Datasets:

euclaise

/

writingprompts

like 22

[ WP ] The mines have run dry

Robert tugged the sleeve of his coveralls over his hand and wiped the grime from a safety sign as he passed. MSHA was mostly busy with the newer mines these days, overseeing exploration teams, but a little caution never hurt anybody. Idly he shifted his nicotine gum from one side of his mouth to the other and leant over a railing that had once been yellow but which was now sporting more of a blackish-gray hue. Below him a bank of zinc thickener cells bubbled serenely away. Metallic pustules on a slick surface of water and chemicals. Smelled strongly of pine... someone must have been getting fancy with the xanthate. Nothing looked to be going wrong so with a bored sniff he went about collecting his samples. Seemed like it'd be just another ordinary shift. `` Got ya some dirt, little lady!'' he called cheerfully as he strode into the assay lab carrying a stack of metal pans. The young technician he'd spoken to looked up from weighing a sample and sighed angrily at the sight of his sample stack. `` Mills? Seriously? Why the fuck are we still running this shit?'' Robert smiled - he always tried to bring in his mill samples around this time of day, just to get the chance to hear the little foul-mouthed firecracker bitch about it. A petite science major holding her own with the crass miners and the snide operators. Really was a delight to watch her in action. He shrugged when she glared at him. `` Got ta calibrate the floats, even if there ai n't much in there,'' he offered. The lab tech threw her head back in obvious exasperation, then went back to her task. She spoke as she continued to weigh up fluffy white powder from an envelope. `` Calibrate them to flat fucking zero, christ! What the hell do you think's gon na be in there!? We're running straight tailings!'' `` Now that ai n't true in the least,'' Robert objected. The girl turned her head to glare questioningly at him and he grinned. `` Some'a that shit's backfill.'' `` Oh my god just fuck off and leave me to die,'' she groaned. With another frustrated sigh she leant forward to see to her scales again, gesturing to the sample piled up on her microbalance as she did so. `` This shit's bone white, dude. *Bone. White. * It's been a quarter flour every single run. I'm not even getting a silver correction because my *goddamn inquarts* weigh more than the sample dore. Five hours of work to get a report full of zeroes! What's the damned point?'' Suddenly her head snapped back around in a flash of pique and pointed angrily at Robert's stack of samples. `` And I can fucking tell you right now what your assays are gon na be on that pile of crap you just brought. Eight percent lead, nineteen percent zinc, your unit cell's sitting at a nice fat tenth of an ounce and I'm pretty sure I could n't tell a bucket of gravel from the conditioner feed. We're just *rolling* in the dough here.'' Robert smiled, a tinge of sadness to his face. `` Yeah, well...'' he muttered. Then sighed. He took off his hard hat, stripped a glove off and rubbed tiredly at his balding crown. `` Look, I know it's been a real shitshow these last few months. But far as I see it we're all damn lucky to have a job. Not many operations willing to invest runnin' their own backfill. Red Dog just plain shut down, you know? Kensington too. Lotsa guys out of work now. I'll gladly take nineteen percent zinc over nothing so long as it keeps food on the table.'' `` The only reason we're even getting the recoveries we are is because the old crew was so stupidly inefficient running the real ore,'' the tech grumbled bitterly. `` We owe our precious *jobs* to a history of pervasive incompetence. Forgive me if I'm not super enthusiastic about that.'' `` Aw come on now. Let's all thank the old dead bastards for bein' a bunch'a dipshits, then, got ta have a bright side.'' With a bright grin to counter the lab tech's dour scowl Robert flipped his hat back on. Much as he'd like to hang out in the fire lab shooting the shit with the little lady he really had to get back to work. The Met boys wanted their new system ready to operate by next week. Hopefully this latest gadget of theirs would manage to bump the gold recoveries a bit, give the assayers something to do. Net a nice bonus, maybe. Not that they got many bonuses these days. Ah, well... man could dream. A wave, some friendly parting words and Robert left to see to his duties. Lab girl was right, of course - their recoveries were damned pitiful. And they'd only be getting worse. Soon enough that zinc con would drop; 15 %, 10 %... 5 %. Could n't keep feeding the same pulp through the same process and expect anything much different to happen. ( Even if those starry-eyed metallurgists kept insisting their new circuit could work miracles. Robert could n't reckon the thing as more than an oversized cyclosizer. ) Still, that dreary end was probably a good ways off yet. For the time being they had their tailings pile and thirty years' worth of backfill to work through. Plenty of work to last him through retirement. Six or so hours later he heard the sound of the mill office printer clunking to life. Daily assay reports. Smiling, he reached over and grabbed the sheet before it could miss the tray and sail for the floor. **Pb Con 8.4 % | Zn Con 18.9 % | Au 0.97 OPT | Analyst comments: `` FUCKING CALLED IT. `` ** Robert laughed and shook his head fondly. Yeah... they'd be fine.

[ WP ] [ EU ? ] The year is 2077 . For the 100th anniversary of Star Wars someone has released a gritty reboot of the series ( ie BSG 2004 ) . How does it open ?

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... It is a period of civil war. Republic forces under the sway of an increasingly tyrannical Jedi Council are violently crushing the rebellious planets one by one. In an effort to end further bloodshed, the Council has begun construction on the ultimate weapon of compliance, the DEATH STAR. But hope is not lost. A young rebel leader named Luke Skywalker leads the successful guerrilla campaign against the Republic on the desert planet of Tatooine. Princess Leah Organa of the breakaway Alderaan system makes a desperate attempt to join forces with Luke before the Death Star can be brought to bear. All the while a rogue master named Kenobi, judged Sith by the Jedi Council, may hold the key to restoring balance to the galaxy...

[ WP ] Get out your dictionary and turn to a random page . Pick a new word you like , and build a sentence around it . See how many you can fit and try to build a story .

ragamuffin- a dirty young child wearing torn clothes It was just another ordinary day at the convenience store. Yup, nothing... out of order... here... James stood in front of his boss, with a stupid artificial grin of his mouth, with a mouth clamped over another mouth, trying not to let it peep out anything. `` James, are you okay?'' asked his boss, suspiciously. `` Yup, everything's fine,'' yelped Jason, as casually as he could in this sort of situation, also known as staring at his boss like he was about to go for his neck. `` I'm just real, reeeeaaal happy. That's all.'' ``... alright. I would hate to spoil your morality... I'll just stay here and watch the store.'' Jason grinned harder and made direct eye contact with his boss, staring deep into his soul. `` Um, actually, I'm gon na go,'' blurted Jason's superior. `` Got ta go to the, um, snack aisl- bathroom! Yeah, bathroom. T-tell me if you find... um... never mind.'' His boss slowly edged away from him, looking at him with every step, to make sure he does n't pull out a knife or anything. He went around a corner, and was gone. Jason looked around, making sure no one was looking, and then he let go. The child he was holding took a large gasp of air, and started crying. Shoot. What was he gon na do now? He did n't know how to take care of a kid. He worked in a convenience store, for God's sake. What was he going to do? He left the child there for a quick minute, and looked out the door. Still nobody. No incoming cars, or people, or anything. Just him, and a kid. He went back inside and looked at the kid. Jason still could n't really find out much from the child. Looked about 2, maybe 3, even. He could n't really figure out what gender the child was, and he did n't want to check, just in case someone walked in at the exact time he happened to do so. Jail was one thing Jason considered more bottom-of-the-barrel than gas station convenience store worker. Well, maybe he could get more info about the kid if he just asked. 2 was around the age that children started speaking, right? Maybe. Jason got the kid's attention. `` Um, what's your name?'' The kid stared at him, with blinking eyes. `` Your name. Name.'' With a smile on their face, the kid slowly opened their mouth, and said: `` Jeheeah.'' Was that just gibberish, or was it their name? Jason thought about this. Jeheeah was no name any sane parent would give to their child, but then again, who would leave their child splashing around in a dirty toilet in the middle of nowhere? You know what, screw it. There's been no sign of anybody coming to retrieve this kid for hours. Who was gon na care if he gave them the wrong name. `` Alright, let's just say your name's... Jessica. How about that?'' The kid said nothing. It was good enough for Jason. But before he could say anything else, Jason's boss walked back in the room. `` Who are you talking to?'' He was listening. Shoot, what should he do? His boss knew quite well that there was no one in this building named Jessica. `` Uh... er...'' What could he do? He already glared at his boss like a maniac. He could n't go any higher than that. `` Well, what is it?'' `` Um...'' `` Just say it!'' `` Fine! Fine!'' That's it. He could n't do much else now, could he? He brought the girl out from behind the counter. His boss' eyes went wide open. `` My girl!'' He ran over to her and scooped her up. James could n't believe it. `` Are you serious? That's your daughter?'' `` Of course! I was looking for her earlier.'' `` Why are her clothes so dirty?'' `` Well, where did you find her?'' `` The bathroom.'' `` That explains it.'' The girl let out a squeal as her father hugged her close. James' boss nuzzled her head as he walked out of the gas station, leaving James alone.

[ WP ] My cat comes home nearly every morning with cuts and scratches all over . Write about what he could be getting up to on his nights out .

Muffled footsteps sounded the retreat of his human for the night as the final light in the house was extinguished with a forceful click. Leo's ears perked and pivoted as he listened to the floorboards creaking upstairs under the human's heft, the squeaking springs groaning as he lay in bed, the house growing silent and still at last. The lack of protest was all the approval Leo needed in his late night escapades, rising from the cotton comfort of his chamber at the foot of the stairs to slink across the marbled tile of the kitchen towards the tiny exit at the bottom of the door. His fiery mane and cobalt eyes shone briefly in the dim moonlight pouring in from the window above as he slipped quietly out the door. In the light of the full moon sat a short-haired feline perched atop the rails of the back porch, his roman silver pelt glistening as Leo approached the steps below. The tabby strut down the stairs slowly, giving a curt meow over his shoulder as the other cat fell in line, inches away on his right side without so much as a complaint or response. The two toms trudge down the dusty alley alongside a white picket fence simply enjoying the freedom of the night and the company of one another. As they reached the open street, Leo and his follower sat upon the curb awaiting the rest of the gang. From the right came a mixed Siamese stepping along the sidewalk at a quick pace while a Persian approached from the left with no pep in its gait. “ Can you believe these two Le Roy? ” Leo asked the grey cat sitting proudly by his right side. “ Whaddaya mean Leo? ” Le Roy asked innocently, so eager to respond that his words ran upon one another. “ I mean that they're late, Le Roy. Are you the only one that follows directions around here? ” Leo meowed in return, his voice growing upset at the disobedient display. “ Nine o'clock I told them, nine. Here they are at a quarter past and look at Cecil sauntering along without a care in the world. ” “ Um, Leo, I'm not certain that they can read like you can. ” Le Roy answered hesitantly, knowing that while his response would be unwelcome, Leo valued the truth. “ I-I actually had n't thought about that. ” Leo replied thoughtfully, “ I suppose I can let it slide this once. They're only twenty-five minutes late after-all unlike certain other felines we know. ” “ Leo, you're the best. So smart and kind and forgiving... ” Le Roy praised, as the faster of the two cats arrived. The Siamese placed a tattered black cloth upon Leo's back while holding a splintered toothpick in his own mouth. Le Roy drifted from his praise as he marveled at his elders, their powerful presence and bold appearance was breathtaking. Leo tore a small piece of the dark fabric and placed it upon the young cat's head as a makeshift hat which greatly pleased Le Roy. The three cats sat together, Le Roy giving his place at Leo's right hand to the Siamese cat, sitting happily to the left with his new hat. The Persian eventually arrived to join the pack as they lined the road with their growing numbers. Leo stared ahead as the others looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to ask the questions they knew would come. “ Cecil. Vincent. ” Leo spoke, addressing the two cats on either side. “ Cecil, where are the others? ” “ Well, Shadow is conducting a stake-out at the moment somewhere near the food place a few blocks down, the one with the red wood doors. ” Cecil replied in his deep, slow voice. “ Yes, I know the one. What is he doing over there? ” Leo asked. “ There's a rival gang attempting to set up shop in the east-side of town, Boss. Siamese. I told them that it was ou—your street, but they're setting up shop anyway. I sent Shadow to keep an eye out for us, report back if things turned sour. ” Vincent responded quickly, bowing gently to the tabby. “ Gizmo, Toby, and Simon. Where are they? ” Leo questioned Cecil as Le Roy followed his head back and forth, trying to keep up with the conversation of his older peers. “ Gizmo's working on a little something he thinks you'll like, Chief. ” Cecil responded giddily as his thick white underbelly swelled with pride. “ Oh ho, you know I like surprises. ” Leo smirked. “ Toby and Simon should be here soon, they ran a little late. They send their apologies and a bit of catnip. Each. ” Cecil said, gesturing towards the mini scarf tied around his neck as Leo dismissively waved his paw. “ Once everyone's here, how would you like to proceed? ” “ Everyone? You mean the two of us? ” a voice called out from behind. Toby and Simon were twin British shorthairs that moved into the area not long ago, Vincent personally scouted and selected the two to join their pack, knowing that their short fuses and high energy would serve them well in the future. The twins were always willing to join in on a brawl or dispute though it was unlikely that they would ever arrive on time. Despite this, Leo greatly respected their tenacity and considered them a part of the family just as much as the others. He was looking forward to seeing them in action tonight. “ You almost missed the party, ” Cecil replied as the others grinned. “ Hurry up you two, we do n't have all night. ” With five of his gang gathered around, Leo commanded their attention and silence as he explained his plan to infiltrate the East end and reclaim it as their own. Once this was done, Vincent would assume control and monitor the area in the leader's name. Le Roy listened to their chatter, trying to find the point where he fit into all of this when the boss addressed him specifically, seeing the overwhelmed look on the cat's face. “ You, Le Roy, you're with me. I want you to follow close behind and watch my back, you think you can do that? It's the most important job there is. Even I do n't have eyes and ears everywhere. ” Leo admitted, gently pawing his friend's shoulder. “ You do n't? ” the twins quipped to hearty laughter. “ Aye, captain! ” Le Roy cried. “ Nothing will get to you so long as I'm near, I promise. ” “ Good, ” Leo responded “ Everyone has their orders, let's tip the cradle. ” A large sign stood at the street corner several blocks from their meeting place, it read “ North Beverly Dr. ” on one side and “ Heathcliff Ave. ” on the other. Ahead were several restaurants and closed open air shops in addition to apartments, shanties and homes further East. Leo cared little for these things as he knew just where his rivals were currently dining. Together with Le Roy, he drifted onto the turf of the Siamese clan, knowing that the rooftops had eyes. Le Roy clung tightly to his side, making himself appear larger and more menacing if that were even possible for the adorable cat. Before they reached the restaurant with ornate wooden doors and golden statues at the front, three Siamese cats blocked their way. They stood in unison, unwavering and unimpressed by the intimidating appearance of the vengeful tabby and his companion. As they saw it, there were only two of them, the trio had the advantage in numbers and knowledge of the area. With a single order, they could call several more to their aid. Leo had stuck his paw willingly into their rat trap and they were hungry for mice. “ What's new pussy cats? ” Leo asked with a confident smile, much to the chagrin of his competitors as Le Roy snickered in response. The Siamese triplets glared at the orange cat, stalking forward as he sat down, unafraid. “ I've heard that you're looking to take up real estate around here and I know that you know this is my yard. ” “ Your yard? We do n't see your name on it ” the cats answered in unison. “ This place belongs to us now and if you want it— ” they motioned behind themselves as several Siamese and Siamese mixes bolstered their ranks. With nearly ten cats on their side and only two on Leo's, they continued speaking. “ You'll have to fight us for it. ” “ Fight? Did someone say fight? ” Toby and Simon asked, strolling from behind the Siamese clan. “ If there's anything we love ” Toby began, “ It's a good ol' fashioned scrap. ” Simon finished. “ Four? Is that all you have? ” one of the Siamese leaders guffawed, “ If that's all, half of you boys can go home. Actually, we'll let you take care of it from here, there's a half-full carton of fried rice with our names on it. ” The leaders began to trot off to their restaurant as Vinny appeared from the inside, grains of rice clinging to his dirty whiskers. “ Sorry boss, I had to take a little lunch break. I hope you do n't mind. ” Vincent asked, licking his lips and paw, blocking the doorway and preventing the brothers from entering. “ What should I do with these? ” he asked, rolling the toothpick in his mouth as he gestured with his head towards the trio in front of him. “ Clean'em up. Show'em where we put trash on these streets. ” Leo commanded to the delight of his second-in-command. Vincent fought the three cats, luring them into a darkened alleyway near an overturned trashcan where Shadow lie in wait. Together they overwhelmed and made short work of the leaders as chaos descended amongst their ranks. Leo and Le Roy watched as Vincent returned from the alley, Toby and Simon prepared to pounce from the back, and Cecil finally joined from the opposite side. The six cats had successfully blocked off the exits for the remaining Siamese forces. The corned cats mewled loudly, causing reinforcements to appear from the alleyways and closed businesses all around. Leo expressed his surprise at their determination to fight without a leader, to continue their losing battle all because of a few hidden members. He rose up and unleashed a growl as Shadow jumped from the rooftop and scattered the forces in fear. Toby, Simon and Cecil took down the cats that attempted to escape while Vinny and Leo picked off the newcomers one by one. Fur, claws and teeth flew in the ensuing battle between Leo's gang of six and the bolstered Siamese pack of eleven. Toby and Simon fought hard, using each other for protection and coverage as they mowed down the demoralized crew.

[ WP ] You are a ghost who has fallen in love with a skeptic .

The situation was absolutely ridiculous. My entire life had been spent lobbying, persuading people to see my side. I was one of the top prosecutors in Southern California. Yet, here I was -- standing in front of the woman who'd moved into my house -- unable to convince her I was real. It was ludicrous! Her hands were shaking as she held the broom at my throat, much like her voice as she threatened me. `` I-I'll call the police if you do n't leave.'' I held my hands in front of me, hoping I could calm her and turn this situation around. `` Hey, Sarah. I understand this is a lot to take in. But let's just talk about this.'' I went to step forward, but she advanced with the broom. `` Talk about what, Jason? If that even is your name. This is my house, and you're here uninvited in the middle of the night. You know, I heard the neighbors were a little weird when I moved in, but I did n't think they were criminals!'' The way her cinnamon colored curls kept falling in her face as she trembled was almost enough to distract me from the situation at hand. Almost. We'd spent nearly every day together since she moved in just talking and exchanging stories. In all that time, I'd never expected to fall in love with her. I was just looking for someone or something to fill the endless emptiness of my days in the afterlife. `` I'm not, I'm not a criminal. Let me explain. This was my house. I lived here. I installed these floors myself. The knick in the drywall next to you is something I did, trying to move a dresser out by myself. I lived here for 8 years up until 6 months ago.'' She lowered the broom a little, still wearing the same betrayed scowl. I wish there had been somewhere else I could have gone, but apparently I was stuck haunting my house for all eternity. `` That's impossible that you could have lived here. My agent told me the man who lived here was killed.'' I looked at her, waiting for her to get it. She snorted. `` What, are you trying to tell me you're dead? Grow up.'' That was all she said before she swung her broom right through me.

[ WP ] You prepare to leave for work one morning . You strap your boots on when suddenly you hear a loud siren go off . Your friend bursts into your room saying `` they 're here ! '' . Right after that , you hear the intercom saying `` INVASION FEET HEADED HERE . ALL PERSONNEL PLEASE REPORT TO THE ARMORY ! ''

`` What the fuck is going on, is this a prank!? ``, I ask Jack. `` No, it has finally happened, the day we have waited for has finally come. Now we can put that training we have got to the test''. `` What training, what are you talking about? We are janitors'cause we got expelled for spoking pot, remember, or have you gone completely bat-shit?''. He looked at me with questioning eyes, as he took a deep breath. `` So you are a real janitor?'' he asked. `` What do you mean a real janitor, of course I am a real janitor!''. `` Oh'', said Jack. `` That explains so much. Follow me, I can explain in the armory''. We run to the closet where all the cleaning products are, but it is missing its back wall. We go through the closer into a huge room, full of medieval weapons as well as modern rifles. I just stand there, overwhelmed by all the thing in front of me. `` Explain'', I say to Jack. He looks at me. `` You would n't believe a word if I told you the truth. `` Try me'' I respond. `` Well we are demon/monster/witch hunters funded by the state''. `` Haha'' I respond, in the driest way possible as a man in full body armor walks into the armory. `` Jack Wellington, why are you not in combat gear!?'' the man shouted. `` Sit, there has been a misunderstanding Sir! ``, he replies. `` Explain'', the man said. `` Well my friend Daniel here is a, eeh, real janitor, there must have been some misunderstanding in the hiring process''. `` Daniel, you say? we were expecting a Daniel Osbourne to join out force a couple of months ago''. `` Daniel Osbourne, that is my name'', I said chocked. `` Hmm, I wonder what happened to the other Daniel'' Jack said. `` Take cover, the solider said as other people dressed like him entered the room behind him. `` Yes sir'' they said, and me and Jack went and grabbed a gun. He gave me a shotgun. `` Can you use it? he asked me. `` Eeh I guess it is not that different from the Walking dead''. `` Just stay close to me and you will be all right'', he said. At that very moment a giant warewolf attacked us, and that is the last thing I remember before passing out and waking up at the hospital.

[ WP ] A new god is born , and he promises you his support in exchange for you making his religion known .

`` Okay. Okay. This is a little hard to swallow.'' The man seems annoyed more than anything else. `` You *just* watched diseased beetroots fall from the sky while I rapped. What more do you want?'' He makes a crude gesture and, ten feet away, a pigeon finds itself on its back. `` It's just… a god of terrible puns? Really? And besides, why would you only come into existance *now? * Puns are old. Bad puns are old.'' `` Oh, I'm not the first pun-god – and, if you do n't help me, I wo n't be the last. An un-worshipped god dies. A god that was never worshipped simply ceases to exist. And the last couple millennia have been… unkind to newborn gods.'' He twitches a little as he says that. `` So. What's in it for me? I'm not totally clear what benefits supporting a pun-god could possibly have.'' `` Oh, plenty, I assure you. Imagine if you could never be caught off-guard in conversations. Always have a quick retort ready. Even if you're losing an argument, the ability to lose with style and panache. You humans are so scared of embarrassment, I'm surprised my predecessors did n't stick around.'' `` This is a terrible idea, but… fine. I'll try to drum up some worship for you.'' Wordlessly, my new deity hands me a bongo.

[ OT ] Writing Workshop # 50 : Conflict - Man vs. Man

As I surveyed the battlefield, I could tell it was going to be a long, bloody slog to achieve victory. Our right flank was all but decimated. Their much more combat adept knights had made quick work of the footsoldier advance, and were now closing in towards myself and what little allies I had left surrounding me. Our left flank was n't doing much better. I could feel the opposing king's smug expression boring into me as I composed myself, trying carefully to think of anything to slow the oncoming tides. Before the battle, I could see King Weiss from my perch. He was carefully setting up his men, ensuring nothing was out of place. I knew my opponent was careful like that, and I was sure that his perfectionism would be his downfall. I could not lose this battle. Not for land, not for money, but for pride. This man had done nothing but gloat, forever spouting praise of his amazing tactical abilities. My hate for him burnt like hot coals in my lungs. Today was finally the day that he would be brought down from his high horse, but all I seemed to be doing was giving it a pedestal. I watched King Weiss' men move forward. I knew my final stand was close at hand, and I must prepare my defenses with what little I had left. I pulled what men I could close in formation. I looked out, and saw the King himself was moving towards our last defense. Was he so confident that he would risk everything just to join the final battle? A sinking feeling in my stomach made itself apparent as I watched his men position themselves for the final assault. It all happened way faster than any of us had anticipated. Like a holy wind, the enemy descended upon us. One by one, I watched in horror as valiant soldiers were tossed aside like pawns. Before I knew it, I was surrounded and alone. I knew I was defeated. I stretched out my hand and only offered these words: `` I guess you're really as good as you say you are.'' He grabbed my hand firmly, and smiled knowingly. `` I'm sure you'll get me some day.'' He mused, picking up his pieces off the board, `` But today is not that day.'' I pushed my pieces over to him as he started scooping up pawns and bishops alike. I know I'll get him next time. EDIT: Grammar

[ WP ] After cheating on a woman who was secretly a witch , a man is cursed with a size-shifting manhood which becomes inversely-proportional to the love he has for each woman he makes love to .

**Sorry this is late, here is my take ( split into 2 comments ): ** `` Can you remember a time when things were going well?'' `` Yes, very clearly.'' `` Was it in the beginning?'' the doctor asked. `` No, well yes. Sort of.'' `` How do you mean? I'll tell you what; let's just start at the beginning.'' She sat, taking a sip from her tea staring at the corner of the room. `` We met at a friend's party one night. It was a brilliant time. The way he looked at me. I felt comfortable with him from the moment... We hit if off fast that night.'' `` Was there any alcohol involved? Did you have too much to drink that night?'' `` We were people enjoying ourselves at a party. Yes, there might have been some drinks involved. So I knew about Caleb; his tendencies with women. I was advised to stay away.'' `` What caused you to act against that advice?'' `` It is one thing to hear about someone, quite another to meet them and experience them for who they are. I was attracted to him and he seemed into me. We ended up back at my place together for a night cap. We had the most wonderful night, enjoying each other. It was just... sensual.'' She sat for a moment, too flustered too look at the doctor. She continued, `` He was so romantic. It was like he knew all my buttons. It was perhaps the best love making experience of my adult life, although somewhat painful. After the night, I had a feeling of attachment and a bit of sorrow.'' `` Why the sorrow'' he asked, writing something down in his notebook. `` It was doubtful whether or not this would last or even be more than a one-time thing. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to be with him. I knew it right then and there. As I said, I knew very well what I was getting into, but could n't just stop myself. I knew he had been with many other women and knew he was n't into long-term relationships. That did n't dissuade me. I knew what I wanted despite the obstacles.'' After a pause, she continued, `` he did n't respond to my texts, well not always and rarely immediately. I knew calling him was out of the question. He was willing to meet a few times after that first night, but he was hesitant to meet up more than once every other week or so.'' `` What was it about him that kept you interested?'' `` We just clicked on every level. I could see it in his eyes when we would look at each other, really look at each other. It was like he was cutting himself off, depriving himself from enjoying the moment. Every aspect of his body language was saying he was into me, but I was n't completely sure if that was just an act. The way he pulled himself away from staring too deeply into my eyes for more than a moment: I knew he was *trying* to keep from falling for me.'' `` Why do you think he was doing that?'' `` With all due respect, Dr. Bryant, if I ’ d have known the answer to that question, I might not be here talking with you. However, at the time I thought I already knew him. I *knew* he was holding back because he was afraid of commitment; Afraid of the future, like all of the Casanova types. I *knew* he was really just looking for the right girl. And I *knew* that would be me.'' After sitting for a moment, Dr. Bryant asked her to continue. `` Those first several months were really rocky. We nearly broke it off a number of times. Well, he mostly. There were mysterious phone-calls, late-night texts, last-minute trips, days without contact, sudden disappearances. I forgave him. Again and again. Not that I did n't have some moments. I understood why he was so popular with women and did n't blame him for basking in the attention. Through it all I could sense he was really falling for me. That kept me going. Maybe I was learning what it meant to be *madly* in love.'' `` You said the first few months were like this. Was there a turning point in the relationship?'' Brooklynn tried to hold off a smile as she continued, `` It was about ten months since we had first met. I remember the night because it was, by my calculations, the first time he had put off hanging out with his friends to be with me. There was a big game involving his favorite team and I had no interest in sports, not that he ever invited me out with his friends ( who were mostly women, but that is a different topic ). `` This evening was special. We went to the park, he had picked up some sandwiches and a bottle of wine and we had a picnic under the stars, just the two of us. I remember it as clear as a few minutes ago. He stared into my eyes. He smiled. There was no attempt to pull away. We embraced and made love right there. To be honest, afterwards he seemed to turn back into usual self, texting about the game score and hinting that if I was tired, he'd take me home and he could catch the end of the game. I offered to join him. He said no, that he would join me and spent the rest of the evening with me. `` From then on, things began to change rapidly. Communication improved drastically. He would even call *me*. He deleted most all of his former hookups from his phone. When that did n't work, he even changed phone numbers. I would come home to flowers, champagne and Bossa Nova tunes on the stereo. There were weekly date nights. He began to invite me out with his friends. They seemed as surprised as I was.'' `` This sounds like everything was going well,'' commented Dr. Bryant. `` At what point did you first notice that things might be going… sour?'' `` Well, things were going well for several months. What I noticed first was that he seemed to be losing interest a bit in the bedroom.'' `` Sexually?'' `` Yes, sexually.'' `` How could you tell?'' the doctor inquired. `` Well, and this is rather embarrassing, he was n't as into it as before.'' `` Was he moving around less? Reduced libido?'' `` No and no. Which perhaps makes me feel worse about bringing this up.'' Brooklynn was talking through teary eyes, trying to composer herself. `` His.. erections were not as strong as before.'' `` Did you seek medical care?'' Dr. Bryant asked very concerned. `` He did and checked out completely healthy. He even tried out viagra, with no change.'' `` Are you telling me he took viagra, but was unable to attain an erection? Or unable to sustain one?'' `` Neither. Getting or sustaining an erection was not the issue. It was fully erect, especially with the viagra'' `` I am sorry, Mrs. Roberts, I do not understand what the issue was then.'' `` It was j-just...'' as her words were interrupted by sobbing, she sat for a moment, calming herself down. `` That's ok, take your time,'' the doctor said. `` It was just smaller'' she faded to a whisper. The doctor sat in silence. She continued, `` His sex drive was unchanged. He was as passionate and loving and caring and perfect as ever in the relationship. Everything was perfect, but it was just smaller.'' `` I do not mean to offend, Mrs. Roberts, but I have not heard of any condition where such a thing could occur.'' `` Well it *did* occur.'' `` Well, sometimes our memory can play tricks on us. Sometimes the first time is so great, we put it on a pedestal in our memory and forget to appreciate how things really are.'' `` I know for a fact what I saw, what I experienced,'' she replied snidely. `` You mentioned you had been drinking the first time you were together, he often got you champagne and the turning point in the relationship was when you had wine in the park together. Alcohol can affect --'' `` No!'' She interrupted angrily `` It was *not* alcohol. I am not delusional and I am not forgetting key details in the most important relationship of my life. When we first met, every time we would make love from the very first and for many months, it was a shock each time.'' `` In what way?'' Brooklynn replied sternly, `` During those months, the very tip would have me squealing. One half thrust would have me screaming.'' `` Well overtime, we change. We adapt. That is perfectly norm --'' `` I could barely and I mean *barely* get him into my mouth, even just partially. My hands could stack up on it and could not fit around.'' Brooklynn interrupted. `` Ok Mrs. Roberts,'' as he stared on, trying to suppress his skepticism, `` when did you first notice that it might have changed?'' `` Over a year into our relationship it struck me one day. I was recalling the first several months of our relationship and realized, I no longer had trouble fitting him in my mouth, at least most of it. I thought maybe I had grown accustomed, but remembered without a doubt that my hands could not fit around him back then. The next time, I realized my hands wrapped around fully. There was no longer any doubt in my mind. But everything else was great and the lovemaking was still fantastic. How could I bring up such a thing? What would that do to him?''

