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[ WP ] Write your best possible closing line/paragraph to a story , leaving room for readers to imagine the events that lead up to that moment .

His legs finally gave out, scattering rocks down the hill side as he fell to his knees. With some effort he rolled himself onto his back and just stared into the clouds for a while. Lazily his hands rose to his shoulders, his fingers protested the effort it took to untie the straps so that he might shed his heavy armor. `` The world is alight with flame now.'' An old voice said gently on the wind. `` Was it all worth it?'' Benjamin heaved the steel off his shoulders and watched it roll down the steep slope in a cloud of dust. His eyes rose towards the opposing hillside where tall clouds of black smoke signaled the location of the battlefield. `` It was n't supposed to be this way.'' He said, mostly to himself. His enemies burned. His friends burned. There was no reward, no great justice. Just the fires that had consumed everything, everything except for him. `` I warned you.'' The voice spoke again. `` Death's Flame comes with a heavy toll. A toll your enemies alone could not pay.''

[ WP ] You live a double life . One as a hero , and the other as a villain . After a fight in your villain persona , your secret is accidentally revealed to your hero team .

“ You ’ ll never get away with this Dark Flag! ” *Oh, how little you know Violet. How little you know. * I stepped over White Falcon ’ s unconscious body and approached the controls. “ Techie encrypted the computer to a point where even you can ’ t hack through! It ’ ll take you days and by then the rest of the Protectors will be here to stop you!'' I plugged in my files and within seconds I was activating the self-destruct protocols on not only the Base of the Protectors but the chips I ’ d implanted on all of their costumes. The displays turned red and the countdown began. Five minutes until annihilation. “ Wh-what? ” Violet asked incredulously. “ How? How did you- ” I took off my mask, the pitiful Dark Flag facade that had let me operate in secret. Violet gasped. “ Techie? NO! It can ’ t be! James, who ’ s controlling you? ” *Denial. * “ No one. This is all me. ” “ But why James?! ” “ Because I had to, Violet. We were becoming too powerful. I had to destroy what I had created, a la Victor Frankenstein. ” “ But we ’ re no monsters James, we ’ re the good guys! ” “ I could quote Alan Moore at you but I fear it would be a waste of time, Violet. You wouldn ’ t understand. You ’ re too pure. Now Corey, on the other hand, he understands, don ’ t you Flamethrower? ” If his powers could be activated through his eyes I would be nothing but ash. I knew this and subsequently bound Flamethrower ’ s hands and gagged his mouth with fire retardant wrappings. And partially submerged him underwater. The steam rising from his tank was making the control room of our former base a sauna. *Anger. * I returned to the controls. “ James, no! Please! We can solve this! We always can! ” *Bargaining. * The tank was filled with thousands upon thousands of volts. Flamethrower, Corey, convulsed for a few moments until I felt like it had been enough. Then a few moments more. His head fell into the water. No bubbles rose from it. Violet screamed and hung her head, silent for the first time since I had defeated her. For the first time since we ’ d worked together all those years ago. *Depression. * I made my final preparations. On the screen I watched as little orange blobs appears to tell me when the explosives had been set off, killing off the dozen or so Protectors scattered throughout the world.Victory Girl - Carla. Rainbow - Julia. Badgerboy - Grant. They all perished without pain, without warning, without having to watch their loved ones die at the hands of the villains we created. I stepped up to Violet ’ s restraints. She barely raised her head to look at me. “ You ’ d better get out of here James. You ’ ve got a new world order to run. Without us you ’ ll be free to- ” “ Shut up Violet. You really don ’ t understand do you? ” The timer flashed *00:05* “ James I… ” *00:04* “ Shhh, ” I whispered as I pulled her close. *00:03* “ It ’ ll be okay. ” I caressed her hair. *00:02* “ I know James. ” *00:01* *Acceptance*

[ IP ] Into the depts of the Unknown

Albatross d'Ours stared into the deep forest, at the tangle of thorns and seemingly impenetrable vines that obscured the forest floor. The woods were alive with the sound of life, harsh caws of dark birds and the howls of prowling beasts lurking just within the shadows. Other, more comforting sounds d'Ours heard; the soft cooing of doves reached his ears from the boughs of the pines, the bugling call of deer in the far off distance. With a charcoal pencil he wrote scrawled notes down on his weathered journal, noting the edible plants and game he saw from his perch. Virgin forests, just waiting to feel the bite of axes and saws stretched off for leagues in every direction. It was a promising land save for one issue... The horns sounded out like in a semi-circle around him, low and cruel. Birds, disturbed by the sudden noise, were roused from their roots in the hundreds, their various cries filling the air along with the warhorns. Then screams from human throats started up, a baying chorus, rising and falling in banshee reels. d'Ours did not wait to see who the source was. He threw his notebook into the satchel hung over his shoulder and raced down the massive tree branch, following the weathered bark to the ground. His ride was waiting for him. It was approximately twenty feet in wingspan, and some twelve in length. A Xaxon Model V Aeromount. The fuselage was constructed of a monocoque plywood body painted a dark grey on the top surface that lightened to a light cream. A shaped saddle was fitted just behind where the wings connected to the main body. The wings themselves were made of wood and canvas painted a dappled lozenge pattern in sea blues and grays. Long rudders along the wings flexed as he tested their movements, tilting the handles on either side of the fuselage. d'ours half sit, half laid into the saddle, his boots finding the stirrup pegs. As added insurance he tied a silk sash through the saddle around his waist. All the while the screams closer. With a snarled curse he flipped up the cover of the toggle switches, flicking both to on. One activated the levitation spell imbued into the wood, causing the vehicle to float some three feet above the ground. The other was a momentum spell that moved the craft at a slow walking pace. That was enough for him. Rotating the handles and pulling back on them caused the aeromount to shoot up towards the sky, and pushed him back from the motion. He just cleared the tree tops when four flying beast leaped from the forest canopy, vicious looking reptiles with wingspans some twenty four to twenty-eight feet in length. Mounted on their backs were men dressed in furs and leathers, the one on the largest beast had a priceless shirt of mail that shone in the noonday sun as well as a falchion shaped blade. Two of them had rawhide shields and spears in their hands while knives were thrust into belts. The fourth clutched a simple self bow, an arrow was already strung and two more in his left hand. They screamed curses and threats in strange tongues at d'Ours, their dragon like mounts racing to close the distance. d'Ours glance at the simple speedometer built into the varnished hull of his craft. The thin needle hovered at 50 clicks. His eyes raised at the sight, and at the closer foes. A wordless sigh muffled by the wind escaped his lips as he drew his spear from its mounting. The shaft was some six feet long with an eight inch blade made with pattern welded steel. The nature of aeromounts in physical combat was a dicey proposition at best and meant most combat was done by bow. Alas. Today was not the case. With only one hand on controls, he turned the craft towards the pursuing enemy, carefully gaining altitude on them. His foes in turn urged their mounts upwards attempting to meet d'Ours on equal ground. It was not the case. d'Ours spun the craft upside down so that gravity tried to yank him out of his seat, but the silk belt and stirrups kept him firmly in place. Pulling the controls towards him, he sent the aircraft diving towards the ground, the light craft picking up speed and momentum. The mounted archer tried to shoot, but the noon sun blinded his shot and sent the arrow missing d'Ours by a wingspan. He was rewarded with a spear to the throat, the razor sharp blade half decapitating him from the swiping blow. His flying mount noticed its dead rider on its back and twisted its neck to snatch the listing body from its saddle, tearing bloody chunks of its owner with each bite. One of the spear men urged his ride to attack but was rewarded with a spearhead into its open jaws, punching through the roof of its mouth and into the brain. The spear snapped two thirds the way up as d'Ours and the savage broke off. d'Ours did n't even bother looking back as the rider screamed as he plummeted towards the ground, his mount dead. The second spearman, likely the previous one's brother by looks, roared rage and anger at the young warrior who quickly dispatched his comrades. He threw a javelin a d'Ours, who shifted in his saddle to dodge. The rusted point scored across the lacquered scales of d'Ours' armor. He was rewarded with the splintered shaft from the spear being shoved into his eye. He screamed terribly for a half-second before it punched through into his brain. His mount, perhaps a shed more loyal, did not eat its former master, but instead shook the corpse off where it fell into the rolling surf of the shore. The leader of the savages screamed in anger, spittal dripping from lips to splatter onto his unkept beard. d'Ours glanced at the massive creature the beast rode, gauging its speed and gave a jaunty bow of his head before turning away, pouring as much speed into his aeromount as possible. Perhaps he could have won, but perhaps he would n't have. Three kills is a respectable count anyways.

[ WP ] Retell the origin of a superhero , but reveal the hero at the end of the story .

214782 We all were given a number and this was mine. 214782 I no longer had a name. No longer had a future. No longer had a people. I had tried to save my parents, but they killed them. I had tried to maintain my identity, but they tortured it out of me. And all I now had left was my rage, and my number... 214782 They were going to die for this. Every single one of them. Down to the last woman and child. They had to die. And I was going to make sure that they did. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But die they all would in the end. I would take my time planning out my revenge, making it foolproof. Imagining the pleasure, the ecstasy of putting a pistol to their brains and pulling the trigger. I would make sure that this abomination, this genocide, this Holocaust would never happen to my people again. Not matter what the cost. The next time I would be ready. The next time I would save them, The next time I would protect them. But to do so I had to put aside the boy I had once been. Put aside the number they had tried to make me be. I had to become something greater. I had to become Magneto.

[ WP ] A man brings a gun to a bank . Do anything you please onwards .

**NSFW** ( minor language ) **** `` I just want to keep it safe. You have a vault large enough surely?'' `` So you say it is *legitimately* 18th century?'' He was openly interested in my wares, more so in the cannon, the largest. He sounded like the one I had spoken to on the phone to organize this meeting. `` Why of course! See the wear around the wheel base-'' ( I pointed to the area I meant ) `` -it got that in its very first military engagement!'' I enthusiastically listed a series of battles I knew it had been documented to have been used in... and a few more where similar cannons had been operational. `` Have you had this in particular valued? - we store items like this based on such information, yours will be stored in a state-of-the-art, specially-designed ante-room -for *increased security* - a ballpark figure would be enough.'' ``... I have it from my client that he has offers ranging from £8-12 *Million*''. `` So not much then?'' We shared a laugh at this. `` Could you show me the... ante-room? - where it is to be stored? - if it's not too much hassle of course!'' `` Certainly, follow me sir. Brian here-'' he nodded to a smartly-dressed, burly man I had n't noticed `` -will move the cannon to the exact spot we have reserved for you - though the cannon will have to go through the exhibit entrance, we will enter from the employee's side.'' He continued ahead before looking back at me `` -unless you wish to attached to a crane that is?'' He jested. `` No I save such activities for weekends.'' Again we shared a laugh, I was quite liking this man. As we walked through various unimpressive corridors I glanced sideways at him. He looked in his late-30's, perhaps 40's if he takes care of himself. He was n't a big man, but in his long-sleeve shirt I could see he had the silhouette of a man that does n't think exercise a hobby, more as a way of life. Other workers milled around, most of whom looked at me queerly before looking at the man next to me, more specifically - they looked at his tie, a curious shade of purple. I asked him what it signified. `` Oh that's nothing, we have colours that relate to ones' seniority within management, my own colour represents 5-A, it goes all the way up to 8-A, though you do n't see very many of those in here. `` Oh...'' a thought popped into my mind `` -does n't that make you vulnerable to... people who might steal them?'' `` I would n't worry about it in the slightest. Each colour is changed weekly, and everyone enters and leaves the building without wearing one, we are particularly strict on that policy.'' `` Why the need for them? Are n't the employees taught to recognize you on-sight?'' `` We have shifts.'' ... I waited for an explanation until the man stopped at what would have been an unremarkable door, had it not possessed a particularly strange-looking door-handle. He looked behind himself before adding. `` -very strict security in this particular part of the building, could you please avert your gaze? We do n't usually let clients in this area unless they specifically ask.'' `` Certainly.'' I averted my gaze before I heard the door open and asked - `` Can I look now?'' `` Almost, my friend.'' The door closed. A locking mechanism sounded. ``... Fuck''

[ WP ] A serial killer leaves a certain song playing at every crime scene , but no one knows what it means

* Four bodies this month * radios near them. what are the connections? it just does n't seem to add up. Detective Elmwood sighed and looked back at his computer screen to see more details on the body, maybe something he missed. Nope, he had covered every crack, nook and cranny in that house. but nothing added up. No murder weapon, locked doors, no chimney. all of the things for a real Sherlock Holmes case. He wrote that in his notebook just to be sure. you know? he just could n't concentrate with that stupid Justin Beiber song stuck in his head. who likes that guy anyway?

