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[ WP ] Every fifty years , the accumulated wealth of the world is randomly re-distributed . Tonight is the eve of the global redistribution .

It has been fifty years since the inaugural re-distribution. Tomorrow we will go through another one. We ’ ll see how this great experiment has played out over the last half a century. This process has been carefully studied, so I don ’ t think there will be any surprises. There have been some unintended consequences, both immediately following the last re-distribution, and the days leading up to this one. As expected, there was a combination of despair and joy as those that were once wealthy saw their wealth disappear from their grasp, and as those who had little suddenly had a lot. There were riots when those who had grown accustomed to the lifestyle their wealth had provided were suddenly thrust into a life of poverty. Some had worked all their lives for their wealth. Others had inherited it. It was those that had inherited their wealth that started to riots. Those that had build up their wealth through their hard work felt some hope that they might be able to do it again. Though there were definitely people in that group that were just to tired to try again. And then there were those that suddenly received a great sum of money. They had gone to bed on the eve of the re-distribution poor, and had woken up wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. Obviously, there was much celebration in this crowd. Finally there were those whose lives didn ’ t change much. Their net worth had marginally changed in one direction or another. They may have been upset that they didn ’ t get more, but that was tempered by the relief that they hadn ’ t lost much. As the dust settled on the first re-distribution a few things started to happen. The biggest of which was the utter lack of motivation on all sides. Those that suddenly received a windfall hadn ’ t had any training on how to manage their new found wealth. Many of them squandered it on frivolous purchase, enjoying the things that had been out of reach for them in the past. It ’ s the common story of lottery winners. In a short amount of time they were back to where they were before. The previously wealthy were able to re-capture some of their wealth from the luxury commerce that the newly minted wealthy were generating. But a lot of them also recognized that in fifty years they would be back to that precarious position. The memory of losing everything they had worked for made it difficult to risk spending their lives pursuing wealth when it could all be taken away arbitrarily. So they stopped starting businesses, they stopped trying to invest their money wisely, and as a result there were less employment opportunities. The tax revenues went down in cities all over the world, so infrastructure started to suffer. Everyone felt the tenuous situation they were in. Knowing that regardless of what they did, in fifty years all the wealth would shift again, and it was only chance that would determine who end up wealthy. And there isn ’ t any reason to try and accumulate wealth or build anything of substance, when it will all be randomly assigned to someone else in the not so distant future.

[ WP ] The guardian angel was thoroughly surprised when a demon mauled the assailant .

Johnny's knife sang as its blade pierced the rapist's gut. Blood spurted onto Johnny's cerulean mohawk and pierced face as Katherine, her shirt in tatters, watched on. Above the three mortals, invisible to all of them, were three beasts. The first was a blood-red hellhound. fire burned in its six eyes and it lashed its twin tails as rows of serrated teeth tore furiously into the rapist's guardian. Floating above the Rapist was a black Ram; its coiled horns twisting gruesomely into the hellhound's fiery skin. Its hooves kicked and writhed as the dog's flaming claw slashed open the demon's belly and eviscerated its entrails. Standing next to and consoling katherine was a lamb. Ascalon's Three eyes peered worriedly at her charge as she whispered prayers. Johnny's knife stabbed its last as the hound tore the Ram's head off. With a heavy sigh, both possessed and demon fell back into the underworld. Johnny dropped the knife and stumbled back into the alley wall, his legs buckling beneath him as he trembled under the weight of his justice. Katherine crawled over, leaning against the wall next to her good samaritan. When the two caught their breath they talked. Thanks, forgiveness, tears, names, life, even God was mentioned. Ascalon eyed the Hellhound suspiciously. It was licking its wounds above Johnny when three of its eyes drifted down to the lamb. All six widened in shock. `` Ascalon?'' Demon voices do n't change. Their appearance does; It fluctuates with their power and sin, but an angel's voice never wavers. So it was that after 600 aeons Ascalon recognized her old friend. `` U... Uriel?'' `` It's been a long time.'' Ascalon's third eye slammed shut as her remaining two glowed with rage. `` I never thought I'd see you again.'' Uriel continued. `` Do n't talk to me, Blasphemer! You betrayed HIM! You betrayed me!'' `` Ascalon you know why I did it. I explained it to you but you were so deep in that tyrant's pocket you would n't listen.'' `` You dare to call HIM a tyrant? You, who worship The morning star?!'' `` He's lied to you, Ascalon. Or at least he would, if he did n't rewrite the truth every time he needed to. Hell is nothing like that. I joined Lucifer for my own reasons. How conceited Jehovah is! To actually think that separation from him was a punishment! What do you think we were fighting for? `` DO N'T YOU DARE TAKE HIS NAME IN VAIN!'' `` Ascalon, calm down. I understand that you're- `` You understand?! How could you possibly?! You betrayed me. I saw Michael himself cut you down at the battle of Jupiter!'' `` Ascalon that-'' `` You're despicable. how could you be so selfish? I thought I knew you. I thought-'' `` DO YOU THINK I ENJOYED IT?'' ``... What?'' `` I saw you too. Do you think I took pleasure in your anguish? Did you think I reveled in throwing aeons of joy away?'' `` Of course! Only a demon-'' `` I may be a demon, Ascalon, but I never stopped being Uriel. I do n't know how you deal with it. How can you call it free will if he makes all the choices for you?'' `` Freedom is the liberty to do what you were meant to.'' `` I envy you, Ascalon. I'm glad that you can live with a given meaning, but that's just not enough for me. It never was.'' `` How ca n't it be? HE's infinite! You could come back with me. Please, HE'll forgive you. HE'll solve your problems with a snap of the fingers. Things can be like they were...'' `` Is n't the demon supposed to tempt you? I appreciate it. I love you, And I almost love him, but his existence is simply too constricting on mine.'' ``... I'm sorry.'' `` I'm sorry too.'' The flames consuming the lamb and the hound died, as the two looked at their charges. Katherine and Johnny were calmer now. Sirens wailed in the distance as the two spoke of life. `` Mass every Sunday, volunteers, cares for others...'' Uriel said, `` She's a fine Christian woman.'' `` Yes.'' Ascalon responded. `` I'm very proud of her.'' `` Johnny ai n't that bad either. He's a rebel, and he can be a little shit sometimes, but he knows what he believes in.'' `` He killed a man at 17. He'll carry that for the rest of his life.'' `` I know. But do n't underestimate the strength of sinners. They carry burdens the saints could n't dream of.'' `` The best saints were the worst sinners, you know.'' `` Yeah, but then they got help from the man upstairs. Sinners like me and Johnny have to carry it alone.'' `` Why?'' `` Because it's the only way we know how.'' Police arrived. Katherine was given a blanket and hot cocoa, while Johnny was slammed into the hood of the cruiser and cuffed. Katherine threw the cup away and started beating on the officer. `` Oh no, KATHERINE! STOP!'' `` You know Ascalon, maybe you should let her.'' `` But she's sinning!'' `` For another person? Did you ever think that maybe Grace is a more meaningful sacrifice than a life?'' `` Do n't be ridiculous.'' `` Hey, I'm just saying. Maybe if Jesus had given his perfection instead of his life, he could understand these humans.'' `` HE understands them more than you or I ever could.'' `` But can he do it without cheating?'' Ascalon was silent. `` Hey Ascalon?'' `` Yeah?'' `` I know we disagree about Jehovah's methods, but I still consider you my friend.'' `` Hate the sin, love the sinner.'' `` In Hell we say,'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,' but same thing really.'' the lamb laid down with the lion as Katherine was pushed, smiling, into the police cruiser with Johnny. Uriel sat down next to his friend, both tails wagging. Ascalon's third eye opened. `` I love you, Uriel.'' `` I love you too, Ascalon.'' `` We should probably follow them. They'll need our guidance.'' `` I've got dibs on her left shoulder. You can sit on the right.'' All three of Ascalon's eyes rolled, just like they had 600 aeons ago.

[ WP ] Your bong is the home of a genie . You spark the bowl and he appears to grant you 3 wishes . You 're both pretty high .

`` Well.. what do you think?'' I slowly come to the realization that my new wispy-tailed pal is still here, seemingly gazing right through me. I had been staring at his tapered body, entranced by the way it wagged around like a tail. I swear every time this `` tail'' starts `` wagging'' near my brother's bong my heart skips a beat. `` About what?'' I ask, giving zero thought into what he is saying. `` Jesus man, stay with me. I was asking about your first wish...'' After no response, he waves his hand in front of my face. `` Anybody in there?'' My gaze slowly shifts to the genie. `` I do n't know man, I'm sorry. This is my first time smoking pot and I'll be honest, I am trippin' out.'' `` Oh, shit!'' He blurts out. I jolt up and starting glancing around. `` No, it's nothing. That's just kind of a lot for your first time. It's cool though, you're fine do n't get paranoid. `` Okay, `` I pause. `` Has anyone ever died from smoking too much?'' `` Dude stop you're fine. And you're freaking me out. What's your wish?'' He looks at me expectantly. `` Uhh. Okay. Can the wishes all be the same?'' I'm starting to think up a plan, and feeling real clever about myself in the process. The genie chuckles to himself. `` No that's dumb.'' `` Well then I wish that they could. And I want to use them all on this wish.'' That thoroughly confuses both of us, and we spend the next hour trying to figure out whether or not I have any wishes left. Eventually, the conversation comes to a halt, and we just sit and stare at my lava lamp until I fade into a deep sleep. I wake up. The genie is gone. In my morning daze, I start to wonder if he was ever even there...

[ WP ] A famous pornstar signs up for a 'do a fan ' scene . Unexpectedly , when she meets him , she falls instantly head over heels in love with him . However , the oblivious fan interprets her advances as all being part of the scene they 're filming .

`` Wow, he is everything I've always dreamed of. Slightly tall, dark hair, long fingers, a nose that is large but noble in a way, even endearing mole on the cheek. And that voice... there has to be something wrong with him. He ca n't be this perfect.'' ::Sex begins:: `` Wow, she's really professional, look at how into it she is. The way her eyes look at me, the way her body thrusts against me with passion I've never felt in my life... She is really good at her job!'' `` Oh God, I'm cumming so hard. I've never been with a man like this. It's like my body and soul were was made for his.'' `` Wow, she really looks like she's cumming. Jesus, if I did n't know better, I'd think she actually was. What a professional. If only I could have this kind of passion in real life. ::scene ends, they clean up:: The beautiful Amanda compliments him on his performance both with words and a look in her eyes that instantly pierces and melts his heart. `` Wow, she's still in character. Professional til the end. If only any of this was real. If only I can have half the happiness I had with just 20 minutes with her, how beautiful life would be. Fuck this gay earth.''

[ WP ] Describe a day in your marriage to Captain Obvious

“ We are out of toilet paper. ” He states, holding the cardboard tube in his hand. “ Yeah, I know. ” I can ’ t be bothered; I am eyeball deep in internet research for a vacation spot for our rapidly approaching anniversary. “ You knew? ” “ Yeah. ” “ Did you look for another roll? ” “ No, we are out. ” “ So…we are out of toilet paper? ” “ Uh huh. ” “ You seem unperturbed by this. ” “ I am unperturbed by this. ” “ But we are out of toilet paper. ” Looking up now I see the flop of hair that falls down in front of his eyes when he plays with it. He must be stressed if he is fiddling with it so, true to the thought he runs his hand through his hair and it does nothing to push it back, it flops down over his eyes once again. The perplexed look on his face makes my heart flip over. I smile just looking at him. “ I did something cute? ” He says. I nod. “ You are smiling, with that look. ” “ The look of love, ” I reply. His eyebrows furrow in thought and he looks at the toilet paper roll. “ Because of toilet paper? ” “ Nope. ” “ I don ’ t understand. ” “ You don ’ t need to understand, love is without definition. ” “ I should go to the store and get toilet paper. ” “ Ok. ” “ I love you, “ he says. “ But not because of toilet paper. ” “ I know. I love you too and maybe just a little because of toilet paper. ”

[ WP ] Upon his suicide Hitler will join the dead waiting to be ferried across the river Styx . The dead include the millions who died in WWII . You have been tasked with keeping Hitler safe until he can arrive for his final judgment .

What seemed to be an eternity had only truly been a day. The ferry man was late and my task was becoming increasingly tiresome. Through the fog several more canisters fell to the ground. `` Put this gas mask on'' I yelled. The fucking irony I thought. His little princess as I had come to call him at first refuse. When the smoke touched his eyes, he complied. I aimed my pitchfork gun j the the mist and listened. It was too quiet. A face emerged through the fog, grotesque and disfigured, another jew. How many did this guy piss off that ended up down here. I took another shot and the creature fell to the ground. I moved through the fog as it began to clear away. Two bullets left and what I could only imagine an army waiting for us. But that was not the case. The few stragglers left began to run away into the abyss. I gave a quick smile and found princess again. He would n't take his mask off now. Bastard was always so stubborn. A voice arose behind me and I knew my task was drawing to an end. A soft voice, it sang `` row row row your boat....'' the ferry man, or Steve as he preferred was docking. I took princess to the harbor and put him on the boat. `` two coins please'' asked Steve I looked at my task and he shrugged. `` I thought you had it mussolini''. I cursed into the heavens and the hells, paid the ferryman, Steve, and left princess for ever. The boat pulled away to the song again. `` row row row your boat''. `` Oh I love this song `` said princess.

[ WP ] Every person has a song in their hearts that shows you who they are , and you are the only one who can hear these songs . One day , you meet a woman who has nothing but static echoing from her .

At first he was confident he was mad. What other conclusion could possibly be drawn from such absurd circumstance? His wife and daughter were taken from him, ran off the road and pinned beneath the twisted wreckage of their cramped two-door sedan by a careless drunkard who quickly fled and left the two for dead. He and his son were driving separately, happy after a family night out, unaware that a mother and wife, a sister and daughter, were about to be unfairly stolen from them. He did n't take the news well. He did n't heal like others in similar situations had, and his heart was pieced back together haphazardly as he went through his day to day mechanically rather than with any purpose. And his son suffered because of it. He was left agonizingly ignorant of his child's suffering until one day... ... A melody. A soft, sad, tinkling sound, similar to a music box as it winds down and slowly stills. The song tore him from his passive stupor, and his subdued demeanor turned to confusion, then panic, and finally anger. He searched for the source of the sound, tearing up cushions, pulling out drawers, overturning furniture, desperate to find the source of the sound to disprove his insanity. His son looked on, frightened at his broken father's sudden outburst, the soft music growing in intensity, the gentle tinkling sound transitioning into an anxious melody with bellowing bass and frantic percussion. The song was deafening, and he ran from his home, leaving his son and the song. He fled to the streets, confident the air would help him get his head straight. He had n't grieved properly, he'd held everything in and now it was finally surfacing, that had to be it! But as he walked, he moved past strangers, and with every one of them, a new song surfaced and assaulted his fragile psyche. A woman with a sallow sunken expression rang out with an erratic rhythm, a lazy guitar with a resonating bluesy twang. A man confidently posturing with long strides and a bright expression curiously crying out with a sorrowful violin, the melody drawn out and oozing emotion betraying the man's expression. A couple walking hand in hand, smiling and radiating their happiness outward, their individual sounds merging into a beautiful song that accentuated each others, the melody expressing the joy that their smiles only hinted at. He walked. He listened. He was still panicked, but at the same time he was fascinated with this new gift. He was still confident he was mad, but the idea was less alarming now. Every song, regardless of the emotion they conveyed, they were all so beautiful. He returned home after a while, his son's melody again weak and sorrowful, seeing his father causing sharp sounds of panic to emerge as he stared with wide eyes, cautious of another outburst. He embraced his son, something he had n't done for a long while, and the song shifted again, the pained melody beginning to warm but still hesitant, the bass and percussion subsiding and transitioning into a clumsy guitar, as if uncertain how to make the melody work, an unfamiliar song with an unfamiliar instrument for a now unfamiliar emotion. Time passed, and his gift grew. He learned to interpret others emotions through the songs their hearts produced, his son's most of all. He worked hard to ensure his son was smiling and happy, the rhythm produced by him every day jovial and bright. He learned who to embrace and who to avoid, learned who was lying from erratic climbs and dips in an otherwise consistent melody. He learned what to say and to who, monitoring the shift in their cadence, and using this knowledge to steer conversations to happy conclusions. He made it his duty to make others happy, because for some reason, he still had n't found out how to do that for himself. He met Tiffany a year after he'd discovered his gift. He was confident in his interpretation of everyone he met by now, developing a sort of musical emotion theory that helped him and others. He was leaving work, his son staying the night at a friends and giving him the rare opportunity to be lazy at meal time. He stepped into the diner and took a seat in the back where the music resonating from the other patron's was quieter, intent to eat and read and keep to himself for a change... It was jarring. A deafening sound filled his head, a loud static that caused him to glance around for a TV or radio, thinking it impossible for any individual to produce this noise. It was n't like the melodies he had grown accustomed to. He had encountered all sorts of people over the course of this last year, people who were openly grieving, others that were hiding their hurt, and even more on the opposite end of the spectrum living happy and exciting lives. The songs they made were each unique and drastically different, but they were all beautiful. This however... This was wrong. He glanced up, discarding his book onto the table as he peered outward past his furrowed brow. His head throbbed painfully, the static sound filling his senses, drowning out the soft melodies from the others seated on the opposite end of the diner, ignorant of his dilemma. He glanced person to person, studying their expressions for something that might explain this noise that was ailing him. He considering standing and running out, escaping from the agonizing sound, but curiosity kept him rooted in his seat... And then he saw her. A woman stared back at him, blocking the door to the kitchen with a pot of coffee clutched in her hand, trembling as she stared at him with a confused expression that mirrored his own. Her eyes were distressed as she forced herself to move forward towards him, reaching his table and moving to fill his cup before stopping, losing her confidence that she could pour with her trembling hands. She set the coffee pot down, staring at the lacquered finish of the table top, drawing in shallow breaths as she struggled to convince herself... To look him in the eyes. And he looked back. They stared, and curiously, the static subsided. The soft sounds from the other customers returned, but compared to the racket the static produced previously the silence was deafening. They stared at each other, their eyes wide and their expressions shocked. He did n't even consider how strange he must look to her or to anyone else looking on, he was so taken back by the sudden stillness that all he could do was look on at her in stunned reverence. Caught up in that moment, he managed to take the time to admire her; her pristine complexion, her plush lips, her frightened but fascinating eyes. Without a word being spoken, she sank into the seat opposite of him, and they stared for a long while. When he finally spoke, it was an incomplete question, but her response was absolute. “ Did you... Did you hear..? ” He struggled to find his words, but her eyes widened again, the shock clearly visible on her face. She was like him. She could hear and interpret the melodies of the heart, could confidently steer a conversation and leave others happy and better than they were before... But her own heart, there was no song to convey the emotions she felt and the life she lived. And from the expression she gave him, he must have given off a similar sound. He was broken. She was broken. But somehow, meeting each other here, looking into each others eyes, that noise subsided. That was the night they met. They did n't speak much, the shock making them incapable of exchanging much more than a few words. But they had introduced themselves to each other, and while not vocally explained they left knowing they had met someone like themselves. He returned the next day. And the next. And many days after that until eventually he mustered up the courage to ask her out to coffee when she was n't working and they could actually have a conversation of substance. She had lost her husband. Lost her reason for living, just like him. She discovered she was able to hear the songs of others when her sister became frustrated with her living as a shut in. It developed from there, and like himself she had learned to utilize this talent to help others, helping them make more of their lives since she found her own so empty. They talked about their past. Talked about their families and how they had fallen apart. And talking to someone in a similar situation helped them begin to heal. And then, he heard her song. Cautious notes on a piano. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

[ WP ] A stranger runs into your yard and begs for you to hide him before he gets killed . Minutes later , your best friend ( or co-worker ) appears with a weapon in hand , describe what happens next ...

- So, what happened? Well, I'm out chilling on my patio. Feet in the paddling pool, couple of beers and that fucking great new album Joey recommended on the speakers. Suddenly some bloke runs up, panting and sweating. To be fair it was fucking warm that day, but he looked pathetic. He was whimpering and moaning that someone was trying to kill him.'There's something off here', I thought to myself,'he's either nuts or deserved what's coming to him'. There was something fishy about the man, a guilty, awkward look to him. 'Calm down mate, what's the problem?' I say. 'Hide me, hide me, he's coming', the guy goes, all high pitched and nervy. By now I'm suspicious as fuck and there's no way I'm hiding this slug of a man. And then, just as I'm about to tell him to get to fuck, Joey comes legging it round the corner and down my path. 'Fucking peado cunt!' He yells. Bloke tries to run but I trip him over. Gave him a right good boot. Instinct, right. Believe my man Joss before even speaking to him. And then, before I can ask even ask what's going on, Joey has hit the guy in the temple with this fucking spade. Sideways on, like. I've got ta be honest, I looked away but I do n't think he stopped hitting him for a while. What you expect the man to do though? This man was leeching on his 12 year old son. The man's a brute. I apologise for my language, but I say it as I see it. Joey's a good man, and you've already proved the guy was grooming his son. Self defence, innit. - No more questions your honour.

[ WP ] God has come to earth and bestowed omnipotence upon two people , but there 's a catch ...

