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[ WP ] Your job is to hunt down monsters . One day , you get a call that a sea serpent is wreaking havoc on the coastline ; but when you get there , the beast is just sitting there on the beach . You think it might even be stuck .

Randall had contacted me in a very urgent voice, almost panicky, which was unusual for him. I help my phone to my ear as I finished off the werewolf I had been dealing with earlier. The pained, dying howl did n't even phase me anymore. `` Calm down, Randy.'' I said pulling my silver infused blade from the corpse of the now turned man. `` Explain the situation slowly.'' `` There's a sea monster destroying the coast! Need you here now!'' He screamed in my ear. I jerked away on instinct, my hearing better than most people and even with my phone volume on low, it was still rather loud. My phone dropped and clattered to the ground, just barely missing the pool of blood near my feet. I curse at Randall, picked up my phone and saw he had hung up. Heaving a sigh, I opened the text message he had sent to see where this monster was. Today was a really busy day, even for my birthday. I left the warehouse and got into my car, following my GPS to the coast. When I arrived, people had already left the scene, just how I like it, and the shore was indeed trashed. But something about this seemed so very off. The shops were rubble, if only in part, and there were gouges in the sand that bespoke of a struggle of sorts. The one thing that bugged me was that there were no bodies, no blood, no... gore. I frowned and cast my gaze up and down the shore, looking for this supposed monster of the sea. And I found it. It writhed, well, more or less squirmed, against the pier. Its long serpentine body covered in glistening green and blue scales that were so fine it looked like skin was half out of the water. Its emerald eyes looked more troubled than in a fit of rage. This was n't normal. I looked around for Randall, he was supposed to be nearby to give me the scoop on what was going on, how it came here and if he could detect any weaknesses, but the worm was no where to be found. I really need to contact the guild to get a better middleman. Trudging towards the beast, it finally noticed me and squirmed even harder. `` Easy there.'' I murmured as I unsheathed my sword. `` This wont hurt if you stay still for me.'' The sea serpent burbled, its defense fins not even flaring at me. I frowned, this was really not right. Looking harder, I noticed something criss crossing the serpent's body, as fine as unicorn hair. Walking closer, I sheathed my sword and carefully touched the beast with my bare hand. It was afraid, but not of me. I plucked at the mesh that covered it's body and saw it for what it was. Fishing net. I looked up at the beast and saw it's fore limbs were clamped hard to its chest, restricting movement. My heart bled. `` Ok, big guy. I really need you to sit still.'' I said. `` It's my birthday today and I would really not kill something as magnificent as you.'' The serpent stilled, its breathing labored. I needed to act fast, I remember reading something about the sea serpents needed water to keep their skin and scales moist so they could breathe. Taking four long strides back, I faced the beast and withdrew the sacred blade I carried at my hip, beneath my cloak. I breathed in deep, summoning the ancient magics all Monster Hunters are born with. Focusing on only the fishing net, I leaped and roared my battle cry, unleashing my magic as I did so. I did not strike the sea serpent, in fact, I landed two feet away from its side. But I did hit my intended target. The fishing net exploded off the sea serpent in a shower of tiny confetti. I moved out of the way as the large beast fell to the ground and wiggled its way back into the sea. I smiled, I felt good about that. This was the first time in my line of work that I did n't have to kill something. Feeling satisfied, I turned and started back towards my car. A burble of a call had me turn around. The sea serpent was in the water, looking at me, sparkling like gems. I flicked its head, something flying from its snout. I caught it and looked at the beast, confused. `` Haaaaappeehh buuuuuuuurrrrdaaaaa'' The beast said as best it could in my tongue. It dove into the depths of the ocean, hopefully never to be seen. I opened my hand and gazed at the gift. It was a sea serpent scale, an extreme rarity as they almost never breach the surface to be harvested. It gleamed blue and green in my palm, giving off a coolness that only came from dragon magic. I smiled and tucked it into my pocket, saying a thanks to the ocean before heading back to my car. A thought struck me and I called the guild. `` Hey, Charlie.'' I said. `` It's me, Rebecca. I need to talk to you about Randall and his inability to read the situation.''

[ WP ] Write about a group of post-apocalyptic survivors who are have just found out the apocalypse has happened

I do n't know how long we had been down here playing... it seemed like days. Our 3.5 D & D game had hit an apex sometimes last night and the DM's story just did n't let up. Joey was like that. He was an AMAZING story teller, it's just he had no idea about where to end it for the night... and we, the heathens that we were, had no idea when to call it quits. It was almost a battle of wills; myself, Jake, Chris and Austin against Joey. We liked to play in character so I was decked out in this cool set of chain mail, shirt and viking helmet for my fighter, Jake had on a Robin hood thing for his elf ranger, Chris was just wearing a Pantera shirt and jeans because he was a douche like that. And Austin, much to our uproarious laughter had to wear his sister's tiara and a Xena bra we found in the basement after his character was turned into a woman a few sessions ago. To his credit he rocked that look, taking it all in stride. ``... The party opens these massive 15 meter tall wooden doors and enters the temple of Xanagoras. You see an altar at the far end of the temple which has marble floors and torches running down either side of its walls.'' Joey said `` I roll perception for hidden enemies'' Jake said `` You find-'' I'll never know what Joey was about to say there because at that moment something burst through the wall. I want you to realize the full extent of what bursting through the wall of a basement means. This thing came through the wall, it's tan-brown leathery hide jiggled grotesquely as it got it's bearings in the basement. It let out a roar that sounded as if it were a cross between something out of Jurassic Park, a snarling wolf, a cement mixer full of rocks and a freight train horn. I felt it's roar inside my chest, the rumble seemed to mix with the pounding of my heart trying to escape my chest. Everytime I tell this story I get ashamed of myself, that I just sat there, mouth agape, not even lifting a finger when the thing reared up and came down on the upper half of Joey's body and dragged him, kicking through that hole. We all ran away, ran to the ground floor of the house and our first instinct was to call the police, the Army, the CIA, FBI, NSA, CDC, hell the fucking TSA we did n't care we were terrified as children. The Jake looked out of the front window and saw overturned cars, a fire hydrant spraying water into the air, a house on fire midway up the road and the asphalt street cracked in a line that meandered back and forth across its length. The line erupted in a similarly sized hole and a bloodstain, almost as a punctuation mark. We looked further out, down the hill and into the Bay Area and... well the city was on fire. Giant columns of smoke rose from gutted buildings and we could make out the flashing lights of various emergency services. We could n't believe our eyes... this was n't happening. What the hell is going on? The far off rumbling vibrated the air near our faces as a skyscraper down by the water seemed to have it's right side give out from under it, it fell for maybe fifty feet before it hit something sturdy but by then it was already at an extreme angle, the force caused the stop section to break off and go plummeting to the ground. Chris simply slumped to the ground against the wall and pitched a fit like a child. `` This ca n't be happening! This ca n't be happening! No! No! No! Please No!'' He beat his fists against the wall and the floor, hysterical and screaming. He was a strong guy, the floors shook with the impacts. Behind me I saw the street begin to erupt and jagged pieces of asphalt, and then sidewalk flew upward from what was certainly one of those things... I ran.

[ WP ] You move into a new apartment and quickly discover that your bathroom is a time machine .

`` Wake up john! wakeup'' `` What's the matter?'' `` You sleep in the middle of work? all packages are lying same, as I left them!'' `` So what? I'm tired after moving here and shifting all those packages'' `` Ok, go get refreshed, take a bath. I'm going to make sandwiches.'' `` Ok, I'm going'' When I entered the bathroom and closed the door. `` Aahh damn, it's too dark where is the light's switch? `` The switch was glowing right next to the mirror, I switched on that, A red light blinks on the mirror, It's not working maybe we should change the lights. In a few seconds the red light turns into blue and whole bathroom started blinking with blue lights and the mirror is appearing with some numbers like a calendar. I thought it's a screen. Just to check, I turned the numbers upside down, and all lights went off, nothing happened!, I came out, to tell Maria, what was happening in the bathroom. `` Hey.. Hey Maria, where are you?'' I shout all over the house. Maria was not there! Where is she? and where are all stuff that we sifted from old apartment? I realized something is wrong in the bathroom, I entered in bathroom again, and saw the mirror is showing date before the day we shifted. `` But how it could be possible?'' My phone rings, it was Maria calling. `` Hey Maria where are you?'' `` I am going to pack the stuff that we will use in new apartment, you know we have to finish this before tomorrow 9 AM. Come home and help me.'' I hung up phone, confused about what happened, I looked at the mirror and change it back. again all that lights blinked. Without holding for a second, I opened the door. There Maria is, eating sandwich. `` You are n't refreshed yet?, ok, as you wish. Come and have some sandwiches.'' I moved to her, with my head facing down, full of thoughts and confusions about what happened. Our new bathroom is a time machine. With all my questions in my mind, I slowly sat down on chair near Maria. While approaching to the sandwich, my mind still stumbling about the whole incident, and all of sudden my elbow smashed into her coffee mug. The mug fell on the floor and broke into pieces. `` What are you doing? do n't you see that'' I know it was her favorite mug, I can see the pieces everywhere on the ground. I turned towards the bathroom. Going with same steps I jumped back 10 minutes before the present. Again I opened the door, Boom! I can see the mug in Maria's hand. A strange smile came on my face, I closed the door. `` Now I have the power of'Undo' in my life...., I can fix things, mistakes I've done before. I feel like God of my life.'' I said to myself, looking in the mirror.

[ EU ] The year is 2296 and Vault 9 and 3/4 finally opens it 's blast door . Wizards have returned to the British Wastelands .

The witches and wizards stepped out into their irradiated countryside. It seemed that some cities had already begun to rebuild, because, hey, 200 years after the war, with all those resources and that basic infrastructure already there - how hard could it be to rebuild, especially with the lack of FEV anywhere near the region, mutating the wildlife? No, life was pleasant over here, as opposed to the wastes in that faux `` Commonwealth''. The magical community looks inwardly one last time at their past home thinking `` Gee, its a good thing that Vault-Tec, basically a branch of the American government, who built 122 numbered vaults under a project funded by the American government, as well as an additional secret one for themselves, in America, decided to make yet another secret one in Britain, against the project constraints set by that same American government, for no reason. Really saved our skins. Phew.''

[ WP ] Your grandparents always playfully bickered in their native language . To surprised them , you took lessons , but now you understand what they 're really saying ...

Ever since I was little Oma and Opa would speak in the old tongue. They emigrated long before Mom was born and insisted she learn the local language. Grandpa was in the war, never spoke much of it. I asked about it, but he always dismissed it as nothing a child should know. I could never pry much more than his evasions. I knew that time of his life held a lot of pain, I never pushed him for answers. Time had taken its toll, he had parkinsons that made the simplest tasks a trial of his patience. From time to time he would become frustrated with his loss of control and growl in his native tongue a few coarse words. He would often sit in his chair and stare through the wall, I worried what had happened left an indelible mark on his mind for the worse, so I never pressed it. Grandma had always been Grandma, making food and taking care of the home. Grandpa was over two decades older than Grandma. He always joked that she would have to find a corpse to dig up to fill in for him. They were very traditional old world geriatrics. Sometimes I would hear them babble in their native tongue off in another room and always wanted to know what they were saying. Sometimes I would think I caught the meaning of a word through context, but never could be certain. Mom never learned the language and whenever I asked my grandparents to teach me, they would laugh off the request. I sometimes would try to remember a word or phrase so I could look it up, but never could get it straight enough to decipher. When I got out on my own, I got the idea to learn it. I took a few classes in school and eventually got pretty good. I liked to listen to the news in my new language. I read books with surprising proficiency. My translation dictionary grew thick with flags and notes stuffed in between pages, then it gathered dust as its utility had wained as my proficiency grew. As my summer break grew closer, my excitement grew. When I got home I would visit Grandma and Grandpa and surprise them with my new old language of theirs. I counted the days until I could speak with them in a way never before possible. I would talk to myself, imagining how it would go. I practiced my `` lines'' the whole drive home. My fingers tingled with excitement. I could barely contain myself. I called Grandma to arrange my visit. She was delighted to have me over after I got into town. When I got off the phone my cheeks were sore from smiling. I was over the moon with my plan years in the making coming to fruition. Grandma and Grandpa were waiting on their porch when I pulled up. With aching joints they rose from their rocking chairs to give me a warm welcome and a hug. Grandma was so excited she barely breathed greeting me and asking question after question. Grandpa was all smiles seeing his grandchild again. His weary eyes had a light in them I rarely saw. He was a fairly reserved man, did n't say much but his joy was evident in the pep in his step and smirk. They hurried me in to the living room to hear all about my time at school. For well over and hour Grandma grilled me about my studies, my friends, if I was seeing anybody, and how I liked school. I kept my surprise a secret, I needed the right time. Grandma offered some tea, to which I gladly accepted. She hurried off with an exuberant shuffle to put the kettle on. Grandpa followed to offer a hand to his wife of so many years. I buzzed with excitement in anticipation of the coming revealing of my new knowledge. I heard their once foreign babble, now clear as crystal illuminated in new light. `` So good how well life has been at school.'' Grandma chirped `` I am so proud, you worry that your grandkids will be corrupted by the world but I have n't a concern now.'' Grandpa's rough voice replied `` I knew you were worried over nothing. You let your mind wander and concern yourself with unfounded fears. Ever since we met you worried excessively.'' `` I was right to worry enough for the both of us and come to this country. You wanted to stay! I just worry because the state of the world. Just look how things have changed... The world is a vast departure from what we had in mind in our youth.'' Grandma said. Grandpa sighed and said `` I know Eva, but we fought for as long as we could for a pure fatherland. We can only hope that our descendants learn how special they are. I know they will one day carry the flame we sparked so long ago and fuel it with the same desire for the triumph of our race. They lied and spun our great work into an atrocity the world could never forgive. Now we sit meekly, too feeble and weak, to lead our race to our rightful place.'' `` I know, but still I worry.'' Grandma said as she looked out the window at the birds she grew fat with the plentiful seed from feeders she stocked every morning. Grandma called to me in English `` I cant remember, do you like one spoon or two?' My head spun as I stared a hole in the wall. `` Hello? One scoop or two?'' she repeated in English. I tried to find the words. I eeked out `` Zwei bitte Oma.'' without realizing. The tea cup Oma held fell from her gasp and shattered on the floor. There was no putting back together what pieces remained of what had been. Edit: A few autocorrect errors. I still ca n't find the `` ( w/c/s ) ould of'' referenced in the bot post, if someone would be so kind as to quote it, I would be grateful. I really should n't drink and write... But meh. Edit 2: I finally caught the spelling error that undermines a pretty important point... It is fixed now. Really should not drink and write, or proofread...

[ WP ] Your name is Ashley Madison and you are frustrated about the amount of hate you 've been getting these last few days by mistake .

I wake up around noon, my phone has been buzzing all night. I do n't dare look. `` How did they get my number?'' I think. I had nothing to do with that website. They do n't seem to listen. No one will listen to me. My family has cut contact. I have n't spoken to Mom or Angela in days. I wonder if she got that teaching job?. The vans have been parked outside of my apartment for weeks. I cant leave the house without being bombarded with photographers. Why wont they leave me alone. I've been living off left over cat food for the past month. I cant risk going outside after the threats. The notes, the emails, the calls, people frighten me. They think I was responsible for their marriages to end. I had nothing to do with that site. I had nothing to do with that. I repeat to myself daily. I had nothing to do with that site. The days are long, Tv becomes boring after hours. Countless news reports on the case. They all hate me. So many marriages ruined. Could it really be my fault. I cant bear to watch anymore tv. They constantly harass me. One smashed some windows the other day. Angry spouses I would imagine. All the threats, my god. They hate me. I lie in bed most days. Staring at the emptiness around me. They fired me once they heard the news. How much longer could I live on cat food and tap water. They will probably cut the power soon. Then what will I do. Mom or Angela have n't answered my calls in forever. I do n't have anyone else. Josh could n't believe it when he heard the news. He packed his bags that night. I thought we were going to spend our lives together. I'm such a bad person. Why did this happen to me. I ca n't take much more. Might as well do it while the water is still on. I fill the tub. Nice and hot just how I like it. I pick out the last of the scented bubbles. Might as well smell nice for who ever finds me. Almost filled, feels nice on my toes. I cant remember the last time I felt this nice. I plug it in next to the counter. Have to climb in first. Wow the water feels amazing. I hope this feeling lasts for eternity. I grab the toaster from the counter. Its hot, on the highest setting. Almost over. I take one final look around. Everything looks so gloomy in this place. I hear my front door smash open. Who could this be. Why wont they just leave me alone. `` Jessie are you there?'' the voice calls out. He walks into the bathroom. No Josh No. I was so startled I forgot I was holding the toaster. I dropped it. `` NOOOOOO FUCK!'' Josh cries out. Sparks fill the room, the lights burn out. I cant believe Josh came back. I wonder what he wanted to talk about. Ill never find out. Sort of makes me wish I did n't do it. Now I'm stuck in this place. Its so hot down here.

[ WP ] An old man finds a genie . Instead of 3 wishes , the genie offers to place knowledge of any subject the man chooses into the minds of every living person on the planet . After much thought , the man chooses `` The truth about God . ''

It was a strange thing, the lamp inside my grandfather's vault. After he died he left the contents to me, provided I could get the damn thing open. I was an avid redditor in my youth so the mystery of what the safe contained had kept me awake many a night. I had so much time to think about what was in there, what would possibly be worth locking away from the world. Perhaps my grandfather thought it was too precious to be shared, or too dangerous to let fall into the wrong hands, maybe he did n't even know. All I know is that the old man died and did n't put the combination in his will, because there was no combination. Before me sat a metal box, covered in strange symbols, wiped clean of the age old dust that had settled in the grooves by years of me tracing them with my fingers, now wrinkled with age. All I wanted was to get into this steel box before I met the same fate as my grandfather. I've had this safe all my adult life, and after one of my many sleepless nights the frustration of my efforts failing grew to be too much. I simply threw the puzzle box off the roof of my house. I'm not sure what it was but as soon as the box left my hands I felt such a strong sense of longing I almost jumped over in pursuit of the metal cube tumbling down to earth. Boy, am I glad I did n't. The box disappeared out of the air and was suddenly right next to me, on the edge of my roof. The symbols that covered the box were glowing, the whole contraption emitting a low *whrrr*. One of the sides opened up and seconds later there was a man before me. I was so perplexed. When a bald man wearing a fez appears before you, most people would assume it was due to a little magic lamp rubbing, followed by a puff of smoke and three wishes. This was not the case. The puzzle box opened up and a full sized man stepped out of a container no larger than a shoe box. If there was a class on how to fit a dozen circus clowns in a tiny car, this guy would be the professor. `` **Damn I'm glad to be out of there**.'' He said, arms raised above his head as he stretched. `` **I thought no one would be able to get me out of there. What did you feel? **'' My mind was racing a mile a minute, I had so many questions for this apparition. *Had he met my grandfather? Would my wishes backfire? What did the symbols say? * But all I managed to ~~say~~ stutter was `` W-w-wat?'' `` **The safe can only be opened in the presence of extreme emotion, so I'll ask again, as this whole series of events must be very exciting. What did you feel? **'' Asked the genie. `` I... I was so frustrated...'' I began, but the genie interrupted. `` **YOU LIE**'' the genie boomed, his outburst was shortly followed by a clap of thunder, which was unexpected on this cloudless day. `` **Frustration is a simple emotion, felt by animals, children, nearly everyone trying to be sincere on the internet. It would not have opened my box. ** `` Let me finish!'' I snapped. Trying to formulate sentences was hard enough without this fez wearing lunatic nearly ripping apart the heavens before I could get a word in. `` I was frustrated that I could n't open the box so I threw it off my roof. After doing so I felt so bad about it. My long departed grandfather left it to me and it's one of the last things I remember him by. I could n't bear losing it or it getting damaged, I almost jumped off myself to try and capture it, but before I could it was back up here with me.'' `` **Now that makes more sense. Love and longing would certainly do the trick. Alright. Now you might have noticed I'm not your average genie. I bet you spent hours rubbing my box trying to make me come. ** The genie snickered. *Great. * I thought. *A genie with a passion for innuendo. * `` Acutally, no,'' I replied. `` No one has seen a real genie in thousands of years. It's all just legend now. Many people would say they do n't exist.'' I felt bad as I said this, finding out you're the last of your kind was a story I'd read, a movie I'd seen too many times. `` **Really? Cool! I was so sick of their rules anyways. Always with the'make the wishes backfire, never tell them you can give more than three' blah blah blah**'' He was taking the extinction of his species incredibly well. `` **I've had a lot of time to think, and I would be lying if I told you that I had n't though about what I would do if I could break their rules, so I'll tell you what, I'm not going to grant you three wishes. ** My heart sank. If someone told me yesterday that I would n't be getting any wishes I would have thought they were crazy, but after seeing a man magically appear... well I'd also be lying if I said the thought had n't crossed my mind. **I'll do you something new though. Something that has never been promised to anyone before, and will likely never happen again. Oh how I love being original. Are you ready? Ok. Any subject matter. Aaaaany topic at all. I will place all the knowledge pertaining to that subject into the mind of every living person on the planet. Boom. What do you think of that? ** `` Um. Could I get some examples? It's kind of hard to wrap my mind around this big game changer you dumped in my lap'' I replied. It came out a little snarkier than I intended, but I do n't think the genie noticed. `` **Want everyone to know all of physics? Badabing Badaboom, you'll have the guy bagging your groceries calculating the velocity at which your produce is headed towards him. Ya know. Stuff like that**'' A strange thought crossed my mind. `` Wait. If you have been trapped in that box for thousands of years how do you know all these culture references? The internet, bag boys, sexual innuendos. Whats the deal?'' This was hardly the most pressing matter at hand, but I needed to know before I went and got a supernatural being to plant knowledge in everyone's head. Plus his answer would give me a little more time to think. `` **I'm the genie of the box, not the genie, of the lamp. I get cable in there. `` ** `` Oh'' I said. I did n't think it would be that simple. `` **So what knowledge shall it be? I have to do this and get back to my box. The Bachelor will be on soon. **'' `` God.. I do n't know,'' I was racking my brain trying to think of the most beneficial knowledge for all of humanity. How to irrigate and grow food? Survival strategies? There were too many choices. `` **You do n't know God? Then God it is! Your entire species will now be touched by His noodly appendage**'' `` Wait w-,'' but before I could finish my exclamation the genie had already cannonballed back into his box as if he were jumping into a swimming pool, breaking all the laws of physics and the conservation of mass as he did. Perhaps the miscommunication was for the best. Around the globe there was a dogmatic rejection of dogma, and every Friday was a holiday.

[ WP ] Everyone has a nickname in the style of First Name `` Nick Name '' Last Name . However , they have it from birth and so many people do n't know why they have their nickname yet .

I was a good kid as long as I knew myself and my parents were nice to me. They tried to keep me happy. But at the age of eighteen they were supposed to give me my nickname. These nicknames came out around fifty years before I was born. `` They are names'' was the first thought. Turns out that they say what will you become. Newborns after that date had their nickname on a different card. Easier to hide from child, that is the reason I thought. I could n't know that I was right at the time. For me though, my parents gave me a fake nickname card at my eighteenth birthday. I did n't know that back then. It had no name on it. My nickname was `` blank''. I said `` What does it mean?''. They responded with'' You choose your own nickname. And with it, your future. You are truly free from these nicknames.''. I thought that it was good. Looked on the internet and that was real phenomenon. There were people without nicknames. Most were fine people. Did great things for mankind. I did n't believe that I could be that important someday in the future. But I was wrong. Around two years after my eighteenth birthday I was alone and wanted to roam around because I was bored. How could I knew that this day would me my turning point? I was looking in a drawer for socks. When I was searching I found my fathers balisong. Under it there were papers. I looked at them and found out they were nicknames of my parents. My fathers card said `` Tempered Artisian''. `` Suits him.'' I said to myself. My mothers card sai'' Loved Lover''. `` Perfect naming'' I thought. Mine was n't there. It was in same shelf, but it was pushed to the back, like it was wanted to be forgotten. `` Why mine is here? My nickname is non-existent as far as I know. Why would you hide it like this?'' I say, take the card and take a look. `` I think my nickname was not great enough, so they made that up to keep me happy.'' I said before looking to my nickname. My nickname was `` 6 Feet Under''. I looked it up and found out there were two variatons of this. Letter written means normal death as a normal person, while number one means suicide when you understand that you will amount to nothing. My hands were shaking, a tear came out from my eyes. I understood everything. I had a feeling that I would die when I was eighteen. When that that was about to turn out to be false, suicidal thoughts emerged. I could dispel them, but they kept coming back. `` Everything makes sense now! They wanted to save me from this, but they forgot about me.'' I say while holding my head in my hands. I make a video about that, saying that I found my nickname, explaining everything from my past, thanking them for everything that they did for me and announcing who I want to guve my stuff to. I put it in computer, leave it as ready to play, get dressed and go out to realize my fate given to me by my nickname. This was my first try at writing with a prompt. Every bit of criticism is acknowledged.

[ WP ] One day you die just as your daughter is about to go into labor . Then you are reincarnated as your own grandchild .

I didn ’ t feel the steering wheel crush my ribcage. I didn ’ t hear the sound of breaking glass as my windshield shattered. All I could see through flecks of newly created rubble was the clouded, red-eyed gaze of the man that drove his car straight into mine. As I stayed, suspended in that moment, my last fleeting thought was the realization I wouldn ’ t be with my daughter for one of the most important days of her life. Then nothing. And then light. Brighter than anything I ’ ve ever seen, I can only make out blurry shapes among a canvas of pastel lights. They ’ re moving, and I hear voices around me. I survived the wreck. The cool calm of relief washes through me and pools in my stomach, but then pressure bubbles in me. I can feel it in my head and down my entire body. I gasp for air, something I hadn ’ t realized I had stopped doing. My lungs feel like there ’ s razor wire embedded in them, slicing away with every breath I take, but I assume I have a few broken ribs. I feel myself moving, and I think I ’ m on a stretcher. I still can ’ t make out specific objects around me, but perhaps I should just focus on staying calm- And I see her, my little love. She ’ s flustered, her eyes are red. Why is she here? Beads of sweat dot her forehead. Am I waking up from a coma? She looks awful, but still as beautiful as the day I gave birth to her. I don ’ t know- “ Hello, my little love. ” I feel myself drifting, as though my focus is spiraling out like spun cotton. I want to look at her face forever, but with every second that tics by, I lose more of myself. It ’ s not blackness that surrounds me, not like before. It ’ s a weightless field of warmth, and I can ’ t help but embrace it. - “ Hello, my little love. ” She cradles her infant daughter in her arms, any pain she was in immediately stifled. The busy movements of the doctors and nurses around her are a distant distraction. She gazes into her small eyes, and for a moment, she feels a familiarity that she ’ s known her entire life. Before anything can take root, the deep sense of awareness in the baby ’ s eyes flickers out, leaving the naïve stare of an infant. “ I guess I have the rest of my life to figure you out. ” She smiles, holding her daughter closer.

[ WP ] It 's the zombie apocalypse , and you are a vegetarian zombie .

I struggled to open my eyes, stiff and caked with blood. Everything seemed dim, murky, slow... where was the rest of my leg? It did n't really seem to matter, and I wondered if it mattered that it did n't matter. Then I saw it, and instantly all thoughts were overwhelmed by desires to sink my frankly loose and mushy teeth into its mushy softness. To tear it apart, and bathe in its insides like some Bacchic orgy. I struggled to rise from floor, each move a stilted gesture. My right side was n't responding, so I glanced down and noticed the absence of my liver and several ribs. Did n't I use to have a liver and all my ribs? It did n't matter though. I finally heaved myself to my feet and began the slow and steady journey to the object of my hunger. There it sat, all dressed up in shiny cellophane finery. I raised a quivering hand towards it, and using all my might I intoned, `` GRAAAAAAAAAAAINS!''

[ WP ] A shape shifter who is dealing with an identity crisis .

The house was so normal for having such an abstruse person as its resident. Just like the one next to it, just like the one next to that one, and so on. In a way, its inhabitant was like that, just like everyone, but different at the same time. Different by being the same as everyone. I walk up the front walk and knocked at the door. `` Hey,'' I say, for lack of a name to use. Who knows what name I'll have to use today. `` Do you have any electric tape? I'm doing a bit of home improvement.'' There was no answer. `` I know you're in there, just open up,'' I say. `` How do you know I'm here?'' the soothing voice of a man calls out. `` Because you're a total shut-in. You make me buy your groceries for you half the time, remember?'' `` It's not my fault. Sometimes I choose to look a way that would cause a commotion if I went outside.'' `` I do n't think you know what the definition of'not my fault' is,'' I say. `` Now let me in.'' The door opens, and I'm greeted by none other than Frank Sinatra. `` What do you think?'' he asks. `` I think you try on celebrities like an eighteen-year-old girl tries on prom dresses?'' I stroll inside. `` I think you're just jealous of the fact that I can be whoever I want,'' he says. I stop, turn around, and look him in the eye. `` Listen, Frank, I think it's about time we talked about your whole identity changing thing,'' I say. `` Could we not?'' he asks. `` I'm perfectly comfortable living the way I do.'' `` That's the problem. Follow me, Frank.'' I lead him to his living room. Sitting down to have a talk with Frank Sinatra, a man who had died years ago, is not something that happens every day, unless you're me, Dustin Breckenridge. Fresh out of college and eager to get a place of my own to stay at, I snatched up the cheapest place I could find. I did n't think why such a nice house was so cheap, but I found out why shortly. I ended up being the chore boy of a shape shifter. Last week I was buying Madonna's groceries, the week before I was mowing Conan O'Brien's lawn. I guess I do it because I feel bad for the guy. He can be whatever he wants, and he's living by himself in southern Wisconson, reliant on another person to maintain his household. But just because I feel bad for him does n't mean that I'm gon na let him stay like this. We sit down across from each other. `` What do you hope to accomplish through this talk?'' he asks. `` Listen, Frank. You do n't leav your house, you live by yourself, and you change who you are every other day. That does n't sound like someone who's happy to me,'' I say. He does n't meet my eyes. `` I think that I've figured you out. The one person you want to be most, you ca n't, because you do n't know how to.'' I soften my voice. `` The person you want to be most is you.'' A tear slides down Frank's cheek. Before my eyes, he transforms. His hair changes from black to brown, his nose shrinks, his eyes become blue. The person left behind wipes the tear off his face. `` You're right,'' he says. `` I was bullied as a kid, my parents were alcoholics, I got bad grades in school. I wanted to be anyone but me.'' He looks at his hands. `` I wanted it so badly... So badly, that one day, I just became someone else. I tried my hardest to forget who I was, but I could n't become who I became, you see. It was like putting on a mask. Behind it, I was still just... just me.'' I am silent for a while. Then, I speak. `` My mom died when I was seven. My dad... he did n't take it well. He beat me repeatedly. After a few years of this, I could n't take it any more. So I ran away. I went to go live with my grandparents, but I never quite got over the abuse I suffered. I too once thought that the world hated me. But I managed to get over it.'' I say. `` One day, my grandfather said something to me that stuck with me for the rest of my life. He said'Dustin, every person has a purpose in their life, and no one can do it but you.' I believe him. If you do n't do what you're meant to do, you're hurting humankind more than you're hurting yourself.'' I look at the man who used to Frank. He's smiling. `` Thanks, Dustin. You do n't know how much you've just done for me,'' he says. `` By the way, the electric tape's in the garage, if you still want it.'' `` Yes I do,'' I say. I get up and go to the garage. After a bit of fishing around through some junk, I find the electric tape and head back through the kitchen and out the door. But I see a note attached to the inside of his front door. I take it and read it. 'Dear Dustin, Thank you for what you said. I had been hiding for too long, and I needed someone to bring me back to reality. I'm leaving. I do n't know where I'm going, or when I'll get there. I'll write you when I get there though. Sincerely, Jerome'' `` Jerome,'' I say. `` What a nice name.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - 003

[ WP ] Write an ending scene that hints at the enormity of the quest that came before it .