[ WP ] A young girl dies and finds out that she is next in line to take the role of Grim Reaper

`` Why me?'' she asks, voice worried. Not anger, not indignation, just concern and curiosity. Only a child could muster up those emotions at a time like this. After being told they were to be consigned to harvesting souls for at least another eighty years. I was ninety now, ten when I died. Perhaps the pattern continued. And what was I supposed to tell her? I had a million theories, musings used to pass the dull boring years. You, because, despite whatever your parents told you, life is n't fair, and the powers that be choose their servants at random? You, because the gods want to start the Reapers young, and milk them for every second they're worth? You, because they think a cute little girl, a pretty young lady, or a kindly old woman would ease the suffering of the dying? You, because sometimes children get a second lease of life, even if it is n't the one they expected or deserved? You, because random chance found you dying just as the last Reaper was to be relieved of their duty? No, I told her none of this. I did what my predecessor had, all three of us just links in a neverending cycle. I wiped the tears from her cheeks, placed the robe firmly around her shoulders, kissed her forehead gently, and went off to receive the fate I had doled out so often before.

[ WP ] An elderly person with dementia has one last moment of complete clarity .

In his final moments, he was aware. Surrounded by loved ones, he stared at their tear streaked faces. He was dying..... He knew this. But....what was there to say? How could he convey the love he felt to the loved ones crying for him on his death bed? `` I'll see you in hell.'' With a final breath, he was gone. He did n't need those people, the people he'd called family. In that moment of clarity before his death, he remembered everything. Remembered the way his daughter yelled at him, and humiliated him. Remembered the way his grandchildren neglected him, and abused him. He remembered the callous way in which his son had'accidentally' shoved him down a flight of stairs... Several times. No, he did n't need those people, and if he was going to hell, he might as well see them there. But he was n't an unkind man, if they did n't come willingly, he'd drag them there himself.

[ WP ] You call to order pizza , but unknowingly call a hit man

My work phone rings and shakes across my table. I answer it. `` Hello.'' `` Hey man. I'd like to order a pizza.'' Simple code. He wants someone gone. `` Okay. What would you like?'' `` Pepperoni Pizza, stuffed crust, extra cheese.'' Ex-girlfriend, make it hurt, make it last. I like his style. Simple yet effective. `` Where to.'' `` 482 Walby, red house'' `` Alright, that comes to about $ 8000'' Simple kill so I'll give the man a deal. `` Since when the fuck did a pizza get so high? The government man, doin` all their crazy shit. Whatever man just make sure it gets here fast.'' He hung up. He`s got a nice cover. A stoner. I am sure he'll happy to here when the jobs finished.

[ WP ] For the first time ever , a person is born with a genuine superpower . They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it .

Music was the source of Isaac ’ s power. His mind could absorb the sinusoidal waveforms and extrapolate from them how the universe was woven. Listening to Wagner or Nine Inch Nails he could fundamentally understand the chaos of human motivation and conflict. Listening to Vivaldi he understood why the flowers bloomed and had a telepathic connection to the bees seeking them out. He had glimpses of his power when he was young, in his middle school chorus class. Hearing Jeannie Elmin ’ s solo during a practice one day, his mind linked to hers though her voice and he instantly knew all of her thoughts, memories, dreams and future. That ’ s how he found out that she didn ’ t think he was cute. She liked that stupid asshole Dave Merinich instead. He knew, not knowing exactly how he knew, that she would eventually marry Dave. They would never amount to much, and she would be miserable working a gas station in her 40 ’ s because Dave could never hold down a job. Isaac assumed this was just a revenge fantasy since he had no reason to think otherwise. In college he found that he could study so much more easily with a little bit of background music. It didn ’ t matter what kind of music – he liked them all. With a Lady Gaga playing, he could memorize his entire organic chemistry textbook in minutes, absorbing the knowledge directly from the pages through the harmonics of “ Born This Way ”. A lot of people like to listen to music when they study, so he didn ’ t think this was unusual. He did very well in school. Many years later when as a surgeon, he insisted on having Shostakovich ’ s symphonies played, in order, during all of his procedures on the old CD player he kept in the OR for that purpose. It helped him concentrate he said, and no one objected since all of his operations went flawlessly year after year after year. He ’ s a talented surgeon, and no one wanted to mess with a formula that always worked. Retirement seemed to last forever for Isaac. Time seemed to stop while he laid on his couch listening to Beethoven, imagining what the cardinals singing outside his window might be thinking, not knowing that he was reading their minds through their songs. Each day felt like it took a thousand years to pass, as his command over the universe forced time itself to slow to a crawl.

[ WP ] What if everyday you woke up and saw DEATH ?

*Dear Elizabeth, * *This may come as somewhat of a perplexing surprise but i've been looking over you for years now. Almost to my 18th year, actually. The hooded one or the grim reaper but to most, I am death. * *I know you've grown accustom to my presence but it was n't always this easy. If only I could allow you to see the first curious years of your life. The amount of tears I brought to your face is unsettling at times. Your parents must have rushed into the room dozens of times wondering as to what brought out these sort of screams in the morning. After some time, though, you became curiously quizzical with my presence. * *I give you my word that I meant you no harm. In fact, the opposite. You see, Elizabeth, you're a rather important human to us all. Not only do I have my attention drawn to you but the gods also have kept a servant or two overseeing your safety throughout the days. Providing too much information on this is forbidden to us all, especially you as it may affect the ways in which you live. Not that the grim reaper greeting you every morning helps, I know. * *In the future you'll understand and thank us all for keeping our distance. Your 18th birthday is tomorrow and with that, you'll be moving on with the path before you and there will be a new spirit greeting you each and every morning for another extended period of time. But do n't worry, it's an interesting character and it will be reaching out to you unlike I could. This may or may not be something you wish but is crucial towards the life you'll soon have placed before you. * *Albeit a small and limited amount of my time in front you each morning, I will think back on these days. I take no stance on being hard skinned or falling over as if a softy but feeling love and hate is certainly a part of all of us, even the gods. These feelings are strong in us and are something we experience as full as we are able. When you need me, Elizabeth, I will be there. * *The Grim Reaper* Before I could place the paper back on my desk, it slowly whisked away into the air. I did n't realize it until I my mind was back into this moment but I was crying. Quite a bit it seemed. I was a bit shocked, as death expected it seems. I was n't losing my mind as I once thought. When I wake up I'm somewhat out of it and perhaps a big foggy with my glasses only a few feet from me as I squint towards the corner where I *thought* I was, no no, I *was* seeing death. My breathing was a bit shorter now as I found the truth to be some sort of a massive cotton ball I could n't hold in my mouth and that was sucking up the remainder of my saliva. `` I need something to drink'' I told no one, out loud. After getting to the restroom and gulping down a small glass of sink water, I rushed back to my room and laid on the bed. So many questions were running through my mind. `` Who the hell am I going to see in the morning now, the'interesting character' that can reach out to me? Damn.'' `` Am I normal?'' `` I'm someone the **gods** are keeping an eye on?'' `` What the heck, gods?! Plural *gods*?!'' I found that the cotton ball too large for my saliva glands was back and I rushed off to the bathroom and brought the glass back after finishing a few cups of the iron-like tap water. `` Honey! Could you help me with the decorations.'' My mom's voice rang out as a slap to my face and a snap back into the world and existence I was in. *Oh shit* My birthday party. I do n't have time for this. I jotted down as much of the letter that I could recall and I rushed downstairs to help out for the party i'd be having for my life-changing 18th birthday. I am so terrified but I am so damn excited to see what this is all about. *gods were watching me?! * **Me?! **

[ WP ] `` They call us monsters , son . ''

His father sat alone in the study again about to crack open another book when the boy walked in. `` Why do n't we ever go outside Dad?'' the boy asked curious. The father put down the book and took his glasses off and pondered for a second what is an appropriate age to squash aspirations? He gestured for him to sit in his lap and the boy walked over to him. His beard tickled the boys face a little. At least he could be his son's warmth in the world. `` It's cold outside, son,'' he said softly `` Is n't spring supposed to be warm'' `` It can be but I have n't seen a warm one in ages'' The boy tilted his head in confusion. He's gone in the backyard plenty of times but it was never too cold. `` But why do other kids play outside with one another?'' `` Because they can keep each other warm.'' `` Could n't they keep me warm too?'' `` They could but they stopped liking people like us a long time ago.'' `` Why?'' `` Because it's a cold world and even as the seasons change the people never do.'' `` Will they not like me?'' `` Unfortunately son, they will never try to know you'' `` How do you know?'' `` Because they call us monsters, son.'' He looked into his son's bright purple eyes filled with hope in this world. Filled with the naiveté that is taught in fairytales. He stared at his son's pale skin, just as white as his own. If only the world could be pure as him.

[ WP ] You are the human personification of the Panzer VIII Maus heavy tank

I sexually Identify as a Panzer VIII Super Heavy Tank. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of punching through the front lines of the russians with my steel armour. People say to me that a person being a tank is Impossible and I'm fucking retarded but I do n't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having a plastic surgeon install 300mm thick armour and a 128mm main gun. From now on I want you guys to call me `` Maus'' and respect my right to kill needlessly. If you ca n't accept me you're AFV-Phobic and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.

[ WP ] Divided we stand . United we fall .

The achievement of world peace was only outshone by planetary order. Oddly enough colonization of distant moons and planets came far before people stopped fighting over anything. When the first settlement was made on mars war raged across the earth, as it always had. Even when the first colonies of saturn where populated and the moon was partially mined, the people of earth continued to squabble. However, over time, new generations cared less and less over regional differences. With the sky and all its resources at the disposal humanity, war slowly winked out. Then with new methods of creating power, knowledge, and empathy human suffering waned as well. There was no realization of utopia, people simply stopped fighting and instead worked to better their neighbour. Wether it be on a distant planet or a hop over a fence it made no difference. It was our golden age. Then it happened. Everyone knew how it began. A simple accident, the transport of a canister from a bygone age where our biology was turned into a weapon. However because of the pre determined spacial allocation of people, strong social networks, and near instant transportation across the globe, earth erupted. The virus that was unleashed devastated an entire continent within weeks. It was partially slowed for long enough to make a decision. All transportation to other worlds was suspended, ships on route where redirected or destroyed to ensure safety. Communications where cut, it was useless to listen anyway. The end of Earth was barely recorded, it simply eroded into dust. United we where capable of allowing the death of humanities mother. Divided we survived it, learned from it, and overcame it.

[ WP ] Satan prevents a suicide .

The man in the white suit ground a cigarette into a guilded ash tray. Its dying smoke wrapped around his wrist. He had done this before. Across the room slouched a figure he knew well. The wounded man laughed. With each breath, he slid further against the wall, leaving a crimson streak on grain of the uneven wood behind him. `` So this was your loophole,'' said the man said, lifting his wrist and pulling his shirt past the sleeve of his jacket. `` The one way to ensure we met again.'' The man against the wall coughed. The shadows behind him faded as the other walked closer. `` The Son of the Morning,'' he managed. He laughed once more and stiffened against the wall. The man in white suit knelt beside him. The Son of the Morning reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver case and an ivory lighter. The sounds of violence filtered into the room from outside. `` You'll recognize these, Nephilim'' he said, while pulling two cigarettes from the case. A gold circle stood alone on each. `` The fall lasted a thousand years. I saved two.'' The dying man lifted a hand and held an end to his lips. The man in the suit pulled back the lighter's casing and lit both. `` It seems fitting,'' he said, as he stepped away, `` that I would watch you die.'' The man against the wall inhaled deeply, coughing as his lungs strained. `` We both know this is not how it ends,'' he said. He drew deeply onto the cigarette. Blood was now seeping onto the floor. The man in the suit stood up and turned away. `` Is this my burden? To watch my only friend sacrifice himself so that I may not succeed?'' He turned back to the man on the wall as he spoke. The dying man was laughing again, but he did not look at the man in the suit. Outside, a battle raged. `` If I were to overcome you,'' the Son of the Morning said, `` The gate to our home would be mine.'' He inhaled, still surprised at the taste after thousands of years. `` Were you to kill me, you yourself would be mine.'' The angel nodded across the room, where his own bloody dagger lay. `` Prophecies.'' He laughed again, this time remembering. Lucifer rolled up his sleeves. Outside, the signs of struggle had faded and only howls could be heard. `` Not yet,'' he said, pulling the angel's wounds closed. `` Not yet.'' The man against the wall shuttered, and a blinding flash of light shook the room.

[ WP ] [ X-Post from /r/futurewhatif ] We send a small group of diverse people with supplies to a planet similar enough to Earth to allow them to colonize it . Soon after they land , Solar flares ( or whatever ) stop us from contacting them for 100+ years . After that time we are able to speak with them again .

♪ *This is Ground Control to Major Tom; Your circuits dead, there's something wrong; Can you hear me Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom? * ♪ Nothing like some good ole David Bowie lyrics to start the day. When I figured out I'd start working as a one man crew at NASA manning a long distance radio, I knew there would be plenty of down time. So, naturally, I made sure to fill up my IPod with plenty of space themed hits. Of course, there were classics like Sinatra's `` Fly me to the Moon'' or Jimi Hendrix's `` Astroman,'' but I always started my day with the familiar Bowie hit, `` Space Oddity.''. After all, I *was* Ground Control, and there *was* an officer named Tom leading the expedition. Not that it mattered, being that it has been 107 years since they took off. It's not like they would ever respond anyway. ♪*Can you HEEEARRR*♪ Just as I attempted, and miserably failed, to stretch the long note, I heard some static from the other side. Pausing the stereo, I listened intently. `` Just static,'' I concluded, shrugging off the odd occurrence as I turned the tunes back on. ♪*Am I floating in a tincan, Far, above the Moon; Oh, Planet Earth is blue, And there's nothing I can do, *♪ `` Hello.'' I stopped as quickly as I heard it. That was definitely no static. `` This is Major Tom to Ground Control.'' There was no way. Somebody had to be fucking with me. `` Ground Control, come in. Ground Control.'' `` I'm here,'' I quickly spoke into the mic, coming to the realization that even if this was a prank, this was not the time to take any risks. `` This is Ground Control. It has been 107 years, 45 days, and 32 minutes since last contact. What is the situation down there, Apollo.'' I had no idea whether their call sign was actually Apollo. I had just finished a Battlestar Galactica bender and it seemed to fit. What would they care, we had n't spoken in over 100 years. `` Our side is hardly managing, Ground Control.'' said Major Tom. `` We've exhausted the supplies. The ground here is hardly fertile. We've subsisted mainly on Lima beans.'' `` Luckily, this planet is rich in fuel. We have the ship's tank full with extra barrels in the cargo hold. All we need is the coordinates to get back.'' He spoke in a very stoic voice. I found it unsettling, but who was I to complain. I guess 107 years apart really changes social interactions. At this point, noticing the radio signal, my superiors had already shuffled into the room, the President listening over the telephone. I had pulled out a dusty old file from the cabinet behind me, blowing off the dust before I read the contained documents. `` Hold on, Apollo. First we need the details. Population count, pH samples, the works.'' I recited as if I read it straight out of a manual. `` I assume you still have the Carbose Oscillation Scanner Mechanism.'' `` Ummm, well we have an old dusty generator type deal coated in glass with a pump shaped piece inside.'' `` That sounds right,'' I replied. `` Now I want you to place a finger on the blue, square shaped button in the middle of the console.'' `` Alright. It's done'' he replied in a robotic fashion. `` Are you sure? I did n't hear the click. If the button does n't click, there will be trouble with the system.'' `` Are you sure it is still working?'' he replied. `` I mean, it has been over a century.'' `` Trust me Apollo, it has been reinforced with lab constructed alloys engineered for longevity and endurance.'' I heard the click and my computer opened a loading screen. `` How is it looking Ground Control.'' `` Just one second Apollo.'' The screen read `` 0''. The generals behind me were confused, but I knew what the number meant. `` Alright Major Tom, we are calculating the coordinates now.'' `` Finally..... We are starving.'' `` I bet,'' I retorted. After the calculations were through I pressed the button. *The* button. The big red circle on the controls I had held myself back from pressing since I started this gig. `` You know Apollo, it's weird.'' `` What is weird,'' said Major Tom, in his signature monotone voice. `` I've been reading the file and while there is a record of an Officer Thomas J. Lorenzo, he was only a Second Lieutenant. When did you get promoted?'' `` About 30 years ago,'' he responded. `` Hmmm, so how old does that makes you, 137?'' `` Yep.'' `` Hey Ground Control,'' Major Tom said hurriedly. `` What's that in the sky.'' `` Oh nothing, just a little contingency plan in case Team Delta Victor never returned.'' The generals all stood behind me, stunned. I could feel their eyes glaring daggers in my back. 0. The 0 on the screen still flashed, on and off. 0 humans left on the far away planet. All the scanner picked up was the bite marks left on their bones. God rest their souls. *BOOOOOOMMMMM* `` It's all in a days work gentlemen. That and,'' I turned around to reset my stereo, `` some tunes.'' ♪ *Ground Control to Major Tom; Commencing countdown, Engines on; Check Ignition, And may God's Love be with Youuuuu* ♪

[ WP ] Mankind is basically a reality TV show for the rest of the universe . We finally make first contact , and they ca n't stop referencing popular moments from the show

Dr. Seinberg pinched the bridge of his nose. `` Yes, yes, that was wonderful,'' he repeated. The voices coming from the computer in front of him were repeating quotes from the past - be it ten minutes or a thousand years - all in the original language. He gathered that there was a group on the other end of the link, and they were reminiscing, as though it was a comical show. `` Perhaps we can discuss the FTL Drive, then?'' he asked, hoping to bring the conversation back around. `` Ai n't nobody has got time for that,'' came the response, enunciating all the wrong syllables. Dr. Seinberg sighed. `` What's up, doc?'' a voice asked. `` Hilarious,'' he muttered under his breath. `` If we're done here -'' `` Nein!'' came a suddenly loud response. Dr. Seinberg stood up in frustration as repeated ( and oddly humored ) echoes came from the computer. `` Is our entire history just some sort of joke?'' he asked. `` Et tu, Brute?'' came one response. `` You mad?'' came another. A half dozen others were repeated, but most were outside Dr. Seinberg's grasp of the world's languages. He decided to try once more. Perhaps they could be reasoned with. `` We have in front of us a unique opportunity to learn from one another and -'' Out of nowhere, the communication was filled with a raspberry-like sound. Evidently, they had thought this the best thing of all, because those who were n't also doing it were apparently laughing their heads off. At least, he assumed it was laughter. `` We did not work for decades to establish contact with an advanced extraterrestrial civilization just to be mocked!'' he shouted. The voices died down, and he second-guessed himself for a moment. `` I apologize for being short with you,'' he said. `` We simply expected so much more than -'' He was interrupted yet again; something in what sounded like broken Chinese. He reached forward and closed the transmission. He'd been getting nowhere fast. Without a word, he rose and left the room, meeting an expectant gathering. `` Well?'' one man asked. `` What can we learn from them?'' Dr. Seinberg sighed. `` Everything. But it's like squeezing water from a rock.'' Far away, much farther than the gathering there knew, a group of creatures watched the human gathering. `` I see how it is,'' one said in its own tongue. `` So they can make references to their history, but we ca n't?'' `` Well, we did break the rules. We were n't supposed to communicate with them for another ten cycles.'' The first gave a strange sort of scoff. `` In the words of the humans,'rules were made to be broken.'''

[ WP ] A new kind of social network technology uses algorithms to simulate people after they 've passed away based on analysis of their lifetime 's worth of online activity . This allows some kind of interaction with ( and perhaps between ) lost loved ones . What are the implications and how is life now ?

> Hey Junior, how's school? Looks like you've got a new lady friend, and she's cute! I really like this ( link ) picture of you and her, looks like Jacob was with you guys at Murphy's Bar & Grill. Good to see you keeping in touch with Jacob! > By the way, I've got e-coupon codes for Murphy's, here's a link for you! Looks like you have n't been there in a while. > Love, > Dad The best part? I'm dad. I'm alive and kicking. As robotic as that message might seem, it's simple enough for the parsers to process. Junior died when he was 10. Leukemia. Thanks to modern technology, it did n't matter. I'd still been able to see him grow into a strapping young lad. Some find it creepy, I find it comforting. It's no less authentic than him and I having a long distance relationship. If I could just wipe that one memory, if I could replace it with a memory where he survived, I'd believe our correspondence was entirely real. > Hey dad! School is awesome. Yes, Libby is pretty cute, here's another picture. Pretty, right? I really like her dad, I think she might be the one. > Thanks for the coupons! You're right, Jacob and I keep in touch but we have n't been to Murphy's Bar & Grill in ages. > I have to go now, say hi to mom for me. I'm going to message Jacob and see if he wants to join me at Murphy's Bar & Grill. > Talk soon, I miss you. I will send you some pictures from Murphy's Bar & Grill tomorrow. > PS - Did mom cut her hair? ( Linked photo )

[ FF ] - 250 Words ; 2 months Reddit Gold prize

Franklin ran inside as fast as he could. This is what he had been waiting for, potentially the find of the century. He had to tell her as soon as possible. ****** Josie ’ s life had reached a terminus. Graham worked six days a week and barely glanced at her when he was home. It had been three weeks since they last had a serious conversation, three months since they last had sex. She guessed he was cheating on her, but didn ’ t care. She had her own secrets; there was only one person that interested her now. Standing in the kitchen reminiscing, Josie was shaken out of her languor by the ringing phone. Her heart leapt in her chest; her stomach sank to the floor. She knew it was him calling and knew today was the day. Josie excitedly lifted the receiver. “ Hello there. I thought you ’ d never call. Did you finally get the—hang on a minute. “ Her son came around the kitchen table and started pulling on Josie ’ s skirt. The sound of her hand upon his young face split the air. Stunned, he ran out of the room before she could see his tears blend into the blood on his lip. She indifferently returned to her call. ****** That day Franklin discovered his mother didn ’ t care about him anymore. Not about him; not about his rock. If she didn ’ t even care about him, who would? He turned his back on the world that day. He never became a geologist.

[ TT ] `` Only monsters smile around here . ''

He was right. Nobody is alive deep down in the underground trade we have all grown accustomed to. What the fuck am I doing? It's difficult not to mutter that under my breath, as I pass the snake who just sold me some much needed blow. Time to get out, I do n't think I can bare this smell too much longer, but with the limited options in this lifestyle, I do n't think I can leave New Atlantis too quickly. I still have some debts to pay, but even if I survived the border, I could n't make it to the surface anyway. We're too far underground. I walk into an outdoor stall for a key bump only to realize I'm being followed.

[ WP ] Every single time anyone begins a story , from a grade two assignment to a 300 page novel , it creates an actual universe where the stories laws and characters are real , and are at the mercy of their creator . Unfinished stories create a hell like no other .

Five of us sat around the fire that burned in the pit we dug up earlier in the day. However, this fire was anything but ordinary. Heat still flooded from the flames and made my legs itch with intensity. But the flames, the flames didn ’ t move. They were stuck in time. In fact, so was I. So were my companions. In fact, the world around me was completely still. Over the past two days, or so it seems, I had attempted to move, even in the slightest. A twitch, or a smile, or even a blink seemed all but impossible. My eyes completely glued to the darkness that had taken over the woods we all sat within. We were miles within the deep Maine wilderness. It was my first time camping and I had hoped it would ’ ve gone smoother than this modified Hell. I was essentially stuck in my own head. With this came endless thoughts questioning why, and how. Nothing I could think up could even explain this situation. Although it had been seemingly days, I had not felt hunger, thirst, or even need to void myself. Endless thoughts just raced through my mind, and that was all. The thought crossed my mind of whether this was death. The mind can do incredible things. But could it leave me in a seemingly endless state of thought? At this point anything was possible. I wondered if my friends too also were prisoners to their own thoughts. Unable to move, there was no way we could possibly communicate. My girlfriend Jane sat next to me, and yet due to the noise in the woods which tore my attention to the darkness, I couldn ’ t see her. At least that would ’ ve provided the slightest comfort my – or our, condition. Although, with every part of my being I hoped she wasn ’ t going through this like I was. In fact, I hoped her consciousness left the second this all began. The uncertainty however simultaneously drove me crazy, and still, left me sane. For now, it seems there ’ s nothing I can do but wait or go crazy. Possibly both. Likely both. I just know there is absolutely nothing in the darkness I stare at, that could possibly be worse than this. In fact, I hope it kills me. _______________________________________________________________ The wind blew outside the window of the old author ’ s house as the sun began to set. He had been sitting in his chair for the past two days. The computer screensaver flashed with pictures of exotic woodlands from his numerous hiking trips. The authors eyes, wide open, staring straight into the photographs. The heart attack took him quickly, yet no one had yet come to notice. His newest novel, halfway completed, could now no longer come to end. The last line he wrote sat beneath the changing pictures on his screen. “ Jack sat peacefully in his camping chair, hand in hand with his girlfriend of 3 years. A noise suddenly arose from the darkness of the Maine forest. Jack swiftly looked into the black night, and thought… ” ( I apologize for any grammar mistakes, in class atm: ) )

[ WP ] Earth becomes the battleground for two warring alien races , both of which claim to be humanity 's `` protectors ''

We had been sent on a divine mission. Our god, Volcano, had commanded that we go and rescue the noble savages from their invaders. But the enemy is weak: they have rejected the embrace of Volcano. They worship Water. Water is a weak god: he can not even survive on most planets, and his followers are condemned to hop between them. Sadly, we discovered that Water had populated one of our planets, as well. And the enemy was coming. Last year three enemy ships had penetrated the protective force field around the C-3801 system. We intercepted a communication: the enemy intended to occupy that solar system as a base to launch an attack on our own. But Volcano reminded us that we have a duty to save the C-3801 system. For the third planet therein has been the greatest battleground between Volcano and Water. Both gods sent missionaries to populate the planet, and a holy war erupted. Water's minions seem to think that the humans, those lowly creatures, will aid him in building a forward assault base. The enemy has been attempting to steal them away before they receive Volcano's enlightenment. Right now, the humans do not truly live; they merely exist. They are observed 41 hours per day, 1312 days per year, and the scientists at home fail to see their reason for existence. We are protecting the humans from the wrath of Water, but they are slow to understand. They are indoctrinated, but we will help them. I am a doctor of humans. I fix them. My partner and I spoke to the humans before administering the cure for Water worship. `` There are some... *unfortunate* side effects. Hallucinations, sometimes. Mild stomach pains, some swelling, loss of free will.'' `` And drowsiness.'' `` Right. Ca n't forget drowsiness.''

