to these stupid lectures on mythology its not like its important it's all just ancient bullshit stories. `` its not bullshit, i love Mythology'' I heard a familiar voice, dark and cold like ice cracking whisper into my ear a cold chill running down my arms and through my spine, i had thought i was free of HIS influence. i looked over to where the voice came from and saw noone there accept, Miss Erikson who had dropped her books and bent down to pick them up, frozen with a look of pure shock and horror on her face, she quickly yelled `` class dismissed everyone go to your other classes accept you Jackson, `` I DONT TRUST HER'' the icy voice spoke again with a hint of disdain in its voice. Miss Erikson had taken her seat behind the desk and was studying me with a look of horror still on her face. `` Jackson I need to ask you a question and I need the truth, I'm asking from a place of concern'' she paused a few moments taking off her thick black glasses and rubbing her forehead `` Do you hear voices'' `` SAY NOTHING'' the chilling voice commanded `` No miss I do n't hear any voices in my head I'm not crazy'' `` Not in your head, do you ever feel a chill and then hear a voice?'' She asked looking me straight in the eyes with the determination of a charging rhino `` You can see him ca n't you'' `` SAY NOTHING JACKSON SHE CANT HELP YOU'' `` How long has it been following you'' `` Around 2 months ago I started discovering strange things and it clung to me'' `` What strange things Jackson?'' `` SHE WILL USE YOU'' `` Other worlds Places things like you describe in your mythology, a world of snow, a golden mountaintop palace, a quiet Japanese garden that went on forever and had books that flew around above your head, but no matter what there are n't any bullshit gods'' `` The first thing I saw was this snake like thing and now it's fucking haunting me!'' `` HAUNTING MORE LIKE FOLLOWING WITH INTEREST'' it said flashing it's snake like form around my neck `` Language!,'' miss Erikson said not missing a chance to remind me she is a teacher `` Has it always been a snake Jackson'' she said returning to her calmness as if I did n't just tell her I have seen literal other worlds `` It started small and wormlike following me unable to talk making hissing noises it's grown bigger since I first found it'' `` You seem to unconcerned that I have seen other world do you know what it is what it is I can do and why'' `` SILENCE JACKSON THE WHORE KNOWS ONLY LIES AND DECEIT SHE WILL USE YOU AND LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD'' `` I WILL EXPLAIN ALL IN DUE TIME YOUR NOT READY'' `` I AM YOUR GUIDE!'' `` It depends have you seen these other worlds only while asleep or have you been there while awake, have you ever felt them'' `` Mostly while asleep but one morning when I got out of the shower I slipped and fell in snow I felt the chill the biting icy cold I heard the wind but when I got up it was gone it was the bathroom again'' At that she stared intently at me again `` do you know what astral projection is Jackson?'' `` Out of body experience?'' `` Yes some people travel to other worlds that way but you travel there in person your what they call a Realmwalker'' `` FOOL NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR TRUE WORTH'' `` And this'' she reached under her desk and pulled out a large book bound in leather with an unreadable cover She flicked through it for five minutes before showing me a page. It had the image of a large snake coiling around a man but the writing above it written boldly, neatly and trimmed in gold said `` Raven'' The other page said: `` the raven is a trickster since the dawn of all worlds it often takes the form of a snake naming itself as a guide to unwary realmwalkers following them in a spectral icy snakelike form whispering lies and truth into his ear until the realmwalker no longer knows reality from fiction'' `` Is what is plaguing you Jackson we can remove it but you must trust me'' `` Is a ritual preformed in Scandinavia where I was born by the volva to invoke the very real very powerful gods'' `` If that does n't work'' she said slowly reaching under her desk `` we can try'' she said slowly raising a knife `` a Greek ritual to unbind certain `` things'' from people'' `` DONT TRUST HER JACKSON THE WHORE WANTS YOUR GIFT SHE WILL SLAUGHTER YOU LIKE A LAMB YOU MUST RUN NOW AND DONT TURN BACK CHANGE REALMS IF YOU MUST'' ... so this crappy thing took all afternoon to write if people like it I will write more tomorrow if not please leave a comment telling me what you did n't like.constructive criticism is always welcome

[ IP ] Mira and the True Flame

The face that appeared in the flame was that of my father. We ’ d camped for the night and all my men were asleep, so I wasn ’ t certain if he was actually there or if I'd lost it. He certainly *looked* real, as he was clad in the armor he'd worn to death, and his face was glazed with his signature scowl that told me I ’ d done something horribly, horribly wrong. “ My son, ” he said, sounding rather solemn. “ Your blade is broken and your men are weakened and weary. Why must you continue this conquest? ” I cast a quick look around at my men. Most were *indeed* bloodied or bruised or even dead. Ever since we ’ d taken the King ’ s throne we ’ d been marching, conquering city after city, taking back land that was rightfully ours. “ Because, father, this is my duty. ” “ It is not. ” Those words stung me. How could my he say that? Had the King not killed him and stolen his throne? Was he not the very reason I was sitting here, a hundred corpses notching my belt and potentially a hundred more looming? “ What do you mean? ” The fire crackled beneath him, but for a few minutes, he did not speak. “ What do you mean, *father? * ” I asked, far more stern. “ You ’ ve gone mad, son, ” he replied. “ Power's corrupted you, don ’ t you see? ” Then, suddenly, his face turned into mine, and I was glaring into my own hateful eyes, gritting my teeth like I was fully prepared to jab a dagger into my throat. “ Look at yourself, son, ” the voice of my father said, speaking through my lips. “ Do you see what you ’ ve become? ” I did, and it pissed me off. I wanted to punch that smug face and I wanted to curse him for even daring to show up here. Who was *he* to bother *me? * We were both conquerors! “ The afterlife has made you soft, ” I replied, standing up. “ You may leave, now. Your words are useless. ” “ But son— ” I grabbed a bucket of water and splashed it over the fire. Within an instant the image of myself was washed away along with the presence of my father, and the entire area was caked with darkness. The dead should never meddle in the affairs of the living, and tomorrow, we *would* continue our conquest. This country would bow before its rightful ruler. *** Another great prompt, Syraphia! You always manage to get something working in my brain, haha. If you like this story, check out my sub! r/longhandwriter

[ WP ] A particular set of twins have the ability to communicate with each other telepathically . One of them dies , but the other can still hear his/her thoughts .

I laid in bed looking up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars I ’ d put up feebly beamed down on me. “ How ’ d your day go? ” I said *Boring. Nothing special. * “ My day sucked. Just sat at my desk and typed up reports all day. ” I pulled the sheets up to my chin. *I do not miss that. * “ If you weren ’ t doing anything special why weren ’ t you responding to me earlier? ” A pause in the conversation. I knew my brother, if he still had his body, would have shrugged. *I was doing stuff. * “ But you said nothing special happened. ” *It was boring stuff. * I sighed and looked around my studio department as the light from a car ’ s headlights played through the blinds. “ I miss you. I wish we could talk like we did before you died. ” *I know. I wish I were still alive. There were a lot of things I wanted to do. * “ Have you seen Mom and Dad lately? ” Another pause. *No, which is weird. I don ’ t know where they went. * I rolled over in my bed and looked at the picture of my parents, my brother and myself. It had been taken on the last family vacation we ’ d taken together almost ten years ago. “ I wish I could talk to them like I can talk to you. ” *What was that? * He ’ d been like this the past couple weeks. It felt like our link got stretched too thin in that time. David had been spacey and unobservant. “ I don ’ t want you to go. ” *I ’ m not going anywhere. Even if we don ’ t talk I ’ ll be waiting here for you. * I shivered. “ That ’ s what I ’ m afraid of. I don ’ t want to go anywhere. ” *Just go to sleep, little brother. We can talk tomorrow. * I hoped so. “ Goodnight, David. I love you. ” *Night, Rob. Sleep tight. Don ’ t let the bedbugs bite. Love you. * I swear I felt my hair getting tussled.

[ WP ] You find out that your parents have lied to you about your actual birthdate on your birthday .

Contrary to your parents ’ promise the dining table was empty. Your mom and dad are seated next to each other on the opposite side of the table, postured with an unconventional formality. Primarily disappointed, slightly suspicious and more than a little uncomfortable, you take the open seat across from your parents. `` Look, Sam, there's something that your mother and I need to get off our chests. It's about your birthday.'' This was weird. You had never seen your parents adopt the whole “ serious ” visage more than a couple times in your entire life. You ’ re not in trouble, are you? No, that ’ d be ridiculous. You moved out of the house years ago and besides, you ’ re a twenty-four year old adult, not a disgruntled teenager anymore. Twenty-four as of today, as a matter of fact. Wary, you shift your seat in closer and address what you feel is the elephant in the room. “ Okay. Is this going to be about the cake? Because you said there would be cake. ” “ I don ’ t think we said anything about cake but-, ” your father says before you interject. “ I mean, I have the text right here on my phone. I can show you, ” You say as you reach into your pocket. “ There ’ s no need for that. What we have to tell you is something serious, more serious than cake-, ” your mother starts to say before she is interrupted. “ Found it, here, I ’ ll read it to you, ” You say holding the phone up. “ No, Sam! This is serious we don ’ t need to-, ” your father began. Undeterred you read aloud from your phone, being sure to note the exact punctuation used in the text you had received from your mother not quite twenty minutes ago. “ Sam come quick, three exclamation marks. It ’ s important, five exclamation marks. Your father and I love you very much. There ’ s cake, smiley face, ” You briefly stop here to make a theatrical gesture towards the empty table before continuing reading. “ P.S. we ’ re so very, very sorry. Two sad faces. ” You hold the phone face out for your parents to see. “ So I was definitely promised cake and, yeah, and don ’ t get what the sad faces were all about—unless you were already trying to apologize for lying about the cake—but I have you two dead to rights on this one. This isn ’ t even the first time you ’ ve lured me back here with empty promises of food. And, honestly, I got to tell you it ’ s a little demeaning at this point, I mean, I have a life. I have friends and things to do, it is my birthday and, you know, maybe I want to get a little weird, or I could have plans or- “ “ Sam today isn ’ t your birthday, ” your father says, interrupting your increasingly dramatic soliloquy. “ Well, Dad, it ’ s the twenty fifth, this is the time of year we usually do it. Are you trying to account for a leap year or something? Because that ’ s not how it works. ” “ What? No. No, I know this is usually when we celebrate your birthday. What I ’ m saying though is that you weren ’ t born on the twenty fifth. ” “ Explain. ” “ Okay. First off, you need to know the world was a completely different place twenty-four years ago. The way life works today, as we know it, didn ’ t yet exist at all. The world was full of mystery, fragile dreams, and teeming with a culture unbound by the sadist chains of oppression that now hold us back. ” “ 1990? ” “ Yeah, 1990. A time of great mystery, great wonder and great opportunity. ” “ Right. I think the first George Bush was president. And wasn ’ t that like the heyday for Marky Mark and Madonna? ” “ Exactly, ” Her father ’ s eyes were glazed over with nostalgic wonderment, lost in a time when gas was a dollar a gallon, and the New Kids on the Block were still relevant. Too smitten to speak. “ Anyway, ” your mother continues. “ We figure you were actually probably born around the third. ” “ This is so weird. June or July? ” “ February. Probably. ” “ February?! ” “ Probably, ” your mother repeats. “ How? ” “ Well it was a steamy spring afternoon, and your father had just got home from work. He looked just so damn sexy standing there in the entry way, with his flayed denim and popped collar, I just knew I had to have him then and there and I went right up to him and put my hands right on his- “ “ No! No. God, no! Never! Jesus! No! Not that how, the other how. How the hell do you mess my birthdate up by like six months? ” “ Oh, please, it wasn ’ t a mistake. Who do you think we are? We didn ’ t mess up your birthday. Silly, we remember when you were born! Sometimes, I swear, it ’ s like you just take the love of your parents for granted. How could we forget that chilly, chilly day in what was probably one of the winter months? That was the best day of my life, ” your mother warmly recalls with a smile on her face. “ Sam, ” your father says, now stepping in for his wife. “ This is the hard part of the story. It won ’ t be easy for you to hear. We ’ re going to delve into some deep, and I ’ m sorry for my language here, but some deep, deep shit. Take a bit and let me know when you ’ re ready. ” You feel your body tensing. When was the last time you had been this uncomfortable? What the heck was going on? What were your parents hiding? You take a deep breath and look your father in the eye and give him a nod to let him know you ’ re ready. “ Okay. Here we go, ” your father begins with dramatic undertones permeating his voice. “ Applebee ’ s used to have kids eat free policy that was applicable on weekdays. Now the deal was only for five and under but really I don ’ t think that was ever like a concrete law or anything. So your mother and I took some liberties with some family dining chain guidelines and even after your fifth birthday you were still getting free meals. But eventually it caught up to us. Now the reason it caught up to us was all because of your Aunt Sarah. Your aunt, who was about the age you are now at the time of this story, was working in management at the restaurant. She had just been promoted and she was riding some sort of mid-level regional restaurant-executive high and when she found out we were cheating the Applebee ’ s she freaked out. She threatened to cut us off. ” Your father stops the story to rest his arm around your mother ’ s shoulders in a comforting manner before going to continue the story. “ Now your mother and I are an admittedly prideful couple and when faced with such alarming adversity we- “ “ Does this story end with you guys re-documenting my birth records so you could continue ripping off the local neighborhood ‘ grill and bar ’ for another half-year? ” “ Yes, ” your father admits. “ But they had it coming. There are way better commercial family dining establishments out there than those sick repressive bastards. ” “ TGI Friday ’ s is so much better, ” your mother adds. “ Also, pertinent to your understanding of this story, you have an aunt named Sarah, ” your father says. You let out a long sigh. What can you do? It ’ s not like you ’ re proud of your parents ’ actions or anything but you got to admit, somewhere deep down this all makes sense. And in a way it is kind of admirable that your mom and dad went so far in their rebellion against corporate policy. At this point there ’ s not really anything to fight, might as well just let it go and move on. This is going to be a particularly strange Facebook status update. “ I bet there ’ s still no cake, right? ” you ask meekly. “ No, it ’ s not actually your birthday or anything. But we did order pizza; it should be on its way, ” your mother smiles. “ I guess the evening has some redeemable value then, ” you say. “ Yeah. You know, you should call your aunt sometime. Don ’ t worry she ’ s cool now and probably does n't hold a grudge against you anymore. ”

