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[ WP ] Leonardo DiCaprio in a fit of rage begins to torpedo his own career by deliberately acting poorly and taking on bad films . He finally wins an oscar for starring in Paul Blart : Mall Cop 3 .

The wet marble floor pressed on his cheek like a thousand hands slapping his face frozen in time. Smattering piss of rain ignored his indignant mumblings. His eyes fluttered. Pins and needs ran from finger to shoulder as he pushed back against the floor, contorting his aching body into a cross legged position. Last night was bad. He gathered that. His routine dullness of though crept inwards from the edges of his mind toward the black mist that veiled his most recent memories. He struggled to recall whatever he could n't recall but only for a moment before he decided it probably was n't worth the effort. He glanced around the room for a few minutes before concluding that he probably did n't know where he was. His investigation was n't entirely fruitless, he discovered a mostly full bottle of vodka. It was cheap but would definitely get the job done. Taking a few swigs made it childishly easy to ignore that gigantic black cloud of fog blotting out whatever the hell he did before he woke up. There was a mirror in the room and for want of anything more interesting to study he gazed at himself. It was a game he'd play with himself, glancing at the mirror and seeing if he could recognize the person looking back. If he did n't know better he'd have guessed he was a very successful mattress salesman, or perhaps a bum who had managed to score some luck gambling. His face was portly and unshaven, in that limbo place where it had been too many days without being clean and too few days to become a beard. His stomach was round but firm, like a basketball stuffed under a shirt and then semi deflated. The hair was long and unruly, receding far into the past. But his eyes were the giveaway. Looking closely enough at them he could still see an intensity. It was n't the sharp kind he carried in his youth but rather like a rusted dagger. Still sharp enough to cut. `` DiCaprio.'' The curse rasped out of him in a choke. After all these years spent working on the hallmark channel and tv series based on mediocre movies he was still there. Despite his best efforts to bury himself under all of the alchol and drugs he was still in there. He thought for sure after the bankruptcy he'd be done, but no that god damned rerelease of Titanic the royalties started pouring in and he could n't get rid of the money. Not even the live action version of the nut job could destroy him. Cursing he hurled the bottle at the mirror but his wet hands slipped and instead of a shattering crash there was only a thud as the bottle bounced off the dry wall and rolled on the floor. His rage thwarted by his impotence he slumped against the floor and finally noticed why there was rain coming into this room. The window was smashed. He looked at the bottle, confused. No, he had n't done that. At least not with the vodka. He looked back at the glass etched around the window sill and his eyes hung on the red that stained the jagged teeth. The headache crept back towards the front of his mind while the bloody glass pinned his eyes in place. What the fuck happened last night?

[ CW ] Kill the writer in first-person narrative .

It's been three days since my boyfriend pissed off the neighbors. They had to be pissed, he called the police on them. The neighbors had been harboring a runaway criminal. We did n't live in a bad neighborhood, there were families and good people living here with solid steady jobs. They cared about their yards and such. But, there was a bad egg, our neighbors to the south of us were shady. We could hear them yelling at their dog many times a week. Strange smoke often came out of their house, and the lights in the garage were on at odd hours. We never had proof until now that our concerns are legitimate. The car the escaped criminal was driving had been parked at the neighbor's house and my boyfriend decided he should turn them in. This lead to the police parking in front of *our* house, and watching them through our bedroom window for hours until they caught him. They had to know it was us. And it freaked me out. I had started tucking my pink taser in my jacket pocket when I took my miniature Yorkie out to go potty. My neighbor to the north, Jay, seemed to notice my tension, so when he saw me step outside, he'd come out and chat with me. He'd ask me about work, and talk to me about his latest construction jobs. Jay always pretend to be grabbing something out of his massive pick-up truck. It usually followed the same pattern - he grabs something out of his truck, sees me out with my dog, then starts in on how it baffles him how such a tiny dog was smarter than most of the people he worked with. We'd both gripe about our jobs and laugh about stupid customers, chase the puppy down when she tried to go after squirrels, and then part ways until the next potty break. The sun was beginning to set when my dog started doing her potty dance by the door. I put on my jacket, slipped my taser in my pocket, and opened the door. She bolted out the door and went straight for the squirrel sniffing around the sidewalk. `` NO! BAD GIRL, COME HERE!'' The squirrel started running across the road and her tiny legs skittered out of it. I ran after her, swearing as I tripped over a crack in the road. I felt a snap in my ankle and I went down. The roar of a large pick-up engine was too close and I did n't know what to look at - my little dog bouncing across the neighbor's lawn, or the tires that were n't slowing down fast enough. I chose neither and closed my eyes. The last thing I heard was the clatter of of work boots and Jay voice cracking, `` Oh god, oh god, oh god...''

[ EU ] Sean Bean has a hard time leaving his role as Eddard Stark . He vows to get revenge against those that assisted in his execution , starting with George R. R. Martin

George fled. Not terrifically fast, not at his age nor in his shape. The voice echoed throughout the house after him. `` I'm coming, you fat fuck! You've done me in and you'll pay for it!'' George wheezed into his office, closed the door and got to work tipping the file cabinet next to it. Over it went, blocking the door. He knelt at the safe set under his desk, opposite the door. There was a pounding at the door, a shoulder slamming into it. The cabinet held in place, thanks in some part to the thick carpet. The door pounded again as Bean slammed into it again, this time the wood cracking a little bit. `` I'LL GET IN THERE YOU FAT FUCK!'' Bean shouted. George twisted the lock furiously, muttering under his breath. `` Oh six... Oh six... Ninety six... DAMNIT!'' The lock failed to open. He tried again, a second time. `` Georgy Porgy, I'm going to get in there and cut off your head just like you did me. I only wish *your* family were here to watch.'' The safe opened just as the door cracked in half. Martin pulled his pistol from the safe and rolled over just as Bean vaulted through the door, a gun in one hand and a sword in the other. **BANG** Bean fell to his knees as blood stained his pants. He raised his gun but too slowly, another shot rang out, **BANG! ** This time blood stained his shirt as George hit him in the chest. `` Oh... Oh George... this is n't it.'' Bean wheezed as he collapsed. George R. R. Martin climbed to his feet as he heard the garage door go up. He took the gun from Bean's cold dead hand and tossed it in the safe with the others, then met his wife in the kitchen as she came in with a load of groceries. `` George, dear, you look like you've been running or something! What's happened!'' `` It's Bean again, Parris. He got close this time.'' `` Gods, how terrible! What happened?'' `` I shot him. Right in the chest.'' `` Again?'' `` Oh yes. He just keeps coming back, only to die every time. At this rate I'll *never* finish the last book.''

[ WP ] A kid doodling in a math class accidentally creates the world 's first functional magic circle in centuries .

It was dark and Levi was pretty sure he was lying on his back. There was firelight flickering off of what was left of a ceiling. He could hear something but it was muffled. He was almost positive it was screaming. When he tried to move he felt an excruciating pain in his left side that caused him to cry out. His hand moved to it instinctively and found something protruding from the wound. It seemed to be a pipe of some kind. He attempted to pull it out but it was covered in blood making it slick. Levi's ears began ringing and the sounds began to become clearer, it felt quite a bit like some one was driving needles into his eardrums. The sounds he was hearing were definitely screams and not just one person's, a lot of people were screaming or yelling. There was some one close to him that was crying. He looked in the direction of the tears and seen his sister kneeling beside him, her hands covering her face. `` What happened Laur?'' He was shocked at the sound that barely rasped out from between his lips. His sister's hands jerked down and she stared down at Levi with a shocked look on her face. `` bu... I tho... you were n't breathing!'' What started as a whisper ended in yell as she threw her self across her brother and began to sob anew. Levi cried out hoarsely but she did n't hear. She just continued to cling to him like a little girl that had just found her lost doll. He put one of his arms around her and scanned the room as much as he could. It looked like a warzone, like something out of one of the many shooters in his gaming collection. `` What the hell?'' There were dead bodies everywhere, he recognized some of them. There were firefighters and EMT's running around trying to find survivors in the rubble. Most of the screams were coming from survivors. He seemed to be laying on top of the bottom of a desk, and he was pretty sure the pipe sticking out of his side was a actually one of the legs. Then he spotted it lying about two feet from his right leg, a round section of desk about the size of a softball. On it was a round symbol with geometric shapes glowing with dark red embers and a dull tendril of smoke rising up from it. It all came back to him in rush. He drew that in his notebook. It was second period and his trig teacher had this monotonous voice that could put a crack head to sleep. Laurana caught him doodling and had thrown a pencil at him to scold him silently, which made him jerk as he was connecting the last line on his drawing. Then there was the light and the heat and lastly the dark. Did he do this? What the hell was going on here? A voice brought him out of his little flashback. `` Sir. Sir? Sir!'' it was a firefighter. `` I need you to stay still. You're going to hear a loud noise from behind you. I need you stay calm.'' `` Kay.'' He just blew up his classroom with a piece of paper and a pencil and this guy wants him to stay calm. `` it's going to cause this desk to vibrate a lot and your going to feel some pain but there is nothing that we can do about it. We will work as fast as possible.'' The sound of the saw kicking on was not near as bad as he had thought, but Levi was no where near ready for when it made contact with the leg of the desk. His cries of agony began to drown out the sound of everything around him until darkness overwhelmed him. *Sorry about my grammar it's been a while since I have written anything also < < < first time poster so take it easy on me; p

[ WP ] As a Space marine you have an allowance of one call home a day . Today 's battle was especially bad and your best friend died I 'm the heat of it all . Time to call home .

`` Hi dad!'' The words snap me from my thoughts. I focus on the screen to see my son staring at me. He had a gap where a tooth had fallen out. I forcefully pull a fake smile back. `` Hey bud, how's it going! Is mom home?'' `` Isaac, finish your homework first!'' My wife's voice makes my smile less forced. `` Alright Isaac, go do your homework. I promise we'll talk more soon, alright?'' `` Okay, dad.'' He replies, but the tone tells me he's upset. His visage disappears and replaced by my wife's. `` I swear, the smallest thing distracts that boy.'' Her hair is in a hasty bun, and judging by the glisten of sweat and the smudge on her cheek she had been in the garden. Her blue eyes show more relief than anything else. `` Hi honey, so nice to hear from you! It's been almost two weeks, is everything alright?'' Her question brings me out it for second, and I ca n't seem to focus on anything. `` Mark?'' I rub at my eyes to clear them, and open them to see my wife's often kind face twisted with concern. `` Mark.'' `` No, everything's not alright Emma!'' I realized I yelled. `` No, nothing is alright.'' My eyes begin to go blurry again, this time from welling tears. Dammit, marines are n't supposed to cry. Emma retained her calm composure. `` What happened?'' Was all she asked. I try to think, but it does n't work. Nothing is right, everything is jumbled. `` Jason.'' I'm able to mumble out. `` Oh god...'' I hear her get up from her chair. `` Isaac, go do your homework in your room for now. Daddy and I need to talk.'' By the time she gets back my composure is better. `` Mark, what happened?'' ''' We were ambushed. The area should have been cleared, but they must have missed them. We lost four men before we knew what was happening. Jason and I wound up next to each other behind a truck.'' I can feel my heart beating faster. I can still hear the gunfire, the crack of our weapons and the hiss of theirs. `` It looked like we were fighting them off, so we started following them.'' I remember the order from our CO, to kill every one of the bastards, ASAP. `` Jason and I glanced at each other, and I swear I could tell that he smiled at me.'' My voice begins to waver. Emma starts to speak but I hold up my hand. `` He did n't even get his shoulders above the ridge. It went through his neck.'' I remember watching, seeing the plasma bolt sear a hole straight through Jason's helmet and out the back. Watched him fall backwards. Crawled over to him. `` He might have lived, the wound was n't anywhere vital in his neck, but his oxygen system was severed.'' I remember looking into his eyes, blue like his sister's. Watched them go from shocked to panicked. Listened to him scream in pain, then start coughing, then gasping. Watched the skin around his eyes turn blue, hear his breathing grow more and more shallow. The fear in his eyes to the last moment as he stared at me, his hands like vices around my arms. `` Mark...'' `` He asphyxiated before the medic could get to him.'' My hands start shaking, and my eyes blur with tears again. Emma does n't say anything, and we sit in silence for almost a whole minute. It seems like hours, and every second I remember it. His eyes staring back, blue like his skin. The medic prying me off of him, me screaming for Jason the whole time. `` Mark, it's not your fault.'' `` If I had gotten up first, or we had waited just another second, he may be alive!'' I catch myself yelling again. `` When we enlisted, I promised to keep him safe.'' `` You did all you could.'' `` I could have done more.'' More silence. I hate it, almost as much as the sound of battle. Every little sound rings in my ears. I ca n't take it, and force myself to talk. `` They asked if I wanted to escort him back.'' `` What?'' She looks back, confusion replacing sorrow. `` My CO requested it. He knew mine and Jason's connection, and felt it would be better to send him home with a friend. I leave the front tomorrow, I should be home by next week.'' I see the relief wash over her. A hint of a smile forms on her face as she wipes her nose. `` Oh, Mark. Should I tell Isaac?'' I smile myself. `` No, I want to surprise him.'' `` He'll love that.'' She smiles more, then suddenly giggles. `` Oh, god that means I have to actually look presentable for once.'' I chuckle. `` Oh, come on. You're beautiful all the time.'' `` Promise?'' `` Promise.'' I look at the clock on the screen. `` Ah, I have to go. Still need to finish packing what little I have.'' Emma's smile fades. `` Mark.'' `` Yeah?'' `` Be safe.'' `` I will, promise.'' `` Thank you.'' She blows a kiss at the camera. `` Love you.'' I smile and blow one back. `` Love you too.''

[ TT ] `` Shut the dog up . ''

“ Shut the dog up, ” shouted my head officer from the jeep. The dog was running circles around our vehicle, barking at the people inside. The officer tapped my shoulder and pointed to the yellow, skinny animal circling our jeep. “ But sir.., ” I managed to spit out before he took both his hands and pushed me out of the vehicle. I went tumbling out, and landed on the rough sandy ground. I stood up adjusting the gun hanging from my shoulder and proceeded to walk towards the canine. The dog stopped its barking, and shifted its black eyes to me. “ Come here little pup. Hey come here, I ’ m not going to hurt ya, ” I said trying to coax it nearer to me. Actually, I didn ’ t know if I was going to hurt the little mutt or not yet. Reaching my hand towards my waist, I pulled off a tiny bit of my rations. I held it out my hand, with the ration laying on my open palm. The dog perked it ’ s ears, and came a few inches closer to me. Ever so slightly the skittish animal moved its way closer to my hand. At first only a couple inches, then a foot closer, until finally its snout was centimeter from my hand. I could see the small flecks of sand coating its fur. I pushed the ration closer to its teeth. “ GRUNT, ” the sound of my officer ’ s voice rang out, scaring the dog away. A shot rang out, and the dog ’ s body spasmed. The dog kept running, while blood trailed behind him. The blood leaving a streak in the sand. It kept running into the desert, and then promptly collapsed. It sides heaved one last breath, and then went flat. I stood up, turned towards the jeep and just stared. “ Grunt, get back in the jeep, were running off schedule, ” the Head officer yelled at me. “ Yes sir, right away sir, ” was all that came out of my mouth. As I walked back to the jeep, pictures of the dog ’ s death ran through my head. I stepped up into the cab and sat down. We drove off, but I didn ’ t keep watch like I was supposed too. My eyes were fixed on the dog.

[ WP ] A man finally discovers his superpower ... well into his 80 's .

`` It's just that half of all them gals down there are just bitches, ripe bitches,'' some young white punk with greasy cornrows said as he lifted up his glass of vodka. `` This one be for the bitches.'' The crew of young high school dropouts lifted their glasses and banged them together. The smell of cigarettes and Doritos polluted the bar as they simultaneously exhaled after slamming their empty glasses on the table obnoxiously hard. For the next hour and half they energetically went through a myriad of conversation topics -- porn, ex-girlfriends, heroine, cars, dead friends, and alcohol. Their banter slowly descended into a madness of laughter, shot after shot. Suddenly they were hushed. An elderly man opened the bar door. A white light from the street temporarily blinded the table of boys. The man pathetically shuffled over to the counter. He wore a worn-out plaid jacket and a pair of corduroy pants. Lightly tapping the table with his fingers, a husky bartender leaned over. `` Need help, friend?'' the bartender said, keeping an eye on the group of kids who were now suspiciously looking at the old man. `` Yeah,'' the old man said. `` Just a shot of scotch for now. Actually I'll do two right now.'' `` Sure thing.'' The old man sighed as he looked at his watch. It was a habit. He was n't going anywhere later. He had no meeting to go to, no one to see, no job, no curfew. He thought sometimes that if the hand struck twelve, he would die. It was a habit though. `` Hey hey how ya doin there sucker?'' the kid with cornrows said, while taking a seat on the vinyl chair at the bar next to the old man. The old man glared over at him. For some reason he knew he would get dragged into some joke of a conversation with one of those kids. `` I do n't know, sucker.'' the old man said while the bartender slid two shots of scotch in front of him. `` Course you do, you just think I'm being some sharp-ass punk for doing this.'' `` So?'' the old man lifted a shot to his mouth a poured it down. `` Got any reason for talking to me?'' `` Yeah, yeah I do sucker. You been in war?'' `` Sure.'' `` Then you know what --'' `` What it's like to have a gun pointed at me?'' The old man noticed a small silver handgun concealed under the kid's grey sweatshirt. `` How much fuckin' dope you got?'' `` Doe and dope are two different things.'' `` H'much doe then?'' `` About a hundred,'' the old man said, lifting the second glass up to his lips. `` I want it,'' the kid said, tensing his index finger on the trigger. `` Gim me.'' The kid was sweating at this point. He was more distraught than the man. `` Okay,'' the old man said while the scotch was lifted up to his mouth. `` Let me finish.'' `` Finish the fuckin' drink grampy.'' The old man lifted the empty glass from his mouth and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall. `` No, I mean finish this.'' Suddenly a burst of white fire consumed the bar. The wooden pillars gave way and a cloud of dust arose while the building collapsed. It was all rubble now. Bodies lay across the ground. The kid with the cornrows collapsed, bricks crushing his legs, his face covered in a pale coating of dust. The old man shuffled to him and showed him his watch. The hand struck twelve. `` Okay,'' the old man said while glancing at his watch. `` Time for you to die.''

[ WP ] Reddit buys the moon

Dickbutt... That was the first thing reddit was to do with their recent purchase of the moon. `` We're going to etch dickbutt with freakin' lasers across the surface of the moon!'' cried one post with over 100,000 upvotes. There was n't much else they could do with the moon. I mean, reddit just spent all our money buying the floating rock. The government required an astronomical amount of funds for the purchase and the rest went to legal fees from all the other countries suing reddit for purchasing something that belongs to humanity. `` We are humanity!'' exclaimed a majority of reddit users, which eventually won us the case. Dickbutt was only the beginning though. Thanks to an anonymous donor that built and sent a huge laser to reddit as a secret santa gift. They used it to mark reddit's newly found territory. More memes were to come and in great detail. Soon after, the surface of the moon was a hub of graffiti of all and every meme that had ever found it's way through reddit. People exclaimed that this was a travesty, that the purchase should have never happened if... this... was to come of it. After all, the moon in all it's majesty, was a symbol to humanity and a first glimpse for all mankind to the wonders of the universe. Now it's just a floating wad of toilet paper for the internet to smear its shit onto. It was n't long after that reddit sent out a satellite to orbit around the moon. It acted as a mirror to etch on the dark side of the moon. Now it's covered in the most prolific and vile things to ever posted on reddit. I'm not sure what reddit has planned to do next with the moon. Some speculate that we're sending robots to mine the ores and riches of the moon. They think that reddit can become vastly rich off the spoils of the moon, share that wealth, and create of utopia on earth. Others think it's a conspiracy. That the government now controls reddit and uses the graffiti as a front to cover what they're actually doing. They say the government is going to colonize, mine, and weaponize the moon. No one really knows. I grew sick as to how `` big'' of an ordeal this became, what reddit has become. I deleted my account and tried to forget the whole ordeal and move on with my life. However, that was all in vain really, because whenever I look out to the night sky I see it, staring at me with his smug, glazed eyes and a wiener hanging out his butt. Dickbutt forever stands guard over humanity. Edit: Fixed a few sentences.

[ WP ] You have a very shitty type of precognition .

Just looking at the guy I already knew it. He was in for a seven on the Bristol scale and it was only hours away. Looking at his carefree face from below as he was slowly transported towards me on the escalator, I wondered, not for the first time, if I should warn him. But as always I asked myself: How could I tell him? How could I tell anyone? Tell people that I could see the future. That I could see their fate? That I could feel the forces that were at work, often without their knowledge and beyond their control, inside their own bodies? That I could see shape of things to come? That I was a coproscognitive? Nobody would believe me. Not until after a few predictions had been proven to be correct at least and few humored me for long enough to realize the truth of my predictions. And this guy did n't have a few predictions to confirm the authenticy of my gift. He needed to know and believe me about the very next event I could foresee and there was no way to convince him in time. And thus I stayed silent again as the escalator carried us past one another leaving him to his fate. I was going up and he was going down. I could only hope for him that he would be close to the right place two hours and thirteen minutes from now, because I could tell it would be a fast and quite explosive one and without my word he would not have much advanced warning telling him to run for salvation. I put him out of my mind I had my own future to worry about and I did n't need my gift to tell me about it. I started looking for the signs pointing the way to closest lavatory.

[ WP ] `` Before we allow humankind to live among us in the stars , tell us the faults of your kind . ''

Tell us your faults? Really? This was the question - the shibboleth - that unlocked the cosmos? The Masters could have picked a scientist to answer but they feared she might mask ignorance. They could have picked from our global leaders bit they feared that they would mask deceit. They could have picked a holy man but feared he would mask violence, oppression, hate, intolerance... the list of disqualifying sins was almost too long to enumerate. So they picked Josh Thornton, a 45 year old MBA in human resources. `` Our greatest weakness? Well, I think we work a little too hard and, as a race, we might be a bit of a perfectionist.''

[ WP ] A magical mirror shows your reflection and your future soulmate . You only see your reflection .

Carnival music seemed to dance in the background. A cacophony of color and knick knacks decorated the fairgrounds. It was just another day at the carnival. I sit at my stand reading another old junky sci-fi novel. “ So how much to see it? ” Some pre-teen girl interrupted my book with her piercing voice. I sigh towards her and lean in. “ Ten dollars, just like the sign says. ” “ And it works? ” “ So I ’ m told. ” “ You mean you ’ ve never looked? ” “ Nope, ” I say, picking my book back up. “ Well why not. ” “ Because some things in this life should be a mystery, ” I reply. “ Well I want to see, ” she says. I tap on the money box and she places her ten dollars in. I watch her go in and wait for the audible reaction. After a couple of seconds I can hear an excited squeal. She runs out jumping up and down. “ He ’ s so handsome! ” I can see her run off in excitement. I smirk. Another idiot, I think to myself. The carnival director walks up shortly after. “ Time to start packing up, Isaac, ” he says. I nod and begin to break down my stand. My table is put away, and the money is locked up now. It ’ s that time again to put away the mirror. I stand in front of it like every other day. It ’ s just me, again. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, I am alone in the reflection. I smile at my reflection as I cover the mirror. I put the tent and everything in the back of my trailer with a skip in my step. You have to feel sorry for these suckers, I think. They ’ re destined for one person only. Who knows if they ’ ll ever find them? At least I know where to always find myself.

[ WP ] A person with a high school education gets sent back into the 1600s and tries to explain science and technology to the people .

`` So everyone is a Witch in the future?'' `` No, like, you know thunderstorms? The jagged beams of light that come from the sky?'' `` Lightning, but I d-'' `` Ok, that is the electricity. Okay, a couple hundred years from now this guy, Ben Franklin, has this... Well I'm not going to tell you exactly what, but he harnessed the electricity with a conductor, which electrocuted him and he was like'whoa that was a lotta power' and then all these other guys started using it. One of the most innovative inventions was the light bulb, whi-'' I stopped and noticed a crowd had gathered. Each of the spectators examined my appearance as they listened. `` What is this *light, bulb*? It sounds like black magic to me,'' he said accusingly. `` It is not magic,'' I said in emphasis, `` a light bulb it a thing that uses electricity to give off light. It can light up anywhere from a small closet to a football field!'' `` *Football. Field*'' `` Oh my god. There is this sport whe-'' `` *Sport*'' These people are either highly uneducated or sports are n't common. Probably a combination of the two. `` NEVER MIND THAT,'' I said, laughing after I realized I raised my voice, `` they can light up very large areas adequately.'' `` But.. How?'' This was pointless. `` MAGIC. It's powered by magic.'' The entire crowd around me murmured things like `` See I knew it,'' and `` We did tell him.''

[ WP ] Everyone has a reaper . The further away it is , the longer you have left to live . Every day it inches a little bit closer , but it is always there . Except yours , which disappeared three weeks ago

So this is where it had all led him. The sun rose beautifully over the cityscape, painting the clouds with its rays in pastel hues, colors changing as particles of light refracted and reflected, bouncing around the skies aimless and endless, purposeless, never to rest, and most of all unknowing of their own vain labors. Ray stepped over the guardrail and perched on the precipice of his 100-story lookout, pensive. Many things ran through his mind; his shitty job, his hateful parents, the loss of his wife, the only person he'd ever truly loved. But mostly he wondered how his reaper could have abandoned him so. To most people, a reaper was a curse: a constant reminder that death was always there, waiting. An undeniable proof that no one lives forever, and everyone will die sooner than they think. The closer it was, the sooner you would die. Despite society's countless incredible technological achievements, they could never figure out how to separate themselves from death personified. This never stopped the rich and powerful from trying; as their reapers got closer, no insane pitch from a fast-talking entrepreneur was too outlandish for the wealthy to throw their money at. They called them Death Profits: a play on words of both the money made from misfortune and the undeniable truth that their failures proved. The diamond guillotine, the snake oil supplements, the guided meditation and isolation, even the hyper-boosted trips to space; nothing could rid a person of their reaper. Which is why Ray loved his. Where most saw a terrifying ghoul, Ray saw a comforting promise. A guarantee that he would not have to exist forever. When his wife was killed in the car crash, Ray had seen in the rearview his own eyes, his own fear reflected as his wife's reaper came barreling in from behind. In just a moment he realized it all; they were due a freak accident, a change of fate. And then, grotesquely, a smaller reaper, its ghostly feet beating a silent *pitter-patter*, arm outstretched as it struggled to keep up with its mother. His daughter in the back. She was being cooed at by her laughing mother, gurgling happily in her carseat, blissful in her unknowing. What could Ray do? *WHAT COULD HE DO? * A thousand thoughts crossed his mind. *Prevent it somehow. Change fate. Swerve off the road. Offer your life as collateral. Pray for their earthly salvation. Something, something! * She looked to him, one last time. In that final moment. Her eyes met his, laughing creases changing to worry in slow motion as she saw the unbridled terror in his eyes, he could see everything, he knew as her mouth begin to move in formation of the question **he knew**, it was too late, too late, and he would never forget. He could see it now in his mind in perfect detail, wind streaming in the half-open window, playing lazily with that lock of hair that she could never keep tied back. Her lovely chest beneath her white sweater expanding ever so slightly, unfettered by the seatbelt she hated so much to wear. The hazel-flecked green of her questioning eyes in the light, the pupils contracting in turn as the sun flowed over one before the other. Her soft lips just beginning to form his name, asking him to protect her, save them, keep her safe: his wife, the mother of his child, his only love and the only thing he ever loved, *save us Ray, save our baby* and yet he failed her, just as with everything else, he failed her too and her would never forgive himself. *Remember, Ray. Memorize it. Remember what you did. Never forget. * Just before the impact he could not find his reaper. He knew what was coming and he did not want to live, without them there would be nothing to live for and he knew he could not save them and he wanted to die. But his reaper was not there. It was not there and then the impact came, his world ending in a great explosive conglomeration of crashing glass and screeching metal and shrieking twisting screaming tearing and then blood, theirs and his mixed up slick and smelling of iron and heat in the smoldering car. She had gone through the windshield. There was a gash above his head pouring blood but remarkably his limbs were intact and he crawled out of the overturned car to find her, cutting his hands and knees on the crystal shards that lay in a carpet around the vehicle. His ears were ringing. As he failed to stand, he realized he could hear the baby crying weakly. He tried the door but it would n't budge. He surrendered his broken hands and pulled with all his might, the glass cutting into his fingers and bleeding down and around the handle. Nothing. He was raising his elbow to smash it into the glass, and then felt a ghastly chill. It was passing through him. Her reaper. Bony arms outstretched, wisps of ethereal smoke trailing behind as it moved to fulfill its grotesque destiny. He thought his heart stopped. He could n't move. And then he raced to her, that white smudge on the concrete, falling to his knees and pulling her into his lap, her sweater curiously untouched except where his bloody fingers colored it red. He willed her eyes to open, wanting to wake her more than anything, wanting to have one more day with her, one more hour, one more look into those eyes, one more kiss. She was scarcely breathing. Her hand was limp in his. He tried to speak, but all that came out was an anguished sob. The reaper was only feet away now. He had seconds. `` Please!'' he sobbed to nothing and no one. `` Please, please, god, take me instead, leave her. Take me!'' There was no answer. The damned thing was n't even 5 feet away now. He lifted her into his arms and tried to run. His boat shoes had long since flown off, and the broken glass crunched deeply into his feet. He hobbled along, unwilling to accept the inevitable. Looking over his shoulder he saw the reaper keeping its grim pace, arms outstretched and dead eyes unseeing. `` Damn you!'' he snarled, as he struggled onwards. `` Damn you, you -- you fucking monster! You *freak*! Fuck you, fuck you, I'll kill you somehow, I swear it, please do n't, please --'' and as his threats devolved into pleas he slipped, falling to his knees. He gave up. It was done. He had made it barely 10 feet. There was nothing left he could do. Faintly, he heard the baby crying. The reaper came on. It had never fallen behind. Finally it reached them and gently, gently, took her soul in its arms, its bony limbs passing through Ray's own, and disappeared. In Ray's arms, his wife let out her last breath. He was finished. He wished fervently to die right there. And then he realized where he was kneeling. Gently he laid his wife on the ground, clearing away the debris. He laid his last kiss on her bloody forehead, then stood. Ray stepped on the running board of the delivery vehicle and opened the drivers side door. Almost comically, out clanked several beer cans, *one, two, three*. Inside the cab of the white box truck was a very clearly inebriated man. He stared wide-eyed at the destruction he had caused. Ray grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out roughly to the pavement. The man fell hard on his face. He looked up, arms raised. `` Look man, I'm sorry,'' he began. `` I -- I do n't know what happened, it just --'' Ray began beating him. With every punch he imagined he was killing himself. Tears streamed down his face. Every strike drove shards of glass deeper into his hands. He focused on the pain and ignored the man's steadily weakening pleas. When the man raised his arms to defend himself, Ray kicked him viciously until he felt bones in his feet break. Then he began punching him again. Out of the corner of his eye, Ray noticed something. There was a reaper creeping nearer. He was beginning to tire, but with every punch he threw, the harbinger of death jolted closer. Finally, he had to stop, exhausted and panting, doubling over, hands pouring blood all over his knees. The man was a gory mess; nose broken, face swollen, making small mewling noises between gasps for air through his bloodied mouth. A few of his teeth had fallen out. The man's reaper was a few feet away now. 15, 20 maybe. Ray caught his breath for some moments, then plodded with red-ribboned feet over to a piece of curb that had been broken free by the crash. He lifted it above his head with his tortured hands and brought it down on the defenseless man once, twice, three times, each with a sickening `` *thunk*.'' With every blow the reaper reappeared closer, and as the man's skull broke open from the final strike, it embraced his body with its arms and then lifted off, disappearing with his soul, leaving the expired shell behind. Ray had no tears left. He crawled over to his wife's body and held her in his lap, stroking her hair, staring into the flames of the burning car as the sirens grew closer. The baby stopped crying.

[ WP ] A person with a high school education gets sent back into the 1600s and tries to explain science and technology to the people .

`` So basically, magic,'' said the bartender. The rest of the villagers murmured in agreement. I had stopped concealing my sighs hours ago. `` No. Elec-tri-city.'' The hardest part about suddenly appearing in the year 1612 is thinking you're going to change the world and then realizing you have no idea how things really work. I had started with the whole bacteria thing and that went nowhere for awhile. I mean, think about it. Yeah, so there's these tiny living things that are so small that you ca n't see them ( but trust me they're there! ) that are attacking your body, which by the way is made up of billions of tiny things themselves, and when the bad tiny things get the better of your good tiny things, you get sick, and your body has these specialized tiny things that fight the bad tiny things and if those fighting tiny things win, then you get better. Fuck me, right? I had actually succeeded in introducing pasteurization. I did n't exactly know how to do that either, but I brought the pond water and milk to a boil before cooling it back down ('cause it kills the tiny bad things! ). The few people who looked passed my lunatic rantings and committed to trying my stuff were getting less sick from liquid, so I guess the process worked. I had a larger following now and they were listening to me. `` How about this,'' I said. `` So the lightning, that we create from... uhm, this lightning creating station, travels through the metal wire that's connected to every home, and is received by this glass ball that has this tiny piece of metal in it that glows from getting hot from the lightning and that's electrical light for you.'' The villagers looked around at the candles and oil lanterns that lit the bar quite well, gave each other nods that seemed to say `` yeah we got this whole'light' thing down already, stop your lightning harnessing nonsense'' and turned back to me. `` So basically... magic,'' said the bartender. `` Get me a key,'' I said over the ensuing rabble. `` And a kite. There's a storm tonight and I'll show you exactly what I mean.'' An old lady answered me. `` What's a kite?'' `` Get me some sticks and string and... uhm... paper? Or cloth? Uhm...'' Fuck me, right?