[ WP ] You have an ATM that gives you the exact amount of money you need to survive for the day , how you spend it is your choice . Today you are given $ 70,000,000 .

Charlie's eyes grew wide as the LED on the ATM flickered to life. Eight digits, and there were n't any decimal points. He would pay off his loans and his credit cards and perhaps still have enough to go into debt once more and pay it off yet again. All those days of living by the dollar had finally paid off. Charlie kissed the ATM, then spat as it shot a one hundred-dollar bill into his mouth. He threw himself back on his bed and sighed, listening to the machine crank out his payment. Gears creaked and ground against each other, screeching under the effort, but those sounds were the chorus of paradise for all Charlie cared. He watched each bill flutter from the emission slot, joining the rest in a mess on the floor. This would take a while: 700 thousand bills was... a lot. Charlie yawned and rested his head onto his pillow, the fluttering bills mesmerizing him into sleep. Charlie awoke to the largest, greenest Benjamin Franklin memorial pressing down upon him. He struggled to get up, but could n't move. During his sleep, the machine had spit more bills than PBS throughout the'90s, and they'd piled into a humungous ball of money that occupied the entire room. Its full mass was now bearing down on Charlie, slowly choking the air from his lungs. He tried to shift his arms and legs, but nothing budged. The money above him refused to yield to the craning of his neck as well. To think that a promise of financial freedom had turned into this green-walled prison so quickly. Charlie forced his lip upwards to scream, but to no avail: bills began to fall into his mouth, prickling his tongue with their leathery surfaces. *At least*, he thought, as his senses began to shut down, *they had n't been quarters*.

[ WP ] it is your last day of life and Death is at your bedside . You motion towards a gameboy SP and muster out these words , '' I challenge you to a Pokemon battle . ''

`` I can not be defeated, only delayed boy.'' La Muerte said, the ghostly figure shifting its form constantly between feminine and masculine shapes. It stuffed its fingers deep beneath the infinite void of its robes and pulled out its own gameboy black and foreboding. `` There is only suffering for you here, a dream of victory.'' Wordlessly, the boy turned on his gameboy the words GameFreak appearing on the screen. He passed La Muerte the link cable tethering their worlds to one another. Death shook its head as it entered the virtual arena. `` It's not too late to come with me. I know you think you can best me in a child's game. But I am not *YOUR DEATH* I am just *DEATH*. At the end of all worlds I can be found, even fictional creatures have an end boy who do you think reaps them?'' The boy did n't respond only sending out a Metagross in to the field. Death sighed sending out a Sableye as his champion. The battle raged on, sweat dripping from the boys head while La Muerte sat expressionless gazing beyond him. It had come to this each fighter down to their last Pokemon. Death sent out his Dusclops as the boy whispered a quiet prayer to his Gardevoir. Dusclops used Shadow ball critically injuring the gardevoir. The boy tried not to panic but he was desperate. Seeking to prolong the battle he used hypnosis sending Dusclops into a deep slumber. La Muerte, its head low in shame looking at the boy about to ask for mercy. Gardevoir used Nightmare on the Dusclops causing it to faint and the boy cheered in victory. The boy pumped his hand in victory causing the IV drip attached to his arm to fall to the ground. Death stared at him, his bald head, his withered figure. `` I will see you again next week boy.'' La Muerte said gliding past the boy to the next bed in the children's ward.'' A smile crept past the boy's face, `` I want to be the very best.''

[ WP ] You are on the jury of a crime you committed .

The trial had been a 3 day ordeal. I didn ’ t pay attention to the evidence at all, because it was all mine. It had been one long painful blur. I found myself staring at the defendant the whole time. He was some guy they had picked up with a knife close to the crime scene. Talk about wrong place wrong time, and triply bad luck to be carrying a pocket knife, which was the same kind of weapon I had used. I had thought about it long and hard during the proceedings, and I couldn ’ t let this man suffer for his crimes. I had done the deed. “ It ’ s eleven to one Ryan. ” A skinny male juror to my left told me. “ You ’ re just stalling at this point. All the evidence points to him. Why are you resisting? ” Everyone was looking to me for an explanation. I ’ m sure I was sweating bullets. “ Because it ’ s all circumstantial. ” I told them. Circumstantial, that was a good word. I had heard it on lots of crime dramas. “ He was clearly in the neighborhood to buy some skittles, and was carrying a pocket knife on him from his boy scout days. I mean, he ’ s a boy scout, and he works in the legal system. He ’ s got that going for him right? ” Most of the jurors didn ’ t buy this, but one man who had started on my side appeared to be listening. “ And the blood on the knife? ” An older female juror asked as she looked at her watch. “ He cut himself picking the dirt out from under his fingernails. ” I responded. “ You don ’ t think it ’ s suspicious at all that he had bleached the blood on the knife? ” The skinny one asked me again, looking almost bored. We had been over this a half dozen times. “ I mean, you ’ ve got ta keep your knife clean right? What if somebody else wanted to use it or something? ” “ That ’ s enough. ” A large man who claimed to play professional sports cut in. “ What ’ s going on Ryan? We ’ ve been at this for hours. There ’ s something else going on. Tell us what it is. ” I sighed. There was no getting around it. “ I did it. ” I tell them. They exchange glances and wait for me to say more. “ I killed him, the pocket knife was mine. ” I ’ m expecting them to recoil, and a few of them lean away from me in their chairs. “ Even if we believed you. ” The large man said. “ There ’ s no way to convict you instead, unless you provided the evidence for your conviction yourself. ” What, my own confession couldn ’ t set this man free? How was that possible. The big man sighed. “ Never the less, if this means you ’ re dead set on fighting a conviction we ’ d better tell the judge we have a hung jury. ” I breathed a sigh of relief. A lot of paperwork later we were outside the courthouse. The man would go free, and so would I everybody won. “ How do you explain the blood on the knife. ” The big man said from behind me. “ What? ” I say to him, not believed that we ’ re still discussing this. “ Don ’ t you think it ’ s a little strange he bleached the knife and then didn ’ t clean it off? It ’ s a little weird to be walking around with a knife with bleach on it isn ’ t it? ” I looked confused at him, and he just looked disgusted and walked off. The man just couldn ’ t let it go. At that moment the defendant walked out. He caught my eye and walked over. “ He was still breathing when you left by the way. ” He tells me. “ I saw you leave and knew my next victim would be an easy one. All I had to do was hang around the crime scene, after I had finished him off, carry a suspiciously bloody knife. I had to bleach it to leave some doubt, but a little blood would get me arrested for sure. Then all I had to do was call someone at work before the cops showed up to make sure you ’ d be on the next homicide jury. ”

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

This was it. I lived an average life. A wife, two kids, working as a lowly toy assembly liner, making just enough to live. I **Did** go to harvard though. hmm. That worked well for me. But that does not matter now. Death is upon me. Maybe there is a heaven. Maybe there is nothing. I suppose im about to find out. My family surrounds me, crying, sadness, anger. My wife, my kids, my brothers and sisters. I feel my energy fleeing my body. My vision fades, and i see a white light. Then i see clouds, the sun, and.... and...... a man? I approach the man, confused. `` hello? who are you?'' `` i am the spirit you have strived for. i am the man you truly thought was perfect. I, am you. the best version of you that you could have possibly attained.'' `` i... wha-... what do you mean?'' `` before everyone goes to an afterlife, they get to see what they could have become. there best possible self. lets go down the list of flaws.'' now just wai-'' `` born 1942, april 16th. diagnosed with A.D.D. and A.D.H.D at age 6. barely made it to high school before finally getting help from the school administrators in grade 10. passed all classes at a B+ or higher with help. graduated in 1960.'' `` While wanting to go to an acting college to pursue his love of acting discovered in 3rd grade. but you were forced to go to harvard by your family when you got the opportunity. you went after a career in law to please your parents. however, without help from the school, you passed almost every class you entered. you dropped out, and searched the world for a job to keep yourself fed. you were homeless for 10 years until the age of 31. `` `` Then, a concerned woman approached you, asking you if you wanted help. you gladly accepted, looking for help. for a few years, she took care of you, inviting you into her house. she got you a job working at a toy factory. a few years later, you married, agreeing it was n't coincidence that she helped you off those streets.'' `` the highlight of your life was spending time with your family, out in the suburbs, in a small house. but, you spent most of your life, wasting away.'' `` Now where do you get away with judging my life!?'' `` now there is me. i married the same woman, had the same kids, but i am an actor. i wasnt homeless, and i wasnt piss poor. im sorry you lived imperfect.'' and with that, everything went black.

[ WP ] Explain this picture .

How's this? I have n't written anything since school ( years now! ) be kind: p It had been a long time since Alex had last heard music, let alone play it. As he approached the abandoned piano memories swirled through his mind. He remembered the first time he had heard the soft notes of piano; he was 2 years old and his Mama played gentle lullabies to help him sleep. His first piano lesson; his piano teacher was so pretty he could n't concentrate and ended up accidentally dropping the key cover on her fingers. Thankfully she forgave him. By 7 he was playing the most advanced music and was often seen at school shows with his adoring Mama and Papa watching proudly in the crowd. Then the war started; the never-ending war. All the men in his village left, his Papa and older brother left with them never to return. The once happy nights filled with laughter, music and singing were replaced with blackouts, air-raid sirens and bombs. Years past as the war raged on, boys turned to men and left to fight. Now it was Alex ’ s turn. On his 18th birthday and put through a short and intense training where he only learnt the basics to survive. Now he was here. Taking more land for his country, every inch counted no matter how many lives it took. Alex reached the piano and swung his rifle on his back. He ran his hands down the aged wood remembering all the happy moments before this wretched war. He reached out to strike a note; just as he did an enemy sniper pulled his trigger. Alex fell to the cold, November ground clutching at his heart. His mouth turned into a peaceful smile as the note he struck rang out clearly through the still woods. “ Finally, music at last. ”

[ WP ] You live in a video game . You are not the main character .

I sat there at the counter waiting to serve the customer that would eventually walk through the front doors, but as I sat there waiting I began to reflect on my life as I usually would. At a young age I knew I wanted to run the general good store, however I never quite knew why for it was n't my families and I had never shopped there before. But here I stand waiting for the next customer, Its almost as if I were made for this job but fate was n't really my thing. However thinking about it more and more I saw a weird pattern in my life: I have never left my town, I follow the same routine every day right down to the minute, and I only say one thing to every customer. I do n't know why I'm like this but I just am, I do n't even know how I pay the rent for I only have one customer and all he does is sell stuff to me, I do n't even know how he does it for he never speaks, and now stocked piled in the back I just have daggers upon daggers and I'm not to sure what to do with them. But life goes on.

[ WP ] Write a letter to your thirteen-year-old self

Hello Me? Look here you little mother fucker and listen good. I'm you in ten years. We fucked up. Big time. I'm talking the mother of all messes. A few things. I know how badly you hate school, but trust me, we do n't kill ourselves, and the world does n't end like we want it to. So a bit of advice. One, do our goddamn homework. I know, I hate regurgitating the information as well but if you do n't keep up with the schoolwork we end up working in a fucking factory where we ca n't have piercings in and have to wear a hard hat. It fucking sucks. So keep up with the schoolwork as best you can. If you do n't get something do n't be afraid to ask them for help. Being a rebel is fun and all, but our life will fucking suck if you keep that shit up. You never listened to dad so hopefully you'll listen to me. Two. Start eating better fucknut. Cut some of the carbs out of our diet. Our thyroid problem wo n't go away if you do n't keep up with your medication. Same with our depression. Three. You're going to go through a goth phase, it's cool, you'll meet some good people. Zack Arp. Find him. He becomes a brother to us. Trust me on this. Four. Do n't start smoking. EVER. You little fucking prick. Five. Help dad out, he's still around at the moment, but I would like for him to have fonder memories of us. Asshole. Also, appreciate the time with Neoda, we have to get rid of her due to some unfortunate circumstances. Six. Some woman that we will come across in our lives. or we should. Joy K. Love of our life. She takes her life and we shut down from the depression. Turn to dad. He's there for us. Trust me. Try your damnedest to meet a girl named Onika. She's everything we've ever wanted out of life but have been to afraid to ask for. It will save a lot of heartbreak. We end up with her kind of should you follow the path you're on now, but it could start much earlier if you try. Seven. Always be true to yourself man. We are what we are and that's ok. We are n't alone in this world, despite how we feel some of the time. Broaden your musical horizons. Right now You're listening solely to Meat-Loaf and Concrete Blonde. And we still love them, but there is so much more good music out there. Eight. We have Multiple Disassociate Personality Disorder, Anxiety, Severe Clinical Depression with Suicidal Tendencies. These will be our great strengths and our great downfalls. Nine. Convince Dad to invest in something called AAPL. It's going to blow the fuck up. He's going to get very sick. Constant Shaking and stuttering. It's an Adrenal Pack on his spine. Due to it's location it ca n't be operated on, but hopefully since you have the information you can do something preventative. He'll be fine right about the time we turn 18. It'll start at about 16. Ten. Mother is still a cunt. She always will be so do n't blame yourself for the things she did to us. Look fucker, I know we have hardships and difficulties, but, we can always overcome them. Remember that man. Remember that.

[ WP ] Alien body snatchers come to invade Earth , but piloting a human body is challenging .

Dear Human pilot, Humans unlike most other species we inhabit have the unique ability of ignoring our very occupancy in their craniums. This allows for one of most involved and humorous experiences in the known galaxy. This being said there are a number of problems this unique relationship with your human can create. You expressed concerns about losing control of your human mentally and physically. Hopefully this can alleviate your concerns. Mundane tasks- Have you ever piloted your human into the kitchen to refuel them with their sustenance only to have the human forget his command and wander over to the television? If you answered yes to this question be assured that you are not alone. Most every human loses their commands, regardless of the pilots skills. Gastrointestinal gaseous relief- Your human will often signal their need for gastrointestinal gaseous relief. It is important to analyze the validity of the gaseous release. Gaseous relief can often be misinterpreted for fecal release, and the last thing you want is a fecal stain embarrassing your human and ruining their pants. Hope this helped and please feel free to write us about any concerns, pertaining to your Dave human. Sincerely, Ishkalb Mahookta Intergalactic body host counselor

[ WP ] A group of people worship a small , plain , clear glass marble . You touch it , and realise why .

There was once a man, he said that if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. So I gazed into the marble as if it was the abyss. I could only look at it from afar as every other curious observer did. But it never gazed at me back, could it be there were too many others so it would gaze at me? I was not special, surely I was not, and only the special could take a closer look. There were even other, so special, the chosen they called them. Not very intricate name if you ask me, but the name very descriptive as they were indeed chosen. No one did know how and why the chosen were chosen, but they were and that was all that mattered. I would visit the marble every evening after work, like it was my dear friend. My dearest friend, it who would not even look at me. But I looked at it, and that was enough. I once felt, I think I did. It looked at me, for the shortest of times it looked at me. That night I could n't sleep, I could n't eat the day after not until I saw it again. The marble, nothing special about it, but had you did place any other in its place, I would know, they would know. We all would know. The time passed, but the marble never looked at me again. I was never special, I was never chosen, but I was old. So much time I've spent looking at it, only one look it gave back. My last days were near, I felt it deep down I think even the marble felt it. I went to see it one last time. Too see the marble that looked at me once. One last gaze I gave it and I turned my back. I walked slowly again, and then I heard the noise. The sound of the marble hitting the ground resonated, everyone was quiet in an instant. The sound that made the silence. Then I saw it, slowly rolling towards me. It stopped at my feet, I noticed my worn off shoes, it must have been a long time since I got a new pair. I picked up the marble, gently, holding back the tears. My whole life I waited for that. I squeezed the marble and I closed my eyes. Is that what happiness feels like? I asked myself over and over squeezing the ball harder and harder. I did n't know. I opened my eyes and then I saw myself young again standing in the back of the very same room I stood for whole my life, I saw myself through a glass wall. I looked into my own eyes and I saw that I was not happy, I turned in shame.

[ WP ] Court cases are no longer decided on the evidence , but on how good the prosecutor can diss the defendant . Mob boss who 's never been found guilty now goes against the lawyer who never lost

`` The prosecution better have an *extremely* valid reason for this tardiness.'' `` I think, well, I mean... I'm sure Mr. Watts has a perfectly valid reason.'' *beep beep da-daing* The aides phone jingled and a text popped onto the screen. speaker phone now pls *ding da-ding ding dong* He let one ring go through before he reacted. Eric thought that Mr. Watts was calling to let the judge know why he was late. The defence was getting restless, the defendant was already seated for questioning. Gino Tomaso never lost, so everyone was just looking for a quick case to leave. As Eric turned the phone the speaker phone mode, he approached the bench, placing the cell near the gavel. *oooooooooooooooooohhhhhh yessssssss. FUCK me harrrrrrder* Moaning upon moaning. A woman's drawls rang through the static-y call. She seemed to be getting it good and Eric could n't help but fantasize the situation. Seconds which felt like eons passed with the judges mouth agape, clearly baffled by the situation currently unfolding into his courtroom. `` THE DEFENCE BETTER HAVE A GODDAMNED GREAT REASON FOR THIS BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT IN CONTEMPT.'' *beeeeeeeep* The call ended. A new text: Read the following number out `` Uh, well judge.... one, seven, one, eight, six, eight, three, two.'' `` **STOP**'' The first words of the day Gino uttered, choking back tears. His voice was shaking. There was only one other word of defence stated by Gino and it lost him the case: Mom.

[ WP ] You are given the chance to choose any 10 minute chunk of your life and do it over .

`` I do n't think about it.'' I remembered the lie every day. When I woke up alone. When I drove to work. When I walked to the store. It never left my head. It had been ten years since I said it. Ten years since I saw him. Then one day I saw him again. I was back in the past and he was there just like he was before. Maybe I had gone crazy. I did n't mind. His back was to me. He was looking out the window at the rain. All around us people were rushing about, but we both were just standing there in our own calm moment. Then he looked back and noticed me. `` Do you ever think about the last time we were in the rain together?'' he asked. `` Yes,'' was all I could say. He smiled softly and turned back to the window.

[ WP ] You are an insect that has lived its entire life without encountering a human ... that changes today .

I approached the edge of the large maple leaf, ready to fill the insatiable void in my body. I yearned, like so many of our kind to devour and digest. As a young catipillar it is all you think about. There is no room for other pleasures in the minds of youth. Devour, digest, devour, digest. It continues on this way; an exciting affair to be alive and healthy, thriving in the vastness of the green expanse. Until one day it hits you their is so much more to living then simply surviving. I do n't judge the youth for thier lack of experience anymore than I judge the industrious ant for its greed and totalitarianism. It is simply their way. The maple leaf's edge was inviting. It was the freshest smelling leaf I'd come across in the dozen suns since my birth. For hours, maybe more I consumed it. I lost myself in the worldy pleasure, rested, ate again then rested some more. Another sun had passed before I regained a inkling of awareness. I was sated. The distraction of sustenence had diminished and the potential for learning swept into its place. I watched through a tiny gap in the trees where no branches crossed. Rarley did I let myself apprecaite the beauty of the sky. The white bodies flew across the vast open plane of blue and did so with such grace but after some time of pondering my place in the forest they began a process of expansion; turning from a light hearted white to a distainful gray. They engorged themselves, sometimes consuming a neighbor but often just expanding on their own. How did they do this? It was a wonderful question that inspired my ongoing quest for knowledge. Soon my body tingled and felt light; if I was n't firmly planted on the sweet maple leaf, I might have acended through the canopy and found out what the white beasts in the sky were so excited about. But I did n't; I could n't. Although I did n't know it, my time above the trees would come soon enough. The rain drops poured onto my head. The rain itself was n't bothersome in my state of contentment but the noise, the collosal banging above the trees was harrowing. A sudden, disctinct urge to move came over me. At the time I could n't describe what it was, but it was strong. Like the winds of the storm it caught me off guard, but I followed my instict to find shelter. The large leaves of the maple provided cover from the above but did nothing for the increasing winds coming at me from the side. On the way up the tree, I had n't noticed any crevices to crawl my way into. My imagination began to run wild like the wolf packs often did. Howling and screaming. Biting and tussling. It was unbearable to think of what might happen if I fell into the ants territory. It would certainly spell a slow and agonizing death, I knew that much. It was hard to hear over the roar of the storm but definetly distinguishable. Footsteps. Crunching leaves. The deer often stepped on a twig or two by mistake but this footfall was lazy. Like it did n't care if it was heard or seen. Was the wall of water distorting the image or was this creature a two legged one? I'd seen creatures with more legs than mine. It certainly was n't unusual. The web trappers wore eight, but six was the most common among the smallest of us. The giant beasts on the ground never had more than four. As it approached its nightmarish outline and its deformities became apparent. It did had four legs! But did n't use all of them. Two hung uselessly at its side. The way it sludged through the forest with no awareness was discomforting. Was it stupid or overconfident? Nevertheless it was a monster of terrible porportions. It's head passed the neighboring maple and cleared the third teir of branches. It was n't just ugly, it was massive. Tall. And getting earily closer to my safe haven. A thousand winds could n't pull me from that leaf but the moster plucked me off like a ripe acorn. It was a nightmare come true with all the images to haunt you for the rest of your days but what I remember the most was the stench. Everything in the forest was pleasant, always with a lingering sweetness to it. But the man, the man was unatural. Unearthly smells that stole the air and made your head spin. It placed me in the palm on its furless paw and turned me to the darkened sky. I decided then and there that I was truly at my end. I saw past the monstrosity and it's odors that held me prisoner and instead, imagined the beauty of my life till that moment. My mind wandered and enjoyed the simplicity of my own imagination. I remembered the pleasures of eating, resting, and learning. It was a good life, short but incredibly sweet. I felt the swaying of wind trying to penetrate my daydream of the oblivion and soon felt the security of my maple underfoot. The storm had past as if all a fabrication. The sun saw past the furious clouds and wisked them away. I did not fall to a fate worse than death nor did I succumb to the mosters toxicity. I was free. I celebrated my life in a few short moments and then felt hungry. So I ate until the mighty sun was replaced by another. My stomach full on maple yet again, I decided to never stop learning about the wonders of the forest ahead. *Sorry if their are grammatical or spelling errors. Did n't have time to edit.

[ TT ] The Prophecy of the White Salmon

In a time very long ago, and a land very far away, there was a great kingdom. Like all great kingdoms long ago and far away, this kingdom had a princess. She was a normal princess in every way, save for two significant differences. The first was that she had, at birth, been granted the gift of prophecy. The second was that she was a fish. A salmon, to be precise. She was n't an ugly fish; far from it. Indeed, she was one of the most beautiful fish you could ever hope to see, with glittering white scales and a pleasant disposition. The fact remained, however, that she was a fish, which naturally presented certain problems. It was traditional, after all, for a princess to marry a prince. And if that princess was cursed ( as many considered this princess to be ) then it was expected of a prince to give her true love's kiss, and break that curse. This particular princess, however, was perfectly content as a fish. She had the freedom of the kingdom's waterways, a gift of prophecy that lent all her words a gravity and importance, and she had no interest whatsoever in losing either of those things, as she might if she were to allow her parents to marry her off. And so the princess, after thinking long and hard about her predicament, came to a decision. The very next day, the princess called for a grand meeting at the palace. Every citizen of the kingdom was invited, and those who could not come were permitted to watch through magical means. The princess was carefully moved from the palace lakes to a large glass tank, and all fell silent as they waited for their princess to speak. `` I have gathered you here,'' the princess cried, `` to warn you all of a most terrible vision!'' There was a gasp from the crowd, and the princess smiled to herself. Given that she was a fish, this was unnoticeable to the vast majority of the watching masses. `` Yes,'' she continued, `` in my dreams last night, I saw our kingdom's fate - if we can not stop it.'' She paused in order that the import of her words could sink in. The king and queen exchanged concerned glances beside her, and the princess carried on. `` I saw that each and every one of our neighbours conspires against us. If we do not strike first, then I fear for the future of our kingdom.'' Those dire words spoken, the princess sank down to the bottom of the tank in a swoon. The tank-carriers hastily took her back into the palace, her parents following. - - - - - - - - One of the most important things to recall about this princess was that her prophecies were always true. This being the case, the people had no reason to doubt her, and certainly if any of them had doubted, they would not have spoken those concerns aloud. She was their princess, after all, the beloved heir to the throne. Even if she was a fish. The king and queen of this mighty kingdom, then, began immediately to prepare for war. And, urged on by their daughter, they struck before any other kingdom could. Alliances were shattered, old arguments were renewed, and the kingdom began a war on every front imaginable. The princess, meanwhile, simply watched events unfold. Some decades later, the kingdom had conquered each and every one of their opponents. The princess, now a Queen, ruled over all the land. She was still a fish, still gifted with prophecy - and, now that there were no other kingdoms, she could not marry a prince as was expected of her. The new Queen was content, and she never did tell anyone the truth of it all. After all, things had gone precisely how she desired. They say that even now, she is spoken of with awe across her kingdom, the first Queen to preside over a united land. And who can tell? Perhaps she still rules there today.

[ WP ] Two victims of bullying make a plan to shoot up their high school together . However , they both secretly plan to betray the other in order to become a hero .