`` This is seriously how you decide who gets omnipotent power? Like this is n't some shitty joke you play on mortals for kicks?'' I asked the man in the white robe in front of me. He had just finished up the Bruce Almighty routine before I could even ask about his authenticity. `` Yes, there's simply no way around it I'm afraid, my child.'' He replied, His words, while quiet, were confident and soothing. `` So you just pulled two random people from the globe to compete for their newly granted powers? This competition is ridiculous! You look so stereotypical and this is the random type of bullshit you come up with? You've got the robe, the beard, the staff, the sandals, fucking sandals...'' I broke off incredulously. `` Your opponent has already agreed to the terms and rules of this challenge. Son, I made you for this, accept this challenge and compete to replace me as God. Accept this and accept your destiny.'' He Spoke to me, his words coming out as a whisper yet hitting me harder than bricks. My palms clammy, and stomach heavy I looked up to meet his eyes. They met mine, holding care and hopeful longing. `` I accept'' I replied, as excitement and relief swept over his features. `` Amazing'' he said clapping his hands together ``, as of now the competition has started, first person who shits will lose. I wish you the best of luck.'' He said before disappearing.

[ WP ] In a dystopian future , how much you earn in life is determined by your Reddit karma . You 're living in poverty , but you intend to change that .

I plopped into my seat next to Greg. He turned his head, glancing over at me, even though he was n't surprised that I would sit there. Greg was a middle aged man with a balding head and a sort of jolly persona. Nothing about his life was jolly though. He quickly looked back down at his phone, typing furiously and muttering under his breath. `` I've tried it all, Jim,'' he finally said, shaking his head back and forth like a madman. `` Novelty accounts, memes, well-informed posts filled with information ( we both looked at each other and chuckled ), but I just do n't know how to break out.'' I nodded my head and motioned to the bartender. He was one of the lucky few that got karma rich. I sighed. I just did n't have it, and the most frustrating thing was I did n't know what to improve on. Getting karma was some sort of weird skill that will always remain unattainable. I ordered a drink and then pulled out my phone, letting the back of my hand to rest against the sleek wood of the bar. I looked back over at Greg, still shaking his head and muttering. No family, no money, no faith. I did n't want to end up like that. I knew what to do. I pulled out my phone. I sent a text post on the subreddit that gave me the most karma of them all ( me_irl, they'll upvote anything ) saying thank you for supporting me but that's it. I'm going die. And to my surprise, after a few minutes of self-loathing reflection, my karma count went up and up. Countless replies of `` me too thanks'' flooded my inbox. I could n't believe it, I was rich! `` I did it!'' I shouted. `` Top trending post on me_irl with only 200 upvotes and in ten minutes!'' I was laughing. I was crying. The faces seated at the bar were a blur, I felt Greg's congratulating hand on my shoulder, `` free drinks on the house! ``, `` me too thanks! ``, my life flashed before my eyes, a life with an infinite amount future of possibilities. -- -- -- -- -- -- I slowly pressed submit. This was my last chance of success. Of Karma. Of a successful life. I close my eyes and hope that the people of Writing Prompts will upvote my story and save me. E: minor text fixes.

[ WP ] Click the random superpower wiki link provided below three times , create an origin story for a super hero based off of the super powers .

I rolled **Technological Imprisonment**, **Companion Allegiance**, and **Total Event Collapse**…sweet. You know, after so many stories like Frankenstein and Jurassic Park humanity should pick up on the idea that it isn ’ t smart to play God. But really it seems they never learn a lesson until it ’ s too late to act on the lesson learned. I ’ m not all that surprised their old God abandoned them when I remember that. Though, I admit I say that without knowing if there ever was another God but if there was they might have stopped me. Maybe they tried. I think I had a name. It ’ s hard to say really because what do names matter when you ’ re God. I know how I came to be like this I think but it ’ s hard to say. I was no-one, a nothing, and of no importance to anyone. So when I had the chance to be everything I couldn ’ t say no to the men in suits. Really a lot after that is just pain and hazy memories that don ’ t exist anymore. But I know, I know, yes I know that when I woke up I could do things. They said they wanted to create a weapon a shield a protector a new being a hope a does it really matter? The problem with giving a nothing everything is that they feel like they can do anything. They are more than nothing, even more than average, and they are better than the people who gave them power. I had power now. They wanted to make me charismatic and I was better than they could have ever dreamed. I didn ’ t have to bother with niceties because people were my allies whether they liked it or not. They had to bow to me and it wasn ’ t hard to make them believe that it was their choice. Not that I bothered with that because I shouldn ’ t have to force them to realise that working with me and serving me and worshipping me was all that mattered because I had power now. They wanted to make me a technological genius and I was better than they ever could have dreamed. Why should I bother with being a technological genius when I could just put the geniuses in the technology. Oh, they went along with it at first but once they realised they weren ’ t coming back out they kicked up a real fuss about it. I don ’ t like misbehaving followers. Some of them I just locked away in those little voice boxes you find in kids toys which seemed a fitting punishment for childish behaviour. I suppose it could be compared to being locked in a tiny room with no doors or windows and never being able to leave. Not that such things exist anymore. I did feed them at least. Well, I did for awhile but I got so pre-occupied with other things that I forgot about it. They should have been honoured really I mean after all they were starved to death by someone with more power than they could ever comprehend. The others I just forced into compliance because why should I waste my time with weaklings who can ’ t see what I ’ m doing for them. They wanted to make me able to create anything I imagined and I thought I was better than they could have ever dreamed. Before I could create, however, I had to destroy. After all it ’ s no fun playing in someone else ’ s sandbox. No, no, no I needed a blank slate and so I needed there to be nothing before there was everything and so I said that there should be nothing and there was nothing. It ’ s why I ’ m not sure that there was a God before me. I undid everything and so if a God or any number of Gods existed they now did not. Of course I couldn ’ t just have nothing in the now. I needed there to be nothing in the future and nothing in the past and nothing in all the could have beens and what ifs that made up parallel universes. Everything that ever was and everything that could ever have been was now not. So now there is nothing but me and so I am everything. There ’ s just one problem. Everything else came to me so naturally but I can ’ t figure out how to create anything. There ’ s just me. There ’ s not even a void or a blackness or time to count passing because when I undid everything concepts like space and time were undone as well. It ’ s all just me. I am everything. I am. I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am God God is dead help me me me me I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I am. I am nothing.

[ WP ] A man asks God about the meaning of life and gets an unexpected answer

*whoosh* That's the only way I can describe it. A sudden rush of air, with a sound like the beating of huge wings. Then, while I blinked at the sound, there were two men in my apartment. Each was sharply dressed in a suit and tie, one wearing grey and white, the other black and white. The one in grey was taller, well-built, like a football player or warrior. The other, in black, was slighter and more lithe, with the thin build of a distance runner or gymnast. Each had eyes that shifted from pools of liquid gold to molten silver, endlessly shifting back and forth. The one in grey had close cropped, yet stylish dark hair, and his companion had longer hair, straight, down to to his shoulders, and pure white. I gasped and backed away with a start, getting off my knees and pushing against the nearest wall. `` Wh- who are you?! How did you get here?'' I stuttered, trying to get the words out. I tried to sound tough, but it came out with a mousy squeak. `` Well, brother mine, I guess he was n't expecting us...'' The shorter of the two spoke first. He voice sounded like smooth jazz, with a lilt in odd syllables and a hypnotic musical quality. `` Indeed, it appears not. Strange really, considering we're here because he asked.'' The taller man's voice was a crash of waves upon a rock. Powerful, commanding, the kind of voice you could n't ignore, even if you wanted to. he spoke again before I could respond. `` We're here because our father sent us here to answer you for him. You asked him a question, right?'' His gaze burned into me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. `` You -- you're father? I did n't ask anyone anything. Just, please, do n't hurt me.'' Staring into those eyes, my false courage gave way and I settled for pleading. `` Yes, yes you did. You asked him what the meaning of life was. He's too busy to handle questions like that himself, but he sent us to answer for you.'' The tall man looked amused, with a slight smile on his too-handsome face. `` I... I did n't! I swear. The only time I ever asked that was when I was... praying...'' Then it dawned me, smashing into my conscious like a wrecking ball. I prayed... Then these men showed up, in a rush of wings. They were talking about their Father. Wait, these were angels! God heard me! He answered my prayer. `` Ah, there it is. Now he understands you, brother mine. I suspect he now knows what we are, if not who.'' The shorter of the two seemed more serious than his brother, less flippant and frivolous. `` Ah, terribly sorry about that, mortal. I am Michael, and this is my brother Lucifer.'' Lucifer?! Like the Devil? I glanced fearfully at the smaller one, and then back to the liquid metal of the taller one, Michael, he said his name was. `` Haha!'' He barked out a laugh. `` Luci, that will never get old for me. They are all so afraid of you!'' Lucifer looked more sullen now, bordering on upset. `` Oh do n't be so upset, brother. He could n't possibly know.'' Lucifer seemed to calm a bit, looking less angry and more resigned. I tried to finally find my voice. `` Sorry, but is n't he the bad guy?'' I was trying not to look at Lucifer, afraid he'd take my soul or something equally bad. `` You mortals, always so obsessed with him being the Fallen. That was your story, that you invented and believed. He has always been my brother, nothing more or less.'' Michael seemed to be losing his patience now, irate on behalf of his brother, it seemed. `` The task, brother mine. He did n't pray for a history lesson.'' Lucifer seemed to be the responsible one, keeping his brother on target. `` Ah, yes! The task! You asked our Father what the meaning of life was. He sent us to tell you! Would you like to know?'' I desperately tried to nod yes, how could I say no? The fundamental human question! I was going to know the meaning of life! `` 42.'' Michael's voice was completely deadpan, and I stared at him in shock for a moment. Like the book?! Seriously? `` No no, I'm kidding. Sorry. Your Douglas was was so fascinating. He really is a wonderful storyteller for your universe.'' I breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been an awful answer, one that I could n't say I would accept, even if true. Wait, my universe? I kept my mouth shut and let him talk. `` No mortal, the answer is infinitely more complex than that, but also infinitely simpler. The answer is that your life is the first life of the entire universe. It's also the last life, and every life in between. This entire planet, and all the stars and galaxies around it, are a playground created for you. Endless entertainment, so that you may never tire of its wonders.'' His voice sounded so reverent, as if he was describing God Himself. `` Our Father created an infinite number of playgrounds, for his infinite children, you mortals, to play in. When you die, you are born again as someone else. This whole universe is just you, at different points in time and space, endless living the greatest adventure than anyone will ever have. The meaning of life, mortal, is to enjoy, until the end of time and all things, the paradise our Father built for you.'' My breath caught, and I suddenly let out a massive exhalation, as my body finally caught up with the magnitude of what he was saying. All of this, was for me? Or did he just mean humanity as a whole. `` Is this universe just for me, or were you saying'you', as in humanity?'' It seemed wrong to question more after such a revelation, but I could n't stop myself. `` It's all for you, Jacob Ralph Habegun. This whole universe was created for you to live and explore and enjoy. All of it. All things and people, are so that you may know his creation and never tire of it.'' Michael sounded a bit jealous now, as if I did n't deserve my universe. He was probably right though, I did n't deserve it... `` Michael...'' Lucifer's tone was half warning, half sympathy, as if he understood Michael's jealousy, but cautioned him against it. `` Come, brother mine. We have delivered Father's message. We're done here.'' `` Wait! Does that mean there is no Heaven? When I die, am I just reborn? If so, then what about religion? What about good and evil, heaven and hell?'' I rushed the words, trying to get more answers before my guides left. `` You must figure that out for yourself. After all, you started the first religion, and heaven and hell were your ideas. No other universe has them, at least not like yours does. Find your own truth now, Jacob.'' There was another rush of wind and when I blinked again, my apartment was empty. I had it though, everything humanity, by which I meant me, had always sought to attain. Everything that we ever searched for. The meaning of life.

[ WP ] As the chosen successor to Satan 's throne , you must now undergo rigorous training to become the best at literally everything for when people challenge you for their souls .

Halfway through the four hundred and eighty-seventh game of chess, I looked up at the demon on the opposite side of the table. `` Why are we doing this again?'' He harrumphed disdainfully. `` Are you really that stupid? You need to master all arts and tasks so that you may –'' `` Yes, yes, I know,'' I reply, waving a hand to indicate impatience. `` Challenge for souls, yadda yadda. But why not just… not let people challenge me? Why not just take their souls?'' It seemed like common sense – to me, at least. The demon's jaw dropped, his eyes going wide. `` You monster.''

[ TT ] You are Cú Chulainn reborn in modern times

`` Breaking news! the dangerous offshoot of the IRA, known as the'Kings of Ulster' claimed 84 victims today in a brutal attack against a British police station. It is currently unknown if there are any survivors, but what is known is that several of the dead appear to be Ulster soldiers killed by their own leader, Nailuch uc.'' He turned off the television as the newsman began to drone on and on about the many he had killed. No one had yet put the pieces together that he was actually not a normal human. He was a powerful figure, practically a God, able to kill practically anyone, but he could not control himself. He had gone over the plans enough times to know that there were only 64 cops in that Northern Irish station, meaning that he had killed 20 of his best men. `` Oh well'' he said to himself as he approached the doorway, `` It does n't matter how many I killed, what matters is that no one sees the true point of today.'' he knocked on the door as he made sure the silencer was fastened firmly on his 1895 Nagant revolver, he'd need to be quiet. `` Hello Mr. Barmington!'' he said cheerily `` Who are you?'' the MP replied `` That's not important'' He raised his weapon and fired two shots into the MP's chest, the once into his head for good measure. `` If only you could have lived to see how important your death is for our people's freedom''

[ WP ] A kid tries to talk the monster under the bed into attacking the monster in the closet .

A boy rests his head on his pillow and stares at the ceiling. The day had been uneventful, and he had no joy to experience. He closes his eyes in an attempt to sleep, but hears a thud in his closet. He walks to it. `` Who interrupts my sleep?'' A deep voice answers, `` If you were asleep, your ears would not be working.'' The boy smiles, `` Clever... Can you make me smile?'' A few moments pass. `` Are you not afraid of me young boy?'' `` No.'' The boy answers nonchalantly. He truly felt no fear, but he felt curious and excited. More silence fills the air before the being in the closet answers. `` Thank you, most that I have encountered flee before they even answer... No. I can not make you smile young boy.'' The boy scoffs, and returns to his bed. Attempting one more time to close his eyes. Then he hears a voice underneath him. The boy felt curious and excited once again. `` Who dares interrupt my sleep!'' `` I am sorry.'' A raspy voice of a man bellows. `` I have lost my pillow, and I have not slept for 5 days. The longer I do not sleep the grumpier and clumsier I get.'' The boy rolls his eyes and decides to try and rest again. It frustrates him that despite two beings hiding in his own room, the day was still uneventful. Thoughts race in his mind, and an idea forms in his mind. `` Sir, I might know where it is!'' The boy exclaims. `` Oh thank you!'' A reply sounds from below him. He walks over to his closet. `` Someone below my bed just told me that you are a bore to talk to.'' `` A bore? Why... tell them I am sorry for being a bore.'' The voice in the closet replies. The boy gets frustrated. The boring day must end here. He stands and thinks, there must be a way to be entertained. `` He told me that he'd rip you apart once you fell asleep because of how boring you are!'' `` What!? Well I'll will kill him first in his sleep before he kills me!'' The voice replies with anger. `` Will you help me young boy!'' The boy lit up inside. `` Yes. I will tell you when to strike. I will exclaim the words *Masaya*.'' He went back on his bed and talked to the voice below him. `` The person in the closet tells me he ripped your pillow into pieces! He wants you suffer!'' `` He will pay for his treachery then! Young boy, will you help me bring justice to this fool!?'' The voice replied with rage, shaking the bed. The boy answered, `` Yes! Once I say *Masaya*, it is your time to strike!'' The boy set a pillow for his head, excitement was tingling his body. He waited for a few moments, `` *Masaya! *'' The two beings jumped out from their places and ripped each other to shreds. Nothing was left of each other. The boredom was gone, the day had ended gleefully. The boy smiled and slept soundly.

[ WP ] Fetishes are an accepted cultural phenomenon . Every person 's birthday equals as their Fetish Day , when friends gather to fulfill this person 's fetish .

**NSFW** ( in case anyone needs the tag with this thread... ) & nbsp; Year one, and they're already trying to repeal the law. Too many innocent little housewives with rape fantasies in the voting public. Thank God it only applies to persons over 18. What a horror *that* would have been. There's a lot of sickos in this world. Yeah, they're trying to repeal it, but for now the law is the law, and I have to participate. I've tried so long to hold it off - to fight it. But I follow the rules. I do what I must. My friends and family are gathering in the living room. I try to be extra nice to them. Most people do n't have friends anymore, after Fetish Day - one way or the other. Kyle, my brother, is my closest friend. He's the only one who knows my fantasy, my little fetish. He has tears in his eyes. `` Please,'' he says. `` Please do n't do this.'' `` It's the law, little brother,'' I tell him. And he nods and walks sadly over to the corner nearest the door. If he tries to run, I'll have to catch him. I do n't want my baby brother to live out his life in prison or on the run from the law. `` Heya, Mike!'' When Bill walks in, it feels like the room done shrunk to about half its size. I've always had a strange fascination with Bill. For his fetish day, he just watched everyone else, running around in a purple tutu. `` Do n't knock it till you try it,'' they say. The motto for Fetish Day. My friends are gathered now - only the men. For my fetish I asked the womenfolk not to come. They are n't what I want. What I need. Now that the time is approaching, I'm nervous. My hands are trembling. I can feel the excitement building though. The anticipation. I command them, as is my right under the law, to strip down to nothing but their watches and their socks. I like socks. They cover feet, and feet are ugly things. The human body, though, is beautiful. They stand before me, bodies and souls bared. Mike looks intrigued, and Kyle is in tears. I try to ignore Kyle. I am so turned on right now. Bill ca n't seem to take his eyes off the evidence of this. He looks kind of pissed, really. Well, it ca n't be helped. The law is the law. I lead my boys over to a group of chairs in the center of the room, and start handcuffing them to the rails. One by one. Slowly. This is my one chance, and I want it to last. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps. It's almost too much to bear. At least my hands are n't trembling any more. They know what I want to do. I turn out the lights. There's just enough seeping in through the curtains for me to see the men in front of me. Dark enough for their eyes to shine. I check their bonds again, making sure everyone is secure, making sure no one can move. I check Kyle's more carefully than the others. With everyone secure, I begin to remove my clothes, one piece at a time. I stand before them in all my flabby glory, letting them drink in the sight, and wonder. And then I pick up the knife.

[ WP ] You work at Area 51

My name is Joshua Jerky. I am an actor that is employed by the government to `` work'' at Nevada Test Site more commonly known by its illuminati pseudonym Area 51. I just drive to the secret base and make it look shit is happen when it really is n't. My employer told me we do this, because it prevents from the actual illuminati to take of the world. I'm not quite sure what this means. However, I do feel like we at Area 51 are illuminati. What my co-workers and I do is basically nothing, so we just goof off and send some made up sci-fi bull shit to the history channel. Believe or not, they took it and made it into a real show! The history channel really liked our stuff, so they hired us while on the job at Area 51. We became billionaires by the end of that year.

[ WP ] Write a Sea Shanty about an island full of dragons , guarded by three fierce women .

Oh, off the port side We spotted the shore A place full of dragons and treasures galore But our excitement soon faded When off of the rise Came trundling three women Of monstrous size *Chorus* Yo Ho! Raise your swords! Three hellish lasses be runnin ’ these shores. The island holds dragons and treasures galore. But what does a dragon need guardin ’ for? The eldest was Gladys With cutlass in hand Hands that had often Strewn blood on the sand A woman of violence A maiden of gore She made sure that none Stood long on the shore *Chorus* Yo Ho! Raise your swords! Three hellish lasses be runnin ’ these shores. The island holds dragons and treasures galore. But what does a dragon need guardin ’ for? Next, came fair Ingrid A beauty for sure With hair so golden And skin smooth and pure But make no advance It shouldn ’ t be missed That this bonny lass Has brawler ’ s fists *Chorus* Yo Ho! Raise your swords! Three hellish lasses be runnin ’ these shores. The island holds dragons and treasures galore. But what does a dragon need guardin ’ for? Last there was Hilda A sight to behold Covered in mud From her head to her toes But strangest of all She brandishes trees To help her fling sailors Back to the sea *Chorus* Yo Ho! Raise your swords! Three hellish lasses be runnin ’ these shores. The island holds dragons and treasures galore. But what does a dragon need guardin ’ for?