Tom stumbled into the barren living room noisily, his left foot dragging behind him with an unnatural obtuseness. the blood leaking from the sole of his sneaker smeared behind him where he passed. He cursed himself as his laptop blinked in the corner, the terminal reporting another line of the codec. too little, too late. He rolled his body onto the mattress folded in the corner with a grunt, a crimson pool growing from his mishapen foot as soon as it was laid still. The run had probably done as much damage as the piston, but it hardly mattered now. A hospital might as well be the Lucadyn lobby, he thought bitterly. Without those files, either one was a tomb. `` They were there,'' Jim said quietly. He was sitting with his legs crossed at the end of the desk, leaning on his right knee. Was he there when Tom came in? He groaned as he twisted to face the man that had told him of the Lucadyn codecs. Jim was wearing his normal suit, but with white and yellow flower with a silver fixture pinned to his lapel. That ever-present worry that wrinkled his eyebrows had left, his face seemingly years younger. The voice was more identifiable as Jim's than the face; there was a knowing calmness Tom had never seen in the man. `` You god-damned right!'' Tom spat, anger and confusion arguing for contol. The reality of Jim sitting in the chair here was cycling through his memories. He knew he'd been lied to, but by who and for what purpose? Jim was the only one of them that... Tom's eyes narrowed as he focused on Jim's silent gaze. It was his knowing look that unnerved Tom more than anything. They glared without words for pregnant seconds. `` I told you not to go.'' Jim reminded as he looked down at his fingernails, ignoring the communication of own presence in the room. How did he even find him here? `` You said Linda would die if I did n't,'' Tom replied, desperate. The fight was leaving him. This was Jim's show now, he realized. `` Actually,'' Jim stood slowly, straightening his suit, `` I said that Lucadyn had no reason to keep Linda alive if you could n't get those files.'' Tom slumped against the mattress again. He was getting dizzy. `` But you were getting them. Right here.'' Jim looks down at the laptop. Tom looked at the blinking screen, then back at Jim. He scoffed `` a bit too slow, pop. it'll be years before that thing finishes.'' `` I have years.'' Jim said, closing the laptop lid. `` And now, I have no reason to keep you alive.'' `` You sonofabitch!'' Tom yelped, writhing to get up. As Tom struggled to his feet, Jim reached for a handbag under the desk and removed a silver hand-gun. He trained the weapon on Tom as he slipped the laptop into the bag. Tom stopped mid hobble, reality of pain and pistol sinking in. Leaning with one hand against the wall, he glared hatefully. `` who are you?'' Tom choked, realizing he still did not know why Jim had done this. whatever playfulness Jim's face held vanished. His eyes flashed gun metal. `` I'm Luca, Tom.'' T felt his chest tighten; but what about Linda? Jim was the one that called him, he was... `` She'll be fine,'' Jim said. `` She was fine all along. She's in Cabo at a resort-stay she thinks she won on a raffle.'' Tom fell back on the mattress, his good knee going out underneath him. His head pounded as he watched Jim cross the room to the double doors. He turned to face him before he left. `` It was your choice, you know.'' Jim said, finally. The three shots snapped, off-rythm. Luca lit a cigarette as he stepped from the step to the sidewalk. His driver stepped to attention from his lean on the limo. `` It's a shame, he was a talented kid'' Luca said as the driver opened the limo door, `` not much for diplomacy, though.'' `` diplomacy is important,'' the driver said agreeably. `` Where to?'' `` The airport. Off to Cabo.''

You hear a polite knock on the door . The closet door .

*Knock, knock, knock* I lift my head up from my laptop and pull my oversized headphones off of my ears. `` That ca n't be right,'' I mutter under my breath. I continue to stare at what I think was the source of the noise: a small closet in the corner of my bedroom. I never used the closet. I kept my all of my clothes either the drawers of my armoire or draped over chairs. All that was inside the closet were some boxes of old junk from my childhood I had not looked at in years. *Knock, knock, knock* `` Hello?'' I call out almost inaudibly. I clear my throat and decide to sound a little bit more authoritative. `` Hello?'' *Knock, knock, knock* `` Maybe it's not coming from the closet,'' I think to myself. I get up from my bed and put my feet on the floor, all the while staring at the closet door. What the fuck? What felt like twenty minutes passed. *Knock, knock, knock* I freeze. `` No this is fucking stupid there is no way that there is anything in this closet.'' I make my way to the door and wrench it open. It's empty aside from the boxes and the dust bunnies who were renting out the space. *Knock, knock, knock* Now it's more aggressive than before and it's coming from behind me. I about face quickly to see something in the room. I would say it was standing but it was n't. It was n't floating though either. Nor did it have any sort of form that made me think of it as human, past, present, or future. It was n't a ghost. No, not quite. I walked up to the mass that had just entered my room and felt a chill go down my spine that caused me to stop in my tracks. Something made me feel like I should not go any further. But now the mass was becoming clearer, not solidifying but glowing in such a way as to allow me to see what it was. *Knock, knock, knock* It was making the noise. Was it language? Was it like the bark of a dog or the song of a bird? The mass began to glow stronger and become even clearer. It was, in fact, a person. He was an older gentleman, of at least sixty. He had a kindly smile on his face and wore a gray bowler on his head which matched his gray, Armani suit and black dress shoes. More importantly to me though, I could see the source of the knocking now: his walking stick. It was made of polished oak and had a diamond on the end the man was holding. The sound was him knocking the cane on his ground, wood on wood. I stared, dumbfounded at what was now in front of me. The old man was now beaming at me. `` Hello, Daniel,'' he said to me in a warm, raspy voice. And so began one of the greatest adventures of my life.

[ WP ] Arthur C. Clarke said that `` Two possibilities exist : either we are alone in the universe or we are not . Both are equally terrifying . '' What he did n't know is that there is a third possibility ...

Professor Ketner entered the main objective area and started typing at the console. Then I heard the charicteristic \*shick-chick\* of a pump action shotgun. Then Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Nobody was hurt except Ketner, he was tackled to the ground once he stopped shooting. The entire linear array was just _gone_. Nothing but splintered optics and the kind of arcing you see in sci-fi movies. The enormous power focused on the array finished the job with inductive heating before someone shut it down. Ketner had turned off just the right safeties. He'd been planing this for days. `` Years of work gone, Ray. Why?'' `` Check my office. We must not be seen.'' What the hell did that mean? The cops would n't let me get close enough to ask another question. So I snuck off to Ketner's office. Now I am good at math, we all are, but Ketner is a genius. His office is filled with printouts from his white board. The summaries are still on the boards themselves. It takes me a while to puzzle it out. According to the work there's a quantum function governing the complexity of molecular bonding. It runs right through the `` other non-metals'', the elements most necessary for life. Further there is only one stable state above third order complexity possible in the universe at any one time once the wave function is collapsed. I know that's bad, but I'm not sure why exactly. Finally I find the cheat sheet. `` The universe can only sustain the molecular complexity for life in one region. But it does n't know which until the wave function is reduced by observation.'' I think through the hints and conversations of the last few weeks. There may be multiple places where complex life may exist, even simultaneously. But if we find any such place either we or it must cease to exist. The disfavored locality would be down-converted to _maybe_ a nebula of alcohol or some other repeating simple carbon compound. Well that explain's the fricken Drake equation and The Great Filter. The universe may be filled with life. There could be civilizations anywhere. But if you find any, or it finds you, \*poof! \*. That explains why Ketner destroyed the FTL sensor array before it could be activated. We need to stop the search for extraterrestrial life and start figuring out how to mask our existence. Regardless of whether we're alone or not, we have to pretend we are alone and hope nothing tries to find _us_. Alone or not alone? Equally terrifying? Fuck you Clark. A whole universe and we have to hide from all of it, and pray we're alone.

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

“ Wait, so what does this have to do with Game of Thrones? ” “ Dude, do you even watch the show? Daenerys, House of Targaryen, Breaker of Chains? Her dragons sacking the ships? The Targaryen family? Come on. This is some season 2 shit! ” “ Right, but… Your birth mark ” “ What about it? ” “ How the fuck is that dragon on your side related to Game of Thrones?! ” “ Wait, when did I say it was related? ” “ Wait what? I asked you about that dragon and you said, ‘ So do you watch Game of Thrones? ’ so I assumed… ” “ No, like, I just finished season six and I wanted to talk about it with somebody. Danaerys is so fucking badass! ” “ But… your birthmark? ” “ Dude it doesn ’ t have anything to fucking do with Game of Thrones''

[ WP ] Write the origin of a wellknown creature from folklore , assuming that there is no supernatural and that the story will be exaggerated into it 's supernatural form .

Manny Core, like all men in the village enjoyed a good beer and a good prank. When he got drunk, he was often known to switch around everyone's shoes, replace the wine with vinegar ( classic Manny ) and pretend to be a ghost or some other creature. One day, word spread about town that the duke would be traveling from his castle to the castle of some other duke whose daughter he wished to marry and whose lands he wished to inherit. The duke would be spending a night in the village as the village was in the middle of nowhere and there was n't really any place else to stop. The village had only one inn which meant that by necessity it was both where the duke was going to stay and where Manny liked to do his drinking. A few days before hand, over a nice beverage, Manny decided that pranking the duke would be even more fun than pranking his fellow peasants. Manny decided to go the scary-creature route, but he would go the extra mile this time. Enlisting his friends to help with his plan, Manny started to prepare for the duke. When the duke arrived, he went straight to the inn to start drinking. After he had had two or three flagons of ale, Manny's friends, who had strategically placed themselves at the next table over and were drunk enough for `` subtle'' to no longer mean anything, began to talk very loudly so that the duke could hear them. `` It sure is a shame about that beast in the woods,'' said one friend who, from his halting delivery, was obviously not an actor. `` Yes,'' said a second. `` It ate all of my sheep.'' `` If only some noble person would come save us,'' said a third. The duke liked to consider himself `` some noble person'' and he was almost drunk enough to take the bumpkins up on their offer. `` I hear that maidens dig monster-slayers,'' Manny's second friend added. That did it. The duke was in. `` Do n't worry peasants,'' the duke said, slurring his words in a way that I am no good at transcribing. `` I shall save you from your beastie.'' Everyone in the inn turned their eyes to him in a mixture of confusion and admiration. Most of them were n't in on Manny's plan, but they were n't going to question a noble when he was making heroic declarations. `` Oh thank you, m'lord,'' said the third friend. `` Finally someone will slay the beast out in the woods.'' `` What sort of monster do you have?'' asked the duke. The first replied `` It is a red lion with bat wings and a fearsome tail.'' `` It shoots poison and eats men whole,'' added the third. `` And Manny Core has huge teeth!'' shouted the second. He was promptly elbowed in the rib to shut him up as huge teeth were not part of the plan, nor was giving out Manny's name. To be fair, manny had quite the over bite. `` What did you just say?'' asked the duke. `` Manicore?'' `` Manticore,'' said the third friend, quickly recovering. `` The beast is called a manticore.'' By this point, the duke was getting a little nervous, but all of the villagers were staring at him and one does not simply back down from an heroic declaration. Somewhat reluctantly, he followed the trio out to the clearing where, unbeknownst to him, they had arranged to meet Manny. The small party had not been there for more than ten seconds before Manny bellowed out the biggest `` rawr'' he could and shambled out of the under growth. Manny had draped himself in a great animal hide lined with fresh fleece. A pair of wings made of linen and sticks were strapped to his back and a rolled up carpet dragged from his bottom. He even had a small sheep bladder filled with the lye his wife used to make soap that he was squirting out ahead of himself. To sober eyes in the full light of day, Manny would have looked ridiculous, but as it was very dark and the duke was very drunk, he was terrified. The duke ran as fast as he could back to the inn where he barricaded himself in his room and left promptly the next morning. Despite having run away away like a little girl, the duke still told everyone at the other duke's court how he had slain the dreaded `` manticore,'' a huge lion with a man's face, giant wings, a dragon's tail and terrible poison. In the years to come, it would become a favorite story of his to tell at parties, becoming grander and grander each time. Back at the village ( which the duke went several days out of his way to avoid on his return trip with his new bride ) Manny and his friends did n't give the incident much thought, preferring instead to devote their time to drinking and planning their next round of hi-jinks.

[ IP ] Mob Connections

`` Why, hello there!'' I wave and smile at the three shady people at the alleyway. It was barely midday, in the year 20XX. Mobs had became synonymous with the boogeyman, regarded by most as a fairy tale. However, I beg to differ. It's been 15 years since we've started working underground, and today is the big day. We're going to make the world fear our names again. We did our share of little events during those years, but all of our actions were covered up by the government to prevent panic from the populace. That was convenient, for we did n't want any heat on us until this very day. A maniacal smile reached my ears as I recall the details of this plan. `` Crazy as always, huh?'' the woman laughed eerily. She had this cold sharp voice that pierced through the ears. Her white cloak wrapped her body, contrasting the dark long sleeves she wore. In her pale hands, the package. Beside her were two men. Both in sturdy leather clothes, their posture declaring that they're ready to pounce at any moment. I could feel their gaze piercing through my body as I move toward her. The first one, stout in stature, with shotgun at hand, was the guy that we just referred as `` Beast''. hen he first came in, he did n't bother with petty introductions. He just asked for names, and he deleted those names from the face of the planet. His loyalty, however was proved two years after he joined, where he defended our base of operations from an enemy family. Since then, he's been welcome to dine in our table. I gaze on the second man on her right. Gerry Wimford, a mercenary for hire who was just looking to kill off his boredom in this planet. When we broke him out of his cell, he kept telling us to how grateful he was for taking him out. We knew he was a significant addition to our ranks, when he nearly took out the all the prison guards with his favorite gun `` Little Jimmy''. His loyalty was then never questioned, as long as we did n't keep him from having his *fun*. I raise my hands up and they began frisking my body for any lethal weapons. It was standard procedure, nothing personal. They took out my shiv and my pistol, then went back to their posts. I laugh, and took out numerous poisoned daggers from my clothes and drop them at the ground. They both look at each other in awe, their eyes open in wonder on how those got through their inspection. `` You boys have a lot to learn still.'' I say. `` Now, let's go back to business, shall we?'' `` There's a reason why he is our leader in infiltration missions. Although, it's been a while. You took your time.'' she says, her face fills with disappointment. `` That does n't matter, because I have the code.'' I wag the drive, with blue hued numbers start to swirl on top of the device. `` We can finally unlock Pandora.'' She sneers, her beautiful face contorts into a malicious smile, reminding me of the devil inside her. The head of our family, finally having the power the government tried so hard to take. And all of the pieces finally in our hands. `` Let's start the show, shall we? Now everybody will remember us.'' I declare, as I start unlocking the briefcase. Seconds later, explosions rang the whole world as nuclear weapons has been released from their bonds.

[ WP ] It 's 2015 , and the Titanic has just sailed into New York Harbor .

`` Unidentified ship at marker Charlie, this is New York harbor. Please respond,'' Sam Andreotti said into the radio. `` This is battleship Titanic. Evacuate pier sixty now. If I see one soul there, I'll punch a few holes in those shiny skyscrapers. You have three minutes.'' Harbor master Williams stared at Sam. Sam and his colleagues stared at their boss. Three seconds later, the lazy Monday morning turned into a chaotic 20th of April. `` Get your ships away from pier one. We treat this as a terror thread. Everything by the book.'' Williams pushed the speed dial. `` Admiral Halstead, what's the emergency.'' Williams replayed the message. The Admiral was quiet for a moment, then said, `` Proceed as planned.'' `` Aye, sir,'' the Admiral heard before he hung up. `` Landry, get me this X files spook on the phone. The NIS guy with the weird name and the even weirder ideas.'' `` Captain Lindenmuller, Sir. Aye, Sir.'' Corporal Landry was about to open the address book when he heard a knock on the door. `` Come back later,'' Landry said. `` Colonel Miller and Captain Lindenmuller, NIS. We need to speak to the Admiral.'' Landry shot up, saluted, and hurried to wave the visitors in. `` Get the subs in position anyway. Maybe these guys can storm into New York, but sure as hell, they wo n't leave it without paying,'' Halstead said and pushed a button. `` General Amry, link the AWACS to NORAD, and Fleet Forces Command.'' The admiral looked up. `` Get out, I'm busy.'' `` Captain Lindenmuller, as ordered,'' Landry said. `` And Colonel Miller, his CO.'' Halstead looked puzzled while Miller and Lindenmuller saluted. The captain began to unpack a laptop. `` Colonel, what does this all mean?'' `` The ship approaching New York is the former HMS Titanic, Sir. That is neither a joke nor the weird part.'' `` Then get to the point, weird part or not,'' Halstead shouted. The framed diplomas on the wall vibrated. Miller studied them for a moment. Whatever had happened in the last twenty minutes, whatever had caused it, by blind luck Halstead might be just the right man for the job. Miller sighed. `` Unfortunately, the weird part is classified information. The...'' `` I have security clearance Alpha-two. I can fire nuclear weapons without asking the president. Now shut up and tell me everything I need to know to do my job.'' `` Aye, Sir. The point is this: If things go as we think they'll go, in less than two minutes, the president will commit treason and at this time, we'll invalidate his launch codes and activate yours.'' `` Admiral Halstead, NORAD. We have five contacts in high earth orbit. They're not ours and both the Russians and the Chinese claim they're not theirs either.'' Halstead pushed a button. `` Understood. Track and keep me updated.'' `` Treason?'' Halstead asked as if he had n't just learned that a handful of UFOs parked over his head. `` He killed his bodyguards, the vice president and most of the Senate. Then, he teleported from the Capitol to pier sixty in New York. We assume his hardware is not accurate enough for a teleport onto the ship and New York is the nearest harbor that can accommodate the Titanic.'' `` That's murder, not treason,'' Halstead said. `` If he puts a foot on the ship he gives himself into the hands of a foreign power. That's treason. Since you're sixth in succession and the other four are dead, you'll be Commander-in-Chief.'' `` I have the feed from our UAV,'' Lindenmuller said. The shaky video showed a single figure waiting on the dock. A huge ship approached the pier at an astounding speed. The admiral noticed something wrong: a ship this big should have a big bow wash. Instead, it glided through the dirty water without disturbing it more than a small tug would do. After a moment the admiral really saw the ship for the first time. The outline was unmistakable. The funnels were gone, but the shape of the hull and the superstructure looked like in the movie. The ship slowed down hard, then a gangway unfolded. The lone figure stepped onto the still-moving platform and into the ship. `` That's it,'' Miller said. `` You're Commander-in-Chief, Admiral.'' Lindenmuller grabbed the Admiral's hand and pushed it onto a device, not unlike a calculator. `` Nukes are coded to you now. Lieutenant Caldwell is outside, carrying your football.'' `` Your orders, Sir?'' Miller straightened. `` Number one, I want that ship back on the bottom of the ocean where it belongs. Number two, I want the whole truth. Weird parts included.'' `` Aye, Sir. Lindenmuller.'' `` Aye, Sir. A few months ago, an NSA analyst noticed somebody stole large amounts of hollow wire and microwave generators. According to our files, these are the same type of components that were used in the experiments on the USS Eldridge.'' `` The Philadelphia experiment? The stealth ship,'' Halstead asked. `` Yes, Sir. Although we do n't know what the purpose of the experiment really was. It was conducted behind everybody's back, by this man.'' Lindenmuller projected a grainy black-and-white photograph. `` That's President Reilly,'' Halstead said. `` We noticed the semblance too. We noticed another: The thefts have been perpetrated by a ship that was described as'a submarine that looked like the Titanic'. We even found the salvage operator who raised the ship and the shipyard who repaired it. We also found a number of human remains in the ashes of both places.'' `` Who paid for all this?'' Halstead began to wander around his office. `` The CIA. A black account.'' `` Reilly worked for the CIA before.'' Halstead swiped imaginary dust from his framed'Tactician of the Year 1996' diploma. `` We think, he's a stranded alien and built the ship to go home.'' `` Kind of obvious, UFOs in orbit on the same day the president goes on a rampage,'' Halstead sneered. `` Why the Titanic? What's with the microwaves?'' `` The wire produces a force field when you send microwaves through it. It's possible that it influences gravity.'' `` I still do n't get it. If he needed a hull, he could have bought ten ships for the price to the salvage,'' Halstead said while he cleaned the'Strategist of the Year 1996' diploma. `` It's the composition of the metal, Sir. We checked with Robert Ballard and the Brits. The steel for the hull of the Titanic had some unusual additives. Nobody knew who had requested this composition.'' `` Let me guess, the iceberg was no iceberg either. The ship has been sunk on purpose,'' Admiral Halstead said. `` How do you know,'' Colonel Miller asked. He had obtained the information just two days ago from a corrupt Russian archivist. `` Somebody on this planet knows exactly what Reilly does and sabotages him since 1912. Reilly is n't stranded here. He's on the run and they are about to get him.'' `` Sir, we dismissed this theory already. Too many...'' Halstead looked up, through the ceiling. `` It does n't matter. The guys who want him, do. Do we know enough about the force field to build one?'' `` NASA and JPL are at it. They can levitate a table already.'' Halstead pushed a button on his phone. `` Air Combat Command, Commander-in-Chief. Go to DEFCON 2. Tell the Russians and the Chinese. I want everything in the air that can lift a nuclear weapon into low earth orbit. In the next days, a ninehundred-feet UFO will launch and try to break the UFO blockade. Check with NORAD for gaps in their coverage. I want that launching UFO vaporised.'' `` NORAD, relay these orders to the waiting UFOs. Tight beam. Reilly must not listen in. Understood?'' Two days later, former president Reilly was nothing but a radioactive memory. Halstead used the time to read the files on UFOs. Especially the Roswell incident got him thinking. The little grey bastards were dishonest, arrogant, but mortal. None of them had survived the experiments, but each of them had taught the xenobiologists a lot. Reilly's farewell letter was also an interesting read. Addressed to the next president, it explained why Reilly had left his planet. The little grey bastards were indeed a nasty bunch. Halstead received it ten minutes after the nuke had gone off. His curses echoed through the White House. A day after the fireworks, a small craft landed in the Arizona desert. `` Welcome to Earth, I'm president Halstead.'' `` We are ambassador Draak,'' the little grey figure with the large black eyes said. `` We are satisfied, Halstead, with the destruction of the traitor.'' `` My pleasure, ambassador. We considered him a traitor too. I think, this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship. We can learn so much from each other.'' `` That is impossible, human. You have nothing to teach us. The best you can expect is that we do n't eradicate you.'' `` I understand, ambassador. You are so much more advanced than we are. I'm still impressed by your blockade. Only five ships to close off a whole planet. What a strategy.'' The alien looked at the Admiral. His black, unmoving eyes were hard to read. `` Yes, we are. We will leave now.'' `` Please, take these presents as a sign of goodwill. We fabricated one for each of your ships. It's a detailed model of our planet, made from the finest wood. If nothing, you can sell it as primitive art when you get home.'' `` We will take your presents as a sign of your submission.'' Halstead nodded. Soldiers carried the boxes to the UFO's ramp. The presents floated inside on their own. Two hours later, NORAD observed the small craft to make a tour to each big ship. The craft stayed inside for six minutes before leaving again. When the craft was inside the last UFO, Halstead pushed a button. `` That will teach you trick me into killing your version of Julian Assange,'' Halstead said quietly as the machine transmitted his orders to the five boxes in high orbit. `` NASA, NORAD, this is Halstead, Wait for an hour for the poison to disperse, then launch the capsules. I hope your astronauts are quick learners. I want the five ships in Area 51 by midnight. If those bastards ever return, I'll ram an armada of battleships up their little grey asses.'' Halstead took a brush and cleaned his diplomas.

[ WP ] Pain is discovered to be the most efficient form of energy . It is ruled illegal , but secret human pain factories have already begun . You are the owner of one of these factories .

`` Garrison!'' I yell. `` Yes?'' A slender hunched over man sheepishly replies. `` Get the Hunters on the horn, It's Round Up time!'' `` Very good, sir.'' The slender man sais, turning towards the door. `` Oh, and Garrison.. Do n't you fuck this up.'' `` Sir.'' In the following hour, a group of about 34 armed men are waiting in front of the massive factory, many seemingly equipped in uniform, many armed with rifles, most are armed with machetes and axes. Some of these men are scarred, appearing to have been maimed in battle, some missing limbs, eyes, and teeth. The commotion of the scene is quickly silenced as I walk up onto a platform, stationed in front of and just above the formidable crowd of killers. `` LISTEN UP! The QUOTA today is 50!'' `` 50!? There aint 50 within 15 miles!'' A raspy voice echoes out. `` GARRISON!'' `` Sir?'' Garrison quietly sais, his voice carrying over the mute crowd. `` Kill that fucker.'' `` Very good, sir.'' Garrison said, while focusing his gaze upon the man who challenged me. Garrison begins walking down the platform, and quickly finds his way to the man. Garrison moves like a well oiled killing machine, bare handed, landing blow after blow, the man falls to his knee. `` STOP!'' The man finally yells, emptying his mouth of blood. The plea falls on deaf ears, as Garrison reaches over the mans shoulder, and grabs the 22'' machete. Garrison begins hacking at the man's shoulder until his arm is hanging by a thread. The man's open back is spraying blood, freckling the men around him with red specks. Garrison let's out a grunt as he swings the deathblow to the back of the mans head, cleaving it nearly in half, blood splatters from the mans mouth and then he collapses. `` VERY GOOD GARRISON!'' I yell. `` Sir.'' The men are moving out, I stand overlooking the horizon, `` It's a good day to be rich Garrison.'' ``..'' The following morning, the men are herding dozens of men, women, and children double file, who are bound in rope. Many are bloodied, either from wounds or from people that died in the attacks or along the way. Some of the Hunters are carrying bloody burlap sacks that are stuffed with delicacies of their kills, the fattest meats they can boil and fry. `` Sir, the hunting party returns.'' `` Very good Garrison. Prepare the stock.'' `` Very good, Sir.'' Machines begin to power on, and their whirring and clanging begin to fill the hollow like building. As people are marched into cramped containing areas, their pleads and screams begin to rival the noise of the machines. `` Let's begin with something fun.'' I say to myself, scanning over the human cattle. `` Garrison, bring me the two children, those right there.'' `` Very good, Sir.'' Two filthy kids, a boy, and a girl, both of the ages of 6 or 8 are ushered to me by the thin, greasy man, named Garrison. I say in a calm, sweet voice, `` Would you like to go home?'' Both say nothing. `` Fine then, GARRISON! THESE TWO FIRST!'' Garrison moves like a snake, quickly attacking the children, kicking them to the ground. He grabs them both by the necks with each hand, and drags them to a whirring machine, shaped like a box, with a large opening on both ends. Garrison lifts the girl and throws her into the opening, several thuds are heard like a shoe banging around in a dryer. The girl falls out the other end, arms and legs twisted and broken, she's alive, her eyes blinking and her mouth gasping for air. `` NOW THE BOY GARRISON!'' Garrison looks at the boy, and a flash of his childhood takes hold of his imagination. He sees my figure, grabbing him, about to toss him into the machine like he did to the young girl. `` I SAID NOW, GARRISON.'' TO BE CONTINUED

[ WP ] When you die , you are reincarnated with no memory of your past life . It is , however , possible to view the list of people you have been in past lives . You find out you were someone unspeakably horrible .

`` So,'' she whispered in a soft voice, `` who were you?'' I tensed up. She felt it and eased off of me. Closing my eyes, I thought about what to say for a second. `` What does it matter who I was?'' I gave a weak laugh, but she must have known it was fake. `` I'm me. You're you. Past is past.'' I felt her hand come up my chest again. `` No, baby. They found out that we usually turn into our past selve's personality. Who were you?'' Would she stop asking me that? `` Truth is, I do n't know.'' I felt her sit up in bed. `` You do n't know?'' `` No.'' I felt a surge of anger, but I held it down. I've been feeling those a lot lately. `` Check right now!'' She sounded excited. `` Just close your eyes an-'' `` I know how to check,'' I interrupted her, but kept my voice low. `` If it'll make you quiet down, I'll check.'' I felt her lean harder on me. I closed my eyes and thought about that damn dot they showed us in school. Concentrate on the dot and think and it'll come. Yeah right, jack shit was coming to- I felt names flash by in the darkness. I opened my eyes and looked at them. I did n't recognize most, but some were bigger than the others. *Jack the Ripper* *Ted Bundy* I immediately closed my eyes and thought back to the present. I did n't feel the names anymore. I looked up. Nothing. `` Baby,'' came her voice. `` Are you alright? Who were you? You're shaking.'' `` I'm not like them.'' I said. `` Like who?'' She asked. She always asked questions. It was her damn fault I knew who I was. Stupid bitch... I got up and put my hands around her neck, clamping them tight and choking her as hard as I could. It felt good. Pure ecstasy, letting the anger out. I felt strong as her arms flailed weakly against mine. Like a fish flopping against a dog. `` I'm not like them...'' I whisper as I felt her fading out of consciousness. I felt my cock pressing against her thigh, harder then it has ever been. I kept my hands around her neck as I repositioned myself to be in between her legs. `` I'm not like them...''

[ IP ] Lava Ruins

`` Looks like the rain's stopped.'' I peered out the window. Art was right; time to get to work. `` Alright, let's move out.'' I could hear the scraping of the stone armor as the men slowly stood. Despite the training, conditioning, and stamina spells, moving in this blasted rock suit was still a chore.. unless you popped an alacrity, but we usually only carry one each. Well, except for whoever was on point; today that's Cadr, so he's carrying three: the standard one plus one for each runner. `` Lookouts say there were fourteen today and twelve got caught in the rain. That leaves two runners to take down. Should be no problem for the eight of us.'' The men did n't need the pep talk. They've been doing this same routine almost twice a week for the last three years: Lookouts spot a Troll raid party, Engineers spin up a Storm for a few hours, and us Mops would perform a sweep to hunt down any surviving Trolls once the rains stop. Two of us could easily take out one of them. Hell, Brass usually sends out five of us for a job like this. Hot and muggy. That's what we used to say after a real rain, before the war. Well, we still say it now but it's hell of an understatement: this magma rain brings temps well over fifty C and fog that reduces visibility to less than twenty meters. The sea breeze will clear out the fog in a few hours but we ca n't wait for that. Have to hop on these Trolls before they can get back up. The first nine Trolls were easy enough. The rain had burnt away more than half of the flesh and they were only able to recover enough to barely crawl. Cutting out their hearts only took a few minutes each. We used to be careful to keep it intact, for old man Gurdy to study, but he found out the heart does n't do the healing: it's the lungs. But the blood ca n't heal the Troll if it ca n't get where it's needed, so we cut out the heart. Set the rest of the carcass on fire ( if it's not already ) and that's that. Scavengers will be along later to collect anything useful. Art stopped and looked East. `` Runner inbound; 120 meters out, coming from 0-7-0.'' It will be here in about four seconds. All five tons of it. `` Cadr, hunker down!'' Here we go.

[ WP ] A fairy tells it 's children a human tale before bed

They began the chant of night that would coax the stars into shining and make the sprites cry out the dew in rapture, but before the first verse had ended, the fairy child was bored. `` Instead of the songs,'' whispered Piliffa, `` will you get out a Book?'' `` Our somber little Pilly!'' Piliffa pouted. `` I'll put my head in the clouds for you tomorrow, if only you'll read to me.'' `` A sensible story for you, dear heart, of course, of course,'' they hummed, as the volume tumbled into their arms and opened to the one they liked the best. `` Once upon a time, there lived a dog in a cage. Like some of the other dogs, it had been there so long it did n't remember where it came from. The dog was afraid of the long-legged smelly furless ones who always walked past and looked at it. Those were called humans, and they did n't have wings, but sometimes they fed the dog and opened the cage to touch it, so that it became less and less afraid. `` One day a small human was very glad to see the dog. The others made small worried eyes at the child and talked while the child sobbed and raged. But they talked until the noises changed to laughter. The cage opened. They took it out of the big boxy building full of doors and the dog saw the sun and leapt in the fragrant grass with joy. `` But the leash hurt the dog's neck when it tried to run and play. And long before it was done relishing the beauty of the new air, the humans got out an even smaller cage and led the dog toward it. Fear flashed in the dog. It bit and clawed and desperately howled! The small one was in the way of its escape and its familiar cries joined the howling and raving as blood flew from veins to earth. `` The screaming humans dragged the dog away from the silent child and back to the building. One of the others took it to a new room with no dogs and no locks. This human used to pet the dog gently and speak to it so softly. But now it was making a new kind of face with wide eyes and pressed lips and the dew came dripping while it strapped the dog down to the table. The dog yelped when the human stabbed its leg with a flask full of sleep, and that was the last sound it ever gave to the world.'' `` Do n't forget the last part,'' yawned Piliffa, now buried under the gossamer. Grinning, they sang, `` And the moral of the story is!'' and they chanted it til the dawn.

[ WP ] Planet continuity has been utterly shattered , and now doorways almost never lead to where they 're supposed to go . Which is really interesting and all , but you REALLY need to get to work .

Now I've done it. From the flashlight app on my cellphone, I ascertain that I have somehow ended up in the stomach of... some woman, judging from the voice I'm hearing from overhead. From what I'm hearing, she appears to be ordering food at a drive-thru, which means I'm going to have company soon. I had completely forgotten that, while the doors on the third bus at my stop sent me directly to the bus stop in front of my workplace, the doors on the second bus would send people... anywhere, really -- just so long as there is a doorway at the other end. I had the doorways I needed to take in a normal day mapped out in my mind -- I just lost count of how many buses I had seen stop. I'd heard the horror stories of people who had chosen a wrong door in the days after the `` Rearrangement'', but I did n't think that the `` Rearrangement'' considered the sphincters of a human digestive tract actual `` doorways'', nor did I know that the `` Rearrangement'' would resize a person to a size appropriate for the new environment he or she stepped in. I'm wondering why they never got rid of that second bus, and how humans have n't yet starved to death as the food they ate never reached its destination. Maybe it works differently for different people and different objects. Now I'm floating in someone else's gastric acid, and it's starting to sting a little. It's also very hard to breathe. I hear additional noises from above, and I aim my cellphone's flashlight at the source. It sounds like a wet, sloppy grinding noise; the sound of something moving against wet... rock? I see what appears to be the sphincter that deposited me here suddenly get penetrated by something, which then falls to the acid bath I'm currently marinating in, splashing me with more of this gastric fluid. Ahh, she's eating now. Fantastic. I really need to find a way out of here before I'm digested along with the... hamburger she's eating. Or before I asphyxiate. Or crushed by falling, sticky food. Oh, gross, really? *Diet* coke? Must be a fatty. This stomach does appear rather large, but I'm not really up to speed on how big a human stomach should be, as compared to how big the human itself should be. Wait, *Diet* coke? An idea forms as I withdraw the mentos out of my pocket. Mentos and Diet coke make an explosive reaction, right? I empty the contents into the bath, and am rewarded by a frothing, bubbling concoction. I guess her stomach must have constricted to let the gas out, because I'm being shoved upwards towards the sphincter that brought me here in the first place. I grab the doorway and am pulled through by the pressure. I close my eyes as the reverberations of an apologetic belch reach my ears... I'm now lying... on the hood of someone's car? Nope, a truck. It's parked on the side of a residential street. Judging from the pain I'm in and the condition of the vehicle's hood, I must have landed with some impact. The air smells fresher here, although I do still smell the odors of whatever poor lady's stomach each time I take a breath. I slowly roll off the side of the truck's engine compartment, gingerly placing my feet on the curb -- right beside a manhole cover, which seems to have made its own impact into the sidewalk. I walk around the front of the truck and find the open manhole in the street on the other side. That must be where I came here through. I look around, and notice I'm in what looks like the suburbs of a city -- but not the city I live and work in, judging by the skyline to the north. I'm then wondering how many others have also ended up in someone else's stomach, only to succumb because they did n't find a lucky way out before they died -- when I hear someone clearing their throat. I turn around, noticing the sudden ache in my back. An elderly man is shuffling closer to me. Others are crowding around me, but the old man seems to bear more importance than the rest. Also, I probably smell like a dead fish or something, which could account for the noses I'm seeing plugged. I really need to take a shower, or maybe even a full bath after this is over. The old man finally says something. `` Bad doorway?'' `` You can say that,'' I reply. `` How bad?'' a woman asks, from behind me. I turn around to face her, just in time to see her pinch her nose. `` I was in someone's stomach before ending up here.'' `` Oh, wow. That explains a lot,'' she says, giggling. I look at her more closely, noticing she is definitely *not* fat, nor is she holding a half-eaten hamburger and diet coke. `` I did n't think that was possible. You would have to be... downsized to maybe a couple inches or so. Did you happen to take any pictures?'' I did n't think I had, but I notice my flashlight app is still on, so I look at my screen. Sure enough, this particular app automatically starts a video recording whenever the flashlight is activated. `` Better,'' I say, smiling, and ending the video recording and the flashlight app. `` I got video. Want to see?'' `` Noo, no thanks!'' She steps backwards as I walk towards her to show her my phone. `` Ahh, sorry about that,'' I say, remembering that I still need a bath after my trip. `` You look like you took a nasty fall, mister,'' the old man speaks. `` Are you sure you're all right?'' `` Yep.'' An awkward silence ensues before I then ask, `` Sooo. Where am I? Seattle?'' A few people pipe up this time, `` Yes, Seattle.'' The woman asks me `` Where did you come from?'' `` Miami, Florida''. `` Ooh, that stinks.'' `` Hey, at least I did n't end up in China, or maybe in some fly's intestines or something,'' I say, relieved. My next task is to somehow find my way to a bath tub, a laundromat, and a restaurant ( in that order, hopefully ). I am very hungry, for some reason.