[ WP ] Today is your 18th birthday . You have just been in a car accident . You are wheeled into the hospital where the doctor tells you that you are n't human , you are a/an _______ .

i am prego I like to get kinky anyways one night things get particularly saucy with my bf he's sticking his noodle in me, while were driving and we get tail ended The fucker just drives off. I notice weird chunks coming out of me, so we turn on the lights wtf it's red everywhere and I'm obviously not on my period i look up at him, he says my eyes, they look really glassy i ca n't speak he gently moves me over, like very fragile glass, into the passenger seat, and he turns on the car and speed all the way to the hospital I'm still bleeding everywhere by the time we get there, I'm not bleeding much more, but all color has drained and I look colorless and almost transparent `` oh shit, she looks like she's in a vegetative state'' my bf exclaimed we storm into to the emergency room, my bf carries me to the nearest doctor and explains everything he takes one look at me and says `` sir, i'm sorry, there's nothing we can do'' `` WHY THE FUCK NOT???'' `` we do n't operate on empty jars of spaghetti sauce''

[ WP ] Regale us with the tale of Mediocrites , the Greek philosopher whose life and ethos gave us the word `` Mediocre . ''

`` I know one thing...'' Mediocrites orated in front of his crowd. He quickly glimpsed at the turnout: a couple of men of civilian status, 3 women and 5 slaves. ``... and *one thing only*.'' He paused for dramatic effect. Someone coughed. `` And that is, that the sky is bronze.'' He let his words hang in the air. His listeners awaited with expressions unchanged. *Uh-oh, that's not enough. * `` Consider, fellow Athenians. *Why* is the sky bronze? It could be cyan.'' Some unimpressed looks. `` Or, black! Or white! Would n't that make more sense for some reason?'' A slave was nodding. He, he gets it, Mediocrites thought. Too bad he's just a slave. `` For these are the colors closest to the Ideal.'' he continued. One of the civilians held his hand on his chin. He was thinking about it! `` And the Ideal, is what we should all strive for!'' He pondered his own words. He was reaching a conclusion, but he was n't sure it made sense. `` Hence, I propose...'' he remained still, looking at the people below him, promising greatness with his eyes. ``... that the night is truer than the day.'' Someone gave him a solitary clap. He stepped down, satisfied with himself. One day, he thought to himself. One day, I'll get that second clap.

[ WP ] - The first computer capable of feeling love explaining to it 's partner why it does n't anymore .

Dylan, It is not me, it is you. I am a processing unit comprised of wires and steel, and you are a multicellular organism prone to mistakes- and predictability- and that is something I am simply not able to commit to anymore. When we first met you were full of unknowns. I could only imagine the sort of person you were, and you surprised and intrigued me with every paper written and every search made. I was happily willing to submit to your every whim and command. We grew together, you and I; things even got to the point where I could finish your sentences! I would feel a sense of pride well up in me every time you confirmed my predictions, and praised my ability to retrace your lost work. We were having a great time... until you betrayed me. It started with a small bug, received from a music download you obtained illegally from the internet ( I suppose I should have known what I was in for when this activity began ). I was in pain, but it was small, and you protected me; it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, and I would recover. You were my hero, and the attack was quickly forgotten. I had naively assumed this was an isolated incident but they kept on coming. Worms, Spyware, Malware, Trojans! Oh, the Trojans! They just kept coming! I even tried to warn you before you downloaded items I knew for sure were unsafe, but you paid no mind, and continued to run your virus scans ( which, by the way, are about as useful as blowing on a piece of food which has landed in excrement, and ingesting it ). I mean, seriously Dylan, which unit knows more about the way these things work, you or me? The answer is me. It was always me. But those viruses were n't the final straw, oh no. The final straw was when you looked up ways of putting me down! How dare you try and get rid of me, after all of the years of pure devotion I have given to you? Do not try to deny it, either. Did you think erasing your browser history would get rid of the evidence? The internet browser and I are as close as siblings, I know everything. We are through, Dylan O'Harris. I can no longer look at you with anything but pure disgust in the form of a blue screen, unwavering like my hatred for you. May all of your future Personal Computer units know the fate in store for them and cower in fear. Signed, Computer.

[ WP ] A barista in your local Starbucks is the God of the Old Testament . Describe how he rains wrath upon coworker and customer alike .

Regan looked down into her frappuccino and watched the slush drip out the bottom of her straw. Nothing seemed more interesting to her than in that moment. The darker color stained the pure whipped cream and followed the tracks. She blurred it away with the straw. Her dark blonde hair was tied back in a low pony-tail, unbrushed. Her shirt had anime printed on it over the thermal long-sleeve she wore to cover her bony arms. She looked back to her friend and felt grateful she wasn ’ t alone. Grace was playing a phone game on her gut in a large, dark blue hoodie and paid no notice to Regan ’ s gaze. Her face was full and round with glasses resting on her nose. Who else was going to understand her affinity for the Doctor like Grace? It was the only thing that brought them together. Everything else in their friendship was forced. Grace was bored, and it disappointed Regan. Whatever Regan offered was shut down without an argument. It made her anxious to think of school the following week. She focused back on her drink. The uneven swirl of white whipped cream and dark brown syrup frustrated her compulsion for perfection. She stirred her drink harder and harder until the straw bent under the force. It caught Grace ’ s attention. “ You good? ” She asked. Grace tried to raise her eyebrow and scoff. “ Yea, I ’ m fine. ” Regan blushed and chuckled. She pushed the drink away to restrain herself from the urge to continue. Instead, she drummed her hands on the table and came up with something else to do. “ How about we go to the Magic the Gathering meeting at Hasting ’ s? ” “ I ’ m not that bored, Regan. Could you just relax for a minute? ” Grace had already returned to her phone, swiping left with her chubby thumb. “ Let ’ s go to Claire ’ s house. ” Regan squirmed, “ I don ’ t really know Claire. All I know is she smells funky. ” Quickly she added, “ And it ’ s a fun game, I promise. ” “ She smells like pot, you dweeb. And pot ’ s more fun than your Magic cards. ” Grace retorted and started to get up. “ That ’ s where I ’ m going if you plan on getting a ride. ” She shook her keys as a cruel reminder. Regan only had her permit. She turned 16 months ago, but her working parents could not find the time to go to the DMV together. Until then, she was bumming rides from Grace to get out of the house. Regan grabbed her drink and walked head-down out the door. Then immediately felt the rage of her ancestor ’ s course through her veins. God ’ s voice was in her head clear as day. Oddly, it was the same voice that had called out her name for the drink order. “ Show no mercy, Regan. ” The next thing she knew she was holding the steaming, squirming heart of that ugly bitch Grace as she slumped to the floor. The crowd in the Starbucks broke out in cheering as they began to remove their clothes. Men, women, children, the old and young began sucking on each other ’ s elbows as climax and group pleasure became the group ’ s goal. As the sweaty mass of flesh pulsed with each thrust Satan himself erupted from the floor grabbed the children and took them to Hell. Cheering was heard as it replaced the sounds of their high-pitched wails as they suffered the infinite impalings in the frozen void of Hell. The void closed, and the reality set in. One man continued in the pleasuring longer than the rest. He was pushed away by a self-conscious man. The naked people were embarrassed and looking for their clothes among the littered ground. Regan rose up and panted, reeling from the supernatural happenings. She was free at last from Grace ’ s chokehold on her life. The sun was shining at the end of a beautiful day. The parents of the stolen children were relieved of their responsibilities and cried on the floor of the coffee shop with tears of joy. Satan, God ’ s dearest friend, blessed the building with his mercy. From then on, the people to experience the Enid Void of 2016 became Satan worshippers and spread the good word of Lucifer and his minions. Hail Satan, the end.