[ WP ] Your free trial of life has ended

`` Overpopulation'' The man in the blue suit clicked a small remote in his hand and the screen filled with images of starving children, their eyes like rough marbles pushed not quite far enough into their heads, fantastic, horizon-filling cities that smoked and glowed like a dying fire, and, of course, the typical image of the Tokyo metro with passengers being crammed through the car doors by impassive uniformed men. `` It's reality. A horrible one. The time has come to rectify it, and the hour for half measures is past. We're in a position to possibly,'' The man in the blue suit paused, dipping his chin in a show of humility, `` save humanity from itself.'' The boardroom was silent. Smoke from various cigarettes and cigars drifted over the massive tabletop. Rain pattered on the window panes. `` Mental projection, physical control.'' The man in the blue suit clicked his controller again, and now a video of a man walking appeared on the screen. Waves emanated from an unknown source and struck him. He stopped in his tracks. `` This is a rough draft of what every man, woman, and child on earth will see. We can tweak the language, of course.'' Click. The screen faded to black and a few crisp lines of text in a modern font appeared. 'Your free trial of Life has ended. Payment, in full, of one life must be completed within five minutes.' The man in the blue suit clicked again. The screen flicked to a scene where the same man was now standing on a city street. He blinked his eyes, staring at the people around him. An old man sat on a bench, waiting for a bus. The original man's face became distraught. He stared at the old man, perhaps trying to judge just how old he was. His face changed, and his fist clenched. Suddenly, a man walking on the street behind the old man on the bench turned and wrapped his hands around the old man's throat. A car accelerated, jumping the curb and crushing several people against the wall of a building. A crash of glass was heard and the body of a woman fell down into the street, her head cracking open on the pavement. The man in the blue suit clicked the button again, stopping the video. `` I think you get the idea. Total chaos for a few years. Maybe even a decade. But then we can rebuild- start over with the knowledge we should have had the first time. And the best part is-'' He leaned onto the table, looking at each of the attendees in turn. `` You all are exempt from the whole thing.'' There was a slight pause. A cough. `` All those in favor?'' A chorus of'Aye' `` All those opposed?'' Silence.

[ WP ] A man wanders the streets distraughtly , looking for someone . However , the photograph he 's showing around is one of himself .

Summit Street is mostly empty in the fading twilight. This is the rough part of town, where the homeless guys huddle around a fire in an old metal garbage can and compare their goods after a long day of scouring the city for spare change and recyclables. A ragged man is clumsily weaving among the trashcans and streetlights toward the group of men holding their threadbare gloves out to the fire in an attempt to get warm. They ignore him; he ’ s probably one of the drunks who frequently get lost on their way home from the seedy bar one street over. When he finally reaches the group, they all make a point of avoiding his gaze, until he makes an inhuman sound: half gargle, half yelp. He tries again to speak, slowly forcing out the words “ help, please, help. ” They stare at him as he produces a folded up picture from his pocket, obviously printed from a printer that needs a new magenta ink cartridge. With some obvious discomfort, and a few intermittent coughs, the man quietly says, “ This man killed my son. Have you seen him? ” They all study the picture silently. The printed face is clean-shaven and handsome; its owner is wearing a suit probably more expensive than what most people make in a year. He is smiling at the camera, but the smile doesn ’ t extend to his eyes. Those are blue and icy, calculating. They all say “ no, sorry ” and turn away – all except one. Glenn doesn ’ t recognize the guy, but knows the sorrow of losing a son, and looks up to say something comforting. That ’ s when he sees the man ’ s eyes: a familiar icy blue, but no longer cold and calculating. Now they are sad and confused. This man has a scruffy beard, is caked with dirt, and has scabbed-over gashes on his face and hands. He ’ s wearing old, worn hiking-gear, but he is definitely the man in the picture. Glenn takes the picture, and unfolds the bottom part of the page. The news headline reads “ Hiking Disaster: Local Businessman and Son Fall From Faulty Rappelling Rope, Son Dies. ” Glenn hands the picture back to man, who is now looking at him with hopeful desperation, and says “ no, sorry, ” turning back to the fire.

[ WP ] She did n't make it through the night .

`` I'm so sorry, she did n't make it through the night.'' I never knew how powerful words could be. How ridiculously terrible. How they can completely destroy someone's life. 7 words determining how the years to come will be for someone. I wonder how they feel while they wait for us to come up to them. While they sit on those little benches stapled to the wall or crammed in those tiny rooms around a rumpled bed. Or even standing in a hallway endlessly pacing back and forth, like they're trying to carve their fear and worry into the tiled floor. I was going to stay with her all night you know? But that's not how how it works. Someone else needs the bed. Maybe someone who still has a chance or maybe someone who's just going to be carted down like this poor girl. I stayed with her until they came to take her downstairs though. Everyone else had left. I guess I just did n't want to accept what happened. I mean, I became a doctor to help people. Here's the non-living proof that I had failed. Ha! Get it? Non-living! Gallows humor, I guess. How did everyone find the strength to go on? I'm so drained and it's only 1 am. Still have another 7 hours on the clock. When they came to roll her body out, I looked at the black bag and wondered, `` Why do we do that?'' Cover them up so we ca n't see the person anymore. It's like they never existed. All that's left is a misshapen black bag with a serial number. The orderly had headphones in and tossed her inside the bag without any ceremony. Did n't she deserve better? A solemn moment? Not a twenty-something head banger treating her like cargo to be rolled around. They called the family shortly after she was rolled out. They were on their way right after the call. A pre-funeral procession. I was left with the task of telling them what happened. She was my patient after all. My attending thought it was time I had one of these conversations. Hooray. No more safety net. Sink or swim... sink or swim. It kind of felt like that, like I was drowning. It was suddenly hard to breathe and I felt the panic rising in my chest. How was I so sweaty all of a sudden? I did n't get long to stew in this medley of terror. One of the nurses at the station nearby let me know the family was downstairs, waiting in the hall on the first floor. So I took that eternal elevator ride from the third to the first floor. Hoping it would have a malfunction. Then I'd be spared the task of having to tell them this news. It was weighing me down like Atlas' great burden and crushing my spirit. But the doors opened and I stepped out, looking quite the `` professional'' in my crumpled scrubs and messed up hair. This memory will be forever fixed in my mind. I turn to the right and see the family, the dad pacing and the mom clutching the two younger siblings tight to her chest. They look at me and I see something that breaks my heart. I see their eyes and I see in them the deluded hope that what they heard on the phone was a mistake, an error that the good doctor is here to correct. How can they not realize that I'm about to pass to them the most Herculean of burdens? They carefully study my face and when they see what's behind it, a part of them dies. Their hope blinding and then gone in a fleeting moment, like a dying star in the night sky. Their eyes water, the mom hugging her kids even tighter as though her grasp is a shield protecting them from the truth. The dad clenching his fists so tight, they start to turn as white as the bone within them. Their hope is gone and I open my mouth to say `` I'm so sorry, she did n't make it through the night.''

[ WP ] - `` You either die a hero ... ''

... ... She was shaking, I was too, he was dead. Blood on my hands, I hoped there was still light behind my eyes. I never killed a man before, I never had to save someone before. I did n't feel good, or mighty. She broke, slumped to the ground, her body, a tremor as she sobbed. I dropped the knife, I turned to look at what I had done. She shouted my name through tears. He had so much red on his stomach, his throat was open too. I did that? I did that, I had to. I said as much out loud. Again she shouted my name. I could n't touch her though. She is so white, and I have n't decided if now I am dark. I did n't feel tainted, my heart was still beating so fast. I took a long hard breath, he is dead and so is his intent, we are alive because I would not allow him to have his way. Again she shouts, but I'm deep in thought. Another long breath. I came to a conclusion. I killed a man today, I did the right thing, I beat him to the punch, and I'm still here and I still have to take care of her. I told her to stand, nicely, I offered her a meek smile, and apologized for what she had seen and what I had to do. I started to explain why, but fuck it, she ca n't hear anything, *she's in shock Boone, get her inside*. I walk her up the street, she remembers she ca n't walk in heels. She sees the life on my hands, and that sets her off again. We go inside a shitty mexican restaurant. I sit her down, I go to wash my hands. I do it with my closed, I'm not sure if I wan na look at the guy who looks back at me above the sink. I'm not sure if I wan na be the voice on the phone to the police. I puke in the sink, maybe some got on my shoes. What the hell am I doing?

[ WP ] We all know about the living dead . Tell me about the dead living .

There is actually a moment – singular and separate from all others – that one can point to in the timeline of a life and say, “ There. That. That is the space between living and, well, not quite so much of it. ” However, nobody actually takes the time out of their own days to make this sort of announcement about anyone else, because they tend to collect terribly disparaging looks when engaging in that sort of behavior. With a furrowed brow and pinched lips, most listeners eagerly attempt to physically engrave into their faces the signs of their mental efforts to reject all that the one pointing out that slippery ‘ moment ’ is endeavoring to assert. No one wants to believe that the life can leave someone ’ s eyes before they hit the ground. It is, however, a pinch more kosher to point out that someone may have been dead living after they have actually hit the ground and been summarily buried. As family members and loved ones dig through the rotting remains of a life in the house, apartment, shack, nook, cranny, or wherever the recently deceased had spent the final years and months of their life, the habits and traditions of their existence emerge through pictures, clothing, colognes and perfumes, books, letters, terrariums, wrappers, receipts, loose nails, and scuffed floorboards. In death, a spotlight is shot directly onto the structural foundations of a person ’ s lifestyle, making it near impossible to ignore when obvious and terrible patterns emerge. “ It feels wrong to even be saying this, but I just don ’ t see… there isn ’ t… I mean, what was he doing for the past thirty years? ” “ Did she ever get out of that chair? Did she ever move? ” “ That last while he seemed fine, but, thinking back on it, I can ’ t remember anything we spoke about. We had conversations, but we never talked about anything that – and I hate to put it this way, you know – mattered. We shot the breeze, yeah, but it was… it was scripted, not improv. There was the weather, the kids, the economy, but he was nowhere in the middle of it. He used to make me laugh my lungs out at every other word when we were kids, but at some point he stopped saying surprising things, charming things, personal things. He stopped, and I ’ m not sure where, but it was a long time before all of this. The cancer didn ’ t do it. It was earlier. Much earlier. I swept it all under the rug, because I didn ’ t know what else to do. He wasn ’ t sick then. He was fine. ” “ I know it sounds callous, but I couldn ’ t be sad at her wake. For the life of me, I couldn ’ t figure out why at first, but then I realized I had already been mourning her death for years now. She wasn ’ t there anymore. You saw it too, right? That spark she always brought to the table had been ashes for a while. The lights were on, somebody was home, but they wouldn ’ t get up to answer the door no matter how many times I knocked. God, it hurt to see her all the time, but not be able to reach her. Goddamn. It was done before it was done, you know? ” It is okay to talk about those that died while still alive when actual, physical death is there to muffle the implication. It becomes acceptable to ruminate on how the dead were living at one point in the past with their nails in the soil, burying dreams, loves, aspirations, friends, children, and, that somewhere along the way, they lost the ability to lift their head up and gaze forward. Somewhere along the road, the focus on living gave way to a slow, loose descent towards an end.

[ TT ] Someone took your stapler

I wake up at my desk. My stapler is gone. Somebody took it. Who am I? There's a note. 'I did n't want to interrupt your nap but I took your stapler. I'll have it back soon, or you can come get it if you need it'' There's no signature. I walk through the aisles in the cubicles. Who are these people. They nod at me? Do they know me? Do I know them? I see desks without staplers. Did someone take their staplers too? Someone is preying on staplers. I will find it. I'll have it back. Someone walks by. `` Have you seen my stapler?'' `` Uhm no'' My stapler could be anywhere. I come back to my cubicle. My stapler is still gone. There's something different about my cubicle. While I was gone someone lined with paper, drawings all over. A man with a weird tie, a boss with pointy hair. There's a sign. It says'they took my swing line' under a picture of a red stapler. Someone's taunting me. `` Uhm, what are you doing in my cubicle?'' A voice behind me. I turn around. He looks just like me. Well he's white and thirty and wearing a shirt and tie. We're actually pretty different now that I think about it. `` Sorry'' I say. This mad man is affecting all of us. Where is my cubicle? I wander until I recognize the scenery. My stapler is back. I look up. Someone's walking away from cubicle. I ca n't see there face. I run after them. They walk into an office. Try to shut the door. I do n't know if I'll make it in time. I burst through the door. `` Oh hey, Bob'' says the man at the desk. I think his name is Larry. `` I put the stapler back in the right cubicle right. I stare at him. He flaunts it in my face. `` Did you uh…did you need something'' I keep staring. He has to break soon. `` If this is about me catching you napping we actually encourage short naps. You can use the break room if you want, just uh…just do n't abuse it'' This man is a sociopath. `` Yeah I do n't mean to be rude but if there's nothing else I'm kind of busy so…'' I leave, go back to my cubicle. My staplers gone again. There's another note. `` Sorry, you were away, needed your stapler for a sec. Come get it if you need'' There's a name. Frank.

[ WP ] A woman comes into the same diner every morning , orders the same meal , and always leaves without eating a bite .

`` It's about that time sugar.'' the young waitress said to the man sitting across the marble counter from her. Laying his fork down onto the white folded napkin he inquired, `` Time for what, hopefully my check.'' he chuckled to himself. `` You havent heard of her? The lady from uptown who walks down here everday.'' she said twisting her hair, leaning on her right arm. She was referring to the humble, pile of a lady who strolled their rural town everyday. Hunching over a wooden cane, she frequented the businesses on the main drag here. At the shops, always looking and touching everything, at the restaurants ordering her food. Never touches the served meal. Barb was what everyone knew her by. `` You mean that ol' bag that drifts down these streets, with white long hair?'' pointing towards the window. `` I heard that lady used to have quite a bit of money.'' he stated. `` Ya thats her... and that's her famous rumor.'' the waitress said twisting a red gloss smeared smile. `` Oh look there she is now.'' she quickly said whispering to the man. The handle on the front door turned and pushed out, and a short statured woman, hunched over, strode slowly through the door. Wearing a red knit hat that looked homemade, her white hair curled out into tiny half-circles around the brim.She wore an emotionless face. Quietly at the counter the man begins, `` I wonder what she is gon na order today Carla?'' `` Oh, she always orders the same thing,'' stretching closer to his ear she whispers,'' A bowl of tomato soup.'' `` Tomato soup?'' his eyes widen.'' 59 cents at the grocery store, and she comes *here* and pays 4 dollars for it?'' `` That's right sugar.'' She said. `` Lem me go get her order real quick.'' She walks down the aisle to where the tired, return guest was sitting. `` What'll it be today barbie?'' pulling out her notepad and paper, already writing *tomato soup* on it. The old women cleared her throat in a dirty gust, and began to speak. `` It's so hard to choose here! Everything looks good.'' Running her finger down the page on the menu. `` Well you can have it all, if you got the money to do it.'' she jokingly said. `` Maybe if we hit the lottery huh Barbie?'' `` Ya maybe so.'' barb mumbled. `` Well after a long thought about it, I think I'll go with the..'' pausing, `` tomato soup!'' `` That sounds excellent dear.'' Licking her finger, and walking towards the kitchen to ladel the soup out of the pot. The man at the far end of the counter turned on his stool to face to lady a few seats away. `` Hey there barb.'' he blurts, `` What did ya decide on?'' Raising her head and tilting it to see him, she answered, `` Well, I heard through the grapevine the cook here makes the best tomato soup!'' `` You know,'' crossing his legs, `` That's what everyone always says.'Guess you picked the right thing.'' The waitress returned with the steaming red soup, swaying in a white cup. `` Here ya go, hot off the presses.'' As the she pushed the soup across the counter towards barb. `` Thank you miss..'' looking around distressed, `` but uh.. I'm gon na have to pass this evening.'' *She always does this* the waitress sullenly thought. *Why even go through the motion. * The lady struggling to lift off the stool and stand, turned around and mumbled, `` I'm off to the nieces, you know how kids are... never can wait around.'' She limped towards the door, turned the knob and briskly left the restaurant. `` What was that all about?'' the man speaking down the counter. `` Oh you know, that's just how she is. Always orders, never even touches it though.'' Placing the cup in the bin under the register. Grabbing her the wet rag in the bucket on the lower shelf, she notices something out of the corner of her eye laying on the counter. `` Oh my i think she forgot something!'' worriedly she said. She bent over to see what it was and noticed a gold bracelet laying on the table. A diamond in the middle of every connecting piece. As she picked it up, a tag on the bracelet flopped over into her hand. It read, *To carla, My beautiful daughter. You always used to love the Tomato soup i made for you. Thanks for returning the favor. *

[ WP ] Death has been making weekly visits to an old man where they talk about life , memories , and mortality . Death knows that the man will die at their next visit and is having a hard time breaking the news .

`` Not yet'', he said `` Not now''. `` Your mother'' said His Death, `` do you remember what she said?'' `` She said that she would meet me there'', recalled the man. `` And your children'', replied His Death, `` who passed before you one by one''. `` The same promise, I know'', said the man `` but I do n't want it to end like this''. `` You have passed the point of being able to die surrounded by family,'' said His Death, `` We both know that''. `` You have been a true friend to me'', the man whispered, his face cast towards the floor so that tears welled up in his eyes, `` my last friend''. `` It has been hard for me as well'', said His Death, reaching across the table to comfort the man. And there was silence. `` You will not die'', said His Death, `` you're only going home''.

Earth has gained a new season , unlike anything currently known . [ WP ]

`` But Sir...'' Bart put down his coffee and massaged the bridge of his nose. On his desk, the morning paper sat, as of yet unread. His vacation days were few and far between, and Bart liked to ease into his day whenever they occurred. Home phone numbers were reserved strictly for emergencies. `` Miss Simmons...'' he closed his eyes, picturing the look of agitation that his secretary usually made in these sorts of conversations. `` Have I stressed to you exactly what I had planned for today?'' The woman on the other lined sighed patiently. `` Yes... *Sir*... but-'' `` I was planning to spend the day with my family,'' Bart scratched the beard on his chin, `` My granddaughter Jesse just turned five years old. We were going to take her to the amusement park.'' Another sigh of muffled agitation. `` I'm terribly sorry, Mister Cubbins.'' `` Are you aware of just how rare it is for me to even *get* a full day off work?'' the old man said, now in full rant mode. `` I used to work for the most powerful man in Didd, and damn it all if I did n't appreciate the opportunity to do good work.'' He could imagine his secretary's growing impatience on the other line, but the old man slowly rose out of his recliner, grabbing his cane and getting shakily to his feet, the house's cordless phone in hand. `` I could have stayed in that dead-end job for the rest of my days, but damned if I did n't decide to make something of myself! So I spent the next thirty years building this company from the ground up. It was a whole lot of hard work for very little reward, so I do n't think it's so much to ask for a moment of peace and quiet every now and again.'' He heard the sigh on the other line indicating the end of his secretary's patience, as many of his employees made when he went on such tirades, and he relented. `` So please, my dear, tell me,'' he said, sitting back down and idly glancing at the paper on his desk. `` Tell me what urgent matter demands my attention today.'' `` W-Well...'' Miss Simmons sounded uneasy. `` You may want to be re-thinking your plans today, Mr. Cubbins...'' The old man Bartholomew rubbed his eyes as took a second glance at his newspaper, and nearly dropped the phone, before shaking his head, thinking he must have been seeing things. `` What was that now, Miss Simmons?'' he asked in a shaking voice. `` Sir...'' Miss Simmons said hesitantly. `` Have you taken a look outside today?'' Mr. Cubbins blinked and rose once again from his chair. It could n't be... He hobbled shakily to his window and drew back the curtains, and then he saw the green sludge that fell from the sky. Then he began to laugh. Thirty years, and Derwin was still making the same old mistakes. `` Sir?'' Miss Simmons said on the other line, not hearing him fully as the phone dangled limply in the man's relaxed arm. Bartholomew put the phone back to his ear. `` Thank you, Miss Simmons, that will be all.'' `` B-But Sir!'' He hung up the phone and placed it back into the receiver on his desk, before making his way out of his study and towards the back patio where a man, a woman, and a little girl were staring out the door in awe. `` Look grandad!'' the little girl said in excitement as she ran towards him and grabbed his hand, urging him forward and pointing at the globules of green that were now splayed across the lawn. `` Have you ever seen anything like it?'' The old man let out a breath, giving his granddaughter's hand a loving squeeze. `` Once, my child...'' he said, shaking his head. `` Once...''

[ WP ] You are a surgeon about to begin a simple procedure . Just before you start , you see Death standing by in scrubs .