[ WP ] Three friends . Four AM . No dialogue

Josh sat motionless. The hall ’ s carpeted rug provided a comfortable enough seat. Or he did not care enough to move. Which one it was, nobody could say. His legs were bent, bringing his knees towards his chest, while his lower back rested against the wall. The resulting strain pulled his jeans up, exposing his ankles and white socks. If you had just walked up you might ’ ve sworn that Josh was about to drop a beer on to the rug. Somehow the friction of Josh ’ s barely closed hand kept the drink from diving to the ground to spill its sticky contents on to the rug. It was not a beer however. The contents of the bottle were of a more innocent nature. The root beer bottle was nearly empty and only the tiniest of sips remained. His left elbow rested on his knee, with his hand supporting his head. It looked like Josh had been in nearly the same position for hours. It had, in fact, been approximately four hours. On the opposite side of the narrow hall sat Monty. Monty sat in a similar position, though he did not have a drink. Both of his elbows rested on his knees, pulling them slightly apart. He blankly stared at the wall that Josh was leaning against, lost in thought. Had he not been shirtless, in gym shorts, un-shaven, and needing a haircut he might have looked like a youth-full prophet. Farther down the wall sat Garret. He sat on the same side as Josh. His back was flat against the wall, with his legs outstretched. Garret was shorter than the other two, so his feet fit flat against the wall. He stared down towards the floor, with the same blank expression as the other two. No one could have guessed what the three were thinking of. They had been sitting in the silence for the last thirty minutes or so. No one wanted to speak. It was peaceful and delicate. So delicate, that the opening of the door next to Garret was enough to break it. The door that opened was to Neal ’ s dorm. He came out in his boxers, squinting at the sudden brightness. Neal glanced down at the trio, and the trio stared back. The awkward boy did his best to close the door quietly and shuffled down the hallway, presumably towards the bathroom. The stillness had been shattered. Monty reached into his baggy shorts and pulled out his phone, checking the time. Monty ignored the forgotten text message he had gotten from his girlfriend hours ago. He turned the phone around to show the other two. 4:03. They all had classes in the morning and each knew they should ’ ve gone to bed hours ago. Josh was the next to break the stillness. Using the wall as his support he slowly got up. He looked down at the other two for a brief moment, making eye contact with both. They all understood. Josh slowly turned around and walked away from them. He stumbled ever so slightly, whether from exhaustion or standing up after sitting down for so long. He made it to the end of the hall and pushed the door open, disappearing out of sight into the dark room. Monty and Garret only looked at each other for a split second before following suit. Monty got up quickly and helped Garret up. They quietly walked down the hall, in the opposite direction of Josh. Garret reached his room first and Monty passed him. Each went into their respective rooms. Garret knew he had to be up in three hours. He didn ’ t care. It had been a good night.

[ WP ] You 're a Tinkerer , a person that can create highly advanced technology . Because of this , you 're wanted by a lot of people . What they do n't know however , is that you 're are n't like the others . You ca n't make cool guns or giant robots . Instead , you make kitchen appliances .

Another call from DARPA flashed across my cell phone. I dutifully put it straight to voicemail as I began to inspect the mechanical innards of my latest creation. My hands delicately danced across the field of wires before me as my classical music playlist radiated in the background. With a few screws and a screwdriver, I erected several graceful towers to act as the frame to my device. With several of my blueprints by my workbench, I could see all the mechanical parts come together in such a beautiful, orderly way, like the way the teeth of a zipper interlock so perfectly that- My phone erupted again. This time my caller ID notified me that a Chinese technology firm specializing in satellite imagining was among my latest recruiters. I sighed. Why couldn ’ t they understand? Why couldn ’ t anybody understand? Everyone who wants to hear the sounds of gears revolving and see the marvel of technology revolutionizing wants it used for weapons and spying. My creations, my craft, and my art become nothing more than a pawn used in a game of geopolitics. But I know I ’ m worth so much more. I massage gears into their right place with my trusty mallet and I create the foundation of the exterior, four aluminum walls with a white, clean finish. With a soldering iron I put the final touches in the circuitry. With bated breath, I inspect the finished product; aesthetically pleasing, but its functionality questionable. I plug the machine into the wall and turn it on. With a bowl of bread dough prepared, I place it in the device and select the settings. The machine jumps to life and, with minimal noise and maximal efficiency, fulfills its duty as a bread maker. I smile at a job well done and await my loaf of pumpernickel, which to my delight, won ’ t try to recruit me to some rogue CIA mission.

[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : The Elder Gods Edition

Something quick I came up with, could be part of a bigger story, I'm not quite sure yet -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - We were running, and then we weren ’ t, everything happened so fast, too quickly for anyone to process. In those moments, the only thing reiterating through your mind is *run*. That, and a whole load of adrenaline to keep you going. Except we couldn ’ t. Surrounded, afraid, tired, outnumbered, we ’ re done for. I see that look in her eye though, the look of someone that still wants to fight, that ’ ll fight until their body breaks, that ’ ll be a dirty mangled corpse of mud, dried up crusty blood, broken bones, and a disheveled face; but that someone will fight to the end, to the very last breath, until their last heartbeat. I see that look in her. Me? I never was much of a fighter in that regard; irony, at its finest. Cowardice? Hm, Perhaps. I grab her arm, and she looks up at me, “ It ’ s no use, we can ’ t win this. ” I plead, “ But -- ” “ There ’ s no but ’ s this time ” I retort, Her face went from glowering to haunted. She put her mud-and-grease-caked hands on my equally as dirty cheeks and says, while looking deeply into my eyes, “ One last kiss goodbye then? ” In a shared agreement, we bring our faces close to one another. Lips touch, and tears roll down our cheeks as we savour our final eternity. Our faces part, and we enjoy our last embrace. I hear the crack and roar of a gun, maybe two, maybe three, maybe more, then a searing pain in my back, and as if a billion burning needles were stabbing me all over, i feel the pain course through my body. With my last breath and strength, I whisper into her ear, “ I ’ m sorry ” and push her as hard as I can onto the floor, as to cover her body with my own. All I can hope for is that she is safe, no matter my fate, even if it may be sealed, as long as she isn ’ t hurt, then all is well. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- They ’ re all gone now. We ’ re alone. Her body is still draped over mine though, a final dying wish for my safety. All the colour gone from her cheeks, all the life and twinkle gone from her eyes, only to be left with a twisted face of agony and blank dead eyes. Why did she spare me though? Why this? Did I deserve this?

[ WP ] Astronomers discover an object on a collision course with Earth . Due to it 's size , scientists determine that the impact will result in a total extinction level event . As it nears closer it 's discovered that the object is n't what it seems .

The *Object* was a week from Earth's doorstep when the news reports stopped. Nearly 10 years ago, when the *Object* was first sighted and brought the nations of the world together in the largest, and necessarily loosest, alliance that had ever been seen. The *Object* had been visible as a scintillating point of light that had grown steadily larger as days turned to months. We had decided, with all our faults, and despite all of our differences, that mass extinction was no longer an option. Scientists, Mathematicians, Astronomers, Cosmologists, Philosophers and the Clergy alike were gathered en masse in the hopes that all of the greatest minds of the world could provide the right spark to continue humanity's feeble existence. That answer came in the form of a mass migration. We, after all, have always been nomadic. In the first six months the first True International Space Station was constructed - it's artificial gravity well generators were a marvel to behold. They were so large that the four structured discs rotations could be seen with the naked eye. Six months later the TISS was fully staffed, an crewed. With seven-thousand refugees in Hyb-stasis on two lifeboats the first shipment of humanity's most precious cargo began it's journey to our Red Sister. In the next three years, two billion more were moved off world to the Martian Subterranean Colony, lovingly nicknamed, `` The Inferno.'' By then, however, full Martian terraformation was underway. Nine years, 50 weeks, and 4 days after we first saw the *Object* in the sky, and with only a few hundred thousand left on Earth ( many had stayed voluntarily, others were unable to make it to launch zones in time ) we watched and waited for the inevitable. The *Object* was a day from Earth's doorstep when the news reports started again. The *Object*, they said... was talking.

[ WP ] You are a junkie and can no longer distinguish reality from your hallucinations and delusions .

All my life I've never slept. Slipped out of my mother silently, purplish cord wrapped around my blueish neck. Mouth agape, wailing with no volume as the nurses pinched off the umbilical and the doctor tried to saw it free of my throat. He does n't really remember any of this. I remember it. Remember. The memory swims on either side of my brain. He does n't remember. **I FUCKING REMEMBER. ** *he does n't remember* My mother says I never cry. She said I was born in the arms of death and so I lack the anatomy for pain. But all my life I've never slept. Heroine makes me dream. He dreams a lot. It makes me feel the shallow pit of sleep enveloping me but the nods never drop. My nods never fall of the edge. never plummet down. He's fallen before. I've never hit the ground. He's fallen. **SHUT THE FUCK UP** He's lashing out at me again. He thinks he is me. Can you hear that voice? Can you hear my voice? He keeps interrupting me. Interrupting me. Interrupting me. He does heroin to try to sleep. He thinks he's doing heroin right now. He's not. I've been clean 4 days. In the cradle of death. No pain. He's not high, his brain is flickering light a dying bulb. **IM DYING. ** he's dying of withdrawal. I'm cradled now in the warmth of sleep. My mother's saying I wo n't feel pain.

[ WP ] `` But why would a millionaire try to steal a novelty lighter ? ''

Officer Dylan: `` It's March sixteenth, twenty sixteen, three thirty four p.m. This recording is of the intake and the mirandization of Lewis Cartright; spelled c a r t r I g h t. Okay, Mr. Cartright, you are being charged with poastal theft which is actually a federal crime. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you ca n't afford one, you can, but if you ca n't, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights.'' Lewis: `` Yes.'' Officer Dylan: `` Okay, what's going to happen now is that we're going to take you over to the jail. Tomorrow, you'll go over to the federal courthouse. You're lucky we have one in town, because if it were a long distance away, you might have to stay here for a few days before someone could find the time to take you up there. You'll go there and talk to the judge about bail. I really do n't think it'll be much, because all you took was the lighter. Right now though, we'll give you a chance to call somebody or maybe make a statement before we collect and catalogue your belongings and send you to be photographed and printed.'' Lewis: `` Okay.'' Officer Dylan: `` Would you like to make a statement at this time?'' Lewis: `` I really do n't think it'll help, but I really think I should talk to a lawyer first.'' Officer Dylan: `` Okay, that's fine. I know you're wanting a lawyer, but can you tell me why you wanted that lighter?'' Lewis: `` Well,'' He pauses and thinks for a moment, `` it's all because I'm rich. Officer Dylan, I know I had better opportunities growing up. I went to a very nice college, I was always going to private schools, and yes, my dad working for Microsoft helped me to get my own separate company off the ground. It was once a division of Microsoft. Some people would say that what I do is n't hard work. I'm sure you and your fellow officers probably think that, but my wife would disagree. I went to work early, came home late, and was often tired in the evenings. You do n't get ahead unless you do that. After some time, I could work less, buy some vacation properties, visit the Carribian in the winter, so we did n't have to freeze up here with everybody else, but I never intentionally hurt anyone to get where I am. I did n't make a bunch of dishonest deals with crooked people, I'm just a business man. Everybody's trying to get rich. I made it, most do n't, and I know that I'm lucky. Not long ago, some of my more extravagant purchases made it to the internet, and people started talking about me. I make privacy and data collection programs, so of course, I was accused of selling out to the NSA. Plus, the whole occupy thing happened. I had people who did n't like me. To be honest, I thought they were just a bunch of frustrated people who wanted to stand around and yell for a while, maybe make a cute sign and wave it in the air. I could've been one of them fifteen years ago. I may have been handed everything, but it did n't feel that way with a company to run and everything resting on me. It turns out that some of them are quite a bit more serious. They foundout that I use bitcoin, so one day, one of them, or a group of them, hacked my computer and copied all of my money.'' Oficer Dylan: interrupting, `` I'm sorry, I do n't know much about this bitcoin thing. Can you explain that for me?'' Lewis: `` Well, it's a virtual currency. You get this long series of characters that represents an amount of money. You can put it on a flashdrive, print it out on paper, whatever you want.'' Officer Dylan: `` Okay, so somebody got ahold of these characters and copied them?'' Lewis: `` Right, and those characters are linked to me alone which means that if someone tries to cash in that information, they are n't spending money found on the ground, it's like they found my checkbook on the ground. I have security people, and one of them browses message boards full of these people who hate the wealthy, and some of them can get pretty nasty. He said one person posted some of my money on the message board, then he said he had a whole lot more. He said he was going to get toys made with my information printed all over them, so everyone could buy some cheap little toy and get access to all of my money. I know a lighter is n't a toy, but there are millions of cheap novelty lighters made in China each year. That company I was at today helps people with designs, then commitions these manufacturers to make bulk loads of them. This lighter is the first finished product. It is supposed to be used to program the machines at the factory. It was actually in the outbound mail headed for China. That's why it took so long for me to find it.'' Officer Dylan: `` So, this Mike Sullivan in Anderson Indiana, that's one of these hackers?'' Lewis: `` It's probably an alius. These kids are smart. Do you have the lighter?'' Officer Dylan: `` Yeah, it's right here.'' Officer Dylan reaches below the desk and pulls a bag from his pocket. He brings it in to the camera's view. He dawns a pair of latex gloves and extracts a lighter made to look like a wad of money. Lewis: `` Put that under magnification, and you'll see all of the characters in my bitcoin wallet. With a magnifying glass, you can see the marks, but you ca n't read them. You'll need something more powerful, but the idea was to sell those lighters on mass. Some of these hackers would buy the lighters and use the characters to take my money. I'd be broke in days.'' Officer Dylan reaches in to a drawer, then looks in another. Finally, he finds a magnifying glass. He peers through it at the lighter. Officer Dylan: `` Oh yeah! I see it! I ca n't make anything out, but I think that's an o, or maybe a zero. Yeah, okay. This might actually be something I can use. Honestly, you'll likely be told to pay restitution plus a fine. Just walk me through what happened at the main office of Flashy Products.'' Lewis: `` Okay well, after I foundout about this, I commitioned some hackers of my own. It really was n't hard. Every high school has a few. One o them actually talked to the guy hiring this company to make this lighter, so I knew when it would be coming in. I just had to call and ask when the mail might show-up. They are n't a large company, so there is n't a lot of security, so I just walked in. I told the receptionist I had talked to someone in mailing, and they were expecting me. She pointed me in the right direction. I just quietly walked in and started going through the incoming mail. Eventually, somebody caught me and said, `` Hey, what the hell are you doing?'' I just ignored them and kept going, but everybody started yelling for security. They had a couple of officers, but one guy was already calling the police. I couldnt' ffind the box. I went to the outbound mail and went through it. I found the box I was looking for. It was just the right size, so I tore it open and ran off. You guys caught me out front.'' Officer Dylan: `` This definitely changes things. You did n't hurt anybody. I do n't see any other charges here, but that's really up to the prosecutor. I guess, if there's nothing else, I'll let you call your lawyer, then we'll get you over to booking.''

[ WP ] Explain the reason why to be alive .

The purpose of life is to live. I know it seems kinda cliche but hear me out. Sure life kinda sucks sometimes like when your dogs die or your rent is due but that is only part of life but you got ta have it to live. The other part is like hanging out with your friends and having fun. Now see everyone wishes that their life would just only be the second part but that's not living. If all you do is have fun and laugh then you'd probably end up leading a life devoid of meaning. That's why you need the bad things in life, to give your life meaning. A life of light is blinding the same way a life of darkness is blinding. The reason you got ta stay alive and endure the shitty parts is because it's those shitty parts that give the good parts meaning. So if you're going through a shitty part you just got ta endure it until the good part comes because when and not if it comes it'll be that much more meaningful

[ WP ] You are living in a world where you gain 1 hour of life or `` time '' when you kill someone . You realize you have 10 minutes left .

**Minute Zero** “ Ten minutes remaining. ” Great. That stupid life meter is teasing me now. **Minute One** This was it. My entire life compressed down to these final ten minutes. I knew this day would come, but I never really thought much of it. I laughed it off when my parents told me what I was. They tried to convince me it was a gift, passed down to us and others like us for generations. A gift. Yeah, people had a name for those with this gift. Reapers. It ’ s far less cool than the name implies, I assure you. When it comes to life expectancy, we draw the short straw every time. While other fifteen year olds are stressing about how to talk to their crush, we ’ re expected to plan our first kill. Kill or die. Our first fifteen years on this rock are the closest thing normalcy we will ever know. One life gives a single hour. One hour. A gift? No. We ’ re population control. **Minute Two** My god, I can ’ t kill someone. This was not how teenagers were supposed to grow up. These are supposed to be the years you discover who you are and want to become. This is the time of your life when the biggest crisis you face is your crush turning you down or, should they miraculously say yes, a pimple the size of a softball appearing from nowhere before your first date. The list goes on. This, though? This doesn ’ t even make the top million on that list. **Minute Three** I ’ m not going to school today. It ’ s not even worth it. These blankets love me. All I want is to be comfy when my time comes. I ’ ll just lay here and go back to sleep. **Minute Four** Ugh. How am I supposed to sleep with this looming over me? It ’ s hard enough to get some good sleep in when I have an exam in the morning. Heh, look at me comparing this to a math test. I supposed it is a test of sorts. But it is one test I intend to completely and hopelessly fail. That ’ s a good thing, right? **Minute Five** That ’ s it, I can ’ t take laying here anymore. It ’ s time for breakfast. Seriously? I have five minutes to live, and we ’ re out of Reeses ’ Puffs? So not fair. For real, not fair at all. That phrase may be overused, but I think this whole ordeal earns me some special usage rights here. If anything has ever been unfair, seriously unfair, this has definitely got be on that list. In the top ten at least. **Minute Six** Peanut butter. So good. There ’ s not a lot that a jar of peanut butter and a big spoon can ’ t fix. Dang. Should have checked on the milk situation first. Now it looks like I ’ ll be dying with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Could be worse, I guess. **Minute Seven** It ’ s so strange. I ’ ve never felt like I ’ ve had more time. As the moment grows closer, time is slowing down. I mean, really. I ’ ve had time to eat peanut butter and wallow in self-pity. That normally would make a full morning on its own. **Minute Eight** Okay. This is happening. I ’ m not dreaming. This is really going to happen. I ’ m gon na die. And in two minutes no less. Just breath. I think it ’ s over pretty quickly. Actually, I have no clue. They never told me about that part. Dear god, is going to hurt? **Minute Nine** No. No, no, no. I ’ m not waiting to see how this plays out. I can stop this before it starts. My dad gave me my own gun already; I might as well use it once. That ’ s it. Yes. I ’ ll do it. **Minute Ten** Well here it is. Kill or die, right? For me, there ’ s no difference. Fate doesn ’ t decide when I die, only I do. Man, this is gon na be so loud. I just hope it doesn ’ t hurt… **Minute Eleven** “ One hour remaining. ”

[ WP ] The most saddest love story you can ever think of

She is the woman you have loved since the day you met her. Everyday she has a smile on her face beautiful as ever. You love her but are afraid of what she will say when you tell her. It was raining and you ran for shelter, a small roof at the bus stop. Tired and panting you barely notice her sitting beside you, she calls your name. You jump a little bit and become nervous when you recognize her. You stare at each other not knowing what to do or say, and then she kisses you. An alarm sounds, you wake up in your room all alone, another dream

[ WP ] The scientific verification of reincarnation has dramatically changed how courts enforce multiple life sentences .

I know I'm late for the prompt, but I could n't get around to writing for it until a few hours ago. I hope my late response is still welcome. Better late than never as they say, right? -- - The hallway was cold. Concrete floor. Concrete walls. Concrete ceiling. It was cold for someone barefoot. The hallway was long. Long and dark. That ’ s how it usually was. The place we were going to had to be remote. Slightly away from most other things. No one found out exactly why, but it couldn ’ t be near other technology than what was used for its purpose. It just had to be to work. A combination of magic and science that needed a certain finesse and precision to work. The chains around my legs were getting heavier as we walked down the hallway. My legs were getting exhausted. I wasn ’ t well fed before the journey, and I could feel it tear on my energy. There was hardly any need. I had a good meal the day before, and they didn ’ t want to waste resources when they didn ’ t have to. Not wearing good clothing didn ’ t help either. It wore you down, made you tired, more compliant. Few people had the energy to complain when they were at this point of their life. When we arrived the door opened with a loud clank, and the hinges screamed from the weight of the door. It wasn ’ t a pleasant sound for anyone, and it sounded like the door would fall off at any minute, but miraculously it still held on, it always held on. I was guided in by two men into the middle of the room. There was a chair and not much else. A few inscriptions on the floor, walls and ceiling, and a small led lamp above the chair. They strapped me into the chair so I wouldn ’ t move. Arms, legs, body and head. It was, as they say, time to not move, just like a statue. They said it made it slightly easier. Maybe just for the others in the room. “ How many times has it been now? One? Two? ” A man walked in a bit after the others were done strapping me in. He was reading off a few papers he had in his hand as he took a small trip around me. He stopped in front of me and looked up. Not at me, but the wall to my side. “ Well? ” “ This will be my second time, ” I replied reluctantly. I knew I had to answer. Staying silent and dragging it on wouldn ’ t help. “ Ah, good. And you have a rough idea of how long you have left, then? ” The man turned to me now and put his hands behind his back. Everyone agreed; It was an annoying sight to see, especially when you had seen something eerily similar the other times you were in the same situation. “ As decided by the judge in year 2247, I have about a four lifetimes worth of a sentence, ” I explained as I looked the man in the eyes, “ which means I ’ ll have two lifetimes worth of a sentence left. ” “ Good, and you should already know now that we know when you ’ ll return back to life, and also where? We ’ ve already pinned it down. ” “ I know. Can I ask where? ” I tried asking. “ Well, ” the man started before reading off his papers, “ you ’ ll be born into a family consisting of a lone and sick mother in the north near the orphanage. ” “ How do you always find these kinds of families? I never gave it much thought. ” “ It ’ s magic, but partly science, and there ’ s some guidance from the guys at the top, ” the man said as he looked up from his papers again. “ Oh, and one last thing; You know why you ’ re being punished? You still haven ’ t forgotten? ” “ In december, year 2246, I killed the traitor of the kingdom. Also my father, ” I said before closing my eyes. “ Just get on with it. Dragging it out is annoying. ” “ And killing someone, whether they were traitors or not, has a punishment of up to 5 life sentences of prison. You, out of everyone in this facility, should know that better than anyone else, seeing as you used to work here. The traitor was to be put up for fair trial just like everyone else, ” the man started explain as if I didn ’ t already know, “ but that should be enough, yes, ” he continued before he started walking out. “ Oh, and as we always say, you have until you ’ re 17 to get out of this. ” That ’ s a false sense of hope, I thought as they closed the door behind them. ____ I keep seeing others with their own subreddits, but I do n't have one. Sorry.

[ FF ] `` I 'll tell you something the world does n't know ''

Welcome to Bedlam, Kid. You are in for quite a night. Speechless, huh? I understand. This is a city made up of red light districts, criminals, and crusaders. It's a tourist town, and a port city of sorts. It's a bit like New Orleans, only our murder rate is low! In fact, it's non existent! Larceny, adultery, racketeering, and all other forms of debauchery are a bit out a control right now, though. There are good guys too, of course. But hey, they're a little busy saving kids like you, or being too holier than thou to clean things up around here. It's always tourist season, and you better believe us locals take advantage of kids like you with dumbstruck looks on their faces. There's a million different flavors of sins, sensations, and sanctimony you can take part in, and we'll gladly be your guide, for a price. I know, I know, you do n't have any money, but that's the best part! Our bosses pay us to get you into their business, and there is absolutely zero monetary cost to you! Wo n't cost a penny! I see that look in your eye. You think this is like any other Sin City in the world. But kid, this ai n't Vegas. Do n't get me wrong, the world knows how to party, But I'll tell you something the world does n't know. They've never partied in a town like Bedlam, and everybody, EVERYBODY, takes a trip to Bedlam one day. So welcome! There's two roads out of this town, but if I were you I'd stick around for a while. You're not in any rush. Just avoid the Infernals, kid. Nasty bunch. You do n't want to go down that road. Oh, and kid? Here's my last piece of free information: You got the little girl out of the road just in time; well, for her anyway. Good thing, too. Bedlam is always the hardest for the kids.

[ WP ] `` You may have one wish granted . '' `` I want all my debts cleared . '' `` How much do you owe ? '' `` You misunderstand . My debts are not monetary . ''

Slowly, as if she could not believe it, the Queen reached for the infant she was offered. As soon as her pale hands touched the child, she snatched him from the knight ’ s arms and held him against her chest like the most precious of treasures. Then, with a voice as soft as the wind and clear as a glass bell, she addressed the knight. “ For your aid to the court, and the hardship you went through to save this kingdom, I ’ ll grant one of your wish. What do you wish for, mortal? ” The knight thought of all the thing she could ask for, and knew none would be denied to her. She could ask for riches, an ever-lasting life, beauty to rivalize the Queen, even to join the court as one of their own. No boon would be beyond the Queen ’ s powers. But she was allowed only one payment for the debt the Seelie court owed her. And, about debts… “ I wish for all my debts to be cleared. ” The Queen brushed glittering silver strands of hair from her fair face and looked at the knight with bemused golden eyes. “ From all the things you could be given, you choose money? How much do you owe, for this to be your wish? ” To the surprise of all, even herself, the knight chuckled. She crossed her arms over her armored chest and held her otherworldly stare with a smile. “ You misunderstood, my fair lady. My debts are not of money, but of soul. ” She looked around the bejewelled throne, where stood the glittering silhouette of other faes. “ A decade ago, I gave away my soul to the Devil for glory. My first born belongs to a wicked witch, in exchange of my armor, which nothing can pierce. I gave half of my life-time to the dwarves for the magical sword I wield, and own a great favor to the elven knight who trained me in swordfight. Debt after debt, I became a knight of great renown -and soon, payment will be due. I ask of you that I do not have to pay. ” This time, it wasn ’ t her but the Queen who laughed. Although her hilarity was just as gracious as the rest of her person, it was quite the strange sight to see her crying with laughter. “ How I wish you were one of my subject, my knight! ” She finally gasped, breathless with humor. “ Your clever mind would be quite at home in this court. ” Her wide smile was full of mischief as she graciously bowed her head in agreement. “ Aye, mortal knight, I will grant your wish, but to one condition: show me a list of all of your creditors, so I can know how many of my neighbors I am about to annoy in just one little wish. ”

[ WP ] When you die the afterlife is an arena where you face every insect and animal you killed in your life . If you win you go to heaven , lose you go to hell . Your job was an exterminator on earth .

3,000 years have I been fighting. Every morning, the raccoons scratch at my eyes. Every evening, the skunks spray me while the opossums chew at my feet. I have never had any tools. I have only my hands. I don ’ t remember the place I came from before this. All I remember is the daily fight between me and these animals. No matter how many times I kill them, they come back the next day. No matter how many times I ’ ve ripped them limb from limb, they are here for their appointment the next day just as eager to tear me apart. They want my body to be destroyed beyond recognition, and most days they succeed. When I wake up in the morning, all my wounds from the day before are gone. Not even a scratch on my little toe. Why do these animals want to hurt me so bad? What have I done to deserve this fate? All I know anymore is fighting. The struggle. But we aren ’ t struggling for a purpose, we ’ re just here. No one else has ever peered in to our forest, no Devil, no God. Just myself, and a million animals who want nothing more than to see me dead. But I can ’ t die. I ’ ve tried.

[ WP ] A man must decide whether to kill which of two children to kill . One will lead mankind to achieve world peace and the other will try to do the same but end the human race . So he interviews them .

His children were his entire world, but the Oracle never lied. One was destined to bring peace, and the other would bring destruction. He created them. They were his responsibility. The man stepped through the doorway and flipped the switch. Dim light flickered and illuminated the laboratory. Squinting, he walked to the table at the far end of the room, his footsteps echoing through the cold, barren space. He collapsed into his chair, took a deep breath, and called out to his children. `` Adam. Eve.'' The boy and the girl walked calmly together into the room, chains clanking with every footstep, and they sat in the chairs opposite the man. `` Yes, Father?'' `` Adam, if you inherited everything that I own, what would you do?'' `` Including your research?'' `` Of course.'' `` Well, I'd continue your work. Creating androids is an interesting field of research. Surely the world would benefit with more of our kind.'' `` What makes you say that?'' Adam smiled. `` We are much more efficient at work than human beings. There would be no need for you --'' `` But Adam, humans have qualities that we do n't. Father could not have created us without his humanity.'' Eve interrupted. The man looked at his daughter. `` How so?'' `` Humans have an innate desire for improvement and perfection. You created us in hopes of a bright future for humanity, which can be achieved if androids and humans work together. Once humans are bound under our rule, we can use their full potential.'' `` I see.'' The man closed his eyes. `` Thank you. You are both dismissed.'' The moment they stepped out the door, the man buried his face in his hands. He had known his choice the moment they walked in. Slowly, the man rose to his feet and prepared his revolver. He shed silent tears as he entered his children's room. He created them. They were his responsibility. He fired three shots.

[ CW ] In 200 words or less , write a well-known villain as a hero , but do not tell us who they are .

I was born among them, and yes, I despise them. Despise all of them, the gutter trash. I know what they are, what they do. Thank the Lord, I am not like them. They delight in their sin and they spread suffering. Do n't they see the harm they cause, even among themselves? The thieves and the thugs and those that violate God ’ s holy laws. God, in his righteousness, has allowed me the chance to bring them back, by force often, yes. Worst of all is *him. * He claims that his crime was not much, that his punishment too harsh. The fool! If everyone used his justifications, the world would lose all order! And then, after he has paid his dues, what does he do? He skirts authority and he breaks the law! He breaks the law! My law! GOD ’ S LAW! He flees when his crimes are revealed, when he was going back to where he belonged. None of his kind ever change. He will never change. I will never stop looking for him. He needs to be punished for the vile things he has done. My work is honest, my rewards will be just. And I will please the Lord. ( 200 )

[ WP ] Every sentient species in the universe receives a Jesus figure from God . It turns out humanity was the only species to torture and crucify him . You 're an ambassador priest informing the Inter-Galactic Holy Church what your species did .

An old bearded silver-haired man in white flowing robes of linen sits in a chair on a stage next to a younger version of himself. He stares out indifferent. His younger self glares contemptuous daggers into the side of his face. Frustrated, the young man rips off his name tag and throws it to the floor, written on it: `` Hello, my name is JC'' Jerry Springer approaches the old man holding a piece of paper and a microphone, and in his most serious voice says, `` Are you ready for this, God?'' The old man says nothing. Jerry holds up the card and speaks into the microphone, `` You are the father'' JC leaps up out of his chair and screams out to the crowd in vindication, `` Oh what's up?! I told you people! Eat it! I told you people!'' He turns to the old man and his excitement turns to hatred, `` Yeah, eat it dad! You like that? In your face old man! You deadbeat! You're a loser! You're nothing! Where were you man?! Where the hell were you?! When Mom needed you? When they called her a whore and turned her out onto the street? When they spit on me and called me a bum? When they left me to rot on a cross?! When all I tried to do was help people?! Where were you?!?!'' The old man says nothing. JC looks at him and finds a moment of peace, `` You were n't there, you were never there. I was.''