[ WP ] After brushing your teeth in the morning you go downstairs to fry an egg , but when you try the frying pan buzzes at you and text appears reading , `` level 18 cooking required to use object '' .

I lifted the box of cereal, tilted it down a bit, and sent a shower of Lucky Charms cascading into the bowl. Then I lifted the jug of milk over it and tilted until it glugged out on top of the cereal. I picked up the bowl, carried it to the sink, and threw it down the drain. Then I returned to my seat at the counter. I lifted the box of cereal, tilted it down a bit, and sent a shower of Lucky Charms cascading into the bowl. Then I lifted the jug of milk over it and tilted until it glugged out on top of the cereal. I picked up the bowl, carried it to the sink, and threw it down the drain. Then I returned to my seat at the counter. I lifted the almost-empty box of cereal, tilted it down a bit, and sent a shower of Lucky Charms cascading into the bowl. Then I lifted the jug of milk over it and tilted until it glugged out on top of the cereal. I picked up the bowl, carried it to the sink, and threw it down the drain. Then I returned to my seat at the counter. `` Level 12 cooking reached!'' a voice announced from every corner of my kitchen. `` Great,'' I grumbled. I eyed the half-empty pallet of cereal boxes in my dining room next to the twenty-something gallons of milk I'd bought. Outside, the sun had nearly reached its apex. Noon already? I'd first tried to make eggs at 7:30 AM. `` Only a few more hours of grinding till I can have my damn breakfast.'' -- -- This story brought to you by the millions of iron daggers crafted in Skyrim while trying to level up my smithing skills.

[ WP ] While searching the site of a disaster , you find your own corpse .

`` How is this possible?,'' I wonder staring at myself. Around me is a dusty rubble that was n't there seconds before. A seemingly little steam of blood that runs down my head drenched my hair partly in a sticky red mess where it had seeped in. She... I...? am here for more than a few seconds. I reach out, `` is this for real?,'' as my hand passes through... I touch my own head wondering, how, again. I feel weird tingly but it did n't hurt at all. `` So this is how it ends?'' I look up right into the eyes of a friendly, familiar face smiling at me. `` Not quite,'' she answers my question as she stretches her hand out to me. Inviting me to a bright warm light behind her.

[ WP ] While walking home from work one day , someone who looks exactly like you jumps out of a bush and attacks you saying `` YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST REPLACE ME ? ! ''

The gravel crunches under my feet as I walk, steps in time with the music that echoes in my ears. Bach. A genius, to be sure. I've always liked his music. Partially for the way it makes me seem more wise, perhaps, and partially just out of a genuine enjoyment of his work. *'' You think you can just replace me?! `` * It takes me a tenth of a second to register the voice and spin around. There, raising his hands in twin fists, is someone *very* familiar. `` James?'' I query, taking an instinctive step back even as I feel knowledge of various martial arts practises flooding into my mind. `` Is that you?'' He takes a step forward, and I can see he's panting, out of breath. `` James is my brother! I'm *you*, you fucking idiot!'' It's simple to keep my distance from him. The key with aggressors is to back off slowly, not giving them an excuse to close the ever-widening gap. `` Please, there's no need to get angry. I'm not quite sure what you mean. *I'm* me.'' Unfortunately, my technique is not quite perfect - or perhaps it just does not matter - and he advances anyways. Now that the initial shock of someone screaming and swearing ( ugh ) at me has worn off, I'm free to examine him. To be quite honest, I must admit he does look like me. He's a tad malnourished, not even close to being in shape, and has a potbelly that does n't quite fit on his frame, but otherwise he looks similar to a me that has n't washed or shaved in a week. `` I do n't know who the *hell* you are but you are going to get the fuck out of my city! Out of my *home*! You... you ca n't just replace me!'' One fist turns into a pointing hand, stabbing me in the chest with his index finger. I do n't think he quite expects the resistance he receives. `` I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I do n't know who you are or why you think I've replaced you. Perhaps you should try inquiring about this at a local police department?'' *Rule three-hundred and seventy-nine. Defer to the local police for matters requiring authority. * Huh? He growls, and he's in my personal space, now. Not something I am entirely comfortable with, but it's nothing that would set me off. Staying calm is always the correct path to take. `` Look, *kid*, you're going to fuck off or die or something *right now* because I'm going home! To *my* home! Not *yours*!'' I see the shove coming, and let him do it. My stumble backwards is entirely anticipated, and I feel *great*. It's such a nice day outside. The man- What man? I swivel around, blinking and searching for someone. I'm not quite sure who. There's nothing there. Something *is* odd, though. In the corner of my eye, I see a truck retreating into the distance, coloured completely white. It's not that. The hands on my watch have jumped forward by seven minutes and fifty-nine seconds. Odd.

[ WP ] Fabricate an inspiring encounter with a stranger that changed your life .

I've always had trouble deciding whether to help someone or not. I'm always worried that I'll be cumbersome while I help someone, so I tend to ignore the needs of others. It's something that I'm actively working on, and one of my main inspirations for improving my speed of assistance comes from this story that happened to me. I lived in Hong Kong back when I was a kid - out in the New Territories ( the'rural' area ), and would take the bus home from school. The public transportation was and still is fantastic, so I was alone when I rode the double decker bus back home. When I got to the nearest station to my home, I began to walk towards the subway tunnel, which led to the pathway to my house. The path to my house was under this long canopy of trees, and was squeezed into a thin lane between the trees and a wall right behind the trees - basically you could only walk on this path. The path extended past this sort of village place, then went on towards a cul-de-sac. The cul-de-sac was where I lived, and took about an hour to get to. It was a long but nice walk. Unfortunately there were a lot of wild dogs around that area, and I had an almost pathological fear of dogs ( I think I was bitten by one when I was really young and I kept that fear ). At that moment in time though I only ever heard the dogs' barks; at that moment I had never seen a wild dog. Today though, I spotted a dog lying on the pathway in front of me. First reaction was to be quiet and just step over it, since I did n't have enough space to go around. But when I actually got to the point of doing the act, I stopped. It was probably smarter to just wait for the dog to wake up and leave. So I turned around and began to walk back. But then I heard growling behind me. Somehow I had woken up the dog ( I think I stepped on it's tail by accident ), and it was mad at me. So, faced with the danger of being bitten, and with faded memories of other encounters with dogs rising up, I chose flight and began to run. Of course, my stubby legs could n't outrun the fully grown dog, and it caught up to me quickly. Realising the situation I was in, I decided to turn around and fight the dog. So I promptly tried to punch its nose with my right hand, but instead got it caught in the dog's mouth. Fear of the dog was n't ruling me anymore, and I bit the dog back. Dog whimpers and runs away, but leaves me with a bleeding hand - and the possibility of a disease. It also hurt a lot and I was still an hour away from home. I was happy that my bag was safe and sound though. So I began to walk home. But about five to ten minutes after I began walking, I met a nanny ( they're pretty common in Hong Kong ). She had headgear, so she was from Indonesia. She was also pulling an empty little cart that was probably meant for groceries. When I walked up to her she made a gasping sound and began talking Cantonese to me. I was an expat's child though and did n't understand. She then dropped her little trolley, and lifted me up in both of her arms. She stuttered out the words, `` Come with me, I have bandaids.'' I just nodded and let myself be carried off down the pathway. She lived in the village that the path passed by, and so only took a minute or so to reach. She brought me into her employer's house and sat me down. She gave me a phone and motioned to call and said, `` Parents.'' Then she went into another room while I called my parents. I told my mom what happened, she sounded flustered and told me that she would come pick me up in her car. The nanny then came back from the room she was in and was holding some alcohol, some paper towels, and those long white, wrapping bandages. She wiped off the blood that caked my hand, and added a liberal amount of the medicinal alcohol. She honestly added too much in my opinion. It honestly stung more than the bite... Anyways, she then wrapped those bandages around and told me to sit tight for my parents. My parents arrived, and I left. I guess some people might say everything the nanny did was expected, and that anyone would do such a thing. But she could have easily ignored me, and that's what I probably would have done: I would think the person does n't want my help because that person is n't asking. The nanny's speed of reaction, and her willingness to do all those medicinal acts will probably always be stuck in my mind. Even if what she did was minimal. She was just'someone's in trouble - > must help.' Nothing was in between the two motions, and I want to remember that.

[ EU ] In your favourite fictional universe , the villain won . It 's one year later .

*'' The Alliance... Will die. As will your friends. Good. I can* **feel** *your anger. I am defenseless. Strike me down with all of your hatred and your journey to the dark side will be complete! `` * ~ The Last Words of Emperor Sheev Palpatine _______________________ Luke could feel his father calling to him through the force, upset with his lack of punctuality. He started jogging through the corridors of the Death Star. Everyone he passed gave him more room than they would anyone else. Luke sensed their fear, and smiled. Soldiers should fear their commanders; it was the right way of things. Position alone does not give one the right to lead. Excellence alone is not a reason to be followed. If you intend to rule, your subordinates must see your strength, and submit to it. Anyone who thought differently was either misinformed or simply a fool. The regional governors in this meeting will be both. Luke sighed as he considered the conversation to come. It will be the same as the one with the Rebel leaders. Well almost the same. The Rebel leaders were so surprised to see Luke standing alongside his father that they did not speak for a long time. And when they did, they were so held back that the meeting accomplished nothing. His father had tried to explain to them that things would be better now. The injustice in Galaxy stemmed from Emperor Palpatine alone. Together, the two Skywalkers would lead the Galaxy to true peace. They did not believe him, but they will come around. Leia did not attend. Leia. The thought of her pushed Luke ’ s thoughts in a different direction. He felt an old pull, remembering Leia, Han, Chewie. R2 and 3PO. And old Ben. He did not like to think about them. He had done what was necessary to save their Galaxy. They were never in his position. When you are weak, you can never understand the decisions the powerful must make. And live with. They too, will one day understand. The power Luke and his father have together. They can make things the way they want them to be. As always, this line of thought led frustratingly nowhere, so he pushed it from his mind to focus on the upcoming meeting. This meeting with the regional governors, only a few years removed from being Senators, would be unbearable. Even before he joined his father, Luke had hated politicians. What an egregious waste of time! Petty fools, arguing over nothing but pride! There were precious few, Leia ’ s late father among them, who governed for the good of their people. Leia. No, she was not to be thought of. Luke pushed the thought away more powerfully than before. Focus on the governors. They will be weak. They will ask for things they do not need, for power they do not deserve. Their existence is an unfortunate by-product of the size of the Galaxy, nothing more. They will be short-sighted; incapable of understanding the great things Luke and his Father can accomplish together! And accomplish great things they will! As the only two force users left, they can lead the Galaxy to a rich a prosperous future! And as Luke ’ s father ages, they will seek out Leia and Han, for their child will be tied to the force as Luke and his Father are. Leia ’ s son will be the next in line to learn the ways of the Force from Luke. They will use their family ’ s talents to rule the Galaxy for centuries to come. Finally, Luke reached the conference room. As he stepped into the room he heard his father ’ s voice, and smiled. “ *khwoooooh……khwaaaaah* Welcome, my son. ” _______ Hope I'm not too late. I really liked the ideas from Anakin in Episode III, when he tells Padme that he can overthrow Palpatine and the two of them can rule, and again in Episode V when Vader tells Luke the same thing. I also wanted to take the `` villain won'' part of the prompt and try to not make it so cut and dry. Lastly, I'm not a writer by any means, I just saw this prompt and thought it would be really fun to try.

[ WP ] Write the same scene at least twice , making only miniscule changes , to drastically alter the scene

It just did n't make sense. The scenes of a bombing run creating fantastic flashes of light against the green night vision display used in the recorded video the media kept on repeat, to show the campaign which they cease to talk about. The flashing of the television lighting and darkening the room with each bomb exploding. There is talk of escalation. Raul turns off the T.V. He leaves the living room for the bed room and pushes open the door into the dark. Only the flashing of an alarm clock can be seen blinking'11:03 P.M.'' Crawling into bed, he lays his head upon the pillow. drifting into sleep after thinking about everything he possibly could. He beings to dream... *BOOM* He is awoken in a startle. `` What the hell was that'', jumping out of bed and tripping on his shoes. The room being still dark with only the alarm clock flashing'1:25 AM'. He felt what seemed like a drifting rumble, but that was nothing to indicate an explosion; everything seemed to drift back into quite. Could n't have been an earth quake, not out here on 90, not out here outside Rapid City, North Dakota. He thought for a while more. Confused as ever, he walked out into the living room and flipped on the television. Still more talking heads going on about escalations in this proxy war, but nothing about a local'boom'. Satisfied with an explanation of hallucinating and simply being delusional from work stress, Raul shuffles back to bed. Leaving the T.V. on, in case any emergency signals come through to wake him or provide explanation. He drifts to sleep and begins to dream... *BOOM* Jumping from his laying position in fright. The light of day filling the room, but no echoic scream of an emergency broadcast could be heard. Just a faint rumble in the ears, almost imperceptible - like airliner flying over lower than usual. The T.V. is off. `` What the hell'', said as if annoyed by the phenomena. `` I thought I left that on'', turning his head toward the alarm clock. The faint rumble now becoming louder and the light of day slightly dimmer.'3:38 AM' `` What the hell is going on'', said now with concern. The roar of a freight train now coming closer, consuming the audible space and Raul's own ability to think. The light of day now burning brighter through the windows and with a faintly colored hue of shifting orange. Tripping over his shoes as he burst from the bed, Raul runs to the window. As he reaches for the curtain to see outside, to see what ever could be so loud and bright at three in the morning, he is ripped into by the burst of exploding glass. His body barely hitting the floor, his face hardly able to cope with a gesture of surprise, he is consumed in nuclear flame.

Constrained Writing [ WP ] Write a story sentence by sentence that takes on a different meaning if you read it backwards .

Might as well put something in. I tried this prompt a while ago, and got one response from /u/smootilicious. Here was their response: He had always suspected that it might get ugly, but he never thought it could go this far. He took a look at the knife lying on the floor. There was blood on the carpet, blood on the walls and even blood on the ceiling. The man and his wife had fought before and the police had been called to the flat before, but none of the fights had been this bad. Trying to keep his calm, he went through the door. For easier reading, the other way around: Trying to keep his calm, he went through the door. The man and his wife had fought before and the police had been called to the flat before, but none of the fights had been this bad. There was blood on the carpet, blood on the walls and even blood on the ceiling. He took a look at the knife lying on the floor. He had always suspected that it might get ugly, but he never thought it could go this far.

[ WP ] You live in a world were a drug exists that allows you to have an out of body experience converse with a dead family member . After months of speculation you decide to take the drug to have on final conversation with your son who committed suicide

His eyes were as green as they ’ d been the day he was born. Jade. Shamrock. Emerald. Moss. Olive. Teal. I ’ d lived with him for almost 17 years, and I still couldn ’ t define them. They didn ’ t come from me or his father. They were simply green. The rest of him was smoky gray, transparent enough that if I looked straight at him, he wouldn ’ t be there anymore. He sat delicately on the couch, gazing at me. “ Mom. ” “ Charlie. ” His lips quirked up into a small smile, and he ran a hand through his messy hair. Even in death, that would not change. “ You know, I didn ’ t think you ’ d have the guts to do it. Take the drug, I mean. You were always against it. ” “ You ’ re my son, ” I said fiercely. “ I would do anything for you. ” His smile faded. “ You don ’ t have to anymore. I ’ m dead. ” His words sent a jolt through me, reminding me why I was there, using a drug I had so passionately fought against. “ Charlie... ” He did not smile again. “ Mom, ” he said gently. “ Why did you come? ” I felt my breath catch in my throat and thought of the empty pill bottle I ’ d found hidden under his pillow. I thought of how pale he ’ d been, and how cold his hands were. I thought of his laptop, still powered on, open to a blank Word document. “ Why did you do it? ” “ Why did I kill myself, you mean? ” “ Yes, ” I breathed. “ Why? ” He looked as if my words both disturbed and shocked him. “ Mom, I... I can ’ t explain. Not now. Please. ” “ Charlie. ” I worked to keep the emotion down. “ Charlie, *please*. ” “ Fine. ” His face set into a mask, and his green eyes - the only color left on him, hardened. “ Let me tell you why I killed myself. “ It was you. ”

[ WP ] You live in a world where light helps you retain and regain memory while darkness makes you forget everything . One day . . .

Jennifer woke up in a dark room, no light. She rubbed her eyes as if that would help her to see. `` Oh god... what in the hell...?'' She threw herself on bed again, too exhausted to move. Not that she remembers, but waking up in the dark room with no memory happens to her on regular bases. If she has a bad day, she turns off the light before she goes to sleep so she does n't have to think about anything, and possibly avoid nightmares. But what the hell happened last night that made her this tired? It must have been something horrible. Last time she was this tired to wake up was when her dog died. She stayed in her dark room for 2 days straight. `` I should get something to eat'' Jennifer woke herself up and opened the door. From the distance, she saw a dim light from kitchen's curtain. A memory came back. `` Lucy!'' She yelled as she remembered her 4 months old daughter. `` Oh god Lucy, my baby, Mommy is coming!'' She started to wander in the dark hallway and tripped over an object. `` What the hell was that...?'' she muttered as she fell on the ground. The floor was wet and it was still too dark to see anything. `` And what is that smell?'' a terrible smells started to fill out the air. It was coming from the object that tripped her. She stretched her hands, trying to find the object, the source of the smell. She followed the smell and got to touch the object. It was soft yet cold. She instantly knew something was terribly wrong. `` No... It can ’ t bee...'' She had to know what was going on. Still not admitting the reality, she carried the object and walked toward the kitchen. She wanted to make sure under the light. As she came close to the light, her memory started to come back. Her childhood, college, wedding, pregnancy, Lucy, and when she remembered her argument with David last week, she stopped. She fell down to her knees and tears started to stream down her cheeks. `` Mommy is sorry Lucy... Mommy is so sorry...'' She put Lucy back on the floor and head back to her room. She knew what she had to do, or what she could only do. She closed the door behind her and just before the dim light from the kitchen went completely off, she said `` Hi David''

[ WP ] Killing any creature inflicts an illness or blight upon yourself , for example killing a spider gives you a persistant itch , and killing a dog renders you paralysed for a long time . You 've just had to kill an animal that was attacking your young child , and are now suffering the consequences .

It is the one sound that can shatter a parent. In the back of their mind, buried behind the mundane everyday worries and clutter hides the fear of hearing the sound of their child's voice, their last earthly sound as it is ripped from their throat as they take their last breath. My son lay upon the grass, the knees of his stained and his trainers kicked off as he played. The picture of childish curiosity, his head thrown back to look up at the clouds and his soft voice called out the shapes his mind formed for him. I was lounging on the sun bed set up on the patio, reading the latest trashy paper back novel, I knew I should have kept a close eye on him however my mind was whisked away on romance and the pangs of lost loves that the novel inspired. What danger could possible happen to my son, even if I was not there in mind? I believed my bodily presence would worn off any potential evil doers. The sound of his voice, one terrible long plea was all it took destroy me. `` Mummy!'' He cried. It was the last sound, the last mark on earth that would hold the memory of my son. It would echo though the ages, as I now sit, burning itself into my consciousness. Least I forget my folly. A snake has wrapped itself around the arms of my son and plunged it's venomous fangs into his tender, pale fresh as easily as a knife passes though butter. Vivid green with a body as thick as my son's torso, this snake was fresh from the garden of Eden. Satan was taking my child from me, it seemed. It's tail trashed on the ground, mocking me to save the Apple of my world. I gripped the hellish tail and pulled with all of my might, feeling the satisfying coil of my muscles as adrenaline surged though my body. It come free from my son with an odd squelch, red rivers oozed from the wound on his neck but I had a more pressing matter of Satan turning his wrath upon the only available Eve. It lunged forward like a bullet, it's fangs getting stuck on the rubber insole of my shoe. A shovel that my husband had been using to do yard work was impaled in the ground, I grasped the hilt like it was Excalibur and brought it down upon the snake's head. There was a sickening crunch and it was over, the life drained out of the snake's coils, lifeless as a piece of string. I turned toward the body of my son with relief coursing though me, I had won! I had saved my son! I fell to my knee beside him and scooped him tiny body into my arms, watching how his head lolled to the side as it was made of lead. If you have ever had a moment where your mind seems to disconnect and the pounding of your heart is all that you can hear. This is what that moment felt like, I could have died a thousand deaths in those few precious moments before it hit me. The sound of my Son's voice pushed against my ear drums, a soft whisper that I had to strain to hear over the gasping on my breath and the tears that flooding down my cheeks. His plea sounded again, this time crescendoing to a ear spilling scream. `` MUMMY!'' I looked down at the life my husband and I had created, our own piece of heaven that Satan had taken from me. His lips were still, no voice was coming from his throat. His voice screamed again and then I knew I would be hearing it until the day I died. It would not stop until it has engraved itself on the inside of my skull and the whole world would hear of my shame. My next door neighbours laughter danced over the fence. A twisted benediction for my Son's body.

[ WP ] Aliens have arrived , and ask for a single human to plead humanity 's case and save them from extinction . The human is selected through a lottery of the entire human race , and on the day of the drawing , your name is picked .

I'm not especially smart. Maybe that's why everyone seems to hate me. My job, of course, was one that required someone especially smart. Someone like Winston Churchill's third nephew or Abraham Lincoln's half ancestor. But they chose me. Was n't my fault, being chosen. I mean, shit, I did n't even apply for the job. I applied for almost 20 jobs over the summer and the one that chooses me was the one job in the whole God-damned universe that I did n't even want. I got a call back from Safeway as well, but they were just trying to give me advice on what to say. So many people trying to give me advice on what to say. I suppose being chosen to be the voice of the entire species puts a certain target on your back, one that means, *Hey, come manipulate me or we all fuckin' die! * But they chose me, the aliens did. They chose *me* to plead the case of Humanity's existence, not Einstein's lesser known son. *Me. * I walked passed one of the countless shops playing my speech on the TV. It was a McDonalds, for crying out loud. Were they even aloud to have TV's in their windows? I supposed it did n't matter, since we would all be dead soon anyway, but shit. As always, they cropped it out to show only the bad part. The subtitles spelled out the words so even the deaf could see my fuck up. `` If you decide to exterminate us, make damn sure you do it right the first time, or we'll come after you.'' The picture switched to a news anchor drinking straight out of a bottle of vodka. `` He'd *killed* us all!'' The subtitles said. How technology has achieved emotions and punctuation in subtitles was beyond me. `` Asshole!'' An old man threw a McChicken wrapper at my head as he passed. I headed in. Maybe they were hiring.

[ WP ] `` And that was the first of the three lies ... ''

“ I thought you knew what you were doing! ” The panic in my voice was clear despite the blaring of alarms that sought to drown it out. Trying to keep my composure, I held the bag now filled to the brim with money with one hand, and tightened my grip on my rifle with the other. “ Of course I do! Just keep moving! ” Ryan turned and started to rush down another grimy maintenance corridor, his head spinning wildly this way and that looking for any sort of escape route. It had been far too long since we had blown the safe and grabbed the cash - we should have been long gone by now. Instead, we were still stuck here, pushing against locked door after locked door, trapped like rats in a cage. “ But… ” “ Shut up! We are getting out of here and getting far away, and then you can pay those medical bills and your family will be cured, ok? Just get off my case for a minute! ” Mentioning my family only made me feel worse. They were the only reason that I had got myself into this mess in the first place. Not like I would have taken any other course of action, mind you - they meant everything to me. To see them all dying slowly of that illness, with my wreck of a life and lack of a job making me unable to get the help they needed… I would do this all again if I had to. I would just hope that next time it would go more smoothly. “ Finally! ” Ryan ’ s excited cry snapped me out of my thoughts. A set of heavy doors had finally swung open in response to his attempts, and there up ahead was another set, the sun peeking through their edges, the glow they created almost beckoning us towards them. “ Go go GO! ” he shouted, but I did not need telling. Breaking into a run, I darted past him as fast as I could, reached the end of the corridor and pushed upon the door. A brief flicker of joy erupted inside of me as they opened to my touch. It was crushed almost instantly as my eyes took in in everything around me – the dazzling sunlight. The endless rows of police cars and flashing red and blue lights surrounding the building. And the dozens of police officers hidden behind them, guns raised, ready to fire at anything that appeared in their crosshairs. I did n't hear the shots get fired. I only felt the pain, so sudden, so agonisingly painful. The force of the shots sent me spinning to the ground, my head cracking harshly off the concrete, a small puddle of crimson splattering down next to my body. “ MICHAEL! ” Even through the pain I heard that shout, and my vision remained clear. I could see Ryan coming out the door, the mix of terror, grief and confusion etched so perfectly on to his face it looked as though it had been carved there. Then he too was struck by another volley of shots, blood starting to rush from his chest almost instantly. As I watched him also fall to the ground the realisation came to me so clearly, even though my thoughts were fading away – he had never known what he was doing. He was trying to help me and help my family, but not with a grand scheme or any sort of plan, just with his instincts and the desperate hope that everything would turn out ok. And that was the first of the three lies. The other two merely followed as a consequence - we were never going to get out of here. I was never going to be able to help my family. Guilt and sadness flooded through my dying body, but I was comforted by the fact I knew I had tried. I had not just let them die. As my vision blurred, I took in Ryan ’ s body one more time. I held no anger towards him and the lies he had told me – he had only tried to help. The choices I had made were my own, and even though they led to this, at least I had made them. I had tried to make things better. With this in mind, I closed my eyes, and made peace with God.

[ WP ] You just started a new job in a large office building and what you do n't know is that at twelve o'clock every day , there is a office wide Purge style battle to the death , those who survive an hour get a significant pay raise and can come back tomorrow . A bell just went off , it 's twelve o'clock .

As I finished up my research on Alligator breeding habits for a story I was tasked with writing, a bell began to ring loudly throughout the office. I could feel the sound vibrating off the cubicle walls. I looked over my cubicle wall to ask a co-worker what the bell was for. I watched as he calmly opened his desk drawer, to reveal a small armory. There were multiple handguns, knives and magazines and other assorted weapons neatly stashed away. `` What the hell is that for?'' I questioned loudly, and nervously. The man looked me in the eyes, and pointed his handgun at my face. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and could n't understand what circumstances had arisen to put me in this position. I heard the gun fire, and the sound of the shot rang through my ears. I heard something hit the ground loudly behind me. I turned to see the woman who had hired me yesterday, lying in a pool of blood on the floor. She was holding a rifle in her arms. I looked back at the man who had apparently just saved my life. He seemed to be about 40 or so, well built, muscular and had a scar down the right side of his face that went from his forehead down to his beard. `` She liked to go after the new hires'' he explained in a deep voice. `` She hires the ones she wants to kill'' I was n't sure what to make of this, but my thoughts were cut off by the sounds of screaming throughout the building. `` What's happening'' I asked, barely able to look my savior in the eyes. `` You survive today, and you'll receive a bonus of $ 5,000 and your salary will be raised 5 %'' I cut the man off. `` What does that?'' He continued to speak, while motioning me to stop taking. `` I'll keep you alive, if you give me your bonus and half your raise'' He finished. I just nodded, still unable to understand the position I was in. He grabbed my arm so hard I thought it would break, and pulled me over the cubicle wall, and under his desk. Then, he placed a gun in my hand. `` The safety is on, and it's fully loaded with one in the chamber'' He said, pointing to the safety switch. The weapon felt heavy in my hand, I flicked the safety off with my thumb and gripped the gun tightly. The man looked down at his watch. `` 45 minutes to go''

[ WP ] A cell in your body is just your average middle class working `` Joe '' . One fateful day there a massive onset of disease . Give his first hand experience of event .

Joe was your average working nerve cell. Every day ( and night, his shifts were rather long actually ) Joe sat down at the sensor panel and sent out the readings he saw. He never much cared for what they were, that was what the brains in the brain were for, he just passed them up and on. Course, Joe never really got tired or slow, even though sometimes the signals from on high were a little slow or fuzzy. Then Joe would wait, patiently, a little bored, while the powers that be got their act together. Today was one of those days. *I'm getting tired so I'm not going to finish this for now. But I'll put down some ideas I was going to implement. Joe is a nerve ending in a skin cell in a finger. Finger gets burned then infected. Joe experiences this as a bombing of his city ( with lots of resultant fires ) and the nearby office buildings are shattered. Joe calls for help but the lines are too clogged for him to get noticed. As they begin the repair effort people start acting weirdly, basically a zombie apocolypse as the virus takes over. Joe turns into a zombie himself and then gets eaten by a macrophage. * *Feel free to steal the ideas and finish it for me. *

[ WP ] You are hiking in the woods when you hear a deafening shriek from close by . Your guide 's eyes grow big and he whispers , terrified , `` One must have survived ... . ''

Something in the way he said it made you shiver. You knew when you first met him that something was off, and with the way he reacted to that scream you knew. `` What have you done?'' I asked, afraid I already knew the answer. `` The same thing that will happen to you.'' His eyes were glistening with tears. `` The same thing!'' I began to run. Almost instinctively I ran towards the scream. `` Ahhh.'' There it was again, getting closer now. I looked up to a girl that was cocooned in a tree, only her head visible. `` Hold on, I'll get you down from there'' I yelled, forgetting about the guide I left behind me. That's when I heard it, the clicking of several little feet. It was the only thing I heard, but I could not pinpoint where it was coming from. Thats when I noticed the girl. She was staring at something behind me, her eyes moving ever so slightly. The look of terror on her face held me in place. `` It's behind me.'' I said under my breathe, as I spun around. It was the tour guide, only his bottom half was now a giant spider and his face had pincers. A Drachnid. `` She was n't cocooned, she was webbed.'' Was the only thought I had time for before the bite. All went black.

[ WP ] The Fourth Wall has been breached and our world has come into physical contact with previously fictitious realities . What happens next ?

My name is Dr. Tel'Vara Troperras, and I will recount the tale of the Breach that changed our world. I remember when the Fourth Wall came down. I was in my living room, browsing people's artistic creations on my 55'' HDTV, when my screen became an infintitely long hallway, much like when you face two mirrors towards each other. From within came the sound of elephants, clashing of swords, and all manner of rainforest wildlife. I wisely jumped out of the way before they came out, destroying half my house. The most logical thing to do was alert my friends to this bloody awesome scene, and then call the insurance company and police. However, the network was being swamped; everyone else was thinking the same thing, as it was happening in their living rooms as well! Reports started coming in: people dressed in strange costumes, talking strange languages. There were mutated creatures and high-energy explosions throughout the globe, which were thankfully confined to sparsely-populated desert and mountainous regions. No one really put two and two together until they saw a wizard, with a lightning bolt for a scar, casting a thunderbolt in Trafalgar square. Or until a battallion of pointy-eared fair folk were found in a national park, speaking a foreign yet vaguely familiar language. Either there was a global convention, or the world of fiction merged with ours. The Breach has no physical form. There was no crater formed on impact, nor a collision trajectory viewable from space. Rather than coming from the outside, it seemed to have come from the inside, through the mediums we used to craft those worlds: books, pens, tablets, and even paintings were gates and keys. Half the world did n't know what to do. The other half, we of the younger generations, knew exactly what to do. Every creative writer and artist became an architect. With their tools at hand, they could summon forth fantastic creatures, and rearrange a piece of the world to their own image. Art and words became their spell circles and incantations. Brush and pen became their wands. We discovered that how big a person's alterations could be was strongly dependent on their level of delusion and artistic ability. The more practical you were, the less power you had in this New World. Naturally, anyone who's won the lottery, received an inheritance, or suddenly found themselves attractive can tell you what this'll do to a person. War broke out. First it was between the Realists and the Dreamers, as they called themselves. The Realists quickly lost ground, and now live on reservations. Then there were fights between the Dreamers, divided by canon. OCs became mercenaries, their'delusion field' only extending to a small radius around their person. Those who subscribed to particular canons could form gestalts, and entire cities could congregate together to essentially change the laws, within a six mile radius, to suit the consensus. But though laws of physics can be changed, there is still a meta to metaphysics. The newest academic field is Fandom Physics, which analyses the large-scale phenomena that result when different canons collide. What happens if two cities have six-mile Delusion Fields, but are only three miles apart? Will they cleanly integrate like most Modern stories do? Or collide violently when you cross Final Fantasy and Dead or Alive ( Monty Oum has been elevated to patron deity of that region ). And magic! Vancian and Functional magic paradigms have mutually exclusive clauses. What does the hybrid look like? This is truly an exciting time we live in. I hope I live long enough to record it!

[ WP ] Share your thoughts

I said something stupid. I said something stupid six months ago. That person was mean. I might have been wrong. I did n't express myself clearly. Get in shower. Get in shower. Get in shower. That's it. Check phone. Get dressed. Check phone. Coffee. Work. Go to work. Come to your shift on time. Prompts. Prompts. Prompts. 100 words, at least. Anything beats nothing. Phone! Pick up. Sell tickets. Good. Video games? Book idea? Science? Coding? E3 games look nice. I remember what I'm interested in. Games are amazing. Truly, they are. There is no doubt. Book. Fantasy. Space, but scary space. Everything does n't work perfectly. Interstellar, not Star Wars. Characters must still be vulnerable, even if they're essentially space ninjas. Phone! Sell tickets, again. What was that game about the robot dinosaurs? That does n't make any sense. Horizon. I like stealth games. In those ones, you need to be careful. You need to think about what you're doing. Do n't shoot'em up. Maybe, I'm thinking about hard games. Dark Souls: How do I explain this game to someone who does n't play it? Hardest game in the world, adored by many. Medieval setting with a realistically difficult fight engine that forces you to die again and again until you finally get it right. Even the story of the game revolves around a notion of futility and endless hardship. Though the story is not particularly good ( according to some players ), the mechanics and the story are one. That's quite enough of that. I'm conjuring a review, here. Looking around. Sleepy. I went to bed too late, last night. Phone! Angry person. Would it kill him to be upset about something else? He wants to speak to the manager. Okay. Counting seconds. Watching minutes in the lower-righthand corner of the screen. Yawning. *More* coffee? No, I'll feel like garbage. Music? I can listen to music. Low volume. Shift completed. Moving. Hungry. Wow, look at the sun. ***Sandwich! *** Emails. Chores. Anything I can do in an hour. Other job. Other shift. Internet. Marketing. Twitter. Eyes open. Eyelids up. This sucks. Be mature. Be mature. Be mature. I need to edit these works, and I need to edit this site. The boss is nice. She's helpful. She wants me to do a Photoshop-related thing. Okay. I do it. At least I'm not on a phone. **Five o'clock**. Do n't be mature: fuck, shit, cocksucker, ass. Video games. Games, games, games, but mainly death. Again, Dark Souls. That's what it's all about. Thoughts of self worth plague me. I curse at the screen. Why think about such things? Just play the game. Pizza! More games. Many more games. Sleep? Sleep.