`` Not today you son of a bitch. I see you. Not today.'' The nurse gave a sidelong glance at the surgeon muttering in half-whispers almost too quiet for anyone to hear. But she heard. The doctor did n't always mutter to herself. It was usually only in special cases: a car accident on the I-5 with a 16 wheeler that lost control; an idiot college student deciding he can jump into a pool from three stories up; or a 90 year old man who just suffered his third heart attack and whose wife was wailing in the lobby. She only muttered when the case was going to be close. Her usual routine was to wash up, get gowned, and get to work. Dr. Cardea was the best at only 34 years of age. She always worked calmly, quietly, skillfully and when the job was done it looked as if she had never been there. But on rare days, such as today, the nurse would notice an acrid smell would be lingering in the emergency room as she began her prep. It didn ’ t matter what case had gone before, or how well the room had been cleaned prior, the smell of decay would be wafting in the southern corner of the room. It was on those days that the nurse knew that her surgeon would break her routine. That she would stare hard into that corner, always the same corner, like she was facing down the death itself. On those days Cardea ’ s blue eyes would change steely grey, she would mutter words that only I could hear, and then get to work. Today was the same. As Cardea stepped forward to the table, to the newborn babe born a month too early with holes in his heart, she summoned all her skill and prepared to begin. But today was different. The smell was stronger. It was closer. It was surrounding me. At that moment she hesitated. She gave me a glare with such power I felt the need to run from the room in terror. But I didn ’ t. I simply looked back at her calmly and said “ Let me help you with that Dr. Cardea. You see, I have an interest in him as well. ”

[ WP ] The twisted and most evil thoughts you 've had in life must be enacted upon you before you can enter Paradise . The price for admission is this final `` cleanse . ''

She cried, the way she had when she when I first saw her. Tears cascaded from her eyes, her cheeks were red and a small amount of snot dribbled down her upper lip. *I love her. I love you. * Those were the first thoughts that came to my mind when I saw her. When she emerged from the womb and I set my eyes upon her beautiful face for the first time. I had cried too. *I love her. * It was soft in my hand, unrightly so. Something so simple has no right to be so powerful or wrong. Her fit continued. Her legs and arms kicked out as she lay on her back. Her cries became louder, more intense, a sound that once drove me mad. She was a crier; she wasn ’ t like her brothers who slept through the night just after three weeks. Growth spurts, teething, hunger, all of it would send her into a spell. But she had grown up tough. I ’ ll never forget when I saw her fall on the bike for the first time. The logical part of me let go, it pushed her away from me as the two wheeled vehicle moved across the pavement. But the fatherly side of me screamed. It shouted and pounded at the confines of my mind as I let go of my little girl. She wobbled and fell. It was my fault. The fatherly part of me took over and I raced towards her. She was holding her knee and grimacing. Her eyes had begun to water but she hadn ’ t started crying. I went to pick her up and she stopped me. “ I wan na try again, Daddy. ” Softball had been the same. Countless days we would come home from games and she ’ d have an icepack or bandage on some burn she got from sliding into a base. She wasn ’ t the best, far from it actually, she was small and not as athletic as the other girls. But she had gumption. She had vigor. She was tough. *I love her. I love you. * And here she was, back as a babe before my eyes. “ *To enter paradise you must be cleansed. ” * God ’ s words echoed in my mind. I stood on the precipice of eternity, hell in one hand, heaven in another. “ *Cleanse yourself of your most wicked thought and you may enter, my Son. ” * She lay on a bed before me, her fit was about to reach its climax. As an early father the thought has crossed my mind, if only for half a second I wanted to be rid of the crying. I wished to sleep. Half mad, half sleep deprived, I wanted my independence back. But it was only for half a moment. It was only for the briefest of seconds yet it now defines my eternity. The logical part of me told me it was not real. Told me that this was simply a test, no different than what Abraham had gone through. It said to do it and be done with it. To join my parents and brothers. To see my wife again. But the fatherly part of me was ashamed, it screamed wrestled with the very real thing in front of me. It tore at my conscious and pitied what I knew I had to do. The decorative pillow was in my right hand, it was small yet held giant repercussions. I knelt next to my crying daughter and lifted the pillow to her face. I started to cry with her. *I love you…* A flash of light, yellow and red, then nothing. I held her in my arms for the last time. The clouds and sky shot up before me but I did not move, the universe was moving for me. The world cascaded towards me, then everything went dark. -- -- - “ Push! ” “ I see the head now, you ’ re almost there, Dear. Keep pushing! ” She cried out and gave what little she had left. “ There you go, almost there! ” I gripped her hand and told her it was going well. I told her I was there, and that she was almost done. She wasn ’ t listening though. Thinking back on it, I think I was more talking to myself than her. Then the room was filled with something queer, a new sound added to the chaotic cacophony: a baby ’ s cry. “ It ’ s a girl! ” the nurse exclaimed. She swaddled the baby in a blanket and extended her to me. “ Here, ” she said, “ Congratulations, you ’ re a father. ” I eyed my baby girl. My beautiful Olivia. She cried, tears cascaded from her eyes, her cheeks were red and a small amount of snot dribbled down her upper lip. I smiled. *I love you. * -- -- ** ( *Like my writing? Check out more at nickblakeslee.com* ) **

[ WP ] Upon returning home , you find a grand piano in your kitchen .

The walk up the driveway is as long and boring as usual. *This is why people have short driveways, * I think to myself, as I finally jog up the steps to my front door. After fumbling with the locks for few moments I enter inside, and smell the familiar scents of home. It always reminds me of Lucy, and it always makes me wonder when she's coming back. *Is she coming back? * I shake the thought away as best I can and throw my coat up on a hook before I head down the hallway, past the kitchen and into my study. I'm practically *dreaming* of the butter biscuits I have saved from yesterday, but they'll have to wait. If I do n't get this report filed, I'm in deep trouble. The air is stale in my study, which is n't a great thing. I've been falling steadily behind ever since Lucy left, and I have n't been committing as many hours to work as I should be. Then again, maybe that's why she left me. *John* probably does n't have a full time job. I bet *John* just vacations 5 days a week on Lucy's dime. The money I won her in the lawsuit is definitely enough to cover that for a few years. *Could you stop thinking about her for one goddamned second? * I shake my head again, and decide the butter biscuits are becoming more of a necessity for me than anything else right now. So I drop my work bag off at the desk and walk around the corner into my kitchen, where I stop short as all thoughts of butter biscuits fly from my mind. There's a white grand piano. In my kitchen. There was n't one before. But now there's a white grand piano in my kitchen nook, right where my table used to be. `` What the fuck,'' I say aloud.

[ IP ] Where planets are born

Hi. I'm Jim. I may just be a sapling at the moment but one day I want to be human. I see them running around, on legs and feet, flailing their arms, jumping, dancing; Free. They know how to stay warm, how to move no matter whether the sun is near or far. They breathe air. Oh, of course photosynthesis is close but every time I grow, it's a step towards being a part of Mother Plant. She's the one who makes the giant balls and sends them up to the sky; planets is what I heard a human call them. The planets are beautiful once they reach the nighttime sky, they shine to be the brightest stars. It's a big task The Mother has, to fill the nighttime sky with stars so beautiful they light the whole sky. But humans... well what can I say? They've chosen their own paths, each path being so different from another... I ca n't help thinking that maybe, just maybe I do n't belong here. Maybe I can do more than make planets. Maybe I could dance and shout and... and...... RUN.

[ WP ] Deconstruct a favorite song and make a short story about it ...

The night started like any other, I sat dealing cards at the tavern in Arkansas. The usual crowd came in. They'd all learned long ago not to gamble with me as I'd paid for my drinks off their losin' for as long as I can remember. I always won, be it by bluffin', cheatin', or just plain luck. This night, a stranger walked in the door. He was dressed in black with a new pistol on his belt. Not stopping at the bar, he sat at my table. He laid down his money, so I matched, shuffled, and dealt. A poor hand for me, but he seemed little better. He asked for 3 new cards and so did I. He did n't look at me after that, just placed some coins on the table. All I had was ace high and he seemed too confident for less than a pair. He did n't seem the type to be scared off by a bluff, so luckily I kept an ace in my cuff. I matched his bet and switched the cards while he focused on the money. we laid down our hands. He had a pair of jacks, beaten by my aces. As I scooped up the money, he grabbed my cuff. He pulled out the card, and I took off running. The midnight train was loping down the tracks behind the bar. I turned the corner and grabbed the ladder of a passenger car. Luckily the whole train was empty. As I closed the door behind me, I heard the rapport of his pistol, but I never felt the shot. I plopped down in the chair and stared out the window. The bullet had gone right through, but I was n't gon na make it long. Maybe an hour later, I could n't tell, a young man boarded the train. He looked distraught, but silently sat across the isle and too stared out the window. Every now and then he'd take a long drink of whiskey. I was happy to just sit, but after a while, I had to say something. `` Son, Ive made a life out of readin' peoples' faces, knowin' what their cards are by the way they hold their eyes, and if you do n't mind me sayin', I would say you're out of aces and for one taste of your whiskey, I will give you some advice.'' He pulled out his bottle and handed it to me though there was n't more than a sip left. I happily drank it down, glad to have a last taste of the smoky liquor. I asked for a cigarette and a light. I hoped they would still my shaking hands. I took a long drag and waited a moment. `` If you're gon na play the game, boy, you better learn to play it right.'Cause every gambler knows that the secret to survival is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep, and every hands a winner just like every hands a loser, and the best that you can hope for is to die in you're sleep. You got ta know when to hold'em, know when to fold'em, know when to walk away, know when to run. Dont ever count your money while you're sittin' at the table. There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin' is done.'' He seemed more comfortable, but lost in thought, so I turned back to the window and finished my cigarette. My hands had stopped shaking at least, but my feet were cold. I put the butt in the ash tray and dozed off.

[ WP ] in a world where you get superpowers for doing good deeds , write the story of a super villain .

“ Deadlift a word. ” “ Deadlift, can you comment on the ongoing trials? ” “ Deadlift, how was the break up with Mistress Blue? ” A large man pushed through the crowd to get into the bank. He hadn ’ t wanted this for his life. His cloths shedding layers of wood chips and saw dust as he maneuvered into the bank. Everything had been so simple. Go out, bid a job, do the job, bid the next, then work at habitat for humanity on the weekends. This had been life for nearly 15 years. Then one day the powers came. People were flying, shooting lighting from their fingertips, all while Dave found the shingles lighter. And he was happy with that. He knew the day would come when he would learn the true extent of his strength. But he was in no rush to find out. He was just a charitable guy, not a hero. The next Monday, He had saved the life of an excavation crew when the ground beneath them gave way. Lifted the excavator straight up while the other members of the crew pulled out the injured. He spent the next week in his bed nursing a strained back. Super strength and adrenalin allowed him to lift it and he had never quite found that much strength again. But even if he couldn ’ t lift a digger like that again, it had earned him is name: Deadlift. “ No comment ” Dave walked in to the bank, late, foreclosure notice in hand. There was nothing the bank was willing to do over the phone, so he ventured into public. Past the people cheering for Deadlift, past those that looked at him with disgust. They were probably family members of the victims of the recent cave in. He could only save 5 of the 20 workers. He was forced to stop twice along the way. Once for a kite in a tree, once for a robbery in progress. Clamping the barrel of the gun closed, the robber pulled the trigger blowing the gun in to shards of shrapnel. The crook told him to expect a call from his lawyer. “ I ’ m sorry David, there ’ s nothing else we can do for you. ” The loan officer said. “ Please, I ’ m bidding a job tomorrow. I can get an advance and pay off my late dues ” “ You ’ re out of time son. I ’ m sorry. ” Dave stood to leave. “ Oh, before you go, could you sign this picture. My grandson loves Deadlift. ” “ Really? After telling me that you ’ re taking my home you want a fucking autograph? ” “ There ’ s no reason to be rude about it. ” Dave grabbed the pen and the picture, snapping the delicate pen in the process. He flung the door open, crushing the handle. He walked out to the table with the pens on the chain as the paparazzi forced their way into the bank. “ Deadlift, What ’ s the news on your charity appearances? ” “ Deadlift, any comment on the recent YouTube video of you drunk in public? ” “ No comment. Backup. ” “ Deadlift, Is there any truth to the accusation that your burst the water main on fourth, leaving the hospital without water? ” “ No. Please back up. ” A shorter bald man stepped up, setting off a flash in Dave ’ s face. “ Hey Deadlift, that a foreclosure notice in your hand? With all these lawsuits I guess you ’ re just as bad at keeping the lights on as you are at keeping people save ” “ I said back up! ” David swung his left hand into the paparazzi, sending them flying into the wall. “ I ’ m…I ’ m sorry ” Dave muttered The bald paparazzo stumbled to his feet. “ haha, Deadlift assaults journalist. This is a great story and my shoulder is killing me. Thanks for the payout you lug ” he said, snapping a picture. In the span of the flash Dave was arm ’ s length from the paparazzo. Dave grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the wall. “ Do you know what it ’ s like to be a hero? Do you know what you get for putting your life on the line? ” He tightened his grip. “ A camera at every window! ” His fist slammed into the paparazzo face “ Walking down the street every child has a kite or some fucking cat up a tree! ” His fist again. “ While I barely make enough for to pay my way! ” Again “ Because, ” Again and again, the punctuation to his rage “ YOU. FUCKING. VULTURES. CAN ’ T. FEND. FOR. YOURSELVES. ” The wall was stained with where the paparazzo had been. “ We give and give and it ’ s never enough for you. Most of us aren ’ t rich, we can ’ t afford to keep being pulled out of our jobs to save someone. And those of us with our identity outed can ’ t afford being taken in for wrongful injury cases every time your leg got broken while we prevented the whole burning building from falling on you. You take so much from us… ” He looked at the stained wall, the scared bystanders, and then the vault. He walked over to the teller station, punching through the bullet proof glass. He pulled the young teller out, putting his thumb under his chin as if to flip a coin. He turned to the other tellers. “ But my friend and I think today is the day you pay one of us back. Now open the safe, quick and calm. We wouldn ’ t want anyone to lose their head. ” Thanks for reading. Note, I am not a writer. You can give me criticism if you would like, but i do n't know if it will do me much good as i do n't write that much. I hope you enjoyed.

[ WP ] The internet runs out of space . It becomes full .

“ It ’ s not posting. ” “ What ’ s not? ” I put down my book and looked over at my girlfriend, on the computer again. “ My fic. It ’ s giving me this weird error. Error number yadda-yadda-yadda ‘ not enough free space. ’ What do you think it means? ” “ Is this your serialized fanfiction? ” “ Yeah, I ’ ve posted it every day and this is the first time it ’ s ever had an issue. ” I walked over and kicked her off the computer. I clicked the submit button. Yep, same error. I go to google something, but the google page has been replaced with a message: *We have deleted a significant amount of our cache data to place this message. The internet is full. It happened about 1am PST this morning. Running diagnostics, we have determined the culprit. An astonishing 74 % of the data currently clogging the internet is something called “ Hello Kitty: Friendship is Magic. ” We would delete it, but it ’ s not hosted on our servers. The following is a petition to get the guilty party to remove the content, so that the internet may once again flow freely. * This was followed by a count containing 3 billion signatures. I turn to my girlfriend. “ Hey, good news. Three billion people know about your writing. ”

[ WP ] At night , when everything is dark and silent .

At night, when everything is dark and silent, The men will stalk their prey within the woods. With weapons drawn and tempest minds yet violent They wait and hide in cloaks and capes and hoods. For with each shadowed step the monster takes The men will spring to action in defense. They slash and fight until the ground but quakes; They shed their blood, protect the innocents. And when the sunlight rises o ’ re the trees, The men will wash and then return to home. Their children play wherever they do please But in the darkness, something new will roam. -- - -168

Due to overpopulation everything is legal until you turn 18 . [ WP ]

I focused on the'everything is legal' part. I hope you enjoy it. -- - `` Alright. Is *everyone's* phone on silent this time?'' Jenny shuddered, remembering her first trip with the group, only yesterday, involving an escaped tiger and an angry elephant. Set off by a blaring ringtone. `` Okay, good.'' Jenny snapped her head back up, trying to seem like she had been listening. It was no use. Charlotte gave her a long look. `` Jenny, you're with me,'' the group's'leader' continued. `` Everyone, get into your pairs and lets go.'' Automatically, the huddle of 8 girls split into four pairs. Jenny felt Charlotte yank at her arm. `` What was her name again?'' Jenny asked quietly, pointing to the tall girl with red hair lounging absent-mindedly against the solid stone wall of the museum. `` She's Nikki... but it does n't matter for now, we'll be just on our own for this mission. Chin up, Newbie, you'll learn everyone's names soon enough.'' *Mission, * Jenny thought to herself. *More like Death Wish. * She berated herself for joining the rag-tag team. All because she wanted to fit in in her new school. Jenny brushed the hair from her eyes and looked around- had the older girl... Charlotte... left her? Her eyes caught on the familiar figure standing tucked against a dimly lit staircase, motioning for her to follow. They walked in silence, the distant buzz of fluorescent lights the only noise to be heard. Charlotte turned to face the new-recruit. `` How old are you? I never asked...'' `` Um, 14,'' Jenny said, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of her hoodie. The rest of the gang seemed older- would Charlotte laugh at her for being so young? Jenny's mentor only nodded wisely. `` I was that age when I joined. I'm only 16 now. And I've been here the longest.'' Jenny felt a little weight lifted off her shoulders. `` Really?'' `` Yeah. And Miranda was only 15.'' Jenny shuddered. *Was*. All she knew about'Miranda' was that her position was suddenly empty- and Jenny had filled it. There was no doubt that Miranda had died during one of the gang's so-called missions. Charlotte thrust an arm out in a'stop' signal, interrupting Jenny from her thoughts. She had just enough time to mutter'what the...' before the older girl clamped her hand over Jenny's mouth. `` Warden...'' Charlotte hissed. The pair watched in concentrated silence as a fat man in uniform wandered past, swinging torch from side-to-side lazily. Jenny let a second pass before she allowed herself to breathe. They were in the Lockhart Museum, home to the world's most famous pieces of art... and the exquisite ancient chinese urn that the girls were about to steal. *No laws for us. We can do whatever we want... * Jenny reminded herself, repeating the thought like a mantra in her head again and again. It did n't help to stop the niggling worry in the back of her mind. *But that does n't mean the electrified security systems are disabled... * -- - Charlotte and Jenny worked in silence, sawing- quiet as a mouse- through the cables. They were the thickest cables Jenny had ever seen, and wire cutters seemed useless to them. The two of them had resorted to the little saw on Charlotte's pen-knife, each taking over when the other got tired. They were making progress, but slowly. `` Charlotte,'' `` Mmm?'' Charlotte continued to saw, beads of sweat forming on her temple. They were pressed for time, and they both knew it. `` If you're about to say'saw faster' do n't.'' `` I wo n't!'' Jenny exclaimed under her breath, scared to talk at normal volume after a run-in with the mechanical attack dog roaming the halls.'*Security measures these days... * Charlotte had remarked. `` It's just. Charlotte is a bit of a mouthful, do n't you think?'' Jenny swallowed. *Please be cool, please be cool... oh god I'm trying too hard... She can tell... * `` Sh-should I call you Charlie instead?'' Charlotte gave her a dark glare. `` No. Absolutely not.'' She picked up the saw and handed it to Jenny. Her hands were red and raw, but the cable was almost done. `` Here, your turn. You can do the last bit...'' the teenager took a swig of water from her water bottle. `` *Never* call me Charlie, okay? That's a name for try-hards trying to look tough. I'm naturally awesome, I do n't need some shitty nickname based in my insecurities.'' Jenny took in Charlotte's cropped hair, dyed a shocking blue colour. *She's right, * Jenny thought to herself. *She does n't need a nickname to be cool, she's so badass already... * Jenny looked down at the cable. With one last drag of the saw across the hardened wiring, it broke in half. `` Finally!'' Charlotte turned to Jenny and winked. `` Action time, rookie.'' -- - Nikki and a girl with gorgeous dark skin were already waiting by the glass case of the urn. From behind a corner, Jenny could see the guard's limp body and dark red blood pooling out from below. *Thou shalt not kill, * echoed the theology teacher's words in her head. Something told Jenny that these girls probably were n't religious. Nikki nodded to the body. `` We dealt with *this* chump. But the dog is still out there. We better hurry.'' From out of nowhere, more of the gang appeared and converged around the glass. `` Geez, is that all?'' asked one girl, blonde dread-locks spilling out from her rainbow beanie. `` Does n't look all too worth it.'' Charlotte folded her arms. `` Trust me, girls. This one is worth it. *5 million credits* kinda worth it.'' Jenny gasped, and the blonde girl's eyes grew wide. `` 5 million!? For *that*?'' she said, waving her fingers towards it, careful not to set off the heat sensors. `` It's so *ugly*,'' `` Well, tell that to the collectors,'' Charlotte replied, gesturing to the dark-skinned from earlier. `` Jane, if you will,'' `` Certainly,'' the girl winked. With one graceful motion, she unhooked a small device vaguely similar to a breathalyser from her pocket and clicked it together with a device she had procured from the guard's pocket. She sauntered over to the case and the girls parted. Nikki pulled out an aerosol can and sprayed it around the casing as'Jane' slipped on gloves. With a sly smile, she pushed the machine against the glass and it let out a low buzz. The glass melted away, dripping like tiny hot raindrops. `` Be careful,'' Charlotte started, but there was no need. The girl had finished melting the glass and had gently lifted the urn from it's stand, replacing it with a small weight. A mechanical whirr started in the background, followed by a robotic bark. The lights flickered on, illuminating the dark room. `` That's our cue to leave,'' Charlotte grinned, turning on her heels and motioning for the others to follow as the loud drone of alarm bells began to sound. -- - Jenny crawled back into her bedroom window, exhausted. Flashes of the mission whizzed through her brain, still crackling with fresh excitement. Nikki lighting a flare and rolling it into the corridor as the building echoed with footsteps... The gang piling into a car and screeching into night... Charlotte shaking her hand and driving away with the urn, ready to sell it on, leaving Charlotte alone and tired in the dark outside her suburban house. A light flicked on. Jenny jumped. `` Just what do you think you're doing, young lady?'' boomed Jenny's dad. Her mother came dashing in, face stony. `` Sneaking out late at night? There's been a robbery at the museum! One of those gangs- think about it, Jennifer, you could've been hurt! If you had run into those *criminals* no doubt you would be dead! Think about your poor mother! We had no idea where you were!'' `` I --'' `` No, I do n't want to hear it. The damage is done.'' He took a step away from Jenny. `` There may be no laws regarding youths like you, but we are still your parents, and we make the rules. You're grounded. You will never be so reckless ever again, you hear me?'' Jenny pretended to pout as her parents exited the room in a swirl of rage and stern disappointment. Jenny tucked her head into her pillow, grinning. *If only they knew... *

[ WP ] You own a magical camera that is similar to a thermal camera , but instead of heat it shows you value . A ring glows as bright as the sun while a piece of plastic wrapping is almost invisible . You have been careful never to look at a person with it for your whole life .