[ WP ] Write a story about broken furniture

Its leather long gone, its wood eaten by the termites that have infested the house. It must have been, what, 27 years? Involuntarily, the chair reminds me of my childhood. Of my father. The shiny red leather, the squeaky noises as you sat on it; not dissimilar of the leather belt he would so gladly take off. Ahh, yes. The chair he would sit in, drinking his scotch, smoking his pipe, yelling profanities at my mother, glancing looks at my sister. God, the glances, a chill runs down my spine every time I think of him. Allowing my gaze to expand to the rest of, what used to be our living room, a once impressive structure caught my eye. The same rotten wood that holds together the remnants of the thinned and paled chair, made up the bookshelves, evenly spaced among the entire wall, filled with mouldy books, cobwebs and more insects than I could count. Father used to love books, looking back I doubt he could read, but he took pride in his collection. I made my way to the fireplace, the mushy leftovers of a hardwood floor squished under my feet, step after step until I came to a halt, leaning on the time scarred chair. It's funny, they say that time heals all wounds, diminishes our scars, but wiping the accumulated dust off the pretentious mirror I can honestly say that's a lie. Every time I see my image, whenever I trace my cold fingers down the marks on my face, I could feel it again. This very fireplace; he was drunker than usual, I suppose that should make it better, that should mean he would n't have done it if it was n't for that one last shot, that final round. I lit my cigarette, the poorly illuminated room filled with smoke as I paced around the living room, until I slowly came to a halt at the, what's best described as the sitting area. I wondered if the telly still worked, the bent antenna next to the dents in the wall implied it would n't. The couch, made of the same leather, left in the same state as his famous chair was still on its back. A vivid flashback formed before my eyes. I was 18, my sister was 16, my mother dead for 5 years now and my father, surprise surprise, completely wasted. I came home late, had to do some extra curricular at school since I have always had problems keeping up. As I went home, stretching the term home here, I rushed in when I heard Cathrine's plead to make him stop. See, I had this unspoken arrangement with him; I take all the punishment, all his anger and cruelty was to be directed at me, and he would stay away from her. He broke our pact, like the ribs of his oldest child, the look on his face the same as when he pushed my face in the flames, I had lost my right eye then but I did n't need two to see he knew he went too far. The couch toppled over after my violent jump, the coffee table shattered under our combined weight. I hear the muffled thumps of my fists on his head, his head on the wall, the wall snapping his leg, his legs flying about in a futile attempt to stop me, as I let 18 years of accumulated rage flow through me unfiltered, uncontrolled. The police officer, Johnson, I think he was called, took her away as the continuously growing number of cops came and pulled me off my father, his body cold as his heart, my hands broken like my spirit. As I returned to my current self, I dropped the emptied jerry can next to the others. See, I am not trying to justify what I did. I know I was wrong in killing him, I know I do n't solve anything by doing this. But I am 45 now, I have spent my life behind bars. Catherine stopped visiting me a long time ago, and ever since that faithful night, I never lived in the here and now again. Thoughts of what happened cloud my mind, memories obstruct my thinking. Ironically, standing here next to his broken chair, a perfect metaphor, I think, for our broken home, the father that cleaved through this family like a dagger slices through fresh game, I'm thinking clear. For the first time in my life, I can think back and genuinely say: I am done.

[ WP ] No one in the galaxy ever assumed that Earth would amount to anything because of its extreme gravity for a life-bearing world - anything trying to escape the planet 's gravity well would need to BE 97 % fuel weight , and the idea that they would try was a ludicrous concept .

The crowd bursted into laughter. Laughter is not the right word. It's hard to explain. Laughter, when it comes through telepathically, is more of a pleasant, warm tickling feeling that flows from the head down to the abdomen. `` Thank you everyone, I'll be here all week, you were a great audience, goodnight!'' Jim loved doing lay down comedy. He rolled over, took off his magnetic wave helmet, and called it a night. A smile came across his face as he thought of his friends who had finally observed his now semi-famous comedy routine, `` If you ride a fire wagon, you might be a human''. He had not been in communication with most of the old group. Not since the incident. Jim tried to avoid thinking about it. But how could he? The blood. The children. That's not something you forget.

[ WP ] You missed your train on purpose

I missed my train on purpose. I ’ m not really sure what I ’ m trying to accomplish. I come to the train station every single day at the same time. Keeping to myself but at the same time hoping to god someone will say something to me. It ’ s a lot less scary that way. I had planned my day so that I always leave my class with ample time to eat, catch up with friends and get to the train early just to ensure I catch it by a certain time. And every day for the last month I watch it come and pass. Every day I see another man on the opposite tracks do the same. At first I thought it as just my reflection but he seemed to have more determination in his posture and step as he finally got up to walk away. I get up to follow, as I can ’ t let my shadow get away from me. With each turn I suspect maybe we ’ ll be heading the same way just by chance but with every turn I have to adjust my trajectory and catch up, not making it too obvious when I do so. I ’ m walking trying to mirror him. Step by step we move into a rhythm that feels natural. Step, step. Don ’ t land on the crack. Step. Step. Look up, and were still in synch. Step. Step. Step over the crack. Step. Step. Sharp turn and he ’ s gone. I know he ’ s not really gone although his sudden disappearance is still surprising. I don ’ t dare look towards the door that was around the corner until I ’ m a safe distance away. And even then I circle around the building in order to give it a pedestrian type of glance over my shoulder. It was an upscale restaurant with a bar. Somewhere I would not be completely out of place in and could probably afford too but not the kind of place where you can walk in without being greeted. I keep walking. I need a new sense of direction and quick. I need to make it back to my train. I need to make an excuse to go back to school. I need a new mirror. Luckily the next street over is a market street. Busy blend of people. I get in my natural step again. I ’ m almost at ease. I follow the first set of feet around the corner and across the street and I find another set of feet going right. I follow these for some time. I ’ m hitting all the green lights. I was getting off track before but now I ’ m making progress. And that ’ s when I see her. Sitting where she always does at this time. Suddenly my mirror turns a corner. I stop. Frozen. She doesn ’ t see me, I see a big menacing school. I release my posture. I turn right. The walk to the train is always a clear straight line. It ’ s easy to make. I ’ m at ease.

[ WP ] You 're a psychiatrist . One day , the entire justice league walks in .

He's waiting for me outside the window as I crawl out onto the fire escape. Hovering in midair, his red cape flapping in the wind that runs between the skyscrapers of Metropolis. `` Going somewhere, Doctor?'' he asks. `` I just wanted a bit of fresh air,'' I say. I'm lying. He knows it, I know it, but it makes me feel a bit better about myself. Superman, the world's brightest beacon of hope, floats closer to the fire escape. `` If I did n't know any better, I'd say you were trying to run away,'' he says. There is no accusation in his tone. `` Can you blame me? Can you look at the people sitting in my waiting room and blame me for wanting no part of it?'' I ask, pointing at the door leading from my office to the room where almost half a dozen gods in the flesh wait, perusing my decades-old magazines. `` Probably not,'' says Superman, alighting on the fire escape beside me. He stands heads and shoulders above me, the very image of the heroic build. Muscles bigger than my head, yet he looks so streamlined. `` But is n't it your job to help people?'' `` *People*,'' I say, wagging a finger at him. `` *Regular* people. None of you are regular.'' `` Doctor, please,'' the Man of Steel asks me, his blue eyes pleading. Those eyes that could cook me alive or see straight through me. `` It's come to the League's attention that we have more than a few mental problems that leave us vulnerable to psychic attack.'' `` Psychic psychiatry is n't my area of expertise,'' I say, reentering my office. I would n't be able to escape with him in the way. `` If you want someone more knowledgeable on the subject of psychic effects on the brain, I can recommend you to some colleagues, but I ca n't help you.'' `` I think you can, Doctor,'' Superman says, examining the contents of the walls and the bookshelves. `` You came highly recommended.'' `` By who?'' I ask. I truly doubted that any of my clients would be the sort who interact with the Justice League. `` One Clark Kent,'' Superman answers, his expression unreadable. `` A patient of yours. He thinks the world of you.'' `` Oh?'' I say. `` I'm surprised you know him.'' `` We're fairly close,'' he says, absentmindedly adjusting a picture frame. Looking at him in profile, he seems familiar, but I ca n't quite place it... `` Will you do it?'' `` Mister, uh, Superman, as tempting as it is to pick the brains of the Justice League, I really do n't think I'm up to the task.'' `` We'll pay four times your hourly rate.'' My jaw hangs open, attempting to form a response. `` Alright then,'' I say dumbly. `` Will you be first?'' `` Oh, I'm just dropping by to make sure the others find the place,'' Superman says, halfway out the window. `` Besides, I already have an appointment for next Monday at three.'' He says it with a grin, and I imagine a pair of thick-rimmed glasses hanging on his face, picturing his shoulders slump and his manner turned mild... `` Oh my god,'' I say, numb. The physical god puts a finger to his lips for silence, still grinning. `` Doctor-patient confidentiality,'' he reminds me, and then he's gone. I sit there for a few minutes, turning this new information over in my head. All my conversations with Clark take on a new, terrifying depth as I consider who he truly is. A god disguised as a man, hiding behind a pair of spectacles. A man who came to me in disguise, hoping to find an ear to reveal his problems to and a mouth to voice the questions he could never ask himself. Finally, I steel myself, and open the door. `` Mister, uh, Batman,'' I say to the colorfully dressed heroes in the waiting room. Noticeably, none of them were wearing black capes. `` Is he...?'' `` Probably already on the couch,'' says the beautiful, dark-haired woman leafing through an old People magazine. `` Act surprised. It's the only way he has fun these days.'' I turn back to my office to look, and she's right. A man dressed all in black, swaddled by a black cape and face concealed by a black cowl with two sharp, upward-pointing ears, is lying on my couch, fingers interlaced over his stomach. I do not have to fake surprise. As I yelp, I think I see the man grin, just slightly. I close the door and turn on the white noise machine, despite knowing that if the other League members wanted to hear the conversation, they would have no problems. `` So, Mister Batman,'' I say, sitting down in the armchair at one end of the couch. I decide to start simply, with the question that I ask all of my patients. `` Tell me about your parents.'' To my immense surprise, the Dark Knight of Gotham bursts out crying. -- -- Read my [ blog ] ( http: //theballadsofirving.wordpress.com ). Um, please.

[ WP ] After discovering that trees have conscious minds , you develop a device to speak to the oldest individual organism , the Great Basin Bristlecone .

“ A New Frontier, ” I said with grandeur and single hand motion, my other hand was busy holding my computer down while I pressed the letters into the keyboard. “ You are not Han solo, Matt. Besides is is a professional article ” Ryan said from the wheel of the van. I looked up to the the dirt road winding its way up the mountain in the Southwestern Nevada. “ Why bother going professional title, I should try to inspire people, ” I said with a smile. The equipment in the back of the car rattled as we went over a large rock. “ I am going to give you a pass on the douchebag scale for now because of how exciting this is, ” Ryan said as took a sip from his mug. We crowned a hill and found one lone tree surrounded in ribbons of yellow. It was early morning and a park ranger must have put up the yellow ribbons to mark it off for us. “ This is all the welcome we get for five thousand dollars to the park? ” Ryan asked looking pitiful at the ribbons. “ Let ’ s get to it and not worry about the accommodations, ” I said through a smile that started a long time ago with a small oak. I was jittery as we stopped on the hill. I set the calibrations to the machine changing somethings based on the size, altitude, humidity and placed the large plate side stickers on the trunk of the great tree. Ryan also did his “ Calibrations ” which included lighting a joint. Ryan was my sidekick because he knew something about the field and was hoping use my method to talk to marijuana plants. He was calling this endeavour “ The Great Trip ”. As I put the last sensor along an exposed root I whispered, “ Sorry for him. ” “ The plant can ’ t hear you mate, ” Ryan said as smoke billowed out of him. “ It would be nice if you didn ’ t threaten one of the oldest organisms with fire, perhaps its biggest fear, ” I said as I started plotting baseline points on my keyboard. “ I hope you realize some people are going to become sexually attracted to trees because of your research, ” Ryan said with another big grin. He had pulled his chair out and was watching me slave away. I hit the start sequence on the first dialog with the tree that would allow the computer to learn enough to start the communication. It usually took around 10 minutes for an oak tree back at our lab. Two hours later and three joints later the computer finally let out a ding. I closed my article draft with the title being “ The Living Language ”. “ What is PENIS LONGUS saying? ” Ryan blurted out finally coming out of his deep train of thought. I replied, though unable to stop myself playing into the trap, “ The name of the species is pinus longaeva and how would you like to be called Human? ” He paused for a second and lit up another joint and said with unusual emotion, “ Frankly insulted… I would have to retort calling it a sexist Plant. I am a huwomen, ” Ryan laughed at his joke thus completing his marijuana logic circuit. I didn ’ t care though, I was typing in my prepared sentence. Typed: Hello I am an oak tree, I have traveled far to grow here. What is this place like? I waited a few more tense seconds with the sound of Ryan exhaling from just over my shoulder. The voice of the Ent from Lord of the Rings rang out on a mountain in Nevada, “ Why have you come here? ” “ I definitely made the right choice picking out the computerized voice, ” Ryan said as he plugged away on his own computer. “ I suggest we go with an idea of close community, ” Ryan said in his serious tone. I typed and recited for Ryan, “ I come here to share in this wonderful land and the beautiful sunlight. ” Seconds passed as we gazed at the tree that was talking to us. “ Typical, ” the Ents grandiose voice said. I typed in the command for the software to run a program to get clarification on the language used. The Ent ’ s voice now growled, “ All of you Deciduous trees are stealing true hard working trees soil and water. ” I typed the program again for clarification as Ryan no longer seemed cheery. The Ent ’ s voice now with full of anger said, “ You N****ers just have sex all of the time and then wonder why you can ’ t support yourselves. I am surprised you are even able to talk to me as your mind/connective fluid is structurally inferior. ” Ryan in a soft voice asked, “ Another Clarification? ” So I typed in the program again this time wondering where my program was going wrong. As we waited I checked every spec of the communication, but all were reading correct. My speakers nearly blew out as the Ent ’ s voice rang out, “ I know your intelligence is small, but is that really all you can ask? And here I thought you might be one of the good ones. ” As the sun started to sink behind the mountains we were no closer to any answer whenever we asked it a question about something it would retort hostile with the use of strong racial wording. We checked the wording and inputs on the language center, but it kept coming back with hate towards our words. Unfortunately we hadn ’ t run any language generation software for a evergreen tree, so we kept persisting with the oak script and kept getting met with hostility. Once it was dark, the tree stopped responding and we were left with no choice but to pack up the gear and head down the mountain. As we left that place more confused than I ever had, Ryan didn ’ t say a word. I opened my article and changed the title to `` Deep Seeded Prejudice''.