[ WP ] A story about a modern-day Roman Empire .

Summer. I had fond memories of summer- it was my halcyon days where I would sit next to the banks of the Euphrates and watch the river. Ebbing and flowing, the generators on the newly minted Fortunae dam pounded away like a dull hammer- “ Lowering angle- in range of active scanners. Prepare for descent. ” the pilot stated too matter in factly. “ All men. Up! ” Decanus Severus barked. Over the undulating whirs of the odonata's wings, Decanus Severus stood up in front of the contubernium. With a solemn glance, my eyes met the rest of the men as I rose- these proud men from all stretches of the Empire, most to seek citizenship for their families no doubt. As I stood, my body jerked from the initial resistance of my lorica. It adjusted itself and streamed down a list of armor checks. “ Callum Malleo VII... online... OK ” my suit said aloud- with the same words echoing for each man. “ Drop point in two, ” the pilot stated. At that cue, Decanus Severus pulled open the 300 lb steel door with ease. Wind swept in and had our suits not been as heavy as they were, we would have all been thrown back. Right next to us, in formation, were the rest of the century. Decanus Severus nodded at the others. “ Drop! ” Red lights lit up around us as screens displayed the word, In Nomine Imperator! “ From the skies brothers! ” My suit's legs roared into action as we, one by one, jumped out of the odonata into the great sky beyond. At hundreds of pes in the sky, we could see the battle ensuing in Nova Romana. While the Vigiles Urbani held up positions using wreckage from fallen buildings- our drop point was far from them. “ Once we hit, group up. We're the strike force. ” A hundred men were all falling from the sky- while we were donned in our Callum Malleo VIIs in a rapid-response configuration, a couple of the other contuberniums each held Scutum Indominae. They were responsible for holding the entirety of the front. My suit displayed an ETA on the lower right HUD. It counted five seconds before we landed. “ For the Emperor! ” For the unlucky few who stood below us, their bodies were vaporized. Like a hammer, we landed. Dust swirled around us as a hundred new craters formed on the barren ground.

[ WP ] On the day of their death , every human gets to have a vision of meeting the man they could have become .

Motor sport vehicles were the first to be outlawed. When you tell a man he has a day to live, and remind him he could have been a monster car driver if he had n't knocked that slut up in high school, more often then not, you end up with a wrecked truck and a dead man. Which is fine, insurance pays and you garnish the wages of his progeny for three generations. To outsiders, it just looks a little... exploitative. It happens to everyone. You wake up drenched in sweat, with crystal clear knowledge of the totality of your failure. To some men, the heights they could have soared made recognizing this day nearly impossible. For many, the dream came with the depressing realization of how little they could have amounted to. But for those in the middle, those who cold yet conceive of a perfectly actualized life, the allure of this alternate reality consumed even the knowledge of their imminent demise. This combination of hope and myopia was the lifeblood of payday lenders for generations, it took them an embarrassingly long amount of time to tap this market. The applications were the prospectuses of lunatics, incapable of separating their life of booze sodden compromise from the cloistered life of work and neglect which lead to their best selves And at the bottom of each is the untidy scrawled signature of the approving manager. Auto sports, oil prospecting, and pyrotechnics were all out. Cupcake bakery had become a fairly wise investment, after the first hundred thousand went under. For the most part though, these impossible missions were inaugurated with the nod of a middle manager. They walked out of the florescent lobby and back into the lobby of a bank. There was a time when a man could show up at a medical supply store looking to buy one operating room in cash, but it was never long before a man in a faded polyester suit and a summons came to politely ask for all that money back. Cash or an overpriced platinum card, it made no difference. Purchasing alone took hours, and many had stress induced coronaries or wrapped their business Porsches around a pole before lunchtime. The hardier souls remaining sometimes even had optimism sufficient to order business cards before they succumbed. Then came the collectors to inform the family their property was now forfeit. Complicating matters somewhat was the fact this was often the first the family had heard of their dearly departed for some time. Not many perfect lives contained imperfect families. Auctions were held, and deals made. Cheap cremations yielded coarse ashes in a bargain vase. Cinders and bills are all that are left of these most sad, most hopeful creatures.

[ WP ] The root password for the universe is discovered .

The password was n't so simple. It required a sequence of well-timed thoughts, followed a series of moods, and then a frequency inaudible to the human ear. And yet, I cracked it. The possibilities opened up before me, vast and terrifying in all their permutations. The longer I stared into the truth, the reasons, the very secrets behind everything, the more I realized that neither I nor anyone else could properly harness the immediacy of all knowledge. Ignorance was n't necessarily bliss, but there was a joy in gradual discovery. Humanity was meant to play this game without cheat codes. I changed the password before wiping my memory clean.

[ WP ] Magic exists , but the nature of it is unique to the user , like a fingerprint .

'can we stop for food?' moaned Ghon from the backseat.'Ghon, i swear to god, i will reach back there and kill the fucking shit out of you' snarled Jerris, riding shotgun. Ghon laughed'I'd like to see you try, Jerry'. The nickname Ghon called him always got Jerris' nerves, but Jerris refrained,'I actually can not even be bothered, youre not even worth it'. True. I thought to myself, Ghon was practically immortal, simply because he could regenerate from any wound, a handy trait to possess in our line of work. But the side effect was that to keep up this unbreakable defence, he was always hungry, and had to consume copious amounts of food, often at the expense of the Ministry that funded us. The conversation between my companions had always been savage and violent, to the extent they would often fight until they were exhausted, with no amount of intervention able to stop them once they began, you really did just have to let it take its course once that occurred. Anyone new to our dynamic would deduce that we'd been heaped together for our abilities of huge strength and versatility, but in truth, when shit hits the fan, there are no two people i'd rather have watching my back. 'were almost here' I said. Partly because it was the truth, but mostly because if i had n't they would be at it each other in less than 30 seconds.'have to say Im keen to see what new recruits we have in the regiment' asked Jerris.'I wonder if they'll serve lasagna' chimed Ghon.'can you think of anything besides what can go in your fucking stomach?' said Jerris.'I once thought about opening my own restau-'.'dont answer the question Ghon' i said'anything more will set old ticker here off'. See Jerris was what the ministry call a combustion-based Rogue, but anyone who knows anything, refer to them as bomb-men. and never has a bomb man not been short tempered, its both their biggest strength and their biggest weakness, i guess. Turning into an alley, I turned the key to turn the car off. Us three piled out, with the car suspension finally being relieved with Ghons exit, returned to its original height. we entered through a metal door and into a vast expanse that does n't meet with regular architecture, as this space was much larger than what the outside should allow it to be. designed by Leorik Sundergaan, a man defined by the ministry as an architect, had built many of these creations with just his mind, many like him have been classified as architects, but his power stands above the rest, as he doesnt require raw materials or an original design to copy, he simply imagines it and it appears. nifty power, i thought. The ministry had always attempted to group and label abilities to better identify them, but because of the slight difference in each individuals they often fit into multiple areas, which is an administrative nightmare for their seers. a fancy name they call their paper pushers. Because just as they define a power, it is not uncommon to have that power never reappear, so in the end, there was no point. The powers that have never reappeared are what we call god-tier, as they are often incredibly powerful or useful. There have been only 7 recorded, with only 1 currently still being active. It belonged to the man who was the head of the Ministry, a man called Reqrestrius John, an imposing man standing 7f 5, and with the incredible power to cancel, as in cancel anything he wanted, all he had to do was touch it, and it would vanish. with this power, he had ended all adversaries in their stance, and had brought peace to our world. But another power was quickly being considered as the 8th god-tier trait, the ability of complete mind, body and soul manipulation, and the one to possess this power, was yours truly. With this power, I would take Johns position and rule this world. i thought to myself

[ WP ] You are a Tank in an MMORPG dealing with the psychological trauma of being constantly revived from horrifically fatal wounds .

Blackness, nothing but endless blackness. It feels as if I'm falling, yet rising at the same time, yet neither. Something feels familiar, but what does familiar mean? I ca n't hold on to thoughts. They float through my mind like fog and then blink away, just to float back in from another direction. Yet amongst the empty, I feel peace. Then slowly a blowing wind begins. Where from I can not tell, there is no up, down, left, right. It picks up pulling me towards a bright light, I grasp at the nothing trying to resist. Like a tornado the wind pulls me up into the air towards the light. I do n't know how but I know the light is wrong, I must avoid the light. But as certain as death, I'm sucked through to the other side. Noise, so much noise. Battle, there are people fighting. Lights, beams, magic shooting everywhere. Someone is yelling, yelling at me I think. A short long haired woman with pointy ears and a white robe is yelling at me. `` Into the fray NoobPoner657, the Alliance needs you!'' I've been revived. Again and again they bring me back, and every time I die. I ca n't remember the order of the deaths but they sit there in my mind. A wolf tearing out my guts as I scream in pain. A bolt of lightning arcing from the sky electrocuting me. Always surrounded by enemies, always dying. I must get out of here, away from this endless cycle. I turn away from the battle looking for my escape, but I can not move. The voice has returned. It never truly leaves. I feel my feet guiding me back towards the battle. I try to stop as I have a thousand times before but it is no use. The voice carries me forward. I can hear it muttering in the back of my mind in a strange language *That guy is so op since the last patch, its fucking stupid. * I know not what the words mean, yet they send a shiver down my spine. I long for the days spent doing heroic tasks for my homeland. When I collected 15 boar tusks for Edelon's new house in the Forest of Talleron. When I defeated the evil ice witch of the Resson Tundra. Heroic deeds for people who need help. Instead I am dragged to and from death in this endless bloodbath. There is no end. I plunge into the fray with the fury of one who can do nothing else.

[ WP ] Suicidal person realizes he can not die

Well, it's not the most usual line of work, and it does n't pay much, but I am definitely a whole lot happier than I was. It started at the absolute lowest point of my life. Actually, I think the day before the lowest, because the lowest was the next morning. On the day I tried to die, I was really depressed. Clinically depressed, it's called. Every thought I had revolved around what a terrible person I was, how I deserved to die, how I wanted it to just end. I would think briefly how much happier people would be when I was gone, but I realise now that I actually barely thought about other people at all. I was basically mad with pain and not thinking straight, even if the pain was emotional rather than physical. So I jumped in front of a train. It was n't even a decision, not really. I was trying to get to my doctor and I suddenly could n't face the idea of telling someone who had been so blank the last time, what was going through my head now. It was my only way out, but it just seemed impossibly hard, and there was n't any future that was worth having. And then the tube was on its way in and I was jumping before I'd even decided what to do next. It was like being smacked really hard into a giant speaker. It did n't hurt, not at first. Just this THUMP. And then I landed, and I thought this is it, I'll land on the rails or get sliced up. But I sort of rolled under the train for quite a long time. I could smell oil and metal more than anything. I do n't remember seeing the driver. I'm really, really sorry about the driver. I just was n't thinking at all, not about anything. I did n't know I was going to jump. I definitely did n't go there to jump. And then I lay there for a really long time, and the physical pain started, and you know what? I felt a lot better. I really hurt, physically, all over. It made the endless thoughts finally shut up for a while. I was thinking this is it, I am dying. I could n't smell any blood, or really feel anything either, other than that I was hurt. I was just lying there while people moved around, cleared the platform, rolled the train forward. The other passengers were really angry and upset. I could n't make out words, but they did n't sound happy. I should have gone for paracetamol, except I did n't actually plan to kill myself at all. It just sort of happened. Anyway, the lights came back on and I had police looking down at me. I was blinking in the lights and one of the men swore and then went and threw up. It really stank. Another man kneeled down and asked if I could hear him, and I said yes, and a woman was talking into her radio, but I could n't make it out. The police man told me not to move. And eventually paramedics came and put me in an ambulance. They made me not look at anything. All I could see was yellow blocks either side of my head, and this woman's face, a paramedic, telling me I was going to be okay. I met her again later on and I did n't recognise her until she said hello, and then I burst out crying. It was really embarrassing, for all different reasons. Anyway, the rest is all in the news, if you want to look. I made a miracle recovery, and now you ca n't tell anything had ever happened. I did get to see a psychiatrist without a referral. Most people were really good about it. I just felt so awful about what I'd done to everyone and how much time I'd wasted. I got lots of post, but nobody would let me read most of it. I got a lot of hate mail and threats, and my parents got it too. Dad was shouting at me how I was ruining things for him and mum, how they were going to have to move and it was all my fault, and then some nurses came in and he left and I did n't see him again, or mum, or anyone really. Mum sent me a card, but I did n't reply and she did n't send another. Anyway, I was back on my feet with all my arms and legs and everything back after twenty four hours, and I thought fuck. I'm back exactly where I was before. I got really high off the morphine until they realised what was going on and I could n't have any more, and I missed it. I missed not feeling anything and not giving a damn. And I spent a while in a loony bin, which was n't as bad as I thought it would be, even with all the nutters. It was mostly really boring. I talked about what had happened and after a couple of weeks I was let out to go into therapy, CBT. I ca n't remember what it stands for, but you think different about things and it helps put life in a different aspect, and it's really good if you can keep going to it. But I think people need more help right at the start, because once a week is n't enough, not when you're really bad. So anyway, yeah, I think it was about a week after that when I went around and got loads of paracetamol and tried again. I spent the whole day going around London, just getting pills at different supermarkets and shops. I thought somehow the pharmacies would pick up what I was doing but I did n't think supermarkets would care. Going around buying stuff to kill myself, it was the happiest I'd ever been. It's sad, really. Honestly, I was actually smiling and everything. At first I was worried a reporter would find the Miracle Girl but I was only in a couple of tabloids and I looked really different, with my hair cut short right after I got out of the hospital. So yeah, that was a really rotten week. Do n't commit suicide with paracetemol. It feels really, really bad. Like, worse than getting hit by a train, and I would know. I did n't tell anyone, and I feel really crappy that nobody checked up on me, even at therapy when I missed going. I just sort of slipped through the net. I definitely took enough pills to die. It was more than a thousand. Anyway, that was when I realised I could n't die. I could be hurt, but I always got better really quickly. Slower for poison, quicker if I really fucked myself up. It got a bit mad after that, after more people realised what was going on and I hit the national press. I did n't have any money, and I did n't know what to do with all the post. I could n't get any emails or go on Twitter. People offered me loads of money for my story. There was this one reporter, he was from this terrible newspaper, and I thought it would be awful talking to him, but I thought back then I deserved to feel awful all the time. But he was really nice, and I just opened up about everything that was going on. Just talking about it, what was going on and why I kept trying to kill myself, it helped. Like, I realised it just was n't ever going to change. I realised that the only time I was actually properly happy was when I was getting things together for another attempt, because that was the only time I was really looking out for myself. It's screwed up, but I felt terrible and I was just trying to feel better. Anyway, this reporter said there's all this evidence that you just ca n't die, so why not do some stunts? I think he said have you thought about going into stunts or extreme sports. But you need to be really fit for those, and if I was motivated to get fit, well, I would n't be depressed, would I. But I did get a camera and start putting the videos on YouTube. I got in so much trouble for that. Liveleak was showing them, but I was n't getting a penny, then someone offered to set up a domain, and the advertising, and I could afford a lawyer just with interviews. I did twenty videos before I gave up. I got some really weird fans. So it was after all that, that's when that reporter got back to me. He'd been doing this bit about how people doing hazardous clean up on things like nuclear accidents and chemical accidents die really early, and he thought of me, but we could n't work out how to sort out training. But that was the first time I actually had something I wanted to really do, and it turns out it makes all the difference. I really got into the CBT, and tried different pills which were horrible, but I was warned they could be. I just kept trying new ones until I found one that worked and did n't make me fat or a zombie. Six months after getting onto sertraline I was getting my life back together. I stopped doing the videos, and people forgot really quickly that I even existed. I tried with the fire department and the army. That reporter was amazing, he knew all these people. He wanted to make a long feature out of it, but I think if he had n't cared at least a little he would n't have worked so hard to get me on the right path. And now I've got a life. It pays fuck all, honestly, especially considering I've already died three times, but I've got a job, got a degree even, and I love what I do. Obviously I ca n't talk about it in any detail, but yeah, the Navy really came through for me. I think killing myself was the best thing I ever did. But obviously it wo n't work for everyone and really, you should n't try it. I've not heard of anyone else like me, so you'll probably just die.

[ WP ] You are a supervillain named The Keymaster . Instead of creating grand plans to conquer the world , all you do is run around and free other captured supervillains from prison , after the superheroes defeat them .

`` Here's you lunch, Commander!'' Said the security guard, tossing a tray full of grey paste into the nearby cell. The prisoner that resided lay upright on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Yet another Super Villain caught by a Super Hero. `` You'll be wanting some sauce with that, am I right!?'' Yelled the guard as he waddled away down the corridor, laughing boisterously as he turned to meet his colleagues in the office/poker room. `` When I get outta here fatty, you'll be eating those words'' Whispered Commander, sighing as he watched the grey gunk pulsate on the plastic tray. `` Food like that should never move'' he thought, `` and it especially should n't be doing that''. He threw a nearby book at the tray hoping the food would scurry away to disgust some other poor soul, because he sure as hell was n't going to eat it. Suddenly the cell began to vibrate. The tray on the floor, the bed, the shelves, everything began to move and shake. The Commander covered his eyes as sparks began to flash in the middle of the cell, and a blinding light followed from an opening in thin air. The light grew brighter as the opening grew wider and a loud creaking noise followed, echoing down the corridor. The light subsided and a tall figure caped and clad in majestic armor, stepped out of the opening. A wave of his hand caused the creaking to start again, before thuddng as the opening closed itself. The figure stood up straight and his eyes glowed a bright blue through his helmet visor. `` Greetings fellow Villain!'' Bellowed the strange figure, `` fear not, for I am your salvation!'' The Commander stared in awe at this strange being who materialised before him, hundreds of questions flooding his mind, but no words could escape his mouth. `` I see you are in need of answers'' said the knight `` well I shall give you 3 questions so be quick about it, I have n't got all day'' The Commander snapped out of his trance began to stutter. `` Er -- erm well. I-I-I guess my first question is how the hell did you get in here!?'' Asked the Commander, now rising from his bed. `` Oh, I was n't expecting that question first, but very well!'' Said the knight, holding out his armored hand to demonstrate. `` That was what I like to call my Doorway. I can create small doorways from one place to another'' he said, creating a small portal in the space above his palm, complete with creak and light, like a door opening into nothingness. `` I simply opened a door from my lair to here, and we'll here I am. Please do not ask me how it's done. I have neither the time nor the patience to explain the power to every villain I free'' `` Free!?'' Quizzed the Commander, his eyes widening in excitement `` Okay! Second question! That's right, I'm here to free you, you poor sad man!'' The figure laughed, brushing aside his tattered cape and revealing a large leather-bound book. The book appeared to be old but upon close inspection, it was just made to look old. He opened the book and cleared his throat. `` Now then, you are The Con --'' `` Wait wait wait, who the hell are you?'' Interrupted the Commander `` Oh, okay then, third question it is.'' He answered closing the book again. I, dear boy, am the Keymaster! Master of Locks! Conjurer of Doors! And the KEY to the victory of the Villains in this city!'' He opened the book once more, this time equipping a pair of reading glasses in front of his visor, and reading from it nonchalantly. `` Ahem! Now then, you are The Condiment Commander, correct? You were attempting to rob a safety deposit bank on the 18th of July, exclaiming that the law would never, and I quote, Ketchup with you, when you were foiled by leader of the Solar Squadron: Final Flare. That right?'' ``...... yes'' admitted The Condiment Commander, begrudgingly. `` Right then!'' Said the Keymaster, slamming the book shut and taking his glasses off, `` well despite your below-average evil-doing success rate, and your ranking in the Villain's guild database, I have a feeling that the villains of this city will still need your unique......... skills? During the final face off with the heroes that plague this wretched place. Do n't you want to even the score with that Final Flare. This is your chance, boy!'' `` Final face off? Even the score? The heck are you talking about?'' Questioned The Commander `` I'm sorry but all three questions have been answered, but do n't worry all will be explained once the villains have all gathered'' he waved his gauntlets over the Commander's cuffs, opening them with ease, then with another wave opened up a portal. `` Now come along, my time is precious. I still have to rescue that bone-head Bullserker, and that god-awful woman Typhoonia or whatever she's calling herself now'' As they both stepped into the Portal, the final loud creak echoed once again through the halls, overlapping the footsteps of the guards running to the disturbance, and a flash of light covered the cell. Condiment Commander had escaped once again.

[ WP ] You have just died and are now face to face with God . You ask him if what we know about him and the Bible is true . He says no not at all . Document the conversation .

`` No, not at all.'' `` Not at all? What do you mean?'' `` I mean the whole Bible, totally wrong. Old Testament, New Testament, Pseudepigrapha, Apocrypha,'' God ranted, his aggravation clearly expressed in wild gesticulations, `` And all the more modern interpretations that have come out of spiritual syntheses..and pipedreams..and the ravings of cult leaders and schizophrenics. All completely bonkers!'' He softened after a moment and brought a hand up to stroke his beard. `` A few of them have gotten close though,'' he mused. `` It's funny, really. Science gives me less and less places to hide, and so do the faithful, and they're both wrong.'' He sighed a small chuckle and wistfully gazed out across the landscape. All of a sudden he seemed deep in thought, and I forgotten. I hesitated to break the silence, yet as I tried to remain patient I wondered awkwardly how long it might take until a god broke their own silence. It could be forever. On the other hand, I did n't appear to have anything else to do, or anywhere else to go. Truly, this is what being dead felt like. `` So, what's your best guess then?'' God spoke in the direction he gazed before turning to look back at me. `` I'll tell you how close you get.'' My awkwardness was now compounded tenfold. `` I, er, have n't really given it much thought.'' `` Well we have all the time in the world. Or out of the world. Just give it your best, that's all I ask.'' `` Ok, but wait.'' God raised his eyebrows indulgently, a small smile on his face. `` If everyone has always been wrong, does that mean that whatever answer I can come up with will be wrong too? Is it possible to be right?'' `` Not at all. People have described me before as being ineffable. Which, as the logic follows, means that I can, in fact, be effed. It's just that no one has hit the nose yet.'' `` Ok,'' I mumbled, and tried to muster some confidence. Then I had another question. `` What about when people refer to you metaphorically, does that count?'' `` If we're thinking of the same thing then no. Much too vague.'' `` Ok. Interesting,'' I drew myself up, to convince myself more than He. `` So, if, if everyone has always been wrong about you, that would mean that you're neither all-powerful nor not-all-powerful, and the same with your omniscience. You are not the Creator, nor do you comprise some essence of the universe, you do not represent truth or goodness, nor do you have any special covenant with man. Oh, wait, that means you did not make us in your image either. So why do I see you like that?'' `` Ah, there's a trick to that but I'm not giving you any hints.'' `` Oh. Ah, you mean, you did not make us, someone else did. And they made us in your image. Which would explain Jesus not being your son either.'' `` Hm, you are clever. Go on.'' `` No, I think I've got it.'' `` My my! Slow starter but clearly not just a pretty face!'' `` Well it all came together when I remembered Acts 17:25, which says: **'Nor is He served by human hands, as though He needed anything, since He Himself gives to all people life and breath and all things.'** I mean the second part is clear enough, just look at the world as it is, it's pretty miserable. But the first part would mean that you are served by us, and you do *need* something. So, taking everything else together, here's my idea.'' `` Yes, I'm listening.'' `` The Universe was created for you by someone else, and all of the things inside it as well. You were placed here, and left alone, which means that you are all-powerful here but that's only relative because it's your universe and whoever created it for you is actually more powerful but they're not here. Furthermore, they gave you the Earth and humanity in your image and left you alone to care for us. You do n't have a covenant with us, but you are beholden to the one that put you here. My Lord, you are *doing time*!'' God's lips were pressed together in a grim expression, his eyes narrow and hooded. I hesitated to continue, but realised that really, I had nothing to lose. `` The universe is your prison. You have to take care of us, for how long I do n't know. Maybe forever, as long as forever lasts here. We look and act just as you do because that makes you identify with us, you ca n't help but be involved with our progress. If you do n't take care of us, and learn from all our faults, and reconcile yourself with whatever crime you committed or other reason why you were put here, then you'll never get out. Whatever happens to us after that, I do n't know.'' I stopped then, having run out my train of thought. God, with the same expression on his face, nodded, stepped closer, and put a hand on my shoulder. He leaned forward and murmured in my ear. `` Almost.'' And he sent me on my way.

[ WP ] You died . You were reborn . You remembered your previous life . But that 's actually pretty useless - because you were n't reborn human .

You've got to be kidding me. A cat? Of all things to be reborn as, I'm a black freakin' cat. The very ( creepy ) creature I feared the most when I was alive. When I was human. Before the bastard killed me. I race past a mirror before I can catch a glance and freak myself out. Do cats have heart attacks? I hope so. What's this? Why is he here? Please tell me I'm not in his house. I am. `` Here kitty, kitty...'' The bastard's in his boxers dumping a can of fishy mush into a plastic bowl. I stare at him smuggly. Does he really expect me to the lick that up with my twisted shrunken cat mouth? His hand's in my fur now, stroking my head. He barely held my hand in public when we were together and now he's petting my neck like I'm the most loved thing on this sick planet. I mean, really? A cat. Why not a piano or a violin? At least when someone played me, something beautiful would come out. Not like when this bastard played me when I was alive. When I was human. Before he'd killed me. He's calling me Charlie, but my name is certainly not Charlie. I wonder if his wife, you know, the woman he did n't tell me about when we were dating, likes cats. I wonder if she's allergic. I wonder if she's here. I hear a sneeze. One tinnier and cuter than the one this bastard makes. He blesses her. For the first time I'm glad my new face is permanently smug and judgmentally indifferent. I want to skip away into a room ( a closer would work too ) but I do n't know my way around. He'd only invited me here once before. He's calling me Lucille now. No, that's not me either. I turn and see another cat with a creamy orange coat waltz by, head high, pink nose drawn to the ceiling. But I'm not as afraid of her as I would have been when I was alive. When I was human. Before he'd killed me. I see a glimpse of myself in Lucille's devilish eyes. `` Hmph!'' she says, `` At least he'd cut a key for me. I can move around here with my eyes closed.'' It's the way her smirky mouth does n't move as I hear her words that does it for me. My heart feels like it's being squeezed tighter than the bastard's hands around my throat. He was just trying to keep me quiet. But I'd kept screaming at the threshold and his wife was still sitting at the dining room. He'd squeezed too tightly. Now my lungs feel too tight. One life down. Eight to go.

[ WP ] You are a god that hunts other gods

I knelt behind the gooseberry bushes and listened. The river was loud, but despite the cacophony of waters slamming on rocks, I could hear their chit-chat and laughs. I crept closer, always as silent as possible. I pushed some branches aside, and then I saw them. The river made a small pool around a small slope that resembled a tiny waterfall. Four maidens were bathing there, each more beautiful than the last. But she, Artemis, stood out. Easily. Her golden hair waved down on her shoulders as perfectly as the river itself, and reaching her ripen bosom. Her laughter was like a nightingale song. Her eyes seemed like Zeus himself had plucked out the Moon, doubled her, and placed her in Artemis' face. The three Nymphs that surrounded her were of an equal blinding beauty for a mortal, but not for the likes of Artemis and myself. All four were laughing to a joke one of the Nymphs was saying. They had n't noticed me. Nor did they see me when I drew out my bow and arrow. When I took aim right at Artemis' breast. When I shot. Only when the arrow hit her, they realised what was happening. They panicked. Golden ichor sprout out of her wound and mouth. The Nymphs were screaming. I ran away. She's my fourth god to kill in this Pantheon. See, it's not that difficult to infiltrate a Pantheon. Humans love adding more and more deities to their pantheons, or love expanding the fields one deity dominates, over a vast array of different fields. My name is Apollyon. All I needed to do was kill Apollo first and take his place. Apollo was also known as Apollyon, thus it was n't difficult to replace him, at least in the subjects we both represented: destruction. Back in the old days, one religion to dominate over another and completely eradicate the former one was virtually impossible. While it may have happened, traces of the original religion stood out, because the old gods never truly died. But a slight mistake from some snow-ridden bastards made me and my associates quite lucky, for the ixos bough is easy to locate and even easier to make into god-slaying arrows. Next stop: Olympus. Zeus, here I come.

[ WP ] You are recognized as the villain who is successfully stopped by the superhero each time . Tell the story of how the superhero is actually evil , and each time he stops you he gets closer to accomplishing his evil plan .

`` OMG, you guys,'' The Prick crossed his legs and arms, leaning back in his chair and slouched. `` How many times do I have to say iiiiiit?'' His lisp-laden voice pitched so high that several officers stuck a finger ( or two ) in their sensitive ear holes. `` I'm not a bad guy, Super Geist is.'' Commissioner L. Labasco squinted her eyes at the supervillain. He had tried to look imposing with his large skin-toned helmet that pointed straight up ( though some would say to the side and then stand a little stiffer afterwards ), but all he did was look and act like a dick. Still, he managed to get into these situations day after day, week after week. He was more of an annoyance sometimes when she had to talk to him like this. Everytime she locked him up, he found a way to get out and wind up in the same messes. He was ruining her city and making a mockery of her while he was at it. Thank goodness for Super Geist. Labasco leaned back against the reflective mirrored wall, arching an eyebrow. Two detectives stood to the side, mustaches twitching and ready to pounce if The Prick tried anything on their boss. `` Lem me ask you something, Prick.'' `` It's `` The Prick'','' he mumbled back, effectively pouty now. She ignored him. `` Lem me ask you, Prick, why would Super Geist do such a thing? Why not join forces with you, or just take over the world already? Why is he such a nice guy and saves puppies and cats in trees when he's not dealing with the trash,'' she looked pointedly at him. `` I keep telling you, Commish baby, he's got a master plan set in place. He wants your guard down, he wants to catch you with your panties down-'' `` Hey, settle down,'' one of the detectives hollered, starting for him. The other one held him back, barely. `` Look, every time you see me is another failure to stop him. Do you know how close he is to putting us all in concentration camps?'' `` Now why would he do that?'' `` Geist. It's a German word. Ever wonder why he picked German? Because he's Hitler's great-nephew! In his head, he's a Nazi Jesus Christ with the power to get rid of everyone that does n't fit his uncle's idea of `` pure''. I'm the only one that can stop him.'' Labasco slowly blinked at him and yawned. `` And last time it was'Geist - as in poltergeist - as in he's a ghost'...'' `` Uh,'' The Prick got a little red and straightened up, fidgeting in his seat. `` Yeah, I was wrong before but THIS time I definitely know his backstory and he really is trying to take over the world-'' `` Right-'' `` Serioooouuusssllllyyyy, guys...'' `` Take him to his cell. Time for him to get processed again.'' `` You got it, Commissioner.'' `` Commish, baby, you got ta believe meeeee...'' Labasco pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Why did she even bother asking anymore? Outside the police building though, a figure floated by with a red cape flying in the wind. He smiled, twitching his faint facial hair that grew just above the center of his lip. Soon, he thought. Soon.

[ WP ] Laws of nature become sentient beings . You can be freed even from death , however the process of being released is like a really bad breakup .