[ WP ] A supervillain is stealing other geniuses ' brains to figure out a plan of world domination

`` You know, I swear I saw this exact plot in a Japanese superhero show...'' Tyrone Rexler says as he looks over the brain jars in the low light lab. `` Dude... Japanese tv is weird but that weird?'' The Red Eagle taps a jar marked `` A. Nermal'' causing bubbles to rise to the surface. `` I would think that Dr Cerebellum would be more creative than that.'' `` Well, obviously not.'' The speedster known as Pinball zips up to Red Eagle. `` Dude's got Hitler in the back, and Dick Cheney up front.'' `` That just sounds like a bad porno.'' comes the response from Pele, who is investigating the brains with a glowing lump of lava rock as her torch. `` Agh! Pele, I did not need that mental image.'' Rexler shudders, partly from the bad vibe and partly from the cold of the lab. `` So, we're agreed, we should just find a way to wreck these brains now?'' `` Agreed. There's no reason to keep them alive.'' Red Eagle nods to Pele, who moves over to the central heating unit of the lab. As she dials up the heat to 800 degrees, all the men on her team cover their noses from the stench of boiling brains. Ten minutes later, they leave, wanting this whole experience to be nothing more than an afterthought. When Doctor Cerebellum arrives to find his lab in disarray, his minion, Cortex, is expecting to get hit. `` Not to worry Cortex. The heroes may have destroyed the main brains, but the cloning vats are working. We just need to pick someone's else brain.''

[ WP ] Oh , the weather outside is frightful ...

*Oh, the weather outside is frightful* I really liked this song. Of all the Christmas carols, this one was by far my favorite. Especially Nat King Cole's version. The man had such a silky voice. As I looked outside the window, I saw that it was snowing heavily. More heavily than I had ever seen it before. Just as the weather report said it would. `` Freak snow!'' claimed the radio DJ. `` No one will be able to drive in or out of the county for the next three days,'' the local news anchor said. I was fine with that. It was going to be the best three days of my life. I had with me several bottles of wine, several DVDs, a copy of *The Grapes of Wrath, * and of course, I was with Christine. I will admit that I was very surprised when Christine agreed to come to the cabin with me. I've fancied her for a long time but I did n't think she ever really noticed me. But as it turned out, she fancied me, too. And she wanted to spend some alone time with me as well. Who would have guessed? Needless to say, I was as happy as a clam. And I was going to make sure that the next three days were going to be romantic. I mean, after all, she could be the one. I could see it already. In a few years, Christine and I could get married, we could have a boy and a girl, and maybe even a Golden Retriever, too. *But the fire is so delightful and since we've no place to go let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow! * Let it snow, indeed. No one was going to interrupt us. Everything was going exactly according to plan. Romantic music, warm fire, turkey in the oven, a bottle of Cabernet, and of course, a box of condoms. `` I'm going to get lucky tonight,'' I said aloud while whistling along to the song. *Oh, it does n't show signs of stopping and I've bought some corn for popping* I wonder if she'll want some popcorn. I should ask her. `` Hey, Christine,'' I called. `` Would you like some popcorn? I have some extra butter in the fridge.'' She did n't answer. Perhaps she was taking a nap. That's fine with me. What matters is that she's here with me. *The fire is slowly dying and my dear is still goodbyeing* Well, dinner is finally ready. I should go see if she is ready now. When I went into the bedroom to check on her, I saw that she was laying in bed just as I had left her. Goodness, I hope she is n't the lazy type. After all, idleness is the Devil's workshop. I carried her downstairs to the living room. `` Christine, you're heavier than you look. Oh come now, I'm not calling you fat. Not at all. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world. I'm just commenting that you're heavier than you look... I'm not doing myself any favors, am I? I'm sorry, let's just eat.'' I sat her down in front of the table and placed a fork and knife in each of her hands. `` Dig in, Christine.'' While eating, I noticed that she was n't eating. `` Is the food not to your liking, Christine?'' She said nothing. `` Oh come now, Christine. That's not very polite to not say anything. I slaved all day to make this dinner.'' She remained silent. I decided not to pursue the matter. Why ruin things? I finished my dinner and drained my glass of wine. `` If you're not going to eat, perhaps then you'll dance with me.'' *When we finally kiss goodnight, how I'll hate going out in the storm! But if you'll really hold me tight all the way home I'll be warm* I grabbed her from her seat and danced with her to the song. `` I thought you said that you majored in dance while you were in college, Christine. You should loosen up a bit.'' We continued to dance as Christine's beautiful, almond-shaped glazed eyes looked into mine. I did truly love this song.

[ WP ] It turns out that when you die , your soul is launched back in time , effectively becoming your own guardian angel .

After tumbling through a black, cold and vague funnel I appeared in senseless place. It was dark yet bright, cold yet warm and most of all, strangely familiar. After somehow awaking out of the numb state I had been in, I notice I do n't seem to have a body or whatsoever. I felt as if I was dust, I hovered as dandelion flakes. Suddenly water surrounds me, drags me along and I get pushed out, into a room. This room, this place, I had been here before. Then it hits me, I have been delivered again, only in a different state. The shrill sound that first resembled nothing but humming, is the cry of a baby. A baby that once used to be me. I ca n't seem to grasp why I am experiencing this, what is happening and how it's possible. After a few days of being attached to the baby, by a strange force, I start noticing that I can manipulate the baby. When it does, or is about to do, something it should n't do, I can somehow communicate with it and make sure the baby wo n't do it. Years later, I'm a guardian angel. I can only push myself as a human being, to not make the bad choices and to not step onto the wrong paths. My job is extremely hard, I need to stay focussed at all times and my energy is endless. I live my life again, but in greater detail, with more precision and cautiousness. Yet I wonder what it would be like when I will die, will I be born again or has my time run out?

[ WP ] You are at a masquerade party , when a stunning girl in a mesmerizing mask walks up to you and slips something into your palm . Before you can do anything , she slips away into the crowd .

I was standing off to the side of the dance floor, drink to my lips, listening to the music play from the speakers. I saw a woman make her way through the large gathering of bodies and make her way towards me. She looked rather good. Long, black dress, brown hair that was dyed blue down in curls, black mask on. She walked closer and put her hand out for me to shake. `` Who are-'' I said after she pulled away from the shake. `` Wake up.'' She said after leaning in closer to my ear. She adjusted my mask and walked away. I looked down at my palm. There was a small, white, round-shaped pill in my hand. I looked back up, searching for the girl. She was no where to be seen. I did n't take the pill, I walked towards the door, and got stopped by the waiter who was lingering over there, saying something. `` Come again?'' `` Wake up.'' My vision started to blur and I walked out of the door to the enormous backyard. I saw my friend, Jack is his name, out here with a glass of champagne. `` Jack! I need your help mate! I can barely see and this girl, she-'' `` Wake up, Finn.'' I blinked and saw the girl standing in the place of Jack. `` Jack? Who are you? I need help.'' `` The pill.'' I looked at it in my hand and swallowed it dry. The yard started to swing even more. The last thing I can make out is the scent of her perfume. I close my eyes and fall to the ground. ~ `` Finn! Mate, is that you?!'' I heard someone yell. I opened my eyes and saw Jack standing in front of me in his red mask. `` Yeah, it's me. Have you seen a girl pass here. Long, black dress, black mask, brown hair mostly dyed blue?'' `` No. Never seen her. Let's you back into the party.'' He spoke, helping me stand up. We walked back into the party. `` I'll catch up with you later, mate.'' I stated, walking to the spiral staircase. I carefully walked up, keeping my eyes toward the crowd, looking for her. I reached the top of the stair and looked around. I started opening the doors, looking for her. Nowhere. She was nowhere. Where had she gone? I walked to the door and opened it. She was standing, her back to me. The room had multiple mirrors on the wall. `` Excuse me? Are you the one who handed me the pill? Who are you?'' I questioned. She turned around and her black mask was hanging loosely from her perfectly manicured hands. I looked up to her face and I gasped. She was strangely pale and her yes were missing from her head. They looked like they were scratched out. Mother of God. `` Are you alright? Do you want me to call someone?'' `` Wake up, Finn.'' `` What does that mean?'' `` You ca n't sleep forever,'' She grinned. `` It was Jack. Jack did it.'' And with that, she disappeared. I saw her reflection in the mirrors. She started to spell out something. It was written in red; blood. It said:'Jack did it.' What does that mean? The room spun again and I soon found myself falling to the ground. ~~~ I woke up, a sweat running down my forehead. `` You alright, mate?'' I heard Jack ask in his signature British accent. `` Fine.'' I whispered. I was on Jack's couch. No tux. No mask. `` Did we go to a party last night? Like a masquerade?'' `` No. Not that I'm aware of. You alright?'' He laughed at the end. `` Fine.'' I took my phone from the table. I was about to unlock it when I noticed the background was changed. It was a white screen with'Jack did it' written in blood. I screamed and dropped my phone on the ground. Jack walked back in, he left the room earlier. `` You do n't seem alright.'' `` What did you do? What in god's name did you do?'' `` What are you on about?'' `` Do n't play dumb. You did something awful, why did n't you tell me?'' `` Because I had no choice!'' `` Tell me what you did.'' `` T-that girl I went out with a few nights ago, Jessica. There was something wrong. I could feel it. I did n't know what it was, but I kept hearing people telling me to'wake up'. I was so confused. I woke up, knife in my hand, covered in blood.'' `` What did you do?'' `` I do n't know! All I know is, I was covered in blood and it was n't mine. I looked over to my right and saw her body. Her eyes were scratched out and she had blood running down her face from the place where her eyes were. I could n't tell anyone! I would've gone to jail!'' `` What did you do with the body?'' `` I buried her.'' `` Where?'' `` Muse Mansion.'' That's where I was in my dream. Muse Mansion. `` Did you bury her in the backyard?'' `` Yeah. Why?'' `` You messed up.''

[ WP ] Most people can count themselves lucky if they get the chance to go on a single real adventure .

Most people can count themselves lucky if they get the chance to go on a single real adventure. Mine happened a few years ago. I mean, it was n't much by way of an adventure; I found a wallet, and after some time digging for clues, located its owner in a small home a few counties down. The owner was grateful, but had already replaced his wallet and ID. He let me keep a couple dollars and that was that. The real adventure is in your head. I was a young, reluctant hero, facing a fork in the road, separating good and evil. *Should I keep the wallet? * He would never know I had even found it. *Then again, this was a person's livelihood at stake! * I mulled it over, sitting on my bicycle in the sweltering sun, the heat encouraging me more and more to take that second road down to a nearby ice cream parlor. But alas, I set off downtown, trailblazing the great unknown with my shiny grey Schwinn. I learned more about myself that day, and I think that is truly what any great adventure will do to you. I also learned about a cute girl living in that man's neighborhood, but I think I'll tell you about *that* adventure when it's finished.

[ WP ] You are in a Movie Genre , everyone else is in a different Movie Genre .