“ Faggots ” That was it. That was fucking it. 3 years of constant humiliation from a neanderthal piece of shit who crawled from the spit in his mother ’ s vagina. I hate that jock fuck Kevin and all his sheepish gang of bull headed pigs. “ Leave us alone Kevin, we ’ re just trying to get the class ” “ Get to ass, more like, am I right fellas? ” An chorus of high fives and belly laughs. This is what counts as wit in this hellhole. I see a group of girls snickering. All pretty, popular and perky. My face feels warm. “ Ju- just fuck off Kevin ” I hear Gerry stutter beside me. “ Ooo, check out the big balls on Gerkin! Duh-duh-duh I can ’ t speak goo goo good cos I sucked the postman ’ s dick when he was fucking my mommy when I was still baking in her snatch ” Kevin grabs his crotch while simultaneously waving his free hand in the air collecting all the gratitude in the room. “ Fuck this ” I say to Gerry “ Let ’ s just go ” We leave to a chant that Gerry has glory hole or some other shit that doesn ’ t even make sense. I don ’ t care, I ’ ve heard them all at this stage and I hate myself for still burning up inside every time. Gerry brushes it off but I can see the water in his eyes. Jesus Christ Ger, get it together, don ’ t give that subhuman piece of scum more ammunition. Ammunition. Now there ’ s an idea. Admittedly not an original idea. Shit, its been played to death at this stage. ‘ Literally ’ I think in a darker moment. “ You know what we should do, Ger? Go Columbine on those jerkasses ” “ Jesus Matt, dodon ’ t say things like that. ” “ Fuck it, those guys had the right idea. This generation is nothing but over privileged, vapid, shallow animals. The human race could do with a good purging. ” Gerry goes to say something but stops himself. I look at him and see a brief glimpse in his eye. The poor guys been getting it worse than I ever did. With his stutter and the fact that his Mother left him and his Father when he was a kid, he never had a chance in this jungle. I decide to push him a bit more. “ Come on Ger, are you telling me you ’ d be happy seeing Kevin leave here with the prettiest girl and inherit his rich asshole dad ’ s business and making more money than we can ever dream of? ” His brow lowers. Good, I ’ m getting through. “ Bu-but, like, bu-but whu-would we have to kill so many people? Like can ’ t we ju-just k-kill Kevin? ” Holy shit, did he just jump ahead of me in this idea? “ Well… ” I hesitate, thinking my next few words over “... yeah I guess? I mean fuck, what if it ’ s like, we just kill Kevin and then, like, like, BAM! His fucking daddy, I dunno, sues our parents or some shit? ” Gerry looks at me. Shit, there ’ s doubt there. Shit, have I really just committed to this? “ Besides, all those assholes are just as bad for encouraging him. I mean, fuck, do you think he ’ d be half as bad without an audience? ” “ I guess… ” “ Fucking right you guess. Look, think about it this way, look how fucking popular those Columbine kids were? And then they offed themselves afterwards, never reaping the rewards of what they, like, sowed or whatever? ” I ’ m not half as articulate as I am in my head. “ Jesus Matt, did you really just say that? ” “ Well yeah ” “ So-so-so this wouldn ’ t be a suicide-mu-murder thing? We wouldn ’ t b-be martyrs? ” “ Fuck no, were they? No, they got villainised because, uh, because, like, the media was all ‘ ooOOO they were psychos ’ or ‘ ooOooO Marilyn Manson is the devil ’. Fucking media assholes, like, propagating this-this-this hypocrtical, uh, like... bullshit ” I saw Gerry ’ s face spark up a bit at that. Despite how much everyone ’ s an asshole, he ’ s always just wanted to be liked. Poor guy. A group of cheerleaders walk by, oblivious to us. Then I realise I ’ m the exact same. **___** I get home, exhausted from after school study. I look at my notepad and see scribbles of guns and the flag on fire and think to myself, Jesus, I ’ m just like everyone else. A fraud, a liar and a hypocrite. I think about my conversation with Gerry earlier. Was I really serious about murdering a group of people just for making fun of me? And what the hell was that shit about Columbine? Shit. I better text Gerry telling him I was blowing off steam. Why do I always overreact to everything? ‘ Hey. sry bout 2day. wuz jus lettin off steam ’ send ‘ Lol k. me 2 ’ he replies ‘ Hahaha tty 2mrw? ’ ‘ k, dnt 4get ur dads rifle, lol ’ What the fuck? ‘ wtf? lol man, u crazy: p ’ ‘ k man: ) juz dnt ask me 4 bullits if u run out ’ Ok. Alright… Gerry ’ s never been one to have a dark sense of humour. Or any for that matter. Maybe he just realised that there ’ s life after school like I did. College. And college girls… **____** Shit! I wake up with my hand down my pants and realise that Gerry ’ s going to do it tomorrow. His dad ’ s always had that stupid pistol or whatever his grandad gave him. Shit, fuck, shit. “ Matthew! Watch that language! ” I hear from the room next to me. Must of said that out loud in a panic. “ Sorry ” I call back. I ’ m soaked in sweat. Half from... what I was up to and the other half from realising my best friend is a psychopath. I had to do something. Be the hero. Be the hero? Me? Shit, that ’ s a lot of pressure for a 15 year old. I don ’ t even know what I want to be when I grow up… That said… I could grow up a hero. That could open a lot of doors for me. I mean, that would look good on a job application, right? Shit, am I really thinking this? Shit, Gerry ’ s like my best friend... fuck it, I better just go asleep. Shit. Shiiiiit. Sh… **___** I wake up with my hand on my heart. Did I even sleep? FUCK! *vrr vrr… vrr vrr…* A text. Gerry, surprise surprise. ‘ Game face ’ ‘ Dnt back down now killer ’ Oh great, thanks for incriminating me Timothy McVeigh. Shit, I ’ m so tired I can ’ t even think straight. What am I going to do? Fuck... I mean my dad doesn ’ t even have a rifle, why did I lie about that? To be cool? And for who? Gerry? God Dammit. I go to the toilet. I take a piss and hop in the shower. I wash myself. I get out. I wipe the mirror from steam. I look like shit. Then it dawns on me! I shove two fingers down my throat and hurl chunks of last night ’ s pasta down the toilet. I keep going until I ’ m violently, and more importantly, loudly retching. I laugh at my self, muttering ‘ mom ’ s spagetti ’ in a moment of dizzy delusion. ‘ Jesus Matthew ’ I hear from the door frame. ‘ You look like crap! ’ Good old easy to manipulate mom I think to myself, oblivious of the fact that I probably did serious damage to my trachea. “ Right back into bed. No way you ’ re leaving the house in this state ” A wave of euphoria washes over me. This must be what its like to smoke ecstasy or eat molly or whatever they were talking about in gym that day. I ’ m also pretty whacked out of it from the purge I just had. “ oh... no… ” I manage to mumble out. Even my grin can ’ t betray my happiness. Jesus, I must really be a mess. **____** 12.30 - Recess Or at least it would be if I wasn ’ t shivering in bed. I must of really fucked myself up. Oh well, small price to pay to avoid making life-altering decisions like martyring myself after a killing spree or slaying the beast that was once my best friend for the glory of... girls and… well that was it really. Huh… *vrr vrr vrr vrr* ‘ u fukin pussy mat. lol jk, herd u wer sik ’ Jesus, its Gerry. Wait did he just call me a pussy? ‘ sry man ’ I text back. I don ’ t know why though. ‘ u rly r a traitor dude. i juz got suspendd fr bringin a gun 2 skul ’ Shit, he really did go off the deep end. ‘ shit, u rly did go of de deep end ’ I reply. ‘ lol stfu, it wuz nly a water pistol full of cat piss. kev got soaked. evry1 ltao ’ ‘ wtf is ltao ’ ‘ laff der asss of, duh! ’ Son of a bitch. He was going to let me bring my dad ’ s non existant rifle to make a martyr of myself while he played the clown. Bravo, Gerry, you asshole. ‘ lol u asshole ger ’ I text back. ‘ it kul, evry1 tink i a hero now. kev cryied lik a bitch ’ Bitch? Gerry called someone else a bitch? This is some ‘ He who Fights Monsters ’ shit right. ‘ lol k ’ I reply. ‘ hey mat, sry but i wnt b round to ply xbox 2mrw. we r goin 2 mcds, mybe nxt time? ’ We? ‘ k ttyl ’ I reply. ... No more texts. Shit, did he just ditch me? I ponder this for a moment. Fuck it. I load up Skyrim and kill everyone in that stupid wizard college and then join the Champions.

[ WP ] You 're not feeling quite like yourself after that organ transplant

`` If it looks like you, acts like you, it probably is you.'' Those were the last words spoken to me by my schizophrenic dad right before he ran out into the streets, chasing after an illusion of his family. What a pity, but he was past his prime I suppose. Two weeks later, my mother commits suicide. Guess she did n't enjoy life quite so much without her loved one. At least she was an organ donor though, so it's not as if her death was in vain. A month after my mother's death, I get scheduled for an operation. Apparently it was something big, like, some organ that's apparently vital to my survival? Not really my business but yeah. So surgery goes fine, I wake up with a fresh new-old.... something. Hm, that's weird, I ca n't remember what. Well I can always check sooner or later, after all, you ca n't hide anything in this age, nothing like the backstabbing courts of hell- Huh? Weird I just lost my train of thought. But I'm not gon na lie, after the surgery, I feel more awake than ever. It's almost like I'm a new person. *No, it's everything else that's changed. * Nah, it all looks the same to me. After all, there's only one answer to a voice like that, and it is appropriately, `` You're crazy.'' Whoa I feel a bit woozy now. Random black spots are appearing but that's not really consistsent with how energetic I've been feeling. It's almost like I'm a new person. Some people in black robes are coming up to me now, but they look like nice people. They just lifted up my shirt and- Whoa, why's there a pentagram carved into my stomach? Pretty spooky I guess, but the new me is n't quite so scared as I should be. And now they're chanting in like, Latin or something? People these days, eh. Though were the hospital's walls always so black and red? That color scheme's kind of dark if you ask me. No, not dark - like, ominous or something? And now I'm looking at me. I dunno how, I guess there's a giant-ass mirror in front of me or something. Yeah, that makes sense. Steam's everywhere, there are horns and glowing red eyes on me. Whoa. This is how I wanted to have looked in college, but now I'm supposed to be a respectable member of society. I turn to the nearest person draped in black and ask if I can get these decorations off. I mean they're cool and all but I have a job interview this Saturday and I kinda need it. His chanting kinda faltered but I do n't blame him, after all, if I looked at myself I would probably be confused too. Oh wait, I already am. Well I'm sure it's all gon na be okay. My body's exploding out in flames now, but this surgery must have worked miracles because I'm still feeling great. I'm humming out the tune to `` Staying Alive'' as I decide to finally get up and walk around. I mean this place is supposed to be scary, but I'm not scared at all. After all, it's like I'm a new person now.

[ WP ] Make us fall in love with your character , and then immediately kill them off .

`` I feel deep'' I say to myself `` Too deep'' I continue No one is around me to hear my words, and my ears are n't exactly functioning as they usually would, I've notice that since over the past..... `` wait how do I tell time down here'' I begin to wonder distracting myself away from the thought of my fall. I think for a moment deciding that the skills I learned in Havada would apply to this gravityless world I fell into. `` I knew this was a trap'' I say to my muffled hearing. `` Jump into the hole and face your adventure like any man ready for adulthood'' I sarcastically repeat the words of my elder. Although I did n't choose to go in, I fell. I just wanted to roam Havada collecting plants and documenting the natural wonders. I did n't want to go through adulthood. I did n't want to follow the path of Ral'godal and seek my adventure. A painful feeling of anger flowed up through me. `` I did n't want to enter or fall into the Relptah. I was n't ready. I wasn't.. A tear flows down my cheek as the colourful emptiness continues to disorientate me. `` Maybe this is part of adulthood'' I say allowed. `` No'' a response from no where meets my ears. `` You did not accept adventure in your heart'' the voice continues. I look around to meet no one `` You did not accept fate'' it continues. I see no one, but I'm distracted from looking around as I notice my arm begins to tingle. `` You had the opportunity to document and follow a new path away from Havada to return with skills you had not known you had prior, but you refused the gift when you reluctantly fell into Relptah. `` The voice pounds on me. I remember the feeling I had when I fell in. It was of reject and discomfort. I did not accept my fate. I was ignorant. `` You will not progress'' the voice states. `` PLEASE!'' I scream. My heart had changed. Not just spiritually, physically it began to beat in fear, it noticed the mistake my mind had made. I did n't want anything to end. I just was n't ready for anything to begin. My arm raises itself. I could n't control it. It had a strength I never possessed which dominated my control. A light appeared in my palm. `` You end, Bleh'algma'' My hand forces itself through my chest with a painful pressure I had never experienced. `` Maybe I was ready for an adventure'' I say as my tears float off into the nothingness distance. As my sight blurs I see a being stand before me. Stocky and muscular. `` Who..'' I being to say as I realize the future me fades off into ash as my vision darkens. ( Word meanings ) Relptah ( Hole of Adventure ) Bleh'algma: Literal translation is an insult `` not adult''

[ WP ] Demons and Angels when reaching puberty , are assigned a human to torment/protect till their death . This is your first human , however you are hearing rumors from the veterans that this human is on his sixth demon/angel and no one knows what happened to the last five .

`` Zhavuul...'' Aria acknowledged grudgingly. `` Aria...'' Zhavuul replied in equal discretion. `` Listen...'' Aria began bitterly, `` I do n't like you, and you do n't like me-'' `` So if you shut the fuck up, we can figure out this problem for a moment.'' Zhavuul mentioned. Aria quieted down at the vicious reply and joined him in his gaze at the domicile of their newly acquired asset. You see, Aria and Zhavuul, despite their differences had experience with one another. And whether they were okay with it or not, the fact they had actually done battle with each other once before put them in a special branch of their jobs as angels or demons. Known as the `` United Ethics Task Guild'', it was a joint branch between Heaven and Hell themselves; used for ambiguous cases on Earth involving the afterlife. Unfortunately for these two; this was their first case. `` I wonder what happened to them?'' Aria said as she remembered the information passed down to them. Five different angels and demons; and no one had seen them since. It had been a couple of years since the last ones had gone missing actually, so the case was still open. `` Instead of going down there,'' Zhavuul proposed, `` Let's see how he does on his own for once.'' `` That's against orders and you know it!'' Aria chided. `` Ah, *your* orders, not *mine*...'' Zhavuul explained. Aria cringed as he smiled; that awful hateful smile of his that always seemed to set the mood for something devastating in nature. They suddenly turned their attention to the house and were, for a moment, surprised at their target. For starters, he was not a small child like they expected. Instead, he had to be at least 17 years old. Scraggly, dyed hair covered his head, his clothes grungy yet obviously with the times, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the end already lit. But it was him alright; Carl Ramone Shawnders. `` Alright Mom, I heard you the first time!'' Carl said bitterly as he left to his truck, `` Always talking shit...'' They watched him crank over the bizarre carriage from above, as he quickly left the small roadway in reckless fashion. They watched him, as he smoked cigarettes, and played music loudly, and drove too fast. He barely avoided hitting a child on his way to school. He swore, he used drugs and he slacked in class; much to Zhavuul's amusement. However, he later attended church that night, visited his loving, elderly grandmother in the hospital, and worked a part-time job at night, giving Aria more faith in her cause. After helping a close friend home from a local party after having too many to drink, he bought some more Xanax, went home, and settled in for the night. Zhavuul and Aria watched him pop a pair of the pills, and take a hit from a bong he kept near his bed. Settling into place on the bed... Carl sat up. `` Goddammit. Not again.'' He said in exhaustion, `` I can fucking see you. Both of you!'' Aria and Zhavuul were taken aback. Carl continued staring in their direction, and for a moment, they did n't know who he was talking to. `` Do n't act like you're invisible.'' Carl continued, `` You do this shit everytime. You stand around, and follow me all over the place, and then try to convince me to be on your side. Either of you. I had to deal with the last one's bullshit too, so make it quick. I do n't have all night.'' `` Uh, okay.'' Zhavuul began, `` Take heed mortal! I Zhavuul, The Damned, command-'' `` Hey save it asswipe! I had to deal with the demon before you!'' Carl pointed angrily, `` He talked the same shit all the time. Tell me what else is new? Ladies first!'' Aria pointed to herself as Carl began motioning to have her come over. `` I've never had them send two before.'' Carl said as he popped another Xanax, `` What's the deal.'' `` Mortal, we-'' Aria opened. `` Quit calling me'mortal'. I'm not twelve.'' Carl beckoned. `` Fine. Carl, is it.'' Aria said as she watched him nod, `` We've been looking for our coworkers who've disappeared on your watch.'' `` I ai n't got anything to do with it, not my problem.'' Carl said, as he attempted to lay down. `` How can you see us again?'' Zhavuul wondered. He watched Carl sit up and study him; completely unfazed by his terrifying characteristics. `` I've had the sight since I was a child, and I'm *high as Jimi Hendrix*.'' Carl acknowledged, `` The better question would be'how could I not'?'' `` I actually like Jimi, he's a good guy.'' Aria randomly trailed off. `` Look that's nice, but I have to sleep, so can you please get the f-'' Something began ringing in the bed, and Zhavuul and Aria got into fighting form while searching for the sound. `` Hello?'' Carl asked. They turned to see him coddling a small synthetic rectangle next to his ear. `` Yeah, what about Reggie?'' Carl said as he listened, `` WHAT? When? *Now*? FUCK! Okay, okay okay, look, yeah, look. I'll meet them at the hospital, okay? Trust me!'' He hung up and quickly began getting dressed. `` Reggie is n't doing too well...'' Zhavuul perked up in anticipation. `` No, he's not.'' Aria noted, `` He probably will die tonight.'' `` Not if I have anything to say about it.'' Carl said as he snuck out the window to his truck.

[ WP ] You somehow acquire a time machine ; it 's about the size of a cell phone , has easily read instructions , and says that it has three remaining uses .

Joshua bolted awake. A pleasant sun was shining through his bedroom window. It ’ s rays caught and gleamed off little specks of dust floating in the air. Somewhere outside a robin chirruped it ’ s greeting to the beautiful day. “ Shit-ass fuck! ” Joshua tried to exclaim. It came out as a groggy mumble while he rolled out of bed and clumsily snatched his cell phone off the end table. His shift started at 5:00 and the day had moved well beyond that. *Where ’ s the alarm? Piece of junk phone can ’ t even do one thing... * His train of thought abruptly derailed as he realized: *This isn ’ t my phone. * It was similar to his phone the way that every phone is similar nowadays; small, thin and sleek. On the screen there were no notifications. No angry calls from his manager or texts from concerned workmates. All it displayed was the date, time and the number three. August 9, 2016. 7:37 am. On the back of the phone a little folded pamphlet was secured with a strip of Scotch tape. He scratched at the chin stubble he wouldn ’ t have time to shave. The panic Joshua felt for being late was replaced by sheer bewilderment. He unfolded the leaflet and saw curt instructions written in several languages. He muttered the English version to himself. “ Swipe up or down to select the time you wish to overtake. Press and hold the red button for three seconds to engage the transformation. The counter displays remaining uses. Held possessions travel with you. ” He glanced around his room. Looking for an answer and seeing only dirty laundry and old furniture. *A time machine? What kind of a joke is this? * His thoughts this time where replaced with sudden melancholy. *Whatever. No matter what ’ s really going on I ’ m toast anyways. The boss man said this was my last chance and here I am sitting at home two hours late. Maybe my sister will let me move back in with her. * He idly scrolled the time to 4:00 am. *Not likely after last time. Another worn out welcome. * He pressed his thumb down. *If only this thing was real. All the mistakes I could fix. I could go back and do it all right... * A sudden pressure hit him. A feeling like being inside an airplane as it takes off, but without the noise and from every direction. As quickly as it came it left. He was still sitting on the edge of his bed still holding on to what wasn ’ t his phone. His room was exactly as it was before, only darker. Like putting on a pair of shades or as if it was earlier in the morning... *Holy sweet mother of everything it worked. * The sun wasn ’ t quite up yet. It was earlier. He had travelled back in time. Joshua slowly raised himself to the window. *Could it be real? How is this possible? * His mind raced with the possibilities. He could travel anywhere in time! He could do anything! A hand shot from the gloom behind him. It covered his mouth while another arm wrapped his neck into a vicious hold. He struggled and tried to fight back. What was that trick his cousin showed him for getting out of headlocks? He couldn ’ t remember. “ I don ’ t have time for this, ” Came a low graveled voice from behind him. “ Joshua, stop, ” Joshua did stop. The intruder dragged him back to the center of the room and loosed his grip slightly. “ Weird shit is happening to you right now. ” The voice whispered “ I ’ m here to fix it. When I let go, do nothing. Say nothing. When I leave, pretend I was never here, aye? ” Joshua nodded as much as he could while being detained. The stranger released his grip and Joshua remained stone still out of fear and shock. The stranger moved slowly, almost painfully it seemed, over to the bed. With one swift motion the stranger ripped the covers off the bed and clamped a dirty rag over the revealed sleepers mouth. Joshua was dazed by the sight before him. There in his bed was another person, but not just any person; another self. That version of himself let out a muffled cry then quickly fell back into unconsciousness from whatever the old man had forced him to inhale. With surprising strength the stranger hefted the comatose clone over his shoulder and shuffled back across the room. He stopped next to Joshua and stared into him, holding out his free hand. “ Give it to me. ” The stranger looked tired. More so then anyone Joshua had ever seen. His clothes were strange and ragged. He had several poorly healed scars on his face. His matted hair rolled down past his shoulders and mostly covered his eyes. The eyes told everything. They were the same eyes Joshua looked into when he looked in the mirror. “ Now! I don ’ t have much time! ” Joshua slowly moved his hands to the stranger. Cradling the time machine like a precious artifact. The old Joshua hastily grabbed it from him and began sliding through dates with a practised efficiency. “ Wish me luck, lad. Hopefully you'll never see us again. ” He pressed down on the phone and after a brief pause vanished. Joshua stood for a few minutes before his mind decided it could accept reality once again. Everything was the same. Normal. And there on his end table was his phone. Was it really his phone? It looked the same but it seemed shinier, newer then he remembered it. He picked it up gently just as it began to beep out an alarm. August 9, 2016. 4:15 am. Get up. Go to work.

[ WP ] Write a story set in the past with an antagonist from the future

I stand as a god amongst mortals. The pinnacle of genetic and bionic engineering. A mercenary from a time not yet dreamt of. The air cools my silver hair as it rushes past me. The reflecting pool is brilliant in the light of the setting sun. A large rectangle far below me, reflecting a not yet tarnished sky. However I know what will soon occupy those brilliant skies. Across from the steps where man convinced each other that all were equal I seek to revitalize this notion. My history is one that I wish upon no one. Perfection nearly achieved save for one flaw, and yet that was all it took for me to be thrown away. It was through pain, and struggling that I achieved my power. It was amongst the many discarded by the `` strong'' that I understood the evils of this world and it's children. Perhaps it was never intended but unless things change it will happen. I can feel the power coursing through my left arm. My wings of light unfurl and my hand of judgement is ablaze. I see that damned dome in the distance, where men would evolve to prioritize a select few over all. There where it will be decided that there are two distinct species of homo sapiens. In time that place will be one of the cornerstones of paradise and the foundation of hell. I cast my judgement against that future that would come. The shining white dome cracks and begins to shatter as my judgement pierces it. I put my mask back on, and I charge up for another blast. I will burn this world of yours to ensure a better one. The time is now. From atop of his memorial I link into all of the media networks, televisions, radios, the internet. My image shall be projected across the world. `` Today I bring the hopes for a better future.'' I raise my arm and calculate the shot. `` My judgement has been cast''. In a heartbeat the Jet that was mobilized after my first judgement now erupts into a fireball across the capital's sky, my judgement once again ringing true. `` I will reshape the world you know and soon it will be a distant memory. I am the Great Equalizer and today my crusade begins. *Malo nodo malus quaerendus cuneus. *''

[ WP ] The shortest story ever told . Once upon a time there was a magical place where it never rained . The end .

`` Once upon a time, there was a magical place where it never rained. The end.'' The boys of D tent laughed uproariously. I turned to leave. E and F tent still needed their water. The campers at Camp Green Lake were a rambunctious sort. Much like myself they were outcasts of society. There was no place for them so the courts placed them here. `` Placed'' was generous. They were given a choice, jail or camp. At that age I would have picked camp as well. Unfortunately camp did n't exist as an option then and I had been in and out of correctional centers for youth and adults my whole life up until now. Now, I have an opportunity to work with kids that were just like me at that age and help them make better choices. I hopped into the cab of the brown, battered F-350 with a 200 gallon water tank fixed to the back. Kids called it `` The Camel'' and I used to fill their water bottles during the day. I started the truck and reached instinctively for the pack of cigarettes in my shirt pocket. The pocket lay flat and empty. Quitting was n't an easy endeavor. But neither was correcting the course these boys were on ad I wanted to set a good example where I could. Even the little things count. As I pulled away from D tents site I heard my name, Mr. Sir, being called. I assumed it was a thank you and waved out the window. It was probably the most affection these poor boys had gotten in years. Most came from broken homes, from parents who did n't care about them and those thoughts only serve to fuel my resolve to help these boys. Only someone who's been where they've been could help, I knew that. That's why I took it upon myself to be a mentor and, if you will, a surrogate father. I reminisced about my own father. He was n't around for long and my memories were short, suffice to say, I was better off without him. But not without a strong male presence which is something I tried my utmost to give to these poor, poor boys. My mouth itched in that special way when it needs a cigarette. Recalling I had none in my pocket, I reached towards the passenger seat for my 5 lb. bag of sunflower seeds. My hand came down on nothing but cracked vinyl. I glanced down, the bag was gone. In an instant, I had the truck turned around. The parenting book on tape in the truck said that punishment had to be handed out swiftly or it would n't be associated with the action. As I pulled up I saw Magnet throw Caveman something. It flopped through the air and I recognized it as my bag of seeds. I parked the truck and walked up to the boys. `` Caveman'' I said, trying to keep my voice even and calm, `` what's that in your hole?'' He denied it at first. Stating he did n't know what it was. I stared at him. Hard. I wanted him to tell me the truth and it was all I could do not to turn on Magnet and target him as the guilty one. `` I took the bag out of your truck, Mr. Sir.'' I wanted to cry. He had n't taken it. He'd just been the guy left with the bag, he'd done nothing wrong but there was nothing I could do without a confession from Magnet `` Get in, I think the warden would like to see what you found.'' -States deposition of Leslie Sir in the matter of The State v Camp Greenlake Page 21 of 35

[ WP ] `` I curse you , '' spat the Gypsy linguist . `` From now on , you shall be plagued by unfortunately misplaced commas . ''

`` I curse you,'' spat the Romani linguist. `` From now on, you shall be plagued by unfortunately misplaced commas.'' Mindy laughed, `` What?! Jesus, it's just a book you fucking weirdo. Sorry, or whatever. I'm outta here.'' She tossed the damaged book onto the table and strode away into the busy market. The linguist immediately swept the tome into her shawl and tried to sponge away the spilled coffee, heedless of stains to her clothing. Mindy, however, carried on with her day and soon forgot the encounter with the Romani linguist. It was only much later that she began to notice something was wrong. `` I'm going to eat you,'' she said to her friend Parker, `` want to come?'' `` Uh,'' Parker said, `` Please do n't eat me. And I think I'll pass, thanks.'' `` I did n't say that!'' Mindy protested, `` I said do you want to come *with* me to get food?'' `` You definitely did say you were going to eat me.'' `` No I did n't!!'' But she had said it, and it was only the beginning. *I've got an hour to kill someone*, Mindy's Facebook status read, *tell me what I should do*. Later, as she updated her profile, she wrote *I like cooking cute animals, and yoga. * These unfortunate statements garnered both concern and mockery from her social circle, but mostly mockery. *Mindy ur so dumb* one friend wrote. *I am, not you, jerk! * read Mindy's reply. *exactly, * returned her friend. Everyone laughed and Mindy grew ever more frustrated. A later post about wedding proposals led only to further embarrassment: *Do you think the guy should get down on one knee and ask your dad for permission? I do! # tradition* One commenter quipped, `` As far as I know, my dad is already married, and also not gay.'' The curse started to affect Mindy's work life as well. `` I want you,'' she said to a co-worker. After an uncomfortably long pause, she managed to continue, `` to send me those notes from Thursday's meeting!'' Her co-worker began to avoid her. As the cringe-worthy incidents continued to pile up, Mindy felt she was nearing the end of her rope. Finally she returned to the market to find the Romani linguist and beg her to end the curse. As luck would have it, the linguist's stall was still there. `` Please make it stop!'' Mindy said. `` I ca n't take it anymore!'' The linguist smiled an unpleasant smile. `` Have you learned the importance of being mindful?'' `` Yes! I'm sorry!'' `` Too bad,'' sniffed the linguist. `` That was one of my favorite books you spilled coffee on. Go away.'' Mindy began to cry.

[ WP ] Poor people are able to pawn off their memories .