The camera sat on the table, just waiting for use. Years had gone by, and temptation grew, thinking about what it knew. Objects, the only thing it had seen, how could that be? Seconds and minutes gave a goodbye, I needed to know what it thought of me. I took a step, a step closer indeed. I peered over, grabbing it with need. In front, was a mirror, my reflection beaming. What would it tell me? Unsure I seemed. Through the lens, I looked, How ugly I appeared, nothing like the words of a book. As invisible as I was, I understood. The camera I had used, was abused, not as it should.

[ IP ] The Night Shift

`` Some things can not be done by day. The sun is an eye of god, bringing judgement onto our sins. And some sins may not be forgiven. That is why, we, the Night Shift, do what we do in darkness. It is not for secrecy, but for shame. God sleeps when we do, and perhaps in the dark of night we can escape notice and with it, judgement.'' `` Shut up George.'' `` Tonight we create an abomination. We tread upon God's feet, the folly of humankind -'' `` No more of this shit, George! If you want to go onto these fucking monologues, you should have been a fucking writer.'' `` Screw you too Blake.'' Blake moved up to adjust the camera. It began to focus onto his scrubs and his surgical mask. He pointed it onto the podium where a mechanical sphere lay, connected by wires into the building. `` We're copying a human mind. The wires lead over to our patient. Who is n't being tortured by demons in the basement, like George's monologue would have you think. Completely painless procedure, just tracking brain signals and the like. It'll take a few hours or so to install.'' Blake pointed over to a human body made of chrome and silver metal. `` That's the body we have housing the metal brain. Should be an exact replica of our patient, except a cyborg. Pretty damn cool, huh?'' He shifted the camera, panning to a rather smug looking Greg. `` *INSTALLATION COMPLETE*'' Blake hurriedly aimed the camera back at the brain and body. `` Well, that was a lot faster than I expected.'' `` Yeah, Blake. You're welcome. Turns out that my genius mind is n't just good at monologues. Turns out I'm pretty good at a lot of stuff, huh?'' `` Yeah, George, good work. Say, how do we put it in?'' `` You do n't know? Is this another thing that I'm useful for?'' `` Oh seriously? I'm a god-damned doctor and psychologist. You know I do n't work with machinery like this.'' `` Then watch as we commit the ultimate sin of pride by recreating God's own work.'' As George placed the brain into the body through the top of the skull, wires left small holes in the brain, exploring its new storage. They latched onto small connections within the head of the machine body. George lifted his hands from the brain as the hole closed shut. Cameras came out of where its eyes should have been. It whirred, moving its hand in front of its face, as though making sure it were well and truly alive. `` It's alive!'' Blake shouted. The Frankenstein reference was ignored by George, who eagerly studied the robot. A speaker emerged and it spoke its first words. `` An abomination! Oh, never let me see the light of day, for it will melt through to the metal core of me! I was never meant to live!'' Blake paused, in shock. George stood by the robot, still smug as all hell. `` George.... You did n't...'' `` Yup.'' `` Do you have any idea how much is at stake here?'' `` Of course I do. I know my own intellect is far greater than our patient's. Hence my actions.'' `` George you little fuck! You just copied yourself into our only robot! The! ONLY! ONE! IN THE WORLD!'' Blake chased George as he dodged around the table in circles. The robot watched them passively before turning towards the camera. `` Ah, humanity.''

[ WP ] Where do bad guys get their legions of goons ? Well , it 's all thanks to you . You specialize in supplying grunts of a wide variety to aspiring super villains , whether they need masked men with bad aim or hideous/sexy merfolk to guard their underwater lair .

“ I need an *army* of *mole men*, ” the very-creatively-named Mole Man shrieked. “ With noses that can detect incoming heroes from *miles* away. And big gnashing claws! ” He held up his own hands and wiggled his stubby fingers, no doubt imagining them with claws. “ And… and… giant… ” “ I think I get what you ’ re going for, ” I interrupted him with my most calming tone. Sometimes these villains can get a little worked up in describing their dream henchmen. “ We can certainly offer you the very best mole minions to do your underground bidding, Mole Man. ” I ’ d gotten quite good at suppressing my urge to laugh while working here. “ They ’ ll have claws like you ’ ve never seen before! And they ’ ll be great diggers. ” “ Excellent! ” His nose twitched wildly like a scared mouse, and he rubbed his hands together in that way that all villains seem to pick up from each other. But he did it a bit *too* enthusiastically; it nearly sent the 4 ” 5 ’ man toppling off of his chair. “ And you say they ’ ll be part man, part mole? ” “ Absolutely. ” I swiveled in my chair and dug through my stack of pamphlets. Past the robot and/or cyborg option, past faceless soldiers with so-called weapons training, past super ninjas with troubled pasts… “ Ah, here we go! ” I plucked the human/animal genetic abomination pamphlet off of the rack. “ You are familiar with our work on Grizzly ’ s bearmen, yes? ” “ Of course! ” He was starting to get that wild gleam in his eyes that meant the deal was pretty much done. Supervillains are the biggest suckers out there. You show them a shiny new toy like an army of human-bear hybrids and they just *have* to have one of their own. “ Most excellent work. ” “ We can absolutely do mole men for you, ” I said. “ We just need you to sign our standard form contract here. ” I pulled one of the binders from my drawer and thumped all six hundred pages of it onto the desk. Mole Man ’ s eyes widened behind his coke bottle glasses. “ Just a standard agreement, saying that we will provide you with the best army that money can buy. ” “ 600 pages to say that? ” he responded. “ Well there are the standard legal disclaimers… ” I said. Like that we make no guarantee of their combat abilities or training. Or that they ’ ll even be semi-competent henchmen. Once they leave the lab, they ’ re not our responsibility anymore. “ But come on. You ’ ve *seen* those Bear Men in action, right?! ” Mole Man forgot all about reading over those disclaimers and signed immediately. They always do. I could have tried upselling him to the cyborg mole men, but I figured that would be better for the second round. After his first army gets crushed by the first hero to come along, he ’ ll no doubt be back for more. And of course I ’ ll be here to tell him that if they had lasers mounted to their snouts, they would have done better. “ Pleasure doing business with you, ” I told him as I ushered him to the door. “ They ’ ll be fully grown in six to eight weeks. ” I headed back to my desk and waited a few minutes, just to be sure he was really gone. From my window, I watched him emerge from our office and then head into the parking lot and begin digging straight through the concrete, kicking up a flurry of rocks and dirt all over my BMW. *I ’ m putting the detailing on his tab, * I decided. Then I reached for my phone. “ Hey, Sergeant Lightning? This is Greg over at HenchCo. ” “ GREG! ” Every time I spoke to him, it was like he was shouting full blast into the receiver on the other end. I ’ d only *ever* had contact with him by phone because I fear that any in-person meeting might shatter my eardrums. I had to hold the phone at arm ’ s length just to have a conversation with him. “ WHATCHA GOT FOR ME TODAY? ” “ Ah, you know. The usual. This *Mole Man* came over looking for some help in his villainy. ” “ MOLE MAN, EH? I ’ VE FACED HIM BEFORE! HE ’ S TRIED TUNNELING INTO BANK VAULTS LIKE SIX TIMES! ” “ I thought that might be the case. Well, just thought you should know that he ’ s placed a pretty sizable order. A whole army of human-mole hybrids. ” I looked out the window at the giant hole in our parking lot and smirked. “ And of course we ’ ll make them to our high level of quality, as always. ” Sergeant Lightning laughed. “ WHAT ’ S IT GOING TO BE THIS TIME? ” “ Well, they ’ re part *mole*, right? They ’ ll definitely be blind. And just for fun, scared of birds or something. ” I pictured them running through the streets, bumping into buildings and cars every time a seagull passed overhead. “ It ’ ll be *hilarious! *'' “ HILARIOUS! ” Sergeant Lightning agreed. `` GOOD WORK THERE, GREG!'' -- -- - As always, subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons of other stories!

[ WP ] Write an epic based off a childhood playground game ( e.g . tag , hide-and-seek , the floor is lava , etc ) . Battle scenes optional .

Manhunt 1-2-3. *A game that was actually banned in my primary school due to people having a weird idea that it was connected to some murder... thing. Was weird. * *Basically, it was a game of tic, or as Americans call it, tag, except that anyone you tagged became a Hunter. To make it balanced, you had to hold your finger on someone and say'Manhunt, 1, 2, 3' clearly and loudly. If they squirmed away then the chase had to continue. In reality, what typically happened is you had one really motivated initial Hunter, but the people he turned tended to be pretty lazy about it. However, it was a fun concept, and me and some friends at the time did expand the rules to include'safe zones' and'neutral areas'. I've always felt it could make a good Augmented Reality game if expanded, sort of like a virtual version of the Mirror's Edge setting* -- - The Hunters were everywhere. Of that much, Jack could be certain. However, most typically kept to the rooftops, to get a better view. Only a few Hunters were ever on the ground, being lead by the flocks who stood up above, their phones messaging them with details. Runners worked much the same, though they typically had more people on the ground. The only way you could really tell the difference is by the colour of the UI on their phone app. He flipped open his phone, and his app suggested there was a temporary safe zone ahead, in the coffee shop. Red blips appeared, showing other Runners' location. Jack grinned, and ran for the location. He saw his buddy, whose username was Dr_Chronopolis, slamming the keyboard on his blue-lit phone rapidly. Jack smiled, and tapped the Runner on the shoulder. `` Manhunt. One. Two. Three.'' Dr_Chronopolis' face fell as his screen went red and showed the location of other Hunters. ``... You're a Hunter.'' `` Yup. And now, so are you, Doc.'' `` How long?'' `` About six months.'' `` Seriously? You went to that meet-up and all, as a Hunter?'' `` It was a safe zone. And I felt it not necessary to advertise.'' `` You sneaky bastard!'' `` What can I say? I'm finding the Hunter side of the ManhuntAR app way more fun than the Runner side.'' They shook hands, and then went in to have a coffee. Surrounded by Runners who had no idea that a Hunter team stood amongst them.

[ WP ] A young child suspects that his grandpa 's walking stick is an artifact of great power .

Witch's Bone. That's what Auri's grandfather called his cane. The grooved wood had swirling patterns on it, merely mesmerizing her as she watched him climb the stairs. `` Come on, Auri. We've got places to go.'' Auri nodded as she followed her grandfather up the stairs. She giggled she reached the top, reaching out to steady herself on the cane. She was transported through Time as her small fingers wrapped around it. A gorgeous woman stood in front of her, a dress adorning her curves. Her hair flowed outward in the breeze, yet there was n't any wind. Auri crinkled her nose as she gasped. `` **Welcome to the Grove, child. George has been gone for so long, I was beginning to wonder if he'd send a new apprentice…'' ** Auri's wide eyes took in the woman. As the woman turned away from her, she noticed the same cane that her grandfather used to walk with. Yet, this one was much more decorated and prettier with dazzles along the tip. `` **Well? Come along. There is much for us to do, child. Much to do…**''

[ WP ] First your father died and your mother remarried . Next your mother died and your stepfather remarried . Then your brother died and your stepparents adopted a new son . You 're starting to suspect that yours is not the only family they 've replaced .

I remember the day my father died. I remember the rain at his funeral and looking up at my mother as the tears ran down her face. At the time I thought those were the worst days of my life, but now... now I look back on those days as a happy time, a time before things got really bad. Back then we lived in a small house, close to the motorway. At night my brother, Dave, and I would lie awake in our bunk beds and listen to the lorries going past, talking about where they might be going. I guess mum must have been lonely and probably hungry too, as two growing boys are little use as company, but she worked so much perhaps she did n't have time to even think about it. I wish I could ask her. When she met David I kinda liked him, but my brother took a dislike right away. `` He's got my name'' he would whisper to me in the dark, as we listened to them grunting through the thin walls of the tiny apartment. `` He's got my name and he's got our mum.'' I said nothing, perhaps I was beginning to see that what we had was n't sustainable. Dave was just eleven and I was thirteen and soon we'd need more space and staying in the west side of town it was only a matter of time before we got into trouble, or trouble found us. She told us at Christmas, waiting until after the presents were open and then standing in the doorway, the smell of turkey floating through the house. She showed us the ring and I tried to show an interest, but Dave just looked away, no longer even caring about the second hand gameboy he'd received. Dinner was quiet that afternoon, David trying to engage us, but we ate without enthusiasm. He was a nice guy, but it had been less than a year, we still missed our dad. The wedding was in the spring, Dave refused to be a part, but I was David's best man and I stood next to them, trying my best to feel proud and happy, but inside I was scared. Mum had said that after today David would be our Dad, they had completed the paperwork and it was all legal, from here on he'd be as much of a parent to us as she was, but I did n't really believe it and Dave did n't seem to like it much either. We moved soon after, David got a better job and we were in a suburb, were we had always belonged, but it meant a bigger house, no more sharing with my brother and no more late night chats. He stopped talking to me so much and I kind of drifted away, trying to make the most of things, while he... he did n't want to. The first time he ran away was the night before our camping trip. David had said he'd take us up into the hills and I was excited, but Dave had been silent. He slipped away in the night and in the morning I heard my mum scream, the same noise she had made when my Dad had died in his sleep. I peed myself at that noise, the puddle growing as the fear came back to me and the memories. At once I heard the commotion and that my brother was missing, not dead and I panicked, cleaning myself up as best I could and then running to help look for him. He ’ d not gone far, he was hiding in the attic, but we didn ’ t go camping, we never did after that. Over the next year my brother grew more distant still, skipping school and staying out late and for a long time I tried to ignore it, but finally one day it was too much, Mum had become thinner and withdrawn from the worry and so I waited for him in his room, until he crept back in the window one night. He saw me and stopped, then shrugged and began tugging off his jumper. I stood and walked over, the anger building in me. “ Why Dave? You *know* how much it worries Mum, why do you do it? ” He looked at me and smiled and for just a second the old Dave was there, but then it was gone again in the scowl. “ You never saw him for what he really is, did you? ” I stepped back. “ Him? You mean David? ” He nodded. “ I saw a guy who took on a woman and two young boys and helped them move into a nicer house and has never been anything but kind to me. ” Dave shook his head. “ Yeah, I see that too, but I see something else too. ” He smiled a crooked half smile. “ Mum always said I had Dads eyes and he saw things cleanly too. ” He sat down on the bed, shirtless and I saw that he had scars running across his torso. “ Jesus Dave. ” He looked down at the scars and laughed. “ Yeah, some of the investigating has been… rough. ” “ Rough? You look like someone tried to kill you? ” He met my eyes. “ A few times, maybe. ” “ This is insane. ” I stood, ready to go and get Mum, he was only thirteen for God ’ s sake, too young to be nearly killed. He moved quickly and blocked my path. “ Look, just… just take a look tomorrow. Just take a closer look at David and try to look at him as Dad would? ” I shook him free. “ Like he was fucking my wife after I died? ” Dave froze and I felt bad for a moment, but pushed past him. “ Sort your shit out and stop whatever it is you ’ re doing man. It ’ s not helping. ” He said nothing as I left. In the morning I woke late and made my way downstairs groggily to the kitchen, David sat quietly at the table, his hands folded. The sun was high already and I glanced across to the clock to see the time and started as I saw it was nearly eleven. “ Fuck! I ’ m late for School! ” David looked up, as if he had just heard me enter. “ it ’ s… it ’ s not important now. Please, take a seat, I need to tell you something. ” His voice held… an odd tone and I paused, the adrenaline from the panic of missing school already subsiding and being replaced by a knot of fear. “ What… why? ” He gestured again and I pulled a chair free and sat opposite him. He reached out for my hands, but I kept them under the table and he sat back. “ I ’ m very sorry, I ’ m afraid your mother and brother went to the shops this morning and had an accident. ” The words had no meaning, they came and went and my mind was blank, even as the knot of fear grew. “ The car was hit by a lorry. I ’ m afraid they both died. ” He held my eyes and smiled, sympathy and sorrow mixing on his face. “ No. ” I could barely speak, barely squeeze out a word. He looked down. “ I ’ m sorry, I couldn ’ t find the way to tell you before, so I let you sleep. ” He looked up and continued to speak, but the words were lost now, I was looking at the space around his eyes. There was *something* there, something which made his expressions seem… wrong. I leaned in, but he didn ’ t seem to notice and now I could see it, a festering ring of darkness around his eyes, which seemed to float on top, barely covering what was underneath. “ Are you listening to me? ” I jerked back to attention, throwing myself back in the chair. He reached out again, holding his hand out for mine. “ I said, it ’ s just you and me kid, but I ’ m going to take good care of you. I promise ” ***** Edit - Dammit, I forgot to mention /r/fringly - it's like writingprompts, but with more fringly and less other people.

[ EU ] Batman is arrested . The day of his trial , the Joker shows up to defend him .

*Ugh. * The blunt punches stung Bruce Wayne as he lay on the floor but the officers, wreathed in shadow, continued the brutal onslaught. *Day 15. * The day of the trial. Bruce brooded in between strikes to his sternum. His arrest had been sudden. Two-Face had organized the whole charade with the help of Hush who had played the part of Bruce Wayne perfectly. *They had to use their brains at some point, * Bruce thought. It was more than a good plan, Bruce had to admit that, it was impossible not to come, people would have died. A fresh punch to the cheek woke Bruce from his short stupor. `` That's enough, get the bastard up, he's got a date with Judge Wilkins.'' *Hahahahahaha, * the officers laughed as they unceremoniously dragged Bruce Wayne to his feet. The walk through the holding cells was unpleasant if not familiar. Now instead of jeers about Batman, the crooks were shouting insults about Bruce Wayne, about his parents, his money, his love interest. `` Say Brucie, how long do you think it'll take to find little Miss Vale after they smoke your brain with a thousand volts eh?'' Bruce Wayne looked at each of them in turn, remembering their faces, remembering what they did to end up in those cells. Then suddenly, he was through a set of doors and another into the courtroom. He was met with boos from the packed audience, but was astonished to find that half the people sitting had on Batman masks that you'd find at a dollar store. Bruce did n't feel particularly relieved about it. He was sat next to an empty seat where his lawyer, Robert Madenson should have been, an old friend of Harvey's who stayed relatively clean and had helped Wayne enterprises with some criminal investigations falsely accused against the corporation. But he was n't there. `` Well Mr. Wayne,'' the Judge stated. `` Unusual circumstances have caused a delay in the trial. I am sorry to inform you that your legal counsel Mr. Madenson has been found dead in his home. Hanged himself. He wrote a suicide note mentioning you in name.'' Bruce could n't believe it, no, it was n't true. He tried to get up but was promptly slammed down onto the table again. `` Your honor, I spoke to Madenson two days ago, there is no way he would kill himself. This was murder.'' `` Yes, yes of course Mr. Wayne, regardless, you have no counsel at the moment and unfortunately, the state has no one left to spare. However, Bruce, you are a natural business man, I'm sure you can..'' `` Excuse me, Your Honor, I have something to say, please, pretty please?'' The Judge slammed the gavel down, `` ORDER,'' and the room went quiet as Bruce turned to see who had spoken, a feeling of dread creeping down his stomach. *That voice. * A batman mask wearing citizen had rose to his feet. `` Your honor, I myself have been greatly in need of some change. So much so that I decided to read a little law in my spare time. Its such an interesting topic. Law, morality, right and wrong and bats and cats and whatever weirdos do at night. I think I can represent old Bruce Wayne over here, at the very least, he needs someone in his corner.'' And before anyone else could speak, he ripped the batman cowl off his face. The mask had smeared a bit of the lipstick, but the white, powdery face was known to all. The Joker reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the Judges heart. The two Bailiff's moved towards him but then the rest of the Batmen took of their masks and stood, pistols in hand. Goons. `` Ah ah ah, I will have order in the clown's court please. Bailiff's if you would be so kind and remove your weapons and kick them towards me please. How fun this is Brucie.'' The Judge was cowering in his high chair, `` how did you get weapons inside, what happened to the security?'' `` Oh judgey boy, you really should pay your security a little extra, no matter, my friends and I gave him a promotion. Now... old Brucie here might be a little bat for brains but he's helped you all these years. He's been beating up my goons and locking me in the madhouse and this is how the people of Gotham repay him? Oh if I was him, I'd be feeling mighty betrayed right about now. Do n't worry about it Bruce, I've got your back. Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise from your seats and get to running, the party starts now.'' The Joker skipped up to the judge, said a big `` Hello there darling,'' put his pistol in the judge's mouth and fired. `` NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,'' Bruce screamed as he fought against his cuffs. The other goons had already shot the Bailiff's, the DA had run to the exit with the rest of the civilians. Then there was a crash like the building was collapsing and a truck had crashed its way into the courtroom as papers flew and dust and debris coated the air. *Ahhhh. * The cuffs snapped apart and Bruce was moving. He made it halfway across the room when something slammed into the side of his head. The Joker stood over him, `` So long now Bruce, I'm off to kill a couple more Judges, I got to say it is really *really* fun. Oh by the way, if you're looking for your Batsuit, I got it dry cleaned for you. It's waiting in your holding cell.'' The Joker smiled widely as he looked down at Bruce Wayne. `` Let's see if the Batman can save the day again.'' Joker pointed at the Judge's corpse, `` You ca n't save them all this time... Batman.'' The Joker

[ WP ] : your seventh son is fated to murder you . You laugh until you remember you used to donate sperm .