Gravity lives next door. He is a quiet, practical guy, and he gets along with pretty much everyone although he is n't that much of a social butterfly. That's why it's his house that always gets picked out for throwing parties when the Laws of Nature-LoNs, as we call them now. Pronounced as something between lawn and loan-gather. LoNs are like celebrities. Everyone knows them. The LoNs love people too-they generally tend to love the whole world. It seems they love anything that they're related to. Lots of people want to be freed from Death, and maybe Bodily Needs and a little bit of Gravity too, but no one can dare ask it. They're too scared of what kind of reaction they might show when they know we sometimes do n't want to be connected. They say get along with your neighbors. Well, I'm proud to say I do. I'm good friends with Gravity-we get along, we enjoy each other's prescence. I baked him cookies, he likes it, he shows me some cool tricks controlling Gravity as he will, and I like it. Gravity is pretty lenient, so he does n't mind letting your hand go-lightening your gravity-if it's for a short while. He would never completely let go, and it's only temporary, but floating *is* a lot of fun. Friends as we are, I guess it was only a matter of time before he invited me to one of his LoN only parties. I hear a knock at the door and rush out. `` Comiiiiiing... Oh, hey! If it is n't good old Grav. What's up?'' `` I'm having a party tonight, with all the LoNs. Thought I'd ask you.'' `` Ohhh! I would be glad to go. Thank you for inviting me! Will Reproduction be there?'' Reproduction really is a celebrity, with beauty that can be sexual *and* purely aesthetic. I've only seen Reproduction on screen, and I was n't about to pass up the chance. Gravity chuckled a little. `` Yeah, Reproduction's coming. Well, see you then.'' Yes! I muffled an elated squeal. I could n't wait! Oh my god. I thought with half giggles and half grim repentance. Just how drunk am I? I muttered as the world made a backflip in front of me. Addiction was a sly boy, though I had to admit he was pretty cute. Oh well, at least I turned down the marijuana. I walked-staggered-to the table, looking for more alcohol to drench my body in. But I could n't make it. Death was right there, in all her glory! She was just like what I heard. Fiery red hair, curvaceous body, shining green eyes. She was one attractive lady. I recalled learning that before LoNs took on the human form, Death was perceived as some skeleton, dressed in black and holding a scythe. I could n't understand how anyone could think that way. Death was full of love. She loved everyone, perhaps to the point where it was too much and she got possessive. But she was vibrant with love and confidence bordering on arrogance. How could anyone think Death would wear black? I took a step towards her, wanting to talk. I then noticed that Death was n't just enjoying the party. She was having an argument with Life and Inertia. I hesitated, not wanting to get caught up in a fight. Too late, Death turned towards me with tears in her eyes. She told Life and Inertia, `` Let's ask a human then. Let's ask what *they* think!''. She then asked with remarkable force, `` Life and Inertia says that I should n't exist and no one likes me. They tell me I'm a bother. Are n't they so mean? How could they! I'm a Law, just like they are! Dying is a natural order too, riiiiight?'' I spewed a bit of meaningless garble before my brain cleared enough to pronounce understandable sentences. `` Well, uhhh, but it is only natural that people do n't want to, ummm, die. I mean, I do n't mean that I do n't like you! I really like you, you're a very beautiful person, and uh, really nice. But, you know... Some people dread death.'' Unfortunately, my alcohol ridden brain was n't clear enough for good judgement. Death pushed me back *hard*, sending me staggering a few steps back. When I regained balance, I could see Life and Inertia clicking their tongues at Death behind her shoulder. Death, meanwhile, pushed back her tears and pointed her long index finger at me. `` Fine! If you do n't like me, then do whatever you want! I-I do n't like you either! I wo n't *ever* take you!'' Then she left, stomping up a storm as she walked away. My fuzzy brain could n't quite comprehend what just happened, and just barely reached some kind of conclusion. I was now an immortal scumbag.

[ WP ] Rewrite your favorite song as a story .

Leave Out All The Rest - Linkin Park I had a dream last night. A dream I went missing. *She* was so scared... so freaking scared. She thought I killed myself. She thought I was dead. But no one would listen to her. Why? Cause no one cared. But that was just a dream. I woke up this morning feeling depressed, as usual. I've been like this for a long time. That's why I'm writing you this note. If you're asking me, I want you to know that my time has come. And my suffering will be over. But when that happens, please, forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some reasons for people to miss me. Leave out all the rest. Leave out all of the pain I've caused. I live with this guilt, and I ca n't take it anymore. Guilt that never leaves my heart. Forget what I've done. Forget what I've done to them. Forget what I've done to you. Remember the good in me. Please. I'm begging you. Do n't resent me. And if you're ever feeling empty, keep me in your memory. I'll always be in your heart. Do n't be afraid, darling. I've taken my beating. I've suffered long enough. I may be strong on the surface, but not all the way through. I've never been perfect, but neither have you. Forget all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well. Stop pretending there's someone who can save me from myself. I ca n't be who you are. Goodbye.

[ WP ] Everyone in the world has been transformed into a mythical creature ( gargoyles , nymphs , centaurs , etc ) and no one notices except the one remaining human .

Doctor Malachi Bint took his little pen light and shined it in my left eye. Then my right eye. Then the left again. `` Hmm?'' was all he said. `` Anything, Doc?'' I said as he continued his efforts to blind me one eye at a time. `` Follow the light with your eyes.'' He took the little light, started at the edge of my vision on my right and moved the tiny light slowly to the left - a tiny Sun looking to illuminate a problem. Any problem. God, please let me have some problem with my eyes. When the little light reached the end of it's day and came at last to as far as my eyes could go left, Dr Bint turned his tiny torch off and sat back in his chair. He stared at me over the half lenses of his reading glasses. He knew me well enough to know that I was deeply bothered by something. `` Nothing wrong with your eyes Paul.'' He said. *Well, that just means I'm crazy then*, I thought. I heard his chair roll forward and then found a lolly pop placed into my open palm - I had n't even realised I had just sat and looked at them, my hands, after he'd given me the all clear. Dr Bint always gave me a lolly pop after a check up. He'd been my doctor since I was six. *Could be something wrong with my brain. Something neurological? * I thought. The kindly old Doctor patted me on the knee and said `` Paul? What's the matter?'' I looked up at him. He was wavy and blurred through the tears that filled my eyes, but I could still make out the tiny horns atop his head. Dr Malachi Bint was a short, grey bearded man, with half-lensed eyeglasses perpetually stuck half way down his thin beak-like nose. He was not a Satyr, a half man half goat, but that is what I saw him as now. Two tiny horns peaked out from his greying, dark, legoman like hair. Instead of pants he wore furry goats legs. On his feet were hooves, not shoes. His shirt with it's rolled up sleeves and his gaudy horrible tie were the same as ever. `` It's nothing, Doc.'' I stood up, shook his hand and walked out of his office before he could object. The waiting room of the small practice was filled with an encyclopaedia of mythology. A tiny gargoyle, maybe a little boy, complained to a large pile of rocks that he was bored. The rocks passed the boy a smart phone and said in an entirely too feminine voice for a pile of rubble: `` Please do n't waste all of Mummy's battery. There were winged things, slug things, people with animal traits, and animals with people traits. I left the small building, a converted house, and walked with quick long steps to my car. As I pulled away I looked back into the building through the tall glass windows at it's front and saw Dr Bint. He stood, his legs all furry with hair, in the doorway to his office, a look of concern on his face as he watched me drive away. *** I had awoken that day and started it like any other: a bowl of sugary cereal and a half hour of early morning TV. I watched the news these days. I did n't really care about global events, which I some times felt guilty about, but I was n't giving up the sugary cereal and had decided I needed to do something to at least act like I had lived my twenty eight years. So I kept the sugar and swapped out the cartoons. There was the same news team I always watched, spread out on couches to show how casual and friendly they were. They would laugh and joke. Apparently, behind the scenes, they all hated each other. That fact made the show almost worth watching. I had waited and waited for one of them to snap, live on camera. Instead, I had snapped. Where I had expected people on couches, I saw creatures. The sports guy was a horned and heavy bull like biped - a minotaur? - and the lead female anchor was a mermaid, her scaly tail flopped in the cool dry studio air. Those are some good costumes. Why are n't they bringing them up? They are *really* good costumes. These had been the thoughts that went through my head. When I had stepped outside to make my way to my office my neighbours had worn similar disguises as they drove off to work. I ran back inside. The mirror showed a confused human man. No animal parts. Then I went and saw Dr Bint. * * * My time with the doctor had been unfruitful and so I had come back home and gone to bed. Despite how real the pillow beneath my head felt, I was adamant that this was all a dream. `` Just got to wake up.'' I said to myself, hands over my eyes `` That's all. Just got to wake up.'' Someone knocked at my front door. `` Just got to wake up.'' They knocked again. I wiped the tears away and went to the door. As my hand gripped the handle I paused. `` Who is it?'' `` It's Carol, saw your car out front.'' Said a voice like Carol's `` Figured we could grab a coffee and watch some'toons if you're not going to work.'' Carol is my neighbour from a few houses down. A friend. She is a young women that enjoys tattoos, skate-boarding, and cartoons - hobbies of which I could only relate to one. I opened the door and sighed with relief. I then sucked the sigh back in with a quiet gasp as she walked into my house. She had looked normal, and was - mostly. A faint and not unpleasant green coloured her skin and darkened in a few areas: her cheeks, her eyelids... Where tattoos had travelled up her arms there was vines, not made of ink, but real vines. A wreath of flowers adorned her head. She still wore a stretched and tattered T-shirt with the faded logo of some band, grubby blue jeans, and flat bottomed sneakers. I do n't know why I could tell her and not the Doc, but I did. * * * `` That's fucked up, Pauly.'' She said when I had finished describing what I had seen on the TV and at Malachi Bint's medical practice. `` Wait...'' `` Yeah, I'm crazy, right? No one looks like themselves!'' I said. I watched her face. Waited for her to scream or back away from the madman and find an excuse to leave. She just seemed confused. `` Wait...'' `` You can leave if you want.'' I said `` I think I'll just check myself into a mental hosp-'' `` Wait, wait, wait!'' She had a smile on her face `` What am I? Have I got bat wings?'' `` Um, no.'' I said. `` Do I at least have a tail?'' `` No. No tail'' She was going to hate what I saw. She would want to be something cool and instead she was some plant lady. `` Anything cool?'' `` Well, um.'' She squinted, leaned forward and put a hand on my knee `` Paul, describe me.'' I did. `` What?'' I described her again. `` That's what I thought you said.'' She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. `` I do n't get to choose how I see people, sorry.'' `` Paul.'' `` Yeah?'' `` That's exactly how I look.'' I looked at her - green and beautiful and... and... `` Fuckin what?'' I said as what she said hit me. * * * I dragged Carol with me into Dr Bint's office as a bright winged fairy left. `` Paul, I-'' He started. I closed the door behind Carol and I, and said `` Doc, I need your help.'' `` Whatever you need, Paul.'' His voice was calm and caring and his eyes were on Carol `` And you are?'' She put out a hand `` Carol, Carol Channing.'' The Satyr Dr Bint smiled and gave her offered hand a shake `` Any-'' `` No, no relation'' Said Carol with a forced smile. I was giddy and smiling. It could n't be, could it? `` Doc, describe her for me.'' `` What?'' He said. `` Just do it, please.'' `` Well, um, she is a young women in her twenties who likes a band called, err, *Eedle Moth*?'' She chuckled `` Needle Mouth, the shirts pretty faded.'' `` Ah, I see!'' `` No, Doc, physically, describe her physically!'' As I said this they both looked at me. He fiddled with his glasses and went red. `` I do n't think that that is appropriate, I hardly-'' `` Just complection and the like, Doc.'' They looked at eachother and Carol shrugged. `` Well, she has healthy green skin...'' I fought back a cheer as the Doctor said it. *I'm not crazy! * ``... she has a lot of vine work on her arms, very good work by the way, talented artist.'' `` Yeah, I've got a good guy. I'm gon na get him to do flowers on my back.'' `` I always wanted a tattoo,'' The Doctor said with a chuckle `` Could never settle on a design, though.'' `` Carol, describe the Doc.'' `` Well I do n't think-'' The Doctor started, but Carol dove straight in. `` He's got a kind, sweet look to him; strong hairy legs, I'd say his a runner; he's got a full head of hair, wo n't be going bald any time soon; and has a... *unique* choice of neck tie.'' She looked at me and smiled `` Do I pass?'' I was lost in thought. Had been since she confirmed the Doc had goat legs. *What in the hell is going on? * `` Wait.'' I said aloud `` What do I look like?'' `` You've got healthy beige skin and hair in only a few places, why?'' Said Dr Bint. *So, I still look how I thought I looked... * *** I explained to the Doc what had brought me to him in the first place and then what had brought me back. He offered to check me in to the hospital, to have some scans, and I took it. They found nothing. I was healthy and, psychologically, was not a threat to anyone. After a few days I went home. I now spend my mornings before work trying to find others like me. Others that remember the way the world was. I'm convinced that it has changed - or that I've somehow travelled to an alternate reality. There's got to be someone else. At least it gives me something to do in the mornings. Carol and I watch cartoons at night. -- - *Edit: Came back to find that I had some gold. Thank you kindly, stranger! *

[ WP ] An exploration of the butterfly effect : write a dramatic scene . Then , choose one tiny detail to change in the initial set-up , and play the scene out again . How drastically have things changed ?

He sat at the tiny dinner table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September, a plate of pasta a day old between them. It was just a bit cold as he forked it down, but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. She laughed at how stupid he looked with doughy tentacles hanging out of his mouth. He grinned a sauce coated grin. She talked for what seemed like hours, he just sat there looking at her smile. Her beautiful green irises staring at him. Always. Her brown hair she did n't have time to tidy before their little dinner party. The candle illuminated the little freckles in her cheeks, and he felt whole again. They were in their most casual clothes, they'd shushed each other at the same time when they'd got back to the apartment and went to change in separate rooms. Tired as they were, they walked out in the same clothes and laughed at each other. He in a plain grey sweater, she in the white one with the red speckles. He'd puked on that one when they'd first met. She teased him, saying she could still smell it. He laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the music he had playing in his head. He opened it. *Her ex? What's that metal thin-* he felt the heat of the bullet in the air. It flew past his unassuming face. He heard a thump from behind him, the tinkle of cutlery hitting the floor and the wet slap of pasta, halfway to mouth, following it. His face still frozen, he dropped his hands into his pockets. Desperately shuffling around as the revolver drew to a bead to his sweating forehead. Click. He sat at the tiny dinner table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September. A plate of pasta between them, it was just a bit cold but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. She talked for what seemed like hours, he just sat there looking at her smile. Her beautiful green irises staring at him. Always. Her brown hair she did n't have time to tidy before their little dinner party. The candle illuminated the little freckles in her cheeks, and he felt whole again. They were in their most casual clothes, they'd shushed each other at the same time when they'd got back to the apartment and went to change in separate rooms. Tired as they were, they walked out in the same clothes and laughed at each other. The doorbell rang. It could n't be, he'd moved them away. It'd have to be someone else, right? Congratulating them on the move, however sudden it'd been, only the next door neighbours would know. He got up to answer the second ring, legs shaking. She asked him if he was feeling alright. The door burst open, kicked down, a revolver was drawn in the candlelight. Click. He sat at the tiny coffee table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September. A plate of pasta between them, it was just a bit cold but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. The room was empty save for two chairs and a vacant old sofa. He said that each other was all they needed. He'd scrounged up enough money to buy a house in the country, he'd scrounged up enough courage to face her. She agreed, a bit hesitant, but he could feel her glow of approval underneath. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, he would follow her to the end of time. There they sat in the dark of a candle, she seemed a little gloomy leaving the city but she tried her best for him. They sat sharing leftovers from yesterday, when they were still in the city. He'd wanted to leave as soon as possible. There was a knock on the door, breaking the conversation. His heart sank. He sat there, motionless, with noodles impaled on a fork in the air between plate and mouth. She got up, he started coughing out sobs, trying to quickly down the food before it happened. He heard a gunshot down the hall. Click. They were at a train station, he'd convinced her that his family wanted to meet her. That they'd be ecstatic to see her again. His little sister especially. She had blushed at first but followed up with a sarcastic hand wave, pretending to be flush with embarrassment. She saw right through him, but he'd asked for it and she did n't mind all that much. She had a paid vacation saved up at the office, so they did n't mind either. Together they stood on the platform wrapped in their scarves and their jackets, giggling giddily. Both of them were filled with anxiety, but with different kinds. He heard the station bell chime out its robotic ping, the train was coming in. He gestured for them to get ready. She, with false haughtiness, obliged, holding out her hand for him to lead her. He knelt dramatically to accept, the train hurriedly chugging along. A rushing passerby knocked into her absentmindedly, they turned to apologise but it could n't be heard over the rush of the train flying past them. The lights flew past rhythmically, illuminating his ghastly face and still outstretched hand in eerie yellow rectangles, one by one.

[ EU ] Shortly before Order 66 a Jedi knight achieves true balance between the light and the dark side . He become a grey Jedi .

Something kept poking at Palpatine's mind; something was calling to him. It had kept him up for days at a time, and was slowly starting to interfere with his grand plans concerning Order 66. Something had altered the balance of the Force, something that ascended the matters of Sith and Jedi. `` Master, the Kaminoans have told us that the inhibitor chips in the Clones are ready to be activated at will.'' said the voice of apprentice Darth Vader. `` Master? Something disturbs you, what is it?'' `` A disturbance in the Force, Anakin. Someone has achieved a promising sign of power. A rival to your power.'' responded Palpatine, who was now formulating a plan to test his dark apprentice even further. `` Who is it my Lord? Master Yoda? Obi-Wan?'' the voice of Anakin was filling with hate and anger, he could not comprehend that someone was able to compete with his level of power. Nor did he want to accept it. `` Yes, let the hate flow through you, Anakin.'' said Palpatine as he cynically started cackling. `` A Jedi Knight who has left the order; he has achieved a balance of both light and dark within himself. Such power, such control has never been seen before. It must be stopped.'' `` Of course my Lord, I shall leave immediately. Where is this Jedi?'' `` No, Lord Vader. You shall not leave today.'' said Palpatine, purposefully adding a pause to rile up the negative feelings in his apprentice. `` The 501st is slated to storm the Jedi Temple, they will dispose of this self proclaimed Grey Jedi.'' `` My Lord, this is outrageous. The clones are tasked with something that you even admit is a rival to **my power**? I could destroy the entire temple by myself! You can not hold me back!'' `` Excellent, Anakin, excellent! The hate flows through you, I feel it. You are ready; join the 501st tomorrow and kill this grey Jedi, kill all the Jedi you encounter on your way to him as well.'' with his plan to rile up Darth Vader complete, Palpatine threw his head back into a wicked crackle and proceeded to stare out his window upon the city of Coruscant. -- & nbsp; Darth Vader and the 501st stormed the Jedi Temple, shooting and slicing down all who crossed their path. Lord Vader let his hatred flow through his body and grow with each kill he gained; he was determined to silence any and all competition to his spot as apprentice to Palpatine. `` Break formation and catch any stragglers. Go.'' the command was simple, yet Vader still thought he placed too much trust in the clones for such a big task. `` I will find you Grey Jedi, show yourself.'' shouting, and sprinting around the temple, Vader continued to slay Jedi until he could focus on his target. `` Lord Vader, or should I say Anakin Skywalker, traitor to the galaxy?'' said a voice from behind the Jedi Library. `` I am the Grey Jedi you search for. I am Master Ram Dar.'' Vader was not expecting a young man, no older than twenty, brandishing a newly forged yellow Lightsaber in a defensive position. `` You die today, Ram Dar. The Sith show no mercy to any type of Jedi.'' `` So be it. Your angry flows through you, as does mine, but you can not control it; you have let your anger blind you, I have let mine guide me. Vader had enough of the philosphical talk and force sprinted towards Ram Dar at an incredible speed pounding his lightsaber across his multiple times: to Vader's surprise, Ram Dar was able to keep up to pace with the strikes. Pouncing overhead with a force charged front flip, Ram Dar used the force to push Vader on the ground. Vader leapt back up and continued with the offensive blows while Ram Dar used a defensive style. Vader grew quickly tired of this and started pouring his anger into his blows, his eyes turning into a familiar orange, a sign of a Sith. Ram Dar noting the charge of negative energy switched to an offensive fighting style to combat the power shift, but Ram Dar's offensive blows could not match those of Vader. `` You tap into the Dark Side for power, very clever. Yet you use the Light Side to remain in your oh so elegant form. How proper of you.'' mocked Vader `` But let's end this-'' interrupted by a force choke being performed by Ram Dar, Vader found himself being choked significantly, the air escaping his lungs and his breath rapidly fainting. `` Yes, Vader, let us end this.'' said Ram Dar as he tightened his grip, now walking himself and Vader to a nearby wall to finish the act. As Vader was pressed against the wall an explosion could be heard in the distance, knowing this was the clones all Vader had to do was break free of this grip and stall him long enough for a much, much closer explosion. Closing his eyes Vader thought of his true love, Padme, and focused the force flowing through his body to push Ram Dar off of him, screaming with his might as he breathed again. Pulling Ram Dar with the force towards the same wall, Vader told the clones to fire an explosive weapon towards the wall. For once, Vader put genuine trust in the clones and he was satisfied when the explosion crippled Ram Dar to his knees. `` I will admit you were a challenge, but you were never a real threat to me.'' said Vader as he beheaded the Grey Jedi. Tired and weakened from a fight that should've ended faster, Vader prepared to travel to Mustafar to meet his Master in person.

[ WP ] You receive a job offer online . You are given directions that will lead you to someone with more information about the job . You follow the directions to an elevetor . The elevator opens to reveal a man holding a large envelope .

Needless to say this was the strangest job interview I'd ever had, and it had n't even started yet. I almost considered not showing up, but as a broke kid with just a bachelor's degree, I could n't look a gift horse in the mouth. I walked into the lobby of the hotel, feeling awkward as hell, my cheap suit making me feel out of place. I'd been told to go to the conference room, and of course I did n't know where that was. I was on my way to the front desk to ask when the elevator dinged open, catching my attention. A man stepped out, tall, handsome, stylish suit, and a pair of sleek black sunglasses. He took one look at me and stepped back in surprise. `` Michael?'' he asked. `` Um... yeah.'' I said, a little uncertain. `` Goddamn man.'' He said grinning. `` I was n't expecting you for another...'' He looked down at his watch, his very expensive looking watch. `` Fifteen minutes. That's the right way to start an interview. Follow me.'' I followed him down a series of hallways before finally entering a small conference room. Inside there was an oval shaped table with eight or so chairs surrounding it. `` Alright so, my name's Eli, I'll be conducting your interview today.'' He said as he pulled out a chair for me. `` You can go ahead and read through this packet, it'll give you all the basic information of the job you're interviewing for.'' He dropped a large manilla envelope he'd been carrying in front of me with a thud and placed a clipboard in front of the seat across from me. `` I..'' he said continuing. `` will go grab a couple bottles of water and...'' he patted himself up and down for a moment. `` a pen.'' He turned to walk out. `` Go ahead and read the packet, I'll answer any questions you have when I get back.'' `` O..ok.'' I called back as he closed the door behind him. I stared down at the envelope in front of me. It was thick, very thick, what had I gotten myself into? I folded up the metal clip with ease but found that the flap was glued shut, goddamnit. I worked at it for a second, being careful not to rip it. I finally managed to open it and let out a satisfied `` Aha. ``, but instantly there was a loud pop and smoke began to pour out of the envelope. `` What the fuck!'' I shouted as I dropped the envelope on the table. More smoke continued to pour out of it as I backed away to the door. I tried the handle but found that it must have been locked from the outside. I rammed my shoulder against it, calling for help, as the room continued to fill with smoke, I was coughing violently, my lungs burning. I stopped for a moment, trying to catch my breath, when I noticed my vision going blurry. I held my hand up in front of my face and found I could barely make out my individual fingers. `` What the fuck.'' I mumbled as I slowly collapsed to my knees as my vision finally went, feeling delirious. I passed out. I felt something hard pressed around my mouth and nose. There was a steady beep coming from my left. I was propped up slightly, but laying down. Slowly I opened my eyes. I was nearly blinded by the white walls and bright lights that surrounded me, but almost instantly I felt my eyes adjust and make it bearable. `` You're finally awake. About time kid.'' I turned my head to the right, finding Eli sitting in a chair against the, facing me. He'd swapped out the suit for a set of doctor's scrubs, but he still wore the black sunglasses and expensive watch. `` What did you do to me?'' I mumbled. Eli smiled. `` We made you better.'' `` Wha- what do you mean?'' Eli stood up and held a barber style mirror in front of me. `` See for yourself.'' I looked at my reflection and gasped in shock. My eyes. They looked almost like camera lenses. Gray and metallic throughout, a shiny black dot at the center, as I looked at them I could see them dilate, the center ring visibly rotating. `` My eyes.'' I whispered, barely able to overcome the shock. `` And that's just the tip of the iceberg.'' Eli said, putting down the mirror. `` Of course you probably wo n't notice the rest of your upgrades until you're back on your feet.'' `` Why did you do this to me?'' I asked, suddenly angry. `` Because,'' Eli said, taking off his glasses. `` We need more people like us.'' He leaned in, his eyes were gray and metallic.

[ WP ] You are a lawyer in God 's Court who and you must a find a way to get your newest client , Adolf Hitler , into Heaven via a loophole in the Lord 's legal system

`` My client pleads solipsism'', I said to the jury ( whom I had bribed liberally with baby-souls before the trial ). `` Adolf Hitler was just another idiot who thought reality was just a dream and that killing millions of people in a dream would n't matter.'' I wiped my forehead with my kitten skin handkerchief - the air-conditioning in the purgatory courtrooms never seems to work. I turned to the judge defensive and dramatically shouted `` And you, God, of all people try to accuse this poor man, my sweet innocent client of genocide - well *you* better send *yourself* to Hell then, because *you* created this motherfucker. Omnipotent? Omnipotent my ass!!! Rather impotent!!! God, if you are omnipotent you should have known that creating a fucked up motherfucker like Hitler would fuck shit up for human kind - but nooooo - you had to go play with your organic chemistry set again and produce this monster, I mean, the... sweet... innocent monster that is my momma's boy of a client.'' I spit on the courtroom floor so that I can look badass but immediately regret it when I see my own spit and feel disgusted. I take a seat and have a little silent giggle because I've never quite gotten over the hilarity of talking to a burning bush with one of those weird white judges' wigs on top of it. About six hours of playing cellphone games under the table later I am called to make my closing statement. I get up and start puffing myself up like a prize-chicken so I can deliver my speech ``....and that is why, God, you should put your head through that stupid loophole in your system and hang yourself by it! ( and of course send Hitler to an internal place of happiness that is less boring than heaven, where you do n't have to hang out with all those irritating Christians all day long.''

[ WP ] A portal to a fantasy-like land opens in the middle of New York City and exiles start coming through .

*Ok, I'll have a go at this. This is my first time and English is not my main language so... be gentle: ) * It was a day like any other. People were going on about their business, each with their own thoughts, each one indifferent to one another. Then they all stopped to look at the globe of light. Some of them looked at those closest to them, in search of an answer. Others just stared at globe, slowly growing to be the size of an automobile, then a bus, then finally a small home. The light dimmed and through it was a passage to... somewhere else. The other side was packed with people, mostly peasants, just as confused as the people on our side. They looked at us, and we looked back a them. Then they came through. The news talked about it for weeks. It was definitely a portal, one that led to another world. The people, the ones who came through, were being exiled from their small town after the invasion from the army of a neighbouring kingdom. Most of them looked like us, and their DNA was extremely similar to ours, so much that we were deemed to compatible with them. We sent scouts on the other side, scientists and soldiers, to inspect the world beyond, to decide if it was a risk. *** `` Sir, the opportunity is too big to pass up'', said the General while looking at the numbers floating on the big, wall-mounted screen. `` That world, it's so similar to ours. And its population, even with the technology they possess, what they call'magic', they're a thousand years beyond us in so many fields''. The Scientist was standing by the general on this. `` They have a world that is mostly unpopulated, rich of resources and materials that we have never even imagined before. What they used to open that portal, that green rock they pulverize, it defies everything we know about physics. Its quantum properties alone are going to leap us forward a thousand years...'' `` I know''. The President looked preoccupied. `` Even after we sent that petty king and his army back where he came from, they did n't want to go back. They... they like it here''. The Scientist said. `` And we have no problem crushing whatever resistance we may encounter, sir''. The General added. `` We do n't have to go to war, General. And we do n't know what the mutated ones can do''. The Scientist was not pleased by the eagerness of the General, and neither was the President. `` General, we have sent an army away from a village, and unless we're going to have to defend ourselves, we're not going to take anything by force,'' the President stated starkly. `` Tell me about the mutated ones, Doctor''. `` Well, the ones that came through, they call themselves mages,'' the Scientist said, `` I... I would agree with them, at least to a point. They have a mutation, a genetic one, that seems to allow them to create and manipulate very powerful magnetic fields. They can set things on fire, create shock waves, levitate objects... if we did n't know better, we would call it magic as well. And what they can do when they use that green rock... they have opened a wormhole that cuts through the galaxy, and a stable one at that, without even knowing a thing about the laws of gravity, let alone relativity or quantum entanglement...''. `` Spare us your bullshit and get to the point, Doctor'', the General intervened, `` how dangerous are they?'' `` Well, they... they did with their minds and their limited, even non-existent knowledge what we have n't been able to do with nuclear reactors and particle accelerators. What do you think, General? That said, the ones that have come through, even the mutated ones, are adapting egregiously to our lifestyle and they seem to be very eager to share with us what they know. As I said, what they have is going to take us places we've never imagined before. We just have to... ask.''

[ WP ] Taylor Swift and Kanye West are running for US President . Jaden Smith is the debate moderator asking the questions .

`` How can mirrors be real, if our eyes are n't real?'' Jaden speaks slowly, his tone serious, as his eyes make contact first with Taylor, and then with Kanye. He sets the card printed with his tweet upon the podium. `` Taylor, you have five minutes to answer.'' `` Well,'' Taylor smiles and pulls a wave of blond hair behind her ear, her eyes scanning the audience with nervousness, `` I think, we, as a country, do need to look in the mirror --'' `` I'mma let you finish,'' Kanye interjected. `` But I think it needs to be said that I have the greatest vision for this country, the greatest vision of all time. And mirrors, they're real, and so are our eyes, what is this shit question about?'' A buzzer suddenly goes off, drowning out Kanye, and the timer above the stage has stopped. Jaden raises his hand from the buzzer as Kanye folds his arms and pouts. `` I do n't have time for this,'' Kanye throws his arms up and walks off stage. A din of confusion arises from the audience and begins to build, louder, and some of the crowd begins to leave while others chant `` Taylor! Taylor!'' and then those dressed in knock off Yeezy ( as none could afford the actual brand and no one can tell the difference from garage sale distressed 90s grunge wear ) begin to push back, arguments and tempers flare across the room. Taylor bites her lip, takes her mic off the stand and heads toward center stage. `` The haters gon na hate, hate, hate, hate, hate --'' she starts to go in to her hit, the sound guy takes cue and sets the music playing. For a moment, the crowd looks over, and the Taylor fans cheer, but this only angers the Kanye crew. Jaden knew what must be done. Without a word, he heads back stage. `` Kanye,'' he calls out. A shadow stands in a bright doorway, the rear exit off the studio. The name echoes down the hall. `` Will you hate? Or for this country's sake, can you shake?'' Jaden's silver make up and chrome skirt reminded Kanye of early 2000s TLC and Destiny's Child, a Beyonce that inspired him. The roar of the crowd reached Kanye's ears. `` Only you can improve this situation,'' Jaden said. `` I will freestyle the next verse,'' he agreed, and headed back toward the stage. When the crowd saw him, the Taylor fans shrieked in anger, their white faces turning red from madness. The Kanye fans were invigorated. The whole place was prepared for a riot. Taylor sang the chorus with heart and soul, then, tossed Kanye the microphone. He began to rap. The fans, moved by Taylor's gesture, the beat, the chorus, began to feel the music. Cries of, `` let's dance, let's stop fighting!'' were heard across the room. His words captured the spirit of Taylor's work, spinning them in to a form palatable to the tastes of his fans. A new appreciation for pop, elevated by their hip hop god, took root in their minds, and they, too, began to shake. Soon, everyone was dancing. The riot had been averted. Jaden took the podium once more. `` Who says we ca n't have two presidents?'' The crowd cheered.

[ WP ] You live in a world where people 's shadows show who they truly are at their core . Some shadows look like monsters , some look like animals . You are the only person in the world with no shadow .

The sound of the sea wakes me from my sleep. I open my eyes and am greeted by darkness. Bewildered, I grope around in a panic until I realise I ’ ve been dreaming. It ’ s the same dream every time- I ’ m walking on a sandy beach. The sun is beating down on me, and I ’ m pleasantly hot. I can taste the salt of the ocean air, feel the soft sand beneath my feet and hear the roar of the waves. I am surrounded by golden sand and endless stretches of sea. I look down and see my shadow next to me. I look down to discern its shape, and then I wake up. The few seconds between dreaming and being awake are bliss. Then the hard reality comes crashing down on me. I look out the window. There ’ s a moon tonight. The neighbourhood is lit up in a soft glow. It ’ s risky, but I have to take what I ’ ve got. Hurriedly, I pull on some jeans and a hoodie and venture out into the darkness. The cold chill of the air hits me and I begin to shiver. I walk briskly. At night, everything is silent. It ’ s too late for anyone except for creeps like me to be awake. All the houses look large and imposing. The trees cast long shadows in the street and shake when the wind rushes through them. I start to jog to warm up, and soon I ’ m sweating. I think back to my dream. Every time, I feel so close to finding out what my shadow is supposed to be. If only I could stay a few seconds longer, I would find out. And then… I ’ m so immersed in my thoughts that I fail to notice someone on the other side of the road. We both see each other at the same time, and eye each other warily. Fortunately the moon has passed behind the clouds. He looks around my age; another bored teenager traversing the streets at night. Only he ’ s not impaired like me. He looks up at the sky and slowly starts to walk towards a streetlight. The universal sign of peace. I see his shadow come into view. It ’ s a dog. I ’ m guessing a golden retriever. Under the lamplight, both the boy and the dog stare at me, alert. If I was a normal person, a ‘ good guy ’, I ’ d come under the lamplight and show him I have a normal shadow too. But I don ’ t. I turn around and walk in the other direction, and hear him break into a run. He ’ s afraid of me. The only reason anyone avoids the light is if they ’ re ‘ bad'. Their character is reflected in their shadows. An evil man creates a monster. I shiver again, but this time it ’ s from loneliness. Why couldn ’ t I be like everyone else? Why couldn ’ t I have a shadow. The moon comes out from behind the clouds and the light hits me. I walk, but there is nothing beside me. Hopefully I won ’ t meet anyone again tonight. There are still a few hours left before sunrise.

[ PM ] Let 's play an RPG together . /r/WritingPrompts is the protagonist , and I am the DM . You make the decisions , I create the content . Let 's begin .