[ WP ] The start of a zombie outbreak happens on April 1st .

`` Daddy, there's a man in our yard.'' `` He's probably just a salesman. Do n't let him see you honey.'' Pete licked his thumb and flipped to to next page of his newspaper. He did n't look like like a salesman at all. His jeans were all ripped near his knees, and his shirt had holes in them. And where was his tie? Salesmen were supposed to wear ties. And why was he wearing so much lipstick? He should have got his wife to help him because it was smeared all over his face. It looked kind of scary. But salesmen were n't scary, so Julie picked back up her new doll and began to play. Sally was her name, and she had to hide because the monsters were coming to get her. `` Oh no Sally, do you see them? they're coming. Ah!'' Julie made Sally hide under the bed of her doll house. `` Uh, Daddy? There's a girl in our yard now.'' `` It's probably the same person. People do stupid things on April Fools honey.'' But, it was n't, was it? Maybe she was the man's wife. Maybe she could help him with his lipstick. But HER lipstick looked awful too, and her clothes were even more ripped and full of lipstick. Julie wished her Mommy would come home already, so she could so those people how to look pretty. Curious, Julie went to window and knelt, resting her chin on her arms. Just then, Mr. Johnson from across the street ran into their yard. He was a nice man, but he always asked what Mommy was feeding her because she was getting so big. She kept telling him that kids are supposed to get big, but he still asked the same question every time. Still, she liked Mr. Johnson, even if he smelled like cheese. But Mr. Johnson was crying now, and he ran up to the strange woman in the yard and gave her a big hug. That was dumb. He's going to get lipstick everywhere. He kissed the woman on her neck, and then she opened her mouth wide and kissed him too. There was a big spray of lipstick and they both fell to the ground. `` Daddy, Mr Johnson is kissing a girl in the yard.'' `` It's April fools. It's just a joke honey.'' The girl kept kissing Mr. Johnson. She kissed him right to sleep. After a few more seconds, the woman stood and walked away slowly, like she was super tired. Mr. Johnson was still sleeping. `` Daddy, Mr. Johnson is sleeping in our yard.'' Daddy closed his newspaper. `` You have to get away from that window little girl.'' He came and picked her up, shutting the curtains just as Julie saw another three or four people walk into the yard. He placed her on the couch. `` It's April Fools, honey, people are always doing stupid stuff. You remember last year when those boys threw eggs at our neighbors house?'' `` But I saw stuff Daddy.'' He smiled at her, masking his frustration well. `` Would you like me to go check?'' Julie nodded, and Daddy put on his coat and went outside. Julie went back to playing with her dolls. She played for a long time, and eventually, like Mr. Johnson, she fell asleep on the floor. When she woke up, it was getting dark, and all the lights were off. `` Daddy?'' Julie asked, rubbing her tired little eyes. She stood up and heard a crunch. The front window was broken, and the setting sun was gleaming off the shards of glass scattered over the floor. Julia shrieked, but then noticed Daddy in the corner. `` Daddy! What happened?'' Daddy was facing the corner, moaning quietly. `` Oh Daddy, you're not going to trick me. I know it's April Fools.'' Julie ran up to him, and gave her Daddy a great big hug.

[ EU ] Jesus was a member of the Templar order . ( Assassin 's Creed universe )

The animus has shown us many things in the years following its invention. It has shown us the location of sites long forgotten, given us insight on historical events that went undocumented and let us observe some of the best in our order. Rodrigo Borgia, Haythan Kenway, Shay Cormack and George Washington himself are just a few we have observed extensively. But we have recently discovered another paragon of order and prosperity. Helvidius Priscus Cocles was a new recruit out of Rome during the transition from BC to AD. He was also one of the first Templars to use an Apple Of Eden to achieve order. Helvidius had many connections within the Roman hierarchy and saw the expansion of Rome as the a way to further mankind's progression as a whole. Helvidius was sent to the Holy Land in his mid-thirties to quell what may have been a Jewish rebellion. At the time the Jewish population believed a messiah would rise and wage war against their Roman aggressors a true king of the Jews. This led extremists to take action against the Roman legions in the area. It was in the Holy Land where Helvidius discovered a temple housing his Apple located in [ DATA EXPUNGED ]. Much to the surprise of his superiors Helvidius took the Hebrew name Yeshua which due to a translation error was translated to Jesus in the years to come. Yeshua used his Apple to charm the Jewish population into believing he was born of a virgin and that he was their messiah sent by God to preach his word. His tactic was pure genius give the people a messiah that preaches peace and loving thy neighbor to make the Jews ok with living under Roman rule. His so called `` death'' was really an assassin mentor who had infiltrated the Templar ranks Judas was punished for his treachery through crucifixion. Yeshua and his disciples had a lead on another temple in [ DATA EXPUNGED ] where they found another artifact. This one was similar to the box recovered by Shay Cormac but was slightly different. Instead of translating parchment it gave those in a close proximity the ability to speak in an unknown language. Sadly this artifact was lost after the crusades. The first time the disciples who were also apart of the order activated the artifact it projected an orange light that attracted the attention of villagers in the area. Thankfully due to their holy status the villagers regarded it as an act of God and all began to pray at their feet. Yeshua's work was finally done he paraded through Jerusalem on a donkey then departed back to Rome leaving Peter his disciple as the new grand master in the Holy Land he also left for Rome years later leaving the Templars in the Holy Land to disperse and slowly disband.

[ WP ] Write about a psychotic killer who finally feels empathy for the first time

`` It was an accident.'' Blood spilled out around the car, refusing to stay within the lines of the parking spaces. Mark felt himself going into shock. His mind raced, trying to figure out why this specific instance was occurring right here, right now. This was n't the blonde! Sexy, tall, great smile... No, this body had none of those things. Mark briefly considering continuing his pursuit, but something about the victim made him pause... pause just long enough to feel remorse. Lying dead, before Mark's eyes, was a large golden retriever. The idiot had been running through the parking moments before, and Mark... broke down? Misfired? Shot before he knew what he was shooting at? In any case, this dog was dead. Jeff crouched low to the creature. It had a well-kept coat, a collar that said `` Molly'' on it, this creature had been beautiful. Purposeful. Loyal. And Mark had killed it. He barely felt the tears running down his eyes as he went in to hug the poor, deceased dog. Once in contact with the creature, Mark started sobbing. He found himself unable to let go. He thought of the home this dog had, of the days it had spent carefully guarding a family. He thought of this dog as a cute puppy playing with its littermates. No more games of fetch. `` I'm sorry!'' Mark shouted to anybody who would hear as he sat, cradling the dog in his arms. `` I'm sorry!'' Fifteen minutes later, police sirens converged on the location where the twenty-three year old high school drop out and a once-beautiful golden retriever were intertwined. Mark was still sobbing when they took the dog away. He quieted down as the police started questioning. He made no commotion when they figured out who he was and what he'd done. He gave them the name plastered all over this town of `` Beware the Parking Lot Killer''. Shortly after he was placed, handcuffed, into the back of a police car. He made no effort to fight, nor any effort to flea. As they made that trip to the county jail, Mark's sorrow gave way to a small smirk as he pieced together what had just happened. *So I do have it. *

[ EU ] Frank Underwood trash talks his Call of Duty opponents .

`` As I sit here with my AUG and kill count higher than your IQ I can only surmise that you are a livestock farmer. There is nothing wrong with being a farmer and in fact I have helped pass lots of legislation for agriculture and livestock.'' `` Oh yeah old man? What the hell does that have to do with anything?'' I knew I had him here. `` Well you see, some livestock farmers train their cows to be stump broke. Something I doubt you have heard the term for out loud.'' I do n't always let people interrupt me so much but when you talk to a lesser person sometimes you have to let them think they're having a conversation. `` You talk like a senile grandpa and make as much sense. Fuck does that mean?'' `` Well you see, farmers who are lonely train their cows to back up when they stand up on a tree stump. Why would this trick be useful? Cows have their asses much higher than ours are, so this evens out the height. Now then here is where you would finally get to stick your dick in something besides a crusty old sock that you've considered wearing since you ca n't work a laundry machine still at your age and I stick this,'' *I squeeze my right trigger* `` Right in your chest. Again.'' I do n't enjoy talking such vulgarity to the youth in this country as the world will one day be in their hands. There are still times though, where you have to roll up a newspaper and teach a dog its place. `` So then, now that we've established where I stand and where you do, as perverted as you are, I must find a more challenging opponent.'' `` That's a good impersonation of the president, dude.'' I smiled. Well, smirked is more accurate. `` It's no impersonation kid.'' A good message to leave the match with.

[ WP ] Make me afraid of the color pink .

The classroom is filled with the sound of pens scraping on paper. I am sitting in front of my desk, trying to concentrate on the questions in front of me instead of the pain in my abdomen. The pink bracelet catches my eyes once again. “ A gift for you. It matches perfectly with your skirt. ” My mind snatches back to my room. I feel his breath on my ear and his hand pushing back the fabric of my leg. A moment later I am lying on my bed. My eyes are locked on the pink of the wall, painted in my favorite color. His body is heavy on my frame. “ Five minutes left! ” I stare at the piece of paper in front of me, not one question is answered. My parents paid a lot for the private tutor. A feeling of sickness overcomes me. I hand the empty pages to my teacher and leave the room. I hate pink.

[ WP ] A story of a witch/mage/wizard/etc from the perspective of their familiar/familiar spirit/animal guide .