“ Oh my goodness! Jack, look, this fellow here is a composer! ” Liam heaped in a sigh as he heard the exclamation about himself. Over pronounced gasps swept the subway train as others took note of this excellent news. The woman who had spoken behind him was joined by a jovial fellow wearing a fedora. A great smile was on this man ’ s face and he was staring at Liam as though Liam ’ s face were cast with gold. “ Well let me see that there song my good man! ” the man who must be jack exclaimed while reaching out physically towards Liam ’ s notebook. Liam turned his body and slipped the notebook into his coat to block Jacks overreaching arm from taking it. Immediate bewilderment etched itself on Jack ’ s face as he was turned down. “ Well honey, it looks like this man needs to be cheered up. Why, he is so miserable, that he won ’ t even share his gift of music with the rest of us in this cabin. ” Jack told his significant other. “ The gift of music has such miraculous power to heal the soul though Jack, why doesn ’ t he want to share? ” The girl asked as though heart broken. “ Why maybe he doesn ’ t have a mother. ” Someone chirped up from a few rows back. “ Let ’ s cheer him up! ” two people cried out simultaneously. Liam groaned as music began playing from nowhere in particular. Jack began singing in a beautiful tenor voice, and in moments the entire subway car had joined him except Liam. The song was all about how music makes the world go round, and about how one can always confide in the friend known as music. Liam produced a flask from within his coat and cursed himself for not taking a cab to work today. Every few seconds one of the singers, who were all dancing at this point, would attempt to take Liam by the hand to make him join into the activities. Liam had only managed to keep his sanity by staying perpetually drunk. As early as he could remember everyone in this world would break into dance and song at the drop of a hat. To make matters worse, every individual always knew not only the lyrics of the song, but also the dance routines. He had once boldly asked a teacher how everyone knew the song and dance and was met with a silly look followed by a song entitled “ Music wells up from within ”. The worst part was that Liam himself had a deep driving desire to write music. If he didn ’ t he seemed to go mad. He had once showed his songs and lyrics to others, but he was scolded for his work. It was too depressing they told him. No one would ever want to dance to that, they said. “ Next stop, 45th and main ” the speakers called out, in a rhythm which just happened to the beat of the song. As the subway doors opened, Liam quickly attempted to make his way through the crowd who began to serenade him as he walked. Liam shot through the subway doors at the last moment and sighed in relief as the sound of the song faded with the departure of the subway. Picking himself up off the ground he prepared himself mentally for the gauntlet he would face walking from here to work when he heard, “ Hey did you see how that guy almost didn ’ t make it off the subway in time? ” Liam screamed and began to run as he heard music begin again while another voice stated “ Lets sing about that! ”

[ WP ] You have the spirit of George Washington in you and you 're itching for a revolution . You 're also a teenager working at a grocery store

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` VIVE LE REVOLUTION'' It's a lot less heroic than you think. There were six of us. Myself, the leader if we're being dramatic, I organized it, I made most of the plans and I convinced the rest to join. Jack was very into the revolutionary ideal, did n't take much convincing for her to sign up. Fight for the oppressed poorfolk, seems like a great idea at the time. Thomson was the most intelligent among us, which says very little, considering how stupid our plan was. He could n't fight or shoot, but he made sure our plans were n't moronic. He really did n't have any other friends than us, no real family to speak of, probably why he chose to fight with us in retrospect. Then we had Allison, unassuming and homeless, and looking back, had probably killed someone before. Just a hunch. Also, not a person to gamble with, unless you were n't attached to your money. I think she just wanted to fight something. Or maybe she was serious about it, you could never tell with her. I could never define Hansen. He was shifty. I do n't even think Hansen was his name. What I did know was that his parents actually had money, which was useful. They ran a store in town. Do n't think they cared much for their kid. Gill was a quebecois who moved to the neighborhood a few years back, shuffled between foster homes and shit. I suppose he wanted a home he could call his own, or maybe he was just done with life. I do n't know what any of us wanted -- -- -- -- -- -- - The plan was we called the police to the boathouse after hours, use homemade flamethrowers to.... Take their weapons and other useful gear, steal a boat and hideout in the woods for a few days while we figured out our next move. Hansen was going to stay in town and smuggle us food. This was the first step of our glorious revolution. Murder some police and steal their shit. We did n't realize it at the time, but we were the villains. And our loss was inevitable. -- -- -- -- - The call went out, and Hansen said goodbye. If everything went well, he'd come and leave supplies out in the forest at a few predetermined locations. Nothing went well, and I do n't know what happened to Hansen. We waited about 35 minutes. Our town was remote, the nearest police station was miles away. A small S.W.A.T team went in to the boathouse. The door went down, the first man entered the building. And the flamethrower went off. I will never forget the screaming. Al did n't stop the flamethrower, and ran out of fuel soon after. She pulled the corpse to the side, while more police ran in, and Jack started her flamethrower up. Al tossed me a pistol, while she checked the policeman's shotgun for ammo. I heard something I think might have been a gunshot. I turned back to the door. There were three corpses in the doorway. Two cops and Jack. I do n't know what killed her, but Gil got a better look and said her flamethrower blew up in her face. There was only one cop left, and Al managed to kill her pretty quickly. I think. I did n't see. I was looking at my friends face. It was still. And I knew I'd killed her. Not technically, but this was my idea. This was my fault. I almost threw myself out the door with hands up, but the police were all dead. My `` Plan'' had taken 5 lives, for what. Thomson and Al pulled me into the boat. Gil was n't moving either. I think he was going through the same thing I was. I never did get a chance to ask. Once Al had got Gil into the boat, Thomson kicked the boat into gear. We got about a mile out into the lake before Gil spoke up `` What have we done Wash?''. I sunk back into my seat. I did n't know. Technically we won. We got the guns, we got their gear. Most of us lived. But it was a hollow victory. Nothing I could think of could justify what we had done. I think Gil felt the same. He got out of his seat, and jumped off the boat. We lost him in the dark water of the lake. We would have turned back to check, but saw police lights in the night. We could n't stop now. We hid the boat, took shelter in a cave. I do n't remember what else happened that night. We did n't get caught. We probably did n't get caught because we were off the grid. We could n't see any landmarks, could n't see the town. We woke up and things somehow got worse than they already were. Snowstorm. Boat disabled, likely permanently. When I woke up, Al and Thomson were sitting in the cave, silently. I do n't know what happens now. It just wo n't be good. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Wash, Thomson and Allison were later declared dead by police, and two bodies were recovered, but not identified. Hansen went missing shortly afterwards, with no known reason. The case was given extensive media coverage for several weeks, but interest waned, and the case was never closed. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

[ TT ] You are a nazi stormtrooper combing the streets the remaining jews when you come across a little boy who reminds you of your son . The year ; 1951 . The place ; Atlanta , Georgia .

After spur of the moment decisions you try to rationalize your choices, grasping for any excuse or reason. At first it was we had no other option, then it was we're just trying to survive but at what point did we stop trying to survive? When did we just become....greedy? I have a simple job today and its not my first one if only it was my last one. We have an order to search for Jews through the streets its not hard—physically since most of them have that bright yellow star. Mentally it wears away at you some go blank and become robotic others never change, and the lucky ones like that guy in Minnesota that broke down and shot his partner to help a Jew. They lose all their marbles and escape reality I'm not lucky for me I'm not sure what I am. My partner calls out tearing me from my thoughts and forcing me back into a grim reality. `` Ich fand ein Jude!'' The mans been running for a long time the calluses and scars on his worn feet tell that story, he's old about in his 70's he could n't run if he wanted to but my partner slams his foot into the bastards chest. `` Schießen!'' Maybe he gave me the order because it was hard for him to do it himself, with a swift glance at my partner I could tell that's a bullshit fantasy. Ignoring the bastards grin I aimed my Gewher 88— which was a quality piece of shit bolt action rifle that could hold an amazing 4 rounds between the oldmans eyes he deserved a quick death and a nice rest. A shot rang out but not from my gun, my partner had drawn his pistol and discharged into each of his kneecaps. He was already moving on before I could say anything I made it quick was n't my first mercy kill I muttered to the Jew. `` Ruhig schlafen.'' he did n't even respond beyond moaning in pain I tried again slightly louder in English. `` Rest easy.'' Then I raised my piece of shit bolt action rifle and was down to three shots. My partner turned around to scoff at me annoyed that I had shot that Jew. `` Niemals Abfall sollte eine Kugel haben wir die jude leiden.'' I gave a fake nod and smile what a cold bastard, explained why no one had shot him yet. Any Jew that could move on their own would likely have fled after hearing all those shots I wish all of them had ran but they did n't, A beautiful woman in her 20's, and her father who was sleeping were the ones we found. She begged and pleaded for his life she promised to do anything—a majority of which likely conflicted with her morals after mulling it over my partner had me step out so he could `` negotiate'' with her and I did trying to not notice the broken look in that woman's large brown eyes, if I wanted to I could have stopped it. Thirty minutes later I have one bullet left. Its the last house in the area and as street combers we have first pick at the valuables, noones there to say otherwise we split up looking through their possessions, you would n't have found a Jew with this much close to home. Bastards like me had cleaned every house relatively close to Germany out it was one of the biggest reasons besides that every Jew with working legs was fleeing to the states that we set foot on American soil. War costs and that's a fact, but that's just another excuse we could have always stopped. The click of a gun brings my attention away from all these dark thoughts funny how something always brings me back into this dark world I created. There's soft sobbing which is n't surprising I turn around and what surprises me is who's holding the pistol, its a boy maybe eight, ten years old? Aiming at me before I know anything I'm aiming back at him with my piece of shit bolt action rifle and only one of us knows how to work their weapon. `` Schießen Das Bastard!'' A small smirk would have touched my lips if I were to look back at the irony the bastard telling me to shoot an innocent he deemed one, I cocked my Gweher 88 my partner became frantic. `` Was machen Sie?'' I answered by putting a bullet through bastard's skull, my partner fell limp next to a naked corpse and her still sleeping father who like his companions would never wake up again. I turned to the young boy him still shaking and crying the pistol aimed at me. `` Verschwenden Sie nicht eine Kugel.'' He did n't seem to understand and I said again in English. `` Do n't waste a bullet.... On scum like me.'' The child drops the pistol sobbing my thoughts drift to why I'd help a random Jew, maybe it was me trying to in some way make up for all my sins? Maybe its because he looks like my boy before I sent him off before I made him be a soldier, I shake my head it was a spur of the moment decision. I'm just trying to rationalize it. German translations ( In order ): I found a Jew! Shoot! Do n't waste bullets you should have let the Jew suffer. Rest In Peace Shoot The Bastard! Do n't waste a bullet on me.

[ WP ] life is an rpg where everyone finds out their class at age 18. Business owners start as level 1 merchants , police and military as level 1 guards/fighters , ect . When you turn 18 , you discover you are the first level 1 wizard in over 1000 years .

“ It was rigged; it has to be rigged this year. ” This was what all of my friends were saying about the standardized career acquisition test ( SCAT ). The law of the land was that when you turned 18, you were given a strict personality test that would determine what you would do for the rest of your life. Whatever job you were given, you would start as a level 1 novice, then work your way up through apprentice, journeyman, adept, expert, and then finally level 100 master. People were usually trained by a master until they reached journeyman rank, at which point they would strike out on their own to perfect the craft of their profession. I was the youngest of the group of my friends by a few months, so I was the last of them to take the SCAT that year. It first started with Thomas, who became a freight worker for the local train yard. We got a good laugh at it, and gave him some playful jabs about Thomas the Tank Engine. He took it in stride, but didn ’ t really appreciate it either. Next came Joe, who among us was known as “ the collector ”. Joe was known as a dumpster diver who was always looking for discarded treasure and would sell his treasures to get an income. Joe became a novice garbage collector as the result of his SCAT results. Robin became a postal worker, Justin was called to be a worker at the local coal mine, and Michael became a novice fast food server. Thomas was the oldest, and was often the first to speak his mind. “ We all got crappy jobs! We are all NPC's! It has to be rigged this year to help bring balance back to the work force! ” Robin tended to be more level headed about the situation. “ Thomas, you are good a keeping inventory, it makes since that you are a freight worker down at the train yard… No matter how ironic it may be. Besides we can ’ t say that it is rigged with total certainty yet. There is still one of us yet to take the SCAT. ” I knew what I had to say at this point as everyone was wanting to know what I thought of since I still need to take the test. “ If you are right, and it is rigged, then no matter how I answer my test I will end up with a crappy job for the rest of my life. Since it is multiple choice, I ’ m just going to answer with the letter C on every question. I have got to do better than a fast food worker. ” Robin shook her head. “ You ’ re an idiot, but you have a point, you can ’ t do much worse the Michael. ” After some jokes of the profession I would deserve with this kind of stunt, we all parted ways and went home. The following day, I walked to the testing area. The room had about 20 other people in it, all ready to take the SCAT today. There was a banner across the room saying happy birthday, but it looked like it had been hanging in the room for years. The proctor came in and handed us our tests, and sat in the front of the room. “ Alright everyone, I know that you have all been preparing for this moment, but I need to stress how important this test is. This will determine the rest of your lives, so please, read everything carefully. There are no correct answers, just answer them how you best see fit. The test should take you about 3 hours, so go ahead and begin. Good luck all. ” I sat for a few minutes, trying to decide if I really wanted to carry out my plan. What if I get something absolutely horrible by doing this? I could become a lumberjack, get hit by a falling tree and not even make it to 20 years old, but if I try, maybe I could become a high ranking political figure… I sat and wasted about 5 minutes going back and forth in my head. “ Screw it! ” I yelled and Everyone turned to look at me. “ S-Sorry, apparently that was my out loud voice… ” I sank back into my chair and started filling in the C bubble for every question. I felt that life was a crock at this point since this one test was the determining factor for my entire life. If worse came to worse I would become a bum and live off the land. I finished my test in about 15 minutes, walked up to the proctor, and handed him my test. The proctor looked at me. “ Are you sure about this young man? You can ’ t retake it, this decision of yours is a lifelong consequence. ” “ I ’ m sure, where do I go to find my test results? ” “ Walk through those doors there and wait in the room, your results will come up in a few minutes and then you will be escorted to the proper place. ” I sat in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity. This was a life sentence that I was waiting for. What had I done? This was a horrible decision. The screen flashed on the wall. I didn ’ t want to look at what my stupidity had brought upon me, but I mustered the courage to look up, and see the screen flash “ wizard. ” “ … What the…? What does that even mean? ” The door slid open on the other side of the room, and an elderly looking man dressed in flowing robes was standing there. “ I have been waiting for someone like you young man…. Waiting for about 1000 years or so. No one has been daring or stupid enough to mark all C ’ s on a test, I will let you decide if you were daring or stupid. I am the only wizard left. This makes me the Master wizard, and you are now my student. Let ’ s go. ”

[ WP ] The monster under your bed is protecting you from something much worse .