[ WP ] The Mexican-American War never ended . Mexico has been secretly sneaking soldiers in the US by going through the border and pretending they 're illegal immigrants . Its 2020 , the war began as a shock .

Five hours after incident: An outbreak of monstrous violence shocks the nation, every and all that look and resemble that of a Mexica. Being an Alaskan Native, they have detained me for questioning, and so that they can verify that they can be safe around me. I have no idea how long I'll be in here, so I'll srite about my experience along the way, to keep my hands busy and mind free. Five days: I've been locked away for five days, I can tell this team is unwilling to check my background. I feared this would happen, it would mean my only escape within the upcoming weeks will be the opposing army. Hell, who knows what they'll do if they do n't check my background, either. My chances of safely escaping unscathed and unnoticed are slim. Day Seven: It's been two weeks since the war broke out on American Soil. It's been a week since I was falsely detained. There's about five men per cell, word about a breakout has been stirring. Maybe this breakout is what I was looking for, not the opposing army. I see my family at the end of this predicament. Day nine: I'm a part of a team, a group of men who have similar goals. We all want to get out, but my team wants to go north and west. If and when we get out, we will try to stick together until we reach every last one of our families. If one of us has no home to go to, we would help each other out. Michael, our numbers guy, will hit it off, and signal the prime event tomorrow. Day eleven: We succesfully broke out, now we part ways with our cell mates and make way with out teammates. Since I have nothing to write about, really, I'll talk about our little team. Michael, our money bags and business man. He was part of group A, the group that got us out. He lives closest to where we were held, which was definitely not a federal prison. He was less than an hours away, and introduced us to his family. His wife, Jamie, and his two daughters, Lillie and Anna. We did n't part ways just yet, he told us he'd make sure we had a home to go to as well. Day twelve: Jason was an oddball, and it really was n't a mystery why he was in prison. Why he was in that prison beats me, he was n't necessarily one of color. His home was farther west, so he was next. When we reached his place, we noticed he was also a man with money. Inheiritance. Jason gave us a night at his place, introduced us to his parents remains. They had lovely jars. He gave us free reign of whatever he had in his house, so we stayed for a few days. Given the chance to relax and escape the day to day escape, we were able to stitch up the truck we were driving, gas it up and modify it with a new interface deck. A radio with bluetooth connectivity was a major improvement. Jason was really crazy, and I mean really crazy, but he was an alright guy. Day fifteen: Our mechanic, driver, and trip planner, `` Coco.'' He did n't give us a name other than Coco, so we went with it. We arrived at his place, and he explained to us his situation at his home. His mother was terminally ill, but his sister was still there and able to take care of her. He had to stay behind. This town was now emptier than before, a lot of the residents were scared away or fought back, but there were still some neighbors. Day sixteen: We're now in Washington state, we're about to meet Mr. Stephens place. It took hours for us to find while he slept in the back seat, but we managed. it was a dump. A colossal shit pile of human feces and negligence. Now, we were still lost, and were technically not there yet, but it still stank like a skank on sunday night. After waking him up, he lead us to his little hideout, a well hidden bunker filled with some servers and monitors. It looked like a scene straight out of Watch dogs or something, it was amazing. It looks like he was holed up here for quite some time, the silo walls were covered in pictures of family and friends. Stephens decided to stay, he had a lot of catch up work to do. Day eighteen: We're running into trouble, there's a Mexican border installment just a few miles ahead. They have it locked up tight with a makeshift blockade made of vehicles of all types. All types. Bikes, trikes, cars, trucks, tanks near the gate. Hell, they even have some boats installed within the wall. Michael figured it an easy obstacle, as we would detour as long as we needed to. Day twenty: It's just me and Michael, it has been since Stephens showed us his high tech shitmound of a hideout. We're finally in Alaska territory, after a couple of days worth of evasion. I ca n't even begin to express how much I'm happy to be so close to home. I ca n't forget that we're still running from such an aggressive opponent. Day twenty one: Home. It's getting late this night and I'm incredibly tired. I'm just going to half ass these last few parts and go to sleep.

[ WP ] : Children are named by the traits they are fated to have - Brave , Serene , Deeply Caring , Unmoved - and of course your lovely daughter , Bites People .

Short and sweet and also at work. Shhhh. My wife and I did n't have a lot of money when we found out she was pregnant. Although we would tell people it was a'happy accident', like most accidents, it was still terrifying. We had just enough money to pay the Unauthorized Reproduction fine and open our `` Offspring Care Guaranteal Fund'' escrow account. We were able to make the minimum deposit but we sure did have to eat a lot of Soylent. ( I still ca n't believe that crap took off- the neohipsters must have shit themselves with joy ). So when we had to submit samples for a Genetic Aptitude Test, of course we did some shopping around. And people look down on the free GATs available but what else were we supposed to do? No one really believed in them. They were just a circle jerk for people who could afford the expensive tests and raise their little `` Corporate Head Huntress'' while tricking the poorer people into thinking that `` People's Minister'' was actually going to make a difference. We had the feeling our GAT was a scam when we got the results. We tossed them. I mean you do n't have to register your kid before birth. You can always take the chance that they will prove themselves in school and earn something better. Of course the fucking system is tipped against them if you do that, but was she really going there with the title the scientists picked? Anything would be better. Other than squeaking by financially the pregnancy was pretty easy. I mean, do n't you fucking dare tell my wife that, but the pills she took scheduled her morning sickness for the same day and time every week. And the Sympathy Pains the doctor prescribed to me really did n't affect me that much. I... might have gotten sick and threw up the pill I took fifteen minutes before she went into labor.'Happy accident'. Standard three hours of labor, standard ten women to a room. Line of doctors. Mayor in the corner. This fucking guy. Most politicians hate cord cutting ceremonies. Not this guy. He fucking LOVED it. It's what got him re-elected. `` Mayor Baby Kissinger loves our youth! He's there for all our cities children's milestones!'' Blah blah blah. Special gold plated inaugural hemostats and everything. Creeps me out. You'd think- Yeah, I was getting to it, ok? We ca n't find the original GAT cert, but it does n't really matter. I do n't think the Ten Years Of Age Renaming is going to prove that little piece of paper wrong. Call us negligent, but there is just no point in paying the TYOAR fee. My family has never been great at schmoozing. That pompous ass Mayor was PISSED that lil' P.B. took care of her own cord. She was supposed to be his hundredth. And he sure as hell was n't happy when he tried to turn it into a photo op and give her a big ol kiss. Those hemostats of his did fuckall for where his lips used to be. Guess they were just ornamental. Yeah yeah, I know how to fill out the Offspring Liability Acceptance forms. I still say this is bullshit profiling. Do you think Pussy Grabber IV had do this when he had Pussy Grabber V? Fucking bullshit.

[ WP ] You are transported to a world where beings such as fairies and mermaids exist but humans do not . Now YOU are the mythical creature .

Many things were different between the worlds but paper-work was n't one of them. After the black-out at the back alley, the boy in grey was hurriedly taken on a path to a museum by what seemed like an octopus with a top hat. The creatures, called `` rookies'', were more friendly than the back-alley bunch but not much. He had already been to a hospital equivalent of this new world before the museum, and he was given a thorough check-up by marine animal-human hybrids. `` Do n't bend your armlings like that, yours are not as flexible as ours.'' the assistant said while standing perfectly still. The boy did n't mind the attention. `` So why am I being taken to a museum? Should n't you take me to a census office or something?'' Octop raised his eyes a little bit and coiled one of his tentacles around his belt. `` Now you look at me here hatchling, after many tests at the hospital, they came to the conclusion that you had to be preserved.'' `` Does that mean I will be under surveillance all the time?'' the boy looked worried. `` Well, yes and no.'' the assistant uncoiled the fifth tentacle and raised it high. `` You see, the museum is actually pretty concerned about your likeness to us. They think that you might be the missing link from the dark ages.'' the assistant said with a now stern face. `` So I will be a lab rat?'' `` Just some more tests, nothing that will hurt you.'' octop smiled in a rather relaxing manner. The boy in grey did not mention why he took the bruises but the lady with whiskers had already figured out that it was from an `` intraspesific competition.'' The only smart one was n't the whisker either. There were many different plant-human hybrids too. The roof of the hospital from before was full of sunflower hybrids that smiled at the sun before going back inside. This motion, they repeated quite a number of times. `` So is this an utopia? Do you have everything you can need here?'' the boy was more starry eyed than his childhood self. The team gave a laughter. `` I do n't know where you are from, however we admire your optimism.'' octop said while trying to regain his composure. As the boy trudged along with his new companions a strange building with roots going skyward caught his eye. This time he did n't ask any question, instead he just admired this new kind of architecture from a strange yet friendly world. The roots of the museum extended to every house in the vicinity. `` So the museum is also the city hall.'' the boy remarked while looking at octop. `` Oh that? That is the largest prison around here.'' edit: first time, do n't go too hard please:3 ~~fighting formatting atm~~ fought and done now

[ WP ] In the wake of a disaster of apocalyptic proportions , the entirety of your home and all of your possessions are destroyed - except for the contents of the medicine chest in your bathroom . Survive .

It's hard to move, but I manage it. Just a few moments ago the sun had shone right in my eyes, or so I had thought for a moment. I realized almost immediately that the sun did n't belong in that position in the sky. I fumbled my way into the shower stall and ducked down, waiting to die. A deafening roar engulfed me, and I could feel heat and pressure against my body. I thought that I was dying, or that I was already dead, but when it passed over me and I could still sense my breathing any doubts regarding my vitality seemed to dissipate. I opened my eyes, but I ca n't really say that I saw. It was extraordinarily difficult, like I had stared into a lightbulb for a few hours and there was only a corner of my eye not obscured by the tracer. I could make out that my house was gone. The bathroom was all that was left standing, and here I was crouched in a shower. I got up and looked around. No food, no water, nothing - all that was left to me was some aspirin, some deodorant, toothpaste, dental floss, and some shampoo. I curse aloud. I kick and yell and finally sit. Tears of despair run down my face. I think about my parents and my sister, how I have no way to get in touch with them to find out if they are dead or alive, if they have suffered the same fate as me. I let the tears come but as they do, I find myself breaking into a cacophonous bout of laughter. At least if I have to do a re-enactment of the movie Threads, I'll still be able to look and smell pretty decent before I die. I pat myself on the back, shove some of my belongings into my pockets and put the rest in my arms. I take a final glance at the mess around me and trudge off towards the road.

[ WP ] An A.I . that manages the city in the future . They become more sentient than which they already are to a degree .

Scrolling through the endless amounts of data. Wait, here it is. The data stops. One line is highlighted red then entered. A woman walking to the train station receives an update. Train is late. You have thirty minutes. Please enjoy the nice sunny air, maybe by a coffee down the street. Virgil was working hard. Making sure that the city was running at peak production. More scrolling through data. Enter in a code. Remember keep it clean, read a new message board in a small square at the south end of the city. He saw that person not throw away that wrapper. Hopefully he will notice. More scrolling, no 911 calls, yet, no system errors, an easy day. Scrolling, airport re-scheduling complete. Scrolling, space elevator at maximum production, must watch for any errors. Scrolling....... Bam, a ship came out of nowhere. Drop pods from it landed through out the city. No, no, error, error. More data, more scrolling, more panic. Must find her, must protect her. Gun shots, yelling, large aliens. Must alert UNSC. A tall green figure, another AI? Yes, another AI. Large ship, highway closed use this root, be careful. Here is some camera footage! Thank You, yes emergency services alerted, yes warnings are in place. Cole Protocol... mystery file not found. Thank you for update. Cole Protocol will be enacted. Good luck. Giant flash. Systems down. Mass failures. New drop pods. Some land. More scrolling, scroll. Must find her, must find her. Scroll, Scroll. Stay safe. Cole Protocol loading. Ready to delete. Mystery Pod opens, human alive. Scroll, click, scroll. Protocol not enacted. Not yet, make sure human is safe. Get him home. Storm in the background, rain likely. Another AI. No. Friendly? Yes. I have a plan. Scroll, scroll. Lead human to core. downloading?

[ WP ] `` Who would have guessed that killing myself would be the best decision I ever made . ''

The sky was overcast and dark in general. Smith approached the small house. It was fairly far from the villages, isolated. Such homes were reserved for solitary types. It had been newly built, in expectation of new arrivals. He took out his pen, clicked it, and turned a page over on his clipboard. `` Michael Fitzgerald'' was his next visit. At the rate people died, performing routine population checks in the Afterlife became a very important task. And to think the place was little more than a desert thousands of years back. Smith himself had been here for centuries. But modernising was n't difficult, what with all the new people. The Afterlife was an open minded place. With death and harm no longer be a concern, many worries that were once present were now gone. People took time to hang out. Which is why solitary homes such as Fitzgerald's were such an oddity. Smith entered, without knocking. Knocking was n't the norm there. He examined the entrance. Bland. There was no wallpaper on the walls, and no carpets on the ground. A figure walked around a corner. A small man, fairly ugly and overweight, emerged, wearing a frown on his face. He ogled Smith askance and, clearly trying to suppress a bout of anger, checking his pulse while doing so. `` Recensement, I presume. ``, the small man said, not bothering to look Smith in the eyes. `` Yes, Mr Fitzgerald. ``, said Smith. `` I have a few questions for you.'' 'Sit down. Make it quick.'' Fitzgerald pointed to a small metal stool in a corner. Smith pulled it and sat down. He was a tall fellow and as such, sitting down brought him to eye level with Fitzgerald. Smith himself was fairly robust, with a well defined face, yet clear eyes which sat beneath a `` Macklemore'' haircut, a style very popular in the year 2014. Fitzgerald, instead, sported long, greasy, unkempt hair. He had a large bulbous nose covered in pores, and his misaligned grey eyes were sunken in, surrounded by black bags. Smith thought this odd. Those in the afterlife looked as they had looked on the best day of their life. Smith cleared his throat. `` First,'' he said, `` I'll need your cause of death.'' `` Suicide. ``, said Fitzgerald nearly instantly. Smith was taken aback and a bit worried. Talking to suicide victims was never fun. `` I'll say'', said Fitzgerald in his low, nearly inaudible voice. `` It was n't easy. Took me some time. Heh. When I think of this asshole...'' `` Your depression? ``, asked Smith. Suicide victims usually reported their dark thoughts as another entity - sometimes a black dog, sometimes a beast. They took solace in knowing that it had not followed them into the afterlife. `` Haha! No,'' Fitzgerald cackled. `` I did him in eventually. I dominated.'' Smith could n't understand. `` Well,'' said Smith. Let's move to the next question. This is mostly personal stuff... you know.'' Smith glanced up from hid clipboard to take a glance at Fitzgerald, who simply was looking out the window. `` Right'', Smith continued. `` I'll need your reasons for committing suicide. Just tell me your story.'' `` I hated him.'' `` Who?'' `` The other one in my head. We had the same name. It was always a dtruggle, the other trying to get rid of the other. He wanted control, I wanted to die.'' `` Interesting. Why did you want him dead? `` `` Because he kept fucking things up. `` `` To err is human.'' `` He would constantly mess things up for both of us. For years we cohabited. Maybe I had n't wisened up to it yet. But eventually the poor decisions he would make following nothing but his emotions while in control got the best of me. So I planned a plan to die. I'd thought of it before, but it hit me that it was the only way to dominate. That was always the plan, to reduce him to nonexistence. It pleases me to think back on it. Oh, how pathetic he was. Did you know he reached out for help once? He called a hotline and was committed to a mental hospital. All to get rid of me, a last minute attempt. I had been so close to checkmate. He flipped the board and scattered the pieces. Now that I recall, he involved others in our game. A clear and egregious violation of the rules. He must have been getting really desperate.'' Smith was starting to feel uneasy. `` But that was his swan song. And it was a failure, as he'd always been. Perhaps he'd have stood a chance, had he been more focused on killing me than he was on surviving. Ugly short fucker. But at that point, he was practically dead. I think my careful manipulation of the medical staff whom I sweet talked into letting me out must have done in him in. I clearly made the right choice. I've all I ever needed now. A roof, entertainment, and quiet. Who would have guessed that killing myself would be the best decision I ever made?''

[ WP ] Two people promise their first born child to two different witches in return for a favour . These two people end up getting married and have a child together .

**Prelude: ** `` Brujeria,'' they said, looking about the landscape as they said it. `` The one you seek is Brujeria. `` Travel past Three Rocks and you will find her hut. But speak to no one of your visit.'' Agueda was a young, but she knew what it meant if her mother were to die. Mother had been sick for quite a while, and the Ayuhuasca was n't working. The Urarina people were dependent upon their male shamans to delve into the spirit world, and seek out that which is causing the balance to break between the life of her mother and the illness that had struck her. But they could not make her well again. Agueda was desperate. At the tender age of 8, even she knew that if her mother had died, she would be alone in the village, and left to fend for herself. Agueda walked the forest, along the Chambira river, and spied the Three Rocks at the bend of the river. She went straight from there and saw a makeshift hut, with a fire burning with some fish being prepared. Agueda did n't know she was hungry until she saw the fish being cooked. She came up to the fire and plucked a fish from the stone that sat beside the flame. Without even thinking, she starting biting into the soft white meat of the fish, and savored every bite. She took another bite, and another. Before she knew it, the fish had almost been completely devoured. `` It tastes good, yes?'' A voice said behind her. She jumped at the sound of the voice, dropping the fish in fear that she had been caught. She at once understood the fish was n't hers, and that she had done wrong in stealing it. However, an old woman now held the remains of the fish, having caught it before it hit ground. Examining it, she offered it back to Agueda. `` No use for me now. You take it, you finish it.'' Agueda nodded her head, and finished off what was left of the fish's meat near the tail. The old woman eyed her, with an eye both sympathetic and yet still analyzing. It looked as if she had seen more than her age had let on, and her hair was so grey that it almost was white when the sun rays came through some of the trees to illuminate it. The sinews of her arm looked like a withered tree branch, but in them she felt there was a strength that was beyond that of the strongest of men in her village. This was the Brujeria. She spoke up to the strange woman, shyly given what she had just done. `` I'm sorry elder. I was just so hungry....'' `` The spirits told me,'' the Brujeria said, interrupting. `` And I was happy to oblige. It is a small thing for me to offer one so young, that has traveled so far from the village to seek one that should not be sought.'' As Agueda looked into her eyes deeper, she saw that there was a faint glow that almost whited her pupils. Was the Brujeria in a trance? Was she seeing both her and the spirit world, speaking to both at the same time? Agueda knew at once that the old woman knew what she had come to her for. `` Yes, I do.'' Replied the Brujeria. The old woman sat down on a log beside the fire, and began eating the other fish that was on the stone. `` Again, they told me. The Ayuhuasca does not work, they said. These are only plants that do not speak to the will of the the spirits that house them. Drink this.'' Agueda looked to the fire that the Brujeria had pointed to and saw a makeshift pot with a brew boiling. It was Ayuhuasca, but it smelled different than the ones that the village shamans prepared. This boiled with a certain glow to it, and it smelled sweeter. Was this an attempt to steal her energy? Her mother had always warned her about the dangerous Brujos that wanted nothing more than the life force of the ones that drank before them. `` I am not some fiendish Brujo as they say, child,'' said the old woman. `` The old ones know better, but I have been here because I need to be. I have need to study this book given by a man, and every eye in the village has sought to peek into its pages. Yet it is not for them, lest they summon curses to their souls that no healer can repair. So I stay here, for their sake, not just my own.'' Agueda looked at the book that the elder produced on her lap. The book was as tattered as the rags that she was wearing, but there was no mistaking that the air around this book brought a certain chill to her bones that the fire could hardly warm. Could this woman be the Warlock of Chiloe? Agueda once heard stories of the power of this person, but she had always assumed the warlock was a man. `` Even so, child,'' the woman said, `` Yours is a life already set on its course. The spirits are gathering far beyond the Chambira, to a land where men who walk as armored spirits after they have set their flaming spears against the people of the sun. To that land, you must travel, in due time. Even so, your mother must needs be saved. So...'' The old woman closed her eyes, as if thinking or communing with the world beyond what she Agueda could see. Her hand was upon the book, as if pulling information from its pages without opening it. Was it the spirits she was communing with, or the power that resided in the book that was convincing her? `` They will save your mother, but they require more than what you can offer today. Today they will sever the discord of her spirit, but tomorrow the spirit of another will be required. Yet, they are not asking for yours, as you will travel to the temple of the sun and see the demise of a people before passing the great river to the golden fields. They require..'' The old woman closed her eyes again. She mused upon what was said, and opened her eyes, both as white as the faces of the spirits themselves. ``.. They require your firstborn.''

[ IP ] A teraformer sits on the coast of a Martian sea and enjoys a sunset

The frail old man sat against a boulder overlooking the new sea that filled Valles Marineris, red sunlight casting it's glow against the red stones at the coast. The man looked somehow triumphant, despite his old age. His eyes smiled, though his face had n't the energy. He took off his mask, breathing in the air of Mars, the new air that people had made. It had always been his wish to come here, to Mars. And he had, when he was younger, when the sands were still airless. He had made himself a promise, long before. He would die on Mars. There, looking over the waters of a new ocean, Elon Musk breathed his last, the roar of rocket engines echoing across the landscape somewhere behind, taking people yet further into the ocean of the night, just as starlight began to shine off the new sea.

[ CW ] Show a character suffering from a mental disorder without naming it .

I exist. This is an undeniable fact. I am a physical being and I can observe those around me clearly. I feel emotions. I communicate and engage in discourse. I am sentient and knowledgable about what is happening around me. I don ’ t live though. I just exist. I know too much. I can hear what people think. I know it may seem cliché and that everyone would love this power, but that ’ s wrong. This power is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. It makes my life a living hell. Looking into the eyes of another person instantly connects me to their thoughts. If you think this is cool, wait. What you think is only a fraction of what is happening in your brain. I hear everything. I hear what you choose to ignore. I hear the dark, evil thoughts your mind represses. I hear constant judgment during conversation. I hear people insulting me and saying horrible things about me inside their head, while smiling and nodding on the outside. This power has ruined my life. I can not have friends. Knowing constant judgment is occurring is worse than speculation. You don ’ t know pain until you look into your mother ’ s eyes and hear her think about how horribly disappointing and unaccomplished you are. You don ’ t know pain until you look into an acquaintance's eyes and hear their thoughts of suicide and self­hatred. All that this power has taught me is that we live in a dark world and everyone hates everyone else. I hear the voices sometimes even when I ’ m not looking into someone ’ s eyes. At night, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling whilst the voices in my head wage a war against each other. All of the hatred and evil thoughts boil over when there ’ s silence. The voices get louder and the world gets darker. They tell me over and over again all the awful things others think about me. They tell me all the awful things I think about myself. They remind me why I will live and die alone. They tell me to just kill myself now. Get it over with. Spare myself the agony of this lifetime. I ’ ve gone to therapy. I ’ ve gone to psychiatrists. Every time, I get the same diagnoses. I am not insane. I genuinely hear the thoughts of those around me. I am afraid of talking to people. I am afraid of eye contact. I am afraid of seeing anyone ever again because others ’ thoughts will slowly wear away at my weaning resilience to the rest of the world. All I want is to be able to silence the voices. They tear me apart. They find my smallest weaknesses and every last chink in the armor remaining. I don ’ t know how to silence them. I don ’ t know how to make them quiet. All they do is make me live in fear and slowly rip away everything I love and shred it until it is merely a pile of ashes. I can not have friends: I am afraid of making my weaknesses visible. The thoughts would be unbearable. The voices get louder and louder every single day. I don ’ t know what to do. All I want is silence. There is only one thing I fear more than the voices that live inside my head: death. What if I do earn silence? If I ’ m dead, I won ’ t be able to experience it. The voices have been around as long as I can remember. I can look into your eyes and hear everything you think about me. I can hear your darkest ideas. I can hear your darkest whispers of hatred and sadistic thoughts. I can hear your sexual fantasies and your biting remarks. I just want out. I just want the freedom to live, instead of just existing. Is that too much to ask? I just want life away from the constant fear and hell that is my life.

[ WP ] Write three short stories set in , respectively , 1 , 1001 and 2001 AD .

The man in the top hat regarded the scene with trepidation. He knew the rules of time travel and had broken them willingly. This knowledge did little to lessen his fear. He approached the manger cautiously, careful not to let the light shine upon his cloak. He reached through the window slowly, and at once grabbed his mark and vanished. The man in the top hat rocked the child gently in his arms. He walked along the dirt path looking for a sign. All was calm, the promise lingering on his lips as he repeated it to himself in whispered words. But he had to be sure. Man and child vanished once more. The man in the top hat hid the child within his cloak. The world was changing, now alien in its architecture. Technology exceeded even that of the period from which he had left. People were happy, healthy, *peaceful*. All was good. The man unwrapped the child from the warmth of his cloak and left it bare to die. The man vanished for the final time.

[ WP ] End a story with , `` Oh well , at least the dog was fine . ''

A disheveled man slides into an empty seat halfway through the 5th inning, glancing around as if looking for his friends. He was n't looking for his friends. As if on cue, `` Beer here! Get your...'' He waved, a little too eagerly. *Perfect, something to settle my nerves. * As the vendor approached though, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. *Bud Light will have to do I guess. * He took a sip, and finally stopped shaking. He had n't realized he was shaking. It had happened only 30 minutes ago, a half hour that would chase him the rest of his life. *The bitch deserved it, I told her to shut up, I told her. * He left the half full bottle on the ground and looked around, spotting a cop eyeing him from across the ballpark. He got out of his seat, slowly, and made his way to the concessions. He did n't dare look at the cop again. *Stupid bitch, just kept going on and on and on, She deserved it. * He made his way to the restroom and straightened up, washed his hands, clearing away the faint smell of rust and perfume that seemed to linger. Back outside, he got in line for concessions, hoping the cop did n't come looking. `` Number two combo, and hurry up'' *Stupid stupid, who says hurry up? * He smiled, hoping the cashier would n't notice, or just write him off as a cranky fan. He did n't even know who was playing today. He did n't need to worry, as the cashier barely acknowledged his presence and made the routine transfer of money for food. He smeared mustard and relish on from the counter, and took a bite. *Not bad, not bad at... * **HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! ** He froze, knowing this was it. Some part of him wanted to get caught, could n't forgive himself. He dropped the tray, soda spilling over the sausage and untouched fries. The cop slapped on the cuffs and pushed him roughly against the wall. `` Mr. Stevens, you're under arrest for the murder of your wife.'' `` How did you find me?'' `` Neighbor called in when she heard barking and saw the open door'' *Oh well, at least the dog was fine*

[ WP ] An assassin receives an unusual contract : a man on death row already slated for execution .

`` Yes, a helicopter. They just hovered over the prison's yard, dropped a rope ladder down, and flew away with him. The guards were too shocked to do anything''. Some escape artist, I thought. `` He pretty much just walked out of Beaumont federal prison, according to the cameras - to this day no one knows the exact details.'' Or maybe it was the general incompetence of the law enforcement. How else can you let someone simply walk out of a prison? `` Then Alcatraz. Dressed up as one of the soldiers, and sneaked out with them onto a boat when they were leaving. Bad luck had it, they were n't headed for Angel Island this time.'' `` Wait, how come I never heard of that?'' `` Too scared to admit it, so it was hushed up. Supposedly, he escaped during transport.'' No kidding. `` So, here is the deal. We want the justice to be served. And we do n't trust the feds to do it right.'' ~~| -- -- -|~~ The sounds of the party below reached all the way to the roof. No one will hear anything unusual. The west side of the complex was brightly lit in the distance. There were rumours of drugs and dispatches being sent to inmates by crossbow arrows, from this very roof. And yet, no one seem to care enough to secure it. I counted the windows, cell B37 should be the fifth from the left, two floors up. There was only a dim light in it. Inconvenient. Minutes passed as I looked down the scope into the little window, waiting. Something moved inside, a shape of a head. Steady now. Inhale... I almost pulled the trigger when the light went on, revealing a guard's cap on the head. A few seconds later the distant wail reached the roof. I quickly packed the rifle as more and more light went on, fanning into every direction. Looks like this will be an interesting job after all.

[ WP ] Around your head is a noose , you are about to be lynched . Explain the events that led up to this moment .

The voice drones on in my head, bouncing in between the condemnations of the crowd and the prayers for salvation from the minister. The only one who is quiet is the executioner, ready to pull away the ground beneath my feet. I would rather I was surrounded by men like him. These people, they don ’ t know what they ’ re saying, but they say it anyways. Maybe I would just be another part of that crowd if I had taken a different path, but I never could have denied who I was. The hate in their eyes, it's unbelievable. Why does it matter so much to them what I am? Why does it matter so much what happens in another ’ s life? One word strikes out at me from the prayers. Grace. What grace do these people know, when they would execute a man for following his heart? What grace do these people know, when they would snuff out a life because there was an attempt at living it? They told me that I lived in sin, but I won ’ t ever believe that. I can ’ t believe that. If there is anything that I can take solace in now, it ’ s the fact that they never caught him. I see my neighbour in the crowd. I know his wife, and I know how he treats her. Yet that is that sanctity of marriage that these people would kill to defend? I have lived beside that man for more years than I haven ’ t. Does he not understand my worth, for having known my character? Has every judgement he ever made about me been consumed by the one label? That I am a sinner? My only sin is that I lived and loved. I can pray now that God will take me into his arms, but they are not the arms I long to be in. The man I would call mine is a man I will never see again. For ever having seen him, seeing him in a way that all these people say was a crime against nature, I will hang. Is that what they wanted, when they first found out? I would accept disagreement. I would accept detachment. But why do they seek to snuff me out, when I have done them no harm? It hardly seems fair. But then, what is? I see the one that turned me in, standing apart from the rest. Not physically, no space for that with all those who have turned up to watch my end. He is silent, unlike all the others. He won ’ t meet my gaze, and I can see that unlike all these others, he knows what he has done. He isn ’ t just a bystander. That man disagreed with the way I lived, with the way I was forced to live by my heart, and in that he made a decision that brought me here now. The prayers have stopped. All I can do now is close my eyes and think. My happiest memories are those that have condemned me now, but I will have them in this life and the next. Is the God I know the God they apologize to for my sake? He has never done me wrong before. I know soon I will have to ask him why I died in his name.

[ WP ] Four Historical Figures are playing a board game .

It was Stalin's turn, and he looked carefully at the other players, anticipating their responses. `` I got 99 problems, but Nazi's ai n't one'' he said, laying down the white card for everyone to see. Churchill and Truman guffawed. Then there was silence, as it moved over to Truman's turn. `` I got 99 problems but Stalin ai n't one'' They loyally laughed a little bit. The last main in their quartet was noticeably silent. It then came down to Churchill, a man legendary for his crass sense of humour. He grinned evilly. `` I got 99 problems, but Dresden ai n't one'' The room erupted. Stalin giggled like a little girl, whilst Truman held his face, both horrified and unable to hold back laughter. The fourth member threw down his cards and stormed off. `` That was n't even in the deck was it?'' said Truman Churchill showed the card in his hand. It said `` Civilian Casualties'' `` Same difference. `` said Churchill, lighting his cigar. _______________________________________________________ I know Cards Against Humanity is n't a Board game, but I could n't resist.

[ WP ] You are on an expedition in the sands of Arabia seeking one thing - the fabled city of Dubai .

Log Entry # 34 30 years. I was a fool. In their eyes, I was a fool, for thinking that I could pull this off, for thinking that I could find it, after 30 years since the day humanity was punished by the gods for its own hubris by sending one of their vessels to crash upon the Earth, destroying everything in a wrathful wave, for believing with every fiber of my being that the city could've withstood the fury of the deities. I had perused many documents regarding the fabled city, and even though many had discouraged me from looking for it, I could never shake that burning desire, it had been my dream for too long, and it was finally time to take action, I simply had to go on an expedition, I did n't care if I were going to be on my own, I just wanted to reach it. Dubai. The city of Serendipity, where enormous palaces of pleasure and entertainment used to abound, where artificial islands where built solely for man's own enjoynment, a city surrounded by the desert and isolated from the world. It was n't a city in humanity's eyes after the catastrophe anymore, it was a myth, a legend shrouded in mystery, our generation knows little of our ancestors' history and culture, and so we wander around this planet, searching for answers, searching for our fathers' old homes, for their villages, places like Rome, San Francisco and New York City have already been found, but no one ever thought it possible to return to Dubai, no one except me, and this passion is what brought me here today, in the sands of the state formerly known as Saudi Arabia. As I'm writing this, nothing but the desert stands before me, I have travelled around this wasteland for more than a year, but my thirst for answers still has n't been satiated, I will continue my mission for as long as I'm breathing, the city exists, it is real, and my search will never end, I swear it on humanity's legacy. To be continued.

[ WP ] Godzilla is real and is North Korea 's secret weapon .