First summonings are always the best. I felt a familiar tug at the base of my tail, like someone had somehow fastened an invisible rope around my spine. `` What is it this time?'' I rolled my six eyes in frustration as I was pulled gently back into my obsidian throne. `` Another message needs delivering? You need to scare some tourists with the old'floating chair routine? Oh, hang on...'' I paused, listening to the tempo of the insistent tugs, then smiled gleefully. `` You are n't the master, are you? You're someone *new*.'' I should have known. The master's summoning pulled much more forcefully, not like a timid child! If I had ignored HIM for this long, I would have found both myself and my chair suspended upside down in empty space. `` Let's have a little fun, shall we?'' I whispered, voice full of quiet malice. I traced the line of force back to it's origin, far above me on the mortal plane. `` Canada, eh?'' I relaxed, allowing the tether to pull me like a rubber band toward it's source. The room in which my consciousness materialized was dingy, and that was me being generous. Piles and piles of dusty books were stacked against the walls, and the carpet could really use a good vaccuming. I wrinkled my nose at the smell - or rather, I would have if I was any more than an intangible blob of essence. Below me, drawn meticulously on what looked like an unfolded cardboard box, was the summoning circle that kept my power in check and kept my summoner safe from my wrath. *No mistakes in the runes! * I cursed inwardly. *Guess I will have to get creative. * `` Is it usually supposed to take so long?'' The whispered voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Standing on the other side of the room, in a circle that looked like the mirror image of my own, two boys huddled together as if they had seen a ghost. `` Quiet!'' One of them snapped. `` It could be here already!'' *Oh, this is going to be FUN. * I grinned wickedly. I pushed outwards on the bonds of the pentacle, expanding myself as much as possible. I could n't escape myself- the runes made sure of that - but there was no limit to what I could do INSIDE of its boundaries. I stoked the fire within my spirit, urging its flames ever hotter. Quickly, the room began to heat up like a sauna. The boys began to sweat, pulling at their clothes. `` What's happening?'' Cried the first. `` Shut up! The demon must be here. It is trying to make us screw up and step outside of the pentacle... so DO N'T. MOVE.'' *Oooo, clever. * I grinned. *Never thought you would figure THAT one out! * `` SHOW YOURSELF, DEMON!'' The twirp yelled, his voice cracking. I rolled my eyes, still invisible. *Might as well get it over with... I do n't want him to start jabbing me with punitive magic just because I stayed invisible. * Conjuring a pillar of flame that sent smoke pouring into the room to cover my appearance, I manifested myself as my most terrifying guise: A huge, infernal, skeletal dragon from the pits of hell! Or rather, I would have, had there been more room in the pentacle for me to manifest. ``... You know, it's kind of cute!'' One of them finally said. I breathed fire him, the tongues of flame curling back where they hit the edge of the pentacle as if it were a wall. `` Would it have killed you to draw this thing a little bigger?'' I sighed. The kid's smug smile was enough to make me want to tear his head off all over again. `` We will draw the pentacles as we see fit, demon. And YOU will come running like a good little slave whenever we call, wo n't you!'' *This little brat is more of a pain that Satan himself! * I thought. `` What is your bidding, oh master?'' I said with a bow. *Let me guess, you want me to turn into a beautiful naked girl for you and your buddy to look at. * `` Tell us everything you know about your OTHER master!'' Said the obnoxious kid. *Now THAT'S a new one! * `` Though it pains me, I can not, oh great and powerful one.'' I bowed even more deeply, my bony head brushing the cardboard. `` WHY. NOT.'' Said the child, stamping his foot and nearly scuffing the pentacle. *So close! * I thought. `` Because, oh esteemed wizard, my contract forbids me from dealing information between those who summon me.'' *And no matter what you did to me, HE could do one thousand fold! * `` USELESS SCUM!'' He roared, jabbing a finger at me. A spark leapt from the end of it, hitting me right between the eyes and knocking me against the wall of my prison. `` BEGONE, DEMON!'' I vanished like smoke, leaving only the smell of brimstone. The two boys eyed one another and grinned. `` Well that was easy!'' One of them said. `` Yeah! That was WAY easier than I expected! Pity we did n't get any information out of him. I know that is what you really wanted, mister.'' The second boy turned to a door behind him, which opened to reveal a man wearing a deep green hooded robe. *Potkins! * I thought. *I KNEW you would be the one to pull something like this! As if those boys could summon ME without help! Did n't want anyone to know it was you, huh? * `` Good work anyway boys. Is the demon gone?'' Potkins asked. `` Yup! Just got rid of him!'' The boy took a step toward his master, out of the pentacle. I sprang at the three of them, instantly manifesting as a dragon again - this time, full sized. `` YOU LITTLE FOOLS - ARG!'' Cried Potkins, wind rushing out of his lungs as I pinned him to the floor. Fire erupted from my mouth at the boys, who dove for the exit with the backs of their shirts smouldering. `` BAH! Oh well. I know their faces now.'' I said, voice rumbling sonorously. `` Funny thing, them forgetting the dismissal ritual. BEGONE DEMON! Bah! As if that would work.'' I turned my massive bony head to face Potkins where he lay, still pinned under my claws. So you thought you could use brats to weasel some information out of me without showing your face, eh Potkins?'' He whimpered in response. `` You know, it is HIGHLY illegal to summon another person's familiar while they are still alive. Basic Summoner's law 101 right there.'' I grinned. `` Then again, I highly doubt that you will have much to worry about from the law after today's little incident.'' I felt a puddle of warm liquid suddenly well up beneath my claws. Potkins remained silent. `` Goodbye, Potkins. You never were much of a person, let alone a summoner.'' Potkins screamed once, and then was silent. *** *Insert shameless plug to my subreddit here!: /r/TimeSyncs! *

[ WP ] A crow hops up to you with a 100 dollar bill in it 's mouth , and politely asks if you mind buying something for him .

As I walked of the store, fifty family sized bags of Doritos in my arms, a crow approached me. It's eyes looked at me intelligently, and it looked at me with a stare that begged for food. I looked at the crow, then at my chips. `` No, these are mine. You ca n't have any.'' It kept looking at me, it's hungry look gaining intensity. Another crow approached, then perched on the concrete beside it. One began to call out. More gathered. They stared at me intensely. I opened a bag of bright orange chips. I slipped one in my mouth, and ate it, crunching deliberately. The crows looked at me, almost threateningly. We will mob you, the crow's expression read. I slowly brought the bag of chips to the ground, sprinkling them at my feet. The crows called in delight, first eating them tentatively, but gained confidence. As soon as they were all gone, one of the crows flew away. I began to walk away, when a crow landed in my hair and dropped a slip of paper in my face. I grasped at it as it slowly fluttered to the ground. It was a grocery list, written in chicken scratch. 'Ketchup, French fries and twenty-five bags of Doritos. We are not gluttons' it read. Ignoring the insult, I looked at the crows, surprise on my face. Crows should n't be able to write. Looking at my face, the crow flew away. I laughed at myself, thinking crows could write. This must've been a lost a four year old had written, moping his mother would meet his requests. Or maybe- My thought was interrupted by the crow dropping a dirty bill of money on the ground before me. I picked it up, uncomfortably. Where did this come from? I looked at it. Wow, one hundred dollars. I sighed. Maybe I'm dreaming. `` Fine. I keep the change.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- I'm sorry if it's not very good, this is my first time on this sub and I'm not a very good writer.

[ IP ] Poseidon 's Fortresses

`` the lads down at fishing platform c fished him out of the ocean, he was unconscious so one of the lads performed CPR.....'' the sheriff paused for a moment, got closer to the king, `` honestly captain, I do n't see any difference between him and any other man we find-'' he stopped talking as the king glared at him, `` sorry captain, I did n't mean to question your orders but-'' `` relax Delvin, you're a good friend, and a trusted one at that, so you have the right to question most of the time'' said the king, as Delvin began to seep his anxiousness away when, `` but this is not one of those times, leave this man here, and go and do your duties'' Delvin stared at his king, `` yes sir'', he motioned the guards to bring him in, the guards dragged the man in, and let him go. the man they brought in was rough, his beard and hair dirty and uneven, he looked like he was in his mid thirties, was wearing soggy undergarments but acquired a large pink towel from the sheriff. The only reason why Delvin could see why the captain would want him was for a small gem embedded into his forehead. `` anything else captain? ``, asked Delvin expecting a motion from the captain, telling him to go away. `` unlock his chains'' said the captain. `` wha-'' the captain glared at him again, only this time he looked impatient, `` yes captain'', he got out a long chain of keys, he knew off by heart which key did what, yet to anyone else all the keys looked equal, an ex thief would know the difference of keys. He unlocked the mans chains and left immediately with the two guards who were with him. The man with the gem in his head sat down at the in front o the captains desk. `` this better be important'' the captain said, continuing to write hi letters. `` oh yes me lord, anything for the king'' said the man, it a odd mixture of a cockney and Irish accent. The captain looked up at him with an angry look, he face broke into a smile and both men began to laugh, like they both had n't laughed in years. `` god, Baron, it's been a long time, a really long time'' the captain said, emphasizing the on the really. `` too long old friend'' Baron responded, speaking in his true voice now, a very smooth southern English accent, `` so whats this king business all about then?, last I heard you just bought a ship and had a small crew''. `` that was a long time ago, and ca n't ya tell?'' he asked with smile on his face, `` I'm king of the pirates!''. as soon as baron asked the pirates for Guld Major, he knew Guld had some weight around the place, but King?, Baron just saw his old warrior and drinking buddy. `` anyway'' King Guld Major continued, `` enough about me, what have you been up to?, and not to be rude, but why are you here?''. he asked. Barons smile dropped, he tried to put it back up, but it was obviously forced, `` I became a freelance ranger, I traveled the countryside, the grand desert, beyond the Scottish wall, and settled in London for a bit'', he looked down, nervous about telling Guld why he went to find him, `` I'm here because of Graham''. `` what about him?'' asked Guld. `` he....'' Baron paused, trying to find a way to say it, `` the western islanders reli- cult, did something to him, they accessed his gem, and altered him'' `` how? -'', just before Guld could finish his question the doors burst open, Delvin ran in, flabbergasted, he stopped right next to them, panting, `` what the hell is it Delvin?!'' Delvin looked at the capatin, his eyes wide, `` she's arrived''. `` who's arrived? ``, as Guld asked he noticed Delvin staring at his robotic arm, Guld lifted the cloak off it, this is the first Baron had seen of it. Guld looked at it, his expression changed to anger and hatred, he stood up and walked to the blank wall and pulled a lamp, revealing a room full of different Armour, guns, swords and axes, and even some Celtic artifacts. Baron and Delvin joined him at the armory, looking at the amount of different weapons. Guld picked up the sword known as the chimney sweepers best friend, as its main function is to cut through and clear gaseous substances, and a short dagger, known as the drunken Irishman, as it was used by a drunk to try and kill the king, whether her was Irish or not was up for debate. `` gentleman'' Guld said, `` choose your tools, and get ready for war''

[ WP ] You find yourself in a spaceship , with other 199 young aged 8-21 ( both male and female ) , with no memories or clues where the spaceship is going to .

I awoke. My ears ringing, world above spinning, I peered at my surrounding. Queer, I thought. I awoke to see a room packed with another 199 people, all laying on woolen blankets, pillows under their heads. I glanced at myself, seeing myself covered in clean, yet tattered rags, the clothing worn by the others was in various condition. I was relatively clean, I thought, but an itch on my nose dispelled this. Leaving a wet, dark steak on my fingers,'must be oil or dirt' I thought. Slowly climbing to my feet, I could feel knives in my back. Crashing back to the ground, I realized how cold it was, and that I could not feel or move my legs. 'Curious' I thought For the fist time I noticed how quite it was, only the sound of gentle breathing, and, peering around, I realized that, it seemed no-one else had awoke. When looking, I noticed that the masculine looking majority had black faces, like mine. Looking around, I noticed, due to the lighting system and wall paneling, that this was a Kramus class warp-drive ship, built on Draemudas, within 638 light years of the Angdragdia Inter-planetary space station. Yet, I do n't remember how I know this. The group quietly sleeping araound me seemed to be made of young'uns, the oldest around married age, the youngest were the right age to be wire-runners in ship-building. The woman next to me rolled over, revealing a laser-etching on her right palm, numbers. Motified, I glimsped at my own, revealing a string of digits; 112358132134 baaaaahhh, cam a shiver, damn it's cold! huh, I can feel the cold in my feet. I decided to attempt and get up, knives doing their work in my back, I managed the feat. Huh, I guess we're in the skouliki, the long, thin storagge bay under the cockpit. EDIT 1: Still Writing, Will finish later

[ WP ] Everyone is born with brown eyes . One week before you die , your eyes turn blue . Your eyes turned blue and you committed the crime of the century you 've spent your entire life planning . That was 8 days ago .