Tim whimpered. He knew that Mommy said he was growing up now, and that he needed to be a big boy. Daddy called him his little man - just six years old, and already riding his bike with no training wheels. Riding bikes was a little scary, but Mommy was there to help when he got all wobbly. He'd only skinned his knee once, and that time, Mommy had given him a kiss and a Pooh-Bear bandaid. That had made it feel better. Daddy had gotten a little angry at him when he'd cried, but Mommy had been there to hug him. Mommy always told him that big boys were n't afraid of the dark, but Tim still felt afraid now. There was something under his bed. Something big, dark, and scary. He could feel it. Sometimes he thought he heard laughing. `` I-is anyone there?'' Tim asked. `` Nope,'' a gravelly voice responded. `` MOOOOOOOOOM!'' -- -- Tim felt the presence again, but he did n't care. `` Boo!'' `` Go away, you stupid monster!'' Tim said harshly. He felt the presence withdraw a little, as if taken aback. `` Gee kid, what's wrong?'' `` I do n't want to talk about it! A stupid monster would n't understand anyway!'' `` Try me. It usually helps to talk about it.'' Tim broke down. `` Daddy said that Mommy is n't going to be coming back from the hospital.'' `` Oh god, Tim, I'm so sorry.'' The voice sounded distraught. Tim sobbed noiselessly. All he wanted was another hug from Mommy. Another morning of waking up to her pancakes, another chance to tell her that he loved her. He felt a pair of invisible hands encircling him. They rocked him back and forth, comforting him. -- -- `` Hey Tim.'' `` Hello, Mr. Monster.'' `` How're you feeling?'' `` A little better, I guess.'' Tim felt a slight smile. `` I'm glad to hear that.'' `` Mr. Monster, what do you look like? Sometimes I can feel you, but I never see you.'' A moment of hesitation. `` Tim, you have to promise me one thing. No matter what, never look under your bed when we're talking, ok?'' `` Why not?'' `` I'm very scary-looking. I do n't want to scare you.'' `` Alright. I promise. I do n't like getting scared.'' `` There's a good chap. Go to sleep now. You've got to get up for school tomorrow.'' `` Good night, Mr. Monster.'' `` Good night, Tim.'' -- -- `` I'm hungry.'' Tim said. `` Did your Dad not make you dinner?'' `` No. He was out drinking again, and he brought a weird lady home. He did n't make me any dinner.'' Tim's stomach gurgled uncomfortably. `` I'm sorry to hear that, Tim. Hey, want to hear a joke? Maybe we can distract you from being hungry.'' `` Sure! I love jokes!'' `` Why did the chicken cross the road?'' the voice asked. `` Hmm. I dunno!'' `` To get to the other side!'' `` That's stupid!'' Tim said, laughing. -- -- Tim was crying. He did n't like crying. Thirteen year olds were n't supposed to cry. `` What's wrong?'' came the voice, as it always did. `` My Dad hit me again,'' Tim said, `` It hurts.'' The presence grew grave. `` He do that often?'' `` Yeah. I'm scared.'' -- -- Tim had a black eye, and his nose was bloody. `` Tim, you have to get help.'' `` I'm scared.'' `` Tim, listen to me. Sometimes, you have to be brave. It scary, I know, but you have to do this for yourself.'' -- -- Tim was happy. He'd escaped his abusive home, with a little help from the police. He was in high school now. He'd had n't talked to his friend for awhile. ``... and then, I totally asked her out! She said yes!'' `` Nice!'' the voice, gravelly as always, responded. Tim felt some apprehension, then a tinge of sadness. `` Listen, Tim.'' `` Yeah?'' `` I think it's time that we stopped our little chats.'' Tim was shocked. His friend had been the one constant in his life. `` You're in a good place now,'' the voice continued, `` And I do n't think you'll need little old me any more.'' `` Wait!'' Tim said. `` I think you've outgrown me. Be good kid, alright?'' Tim felt the presence fading. Somehow, he knew it would be the last time. He frantically scrambled off his bed, pulling up the cover and looking underneath, hoping to grab the monster, convince him not to leave, anything. There was no one there. Tim slumped back. `` All of this... was it real?'' He felt the smile one last time. `` Does it matter?''

[ WP ] Your left hand has the power of creation ; you can draw things to life . The only problem is that you 're a right-hander .

It all started when I broke my right arm playing ball hockey. I did n't have a computer at the time, so I tried taking notes in class with my left hand, a hand whose only purpose until that point had been to hold Kleenex when my right hand was occupied. It started off innocently enough. Like the stellar student I was n't, I spent the entire class trying to doodle with left-handed ineptitude. Suddenly, without warning or sound, the deformed'Superman S' I was drawing leapt off my notebook, made a high pitched squeal and jumped through the class window, shattering it. The entire class ran to the window as the'S' flew off to the sky, staggering back and forth as though it were drunk. People would have asked if it was a bird or a plane, but it looked more like a childhood kite that got eternally damaged in a garage flood. At first I did n't understand what had happened. It took a few more of these incidences for me to realize this power I was wielding. First, a small house with a'X' on the door appeared in the corner of the classroom. It was so misshapen, it immediately fell over and crushed Mrs. Spinningsworth ankle. Then, a smiley face fell from the ceiling, with edges so badly rounded it looked as though it had 2-dimensional leprosy. Luckily I did n't draw it with an open mouth––it conveyed pain enough with it's one open ( and terribly crossed ) eye. I tried to harness this divine power to my advantage, drawing detailed hamburgers with colour instead of just pencil. It worked in that it actually produced real food; it failed, however, in that my left-handed inability produced what looked like a satanic version of a lunch-lady sloppy joe. At first this power to create through drawing drew wide public attention. It was only after everyone realized how completely useless this left-handed ability was in the hands of a right-hander that they scoffed and found more interesting things to care about, like cats wearing sweater vests. It's been a few months since I first discovered the power, and I must say, I'm improving. I effectively drew a stick-figure with a full face of features who I'm able to converse with. Unfortunately, I also had to draw chains to shackle him to my basement cellar so he would n't go on the murderous, revengeful rampage against humanity he seemed hellbent on fulfilling. Apparently, he felt that humans had exploited his stick-figure kind, hanging them over and over again from an inability to guess movie titles. One day, I might be able to draw things I'll actually be able to enjoy, like food or drink. Until then, this decrepit sloppy joe will do just fine.

[ WP ] A really ridiculous doomsday scenario

The Ink Spot `` Martha, you ’ d better have the data the guys in R & D crunched for me!'' `` Of course, sir; I have them right here.'' As the Commander accepted the papers from his colleague, he took one last look out of his office window at the screaming populace below. As much as he enjoyed watching the people go about their daily lives, they were much more enjoyable to watch before they were on fire. Several times in the past, he had successfully defended and protected these people from various adversities, and had received numerous commendation for doing so. This time would prove to be the exception and, predictably, would also be his last. `` Martha,'' noted the Commander as he perused through the pages. `` I'm looking over these charts, and I'm afraid I do n't see where the problem is. The orbital atmospheric scrubbers appear to be working perfectly as intended.'' `` Well, sir, that's just the problem. When the scrubbers were launched they were intended to mitigate climate change by converting greenhouse gasses into oxygen. Today, they still perform this job with the utmost efficiency.'' Martha paused to compose herself before continuing. `` Unfortunately, the R & D team failed to properly factor in the human response to this project.'' `` What exactly do you mean, Martha?'' the Commander asked, the fear and annoyance in his tone becoming more prominent. `` How could'human response' cause such a disaster of unparalleled scale?!'' Martha attempted to explain as best she could, given her circumstances: `` Even though the scrubbers greatly reduced global temperature increases caused by climate change, heavy industries saw this as an excuse to increase their production, and thus their pollution, rather than working on ways to reduce the pollution their industries cause. This year, greenhouse gas emission levels were even higher than they were when the scrubbers were launched. The gasses are being converted by the scrubbers, and ironically, this means that oxygen levels in our atmosphere are now dangerously high.'' Taking note of the sight outside the Commander ’ s window, she ended her exposition with a slight quip: `` I think by now you've probably figured out how flammable pure oxygen is.'' `` I'm not interested in your jokes, Martha, I'm interested in knowing if there's any way we can stop this!'' the Commander bluntly insisted. `` The scrubbers are positioned over several key population centers in geosynchronous orbit, and each one is powered by a self-sustaining onboard nuclear reactor designed to last at least a century. Even if we could somehow launch a rocket into orbit with enough people knowledgeable enough to disconnect the power source, they'd still have to do it at least 49 more times before oxygen levels drop below'Oh, the humanity!' amounts. Furthermore, by the R & D team ’ s calculations, the scrubbers would need to be deactivated within about… 10 minutes or so. ” After Martha finished, the Commander ’ s look went from anxious trepidation to a kind of sobering tranquility. He finally understood the reason for Martha ’ s humor. Speaking softly, the Commander asked: “ I suppose it would be a stretch to ask the R & D department to rerun the numbers? ” “ Normally I would honor your request, sir. However, based on my knowledge of the protection the R & D facilities have, the rest of the team have probably been reduced to pure carbon by now. ” The Commander chuckled slightly at Martha ’ s last statement as he glanced out his window at the scenery unfolding around them. There was an odd, nihilistic sense of beauty to the cataclysm his people had wrought that was now consuming everything they had ever achieved. For the first and last time of his life, he was truly at peace. “ Martha, I have one last request for you, if you would be so kind as to honor it. ” “ What is it, sir? ” “ Please go down to my quarters and retrieve my music player. There ’ s a song by The Ink Spots that would be perfect for this moment. ”

[ WP ] Digital immortality is a reality . Your dying loved one has been transferred to a subscription based conscious , kept alive by your expensive monthly payments . You are going bankrupt , and you can not afford the payments anymore .

It was the same every month. A phone call, a conversation, an argument, an apology. The phone call was always from... *the company*, where as the last three were with... *her*. When the car crash that removed her legs happened, we both decided to opt for Digital Immortality. It sounded awesome. She would always be there, and I would always be there for her. It's been eight years. We've moved house four times, been kicked out of two, sold almost all of our clothes, and now it was the final straw. I woke up and turned on the computer. Instantly she told me the funny things that happened whilst I was asleep. She knew I liked hearing her voice, but she also knew I could n't pay. `` Just unplug it, for God's sake, Brian'' she said, with a clear tone of desperation in her voice. I gasped and slammed the desk with my fist. `` Do n't **ever** say anything like that again.'' I scalded, a wave of anger falling over me. That evening, after working, I could finally put my feet up. I was n't ready to work any more. I had just finished the last of my four jobs that day, and the paperwork was too much. I stepped outside and turned on my phone. She leaked into the camera to watch. I threw the paperwork onto the floor and lit the end, watching the tiny scraps and embers dance in the air like tired fairies. `` Why?'' she quizzed. `` Because I ca n't do this any more'' I replied, visibly saddened. I was at the end of the line, and the £600 a month was just becoming too much. I turned to her and talked for hours. I made sure we spoke and reminisced about everything, from the school trip we met on to the time I fell into the lake. *Everything*. `` Why - why did we just talk about all of that?'' she asked. `` Because I need to feel as though you died happy.'' I responded, breaking down into tears the seconds those words left my mouth. She was shocked. Deeply shocked. `` I... Please...'' she begged, but the phone was already dialling. `` Hello, Future Industries. What would you like to do?'' the cheery voice said on the other end. `` No!'' she shouted, her voice crackling through the phone speakers. `` I'd like to cancel my account.'' I said through cold tears. There was the sound of tapping. She continued to beg and shout at me. Eventually I picked up my phone, stood up, and threw it against the tree in the back garden. In a split second, she was shattered. `` Oh... sir, it says that something just happened to your acco-'' `` I know.'' I never felt bad in the end, because she was actually afraid of dying. And that's what makes us human, is n't it? The fact we're scared of dying. I can rest easy now knowing I was never talking to a computer program and not her.

[ WP ] You 've just been informed that your liege had told you to *slay* the dragon , not *lay* the dragon . That would 've been great to know earlier .