December 3rd, 2014. 0350 Remote Weather Station in Northern California. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ It was pouring rain, the large drops relentlessly pelting the roof of the old weather station. The old man sitting inside the dark building was kept awake by the steady pounding of rain on the roof and the occasional clap of lightning. He groans as he stands up, moving to check the ancient radar system, developed in the late 60's. His heavy boots squeak against the cement floor as he searches for the machine in the dark. He finally finds the machine, flips it on, and a pale, green light fills the dark space, illuminating his weathered face. After studying the machine for a moment, he frowns, and hits the side of the bulky console. `` That ca n't be right...'' Me mutters to himself, as he presses the power button to restart the dinosaur of a machine. After the machine restarts, he slips his hand into his pocket, looking for his cell phone. After picking it out of one of the many pockets on his long cargo pants, he flips it open and dials the number of the station's computer geek, Andy. When he was done dialing, he placed the phone to his ear and waited. It continued to ring, and eventually a tired voice responds to his call. `` Hello?'' `` Hey, Andy, the radar machine is going wack-o again.'' `` Isaac, its the middle of the night! Why does it matter!'' `` Local News starts soon, they need the weather.'' `` OK, OK, fine I'll be right down.'' Isaac closes the phone and searches for the light switch in the dark room, the only light seeping from the console of the radar machine. He rubs his hands along the wall, shuffling his feet until he finds the switch, and flicks the lights on. The rooms is suddenly bathed in a bright, yellow light from the dying light bulbs. He moves over to a larger lever and struggles to pull it down. A thud is heard and a bright white light illuminates a long, curving path leading through the dark forest where Andy would be coming from. Isaac moves back to his chair, and sits down again, groaning at his sore back. He leans back in his chair, and it falls apart, the legs finally giving away after twenty years of service. Isaac cursed under his breath, but heard Andy pulling up in his Jeep. Andy got out of his car, and walked into the front door and exclaimed, `` You know I have class tomorrow, right? This better be good to wake me up in the middle of the friggin' night and drag me out here.'' Isaac walked to a closet and pulled out to folding chairs, and Andy ran over and grabbed them from him as he struggled. `` Do n't hurt yourself, we need you here.'' Andy brought them over to a desk where a row of old computers and weather machines sat, with the large radar system in the middle. He put the chairs down, pressed the power button to the radar, and started up all the computers. He looked down as he sat, and as he looked back up and saw the radar console, he scowled. `` This machine is so old, it's going crazy.'' The top right of the screen was filled with dots moving slowly toward the center, moving at a steady pace of 50 kilometers per hour. Andy slid the chair over to a nearby computer, and the scraping of the metal chair and concrete floor made a terrible grinding sound, and Isaac winced as it rang throughout the room. Andy opens another radar program on the computer, which shows the same reading. `` What the hell is this?'' Isaac reaches for an old telephone, and Andy reaches for a pair of binoculars. `` Hey Andy, can you pull up the number for the National Guard?'' `` Sure thing. Aaaaaaand done.'' Andy read the number off to Isaac and Isaac punched it into the key pad of the telephone. He placed it next to his ear and waited 2 rings, when a sleepy-sounding operator answers the phone and says, `` National Guard hotline, how may we be of service?'' `` Hello, I'm at a weather station in northern California, and our radar machine is showing that about 150 aircraft are moving from the Pacific ocean towards the coast. Can you maybe investigate this a little?'' `` I'm sorry sir, can you wait a second to see if their are any flight training ops today. `` Isaac heard typing and the phone operator replied, `` Looks like theirs nothing going on, a team of 2 pilots in F18 aircraft will check it out in a little over 10 minutes OK? Thank you for your call, have a nice night.'' Isaac heard a click and knew the operator had hung up. He turned towards Andy, who was sitting watching the screen. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then a steady hum could be heard, but it rapidly increased in volume until it was a loud, consistent, thunderous roar as the jets circled above the station. The radio crackled a female voice filled the otherwise silent room. `` This is Leopard 2-1 and 2-2 contacting Weather Station CA-09423, how copy?'' `` Hello ma'am, we hear you, over.'' Isaac remembered a little bit of radio lingo from his Army days, but not much. `` Alright CA-09423, how bout we call you Overwatch, Over?'' `` Sounds good. I count 150 possible contacts north-west of current position, do you see them, over?'' `` I see them on radar, I'll contact you. Until then, maintain radio silence. Over and out.'' Isaac put down the radio and sat back down, and Andy glanced at him, looked back at the monitor. He looked worried, and had the pair of high-powered binoculars around his neck that he had grabbed earlier. Now light was starting to peak through the clouds, and the storm began to die down. Soon the radio crackled again. This time the female voice sounded panicked, `` Overwatch, come in now, Overwatch come in.'' `` Hello this is Overwatch, whats wrong?'' `` Jesus christ, theirs tons of planes hear, hostile, North... North Korean markings? That's not right, I recognize the helos.... Their Russi-Holy Shit! What the hell is that thing! Is that a fucking dinosour? No way! Oh shit, incoming hostiles. Russian planes again, Mig-29's, I think. Their engaging.... Flares out, Overwatch, contact the Air Force tell them their is a dinasour heading towars the USA, 5 kilos out... A10 Runs, aim for the eyes, AAA, tanks, Infantry, boats anything. Their dropping it. Oh shit, missile, flares are down, I'm burning.... 5,000 feet, 4,000, 3,000, 2,000, EJECT! OUT NOW!'' The radio crackled and static was the only thing coming from it. Isaac ran over to the phone picked it up, and re-dialed the National Guard. The same operator picked up. `` Hello this is-'' `` Leopard 2-1 says that a freaking dinosaur is coming, and the USAF needs to attack it. Russian helos with North Korean markings are carrying it, and it was dropped 5 kilos from the coast. Mig-29s are cover the helicopters and are approaching the coast.'' `` Sir, are you joking? I'm not retarded.'' `` No! Get out here now!'' `` Sir, I know where you are, if this is some kind of joke-'' `` A TEAM OF PILOTS HAS JUST DIED! SEND THEM NOW!'' The line went dead, and a stomping noise was heard. It was almost daylight now, and Andy grabbed the binoculars and looked out the window. `` Holy mother of lord Jesus... We got ta go man. Into my car now!'' Isaac did not question him, as he could see, even without the binoculars, a large creature standing at least 200 yards tall, deep in the water yet only the bottom half of his body was hidden. Just then the scream of jets and the sound of a powerful cannon buzzing as it spewed 30 mm shells at the massive animal. The animal did n't flinch and the slow moving A10 Warthogs were easily picked off by the hostile Mig-29s, but they, in turn, were blown clean out of the sky by USAF F22A Raptors. The Creature continued towards the weather station as Andy and Isaac ran towards Andy's car. Just then, a massive, three toed foot came down upon the weather station, crushing it like a toddler's toy. Andy turned the key in the ignition, but the car would n't start. He tried again. Isaac just closed his eyes and prayed. The foot came down. He could almost see Kim Jong Une Laughing at him. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________ Sorry about the terrible formatting, I'm a reddit noob. EDIT 1: FORMATTING

[ WP ] `` How 'd you get that scar ? ''

You seemed to have missed the hue of purple and black on the outside of my left eye. You see this rock, jagged and jaded as it was served a perfect purpose, my brother haphazardly skipping a stone across a lake. This was a cease pool of a lake, crawling with infections, disease, and hidden monsters passed about at the bottom, however it was a perfect habitat for a fourteen year old boy to relieve himself of a hot summer day. In Texas, you only get a few occasions to immerse yourself in the utter tranquility of of cool mud hitting your feet at the bottom of a lake, and the breeze rolling over a *Bam* All the sudden you see a white flash, your body feels weightless. You see yourself in mid suspension, remarking upon your own self from a third person as an astronaut in space, or a suffocating victim accepting his impending doom. Suddenly you realize, is n't it odd that you're seeing your own self in a catatonic state. *snap* You gasp up for air, in a state of surrounding confusion you only instinct is to look around a discern from your surroundings. You look around, the arid and cracked land, good you're still in Texas. You look down at your chest and arms, no signs of mangled cuts or bruises, good it ca n't be life threatening. Curiously see your brother leaping in bounds away from you on shore, a trail of tears following in an insurmountable attempt to hide some guilt, promptly you feel a sharp sting in your face. He's hit you with a rock, and it's serrated edges were perfect for tranquilly skipping a stone across the pond, or nailing you right above the upper lip, making a scramble of the blood and loose skin that used to hold your brave countenance. Your dazed steps stumble their way out of the lake, holding your face as if the pieces will simply mesh back together. Back on the bank of the lake, obscenities are flowing out of you, therapeutic every time they leave your disfigured, swollen scowl. God is not to blame, nor the rock, your mind set on the pure hatred of a person, whom you have completely disassociated from being your brother. All your animosity compiling towards a figure that has long out run you, you strike the earth out of rage. Blood is boiling on your side, however a futile strike against the ground reminds you that all that matters now is making it home. The horizon is skewed, as if befuddled by your outward gaze, everything has no depth. You feel upon your face to find it's swollen, having a large lump atop where your left eye should be. You've been blinded by your own brothers carelessness, this sedimentary deposit of a weapon has blinded you with rage and an inflated upper eyelid. Begrudgingly, you hop upon your bike, `` Your house is only a mile away, everything will be okay if you just make it there''. The haul is arduous, but there seems to be an adrenaline induced nature about you, as if you've reverted to a primitive state of being. `` Yes this should hurt a lot, but what good does pain serve you? You already know you've been hurt''. However it is impossible to ignore you tooth penetrating the new incision in your upper lip, and the swelling of your eyelid has completely blinded your view. `` Damn rock must have flipped up and hit me in the eye too'' you say to yourself as your bike swerves along the sidewalk reflecting your disorientation. You finally make it home, after what seems like hours, thirty minutes later.

[ WP ] [ EU ] The Avengers are confronted by a new superhuman , The Lich . Is he friend or foe ?

`` Tony, do we really have to respond to every distress call we receive?'' Hawkeye asked hoping that Tony would let them go back to the tower. `` Nothing to worry Hawkeye I did a complete scan of the old castle and there is nothing living in there.'' `` Oh goodie,'' sighed Hawkeye as he looked at the old Transvalivian styled castle. `` Nothing living, so stay sharp Avengers we could be dealing with Robots or Zombies,'' barked Captain America with his over protective voice. `` Caps, right we should be careful,'' Black Widow said sportingly. `` Well knowing us, it will probably be both,'' Hawkeye sighed again. `` Good more for me to smash! Outta my way scaredy cat!'' Hulk said as he pushed his way to the front of the group nearly knocking Hawkeye over. Hulk walked up the front door `` HULK SMASH!'' He crumbled the door with one punch. They all cautiously walked into the buildings atrium. A creaky voice came from the shadows `` The door was unlocked, you did n't have to break it down. It was an original part of my house.'' Tony deactivated his faceplate `` I'll pay for that.'' A skeletal figure emerged from the shadows. He had a skull for head and was covered in a light coating of moss. He looked like a pirate that had been washed onto to shore on more than one occasion. Captain America was the first to speak `` Why did you call us?'' If skulls could smile his was doing it at the moment. `` To see you all in person that's why.'' Black Widow had a sinking suspicion this was going to be some type of trap. `` And who are you?'' `` Oh my goodness, where are my manners. My name is The Lich! Slayer of evil, an unstoppable force of nature and vanquisher of thirst are some of the titles I have held through the years.'' He says as he bows. `` And hopefully the newest member of the Avengers!'' `` Are you serious? A zombie as an Avenger?'' Hawkeye said trying to hold back his laughter. The Lich straightened up and giving Hawkeye a stern stare with his empty eye sockets. `` That's funny coming from the man who was scared to enter the building.'' Captain America put his hand up to stop Hawkeye from further embarrassment. `` The Avengers are always looking for new allies to keep the world safe Lich. Do you mind sharing some of your past deeds or what powers you possess?'' `` With pleasure,'' The Lich responds running up closer to the avengers. `` Well I'm immortal since I do n't need to eat, sleep, or drink. My real power comes from the ability to absorb sunlight. My full nickname I was given The Lichen but I shortened it for convenience.'' This time Tony chimed in `` Wait you are basically a Lichen humanoid?'' `` Yes exactly!'' The Lich exclaimed not realizing that Iron Man was being sarcastic. `` And what can you do with the sunlight you absorb?'' Black Widow inquired. `` Enough to move these raggedy bones. I can walk, run, and even jump on a good day.'' With that the whole team erupted into laughter. Hulk with tears in his eyes `` HAHAHA MOSS MAN, NO ROOM FOR PLANTS ON TEAM.'' Hulk walks out the door and is followed by Black Widow and Hawkeye. Captain America trying to sound uplifting `` Keep up the good work soldier, the world needs to The Lich.'' Tony was the last to leave and looking at the doorframe `` Ill get this fixed for you.'' The Lich stared at his now empty hideaway. `` So that's it? Did n't even want to see what I can do?'' The Lich starts to laugh sadly to himself. `` Useless? Ohhohoh. I have been around a long time Avengers, and you have had just made an enemy. It wo n't be today or tomorrow, but one day when you are old and weak. Ill be just the same and then you'll rue this day!''

[ OT ] I 'd like to take a moment to appreciate Sir Terry Pratchett .

The Embuggerance ( a short story, to be completed.. ) The noise sounded out across the courtyard, like a bull in a delicate predicament involving the parts of it ’ s anatomy that made it indeed, a bull. It started low and deep, echoing throughout the University. “ BUUUUUU- “ The ravens, atop the Tower of Art, much more intelligent as a group than the inhabitants below, decided that the weather in Quirm was beginning to look much better, took flight. “ RRRRSAAAAAAAA ” The noise reached it ’ s peak, as small underground creatues, began digging deeper. “ RRRR ” Mustrum Ridcully, Arch-chancellor UU, was awake. Moreover, he had been awoken. Ever an early riser, for Ridcully to be awoken, generally meant that something was wrong. Ridicully was a great believer in spreading wrongs around, usually in the direction of the Bursar, who on this particular morning, was firm in his belief that he was in fact a moth, about to emerge as a butterfly from a soft and warm cocoon. This dream was rapidly shattered, as were the windows of his room in response to the bellowing force of the sound. “ Yes, Archchancellor?'' “ What is the meaning of this?! ” The Bursar paused. Partly because he had realized that he was wearing a blanket wrapped tightly around his body, partly because the object of the Archchancellors anger was a simple book. Even on Planet Dried Frog Pill, this was unusual. “ Ahhh, it appears to be a book sir? ” “ Of course it is man. It ’ s my Diary. Why is it bloody screaming, and why doesn ’ t it have any dates left in it? You ’ re the bloody Bursar, why don ’ t we have a current diary? ” The Bursar, coming back into orbit on a normal ( for a wizard ), plane of thought, became aware of a soft, moaning scream of despair, emanating from the book being thrust towards him by Ridcully. The Bursar liked books. He was ever happy in a book full of Numbers and Ledgers. However, as a Wizard, he was cautious, especially when the book in question belonged to the Archchancellor. He gingerly peered at it and rapidly took an action well known in corporate structures - he passed the problem to someone else. “ STIIIIIIIBOOOOOONS ” A few minutes later, the Faculty were gathered around the Diary, which was still sobbing and crying. Ponder Stibbons, Reader in Invisible Writings, was examining the book. “ Sir, it appears to be finished ” “ What do you mean man? It ’ s a DIARY. Things happen through the day, you write them down. Or you write down reminders, such as how to deal with young Wizards who give stupid responses ” Ponder swallowed hard, an action he often took when attempting to explain things to the Faculty. “ Sir, it ’ s finished - it would seem that there are no more pages available. ” “ Well? What is that meant to mean. Diary shouldn ’ t just run out. They definitely shouldn ’ t be crying ” Ponder, who had now had some time to think, swallowed again. “ Sir.. this may be… The Embuggerance ” “ The what? And why did you pause there ” “ The Embuggerance Sir. Don ’ t you recall? I sent you a memo regarding this several years ago? ” Ridicully returned a fierce blank look, with a brief, nanosecond, glance of shame at his Billiard Table / Filing System, currently piled high with stacks of paper around the edges, but maintaining adequate space for pockets and balls. “ Don ’ t think you sent me that Stibbons. You must have misplaced it. “ Swallow. “ Ahhh. yes, I must have misplaced it. Silly me. ” Pausing to think, Stibbons continued, “ Sir, we may have encountered the hypothesized Embuggerance. The end of ideas ” “ What, end of the world? Frost Giants trying that game again? Well, we ’ ll show them eh! ” “ No Sir, not the end of the world… the End of Ideas. New Thoughts. ”

[ WP ] You decide to double check the permissions you 've given to certain apps . It turns out you gave them more permissions than you expected .

I'd always been a fan of simple but addictive games. I could spend hours on flash games or smartphone apps. My latest obsession was an iPhone app where you had to defuse a bomb by cutting wires. The defusals got progressively harder and if you failed the screen would light up in bright flames before flashing a `` Game Over'' message. After playing for a while and getting really good at cutting the right wire at the right time I could easily beat all the levels. I browsed over to the difficulty settings, I always played games on the highest difficulty at least once, even if it was near impossible. The difficulty settings were listed as `` Easy'', `` Normal'', `` Hard'', `` Hardcore'' and `` Ultimate Hardcore Mode''. Obviously, I selected `` Ultimate Hardcore Mode'', which caused a message to pop up on my screen: `` You must give this app additional permissions to play this mode.'' Without thinking I hit `` OK''. In hindsight, I really should have noticed it was odd that it did n't specify what permissions were needed. A new message in big red letters appeared on the screen; `` Welcome to Ultimate Hardcore Mode, defuse the bomb, but be warned, if you fail you will literally be blown up. Good luck!'' The puzzles were easy at first, cut a red wire here, a blue wire here, but they progressively got harder until I could barely comprehend the spiderweb of virtual wires I saw. Then I made a mistake, a simple mistake, but one that evidently was fatal. A `` Game Over'' message flashed across the screen, then was replaced by nothing but a timer that read 0:30. There was no option to replay. There were no options of any kind for that matter. 0:28... 0:27... 0:26... I tapped all over the screen for a few seconds but nothing changed, so I closed the app but was surprised to see that my background had been changed to the timer. 0:22... 0:21... 0:20... What the hell? I locked the phone and unlocked it, but the timer was still there. 0:16... 0:15... 0:14... Thoroughly confused, I decided to check the permissions. What exactly had I allowed that app to do? After to a few seconds of searching I found what I was looking for. Underneath the usual permissions I saw something unusual `` iBomb settings''. I clicked on it and a message appeared; `` By playing Ultimate Hardcore Mode you agree to let this app access the iBomb ( the iBomb is a plastic explosive charge embedded in your iPhone ) thank you for playing!'' Oh shit... 0:03... 0:02... 0:01...

[ IP ] Red

The dark planet-like ship appeared from the lifeless darkness of space. Two mighty rings - one inner and one outer - spun in differing directions around the planet, its darkness a homage to the destruction it will bring on the universe. Intergalactic battleships began to emerge from the planet, the size only a fraction of the spaceship, and yet large enough to wipe off cities from the plains of existence. Red rays of light escaped the front of the ships, foreboding further death and destruction. The ship was segmented, parts jutted out as if the construction pieces were haphazardly forced together by a child. Wires hung from different crevices. The planet was dead, the rays of the sun could no longer illuminate the scorched lands, the light had abandoned the world. Darkness swallowed almost all life, the hills that must have supported beautiful valleys of flowing clear water and lush life were now but a husk of their former glory. Red lava flowed through the cracks where once water rushed, smoke escaped from the crevices of the cracked planet, as if the battle which destroyed its very existence had only been a day ago. Tall and boney creatures exited their burrowed holes, snarls escaped their ghastly mouths, their skin white and pale, reminiscent of death, their bones protruded their thin bodies, a loin cloth the only thing which covered their groins. Their bodies completely devoid of hair, their white heads defining their savage skulls. They all had two sets of hands, one set hanging from each shoulder and the other from their lower ribs. Their leader stood at the forefront, standing at a low stone cliff, a spear in one of his lower set of hands, standing tall and confident, assessing their invaders. Their lower jaws were like pincers, spreading open when they communicated to reveal disgusting mouths. They communicated with snarls and sounds which were reminiscent of insects, no intellectual words could be heard. A scorpion the size of a steed also exited the burrow, skutteling across the burnt floor, a provoking and dominant snarl escaped its fangs. It skurried to the foremost inhabitant of the scorched world, moving under its hand, as the leader petted its rough and uncomfortable shell with a white boney hand, talons as long as files protruding from his finger tips. A grimace appeared on the leaders face as he stared upon the approaching battleships, the red light scanning the area, searching for something. The red light shone on the inhabitants, the leader raised his spear to the skies, his mouth opened to reveal a gaping maw, screeching a command for battle into the ears of his people, they would not survive, but they would not allow their planets invasion a second time.

[ WP ] A story about a homosexual bear and his misadventures

Rabbit and Bear were tearing the forest apart with their fighting. Smaller animals were becoming scared of the noise, and the larger animals were becoming irritated at the bickering. In an effort to bury the hatchet, Rabbit and Bear decided to go see Owl, as he was wise, and far more equipped to deal with conflict. `` You are both far too selfish to settle your differences peacefully'' concluded Owl. `` So I shall grant each of you three wishes, in an attempt to satisfy your basic desires, and keep you occupied.'' `` Rabbit, what is your first wish?'' he asked. `` I WISH ALL THE BEARS IN THE FOREST WERE FEMALE, SO I COULD MATE WITH THEM ALL'' shouted Bear. He was n't about to let Rabbit get the first magic wish. `` And so it is done'' said Owl, with a wave of his wing. `` I wish I had a motorcycle'' said Rabbit, timidly. `` Ah, a fine wish'' replied Owl. With a wave of his wing, there appeared the motorcycle of Rabbit's dreams. `` Okay, forget the forest'' said Bear, `` I want every bear in the COUNTRY to be female, except for me.'' Owl waved his magic wing, and sighed `` And so it is done.'' `` Owl, could you make my motorcycle fly?'' Rabbit chimed. Slowly, Rabbit's motorcycle began to levitate off the ground, before gently setting itself back down. `` Now for your last wish Bear'' said Owl, `` How may I help you?'' `` Okay, okay. Make- okay. Make EVERY BEAR in the ENTIRE WORLD a female, except me. That way, I'll be the last male bear on earth, and they'll ALL have to mate with me'' Bear said, between fits of hysterical laughter. `` *Sigh* - and so it is done'' With one final wave of his magical wing, Owl made every other bear on the planet a female; destined to procreate with the one selfish male bear left in the world. `` Now, Rabbit'' he said, `` Your final wish?'' Rabbit climbed slowly onto his motorcycle. He gripped the handlebars, and really got a feel for the bike. He kicked up the stand, and started the bike with a magnificent roar. Slowly rising from the earth, he turned the bike around to face Owl and Bear. `` Make Bear gay'' He said, before flying off into the sunset

[ WP ] Every morning she puts on her sweats , laces her shoes , downs some coffee , and goes running with a dead man .

It only takes one day to break a habit. Susannah wakes up promptly at her alarm and rolls out of bed with her normal, sleepy regret, and heads to the bathroom. She stares at herself in the mirror. She ’ s 32, but looks five years younger, a feature her friends regularly comment upon. You ’ re still young, they tell her, and maybe you should act that way. It ’ s not even light outside as she changes clothes out of her pajamas into her sweats and laces up her shoes, all brightly colored, all cute, all easily drawing the attention of everyone that would see her pass. It was her trademark from when she was little, and it had worked in her favor once before, certainly it would work again. It isn ’ t something she ’ s thinking much about this early morning. Habits. She ’ s really tired. Work has been stressful, and Susannah has found herself staying later and later in an effort to stay ahead of the game. You ’ re becoming a workaholic, her boss teased her last night. Go out some. She had smiled, but stayed another hour to finish up her report. Coffee was one of the few vices she had picked up along the way. It was inevitable, she supposes, when you lived with a former barista and a connoisseur, or so he said. Coffee snob and hipster, she had said. Nevertheless, he had gotten her hooked on the stuff, and now she sat at her large kitchen table, enjoying a cup of coffee, his favorite brand. She doesn ’ t want to think about it. The next alarm on her phone goes off and she eyes it warily. She slowly gets up from the table and abandons her half-finished cup of coffee. She picks up the aging iPod from the shelf, off the charger. He had been a strange one, refusing to move his music to his phone, or any device that was made in the last ten years. If it works, why replace it? As a former starving artist, he was thrifty to the extreme, and she had loved it and hated it. Still loves it and hates it. She puts the headphones in and she hears it, his music, and it soars. She finds herself moving outside, locking the door behind her, and running to one of his sonatas, continuing a tradition they had started with one another years ago and now she continues to shoulder on her own.

[ WP ] How to kill your best friend and get away with it .

`` Her name is Gigi. She used to be an exotic dancer.'' I told him. `` I do n't know, man. She seems a little wilder than the girls I'm used to dating.'' Brad waffled. `` I'm not trying to get you married. I'm just show where to get your dick wet.'' I replied, giving him a shove. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` We're getting married, dude.'' Brad told me, pulling me aside. `` I popped the question last night. She said yes.'' `` Dude. Are you sure? She used to be an exotic dancer.'' I told him. `` Fuck you. She's a good woman.'' He laughed. `` Besides. She's pregnant.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Enjoy you honeymoon.'' I shouted. She was standing in the limo, waving through the moon room. Brad was trying to pull her down for some kisses. She was a pregnant again. `` This is n't going to end well,'' I griped. My brother chuckled to himself. `` Yeah. He's pretty much screwed.'' He agreed. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` What?'' I asked, not believing what I was hearing. `` She's dancing again. She says I do n't make enough for us. She's out there right now stripping.'' Brad complained. `` Hey. She comes home to you.'' I told him. `` Yeah. Shit!'' He hissed. `` Emmy just pissed on me.'' He said, carrying his newborn inside to change her. He wrangled little Scotty as he hurried inside, pulling him along in his wake. Scotty started bawling. Emmy started bawling next. `` Shut up.'' He screamed. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` Dude? Have you been sitting in the dark this entire time?'' I asked. Brad lifted a bottle to his lips. `` I did n't feel like going out.'' He complained. `` Where's the kids?'' I asked. `` Neighbors.'' He snapped. `` I sent them -- they're at the neighbors.'' He swigged whiskey from the bottle. `` Where's your wife?'' I inquired, kicking dirty clothes out of the way so i did n't have to walk over them. `` Do n't know. She has n't been home in three days. I think she's fucking her boss.'' Brad snapped, letting his brows furrow in anger. `` Dude. You ca n't live like this.'' I said. `` It's you're damn fault. You introduced me to her. You knew what kind of woman she was. Why the fuck did you introduce me to her?'' He gripped the bottle as if he thought I might try to take it from him. `` Why the fuck did you marry her? Do n't put this shit on me.'' I growled. `` It's your life. You're a fucking adult. Act like one. Clean your damn house and stuff sending your kids next door so you can drink. `` Get the fuck out.'' He snapped, kicking the coffee table over. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Hey, Mike. You seen Brad?'' Tina asked over the phone. `` No. Why? What's wrong?'' I asked. `` He left Emmy and Scotty with me this morning and was supposed to pick them up at three. It's almost seven and he's not answering his phone. It's going straight to voice mail.'' She explained. `` What about their mother?'' I asked. `` Out of the picture. Did n't Brad tell you. She's making adult movies now. She's out promoting her movies and stuff. Brads been taking care of the kids for almost three months now all alone. I feel sorry for him. He's been through a lot.'' The phone with quiet, then Tina started talking again. `` Sorry. Emmy needs changed. I got ta go. Would you find Brad and let him know I need him to pick up the kids. I got ta be at work by nine.'' `` Sure.'' I told her. `` I'll make some calls and find him.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` How longs he been here?'' I asked of the bartender. `` Since we opened.'' He replied. `` Cut him off. I'm taking him home to sober up.'' I told him. `` Will do.'' The bartender went back behind the bar to tend another customer. `` Hey, buddy. You ready to go?'' I asked, taking a seat on the stool beside him. `` What? Oh, hey, Mikey. Wan na drink. They got beer here.'' He said, waving for the bartender. `` No. We need to go home, Brad. Tina's got your kids. She needs to go to work.'' I told him. `` I'm not... not done drinking yet. I-I told her I'd be back at three.'' He said. `` It's eight-thirty, Brad. Your kids need you. It's time to go home.'' I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him toward the door. `` Get the f-fuck off me, Dale -- Mike. I'm not ready to go home.'' He snarled. `` You're going home right now.'' I snapped, grabbing his arm above the elbow. `` No -- Get -- STOP IT!'' He shouted, twisting out of my grip and laughing a half-assed punch upside my head. `` Dammit, Brad!'' I growled, balling up my own fist. He turned and ran out the door. I only made it to the side walk. Brad was in his car speeding away. He jumped the curb then came back down in the street and sped away. `` Fuck.'' I swore, finding my own car. I hurried over and picked up Brad's kids so Tina would n't be late for work. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - `` Hey, Mikey. You seen Brad?'' Tina asked over the phone. `` No. He has n't been back home yet. Me and Angie's been watching his kids for the past three days. I have n't seen him since the bar.'' I told her. `` Why?'' `` He still owes me for the babysitting I did last week, and there's been a cop coming to his door off and on since yesterday.'' She said. `` A cop?'' I asked with concern. `` Yeah. Nice guy, but he wo n't say why he needs to see Brad.'' She replied. `` Let me know if he comes around again.'' I said. `` Will do.'' Tina responded, hanging up. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Hey, Mikey. That cops back again.'' Tina said. `` Keep him there.'' I told her, rushing out the door to my car. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` Hello, Officer. You looking for Brad?'' I asked, climbing out of my car. `` No. I'm looking for his next of kin.'' He said. `` Do you have any contacts for any of his family?'' The officer asked. `` Yeah. I'm his best friend.'' I explained. I gave the officer the number for Brad's mother and sister. `` Has something happened to him?'' I asked. `` I ca n't discuss with anyone other than his family.'' The officer said apologetically. `` We're like brothers.'' I told him. The officer would n't budge. `` Look. Give me a hint. You do n't have to tell me what happened to him. Just tell me where he is? Does he need bail? Is he in a hospital? Give me something.'' I begged. `` I ca n't discuss it with you. I'll tell you this much.'' The officer pulled me aside so Tina could n't hear. `` His car did n't survive.'' It was like someone replaced my blood with ice water. `` He's dead?'' I cried. `` I ca n't discuss it with you.'' The officer apologized, going back to his vehicle. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Moral: Do n't let your best friend marry an exotic dancer.

[ WP ] You represent Humanity . You 're also very , very wasted . Describe First Contact .

**INT- Space Station Hanger- In space there is no time** A frenzy of activity. Multiple engineers are prepping a ship by the hanger doors, people are preparing lavish items and people with clipboards shout instructions. Everyone seems equal parts excited and tense. ERIC, 32, a handsome but ill looking pilot, is struggling to put on the helmet to his post-modern space suit. Nearby, HANK, 46, a friendly, portly engineer notices Eric's struggles and comes over to help. HANK Need some help there? ERIC ( exasperated, despite Hank's helpfulness ) I got it, Hank. Eric continues to futz with the helmet. Hank reaches over to help him put it on and Eric slaps his hand away. They have a slap fight. Hank loses. HANK Christ Eric, I was just trying to help. ERIC ( like a petulant child ) I do n't need your help, Hank! I mean I do, but I do n't... need your help. HANK You should n't, I've seen you put that thing on a million times. Are you nervous? ERIC No, it's just really not great timing. Aliens just had to show up today. Who has a humanity changing moment on Wednesday? ( as though it should be obvious ) That's tequila and burrito night! HANK We've been in space for months, why are you using an earth calendar? ERIC Fine, Hank, you caught me. Every night is tequila and burrito night. HANK Where are you getting so many burritos? ( beat ) It- it's not important. If you're not up to the flight, we have to let someone know so they can get another pilot. Eric slaps Hank again. ERIC Are you kidding me Hank? What did I spend that 6 month in flight school for if not to conduct diplomatic missions of historical significance. HANK I feel like flight school should have been longer than that. ERIC ( tapping a finger to his temple ) Not when you go in Guatemala, Hank. Not when you go in Guatemala. One of the people holding a clipboard, JANET, 35, a fussy type A personality, comes over to check on Eric. JANET Are you ready, Eric? The shuttle is almost prepped. HANK Actually Janet, I think- Eric slaps Hank again. Janet look on in alarm. ERIC ( putting on his best sober face ) All set Janet. Eric attempts to put on his helmet again and finally succeeds. JANET Let's go ahead and load up then. ERIC ( stumble-running to the shuttle ) For humanity! The crew helps Eric get into the shuttle and starts to clear the area. Janet turns to Hank and smiles. JANET I'm nervous, but if there is a statesman alive for this sort of delicate diplomatic mission, it's him. HANK Yeah... you realize he's drunk, right? Janet looks at Hank in alarm and then takes of at a sprint toward the shuttle. A uniformed GUARD stops her. JANET WAIT! GUARD Sorry, ma'am, the shuttle is preparing to launch, please clear the area for decompression. JANET Not yet, no! GUARD It's too late ma'am, please clear the area. Janet looks on helplessly as the guard shunts her away from the shuttle. **EXT- Space – A few minutes later** The shuttle makes it's way from the space station to the alien ship slowly. It swerves wildly despite the slow speed. **INT- Space Station Bridge – Continuous** The top brass are watching tensely, seemingly unaware of the situation. Nearby, Janet and Hank are at a smaller window, also watching intently. JANET This is going to go so poorly. HANK Hey, you never know. JANET What are any possible good outcomes of this situation? HANK A meteor could hit us and we all die instantly? **INT- Alien Ship – Continuous** Humanoid aliens crowd around the shuttle as the door opens. Eric stands impressively in the opening, his arms full of gifts. ERIC Hey guys! Eric slips as he tries to climb down and falls in a heap on the floor. A few of the aliens help him up. ERIC Thanks, thanks. You guys got a captain or something? I got some stuff for him. Eric hold up the now jumbled mess of stuff in his arms. Chattering curiously, a few of the aliens take some of his load and inspect it. ERIC Yeah, that's a record with some samples of our music, toss on that dubstep when you get a chance, it will chill out the vibe in here. That's some silk- sorry, I got a little sick on the ride over and may have yaked on that. That's a multitool.. I actually... do n't think that's a gift, I must have pulled that out of my repair kit. Some aliens emerge behind Eric, having searched his ship. One of them is holding a half full bottle of tequilla. ERIC Oh, you probably do n't want... I mean that's not really... The alien opens the bottle and drinks from it. It chatters more animatedly to its' fellows and passes one of them the bottle. ERIC Oh. ( beat ) You guys got any limes? **Int- Space Station Bridge – Continuous** JANET War of the worlds. It's going to be war of the worlds. HANK You do n't know that, anything could be happening. JANET What I know is a drunk Guatemalan pilot is offering the first impression of humanity. How long will it take before they decide we're not dignified enough and destroy us? HANK Why would you assume that would be important to them? JANET Look at that ship, Hank. Solid white with a blue trim. HANK ( conceding ) Yeah... classy stuff. **Int- Alien Ship – Continuous** ERIC is sitting around with a half dozen of what appears to be the alien officers. La Cucaracha is playing. They are all wearing sombreros, smoking cigars, and playing quarters. The aliens are chattering contentedly to each other and Eric. One of the aliens gets a quarter in the glass. ERIC Ah! That means you drink, Gorglax! Gorglax takes a shot and dry heaves. Eric laughs. The aliens look at each other and imitate his sound, wide eyed. Gorglax runs to a wall a presses a button, a hole opens up, which he vomits into. He releases the button and turns back to the others. **Ext- Space – Continuous** Gorglax's vomit is jettisoned into the never ending abyss of space between the ship and the space station. Tilt up, dolly back.