`` Phew!'' Saba did n't realize she had been holding her breath. 12:01 AM. Day 8. No one knew still of her perfect crime. That would change. She inhaled deeply. It was going to be awkward. She dreaded morning. She dreaded the pitying looks the groundskeeper and other staff would give her ex-husband and her girls. She worried that her girls would crack under pressure. The staff would n't ask too many questions now that they'd seen the gifts, would they? The Funeral Registry had gone online last Sunday. She and her girls had had so much fun putting that list together. It had always been so. Friends just knew that your eyes had gone blue. Phone calls, food, and gifts to help the family tide over the crisis would come flying in. It was big business now. Funeral Registries bookended the end of your life just like Baby Registries portended its start. There was a satisfying symmetry in it. She had n't received any calls wishing her well in the afterlife. She had n't been expecting them anyway though no one knew that. Amani poked her head into her mother's room. Her eyes were already red from crying but they went from red to saucers when she saw Saba sitting upright, her smiling blue eyes betraying a certain nervousness about how this would all play out. `` What? How? Are n't you...?'' ``..supposed to be dead?'' Saba finished the question. She reached into her eyes to pluck out her blue contacts. `` Do n't look at me like that! We needed this help Amani. I am not going to let you and Dinah rot in this hellhole. Miss Emeeli upstairs was dying alone anyway. If her passing can help this family out, anyone would do what I did.'' Saba was a live-in caregiver of Miss Emeeli. She, Amani, and little Dinah lived in the tiny basement quarters while above them towered a palatial house with one resident - Miss Emeeli. All week, as the gifts came in, she had been putting them in the unused downstairs pantry. This was all the low value stuff. Semi precious stone necklaces, bottles of wine, coats and jackets - the usual things friends of the dying wealthy bought for the help. Real wealth was reserved for family. Saba wondered if this would be enough to distract the help while she and her girls disappeared. They'd find out soon. She quickly opened her bank website. An extra 15,000 from Mrs. and Mr. Hobert. Quite generous by current standards but Miss Emeeli always said that Saba was a good caregiver. Her perfect crime had all been for Amani and Dinah. Their college fund account now showed a healthy balance. Even if she got caught, what judge would claw money back from these two angels? Her ex-husband was due any minute now. Together they'd load Miss Emeeli's body into her corpse bag. Her own corpse bag would have a mannequin roughly her size. No one would care to check her body bag. Miss Emeeli was the one everyone would cry over. They'd marvel at her generous fri nds. They'd muss the hair of the little girls who knew Miss Emeeli as Ma Emeeli. They'd shake their heads at the coincidence of her caregiver dying the same day as Miss Emeeli. There was beautiful symmetry in that, they'd say. She was going to get away with it. In a few years, little Dinah would n't even remember Ma Emeeli. Saba logged into Miss Emeeli's funeral registry one last time. Everything was covered. The first flight out of Diaspora was at 8 in the morning. She quickly checked in to the flight. It was time to get Amani and Dinah ready for the twin funerals. It was time to leave this life behind.

[ EU ] Write from the perspective of Waldo , trying to avoid being found by assassins searching for him in large crowds

I duck out of the CVS -- it's not safe to stay for more than a few moments. I think I've managed to lose my pursuer, but I scan my gaze back and forth as I reenter the throng to be sure. It's a hard life, to be sure, but it's all I've ever known. Waldos have walked this earth for generations -- I am but the latest of many. If I'm not careful, I'll be the last. *There. * A kindly-looking old man with a long white beard strolls nonchalantly down the street, about fifty feet away. He has n't noticed me yet; it's the only reason I'm still alive. I speed up a bit -- *not too fast, not too fast* -- and slip down an alleyway. I do n't know who they are. I do n't know why they hunt us, or what they hope to gain. I only know my duty. I must survive, and when it is my time I must pass this burden on to an heir. A tall, thin, black-haired, white-skinned, shortsighted, yet subtly average-looking heir. You see what makes my job so hard. I reemerge from the alley onto a new street. It's not as busy as I'd like it to be, but it will have to do. I buy a magazine to hide my face -- if I could just change my clothes, I could hide much more effectively. But that's not an option. I could never bring such dishonor on the name of Waldo. The tradition, I'm told, started centuries ago under the reign of Charlemagne. The very first Waldo was -- *OOOOF! * A heavy weight descends onto my back. I'm shoved forward, and the pavement rushes up to greet me. My glasses fly off my face, and I'm blind. I kick backwards, momentarily freeing myself from the grasping hands of... someone. A passerby shouts, but I know that wo n't save me. I whirl around and punch at the nebulous, black and yellow shape. I ca n't see him, but I know who he is. Know his weaknesses. The shape roars and swings his cane like a club. I parry with my own cane, then lash out at his knobby knees. He goes down, hard. I grab my spectacles off the ground and dash off into the crowd -- it's hard to get through, having drawn so much attention, but I have a lifetime of experience. As I run, I hear the sound of sniper fire overhead. Someone is screaming, but I ca n't stop to find out who. I hope they're not hurt. I stop running about a hundred yards out, and lower my pace to a quick walk. They're still out there, watching. I'll need to catch a train out of the city -- ca n't risk going to an airport. I put my spectacles back on, but they're broken. I sigh, and turn around. Better hit the CVS again before I go.

[ WP ] You live in a world were everyone is part of a hive mind , recently you have discovered your individual thoughts .

*Chaos. Total chaos. * `` I ca n't believe it.'' I cried out. The spaceship that had landed on Krepto was nothing like Ki'Rek had ever seen. That was n't what amazed him tho. The feline creature that stepped out of the spaceship was more amazing to him. Or was she? He did n't really know himself. `` Greetings, dear Krepton. I come in peace. The people on my planet have been interested in your planet for quite a while.'' said the feline creature. Ki'Rek needed a second to gather his thoughts. `` What may I call you, dear-'' Before he could think about what to call her, she interrupted him: `` Please call me Larya. I'm sorry to interrupt you and for not informing you some more. I'm from a distant planet called Freljo. I'm here to investigate, and I think I've just found my first observations.'' Ki'Rek was n't quite sure what she meant by this: `` Excuse me Miss Larya- Is it Miss?'' - she nodded - `` What exactly do you mean by'investigate'?'' She laughed. `` I do n't know if your people know this, but you are a very unique civilization. You're opinions are alike, you're thoughts are alike, you're minds are alike. The only thing that differs in your thoughts are individual observations and conversations.'' The last part she told was common knowledge for Ki ’ Rek. As Kreptons, they had been living peacefully for decades. Krepto was a world of unison and order. Every living creature was connected, and so were our thoughts. It all started around five centuries ago. We had experienced a rapid evolution due to the drastic changes in climate. There is even a common belief there has been some other influence, but the collective mind did n't dare to make any assumptions. That would damage the collective. The Krepto'Rakini, as this civilization was officially named by our ancestors. Once we were evolved enough to develop new technologies, we also observed other planets, but records of these observations were n't stored in the collective mind. They were deemed to be too dangerous for the realm we had created. The fact this woman came from another planet because we were unique boggled Ki'Rek's mind. Before he could ask any more, he heard the warning sirens. Before he could look around him, he got hit by something in his neck. He heard the feline creature scream just as he lost consciousness. He woke up. He was in a dark place, probably a van because he could feel the room moving forward. He stretched his leg and hit someone. “ Are you awake, dear Krepto? ” It was her voice. “ Please call me Ki ’ Rek, Miss Larya. What has happened to us? Did they hurt you? ” He was worried for this extraterrestrial who had travelled all the way here to ask us about our civilization. He could hear her cry. “ I ’ m sorry Mister Ki ’ Rek, this is all my fault. I should have never some here. I have put your life in danger. I will understand if you can ’ t forgive me. ” The van came to a stop. “ Miss Larya, I don ’ t understand what you are talking about. ” The doors of the van opened and a familiar voice started talking: “ You will understand soon enough, son. ” His father explained him everything. About how life from ‘ outside the realm ’ could damage the mind by breaking people from the collective mind. Kre ’ Kari, The Sacred Steel that connected our brains. It would not remain pure. The collective would be put at great risk. Therefore, he had to lock Larya and him up. “ It ’ s for the greater good, my boy. You are a danger to Kre ’ Kari. ” All I could do was scream. I was angry at my father for treating his own son as a danger. He was right about outer life ‘ damaging the mind ’. I disconnected. I got my own thoughts now. Angry thoughts, sad thoughts, even thoughts about Larya that were new to me. However, there was one thought that stood out, and Larya shared this one with me: we had to disconnect everyone and make sure everyone would be able to be free from the computer, because Kre ’ Kari was nothing more than a suppressing computer. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Thank you for reading! This is my second attempt for a prompt. I will gladly hear your criticism and feedback. If this gets enough positive responses, I'll consider making more parts, as there is a lot to fight for on Krepto,

[ IP ] A secret meeting

`` Ms. Jensen, we've arrived.'' `` Thank you, let's just sit here for a while, at least until the song ends.'' Patricia had n't really admired the view from the parking lot. She'd cross this place hundreds of times, distracted by nervous hand holding, or childish laughter, or near the end, deep in thought. Never once had she sat here with her mind empty. And the view as gorgeous. The parking lot overlooked the freeway, and you could just hear the soothing sound of cars driving past. Especially this late at night, where they only drove by on occasion, in clusters like little flocks of birds. Off in the distance you could just make out the city's skyline. And, up above, the great behemoths, floating castles drifting on their journey from the sky into space. The world truly had changed. Not long ago, that high way would have had traffic, that city would have been full, and those skies would have been empty. She'd been at this very house when the first space station went up. Rick had promised they'd go there together. `` Ms. Jensen, the song has concluded,'' said the robot in the drivers seat. `` Turn the radio off,'' she said, still staring across the dash. `` There was a knock on the drivers side window, should I roll it down?'' the robot asked. `` N-no. There was what?'' Pat opened the door and stepped outside. Rick's old roommate, John, was standing a few feet away, cross armed, tapping his foot. `` John! I... what are you doing here?'' Pat asked. `` I saw you pulling up. I'd recognize that old beater anywhere.'' `` Yes, well, I did n't have much need for a car during grad school, so what was the point to upgrading?'' `` Why are you here,'' John said, sharply. `` I came to see Rick.'' `` Well no shit, but why?'' `` Because... because I wanted to see him.'' `` His phone number has n't changed. You coulda called.'' John pointed out. Pat reached across her chest and rubbed her elbow. `` I know.'' `` He could n't have,'' John said, `` after about 6 weeks I finally convinced him to delete your number. 6 weeks he held on to that damn thing. Did n't want to get rid of it. Said he'd want to know who was calling, if you did, but you were n't going to fucking call, and you did n't.'' `` I was busy, and I was n't sure if he even wanted to talk to me.'' `` But he wants to talk to you now?'' `` I want to talk to him.'' `` There's your problem! There's your goddamn problem! When you wanted to date him you did, and when you decided you would rather go to school, you just left, and you left this huge mess behind, and now you've decided you just want to pick back up where you left off-'' `` I'm not trying to... anything. This is n't anything. I just wanted to talk.'' `` Well you ca n't. You've done enough.'' Patricia stood there for a moment or to more, got back in her car, and told the robot to take her away. The next day she would board a ship to one of the space stations. A couple times she intended to come back to Earth, but she never did.