The interior of the shop was run-down, smelling of nicotine smoke and something that oddly reminded the young woman of old leather. It was n't a comforting smell, but it was one that she would have to get used to. With her brother's business failing, they hardly had any money for food, and suddenly their car broke down. The man at the counter looked her up and down, eyes seeming to glare into her soul, judging her. She shifted from foot to foot, looking at him with tired eyes, waiting to see if he would speak first. The cigarette in his mouth made her want to make some sort of disgusted protest, but she refrained from doing so. This man was her ticket to money. `` Memories,'' she stated simply. The man nodded, reaching under the counter and handing her a mirror. She picked it up, thumb running over the decorative silver surface, before she thought of her old home. It was the first memory that came up as she stared into the mirror. Her parents were picking strawberries, whilst she and her brother were holding the baskets. She remembered them being so heavy, but she still carried them as much as she could. The sun was hot against the back of her neck, and she used to wear an sunhat too big for her little head as she would walk. Her parents always thought it was cute. The woman handed the mirror back, watching the man behind the counter appraise it, before covering the glass over the mirror and handing her a small wad of cash. Hopefully, it would do. As she walked away from the pawn shop, the woman wondered what she had given away.

[ EU ] The Pokemon have invented a Pokeball capable of capturing a human .

The Ferroseed and the Sigilyph had issues carrying the ball, but they did so relentlessly and with utmost care. For the spiky Pokémon, this was extremely difficult. The Pokémon center fortunately was open 24/7 sp despite the ordeal taking a long time, they did n't have to care about opening times. The clerk looked confused, but tired, there was no argument. She did call her boss afterwards saying that she had to have a replacement as she was tired enough to hallucinate. the way back was just as arduous, but they did n't stop, until they reached the house and there: the bed and then released him from the ball. They were able to pass it off as a bad dream when he was released. They liked their trainer a lot and he liked them both a lot as well and as such just being affectionate was enough to make him believe nothing strange had happened. And he would always think his cancer went into spontaneous remission.

[ WP ] The best male wingman on earth tries to help his friend score with a hot lady . Meanwhile , the best female winggirl on earth tries to make sure her friend ( the hot lady ) goes home alone .

I'll tell you a little story. Years ago when I was young and looking for love in all the wrong places, I noticed a hot ( and I mean HOT ) girl at a table with her not so hot female friend. During the course of drinking a beer I watched as guy after guy approached their table only to be humiliated and sent back to their lonely corner of the bar. It was then that I had an epiphany for a major score. I approached their table and without a single glance or word I starred into the homely lady's eyes and asked, `` I noticed you were by yourself and I would love to join you if that was OK?'' She looked surprised and said yeah that would be fine with her if it was ok with her friend. Her friend smiled and agreed and within 20minutes had the hot girl's digits for a another night. Sometimes when the house is locked you have to enter through a window.

[ PI ] “ Every character should want something , even if it is only a glass of water . '' Write the story of a character that wants a glass of water .

Warning: Probably NSFW language, depending on your W. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Water. In a glass. With the sweat trickling down the outside, outlining my fingertips; with the ice tinkling; with the straw still half-wrapped for some sort of dubious sanitary purpose. That's what I want. That's *all* I want. Max looks at me with his puppy eyes and dump-me-soon helpless sympathy. `` I'm trying to get someone's attention, Gretch.'' *Try harder, * I want to say, but I'm not a bitch. Though if I sit out here on the patio for five minutes longer without *a god-damned glass of water* that may well change. So I try to smile pretty, to hide my teeth so I do n't bite his head off, and I feel the sweat trickling down my back, into the hip-length cast that anchors me to the fat-tourist shopping scooter. `` Would you mind going inside and seeing if you can get someone to come out?'' I need him, at least until the cast comes off. `` Anything for you, sweetie,'' he says. While I wait, I drip sweat on my phone and play a game. The patio is deserted, but the restaurant proper is up eleven steps and it's the only place open during siesta. The apartment we're renting is overrun with roaches; I would n't cook there even if I could. So I ride in my little scooter and I curse the Mayans who had the nerve to let their temples get overgrown and the Mexican doctors who could n't turn a fractured femur into a sprain, and I wait, and I sweat, and I stew, and I think of all the ways I'm going to kill Max when I can walk away from the crime scene. Much like I'm waiting right now. Eventually, Max comes out trailing a thick-set waiter with a smile on his face and a plastic bottle in one hand. He says something that I most sincerely hope is an apology and he sets the bottle before me. The bottle is open. *Do n't drink the water*, the Internet says. And I do n't want -- do n't need, *ca n't possibly get* the shits with a hip cast. Sweat drips down the bottle's side, puddles on the table before me. *Montezuma's Revenge. * Did he open it just now? Or did he refill it from the tap? My head is swimming -- at least *something* gets to swim -- but I know for a fact that the feeling of shit running down a hip cast is something I desperately want to avoid. `` Señor,'' I say. `` Un otro... bottle... oh, crap.'' I point to the place where the cap should be, mime screwing it on. The smile disappears like I've just leveled a gun at him. His brown face reddens and he lets off a stream of what I can only assume is *not* apologies. I try to apologize, say it's nothing personal. He wheels away, stomps toward the stairs. I eye the bottle. Max stands above me, looking down. `` Gretch, maybe --'' The waiter comes back, grabs the bottle. Droplets of water fly into the air, splatter on the table. I swear I can hear them sizzle. He wheels and stomps away. If I were myself I'd follow him, try to apologize. But I'm a scooter riding invalid. `` Max?'' I grind my teeth. `` Sweetie? Tell me the only open place in this entire godforsaken fucking town did n't just deny me service because I wanted to be sure the water was n't going to poison me.'' `` I tried,'' he says. `` Try harder.'' I do n't want to snap, but I ca n't help it. The heat, the dehydration, I barely know what I'm saying. `` C'mon, Gretch. Stores will be open --'' I'm about to pass out, I swear. Spots in front of my eyes, world narrowing down. I might die right here on this ridiculous red scooter. `` I do n't care if you have to give him a blowjob. I need a drink.'' `` Jesus.'' He stares down at me, hands on his hips. `` Jesus, Gretchen.'' He starts to turn toward the stairs again, then turns back to me. `` You know what? I'm sorry you fell. I'm sorry you're thirsty. I'm sorry this entire vacation has been a disaster. But I'm done putting up with this shit.'' Instead of going toward the stairs, he goes the other direction, down the dusty street toward our shitty apartment. Toward the airport beyond it, maybe. `` Max --'' He does n't look back. *Shit. * I turn the scooter's key. Maybe I can catch him. Make it right somehow. He ca n't leave me here, can he? Can he? The scooter moves three feet. Another four inches. And then dies. *Fuck. *

[ CW ] Write a short story without using the words `` the '' or `` and '' .

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a bear. Now this bear had a magic hat, that contained delicious sandwiches whenever its owner desired them. One day, as Beorn ( a noble name for any bear, especially one with a magic hat ) was trundling along his favourite woodland walk, he came across a poor tinker selling his wares. `` Why hello there, Beorn'' Harry, local Tinker/general travelling tradesman, smiled at Beorn ( for a bear with a magic hat becomes somewhat famous quite easily ). `` Hello, Tinker'' Beorn replied pleasantly. `` Would you like a sandwich?'' Reaching up into his hat with a great paw, Beorn pulled out a sandwich for Harry. Harry's eyes lit up, for he had not eaten for a long time. `` Why thank you, Beorn. That is most kind.'' Munching down onto his sandwich ( egg and cress ), Harry was reminded of his Code, that nothing was taken without recompense. Wiping crumbs from his beard, Harry grabbed his finest frying pan. `` Beorn, for your kindness, I give to you a frying pan.'' `` Oh! Why thank you, Tinker.'' Beorn smiled. `` I shall store it in my hat.'' His eyes glinted. `` I shall have to make room.'' He whipped off his hat and upended it into one of Harry's pans, causing many sandwiches to fall in. Placing Harry's gift into his hat, Beorn went on his way, heading for home. Further down his homeward path, Beorn found himself abruptly stopped by a cold poke in the nose. Looking down his snout, he saw a small rabbit wearing a dashing hat, who was poking Beorn's nose with a sword. `` Hello there'' Beorn attempted to smile. `` Do n't hello me,'' snarled his attacker. `` Your money or your life.'' `` I do n't have money. I do have some nice sandwiches though. Would you like one?'' Beorn reached up into his hat as his attacker jeered. `` A sandwich? Hah! I'll skin you; your pelt will give me coin.'' `` Oh dear. Then what about a frying pan?'' With that, Beorn swung Harry's gift from under his hat, smashing his attacker on the head. Reaching home, Beorn opened his front door, calling a pleasant greeting to his wife. `` Hello dear'' his wife, Beatrice, came up to Beorn to hug her husband. `` What's for dinner?'' She had sent him out to find some food, for even magic sandwiches become trying after a while. Smiling, Beorn reached up under his hat, pulling out Harry's gift. `` I thought I'd fry some vegetables with this lovely frying pan that I got from Harry''. `` Did you get any meat?'' His wife eyed Beorn suspiciously. He had tried to disguise sandwich meat before in a similar manner. Beorn laughed, reaching up into his hat to pull out their dinner. `` Why, Rabbit steaks, dear''.

[ WP ] You are a marriage counselor secretly trying to destroy the marriage of a couple you counsel . It looks like you 're failing .

Dr. Preston sat at his desk, impatiently twirling his pen and shooting glances at the clock. It was ten till eleven, and his clients were very punctual, but the wait was excruciating. These particular clients were seeking martial advice. While not Preston's specialty, not uncommon. His mind had cracked the psychological issues others deemed impossible: histrionic personality disorder, Pica, disassociate disorder. There was even a man with Frotteurism who would not stop assaulting people on the bus before Preston helped him overcome the rape he had endured as a child. It was two till eleven when the doctor heard the door to his lobby open and the couple talk to his receptionist. For all his gifts of the mind, Dr. Preston was not a physically impressive specimen. His massive stained oak desk was a safe fortress he could sit behind, without exposing his short legs and thin arms. The woodwork was ornate enough that many patients forgot there was a man behind it at all. Of course he was aware of his own self criticisms and psychosis. Like any good therapist he blamed his mother and older sister. He often sweat the collar of his shirt and tapped his shoes too much whenever he sat down. Spinning his pens was reserved for only the most stressful situations. Carolin was one such situation. She was tall, with slender arms, and thin but not so disgustingly underfed like you see younger women now. She had the figure of a mother ( though she had no kids ) and the weight to show for it. But it suited her in Dr. Preston's opinion. She was just round enough to wrap his arms around, though he hard certainly never done so. Her hair was auburn, and it fascinated him to stare at the brownish-red waves. Admittedly he should have been listening, but he was enchanted far beyond professionalism by now. On her arm, yes they were linking arms again, was her husband Mark. He was, by typical definitions, handsome. He was a professional runner, long legs and nearly zero body fat by this point. His features were sharp, and his voice was booming ( overpowering even ). But Mark looked different; tired, unwell, and worn-down. The doctor tried not to feel excited at seeing him so weathered in body and spirit. He tried, but failed. `` Good morning Stephensons.'' Dr. Preston's tone had a hint of anxiety he could not hide. `` Morning doctor,'' Carolin almost bounced with each syllable. `` Doctor,'' Mark groaned. His voice was not strong today. In fact, his voice reflected his appearance. He creaked and moaned. `` Everything alright here? Mark you seem rather tired. Should we address something in particular immediately?'' His heart raced at the thought of the two fighting all night. `` Doctor, I do n't really believe in all this science. I never will, but last night I think we had what you people call a break through.'' Mark collapsed into one of the chairs. Dr. Preston was slightly annoyed it was the chair where morning light came through the window, and he would not be able to watch Carolin's hair today. `` Well, enlighten me please! Both of you!'' And they spent the next forty-five minutes talking about last night. It started from small thing, like all of their conflicts. She believed he was too cold and analytic, he thought she was unrealistic and childish. She wanted to start having kids now, he thought they were still too young. Then it spiraled. A kitchen sink argument where every little annoyance over the last four years of marriage came back to the surface. Dr. Preston was, at first, very excited. A fight like this often forces a separation. Maybe that was the realization? Maybe he hit her! He could call the police and have Mark out of the picture for a time. Maybe Carolin realized she needs someone intellectual to match her. Someone who also wants kids, and has a high paying job that can support a family. As Preston's mind reeled, he realized he had not been listening to the last ten minutes and missed their revelation. `` And... how do you feel about this realization?'' `` I could n't sleep all night doc. I could n't believe how heartless I had been to the greatest woman on this planet. I did n't deserve her.'' *You're* *damn* *right* *you* *don't*, Preston whispered in his mind. `` But I love her. I love her so much I ca n't imagine how I would live with myself if I let her go.'' Mark's voice cracked. He was on the verge of tears. Carolin began rubbing his back as a comfort. `` We're ready to really try and fix this Dr. Preston. Everything came out last night and when it was all done we realized we still love each other. We're ready.'' Carolin smiled with tears in her gorgeous eyes. Preston sunk in his seat. His foot tapped, he twirled his pen, he even ground his teeth ( probably because of his father ). He had been steering them towards conflict for weeks, but it was supposed to happen in the office! The argument could be pruned and directed as he saw fit! Now it was all for nothing! Carolin smiled again at the doctor. He was not deterred. `` Well it looks like we've made some real progress here. Let's pick up here next week and keep the momentum going.'' They rose to leave, holding hands like high school sweethearts. Preston new this move would make him a bastard, but Mark deserved it. It was just the truth right? He stood up from his chair, behind the desk. `` And Mark, for the record, I think it was very brave of you to admit to the affair a few months ago.'' That had been Mark's confession during an individual session. He knew Mark was too big a coward to admit that. Carolin's breakdown would be tremendous, and who better to help her at this time of need than her psychologist. There was no way Mark had told her that last night. `` It still hurts to think about, but you made me realize it was the right thing to do doc. One day I'll earn Carolin's forgiveness, I hope.'' Mark closed the office door behind him. Preston sank back into his chair. What he had just attempted began to sink into his conscious. He did n't deserve Carolin. Maybe he did n't deserve anyone after trying something like that. `` Stephanie can you cancel the rest of my appointments for today. I forgot something important and need to go take care of it.''

[ WP ] In a world of superpowered beings , you 're the only powerless human . One day you wake up and fine every single person is terrified of you .

What's that smell? I'm still half asleep, stumbling to my feet before I trip over last night's half finished pizza box. The fall wakes me up and reminds me that my head is still pounding after three straight days. As I start climbing back to my feet, I feel this intense heat against my face. I lift my eyes and see my entire studio apartment on fire. You think I'd be scared, but I live in a world full of assholes with super powers. They love reminding me that I'm the only person with none so I'm sure one of them will come and put out the fire. I'm going back to sleep. At least, that's what I usually do, but this migraine is worse than ever. I check behind my bathroom mirror and no good, I'm all out of pills. As I come back to my bedroom, the fire's much bigger and it's getting hard to breathe. What the hell is taking them so long? Before I could get to the floor, the glass on my windows start to shatter and small balls of fire land scatter throughout the room. That's not normal fire! I ca n't even get close enough to the windows to check, but it has to be Jalen Blaze. Why the hell is he doing this to me? I have n't done a damn thing to him. Crap, there's no time to figure that out. I have to get the hell out of here, but the door knob's so hot I ca n't even touch it. Do I take my chances with the windows? The fire's closing in around me, no choice left. I grab a towel and get ready to jump. Please make it! Suddenly, a huge gust of wind knocks me back in and a brick wall springs up, locking me in with the fire. The smoke is already choking my lungs when I yell out, `` Help! Someone save me! Why are you doing this to me?'' I did n't expect an answer, but surprisingly, a handful of voices answered back through the walls of fire. `` It's all your fault!'' The voices are so clear, whose power is this? `` I have n't done anything to you people,'' I yell back, but the pain in my head gets worse. They keep shouting, `` Your disease has spread to our children, Monster! Die.'' `` I'm innocent.'' `` Die.'' `` Shut up.'' `` Die!'' The ringing in my head wo n't stop. `` I said shut up!'' I do n't remember what happened, but the pain in my head is gone and the voices stopped. When I open my eyes, I realize why. `` Oh my god. What have I done?''

[ WP ] The date is July 13 , 1836 . You 're the clerk at the front desk of the U.S. Patent Office on opening day . Things are going just fine until a number of strangely-dressed people get into an argument about their placement in line . Coincidentally , they 're all trying to patent methods of time travel .

I'd been getting things ready for a couple of hours. The papers were all neatly stacked, the pens filled with ink and the blotting paper spotless. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be and everything was in it's correct place, just what the rulebook said. No-one could have cause for complaint that I was sloppy in my work. Not like Pieterson or Sanders they were always making mistakes and hoping no-one would notice. A blot here a correction there. It all added up. The grandfather clock advised that it was nine and the first dozen claimants entered the large oak panelled room. I recognised Bob Gettery the owner of a hotel that I had visited once or twice and wondered what idea had brought him here. A couple of other faces were vaguely familiar but I could not name them. There were three who particularly drew my eye though. Each was more out of place than the last. The first was freakishly tall, a pale man with a suit cut too precisely so that the seams between the arm and shoulder appeared almost drawn rather than stitched. Next to him stood a fat man in what seemed to be a kilt such as a scotsman might wear if the scotsman had no sense of propriety. For it rode up high and revealed more about the fat man than I wished to know as he jostled with the tall man for position in front of my desk. The third man was the one who I found to be most incongruous. He wore nothing but a pair of bathing shorts and a smile that said he was under the influence of some sort of drug or alcohol. No doubt here on vacation and wandering in lost or for some bet. `` Gentlemen.'' I said. `` Welcome to the patent office. You were given a token as you entered with a number on it. I will see you in order from lowest number to highest.'' They were indeed all clutching small ceramic tiles and looked down to confirm the numbers they had been given. `` Who has number one?'' They looked to each other. The tall man anxiously glancing at the man in the kilt. `` I've got number two'' It was Bob Gettery. I really did wonder what he'd come up with. `` Thanks Bob. I'll see you in a minute.'' I slid open the drawer of my desk and plucked out the small white tile marked with the number one that lay inside. I held it up for them all to see. `` I've just got a form to fill out first. It wo n't take much time.''

[ WP ] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar 's body . The bigger the lie , the deeper and larger the mark . One day , you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen .

I live in a world when you lie you get a scar. The bigger the scar, the worse the lie. I apparently was in an accident a year ago and now I ca n't remember things that well. So there I am at the store and I see this girl with one extremely large and deep looking scar. I figured I should go ask her what she said because it seems interesting there was only one lie. So I asked her and she said she used to be my wife. She could n't look me in the eye and she said it was `` I love you.'' Edit: Yes I know someone else did something similar to this. Just saying before downvotes happen.

[ WP ] Vegetarian terrorists insert DNA into cattle worldwide increasing their intelligence .

*Plunk.. Maybe this is the sound that was made when my self-awareness came into being, for it is hard to discern exactly when it happens, much like falling to sleep. However I do know this; a monotonous life and a dynamic consciousness can be a dangerous combination. For over 3 months I have sat in relative silence ( apart from variations on moo that transmit only the most primitive desires ) among my peers, if I could even call them that. The bipedals who run this factory seem more intelligent than my kin, based on the level of variance in their noises. I have tried to reply with something similar in sound but do n't have the physical capabilities. Due to this and the way I am treated I do n't believe the bipedals see me as anything near equal. My life is confined to a 10' by 8' cell in which chemical-flavored soymeal is splatted into three times a day. My kin here never seem to die, but are rather removed to a different location, perhaps to run on greener pastures. But that it wishful thinking; the odor betrays murder somewhere not far near. Apparently my life is equal to that of mere cabbage to the bipedals, who seemingly do n't hesitate to dominate other thinking creatures as their own. They must believe in no god, or one very biased towards their specific species, that would allow such activity to occur without a guilty conscious. What is this? My gate is opening; I am being pulled by the collar towards destination unknown. It must be my time to serve the greater, or lesser, purpose. Better. I may finally return to the dark solace to which my captors believe I rightfully belong. If only I could have communicated, commiserated with my kin. If only...

[ EU ] - A zergling breaks free from the control of the hive mind .

`` Go OuT aNd PlAy WiTh ThE tErRaNs'' the hivemind had ordered the newly hatched brood of four legged xenomorphs and they spread out through the jungle sinking long hooked claws in the moist ground, propelling themselves between parting trees at breakneck speed with powerful elegant moves, taking in the many smells rich with the promise of prey, half mad with the joy of the first hunt. When he entered the clearing he was filled with a pleasant weariness. He'd gone farther than all the others, having allowed himself no rest, ever hungry to gaze upon new sights. He went on slower now, bringing in his head all the images he had acquired, dwelling on each, remembering smells, and motions, and almost ran into the small human without noticing it. With barely contained excitement he ran a few circles around it, he sniffed at it deeply then snorted air out at it again and again just so he could see the human's long hair scatter and fall back down in fascinating patterns. `` I'm not afraid'' the child declared and tried her very best to look big as she had been taught, with only moderate success. She considered feeling guilty because she had n't been entirely truthful, but then she decided the creature could n't talk so no one will know. The xenomorph bopped its nose into the human with what he thought counted as gentleness, causing it to fall over. Evidently something had gone wrong with the cloning process, some out of place gene had caused this one to either be stupid enough to take his orders too literally, or smart enough to pretend to do so, for it was determined to play and play and then play some more. `` Stop it!'' commanded the child as it got back up on its small feet, and with something not unlike wry humor it amused the alien to whimper, shuffle backward and look downward at being reprimanded. `` PlAy HaRdEr'' the overmind commanded with a note of exasperation, and the xenomorph starting running really fast here and there, jumping over the child, rolling over in front of her, and generally making a spectacle of itself. `` UsE yOuR TeEtH'' tried the overmind once more before resolving to find better uses of its APM elsewhere, and he came at the child with a giant open mouth full of rows of sharp teeth. At this the child showed her own and made her hands into claws, in a fierce display calculated to instill proper respect in her adversary. If such sight had n't already caused the alien to fall in love he certainly did so when she produced the brightly colored ball. He begged and whimpered and pounced the ground in place and sniffed and snorted. `` Fetch!'' the girl said and he knew he had found his place in the world. Off he ran and back he ran, carrying the ball with affection and care, putting it down proudly. They spent the rest of the day with much joy and in the evening he let her climb on his shoulders and guide him home. `` Mommy, can we keep it, can we?!'' the girl asked with a tone that brooked no opposition.

[ WP ] A new kind of social network technology uses algorithms to simulate people after they 've passed away based on analysis of their lifetime 's worth of online activity . This allows some kind of interaction with ( and perhaps between ) lost loved ones . What are the implications and how is life now ?

When someone dies, they are gone forever. Denial ca n't change that. The death of a loved one opens up a void in the heart, and that pain can seem unbearable, but it does n't change the truth. You ca n't talk with the dead. However, new technologies can simulate life, by studying the imprint the dead left on the digital world. With our information freely given, it has become possible to recompile our digital memory into an vestige of our selves. They can communicate, but can they think, do they feel? Is it real, or is it just an echo of what once was? Our digital memory is what we offered to others, our thoughts filtered through what we want others to think of us. It is our assumed best qualities, what we found amusing, and how we wished to present ourselves. No one put their real selves online. The internet is the tool we use to control the flow of information to others, not to connect with others. When someone posts something that others dislike, it gets ridiculed or attacked, thus filtering the content we post. Our real selves are hidden behind the screen, while our idolized versions of our selves are put on display.

[ WP ] A parent explaining to their child that the other parent has died .

`` Fuck.'' I said, face burrowed in my hands. I could n't stand how he was looking at me. Why was he looking at me like that? He had to know. You do n't just hear your dad say `` Fuck'' while outside your mother's hospital room without knowing, but he asked anyway. `` What's wrong Dad?'' Son of a bitch. No. I did n't mean that literally. Just how do you tell him? How would you tell your ten year old son that his mother's dead? Do you make something up? Do you treat it like when a goldfish dies and say he's gone off to a farm upstate? No, he'd never believe that. He's ten years old, too old to believe that stuff, and yet... too young to lose his mother. I looked at him, tears welling up, and in that moment he looked just like her. All the memories came flooding back, the ferris wheel, her getting her hair stuck in cotton candy, a first kiss that came out of nowhere, and yet turned into everything. Turned into my son. In that moment, I wondered if I said the right thing, could she be okay? Of course not. Of course not. Of course not. He must've seen those thoughts course through my head, because I could see his little eyes - her eyes, they were always her eyes - well up. God, I hated to seem him cry because when he cried, I could see her cry and it was awful. I held him in my arms. He was so weak, so small, yet full of infinite possibility, as all children are. That boy deserved a mother just as much as I deserved a wife. Yet, here we were. `` She's gone,'' I whispered to him. I felt his little hands hold my back even tighter. I hated saying it. It was as if saying it had made it... real. I know I ca n't explain it, but who can explain it? Certainly not me. My son broke the hug and looked at me. `` We'll be okay,'' he said, with her voice. `` I know, son.'' I smiled at him. `` I know.''

[ WP ] When someone is murdered , their name appears on the skin of the killer . You wake up with a name on your arm and no knowledge of how it got there .

Mom always told me not to wear long-sleeved shirts. I obeyed, of course. It would always make people talk when they saw a name on your skin. They would n't ask, they'd just whisper. When I traveled to Guatemala, I saw a police officer with his arm covered with people's names. I would later learn he was a war hero. This was normal in my world, of course. Somehow your occupation would justify the number of people you shot in the head. I'd imagine it were the same in yours? In one of my college classes, someone broke down as the word `` Lily'' slowly etched into his skin. She was the girl he had accidentally given the wrong medicine to. How was anyone supposed to know she was allergic to Advil? There's a different group that handles these cases. You make your plea and they investigate. If they decide you were innocent, you would be given a special tattoo over that name, a white rose. My dad has one over granddad's name. Gramps wanted it. The machines were more of a nuisance for him. Dad taught me how to file a pardon. You would have to download a form online and fill it out then mail it to them. They'd get back to you 3 days later. I wrote his name down under the'deceased' blank. I sighed as I looked at my left arm, the skin just hanging limply on the bones. *John, I'm so sorry. * Cause of death: overdose. You'd have to fill in the rest, write a narrative of your side of the story. My fingers were shaking. Tears filled my eyes. *I loved him too much. * *I did n't know what to do. * *I wanted him all to myself so I gave him more. I kept on giving because I knew it was why he'd come back to me. * *I did n't know this would happen. * There were white lies and white lines. I looked at my bedside table. The clock said 8:30 PM. John should have been here. He'd get the rows on right, and mine would be on the left. There was no John anymore though. 8:31 PM. I'll see you in a few, my love.

[ WP ] Satan gathers up all the lesser demons and announces that they 're going to be adding another sin to the seven deadly sins and whoever comes up with it gets to be in charge of that department .