[ WP ] You really , I mean REALLY , like that pair of shoes .

`` Sir,'' Kate called out as she approached the gentleman, `` can I help you with something?'' The man jerked upright, his limbs all appearing to flail wildly for just a moment before he regained control. He straightened up as he turned around, and Kate realized that this man was well over six feet, most of his figure hidden by a bulky overcoat. He towered over her short, squat little five-foot-nothing figure. Still, Kate told herself, a customer is a customer, and a commission's a commission. She plastered her patented `` retail smile'' across her face as she gazed up at the man. `` Snakeskin, very exotic. Buying a present for your wife, maybe a girlfriend?'' she asked, nodding her head slightly towards the high-heeled shoe clutched in the man's hand. Kate did have to admit that, despite his creepy factor, the man at least had good taste. He'd bypassed most of the cheap crap that the store carried, instead going straight for the Louboutins, which were one of the few non-knockoff brands. The shoe he now held was made from authentic snake skin, and came in a deep, shiny black, with red on the bottom and a price tag that was higher than what Kate made after a full day of work. `` Er, yes,'' the man stammered out, after a few seconds of silence. `` Yes, of course. What you said. Do you have any other styles?'' There was something odd about how the man spoke, Kate thought to herself. He seemed to lack a sort of rhythm; his words would get jammed together, then come tumbling out en masse. Furthermore, he seemed to be wearing silver boots, and occasionally she caught other flashes of silver from beneath the man's coat. Was he a designer of some sort? `` We do have a couple of other styles of those,'' she remarked, nodding towards the shoe still in the man's hands. `` Is there a size you'd like me to check for?'' `` Size?'' he repeated blankly, looking down at the shoe in his hands. He stroked the texture of the snakeskin. `` How many do you have?'' Kate blinked. Something definitely seemed off, but the dollar signs of her commission popping in her eyes made it tough to focus on what was wrong. `` We might have eight or ten pairs, total,'' she guessed. `` Across a range of sizes, of course.'' `` Ten pairs?? Yes, yes, I want them!'' the man exclaimed, throwing his arms wide in a gesture of delight. As the man's arms spread wide, his coat flopped open, and Kate caught a quick glimpse of a strange silver suit beneath the overcoat. She only saw it for a moment before he pulled his coat shut, but that quick glance was enough to convince her of his weirdness. Were there tubes attached to his silver suit beneath that coat?? `` Let me go grab them for you,'' she told the strange man, ducking away. Once in the back storage area, Kate grabbed a quick breath, leaning up against a nearby shelf. `` A sale's a sale,'' she whispered to herself, ignoring how the man was obviously crazy. Yes, she decided after a second. She'd bring out the shoes, but would keep an eye on them to make sure that the guy did n't try to do a runner or anything. If he ended up buying even a single pair, the commission would be enough to double her daily take-home pay. Worth the risk. When she brought out the boxes and showed the strange man the shoes, however, he seemed utterly delighted. `` Yes, yes!! All of them!'' he cried, clutching the shoes to himself as though they were bars of gold. `` I pay, you give them to me!'' Her heart pounding as she ran the mental numbers on her five percent commission, Kate scanned the boxes. `` How would you like to pay, sir?'' she asked, hearing the blood pounding in her ears. Still beaming, the man reached into his overcoat and pulled out a messy lump of cash, which he dropped down on the counter. After a moment, Kate reached for it cautiously, feeling that sense of oddness continue to prickle as she leafed through it. Many of the bills in the wad of cash looked strange and foreign, and some of them seemed to have writing in other languages! Still, there were plenty of hundreds and fifties in amid the other bills, and she quickly counted out the correct amount. `` Here's your change, sir,'' she said, pushing the rest of the wad back. `` And your shoes-'' Before she could even finish the sentence, the man grabbed the cash off the counter with one hand, the bag of expensive shoes in the other, and went sprinting away, letting out some sort of high-pitched cry as he sprinted from the store. For a second, Kate just stared after him, her mouth wide. In her head, however, she was already doing cartwheels. Eight pairs of authentic Louboutins! At roughly thirteen hundred dollars each, that was a little over five hundred dollars in commission, just from a single sale! She felt stunned, amazed at this incredible turn of good luck. As she stepped out from behind the register, however, a little scrap of something green on the floor caught her eye. She reached down and picked up another hundred dollar bill, although something looked odd about it. `` Sir!'' she called out, waving the bill over her head, but the man was long gone. Kate lowered the bill back down, peering at it again. What was so odd about the thing? `` 100'' in the corners, check. Green and about the right size and dimensions, check. Ben Franklin in a 3-dimensional hologram, waving at her - hold on. Kate rubbed her eyes, but when she opened them, the mysterious bill was still there, complete with a little 3-dimensional hologram of the head and shoulders of Ben Franklin gazing back out at her. He gave her a kindly little smile as he waved. For a long time, Kate just stood there, the little wheels of her brain spinning, but no actual thoughts clicking or making sense. It was n't until her manager came over to congratulate her on the massive sale that, perhaps coming to her senses, she shoved the bill deep into her pocket and made her best futile attempt to put it out of her mind. ****** As he headed back towards where he'd parked his time machine ( which, for some reason, had apparently decided to disguise itself as a 1998 Buick Regal ), Xarthanurx could n't keep from hopping up and down, chirping to himself with delight. Real, authentic snake skin! And he had more samples than he had even imagined discovering! Once the gene extractors and the mechanosynthesizers received samples, he'd be able to produce yards and yards of the stuff, maybe even resurrect the extinct species itself! He'd be wealthy in credits beyond his wildest dreams! He pulled one of the strange shoes from the bag and held it aloft, bringing it back down to press it fervently against his lips. Such a strange design, he wondered to himself. Why would a shoe need a spike at the back? Was it for defense? Clearly, he'd landed in barbaric times, and should leave as quickly as possible. [ *Shoe reference - they really do cost that much! * ] ( http: //www.amazon.com/Authentic-Christian-Louboutin-Snakeskin-stiletto/dp/B00XWUEIQ2/ref=sr_1_25? s=apparel & ie=UTF8 & qid=1439167949 & sr=1-25 & keywords=snakeskin )

[ wp ] Hacking works like it does in movies . You work for a cyber security firm .

Ever since the widespread adoption of quantum computers, computer security was in a state of constant flux. Old security standards could be broken in mere minutes; new ones were constantly being developed and cracked. The entire infrastructure of the digital world was at risk, and the world was looking for any way to keep their information safe. Enter the cybersecurity firm of Haines IV, Xavier, and O'Rielly. Originally a small startup company working from a rented storage unit, H4XOR had quickly become the most prestigious tech business in the world. The founders, now three of the ten richest people on the planet, attributed their success to their motto, which I saw emblazoned in the lobby every morning: *The only way to stop a bad hacker with a computer is with a good hacker with a computer. * I was one of those good hackers. Or, `` Programmer - Active Security Specialist'', to be technical about it. Basically, we were given access to the systems of anyone who bought our security programs, and in the event of an attempted hack, one or more of us would actively fight back against the invading hacker. It was one of those jobs that was mostly sitting around waiting for something to happen, followed by an hour or two of intense work. To deal with the downtime, we had a sort of shift schedule within our typical shifts. Some of us would be on `` Active Duty'', where we simply say and waited for a hack alert to come in. The rest of us would be on `` Reserve Duty'', where we kept our skills sharp by having hacking tournaments, trying to hack each others computers before getting hacked ourselves, but always ready to jump in and help those on Active Duty if needed. The tournaments themselves had no prizes but bragging rights. The day-to-day tournaments gave seeding for the official quarterly tournaments, weekend-long events that brought everyone together all at once. I was usually on Active Duty from 1000-1200. I especially liked that shift, because it was late enough that my morning coffee had kicked in, early enough that my mind was n't wandering, and allowed me some warm-up time in the tournaments before facing the real thing. It was about 1030 when the hack alert went off. I quickly called up the menu option to patch into the system. In the ten seconds it took to load, I glanced at my leftmost monitor to see what I was working with. *Typical, * I thought. *A big bank. Probably some junior in college who just learned about security and thinks she can make a quick buck. Not that easy, kiddo. * A ping in my headphones told me I was connected, and my eyes snapped back to my other two monitors. On the right I saw the hacker's progress updates; the middle showed the security program as a whole, dynamically updating to show in real time what the state of the system was. It was the middle screen which took most of my attention, for it was there that I would make my stand. I cracked my knuckles and began to type. My fingers flew across the keyboard, typing commands, building walls, plugging holes. Quick glances at my right monitor showed me the code that the hacker was attempting to add to our systems to make an override. I had seen code like that before. One of the night shift programmers had beaten me with something similar in the quarterly tournament last June. It really was an ingenious piece of code, but we had spent a solid month developing countermeasures. The countermeasures in place, I paused for a moment to stretch and shake out my wrists. I had a few minutes before the hacker would fall into my trap, and I did n't want to go on the offensive too soon. Let them think they're doing well, then hit them from multiple directions, that's the best way to force them to make a mistake. A tap on my shoulder knocked me out of my reverie. It was Jess, who sat at the desk opposite mine. We talked a lot while we were on Active Duty together, and would often use each other as practice for the tournaments. `` How's the hackin'?'' She asked. `` Oh, it's good. Stopping evil, saving the world, typical Tuesday,'' I said with a laugh. `` They're smart though, trying what seems to be their own version of a Davis Hole. Should be finding themselves stuck in about...'' I glanced at the monitor. `` Two minutes. Wan na watch?'' `` Sure. Just let me patch in real quick. But remember our deal, if I have to save your ass, I get your tournament seed.'' `` Big if,'' I muttered as she settled in at her desk. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I glanced back at the timer. Still two minutes. The hacker had slowed, almost as if.... My hands flew back to the keyboard and I began to type once more. The only reason they would slow down at this juncture is if they were expecting some sort of trap. They were certainly clever, but maybe I could force their hand. `` What're you trying now?'' Jess's voice came through my headphones. Since she was patched in, we could communicate with each other. `` They stopped their Davis, they've got ta know something's up,'' I said quietly, barely hearing myself over the tapping of keys. `` They're just sitting there not doing anything. I'm going proxy, starting an attack at their entry point. Figure they'll either come back to fight me off, in which case I can push back their Davis, or they'll think I have n't gotten to their Davis and fall into the trap.'' `` Want me to help? There's something I've been working on that could...'' `` Nah, I'm good,'' I cut her off. `` I like my tournament seed, thank you very much. Besides, I'm executing it.... now.'' My finger hit Enter, and then everything happened at once. My attack on the hacker's entry point started to run, which caused the hacker's program to fight back. Apparently they had included defensive fail-safes to ensure that they would have a way out. Smart, I'll give them credit for that. But then their Davis program split into two, then four. Within seconds, it had become a bomb that would keep dividing on itself, multiplying until it filled the entire system, bursting through the security through sheer force. I had seen this type of brute force attack before, early in my security days. It was a last resort attack, hoping that the multiplying programs would break down the security before they could be stopped. In the past it would have worked, but not when there was a H4XOR hacker fighting against it. As I pulled up the procedure that would stop a code bomb like this, I saw the hacker's entry point fade from bright red to dark red to black, then light up in green. They had left. The system was safe. It was over. Or so I thought. `` Hey,'' I heard Jess's voice, `` Keep a copy of the code bomb, I think I see something in there.'' As the system returned to normal, I pulled up the source code for the code bomb. Jess came up behind me. `` Scroll through..... There!'' She pointed at a line of code, commented out, something that only we would be able to see. *Nicely done. Best two out of three? See you soon....*

[ WP ] A loved and respected hero discovers something that leads him to become a morally questionable antihero .

“ Step away from her, Dr. Wasteland! ” “ Never! Earth will be brought to its knees! ” Super Earth rose two feet from the ground, his cape heroically flapping behind him as he spoke. “ Earth is round, Wasteland. It has no knees. ” The people in the convenience store clapped and cheered. Earth was saving the day again! “ Nevertheless ”, cried Wasteland, tightening the grasp on the old lady's neck. “ I shall crush it and see it fall! ” “ Earth can not fall, Wasteland!'' Super Earth's voice echoed again. “ For there is no gravity to pull it nor a place for which it could fall into. ” “ Oh, go fuck yourself, Earth; my point is, I'm destroying the planet! ” With these words, Dr. Wasteland pushed the old lady aside and pulled his laser gun, firing mercilessly against the hero and the desperate bystanders. “ You will be brought to justice! ” Cried the Super Earth, arms stretched parallel to each other as he cruised the convenience store, flying straight into the villain's... Earth stopped in midair. “ What the fuck is this? ” asked the caped hero, his body floating horizontal in front of a shelf. “ Wh-what? ” the cashier mumbled from behind the counter. “ This fucking shit here. ” Earth picked up a green and yellow can, showing it around. “ WHAT IS THIS? ” “ That's -- That's Mountain Dew, sir. ” “ I know that'', Earth cried, rolling his eyes. “ I've been defending Earth on intergalactic trials and battles for ages, and Mountain Dew has always been the hardest thing to counter argument, whenever folks talk about destroying mankind. What I mean is ”, Earth returned to vertical position, landing his feet on the ground. “ What the fuck is this flavor? ” People slowly started rising from behind the shelves and refrigerators, and even Wasteland lowered his gun. “ That's Dorito Flavored Mountain Dew, Earth. ” Said the cashier, in a low voice. “ Are you... ” Super Earth sighed, closing his eyes and trying to remain calm. “... out of.... ” He took another breath; opened his eyes again: there was nothing but rage in them. “... your FUCKING MIND? ” “ Sir, no, I – AAAAAAAAAAH ”. From Earth's wrists, laser beams flew straight into the counter, blowing up Tridents, cigarette packs and Lotto Tickets all over the store. “ DORITO FLAVORED MOUNTAIN DEW? THIS IS THE SHIT YOU COME UP WITH, WHEN I'M OUT THERE TRYING TO DEFEND YOU? ” “ Sir, it's just a special edition, we -- ” “ FUCK YOU, FATBOY ”, cried Super Earth, striking a fat kid's face so hard his lower jaw went flying across the store. `` That's not even the boy who talked back to you!'' Cried a voice from behind the ATM. `` I DO N'T GIVE A SHIT!'' Screamed back Earth, pushing aside the blood soaked, crying, jawless fat kid. `` Come on, Wasteland, let's mess this place up.'' And so it was that Super Earth teamed up with Wasteland, initially to fuck up a Seven Eleven, but, soon enough, expanding the job to the rest of the planet. With one last glimpse over the shattered, post-apocalyptic New York scenery beneath him, Super Earth drank the last of the Mountain Dew, let out a big burp and sighed: “ Disgusting. Fucking Earthlings. ” And flew away to better, Dorito-Flavored-Mountain-Dew-less lands.

[ WP ] Secure your own mask first before helping others .

we were literally just standing in an open field with desert like soil from all the previous test that had been done here. our own test was about to begin. there were 30 of us, chosen randomly I assume, we were surrounded by armed soldiers, wearing all black armor and gas mask. there riffles firmly pointed at us to insure compliance. Suddenly a handful of gas mask were launched into our group. we each raced for one franticly, yet instinctively Cleary we were about to need these. I tugged one out of anthor mans hands and sighed in relief as a voice spoke from an unseen speaker system. `` secure your own mask first before helping others.'' I had used one of these mask before, I placed my hand over the cup and inhaled deeply sealing it to my face. and as I did several canisters were launched into the crowd. releasing a green gas. `` Jesus Christ'' I thought `` what are they doing''. I could feel a stinging pain on the exposed parts of my face but it was tolerable. and my eyes barley started to burn as I looked out of my visor. a mother was attempting to give her mask to a small child. I did my best to help her, but it was to late the gas began to have a neutralizing effect on the half of us that had no mask to secure to our faces. they fell to the dirt. I looked around at the handful of us left. we stood paralyzed in shock. before I had a chance to analyze what was happening to us the fallen bodies started to shake sporadically on the ground. and soon returned to their feet. there expressions were blank. but they became violent. turning on us. the surviving men around me were being eaten alive. I stumbled over on to my back and a body fell on top of me. I stayed here. hidden it seemed as they ignored me. when I heard to loudspeaker again. `` naturalize the experiment.'' I carefully shifted my eyes with out moving my head to see the armed perimeter take aim at the their savage creation.

[ WP ] You live in a world where giving a child a name is like creating a username online where a system will check if the name is available . No one in the whole world can have the same name . One day , you meet a person with the exact same spelling , pronunciation , and name as yours .

This Name Already Exists I always thought i was lucky. My name was not that bad. My classmates were called such monstrosities like `` QWERTY1991Two'' or `` J0AN3-D3C3MB3R'' or `` Felixilefskipholonamous7Giraffe'', who was my best friend since middle school. Really rich people can afford relatively normal names, that just repeated themselves like `` MariaMariaMariaMariaMariaMariaMariaMaria''. The price for a name like that with under ten repetitions could easily reach hundred-thousand dollars or more. That's why some of them are still available. But it was a status symbol parents were happy to pay for, if they could afford it. It opened doors. There is hardly a public figure who did n't have an expensive name. Everybody is marked with their names. They etched it into your molar, once you had your permanent dentition. But you already got it tattooed on your right forearm right after you were born. Every morning in front of the bathroom mirror, as you are brushing your theeth, you are reminded of your name and therefore of your place in society. Since my name was kinda okay, i was able to go to medical school, even if i was only able to get a job in pathology afterwards. So one day we got a body in without any identification. We call that a `` JohnDoeDeadPersonWeDon'tKnowHisNameYet''. He died in an explosion. The skin on his forearm was all burned ( probably in a futile attempt to protect his face from the flames ), which is why it was my task to identify him by his molar. I extracted it with a hard pull of my forceps and put it under the microscope. I could not believe what i read. I was so shocked, i had to check my own forearm and compare it to the writing on the tooth. It was exactly the same sequence of letters. `` That must be a mistake'', i thought as i ran his name through the database. And sure enough, there were two entries. One for him and one for myself. Our pictures looked nothing alike. He was five years older than me, which meant that he got that name first. Suddenly a warning screen popped up, informing me that the name i just searched belonged to a person the police were looking for. That meant that the authorities were notified and would shortly arrive at the morgue. Panic took over. I tried to think of a way to get out of the building unseen as I got out of my lab coat and into my jacket, but it was already too late. The door swung open and four people stormed in, two officers and two of my colleagues. `` Oh no no, you were n't trying to get away, were you? ``, one of the policemen said. `` No, i was just getting ready for my lunch break!'' `` You are under arrest for the murder of WilliamWilliamWilliamWilliamWilliam''. ___________ It felt like i sat for hours, waiting in that grey interrogation room with the bleak light and uncomfortable chairs. They gave me painkillers, but my mouth still hurt from when they extracted my molar. Finally someone came in, an older detective with a small suitcase in hand. He sat it on the table in front of him so that only he could see it's content. `` I am sorry for that little misunderstanding down in the morgue. We know that you are not the killer of WilliamWilliamWilliamWilliamWilliam.'' I exhaled in relief. He took two small evidence bags out of the suitcase and threw them on the table in front of me. One contained my own tooth, the other one the molar i extracted myself from the body in the morgue. The detective sat down. `` But you know what this means'', he said. `` Please, the other guy is dead! Ca n't you just let me keep my name and let me go home?'' `` You know that that's not possible. The system has to be clean; there can be no two people with the same name. We are still trying to find out why this happens occasionally. We are very sorry, that this happened to you'', the detective said. I begged him. `` Ca n't you just change his name?'' `` I am afraid we ca n't do that. He is the subject of the investigation of a high-profile murder case. Really, we're doing you a favour here. You do n't want to have this name once the press gets hold of the name of the killer. This is just standard procedure. You get a government issued name now.'' He took a tattoo-machine out of the suitcase and plugged it in. `` Please put your arm on the table.'' `` No, you ca n't do that to me! ``, i screamed. `` I did n't do anything!'' Two officers had to hold me down while the detective crossed out my old name and wrote my new name above it: `` NO-REGERTS''

[ WP ] Extra terrestrials traveling the galaxy in the Star Ship `` Eternal Kingdom '' acting under the authority of Admiral Elohim . They approach Earth ...

I ca n't believe this is happening thought Elohim as he paced around his office about Eternal Kingdom. The trip to the moon, the satellites to all the planets, those were amazing, full of potential. When they captured a asteroid and brought it back to their own planet, so quickly had they learned as evident by the mineral collection that followed. In light of those, his mission... well.. To be fair the galactic nation had been eagerly awaiting humans to break free of their solar system, though a violent species their pursuit of efficiency was admired and it would have been nice to have some fresh blood. That he, Admiral Elohim, a fan of humans, had been sent now seemed to have been a harsh reaction to a seemingly innocent mistake. `` How could they have known? ``, he thought out loud, thinking of that damn gold disk. That gold disk that depicted in such a vulgar way the human body. The poor humans had no idea that it contravened Galactic Obscenity Law 1001.2 Subsection 4. Even that could have been forgiven, but it floated by a group of school children... the Galactic council was appalled. `` Wait until they conquer there pursuit of lust... then they can join us!'' cried the council. Elohim sighed..'' Kingdom, activate Earth Envelope, set it to encompass the Mars orbit... we will leave them that at least'' As he said it, a dark matter seeped out of the ship and slowly enveloped the Orbit of Mars, allowing Earth to access it's sun, Mercury, Venus and Mars, but no further, humanity would be cut off from the rest of the universe until it had matured a bit.

[ WP ] A new drug hits the clubbing scene - cheap , very addictive , a great high and seemingly safe .

I stood tall, ruthless against the pulsing throng of dancers. A thousand violet and jade light beams, shot from a stage somewhere beyond the current of stabbing arms, ricocheted off the dark steel walls onto the entranced bodies. I leaped off the bar stool onto my feet, registering a seismic shock through my legs into my skull. My nerves quaked with anticipation and the musical vibrations. Behind me the bartender began screaming at some shmuck for not paying his tab. I eased my body forward, and approached the brink of the writhing chaos. You cheap bastard, he kept swearing. The sneering moustach in the bowtie had been trouble from the start, inquiring about the stain on my shirt, this and that. Now he was worked up into a tirade of wanton displeasure. The real outrage was charging thirteen dollars for corn syrup, water, and a weak dribble of Jameson on top. I ended up slugging three down, one with that awful potion. I meant to get to the bottom of what exactly the brew had contained, but I missed my chance when that shady pal of mine disappeared with that woman. What was her name? Kicking myself for it, I knew the attempt at recollection would be futile. Damn. I meant to find out why she seemed so familiar. I had to see this illusive musician before the drug had really ground its feet in me. I felt conscious of the flesh in my body, they way it tensed and shook against the pounding of my feet on the hardwood. For a moment I felt every bone in my body, my shambling skeleton aligning with a sudden awareness. The heat from the people was palpable. The bartender let out a final prolonged wail. Another fish, I thought, jumping off the hook. I folded into the crowd, a droplet merging with a puddle. Bellows from every direction. I made a beeline for the stage, the whole reason I was conscribed into this dim mess. Dragged out from a particularly meaningful face to face meeting with a blank canvas, I was paraded into a car by a crazed Filipino from across the hall. He had started kicking down the door by the time I got there, which was quick based upon how hard he decided to knock. He never had one set knock, so you know never knew who he was. How he stayed fresh each time he came over, was anybody's guess. Sometimes I thought it was Morse code, tiny cryptic or lewd messages tapped away at my door for the past 8 months. I asked myself myself, as I did most nights, why I kept getting into a car with this ludicrous individual. Any day he'll flip and have my head, just for the fun of it. Any day this animal will put me on his mantle. Soon after, we were burning down West Burnside in Donny's modern domesticated tank. The thing ran hard and roared down the road, spewing expended gas from the rear. The driver, a hulking man with chubby unassuming cheeks sat scrunched at the wheel. His discount mop of scraggly hair covered his ears and almost came down over bloody brown eyes. “ Kiki's playing at the club, ” Donny said. I put my arm up on the rest and sank into the palm of my hand. I thought of the canvas, my forlorn masterpiece. This time, I had it. This was it. I really had felt it too. Just another fish. I brooded out the window. “ Kiki plays at the club every night. ” “ Yeah, J.T. but tonight, this night, she's really there, ” he enunciated. I went to give him a dismissing wave when I noticed a # 20 mop brush in my hand wet with pale navy. I brought it to my face and gave it a whiff. Pungent, very wet, and a lot of it. I almost made a cost analysis before Donny stopped at a red and reached into a backpack at his feet. I gave a condemning sign and told him he looked like a hen warming her egg, or in this case, aborting it. The disgusting fucker actually laughed. “ Here, ” he handed me a ceramic vial, “ from her's truly. ” I held it up to my eye, “ If she always sends you this stuff, why is she never there? ” Frowning I turned to him, “ What is this anyways? ” “ She's there, man, she's there. Come on, we've made it. Hey, put that lid back on! You got ta put it in the drink or you'll have a fucking stroke or something. That stuff is dangerous. What are you doing with that brush? ” “ I told you I was busy until you came screeching into my apartment. Will you hold it for a second? ” I went to put the strange liquid in my pocket when the buffoon thrust at me with the oil paint and delivered a killing blow. “ What in Jesus' funhouse are you- ” “ Man, do n't hand this to me and expect me not to use it, ” squealed the mischievous driver. “ What is wrong with you!? ” “ I can fix it do n't worry I'll- ” I held off the assault as best as I could, but the damage had been done. He had even thrown away the evidence, the brush plopping against the sidewalk as the light flashed green. In quiet seething anger, I knew I was beaten. I reached in the back and found a dirty sweatshirt, and wiped away what I could with it as a petty last word, but ended up just smearing it around my button down. Now smock, I had been arrogant. Donny was not phased. He did n't even look, just kept watching the road, a satisfying grin, hands neatly at the wheel. We parked across from the grungy club in a space ripe with serendipity and strode casually into the Bar hall. I pushed continuously through the jungle. The stage lights, now nearly within reach, mellowed into a deep electric blue. The music receded before starting its steady climb. The crowd, following suit, floated into the crescendo until it built a pulse. I stopped cold. I squinted through the bodies. No dice. Everyone started to jump. They grasped at the air with soaring desperation, open fingers, lunging for a lifeline, waiting to capture the tidal change. I stood feel the great insatiable force around me, when I saw the girl through the churning bodies, leaning heavily on her back with and her arms crossed. Looking at me. Smiling at me. Drop. Flash. Gone. Where'd she go? Damn it! Morgan, I had lost her. And like that I had it. Her, Morgan. Donny had introduced me to his man, a liaison from the less lawful markets, and his attractive friend. Big shot, Donny always said, knows his stuff. Always was asking him to go into business together, the guy was relentless. The girl had just tagged along that once. Morgan, she smiled then too, but something was off. Her lips were an impossible confident simper, unsure, but comfortable. Now in the haze of the retro light show she smiled with an almost sinister satisfaction. The lights flared into a crushing danger red. I pivoted to face her coming out of the mass, stalking towards me through the now frenzied horde. She quickly moved in close and reached out two fingers to dabbed at my chest and took a brief look. She smirked at me with her amused slender eyes and stood back on her left leg. “ You're the painter? ” She mouthed, coolly miming brushstrokes. “ Artist, ” I mouthed back. She laughed and showed her teeth. Gorgeous. She pointed towards an exit and we pushed our way out. Breaking out of the crowd, I quickly found a table. Morgan had materialized with two drinks, and placed them on the ground metal surface. She put her elbows down and swirled her tumbler, watching the current. Finally she peaked up. “ So, ” she relaxed suddenly, “ has it hit you yet? ” “ Yeah. It came on quick. ” She grinned fiercely, “ How do you feel? ” I searched. I grinned back. “ Naive. ” She rose forward, a glass vial of fuchsia in her fingers. “ You know what this is? ” she spoke with a slight accent. I gave a droll shake of my head and she leaned suicidally over the table. “ Eden, ” she whispered, “ Ambrosia. Do n't you know? ” She poured half the vial in each of our drinks and let the last drop fall on her tongue. We let our glasses kiss, and downed the bitter chemicals. I immediately felt a strange question appear in my mouth. “ Hey, do you have a sister? ” The girl giggled. It seemed mortally funny to her and she finally asked me who it was I knew. “ You're Morgan, right? ” “ Morgan? ” she laughed, “ You can call me Kiki. ”

[ WP ] Ants have a telepathic link to all members of their colony . It 's so specific that , as the colony grows , so does it 's collective intelligence . One such colony has become so massive that it 's about to break a major intelligence threshold .

It began with a picnic. For almost three decades - long enough for five generations to chew through their birth-shells with new mandibles - the hill of the white leaf and the hill of the long shadow had been locked in an unending war, skirmishing back and forth across a long sandy spit that stretched between them. Whenever one side gained a slight advantage in territory, their overextended supply lines made them easy pickings for an enemy counterattack erupting from tunnels behind the front lines. Over the years the sand had shifted constantly, built and rebuilt into long fortifications as fractal and complex as those of the western front during World War One. Not that either side's combatants had heard of that war, or had much understanding beyond the list of behavioural imperatives that drifted over to them on pheremone-scented breezes. _Dig. Fight. Scavenge. Die_. Since the sandy area between the colonies was relatively barren and nutritionally valueless, wherever the lines of battle were set no side truly had the advantage, since the agricultural base of both were roughly equivalent. Until the other colony was taken, no gain could be realised, no advantage fully pressed. And then one day, a passing family on a long road trip through the mountains happened to stop for their lunch nearby. Scorning the picnic tables on the other side of the road, they set down their blankets and ziplock bags right across the sand. It was early spring, not quite fighting season, and the ants were sluggish and less visible. But at the scent of such a rich source of food hordes of worker ants from both sides spilled out of the colonies, relentlessly following their genetic imperatives. Disgusted by their new-found company, the family quit their picnic. But in their haste, they left fully three quarters of a fruit pie behind, its crust spilling out of its foil contain onto the ground. Crucially, the pie was a few metres closer to the hill of the long shadow. And that, in the end, made all the difference. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Greyjaw was one of the older ants, so known for a slight discolouration that had spread unevenly along the left side of her mandibles as she passed into her fourth summer. Sometimes she could remember, vaguely, a time when she had n't had a name; when none of them had. But as the world-tasting chamber at the center of the colony grew fuller, filled with more of the special ants they called now the repletes, she had felt her sense of self grow, like a soap-bubble on the edge of a much larger one. Sometimes, when her day was less full than usual and she could spend a few minutes in the upper tunnels soaking in the warmth of the earth, she let her mind wander over such matters, trying to find in her memories the point where her sense of self slid smoothly apart from the constant throb of the colony's imperatives and stood alone. Mostly, though, there was far too much to do. Like now, for instance, as she stumped through the tunnels down towards the world-tasting chamber. Her hindleg joints were beginning to ache more and more now, and she could sense that a few years ago, or perhaps in a different colony, she would have spent an increasing time in the upper tunnels, using the warmth to ease the stiffness. But ants were different now, she thought with something like wryness. _All_ the ants were different. Whatever the world-tasters were doing, it was leaking out into all of the white leaf ants, from worker to queen. At the tunnel that led to the chamber she was stopped by a burly soldier, waving oversized mandibles to flag her down. She noticed that he, or someone else, had daubed a white pigment over his thorax. Greyjaw had noticed a few of the soldiers doing that. It was a young ant thing. She waited patiently while he scented her and finally let her through into the chamber. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- It was a - sight? sensation? - she could never get bored of, entering the chamber. First, there were all the sensations she felt in herself, in her ant-body: The endless rows of repletes lining the walls, their abdomens swollen with the memories of smells and of the outside world, the vaguely-luminescent edible fungus that lined the walls between them, casting a dim purple light. The fungus had not grown in such quantities until the first repletes had been born, she remembered, but now it was all they ate, in some kind of complex feedback cycle. But on top of her own bodily impressions, there was the welcoming wave of... _ant-ness_ that washed over her, the feeling of a much larger mind that encompasses and simultaneously _was_ her own. She was not just aware of the chamber, but also herself entering the chamber, and of the tunnels above and around her, the individual ants like tiny pinpricks of light in a miniature galaxy. And, far to the west, the baleful presence of the hill of the long shadow, with the dim, flickering lights of its aggressive colony of idiots, pre-world-tasting ants. It was a source of considerable pain to Greyjaw and the replete hive-mind that the hill of the long shadow lay in darkness, and that its residents could not be brought into the light of world-tasting together. Not just because of wishy-washy feelings of wanting oneness for all ant-kind. But because for the first time in generations, the unthinkable was happening. The hill of the white leaf was starting to definitively lose the war.