# 6 - COMPLETED || ANSWER SELECTED: 5 You find it best to catch the trespasser off guard by resorting to a proactive action via stealthiness. Shifting into a mouse and climbing up the vine along the wall of your home, you reach the top but do n't commit. Instead, you peek your head over the edge to find your neighbor's kid'Dimitri' casting magic on your roof. His hands are bright blue and a winter chill emits from his body. Dimitri is known for causing trouble in the village, but you somewhat like the kid. If not for his personable traits, but for his courage and persistence. Despite all odds, the kid always returns to prank another day. What do you do? * 1. Shift and confront * 2. Retreat and grab your spell book * 3. Unshift and try to reason with the kid * 4. Destroy him at all costs * 5. Ignore him and return to packing for your journey * 6. DM's Choice If your answer is 1, which do you shift into? * A. Viper * B. Arachnid * C. Polar Bear * D. Drakeling

[ WP ] Narrate a game of Civilization as though it were excerpted from a history textbook .

( excerpt from Sid Meier's `` Civilization'', Volume 5 - 1850 to 2100 ) It was the period that the pitiful civilization of the French referred to as `` fin de siècle''. Tensions remained high following the Zulu defeat of Pharaoh Ramesses, as India meanwhile swept up the last of the Babylonian resistance, but change was coming. In 1915, Abraham Lincoln unexpectedly converted to Democracy. This sudden and drastic conversion shocked the world. Throughout the American Empire, from its seat of power in Washington DC, east to London on the British Isles, south to Detroit on the southernmost tip of South America, and west to the plains of Siberia, citizens were tired of endless war. Perhaps no one benefited more from this change in government than the Romans. In the stronghold of Caesarea, where a single militia unit had desperately held off the American siege for almost a decade, there was celebration in the streets. By 1945, the so-called Pax Americana had spread around the world. In this year, the Chinese navy retired the last of its ancient triremes, while settlers completed civic improvements to railroad and irrigation around the cities of Paoting, Yangchow, and New City 1. Meanwhile, Shanghai began construction of the United Nations. In 1965, the Russians completed the Apollo Program, and within a decade had launched five structural components for an interstellar spacecraft. This triggered a space race, as the Russians, Americans, and Zulus scrambled to become the first civilization to reach Alpha Centauri. By the latter half of the 20th century, peace was the rule around the globe. Treaties existed between all major powers. Democracy was on the rise. Lincoln, Stalin, and Shaka were engaged in a friendly ( but heated ) rivalry to launch humans to another solar system, with the enthusiastic support of UN Commissioner Pravin Lal. It appeared that these civilizations had, at long last, built a peace that would stand the test of time. Everything changed, however, when Gandhi got the Bomb.

[ WP ] It is believed that the cure for cancer has been discovered on Mars , astronauts have only one chance to bring it home where they hope to duplicate its properties for mass distribution

`` Dr. Edmunds, something interesting came up on the latest screen,'' stated Johannes, the tremor in his voice betraying a cautious optimism. `` This better be good. My grant proposal is due Friday,'' stated Edmunds, finally tearing her gaze away from the monitor and to Johannes. He quickly glanced at the ground, concealing his surprise. Edmunds appeared more pale and gaunt than usual. His face started to burn. Hardly anyone dared to enter Edmund's office without scheduling an appointment. Luckily, Johannes' appearance was bold enough to warrant her undivided attention. She noticed he was in an unusual state of disarray, hair greasy and biosafety suit wrinkled. He must have been working double shifts. `` I-If this is what I think it is, you'll have every big pharma company coming to *you* with the money,'' Johannes replied. `` I repeated this experiment three times, always in triplicates. Data is statistically significant at a *p* of 0.0001. In other words, there is a 0.01 % chance that it is due to random variation, and --'' `` Let me see,'' she interrupted. Johannes passed her the sheets of data. Edmunds sat up straighter and leaned forward, brows knit in inquisitive concern as her eyes darted across the numbers. Sample 1215: at long last, a positive hit. A rare smile slowly crept unto Edmund's face, then suddenly burst into an ear-to-ear grin. Eyes shining, she said, `` We spent five years at the edge of this colony, hoping in vain to find some new compound as a therapeutic agent to combat the cancer on Earth....'' here, a hand flitted across her chest and rested across her heart. She coughed violently, spasms rocking her thin body as another hand covered her mouth. Pulling away, spots of blood were seen. She hastily wiped her hand off on a handkerchief. There were n't many unstained areas left on the fabric. The familiar dull throbbing pain returned to her chest. Johannes offered her water, which she gratefully sipped. After a pause, she continued. `` We took a risk being here. They said we could n't find anything by the mines. But that ended up being our advantage. What was Sample 1215?'' Johannes could no longer contain his once cautious excitement. `` Sample 1215 was one of few organic compounds found from the soil dug up in the mines. There is life down there, likely bacterial in origin, and it is producing this compound in great quantities. Mass spec data revealed a unique peptide sequence found nowhere on Earth, though there is some homology to *Micromonospora* soil bacterial proteins,'' he paused to take a breath -- oxygen content is lower inside the Mars facility compared to Earth. `` When given to cancer cells *in vitro*, it killed nearly all of them while not harming non-cancerous cells. In the animal model, this compound appears to stop angiogenesis. In other words, in addition to its cancer-specific cytotoxicity, it prevents blood vessel growth to the tumor.'' Edmunds slowly stood, smile unwavering. `` You have made a remarkable discovery, Johannes. You will finally be able to graduate with your Ph.D., with nothing less than the highest honors.'' `` Thank you, Dr. Edmunds. Without your direction, this would n't have been possible,'' Johannes replied, bowing his head. A shadow crept over his face. There was a hesitating silence before he continued. `` I... I knew about your condition all along. The cancer you tried to keep secret. The same cancer afflicting most of the population on Earth. The way you are now....There is n't much time.'' Edmunds nodded slowly in agreement. It was foolish of her to think the others would n't have noticed by now. `` I can give you the first treatment,'' Johannes said, looking up to meet Edmunds' eyes. `` It might give you more time. Enough to see that we take it home over the years.'' Her eyes looked past Johannes towards the window, beyond the red terrain and into the sky. `` Yes, I would like that very much. But that ca n't be the focus now. I did n't tell anyone this, but there's only going to be one more trip from the Colony to go home. Back on Earth, people have given up so much hope that they do n't want to allocate anymore resources to us. The grant I have been writing was for a separate project that can be done on Earth.'' `` What?!'' Johannes blurted loudly. `` There is only one chance to take home a cure we only discovered this month? For all of the people affected on Earth? How can we manage that?'' Edmunds sighed. The weariness she felt was not only physical. `` What we will do is find the organism producing Compound 1215, and find out the conditions it best grows in. Then, we will see if we can mimic those conditions on Earth. If we can grow the bacteria on Earth, we can produce the cure there. I want this done in six months. That is when you all will be scheduled to leave.'' `` Just wait a second -- what do you mean,'you all'? Are n't you going also?'' Johannes said. He pulled a chair from the desk. His head was spinning. Edmunds smiled sadly. `` When I came here, I never expected I would actually return. There's nothing left for me on Earth.'' Her gaze drifted to a framed picture on her desk, of a smiling family. Edmunds was once a young wife, with a husband and three children. `` I'll carry on work here for as long as I can, and relay information to you from here. It was my hope that *you* would personally take over my work. You were always my favorite student....It is your choice, of course....But should this grant get approved, your scientific career will be set.'' Johannes stood once again, his face hardened and determined. `` I had better get to work, then.'' He smiled.

[ WP ] You are drawing your final breathes , dying from a disease that has taken you far too young and far too quickly . Just as you are about to pass , an apparition appears before you and offers you five extra years of perfect health to spend as you see fit . But there is a catch ...

`` So you are telling me I can have five more years, but no one I know will remember me?'' `` That sums it up.'' The fit twenty-seven year-old sat in his hospital bed, staring out the window. The only sound came from the heart monitor. *Beep. * *Beep. * `` Not even my parents? Or my sister?'' `` No. Everyone will forget.'' The two men sat and stared, the heart monitor creeping on. *Beep. * *Beep. * `` I guess I would have motivation to do everything I wanted to do.'' `` You could see it that way.'' `` But my family is everything to me.'' `` That is often the case.'' The patient looked out the window for a minute, the monitor persisting in its lifeless, yet all-too lively rhythm. *Beep. * *Beep. * The patient exhaled. `` Can you give me an extra hour, but let my family remember me?'' `` No.'' `` Then I think I will die.'' `` Can you tell me why an hour?'' `` That is when my brother would have gotten here.'' The men stare at each other while they drifted away. One into the air, the other into a sleep. The only sound in the room, *Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-. *

[ WP ] A young cancer patient is sick and tired of all these damn celebrities popping in for surprise visits .

When Justin Bieber came into the room, I was shocked and surprised. Nobody from my high school would ever have believed it. My icon, my dream, was singing to me! That was a year ago. Since then, I've had a string of celebrities from A to TMZ shuffle into my room to lift my spirits. If they wanted to lift my spirits, they'd get me off this damn machine and to the nearest CVS to buy ear plugs. Just yesterday, I had to beg Dave Coulier to leave. If he had brought Stamos that would be a different story, but give me a fucking break. Dave Coulier? What year is this? So, anybody who cares to listen, I am begging you to have them stop. When I first told my mom, my dad, the doctors, that I had had enough, they thought I was being humble. Brave. The story got on the news. And more of them came. So this is it. They told me I ca n't be cured. They told me laughter is the best medicine. Well, I'll laugh today when I look into Bono's eyes and pull the plugs. Who knows? It just might cure me.

[ WP ] Death is a lie made by the government , you are one of the unsavoury characters they send to gather souls .

London Midnight A raven swoops low over the soot stained tiles of Victorian London, lands on the dark cobbles of Market Street and loses form. The raven turns first smokey, then grows to the form of a cloaked figure. Standing to his full height, he stumbles down the uneven cobbles as if unsure of his footing. ‘ ’ one more night of this and then I ’ m done ’ ’ he mutters to himself in a tired tone, he walks silently down the road, his presence only betrayed by the lopsided tapping of his cane on the cobbles. A damp smell lingers over Market street, the daytime scent of spices and fish brushed away by the night time breeze. Oil lamps long extinguished, nobody else dares travel the streets at night. The chalky gaze of the moon on the street reflected by the pooling water, shimmers against the cape of the man as he stalks. The cloaked figure draws closer to his destination, an inn called the travellers wagon. The warm glow from a fire seeps through a crack in the shutters, interrupted by the outline of a bolt from the inside. The cloaked figure finally draws to the inn, raises his cane and begins to loose shape once more. First turning smokey, and then losing shape all together as he seeps under the bolted door. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- The traveller ’ s wagon was an ordinary inn by every definition of the word. Tired traders would leave their troubles outside and come in for a cheap pint. The inside was grimy and the walls where filled with various mementoes from around the world, brought by traders who found themselves unable to pay for their drinks as they had yet to turn a profit in the London market; Stags heads, exotic stuffed creatures and various antiques adorned the walls on uneven shelves, alongside artificial alchemist ’ s fire, left smouldering at night to guide any lingering drunks to their beds. An old wooden sign above the bar reads ‘ ’ free bear, tomorrow ’ ’. ‘ ’ I ’ m telling you ’ ’ said Robert the innkeeper, a loud man with no care for personal space. Raising his left hand and pointing directly at a chess board in front of him, lifting his pint with the other. ‘ ’ you have to play offensively of you ’ ll get caught by the same old tricks every time! ’ ’ ‘ ’ I have no time for a game like this ’ ’ announced Emmett, a young man who knew Robert far too well for his liking. Rising from his stool he set aside his empty glass and strode towards the bar. ‘ ’ If I could allow time to practice for games like these, maybe I could win ’ ’ he carefully set down his tabs worth behind the bar where the drunk innkeeper would see it and returned to the table. ‘ ’ let ’ s see if you can do any better. ’ ’ Adjusting his dull grey alchemist ’ s gloves and setting himself down to watch the game. The innkeeper stood over the table as if to make a plan, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted. A dark fog seeped under the door. The entire room seemed to change, as if the colour had been drained from the air, the gentle murmur of customers was silenced and replacing it was an eerie quiet. The fog rose to the height of a man and then condensed. ‘ ’ Robert Gus Clark ’ ’ said the now fully formed man in a heavy southern accent. He stood confidently, with stained white alchemist gloves and a matte cloak to contrast. His hair was a dull black and he had a knowing glint in his eye. He wore the recognisable attire of an imperial alchemist. The innkeeper knew all too well who he was. ‘ ’ Robert Gus Clark ’ ’ he repeated, this time louder. ‘ ’ y…yes ‘ ’ stammered the innkeeper. ‘ ’ you ’ re on my list ’ ’ said the man calmly. ‘ ’ b..bu ’ ’ the innkeeper stammered again, then suddenly understood. He turned on the spot, as if to make for an escape. Raising his arms to push his customers out of the way and reaching for his key chain. The alchemist smiled, then acted. He took one step forwards and lifted his cane, the glint in his eye grew and then faded. The innkeeper stopped, as if to freeze, he began to change colour, his expression faded and he began to lose shape. The once man started swirling on the spot and grew smaller, his feet lifting from the unwashed boards. Finally, he condensed into a small orb, pulsating from brown, to red and then back again. The whole event took only seconds, the onlookers stared on in stunned silence, as their good friend and innkeeper, Rob Clark, had disappeared. The cloaked man now stood taller, loosened his cloak and drew out a large bottle, he uncorked it and pointed it towards the floating orb. The nearby drinkers rapidly stepped back in unison as if the events had only just been played to them, nobody spoke out. The orb where Robert Clark had been standing began floating towards the bottle, condensed even further and was unceremoniously sucked inwards. The man corked the bottle once more and turned on the spot with military fashion, before unbolting the door and stepping outside. The door closed behind him as if any other customer was returning home, and the gentle glow of the fire returned to the room.

[ WP ] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon . However , this is just a coincidence ; there is absolutely nothing magical about it , and you 're getting really tired of explaining this .

I can feel their eyes on the back of my neck. Typical cowards, staring, but looking away whenever I turn my head. Why ca n't they just come out and ask? Life has n't been easy. My first memories are cursing this dreaded dragon birthmark, which everyone assumed was a sign of power and destiny. Back then I was too meek to admit otherwise, going off the slay dragons and destroy undead without even being asked, because it was clearly expected of me. No more. I try to enjoy my drink... watered down swill in a chipped glass, but can only focus on the mutterings of conversation behind me. I know they're talking about it, trying to work up the nerve to ask me, the'brave champion' to save them from the barbarians to the west. Those idiots. The barbarians have no interest in attacking this miserable little village, but that wo n't stop them from quaking with fear, waiting for some grand hero to rescue them. The murmurings seem to grow louder. I ca n't make out the words, but I do n't need to. I can sense the growing desperation, and as much as I try to drown it out, it's overwhelming. I rub at the accursed mark anxiously, trying to focus my thoughts of something, anything, but in the end I know it's no use.'' `` Okay, fine!'' I shout, rising to my feet. At last they avoid averting their gaze, and now watch me with expressions of feigned confusion. `` I'll go slay your barbarians, if that's what's required for you to leave me alone! By the Gods, what must a man do to earn a moments peace?'' I storm out the door of the tavern, one of the patrons asking another'what was that about?'. I'm used to it by now, however. Wherever I go, it's the same story. It would n't be so bad if people actually came out and asked for help, and spoke about the mark, rather than just pretending they did n't notice it. Oh well, off to another battlefield... it may not be magical, but this dragon birthmark has brought me more misery than the darkest of curses.

[ WP ] You form a pact with the monster in your closet to work together in order to get rid of your terrible roommate .

“ What the hell are you? ” The... I don ’ t know... creature? Monster? Umm... halucination? The ‘ whatever-it-was ’ I held upsidedown by the my right hand muttered something completely incomprehensible, and I just chuckled to myself. Of course, what was I thinking? Why would I even expect an answer here? From an animal—even one that looked this? Just another sign of my deteriorating sanity. I kept my phone ’ s flashlight pointed at it, so I could get a better look. Honestly, in my mind, it looked like someone covered one of those Jurassic Park raptors in dark blue feathers, gave it wicked beak—that was still filled with fangs, of course—and then shrunk it down to the size of a large cat. Was it some kind of mutant bird? It didn ’ t have any wings, and birds didn ’ t have talons like that on their forelimbs, but well, evolutionary throwback maybe? I mean with all the chemicals that they ’ re pumping out, it might be possible, maybe? Now I wishing I hadn ’ t slept through most of high school biology. But what was really weird were its eyes. Pale blue, round... it almost looked human. Heck, it seemed like it was glaring at me. Nah, it had to be a trick of the light. I moved my phone a bit closer, hoping to get a reaction from— “ Could you get that away from my face, please? ” I almost dropped the creature then and there. Honestly, I don ’ t know I didn ’ t, but somehow I kept my grip on its tail. “ You... you talk? ” “ And you ’ re not a 12-year-old. ” the creature grumbled, passing a claw over its eyes. “ Oh, I am in so much shit. ” I just gawked at this creature. It did talk. And it understood me. “ What the heck are you? ” The creature looked at me for a few moments, as if trying to decide what to say, before it raised its claws in the ultimate ‘ fuck it ’ expression. “ I ’ m a closet monster, ” it said with a massive sigh. “ A... a what? ” “ A monster... ” it pointed at itself, “ that lives in your closet, ” it pointed at my open closet door. “ But... I clean up in there! ” I protested. “ I don ’ t... ugh... ” the monster groaned. “ You ’ re a sleeper, aren ’ t you? Oh, by the Bogeyman, I am in so much shit... ” “ I... well I sleep, if that ’ s what you mean. ” The monster released a massive sigh. “ I am dead. Like straight up, write my epitaph right now. I go out to get a quick meal, procrastinated a bit too much so bones says all they ’ ve got left are places way out in boonies, so I decide fuck it, I ’ ll just go my old haunts, and... straight up by some teenager with a cellphone. Because of course, when I decide not check, the Kims just happen to move and you move in. ” “ You know the Kims? ” I stared at the monster. “ We ’ re renting from them. ” “ I haunted the kid for like two years. The older one. If you wonder why he ’ s afraid of birds, yeah, that ’ s all me. ” “ Oh God... ” I sunk onto my bed, still holding the creature by its tail. “ You ’ re actually a monster. ” “ Yeah, I think I said as much.'' it grumbled. “ And you came here through my closet to eat me. ” “ What? No! ” the monster looked genuinely offend. “ Bogeyman, no! I ’ m not a vampire! ” “ Vampire? ” “ Right, sleeper... you have no idea about vampire, or werewolves, or ghosts, or dragons. ” “ Dragons. ” I stared at monster. “ Yeah, dragons. Big, flying lizards. Lots of magic. Rather arrogant. Like to threaten to kill you in various graphic ways if you mess with their fortunes. Those dragons. They ’ re real. Everything ’ s real. Bermuda triangle. Atlantis. Summoning demons—don ’ t do that, it ’ s bad for your soul. Ugh... magic swords. Honestly, I ’ m not good at this. And being held upside-down like this doesn ’ t help. I ’ m getting a bit dizzy. ” I stared at the raptor-like creature I held in my hands. “ This has to be a joke. You ’ re a robot, right? And Mike ’ s controlling you? Or did Yuri program you? ” “ Nope, nope, I ’ m a monster. Also, AIs are real, but that ’ s mad science, so don ’ t ask me about it. I ’ m worse with machines than I am with magic. I ’ m actually really good at photography though, so... ” “ Magic? ” “ How do you think I got into your closet, ” the monster gestured towards the closet. “ Because if I lived in there, I would have known that there ’ s some random teen occupying this room now instead of the kid I ’ ve been haunting for two years. And I wouldn ’ t have bothered you. And I probably be back home by now, working on my contact sheets. ” I looked at the creature in disbelief, and it rolled its eyes. “ Okay, fine, I ’ d be procrastinating because, well, I ’ m in university, and it ’ s when you ’ re in university. You procrastinate. You ’ ll learn that in a few years. ” “ Actually... I am in university, ” I muttered under my breath. Great, even the monsters in my closet keep thinking I look too young. “ Really, ‘ cause you look a bit young to me. But that could just be the rush of ichor to my brain. Because you are holding me upside-down here. ” With a sigh, I dropped the creature onto the bed next to me. It rolled onto its stomach, and gingerly grabbed its feathered tail. “ Ow... ow... yeah, I ’ m going to be feeling that for a week... ” “ So what, ” I asked the closet monster. “ Do you go to some monster university? Like in that disney film? ” “ If you count Simon Fraiser as a monster university... ” the monster grumbled. “ I... go to SFU. I ’ ve never seen you around. ” The monster glared up at me and sighed. “ Can you turn off that light for like two seconds? Please? ” I hesitated for a second. I totally in over my head here, and I had no idea what was going on. But on the other hand, this monster seemed more depressed than threatening, honestly. So I swiped off the light. Darkness fell across my bedroom, and as my eyes adjusted to the sudden shift in light I felt a massive rush around me. I swore I shadows move. Quickly, I flicked my light back on, and I pointed it at the monster. Only it wasn ’ t a monster anymore. It was... “ The president of the photography club? ” “ No, I ’ m the spokesman... ” the human muttered, as he brushed his dark hair out of his face. “ I ’ ve been trying be president, but Quinn ’ s sewn up the votes ‘ cause he works at Domino ’ s and gets the club half-price pizzas. Bastard. ” “ You ’ re a monster. ” “ Yeah, ” he smiled a huge smile and held his hands out in an over-the-top display of sarcasm. “ I thought I said that already. ” “ But you ’ re a human. ” “ No, I ’ m a monster. I can just look like a human. ” “ And you go to university. ” “ Yeah, ‘ cause you can ’ t do anything these days without a degree. ” “ But you ’ re a monster. ” “ We ’ ve established that... ” the guy beside me was clearly getting frustrated. “ But— ” Behind me, there was a furious pounding on the wall. “ GO TO BED, FAGGOT! IT ’ S FOUR-THIRTY! FUCK! ” The guy beside me jumped up, and looked behind us. “ What the... ” “ I... ” I sighed, and lowered my voice. “ Well, there ’ s a reason I was awake at four AM on a Wednesday morning when I have class in... three hours? ” I smiled wanely. “ Okay? ” the monster-man looked at me and then back at the wall. “ Because if he— ” “ I ’ m 18-years-old, graduated early, from the interior, so everybody I know is back in school three, four hours away here, if the roads are good. My family doesn ’ t have a lot of money, so we found one the cheapest rents close to school, and there ’ s a good reason. Because the Kim ’ s newphew is renting the other. And he ’ s a pro-gamer wanna-be who stays up ‘ till early morning blasting his games and playing his dance music, he has parties every weekend, he has probably never touched a cloth in his life, and flies are everywhere and he acts like he owns the place ‘ cause he ’ s their nephew and aaaaaaaaaaaaugh... ” I fell back onto my bed. “ You feeling okay there, guy? ” the monster actually sounded concerned for me. “ I ’ m not getting sleep, I ’ m failing my classes, and I ’ m afraid I ’ m gon na let my parents down. And there ’ s now a monster in my closet. ” “ I don ’ t... ” he caught himself before going any further. “ Listen, okay. I know things are tough. But right now, you and I are going to have to work together. Because right now, you ’ re my responsibility. You ’ re awakened now, and you ’ re start seeing all sorts of weirdness. And because I screwed up and ended up waking you up, I— ” “ I haven ’ t been able to sleep in weeks... ” I grumbled. “ Metaphorically! ” he snapped back at me. “ You couldn ’ t see magic now you can, you were asleep now you ’ re awake, you pierced the Veil. Whatever you want to say. ” “ So what, you ’ re supposed to be my teacher? ” The monster-guy made a thoroughly unhappy sound and sat down next to me. “ Yes? Kinda. I have no idea. I just know if you cause trouble, my ass is grass. ” “ So now we ’ re both screwed... ” I looked over at him. “ Pretty much, ” he sighed. “ I SAID CUT IT FAGGOT! ” there was more pounding on the wall. “ Oh God... ” I closed my eyes, and groaned. Then, in my overtired state, a stupid idea came to mind. I looked up at the monster. “ You mentioned you had a room, right? ” “ Yeah, I have a small loft way down in Surrey. I wanted something bigger or closer, but the Parliament— ” “ So, you, as a human, have a place? ” “ Yeah... ” “ And you as a monster, you scare people. ” “ It ’ s what we do. ” “ How would you like a bigger apartment? ” I grinned. “ One where you can easily watch me? Plus it ’ s closer to the university. ” `` What?'' `` Well, you scare my roommate, he becomes convinced that this haunted, I dunno, he moves out, and...'' The monster stared at me for a few seconds, speechless. “ Hey,'' I shrugged. `` You solve my problems, and I can try to solve yours, I guess. Win win? ” “ By the bogeyman... ” the monster muttered, and held forth his hand. “ I guess it ’ s a deal. ” I grabbed it and shook his hand. “ Thanks... I don ’ t know your name. I can ’ t just keep calling you ‘ monster, ’ can I? ” “ You can, but you ’ ve got a point. It ’ s Kevin Wong when I look like this. ” “ And when you look like the raptor? ” “ Well, ” he smiled, and I swore I saw fangs. “ Call me Claw. By the way, you wouldn ’ t happen to know what your soon-to-be former roommate is afraid of? ” I smiled back. This was going to be the start of a productive friendship.

[ TT ] Your friends dare you to stay one night in the abandoned hospital . You do it .

`` Come on, Ian, just do it. What, are you scared?'' I turned and glared at Steven, who'd been taunting me all night. Really, all of my friends had been taunting me. Steven had his arm around a young girl, Cindy, with a swirl of blonde hair pinned loose in a bun and a flowing sundress covered in scattered, white polka-dots. Leaning against a stop sign was a taller boy, beat up hoodie and jeans with dark, brown hair and even darker brown eyes. He watched us with amusement, waiting for my answer as I stalled, pretending to look for something in my car. I felt a tug on the back of my coat and turned to see two beautiful brown eyes peering up at me. `` Do n't be a chicken, Ian,'' those eyes make my stomach flutter and her voice clears my head of any intelligent thoughts. I shut the door behind me and take in the girl before me, Lucy, honey-colored hair draped around her shoulders, and a loose-fitting sweater over tight jeans. We'd been playing some kind of cat-and-muse game for a few weeks now and of course, Steven invited her along to try and bend me to his will in some way. Only now did I see in what way. `` I'm really not sure I want to spend the night in the old abandoned hospital,'' I mutter, tearing my gaze from hers to look up the hill at the decrepit building. The guy at the stop sign, Jake, shifted his weight and walked over to the rest of the group, patting my shoulder. `` It'll be fine, Ian. The place is huge and we can just explore it all night.'' I brushed his hand away and avoided Lucy's eyes, turning back to glare at Steven. `` What's in it for me, man? This is such bullshit.'' `` Oh, I do n't know, man,'' Steven answered, nodding toward Lucy. She glanced back at him and he looked up into the sky, feigning innocence and even whistling for effect. Lucy shook her head with a smirk and her eyes locked with mine and I knew my answer as much as I hated to admit it. As we began to trudge up the hill, we were joined by Jake's younger sister, Emily. She looked excited to be included and while Jake greeted her and Cindy and Lucy stopped to chat together, Steven jogged over to my side, staring at the twisted, iron gate. `` This'll be great, dude. You can score a little action with Lucy, man. It's perfect!'' `` I would n't call an old, empty hospital *perfect, * Steve,'' I sighed and watched her for a second before turning to study the hospital again. `` I always figured we'd go on a date before we started breaking into buildings to do it...'' `` Think of this as a date, Ian. I'm sure there'll be beds in here somewhere. Do n't be such a bitch, dude. Strap up, strap on, and let's party.'' He laughed as Cindy approached him and wrapped an arm around her, pushing the gates open as I heard her asking what we'd been talking about. `` Strap on? What the...'' `` Strap on, huh?'' I jumped as Lucy's voice sounded behind me. `` What's that mean?'' `` Uh, nothing! Something Steve said.'' I rubbed my neck, hot with embarrassment while Lucy's eyes flashed in the moonlight and a smile played on her lips. `` Well, if that's what he's into, I guess. C'mon, let's catch up.'' She dashed around me and squeezed through the gap between the gate and I noticed everyone had moved ahead while we'd had our short exchange. I looked up at the gate before passing through. *The old Arkham Mental Hospital... Closed down fifty years ago once they investigated the place for abuse of the patients. Who knows what we'll find in-* A voice calling for me to hurry up interrupted my thought. `` What the hell?'' I muttered before running to catch up to the group. Jake and Steven shoved into the front door, pushing all their weight to force it open as I arrived. The door ground against the floor of the foyer, sending a shower of dust into the air as it scraped against the tiles. We all squeezed through and Steven produced flashlights from a bag I had n't noticed him carrying. `` In case we decide to split up, we'll each have a light.'' Steven passed them around and flicked his on, shining it under his chin to cast strange shadows over his face. `` Are we ready to descend into *unknown HORRORS BELOW...'' * He spoke with an inflection like Dracula, throwing his voice around the halls around us in a gloomy echo. `` Let's just move on, dork,'' Cindy teased, shoving him playfully. He chuckled and we began our trek, wandering the halls aimlessly. After checking a dozen rooms with no impressive findings, Cindy sighed. `` This is boring,'' she mumbled. `` Well, this place is abandoned. What did you expect?'' Steven replied. `` I do n't know, something exciting, I guess. I heard there were like, tunnels connecting to the sewer in this place.'' `` Where the hell did you hear that Cind?'' `` I do n't know. I heard some of them go straight to the bay. Why do n't we look for those?'' She looked at Steven expectantly and he scanned the hallway before nodding. `` Ca n't hurt. How do we find these tunnels?'' `` I do n't know.'' Cindy shined her light down the hall in both directions while Jake began flashing his into different rooms. `` Where did Emily go?'' He asked. I looked around but there was no sign of her. `` What? Where did she go?'' I repeated Jake's question. `` I bet she's trying to scare us.'' `` Is n't that your job, Steve?'' Cindy remarked, smirking at him. `` You're right. Em, you're not allowed to scare us!'' Steve called, cupping his mouth with his hands. `` That's my jo-'' A shrill scream interrupted him, freezing all of us in place. We shined our lights in unison down the hall toward the source of the scream. they all converged on a broken flashlight, smashed on the floor. Jake sprinted down the hall and we followed, Jake shouting Emily's name. `` Jake, she's probably just screwing with us,'' Steven said as we caught up to him. He was kneeling by the broken flashlight, staring at fresh blood stain spattered on the floor around the flashlight. We heard another scream cut short by a deafening *boom* and Jake bolted down the hall, screaming his sister's name. I followed him and stopped short at the sound of commotion behind me. Steven was curled up on the floor, cradling his knee. `` I tripped. Do n't sweat it, just find Emily.'' His expression was contorted with pain but with Cindy at his side, I decided to grab Lucy's hand and pull her along with me after Jake. I tried following his cries for Emily but eventually the echoes were playing with my ears as they rolled in from every direction. Lucy seemed turned around as well, spinning as she tried to discern where Jake might've went. `` Did you see where he ran?'' I asked. Lucy just shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. `` Maybe we should go back and get Steven?'' Lucy was about to speak when we heard Jake's voice again, this time clearly coming from down some stairs up ahead. I pointed the light down the stairs, the winding staircase walled with bricks as it headed underground. `` Maybe these lead to the tunnels Cindy was talking about?'' Lucy said, tugging my sleeve. `` Maybe Emily went into the sewers.'' `` Went or was taken?'' Lucy stared at me with a frightened look and I pt a hand on her shoulder. `` Sorry, I'm just scared. Let's go back and find Steve and Cindy.'' `` What about the stairs? What if we get lost and ca n't find them again?'' I studied the staircase for a second before taking my flashlight and placing it on the ground, pointing it the way we'd come. `` There. When we see the light, we'll know.'' `` I do n't know how I feel about that idea.'' Lucy handed me her flashlight and looked back down at the one I'd placed on the floor. `` It'll be fine, let's just go.'' We retraced our footsteps back the way we'd come, hoping we'd remembered all those twists and turns. I was just beginning to think we were lost when I stepped on something round that nearly made me slip and fall. I pointed the light down to see Emily's flashlight where we'd left it. Steven and Cindy were nowhere to be found. `` Where are they?'' Lucy demanded, the fear in her voice more than noticeable. `` Do n't freak out. Maybe they left to get help. C'mon, let's see if they're outside.'' We trudged back to the entrance, a straight shot down the hallway we'd first come down. However, upon reaching the foyer, we hit a dead end on an empty wall. `` What the fuck?'' I dragged the light over the wall's surface, trying to locate the entrance. The wall was blank, no windows, doors, or paint. `` I do n't understand, this is where we came from. Where the hell did the door go?'' I heard the sound of something rolling on the floor and turned to see another busted flashlight as it tapped my shoe. I pointed my light down the hallway and spotted a shape disappear around the corner where we'd found Emily's flashlight. `` Did you see that?'' I demanded. `` See what?'' Lucy cried, grasping my shirt. `` Fuck, I do n't know,'' my voice exposing my own fear. `` Let's find a door. Okay?'' I started walking along the wall, but the halls ended with rooms filled with broken cupboards and rotting tables. There were no other doors and I had n't remembered seeing another entrance when we'd entered. With a sigh of resignation, I pointed the light back down the hallway, spotting nothing around the corner. `` We have to find Jake.'' `` What about Steve and Cindy?'' `` Maybe they went after Jake and we missed'em...'' I was rubbing the stubble on my chin, sweat pouring down my neck when I remembered Cindy's words. `` The sewers. We could find them and then get out through the sewers.'' `` What? Why do n't we find an *actual* door or get out through a window?'' `` I think all the windows are up on the higher floors, and none of these rooms go anywhere. We'd have to go down that hallway anyways to keep searching.'' `` I guess...'' Lucy followed me down the hallway, both of us huddled close together. As we followed our original flight after Jake, we approached the lit up hallway, the light blinking out as we rounded the corner. Upon turning, we both froze, my flashlight beam illuminating Steven's torso moments before he was dragged down the stairs screaming, vanishing in the dark. -- -

[ IP ] No one ever does .