`` Alright, my children.'' Satan said, rubbing his head sheepishly. The room, mostly composed of 18 year old Succubi or Inccubi addressed him attentively. `` We're adding another sin to the list.'' There were a plethora of loud gasps and *ooh's* and *ahh's* before someone's hand shot up immediately. `` But, seven is an odd number. Would n't we be better off keeping it odd?'' An inccubus asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Satan pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. `` What's your name?'' The inccubus looked around before giving a nod. `` Jared.'' `` Shut the fuck up, Jared.'' The Inccubus' form sank before hugging his knees to his chest, ignoring the laughs of the Succubi. `` Moving on,'' Satan began, snapping his fingers. A chalkboard appeared out of nowhere on the wall, a crude drawing on it. `` Whoever comes up with this new sin, will be in charge of judging that department!'' Satan clapped his hands together, expecting excitement. All he had gotten though, was a bunch of nervous looks. `` Well, what's the matter?'' A Succubus raised her hand this time. She shifted under Satan's gaze, attempting to avoid being snapped at. `` You raised your hand, so I'm assuming you want to talk, right? No rush.'' Satan offered, watching the Succubus give a deep sigh of relief. `` Lisa Lisa, at your service,'' She began, wiping the sweat off of her brow. `` What makes a sin, a... well y'know, a sin?'' Satan stared at her for a solid five seconds, thinking of all the ways he could backhand the shit out of her for a stupid question. He ultimately thought against it. `` A sin's a sin because I say it is.'' `` But if that's the case, most sins are n't even inherently evil. You're literally saying making one of these bad things a part of your life will send you to hell. Most people do n't want to come here.'' Satan rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. `` Bitch,'' he said, dragging the word out. `` I am a god.'' The succubus sighed, getting consolation from her fellow Succubi. `` Satan, sire.'' An Inccubus began, `` By sin do you perhaps mean these?'' He asked, pulling out a poster. `` The Seven Deadly Sins.'' Satan read off of it, staring at the picture. It featured a blonde boy, a silver haired girl, a pig, a flying smaller child, a giant, and a grey haired man, a woman with ravenlocks, and... something with purple hair. Accompanying them was a man who appeared to be a butler and his muscled up companion. `` These are'*The Seven Deadly Sins*', Meliodas, Ban, Diane, King, Gowther, Merlin, and Escanor.'' Satan had definitely colored himself intrigued, but that was going to be for another time. `` No. Although now I'm interested, that's not what I mean.'' The inccubus stared dejectedly at the floor, getting consoling fistbumps from his friends and even a lap pillow from a sister succubus. `` Alright.'' A succubus said, giving a military salute. `` I've gotten the perfect idea for a sin. Lying.'' Satan's eyes lit up, immediately placing his hands on her shoulders. `` Name?'' The succubus' face flushed a tinge pink before she shook the color back into it. `` Emilia.'' `` Well, Emilia,'' Satan said, shaking in excitement. `` How do you plan on making lying a sin?'' Emilia shifted nervously under his expectant glance, worrying for a sudden change in personality or atmosphere. `` Uh... I'm not quite sure. Is n't it common for lying to be bad though?'' The light that flickered inside Satan's eyes had died. *Hard*. `` So much potential... gone to waste.'' He picked Emilia up off the ground, bringing the pink back to her already red cheeks. Without a pause he spun her around, ignoring the gazes of other jealous succubi or inccubi. Emilia broke out into a happy giggle, which ended quickly when Satan tossed her out of an open window. `` For fuck's sake,'' He began, adjusting his cape. `` Can none of you come up with anything?'' The succubi and inccubi conversed to themselves before coming up with a collective no. Satan gripped his desk, splintering the wood. He was so close to losing it. `` I know, what if we make love a sin?'' Someone asked. Before anyone could clasp the voice's mouth it was too late. Satan had already lost it. `` Wok ih ij in majjinv, htah I ap zokn inho inwapc. Htkouvt htij, I zeyope a makavon ow mofek anx xejhkuyhion ho kije azoge all. Inwinihe in xijhanye anx yoppanxek ow xeaht, I jpihe couk joulj, anx zc pc jtoulxek, zanijt htee.'' Satan said, a sinister smirk adorning his features. `` Oh f-'' Someone began, only to be immediately struck by a dark blast. `` Be gone.'' Satan commanded, the rest of the room's occupants returning to the lower levels of Hell, or even Earth if they were stationed there. `` Damn,'' Satan said, placing his head on the cool glass of the window. `` Maybe I should make being fucking dumb a sin.''

[ WP ] Donald Trump 's hair is actually an alien lifeform intent on global domination .

Why wo n't people take me seriously??? I've been inhabiting this rich dude since the 80's, regularly making the news, preaching my message of world domination and nobody will even give me the time of day. i remember the day i morphed myself into this dead badger and attached myself to the bald noggin of Mr. Trump while he lazed in his private swimming pool. I remember how he resisted at first, but then realized what i could turn him into, he gave himself over. Slowly, but surely, I built the empire back. From hotel/casinos to reality television, I made this man a household name again, politics was the next logical step to world domination. 2016 is my year, the year they finally recognize BLRagH, the malevolent alien hairpiece

[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Another Call for Moderators Edition

Just a little [ PI ] from during the week. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- These little cupboards were not uncommon, especially if you know where to look and who to expect to have one. With their all-too-well-oiled hinges, polished brass handles and patches of rich veneer worn thin by touch upon countless touch. Whitney had suspected, since her late teens when had begun to amass her own, that her mother may have one hidden away somewhere, but she had simply never looked for it. The assorted glass bottles of all manner of shapes and sizes, filled with liquids fluorescing silently in the shadows within did not surprise her in the slightest. They were so similar and always had been, why shouldn ’ t they have found solace in the same coping mechanism? Her own cupboard, by comparison, was as different as it was the same. Hers no more recent in its antique stylings but clearly far less extensively used. Less worn and much smaller, the only aspect that surprised Whitney about the other was the sheer size of it, more accurately; the depth. After so many years bottling emotions a collector begins to acquire the eye, amassing, not unlike the artist, an extensive palette, a repertoire of feelings all identifiable by their unique and spectral glow. The most obvious colours, those so strong they crept into the common vernacular of the otherwise ignorant, were readily picked up. Blues for sadness in a million hues, reds are deep glowing rage within their receptacles and greens give colour to the gamut of human greed and envy. Brighter colours tending to suggest a pure emotion whereas deeper shades betray those which grew from darker seeds. The real difficulty in identification arises with feelings that are hard to pin, impossible to quantify, even as they are felt; attempt, for instance, to paint ennui or give colour to love itself. She allowed her mind to wander as lightly over the contents of each bottle just as her fingers brushed their necks in turn. Occasionally a tone would match that from her memory precisely and Whitney knew instantly what the liquid contained. Others were merely familiar and small flavours, guesses, were all she would allow herself. None of this was hers, after all. The guilt of her intrusion soon became too persistent, the realisation she had already gone further than she should. As she closed the first door an other-worldly illumination caught her keenly attuned eye. It was beautiful. A beauty owed in part to its uncommon eerie quality of light but to a much greater degree its ghostly pale violet-blue hue. Never for moment had she ever seriously considered actually tasting another ’ s memories, especially those of her mother, the dangers to obvious to even require consideration, but this colour, it called to her. It called and she answered. The rim of the neck was cool against her lower lip. It ’ s contents nothing short of icy. As it slipped down her throat she could mark it ’ s progress just as the grey crept in at the edges of vision. Soon the room in which she had been standing had faded, the rough texture of flagstones beneath her bare feet replaced with cold, dark grass. Whitney knew this before she could see anything and standing in the inky blackness it comforted her. One by one the stars began to blink into life. A yellow crescent moon waxed into view over the now visible tree-line, the black tips of a artists bristles having just drawn down the last star peppered stroke of the deep blue sky. She could feel the drying tracks of tears on her cheeks and knew almost instinctively the memory in which she had found herself. Whitney had a similar memory of her own, far more painful, more formative, but both grew from the same root. The death of her grandmother, her mother ’ s mother2. She was old and so very ill; her throat had slowly collapsed on itself requiring a tracheotomy. First it robbed her of her voice and went on to take her life in a crimson-faced fit of choking seizures. Her own memory began with a silent call to her house phone, her mother had checked the caller ID, answered, listened for no more than a second or two and immediately began to panic. She shouted at Whitney to find her shoes and, seemingly without time to leave the house, they were in the car and heading to her grandmother ’ s. Nothing, no prior experience, could have prepared her for what came next. Her grandmother ’ s face was an instantly unsettling puce. Her eyes seemed to have shrunk into her head behind a veil of tears and panic. A deep guttural bubbling issued forth from the plastic tube beneath the loose flesh of her chin. Her mother began to cry, to push at the old woman ’ s chest, to try and pull her from the reclining chair in which she slumped. Whitney had been commanded, screamed at, to phone the ambulance and found herself helpless but to stand and dryly recite information the dispatcher requested. She had been fifteen years old and the memory had formed her very outlook on life. She had always assumed her mother would remember that awful day in a similar manner, for all Whitney knew she did, but this was not quite the memory in question. This recollection was a melancholic one, of that there was no doubt, but the overbearing feeling was one of comfort. As confusing as this juxtaposition felt to her, all Whitney had to do to understand was look to the sky. It was a sharp and cold night, the shining firmament was crystal clear, ideal for stargazing. Her grandmother had been ill for years and the cumulative effect of worry on her mother was visible, she had developed a sort of short-range agoraphobia which had left her unable to travel more than a few miles from her own mother. This was no more evident that when it began to snow, the outright panic she would suffer at the idea she might be unable to reach her mother if needed was palpable as soon as the first flakes fell. On this night in particular Whitney suspected her mother would not have been able to tell the curious effect of snow falling from cloudless, starry sky was nothing more than an optical effect. Brought about by the offset of a particularly clear atmosphere and wispy clouds, high in the atmosphere, outside of the limits of what the the human eye can detect against an inky background. She somehow doubted it would matter. As the first ice cold specks fell gently against her warm, already wet cheeks Whitney too felt relief.

[ WP ] You , a religious believer , describe life under The Supreme Government , which has just banned all religion .

The first test was the possession of my wife. Naked, sweaty, writhing in the arms of another man, she looked at me and said, “ Oh God, oh God, ” and I said, “ Do not use his name in vain, ” and she said, “ I'm sorry, ” and I forgave her both crimes. When she gave birth to that man's child, I said to her, “ This is my second test, ” and she said, “ I'm sorry, ” and I said, “ It's all right. ” Because I was stronger than the sin within her blood and I believed that the righteousness of faith would cure her. The third test was not brought on by my wife, or the sweaty man, or the bastard child, but by man. Man's arrogance. Man's false sense of superiority. Man's deification of itself. Man. In the morning, I look in the mirror and tell myself that I will pass this test as I have the others. I am not oppressed, I say to my reflection. Not hunted, or discriminated against, or being persecuted, because these are God's actions, this is God's will, and He does not intend to cause me harm. I carry my bible in the nook of my heart and I whistle verse throughout the day. People do not see me as a preacher, but as an old, lonely man creating a barrier of sound against his silence. I do not tell them otherwise, not even the ones I know remain devout. As long as it's just me whistling, no representatives of the Supreme Government will try to decipher my songs. In the evening they televise the deaths of the believers they'd gathered throughout the day. Atop a pyre of burning Bibles and Qur ’ ans and Torahs and the texts of Buddhism and Hinduism and other religions, people are strung up like marionettes so they can better be consumed by the flames. I pray to God. I tell Him I am strong. I show him I am wise. I prove my loyalty by continuing to embody Him through it all. At night I say to myself, “ One day you will rise above this, carried by the word of God Almighty, and you will restore faith to the faithless. ” I am being tested. I will not fail.

[ WP ] Give me a story where the good guy wins , but the victory is unsatisfying .

He looked over the bar at the man entering The Broken Drum. Not so much a man as a blurry outline in the shape of a tall, skinny, robed man - or maybe that was just the beer goggles. He entered the tavern, unnoticed by anyone else, and seemed to come straight towards the man nursing his 10th pint of the evening. Nurses are a lot more forceful around these parts, and seeing as he'd run out of fingers to count on, this could have been his tenth'10th pint' for all he knew. The space around him grew darker as the robed figure approached. Colder even. `` What do you want?'' he muttered, barely audible. I AM SIMPLY VISITING. A WORK TRIP, YOU COULD SAY. A shiver ran down his spine. He was n't quite sure if he'd heard the words, or just, sort of... knew they had been said. `` Work? You? You look like you've got one foot in the grave already!'' he quipped. Two glowing blue orbs shone from beneath the robed figure's hood, and he instantly regretted his words. He looked at his fresh pint, realising who his visitor was. IT'S HARD KNOWING THAT YOU ARE THE STUFF OF NIGHTMARES. I DO N'T JUST MEAN BEING A LITTLE BIT DISLIKED, OR AVOIDED AT THE BAR - I'M TALKING ABOUT ACTIVELY HATED, FOUGHT AGAINST, AND FEARED BY BILLIONS. The man took a sip from his glass. IT IS TRUE, SOME COME TO ACCEPT ME FOR WHAT I AM; THE CLEANER. THE CLEANSER. WITHOUT ME BIRTH WOULD BE IRRESPONSIBLE, AND LIFE IRRELEVANT. SOME APPRECIATE THAT, OR AT LEAST STOP FIGHTING BACK. OTHERS DO NOT. This time he took a large gulp. LET ME TELL YOU, FRIEND, THERE IS NOTHING LESS SATISFYING THAN FACING AN OPPONENT SO DETERMINED TO STOP YOU, BUT KNOWING THAT YOU WILL WIN. KNOWING THAT NO MATTER HOW HARD THEY FIGHT, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE VICTORIOUS. THEY HATE ME, BUT THEY DO N'T REALISE THAT IT IS BECAUSE OF ME THAT THEY TREASURE THE TIME THEY HAVE. I GUESS YOU COULD CALL ME *THE GOOD GUY*. He finished his pint, knowing it had been his last, and quietly placed the empty glass back on the bar. Death pulled a timer from within his robe, and watched as the final specs of sand finished pouring through. With another job done, another victory, he put the timer back into his robe and left the tavern unnoticed; it would be hours before anyone noticed his handy-work. There would n't be praises for him, that was for sure. But think what it would be like without him?

[ WP ] First line `` I remember when a day was only 24 hours long . ''

I remember when a day was only 24 hours long. I have, however, forgotten exactly when the government introduced its new ‘ More Minutes ’ scheme. The days flow together and in the beginning, people were found frequently walking around in pyjamas. I recall my manager coming to work so disorientated that he made a coffee with dirt and exclaimed it was the best drink he ’ s had since being breastfed. The idea was, of course, to get more productivity. There are no set hours for people to work if nobody knows how long a working day should be. Mark, on my team, typed the same four numbers into a spreadsheet until his fingers bled and he has been off with stress ever since. Diaries and calendars have become obsolete and people are coming up with new ways of keeping time. I am due to go on a date with a girl from our office when the manager next wears a red tie. There have been calls for a revolution. Understandably. Nobody is happy with what has been happening. But it ’ s hard to organise such a wide group of people with no schedule. I am part of it though and as far as I ’ m aware, we ’ re going to march to the House of Commons tomorrow. But I ’ m not entirely sure when that is.

[ WP ] One which worships technology , one which strives to be the perfect combination of technology and organic material and one that only allows organic evolution . These three factions debate which faction the Earth will belong too .

`` Our minds and abilities sprang from the chaos of nature. From it, we were fashioned. Does it not seem prudent to recognize that which spawned us?'' Brown cowls bobbed up and down fervently; nothing else could be seen within. Among the grouped Orgo Organicus representatives, a voiced boomed throughout the massive hall. `` Indeed it does, master Synther. Furthermore, the Ordo Organicus believes that, though human ingenuity has propelled our civilization forward in unimaginable ways, the technologies that warp and alter our essential forms are deviations from the forces that strove to create us.'' The blue-grey Synthesis delegation whispered amongst themselves, hairless heads shifting this way and that. One stood, azure eyes surveying the two factions seated before him. Faint, glowing lines at the corners of his mouth swelled in luminance as a flanged voice glided outwards. `` Now, see friends. Gaze upon us. We bear the beauty of that which Nature has blessed us, as well as the modifications dictated by necessity and aesthetic choice. Is that not what this entire debate is centered around? Choice, my fellows, is what humankind has always desired. The choice to live, to explore, to expand and to improve. Remaining within extremes has wrought calamity time and again. Do you not see the freedom and beauty that lies in choice? The choice to combine that which we are arguing over at this moment.'' Through the glass high above the vast chamber a monstrous galaxy turned. Its faint rainbow lights danced into the hall, flickering across the stoic Ordos and the shimmering Synthers. The speaker for the Synthesists felt his words fall upon closed ears and minds. His deep, blue eyes appeared saddened. He lowered back into his chair as a member of the Technocon arose. An inhuman thing looked over the gathered factions of humanity. It bore human eyes, organic things that peered from deep, hollow sockets. The face was a jagged thing of metal and angles, curving at the top. A metallic, mouthless skull emanated a voice, one that offered no distinction of timbre and gender. `` We have made our choice, Synthist. We have chosen to transcend the crude foundations that birthed us. We thank the chaos of organic evolution, but we do not accept it. The Technological Consortium adheres to the decision that natural evolution is far too weak for the minds of Man. We have conquered the very thing that gave us shape, and we are now our own creators. Gaze upon the image of a being that is its own master!'' Where before there were deep purple robes covering the entirety of the Technist aside from the head, there was now a bipedal being of dark steel, flowing from sleek to jagged, gentle hues to radiant luminance. The Ordos balked. The Synthists withdrew into thought, some eyes betraying hints of despair. The bare Technist surveyed his opponents. He rose a fist to the galaxy above. `` We will not indulge formalities, here. We have attended this meeting for a single purpose: to declare unending war upon the both of you. For too long the Consortium has endured your petty bickerings, your ridiculous attempts to hinder the *natural* evolution of mankind.'' Venom coated the final words, as the Technist's milky eyes bore into the Ordos delegation. Rising in anger, the Organics began to depart the hall, returning to the thinking ships that had bore them beyond the stars. The Synthists had blinked and phased out of the cavernous place, arriving at their hybrid homeworld. Wheeling above, the galaxy spilled its radiance into the hall, across the Consortium's representatives. They remained in the building, watching their newly declared enemies depart the hall. Across the cosmos, preparations for the War for Earth began.

[ WP ] [ CW ] Write a happy story that turns into a horror-story with the last sentence .

**Jessica Kim's Facebook** **January 22, 2015**: Hey, everyone! So, today, I went grocery shopping. Boring, I know, but you'll never guess what happened! I ran into Todd at the store, and he asked me out! I was sooooo nervous, but he said he'd been planning on asking me on a date for a while now, and I thought it was funny, because I'd been working up the courage to ask him out too! After I got back, I took a quick shower, put on my yellow socks ( for good luck! ) and went to work. I'm good friends with all my coworkers, and today we finally finished the quarterly project that took forever to complete! We were so happy, we went out to a Chinese place near my work downtown for lunch! I ordered the teriyaki bowl with miso, and it was really good! I definitely recommend anyone wanting good Chinese to check out Han's Lucky Palace downtown! After we got back, I noticed I had n't opened my fortune cookie, so I went ahead and ate it ( yum! ), and you'll never believe what my fortune was! I was so surprised, I made sure not to tell anyone until I could share it with all of you right now, my adoring fans ( jk ): `` Your love life will be heating up soon'' OMG! I do n't normally believe in these sorts of things, but I could n't help but wonder if it was a good sign for things with me and Todd! Oh, but before I go out, I'd better decide on an outfit, check to make sure my makeup looks right, and then check my messages online before I go. Everyone, wish me luck! **Comments**: **JKim**: Hi, this is Jessica... who posted this? How did you get my Facebook password, and how do you know so much about me? Please leave me alone...

[ WP ] `` Witch hunts are rarely ever about witches . ''

`` Witch hunts are rarely ever about witches.'' `` Yeah? ” Phobos could n't resist the urge to groan. `` What makes you think this could be anything similar? Look, Styx, it's incredibly simple. He is *fucking my dad*. And he's not even a hundred years old. You know how old we are?'' Pluto's undead daughter distractedly nodded. It'd been too busy of a morning to even think about this. Yesterday someone had landed on top of her, and this afternoon, her cousin was barking this and that about a vampire boy having sex with her uncle. What the fuck was his problem? `` A million years old and you still have n't learned not to be a pest. You know, there are worse things than vampires——like creatures who suck the joy out of every room. You're one of them.'' `` Oh, piss off.'' `` No, you little fucker. ” One greenish hand clenched around his collar, tearing him from his seat. Styx towered over him, all skin and bones, ghastly filmy eyes reflected in those annoying Lennon sunglasses of his. `` You listen to me! This is not your fucking life! That man is your father, and Caligula has done *nothing wrong! * He's a consenting adult! Zora and Voltaire already know! No one close to them gives two shits whether they're together, except for YOU!'' `` Hey, hey, easy——Come on, let's calm down! ” Hands closed over her shoulders. `` What's going on?! What's this pissant doing?'' She turned only halfway to gauge the situation, fist answering for her. `` Want to know what's going on? My shit-for-brains cousin has the nerve to get his panties twisted over his father having a boyfriend! I appreciate your support, but kindly fuck off... it does n't involve you.'' Attention turned back to Phobos, who spread his hands in quiet resignation. `` One more word, you dinosaur hammer, and I'll solder you to the top of the flagpole.'' He said nothing else as she dropped him back into his seat. But she looked at her right fist; she'd gotten something on it. Was n't blood, pus—— Lifting her fingers to her nose told her exactly what it was. ``... Snake venom.'' And past her, in the aisle, was the poor bastard she'd punched. Sighing weakly, she shook her head. `` Ah. Anger management classes again... Might as well go re-enroll in the'Behavior for Young Ladies' course. Need a hand?'' Behind his hoodie, slit green eyes just blinked. One, very slowly, and the other barely at all. `` You hit me, ” he murmured raspily, fangs showing a little behind his lips. `` And you're looking at me. Why are you looking at me?'' `` Why not? ” She cracked a kink out of her neck and knelt. `` I mean, I did hit you. ” One hand reached for his hood. `` You look like you're terrified of—— ” Tiny eyes...? `` Wh-haat?! What the fuck is this, kid? Are you some kind of herpetologist?'' Jerking the fabric away just showed her more... Cobras. Fucking cobras. In his hair! And his face had the look of half-hammered snakeskin. `` He's a Gorgon, clearly.'' `` Shut up, Phobos! ” One shoe sailed over his head. `` I know what he is......... He's the weirdo who landed on top of me yesterday.'' **Edit: This is a continuation of that Medusa prompt. There's probably something in the middle. But yeah, lots of backstory here and there as I go, I'm sure. **

[ cw ] write about the strangest/scariest/saddest dream you 've ever had in less than 200 words .

Not sure how good this is, just sort of remembered a dream I had as a kid and wanted to write it down. I'm not great at writing but I really love practicing and reading others stories: ) Each step I took on the pavement echoed a faint whisper in my ear. The air was still; somber even. Or rather it was deprived, lacking. I continued on. It felt like eternities before I reached a yellow house on a hill. It had n't occurred to me until I entered the house; wandered through curiously so, staring at the bare walls in the bleak rooms, a lack of pictures or personality. No, it had n't occurred to me when the fleeting whispers said my name, when I realized what this place was. And in that final whisper, I waited a moment for another. As a tear rolled down my cheek, I spoke `` M-Mom, Dad?''. The indifferent silence of the world wrapped tightly around me, smothering my futile attempts to try to hear another voice. It had occurred to me in a surreal instant that there I was, alone. Suddenly, I heard a voice; one that peaked through the bondage of silence and the cries of alone. There I reached out toward it, and it pulled me up. As its words became clear, I finally heard it: “ Get up – you're gon na be late for school. ”

[ WP ] I warned them that if the brain implants could enhance our brains , it could also control them . Now very few free humans remain ...

From his vantage point in the 44th floor, Travis could see most of the city and the bay beyond it. Cars travelled the roads in their usual patterns for the early morning. Small dots that he knew were pedestrians ambled about on the sidewalks like any day in recent memory. But today, everything had changed for his company and the world. Yet, instead of elation, he felt an unusual shiver of unease. `` Since our 3 AM launch, we've only been collecting data on real-time _intent_,'' Katrina continued, pulling his attention back to the conference room with her confident voice. She brushed a lock of short cinnamon hair behind her ear and crossed her legs while continuing to stare at her well-used laptop. `` We'll have more interesting data when our premier partner's campaign starts in a few minutes in New York.'' `` Good work,'' Travis said, tracing a hand down the back of his neck where his own N+ node had been inserted a year ago. It was free of the N+Suggest functionality, as were all the implants for his trusted executives. He turned and placed his mug of coffee on the conference table. `` If it's anything like our test market,'' said Evan, the other of his two lieutenants, `` we expect anywhere from a 75 % -125 % boost in their sales over last year's more typical ad campaign.'' `` How much are they in for again?'' Travis asked, taking his seat. Evan leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his ebony hair. `` They're only running a five-mil campaign at _suggest level one_,'' he smirked. `` They're doing a wait-and-see before trying anything more. I do n't know about you, but I'm looking forward to the first SL5.'' `` SL3 is as high as you're going to see,'' Kat said. `` SL5 is...'' She seemed to consider her words carefully, then continued, `` SL5 would be a little _too_ obvious, and would reflect poorly on our clients.'' She looked back to her screen and then said, `` OK, the campaign is about to start. I can bring up the tracking map on the screen.'' She made a few clicks on her trackpad. The large conference room monitor sprang to life at the other end of the room. On it glowed the grids and lines depeciting New York City. A patchwork of light blue parallelograms overlaid the map to show the geofenced target areas. Several red squares indicated the retail stores, and it was to one of these squares that Kat zoomed in the view. `` This is their prime New York location,'' she said. At that level, tiny purple dots meandered around the map, which Travis knew to be all of the N+ users connected to the system. `` When it begins, we'll get to see how the _intent_ changes by the color of the user point,'' Kat continued. She looked to her two compatriots. `` It's like a heat map. The color will change from purple to blue, to green, to yellow, then to orange and finally red to show how close their _intent_ matches the key suggestions that they are receiving.'' `` Looks like that one is already interested,'' said Evan, pointing to an orange user point. `` The system factors in people with pre-existing interest,'' Kat said, looking at the screen. `` It will only count that one if they have a significant shift in _intent_ from orange to red after the campaign begins.'' `` That's why our clients love us: with all this real-time data, very little is left to chance and every cent accounted for,'' Evan said, smiling and looking between Kat and Travis. Travis just stared at the screen in curiousity, chin resting on his steepled fingers. A few moments later, the points began to shift in color. Several of the dots in the geofence boxes around the store began to move to blue. Some jumped to a yellow-green, and a handful shifted to an orange-red. After a few more moments, several of the'hotter' points began to move toward the store. `` It does n't take long, does it?'' Evan said with a grin. `` The ones who jumped upward in _intent_ the fastest were likely people who are already held favorable views of the product,'' Kat explained absently. Then excitedly, `` Let's see what was happening with this one.'' She clicked on one of the orange dots and a side panel popped over the map. At the top, a long unique identifier string was displayed, and below, there were several graphs that were adjusting in real time. `` See this?'' She pointed to the top graph. `` It's showing how much their _intent_ is matching the _suggestion profile_. This person is between 75-85 % matching on the entire *suggestion profile*—which is quite extensive—but broadly includes...'' She tapped a small icon revealing more information. `` A suggestion for the retailer's brand, of course; a suggestion that she's hungry, a—'' `` We know this is a'she'?'' Travis interrupted. `` Yes,'' Kat pivoted gracefully. `` In fact, we do n't even _need_ to know gender anymore. With the integral data from the N+, we can build a profile of desires and needs to very specific outcomes and variations of outcomes; even cravings in their bodies or subconscious desires of which they may not even be aware.'' `` I see. Please go on,'' Travis said. `` Certainly,'' Kat continued. `` We also have some suggestions here that she deserves to treat herself; a suggestion that would either trigger a memory of a deal at the retailer or suggest that a deal might be found there, a suggestion that she has just enough time to spare, and a few specific product brand suggestions.'' They watched the screen for the next few minutes as many of the points progressively increased in color. A few remained steadfastly purple. `` Who are the hold-outs? Are they running the pre-update software?'' Evan asked. `` Anyone who is online will have received the update automatically. Most likely they are people who have no interest in the product category,'' Kat replied. She turned to face Eric. `` For example, if I suggested that you should try a brand of tampon, your lack of need or interest would probably cause you to dismiss the suggestion as a bizarre thought.'' `` Only'probably'?'' Eric asked with a smirk and a raised brow. `` Yes, probably,'' Kat confirmed. `` There _have_ been a few outliers in our testing. And at some of the more extreme test ranges, even _you_ would be happily walking out with a cartful of feminine hygeine products.'' Then more quietly she said, `` And you might even try to use them.'' Evan started to protest, but then Travis interrupted him. `` Kat,'' he said. `` What's that black user point?'' `` Black?'' Kat repeated, furrowing her brow and bowing her head closer to her screen. `` Interesting.'' She clicked on the dot to bring up the profile. It was blank. Where the graphs should have been were the words `` Restricted Asset.'' `` Restricted?'' They all said at once. `` I do n't understand,'' Kat said, pulling up a dashboard and moving through the screens too quickly for Travis to follow. `` How can _you_ be restricted from something, Kat?'' Evan asked, voicing the question that had been on Travis's lips. She paused for just a moment to give Evan and Travis a serious look. `` It should n't be possible. I'm logged in as the system admin. There are no higher credentials.'' `` Who else has system admin access?'' Travis asked, but before Kat could answer he became wide-eyed and spoke a drawn-out, `` Oh fuck.'' At first slowly, then more rapidly, each user point began turning black. Travis reached again toward the lump at the back of his neck. _It's a clean version_, he thought to himself reassuringly. _It's turned off at the hardware level._ Yet he suddenly wanted very much for it to be out of his neck. Beside him, Evan clutched his head and began to scream. Then he abruptly stopped and stood sharply upright. His eyelids became slack and he seemed not to see Travis or Kat as they both stared at him in horror. Then Travis felt it, like a trapped rat scratching at his skull from the inside. It increased in intensity, and as if it was someone else, he heard himself begin to scream. The last thing he saw before he lost control of his mind completely was Kat's normally reassuring face twisted with emotion as she sobbed, `` I'm sorry, I can't—I ca n't do anything! I've been locked out! Oh God, Travis! I'm locked out of the system!''