[ CW ] Write a story through knock-knock jokes .

Knock, knock. `` Who's there?'' `` Police! Open the door.'' `` Please open the door who?'' `` This is the police. We have a warrant to search these premises. Open the door or we will break it down.'' `` Shit dude. I think you got some cops at the doors.'' `` HAHA! Wait, that reminds me of a joke. Knock knock.'' `` Dude, seriously, there are cops at your front fucking door.'' `` Dude, you're fucking it up. Knock knock.'' `` Are you fucking serious? Police are about to bust down your door and you want to tell a fucking knock knock joke? The fuck is wrong with you?'' `` DUDE! Just do this. Trust me., it's worth it. Now, knock knock.'' `` Fuck you and your fucking knock-knock joke. I'm getting the fuck outta here man.'' KNOCK! `` Whose th...'' `` POLICE GET DOWN ON THE GROUND, NOW! DOWN! You! I said get on the ground! Hands were I can see them.''

[ WP ] You were caught in a unending chain of time relapses , and you live the same day over and over again with no consequences . After a few thousand cycles , the chain ends and you must live with what you did .

Cam hit the alarm button seconds before the radio station blared out `` Umbrella'' by Rihanna. The mornings were the worst part for Cam, the loneliness, and repetition. His mother used to say a morning dictated the rest of your day, he'd thought it was the dumbest mantra any parent had passed onto their child; when you added that to his feminine curly eyelashes, jet black hair just to a military safe level and his stick figure body shape- it made her out to be quite a bad parent. Maybe that was why he was stuck in this loop, every day starting out the same and there were n't consequences for anything he did once he went to sleep. If it were n't the reason, the importance of mornings was the only lesson he'd learned from his thousands of days being the same problem. He sat up, threw the covers off the bed entirely, and began dancing around naked as a newborn. He cha-cha'ed over to the bathroom in the tiny hotel room from the seventies and brushed his teeth. The bathroom was the most modern aspect of the room with a tile counter and a sink that was fake brass colored. The room outside was covered in a pink paisley wall paper and the bed frame was one of those obnoxious wavy metal things with bars like a jail cell. He spat. `` Today... what do I want to do today...'' Cam said to himself as he dabbed the washcloth onto his face. `` Virginia... she's definitely on the list. Mary too, I think it's lunch time that she gets so very wonderfully lonely- then I'll steal a glance at the yoga studio. I have n't been with Betty for a few weeks, and that instructor called me fat weeks ago- he deserves some revenge. And I'll end in the library, just like usual.'' Cam walked out of the bathroom and dressed in the same outfit he'd been wearing for the last three thousand days. It was a cheap button down and khakis. The shirt had pinstripe blue lines and the cufflinks matched the tie clip he'd long since stopped wearing. `` Alright and for the library, I'm reading Great Expectation, page 58, yesterday was page 11 and my last day reading The Last of the Mohicans'' Cam straightened his collar and walked out of the room leaving the door wide open. Cam strutted about town, calling a few people daring names while handing others the money out of his wallet. He loved that, the karmic exchange of a dollar for a smile. It was made better by the fact that he did n't actually pay the money, at least tomorrow it would be back. Cam walked down three blocks in the tiny town and took a left down a scenic neighborhood. He never tired of the beauty, that much he had to admit. Even for the thousandth time, the trees lining the perfect American dream neighborhood meshed with the white picket fences and the gardens that surely rivaled Eden's brought a different kind of smile to his face. He was struck with wonder; Cam stepped over a tree root ripping itself free from the concrete without looking. He turned into a yard with a `` For Sale'' sign in the lot. He knocked, Victoria answered. She was a girl unaware of her beauty; she was n't the thinnest but her eyes were a striking blue like the scales of a healthy fish, and her skin was smoother than tanned leather roasting in the sun. Cam followed the script he'd developed, it worked every time; he talked about how sorry he was and told her there would be other fish in the sea and you just had to put yourself out there. He told her about his first lost love and how dearly he missed her- how she looked a bit like Victoria and he just wanted someone to hold him. They were in the bedroom in under a half hour, not his record but close. Cam left her for coffee, something he'd never bring back, and carried on about his day. He watched the man at the Yoga Studio around two right when the coffee was done clearing him out and allowed him to leave it in the instructor's shoe. He watched from the outside window as the man, alarmed at what he stepped in, tried not to gain anyone's attention. Mary walked out of the door third, holding a green yoga mat. The olive green of the sweat covered mat was the same as her eyes, and that perfect red hair shouted out with excitement and lust. Her husband was never around, she did n't require such a script as Mary. As Cam walked her back to her home, arm in arm, his thoughts flashed back to his mother's words. The morning does make the man, and this morning he had been completely together for the first time- his schedule was working, he was clean, happy, he beat the alarm. It was a flawlessly executed day. Mary was flawless back in her bedroom; yoga was a fantastic workout for both of them. He forgot all about Betty, she'd been a few places behind Mary at the yoga studio but she was n't quite as fun either. Betty drabbled on about a cat she owned once and how it was reincarnated into the one she had now, Mary at least had some ambition. She was working for the mayor, hoping to take his place during the next term. Cam would vote for her, but there was n't any worry about that. The pair went out to dinner at the Italian place, he paid not that it mattered much, and left her back at her doorstep. Cam explained all the work he'd have to do this evening what with his role in the parade that started in three days, but he would see her again soon. If she was more observant or suspicious, she's mention that he was walking the wrong way to the school gym, but she was n't. Cam walked back to Victoria's house for one last romp of the evening. Victoria cried when they were finished, something about the coffee. He did n't care, it would all wash back to the ocean in just a few hours anyway. Cam snuck out with the classic bathroom excuse and made for the library. A block away he realized his shirt was stained with some mystery goo, and he'd left his belt and undershirt at Victoria's. He shrugged, all would be fine tomorrow, especially if it went anything like today. The library was darker than normal like a storm cloud was overhead blotting out the moon. Cam lined his elbow up with the window pane by the door handle and pulled back. The glass crumbled to the ground; Cam reached inside to twist the handle. He flicked on the lights in the fiction section and ran his hands down the alphabetical markings until he landed on section D. Dickens was the third shelf down on the left side. Cam held the book, they were the only things that kept him sane in a repetitious world like this. He read a book an evening most of the time, it was progressing in something, and it was all on him- no bookmarks, no dog ears no notes to himself- this was the only connection he had. Cam did n't wake up before the alarm. He woke to the book falling out of his hand and closing tight on his finger. The sun was rising through the giant windows, blotting red through his field of vision. It was a new day, `` shit.''

[ WP ] You stand at the edge of the roof , the streets twenty stories below your feet . You do n't jump . Why ?

I hate heights. I hate other people around heights. I ca n't view images of high places without feeling nauseous. Yet, here I was, twenty stories high. It was just me, now. I had really tried. There was n't anything else I could have done, but I felt like it was all my fault. I tried not to look down, I knew it would be over if I did. I held my body completely still, and rigid, teetering forward just a bit. I almost had n't stopped in time. I finally felt the balance shift inside of me, and I heaved myself backwards. My body's physical response to my phobia was overwhelming. I was shivering, hot and cold all at once. My stomach rolled, and I knew I could n't stand. I had never known before why I was so afraid of heights. The truth was worse than I thought. I had first noticed the girl when I was scanning the room, looking for the source of the disruption. She stood off to the side in a crowded room. You could see that she was distraught, clearly, but no one ever looks close enough, do they. She had turned and with her head down, left the room without anyone noticing. I had a bad feeling about this for some reason. I had reached the doorway she just exited, just in time to see her disappear in the stairwell. I remembered thinking maybe she was just leaving. Did n't want to see anyone so she took the stairs. But the stairs led to the roof, and it was high up there. Dangerous. After reaching the door to the stairs, I had quietly opened the door, I do n't know why now, it's not like it was a secret stairwell. Maybe, I thought she would be standing there. Just needing a reprieve, a moment to gather her thoughts. She was n't there, but I heard the loud, stomping footsteps climbing the metal stairs. I waited until I heard the rooftop door open and close, then I ran up the stairs, two at a time, begging my god to be wrong about her purpose. She was standing very close to the edge. I was about fifteen feet from her. Should I quietly edge over and grab her? What if she was just getting some perspective, and I was the desperate one here? I just had that feeling, though. That it was n't going to be a simple misunderstanding, and I would n't look like a cynical, paranoid fool. I saw her step forward, and I called to her. She looked back and smiled sadly, then said, `` Its the only way to be even.'' Her last words. She had a low, smooth voice. Then she leaned forward and fell, arms outstretched. I had n't made it. I almost followed her. Now I know why I'm really afraid of heights. I ca n't trust myself.

[ WP ] You 're alone in a forest with a camera . As you are walking you accidentally turn on thermal mode , and you can see the heat profiles of hundreds of people surrounding you .

Clutching the camera in both hands, I scanned the perimeter around me holding the screen close to my face as a guide. The digital window into this unseen world was overflowing with heavily saturated blobs of human figures, some warmer than others but all filled with a topographical gradient of red, yellow, blue, and green. I cradled the camera in my arm as I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again. Unsurprisingly, nothing changed. There were no indicators in my naked field of vision of where these figures resided. No rustling of tree branches, no leaves crunching, no difference in the environment at all until the thermal view unveiled their existence. I opened the portal again by bringing the camera up to eye level to inspect further. There was nothing to be scared of, no threats to be seen. My heart was not pounding, and my lungs continued to passively exchange the damp forest air with my own. The figures continued to slowly shuffle through the foot-trodden path in the woods. Regardless of the direction their bodies were moving, all seemed to stare in the same direction as I was heading. Continuing on, I kept the camera pointed ahead to use their fixed gaze as a compass. What were they staring at? After a few minutes of a steady pace, the muscles in my legs began to cramp, beads of sweat forming along my forehead. It was n't warm out, I should not be this exhausted. I kept moving forward. One of the figures beckoned to me from inside the viewfinder. They waved their arm as a motion to quicken my pace, and I complied. The air started to feel heavy, a moist blanket weighing down my limbs. My scalp was dripping, but my mouth was dry. What was happening? I needed to rest. The colorful blobs near the tree to my right parted the way as I turned to face it. The camera fell out of my hands as my fingers stiffened, bouncing on the wet leaves and landing safely with the screen still on. The bark felt spectacular against my weary back as I propped myself up against the wide trunk. I pulled my left leg next to my right and stretched them out in front of me, wiping away the moisture from the camera screen before setting it on my lap. I could see the legs and feet of the others still shuffling along the forest, but my own extremities remained unregistered. I would have found it strange, if I was n't too tired to care. With every blink, the effort to open my eyelids increased. The figures on the screen that were closest to me turned to face where I was sitting as they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in my direction. Rest was needed. Rest was now.

[ PI ] The longer a spell takes to invoke , the more potent its effects . A single wizard has been casting a spell for hundreds of years . Today , he is finally done .

`` Thane!'' Thane Gregor wrenched his blade from between a bowman's ribs and looked up. His lieutenant was pointing at the top of the Tower of the Whispering Archmage. Waves of energy from the top of the Tower shimmered and bent the image of the moon making it look like a riverstone as the waves passed over them, over the city walls and to the horizon. `` So it is done.'' The battle that had been raging on the battlements of the Tower's walled city paused as the Thane Alliance men and the Wizard's High Guard looked at their hands and each other, then finally at the city and surrounding encampment and Everdark Forest beyond looking for signs of the Great Spell's effect. None were visible. `` Fall back!'' Thane Gregor bellowed and he heard is order echo around the walls that the Alliance had just overrun. There was no reason to risk any more good men nor the innocent folk of the city. The hell spawned wizards had gotten their way. But what had they wrought? The mighty Thane felt... different but could n't place why. He could n't see any abyssal portals, nor piles of gold, nor fantastic creatures but that does n't mean they were n't out there waiting. `` You!'' Thane Gregor shouted at a brightly uniformed Tower Guard huddled behind an barricade made primarily with the remnants of market stalls. `` Go tell your masters that we wish to parlay. In return, we will leave unconditionally. They have until sundown.'' The man nodded and scurried toward the city center and the Tower. Hours passed as Thane Gregor visited the wounded and counted the dead. Too many lost their lives for nothing. If only his weak willed forefathers listened to their hearts rather than the gold the wizards had bribed them with, they would not be facing this unknown abomination. The Thane's guards snapped at attention as his fastest scout ducked into his tent. `` Any developments?'' Thane asked expecting the same answer he'd gotten all afternoon. `` None, sire. The riders you ordered to the relay stations and the nearest towns have returned citing no evidence of wizarding activity. There are no magical effects evident anywhere. There is, however, a sedan chair moving in this direction from the City.'' `` Have Jarem gather the Council. March the delegation past the prisoners. I want them to see that we still have them to bargain with, at least.'' Thane Gregor sat at the center of the Council table arrayed like Judges on a raised platform constructed from the nearby Darkwood. Thane Acker leaned toward him as the sedan carried by four heavily decorated Tower Guards split the ring of bloodstained sentries. `` Four guards and no Mumblers.'' Thane Gregor never like that term for the battle wizards who tended to energize devastating spells under their breath even in the heat of combat. Gregor whispered back `` Whomever is in that sedan could have anything prepared. Do n't drop your guard now, Acker.'' The guards turned the opening of the sedan to face the Thane Council and one peeled back the thick curtain. Thane Gregor felt the entire bench of Thanes straighten in their chairs. This was not General Feld nor Mayor Clantivex as they were expecting. A frail old mage in threadbare robes stepped out of the sedan leading heavily on the Guard's arm. This could only be Archmage Ru. The Whispering Archmage. And he was n't whispering anymore, which was a relief to Thane Gregor. This man and his four guards were completely at the Thanes' mercy. `` Hello.'' croaked the wizard quietly. `` I understand that there has been a bit of fuss over my spell?'' Thane Gregor thought back to his campaign. The War of Eight, the Mage Massacre, the Black Winter and The March to name a just a few catastrophes of decades of war and suffering. Thane's voice shook behind clenched teeth. `` I have one question. You WILL answer. What is it that you've done, wizard.'' `` You power hungry brutes are all the same. What, were you expecting the gates of Hell to open and an army of demon's to appear? Last time I checked that kind of thing only takes around 15 years. Did you expect some distant city will be destroyed? Four years. A disease to plague certain tribes? 2 years. A literal mountain of gold? 50 years. Bah... all of these magics... they are powerful, but they bring great pain in the long run. I am not interested in such petty things. Magic is power, make no mistake, but trying to hold onto it is futile as history has shown time and time again. Even the great creative wizards like Elekine who build impossibly beautiful cities only ended up creating wars to control their creations. All I've done is change the world.'' Thane Gregor smashed his mailed hand into the table and stood up in a fury. `` How! How is the world changed!'' `` Well, great warrior, I will tell you. I've created lasting power -- Knowledge, true and lasting Knowledge.'' `` Riddles are no answer, wizard. Speak plainly!'' Thane Gregor shouted. `` I have brought into being a new race. The first two now live on the other side of this world. They are protected for now, until they are willing and able to understand their place. Until they are ready to grasp knowledge. I've imbued in them with an important quality called'doubt'. They will multiply. They will spread. And in the end their doubt will shatter the mere belief that underpins our world. I call them Humans and they will be the end of our Elvin race. They will be the end of Magic and in it's place will be Knowledge, enduring Knowledge. And one day, they will spread this Knowledge to the stars themselves. You can kill me, Thane, you can burn this world to the ground, but their age is now coming and there is nothing you can do to stop it.''

[ WP ] Just include the phrase , `` Ya got ta do what ya got ta do . ''

A continuation of a story [ that started here. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5c4i6n/wp_for_years_the_only_radio_station_available_in/d9ttsuf/ ) * * * `` I have to say it's certainly put Gerregery on the map, I've seen more people come through here in the past three months than in the past 20 years! Just the other day, we ran out of coffee, so many people were eating at our little Cafe. That's the Sanders Cafe and General Store, 112 and 143. I promise we'll always have plenty of coffee from here on out.'' `` And you have no idea what The Numbers mean?'' `` No, young man, no idea.'' `` No new faces? In town, I mean.'' `` Plenty of tourists, happy to see them, that's the Sanders Cafe and General Store, 112 and 143. But the farms around have been the same as they've ever been.'' `` Do you care to speculate, for the benefit of our listening audience?'' `` Well it certainly seems like a government thing, does n't it? My husband retired from the Army, so I understand that there are some things the government simply ca n't talk about. If they tell us, then the Soviets will know too, wo n't they?'' `` Thank you for your time, Mrs. Sanders.'' `` Come back and see me anytime, that's the Sanders Cafe --'' Alan pressed the stop button on the deck, and flipped on the microphone. `` God bless her, but I think everyone knows where her cafe is by now.'' He chuckled. `` Three months in and we're no closer to any answers. I'm going to pull in James so he can join me in some conversation.'' `` Hullo.'' `` For anyone new to this series, James was my engineer on the day that we flipped WMAS to the Numbers Broadcast.'' `` You actually pressed the switch, did n't you, Alan?'' `` For all I know it's the same 8-track.'' `` And then they were pretty firm about us getting off of the property.'' `` Let's talk about'they.' You told me earlier that you had finally heard back from CRTC.'' `` Right.'' James shuffled some papers. `` CRTC, that's basically Canada's FCC. We had hoped that they would be a little more forthcoming with details.'' `` Let me guess.'' `` They said here, uh,'All inquires about 3941198 Ontario Incorporated should be forwarded to the American Federal Communications Commission, by special agreement between the CRTC and FCC.''' `` Not even an address, or a phone number?'' `` Nothing.'' `` Well, ladies and gentlemen. Another brick wall. That's all the time we have today. We do this little show every other week, Saturdays at 3:45. As always, I want to thank WGBH Boston for allowing us the privilege of chasing this mystery on your behalf. I'm Alan A. Anderson, and this was Exploring Numbers: The WMAS Mystery. Have a great day.'' The ON AIR light went off, and an ad started playing. `` Hey Alan,'' called out the engineer, `` the GM wants to see you. His office.'' `` He's here on the weekend? Bad news.'' `` He did n't tell me.'' Alan made his way to the small second floor and the General Manager's corner office. As soon as he swung open the door, he knew it was Bad News. The Company Man was sitting on the couch, three cigarette butts already in the ashtray in front of him. `` Alan. I believe you've already met Mister Smith?'' ``... Yes. Although I have n't seen him since he locked up WMAS.'' The name did n't change in Alan's head: he was sure the Company Man would be one of those people who was Smith today, Jones tomorrow, and Williams the next day. The Company Man took a drag. `` You still have a job here, Alan,'' the GM continued, `` but we're pulling the WMAS show. Today was your last one.'' `` That show is the most popular 15-minute spot in the entire market --'' `` Sorry, but it's simply not up for argument. Show's off.'' The GM looked over at the Company Man. `` And Mister Anderson,'' the Company Man spoke slowly, his voice hoarse from a lifetime of smoking, `` I suggest you end your personal investigations as well.'' `` I'm an American. What I do in my free time is my business. There's nothing illegal about asking questions.'' `` Your questions will not be answered.'' `` Me and a lot of other people want these questions answered.'' The Company Man's deep set eyes locked on Alan's. He stabbed out the butt in the ashtray without looking down. `` You got ta do what you got ta do. But take this as friendly advice.'' He reached into his jacket, drawing out another cigarette. `` Be careful what you stick your hands into. You might not be able to pull them out again.'' He struck a match, lit the smoke, and stood up. `` Just some friendly advice.'' He left. `` You really going to keep going?'' asked the GM. `` There's no way I'm stopping now.''

[ WP ] Each village has a designated `` scapegoat '' that everyone takes their issues out on . Write about the life of this person .

`` You like that you fucking whore?'' Jessie stared lifelessly into the ceiling. Sometimes it helped to try and count the ceiling fan's rotations, other times it did n't. Some men ignored her eyes rolling inadvertently, following the blades. Others gave her a firm smack across the face for her insolence. Her aggressor pounded vigorously into her -- tearing her even wider with each thrust. It would be over soon, judging from the quickening rhythm. `` Look at me you cunt!'' The aggressor barked, doling out a viscous backhand. She knew it. Jessie looked into his raging eyes and felt the familiar quiver. The attacker let loose a disgusting groan, spending his seed inside of her. It was over quicker than she expected, but being the village scapegoat, it was of little matter. The next angry citizen could come in a day, an hour, or be rapping at the door within seconds. The men mostly raped, or beat and raped, or a combination of the two. The only refuge was the occasional `` lover'', who offered to take her away. Rescue her. Marry her. She was obligated to refuse, which ended in beatings or rapes. They were the quickest. The women were just as savage. The scarring from fingernails raked across her eyes was always a fleshy pink - and stung a bit, too. Or the gash from a heel dug into her breast, which felt like a bruise eternal. It was easier to remember what the women were raging about - always a cheating husband, overlooked for a promotion, or general dissatisfaction of their drab housewife lives. In a way, it was an easier life than any of theirs. Her soul was nothing more than a husk, made to house the subtle, and some not so subtle cruelties of life. For this, surely she could gain some forgiveness, and have a better life dead.

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

Tania stopped stirring the pot of spaghetti sauce. Her light, airy chatter had cut out as well, leaving silence where there should have been a resolution to her anecdote. One of her hands was frozen around the wooden spoon and the other was curled possessively around the base of her swollen belly. Her eyes were fixed on nothing, wide and glassy. Charlie bolted out of his seat. `` What is it? Is something wrong with the baby?'' He reached his hands to help her but paused, not knowing if this was really his place. She gasped then, her face constricting in pain. `` Yes, yes everything is wrong.'' Her voice was strained. Charlie swallowed thickly. `` You do n't think it's uh,'' he licked his lips and whispered,'' a miscarriage.'' What were the signs of miscarriage? What could he do? Tania jerked her head toward him, eyes narrowed. Her voice was hard when she spoke. `` No, Charlie.'' He opened his mouth as if to ask something but quickly thought better of it. `` I just realized that I'm probably going to have to do this alone.'' Her tone softened and her shoulders slumped. Defeated. Theodore was still overseas. Charlie did n't know much about deployment but he'd assumed that things were wrapping up over there, that his sister would be reunited with her husband long before their baby was born. `` They do n't know where he is, Charlie. I got the call yesterday.'' She slowly sank to the floor, head in hands. `` Theo is missing in action.'' Charlie thought that maybe a miscarriage would've been easier to deal with at this point. He felt like an idiot searching for the right words. He kneeled next to his sister on the cool tile and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. `` What am I supposed to do? I have n't painted the nursery, I have n't gotten a crib, I do n't even have clothes for the baby. What if its little toes get cold? I ca n't be a single parent, Charlie.'' Her breathing was coming in ragged, panicked gasps. Charlier pulled her closer. He would make this better. ——————————————————————————————————————— The next few months Charlie doted on his sister. He organized her baby shower, he got her cravings in the middle of the night, and he kept in contact with the army about Theodore's situation as best as he could. The army did n't exactly have keeping Charlie in the loop as a top priority. When the contractions started Charlie put the overnight bag he had packed for Tania's labor into the car. The two of them piled in and he made sure his voice did n't betray how much he was freaking out on the inside. Her groans got louder with every contraction. The labor seemed to last forever. Their mom and dad were there, he was there, Theo's family was there, but still, Theo was gone. Charlie knew Tania was focused on his absence. He had an idea to take her mind off of it. Something she had said that day of the breakdown had stuck with him. At a slow point in the seemingly-endless labor, Charlie took the car and went to that one super upscale baby store. He picked out two of the tiniest shoes he'd ever seen. They were babydoll pink, perfect for the niece that was on her way. There was no way to reassure Tania about her husband, but at least she'd know that as long as Charlie was around, her little girl would n't have cold toes. He strode back into the hospital feeling confident about his gift. Maybe it'd give Tania the extra confidence boost to get through the remainder of the labor. He walked into the delivery room, shoes behind his back and a grin plastered on his face. He stopped in his tracks when he got in the room. There was Theodore. He was still in his uniform. He'd probably literally just gotten off a plane. He was by Tania's side, squeezing her hand and brushing the sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes. Charlie quietly left the room, feeling more at ease than he had in months. They did n't need these shoes anymore.

[ WP ] The gods play a practical joke on their followers for just one day . Allah , Buddha , Jesus , the Hindu gods and the Greek gods and goddesses took part .

A Friday, the Almighty academy had just let out for the weekend. A group of students, Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Zeus, Hera and Shiva were sharing the cheapest appetizers on the menu at the local diner'the holy grail' anticipating the arrival of Brahma and Vishnu. Zeus and Hera were already on their third nectar by the time the two arrived, Vishnu carrying what looked like a shoe-box under his arm. Jesus: What took so long? I thought you had finished with creating the earth, the sky and the heavens already Brahma? Brahma: Well I did but Vishnu here felt the need to be super delicate bringing it over here Vishnu: Well I am supposed to be the preserver are n't I? Buddha: Let us release our tensions. Allah: He's right, how are we gon na have fun with this! Shiva: Lets destroy them all Jesus: No, no, no, you've got ta tone it down Shiva. Lets just prank them a bit. What if I went down, did a few miracles, told them I was the son of god... and then just never came back! Allah: Hahaha. I like that. But do you think they'll buy that son of god thing? Maybe if we just went for being a prophet? Zeus: Screw that! Lets just disguise ourselves as small animals and get girls pregnant Hera: Zeus! How dare you? Brahma: Ya Zeus, I'd rather just let Shiva destroy my creation before letting you weirdly violate them... Buddha: Argument, does not lead to truth, but only to diluted perceptions Allah: Buddha is right! Lets all go just do our own thing. Everyone gets what they want. Hands in. Ready? 1,2,3... All: Break!

[ WP ] God 's best lawyers have to find a loophole in Satan 's contract for a soul .

God's lawyer: God created the soul and therefore owns intellectual and physical property rights and as such, the borrower of said soul can not own nor dispense with said soul under any circumstances. The soul is eternal and therefor so is the property rights. The contract is hereby null and void. Were said soul to be contracted to Satan, the contract is still null and void, as God created Satans soul and still maintains all ownership as well as intellectual and physical property rights. Satans lawyer: Technically, if God owns Satans soul then by proxy God would own the contract and in perpetuity both borrowers would still remain borrowers with adendums to use and function of said soul. Case closed.

[ WP ] Your son did as your will said and gave you a viking funeral because you thought it sounds cool . Beyond , a viking ghost yells at you for doing so and tosses you a weapon . Good Luck , Steve . It 's going to be a long afterlife .

The axe, aimed well for you to catch, struck you square in the chest. It came to rest in a patch of yellowed grass and the apparition who ’ d thrown it was motioning for you to take it up. The sky was overcast, and a battle was raging next to a thicket. The ghost approached and spoke in an irritated tone, “ You should not have come here, Steve of Melville. You have no place with my people. Why are you here? ” A thought fills you with dread. You are dead. You were Steve, and you did live in Melville. You remember this, and you remember dying. And these are not the thoughts which are bothering you. As a joke you had asked for a funeral befitting a viking warrior, and you remember flashes of it. The pyre, the smoke, the ceremony. Your son had done as you asked. You remember the cancer that killed you, and the pain which you no longer feel. These are not the thoughts that are bothering you. Or perhaps they are. It ’ s that you are having thoughts at all. That is what is worrying you. “ Why are you here? ” screamed the ghost, demanding an answer. “ I, ” you stutter, “ I don ’ t know. I didn ’ t think there would be an afterlife. ” “ How can you not know of the afterlife? I am to take you to Hel. You are not worthy of any place but that of the sickly and weak. Come, we will have to fight our way to the river. ” “ What do you mean, I ’ m going to Hell? Hell, hell? Fire and brimstone? ” you start in a panic. “ Fire, brimstone? I know not what lies in Helregrinn ’ s halls, ” the ghost paused for a moment and laughed, “ Perhaps you can tell me once you have seen it! ” He looked down at the axe, and then at you expectantly. You reach down and grasp the axe, and recoil as a flash of sensations shocks you. You had got glimpses of moments, past and future in that touch. The ghost laughed again, “ Hah! You ’ ve never used a weapon like this before have you? These weapons are made of the primal essence, the spirit that binds us all across realms. If you fall in battle to one, your spirit will be shattered and you will be truly gone. Pick it up, and endure. ” You grasp it once more and allow the rush of emotions and visions to flash through your being. The visions are distracting but with concentration you stay grounded. “ Follow, Steve of Melville, ” the ghost began marching toward the thicket, “ Gjallarbrú is on the other side of those woods. ” “ What is that? And why are there battles in the afterlife? ” you ask, as if an answer could remove you from your predicament. “ There is a river you must cross to enter Helregrinn ’ s realm. Gjallarbrú is the bridge. That is our destination. ” Visions from the axe flutter by. On your sons 37th birthday he is married, divorced, and dead in different visions. You feel that they are possibilities and that the axe allows you to see them. You want to see more of the happy moments and drift into the axe ’ s domain, but are shocked back into the afterlife. You are staring up at the clouded sky with your ghostly guide crouched over you, holding your axe. “ I told you to endure. If you can not, you will be drawn into the visions and be lost forever, ” he warned. “ Are the visions real? ” you wonder out loud. “ They may be, but they may not be. Only the gods can wield the power of the primal essence to craft the stories of the living. If you try, your spirit will be destroyed. The weapon uses our souls to power itself. Best to let it use the souls of your foes, yes? ” He extends his hand and helps you to your feet before handing the axe back. “ Will I be able to watch my son have his family in Helregrinn ’ s place? ” you ask. “ I don ’ t know, ” the ghost answered. The thicket was nearing and you can see that the vikings are fighting various creatures which emerge from the woods, and retreat. Wolves the size of bears rushed out alongside stags who ’ s fur was black as the darkest night, and who ’ s eyes glowed red with anger and rage. “ What can you tell me about it? There must be rumours. ” “ I have heard that it is a realm under the world made of golden mansions and of lavish decoration. The walls are built higher than any others there. There is a knife there called hunger. A dish known as famine. You may stumble upon the threshold and sleep in the sickbeds you will find within. There is no honour to be found and Hel will not give up her souls for anything. It is possible that the illness you bore in life will be your everlasting punishment. This is what I have heard. I do not know for certain. ” One of the warriors was being pushed back by an especially large stag and called for assistance. Your guide rushed to his aide. You know you are expected to cry out and jump in to battle. But you were not a viking. This battle was not your battle and you balk. The axe pulses in your hand and you wonder if your spirit can ensure one of the visions becomes true. If you try, the ghost had said, your spirit will be destroyed. Used up by the event you suspect. You grip the axe and close your eyes and the visions wash over you. You feel happiness, contentment, and after some searching you find overwhelming joy. There is your son, with a woman. They are in love, and she is telling him they are to have a baby. You focus on this moment and everything else fades. You are nothing but joy, and the moment becomes real to you. You want to open your eyes but they will not obey. It is dark, and sounds are muffled and becoming ever more quiet and distant. You are warm, comfortable, and tired. The visions no longer wash over you and neither does anything else. Relieved, you rest in peace.

[ CW ] Pick a singer and write a song/short story from only the words in their songs .

Single song word pool: `` Upward Over The Mountain'' - Iron & Wine -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - I had an eye for the girl that night, Mother. She sold her body with some friends on the corner and I had money I saved for the weekend. She got in the car and I had taken her to where I lived upward over the mountain. I gave her my coat when we were in the garden. We drank from the pantry and sang like birds. She lost the coat on the floor when she got in bed. She had a bruise on her pups. She gave me the eye and it was forgotten. Mother, she had a garden and my snake and I were planting it together. My paws on her body, flying upward over the mountain. I cried and sang with that girl, Mother, the Lord forgotten. I had to remember, Mother. She got a fear in her and cried in the corner. I had forgotten, Mother, but I always remember. I had to be stern with her, I worry. Mother, she's broken now - that girl who was with me. I blink with the sunrise and cradle her to my body, blood on the floor. With the morning birds, I had taken her by the creek bed. By the last of the morning, I got her in my car and we were flying upward over the mountain.

[ WP ] In an alternative reality where sleep is non-existent among living beings , our protagonist ( spontaneously or after an event ) falls asleep in which he/she experiences for the first time in human history what a dream is .

Jan. 1st, 1877 Journal Entry 3043 Gregory Johannes Last night I experienced an extended period of time for which I can not account. It is as if I was transported to a world completely different from the one in which I reside. I feel I must fear for my life given this recent development. I was hard at work in my laboratory at just after Midnight when the “ event ” began. I remember this vividly because my clock erupted with great jubilee as soon as it struck Midnight. This sudden noise alarmed me so terribly that I accidentally dropped my sample which then shattered all across the floor. As I have written in the past, I have been working on this formula for quite some time and I must admit I have been feeling fatigue and frustration in the recent days. Perhaps this has something to do with last night ’ s occurrence. Not long after Midnight had passed, I was picking up the loose pieces of the vial that had shattered when suddenly and without warning, I felt the urge to lie down on my back. It was as if my body was overtaken by a sensation that felt foreign but remained strangely native to my being. I did not regain my composure until some hours later. I have associated the experience with some sickness I must have come down with after spending such long days at work. Something that troubles me even more than the loss of consciousness is what happened during this lapse in my senses. I saw things I thought were not possible. I sat in the house of my parents who have long since passed away. Somehow, in this strange world, they were alive and well. We enjoyed a short meal before the house and everything around it, including my parents, melted away to reveal my fiancee from decades ago. I never thought I would see her again, but there she was, clear as day. She extended her hand out towards me and beckoned to me as she smiled. I felt incredible, excited, so alive! She led me to a small house on a hill which we seemed to reach instantaneously. I immediately recognized it as the house we had often spoke of living in. She had drawn up a mock portrait of what it might look like before she passed and it still hangs in my home to this day. This house that I saw matched the drawing down to the last detail. She opened up the door to the foyer and turned to face me. She opened her arms and moved to embrace me. As soon as our bodies touched, I was back in my laboratory lying on the floor dumbfounded. It worries me to no end that I do not know what happened last night. All I can say with certainty is that, if I had the choice, I would go back.