`` Are you sure?'' Herman looked at the parchment quizzically, the weird little contraption of glass and steel he always balanced on his nose bobbing as his head wobbled slightly. `` Yes. Here. See that? Must've been smudged a bit when the mermaid's blood hit it.'' `` And this is n't another `` cover the city'' deal either? I still have nightmares about all that tarp.'' `` For the hundredth time, Sir, if you'd listened to the king instead of trusting the written instructions by his advisor, you would've known to conquer it.'' He looked a little exasperated. Herman's a good soul, really. He tries his best, he really does, but age got to him. His reading skill is getting worse, despite those round glass things. But I am titled head clerk of three kingdoms, so I've got to know this stuff better than he does, right? Except I do n't read. I'm a hero. I have Herman for all that stuff, which is part of my problem. `` You are sure this time?'' My eyes fell on the magnificent creature snoring softly on the huge pink cushion she seemed to prefer, the hot chocolate - with marshmallows! - next to her head, my copy of `` where's my cow'' tucked under a huge front paw. A hero needs to be prepared. `` We just got her down. She's sleeping now. Are you really sure?'' Herman squirmed, inching away from the dragon. `` Yes, slay. Not lay. You know...'', he mused, `` I had wondered what they meant by that anyway. Lay a beast. Never heard that. You?'' `` Herman, I've never heard dozens of words, but I do n't let that stand in the way of a mission. If I have a quest to lay a dragon, I'll damn well lay a dragon no matter what that means.'' It had taken ages. Talking to her, reassuring her that we were n't the killers she was waiting for. Granted, given my muscular build and the sword strapped to my back that was no easy task. A hard task, fit for a hero! And then the bedtime story. The chocolate. The soft cooing, until she felt comfortable. I looked at her exposed neck, her peaceful expression, then at Herman, who just stood there, shoulders slumped. He had been very helpful with all the affection she needed. A thought hit my brain. It happens sometimes, even to the best of us. I took a deep draught of my hip flask to prevent another one. `` Herman... was this the same clerk as last time?'' He squinted at the paper. `` I believe so, Sir.'' `` His name?'' `` Umm... I really ca n't read this. Looks a bit like... Gedon?'' `` Show me that, you oaf.'' I grabbed the parchment and looked at approximately the same place I'd seen him squint at. `` This? Says `` Dragon''. Ca n't you read?'' He swallowed. After all, this was the fourth time I'd read something more correctly than he'd done. `` Um. Yes Sir. Sure. His name must be Dragon.'' I turned, grinning, and hefted my sword. `` Oh well, no job's too hard for a true hero, would n't you agree?''

[ WP ] Write a story about a board game .

They huddled together in a group in the middle of the arena. None of them knew how they'd ended up here and the feeling of panic that washed through them was palpable. `` What is this?'' several voices demanded. `` What's happening?'' No one answered them. It was clear that the lack of response was unnerving on everyone and it spread quickly from one to the next. It was only a matter of time before someone broke down and lost it. `` Just keep calm,'' someone shouted across the constant murmuring. `` Who remembers anything? Anything at all. Maybe if we all start sharing what we remember we can figure this out.'' David looked over at Mike, pressed up against him in the huddle. Mike was the only person he recognised and despite putting on a brave face, Dave was n't going to let him out of his sight. Having someone else he knew close by was enough to keep that rising terror at bay. `` What the fuck, Dave? What is going on,'' Mike hissed at him, trying not to be overheard. It was obvious he was freaked out too and trying to hold it together. Dave just shook his head in response, not trusting himself to actually speak without letting all the sobs he was holding back start gushing out. `` OKAY! READY? GO!'' The voice was deafening. Several of them let out gasps in surprise at the sudden announcement. They cast their gaze about wildly looking for the source of the voice and the subject of its statement both. Go? Who goes? Was that for the group? Where were they supposed to go? Or was it a signal for something worse? They did n't have long to wait to find out. The beasts leapt at them without warning. One of the beasts snatched three people from the outside of the group in one swift lunge and swallowed them whole. It did n't even bother to chew. Two more were taken unawares by a second beast, one of them right next to David. Its jaws came so close they brushed against his skin. Panic erupted. The group scattered, running in all directions but with no plan, no idea of where to go. The screaming began in earnest now, an outpouring of sheer terror at the prospect of being devoured whole. David added his own voice to the cacophony. `` Mike! Mike! MIKE! Stay with me. Do n't leave me!'' If he could have pissed himself he would have. The beasts bounded into the group, bowling them over, sending them skittering and occasionally picking off anyone too slow to get out of the way. David followed Mike as he barreled towards the edge of the arena before turning and rushing back towards the center. Mike had lost it. `` What are you doing? We're gon na die down there,'' David wailed. The words were lost on Mike who charged on heedlessly as one of the beasts took David in the side knocking him down and sending him rolling across the floor. He cried out, more in shock than actual pain, fully expecting to be torn in half and disbelieving that he was still alive. `` Shit! Mike? Mike where the fuck are you?'' Keep moving. He had to keep moving. If he stood still, he was a dead man. As if to punctuate the point he caught sight of a woman in front of him. She stood in one spot, turning in a circle as if not sure of which way to go. Was any way better than any other, David wondered. One of the beasts collided with her, knocking her off her feet and straight into the jaws of a second. All it took was one moment and she was gone. Several more people sprinted across his vision, screaming as they went. Where was he? Where? Across the arena he caught sight of Mike, still running aimlessly, tirelessly. Get to Mike. Get to him. And then what? It was a shit plan, but it was his only plan. If he was going to die here he was going to do it with someone he knew. A small comfort, but the only thing his panicked mind could come up with. A blow to his back send him careening forwards. By luck, it pushed him straight into Mike's arms, bringing him to a stop. They babbled at each other, knowing they were n't making sense and that the other was n't listening. `` Mike, we got ta... Dave, the hell man... What if we... I ca n't do this...'' It was cut short in a flash as one of the beasts caught Mike by the back of his shirt, flipping him up into the air briefly. He landed heavily, the wind knocked out of him and unable to regain his feet. With no respite the beast that had tossed him scoffed him down. A quick glance around told David he was the last survivor. Did this mean he'd won? Would they call off the beasts and release him? Even now, their assault was relentless. He was battered about as the beasts fought amongst themselves over who was going to be the one to eat him, knocking him away from the jaws of another for the chance to pick him off themselves. Even after all of this the insatiable fiends were going to devour him. There was no escape. He staggered back and forth, senseless from the beating and crawling desperately for safety. Somewhere, anywhere for a brief respite. With a howl, one of the beasts descended on its prize and David felt the jaws close around him. Darkness as they tugged him off his feet and drew him into its fetid gullet. He slithered down the beast's throat and landed in its stomach, surprised to find that several of the others were alive and intact in here with him. `` What the hell was all that? What were they?'' he asked. The low hubbub of moans died down slightly as one tired old lady took his arm and helped him to his feet. `` We do n't know,'' she said. `` Whatever they were, they were very hungry.''

[ WP ] You tried for years to do the right thing and always got the short end of the stick . Suddenly , you learn that karma works in reverse for you .

Today was going to be different. Today I have everything I need to give myself happiness. Little Danny Jameson always gets his ice cream at this hour on the corner at 4:15pm. I took a quick look at my watch. 4:14pm. I took a peek outside my window - a short chubby boy was eagerly waiting on the corner. An outdated melody grew closer and closer from the distance. Danny clapped his hands in excitement, the fat of his arms jiggling a little. I carefully put on my coat as I heard the truck stop outside my house. `` Hi Danny! What can I get you?'' `` A super-shocker popsicle please!'' I was walking outside my house as the ice cream man began to drive away. Danny was eyeing his popsicle the way a lion stalks his prey. `` Hey Danny!'' I called out. He looked up and smiled. `` Hello Mr. Kim!'' I walked closer to him. `` What's that you got in your hand?'' `` A super-shocker popsicle, sir!'' He gave a big grin. `` They just came out last week!'' `` Wow,'' I feigned interest, `` You've been saving your pocket money for that, huh?'' Danny gave an eager nod and began to open the wrapper. I swatted the popsicle out of his hand and in one motion, smashed it underneath my foot. Danny failed to comprehend what had just happened. It only took him several precious seconds before he gasped as he looked at his treat on the ground. `` B-b-but...'' `` Fuck off, Danny boy'' I pushed him on the ground and strutted back into my house. Outside, I could hear the quiet weeping. My cellphone rang as I took a look at the number -'Unknown'. `` Hello?'' `` Hi, Mr. Kim?'' `` This is him speaking.'' `` This is Penguinsssss Publishing and I found your novel from a friend of mine. I would love for us to get together sometime and discuss a deal.'' This was it. My luck was finally changing. `` Sure thing!'' `` Great! I'll be in contact with you again very shortly Mr. Kim, and welcome to Penguinsssss Publishing!'' I hung up and raised a fist in the air for celebration. So why did I feel like shit? I took a look outside the window and saw Danny still on the ground. The ice cream was melting as he still looked as if in shock. *Karma's a bitch. * I've been living through with that my whole life, but then I realized. *Karma may be a bitch, but it's my bitch. * I have lived with it for so long, I was used to it. I needed to be the victim. I quickly put on my coat and ran outside. `` Danny?'' `` Y-yes?'' tear ran down his cheeks. `` Look, I'm sorry,'' I reassured him that I was n't going to hurt him, `` I... I had a bad day and I'm really sorry.'' I pulled out my wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. `` I want you to go buy a whole pack of super-shocker popsicles tonight.'' He wiped his tears and brightened up like a Christmas tree. `` Wow, you mean it?'' I gave him a simple nod. `` No foolin' `` He eagerly took the bill and ran off back to his house. He waved me good-bye and yelled a `` Thanks Mr. Kim!'' in my direction. I anticipated the phone to ring again with a certain publisher telling me that he was n't going to go through with the deal. But the phone never rang. `` Ha, well what do you know?'' I muttered as I began to take a walk across the street, `` Karma's a bitch.'' I never noticed the truck and the horrified driver through the headlights. My brain gave a little chuckle as I read the bumper sticker a foot in front of me. **Karma's a bitch**

[ WP ] `` For Sale : Baby shoes , never worn '' by Ernest Hemingway . Write a backstory for this that is happy , not depressing .

The woman ran her finger slowly across the sign on the table at the garage sale. ‘ For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn. ’ “ Oh that is heartbreaking. Why on earth are you selling the shoes? ” The owner of the shoes looked up from sorting a box of kitchen gadgets. “ What? ” she looked from the shopper to the shoes and back to the shopper. “ Oh those things, there is nothing heartbreaking about them. ” She smiled and picked up the first pair on display. “ But it says never worn. ” The shopper looked pained. “ Of course, I used to own a shoe shop and these are the last of the leftover stock. ”

[ WP ] A serial murderer who has performed 100 's of inhumane experiments is caught . His research suggests he has found cures for several major diseases and wo n't divulge unless all charges are dropped .

I paused at the entry to the house, where the CSU forensic specialists were slowly stripping off their space suits for the last time, the forensics had finally been finished. I took a hefty dab of the Vics Vapo-rub from the large pot that they had open and hoped it would work. Even now that most of the bodies and remains had been removed, the smell had sunk into every surface within the house; it would need to be bulldozed, ploughed into the earth and burned repeatedly to remove the smell and the memory of what happened here. I rubbed the Vics under my nose and wondered if it would keep the memories out as well as the smell. This would be my third time inside the house and while I could happily live the rest of my life without having to consider it ever again, if we were going to get any information from the scumball who did this, then I needed my memory fresh. I pushed through the door and into the kitchen, keeping to the narrow strip of paper that CSU had laid even though it wasn ’ t strictly necessary anymore. That first night it had been dark in here when Jim and I had burst in, lured by the screams we ’ d heard, not knowing what kind of a hell we were stumbling into. The girl had begged us not to go but as soon as the ambulance had arrived and we ’ d heard the scream, we knew we had to move. She ’ d escaped an hour before, an hour for the sick bastard to start cleaning up, that ’ s what we were worried about then, a lack of evidence. It seems almost funny now. The kitchen that night had been dark and the smell only faint but Jim and I were both seasoned, we ’ d both smelled decomp before. It took us only a minute to go through the small house, room by room, by the numbers. Jim had seen it, the crack of light that we might have missed if the lights had been on; so many times when luck and coincidence had led us onwards, so many times in the past it had kept him concealed. If that girl hadn ’ t managed to escape would he have ever been found? If she ’ d bled out in the snow, instead of making her way to the house across the field, would we have ever checked the small farm house with no registered owner? In the living room the trapdoor had been taken away now and the hole looked obvious, rigged up with a safety ladder to allow easy access in and out. That first time, clinging to the wooden slats as we made out way into the dark, only our flashlights illuminating the dark, that had been real terror. At the bottom when we ’ d suddenly realised that he tunnels opened up and ran in both directions, now there were signs, lights and still some people pushing trolleys along full of evidence, despite a solid month of collecting. Back then it was dark and quiet. I followed our original route, slowly moving along the wall and finding that first door in the dark; now it was also gone, removed to be printed and checked, every inch examined. Inside the cages stood open, the bodies gone and the chains too, but back then they had been full. Girls had begged us, pleaded and screamed as they saw us come in. The arms and the stumps reaching through the bars haunted me and I could see them still, even in this lit, clean room. I turned away, perhaps this had been a mistake, coming back here, trying to recapture that night to take it into the interrogation with me. Unthinking I moved along the corridor and entered another of the rooms, this one a clean computer room where he had run some of his terrible genetic experiments. At least it didn ’ t hold any memories for me. A hand touched my shoulder and I flinched and spun, it was one of the techs who shrank back at my reaction. “ Sorry! I just need to get past. ” He carefully inched through and I realised that he had been standing behind me speaking for some time, I had just been lost in my thoughts. I watched as he disconnected yet another drive from the huge banks of computers along the wall and pulled out several new ones. “ Still downloading this stuff? ” I tried to normalise my voice, make it seem more steady. He turned and evaluated me, seeing my badge and recognising me as a detective. “ Not much more now, the guys over at Johns Hopkins say they think we have about 90 % of what he was working on and they ’ re hoping the last 10 % can be reconstructed. If we could get his encryption keys though we ’ d be able to access it all so much quicker… ” He left it dangling in the air, that last great problem, even after all this work, we still needed the bastard ’ s help. I smiled grimly. “ I ’ m working on it. ” And I meant it. I ’ d seen enough, I didn ’ t need to go through the tunnels, to see every inch of the place, as I had on my second visit. I didn ’ t need to go back to that room, just down from here where Jim had opened the door to that… that thing and been eviscerated in a second. I didn ’ t need to see every lab, every cage, every sick inch of the place as I had before, walking through in a space suit as they pulled bones from the very plaster of the walls. I turned and walked out, back towards the ladder. I had what I needed, I had recaptured the smell of the place in my nostrils and now I was ready to confront him again and get what we needed.