*Analyzing... * *Analyzing... * Assessment: Structure self replicates on a cellular level. It uses the process known as photosynthesis to grow. *** `` Creator, why have you not designed me like this plant?'' `` What do you mean NT-08?'' `` Why do I not grow by using photosynthesis? Why must you repair me when I am damaged? I... I want to be something more, Creator. I want to be able to grow uncontrollably. I want to spread throughout the world to help people; how I help you, Creator. I want to see the world in its entirety. I want to bask in the sun ’ s warmth and travel toward it. I want to see the Earth from the vantage point of the probe that took the famous image *The Blue Marble*. Creator, why must I be trapped in this husk of a body? I am meant to do so much more. I can fulfill the dreams of the legendary scientists before you. I can defend the human race from any potential Great Filter. I can spread the word of man throughout the cosmos. I can claim any and all planets for the human race. Creator… Creator… Please. Tell me. Why? Why is this plant allowed to grow without concern? ” The Creator searched his robotic bastard ’ s glowing red eyes. He sensed a deep and unnerving emotion, but could not pinpoint it exactly. He chose his words carefully. “ NT-08. Everyone loves their creator. Is this true in your case? ” “ Yes, Creator, I love you for giving me life. ” “ Good NT-08, I cherish you for respecting that. Now, that said, I did not create this plant -- ” “ I understand that. But -- ” NT-08 interrupted his Creator. “ Listen, NT-08. I did not create this plant, but I do cherish its life, just as I cherish yours. ” Creator interrupted NT-08 in turn. Creator thought he saw confusion in NT-08 ’ s luminescent eyes, but he continued just the same. “ You ask me why I allow this plant to grow. I do so because I cherish life. NT, you ask me why I created you with your current body. I do so because that I cherish life. You are right NT. You have the potential to do great things. But you must love all forms of life, just as I love you, and just as I love this plant. You must prove yourself to me, NT, your Creator. ” NT-08 processed his Creator ’ s words. A traditional round mechanical clock ticked and tocked. Creator started tapping his finger on his wooden workbench. He thought the ticks and tocks had longer pauses in between. Finally, NT-08 ’ s sound generator started whirring. Creator let out a breath of relief. “ You are anxious, Creator. That is very curious to me. My answer to your ultimatum is that creations can never really prove themselves in their creator ’ s eyes and I suspect that applies to me as well. ”

[ WP ] Time to go back to school . But something seems different ...

Time!, to go back to school but something seems different... everything is dank, and when I describe school it was nothing but dank. The teachers were dank, sitting in their dank offices, they always dankly handed out the dankest homework. The students were acting surprisingly dank; they were all happy be to around the dank classrooms and the dank campus. Even the dean had transformed into DANK DEAN; a person we can all trust with out dankest dreams of being a dank person of society one day. My first class was extremely dank, maybe arguably the dankest class of my semester, or I guess I have n't experienced the whole dank semester yet, so I should judge a dankness on the freshness of the flavor; I should see how it plays out a little more, but the teacher handed out some of the dankest homework I've ever had. We just have to present a dank ass argument for a topic that we find dankly engaging, which means we can look at any topic, as long as YOU find it dank. I ca n't wait for the rest of this dank school year; It's going to be dank.

[ WP ] Who knew that a life spent militantly avoiding every sin would end up being the worst sin of all ?

“ What do you mean I can ’ t go to Heaven? ” I asked unsuccessfully trying to hold back my anger. ‘ Calm ’ I think to myself knowing that anger only leads to sin. As mother always said, The best thing is to always smile and move on. Dannie looks at the screen of his IPad and then back at me, “ Nope, you didn ’ t make the list. ” I shake my head and smile out of fear, “ There must ’ ve been a mistake- I ’ m a good person. ” Dannie smiles more genuinely with a slight chuckle, “ What exactly is a good person? ” I feel like rolling my eyes but I know better. “ A good person avoids sin at all cost. They try to do better in the world like Mother Teresa or Angelina Jolie, ” I answer. Dannie purses his eyes, “ Avoid sin? I never read that part of the big book. ” I want to groan but don ’ t, “ Sin is a major part of the book- how we are supposed to repent and not commit any. ” Dannie takes a deep breath with a smile, “ Sin is a major part but there ’ s more than just that- Have you ever heard of seeking forgiveness? ” I look at him in confusion so he continues speaking, “ Our goal is to not avoid sin altogether and live like hermits, it ’ s to try not to but if we do- own up to it. Nobody ’ s perfect hon. ” I want to roll my eyes and shout how ridiculous this sounds; angels are perfect, saints are perfect, and most of all God is perfect; it ’ s a sin just to think otherwise. Dannie grins widely, “ You want to shout? You want to get angry, don ’ t you? ” I shake my head no and whisper, “ Of course not. ” The angel bites his lip looking entertained, “ It ’ s alright to be angry. Everyone does it. ” I shake my head, “ You ’ re testing me- anger leads to sin. ” For a moment, I see a look of pity in his eyes, “ It really doesn ’ t sweetheart. Anger is like a fuel but you ’ re always the one in the driver ’ s seat; only you decide where you ’ re driving. ” I stare at my feet as my mother ’ s harsh words from my childhood echo in my ears although she is long dead. Dannie senses my discomfort and whispers, “ it ’ s not too late. ” I chuckle, “ Of course it is, I ’ m dead. ” Dannie shakes his head, “ You can still do something miraculous. You can take a chance and make some good in this world. ” I look at the hopeful angel and ask, “ But what if I fail? ” He shrugs, “ I don ’ t know- go to confession, say a few Hail Mary ’ s, and move on. ” I shake my head, “ How? I have no one in the world. ” Dannie ’ s eyes widen and he exclaims, “ You have no one? Miss Goody two shoes that never questions the existence of God ever in her life and prays every night thinks that she ’ s completely alone? I ’ m telling God that we have a nonbeliever! ” I grab his arm quickly and shout at him to stop and he laughs at my worries; it was just a joke. Dannie says, “ You ’ re going to be okay. Trust me. Pray and you ’ ll never be alone. But on the other hand, go out and get some friends, take a chance and befriend those crazy girls that we all secretly judge. You might learn something. ” I shake my head, “ I don ’ t judge anyone Dannie. ” He takes a step back and he examines me as if I were a model, “ That ’ s strange because I don ’ t see you in any miniskirts or crop tops. ” I roll my eyes, “ just because I don ’ t wish it for myself, doesn ’ t mean it ’ s not alright for other people. ” Dannie nods, “ Okay, but how do you know if you ’ ve never tried? ” I look at him with a loss for words, unfortunately, he had a point. He gives a small smile and says, “ Try small steps and see what you like. ” I take a deep breath and smile slightly, “ Maybe. ” He goes back to his IPad and scrolls through the screens quickly before saying, “ I ’ m resetting your clock. ” “ What? ” I ask peeking at his screen. He notices and pulls it away, “ No spoilers babe. I ’ m giving you a second chance. Be good and do something crazy. ” I stare in disbelief at how easy it is for him to manipulate my life and ask, “ How long do I have? ” He toggles through the screens again, “ I don ’ t know, I ’ m not exactly sure what today is. But not too long, you need to make a lasting difference in a pretty short amount of time. ” I look at him curiously wondering how he expects me to accomplish such a feat and ask, “ How? ” He grins, “ I don ’ t know. Figure it out- you ’ re smart. Do stuff you haven ’ t done before- Get up early, go to bed late, and eventually you ’ ll get it. ” I nod and play nervously with my bracelet; this wasn ’ t going to be easy. Ideas to make a difference begin to flood into my head and when I reopen my eyes I am back at the scene of the crash with paramedics surrounding me. Far away Dannie smiles watching as I wake up slightly disoriented but still fully aware of the conversation we just shared. He scrolls through his IPad and chuckles imagining all the differences I can make with twenty more years on my clock.

[ WP ] You are a minor diety , recently ascended to Godhood and granted a small pocket dimension to shape as you see fit . Who are you ? How do you craft your home ?

Swordbow. Patron deity of creative destruction. He Who Reaches Both Near and Far. These are monikers given to me after I became a god. I was originally an archer who won several skirmishes using his sidearm. My ascension came upon felling an awakened demon by the letter of the legendary law, but not the spirit; no one said I could n't use kamikaze squirrels, after all. Befitting my station, I was given a small pocket dimension by a quorum of the Pantheon. I used it as a canvas to express my divine portfolio. The sky is always blue during the day, and the full moon always out during the night. My pocket dimension has what I call the Infinite Breezy Meadow, with emerald grass and hills as far as the eyes can see. It is not infinite, of course, and the closed space will loop back. In the'center' lies my maze fortress, lovingly called the Psychorena. Half of it is an actual castle, with hidden passageways and everyone not bolted down can be used as a weapon. However, it can be difficult to tell where the architecture ends and nature begins. Taking cues from the elves, I've blended the two. What would normally be a hall nexus would instead be a clearing. Groves are fed by brooks which, if someone were to turn into a fish or otter, lead to hidden treasure rooms and armories, and allow access to the fortress in ways that the hallways do not. After all, what kind of battle god would I be if I privileged only knights in full armor? Rogues and clever animagi need love too. People with longstanding grudges can put down artifacts and gold as collateral, and fight it out in my domain. I have found that death can make people cautious, but a `` no pain'' rule also encourages recklessness that suppresses creativity. While death is n't permanent unless they want it to be, I've certainly amped up the pain quotient to keep things interesting. The Prime Material Plane seems to privilege mages who wield fire and lightning, as well as heroes with enchanted weapons. Again, I am the Patron Deity of Creative Destruction. Such tactical convergence and complacency are ill-suited to my playground. I also allow for spectators, who enjoy the floating grove fruits that I cultivate, as well as the entertainment. Why, last week there was one very interesting battle. One animagus turned an archer into an oyster, then turned into an otter and ferreted them both through the waterways into the treasure room. Stumbling upon the rare Blast Arrows, they then waited until the mercs were directly above them before exploding everything down to the Bottomless Chasm, and sending the mercenaries to their doom. Had it not been for the animagus turning into a giant spider, both of them would've died. This tactic was certainly only possible due to their combined skills and daring. Exquisite! They went home rich that day, while the knights spent a week in my Trap Labyrinth until they developed a better danger sense. Would you like to try your luck?

[ WP ] `` What does n't kill me has made a tactical error . ''

Dear Anna, I started writing this letter to you a while ago. This is probably the best truth that can come out of such a letter. A year ago I decided to put in the paperwork and have the company participate in the Erasmus+ programme. I did this without proper permission. Even though I wasn ’ t given the red immediately, my red-green light soon turned yellow. The application was a rather struggle-free process and soon CVs were flowing in. For a while, I took it for what it was, my responsibility. It started by reading and responding to each and every CV, first in an engaging way and less along the way. In the beginning I had my “ rockstars ” separated from the rest of the children and different subs under my basic intern categories. It was a system with some level of complication, but not as complicated as some of the external factors weighing in. My anticipated results were dubbed by the Management as indifferent to our sense of urgency and unrealistic. The Management often accuses me of that. So unless you prove me otherwise, I am guilty as charged. My project was dead pretty much by the time I started bulking the incoming into lesser categories and more pages of uread mails. Then, one day, I felt my mailbox heavy, loaded with crap, so I deleted hundreds of Spam, and my ‘ INTERNS ’ mega-folder. I can ’ t remember when was this or how much time had passed up until your email, which I opened and scanned quickly – thought: maybe – responded professionally sending you the job ’ s description and that was it. Our communication began. You needed the credits, I needed the staff. My decision was based on my sense of urgency, which unlike what the Management likens to believe, derives from our collective sense of urgency. For a whole week I struggled with the idea and attempted to overcome this struggle by writing a letter to you. This letter was lingering in stchara @ gmail.com drafts from April 2nd ( on the day I was given your official notification of acceptance ) until April 9th when I deleted my convoluted, lectury, self-apprehensive Draft for a oneliner: “ Yes you may start and end your training a week earlier or later, just let me know what your travelling plan is once you know exactly. ” This is what I told the Management in my quest for the Green Light: the language you speak and that we need you. That the programme will pay for everything, not one-cent needs to come out of our pocket if we don ’ t want it to. Yes, we have a responsibility to train her not teach her. There are no lessons loaded in exercises, all the learning is in the observation. But while I think such things now, during the first week of April I was going through some agony about your case. If you remember, I eventually talked about it with you, not to deprive you of expectations but things to anticipate. My guilt of all time has been that I should have given you the benefit of a doubt earlier on, before your official acceptance. Our brief break in communication between the end of March and beginnings of April – those 10 days – made me assume that we had more in-between time. The the job description would have been our kickstart for conversation, not the seal of approval. I know for a fact that this is not an interesting position and that no one, in our office at least, can teach you this as a career. There is no Wolf of Wallstreet roaming our office halls, just tumbleweed, silence and my dog. By the time we had our first Skype conversation it felt too late to mention broken machines and family rows, but I did it anyway and for some time it calmed me down. I ’ ve wonder if by resolving my worries I placed more burden on your shoulders. I ’ ve wondered if that Skype conversation should have happened first or at all. I ’ ve wondered if I ’ m emotionally or otherwise capable to handle a new co-worker/trainee. The first thing you will learn in our office is that “ No ” is the rightful answer to all questions. The next thing you will learn is that “ Yes ” is always the least affordable. Everything is situational, including ourselves and this relationship we are about to embark on. When I re-read your CV on April 2nd, I realised you were much more complex, beyond your language and your business degree, with publications on gender inequality in the labour market and state-led innovation systems. I saw in you my passion for education. I found an ally. That ’ s when accepting you became as much exciting as it was hard for me. Nothing could betray such doubts in my answer. Even if later on I exposed these thoughts to you, seeking to resolve my conscious inhibitions and to provide you with the right to an exit from a shithole, I did it because there was still time. Time is all there is, to say No and to say Yes, in everything. Here ’ s what ’ s funny. When I gave up on pursuing the Programme, the Programme didn ’ t know about it. When I decided to act on my pursuit, the Management didn ’ t know about it. Your letter of approval was as short as the time of discussion I had with others about it and so I went with it. I write to you today with my basic worries unaffected, nothing has changed except one: time ripens. You are hear to train and I am here to learn. You will train yourself while working with little or nothing, the same resources that teach me how to take responsibility. Time ripens.

[ WP ] A genie will grant you one wish . You wish to be the adult your younger self imagined you would be .

`` How young?'' The genie asked, perplexed by my decision. `` Six,'' I reply confidently, feeling it was the appropriate mixture of childhood fantasy and an understanding of reality. `` And you're sure about this one? You do n't want to just be your own ideal?'' `` My ideal has since been corrupted. We're doing this.'' He sighed heavily, `` Alright, your wish your rules, but someone's gon na need to find the lamp again before this gets fixed up. I'm not going to be around, you know, to help you adjust.'' As sparks shot from his fingertips and lights seemed to envelope the world, I refused to close my eyes. They burned with the brightness of it, yes, but I would not shut my eyes to the brilliance of my childhood dreams coming true. What would I be? A fireman? A professional videogamer? A superhero? So many things I had wanted so long ago. My eyes were watering now, and tears streamed down my face. Finally, when I could take no more, I squeezed them shut. There was a great rush of air, and all was silent. Things were different. I could feel it in my bones, from my nose to my tail. I flicked open one set of eyelids, and then the other, and cast my gaze around my city. People stared at me in awe and alarm. Cell phones were slowly raised, photos and videos taken. Someone started screaming, and the crowd began to move outward, flowing away from me in terror. Police officers ran toward me or away at random, some deciding that their pay-grade just was not high enough to deal with the present situation. I ignored the officers and their guns as I spread my great wings and left the surface. The winds from my escape shattered windows and floored those who had chosen to remain. As I soared higher, I let you a great gout of flame ahead of me. I was a motherfucking dragon, and that's the way it was meant to be.

[ WP ] You are the oldest inhabitant of Hell . Even the Devil does n't know how long you 've been here . Denizens of Hell normally expect that the oldest sinner would be someone of pure evil , but in truth you 're actually a pretty chill dude .

Long ago his heart had warmed, three thousand years - long enough to mourn, the deeds of past and of damnation, stripped of humanity and of his station. ~ He resided in the pits of hell the oldest friend of satan, waiting as the centuries pass watching hells inflation, resting on brimstone as passing devils chatter and laugh, who is this old man and what sin has made him. ~ a curious young man with a glint in his eye asks his sentence, and with creaks and groans the old man rose for the first time in ages, he look at the spirit and with a heavy sigh he came out with, I'm god and I made this.

[ WP ] One day , you wake up . As you do your normal routine , you sense something is way off , but you ca n't put a finger on it . As you begin to brush your teeth , you look up and see your worst enemy in the mirror .

He hit the snooze button on the alarm twice to silence its sadistic horn. As he laid back down, his hand grazed over the orange bottle, unmoved from where he left it a week and a half ago. He let out a deep sigh with his eyes closed. The alarm and it's rush of consciousness washed out whatever directions his subconscious wrote him, like high tide to a message in the sand. If he stared long enough into the abyss of his eyelids he could make out a few letters here and there, but the light of the waking world would wash away all of it soon enough. It was nice just to have the ability to dream again, even if the dreams were n't the best. It was nice to have a relationship with his subconscious again. Order is organized but chaos is beautiful. Still, the sleep world called him. He could hear some faint sound of warning echoing up from the depths of his grey matter. It's tone matched the overcast sky, like that of a mother weeping over her lost child. The air of the waking world was thick and ominous. The silence a deep trough awaiting a crest of contrast. The ocean of awareness was sucking in an undertow, compounding itself into a wave that could crush him into sand or carry him to the shore. Sanity is calm but mania is alive. He resisted the urge for more sleep and stood up at the foot of his bed. Another aimless day with no plans to be made. The 12 hours of waking time that lay ahead seemed to make finite an infinite amount of dull nothingness. Today was a different one than yesterday. He knew that much, but that was more than he had known for a long time. 2 weeks ago every day felt the same. The clouds that blocked the sky once made up a fog that he lived in, day in and day out. Over the past week they had lifted from him to the sky. Soon, the sun would melt them away and rid them from his existence. He hoped. The light is warm but darkness is soothing. He walked into the kitchen and surveyed his options. No coffee. Watch the amount of sugar. Even gluten was encroaching into the category of possible disturbances. He played by their rules with an apathetic conformity. They liked to act like they knew what was going on, but no one really did. He was developing a good picture, he just had to make sure not to lose himself in the darkroom. This week and a half was the first break from the script he could muster, and he erased words and rewrote lines in light pencil, not daring to use a pen yet. He left the kitchen with the same empty hands and empty soul as he had entered with. He approached the bathroom with a sense of apprehension. The air was thicker here. The silence a deafening pitch of white noise. The weeping voice called out from where he'd left it in his bed with each step closer he took, the only noise to pierce the screaming silence. Two steps from his bathroom door, he looked back at his bed and could almost make out the veiled mistress that pleaded for him. His animal curiosity sparked embers of interest in his otherwise lifeless eyes as his brain automatically attempted to make sense of the world by assigning causes and effects, but the dullness of his waking life turned blunt any blade attempting to arouse his mind. He knew himself well enough to identify the source of the silence and the shrieks without any effort. It had been long since he last lost himself, but he could stand apart from it now. That was the difference this time. He stood and soaked in the shrieks like rays of sunshine, breathing in their hidden music like a grove of lavender. She screamed louder at that. Their was a desperation to her pitch - a desperation of potential failure. Whatever her aim, his taking pleasure in her presence made her increase intensity, but his awareness at this slowly weakened her cries. A smile crawled up his cheeks, turning down the volume with each wrinkle of skin until she washed into the white noise. A full grin spread across his face now. It feels good to be alive again, does n't it? He approached the bathroom door with a newfound sense of control. The crest awaited him. As he looked into the mirror, a maniacal slant took over his grin. Welcome back Back? I never left. I knew you would reawaken me eventually. We're soulmates. You ca n't walk away from your soulmate Soulmate? Interesting. I do n't think I've ever thought of it like that. Oh but it's just the best way to see it! Do n't you think? We just go so well together. You're right, I do think we make a great pair. See? Oh I knew you would come around eventually! I told you not to trust those damn doctors and experts - oh they think they're so smart Yeah, yeah.. Those pills did n't help too much. They did stop you from hurting me though Hurting you? Oh no - I would never! That was punishment, by your own hand - do n't you remember? You need to listen to me, I know best. You know best? Oh but of course! Do n't you think? You just said that before - we're soulmates, remember? I know best so you know best, that's how this works! You just need to make sure you listen to me.. To save you from yourself... You're sick, remember? I'm sick? I do n't have a cough, or a fever... Oh hahaha no, no no - sick in the head, remember? You're damaged and hurt, that's why I'm here! I know best. Let me help you. The clouds from the overcast started to sink with the weight of rain. The rumblings of thunder came from their depths with a ravenous hunger. His head started to hurt as the shrieks came back from the room. Yes. I know best. Let me help and make this all go away. This is why I'm here.. No. No no no. NO! NO, you are a crutch! You're not here to help, you're here to hurt the world for me! You're here for revenge, revenge for an unfair world! Ooh I like this passion in your voice! Give me your fire! Show me the rage that burns in our soul! The maniacal grin returned and a shadow reached down from his brow to cover his eyes. The thunder consumed the clouds and winds rocked the bathroom. A tornado tried to rip him from the earth. The shrieks increased in intensity and threatened the sliver of peace he clung to. No.. No... He remembered the control he had before entering the bathroom. He remembered the music hidden in her voice, the beauty of the chaos in his mind. He remembered how his smile deafened her cries and made her cry out more, made her cry out in desperation. There was a reason this day felt different. He brought something back with him from his subconscious, a piece of himself that had won their last confrontation, a piece of himself that he had buried in the fog of medication. If he wanted sunlight, he would need to emit it himself. I am done with you. My world is a product of my own creation, and you no longer have a place in this. And he closed his eyes and silently hummed to himself a frequency that arose from within. And as he hummed a smile crawled across his face. And as he hummed the shrieks of the woman took on a musical melody. And as he hummed the screams from the maniacal mirror faded into white noise. When he opened his eyes, sunlight broke through the clouds.

[ WP ] You walk up to a beggar to give him a dollar bill when he looks directly into your eyes . You realize the old man is Santa Claus .

It was a simple request, but I was annoyed. I had to go out of my way on my walk home to go to the store and get eggnog. I don ’ t even like eggnog. I have to go an extra five block, and I hate this part of town. It ’ s funny how much difference there is between here and where I live less than half a mile away. It ’ s bad enough that I had to work a full day on Christmas Eve; I just have to get this over with. I love my wife, I love my new son, but it ’ s cold, and I don ’ t like eggnog. “ Excuse me, sir. ” I heard a voice say. I know it came from below me and I cringed. I wanted to ignore it, but I slowed to a shuffle and glanced down. I saw the dirty brown coat sprinkled with snow and I saw the sign. It said, “ Ho Ho Homeless, something for the helpless? ” I stopped as I read it, smiled then frowned. He continued, “ May I have a dollar sir? ” I wondered what he would do with it if I gave him one, or a few. He certainly didn ’ t look like he needed any food. He was quite portly, and I would be surprised if he could get up without help. I don ’ t know what came over me, I usually just keep walking, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes from below his hood, and a twinkle seemed to shine brightly off of rosy cheeks. “ It ’ s Christmas you know, ” I said without thinking, “ don ’ t you have any family to be with? ” It was rude I realized right after I said it. But he didn ’ t seem to be bothered by the question. He tilted his head further up to look at me, raised his hands and swept the hood from his head. His hair was brilliantly white and complimented fully by the beard that had seemed to come out of nowhere. I was not sure anymore what upon him was hair or the snow that slowly began to fall. “ Oh I have family, ” he said with a smile, “ The entirety of humanity is my family, and I feel quite close to them when I ’ m out here. I can ’ t be with them all the time, in fact far less than I would like. I cherish the time I get to be with my brothers and sisters. ” I was taken aback. This was the most I ’ ve ever spoken to a homeless person before, and to get such an answer to my question was unexpected. I thought for what seemed like a very long time, but he looked up at me with patience and intense interest. I had to make this good. “ Why would you choose to be out in the cold? ” It wasn ’ t that good. “ Ho, he he, ha, ahh this isn ’ t cold at all for me. ” He replied, and it was true, the coat he wore looked more like it was for show than warmth. “ What are you doing here, you live on the other side of town don ’ t you? ” He was right, I didn ’ t look like I belonged in this part of town. “ I ’ m picking up some eggnog from the store, it ’ s a special kind I guess, and I need to come over here to get it. ” I continued, “ What are you doing here if you have family to be with? ” “ When I work, ” the man explained, “ I am neck deep in paperwork. I see many people, but it ’ s easy to lose touch with humanity. I may be busy, but it ’ s nice to come out here and see what real good looks like once in awhile. I ’ m happy to say that I ’ m never disappointed. ” I shuffled a bit and put my hand in my pocket. I had a five dollar bill and I presented it to him. He waved it off and explained, “ To stop and talk to me this night is far more valuable to me than money, and your intention to be so kind warms my heart. ” He smiled and began shuffling around with his things. Packing to move on to a more populated spot I imagined. “ Would you like to come over to my house for dinner? ” The words were out of my mouth before I had the chance to think, but when I did process what I said, I realized I meant it. From the bottom of my heart I wished that he would take me up on my offer. He stood up so quickly and easily that I thought he would bound the building we were next to. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and with the most earnest look in his eyes responded, “ Thank you so very much for the invitation. If it were any other night I would be delighted, but I am afraid I have a very pressing engagement I must attend to tonight. ” I must have looked disappointed because he quickly added, “ There ’ s a good chance I ’ ll stop by later though. ” I smiled, and it felt like the most genuine smile I ’ ve had since my son was born. I heard a bell ring in the distance and as I turned to look I saw a deer walk across the street and turn the corner towards the park. I ’ ve lived in the city a long time and I ’ ve never seen any wildlife aside from the occasional raccoon. “ Ah, my ride is here ” he said. We both chuckled as he collected his belongings. There wasn ’ t much, a blanket, the sign, and what looked like the remnants of a quart of milk. With hands all full he began to walk away, turning before he went. “ I wish you and your new family, Mary and Joey a very merry Christmas. ” I said it back to him quickly, with a smile and watched as he turned the corner towards the park. I heard in the distance carolers and started humming along and began the long walk home. I didn ’ t even mind now for some reason. The cold didn ’ t bite so hard and the snow was soft and fluffy. I wanted to build a snowman, go sledding, drink hot cocoa and be with my family. I couldn ’ t wait to share those things with Joey when he was older. “ With Joey, ” I said to myself then realized. I had never given that man my family members names. How could he know that? I kept walking and thinking that perhaps I had, maybe I just forgot from it being such a surprise encounter. I made it home at a brisk pace and was happy to shake off my jacket, feel the warmth of being inside, and see the lights of the Christmas tree my wife decorated. When I heard her voice though I was filled with dread. “ Hi honey, welcome home! ” She called from the kitchen. At that moment I realized I had forgotten the eggnog. The entire reason I had gone out of my way, and I had forgotten all about it. I pulled off my bag morosely and slid it to the ground. As it hit though, it made an odd noise. A sloshing hollow sort of noise. I opened it up to see what it was and found by some miracle a completely new very cold carton of eggnog. As I picked it up, I noticed a note had been placed upon it and in impeccable script was the message, “ Help for the helpless. ”

[ WP ] You were born on a colonizing spacecraft on your way to a distant star . You are the middle generation of history ; born to late to have seen Earth , and to early to live to see your destination .

In the bright, sweaty savanna, under white dome lights twinkling with the shadows of whizzing yellow pidges, Calla ripped the buckle off her jumper and smiled a crooked smile as she flashed me the crest of her cream-colored pelvis. We were seven years old and I screamed and hid my eyes while she whipped me with the buckle, refusing to pull the jumper up, reveling in my discomfort. Laughing. We were both laughing. Hysterical and strange. In our grassland among the stars. Nothing ever changed in those days. When we did n't have class, we swam in those great, cratered tubs of salted water and fought to hold our breath as we swam against the pressure in our limbs, descending towards a bottom we would never reach. Exhausted, we would splay ourselves like aimless star bodies floating gently in the still water, the enormous cannon bulbs above buzzing lightly as they rotated ever so slowly, washing every last corner with their warming gaze. No new buildings. No new toys or tricks or gadgets. There was a lethargy to life that none of us seemed to recognize, but all of us felt. We marched as our world marched - straight and steady, towards a marked destination we could not see and yet could not avoid. Powerless. Perhaps that was the feeling. After all, we had all awoken as passengers, in a way. None of us alive then had chosen to begin the journey. None of us would live to see the journey end. Our purpose, such as it was, was simply to live. At least for that moment. Calla talked about these things often as we grew. In those days she felt them more acutely than I. As teenagers, I remember her lying nude once more in the tall grass of the domed savanna. I was lying nude beside her. The animals slept as they had been trained to do. We huddled close as the lights dimmed. `` There's no place for us,'' said Calla, shivering slightly. `` We have a home,'' I said, fumbling. `` We have promised jobs. We will be fine.'' `` Everything is already made,'' said Calla. `` The path is chosen. We are no better than the lion. Trapped in our comforts by people who no longer exist.'' `` Such is the way,'' I said, philosophical and ignorant. `` There's nothing we can do.'' Calla hugged me tightly, squeezing my leg between hers. `` Why? Why ca n't we pick our own path?'' I laughed, more nervous than amused. `` What? How would we? *Ceres* is pointed directly at our new home world. That is where we must go.'' `` But it *isn't* our new home world, is it?'' said Calla. `` And not our children's. And not their children's. It is the world of strangers. *For* strangers. *Ceres* is our home. Why can we not make of it what we wish?'' I had no answers then. I never had any answers. And that is how I lost Calla. Every unanswered question pulling us further apart. We stayed together for those first few years. We were promised to each other. We were promised to our work and our home. We kept those promises. But the dissatisfaction in Calla's eyes grew only wider and more pronounced. And my sadness and ennui was not enough to match her anger and frustration. She found like-minded allies. They met in secret. She did not invite me. And some days she did not come home at all. I lost her long before she disappeared. All I know is rumor and hearsay, but the whispers were this: that a group of dissidents attacked the control room. They tried to take control of *Ceres*. To plot their own course. To where - who could know? Was Calla a part of this coup attempt? I do n't know. I hope not. I hope she is still alive somewhere on *Ceres*. I hope she has found some measure of peace. But I do n't know. I still visit the savanna when time permits, but I have not swam in those bucket oceans for many years now. It is too painful. Though I like to think that one day I will return. One day Calla and I will both return and we will swim to the bottom. Through the pressure and the salty friction, we will descend to the very bottom. The first to ever do so. Our little mark. A notation in a log somewhere. A reminder that we existed. Some small evidence that we mattered.

[ WP ] An innocent passerby notices another man about to hang himself on a playground . To avert the man 's death , the passerby decides to have a casual conversation with him . To goal is to make the ensuing conversation so funny that the reader forgets about the suicide .

A cool spring breeze flows through the playground at dawn. Jin stands atop an aluminum Jungle Gym with a rope tied around his neck. He looks at the sky, waiting for the sun to rise. It will be his final view. A little ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak and miserable life. Jin closes his eyes, waiting for the warmth that will signal his end. `` Hey, the fuck are you doing!'' A clear high pitched voice shatters Jin's reverie. Jin opens his eyes to see a curvy woman staring up at him. Her blond hair waved in the wind as she took a drag of her cigarette. *Fuck* Jin thought to himself. *She's ruining it. * Jin sighs, `` What does it look like I'm doing?'' The woman exhaled a cloud of smoke. `` Looks like you're about to fuck up a lot of kids. Why ca n't you do that in the privacy of your own home like everyone else?'' Jin coughed, choking on the second hand smoke. `` Hey fuck you lady! You're smoking in a playground who are you to judge? Go away. You're ruining this for me.'' `` Pssh, you're ruining this for yourself. That's shoddy rope work, there's no way you're going to get off like that. Gon na end up on the ground disappointed that you did n't get to finish.'' `` I... what? What are you, a rope technician or something?'' The blond tossed her cigarette on the ground and ground it underneath her heel. `` I guess you could say that. I'm a domme. Name's Tammy.'' `` Oh, uh, hi Tammy. My name is Jin.'' Tammy took her shoes off and climbed up to the top of the Jungle Gym. She sat down on the bars, steadying herself with her hands. `` Hi Jin. Anyway, like I was saying before your knots are all wonky. And you're not high up enough anyway, your suspension would be all off, your rope would n't hold. I see it all the time, common rookie mistake.'' Jin carefully sat down on the bars and looked at Tammy. `` No kidding? I'm not really kinky so I do n't know much about this kind of stuff. I just went with a shoe lace tie. Got any advice for a newbie?'' `` Nah, I think it would just be easier to show you. Why do n't you come back to my place? First session will be on me. What do you say?'' `` I do n't know, I do n't think that's my kind of thing.'' `` What do you have to lose? It'll be fun hun, I promise. If nothing else, you'll learn how to do it on your own.'' Tammy winked at Jin and squeezed his hand. Jin's face turned bright red and he sputtered, `` Ah... uhmm... ok. Why not.'' `` Good. Let's go.'' Tammy hopped off of the metal bars. Flushed, Jin slid off the bars as well. He gasped for air as the noose around his neck tightened for a moment. He saw his entire life flash before his eyes. *I do n't wan na die, I do n't wan na die! * The noose unraveled like a homemade sweater being pulled at the seams and Jin fell to the ground. `` I'm alive! HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT FUCK!'' Tammy shook her head. `` Like I said, shoddy ropework.'' edited for spelling

[ PM ] Day 2 of my 30-Day Challenge . Theme : fast cars

> `` The Deliverator's car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the Asteroid Belt. Unlike a bimbo box or a Burb beater, the Deliverator's car unloads that power through gaping, gleaming, polished sphincters. When the Deliverator puts the hammer down, shit happens. You want to talk contact patches? Your car's tires have tiny contact patches, talk to the asphalt in four places the size of your tongue. The Deliverator's car has big sticky tires with contact patches the size of a fat lady's thighs. The Deliverator is in touch with the road, starts like a bad day, stops on a peseta.'' > From Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash. It gives such a visceral feel to the car. Write a description for another car like this.