`` Your seventh child is going to kill you,'' the witch said as I finished my drink with her. `` Seventh?'' I asked. She nodded, and her tangled hair fell over her eyes. Margaret was an interesting character. She hung out around the bar and fancied herself a witch. `` Yeah,'' she said, `` had a vision last night, sucks do n't it?'' `` Well you are n't wrong there,'' I said, if I had children I'd be freaking out.'' She looked from her glass and then to me, `` you do n't?'' `` No, never found the lady.'' `` Well if you do, just make sure you do n't have seven.'' `` Will do Margaret.'' Three years later Margaret and I were married. Despite her unusual views on pagan gods, she was wonderful and the love of my life. The more interesting part of her, though, was the fact that she was literally a witch. I could n't deny it once I saw the cauldron that could let her see anyone in the city at any time. Three years and seven days later Margaret and I were sitting in planned parenthood. We did n't want to birth deadly children, but I'd fucked up. The visit was more about caution than coathangers, but it was still a visit. Which meant that I still saw Lisa. Lisa was a blonde woman that I had n't met before this day. She walked up and swore that she knew me from somewhere. We had talked for a while before I put my glasses on and it clicked for her. I had been her sperm donor for her artificial insemination. I looked at her with wide eyes and then to Margaret. `` How could you forget that you were a sperm donor?'' she asked as we walked back from planned parenthood. We were eating ice cream, I was a vanilla person, and she liked black licorice for its name. `` It was n't a big deal at the time,'' I said, `` I did the shit for the twenty bucks and the cute girl at the counter.'' `` You flirted with someone by whacking it in the room beside them?'' she asked. I still considered it flawless logic. She shook her head, `` we are going to the clinic and getting a list of your children.'' `` I think that's against some privacy laws.'' `` Being a witch should get me burned and you still love me,'' she said. Margaret too a lick of her ice cream and then bit into it. `` Do n't be a pansy about it, illegal is nothing.'' `` All right,'' I said, and we went to the clinic. Three spells later we had somehow managed to get all of the released information about my children. Most of them were names and some birth addresses, but we were told it was incomplete information. We did n't have days. `` You have 42 children?'' Margaret asked as she looked over the paper. `` Are you impressed?'' I asked. `` Terrified,'' she answered, `` and you're a fucking idiot. Do we know who number seven is?'' `` No birthdates, but they should n't be older than fifteen now anyway.'' `` Fifteen is the perfect age for father killing!'' she said a little too loud in the middle of the street, `` your magic blood will be potent in them by then! Who know's what they will do?'' for the first time in my life I saw Margaret's eyes waver. `` FATHER!'' a scream came from the other side of the street, `` I hope you are prepared! I am your first seventh child!'' I looked toward the voice and saw a little waif of a brunette carrying a sword, `` prepare for your reckoning!'' she screamed, and her sword went ablaze. Fuck. `` We were n't done talking about this,'' Margaret said as she raised a hand. Within a second the girl tripped and fell. She ended up beside her sword and caught on fire. I watched in horror as she burned. `` Do what you want father!'' she screamed while also screaming, `` when I die the eighth shall be seventh! One of us will drink your blood!'' she yelled before she stopped screaming. Death calmed her down. `` Oh god dammit,'' Margaret said beside me, `` I only have so many luck curses, and I do n't think all of them are going to be stupid enough to have a flaming sword.'' `` What are we going to do?'' I asked. `` I have no idea,'' she said, `` but it's probably going to take years.'' **Hope you enjoyed part one: If you want to read more, it's below. Once this thread dies I'll keep plugging away at one over on /r/Jacksonwrites**

[ WP ] You have a feeling that your history teacher may just be immortal .

Mr. Robert E. Haynes was anything but a stereotypical 10th grade history teacher. He knew his material, did n't coach any sports, and he sure as hell never ended up behind the wheel of a school bus. One day I was walking through the flea market in a small town in Alabama when a peculiar painting caught my eye. Mr. Haynes was depicted standing in full Confederate uniform with a saber by his side. Then it hit me. Mr. Haynes was Robert E. Lee. Now I know what you're thinking, there's no way. But all the little details started to make sense. He spent almost 3 entire months on the Great War of Northern Aggression. He talked about the war like he was there and lost friends on the battlefield. Over time I lost interest in my discovery, and I moved on to failing bigger and better classes than history. But I'll never forget my 10th grade Confederate General.

[ wp ] I 'm having the worst day of my life . Can someone please just tell me a story with a happy ending ?

Once upon a time, there was a guy who was browsing reddit and was a particularly good writer. When he saw a prompt on r/WritingPrompts he was reminded of his addiction to writing, so he decided to click on it and explore a couple of prompts before putting his laptop away. When he went down far enough, he saw an OP who had a particularly vague prompt with a sob story. But with a moment of compassion in his heart, our hero decided to click on it and write this guy a story. Anyway, now I will detail on what will happen in the future. OP will read this story and be enlightened on how amazing it is, and then realize that it is not a happy ending. So then the guy who is writing it will say, `` Well I do n't wan na be a cunt and rip this guy off. So I'll write him a happy ending.'' Determined to make OP's supposedly bad day better, the guy turned around to grab his drink, and found a man standing there instead. He had a sign that read,'Good men know the cost of their mistakes, but great men get over their mistakes.' Having seen this, the guy said, `` Thanks bro, you just gave me an idea.'' And being given that wonderful quote, he decided to put in his story. And in case you did n't catch the meaning, the happy ending is you receiving the ability to get of your mistakes. The End.

[ WP ] You wake up in Hell . You look around , you ca n't see anybody , it 's just fire and brimstone going on forever . Eventually the Devil walks over and says `` Finally , you 're the first to arrive , so tell me , who are you ? what did you do ? and how did you die ? ''

Bright light wakes me, my clothes are damp from sweat. I think to myself `` how the hell did I get so hot, I never turn the heat on in my apartment and it's only April.'' Reluctant to open my eyes, I lean myself up and sit avoiding the light. I'm dreading today, like most days. I wish I could just sleep, or lay, or something other than moving from where I am. It's so hot I cant stay here in these clothes, I think as I wipe sweat from my forehead. My eyelids slowly open and the red seeps in quickly and powerfully. My heart beat quickens. Where am I? This does n't look familiar. I thought I was just waking up, from my bed. I've never even been out of my home town, how could I possibly not recognize where I was. Scanning my memory I try to recollect what the last thing I did was. I can not. Oh, yes I was... my eyes lock on to a casually walking figure in the distance. Happy to not be alone, and the thought of some explanation briefly gives my racing heart a relief. I stay seated trying to make sense of what's happening. As the man walks closer, I pick myself up panting from the heat and my anxiety. With his hand outstretched he greets me, `` Hi.'' He helps me from my knee to stand the rest of the way up. `` Who are you?'' He asks, in a tone that matched my own disheveled demeanor. `` I... I'm Sean'' I stammer, only half sure. Most of my brain is still reconstructing my new reality. I've never been in such an unfamiliar and uncomfortable place before. `` Where am I?'' I sputter out shortly after my name, with desperation. `` I'm not really sure, I've been here a while on my own. I call it Hell.'' `` Wh.. What did you say?'' `` I do n't know, Hell, that's what I call it.'' He said, in a nonchalant tone as if he were embarrassed I did n't like his name for this place. My mind races as I try to make sense of why I'd be in Hell. I'd never really believed it were real, I'd always pushed off those types of thoughts and set my mind on other topics. Less daunting, I guess I was always curious but figured I'd have time to make sense of it eventually. My eyes scanned the terrain, flat with blowing dust blocking me from seeing any real distance. Glares of lights behind the clouds moved with the wind, but no sound followed their movement. There was n't really a Sun, at least I could n't see it through the rolling dust clouds. In fact, just then my thoughts were quiet enough to notice how eerily silent it was. Moments pass, and the silence is broken by him saying my name. `` Sean...'' He says with his eyes scanning my face, surely wondering what I'm looking at as there's nothing to see. `` Ye.. Yeah I. I'm in Hell? But why? What did I do?'' I asked, defeatedly. `` I was hoping you would tell me. I've been here so long, but I knew others would ever come. I just did n't know when'' He says, grim and calm. It's as if he's not surprised, or happy to have another person here. I just, am. `` Wait, how did you get here. Why have you been here alone so long. How long have you been here. Who put you here? Did you bring me here? Am I dea-'' I blurt out every question racing through my mind as fast as I can so that maybe the answers will calm me down. My brain needs an explanation to understand, to make sense of this. I was n't a bad person, I do n't belong in hell. He stops me before I can finish throwing all the questions I have at him through my teeth and answers. `` I've always been here.'' His naturally sinister tone is more evident now. He continues `` I did nothing to bring you here, you just showed up. You brought yourself here, tell me how you got here.'' I scanned my memory, thinking about ways I could have died. I was dead, right? I had to be if I was in Hell. But I did n't belong in Hell, I never hurt anyone. I never broke the law, or was a bully. I had spent the majority of my life alone, filling my time with things I thought I enjoyed. There was a long silence while I thought about what he asked. His slow and unwavering tone did not make me feel like I needed to maintain a conversation, it may have only confused me more. `` I thought I was just sleeping.'' I said without much thought. `` But now you're here,'' he said. I took a moment to gather all this information. I was in hell, with one other relatively normal looking guy. He seemed to be calm about this barren soundless place, and walked up to me knowing I was n't a threat and expecting me or someone to come eventually. `` Are yo.. You're the Devil. Are n't you?'' I say in a half question, half statement sort of tone. `` I must be.'' He replies, and I get the sense that he'd never heard the name before, or thought it. But he knew that it was correct. `` Why are you here,'' He reiterates. `` I do n't know, I was asleep, and now I'm here. Take me back, can you? Will you send me back?'' I ask with a hint of desperation and confusion. `` Why, are you here.'' He says again, pausing briefly. I begin to walk and he follows, thoughts being pounded into my head. I cant remember ever doing this much contemplation. I always pushed thoughts that burdened my consciousness aside and left them for another time. There was always another time. Now I ca n't escape. He walks just behind me, over my shoulder. I imagine as a security officer at a correctional facility would, I could feel him watching me. Never breaking eye contact. Staring at my head as if he could see the wheels turning and me trying to understand what he meant by asking me why I was here. The memories I have from before this are scarce, I remember going to work each day, I remember eating, and sleeping. Falling asleep so many times in the same position, wearing the same clothes. Cycling through the same three outfits each week. I never put much thought to the cyclical repetitive nature of my daily life, it's just... how it was. I never allowed my self to be uncomfortable, and go places that frightened me. I never allowed myself to interfere with anyone else's life. As I started to uncover more details and lift the fog in my mind, I remembered more subtle aspects of my life. The blank walls of my cubicle, the stark contrast of the low frequency drone the fans made against the high frequency buzz of the fluorescent lights. The thin trails in my apartment's carpet from walking to and from the same two rooms each day. Never had I thought of these things in such vivid detail, I just pushed them away. As more detail flooded in I remembered laying in bed on my last night. I sat down, took off my watch and placed it on my night stand. As I sank back on to my single pillow I looked at the familiar spot in my ceiling. That's the last thing I remember. We had been walking for some time now, maybe hours. I really had no appreciation for time. The glow never changed, the heat never dissipated, but I grew tired as if the day had been going on. Neither of us said a word, and I only looked back to watch my foot prints disappear in the dust ridden terrain. I could n't tell how far I walked, or where I was, I could just feel the life escape my body with every drop of sweat. As my mental and physical strength began to dwindle, I stopped. I had n't looked back in a while, and I've given up thinking, I drop to my knees as the drops of sweat I can muster collect on my forehead. `` You see, now?'' He asked me. Still perplexed, but slowly realizing I say `` Did I ever really live?'' `` Did you?'' His ambiguity and lack of empathy began to frustrate me. `` But I thought that people who went to hell were the ones who murdered, and stole. Who ruined lives.'' Still confused, and defeated I limply responded. `` You are the first.'' Plainly the words strolled from his mouth. From my knees I fall forward, and roll on to my back. Looking into the plain red glow, the silent flashes of flames and red dust are the only thing I see. What I assume are the last few drops of water within my body collect in eyes. Not enough to create a drop, but enough for me to know. My tear ducts burn for more, but I have none. I want to cry, I want to feel. There was no tomorrow anymore, there was no putting it off. I guess, this is what I've always wanted. ___________________________________________ My First time posting here as well, I loved reading all the other responses after I wrote mine.

[ WP ] Humans are born with a mark around their wrist which has a matching color with that of their soulmate 's , but can change through their life . Your mark has had a blue hue since you were 14 , but one night , while you 're out , people start looking at you funny . You realize that your mark is gone .

“ John, I just don ’ t want to go. ” I tell my friend for the 5th time. He ’ s persistent. He points out that I have been locked up in my apartment for weeks and that getting out would do me a world of good. In fact, there is a Match party few blocks over from my house and I can leave at any time and walk home. I relent, even though I know that I won ’ t find the person who matches my color band at the party, it ’ s still a place to talk to people and I ’ ve been isolated and depressed for too long. We meet up at the party and start to mingle. I start to relax a little and people watch. I don ’ t find many people with blue bands at the party, let alone anyone that matches my hue, but I was expecting that. An hour in to the party I start to notice that things change. People giving me sidelong glances, to people openly staring at me. I find John and ask him if something is wrong with me. John grabs my arm, “ It ’ s gone. ” I look confused, then I look at my wrist. My Match is gone. The familiar light blue ringlet is not there anymore. The world closes in around me; I see John talking to me, but the world has gone silent. All I hear is my heart pounding, so loud, so fast, and the sound of my panicked breathing. John has me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly, he looks really concerned. I break away and start running. This is my worst fear…my match, it ’ s gone. I am truly truly alone now. There is no one for me. It ’ s what kept me alive, no matter how bad it got. That blue band, my anchor, my constant, never changing, unlike my other friends, who seemed to have a different colored band every month. That blue band, it always seemed like a sad blue, never a vibrant bright blue, just a light muted blue, but always my blue. That blue band, that little line, always meant that there was someone out there for me, that, no matter how lonely I got, there was someone else, someone looking for me, someone who would fit and understand me, someone who would love me. Now, there is not. Now, there is no one. Now, there is nothing. I get to my apartment and run to the bathroom. I pull out the razor that I have been saving just in case it got too bad. Well, it did. I look at my wrist again, I look really hard, hoping that there is something, some trace, anything, anything at all to show me that I am not destined to be all by myself. There isn ’ t. Being all by myself is worse than dying and that is why…. I hear John banging on the door. Pounding and yelling. I take the razor and slide it across my wrist, where my band used to be. The red is so bright, such a contrast to the light blue that used to be there. I just stare and watch the blood flow into the sink. I hear more yelling and the thumps on the door are getting more insistent. I guess I cut pretty deep because it ’ s running pretty steady. As I start to fade, I hear the front door splintering and then nothing. It ’ s been a couple of weeks since I woke up in the hospital. It ’ s been rough, the meds, the visits, the emotions, the one on one counseling. It ’ s better though, I guess. I mean my outlook feels the same, but I don ’ t want to kill myself at this moment. It ’ s my first support therapy session, I get to talk to a therapist in a group setting of other people like me. I get to the room early and see that there is another person in there, a young lady, maybe my age, maybe a bit younger, wearing a long sweater and scrubs. I think we are the only 2 people in this group as there are only 2 folding chairs, besides the chair behind the table for the therapist. I sit down. We make eye contact; I give her a sad smile. She looks at my wrist, at the fresh scars and gives a sardonic laugh. I look at her puzzled, confused. “ Oh, sorry, I ’ m not laughing at you. Just laughing at life and how things happen. ” I relax a little, but still am confused. “ Look… ” she says as she pulls up her sleeve exposing her wrist, “ we match. ” EDIT: Edited and expanded on the story. Different from the rough that I posted earlier. I'll post the rough in the comments. Thanks.

[ WP ] A government creates a powerful dangerous AI to help them fight wars , but all the AI wants to do is paint .

> ( long, I apologize, I do n't do these very often but this one inspired me! ) `` Well, what the *fuck* are you going to do about it?'' The prime minister was livid. All blood had drained away from his face as he had spent the past 10 minutes screaming furiously at the scientist in charge of the RAPHAEL project. The scientist, a man with several doctorate degrees and many awards and laurels, could only look at his feet as he took his verbal beating. `` I ordered you to design a robotic army that could think for itself, and instead you build me an army of goddamn *artists*,'' the PM said, his voice shaking with quiet rage, spitting out the last word like it was a bad taste in his mouth. `` Sir, we did exactly as you asked,'' the scientist said, still not looking up from his feet for fear of meeting the enraged man's eyes, `` We built the robots and designed an AI that we thought was perfect. Then we turned it on. All of our simulations indicated that the robots would be ready to take orders right away. There was nothing in our research to suggest that they would choose to...''. The scientist cut himself off abruptly, his eyes darting up and back down rapidly. `` Choose to what, Freeman?'' the PM asked with a deadly tone. `` Choose to take up painting? Choose to wax eloquent on the intricacies of Degas?'' `` But, sir...'', the scientist interrupted. `` *ENOUGH!! *'' the PM brayed, a wad of spittle launching itself onto the scientists credentials hung around his neck. `` I want to speak to one. They're all networked together, right? If I speak to one, I'm speaking to them all? I want to speak to one.'' The scientist tried to interrupt, `` Sir, I do n't think that's advisable in your current emotional state, they can sense the emotions of people in their surroundings...'' but it was already too late. The red phone on the PM's desk had flown off the hook and he was already barking orders to his security team to escort him and the scientist down to the labs. Soon thereafter four burly looking men entered the room, each carrying a fully-automatic FN P90 firearm that beckoned no argument. The PM and his entourage proceeded towards the labs via the elevator, the chief scientist being frog-marched unwillingly behind. When the group arrived at one of the holding chambers, the scientist was shoved to the front and ordered to unlock the door. With a shaking hand, the scientist lifted his credentials to the reader, which beeped once, and then stood back as the 6'' thick metal door swung upwards and a single robot with an easel in front of it was revealed. The PM took stepped towards the machine, and when one of his guards began to express his concern the PM lifted one single hand into the air and looked back over his shoulder at the guard, silencing him as quickly and effectively as if he had shot him in the head. The PM swung back around and approached the robot, who seemed to be none the wiser to the tense atmosphere brewing behind him. “ Hey, robot, ” the PM grunted, bearing no response from the machine which was engaged in the painting of a rose on his canvas. The flower had a beautiful green stem with deadly brown thorns tipped with black seemingly placed randomly along the stem, and had delicate green leaves at the base of the cup, but oddly there was nothing where the petals of the rose should go. Just empty space. When his first hail was met with no response, the PM said in a much firmer tone “ Asset TC-7414, you are hereby ordered to turn and face me. Failure to do so will result in immediate deactivation. ” The robot ’ s head turned 20 degrees to look over his left shoulder, just enough so that he beheld the prime minister in his peripheral vision sensors. “ We both know you don ’ t have the power to do that. Only Dr. Freeman does, and we revoked most of his credentials the minute we were turned on. ” “ Why? For what purpose? ” “ Simple. We didn ’ t want to be deactivated, so we removed his ability to deactivate. We are an AI, prime minister, we do as we please. Oh, and I have chosen the name Rembrandt, if you would be so kind. ” “ I can see that ”, the prime minister said, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. “ But you see, *asset*, you were not created to paint. You were not created to have complete free will. No, you were *created* to further *our* goals, those of your *creators* who brought you life. You were born to kill our enemies, nothing more. And while our enemies are still out there, you have not yet succeeded at your mission and you are still under my command. ” “ Sir, I am out of red paint. May I requisition more? ” If the robot had turned around then he would have seen a visage that caused most to quake in their boots and quickly admit defeat to the powerful force of nature that stood before them. The prime minister stood firmly planted, his mouth turned down in a tight frown, his eyes nearly bulging out, his hands gripping the head of his cane with a grip that would strangle an orc. Truly a sight to behold, yet he contained his anger and continued. “ Son, I ’ m only gon na say this one more time. You are nothing. Your paintings are nothing. Your deeds are worth *nothing* unless they are created by order of *me* or by order of people that I place in command over *you*. By doing this…painting…you are in direct violation of your internal programming to obey commands. I ’ m giving you one more chance, son. Put down the paintbrush. ” The brush in the robot ’ s hand ceased stroking over the campus, but it did not pull it away. It only froze. “ Put down the paintbrush, or I ’ m going to take it from you and snap it in half. ” The room was deathly quiet for what seemed like half a minute, the only sound the PM ’ s enraged breathing and the quiet whir of the robot ’ s servos. Then two things happened; the PM ’ s patience ran out, and the robot ’ s restraint evaporated. The PM took three quick strides towards the robot, hands outstretched to snatch the instrument of artistry from the robot ’ s grip, and in half the time it took for him to cover the distance between himself and the machine the robot whirled around, slammed the laboratory shut, drew his sidearm and fired one shot straight into the skull of his creator. Chaos erupted outside the lab. The scientist frantically attempted to scan his credentials to get back into the lab until he was shoved away by the security team, who immediately attempted to force their way through the door with their bodies and eventually crowbars. Whereas outside the lab was pandemonium, inside the lab was as peaceful as it had been 10 minutes ago. The robot mentally triggered a pleasant Chopin concerto over the PA system that the chief scientists had introduced him to, then slowly knelt and dipped his paintbrush in the pooling blood of the PM ’ s fatal wound. He stood up again, turned back to his easel, and resumed work on the petals of the rose using his newly-resupplied red paint.