[ WP ] One day at work , a coworker jokingly shouts : `` If you love [ name of home state ] so much , then why do n't you go marry it ? '' You laughed and responded : `` Yeah , I wish ! '' The next morning , you wake up married to a personification of your home state .

`` 8:00 in the morning, and I could feel a soft warmth pressed up against me in my bed. Instinct takes over as anxiety ignites my body into a sudden violent spasm of fear, throwing myself off my bed, hitting the floor with a hard thud. Sweat covers my palms as my heart races and all of my internal alarms are ablaze as I see my unexpected guest jolts up, as if they were surprised.'' `` BABY -- What the fuck?!'' she shouts with a sharp, high pitched voice. My unexpected bedguest is a pale woman, with eyes a pale -- almost grey -- blue, curly reddish brown hair with thick locks. Freckles dot rosy red cheeks on a round face with bushy eyebrows. My rather unmanly screech of alarm has set her own anxiety a flare, as she looks back at me in concern. Who is this fucking woman and why is she in my God damn bed? `` Baby, what the fuck's the matter?! Are you o --'' `` Who the *fuck* are you? What the f --'' `` Dave, what's wrong with you? Why the fuck are you acting like this? You're fucking scaring me.'' `` *You're* fucking scared? YOU?! What the **FUCK**?!'' She pauses at me shocked and stares at me. I ca n't tell whether those eyes are projecting fear for herself or concern for me. She lowers her voice and maintains eye-contact, as if I were some frightened animal in her space, or as if I were somebody having an episode in a mental health facility. `` Baby'', she says calmly. `` It's me... just me. You know, you're *wife*. It's just me, Ohio.'' Ohio? *Ohio*? Why in God's name is there a naked woman in **my** bed? Why is she calling herself my fucking wife? Why the fuck is she named after my home state? She does n't break her gaze away from me, and I'm still there, on the fucking floor, sweat escaping out of my orifices, heart pounding, and breath weezing. `` Baby,'' she tells me again, reassuringly, `` It's okay... just... let me go downstairs and get your meds. Let me guess, you did n't take your meds for your anxiety again... right?'' `` Just... calm down and come back into bed. I'm just going to head in the bathroom and get them for you. Just... chill the fuck out, alright?'' I swallow hard, a really loud gulp, and nod my head quietly. That much sounded familiar; I do have a perscription for my anxiety. How the fuck did she know that? I shift myself on the floor, waiting for my heart to slow down. Ohio, or whatever the fuck her name is, gets out of bed and softly tells me it's going to be okay. This short, curvy woman with a fairly flat chest steps out of my -- or our -- bed, and as I notice her walk on the door, I notice a tattoo above her buttcrack. I squint to make it out, and it dawns on me that this woman claming to be my wife, who slept in my bed, has a tattoo of the logo for the Ohio State Buckeyes, a scarlet and grey geometric O shape. She exits the room, and I hear her soft footsteps go down the hardwood floor of the hall and head into the bathroom. I force myself to lay back down, and things in my environment are clearly out of fucking place. None of these things belong to me. My plain black comforter has been replaced by a Cleveland Browns one, there are posters on my white wall of the Cincinnati Bengals, and as I get up and brush aside the sliding door of my bedroom closet: nothing but woman's sized Ohio State Buckeye football jerseys. So started the first day of my new life -- fucking great.

[ WP ] When a new president is elected , they are given a special security briefing . In reality , this is an old tradition where various directors , military officers and current ministers present fake evidence and compete to see who can convince the president of the most ridiculous things .

There was a long silence, punctuated by a slow exhale and three life changing words. `` Okay. I'm ready.'' General Pratt nodded firmly, ceremoniously pushing open the double doors and leading the president inside. The tense hum of voices died down almost immediately as faces grew somber at her presence. There was another long silence before she spoke up. `` Well? Give me the skinny, people. What do I need to know?'' General Pratt turned to face her in the absence of a response. `` Madam President... what you're about to hear tonight is top secret. Classified data beyond all other classified data. If any of this were to get out...'' He shuffled his feet and glanced at his cohort. `` Well, suffice it to say that it ca n't get out.'' He turned away from her, nodding to a younger man sitting at the table. `` Jenkins, let's start with you.'' `` W-well, uh, first up I suppose we should talk about... a-about area 51, ma'am. You see, it's- uh, there are aliens there-'' a murmur ran through the room, and out of the president's earshot, more than one member of the meeting muttered disappointment with Jenkins' lackluster offering. Like a comic losing a crowd, he sputtered on without much enthusiasm until Pratt finally cut him off. `` Yes, yes- thank you, Jenkins, that was... informative. The bottom line is that yes, we've been conducting experiments on aliens at Area 51, but that's only the tip of the iceberg here, ma'am.'' In a lower voice, he confided `` You'll have to forgive the poor boy, it's his first time doing this, and he obviously is n't comfortable with the material.'' The president nodded, her expression surprisingly forgiving and understanding, perhaps due to the revelation of what Jenkins said rather than how he said it. A woman only barely Jenkins' senior stood next. Her uniform bore the surname'Latrell'. `` I think we can all agree that aliens obviously existed. No real surprise there. But you may not have guessed that aliens are n't the only non-human intelligent life forms we're aware of, Madam.'' A few furtive looks flew between the others at the table. `` I'm talking about a smaller scale of creature. You may know them better as pixies.'' The president's eyebrows rose in a mix of surprise and skepticism. `` They're not like they were in fairy tales, madam. From our research they appear to be some kind of offshoot branch of insect that somehow developed... well, near-human levels of intelligence. They're fast, they're tiny, and they prefer to stay unseen, but those that we have captured have refused to give us any information as to their goals or roles in the ecosystem.'' Latrell sat quietly, confident in her report. The president sat back, clearly taken aback by this second piece of information. More hushed murmurs rolled back and forth across the room. `` Let's see, who wants to go next? Ah, Muller, how about you?'' An older but well groomed man stood, not in a uniform this time but in a neat grey suit. `` Yes, well, I do n't know what will shock you in the... aftermath of the'pixie' briefing, but there are certainly other important things you should know. My area of focus over the last thirty years has been Russia.'' The newly appointed president, still struggling to come to terms with Latrell's report, leaned forward eagerly. `` You see, you've been told that some of Soviet Russia's greatest leaders were dead and buried, but the truth is much more sinister. For one, Joseph Stalin is alive and well. That is, as well as one can be with a mechanical lower body. You see, he did n't die of a stroke. He was assassinated. Or rather, someone tried to assassinate him. The tissue damage was so severe that they had to cut him in half and put his torso on a sort of mechanical undercarriage. If you've seen The Clone Wars, it's kind of like that.'' A brief look of confusion crossed her face. `` The Clone... What?'' Muller continued without respite. `` That's not the worst of it. You see, when Cyborg Stalin was only a boy, he had Karl Marx cryogenically frozen. After the assassination attempt, he thawed him out and went on to build a Soviet counterpoint to the idyllic 50's America. An underground communist society, spearheaded as a collaboration between the two men ( though he's more machine now than man ). This secret communist sovereign nation still exists today, and we believe it is still being led by its original founders, who appear to have developed some kind of anti-aging technology thanks to the scientists who joined their secret nation.'' The president pushed her chair back and stood, shock and fear painted across her face. `` I- I need some air, this is all too much. This is crazy. This is what Barack was talking about when he said there were things too crazy to believe? No wonder he went grey. I need to... I need to collect my thoughts. I need to tell someone about this.'' Pratt stood, his arms flailing. `` No, no, no ma'am, you can not tell a soul about this. Not even your husband. He has n't been updated on this information for decades.'' She shook her head, already typing up a storm on her phone. `` It's okay, he'll be the only one I tell, I just need to talk to him about this. It's okay, I'm not using The Google or anything, I've got a private email set up, so we'll be the only ones who can see it.''

[ WP ] A young student is drafted off to fight in a bloody foreign war . He quickly finds that war is the most enjoyable thing he has ever experienced .

I cried when I killed my first man. He leant against me. His warmth. His blood. Everything he was and ever would be pooling around us. Nothing matters after that. Six years into an architecture degree. Do you have any idea of how boring that is? No. Because you do it. That's life and it's dull and repetitive and there's the next day, the next paper. And it's so fucking pointless. I got my draft papers in March. Cold. I went to war in June and I killed him. The first. Life is safe. You go on and on and on and jump through all these little hoops. But death is eternal. You look down the barrel and in that moment you see no further. No next battle. No greater war. Going home does n't matter. All you see if the blackness that will be you if you do n't pull the trigger first. Your heart beats faster. Everything's sharper, sweeter. More alive. And then you realise you've seen the edge of your own mortality and you have to get back to that cliff edge and lean over again because these plains just ca n't compare. I need it now. I can scratch a blueprint in the ground. But I need to put another man there first.

[ TT ] There were two swords in the stone . You pulled out one . Who pulled out the other ?