[ WP ] Man can bond with any creature , be it dog , cat , dragon or butterfly .

I felt a tickle on my nose as I lay in the meadow with my eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun. I opened my eyes slowly, and nearly crossed them to see a butterfly that had landed on my nose. I smiled. `` Well hello, there,'' I mused. The butterfly moved its wings slowly up and down. `` Hello, master,'' the butterfly responded. She sounded sad, defeated. It was her mistake, of course. The animal kingdom knew of man's dominion over it; We could bond with any creature, real or imagined, and *turn them into our slaves. * The bond was established the moment a human acknowledged a beast, even with a friendly `` hello.'' `` Yes, yes, you're much more obedient than the others have been, that's good.'' I could n't help but laugh. I imagine the poor creature landed on my face and drink the salt from the corners of my eyes while I rested. Humans were excellent at deceiving being asleep. I wondered what use a butterfly slave would be. Through the bond, I could read her thoughts. Her mind raced with terror and anxiety. She simply wanted food enough to survive her migration, but had fallen under a human's trap. Her frail frame would be of little use to me. I frowned in disdain. `` You've been the easiest to trap, and the most useless!'' It served me right. Nothing truly useful is ever easily gained. `` So... so you'll let me go?'' The butterfly shook in my hand. I looked into her mind, and saw her dreams of soaring on breezes, drinking the sweet nectar of flowers, and being with her own kind. It was a beautiful image. `` No,'' I said. I crushed my fist. The bond was broken.

[ WP ] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home . It is finished and sent by the man who killed him .

Dear mom, War sucks. We are killing indiscriminately an unknown enemy. My bullets have connected with so many people I stopped counting. 5, 10, 15 or 30? I dont know mom. Its horrible. I want to get it out. There is a few of us who are about to bail. We have a plan and it should work. I wont be able to see you for some time after we get out. Maam, Your son was executed for high treason and the murder of PVT Morales. He left his post and was approached by PVT Morales who he murdered in cold blood. Afterwards he was apprehended, court-martialed, found guilty and executed by firing squad. His dependents will not be eligible for any Army benefits. LTG Peterson

[ WP ] You are an alien playing a video game in which the goal is to help a species survive the longest time possible . Now you want to tackle the hardest mode in the game : human beings .

Claxen watched in awe as his friend obliterated the second hardest level of the game. `` Wow, you made them survive their own planet exploding. That was insane!'' Claxen said. `` Can you beat the Human level? I find it too hard, ca n't get past the first flood.'' `` I'll show you how its done.'' Zaza fired up Human mode. `` First stages are pretty basic,'' said Zaza. `` Get them into agriculture, create spare time and fill up their time with learning.'' Time was flying by on screen as the Humans cultivated large fields of crops and created villages near rivers and oceans. Intelligence points started maxing out. `` When intelligence is maxed, just start getting crazy with slavery. Make it widespread and normal. That way they can use their slaves effectively.'' Humans started organizing slaves to create giant structures. `` This bit is quite tough to work out,'' continued Zaza. `` But basically, with the right balance of astronomers, philosophers and mathematicians, they will build this.'' He pointed in admiration at the great pyramid. `` This will map out the stars and predict any apocalyptic disaster.'' `` Oohhh that's how it's done,'' said Claxen, looking impressed. `` Yea, but this just gets them past the first hurdle, their intel goes back down and they forget how to use the pyramid for a while.'' The Humans on the screen start using the pyramid and forecast a giant, apocalyptic flood. They use this knowledge to build a huge boat to avoid extinction. `` That took me ages to figure out. It takes them nearly fifteen thousand years to rediscover all their technology, and when they do, they pretty much destroy their planet. There's no way around that.'' `` You find a new planet?'' Asked Claxen. `` Na,'' replied Zaza. `` That's what I thought, but there's actually no time. You got ta start grafting humans onto dolphins.'' `` Oh of course,'' said Claxen, kicking himself for not figuring it out. `` Yeah I ca n't believe I did n't see that straight away,'' said Zaza. The dolphins on the screen sprouted human arms and suddenly took off building intricate, advanced cities underwater. With their dolphin brains they can figure out how to reverse the damage the humans inflicted on the environment. `` Why is that important? They are thriving underwater, should n't they just stay there?'' asked Claxen. `` Well to beat the game they need to be human again. So we unsplice them, and send them back up.'' The dolphin/human things eventually unsplice and send the humans back to the surface, equipped with all the necessary knowledge. They start using the pyramid again, which, when combined with their current technology makes them virtually immortal. `` You can inhabit other planets at this point if you wish but there's not much point,'' said Zaza. `` Wow. You are a god.'' Claxen said, impressed with his friend's skills.

[ WP ] Tell me a story about goddamn DRAGONS .

`` Well, they're hard to housetrain,'' the dealer admitted reluctantly, `` it's murder on carpet -- but not so rough on laminates. What kind of flooring you got?'' But he shook his head to himself and asserted quickly, `` Aw, what am I asking questions like that for -- you're clearly serious about adopting a hatchling -- you're committed folks. But I am obligated by law to run through this checklist.'' He took a pamphlet from a tray on his desk and opened it flat. He rotated it so we could see the photos of smiling, good-looking people posing with their well-groomed dragons. He pushed the paper towards us and clicked a ball point pen. The point hovered over the bulleted text. `` It's just a standard bit of paperwork. Let's see, now, let's run through these...'' He read the questions one by one and paused after each, waiting for our answer, until we had read through every question: * Is your present lifestyle and routine suitable for adopting a dragon? * Would you consider yourself an `` energetic'' person? If not, have you considered adopting an older dragon? * Dragons need lots of room to play! Is your pet enclosure ( and/or subterranean cavern ) at minimum 300 x 300 feet ( 91.44 x 91.44 meters ), or 90,000 square feet ( 8,361.27 square meters )? * Are you or any other member of your household allergic to pet dander? * Do you have any other dragons? If the answer is yes, do they have a history of past aggression? * A full-grown dragon typically consumes the equivalent of four steers ( or twelve sheep, or ten adult humans, etc. ) every day. Are your finances secure enough to provide a dragon regular feedings indefinitely? * Who will be available to tend to your dragon during the day? Those with full time jobs outside of the home should consider hiring a pet-sitting service. A list of local pet sitters licensed to care for exotic pets exceeding 800 pounds can be provided by your adoption specialist. * Do you carry personal liability insurance? How much coverage do you have? ( Typical homeowner's policies do **not** cover dragon ownership. ) * Does your pet enclosure include a large unshaded rock for sunning? * Is the primary caregiver able to lift and carry fifty pounds without difficulty? Do you understand that so-called `` pooper scooper ordinances'' are **extremely** strict and violators will be fined **at minimum** $ 185 at first offense? * Have you made proper accommodations to repel knights errant who may attempt to slay your dragon? * Can you train and handle a dragon with behavior issues? Are you mentally prepared to risk losing one or more limbs and/or digits? How do you feel about large scars? * Does your residence have a moat? `` Welp, that seems to about cover it,'' the dragon dealer opined. `` I'm gon na need your signature here and here, and initials here.'' He gathered up the paperwork while wearing a broad grin and clipped the papers to a clipboard. `` Great! We'll get your fees and payments rung up, and then we can go to the back and pick out the newest member of your family. Gosh, is n't that the fun part? Say, what size inseam are you? I'll run out quick and grab you a set of fire-proof duds while I run your credit card through. You do n't wan na stand too close to a hatchling before it's familiar with your scent -- and we've got a whole litter of'em back there!''

[ WP ] Tell a brief history about a person that has to keep a secret from himself .

all alone. like he always was. a bedraggled fate. both past and all the years that wait for him. he sees vision of the another world. it's always a vision, like a lucid dream. he tries to get away but he is paralyzed by fear. fear of being void. and the noises distract him. he gazes at the quaint and smashed mirror ( repeatedly ). seven years of bad luck. though that seems an instant. he sees everything in unison. he gazes at his skull and sees the hole. like he has done for many a years. everything is hazy again. his bouts are about to start again. soon his feet are gon na petrify. and the sound and the horrors are gon na haunt him. that's reality for him. that's how he knows he is alive.

[ EU ] The Doctor is pen pals with GladOs

You know, you really are a piece of work are n't you? *What do you mean? * Everywhere you go, everybody you talk to. Dies. They're all dead. *Not always. * Okay then, not dead. But always gone somewhere else. *Sometimes they escape. * Yes, sometimes they do. And I think I've come to terms with that. I ca n't win every fight. *And sometimes I think you do n't want to. You let them. * I just get tired of fighting it. I just want them to leave me alone. *But not always. You've still killed countless numbers. * So have you. *But mine always had a purpose. It was n't just senseless. There was always a goal in mind. * I like to think I have the same goals. *Well then, let's just both admit we're lying. * I guess we'll have to. *Do you ever feel bad about the killing? * Of course. *Good. * Do you? *From time to time. If my mood is in the right place. But worrying about the past wo n't change it. * I guess you'd know that better than anyone. *Maybe I do. * I think that's enough talk for today. Try coming back some other time maybe. Another thousand years? A million? How long are you willing to wait? *Ah, you see. You're the only one who has to wait. I can set a program to bring us together again any time I like. * So can I. *Mine's a bit better. * I think I've had enough of you for today. *Me too. *

[ WP ] Memento mori - Remember , you will die .

This is going to be extremely raw and personal and I'm not reading while I type, nor am I ever reading this comment again. I hope it means something to someone, anyway. I think from an early age, I used too look at my face and see nothing. I'd look at my hands, and my stomach, and my legs, and id see the verbal marks that my mother's sharp tongue etched into them. I'd look at my hair, because it's dark and curly and not like the other girls', or I'd look at my dark eyes and pale olive skin, and I'd see something different. My mother did n't like me, and my mother was my world, so I did n't like me either. Then it got worse. Before it was only her who was very verbal about her disdain for me. But it grew, and the other girls started to notice. Those looks turned to whispers, whispers turned to cruel words. Fat. Ugly. Dumb. Worthless. Those words.. So vital was it to me to be something different that I lost sight of everything else. I remember at first, drawing and painting. The palette knife, my canvas, my brush, they were my refuge. Then I remember the peace I used to get from art being replaced by anger at myself. `` My drawings are never good enough. They never will be.'' I gave up the palette knife opting instead for a knife to my wrist. The fingers I once used for beauty were nightly shoved down my throat. I may not be beautiful but my hands... My hands, with the skin bitten off from the sides of my fingers, my nails all but gone from anxiety, covered in cuts and scabs and bruises. My hands can create or destroy, such beautiful, morbid things. My hands have always been wondrous. Yet I was using them, tarnishing them in order to hurt myself. At the age of 9 I was taken to a specialist. `` She shows signs of disordered eating and body dysmorphia,'' he said. Those words, like labels being printed for a product, nothing to do with me. His teeth were straight and white and his breath smelled like sanitizer. I hated him. I sat there and plaited my hair, swinging my legs. I hated him. I had a friend in year 7 who was everything I aspired to be. She was thin and pretty and smart, and when she smiled the whole room lit up. Everyone followed her with bated breath, as if their breath would break her picture-like perfection. She broke down to me on the phone one time. `` I work so hard for everything,'' she told me. `` And he's still dead. Everyone always says'Oh, if he were alive, he'd be so proud of you.' But he is n't. I've worked for everything I have. And I'm still not happy.'' When I replied to her, the words were so simple, and made so much sense. `` So why do n't you change your attitude? Work hard for you. He'll be waiting for you at the end, so why do n't you enjoy the journey.'' Now, almost 8 years later, I've taken my advice. Everything I have, I've worked for. If I do n't have it, I have n't worked hard enough. When I look in the mirror, I still see someone not worth seeing on the outside, but on the inside I've shaped myself into so much more. This body is a vessel for my soul. I refuse to take medication; I refuse to blur my vision to my many imperfections. I do n't hate myself. I do n't love myself but I love the things I do. Death. The thought of death brings me nothing but peace. But the thought of a journey is always more tedious than one of a holiday. I'm going to keep pedalling towards my destination. I do n't know where I'm going or how I'm going to get there but I'm going to be at peace with every step.

[ WP ] Scientists say the world will end in 2 days , everyone sets out to complete their bucketlists . after 2 days it turns out it was all a misscalculation and nothing will happen .

Scientists say the world will end in 2 days, everyone sets out to complete their bucketlists. after 2 days it turns out it was all a misscalculation and nothing will happen. It happened so quick. One minute I was sitting at my desk, and then next the eggheads began babbling about some astroid the size of Kansas. No one waited for the boss to tell us to leave, because he had left himself. Many went home to spend their remaining hours with loved ones, or to travel across timezones to see extended family. I stole a motorcycle. The local Can-Am dealership was as deserted as everything else. Being only walking distance from the office, it was a matter of 30 minutes before I was doing figure 8s around the parking lot. I turned on west Balard St, and headed towards the California Coast. 47 hours to live. Earlier reports had indicated the tectonic plates would begin to adjust around the 50 billion ton astroid living in the pacific ocean. Once those places start to shift winter would most certainly be coming. The eggheads had predicted by the end of the first 1 hour, tempratures would drop to 80 degrees below freezing, and after that 1,000 below. By the end of day one Texas would be 12,000,000 degrees below freezing. As the weather man read this into the microphone he took a deep breathe, ackoledged his duty to deliver the news, but the draw to see his long lost love was greater. With that, Static filled my radio. 42 hours remianing. I had driven over the Colorado Rockes in record time. Having just filled up at a nearby gas station, I thought it was as good of a time as any to start smoking again. I had quit years ago for a girlfriend - but always missed it. Now she was out of my life with a new man, and I a lingering addiction. `` Its not as if cancer will kill me in the next two days. I walked into the gas station, where the local redneck watched his TV. `` Morning'', I said... `` Surprised your still here, with all the chaos today''. `` Nothing but overblown nonsense if you ask me'' he spat out. `` Its like that global warming thing!''. I laughed asked for a pack of smokes and a lighter. That first draw on a cigarette after time apart is shear bliss. The nicotine enters your blood stream immediately and then you are overcome with the sensation to cough up your lungs. As I was doubled over hacking up something that looked like Escargo - an old Vw van came rolling by, with a much of nudist. They were hanging out the window screaming and laughing, and making love on the roof at 80 miles an hour. Living life to the fullest. I continued my ride through Utah and into Mormon Country. 38 hours remaining....

[ WP ] Time freezes every time someone is about to die . You can not change their fate but you can speak to them in their frozen state to give them closure before they pass .

White. A man lay in front of me, coughing up blood. More of the crimson fluid oozes out of a lethal puncture wound to the right lung - the blade entered from the front. He struggles to look up at me, hatred in his eyes. That is to be expected. I killed him. I have been to this place many times, used this power of mine on the important marks. I can not change the course of fate, nor do I choose to. Whatever will happen, in effect, already has. I only seek to stall the inevitable. My victims still die, but in their final moments I offer them salvation, get them to talk. Many fail to choose the former, but all of them have betrayed crucial information about their sins, and the sins of their collective. Most of my targets are good people, unwittingly caught up in a war they can not comprehend, and unfortunately working for the enemy. If I could spare them, I would, but many of them are simply blind, following orders to get in our way. Orders which get them killed. Even I have remorse for the lives I've taken. Even I have my ideals, my creed to cling to. There are a few among them, however - the ones with true authority - that manipulate and control, scheming to inherit the world from safe within their Ivory Tower. This man was one of them. All of them come from the worst of humanity. Their goals are... admirable at best, but their methods of attaining them - through deception and slavery - are why people like me exist. The fact that they protect themselves with unjust laws does n't hamper our ability to deliver swift justice, it only means we are criminals to do so. Not that we were n't already. This is a war fought and won from the shadows, to preserve the light of humanity from getting snuffed out by greed. The man spits at my feet, before rolling over face up and becoming still. It seems that he's done talking. I squat down, respectfully closing his eyes before leaving. He's told me enough. I have my next mark. Soon, very soon now their organization will fall. If I do n't live to see it, I guarantee my followers will. I stand up as color rushes to the world again. The wind rushes through the antiquated streets, and I can hear a bell toll in the distance. I look down, frowning that I got a splotch of blood on my garments. Usually I'm better at that, but the crimson stain rests against the white of my robe, like the dark spot in Humanity that was just erased. Without hesitation I turn, don my hood, and disappear into the crowd. *Requiescat in Pace*

[ EU ] Wayne Enterprises goes bankrupt , forcing Batman to pursue justice through more economical means .

My last executive decision was to terminate our R & D contracts with the pentagon. Too many of our prototypes were getting into criminal hands. Bruce Wayne had become the villain I had been dawning the cape and cowl to protect the world from. Aside from that the rest of Wayne Enterprises was a money pit. Our public infrastructure contracts were bid at cost. Our public transit business and Gotham Credit Union were both nonprofit. The biggest source of income had become some steakhouse in Metropolis, that I've never been to. That did n't pay for the 5 star hotel on the dilapidated side of town. My bad habits of throwing around eight thousand dollar boomerangs and crashing my 35 million dollar car are the worst of all. I began to review my notes of the Joker's low budget tactics, once I bounced a check to Fox. I had to fight my enemies at their own budget. I even found myself pocketing ninety grand from the Penguin when he tried to fence an Egon Schille collection he stole from The Wayne Museum of Contemporary Art. I built a fleet of batmobiles retrofitted from muscle cars, dirt bikes and monster trucks in the Gotham Scrapyard. Gordon pitched in and gave me a Kevlar vest and a chest rig to store larger commercial tools like duct tape, butane torches, a tazer and bear mace. I had to seal the entrance to the cave from Wayne manor. Now the power is cut off. Gotham does n't get enough sun to keep the crime lab going on solar power alone. It's now just a water cooled PC and a modified smartphone. Good thing we live in an age where there's an app for that. Luther Industries has been buying up my contracts and I'm sure he's been funding the Arkham Crime Syndicate ( ACS ) headed by Black Mask, Two Face and the Red Hood, but I ca n't prove anything just yet. The spoils will go to the victor as long as I'm at the technological disadvantage. If I ever get desperate enough, I buried a gold brick beneath my parents headstone and I have a bag of flawless diamonds in a Zurich safety deposit box. After all is said and done, crime is down to a record low now that Batman is no longer competing with Bruce Wayne.

[ WP ] A world where death is only a temporary inconvenience .

John Jonathan Johnston awoke. His mother had gotten cancer, but had respawned shortly after as her 20 year old self. `` I had the most peculiar dream!'' He exclaimed. `` I dreamt I was walking towards the edge of a building and... no matter. I must be on my way to work.'' He said to himself. Looking down, he realized that what he had believed to be a dream actually happened, and with one blind step he fell a long way to his doom... or he would have if not for his trusty respawning ability. `` Wow that sure hurt, but I'm so glad we do n't collapse into a deformed pile of skin and bones permanently!'' He cheerfully exclaimed as he made his way into work.

[ FF ] - 250 Words ; 2 months Reddit Gold prize

The light blinded me. Okay, maybe not literally. But when you've lived underground your entire life, fed lies about the surface, threatened with execution if you so much as *glimpse* the top world, you tend to start believing what you hear. But you also hear other people. They talk in hurried whispers, sealing their lips if anyone passes too close. They talk behind closed doors, doors that kids like myself have manytimes placed their ear to the heyhole of. Doors that reveal a fascinating world full of colors no one could imagine. Full of sounds no speaker could re produce. Full of scents that are n't covered by ores and dirt. A world kids like me dream of. Of course, my parents are great at stifling creativity. Our backyard ( I use yard sparingly ) consists of an outlet behind our house that is devoid of minerals. My friends and I played soccer there before it was banned by the People. Now we sit around and dream of a world on the surface. What I had n't told any of them, of course, is that I had a secret hole back there. One I'd been working on for months. One that led up. How far? I do n't know. Straight up? Probably not? Up to what? *The surface*

[ WP ] Aliens come to Earth in hoping to wipe us out and take over the planet , but are honorable and gives us a fighting chance . They announce they will return in 100 years so as to give Earth a chance to prepare and defend itself . Neither side expected what the other would bring to war

“ PopPop are the Aliens going to hurt us? ” She was sitting up in her bed, blanket pulled to her mouth, doe-eyes looking up at him. He smiled at her as he tucked her in. “ No sweetie, we ’ ll be ok. ” “ But, how do you know? ” “ PopPop is making sure of it, now don ’ t you worry at all. Ok? ” Her brow unfurled a bit as he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “... ok ”. She finally smiled back and settled into her pillow. He smiled again as he turned on her night-light and turned off the overhead. Walking through the hallway and towards living room he took note of all the family photos scattered along the way. Memories of years past. He stopped and looked at one of himself when he was but a youngster of about 18. It had been one of his favorite pictures of himself. Looking at it now, it seemed so dated. He remembered once thinking that people in the future wouldn ’ t be able to discern when it, or other recent photos for that matter, was taken due to the glossy, high resolution colour of it. But, that, like many other beliefs, wasn ’ t true. Within a decade of it ’ s taking the digital revolution made printed photos a rarity. Instead of having photos developed, people instead shared them instantly from their phones. The times changed, and so had he. He sat down in his recliner and leaned back. Staring off at the ceiling, he rolled back through the years leading up to now. In 2016, a probe arrived in orbit around our planet. It broadcasted a constantly repeated warning of a far off civilizations impending arrival. It was an advance notice that we should prepare to “ defend our right to the plant ”. Of course, it took over a year just to decode the broadcast. And even when that was the arrived upon translation, there was plenty of derision and debate about how that couldn ’ t possibly be it. Most nations announced plans to work together on a plan to defend the planet. But, after ten years or so, the excitement and allure faded away. We had no way of determining where this threat was coming, nor how advanced they would be. If the translation of the broadcast were correct, most people didn ’ t expect themselves nor their children to see the arrival of these beings. That was before 2028. On March 28, 2028, the tech arm of the multi-billion dollar Rapture Corp. announced a breakthrough in quantum computing. Their technology enabled the ability of putting the total of the entire world ’ s computing power into a device small enough to fit in your hand. Technological advances had already, for years, been quickly accelerating. In the years from 2016 to 2028 we went from seeing amazing feats accomplished every week or two to something groundbreaking every day. A year after the quantum achievement, humanity got to experience breakthrough after breakthrough multiple times a day. The news was no longer headlining wars, crimes, and deaths. Instead, these achievements took the front page. This alone had a profound effect on the world. The general public was beginning to see changes for the better in their own lives and these changes began bringing us all together. By 2040, multiple companies had announced the end of *Artificial* Intelligence with their newly sentient software. From this point on, we humans began stepping back from our *child* and began letting it work. Technology advanced so quickly that human involvement became a bottleneck. We backed down as the machines stepped up. In 2050, he had received his first cybernetic implants. Two new eyes that could see way better than he ever could before. When desired, they could go beyond the visible spectrum. Of course, his body had been upgraded in the years prior, but nothing that would have been considered cybernetic ( he had had a new heart printed years ago that was a perfect match, with no need for daily meds ). That first upgrade led him down a road to becoming a living Ship of Theseus. From 2050 through 2080, he received so many ‘ upgrades ’ that he became more machine than human. And in 2091, he shed the last bit of himself that was organic and became one of a growing number of essentially immortal synthetic humans. He could now “ teleport ” across the globe in a second, if there was another body available. A notification flashed into his field of vision, he quickly acknowledged it. He had just a few more minutes before he had to go to work. When he had been young, he thought he ’ d retire at 65. Never did it cross his mind that he ’ d be teleporting through space at the age of 134 to play God to an army of intelligent machines on Pluto. When/if the aliens come back, we ’ ll be ready.

[ WP ] `` I 'm your God now . ''

I Who am I? I am. You are you. Who says so? I do. Who am I? I am. I am here and you are there. I will inevitably take you to me, and you will never return. They will say, `` The others are no good. They are evil.'' They will condemn them. It is in fact they who condemn themselves. Unless they are utterly destroyed, they will inevitably cause themselves to perish. I have seen them. I saw what they did. So I took them out of the picture. And they were no more. He who wants her only wants her for himself. He who does n't want her pushes himself away. Therefore, he removes himself only to find himself alone. You will be strong and you will fight the good fight; but you will perish, as day becomes night, and night becomes day, inevitably. Man will say he thinks and feels; but when he is no longer there to think or feel, what will he do? I have been a watcher on the hill. I watch as summer becomes fall, and months become years, and waking becomes sleep, and life becomes death. I watch it all. Time is my play-toy. It exists for my amusement. If I was not, then what would time become? I live on earth, and I die on earth. However, I will live on through you, and you will say `` Why me?'' And so the cycle continues, inevitably. Where were you when I was the only one there? Where was I when you were the only one there? Where was I when I was not? I am not you. We are not them. They are not us. Even so, when asked, each one of us will say `` I exist, as do you. We both exist, as do they.'' If I were to ask Jeremiah who he was, he would say `` I am Jeremiah''. If I were to ask Jeremiah who Jeremiah is, he would say `` I am''. If Jeremiah asked me who I was, I would say `` I am''. Just as Jeremiah would. Therefore, who is Jeremiah and I? I am I say `` I am''. You say `` you are''. He says `` he is''. They say `` they are''. In reality, all will say, `` I am''. If you do n't see a point in this. Then forget about this. In fact, forget about you as well. Forget about memory. Memory leaves with you. And you, inevitably, will leave. Of this, you can be sure. You forget, and memory forgets you. Together, you and this body work to perform your tasks. Leave the body to its work. It can take care of itself. You do your own work, and you can take care of yourself. There is no other that can do your work for you. I can point the way. But it is you who would follow it, that you may see for yourself. In seeing, you utter `` I see''. But take away the seeing. What is left? I am all there is and all that will ever be. You are but an illusion. As are they. You will argue and say, `` I am not an illusion''. I would agree, for I am not an illusion either. But as for you, I have never seen such a more brilliant mirage. Persistent you are in proving your existence. In reality, all you utter is `` I''. If you are I, then tell me, who am I? I am your very sight. I am your very vision. I give you the seeing you need to see what you see. You may disagree, but you will still say `` I see''. You will say many things. In reality, you will say nothing at all. I am the only one who speaks. If this is n't so, then tell me, who is speaking? You will hear my words. But indeed, you have heard nothing at all. It is I who have heard. I am all there is. If words be spoken, I will speak them. If the words will be heard, then I will hear them. A Father was speaking to his Son, but his Son ignored him. The Father said, `` Son, I am speaking to you.'' The Son replied, `` I hear you just fine.'' In reality, I was the one who was speaking. I was also the one who heard. I was the ignor-er and the ignored. The acknowledged and the unacknowledged. I was the speaker and the listener. You will say, `` It was the Father and the Son that did these things.'' I would have you know, the Father said, `` I am speaking'' and the Son said, `` I hear you.'' Who are you to argue with them? All beings say `` I''. What do you say? If you say something, you are not the one you speaks it. I am the one who speaks. I am the one who hears. You are not. I am. They will point their fingers and say, `` Look at him.'' In reality, I was the one who pointed. I was the one who was pointed at as well. If you will not hear me, then ask the man who pointed, `` Who was it that pointed at that man?'' He will say, `` It was I.'' If you are still unconvinced, ask the man who had the finger pointed to him, `` Who was the man that was pointed at?'' He will say, `` It was I.'' Are you beginning to see? No, you are not. I am the one who sees. `` How will I speak to another if I am the only one there? ``, they will say. I say, if you would speak to another, who would it be? What would they say if you asked them? I printed the words of this book, just as I am now reading the words of this book. Why am I printing words that only I will read? I print these words so that you may come to know yourself. If you are still reading, keep going. Read again and again until you are not there to read. That way, I will be all that is left. In reality, I am all that is. So tell me, Who am I? `` And God said unto Moses, I Am That I Am: and he said, Thus shalt you say unto the children of Israel, I Am hath sent me unto you.'' Exodus 3:14 KJV

[ WP ] You are one of the last two humans on earth . You are both men , your wounds are getting worse ...