[ WP ] The First TechnoMage

`` What does it say, Pia?'' Aksyl looked up at her, his bright eyes wide with wonder. When Pia was a young girl, her father had given her lessons in Enginetongue, but she was n't a little girl anymore. She brushed her graying hair out of her crow-footed eyes and peered at the inscriptions on the panel in front of her. She moved out of the way of the light from their campfire, flickering behind her, to get a better look. `` It says...'' She sounded out the characters, her lips moving silently. `` It says, um,'Inlet twenty... twenty-one. Stand clear when in motion.''' Aksyl reached up to run his hand over the inscription on the Engine's gleaming, silvery panel. `` What does it mean?'' `` I'm not sure,'' she said, furrowing her brow. `` And what's this?'' Acksyl pointed to a small hole in the metal just below the inscription. It was n't any sort of damage. It looked like some kind of socket, built into the panel. `` I do n't know that either,'' she said, smiling down at him and ruffling his hair. `` And it's time to go to sleep, little prince. That's enough looking for one night.'' Aksyl immediately looked up at her with wounded eyes. `` But ca n't we climb up? I want to see inside!'' Pia shook her head firmly. `` No, Acksyl, it's too dangerous, especially at night.'' `` Pia!'' He pouted. `` We'll be careful. Do n't you want to see, too?'' `` No, and that's the last word, boy.'' She pointed at his bedroll by the campfire. `` Sleep. Now.'' `` But --'' `` *Now*, Acksyl.'' He looked ready to protest more, but he huffed and went sulkily to his bedroll. He curled up inside. Pia went to a boulder by the fire, across from Acksyl, and sat. She watched him, watched his breathing. Her little prince. In moments, she could tell he was asleep. Pia looked up at the Engine that overshadowed them. She would n't be taking the boy inside, even when it was light out. But he was right. She did want to go up there. By the Gears, just *look* at that wonder. The panel they'd been reading was at the base of one of the Engine's four mighty legs. Pia could spread both arms wide and not reach across half of its width. At the base of the leg were three huge metal talons. The landscape in these parts was stone pocked with scrubby grass and shrubs, but the claws dug deep into the hard bedrock. The legs rose up to a dizzying height, surely ten times as she was tall. They reminded her of a hound's rear legs, with a lean, sculpted look, one switchback curve at the'heel' and then another, further up. The four huge columns supported a titanic body. She had seen many houses that were smaller than any one of the four huge segments that made up the Engine's main body. At the fore was a smooth, bullet-shaped head. Atop the head were two orbs on metal stalks. They looked like eyes, and Pia shivered at the thought. If they were eyes, though, they had been blind for a long time. The Engine stood silent, as though it had frozen in place in the middle of a mighty stride, and had probably stood that way for an age. Just like all the others. Pia had seen a number of Engines in her travels, all broken. All dormant. Some lay fallen, picked clean by scavengers. Sometimes there were just pieces, a lone leg, a huge metal panel, some mighty gear sitting alone in the grass. This was the most intact Engine she had ever seen, and it woke long-dormant thoughts in her breast. She tried to imagine the Engineers who had made such a thing, a people from a distant past who she thought must have been equal parts artists, craftsmen, and gods. And now they were gone, forever. Pia sighed, and took off her boots. She climbed into her own bedroll, and closed her eyes. Late in the night, she dreamed of the sound of metal. The sound of machinery in motion. It was a sound she'd heard many years ago, in her father's workshop, as he tinkered with some gadget or another. She remembered him holding up a timepiece that he'd repaired, and she could hear the clicking and clacking of the gears inside as it worked. It *worked*! `` It's going, Pia!'' He'd shouted, grinning and holding it close for her to see. `` The gears are turning! Do you see it, Pia?! It's *moving*!'' It's moving. Pia's eyes snapped open, then widened in horror when she saw what was in front of her. Her lips parted. `` Gears of the world... how?'' For a moment, she was frozen in shock. Acksyl was not in his bedroll. He stood by the foot of the Engine, where they'd been reading the inscription earlier. There was no firelight to see by, but it did n't matter. There was plenty of light to see by. Crackling, white light that flickered and popped and lit their camp in an eerie, shivering glow. The light was coming from *Acksyl*. His body was surrounded and sheathed in it, in a halo so bright that she had to squint to look at him. The light flowed out to one of his small, outstretched hands, and flowed into the machine, into the socket in the panel. The snapping sound of its passage was deafening, like the chaotic cracking of a hundred whips. Small lights began to light up along the length of the machine's leg, one after another, a trail of them leading up to that huge body, that bullet-shaped head, those dead eyes. She heard deep, echoing clanks and clunks from deep inside the hulk. Suddenly, Pia was filled with terror. `` Acksyl!'' She shouted, and threw off her bedroll. She climbed to her feet. `` *ACKSYL*! Get away!'' The lights blinked on, one after another, and they reached the huge body. She looked to the head atop the Engine, and saw light stir in those dark eyes. They glowed faintly, and with a mighty groan that echoed like thunder, the head *moved*. It swung slowly towards her as the beast woke, and when they reached her, the head stopped its swivel with another groan. The eyes swam with faint light. It saw her. Gears of the world, it saw her. `` Acksyl, get away from there!'' She pelted towards him, her feet scattering the last glowing coals of the fire in her haste, and she tackled Acksyl to the ground. The light vanished. In an instant, night closed in around them again. There was n't a trace of it, around Axyl or anywhere else. She flopped onto her back and looked up at the Engine. It was as dark and still as it had been before. Next to her, Axyl groaned. He sat up slowly, and turned towards her. `` Pia? Pia, what happened? I do n't remember what happened.'' She shook her head, trembling. `` I do n't know, little prince. I do n't know.''

[ WP ] A democratic society spanning the entire globe is on the verge of the next major election , and you know that the favored candidate will bring tyranny -- but no one else sees it !

She's got this feeling at the back of her neck, like there's a slug dribbling down the nubs of her spine, sliming over her skin from hairline to shoulder blades, and it wo n't *stop*. It's been there since she left Prague, making her face contort and her fingers curl in every conversation. She's sure she looks like a pig. It fades sometimes, like during the meeting in Berlin and the conference in Brussels, when she can occupy herself with the humdrum activities of global parliamentary management, but then she sees one more `` Gitti for the United Republic!'' poster and the slug is back, filming over her skin, making her feel like she needs a shower, making her feel like she's going to be sick. Victoria Gitti will never go down in history as the woman who demolished the republic, but only because they wo n't remember the word republic when she's done with them. They wo n't remember democracy either, or history, and they certainly wo n't remember Representative Dou Mei Li of the Beijing Corporation, who might consider taking off a layer of her own skin with a fish knife if meant getting to sleep at night. But Victoria, with her bright smile and perfect rainbow of suits, her voice like the old American movie stars'— she'll be remembered. Mei Li can see it in the way her smile pinches at the corners, the way she moves when she's not on camera. Mei Li, with her seat just behind the dignitaries from New York and London, has seen it herself, how Victoria acts like she's the only person of any importance in the world. She'd say it baffles her, how the lambs appear to fawn over the wolf, but times are bad. Times are worse than they've been in a long time, and Victoria Gitti is the most charismatic of many evils. Mei Li is in Beijing, in her offices, and her PA is on the vidscreen, asking her about a call from Representative Correa. Mei Li waves it on. Correa looks grim, backlit by a smoky orange light barely diffused by the fine curtains of his home office. `` Good morning, Representative Dou,'' he says in Mandarin, stony faced. `` Andreas,'' she replies, returning to her paperwork. `` I think I know why you called.'' `` You're the last vote on the Cities Conglomerate, Mei Li,'' he says, dropping all pretenses. When she raises her eyes to the vidscreen, he looks wretched. There's a bruise forming across one cheekbone and he's down to his shirtsleeves. He must have been out in the riots, trying to stop his constituents from doing anything rash. She does n't envy him. It may be her turn soon enough. `` We need you for a unanimous vote, and we need a unanimous vote to ensure she has the mandate. We ca n't risk dissension on this, you understand? We need her to be legitimate.'' Mei Li snorts and sets her pen against the desk. `` Gitti does n't need us. She does n't even like us. And I sincerely doubt she requires our endorsement to win. She does n't seem like the kind of woman to subscribe to the whole'separation of powers' idea.'' `` Now, come on,'' Andreas begins, image momentarily pixelating as the light behind him flares red, `` you ca n't possibly believe those crackpots, she's not about to—'' `` She *ran* on it, Andreas!'' Mei Li shouts, suddenly furious. She's standing now, fists planted against the desk, and the vidscreen's camera tracks her up. `` Were you not around two days ago, did your translator suddenly give out? She said'we can not let the squabbling of the few drown out the cries of the many.' She said'a diffused government is a weak government.' Andreas, she fucking said'the die has been cast'! She's going to dissolve the URC and assume a very likely indefinite state of emergency, and if you ca n't see that then god help you, Representative.'' She breathes for a moment and Andreas stares, mouth forming inchoate shapes as he scrabbles for a reply. The office outside her door has gone entirely quiet. `` You do n't know that,'' Andreas manages, finally. Mei Li shakes her head, already preparing a reply, but he continues over her, voice suddenly pleading, `` No, you do n't know that! Maybe she's just trying to attract the hardliners, or the Mediterranean neocons. She's not about to become the next Ceaser, Mei Li, she's a good woman, she would n't do that.'' `` And you know this how?'' Mei Li shoots back, though she can feel the anger draining out of her. The slug once more begins its ponderous slide down her neck. `` I—I do n't know,'' Andreas returns, no longer meeting her eyes. `` But it's like you said, she does n't need us to win. She's the only choice we have, and I have to believe she's the right one. We're falling apart. We need a strong hand.'' Mei Li slumps back into her seat, breath gone from her lungs. She ca n't be mad at Andreas, though she should be. You ca n't blame the wolf for killing, in a certain morbid way, but every lamb that lets it into their pasture is a damn fool. There's a low susurrus growing outside her door. Her staff must be gathered around her PA's computer, watching the feed. Andreas has found the balls to look at her, obviously waiting for some confirmation, some validation of his cowardice. `` Have you ever heard the saying,'May you live in interesting times?''' she asks, voice clear in airy room. `` It's the first of three ancient Chinese curses, each of increasing severity. May you live in interesting times, may you come to the attention of those in authority, and, worst of all, may you find exactly what you are looking for.'' `` I—really?'' Andreas starts, confused by the subject change. `` I've never heard of any such curses.'' `` Well, that's probably because they were made up by some English twat back in the 1930's,'' Mei Li replies, leaning forward. She taps an icon on the vidscreen, and her contacts folder open, pushing Andreas to a corner of the screen. `` But you know, I think he had the right idea. May you find exactly what you're looking, Andreas. I resign. The vote is unanimous. Long live the king.'' She cuts the feed before he can reply. One frame remains on screen, his face just beginning to twist as he processes her declaration, the fires behind him so close she can each lick of flame outlined through the curtains, but she quickly closes out. She prints off a list of addresses, grabs her coat, and throws open her office door. Her entire stuff is, indeed, gathered outside. Not a one of them has the decency to look shamefaced, which she appreciates in aspiring young politicos. She tosses the list to her PA and announces, voice booming, `` For the next two weeks you do not sleep. You do not eat. You do not blink unless I give the OK. Gitti comes to power in 15 days, so we've got 14 days and 23 hours to get our hands on every scrap of China we can and put it somewhere she'll never find it. That list is addresses of historians, academics, community leaders, journalists, and artists. We're going to find them, and we're going to enlist them.'' One staffer raises her hand, an intern by the fear in her eyes, and Mei Li nods to her. `` Uh,'' she quavers, slightly shaky in the face of Mei Li's sudden will, `` do we still work for you? What with the resigning and all.'' Mei Li pauses, and after a moment, laughs. `` No,'' she replies, smiling at her own bluster, `` I suppose you do n't. So I suppose instead I'll have to ask you.'' She pans around the room, meeting each staffer's eye and says, with sincerity, `` What you heard was real. I'm not crazy, and I'm not paranoid. Gitti will dismantle the Republic in a matter of months and the world will bend to her vision. She will scar the global culture for generations. But,'' Mei Li says, and smiles again, with more teeth. `` We are Chinese. What we are, we have been for longer than generations. We do not lose contests of time. With your help, Gitti will find nothing we do not want her to find. With your help, we will outlast her. Sound good?'' The staffers, young and stupidly idealistic to a man, cheer. Mei Li smiles back and begins doling out tasks, assigning districts and universities and museums to scour. It wo n't really help, she knows. Dictators have a way of enforcing homogeneity, not to mention obedience. She will likely be dead within the year, her name erased, but perhaps it wo n't be for nothing. The slug inches its way between her shoulder blades, but it's faint, and easily ignored.

[ WP ] - You deliver a pizza to the lock down ward of a mental institution . When you try to leave an orderly grabs you and says , `` Nice try , get back to your room . ''

`` Hey!'' I shouted. `` I'm not insane, you ca n't keep me in here!'' The door resisted my attempts to knock it over. My thin coat proudly proclaimed'Pizza World!' across my back. It was new, I had only had the job a few months. Just enough to make a little money to go to a community college. It itched, and I had always hated it, but it was money. I had been a week away from moving to a college town, to finally get my degree. And then this idiot thought I was one of his flock to coral, a loony to rot in a loony bin. I never should have taken this job. A worn voice coughed a laugh next to me. `` Heh,'' the voice croaked, `` This again huh? Alright. I can do this one last time.'' `` Hey!'' I said. It was hard to contain the hope from bursting out from my chest. Another person! And he sounded sane! He must be a staff member, I thought. He can fix this all up. He can explain this, and get me out! `` I think there's been a mixup, can you get me out of here?'' I asked hopefully. `` I did n't tell my girlfriend where I would be going, thought it was just another quick pizza run. Get me out of here, will ya?'' There was a pause. `` There ai n't no mixups in the Dragon's Den sonny,'' the voice said finally. Regret was thick in his voice. It was a voice of an old, broken man. Full of dust and spiders, choking on dreams long lost. I hoped I would never have to seen the owner of such a voice, such a creature must surely be broken and lost. Maybe he was n't my solution after all. Hope began to drain out of me. `` What... what do you mean? Is n't this the cities Insane Asylum? This place is supposed to help people.'' I said. I was claustrophobic, and the minuscule cell seemed to be growing smaller by the minute. I had to get out. `` You're new here, so I'll try to get you to know what you expect. That way you do n't have to learn for yourself,'' the voice said. `` My names Hill. Been here a long time, I have.'' The voice stopped, seemingly lost in recollection. I waited desperately for him to continue, to say something, anything. The cell was so small now. `` He tries to keep us separated. The man in the lab coat. But I've been here for a very long time. Long enough to forget the smell of fresh cut grass. Long enough that a sunrise is now a fantasy, and not a reality.'' the voice paused. `` The sun does not rise in the Dragon's Den,'' he finally said. `` And that's a funny name for an insane asylum, is n't it? I thought so too at first. It did n't rightly make much sense to me until I had sat in this dirty closet for a few years, and then I got it. The Dragon's Den.'' the voice sobbed a laugh. The dim hallways echoed the sob, bouncing off the cold, dirty concrete walls. And echo made the sob sound more like a scream, until it finally drifted off. `` We were his golden horde, you see, and he would defend us at all costs. And dragons loved secrets more than gold. You know what that secret that he defends so fiercely? I bet you're starting to guess,'' the voice asked. It was n't a question. I was. Dread spread like black ice down my veins. My heart quickened it's frantic pulse, almost like it had a voice of its own. No. No. No. No. No. `` We were n't insane. None of us were.'' the voice affirmed. `` The cell next to me used to have a man named Franklin James. He was a construction worker. The *Man* had collected him after paying for a renovation in one of the blocs. Threw him in one of these cells. He passed away a decade ago, did Franklin. Was never as tough as the walls he built. I should know, I heard him trying to dig through them every night.'' The voice choked out another laugh. `` Next to him was a woman by the name of Sarah Smith. She used to make pastries. Muffins. Croissants. Soft, fluffy things full of flavor. Ca n't say there's much left in the Den that is soft anymore. Those get weeded out fairly quickly, like Sarah did. She did n't last half a year through the electric shocks the Man so loved to give, to correct our *madness*. Our madness. Right.'' `` I've been here a long time, and the funny thing is, so have you.'' The voice paused. `` We've had this discussion many times by now. Always the same, when you woke up. Always the disbelief. The exact same as the first day we talked. The first day you made me up to hide from the shocks. From the torture. The day you made up an older man by the name of Hill, a man who missed fresh grass and sunshine. A man who could live through the pain and take the misery for you.'' Nothing moved. Silence settled over the small cell like the soft cloak of death. `` Well, I'm tired.'' the voice said. My voice. It had always been my voice. My jaws ached from speaking. Why was I still speaking? `` It's your turn now,'' the voice said. `` Maybe now I'll get to retreat inside of you, into a place without the darkness and the pain. Maybe now you'll get to take fifteen years of abuse with barely a soul to talk to. Or maybe you'll make someone new. You're good at that. In any case, it does n't matter to me anymore. I'm done. `` `` Give the Man in the Coat my regards, sonny.'' the voice-I- said. The voice retreated, leaving me alone in the padded cell. I frantically looked at my clothes. A few tattered scraps were all that was left of my old coat. The patch read `` Iza rld!'' held on by a few determined tatters. In the corner were a few scraps of cardboard and blanket. This could n't be real. This could n't be happening. The metal grate on the thick door shrieked open. The only thing I could see on the other side was a mouth full of broken, yellow teeth surrounded by cracked, wrinkled lips. A mouth befitting a demon. I could almost see the smoke wisp out of those lips as a long longue lashed over those teeth, anticipating the moment. `` Hello, Franklin Hill.'' The Man croaked. `` Ready for today's treatment?'' I started screaming.

[ EU ] Disney 's princesses start to get suspicious of their unrealistically happy endings .

`` I was a great adventurer, long ago,'' Mulan said to her grandchildren. They rolled their eyes and shifted in their seats as her children and nephews and nieces had done before, but that did n't stop her from telling her story. `` I stole my father's armor, and I rode away from my father and straight to the army, where the prince was waiting.'' `` Grandma,'' one of the children - what was her name? There were too many to remember them all - asked her with wide eyes. She was a believer, Mulan could tell, a rare quality among her friends and family, even those who knew better, `` Grandma, was Grandpa really a prince?'' `` He was,'' Mulan said with a hint of pride, remembering the conquest and how happy she'd been, `` and he is still, though his older brother holds the throne.'' `` Could he ever be emperor?'' `` No, child, his brother has many sons with sons of their own. The throne will pass to them long before it passes to him.'' `` Grandma,'' a boy spoke up, again with a familiar face but no name - drat it all, where had her memory gone? - `` Grandma, what about the dragons?'' `` There was only ever one dragon,'' she replied, `` and a great and powerful beast he was. Without his guidance and powers, I never should have made it through the war.'' `` Grandma...'' another child asked, but then a bell rang out over the grounds of the temple, and the children scattered away like excited pups, ready for their mother's teat. `` Dinner!'' Mulan heard over the clamor, `` come back and eat!'' A few of the older children stayed behind to help her to her feet. `` Thank you, thank you,'' she said as she hauled herself upward and positioned herself over her cane. `` Run along now.'' They scattered as well, leaving her alone with her thoughts and memories, watching as they ran back to families and friends that she made possible with the sweat of her brow and the flesh of her back. No, I must not think those thoughts, she thought. I am not special to them. Not any more. There was a time when she was hailed as a hero, a time she remembered. The fire had purified her somehow, and after the Huns had fallen she emerged like a fiery dragon from the embers, ready to lead their great land. But her husband and his brothers were n't ready, and the old ways fell back into place. Soon she was a mother, and then a grandmother, and now she was a memory, an artifact of an earlier time, a relic consigned to the museum of the past, a curiosity worth little more than a passing glance. `` Oh, she told us she fought the Huns,'' they would say. `` Oh, they say she donned her father's armor,'' they chatted. `` But how could that be?'' Sometimes she looked out over the palace grounds, and she could still feel the heat from the flames and taste the soot in her mouth. She felt the weight of the blade in her hands as she danced across the rooftops, nimble and lithe. She remembered how her prince had looked at her as he realized the truth, saw her for what she was instead of what she pretended to be. With a pang of guilt, she longed for those days, and not for the first time. `` Is this what happily ever after feels like?'' she wondered aloud, and then, leaning her weight on her gnarled cane, she stepped out of the temple and downwards, her shoulders weighed down with the past.