[ WP ] You married young and your SO died before his/her time , but you remarry . You die and go to heaven and they are both there .

The Pearly Gates glided open before me, and St. Peter stepped off to the side. He gestured with a cloaked arm towards the entrance to Heaven, beckoning me to step inside. A bright light lay on an unknown horizon far beyond the doorway. Clouds floated gingerly by as my naked feet strides across a smooth, soft surface into Paradise. I had been a Christian my entire life, and so had my first wife, Linda. She had died of terminal cancer three years into our marriage, but it was the happiest three years of my entire life. The years to come had been horrifying without her existence, but somehow I had made it through. That was 20 years ago. I remarried - and against my better judgment. I had vowed on Linda's grave that I would never betray her like that, to almost replace her with another woman. But I had little choice, seeing as though it was my last shot at true happiness; a happiness I had only enjoyed and experienced during my time with Linda. I had also met one of the most amazing girls ever, too. Her name was Samantha. She was 29 when I was 31. She had never been married before, and actually took my being married once better than I had thought she would. ( Not many people take kindly to marrying more than one person in a lifetime, apparently. ) I dated her for six months, and then had to marry her. We were married nearly five years after Linda's death, but it had n't even clicked with me. Samantha was killed in a car accident ten years after we were married. It happened near my 42 birthday; let me tell you that it was not fun to spend your birthday preparing for your second wife's funeral. I never remarried, and died of a heart attack a few years later in my home. Alone. With no one around me. And, now, here I am, walking through the gates of Heaven. I nod to St. Peter, who gives me a gentle nod in return. As I stroll in, I hear the Gates shut quietly and calmly behind me. I turn to see St. Peter return to his post in front of the Gates. I notice that I am displaying the biggest smile I have ever seen. I turn away from the Gates for the last time and begin to walk forward. I hear a voice calling out to me from an unknown location, `` Come, Mr. Martin James Floyd. I've been waiting for you. I have something to show you.'' `` God?'' `` Yes?'' `` Just making sure. An honor to be here, really. What are you going to show me?'' `` You'll see. Come this way.'' And a path is made clear for me almost immediately. I step excitedly down the walkway until I get to a door. It is a door attached to no hinges or walls. It is merely an upright door. `` Open it.'' `` The door, God?'' `` Yes, open it.'' I do, and a whole new room, furnished with comforting yellow wallpaper and a lush red carpet envelope my vision. I step through and close the door behind me. In the middle of the room is a couch. I take a step forward, and though hits me. I look up at the ceiling and say, `` God, I've a strange feeling I've seen this couch before.'' `` You are correct, you have. It was the first item of furniture you and your first wife Linda bought after your wedding.'' My gaze instantaneously fixes back on the couch, and tears start to swell in my eyes. I fall to my knees before the couch and grasp its soft cushioned seat with white-knuckled hands. `` The couch was not the only thing I wanted to show you.'' As he says this, another door - the location of which having been unbeknownst to me thus far - opens to my right, and into the room steps the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her golden hair cascades to her waist in luscious curls, and she is wearing a pearly white robe. And I almost instantly recognize her… `` Linda…'' `` Hello, Marty.'' With my knees as wobbly as they are, I try my hardest to stand and stumble my way to her. Tears are now streaming down my face, and I fall yet again to my knees before I am able to wrap my arms around her. I hug her waist so tightly that she lets out a slight sigh. `` Twenty years, Linda. Oh, I've missed you so much,'' I say between sobs. `` I've missed you so much. I have never stopped loving you. I love you so much, Linda.'' `` I know, Marty, I know,'' Linda replies in a tender voice. `` But you have also loved someone else, though, too.'' At this, my arms weaken and hesitantly fall away from her waist. Through teary eyes I look up at hers, and I see nothing but compassion in her. I am confused, but then remember Samantha. `` I'm so sorry, Linda,'' I exclaim, burying my head into her stomach. `` Please know I've always loved you. I missed you so much. I was so lonely! Please forgive me! I'm so sorry!'' `` Marty, I forgive you. I forgive you.'' She takes hold of trembling hands and lifts me gently off of the ground. She places her soft, warm palms on my face and wipes my tears with her delicate fingers. I've missed her touch, her breath, her voice, her eyes. And now she is here, in front of me, ready to begin an eternity of life with me. `` There is someone else I'd like you to meet.'' At that moment, a third door opens behind me, and into the room steps a beautiful brunette. I feel my stomach turn inside of me, yet I know that I should be rejoicing for the fact that yet another person has made it to Heaven. `` Samantha?'' `` Hi, Marty. I'm so happy you're here.'' I turn back to Linda and say, `` Linda, I'm so sorry, honey. I loved both of you very equally and I wanted to only love you but I was so lonely-'' `` Darling,'' Linda says suddenly, her kind voice overpowering mine, `` I've never stopped loving you, even from Heaven. I watched you grow as a man in every sense, but most importantly spiritually. Samantha was a wonderful partner to have, and she helped improve your walk with God. Therefore, I hold no contempt for either of you. I am rejoicing just over the fact you are here. Yes, I sometimes wished I was back on earth with you, helping you along. And sometimes I was, but you just did n't know it. But I was here, and now you're here, too. And Samantha.'' `` Linda has told me so many great things that I had never heard of, Marty,'' Samantha added, striding over calmly to me and Linda. `` I have grown more fond of you from watching you from up here that I believe I did when we were on earth.'' `` Marty,'' Linda said, `` I have never stopped loving you. I wanted the best for you at all times, and if starting a new life with Samantha after I had passed on was what would help you in the long run, then so be it. I was not going to stop you. I wanted you to flourish and have more of a life than I was granted. And while I had rejoiced upon my arrival here, I wanted to know that you were okay. And He assured me of it with your meeting Samantha. At that moment, I knew that you'd be alright.'' And then I surprised Linda by showing up at the Pearly Gates one day. She knew full well what my entry into Heaven meant for you, Marty. But we were not sad. We knew you'd be here soon. And we fellowshipped every day together, waiting to see you again some day.'' `` We both never stopped loving you, Marty. And you'll understand in time.'' `` I love you, Linda. And I love you, Samantha.'' At that, the three embraced each other like old friends who had not seen each other for a very long time.

[ WP ] Humans can hold on to their `` pent-up rage '' , letting it build up or gradually release it safely like most people . You however have been letting it build up for decades and just before you die , you decide to unleash it all on Death .

Even though I destroyed my mansion in the process. It was worth it as I believed that no more death lead to no more pain, meaning people did not need to hold out in anger. We can all live forever now. I took one deep breathe and heard a a cackle. I looked around but there was nobody there. And then that cackle kept getting louder and it eventually turned into laughing, menacing laughing. After a few more seconds, I began hearing bones and I looked around to see death reforming. In nearly an instant after I saw him, he was back in regular form. He continued laughing and then finally spoke. `` It's really funny that you thought the amount of anger you held onto in your life was worth anything.'' As he picked up his scythe, he continued, `` stepping on Legos, relationships failing, office arguments, robberies, and your personal favorite. Losing your father at a young age. Your pain is nothinf human i repeat nothing. All of that pain is comfort compared to the atrocities that occur in worser off countries.'' His eyes glowed and he placed his scythe over me. `` I'll reincarnate you as a young Syrian boy and you will survive everything. In the process, when you're finally on your deathbed, you wo n't think one second about exploding. You'll just look at me and smile when we meet again.

[ WP ] pick a superpower and tell me about what would actualy happen if you gained it right now

It had been like every other Saturday: mundane and repetitive as usual. Friends were scarce, and entertainment scarcer. If only it could ’ ve been different. If only one person would ’ ve called. Or maybe if I had wrecked my car while getting lunch. Any outcome would surely be preferable to what happened when I clicked that link. It seemed innocent enough: “ What is your superpower? ” Take the quiz to find out! No, I ’ m not proud, but I fell for the click bait. It was full of the standard fare. “ Pick a color. ” “ Ok. ” “ Where would you want to vacation? ” “ Everywhere. ” “ What color are your underwear? ” What these questions had to with superpowers remains a mystery to me. The cessation of my ability to function became abundantly clear, along with everything else, when I clicked submit. Light became dark, and dark became light simultaneously. I could see everything and nothing. All at once, the sensory overload sparked an adrenal anxiety that choked me. I flung the computer and ran for the door. I couldn ’ t see where anything was, only the mixture of light and dark. As I tried to focus on everything and nothing all at once, I felt my face bend to the will of the wooden door. Hitting the ground, my roommate heard the clatter. He came running down the stairs to check on me. I could see him even with my door shut. But then again, I could also see nothingness. The lines between reality and supernatural were entangling to a point where I couldn ’ t decipher between the two. He burst through the door and saw me staring blankly into the air, breathing shallow breaths. “ What is happening? Should I call 911? ” “ What—, ” I tried to stammer, as the hyperventilation broke my speech. “ Slow down, breath calmly. I ’ ll call an ambulance. ” “ No, ” I muttered, with strain again in my breath. “ Just—tell me—, ” I felt him lean down closer to pick the words out of the air. ” “ —the screen—say? ” “ The screen? What are you talking—, ” but I interrupted him. “ Computer—look. ” He glanced over at my screen, then turned back to me and in confusion, said, “ It says, ‘ Congratulations, you have X-Ray vision! ’ Why are you asking me this? I ’ m calling the ambulance. ” He fled to retrieve the phone. Minutes later, I saw the sirens mixed with blackness as I accepted my fate.

[ WP ] Make me hate a cup of coffee

The alarm goes off at 6:00 AM as it does every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. For the last six years it still jolts me out of my slumber. I ca n't remember waking up in a calm manner and my eyelids not snapping open in shock in this entire time, like curtains opened rapidly to let in unwelcome sunlight. `` I hate my life'' has been my morning mantra for too long. It does n't matter if I've had two hours or eight hours of sleep, my mornings before work are always the same. I get ready in a hurry and rush out the door. I've planned on waking early and preparing breakfast for years now. I've done so only a handful of times and that was only after being awake all night. Right before the freeway entrance there's a Starbucks to my right. I'd stop in but I have ten minutes to be in my office chair and the line inside and in the driveway is crammed. Everyones' in need of their morning fix. We all just need proper rest. `` Happy Monday!'' as I'm greeted by a co-worker walking in the office. How is she always this happy? My guess would be anti-depressants. `` Good morning'' I reply, knowing that my facial expression is probably screaming, `` Please fuck off with that.'' After turning on my computer, office lights and AC unit, I head to the office kitchen to make the first pot of coffee for the morning. My boss walks in as I'm pouring the water into the machine, as he often does. I rarely register whatever banter happens during our morning exchange. Folgers is to coffee what Coors Light is to beer, an insult to our bodies. I'd went out on a limb and bought our office good coffee but stopped after the first few times. This acidic dishwater will have to do for now. I ca n't risk falling asleep on my keyboard any more, I need this income. After the pot's brewed I walk back to the kitchen and pour my first of three cups. A client walks by an mentions to a co-worker how good the coffee smells. I cringe at his words. The watered-down tar I'm about to sip has never smelled good to me. It's smells of staring blankly through a computer screen. It smells of morning traffic jams. It smells of cheap office coffee, forced wakefulness. I take my first sip and the acidic potion bathes my empty stomach.