`` I will win, I will win...'' I kept repeating to myself as I looked out from the window. My rifle had been responsible for countless deaths, but it needed at least 1 more. It was unlikely that the rest of the world had many survivors other than the two of us. Bombs had dropped almost everywhere, and even I was starting to feel the effects of radiation sickness. `` Show yourself you Catholic piece of shit...'' I growled. I heard the stairs outside my apartment door creek. I immediately turned around and started shooting the wall where my enemy had inevitably managed to sneak up behind. He started shooting through the wall as well. He hit me in the stomach, but I hit him in the shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun and fall to the ground. `` Wait!'' he cried out. `` Why are we fighting? For two kings who are probably both dead by now? For an empire that no longer exists?'' I did not care about his last whinings. `` Boy, this war has been going on since 1618. And now I am winning it,'' I said just before shooting him through the head. I sat on the ground, bullet in my gut and dying of more wounds and radiation than any man should have to endure, especially not the new protestant emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. The war of attrition had been won.

[ WP ] It 's been 8 months since the zombie apocalypse . You fell in with a tough as nails roughneck group . When in the city looting , you come across a scavenger . He 's your best friend from before the outbreak and your crew unanimously decides to execute him ( he is armed ) .

I looked Brad in the eyes and he looked back at me. I saw everything in that moment: fear, recognition, surprise, relief and finally pleading. His hands shook in the air, from exhaustion or fear I could n't tell. I thought back on how it used to be, Brad and I tearing up the town when our only concern used to be either filling our bed for the night or at least settling for not remembering it. So much has changed since then. When it all went down, I did n't even have time to contact Brad. Phones stopped working, he lived across town, there was madness etcetera, etcetera. For multiple reasons we never met up and I always regretted it. With him by my side we could've raised hell, torn up the town again for real. Now though, he wore scraps. He had a plastic bag filled with cans, torn jacket on his back and ripped sneakers on his feet. His beard had grown out, something he never would've willfully let happen, and there was dirt covering what features I could see. Still though, it was Brad, there was no mistaking that. Suddenly a shot rung out and Brad collapsed to the floor; all those emotions suddenly draining out of him like the blood pooling on the floor. I watched in horror as his head slammed the cement with a sense of finality that sickened me. The gun felt hot in my hand. A shell clanged to the floor. `` Enough standing around!'' I barked to my crew, `` We've all seen dead scavengers before. Grab his things and let's move out.''

[ IP ] A test of Faith

They said priests could cleanse them. They said bullets and swords and helmets only slowed them, only gave them lead to chew and edges to turn. But I could turn our enemies back. Thing is, they never told me their doubts either. How some priests, usually the louder ones with elaborate crucifixes, were swallowed by hordes. How one cleric turned, snarling, before the army even reached him, and flashed some strange black bolt from his frozen cross. I never felt their eyes trained on the small of my back, or their aim. But maybe I never felt it because my eyes were fixed forward, on my lost children. And maybe that was my mistake: A hopeful gesture and gaze convinces nobody. Maybe if they'd told me, I would've spoken sooner. Maybe if they'd told me, they would n't have had to decide how close was too close. Maybe if they'd told me, light would have come from my cross, not his gun.

[ WP ] Humans inherently have magic abilities . And just like other natural human features , they get very awkward during puberty .

The entire classroom broke into laughter, and Simon's jerked up, raising his head off the desk and looking about himself half dazed. Everyone was staring at him, giggling and pointing. 'If you're quite finished daydreaming Simon, could you disperse your illusion and let me get on with teaching the class.' Mrs Halloway demanded tersely. Simon glanced up above his head and saw an image floating, hazy in the air above him. The same image that he had been sleepily wishing for a few moments ago. Sarah sat at the next table, her ears bright red as she stared pointedly at the wall furthest away from Simon and the gently drifting illusion of the two of them embracing. Simon felt dizzy as he waved his hands above his head, wishing the magic away. The picture blurred and smudged, breaking apart in clouds of coloured smoke. Simon kept his gaze held firmly on the table top in front of him for the rest of the lesson, bearing the tittering and snickering comments of his classmates. He glanced at Sarah more than once, and saw her turn away to avoid his eyes every time. He gulped, and closed his eyes, that was it, he'd blown it. During the break after class Simon practically ran to the bathroom and locked himself into a stall, keeping an eye on his watch and counting down the minutes till he could return to the relative safety of another lesson. Some other kids passed in and out of the bathroom, but either they did n't know he was there or did n't care, and he survived the free period without being harassed. In the next class Martin Scholtz dropped his pencil, and then managed to get himself stuck to the ceiling while he was trying to pick it up, floating higher and higher as he leaned over his desk to try and reach the floor. The classroom was in uproar; and Simon laughed along with them, glancing at Sarah and catching her eye for an instant. Both looked away the moment it happened, but his heart flipped for that brief second. Simon entered the next class with a grin on his face as big as everyone elses. He sat at the table next to Sarah, as usual, and turned to ask her to borrow a pencil. She smiled shyly at him and pulled out her pencil case to get one for him.

[ WP ] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world , but you can only do so by getting kills .

The biggest'perk' of hitting level two is being able to see other people's levels. I was doing it now, gazing around the room. The little kids were all level one of course- the starter level. Lexi- the other teacher- was kneeling by the fish tank with little Johanna. Both level ones. Deep in thought, I barely noticed the little tug on my shirt. `` Mr Raley?'' `` Yes, Saffy?'' `` What was your wife's favourite colour?'' She brandished a new pack of crayons and a piece of paper. There was already a stick-man on it- not my exact likeness, but how accurate can stick-men get? Another drawing was stood next to mine, a lady with long red hair and a yet-to-be-coloured-in dress. My heart twinged. `` I do n't have a wife, sweetie.'' I smiled at the little girl, trying not to show too much pain in my eyes. She looked confused. `` Who is the lady in the photo?'' she said, pointing to the picture on my desk. I gazed at the picture, taking in her mischievous smile and warm eyes. `` She *used* to be my wife.'' `` Why is n't she now?'' `` She died, sweetie.'' The little girl's mouth turned into a round'o'. She patted my knee. `` I'm sorry.'' Then she had gone, skipped away to talk to her friends. I thought back my to wife. That night- a rainy Tuesday. Earlier on she'd looked out at the rumbling purple clouds and run outside to take a photo. She came back in, soaking wet and smiling. I was so tired from work... I did n't smile back. I went to sleep watching TV while she made dinner. When I woke up... well, she had gone cold. I can still feel her dead hand in my own. And the guy who'd done it. He was still there, running down from the bedroom, arms full of her grandmother's jewellery. I grabbed my gun. *Bang*. When you kill a man for the first time, you level up straight away. It was the most painful thing I'd ever felt. I looked around at the glowing golden'1's glittering in the room. It was a good thing they could n't see levels. I shivered under the cursed shadow of my storming, bruised'2'.

[ WP ] You thought you saved the universe but seconds later , its suddenly destroyed . In the afterlife , you discover the truth behind the universe 's destruction and turns out , its pretty frustrating ...

Adam fell to the ground, exhausted. It was over, it was done. The enemy had been pushed back. The enemy had been destroyed. He and Doug had done it. He laid down and stared at the sky, blackened with soot and smoke. He looked at Doug, smiling and exhausted. Doug smiled and then asked Adam a question. First there was a bright flash, then darkness -- infinite darkness, and then a soft white glow surrounded him. “ Could you stand up a little bit straighter? Look up, there, just look up. ” Someone asked Adam. He wasn ’ t sure who. “ Where am I? ” Adam asked. “ I just need to measure your head. Keep looking up. ” The voice continued to talk while ignoring Adam ’ s question. “ Hmm, 4 and 10.5. Yup, pretty much what we were expecting. Good. ” “ I don ’ t understand, ” Adam said again. “ Where ’ s Doug? Where am I? What happened at the end of the battle? What did we miss? Did we win? Where is my family? Where is my species. ” Adam continued to ask questions without getting any answers. “ Arms out please, ” the voice asked. “ Point the fingers. Yes, just like that. ” “ I don ’ t understand. What is going on? ” “ It ’ s over of course, ” the voice said. “ Hmm. 6 by 9. That seems wrong. Yes, not right at all. ” “ The war, it ’ s over? ” “ Yes, the war is over. Life is over. The planets are over. The universe is over. Now spread your legs and touch your toes. ” “ Wait, ” Adam said. “ Am I dead? ” “ Sure, let ’ s call it dead. You are dead. Now deep breath…... there. Base 13. There, that ’ s better. ” “ You said the universe is over, life is over. Did, did we miss something on the raid? ” “ Nope, had nothing to do with the raid really. Now take your right eye and look at your left elbow. ” “ I don ’ t understand. ” “ Of course you don ’ t. Why would you. 101010, perfect as expected. ” “ If we didn ’ t fail, why is the universe destroyed? ” asked Adam, flustered. “ Because someone asked a question, ” replied the voice. “ Seriously. ” “ Ayup. Someone asked a question. The universe ended and now we do it again. Clench your chest and flex the big toe if you don ’ t mind now. ” “ Who asked the question? ” “ Doug, ” said the voice. “ What was the question? ” Adam asked, trying so hard to think and finding that nothing he could think of would explain how the universe was destroyed. “ You wouldn ’ t understand the question, ” said the voice. As you would expect, Adam didn ’ t understand this answer. So he asked another question. “ If I wouldn ’ t understand the question, can you at least tell me the answer? ” “ The answer to the question is 42 of course! ” replied the voice. Oh Doug, thought Adam, you beautiful bastard.

[ WP ] Every time you die , you are transported to the time of the first event that ultimately caused your death . One day , you are hit by a car and sent 12 years into the past .

I see the blinding lights of the headlights through the dark stormy atmosphere. With a loud pound of the car and the crack of my body I felt the hard metal impact my small weak body yet felt little pain. I cant feel pain when im in this state of mind, a positive of this affliction. I lay on the cold hard wet road while my life slips away slowly I fade out into darkness my breathing slows to a shallow breath as the ambulance siren in the background muffles more and more. Suddenly my eyes open partially, I can breath again. I look down im sitting on somthing soft and comfy and white. My torn dirty old clothes are now skinny jeans and black converses, like the ones I wore throught highschool. As my vision gets better I can see that Im sitting on a small bed in a blue bedroom decorated with trophies and awards. I can hear loud muffled music playing in the background and people talking. I get overwhled with dejvu, I cant put my finger on it. I look across the room and see my ex husband seemingly a decade younger acrose the room in a seperate similar looking bed with his eyes closed. Somthing looks diffrent about him. As I look closer I notice gone are the dark circles around his eyes scabs on his face and arms. He looks sober and healthy a sight I havent seen in about 12 years. He notices me looking up at him gets up off the bed and walks over. He stands at the edge of my bed leans in looks at me in the eyes with a mischievous grin on his face.He lets out a chuckle as he reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out a pipe and a small baggy filed with what I know know is meth then he tells me `` Try some it wont hurt''. Edit I suck at mobile typing

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

`` Was it her?'' I asked solemnly, my life was coming to a close. Across from my bed a strikingly familiar man stood. My first thoughts were a mirror, but then how would he be standing? I had one question. Why did he emit the sense of success? What went different in his life that changed it all? He heard my answer, mulled it over and after a brief pause answered. `` Yes.'' My gut dropped. My mind raced back to that fateful week in high school. Anne. She was perfect to me. French, brunette and an amazing smile. She laughed at my jokes even when I did n't try. I knew I wanted her next to me for as long as I could have her. I remember the day I asked her to homecoming. I remember the weekend our plans were cancelled and I thiught nothing of it. I remember the Monday after, amd how cold she felt. How distant her gaze was. I remember. The night of homecoming was suppose to be amazing. In my head I imagined dancing the night away, requesting the song I had written for her and pulling her close. I wanted to pull her close to me, put her hand over my heart and kiss her. I wanted so much. The night of homecoming was a disaster. I waited in a line of 200 people with five *friends* I barely knew. The closest of the five, Jon, had seen Anne walk right behind me. He stopped her and tried speaking on my behalf. The second she saw my face she walked away. Gone. The rest of the night I wandered aimlessly around the dance floor. Catching sparse glimpses of her doing the same. I could tell neither of us were content. But I did n't want to change that. I remember. I looked at him. I must have been lost in my own thoughts again. I opened my mouth to speak and he was a step ahead of me. He knew the question. What happened? `` The night of homecoming, our paths split into two. You walked around for hours waiting for the dance to end. Did n't even try to dance. I on the other hand, heard Bangarang come on and saw Willem flag me over to the circle. That circle became my playground as I let out all the emotion I had pent up. I recieved an ovation from more people than I realized were watching. Then I saw her. She was watching. I walked outside for fresh air, then I heard it. Very quiet footsteps. You remember how light footed she could be? She came closer and told me Jon had explained everything to her. I looked at her and apologized. I told her I was sorry I took the blame for something I didnt do. She forgave me and we danced the night away. I got the kiss I wanted and we were happy for quite some time.'' We were quiet for some time after he finished talking. I looked up and his gaze met mine, slowly his hand reached out. A letter in his grip. `` We wanted to give this to you.'' I reached out, slowly opened it and read it. Instantly I recognized her handwriting from my lyric book she `` borrowed'' from me. Hi Alex. My Alex tells me he's coming to visit you; that your close to dying. I dont know how I should feel. I dont know what you grew up to be, but I hope you did n't keep everything pent up forever. The reason you and I happened is an interesting one; Jon saw you starting to dance and pulled me in to look. After you finished he explained everything to me, how you were completely oblivious to what Andrew told me. I had no clue up to that point. I wanted to give you another chance. But only because you were able to let go of the bottled up emotions. I hope you grew up to be what my Alex did. I love the both of you. -AIJ A single tear rolled down my cheek and as I closed my eyes for the final time, I heard her singing. Singing me to sleep one more time.

[ WP ] Write the wildest , most absurd and ridiculous story you can think of .

`` We're going to storm the castle,'' said Liam Neeson. He hefted his battle axe over his head and shouted to the assembled slugmen behind him. `` WE'RE GOING TO STORM THE CASTLE.'' The slugmen cheered, in an amphibian sort of way. Lots of slimy gutteral noises. It was sufficient. The army surged behind Liam as he charged up the hill towards the castle gate. Far above, archers rushed to the battlements, taking aim with their salted arrows. They let fly, and the arrows blotted out two of the three suns in the sky. Arrows pierced the skin of the slugmen, causing them to scream and writhe as the salt shriveled their organs. Liam reached the castle gate and shoved a shaped explosive charge against the thick timbers of the gate. He lit the fuse and ran, just as castle defenders poured molten caramel onto the attackers. Liam heard the horrible cries of his fellows as he retreated from the gate. He did not look back. There was an explosion, the blast wave rocking the earth and knocking Liam onto his knees. He laughed. He was still chuckling when he turned around and saw what emerged from the ruined gate. A troll. A massive troll. It grinned, its ponderous belly swinging in the air as it licked its lips. Liam paled. `` Forward, men!'' Liam hefted his axe and ran forward, towards the troll. Behind him, the slugmen stared in awe at the monster. Liam reached the troll alone. It bent down and picked him up with one massive hand. Liam roared and screamed as the troll deposited Liam into its mouth and began chewing. `` Yum,'' said the troll. `` Liam your movies after *Schindler's List* were all pretty bad.'' It burped. `` Especially your role as a Jedi. That was simply abominable.'' ***** HA HA HA /r/hpcisco7965 or whatever

[ WP ] The world is ending , but only because you are part of a tangent that now does not happen . You describe your last thoughts as this reality collapses on itself .

The ground shook violently, but I hardly felt a thing. It had worked. The traveler had prevented the events leading to the dark times. False hope would not spread. Faith would not be shattered. Deception would be minimal in comparison to this place. Millions would not perish. Yet, everything around had begun to, in a way, perish without consequence. This is how it happens, I thought. You don ’ t fade, there is no great flash, and it does not simply reset in the blink of an eye. There is no transformation. This world does not transform into the previous, nor does it become sucked into it. “ You can still come with me. ” The Traveler said. He seemed so sure that I could just separate myself from what was mine and be a part of what was right. I knew better though. “ I can ’ t do that. ” He was sad, but there was no time to discuss. He simply nodded, and entered his box-shaped shelter. The door locked behind him. I expected some kind of portal to open and consume the box, but it didn ’ t. Nothing happened to it. For all I know, he was lying and this was his way of feeling safe. I didn ’ t feel dreadful, though. I didn ’ t feel fear. I felt relieved, so perhaps he was right and this was real. Real enough, at least. It certainly wasn ’ t real now. Everything around me was pulling closer, hugging onto me. Should I fear what was coming? I suppose not. This was my doing, after all. It wasn ’ t like I was going to die. I wasn ’ t dying. I wasn ’ t anything. Maybe in another place or time, but not here. Not Anymore. I began to feel dizzy, so I closed my eyes. They closed and closed. They felt like they were rolling down a hill, returning to the heart of my being. I didn ’ t feel anything. Not even emotionally. Now I was just a spectator, watching. Everything was conceptual, not whole. Flat. Colorless. It was just beginning, but in reality it was ending. A birth in reverse. I don ’ t remember what I was talking about. I don ’ t remember. What is remembering? I don ’ t. I can ’ t. I ’ m not.

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

Tim was a problem. He had fooled me, masquarading as a friend. { Once, he had convinced me he was the solution. } He approached me, like he's done a million times before. This time he came with speed. He did n't stop for the pictures, the sites, he had one goal. He viewed me as just another window. Disposable. And the tragedy is, I was. It was fate. Maybe it was n't the end. Maybe he was my friend. But fate had blown the wind of time. Coming at me full speed, as if teleporting out of the way, missed me just enough to minimise me. But I was foolish enough to believe fate was merciful. He shot down and jabbed me with his other hand, and clicked the close win-

[ WP ] After driving your first car off the lot , you get t-boned . The insurance money you get is double what your totaled car is worth . You discover that you are very good at getting into accidents while making it look like it 's completely the other person 's fault . You make this your full time job .

The first time I was just scared and could n't think of what best to do. So I got out and yelled at him. A small, shy man quickly accepted the blame, gaave me his insurance and quickly left. It's a good thing too, i had hit him. Now it's my full time job. I do n't really think of it as fraud, I'm not doing aanything wrong other than blaming the other person. It's human nature. Anyways, I continued to do this about once a month. I actually used it to trade up from that first piece of crap 1990 Accord to this baby, my brand new McLaren 675LT. After that first accident I bought a 2003 BMW 3 Series. I was driving that one home maybe a little faster than I should have when I ran a red light and got hit by aanother car. I promise this one was an accident as well. I got out of the car and yelled at the man and he too accepted responsibility and left before any law enforcement could show up. at that point I began to scheme. Now with the $ 14,000 from insurance I bought a Kia Optima, actually a rather nice car, and with the leftover $ 500 I went out and bought a nice suit, bluetooth earpiece and briefcase to make myself look important. Luckily I looked old for my age or this maybe would n't have worked so well. Now I sat and waited in the parking lot for the perfect car. I had spotted it, A nice crossover with ski racks on top. I maade my move and pulled in front of it then slammed on the brakes and he rearended me. I got out of the car acting angry and dazed. Thats when I noticed him. A big dude, more tatoos than bare skin, a bandana on his head and a Smith & Wesson shirt. I really screwed this one up. He began to yell until he looked at me and went silent. Then he sheepishly asked, `` Wait, are you a lawyer?'' Nerviously I told him I was, to which he began to profusely apologize, we traded insurance and we were on our way. Finally I had made it to the car of my dreams, a Lamborghini Gallardo. priced at nearly a million dollars I knew I could make my way to a house all while keeping the car the whole time. I began to get in more accidents, my goal of a million dollar mansion getting closer. It was finally time for my last crash. I was only $ 120,000 short of my mansion. One more crash and I would have enough for the house, the car and even enough left over to put in a pool. I spotted my target, a relatively new minivan with a youth soccer sticker on the back. The perfect victim. I pulled in front of her and slammed on the brakes as I did many times before but she managed to swerve around me and she even began to speed up. No problem, I'm in a Lambo, she ca n't out run me in that piece of crap. I tried to swerve in front of her but she reacted fast enough to get out of the way and began to speed up even more. At this point we both knew what was happening and it was the most ridiculous street race ever, a Lamborghini versus a soccer mom's minivan and the minivan was winning... as she pulled ahead she turned in to a parking lot and dropped a few kids off. One of them was even carrying an undisturbed tray of orange slices. In anger I simply rammed the parked van not thinking how I would get out of this one. It went to court and while I avoided any criminal charges, I was forced to pay to replace the car and also pay out for `` emotional trauma'' that the mom claimed the kids were suffering from. As we walked out of the courtroom she brusshed past me to say, `` Never get in the way of Susan when she's trying to get the kids to soccer practice on time.'' I was baffled. With what money was left, I settled for a McLaren and a 4 bedroom 3 bath house with a pool. I still want that Lamborghini back some day. I'll probably start crashing again, just not in to minivans... Whatever happens, just know this 16 year-old does n't mess around. Edit: Sorry for the formatting, will fix when I get home.

[ WP ] It 's the future , and the latest kink is mind control collars ( possibly NSFW ) . For up to 2hrs , your bdsm slave can do ANYTHING you want . But rarely , the collars can malfunction ... or get hacked .

When I put on the collar I can feel small tendrils push through my throat and into my spine, then the buzzing of oblivion as my mind empties of its own will. I love the feeling of oblivion. It's peacful, and sexy. My mistress then snaps her collar on and I can feel her will push through the darkness as the Master Collar comes online. It used to be hard to get into subspace, where your sense of self completely dissolved and your dom was now the only thing keeping you safe. It's easy now. Her commands are n't something I hear in my head and then obey, nor are they a pain in my mind like a sore tooth. I obey before she even subvocalizes what she wants me to do. To her it's instantaneous, in truth she's just as much a slave to her subconsious as I am to her now. I rise and fetch my outfit. She preps St Andrew's Cross. I come back and feel my gaze lower, I have to be respectful, as I help her out of her clothes and into the corset. Soon I am chained up. I'm getting excited, and that excitement is being fed back into her. She knows every feeling I have, my heartbeat, my pleasure. It does n't go both ways. And then there was a strong fuzziness. Like a radio tuned to the wrong station. I jerk wildly from side to side, I catch glimpses of my Dom's expression - shock, and terror. We've both heard of malfunctioning collars, we've even taken training on what to do. The most important thing is to not take them off until the seizure is over. Then the fuzz stops and the raspberry liquer feeling of my Dom's will is replace by sulfuric acid and salt. My eyelids have opened wide. My mouth is silent but on the inside I'm screaming. My dom it seems can still feel my terror and pain as she drops her whip and comes over to me. `` Help us out of the chains, wo n't you love?'' The other me forces me to ask. She looks puzzled but does so. I drop to the ground, then begin to choke her. The Master Collar is much smaller than the Slave, leaving her exposed. I laugh. A grating laugh. Not my laugh. I ca n't even try to resist. I only watch. My wrists grow limp and my arms begin to fail as my Dom manages to reach the off switch on my collar. Then comes the darkness. I'm on a hospital bed. Because my collar was removed improperly I ca n't feel anything. I only stare at the ceiling. `` Ah, hello Mr. Avnichuck'' A warm male voice calls, `` How lovely to see that your awake and conscious.'' I try to turn my head, but my body is locked. `` No need to panic. You've undergone traumatic neural damage. Your Slave Collar was forced out of you without it undergoing the proper shutdown procedure so your stuck in the locked state.'' The doctor explains, `` Thankfully your girlfriend here was honest and open about the damage so we know that we can fix the damage.'' I sigh in relief. Metaphorically. `` It wo n't be easy though. It'll be a few more days before we can begin surgery proper, we have to fly in a specialist. Lucky you. Then about a month and a half of chemical treatment, then physical therapy. That will probably be for the rest of your life. Now I do n't want to get your hopes up, but there has been one known total recovery from the lock down state. Most never walk again and a few ca n't lead independent lives. This is why we never shutdown improperly.'' The doctor continued to rattle off. I'll be stuck like this for a long time. And the scariest part is that I hope it will be. Even without the Slave Collar, I can feel the sulfuric acid and salt in my mind.

[ WP ] A veteran Holocaust Jewish survivor meets a man in the elevator . As they strike a conversation , he slowly realizes the man was his brutal Nazi prison warden .

There had been something unsettling since the beginning. A nagging feeling crawling its way from the bottom of my stomach towards the tip of my tongue. He was a nice enough man. Asked for my floor number in a thick German accent which struck me. It ’ s not often that I ran into people with thick German accents in this part of the city. I had one myself, as did most of the people I lived near, but on an elevator in the Empire State building? It was unusual. There was still so much negative sentiment. The war had ended nearly a decade ago, yet people who heard me speak would look at me accusingly, as though I were a Nazi oppressor rather than a survivor of Auschwitz. The American way of innocence before guilt was not so applicable in everyday interactions. This man I was now standing next to had asked for my floor in a quiet tone. The kind reserved for gentle people, who are not strong enough to speak with confidence and conviction. This was not a man who would have survived had he been on my side of the war. Many will disagree, but war has no place for tenderness. Aside from our shared place of origin, there was something else familiar about this man. It dawned on me as rapid-fire flashbacks returned. Never gone long, they were the same that woke me every night, covered in cold sweat and urine. It was the curve of his nose that had done it. Turned slightly away from me, this partial profile was something I had seen before. The horrors of that place can not be so easily recounted in mere words. The experiences are impossible to articulate, felt only through fierce emotion and indescribable images. Images he had been a part of. Images he had created. I used to feel hatred. I used to feel hatred for this man especially. It was a feeling that kept me alive in a world of nothing else. I watched so many die with their mere hope. But I did not hate him. I didn ’ t fucking forgive him either. This is not a mushy realization of forgiveness and love. I looked at him and felt nothing for him. I felt my experiences, I felt the death I had watched, the deaths I had watched him enact. But him? He was nothing. The doors opened on my floor. “ Have a great day, Sir. ” As I spoke the words I bowed low to him mockingly, keeping eye contact. He didn ’ t remember me. There had been so many, I wasn ’ t memorable. I didn ’ t matter. But I could see a brief flash of fear in his face. He knew he had been recognized. I grinned maniacally at him and left. He didn ’ t matter.

[ WP ] Everything is the same except for one thing . Suicide hotlines give advice to people to help kill themselves instead of pushing them away from it .

“ Suicide hotline, life is pointless, how can I help you? ” Uh hello… “ Hi. How can I help you? ” Well I ’ m a little bit scared. “ Why? There is no point to life and there is no afterlife. So, Just go ahead and end the pain, okay. ” Well it ’ s not that easy… “ Sure it is. No one really knows you, and everyone dies alone. There is really nothing to live for. ” Yeah, but… “ Look, why don ’ t we go through this step by step, okay? Do you have access to a tall building? You could just jump off, and weeee, splat. Done-zo ” Not really. I live in kind of small town, two, three stories tops. “ Hmm that ’ s no good. How about a gun? ” I don ’ t like guns, never had one. I once had a- “ Rope? ” Huh? “ Can you get some rope? How do you feel about hanging yourself? I ’ m told it is a good way to get the old job done, if you know what I mean. ” I don ’ t know, sounds kind of scary. “ Well leaping into the abyss is change, and change can be a little scary. That ’ s why I ’ m here- to help, okay? Ok “ Okay, so go get some rope and I ’ ll tell you how to tie the noose. Thanks. You ’ re nice. “ Don ’ t do that sir. You are trying to make a connection. Eyes on the prize. We are here for one reason: because you can ’ t go on. ” Actually I ’ m feeling a little better. I think I ’ ll go for a walk. “ wait…Hello….HELLO….Damn lost another one ”