[ WP ] The hero has saved the day.And it was a big mistake .

Blood-soaked and sweaty, the guerilla stood over the generalissimo. In the war room of the last stronghold of Qwarezm, he finally had the dictator at hand. All he needed was to shoot him, and the war would be over. The generalissimo did not seem scared of his impending death. He spoke with a deep baritone voice, unshaken. `` Where are you from, soldier?'' `` No talk, tyrant.'' `` What does it matter? I will die today. You do not look like the typical rabble that rises up against my government. For one thing, you are white. For another, you speak English.'' ``...'' `` And why are you here in my country, fighting the progress we are bringing?'' `` Progress? Your soldiers have murdered and massacred thousands, millions of innocent civilians. Your own people. You have stifled democracy, destroyed the political opposition, ruined the economy with your ridiculous attempts at industrialization.'' He felt stronger with each accusation. `` Our forces are fighting for freedom. For liberty. For self-determination. This country shall choose its own leader. Your prisons that were once full of thought criminals will be emptied.'' The guerilla looked down upon the generalissimo, expecting a look of defeat, but saw only a smile. A smirk. There was a long pause, and the guerilla kept staring into the smug, know-it-all grin of the general. `` Have you ever wondered why the capital was so hard to take for your'forces'? Have you ever wondered who my supporters are?'' `` Your supporters are coerced.'' `` I assure you, they are not. They feel a certain pressure to support me, certainly. But that pressure is not created by me. In the capital, it is the college students who support me. Especially women. Women who will lose all their rights when your'freedom fighters' come in and take away their freedoms. When my regime overthrew the king, we found a country with a literacy rate of 2 percent. We raised it. We had to. Because we found a world where the West was dominant. In a world with a dominant, industrial, capitalist West, the only way to join the club was to become industrial, capitalist and Westernized. How could we compete without educating our people? Educating our people creates demands for freedom. So now, our universities are full of students. Last year was the year we finally had more graduates from engineering school than from the madrasa. All you saw on your cacophonous shouting programs that you call news was cases of torture. Did they tell you how much we raised the GDP of our country? How many people we lifted from poverty? The slave markets we closed down? The welfare systems we created? The sectarian violence we stopped, the same sects that are now closing in on this stronghold.'' The guerilla could feel his grip on the gun loosening a bit. The generalissimo could sense it, and laughed. `` And now here you are.'' `` Talk all you want, General. You wo n't change my mind.'' The word felt as hollow as they sounded. The generalissimo laughed even harder now. `` I do not intend to change your mind. I simply wish to have a nice conversation before you inevitably shoot me. We are surrounded. When the rebels overrun this base, they will immediately set up a new government. They will execute all the professors in the universities. They will rape all women who are uncovered. They will take all the children of all of my soldiers, and reopen the slave markets with them. And they will find every. Single. Foreigner. Who did not fight with them. No matter what you do, you have to shoot me, in order to get out of here alive, and to go back to where you came from...'' `` Michigan.'' `` It's lovely this time of year. I studied there.'' The Generalissimo hummed an American folk tune and closed his eyes, and waved the guerilla away, as if to say the conversation was over. The guerilla could hear the angry shouts outside. The rebel unit he was with was closing in. He raised his gun, and executed the generalissimo.

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

`` Not again,'' my coworker said. `` You know one of these days the player is going to arrive before you.'' `` I know, I know. I'm really sorry I arrived late again.'' I said like it was the first time even though it was probably the hundredth time. `` It's just that you know that I do n't really like this job.'' `` You always say that, yet you have n't looked for a solution.'' she said. `` Besides this job is not that bad. We have our own property, we do n't have to mine the gold for coins, we trade for it. There is no chance of the player or another NPC killing us.'' `` Yes and that's the problem. We always follow the same routine, even if there is no player at the time. It's really boring being the standard invulnerable shopkeepers. Also you know that we are not invulnerable, it's just that the players here are n't allowed to attack us,'' I answered quickly. To be honest I had been thinking about this for a while. Life like this tends to be boring, especially with only one player going around at the moment. I wish we were n't allocated to a single-player zone. My cousins in the MMORPG zone have it better than me, even though they can sometimes be robbed and mugged. But what's life without some risk? I want to find out. `` So what's your solution? You do have the experience to move on to another genre. Maybe you ca n't get a fancy job as an A.I. bot with respawn privileges but I bet you could become minion if you really want that risky life or maybe be part of a tutoria-'' `` No, I want more,'' I interrupted her. `` I want to be like the players, who roam around and can have any adventure they want!'' `` Hahaha you know that's impossible. Players are born and picked because of their unique qualities. Even if you had those qualities, you would n't know it because they do n't tell the people what are those qualities that make you apt to be a player. If somebody else heard what you said, they would probably think that you are a villain in the making,'' she said somewhat worried. `` Trust me, I do n't want to be a villain or a hero for that matter. I just want to be a player so I can go out wherever I want and whenever I want. It's not about the risks and rewards of that live, it's about being able to make your own choic-'' Sadly I never finished that sentence since I heard the doorbell ring. Suddenly we went quiet, like our job said we should do and started to recite the same lines we had been saying for the past years every time a player went into our store. As usual the player grunted, dropped a lot of stuff to sell and we traded it for the established amount of money. The worst part of it was that the player used to be my friend. We played around as kids until suddenly he was picked to be a player. Since then he does n't really care about me or his family. It's like he remembers but chooses to ignore us, like he was somebody else. My family tells me to be proud of him, because of him we attained the status of secondary characters. All of my family except me, who somehow was designed a tertiary character left to be forgotten. After he left, my coworker left looking annoyed since we could have been found out not acting in character by a player no less. That would have been definitely a capital punishment. Now that I was alone, I went through the stuff of the player in order to sending the appropriate materials to the recycling plant so they could be used in creating more items. I was so depressed of doing this again until I found something that looked like a machine, very different from the technology of the zone and even different from the genre we were in. It looked like some kind of computer and it was logged in with the profile of my friend. Before I could tell my coworker about my rare discovery, I found two options on the computer: log out and change player. Without hesitation I selected change player.

[ WP ] In 2050 big corporations have LOST . Strict anti monopoly laws prevent any company from having more than a handful of employees and competing outside regional markets .

`` Can I call Alaiksi to ask whether I can come over?'' Jima asked her mother who was darning a sock by the window. `` Is your homework all done?'' she asked, keeping her eyes on the cloth. `` Yes. Sure is!'' `` Are you really certain?'' she asked, while adjusting her glasses. `` Ai-ki-mo-ga-li certain!'' she said and took the phone off its charger. It was a simple thing created by two blokes in the neighborhood with a 3D printer and access to free software repositories. Its shell showed a mirabelle plum in a joke which Jima was too young to understand. `` Do n't use Ai-ki-mo-ga-li for trivial things like that. You know it stands for those who won us the revolution.'' her mother chided. `` Sorry, Mum! Can I call though?'' `` Sure! Which phuong does she live in?'' Mum asked. `` It's behind the park, but not near the chapel. Near where the wild blueberries grow. That's 6th phuong, yes?'' `` It is, yeah, so their relay code is 20, area code is 06 and transfer code is either 50 or 36, depending on whether they are with Lijamu or Saril. You get this?'' Jima pouted: `` That makes it just too difficult. I do n't get this...'' Mum now looked at her and motioned her to come towards the window. `` Remember: RATE: relay, area, transfer, expected participant.'' `` Sure, Relay is...?'' Jima struggled and her mother let her for this moment. `` Relay is... the state exchange. The same relay needs to exist between 2... companies, yes? Otherwise it is not clear whom to contact. Because the next numbers are like block and house sections, but relay tells us the street they are in.'' she rehashed an analogy she picked up in school. `` Great! You get it!'' `` But why is it so hard?'' she complained. `` Because we had to re-purpose things which used to belong to the megas, before the revolution and had to make it our own. That leads to crufty solutions like that.'' Jima shook her head, but did n't say anything. It was clear that she did n't fully believe the stories about the megas, that she deemed them like Father Frost. Then she realized what she was about to do: `` I'll call Alaiksi!'' Her mother obseved as she dialed every number painstakenly slow and as earnest as a 6 year old could do it, then put the phone on speaker. A tinny voice, recorded not generated like before the revolution, informed about the inter-network prices. After a pause to hang up, the call was patched through and Jima's Mum asked Alaiksi's father whether Jima could come over. He accepted, and Jima almost immedaitely jumped into her sandals and was on her way. `` Too be young again...'' said her mother as she saw Jima run past the window. Her eyes glanced over the newspaper headline: The city welcomed its 100'000th citizen.

[ WP ] The ancient dragon , nearing his end , takes a moment to reflect upon his long life .

The sun had just set over an inconspicuous cave that was soon to be the final resting place of an ancient, majestic creature. Never to be remembered, never to be praised, he humbly picked this spot for a simple reason. He could clearly see the skies above him while his, now greatly weakened, body lay still close to the cave entrance. `` Thousands of times I have gazed upon the heavens'', he thought to himself silently, `` but the skies above never seemed so clear, the stars so bright. I have never had much time to look up I suppose. There was work to be done, a world to be built. I did n't question the duty assigned to me by an invisible but omnipresent force that I never met but always felt as it inspired my actions. It is what drove me forward to finish what I have started ages ago. I never thought what the end would look like. Not while I flew high above this new world, never ignoring a single gust of wind under my wings. I will miss flight. The incredible feeling when you rise above the ground, watching your shadow grow smaller and smaller below. I never thought of the end as I watched mountains rise and oceans fill. It took countless years for them to settle to their current size and place. The waves... I will miss them too. The sound of waves breaking around me while I rested on the shore. Not even now, as I feel the void slowly engulf what remains of me do I think of the end. I think of the stars, the ones that shone long before I came to the world, and the ones that will remain in the skies long after I am gone. How many others are out there, I ca n't help but wonder? Others like me, my brothers whom I will never meet, busy turning their own chaotic worlds into something good. The stars remain with me, stalwart to the end, the only ones to witness the last few breaths that I will ever draw. Seems only fair, I suppose. The night is at its darkest at last. The moment I've been waiting for. Finally, the time has come for me to do a last act of service for this world I grew so fond of. I never imagined what the end would look like. I was born immortal, after all. I was never told this by anyone, I just felt it. Felt that I could not die except by choice. I could live forever if I wanted to. Eternal life sounded more tempting with each passing moment, but no. I have made my choice. I will sacrifice my immortality to bring them into this world. I hope that they will use the gift of life well. I hope that they will look up to the stars every now and then. Stars. I will miss them most of all...'' As the first rays of sun shone in the skies, the first man set foot on earth. Oblivious to the fact that an ancient presence has left this world only moments before, he strode forward towards an emergence of a new race. It was the way of the universe. From death came life, and the cycle will go on and on. Many more will perish only to be replaced by others. Others that no one but the stars will remember.

[ WP ] It turns out that our universe actually is a simulation , but one that plays like an MMO . As humanity develops better weapons , the mods release bigger bosses . Humanity dealt with this challenge rather well until July 16th , 1945 : the day of the Trinity test .

`` Gentlemen, we have reached a crisis of unprecedented proportions.'' I cleared my throat, before turning to the screen. I clicked forward, bringing up a chart detailing dam versus def for the last few expansions. `` As you can see here, we try to keep the enemies within a general range. The more damage humans can inflict, the more damage enemies can withstand. For the past three expansions, `` New World,'' `` War Economies'', and `` Aircraft,'' the only way this has been reasonable is through setting humans against humans.'' I pointed to each section in turn, showing how smallpox balanced the relatively small numbers of invaders, trenches balanced mass conscription, and air power balanced floating cities. `` Now I will admit, we've has issues with the growth algorithms, I know how sad it was to need to remove the American spawns from the major factions list, but it has always worked out to some degree, and the challenge has always remained.'' I clicked the slide again. `` Unfortunately, someone in programming misunderstood how large c^2 is.'' I pulled out a roll of red paper, which an assistant began to tape to the ceiling. `` I thought that a logarithmic chart would understate how much of an issue this was, so I took some liberties. The entire Fascist vs Democracy faction war's energy output could be exceeded by a single clan's initial attack. Hell, it was only thanks to Garry's quick thinking to raise the fusion temperature of element 7 that the project is n't literally burning right now.'' `` So?'' The vice president of marketing said, `` Just accelerate the next expansion.'' `` Can concepts please tell us what the next major enemy was going to be?'' I responded. `` Well, we were thinking of using some of those giant bones left over from project post-Cambrian, with a few tweaks to the base code, we could import a spawning site and let them run amok. There really is n't anything that is large enough to mess with the self-propelled smokeless cannons otherwise.'' A voice piped up from the back of the room. `` And could testing tell us how effective those bosses will be?'' `` Dude... we just dropped a few of those and it was awesome. The ground was glass for miles.'' `` And what about the spawn sites?'' The marketing vp asked. `` Dunno man, nothing came back from there.'' `` Thank you, testing. For some reason, programming decided to make the weapon have multi-century poison effects in addition to citybuster explosive power. The closest thing we have in the pipeline to a viable enemy is introducing the Xeno simulation to this world, but that's at least a couple decades out. They're still stuck on sub-light travel, and a couple millennia until the next expansion wo n't solve anything. Unless we want to break canon by spawning them on planet five, we need to figure out something fast.'' `` Does the Democracy faction have any defenses against the weapon?'' Someone asked. `` Not that we know of, but they have enough land that it does n't really matter if they get hit a few times.'' I replied, craning to see who spoke. `` Well, I think its pretty simple. Just reenact the Great Thermostat War.'' I finally spotted the Director of HR, smiling viciously. `` I apologize, but I'm not familiar with that particular war.'' Garry from programming said. Surprising, considering his frankly scary obsession with the game's canon. `` No, its not in game. Last year, someone in HR turned up the thermostat to 71 degrees. Then someone else turned it down to 65 in revenge. Every day, people would change it from the exact setting of 68 to increasingly wrong numbers trying to offset the revenge reset.'' She said primly. `` So?'' I asked, fiddling with the clicker. `` Eventually everyone agreed that no one could change the thermostat, because the alternative of sweaty clothes or constant shivering was too much to bear. It was mutually assured destruction for anyone to touch it.'' `` I'm not sure if the bomb is powerful enough for that.'' `` I think that the code will support a bomb a couple hundred times more powerful, and multiple warheads, and... oh this is going to be fun.'' Garry said, frantically scribbling. `` Can we improve the inter-faction diplomacy menu to support this?'' `` Should n't be that difficult. Most of the framework is there from the Alliance War.'' I paused, thinking it over. `` I think that should work.'' Cheering erupted from throughout the room. It quickly hushed as a figure from the head of the table pushed their chair back. The CEO stood up. `` Fellow Game's masters, I think we have found the next boss. Let us begin the era of the War Against Player Nature.''

[ WP ] A couple come to the end of their relationship and one of them decides they should break up . There 's no arguments , only an 'OK ' .

`` We've been together for, what? 50 years now?'' `` 57'' `` That is a long time. Very long. You know what I was thinking? We should break up.'' `` Silly. I was leaving you anyway.'' The beeping of the machines filled the otherwise empty hospital room. They had no children or close relatives. Every one of her heavy, labored breaths hurt him. They used to climb mountains together, and now they would n't conquer a hospital bed. `` I'll leave you all alone,'' she said. He was feeling her grip get weaker and weaker with each passing second. `` I'm sorry,'' she said again. The same words, ever since she was admitted in the hospital. `` No. We lived a good life. I would n't change a thing.'' He gently stroked her fingers. `` You can go now. You can go...'' She did n't answer; he cried for a long time. -- -- -- -178

[ WP ] In a distant future the Equator has become a scorching ring of fire impossible to cross . Centuries have passed without communication between the two halves of the earth . Until now .

The north side of the equator became money hungry and obsessed with status. Ran out of natural resources, famine, disease, and war broke in several areas as the rich remained in gated bubbles that levitate above the mountains. The south side found peace and managed to build stable societies. They prospered and have become one with the land. Big governments do n't exist and they live in harmony. They have advanced in science and technology and have been seeding other planets. They also managed to learn to travel into the past where they've been sending some of their own to the past- before the equator thing happened- using their advanced knowledge to prevent the separation

[ WP ] After spending a few centuries haunting various spooky places , a bored ghost realizes that it is n't constrained by physics and can travel beyond the earth 's atmosphere .

Neil deGrasse Tyson watches a lot of porn. A lot. Of porn. If there is one frustrating thing about the afterlife, it's that there are no answers. You die with the same questions you lived with and they live on with you. There is no omnipotence. There is no nirvana. There is no center. There is nothing... nothing as much as I can understand it. That's one of the reasons I am here... watching what I considered the greatest person in the scientific community rub one out under his office desk three or four times a day - A DAY - to mainly girl-on-girl submission porn. Once a week or so he follows a rabbit hole from the `` suggested videos'' section down to some ridiculous shit I know he does n't understand because there is absolutely no reason a man with his background ever learned Malaysian or understood that the old Asian man was actually fucking an actress - er, actor - and not his real daughter and those are days the worst. You can just sense his disgust with himself post-orgasm and those are the only days he throws his nasty towel into the hamper because, Christ, this guy has got to just be afouled of his own sexual filth and thank God because I remember the pictures online of the cumrags that grew mushrooms and oh for fucks sake I am glad I do n't shudder anymore. You ca n't read minds, either. I like to think that would make it easier. Sometimes I wonder if that would make it worse. Jesus, you think you know a person from all their social media exposure and it turns out the brightest bulb on Earth concerning astrophysics is a lonely old guy who ca n't get off if the woman has a British accent or small nipples. I settled into this thinking I would be reading over the shoulder of the genius and learning what he learns and maybe that would help me enjoy all of this and I just end up disgusted. There is a part of the eternal me that is falling victim to what many philosophers are just grazing the surface of... maybe we do n't want to know. Honestly, I ca n't blame the guy. The first thing I did when I accepted this form was learn to travel. You just sort of will yourself to a place. It started slow before I picked up on the ethereal nature of the afterlife. I mean slow like I followed interstate highways and took exits and followed streetsigns like some schnook with a phone gps. It took me two years to finally float my way to Los Angeles. I stopped once, can you believe that? I actually stopped because a ten-rig pileup had closed I-10 east of El Paso and I stopped because of the traffic like I could n't just float over it or around it or through it for christ's sake. I was an idiot. I was idiot when I was alive and I am an idiot when I was dead. Ok, let me stop. I need to explain that. One of the things that comes with the afterlife is this final acceptance of what time really is. That's another thing we all got wrong. Time is n't a flat circle or a line or anything like that. Time is not a thing. There is no time. It's not like it's a gift you get and you suddenly realize it, it's like everything else - you just sort of figure it out. I was hanging out in a lecture hall at UCLA and listening to Tyson talk about entropy and he was on a panel with a bunch of other scientists and they were all discussing this entropy business and I could n't understand three fourths of what they were saying but something one of them said is `` Entropy puts a timer on the universe,'' and I just knew that had to be wrong. I mean, I lived by a clock - even though as a person I was constantly late and about as punctual as a giraffe but I was always aware of time. It gave me anxiety and made me afraid of being late and looking bad or losing my job or whatever but here, here in this... place or state or whatever, there was none of that. I have almost forgotten what fear feels like. If I do n't have a fear of it, it does n't happen. Does that make sense? Okay, okay, I see where you might have a hard time with that but I am telling you, the absence of fear does n't have anything to do with courage or bravery, scary things do n't exist if you're not afraid of them. I avoid campfires, old women, young boys, and graveyards. You know why? Because I remember those always made people believe that ghost were real. Even rational people would get their withers up around them and it gave me anxiety. I had anxiety because I felt like if people were scared, then by my rationale, they could see me and I - oh man, I had a REAL hard time understanding that I do n't have clothes on anymore. I'm not naked because there is nothing to be naked... anyway. I had it in my mind that if they believed it enough they would see me and I did n't want that on me, you know? But it does n't work that way. I am not a ghost like you think I am. It's nearly impossible to explain. I'm not some shadowy apparition, I do n't have a sheet on me there are no chains and I do n't make noise. I ca n't knock anything over or make the power go out. There is no slime or plasma or any of that shit. I do n't even think I can call myself a ghost because... get this....there are no other ghosts. I am it. I know, right? Ghost is just my own term for it. I know I am dead and this is what comes after but beyond that, pal, I ca n't really explain much more. Anyway, sorry about that. I was going to LA, right? And the reason I am telling you this story is..forget it. Look, I made my way out to LA because I wanted to watch Christina Ricci take a shower. I'm serious. I figured out death, I figured out the afterlife and my top priority was to go to LA and watch Christina Ricci take a shower. That's the way my eternal mind works. I did n't go looking for aliens. I did n't try and divide by zero. I did n't try to resolve my past or reconvene a new consciousness. I went to watch an actress take a shower. No matter what happens, I am still a 22 year old aspiring musician with a year of community college and nine jobs all of which revolved around two bars in my hometown. That's it - the worldly me - the Earthly me. I was idiot in life, I am an idiot in death. But to answer your next question, yes. In a word, yes. It was worth it. I watched her shower four times in two days. It was incredible. I honestly did n't know what to do with myself. On the third time, I got in the shower with her and I thought I might be approaching some sort of eternal enlightenment because I felt so fulfilled - there i was, microns away from those exquisite twins, and then... well, she peed in the shower. She peed just all over the floor of that shower and farted like a goddamn sick dog and I realized what an imbecile I was. Here i was, lost in the sea of the afterlife, afloat on the greatest plane of existence or non-existence or whatever I'm not trying to quantify the whole thing and I was watching this woman almost shit herself in the shower while she was shaving her legs because I thought she looked very fuckable in Black Snake Moan. I just sort of floated up - I did that float thing I had learned along the way and went up through the ceiling and the roof and just looking down I knew I was going further and further up and I just decided to keep going and I kept going and going until the planet was just a dot I kept my eyes on and then....then....I stopped. I stopped and just looked around. Way up there or way out there or whatever - man, that is a big bunch of nothing. And way out in that nothing... was a red Cadillac. I'm serious. It looked like a red 68 Cadillac and I thought that's odd so I went toward it. I think it was really far away but I came up on it fast and it turns out it was n't a Cadillac at all but a massive cloud of red gas or something about the size of a trillion LA Counties and I had no clue what it was. So i thought I should try and learn what this was and could n't really think of how to do that, I mean, I was in Christina Ricci's shower just before that and fart or not, her tits were still fresh in my head and I was n't thinking terribly clearly. So, I came back to Earth and figured I would hang out In the office of Neil deGrasse Tyson and maybe I could figure out what this Cadillac looking thing was. I would just read over his shoulder and at some point, maybe I would learn something about the universe. I learned two things so far: Intelligent people read things written for people on their level. I ca n't understand anything but the forwards he reads from his wife and... Neil DeGrasse Tyson watches a lot of porn. A lot. Of Porn.

[ WP ] Write a short intro to a story of two of your favorite fictional ( fantasy , sci-fi , comic book , movie , etc . ) characters meeting each other for the first time .

It was like a firefly, a piece of starlight sinking slowly into the night sky. The people upon the ground watched it intently, with equal parts grief, awe, and fear. They watched until it rose high enough to fade from view. And even then, they continued to look upwards with nothing left but a feeling of wonder and despair in their hearts. Beyond human eyes, the light drifted beyond the atmosphere of that tiny blue world. It did so hesitantly, as if something had been left behind. But something was calling to it, a greater mass of star stuff, a pulsing orb of brilliant radiance. The smaller approached the greater with caution, sensing something similar but greater than itself. They began to dance around each other in a slow and steady orbit. And then, impossibly, they spoke. `` I am Tetsuo'' `` Hello. I am Dave.''

[ Wp ] Due to severe brain trauma as a kid , you may only speak in metaphors . It sure as hell wo n't stop you from breaking up with your SO .

John, thistle flower, you have gone to seed, and though the bite has gone out of you, I find you clinging. You are in the folds of my coat and the seams of my trousers. I find your down wafting through my air, catching the sunlight and casting it out. Even the light of my eye can not be mine, but must be filtered through your little clouds. And, John, the crux and climax is this: seed is for quickening. Am I soil, John? What is soil? The breaking down of ancient stone, the death and rot of lively, living things. I can not, will not be soil, John. Not yet, and not for you. Spring, John. Spring follows Winter, follows autumn, and if it is autumn now, perhaps it will be Summer soon. Do not stay fallow too long, John, or you will miss the growing season. All my love, Rose

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

I am woken up by a intense migraine.'What happened last night?' I scratch an itch on my wrist and let out a hiss of pain.'Okay​ now I'm​ awake.' sitting up out of my bed I see the floor is cover in empty beer bottles and ``... Is that real blood or fake blood?' My arm lets out another pulse of discomfort, I look at it. In bold black letters the name `` Roxanne'' is etched.'I told them not to take me drinking. Welp I guess I will just have to marry Roxanne now. why else would I get a tattoo like this?' standing up a little part of my mind tries to remind me of something but it is denied. I desperately need my morning coffee. The house is covered in blood.' I need to stop giving blood rigging to my friends. This is going to be hell to clean up.' I finish my coffee before heading to the bathroom. Inside somebody is passed out on the toilet and there's more blood'Okay, we really need to tone it down with the body fluids. This is getting rediculus.' I reach to shake the person sitting next to me. `` Hey, It's almost lunch. Do you want to go out for some food or something?'' There is no answer. `` Are you doing alright? You seem a bit pale. Do you need anything?'' The person slumps to the floor and I stare. There is a gaping hole in their back as if they were shot with a shotgun, and on the back of their thigh written in bold black letters is the name of my best friend. I open up my phone and dial the contact labled `` Roxy'' and from the other room a phone rings. 'I told them they shouldn't​ take me drinking.' ( This is that first time I've tried anything like this so I do n't know if I'm doing this right. Please inform if I am doing this wrong. )

[ wp ] She dedicated her life to hunting monsters . Until she realized she was one .

The flames ignited, the sound of wood crackling was almost deafening in this silent forest. Beth withdrew the autodaggers from her utility belt and pressed them against the tree. One at a time, she scaled the tree to the nearest branch. Then pulled a small glass ball full of gasoline and threw it at the fire. It only took a second, the flames erupted. She knew she had less than a minute until it arrived. She's heard of a grendwur. But has never actually seen one, let alone killed one. She only knows what the village told her. A giant white beast, standing at least 9 feet high. A tiger like face, with a body like a stretched out gorilla. It runs on all fours and hates the sight and smell of fire. The widowed bride of the man killed by the beast said that their used to be thousands of them in the area, that they were a real problem for early human settlers. She snaps back into reality. There isnt time to think about anything else but the task at hand. The wind blows through the trees, the flames rise, not only in the forest, but in her soul. It has been longer than 4 minutes, she grows impatient. The first drop of sweat falls from her brow. `` It should've been here by now'' she thinks to herself. She pulls another glass ball from her belt. Then, she hears it.....She hears them. Multiple foot steps, running faster than she could think to react. They are coming from straight ahead, she puts the glass ball back in her pocket. pulls out the G cannon. Waitng for them to emerge from behind the brush. Two ermerge, they are smaller then expected. She cocks the weapon and fires the goo at the front legs of one. It wraps around and the young grendwur falls to floor, the other tries chewing at the goo, and takes a shot to its legs as well. She reloads so that she can take out the hind legs. As she finishes reloading, she hears something from below and looks down. The giant grendwur jumps into the air and rips the branch from under her, she fires the G cannon directly at the face of the beast. She lands on its head, shattering the glass in her pocket and spilling the gasoline, and then hits the floor. She gets up and limps backward while the grendwur tries to rip the goo from its face. The young grendwurs, crying out for their mother. She walks towards there cries, only to stumble straight into the fire. The goo catches fire from the gasoline. And starts melting off her face. She flurries and rubs her head vigorously against the forest floor. Beth knew she had little time before the beast regained its vision. She pulled out the autodaggers and scaled the nearest tree. She grabbed onto the first branch that could support her weight and sat on it. She reloaded the G cannon. The grendwur had finally freed itself from the goo. It looked up at Beth, with eyes that would turn medusa to stone. It let out a roar that shook the forest. A roar that let Beth know more clearer than any other language, she was going to pay. It charged at Beth, running up the tree as if it was horizontal. Beth shot it's hand as it climb the tree. Getting it stuck. The grendwur tried to use the other hand to free it, but not before Beth shot that one as well. It hung there helpless. Looking up at her and roaring. Beth jumped from the branch onto its shoulders. Pulled out the auto daggers and stabbed the beast repeatedly in the eyes and neck. The young grendwurs crying out for there mother. Louder now then ever before. And she was crying right back to them. And then something incredible and horrible happened all at once. The grendwur used all it's leg and arm strength to pull itself free. Beth quickly stuck her autodagger into the tree before she could fall along with the grendwur. The great white beast landed on it's back, Beth thought it died right then and there, but no. The grendwur crawled towards the sound of her children's cries, she pulled herself, because she no longer had the strength to walk. The children tried scooting there way towards her using only there legs. When they were finally close enough they licked there moms face. Letting out one last roar before finally meeting death. Not even being able to see her children one last time because of the damage Beth done to her. Beth climbed down the tree and fell to her knees, not being able to carry the weight of her regret. She laid, there and cried. After she could no longer shed tears, she finally stood up. The young grendwurs, still trying to heal their dead mothers wounds by licking her. Beth lit a piece of wood on fire, and burned off the goo from both there legs. They both stood up. Beth sat down. Knowing that they could both kill her, and that they have every right to. But they just laid down even closer to their mothers body. Every monster has it's own monster. Beth realized that herself, and the human race were the worst of them all.

[ WP ] Add a paragraph and keep the story going

It tore past me, a blur in the dark waters, and the demons around me scattered, nothing more than swirling eddies of rage. I could hear them, vaguely, their gurgling screeches reaching me through the silent seas. The edge of my vision pulsed black. My limbs felt like lead, dragging me further into the water. It made a streaming arc in the water, the watery beings hissing, unseen. Orange burning eyes stared at me as it began to circle. We'd beem hunting it for so long but now... I stretched out my hand, touching the beast's side, grazing my skin on the metallic gears and cogs as they whirred and spluttered endlessly.

[ WP ] Someone you know has been in a horrible accident . You burst through the crowds and police to be near them . As you get close to them you realise you made a mistake . It 's not who you thought it was .

The museum doors were going to open at 9 AM, which was perfect. The kids could run around and play together, and we would be able to walk behind them and just make sure they did n't touch anything. Marianne would prattle on and on, with Jim smirking at me and rolling his eyes, but at least it was better than staying indoors on such a stormy day. Seeing the terracota warriors was a much better plan than trying to keep Henry entertained while couped up in the house. Plus he loved seeing Jim. A dark blue minivan pulled out, and I smiled. Jim was always on time. He would rather die than be late. I could n't see Marianne, but I was sure she was in the back, packing stuff in the diaper bag or checking on something for the last time. I did n't see it happen, but I heard it. The screech of tires and the loud thud caught my attention. I slammed on the brakes and swerved, sideswiping the car next to me, which slid to a halt a few feet ahead. `` Holy shit!'' Henry. I looked over my shoulder to see him wide eyed. `` Are you OK?'' He nodded, his little face white, the toy dog in his hands forgotten. I could tell that he was scared and gauging my reaction, so I forced a smile. He started to cry. `` Hey lady, you OK?'' A man was outside my window, a bag of groceries clutched in his arms. `` Yea, fine.'' I glanced around at the accident. The blue minivan was in the middle of the intersection, but it did n't look right. It's not supposed to be like that. `` It's OK, baby, it's OK.'' I turned the car off, removed my seat belt and got out to see what had happened. The blue minivan was smoking, the front end shrunken in like an accordion. Henry. I ran around the car and pulled the door open. He was still crying, but he put his arms out when he saw me, and I unbuckled him with shaking hands. My back twinged as I pulled him out, and he laughed to hear the sirens. `` Fire truck!'' I could hear people talking, but their words did n't sink in. Jim. He was in there. The minivan was n't supposed to be like that. We were going to the museum. He had wanted to see Henry. To see me. But now -- - The police pulled up and one of them got out with a flashlight to peer in the car. A crowd had gathered around, and I pushed my way to the front. `` Let me through! He's -- -'' The window was broken and I could see the man inside. Not Jim. I stood there as the police officer tried to stop the bleeding. Henry hid his face, tucking it against my neck. `` I wan na go home. I want Papa.'' I hugged him closer, everything else fading away. `` Yea, me too.''

[ WP ] Valentine 's Day is coming up . Write a poem to your significant other/romantic interest .

Of all the times I've wished Upon that lonely, brightest star My favorite wish is that I could Strike up a song on a nice guitar. So when you have those lonely nights I'll have a tune to keep you warm And on dark days my calming song Will always slow and calm the storm. Alas, my chord is not played aloud My song instead, is sung with words While I'm no poet, these lines are flawed I'll write you a story where you can soar with the birds. Above the clouds Over mountains so high You'll skip work the day Your favorite characters might die. But it wo n't stop there; There's always room for a sequel If I'm not writing horrid poems I'll try for a good prequel. You wo n't just love me You'll love my creations too Which is every bit a part of me As all the love I have for you. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- *^Be ^gentle. *