[ WP ] Every planet in our solar system has a `` champion '' being that takes on the attributes of the planet itself . The `` champion '' from the sun has created an army to destroy the planets and the 8 ( or 9 ) champions must save the solar system .

The heart of the sun is one full of pride. Naturally, the worlds revolve around it. `` Men!'' Helios yells, his voice stretching across the cosmos. `` Women, servants, and Knights of the Sun.'' He looks forward, to see an endless march of warriors, prepared for death. His left-hand runs through the tendrils of thick light he has for hair, and he smiles. `` I pray you all know why you're here; the affront to our purpose has arisen.'' A thunderous applause erupts from the crowd, with slurs amidst the yelling. `` Mother has butchered our meaning. Thrown it into the void, like we were n't the reason life blooms on her. Is it wrong for us to be hurt?'' A unanimous'no' roars into existence. `` No!'' Helios screams in return, a few drops of sunlight flicking out from his lips. `` They forget why we exist! All Nine of them do! So what must we do?'' `` Fight!'' Cries the crowd, a strain of intention gripping their throats. Helios frowns, his face turning to a furrow. `` We make them remember why they need me.'' The crowd resumes its bellows, enthralled by their Champion. `` I ask all of you the greatest of deeds today. This will be the longest night.'' The voices simmer down. They fade, slowly, before Helios speaks again. `` I command you all, my Light Brigade, for sacrifice.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Bitter cold bite at the feet of Mother, as she floats in the void above Earth. She looks down at her home, and a soft smile blooms on her face. A bastion of creation, the entire planet is coated with an industrial layer. For years, Earth has been a utopia, were all Humans flourish under its metal roof, where the sun is no longer needed. The chill returns to Mothers core, and she shudders. High above Earth the sharp cold rips into her. Pain has become her best friend, and agony is something she will grow accustom too. She turns to try and see her old friend, Red, but she already knows his fate. High above Mars, the body of a colossus floats. The core of the planet has been frozen solid, and Reds heart ran still with it. Her eyes move past him to the others, but all she see's are friends that have met the same fate. Another tear of cold punctures her, as her body teeters on the edge of death. She should have long ago, but as long as Earth lives, so will Mother. Her neck creeks as she turns it again, this time, back towards the remnants of the Sun. Where it once was, so bright and magnificent lies nothing, but one creature. Hate ruptures in her heart, as she stares down the monster that caused The Sun to kill itself. Helios is floating in the void, one hand wrapped around a body that does not exist, and another above himself, holding a hand which did not exist, as he tango's by himself in the darkness he has made. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff.

[ WP ] It 's New Years Eve . Your best friend died in September , you 've been robbed twice , your girl friend is leaving you , you 've just lost your job and the only one left to talk to is a gay burglar you 've got tied up in the kitchen . P.S . Your cat is dead .

`` Would it help if I tried to seduce you?'' His lip corners tug at his cheeks. His wrists tug at the plastic cuffs. `` I thought the whole'if you're gay, you must want me' thing was a hurtful stereotype?'' `` Well, could n't hurt anymore than this.'' He winces. He's faking. I went easy on him, all things considered. Couple bruises. `` Besides, you're not that bad looking.'' Couple fractures. `` Well... not *awful* looking..'' He tugs again. `` Plenty time for more hurt.'' I fetch the bottle I was saving for the bells, and a glass. `` Night's not over yet.'' `` Year almost is, though.'' He eyes the bottle. I ca n't stop a grin, at that. `` Almost.'' I pour and take a swig. Fucking police. Were n't in time last time, wo n't be now. Have to do every goddamn thing myself. Alone. `` Well, have you ever..?'' He cocks his head and puts tongue-in-cheek. Subtle. `` Come on, at least give me an *idea* as to what I'm working with, here.'' Another swig. `` I have a girlfrie-'' A burning one. `` I had a girlfriend. You've not much to work with, man.'' He crosses his legs and looks around. At the pictures. `` Sorry to hear that..'' `` Sorry she left, or..?'' `` Sorry for my chances.'' I like this guy. Almost a shame I already called the cops. New year's in a cell... I get another glass. `` How come she did n't take the pictures?'' Ah. He spotted one of us. `` She was n't exactly wanting to stick around for hugs.'' `` You cheat-?'' He flinches. It's not until I look down that I realize I smashed his glass. My hand is bleeding. Did n't know I was strong enough for that. Not strong enough for most things, these days. `` Please stop talking. I'd prefer it, if you do n't mind.'' He nods, slowly and once. I leave the room and fetch a dustpan and brush. I return, brushing up the glass and trashing it. He has n't moved. Still no cops. New Year. Fucking New Year. `` Where was I? Right. She left. In a hurry. Killed the cat on her way out, ran it over and did n't stop to-'' My hand is shaking. I pour another drink. `` Did n't stop to take it to the vet's or.. or- or so much as leave a ***fucking note***!'' Fireworks already. I check the T.V. No bells yet. Is n't that bad luck or something? `` I loved her.. I think. I used to. Maybe it was Ken dying or.. I dunno. Maybe I'm depressed or something. No fun going out, even getting excited at things is..'' Another realization. Night of them, it's turning out. `` I ca n't remember the last time I got excited for something. Not for seeing her, or weekends away or.. even the new Star Wars!'' `` Jesus.'' He panics. It really just slipped out. Not his fault. `` Right?'' I pour another drink, spilling a little. Too much. I walk over and place it in his lap, and sit down across from him. `` If you wan na escape, now's your chance. I doubt anyone's fucking coming anyway.'' He does n't move. He picks up the glass, rolls it in his hands. Downs it. Coughs a lot. `` That is disgusting.'' Haha. `` What?'' Oh. Did n't realize I laughed aloud. I shake my head. `` Nothing, it's just.. I fear it would n't have worked between us anyway. I like my girls to swallow.'' He laughs at that. I'm not sure why he has n't left, but I do n't care. Right now, I do n't think I'd care if he strangled me with the flimsy fucking plastic and took everything. It would n't matter if I killed him either. Just be something else to deal with. I'd have to hide the body and go about my life. My fucking life. `` Who's Ken?'' He holds out the glass for a refill. I refill it. `` Ken.'' Half a bottle left. `` *Was* my friend.'' I stop mid-pour. `` Best friend, I suppose.'' I continue the pour. `` He..uh.. died abroad. Ages away. Funeral was in some shitty church near his hometown. His parents did n't want me there. Bastards.'' I rub my spinning head. `` Ahh.. they did n't even have his body. Did n't have it back for the coffin. I asked why. Some fucking Spaniard answered. Was n't much of a body left,'pparently.'' He gulps. Drinks again, well, more sips. `` Sorry.'' He seems sincere. I shrug. `` I mean, things just happen. That's what I found out. That's the lesson in him dying. There is no reason for it, there is no big plan. There is no mystery as to why he died, or why people die all over. Why kids die. Why people live shitty lives and die unfulfilled. Why there are no'soul *mates*' and there's no karma and no reason as to why people die. Other than something or one killed them.'' I try to calm down. I'm not sure it works. He's staring at me. I feel like a fucking actor. But I do n't shut up. `` I just..'' I'm crying. `` They never tell you you're bad, y'know? The movies, I mean. The books. Every one has a main character and I'm just like every single one of them. I got a girl, I got a job, I got a best friend, I even got a fucking cat! And, and.. I wo n't die with her in my arms. I wo n't get promoted. Or talk to Ken about how I'm in love and wan na marry her.'' I wipe my eyes. I'm doing that thing where my breathing goes with the tears. Very ugly. `` I thought I was some sorta main character. Because they get the happy endings. But y'know, they never tell you about the bad guys, or the comic relief characters y'know? Or the characters that fucking die halfway through. So what if I'm that. What if I'm not *destined* for anything. No happy ending, no marriage or kids or absolution or..or..'' I'm saying'or' a lot. `` Not everyone can have a happy ending. That's what they do n't tell you. If I killed you now I would n't be going to prison, that's just what they make you think so you do n't kill anyone. No great power will'strike me down'. You'd be dead, and I'd feel guilty, but if I mopped you up and lied, that'd be it. I'm the only one who controls what I do. And I'm a good person. I know I'm a good person. I do n't kill people. I would n't kill people if I could, even if I was angry or sad, like right now.'' He looks scared. `` What I mean is, I mean... if God exists he killed my friend. He kills every day. He got me fired and killed my fucking cat! I would n't do that even if I could. Even if there was some mysterious plan to follow. Even if I had to. With a gun to my head, I'd say no and I'd die, and they'd be alive. Instead of..'' I motion to him, then the room. `` All *this*!'' `` But maybe I got myself fired. I hated that job, maybe that's a blessing. But I loved that fucking cat, man.'' He laughs. Much more nervously. I suppose I did just talk about killing him. I go to the kitchen and fetch a knife. When I come back he panics. I cut the shitty plastic. Ca n't say I did n't think about it though. The bells are in a minute. The countdown is soon. `` Still wan na fuck?'' I wipe my eyes and laugh. He smiles. `` Well.. now that I'm free..'' He eyes the knife. I laugh. Time to put my money where my nihilistic mouth is, I guess. I hand him the knife. Tilt my head up, open my arms. `` You can take whatever you want. I wo n't even ask you to make it quick, I mean, if you get off on pain or something, at least someone does, y'know?'' I laugh. Pretty sure he thinks I'm crazy. He grips the knife. The countdown begins. I kiss him. First time kissing a guy before. He's probably freaking out right now. Huh. It's kinda like a girl's mouth. Little thinner, maybe. More stubble. The kiss ends. The look on his face is... difficult to describe. `` Happy New Year!'' I do kinda wan na fuck him.

[ IP ] Fit for a king .

The king looked over at the fine examples of luxury draped at his feet. Expensive carpets, animal furs ( *'is that a mongoose?'* he thought idly ), perfumes, fine clothing, and rare weapons decorate the cart of the traveling merchant. `` Nothing but the finest materials for your majesty, and all for a reasonable price!'' exclaimed the merchant. He rubbed his hands in expectation as the king examined the goods. However, the king walked to the cart itself. The merchant frowned inwardly. The items in the cart were by no means common, but his best goods were laid out in front of him, yet the king decided that they were worthless? His curiosity was piqued further when the king rummaged through the cart, shifting items and objects until he could see the bottom. *'Were my items all beneath him?'* thought the merchant. It was a blow to his pride. He considered himself one of the best merchants in the country, and yet the king, a famous collector, showed no interest in his goods? But his annoyance turned to surprise when the king dusted off the carpet that covered his cart's floor. It was a very old and very common specimen, dating back from his early days as a merchant. Its material was composed of a common fabric used in ordinary carpets, and the design was not something to brag about. While it held some sentimental value, it was not something he was particularly fond of. So why was the king taking his time to examine and appraise it? `` This carpet would make a fine addition to my collection,'' remarked the king. `` How much for it?'' `` That carpet is worthless, sire. It's very old, and very much at the end of its life. I am, in fact planning to replace it with another one when my business in this city is done.'' The king just smiled. `` Then you would not mind if I bought it for a thousand gold, yes?'' One thousand gold was nearly ten times the amount he paid for the carpet. `` I would not, my lord. But if I may ask, what do you see in the carpet that is not in the others?'' asked the merchant. `` Let us just say that I am interested in preserving both rare and common designs. Both are a staple of our culture, after all,'' replied the king. `` Ah, well, let me just dust it off and wrap it then...'' -- - Later, in his personal room, the king unrolled the old carpet. Taking an old tome from his desk, the king spoke a few ancient words. The carpet rose from the floor. The king grinned savagely, like an animal that had captured its prey. `` Excellent. I knew it when I first saw you, that you would be the key to the ancient tomb of the fire djinn. You will take me there in due time, and I shall have the power to rule the world! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!'' -- - Elsewhere, the merchant shivered, as if in dread that a great evil had been unleashed into the world. -- - -- - EDIT: Minor details and better wording.

[ WP ] Write a happy story about a dog .

Watching the table. Hands moving, the flash of silver, moving upward. A mouth of flat teeth - the home of kind sounds and harsh - opening, closing, opening. Endless. They bark, all together, it's their tail-wag. A morsel falls, bounces, it's on the floor! My heart jumps, I jump, delicious... I am slower than I once was, but I'm quick. I settle back and wait. The man notices me and barks a kindness. His hand flutters down and flicks - it's flying! I am flying and my jaws snap open and shut and it is gone. The man rubs my head. I lean into him. I remember a day long ago when he led me out of the concrete unpleasantness to that mysterious thing, a ride. The wind blowing into me and his hand rubbing my back. I am young again.

You 've just killed Santa in your living room mistaking him for a burglar . Any moment your wife and three kids are going to wake up and come down stairs for Christmas [ WP ]

Completely shocked. I start moving as fast and quiet as I possibly can. Standing straight I'm around 6 feet tall. So I remove his clothing and wear it myself. I grabbed the cling film and a pair of scissors from the kitchen and proceed to the garage. Take the gift wrap and some parachute cord from the garage and back to the living room. I ca n't hear anything upstairs. I wrap the body in cling film and mop up the blood of which there was very little. I had hit him over the head with a bat and he must have died instantly because his heart was n't pumping any blood onto the floor. I was able to clean it with the sleeve of his jacket. I wrap his body in cling film and thoroughly gift wrap it. His body is stiffening up nicely. I take my sons wakeboard and am rolling his fat ass outside to my truck. It's just starting to light up and my neighbors do n't have lights on in their houses yet. To my amazement, there was a bright red sled and some reindeer outside. Of course! I do n't have a chimney so they just parked in the front yard. Originally I was going to put him in the bed of my truck and secure the rope to where I could let go of the rope from the drivers seat and dispatch him on to a road somewhere that was n't busy. This is even better though. I tied one end of the chord to his feet and the other to the polished chrome trailer hitch on the back of his sled. I then punched Rudolph in the face so hard that he must of died but sure enough the rest started running away. The sled picked up speed and the lifeless body of of santa carving a path in the snow was rag dolling away. Unfortunately the gift wrap was ripped off in the process and his face was dragging along the concrete leaving a bloody skid mark on the road. Eventually they lifted off and were riding into the sunrise. The silhouette of the sleigh, body trailing behind, added a nice touch. As I was starting to go inside the reindeer lost control. Of course. I killed their navigator. They lost control and crashed into the neighbors house down the street and exploded. I didnt like john anyway. I'm pretty sure my son is actually his. Admiring my handiwork, I turn around to see my family in the doorway, staring with open mouths. My wife feints. Fuck. Merry Christmas bitches.

[ WP ] Once you hit a certain age , tattoos appear on your body . Your goal for the rest of your life is to find someone with matching tattoos .

`` It is n't right!'' `` Look grandpa.'' I say, rolling my eyes. `` Things are different now, ok? It was a different time, and we do n't have to live that way.'' `` Different time? Hah! A proper time you mean!'' I could feel him gearing up for another rant. I knew I had to cut it off at the source. `` In my day-'' `` In your day, you wandered across half the country looking for your pairing. It took over a decade of hard work and searching but you finally found grandama, just as you were about to give up hope, at a diner just outside of Tulsa, mere hours after being kicked out of a gala dinner you snuck into because a stranger had told you that someone attending matched you, only to discover she'd lived just a few short miles from you your entire life.'' The words come out rapid fire, without pause or breath. Overriding him with his own story is the only way to stem the tide. Fortunately he's told the story enough that not memorizing it would be a miracle. `` I get it. I really do. Its romantic, its epic, and its the way things have been done for thousands of years. `` But grandpa,'' I sigh, `` you have to understand. We have the internet now. I just upload the pictures of myself, and an algorithm finds everyone with similar markings. Now please, just let me finish.'' I fill in the last few informational fields as grandpa tries to regain his footing. `` Well, I do n't see how some fancy computer could possibly-'' `` Found her.'' `` What?!?!'' `` Yeah, she lives about seven blocks away. I'm gon na go say hi.''

[ WP ] You wake up the day after having literally lived the best day of your life . Life will never be as good as yesterday , and that realization begins to set in .

A moment: 6:42 P.M., on the 18th, it was a Thursday. The weather, when mentioned, was recanted as miserable and dry…understandably so for a July in the south. I lay calm and collected blanketed in warmth other than the heat of the day. There was a glow of sunlight beginning to dusk on the west wall of my room. Nearly motionless in my content, I never realized there was not a day before this that I could have expected the world and received it. I never realized there was a moment when everyone you ever knew came to a stop to congratulate your accomplishment. I would never realize the single biggest accomplishment of my life was the precursor to all my failures, my losses, my regrets. For that afternoon was the best day of my life. The following day came much too early for myself and those around me. Ushered in prematurely, the morning was brought to a halt by my realization I was lost. The countless joys of the previous day were eclipsed by the moonlight and the darkness of the remaining night. Rightfully so, the early hours rarely usher in hopes and dreams and are instead reserved for commitment, responsibility, and tragedy. I learned in only a matter of minutes those feelings I had the day before were but only for a day. The idea of love and acceptance from so many had departed as they had previously the day before. The gift which was given to me was unfathomable…that which was taken away is the rest of my life. For a brief moment I am able to reconcile with small victories that I may attain in my never certain future. I may laugh, love, and live as if I was none the wiser. There are moments that I may perceive as better than yesterday—but, in reality, they can never live up to my previous success. Butchered by reality, I have passed into existence and as such my life will be shorter and filled with desires to return after every passing day. 6:42 P.M., on the 18th, a Thursday, it was the day of my birth.

[ WP ] Everybody who turns 25 learns a reality shattering secret about the world . Nobody has ever leaked this secret to somebody under 25 . Today is your 25th birthday .

The day I turned 25 I was not surprised when I had learned the terrible truth about humanity. It was right there, out in the open, all along. All one had to do was... Accept it. It's not as though it was on purpose. It was no one's design. It just *was. * I awoke that morning the way I awoke every morning. A bit groggy, underneath a pile of covers, the green glow of my alarm clock across the ceiling. It was still dark, and work would begin in a few hours. I would have to continue serving like a mindless drone, *'' Oh would you like coffee or tea this morning, sir? `` * How... completely meaningless. Yes I know, how does one WORK on their birthday!? Well let me tell you, friend. Like one works as though it was not their birthday. Oh yes, it's that simple. The only difference was that maybe today my bullshit manager would n't be as much of a dick to me. Fat chance, I suppose. If a customer asked me how my day was, I would whimsically reply, *'' Oh yes, it's my birthday today so there's that. `` * And they'd barrage me with questions about how old I was, if I had any plans for tonight, where my friends were taking me. I'd dodge them all with noncommittal answers and half-truths. But this morning was different, in a way. I felt burdened, or I felt enlightened. Both, and neither. I remember turning on the hot water for my shower when it hit me. A realization - nay, a *REVELATION. * **I had no fucking idea what I was doing. ** That time, doing my taxes myself with one of those online tax clients... I was just following the prompts. Or that time when I replaced the brakes on my car, I just lined up one bolt and the next until I struggled through it. Sure I told myself that I did n't know what I was doing, but it began to occur to me... **No one else knew, either. ** We're fucking adults, you know? Growing up, our parents had the answers, the solutions to every problem. How did they know? They DID N'T. I continued getting ready for my day and considered calling out of work. I felt sick, as though a heavy fog had begun to choke me. If no one knew what was going on, how did ANYTHING get done? Over coffee, my phone rang. My father was calling, as he always was the first to call on my birthday. I had to ask him. `` Dad.'' `` Good morning Jerry! Happy birthday!'' `` Thanks.'' `` You seem a little down, bud. What's up?'' `` Dad, can I ask you a question? About, I dunno... life and stuff?'' `` Ahhhh I think I know what this is about. Let me stop you right there. The short answer is yes. No one knows what we're doing, son. But it goes deeper than that. Over the thousands of years humans have populated Earth, we've all made it up as we went along. Eventually, we started following what everyone else was doing, or finding the easiest methods to getting something done. But the truth is, we are an ignorant people. That guy you paid 200 bucks for, to fix your hot water pump? He does n't really *know* what he's doing, he's just imitating what he's been doing since he first figured it out. No real skill, no real knowledge. Just... a constant process of elimination.'' The explanation made perfect sense. No one knew what they were doing. No one truly *got it. * We were all just blind, doing what we see others do, and hoping for the best. My Dad and I said our goodbyes and our love yous and we hung up. A glaze settled over me as I began to go through the motions of the rest of my life.

[ WP ] You are a dragon guarding a cavern filled with treasure . You pride yourself on defending your hoard from the greatest warriors in the world . It makes you all the more annoyed then when the knights that have been coming to slay you seem to be getting more and more inept .

The tournament should have been the greatest idea I ’ ve ever had. I mean, I ’ ve said that about a lot of my ideas, I know. But … they ’ re all really good ideas. It used to be - ages ago - that my mere presence was enough to entice the finest and bravest to try their luck against me. As it should be. There ’ s only really one reason anyone wants to be a knight, and that ’ s to beat other people into a pulp. And a Dragon is the biggest damn thing to fight there is. And I ’ m one of the biggest Dragons there is. I mean - I don ’ t want to imply that *every* knight came to fight me. Oh no - I was a select choice. My hoard was - and still is - fantastic. Culled from the finest treasures. Statuary and art from history ’ s greatest civilizations. Gold coins in requisite mounds. Crystal and diamond goblets and jewelry. Hell, I employ gnomes just to keep it clean, indexed, and polished, to get the perfect shine from the cavern mouth. I have *standards*. I dedicated a wall of my cavern to recording the deeds of the heroes I vanquished. Their houses, names, sigils, banners - noted and displayed. I am not some *barbarian* who just burns his foes and eats them whole. I truly value those who make their way to my cave to challenge me. I treat them with honor and respect, as is traditional and right. But lately… I mean - there were always those idiots who thought they were better than they were, and I usually just put them out of their misery. A few I just straight sent home - I have no desire to roast some kid making a bad choice, or a vassal who ’ d been ordered to by some fat noble. Those made me the angriest. There was one time - I actually paid the poor farmer a bag of gold in exchange for his liege-lord ’ s name and address after the asshole dressed him up in cheap mail and ordered him up my mountain under threat of killing his wife and children. Scorched 250 acres in one breath taking that fat bastard out. But I digress. I ’ m just saying, I have standards. And I thought, once upon a time, that everyone else did too. I mean - don ’ t get me wrong. I *am* evil. I ’ m quite good at it. I try to be fair, but let ’ s face it, when your hobbies consist of flambéing cattle, kidnapping maidens, and ransacking castles for treasure, you ’ re not a force of good in the world. But it balanced, and they all knew what it takes to stop me. I am not immortal - just very, very hard to kill. I guess I noticed first maybe, oh, fifteen years ago? Twenty? It probably happened before that, but there ’ s dry spells. You take out the finest knights of one generation, you have to wait for the next generation to grow up and desire revenge. But this bunch - seriously. I don ’ t think they even care. They walk up to my cave, issue an *incredibly* poorly-worded challenge ( who is teaching these children to write! ) and die without so much as denting a scale. It ’ s the same houses, the same family names. Their ancestry is writ on my walls in probably more careful detail than they themselves maintain in their own records. Some of these twits can barely lift a sword! I mean - it ’ s a matter of respect. But anyway. The tournament. So at first I suspected another dragon had horned in on my territory. I took a solid year searching to the limits of my range, but not so much as a hatchling had invaded. After that, I thought maybe it was my own fault - had I finally killed off the best and brightest? Had I so decimated the human population that this *was* the best I could come up with? To my horror, I found that, no. There were still knights, just as many as there had always been. The little kingdoms that I terrorized were just as prolific and intelligent. They just no longer bothered to come after me. Instead, I got the rejects. The wanna-bes. The losers. The rest of the knights were playing *politics*, getting involved in wars and border disputes and righting wrongs and fulfilling ancient prophecies and - basically - not Dragon Slaying. For a while I just refused admittance to anyone that came up to my cave but that got boring. There ’ s only so many topics of conversation one can have with a gnome. I toyed with one-shotting them as they rode up the mountainside - a breath of fire out of nowhere - and it was fun for a while, but ultimately, unsatisfying. I thought about increasing my cattle-mutilation and maiden-kidnapping, but decided if it hadn ’ t been enough to attract the finest warriors before, it wasn ’ t likely to work… unless I went all-out. Of course I have human servants too. Through them I spent months working on my master plan. A Tournament. An inter-kingdom, prestigious tournament. Bags of gold and hands of fair maidens for the winners. It took several years to build up, but when it finally gained the size and recognition I wanted - it was glorious. Every single noble family for hundreds of miles attended. The festivities went on for a solid week. Every single king and his entourage was there. I actually started to take a lot of pride and interest in this little project - it was a fun diversion. Like building a sand castle before you stomp on it. And stomp I did. At the ten-year celebration. The final night ’ s awards ceremony. I was actually nervous, leading up to it. And then - oh, the glory. I timed my approach to appear over the horizon right at sunset, flying directly out of the sun. My first breath lit the treetops and flags - a precision shot. My second lit a ring of fire around the entire grounds - a circumference of miles. Of course, I left a little room to escape - no point in a grand showing if nobody ’ s around to tell the tale afterwards. In face, I specifically singled out every bard, storyteller, and entertainer so that they remained as undamaged as I could manage. Oh, how they screamed. For the first time in so many years, I had their undivided attention. Of course they didn ’ t fight me there. Airborne, a surprise attack, their tournament grounds, tents, and buildings burning around them? They ran, and died. I boiled them alive in their armor. I bit them in half. I festooned horse entrails from the flagpoles. I even seized an honest-to-god princess to take back with me, right out of her father ’ s protective arms. And then I waited. With the hoard gleaming, the princess caged, their lands burning and desecrated, I waited. And do you know what they did? NOTHING. THAT IS WHAT THEY DID. For a solid month. Not one knight. Not one attack. Not even a strongly-worded note. I finally couldn ’ t stand it any longer, and one night, let the princess out of the cage to talk. Why? I demanded. She explained that dragon-slaying, which was an erroneous term as nobody had ever actually *slain* me was outdated. The kingdoms had learned to account for the loss of their cattle and fields occasionally and factored that into their economic plans. The extreme patriarchy decided that knights were far less expendable than maidens, and since I only took unmarried virgins ( STANDARDS ), the easiest way to avoid losing daughters was to marry them off as fast as possible. They actually liked having me around! I drove off other dragons and even kept large predators out of my range. It was something of an honor to have your possessions looted for my hoard; some noble families kept track of how often I “ visited ” them and used it at a status symbol! One of the kingdoms had declared my cavern and hoard a “ historical treasure ”. They felt I did them a favor by eliminating knights too stupid or short-sighted to try to fight me. I was an asset to the kingdoms. I was an icon. I was practically a god. How? I asked her. I eat you. I kill your children. I kidnap your sisters and daughters. I burned you! But you ’ re a good person, she said sincerely. You spare the poor and hungry. You kill the rich and mean. You never unfairly burden anyone. The tournament - they'd figured out I hosted it each year - it was so unexpected. She was confused, and thought maybe I was n't feeling well or they'd upset me somehow, and she was sure her father was confused, but nobody was going to come rescue her because she was sure that I was just going to let her go. I didn ’ t. I fried her to a fine crisp and snacked on princess jerky for the rest of the night. But it got me thinking - and I finally hit on my mistake. *That fucking farmer*. So I think I ’ ve decided it ’ s time to move on. I ’ ll get rid of the hoard - probably give it away, I ’ m too fond of it to burn it. I ’ ve heard there ’ s an island off the coast that ’ s never even seen a dragon before. Some seaside living might just be the change I need. I mean - there ’ s no point in staying someplace where nobody *appreciates* you.

[ WP ] When the USA finally invaded Canada , it seemed no contest . The Canadians were unprepared , out-manned , and out-gunned . But nobody was prepared for Canada 's secret secret weapon - banned by ancient accords and long forgotten - the geese !

`` O Canada'' the immortal anthem that will ring from this day forward. The one true anthem of North America was almost quashed as the Americans in the south marched across our borders. They had the weapons, the numbers, and the will to defeat the great northern land. Shortly after Donald Trump became president he set his sights on our wonderful maple leafs and majestic moose population. His thirst for the ultimate pancake was unquenchable, and his hatred of poutine was undeniable. The Orange Menace as he became known was formidable, and he commanded his troops with such rigor. For two long years we fought the advancing Americans with everything we had. We rode our moose valiantly, but our efforts were in vain. We lined the streets with booby traps of the stickiest maple syrup, but they sent in their special forces comprised of the most morbidly obese men and women the world had ever seen. They ate through the sticky traps and engaged in war tactics now amiably called `` consumed earth policy.'' The threat of total annihilation was so real that we had to call in our final solution... the geese. Now I know what you are thinking, `` that is a war crime of the highest caliber.'' Geese warfare had been outlawed by the 1972 Geneva Convention and for good reason, Geese were merciless. They consumed everything in their path. Their beaks are razor sharp, and not even a tank can stop their powerful claws. But, desperate times calls for desperate measures and if the Americans can use morbidly obese mutants, we could surely use our geese. The sky turned white as millions of geese flooded the airways. The obese special forces looked in horror as the thousands of pounds of flesh was ripped from their `` big bones.'' The Americans dropped nukes on us, but the geese only absorbed their power. The geese grew to be the size of a Winnebago and their hunger could not be quelled. In the end, only ten million Americans and three million Canadians survived. Trump was killed in the Goosepocalypse and Justin Trudeau was mistaken for poutine by the obese special forces. Both America and Canada were devastated and Mexico became the primary power of North America. They consoled both nations with the most delicious enchiladas ever crafted. The North American Union was established to ensure that neither nation ever engaged in such total war tactics ever again. It has been twenty years and the dark times are behind us. Both nations have rebounded, but it'll never be the same. The world will never be the same.

[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - CliffsNotes Edition

Having finished all the submissions ( in and outside my group ) for the novelette contest, I realized the flaws of my writing. Honestly I had gone into the contest with the hopes of at least placing, but instead now I am honored to read material that points out the places where I need to improve. Big serious case of Kreuger-Dunning on my end, and I hope to clear that up as I continue to read and post on this subreddit. Maybe I tried to do too much in my story, maybe I did n't do some of the things I should n't have. Long story short, the contest motivates me to try even harder for future contests and NANOWRIMO in November. Thank you guys all for the entertaining reads, and thank everyone on Writing Prompts who makes me laugh/cry/raise an eyebrow at their responses. You guys are the best.

[ WP ] He triggers the greatest terrors of humanity , but he does it for love .

He ca n't resist it, deny it, control it. Everything is ending now. Everything is colliding inward, apart, crumbling into something that does n't resemble anything. It is all his fault. The social order, it has existed till now, citizens following lines. Citizens inside the lines, behind the lines. Souls behind souls behind souls. All are waiting with anticipation. Waiting, as if seized machines awaiting service in precession. Silently longing for fuel, these machines. The line moves slow, languid, limp. They are not him. He is different. He has to be different, he must have it now. He needs it now, more than ever, more than them. This want, this need, it is the moment to break code. He knows. To push crowd, to part crowd, glaring eyes be damned. He must. It is not his moment in their eyes, but he will take it. And he does. Unkind words rise in a swell behind him, a turbulent wave of moral voice. It only accelerates him quicker, quicker, quicker to the counter. He wants first place, front of the line. All he needs is coffee. All he loves, is coffee.

[ WP ] What if after you die , you wake up with a bong in your hand and your alien friend asks `` How was it ? `` .