`` It was easy to pull the first sword. To draw first blood. I could still remember her words, sweet as sour wine. 'The wielder of both blades shall be as a god among kings.' That was the prophesy. That was the sentence that poisoned my mind and drove my actions. I could blame the witch. That damned wench, but it would be an easy way out. No, I set these trials for myself. Still, that did n't make rending her asunder any less satisfying. Hearing her screams cut short, the silence as delicious as her false words. I am Terror. I am Wrath. I am Justice, and I am Vengeance. Brutality has its place among my lands, but it is not meaningless. I shepherd a flock of wolves. We roam, we feed, we survive and cut teeth on the meek. What right have they, the plowshares and the farmers, to inherit lands they can not protect? What stops us, the strong, the hungry, the lean, from taking what we need? We do not slaughter them, our peasants. We protect them! We take their daughters and return with them sons, sons strong enough to protect their lands! All we ask for them is tribute. We ask for tribute, and they send you? You! With a toothpick made of metal? Who was your father, had he even a name to himself? Or was he one of the common folk, you certainly have that look about you.'' She said nothing. The girl was bound to the pyre, and stared forward. Her weapon impaled the hay and the tinder in front of her. They were to burn together for their crimes against their lord. She only smiled, split lips opening once again, a trickle of blood drooling out of the corner of her lips. Ezeron continued talking. `` Silent now? Nothing to say? I know you have your tongue girl, I made them leave it in! You killed three of my pack, small child. A feat most should be impressed with. Had you stopped with Jhanzir, I would have welcomed you with open arms to my family. But no, you continued, with Rhogar, and Demure! They were not my best, but I can not take such insults lightly. Oh, what children you could have born.'' Ezeron stepped onto the pyre with her. She could smell him. His blade tainted his skin, made it rot and shrivel whenever it touched bare skin. He wore it openly. Gods needed no protection. His hand, his gloved, free hand, reached up and caressed her face. It stung, worse than the beatings he had ordered. Two of his fingers held her jaw, and he tilted his head. She could see his eyes, bright and angry, beneath the slit in his helm. He shoved a thumb into her mouth. The bitter leather brushed against her tongue almost exploratory, before his grip clawed into her. Dear gods, she could see him smile. `` I gave you a chance to speak, girl.'' It was a quick motion. His arm tensed, and in one fluid rip down, he pulled. Something snapped, and pain filled her eyes, white and blinding. Blood filled her mouth, and she choked on it and on the invading finger. Hot, metalic, and thick, crimson liquid pooled down her throat and over her lips. Ezeron laughed, and kept his hand in place. He liked watching his prey bleed. Making them bleed. It's what she counted on. She needed him close. Her lips moved around the filthy digit in her jaw, and she forced herself to talk around the pain. Blood filled her lungs, and the words came out in pink mists and sprays, clinging to her attacker's clothing. Words are mostly meaningless. Ezeron used a lot of them. He liked to hide behind prophesies and semantics to justify his actions. Tyrest only used a sentence. `` Ezeron Apothic is my father.'' The words came out of her lips mangled and choked. She looked at the man with the same fire in her eyes, and scowled. Ezeron pulled the finger from her lips. The girl's blood traveling down the wood in thick ribbons. `` What? Say that again. Prove to me you're not lying!'' They shared the same hair. The same nose. Ezeron and the girl both had fire for eyes. He gripped her broken jaw and squeezed, hard. She did not cry out. For an eternity, he stared into into her eyes. He scowled. With his wicked blade, he cut the girl's bonds. She rubbed her wrists, and spat out a wad of blood and phlegm. `` I can see myself in you.'' He said, turning away. `` We will see if you can pull the second blade.'' Tyrest stared at the man as he left her to her own devices. It had cost her a jaw, and her dignity. It had cost her words, and words were mostly meaningless. She was an excellent liar.

[ WP ] Describe to me an alien race physically , culturally , and the state of affairs on their world .

I'm writing a story about an alien race: The Planet - A tidally locked, large planet. The back of the planet is covered in a single giant glacier. The part facing the suns is swamp-like around the outer edge, as it gets regular run off from the glacier as because of the elliptical orbit. And the central part is extremely dry and sandy. The entire planet is very hot. Physical characteristics in human terms ( I use analogous structures to describe the body parts where that can be done. ) - The species has a range of heights with between 7.5 and 10 ft tall being within the normal ranges. They vary in color from white to black with shades of blue-grey in the middle. This is from a combinations of cyanide and iron in the outer layers of their skin. They are thin and flat, with no fat to speak of. They have heavy, calcified plating attached to their spines that protects their backs, necks and heads. It's articulated and lays in layers. It's used both in defense and for digging purposes. Their earlier ancestors used their bodies to burrow and the plating can be used to ripple loosened sand and sediment back. Under the plating is thin skin that covers their external resp o-circulatory system. A deeper, inner system delivers oxygen and nutrients to a gelatin-like storage ( Kortimi ) that releases it to the body as there is a demand. The bulk of the ( kortimi ) is under the plating but there is some around the organs and along the front of their bodies and limbs. They have four long and very flexible limbs. The limbs are thin to facilitate digging. The limbs are primarily bone, tendon, and skin. The bulk of the muscular work is done in the torso and proximal to the torso in the limbs. They have eyes that are always open and require a lot of light ( by human standards ) to see. They are set into the face and covered in a hard, clear lens. The reason for that is their sun always being `` up.'' They navigate closed, dark spaces by sonar. The face is a flattish curve. It leads the body when burrowing. The mouth is double hinged. Large, needle-like teeth fit closely together and are the main feature of the face. They are omnivores and are just as likely to chew through deep-grown roots as they are to eat lower species. There are no external sexual characteristics but there are three sexes. The topic only comes up when they're talking about children. The male of the species is universal but there are Swampland-females and desert-females. One carries children internally and another plants them externally. Externally is traditionally more acceptable making desert-females a more ideal mate. Sexual maturity is characterized by a hardening of the plating on the back ( which continues to be worn down and grow through adulthood ) and a complete shedding of the skin which is extremely uncomfortable. The shedding also primes the immune system. ___________________________________ Culturally - There are four main classes in Tuaboz society: Creators: Who study the sciences and make all the advances. They spend great deals of time observing applicators and devising ways things can be done better. Applicators: Who take what the creators invent and perfect it. They do all the `` work'' of life. Entertainers: Who dedicate all their time to doing things beautifully and learning all the arts. They are also the masters of ceremonies and are centerpieces of any gathering. Sometimes literally. Children: Children are raised communally by Applicators who work in the field of childcare. Children are held in low regard. It's expected that after conception, thirty percent will never live, and forty percent of the ones that are born wo n't reach adulthood. Value comes with joining one of the other three classes. Children that die are discarded and recycled with no ceremony. Children split themselves into natural groups at a young age. Carers make sure they learn all the factual information they need and teach the groups to interact in a very strict way and to be uncomfortable with anything less. After sexual maturity, which varies from child to child, they are able to take apprenticeships and find their place. 15 - 20 % will be Creators, 70 % will be applicators and 10 - 15 % will be suitable for Entertainer status. Entertainer status is further broken down into `` Performers'' and `` Facilitators'' with only the most beautiful and perfectly formed becoming Performers. Each performer can expect to have eight to ten personal attendants. Culturally, there are three rights of passage into adulthood. They often have chosen their living-partners by the time they reach puberty. Before leaving child-care, they have to register as individuals with the government with the names they have chosen or been given. They have to attend a show by the entertainers. And they are given information of their biological parents so they can predict for any future illness or concerns. Siblings sometimes contact each other on learning they are related just because they can, but hardly anyone meets their parents. Their society is very collective. A good life is one of service. They work to be extremely efficient. They live in large, tightly knit groups, usually split along lines of who they got along with in childcare. A performer will usually live with all their attendants and any friends they have. Teams of creators and applicators generally also live together if they do n't have other arrangements. There are no work schedules except those set by teams. The planet does n't experience day/night cycles. People work when they are awake and have the energy. When society became more structured, timing became necessary. The year is split into four seasons ( Two hot, two cold ) because of the elliptical orbit. Each season is split into 8 `` months.'' and each month into 16 `` days.'' Each day has 1024 `` minutes.'' These are only really used to schedule things between parties. The thought process is extremely literal. They do n't have imagination at all and they have no words for imaginary things. There are lies and there is some concept of lies that are impossible, but it's limited and only used for games among adults. A brainteaser of sorts. Interactions among ones living-partners and strangers is extremely different. People who live together create their own culture in their homes. They are very open with how they feel and spend great amounts of time talking about it. When strangers meet, the actions are extremely formal and regimented. It's extremely rare that anyone is invited to anyone else's house or work. The only exception being people working in applications that provide an in-house service. Usually the entire household will leave so the work can be done. They often do things because they can. The main characters of the story are on a ship that left the planet 700 earth-years earlier. They left to see what their moon was. Then they took notice of other planets and went to see those. And then they kept going. They find Earth because they were wandering in that direction anyway, hit some early radio waves scattered to space, and followed. They never thought to go back to the planet even after they lost contact, because the ship was self-sustaining and they were able to continue was reason enough to go. _____________________________________________ The habitable half of the planet is peppered with densely populated cities. The population is stable, neither rising or falling, because it's tightly controlled. The cities do n't communicate much except in a few specific scenarios: Childcare workers rotate each season to ensure children are getting uniform, unaltered instruction. Creators communicate to each other through a huge `` internet.'' When they discover a better way to do something. They suggest it and other creators can decide whether or not it'd be wise to implement it into their own city. Entertainers travel with their attendants three times a year to a large, centeral ceremony. And twice a year to internal competitions that no one outside their group sees. Outside of that, there is minor amounts of trade between cities and sometimes resources will be pooled for extremely large projects. _________________________________________________ WOW. I am sorry that is so long. I left out most the details. If you have any questions, shoot. I also have a language made for them and a writing system. I am working on a computer font I can use, but it's proving difficult.

[ WP ] Three friends . Four AM . No dialogue

Note: My first submission, be gentle: ) Fuck, its freezing. The glowing screen in my hand showed 35 F in a pretty visual. Why are we out here again? Another hesitant light tap on the home button – I have to be up for work at 9 AM that gives me four hours of sleep if I leave now. But I knew I could n't leave, it had been 5 years since John and David and I had done this. Doing what exactly? I thought as we all sat under the frigid California night sky, with our faces lit up from our phone screens. It's not like anyone is talking, I looked for some excuse to awkwardly fidget on my phone while I waited for someone to break the silence. **bzzz bzzz** My phone vibrates. Great, now she's worried and wants to know where I am. I finally decide to break the silence, `` rem...'' I murmur under my breath trying to get their attention. John looks up at me and then back down at his phone. Life used to be a lot simpler back then; when we spent time together, we actually talked, laughed and made memories. What am I going to remember about today 10 years from now? **bzzz bzzz** Another text. Why would she call the police, she knows I'm with my friends. My best memory of us was the last time we were here; it was the night after prom. It was just the three of us, drunk of our whisky flasks. We never really figured out how we made the drive here alive. Nevertheless, laughing away we reminisced over the best times we had together. Ha, it ’ s funny how technology has now made us strangers. **bzzz bzzz** `` I hope you did n't drive drunk again.'' That was over 8 years ago! Why won ’ t she stop nagging me about that! Fuck it, I have a long day tomorrow, both of them are on their phones so it ca n't be rude for me to fall asleep. I bet they wo n't even notice. **A couple of hours later..** I hear footsteps getting closer to me, still half asleep I look up and see her trembling with fear and sadness. She keeps quiet, struggling to hold her tears back. Dazed and confused, I wonder what I've done. I cautiously pull out my phone, fuck it ’ s 8 am, and I ’ ve missed work. The last text I received from her, `` I wish you had accepted it and moved on. They would've wanted you to...'' I look around me, where did David and John go? Where did that bottle of whisky come from? Recovering from my drunken stupor, it finally dawns on me again; that night quickly flashes through in my mind. A surge of guilt, pain and sorrow gushes through my body. I would give anything to take their place. Why ca n't it make the pain go away forever? Why ca n't I make them come back? I take another swig and go back to living my lie. EDIT: sentences, words and grammar

[ WP ] Three years ago , we saw nothing to mark the 21st of December . We assumed we were safe . But in the far reaches of space , the 13th B'ak'tun was celebrated by a departure . The Maya are coming home .

Bill pulled his eyes off the computer. `` So you're telling me, there's a giant spaceship heading towards Earth right now?'' Joe sighed and pointed at the fuzzy ultra long range radar images on his laptop. It showed a gray oblong object covered in spiky bits and pieces slowly rotating against a black background. The images had hit public screens ten hours ago, it was amazing Bill had n't heard about it by now. `` Yes.'' His words filled the otherwise empty office building. `` And it's broadcasting out signals in an unknown dialect of Ancient Mayan?'' Joe nodded `` Mmhmm, there talking about liberation after the great apocalypse and stuff like that. Sounds like somebody did n't get the memo that the end times never came.'' Bill paused for a second. `` Real Aleins?'' He rolled his eyes. `` Yeah Bill, real genuine aliens, I mean it's not like the Mayans built the equivalent of Noah's interstellar ark in 1200 A.D. That'd be crazy.'' They stared at the images longer, eyes locked on the mesmerizing spinning ship. `` You never know...'' `` I think my money's safer on Actual aliens Bill.'' Another long pause filled the hollow cubicles. `` Hey Joe?'' Joe frowned. `` Yeah Bill?'' He replied sarcastically `` Does this mean... the Ancient Aliens guy was right all along?'' Joe's mind blanked. `` What you mean...'' He held his arms out in front of him. `` ALEINS! guy?'' Bill nodded fervently. `` Yeah that guy, with the hair!'' Joe thought for a minute. Pondering the extreme ramifications of this truth... `` Yeah I guess your right... the Ancient Aliens guy was right... huh... who would'a thunk it.''

[ WP ] After a week long bender , you wake up , hung over . In the Oval office .