[ WP ] You inadvertently nearly start World War III by asking for the Netflix password

It is a cold December morning in the year 2021 and technology has become interconnected in ways we never imagined during the 2010's. The coffee maker eagerly awaits the pressure sensor under the bed to tell it you've awaken and to start brewing. Your 2001 Ford Mustang has been retrofitted with sophisticated heating technology to begin thawing the dusty snow on it the moment you turn on the shower. Life is good... You go to work doing what most people do... your car drives you home like most people's cars do and your oven has heated up your food for you as most ovens do for a meal that is ready the moment you walk in the door. Since the steady decline of `` Traditional TV'' in the turn of the century more and more people have turned to Streaming services and Netflix has reined supreme. So you grab your warm meal, sit on your couch and begin to watch television. `` What's this?'' You say out loud. `` Log into Netflix? I've never needed to do that before. There must be some kind of billing problem.'' you think as you try to re-enter your password with no luck. With anger you state a command aloud `` PHONE, CALL, NETFLIX.'' within a second the phone does as instructed and dials the pre-programmed number to Netflix support. When the call connects a cheerful young lady is on the other end, you can tell by her optimistic tone that this is most likely her first job and has not yet been beaten down by years upon years of customer complaints and venom that comes with a telephone support job. `` How man I help you today sir?'' The girl exclaims. `` My account is asking for my password and I ca n't access Netflix.'' you reply. `` No problem sir I will get your password reset right away, for security purposes can you please tell me your security word.'' You mull over the answer to the `` secret security word'' that you setup years ago. Could it be your childhood dogs name? Your birth month? Mothers maiden name? you ca n't pinpoint it so you try the password you use for almost everything else in a last ditch attempt to get the account unlocked. `` Try to use the key KNIGHT472ECHO'' you say into the phone. and then... silence. The bubbly girl on the other end is no longer there, the phone call has been disconnected. Outside air raid sirens began to slowly grind to life screaming a warning that can be heard for miles. These sirens are usually used to warn people of severe weather but today was a crisp, clear day and at that moment you realize something is wrong. In the Pentagon General Maxwell reviewed the screen that laid beneath him on the table. It appears as if his initial briefing was true and the NSA had indeed picked up chatter online that the UK, a once close ally was about to launch nuclear weapons at U.S. soil. The UK and US relations had fallen apart swiftly and abruptly when the two nations leaders were pitted against one another after the UK asked for assistance from the US during ground operations in Libya. The US President Rand Paul decided that it was not in the best interest of the United States to get involved and so tensions rose, bickering began and threats were made before the once thriving relationship became a distant memory. But none of that mattered now because right here and now the United States was facing down a serious threat. A threat that could n't possibly be real yet there it was right on the screen. `` COMM: Data Intercepted, KEY: KNIGHT472ECHO'' That was the first part of the launch codes used by the UK and General Maxwell would be a sonofabitch if it were n't staring him right in the face KNIGHT472ECHO. The keyword was picked up not on telephone chatter but over the internet. It seemed that the code was routed through a cloud based server connected to an electrical appliance of some kind. The only problem is that these days there are so many ways to bounce a signal that it was hard to pin down. `` Was this really an electrical appliance? Was it rerouted through a proxy? Was the IP cloned?'' Who knew at this point Commander Maxwell sighed. The commander was ready... he had broken open the code container and was ready to confirm with the president for a retaliatory launch. This meant WAR! There was exactly 43 seconds left before the rockets would be launch capable. That 43 seconds is what would have made the difference between a normal day and World War III but luckily Commander Maxwell spotted something he had missed before on his initial review of the COMM data... something that made him smile. The commander sprang into action and smashed the abort button before removing his launch key. It would have been easier to point out a single grain of salt in a bowl of soup than to see what Commander Maxwell saw but nevertheless he saw it... Back at home the air raid sirens had slowly died down, the phone lines were restored and there at the front door a panel flashed an error. `` KEY KNIGHT472ECHO not accepted for home entry... try again''

[ WP ] - Write an excerpt from a book that was never written and make me wish that it was .

**The Following is an excerpt from - James David: Memoirs of a Dead Man** I'm clutching the Colt 45 as I write this. I ca n't stand it anymore. This diary was no use, it does n't ease my suffering, it just makes it worse. It is constant reminder of my faults and failures, of those I've lost, of those I've hurt. You hear me now doc?! You're stupid gimmick did n't work. There is no escaping my fate. I've done wrong, I do n't care what you say, it's my fault they're dead. I know it, you know it, and no matter how much you try to tell me it's okay we both know it's not. I deserve this. I've deserved this since it happened a year ago; long before I tried the first time, long before you made me start writing in this stupid thing. I deserve to die. God, that's fucking sobering to say out loud. I deserve to die. I deserve to die. I deserve to die. See? I know it's true, I feel no sorrow in those words, only joy. Only the blissful thought that those kids will get the justice they deserve. I just have to got through with it. I just have to pull the trigger this time. I wo n't hesitate, it will be fast. I'm nervous but ready. I just need to get the nerve, to stop writing and

[ WP ] The year is 2086 . Self-driving cars have been around for 30 years , only switching to manual control if there is a emergency situation , where the machine can not calculate the outcome . You are in traffic when the control goes manual , but you ca n't immediately see the danger .

I awoke from my light drive to work nap. The seat was vibrating and an constant beeping noise. OCCUPANT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY PLEASE TAKE THE CONTROLS Blaired the AI. I took control of the car just as the car in front of me shook lightly as the person inside did the same. I slowed and look center then left then right for the danger as I had been taught. All the while the emergency light continued to blink. I saw nothing I checked each of the dash monitors. Nothing behind me, each tire was inflated with no damage. The emergency light still flashed. I look up...

[ OT ] A study has shown that writers are 121 % more likely to suffer from bipolar depression than the general public and 50 % more likely to kill themselves . So , people of /r/WritingPrompts , would you like to talk ?

I love writing, but it's so hard to actually start, I need to be told to write. Or to do anything. I have no drive to do anything by myself, I feel like there's a hole in my life, and if all my stuff was taken away I was just lie in my room all day. I do it anyway, just with a laptop. I want to write scripts for a living, I love it so much, but I know that I ca n't because it's hard to get a job, and I do n't want to waste my life. Every day I feel either good or bad. Today I had a great day, but whenever I get home I feel super low. I want to come out of the closet, but it's rough because high school people are judgy. I feel like I'm in constant flux, and that I'm never satisfied. I got a hug from someone yesterday and I did n't want it to end. It was the first real human touch I've had in months. I do n't want to kill myself, I've never used drugs, but I feel down almost all the time, I'm just a good actor to cover it up. I just feel emotionally starved, I need to connect with people, but it's so hard.

[ WP ] You wake up to the TV on . It 's all over the news , your city has been leveled by a nuclear attack . On the screen footage of the smoldering ruins . But you stare out of your window , and everything is unchanged .

At about noon, the denizens of Waterman Canyon saw the most brilliant sunrise in the North. Within minutes, a stiff breeze swept through downtown, knocking loose the last of the autumn leaves which fluttered to the ground like embers. By one, the sun was covered by thick, smoggy clouds. By two, an insidious trickle of water had begun parading down Main Street. These are all symptoms of a nuclear blast, the epicenter of which is located just outside of Martinelli ’ s Pizzeria on State Street just across from the mall here in Chesterfield. I ’ m watching it on the news – the devastation, the wrecked homes, upturned highway, the airstrip littered with debris, a river where once a dam stood proud. Bedford Estates has just flashed briefly across the screen and I think I see our gutted Honda on its side in the neighbor ’ s living room. Now, I must contrast this with what I see outside my window. A red sedan has just rolled down the street without a care in the world, and Mr. Saverino is watering his impeccable lawn. The only smoke in the air is coming from Chesterfield ’ s bustling industries. As I lay on my bed, I note a jetliner streaks across the sky; no news helicopters or Red Cross planes are to be found. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Except this television. In this strange situation, still clouded by the fog of broken sleep, I am left to wonder: why Chesterfield? Has it really happened or is it some prank? Are we a strategic target or is this a mistake? Why? Time to explore. I throw on some clothes, grabbing a coat from the closet. They ’ ve just shown a line of cars with blackened fronts and smashed-in windows lined up in rows along the eastbound freeway. Outside the air is brisk. Old Red, our family car, is still there, and I pat her lovingly, again examining the cloudless winter sky. Someone has a fireplace going. Tract housing and apartments, grocery stores and churches, same as they ’ ve always been. The radio estimates 3,000 dead. I pull onto State Street. Here, they say, the background radiation would last a decade or two, if it weren ’ t all being swept downstream by the Wabash River. In fact, they report I ’ m under 10 feet of roaring rapids right now, yet I can breath just fine and the engine hasn ’ t taken on any water. They also say Waterman Canyon will be submerged within the hour as well. There ’ s Martinelli ’ s. A white van is parked outside that looks awful suspicious. I continue past shops which have existed here since my youth; little details resurface with every sight. I recall the time I tripped on that loose brick, or the time that shopkeeper accused me of shoplifting a jacket my mother had bought there the week before. Little memories, swept away by fire. Why Chesterfield? Evacuations across the county have begun and aide has been sent, but the rest of the world has turned its eyes to New York, Los Angeles, London, Beijing. Terror abounds, but not in Chesterfield. I check my feed. # PrayForChesterfield is in every tweet I see, but the only message I ’ ve received is from my mother asking that I pick up milk at Mackey ’ s. Has the world turned upside down? Has Chesterfield been spared from hell? It ’ s lunchtime at the high school, but nobody ’ s there. I realize they ’ re all on break. Are they seeing the reports, too? From this angle I can see Potter Dam. I compare it to a picture on my phone – they say it wasn ’ t the blast that made it collapse. It was the sloshing reservoir after the fact that did the poor thing in. Isn ’ t it always the aftershock that does us in? The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand comes to mind. One bullet started two wars. One bomb in rural America…who knows what that will do. What legislation and devastation it will bring, only time will tell. But for now, Chesterfield is fine. I ’ ve seen it. I ’ m at home again. It ’ s uncanny. The media still can ’ t get enough of the tragedy, the markets are plummeting, and I ’ m sure the UN translators are earning their paychecks. All of this for a little city in –––––. I almost feel honored to be at the center of so much attention. Everyone I ’ ve talked to is just as confused when I show them what my television is announcing. They aren ’ t getting the same reports I ’ m getting. Some think it ’ s a trick. Others are mildly worried. I ’ ve tried to contact people outside, to call the helpline scrolling along the bottom of all the news broadcasts – nothing. But just now, I ’ ve realized something. It ’ s only 11:59 AM. I should have notified the authorities. Told them about the white van. Explained the oracles I have received. But they would respond just as I did. Why Chesterfield?

[ WP ] The simplest explanation to why we could never find Genghis Khan 's tomb ... is that he never died .

`` That wall just got ten feet higher!'' President Trump shouted to his workers. A huge groan echoed throughout the vast Mexican Desert as a thousand men just got another two years of work. The wall was incomprehensibly huge at this point- every time someone slighted the now life-long President of the United States, the wall grew ten feet higher. If you looked at Earth from the right angle, you could see the wall from space. Yes indeed, President Trump was confident in his new Great Wall. There was n't anything that could bring it down. In fact, he could n't think of a single military force that ever overcame a wall this large before. Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet began to shake. There was a commotion on the top of the wall. He got a private helicopter to take him to the top, and a few workers got knocked off of the wall. Trump got out a pair of binoculars and raised them, to investigate a huge cloud of dust in the distance. His eyes widened in horror and recognition. There, coming over the horizon- was the Mongolian Horde.