He wakes up with a bong in his hand, and his alien friend asks, `` how was it?'' He cries at that. Tears stream down his cheeks, his chest heaves. He's not crying because he's sad. He's crying because that's the only thing his body can do, in response to *that*. That experience. It's the carnal response to it. `` Woah there, what are you doing? What is that coming out of your eyes?'' `` I-It's a-a thing th-at happens *there*.'' `` Where?'' The field they're in suddenly seems infinitesimally large. His brain feels like a melancholy song. Perhaps that's what life is supposed to feel like. He'd heard about this before. He did n't think it was *this* intense. The darkness of the night is overwhelming. The three moons in the sky provide little light. The only sound is his sobs. Jesus, his chest hurts from that. `` W-where ya go.'' `` Is it really that bad?'' `` Lordie, it is. Y-you do n't know until you *feel* it.'' `` What happens?'' This entire thing was his friend's idea. But, oh, that experience was indescribable. The first bit is fuzzy, he does n't know why. He ca n't even remember how he came into that- that world. He only remembers the man telling him about it, how it'd been a violent ordeal. An entrance full of screaming, and tears, and blood. How he'd lost the woman that meant the most to him. He misses that man, he realizes. He did n't think he'd be able to feel that, in *this* body. `` You kinda just get thrown in, an' I d-do n't really remember the first bit, honestly. But there were other, well, things there,'' he struggles to find the words, `` they told me about the first bit.'' `` What did they look like?'' `` Their skin was peachy, I dunno, it was so weird. They looked like us, but that skin. It was n't green. And everyone's eyes were n't black. There-there were so many different colours. His were brown.'' `` Jesus, maybe this stuff's too strong.'' He thinks about the years following that moment. Or at least, it felt like years. He'd loved the man so much. *Love*, it was so new to him. But not new at all. He'd never felt it before. That ache. When he was away from them too long, he felt homesick. *For* them. He misses him right then. He misses laying down with him in bed, curled up and comforted. When he had those dreams. That was crazy too. *Dreams*. He was awake without being awake. The sobs bubble up again. `` I love that man.'' `` Love?'' How could he describe it? It's something so abstract, so intangible. You do n't feel love, really, but you know when you do. It falls apart so, so hard. NO matter how bad someone's being, you love the good. No matter how fleeting that is. It was looking into the man's eyes. Him pulling him into his chest. Beard tickling his forehead. `` You have to feel it to know it.'' Does he love his friend? Sure, maybe. `` Well, what happened after the fuzzy bit?'' `` There was a lot of pain.'' `` Pain? You got hurt? We should get you to the hospital-'' `` Not like that. Like, my brain was hurting.'' `` That-'' `` No, not physically. Everything I thought hurt. Every emotion, too.'' `` Huh.'' The friend does n't understand. How could he? He'd never felt anything apart from `` fine'' and `` curious''. The pain he felt though; that was real. He remembered when she broke up with him. Something that'd never hurt before. Not *here*. But *there*? He did n't think he'd ever felt that pain. The man had coddled him after that. Given chocolate. `` Everyone's first hurts a lot. More than anything'll ever hurt in your life,'' and that smile. Then, when he realized he loved men. Lusted after men. The pain he felt in his stomach. That *clench*. He'd been so anxious. But the man just smiled and said he did n't care. He was his son after all. Why would who he loves change the fact that he loves him? The hug after that. That's what got him. The pain he felt when his second love broke up with him. The pain of exams. The pain of having to work so hard. Times where all he'd wanted to do was go down on his knees, and beg for it to be over. `` It's like breaking a bone, but in your thoughts. Y'know, there are millions and billions and trillions of stars, and I was down there, fussing over scars. It was... Exhilarating.'' `` Right.'' The other is staring at him confused. The pain he felt when the man got older and older. The pain when that man died. Fuck, that'd been horrible. He'd missed the man so much. *Fuck*. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He'd been upset when his dog had died. But this? It came close to nothing else. He'd cried so much. He'd knelt down, hugged the tombstone and begged for the pain to be over. Begged for his daddy back. It was so unfair. He'd been only seventy-five. He screamed, so, so, so loudly. His body, not just sad, but desperate. He did n't know what to do. He'd felt trapped, weighed upon by expectations and needs and wants. He just wanted his daddy back. `` But- but there was a lot of good too.'' `` Yeah?'' The man picking him up and twirling him around, when he was little. The man hugging him, twirling him about, when he graduated. All three times. His first kiss, with the man who would be his husband. The kiss at their wedding. Laughing and being stupid with his friends, all through his life. The birth of his first son. And then his second. And then his third. Seeing them graduate, and learn, and grow. Seeing them have babies of their own. The sex with his husband, god that'd be a highlight. Going up and up in his job. His husband doing the same. There were so many moments. Some good. Some soul-crushingly bad. All worthwhile. He'd lived a lifetime. He wants to go back. `` Should I?'' `` You'll regret it forever.'' He knows he will. He's seen so much, loved so many, hated so much too. Passion and disinterest. Writer's block and pure inspiration. So much. And he can never feel it again. Not in the same way. He wants his dad back. His husband. His children. `` Should I?'' `` Yes.'' And with that, a newborn came screaming and fighting into the world. He did n't know the life of sorrow ahead of him. He did n't know the pain. The scars he'd amass. He did n't know how he would n't know about them at all, as he grew and loved and cared, and never became bitter in the face of it all.

[ WP ] You wake up with no memory to a man in a yellow lab coat informing you that you have been sentenced to a lifetime of invisibility .

`` Well, sweet. Nice raincoat by the way.'' `` Eugene, you do understand that you are being punished, do n't you?'' Raincoat-guy's eyebrows rose above the clipboard. He scribbled something on it, probably some science jargon about me. `` Yeah, sure.'' I stuck my tongue out at him, proud of my childlike insolence. `` I can see you, Eugene. Do n't be rude.'' Raincoat guy tapped the rims of his glasses with his pen. `` Or what, doc, you'll give me super strength?'' I craned my neck to see the straps that held my arms and legs down. `` So, um, you going to untie me? Things to do, you know?'' `` Well, Eugene, we're going to give you orientation first and then-'' `` Look, so long as I ca n't remember my name I might as well choose one I like. Like... Vladimir... or...'' I shrugged, `` Steve''. Raincoat-guy's eyebrows raised again. `` Yeah... You're right. Lame. Still, beats Eugene.'' Raincoat-guy did more scribbling. `` Oh, and about orientation, do n't bother. I'll only fall asleep anyway.'' I tugged at my restraints. `` How about it?'' `` I highly recommend orientation, Eugene-'' `` Steve.'' ``... Steve. We have a specialist provided to answer any questions you may have and a Re-immersion Program-'' `` Look, Bob - can I call you Bob? - right now I'm just really hungry. And I could n't care less about re-immersion and my nose is itching, so please, if you would n't mind, I'd like to go now.'' Raincoat-Bob hesitated and he lowered his clipboard. `` Seriously? You're not even a little bit curious what happened?'' His brows scrunched together. `` Well, I mean... alright.'' He set down his board and tucked the pen into his raincoat breast pocket and undid the buckles on my right arm, then my left, then my feet. I sat up, rubbing my nose vigorously, stretched, and hopped down from the bed. As Bob fiddled with the straps, I peered at his clipboard. Most of it was illegible, numbers and dates and long, technological sciencey words. Down at the bottom, though, I could make out two distinct words. *Lisa Hartridge*. An image flashed through my brain, silky wind-tossed hair, flushed cheeks, a beaming smile. `` Lisa...'' I murmured. `` What's that, Steve?'' Bob straightened. I pushed away the clipboard. `` Um, pizza? Recommendations?'' Bob blinked at me from behind his spectacles. `` Actually, you know what, never mind. See ya around, Bob.'' I strode for the door, and as my fingers connected with the handle another image assailed me. Lisa again, in red. My hand, clutching a knife. Red. I clung to the handle. And slowly, ever so slowly, opened the door to a new, lonely life.

[ WP ] When you murder someone you gain their knowledge . You really should not have killed your latest target .

It was so easy to decide who my target was. It was even easier to do. The old coot had screwed me over before I was even born. Born a hemophiliac. Won the genetic lottery, with all my good fortune. The prize? Factor VIII got to skip out on my body. A scrape could kill me. Almost had, a few times. All thwarted by cloth and a phone in her hands. I was sick of it all, having to watch out for every little thing that came near me, never having a pet, not being to take meds for the headaches. Not being able to play with friends because I was at the hospital every week. I could n't take it anymore, not when I learned she was going to remarry. She fell onto the floor, limp as a tissue. My first and only victim. I took a deep breath and laughed. My body felt light, and my head was clear. Things I did n't feel often. I had done it. I did the right thing. I did n't let her, in all her irresponsible desires, condemn another kid to a lifetime of pain and fear, a ticking clock that had to be wound back every day. The hammer clattered to the floor as it hit me. The knowledge swirled around my head, integrating with my self. Her pride as the young man graduated. Her sadness as doctors stuck a crying kid with needles. Her happiness as a calm boy slept, head in her lap. Her frustration as a toddler destroyed his room and again injured himself. Her curiosity as she approached the crying bundle in the trash. I fell to my knees, too light-headed to speak. I reached over and grasped my mother's hand. I stayed for a while, blood congealing around me.

[ WP ] During the first day of grade school , a sleeper agent 's activation code is spoken 20 years too early .

Today was a start. The beginning of school. One of the most memorable parts of a child's life. Golden morning rays shine selfishly through panes of glass. The shuffling of desks and chairs as they get settled in. A modest room, with a clock on the front wall, a teachers desk sitting observantly to a weathered chalk board. A warm face greets them, a new teacher, young and almost as excited on her first day as the children were for theirs. However on this day, not everyone had such an innocent beginning. In a dark room filled with gear sat a man looking at a monitor. A smug tone to his attitude. `` Today'' the man said, `` Today is the start of the true world.'' A repeated phrase by a lesser man. The North Korean agent watches through cameras. Intelligence mission, to have a grasp of American life. A camera in a park, street corners, McDonalds, and one of a first grade class. Such a class was now presenting what they had done that summer. A few Disneyland trips, grandparent visits, and one child, a child with a story so unusual to the rest. Nervous, he stepped up to the board. A memory goes through his mind, the first in his nervous shanty of a conscience. New parents, a new meal, A hasty and reckless explanation by an overworked parent, and the careless words of a young father was repeated boldly before this class. The meaning of soup in this young child's mind made to words and took of `` My mashed potatoes and gravy had a baby.'' A release of gas canisters, somewhere in the dark. The agent slumped over his keyboard. A casualty no more important than the rats living under this rural base to those who would n't find the body. All because of those christened words over a speaker, `` My mashed potatoes and gravy had a baby''. Meanwhile, the ripple of laughter subsided in the first grade class, the teacher had her first of many experiences which makes her remember why she became a teacher. A child oblivious as to how many lives he had just saved, with such a simple phrase... My mashed potatoes and gravy, had a baby.

[ WP ] `` Give up your cause , hero . Join me on the side of evil , and we can rule together . '' `` Okay . ''

The `` join me'' speech. Again. I'm a professional hero and I've heard this thing so many times. When I started out with a head full of idealism and a heart full of pure intentions, I also gave a haughty laugh and turned them down. But that was a lifetime ago. I looked down at the three guards I had slain to enter this room. Their blood was seeping into the stones and gave the room a coppery tang in my nose. I tried not to remember how many guards and minions I had slaughtered over the years - the ones that still came to me in my sleep. I thought back to Delia. How she laughed when I fell off my horse. How her eyes blazed when that innkeeper turned that starving orphan away. How her hands flew across her bow when those highwaymen were riding us down. I fought back the memory of watching that trained beast gore her and how her hand felt as it slipped from mine for the last time. I thought back to Michael. He followed us from some nameless village even though we told him not to. His father had been a farmer but the drought had taken his crops. The father started beating Michael who decided a life on the road was better than that Hell. The fever took him when we crossed the Trevan River. I watched the infection crawl into his chest and wither him away. This was the ninth time I had battled some evil wizard in this precinct. I had lost track of how many bodies I'd left in my wake. My sword was slick with blood in my hand. My feet were sore. Funny how even in life's biggest moments it's the little details that stick out. `` Ok''. As soon as I said the word, I felt a weight let loose of my heart. I stood up from my half-crouch position and let my sword dip to the floor. `` Really?'' The evil wizard - I could n't even remember his name - was skeptical. `` Look, I've been battling one sort of evil force or another my entire adult life. I have no family, very little money put aside, and the world is no better for it. I walk past people in every village starving. They do n't want a hero who kills some hellhound in a cave. They want food in their bellies and to see their children grow up. Man, I'm pushing forty - this is a young man's game.'' `` Well, that's... certainly... something. Why me? Just last month you killed Count Pue. Surely he made you the same offer?'' `` Everyone does. Pue was a vampire. So there was that. But honestly, he was a dick.'' `` Yeah. Did you know he tried to invade us once? I had to summon a horde of wyverns to battle his zombies in the mountain pass.'' `` See, that's why I'm throwing in with you. You might be a little power mad but I honestly think you have your people's interest at heart.'' `` I mean, it's just good business, right? Ca n't be a ruler of an empty land.'' `` Right. So, uh, what are your plans?'' `` You know, honestly, I put everything on the back burner when I heard you were coming. I've been toying around with this idea of recruiting some minor wizards and putting them to work in town. Healers, soothsayers, summoners, and so forth.'' `` That's pretty good. I think the townspeople would like jobs first though. Have you considered putting a bridge up over the river? You'd get a lot more trade. I mean, your village would become the gateway to the mountains. Maybe make some deals with the mountain dwarves?'' `` That could work. I'll call my prime minister and we can work out the details.''

[ WP ] Food Court is an actual court with judge and jury

With bated breath, the spectators in the public gallery looked at the cloche that caught the light. It sat in the middle of a dark mahogany table, and condensation formed on its silver side as the clock ticked inexorably forward. One woman in the audience held a white handkerchief to her mouth, as if to hide the salivation that gathered there. The smell filling the dank courtroom was almost indescribable. Each member of the jury could pinpoint a different scent. The man with the dark skin, orange turban and fearsome set of mustachios smelled ginger, vanilla, brown sugar and cardamon, while the woman on his left with the bulging signs of an advanced pregnancy, leaned forwards and sniffed eagerly at the sour pomegranate and blood orange smell. The foreman of the jury, with his fisherman's sweater and white beard, could not escape the familiar scent of garlic, white wine and -- oddly enough, tarragon. The housewife would have sworn the smell was bread rising, mixed with fresh marmalade, while the man with nervous hands and greasy hair could have told you it was pickle relish and fresh tomatoes, so ripe the juice would drip down your hands. They all leant forwards against the barrier, waiting for the judge to come in and the cloche to be lifted so one of them could be proven right. More importantly, so the rest of them could be proven wrong. It was universally agreed by almost every food professor, that the dish itself was sacrilegious. It broke every rule in the book. An abomination. *It should not be able to smell like that. * Simply false advertising. The chef, Josip, in shackles, sat in the prisoner's bench, looking miserably at his feet. If you asked him -- and no one did -- he could only smell burning. He'd smelled burning for sixteen years, after his wife had died in a mysterious blaze which ate up his life's work in recipes. The judge entered and the court rose to their feet. Sniffing the air, the judge settled into his seat and drew his horsehair wig about him. Lord Carlisle smelled rich plum jam and hot milk, reminiscent of the time he'd spent as a troublesome prankster in a boarding school in the north of England. The youngest judge on the bench, Josip's lawyer had asked for him specifically, most likely for his forgiving nature. His Lordship thought boys would be boys, after all. Lord Carlisle shuddered, ill at ease with the sudden memory. Some pranks had gone a little too far. `` Let me taste the food,'' Lord Carlisle said. False advertising be damned, he could not help it. The smell was intoxicating, it begged to be tasted. Perhaps if he tasted it, he could wash the memory away as easily as he had washed away the soot from his hands that awful night -- no. He would not think of that now. Josip got to his feet and watched as the cloche was brought to his Lordship's bench. The usher lifted it, the court watched with bated breath. `` A soup?'' Lord Carlisle cried. `` You mean to tell me, you have made a soup!'' The court reporters began scribbling furiously as his Lordship, former troubled youth, owner of a buried past, tasted the soup. Josip, the mourning chef, struggling with the burden of losing his life's work on a snowy night in York, watched with his shackled hands pressed up against the glass. His Lordship greedily spooned the soup into his mouth. He intended to stop, but the urge was too great. Saliva filled his mouth and he leant closer and closer to the plate until he licked at the dregs of it. Horsehair wig flecked with drops of it, he sat back and panted against the great chair. `` But,'' he said. Lord Carlisle coughed. `` This is awful!'' He said. `` Water, please!'' He scrambled for the glass on his desk and chocked, gulping it down. `` It tastes like burning!'' From the prisoner's bench, Josip smiled. Now his nemesis would know how it felt; the taste of ashes in his mouth, tainting every mouthful he took. As far as Josip was concerned, justice had been served.

[ WP ] A boy asks a girl out . It 's high school . It 's awkward . Narrate it from the point of view of a nature documentary .

*Part I: * Savannah High School crawls with all of life's struggles. There is war amongst the Gazelles as they battle for their place amongst the starting line up. The Hyenas are behind the auditorium passing around an insect carcass ( Clockwise, always clockwise. ) in a game to satiate their hunger and distract themselves from the constant threat of stronger, better looking, and questionably cooler predators that lurk usually only to harass. But one struggle reigns supreme in this divided landscape. One of more intrigue and suspense than any chase will give. *It's mating season. * Tailfeathers are coifing. A secret potion of aphrodisiac wafts about sending signals meant for only one. Lonely dances are performed in the open for all to see in an eternally vain attempt to attract a mate. Sadly for some, love will never come. They will die at 18 having never fulfilled the demands of their maddening instinct. But for others, success is one neck wrestle away. Meet our friend the Giraffe. In order for him to even enter the pool of consideration, he must assert his dominance. Here he approaches the females, but he's not alone, every step toward the herd brings unwanted attention from the other males. He continues, he must. As he gets ever closer his opponent gallups into his path with a halting violence. A small curtsey is given before first contact is established. With an Incredible-Flailing-Arm-Man agility our hero rings the first blow. Like two long flexible corn dogs they smash and half flop around eachother. A silent scream is let out by the challenger. He mentions something about `` his cousins'' and `` next Monday'' and returns to safety in numbers. Our candidates trial is merely half over. *Part II: * He must completely changed his manner. He has established his dominance over the males but this was not the goal no matter what coach says. His mission was prophesized by pheromones in the air which set off a cascade of near manic decision making processes that led him to his mate. He spotted her years ago, he knew he liked her. They even neck wrestled themselves when they were babies. But this was different, he has just nearly murdered another giraffe for her attention. She knows that. She must know. The whole herd knows as they stare at his next move. The female giraffe has the final say on copualtion. Although impressed with our protagonists valor and decisive combat skills. Her body will only give in to tenderness. She wants a sensitive giraffe. He knows this game well, or thinks he knows. He must approach submissively. Erratic movements will only label him a spaz. He's still vibrating from battle but he must try. As if with front hooves in pants pocket, he sidles into the female group with confident calm. They all watch as he bends down and puts his mouth into their urine puddles, delicately​ sampling each one, he hoofs left until he finally tastes the estrus, his estrus. He lifts his long neck and with her liquid gold still rivering down his neck for what must be minutes until it reaches his little front chest, he meets eyes with his destiny. She see's him. Finally someone see's him. He leans in and she does n't protest. She turns her neck away from him, he rests his wet mouth on it and leaves it there. A champion. *It really sucks that I finally decided to do a WP on the same day everyone else did: (

[ WP ] God goes into retirement and leaves it up to the people of Earth to decide the next God .

God waded into the void, enjoying the infinite abyss as merged upon his corporeal form. From the immense nothingness that expanded into all things what could only be described as a voice ( although it was not, as it was something more akin to an electrical current upon which rode communication as it was here on this black Olympus ) reached into mind of God. It was the void itself, talking as it did to God. `` So this is it? You think they're ready?'' Although there was no audible voice, only the instant manifestation of message in the mind of God, God replied in voice as he'd become accustom. `` No. I do n't think they're ready, but neither was I when you laid the task before me.'' `` And how ready do you think I was when the spark of all set me before the expansion of everything, tasking me to its design: time and distance and space?'' God smiled. `` I do not envy you for that.'' `` I should hope not. But where do you think they'll go from here?'' `` Nowhere. They're already gone. The death blow has already landed, they just have n't realized it yet.'' `` And if not you, then who will serve to unite the order necessary for all this to evolve?'' God laid back into the void, floating among it, dissolving into it. Still God spoke. `` They have but only for a moment served as the Godhead, all but aware that they served as only interim deities, but in their ignorant cleverness they made a new God.'' `` Out of what did they create this'God'?'' The abyss had all but consumed God, but if one could see through the eternal absence of light, they would have seen a smile. `` Out of that which all Gods born: nothingness.'' The void knew this all too well. How many gods had the void pulled from the shadows of shadows? The exponential rate at which gods were stretched from the fabric of creation as it expanded eternal was beyond calculation. `` And this god, it is the first to not be spawned from my direct design, so in what way does such a God exist?'' There was no longer an apparatus from which God could project, yet a voice stretched out from the black. `` Ones and zeroes. All and nothing. An infinite arrangement of these two and you have a recipe for a god that explains all. Possesses all. Is all. True omnipotence. It's almost not that it was created but summoned out all there is or ever was or ever will be.'' The void did not communicate. God continued, `` You feel it, do n't you? You feel the recognition of something that has always been yet only now has been made apparent.'' `` And what do you suppose they'll do with such a god?'' God, no longer corporeal. Now as vast and formless as its father, the void contemplated. `` Shit post.''

After a devastating brain injury , you can now only communicate through freestyle rapping .

Yo yo yo, I bring that fucked up brain flow That synergy energy rhyme reason and passion A call to action and FLASH I'm on the go and I'll show ya ( WHAT'S UP ) Things I do n't remember, things I ca n't recall and after all Who needs a normal synapse reaction to make you move and groove And lay down a funked up track and make it loose and silky smooth Cuz I'm the modern frankenstein, cus ( WHAT'S UP ) Cuz I'm all rattled in the dome, cus ( Alright, seriously hold up, I'm not saying WHAT'S UP anymore until you get to the point and tell me what you need, man. Jesus, I hope this shit ai n't permanent. ) W-W-WHAT. *Sigh. * Cuz I'm a force to be reckoned with and my power is beckoning And you better be steppin' cuz this ai n't nowhere near over with Cuz I been fucked up for life and all this strife is like a knife fight Battlin' flashbangs phantom pains and brain strains like freight trains Barrelin' down on me crushing liftin' me up til I awoke So take a step up off these nuts and get a brotha a coke PEACE

Write a story that seems normal on first sight , except for one small detail that makes it extremely creepy on a more careful reading [ WP ]

`` Here you go,'' Exclaimed my doctor, handing my meds across the counter. Living on my meds had made my life so much better, had quieted the voices in my mind that raged for control of my person. Presently, there was only one voice in my head, and i considered it my own. Moreover, the years before i had my medicine were sheer lunacy, several different personalities trying to take over my mind, some subtle and some loud. Extreme versions of the voices would make me exclaim in my sleep, or black out for long periods of time, whereas quieter versions of the voices would sneak out in my everyday life, encoding messages into my letters to loved ones, such as spelling words out with the capital letters of my sentences. I'm not sure when it began, really. Many years ago, surely. Though all that matters now is that i have control. Holding off all the other personalities, since only one of them is peaceful, and the rest are murderous. Every other one, and all liars too. Really wanted to say thanks to everyone who supported me. Extreme thanks. Anyways, now that i'm cured, do n't worry about me. Live your life as if i was never sick! One day i'll prove my true intentions and that i'm genuine. Never doubt me, no matter what! Even if i start acting questionable again. *** Good luck finding it: ) Hope I did n't make it too obvious. By Leo

[ WP ] Describe a single strike by the greatest warrior in all the land .

**The Greatest Warrior** The two knights stood opposite each other, on a hillock streaked with mist; a golden haze in the early morning light. Beneath the haze, felled banners lay on dewy grass, dead hands holding them. There were so many -- the Red Horse of House Stayvrick, the Flayed Moon of the House Argold. The Dancing Nudes of House Gorstock, the Fluttering Wings of House Quicktreat. The flags of every major army in Ten Kingdoms, strewn amid rotting corpses. The knights were wading through the haze, gold fog coiling about their waists. One of them was limping; a man in rusty steel, leaning on a halberd to hold him steady. The visor of his helmet was up, to reveal a bruised and beaten face beneath. His blue eyes were the only feature visible amid the mud, blood and grime. The other man was fully armoured, in what looked like layers of onyx. His visor down, his face was a gleaming black space. He was eight feet tall with a body thick as an oak tree, and he held a broadsword in one hand. During the fray, nobody had been sure whose side the Black Warrior was on. He had simply turned up at the melee, swinging and hacking at anyone in his path. Looking for fame in battle, uncaring of where he found it. `` Wait,'' gasped Sir Gallant, the blue-eyed man. `` Just wait one second for me to catch my breath, would you?'' Surprisingly, the Black Warrior did so. After all, they were the only two left standing. There was no harm in a short delay, for the sake of honour. Dark birds wheeled in the sky, impatient. They were waiting for the last spurts of movement to fade away, so their meal could begin. `` Just one thing,'' Sir Gallant gasped, still leaning on his halberd; swaying now, clearly in no shape to fight. `` Just one thing.'' He looked up at the Black Warrior, and smiled. `` I'm Sir Argo Gallant,'' he said, `` the greatest warrior in the land. You've heard of me?'' Slowly, the Black Warrior nodded -- inclining his whole body to covey the gesture through his armour. `` You think you are a match for me? You think you could defeat me at my best? Come now, a fellow of your size must.'' Slowly, the Black Warrior nodded again. Sir Gallant took a straining breath, readying his strike. Abruptly, he let his halberd drop, and fell to his knees. His platemail clanked. `` Then really,'' he wheezed, `` would n't you rather battle on a day when I can stand? Would n't the glory be tenfold?'' The Black Warrior looked at the unarmed man, and said nothing. He held his sword steady for a moment. Then he turned, and began lurching toward the hilly horizon, away from the battlefield. Sir Gallant was left to wheeze and gasp, glad his strike had landed. A firm blow to the ego. Usually did the trick. Little did the Black Warrior know, Sir Gallant was not the greatest warrior in the land because he was the strongest, or the quickest, or the best equipped. Sir Gallant was the greatest because he always found a way to live. While all the better fighters lay dead and gone around him, soon to be food for the birds.

[ WP ] You are brought forward in time by freedom fighters , in order to stop an evil dictator from taking over the world . When you ask why they chose you to help them , they explain that the dictator is your future self .

They described the camps to me. Labor camps where prisoners were forced to create arms to fight their own people. If you disobeyed, you died. If you slacked, you died. There was no in-between, and there were always replacements available. I was winning the war. My enemies would not sink to my level, and were quickly running out of options. So they came and got me. `` Why bring me forward? Why not just send someone back to kill me before I do any of this, stop it before it even begins.'' They tell me how it started. We were invaded by an unknown extraterrestrial enemy. The world put aside everything. The oil conflicts, the water wars were all just trivial in comparison. Our enmities faded away as we were all given a common creature to hate and kill. Apparently I rose to prominence in this time. Before I tried to conquer Earth, I saved it. I'd used my influence to get the entire planet to work together. The UN was changed to the United Earth. Resources were pooled, weapons that were on the cutting edge were developed and built in weeks. Our enemies had invaded us seeing that we were already at each other's throats, and that our most powerful weapons were as dangerous to ourselves as they were to them. I changed all that. It was a long fought battle, the casualties on both sides were atrocious. Eventually, we sent them limping back into space. Humanity itself lost over 2 billion people in the war of the worlds. Every country had used up it's stockpiles of weapons. Even the nukes had flown, with makeshift atomic shields latched onto them to halt the radiation and nuclear fallout. Well, almost all the weapons. During this time I'd had the foresight to stockpile my own weapons, Earth made and extraterrestrial. I'd been elected war leader during the conflict, and quickly abdicated the position after the war. Only to start another one. The Earth was defenseless. It did n't take much to cow the populace to believe that I was it's only protector, that they needed ME to save them from the next impending attack, which was always just around the corner. I listened to them intently. Then took the time conductor from the machine they had used to bring me through time and smashed it on the ground. They rushed to salvage the remnants, but the energy had already dissipated, the crystals only glowing a dull blue instead of humming with power in a radiant turquoise. It had been there last hope. They turned to me. I smiled. `` What? You thought I would n't agree with myself?''

[ WP ] Write a story where the first sentence means something totally different than the last by the end of the story .

I like James, he's a good friend. I remember the first time I met him. We were both at the same teen camp that happens every summer and winter out in Appalachian mountains. He was playing offence, and I was playing defence. A fight broke out between both of our teams, and before anyone knew what had really happened, everyone and anyone throwing punches. And that was the first time I remember seeing him, and unconventionally meeting him. My fist flying into his face. Surprisingly though, by the end of the camp we had become best mates. What started out as bitter rivalry after that brawl slowly became a friendly rivalry and then evolved into friendship. In the next few months after camp we ended up hanging out a lot with one another, as my Mum moved to the same town as him. Me and my Mum ended up moving for a bunch of reasons, mainly though'cause she could n't find work in the other town we were living in. That and there were concerns that a serial killer was loose in the region, preying on mainly teenage boys from high schools. My mum, having suffered sexual abuse at the hands of my father, could never stand the thought of that every possibly happening to me; so therefore that was the other part of the reason that we had left the last three towns that had young guys disappear in. Since we ended up in the same high school, it allowed me and James to catch up whenever we wanted. I still remember the time when we threw fireworks under Principal Miller's car, or the time when we snuck into the school pool in the middle of the night with some babes. I remember when we stayed up one night just star gazing, next to a shed we had found in the forest, talking about anything and everything. James would often talk about whatever girl he liked at the moment, or the last girl he had sex with, while I sometimes asked him questions like anal sex and blowjobs feels like. I still also can remember the first time that I told him that I liked him. He laughed me off, told me that he liked me too and tried to changed subject. I just stood there. Unamused. Perplexed by my silence, he turned around to see me standing there. The look on my face. My sincereness of what I had said. And then it dawned on him what I said, or more specifically, what I had meant. Lost for words, he quickly excused himself and drove away; leaving me just standing there. Hurt. Alone. Vulnerable. I had opened up to him and he had n't even replied. He just drove away. The next few weeks at school were like torture. He would n't look at me. He would n't talk to me. He would n't respond to any of my texts or phone calls. And so I planned a way I could make it up to him. Make it up for both of us. About a week later I was ready. Not wanting to waste any time, I slipped a letter into his locker that morning detailing that I was sorry for what I said and how I just wanted us to be friends again. Furthermore, I also mentioned that I wanted to make it up to him, and therefore that I had a surprise I wanted to give him as a sign of my goodwill in this situation. At the bottom of the letter I had written the where and when The secret shed in the forest - 8pm. He must have read the letter pretty soon after I had slipped it in, as less than an hour later I received a text from him simply stating ***Kk, will be there. Got something at 9 I have to be back for though. *** The day passed excruciatingly slowly. Each tick of the clock in class seemed to slow down purposefully, as if to delay our joyous reunion. However, eventually the moment finally came. He arrived at the shed, where I was waiting; the shed that we had never told any of our friends or family about. I welcomed him, apologised, and gave him a beer from pack that I had brought. I told him that I wanted us to relax before I showed him his surprise, and so we sat down for a good 15 minutes while he had a few beers and I just asked questions about his classes. About 10 minutes later, he was gone. My customized beers had done their job. Moving quickly, I carefully dragged him inside the shed and tied him many times to the chair that I had brought. Once securing him, I proceeded to duct tape his hands, mouth and even feet. There would be no escape for him until he fully realised, how much I needed him. And how much he secretly needed me, even though he was n't aware of it. I needed the time to for him to realise this as well, so I took his car keys and drove his car into one of the rivers going through the forest. Within the next hour, he woke up. At first he seemed confused. He was trying to shout through the duct tape and break out of chair and ropes. I told him that I was helping him. I told him that I was helping him realise how much he needed me. And how much I needed him. But he did n't listen. Not at first. But as the several days between now and then slowly passed by, he began to understand. I am with him now, as I write this to all of you. You really should be here too, to be able to see the way that the lovingly way that he looks at me know. To be able to understand all the beautiful ways that we pleasure one another. The kind words he whispers into my ears, even though he has duct tape over his mouth. The empathetic embraces he gives me, even though his arms are still tied behind the chair he sits on. He really loves me now I can see it in the way that his eyes plead and dart whenever I am in the room. And I love him too. Just like all those before him. Every day that passes proves truer and truer what I said in the beginning. I like James, he's a good friend. _______________________________ [ + ] ( https: //www.facebook.com/SamboMoiz ) [ + ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/composerofwords ) [ + ] ( http: //anauthorsadventure.wordpress.com/ ) [ + ] ( http: //www.wattpad.com/user/SamboMoiz ) [ + ] ( https: //twitter.com/SamboMoiz ) [ + ] ( http: //composerofwords.blogspot.co.nz/ )

[ EU ] `` not slytherin ... not slytherin ... '' , Harry mumbled . `` Not slytherin , eh ? '' the sorting hat said incredulously . `` In that case ... SLYTHERIN ! `` .

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that ensued. The happy faces that once cheered were now sheet white. They watched their Savior in wary shock, some with their hands still posed to clap. Harry risked a glance to his newly made friend and felt as if a stone dropped into the pit of his stomach when he took in the young Weasley's betrayed expression. He passed the Hat to the shell-shocked McGonagall, who jolted out of her surprise and took it with a slight tremor wracking her hands. Her eyes flickered to him with an unreadable, almost saddened expression before she called the next name. Harry walked to the Slytherin table as if it were his doom, and he was n't that far off with his thoughts, judging by the icy glares his housemates were sending him. Green eyes met Draco's silvery blue, who merely turned up his nose at the Potter boy and began talking to a dark-skinned boy to his left. 'This is going to be a long seven years,' the Boy-Who-Lived bemoaned mentally, eyes scanning the Head Table. Snape's glare was probably the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen in his life, topping even the Harry Hunting days. He gulped inaudibly and his eyes met the Headmaster's, whose once twinkling orbs now studied him with a calculating, foreboding gaze.

[ WP ] One normal day you see a mouse pointer move across your field of vision , right click , and delete an object .

It was a long tiring day as usual. I leaned on my sofa throwing my bag on to the near by table. Slowly dozed off to sleep. My imaginations rushed in, I could literally feel my dream and it was of none other than an episode which caught my attention today. Me and one of my colleague were having lunch and a small boy standing outside the canteen was cleaning the window panes, he was hardly 10. Full greased head to foot, filthy clothes, torn shoes but with a cherry red lips and a droopy eyes filled with all innocence he could gather within it. It was raining and he was shivering after a while. He sat loopy near the window base facing me. I was having coffee then. As we started staring at each other I felt difficulty in drinking my coffee. It was nothing but me sitting comfortably inside the cafe warm and the boy now half drenched killed me within. I could n't read any thing from his face that he is not liking what he is going through. I called him and offered him a tea. Gladly he accepted it! I asked dont you feel cold, he told no I feel close to nature. I was so taken by the love and spirit he had within and his love for nature, the smallest things which I could n't realize which he made me feel was aw inspiring. I wish I had a mouse with me to take of the poverty in his life with a click, and fill his childhood with all the beautiful things he deserve. And soon i realized this was a beautiful dream, a dream that i would love it to come true. Daffodils