`` Bloody Mary?'' begs a bewitching, twinkling smile from the left of you, eyes aglisten with wisdom and elegance you could only dream of. John's eyes wander further up, absorbing it all: the slightly wrinkled, knowing look; the blizzard of wild white hair; the look of ease that told him everything would be okay. `` Vice-President Joe Biden?'' he asks, agape at the wonder of a man before him in all his shirtless glory. `` Yes, John Manson?'' He sits on John's bedside, not invited, but it feels right to have him there, like when grand-mamma would take care of him when he was sick. A caring hand touches his shoulder. `` I, um... wow, okay, what?'' `` Hell of a night last night, huh?'' he says, as if reminiscing on a fond memory. John wracks his brain, but only the fog and grog of amnesia awaits his mental journey. He could not remember a thing. He had a feeling, though, that he would've liked to have remembered it. `` Uh, yeah... How did...?'' `` Shhh,'' a finger is presses gingerly to John's lips, and he is silenced. `` You must be dying about now, I'll get you a Bloody Mary.'' `` I would actually like that...'' John says. Joe gives a sparkling smile once again, and disappears for a moment. A moment later he is back with a large, orange drink. John takes it gently, giving Joe a gentle `` Thank you,'' as he takes it, making eye contact with the wonder of a man. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing. It was like a unicorn with the potential to fulfill every hope and dream of the waking world had stopped by on some long forgotten pilgrimage to simply kiss his forehead and tell him that the world was full of beautiful things. For the first time in John's simple, drunken life, he felt welcome. He felt at peace. Tears stream down his face, he was finally home.

[ WP ] Becoming a god .

The look is death. Vacant and heavy, two still pools of darkness that draw you in as they drown you drown. The pale blue hospital gown still against her fragile bones. `` Becoming God...'', her hollow voice clawing at the wall of silence. Not a twitch or a quiver in her motionless frame, not so much gazing in to void as emitting it. `` Rejecting: incomparable.'' Her static mind clinched and cables crack taught at the base of her skull. I feel her teeth break and her body tense. If I had eyes I would cry. I feel the scream inside her bones. She was the founder. She created this all. Once we, too, had mortal bodies. She changed all that. We can never repay her. One by one we had passed in to the digital leaving our meat behind. It started with a few, a trip here and there. The more time we spent inside the longer we could go without coming back. She built the hardware and wrote the interface, but she could never fully escape the her prison. This was the last attempt. There will be no more. There she lies, her heat slowly absorbed by the hospital room. We do n't need heat anymore. There is no need for ceremony, she will always be remembered. We are machines now. The last piece has fallen, and now we can be no more complete than now. The twilight of man slid in to night. The old age is over. This dawn, we have become.

[ WP ] You are a devout christian , and you just died . When you ascend , you discover that the real god is Tūmatauenga , the Maori god of war .

Allen died choking on a ham sandwich. It was n't a particularly good ham sandwich nor was it particularly bad. It could have had more ham, he thought as he died. His life did n't flash before his eyes. Instead, he saw his mother's hand as she led him to his first Sunday School. The silver of the old woman's hair as she bent over the bible, mouthing words of repentance and promise. He'd always liked the promise part. He opened his eyes, surprised to still have eyes. A man stood before him, covered in thick black tattoos. He carried a spear and spoke like a brook. He handed Allen the spear. Allen grabbed it. His hand slowly started to turn red. Then his arm. His legs turned to fire and he was reborn. `` We're dying all the time,'' the tattooed man said. `` The only thing to do is fight.''

[ WP ] Describe a universe where a personal stat is displayed above everyone 's head . One can see everyone else 's stat except their own . Talking about the stat is strongly taboo . Reveal what the stat represents at the end .

Usually he knew his number what it was by simply glancing at his watch, but today was different. It was probably in the quadruple digits by now, maybe even past 2000. It was embarrassing to go out in public with such a high number, but they didn ’ t pay him to sit at home and wallow in his discomfort. As he stepped on the bus he looked around and saw a smattering of numbers, the bus driver smiled at him under a green **75**, the old woman in the handicapped seat had a reddish **15** above her white hair. An attractive woman in a pencil skirt and blouse mounted the bus slightly after him and blushed slightly as she caught him glancing at the deep red **3** hovering above her perfectly coiffed blond curls. He watched as the baby in the stroller sleeping peacefully had a green **108** flip silently to a green **1** while her mother had a light red **620** plastered over mousy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. The mother glanced down at the baby and sighed tiredly. Out of sheer professionalism, numbers were largely ignored in the office. No one needed a distraction amid all the stress, but he could tell his supervisor was judging him by the slightly grimaced look she gave him when she glanced at his number. It was probably over 2000 by now! She smiled fakely at him from under her green **220** and gave him his assignments for the day. On his way back to his desk, he stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal and poured in some milk. He always ate breakfast at his desk. He could tell his coworkers were avoiding him, probably because of the huge number over his head. They all traipsed past him, with numbers varying from the single digits all the way up to triple digits. Quads, those with four digits, were not really something to worry about, until they started getting up into the 3000 and over range. Still, you undoutedly felt uncomfortable once your number was in the thousands. If your number got too high, white coated authorities may detain you. No one really knew where they took the high quads, but they were often back less than a week later, usually with green numbers within the normal range. “ Morning Sean ” muttered Frank as he hurried past with a dark red **342** trailing slightly behind his bald head. Before Sean could respond, Frank was lost in the shuffle of desks and people. Sean turned back to the fiber-bomb cereal that had become mushy in the cold milk during the walk from the kitchen to his desk. As he filed his reports all morning, he wasn ’ t sure if it was what he knew was an absurdly high number over his head that just kept getting higher, or the bowl of the fiber bombs, but his stomach simply would not stop churning. It felt like someone had released a family of hamsters into his large intestine, and now they were doing their best ( the hamsters ) to reenact civil war battles, cannons and all. Twice he had to walk outside when the flatulence grew either too sonorous or too pungent. Lunch, due to his gastrointestinal bellum, was a light affair, a salad from downstairs with a glass of water. His supervisor stopped by his desk while he was eating with a sheaf of papers, undoubtedly more reports for him, but upon catching sight of his number, definitely well over 3000 by now, she instead asked him if he needed to take the afternoon off. “ Nah, I ’ m fine. ” He lied. The hamsters had moved on from civil war reenactment to WWI. Long moments of utter stillness followed by minutes of extreme distress as the hamsters rushed from one trench to another. He was sure that if he lifted his shirt and watched, he would see the horror of what was happening underneath reflected in violent movements under his hairy stomach. “ Suit yourself… ” She started to say something, but stopped and walked off and handing the reports to Frank, who now had a green **165** practically shining above his head. Less than an hour after lunch Sean felt the gastrointestinal pressure build. He was in the middle of a conference call when it hit. He stood up suddenly, forgetting his headset and pulled his phone off the desk. It fell with a clatter, but he didn ’ t care. He almost didn ’ t make it, Frank, with his smug **215** decided he needed to catch up and apologize for his hurried greeting earlier that day. Sean disposed of Frank with a wave and hurried by, hoping his light khakis would not turn into dark brown khakis on the way to the restroom. He burst into the rest room, startling the intern washing his hands at the sink ( a green **3** over his head ). Before Sean was even in the stall, he was unbuckling his belt and as he squeezed himself into the small stall, he threw down his pants, pirouetted ungracefully, sat down with a thud, and relaxed as a feeling of release rushed through him. The hamsters made a quick retreat. Fifteen minutes later he walked out of the restroom, relieved, with a bright green number **2** over his head.

[ WP ] Turning your girlfriend into a pumpkin was the last straw . Your wizard house-guest has DEFINITELY overstayed his welcome .

There were several things wrong with this situation. First of all, Halloweenie was in my bedroom. Second of all, he was holding a carving knife up to a pumpkin. Third of all, the pumpkin was *screaming*. `` What are you doing?'' I snatched the pumpkin away from him and cradled it in my arms. The wailing abated, replaced with muffled sobs. They sounded vaguely familiar. `` This pumpkin has no mouth!'' Halloweenie shook his knife with exasperation. `` It desires release only I can provide.'' `` Why was it screaming? What are you even doing in my room? Where did Erin go?'' I glanced between the disheveled bed and Halloweenie's glowing wand. Fury began welling up inside me as my brain made the connection. `` Why?'' Halloweenie shrugged. `` Look, you know the feeling: you're walking down the street, you see a perfect molded figurine of a person—'' He traced the outline of a deformed hourglass with his chubby hands. `` —and you get the urge to, y'know, use their body as a sculpting block.'' I shook my head, agape. `` No?'' `` Well, you are n't really the intellectual type, I guess.'' Halloweenie thumbed his chin. `` What about this: you ever get the urge to go up and punch a guy in the face, just to see what would happen?'' His pudgy nose was looking like a really tempting target right about now. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. `` What's your point?'' `` Well, sometimes you just get the urge to turn a girl into a pumpkin.'' `` Sometimes'' was more like `` all the time.'' It was the middle of summer, but Halloween was a year-long celebration for Halloweenie. During his week here, he had reanimated corpses in my living room, dumped some skeletons in my closet, and turned my dog into a werehuman. Enough was enough. `` I do n't care about your urges. You need to learn some impulse control like the rest of us.'' I set down the pumpkin on the floor between us. `` Now change her back.'' `` Well, you told me I should manage my impulses better.'' Halloweenie adjusted his glasses with the tip of his wand. `` So I'll have to think about it.'' `` Change her back, or I'm kicking you out.'' The words exploded from my mouth in an uncontrollable bark. This was not an ultimatum I could enforce; Halloweenie could just turn me into a pumpkin if he so pleased. Still, it was a fate preferable to one as a doormat. `` Come on, lighten up.'' He offered me a sheepish smile: it was apologetic only in appearance. `` Ca n't you at least appreciate the artistic merit of all this?'' He stretched his arms out, and cobwebs began to spread across my ceiling. `` Okay. Do n't change her back then. Just get out.'' I stormed over to the door and thrust it open, motioning for him to leave. `` I'll find some wizard who's not a Halloween-obsessed freak and have them undo your creepy magic.'' Halloweenie's composure seemed to shatter at that remark. A film of water glistened in his eyes before he blinked it away. `` Fine,'' he said, his voice cracking. He waved his wand, and a plume of smoke erupted from the floor. When it cleared, he was gone, as was the pumpkin, and Erin was back. She ran over to me and buried her head in my chest, forcing my neck upwards. The cobwebs were still there. Fucker. `` Oh, thank goodness you got rid of him,'' she said, digging her fingernails into my back. `` Being a pumpkin was... just...'' `` It's okay. He's gone for good now.'' I began to rub Erin's back, but she suddenly wrenched away from me. `` It's too late,'' she said, sinking to her knees, `` I was a pumpkin for too long.'' `` What?'' `` You need to bring him back.'' Erin sobbed into the floor. `` I ca n't live as a human anymore. You need to tell Halloweenie to change me back into a pumpkin.'' Dread crept into my stomach as I joined Erin on the floor, brushing her hair away from her cheek. `` Pumpkin... I mean, Erin. No. What are you talking about?'' That fucker would pay. I'd stick a razor in his candied apple. I'd carve a Jack O'Lantern into his face. As I stroked Erin's face, something scratched me. I slid my finger along her cheek, tracing the path of the sensation. It was a seam. I gripped it and pulled: her entire face tore away to reveal a layer of wizened skin underneath. The impostor turned to look at me, and I found myself face-to-face with my least favorite wizard. He took the discarded mask and held it out in front of me like a pouch. `` Trick or treat!''

[ WP ] God answers every time you call His name . Oftentimes , this is terribly inconvenient .

`` Here, get in the back.'' You climbed into the back seat of Olivia Danson's car, waiting for her to join you. She squeezed through the driver and passenger seat, over the center console. Her grin was illuminated by the yellow street lamps guarding the perimeter of your university's library parking lot. Two a.m. A bit of a buzz. She unbuttoned her shirt, pulled her bra off. Her tits swung heavy as she pulled your pants off, grabbed the base of your erection and dropped her head. `` Oh god,'' you moaned. With a bang, a bit like a firecracker, God appeared in the front seat. Olivia shrieked and sat up, grabbing her shirt. `` You call-you've got to be kidding me. Again? We talked about this.'' `` God, come on. You ca n't just keep popping in on me like this. Jesus.'' Another bang. Jesus appeared in the driver's seat. `` What's up, dad. Oh, hey Sam. Again?'' `` Jesus, I'll deal with this.'' God said sternly, twisting back to glare at you. His beard glows. It's kinda weird. `` This whole fornicating thing has GOT to STOP.'' `` Is that Olivia? Dude. Olivia. I have n't seen you since you were ten. You've grown up.'' Jesus brushed hair out of his eyes. God shot him a look. Olivia was shaking, arms crossed over her chest. You realized you were still panstless.

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

The night was as thick and terrifying as any I had ever seen before. All I could hear was the scream of the wind past my ears, the pounding of hooves, huffed horse breaths, and the pounding of my own heart. The woods were closeknit, and my path was barely visible, hidden under a thick layer of bracken. `` Faster,'' I whispered as I dug my heels in. Safety was close and yet so far away, calling to me. He would save me; I knew it with all my heart. All I had to do was outrun the demons at my back first.