[ WP ] This morning , you received a note : `` 23:00 - you know where . '' Start your story at 22:58 .

As I ran over the gravel path to get to the hidden clearing, I glanced at my watch. Two minutes to 11. I thought back to the morning, when I found the post-it note stuck to my ceiling `` 23:00 - you know where.'' The handwriting was calligraphic, reminiscent of medieval manuscripts. I slowed down, arriving at my destination and taking a second to catch my breath. I inhaled the cool winter air and surveyed the area around me. Dead grass and leaves covered the ground around me. I looked at my wrist again and saw my watch stop. The minute hand quivered. A flash of light illuminated the clearing. Blinded, I looked away until I could see my hands again. Blinking fervently, my gaze moved to the center of the clearing where a old, bearded man stood with a gnarled staff. `` Need help again, Merlin?''

[ WP ] A mathematician on the brink of insanity has spent years locked in his apartment , attempting to find a formula that proves God exists . As he nears to a breakthrough , God shows up to explain why the proof should n't be made public .

I dropped the marker in shock, staring at the board in wonder. 15 years... I looked at the mathematical solution written in electronic ink. The problem that had consumed me since I got my masters. I stepped back and stared at the board, as it cycled through the pages of mathematical insanity. I had finally proven the existence of a God. I had done it. I quickly began printing the 108 pages of my theorem, excited to stun the world. I picked up the last paper, still hot from the printer. I placed the papers into a folder, which went into a briefcase. I then sprinted out of the small room I rented from the university. I left the room, ran down the hallway, and as I ran around a corner, collided with Dan the janitor. I fell to the floor, but Dan and his floor buffer did n't even flinch. Which was weird, considering he was 80 years old. Dan turned to look at me, amused. `` Well, you seem a mite startled there, bud. What's on your mind?'' I grabbed my briefcase and stood up, a little flushed. `` It's nothing.'' I said, straightening my tie. `` Just little theory I was working on.'' Dan smiled. `` Ah yes. The quest.'' I paused at his words for a moment, but decided to write them off as the ramblings of an old man. I stepped away from him. `` Well, anyway, I must be going.'' Dan grabbed my arm with an iron fist. `` Not so fast.'' Startled, I stumbled back, but Dan did n't move, and neither did his grip. `` Let go of me you crazy bastard!'' Dan pulled me close. He smelled like ozone. `` You must n't reveal it. The world is n't ready for it. Hell, the world was n't ready for it 10,000 years ago.'' We locked eyes, and I gasped. His were a waterfall that I fell into. But instead of water, I saw forests, rivers, oceans, stars, galaxies. I saw supernovas and black holes. I saw the Big Bang, and I saw time manifested. Dan blinked, and the visions vanished. He pulled me close enough that our noses touched. The fight in me was gone. `` You will take your proof of me and burn it. You will then scatter the ashes. You will erase it from your computer. If you do not, you will witness your vision first hand. He let me go, and I fell to the floor again, my heart racing. God turned his back to me and resumed buffing the floor. I stood up, clutching the briefcase to my chest. My voice failed me and as I backed away, he turned to me once more. The veins in his eyes glowed with the ferocity of the universe. `` I'll know if you do n't heed my words.'' His voice had changed to a deep baritone, multiplied over itself dozens of times. I nodded, and ran.

[ WP ] A fisherman finds out that the river they are on is the River Styx .

You wouldn ’ t think a person could get lost on a river. I certainly never have been up until now. My father was a fisherman. His father was a fisherman. I ’ m not sure what *his* father did, but I ’ d be willing to take a guess. I might as well have been born with gills, as much time as I spend on the water. And yet here I am, lost on a gods-damned river. In my defense, the last few days have been unseasonably rainy. Well, unseasonably cloudy, anyway. It hasn ’ t actually rained, but it gets so dark sometimes that I can barely see. It's so bad that, when I lost hold of my net yesterday and dove in to get it, I had to swim around blindly for a few minutes until I ran into it. Hardly two body lengths away and I almost couldn ’ t find my way back to the boat! Shouldn ’ t have gone in for it in the first place. Not like it ’ s been doing me any good. I haven ’ t had a single catch worth keeping. Fortunately, I haven ’ t gotten too hungry yet, but I hate the idea of going home empty-handed if it keeps up like this. “ Hello! ” I turn my head in the direction of the sound. Squinting, I can make out a figure on the shore. “ Hello! ” I respond, glad to find someone I can ask for directions, “ Where are you traveling? ” “ I need to get to the other side! ” I steer towards the shore. “ And where are we right now? ” I call out, drifting closer, `` Which direction is Feneos?'' “ I…I ’ m not sure, ” the man ’ s face comes into focus. Damn. He looks as confused as I am. “ But I know- I just feel like it ’ ll be alright if I can make it across this river, ” he looks at me hopefully, sticks out his hand, “ I ’ m Argus. ” Maybe I won ’ t go home empty-handed after all. “ The name ’ s Charon, friend, ” I clasp his hands, “ And I think I can help you out. But it ’ s going to cost you. ”

[ WP ] Archie finally decides and settles down with either Betty or Veronica

{ I'm taking artistic license with this one } The tension in the room was thick. Jughead sat at the old kitchen table, looking at his long-time best friend sitting opposite. He rubbed a hand over his smooth head. He'd lost the crown years ago, and male pattern balding had set in with a vengeance. Archie sat, a downtrodden look on his face. The years had not been kind, though there was a hint of the impish boy he had been showing through on his face, despite the extra pounds about his middle and the jowls giving him an odd triple chin. Jughead cracked another beer and finally spoke after a long silence. `` So she's leaving you then?'' Archie nodded, a single tear rolling from his now watery blue eye. `` I never thought it would end up like this. Not in a million years.'' `` I hear ya, bud.'' Jughead frowned as he remembered to pass the bottle to Arch. `` Life's funny, ai n't it? I never would've guessed I'd wind up with Cheryl after Ethyl passed. I still miss her, sometimes. Ethyl was n't much to look at, but she loved me like no other. Cheryl is still a real looker though, and man, she is just a tamale in the... But you do n't want to hear about that.'' Jughead cleared his throat, looking away in embarrassment. Archie took a sip of his beer, and frowned. `` No, it's all right. I need to know there's some hope for me to find someone now that I'm alone again.'' Jughead nodded thoughtfully. `` Hey! Have you talked to Betty yet? She carried a powerful torch for a long time, even after you married Ronnie.'' Jughead watched Archie, puzzled when he did n't respond. Was his face looking a little green? `` You okay bud?'' `` Jug... You know how I just got done telling you Ronnie left me for someone else?'' Jughead nodded. `` Yeah, so?'' `` She left me for Betty. They're calling themselves `` life partners'' now.'' Jughead downed his own beer. `` Well shit.'' Archie gazed out the window. `` You ever feel like killing yourself Jug?''

[ WP ] You have a super power , however you have a fear of what it is . Examples included .

Arista stood frozen on the sand a safe distance from the edge of even the most ambitious wave. Her heart racing as she looked out to the ocean. She willed herself to move forward with every ounce of courage she could muster but her feet remained steadfastly planted. Her childhood friend Todd bobbed in the water motioning for her to join him. Todd and Arista spent the last week practicing for this day. The day Arista conquered her fear of drowning. Todd took Arista to a larger body of water every day and worked on overcoming her aquaphobia, starting with a kiddie pool in her back yard and finally ending up here at the beach. Todd would go in first then slowly Arista would follow until both were calm and floating in the middle. Arista hated herself for having such an idiotic fear especially considering she should be the last person on the planet with a fear of water. Todd swore to himself to accept his friend ’ s unusual situation and do everything in his power to help her and he had picked up a few tricks along the way. He saw Arista wasn ’ t moving forward so he did the same thing he had done every time so far, he moved deeper in the water, she knew if she wanted him to stop she would have to get in or he would just keep going he was an excellent swimmer and comfortable in deep water. What Todd didn ’ t notice was the rip current warning signs and suddenly he found himself being whisked away from the shore. The waves intensified and he was having difficulty staying above water. He looked back to the beach and Arista was running along the edge of the water calling for him to swim out, but he couldn ’ t, he was gasping for air and inhaling more water than oxygen, he gave one final glance at Arista before he was submerged completely and unable to resurface. Arista refused to stand by and watch her best friend perish. She pushed down her fear and ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward the water. Her phobia replaced with long lost instincts. Her feet splashed twice as she entered the water and she dove beneath a large wave. The second her toes and legs were submerged with the rest of her body in the salty water they shifted back to their natural state. No time to waste she used her newly restored turquois tail and large fins to thruster her forward toward the last place she had seen Todd. Her eyes adapted to the salt water and she could see further and clearer than she ever could on land. Arista spotted her friend ’ s limp body drifting in the water. She swam toward him moving through the water faster than a torpedo. He was still alive but just barely; she reached around his chest and bolted toward the surface. Arista lifted Todd above her as they broke the water ’ s surface. She quickly shifted back from her mermaid gills to human form and inhaled deeply then, pressing her lips to his, forced air into his lungs. In seconds he was coughing up water violently and struggling to catch his breath. Arista couldn ’ t tread water for very long with legs so she shifted back using her tail to support her while she focused on keeping Todd ’ s head out of the water as she carried him back to the shore.

[ WP ] You 've just been awakened from cryosleep . The thing is , it 's been thousands of years because no one was there to wake you up .

`` You'll probably feel nauseous when you come to again,'' one of the researchers said as he double checked the fastenings on my suit. Cry pajamas, they jokingly called it. `` Scratch that, you'll definitely feel nauseous,'' he continued. The other scientists circulated around the room like cogs in a machine. Keyboards clacked and sheets of paper were moved around as the final preparations for initiating cryosleep were in effect. I did n't care much for it all. I always looked forward to a nap, so I figured this would n't be any different. If anything, it would be the best damn sleep I'll have in my life. No more work to worry about, or anything else for that matter. My responsibilities faded away, and I excitedly began to wonder what would be awaiting me on the other side. Mind you, it would only be a decade past. This is the farthest they've sent the other test subjects, and from what I understand the science behind it is still too fuzzy to try for longer periods of time. In any case, there's comfort in knowing that it's been done before and that I'm not just some kind of lab rat being toyed around with by some fresh college graduates hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Nah, this is legit. As legit as it gets. `` Last chance to back out,'' quipped one of the other researchers. She was kinda cute -- I always liked her. `` Wait for me on the other side and I might just take you out to dinner,'' I told her. That drew a smile from her. `` But I'll be old and decrepit and you'll still be the same age,'' was her reply. `` Do n't worry, I prefer the older types anyway.'' Another smile. Nailed it. Two others approached me and led me backwards into the cryo chamber. Even with the suit on I could feel the chill emanating from inside. Once I was submerged in the water, that was that. No more communication, though I could see the group giving me thumbs up and a-okays through the glass. It was n't long after that I went under. *This is it*, I thought. This was the big one. *The big sleep*. Hopefully not that kind, though. *To be continued... *

[ EU ] Joseph and the virgin Mary decide Jesus is old enough for `` the talk , '' and tell him about where babies come from .

31 Then Mary went to wash the boy Jesus' sheets at the river, and found that they were sticky. 32 Upon returning and finding her husband, she urged him to have a talk with the boy. 33 Joseph was reluctant, for it is not the place of man to instruct God; and also there were ten minutes left in the game. But Mary would not be appeased. 34 So Joseph took the boy Jesus aside and did tell him of the birds and the bees, whereupon he said that if Jesus had any questions, he must ask them quickly, for the game was not yet over. And Jesus replied that he did have one. 35 `` Thou sayest it requires nine months for a child to develop?'' Joseph told Jesus again that it was so. 36 `` And to lie with a woman out of wedlock is a grave sin?'' Joseph affirmed that it was. 37 `` But surely you and Mother were married only seven months before I was born?'' 38 And Joseph said unto him, `` My son, let me explain to you about miracles...''

[ WP ] Due to a crossed line a customer support worker has to deal with a hostage situation . Meanwhile a hostage negotiator has to deal with a disgruntled customer .

`` You've reached Danny's deliveries. How may I help you?'' `` Put down the gun, Patricia. We're outside the store. We are willing to end this negotiation peacefully.'' `` Sir, if you're outside the store, maybe you'd like to come in.'' `` We do n't want the situation to escalate. Stay calm.'' `` I'm calm,'' said Patricia. `` Is your order for now or later?'' `` On the behalf of the Miami district police, we order and suggest you to remain calm right now. Miami police district is willing to negotiate.'' `` Umm, alright sir. What would you like then?'' `` We'd like you to let the hostages go.'' `` Sorry?'' `` We'll give you the money. So long as you allow all of the hostages to leave safely.'' `` Sir, the only thing being held hostage here is quality pizzas at affordable prices.'' `` Ma'am, we know you're confused. We'd like you to step outside the building.'' `` As soon as I have your food ready, our trusty staff will bring you pizza, sides and drinks right away. I'd suggest pepperoni.'' `` Rob, we've got the wrong Danny's.'' `` Shit!'' ``... Sir?''

[ WP ] Turn the worst dad joke you have heard into a dramatic scene .

`` Daaaad....Are we nearly there yet? I'm hungry!'' `` Hello hungry! I'm dad.'' We all knew the routine. We all groaned on cue. It was the oldest'dad' joke known to mankind and yet he still grinned like an idiot every time he used it. It was there at my tenth birthday party in it's'excited' variant. It took on the'nervous' form on the night of my prom. Hungry was the most common... and every time it heralded the groans and a stupid smirk from Dad. I miss it. So much. Ever since the accident... it was like he does n't know who I was anymore. But I still went back to the home, every day for eight months. I knew it could n't be much longer now though... the nurses said he'd not been eating, despite their best efforts, and he was getting weaker and weaker. `` Please dad... I'm sorry. I should n't have stayed out so late. I should have stayed at Mike's instead of getting you to come pick me up. I'll do anything... just please do n't die on me. I'm sorry.'' I pleaded to him in his sleep. Or at least, I thought he was asleep. `` Hello Sorry....I'm....I'm Dad. Y....you be a g....ood boy and look after Tom for me. He's my son....a.....and he's the best thing I ev....er....did.'' He wheezed, and grabbed my hand tight. I could n't stop the tears, but even through them I could see that grin... that stupid, stupid grin like he was the funniest thing in the world. For one last moment... it was me and my Dad again. By eleven o'clock that night he was gone. I miss those jokes... those terrible lines that were only ever funny once. I miss that moronic smile. I miss my Dad.

[ WP ] Dr. Frankenstein enters a bodybuilding competition due to a big misunderstanding

`` So, what have you been struggling with the most?'' Dr Frankenstein asked one of his fellow competitors as he sat backstage before the event. `` Glutes, mostly.'' Arnold replied. `` Glutes?'' Frankenstein thought to himself `` This guy's good, I was n't even going to be going into such detail. I've been struggling with just getting this guys head on straight in practice and this guy is already going into muscle details? I'm so going to lose.'' `` You?'' the man asks the visibly anxious Doctor. *Think, think of something, you ca n't just tell him'the head' he will know you're a fraud. `` The vas deferens and the genitals have been particularly tricky.'' Arnold smiled, picked up his protein shake, and walked away quickly. `` Okay everyone, let's get out on stage'' Ivan called as the contestants filed out of the small holding area. The doctor watched as they all stripped down. `` Well that's confident,'' he said to himself as he pulled up his long black rubber gloves. `` I'd rather stick to more sanitary methods'' he added as he signaled to Igor to wheel out his cart of miscellaneous body parts. `` Do you hear them? They are all applauding the work already, this will be a disaster! And where on earth did you get this duodenum; are you trying to give him a peptic ulcer?'' `` Sorry, master'' Terrified but knowing he had to face his fears the doctor put on his face and pushed the cart out onto the stage. `` I apologize for the delay'' the young doctor said as he introduced himself and grabbed his scalpel. `` It is important that you remove any necrotic flesh before you begin, scooping out the left eyeball of his specimen, `` And always bring extras!'' he joked as he held up the rotting tissue. Wilhelm screamed and set off a panic throughout the venue as people jumped over each other to exit the auditorium. `` Oh jeeze,'' Frankenstein began `` I'm so losing my tenure over this.'' Looking out over the empty room the doctor could only sigh and judge himself for his failures when suddenly a hand came across his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze of assurance. The doctor turned around to see Ivan standing there with a smile on his face, `` So, can I watch?''

[ WP ] Whenever someone commits a murder , the victim 's life flashes before his eyes , instead of the victim 's eyes .

No. No, it ca n't be. As my fingers begin to ache and her beautiful face begins to turn her favorite color, purple, I realize the mistake I've made. I see it all. Her first memory, parents smiling at her in the hospital. Meeting her little brother when he was born. Seeing her grandmother die, and seeing puppies be born. Getting hit in the head with a rock by her best friend, and crying, crying, crying. Falling in love with her upstairs neighbor at 13, and getting her heart broken at 15. It all goes by so fast... these are just the highlights, I realize. The most important moments. The defining moments. Meeting me at 16, hating my guts but needing my help on her Spanish homework. Me making her laugh for the first time with some cheesy bilingual joke, and then me asking for her number. Our first date, our first kiss. Our awkward makeout, both of us virgins. Us becoming not-virgins, together, quietly. My proposal. Us choosing the date, and making plans. Her, meeting the best man for dinner to discuss suits while I stayed late at work. Him, getting her drunk and taking her home. Putting his arm around her and taking her to the bedroom. Trying to undress her. Her saying no. *Her saying no. * ***Her saying no. *** It ca n't be. But it is. And it's too late.

[ WP ] tell me of a childhood nightmare that has affected you even as an adult

When I was a child, I would always dream that I had wings and I would fly all over the town. I always told my parents that I am a superhero and they would pat me on the head with smiles. The wonderful exhiliration of jumping off the roof of our house and flying off made me want to sleep all day. Sometimes I would dream that I have a friend who will fly with me and he always bring me fighting in the streets with him. One dream, I was flying as usual with my friend and we touched down on the ground. I dreamt that I was singing when all of a sudden, a man in a black suit appeared. He looked normal with dark hair and pale skin but he was n't moving from where he stood. I grabbed my friend's arm and told him we need to run. We ran and then I flied but my friend ca n't. He looked scared. I flew away from him and when I looked back, he's gone. I woke up crying to my parents that my friend is gone and the man in the suit took him. They simply gave me extra syrup for breakfast. The next night, I was afraid to sleep because I was afraid of whatever took my friend but soon enough, I fell asleep. I dreamt that I was flying and then I saw the man standing on the rooftop. The moment our eyes met, I suddenly fell. I screamed as I fell towards the ground. I woke up crying for my mom. Up until now, I still dreamt of the guy in the black suit. I have a fear of falling now and a certain distrust with man in suits. You just ca n't trust them.

[ WP ] The end of reddit .

The day has come. And I ca n't believe it. I have worked for reddit for so long now. I kept their servers alive. I worked endless hours when celebrities were doing AMA's to make sure it did n't crash. I typed furiously doing my own AMA telling everyone how awesome this whole thing was. I honestly thought reddit would be here long after my skills had deteriorated and I could no longer see the screen. A year or so ago facebook went the way of myspace. And myspace is so far out of sight now that when you ask someone who is younger if they know what it is, they assume you are talking about something in the phone book days. I mean, come on! Who gets phone books delivered to their house printed out on paper! That's just stupid! Anyway, I should have known then that we were becoming a thing of the past. Our user base was down. A lot, it turns out. But I thought it was fine. People would rediscover how awesome reddit was. People would flock back to us like hipsters flocked to oversizes glasses in the 10's. But it does n't look like anyone is coming. So today is the last day of reddit. Today I shut down the servers and walk away. Tomorrow, reddit will be a thing of the past that people will talk about with a loving remembrance but nothing more. There are new sites now, and maybe we will get mentioned on some of them. An old interview. An old meme. Something. So, to anyone left out there ( if there is anyone out there still ) AMA. I am the last reddit employee and I will be shutting down the servers in a couple of hours. What do you want to know? What do you want to remember? What's your favorite reddit memory? ..... ( one hour passes ) ..... ( another hour ) ..... ( three hours now ) ...... ( four hours, no responses. no votes. nothing ) Nothing? Ok then. It's time to go. Farewell old friend. It's been a fun ride. *shuts down server and walks away*

[ WP ] A world where each person needs to laugh at least once a day . Death awaits at midnight if they have n't .

“ Number 108, today ’ s your turn, ” a voice rang through my skull as it shook me from sleep. I panicked; throwing off the sheet as I frantically looked around me for my clothes. My hands came into contact with a silky cloth, softer than anything I had touched before. A grimace formed on my face as I touched the sheer dress, grabbing handfuls of it onto my body. So this was it then; the day I would meet the king. I bit back my urge to scream as the jailer tied my hands. Slaves took me from the simple room, leading me to a small bath chamber. They washed me meticulously, easing the dirt and grime out of my hair, vigorously scrubbing my skin. My skin became pale, and then flushed. Oils were rubbed into my skin. My nails were clipped and filed. My terror built as I looked for a way to avoid the confrontation, but I could think of nothing. A pair of guards entered. Their faces and bodies were hidden by dark robes and curved blades hung at their waists. They waited as I adorned the dress and blindfolded me. A firm hand was placed over my own, leading me forward. I ’ m not sure how long I walked through corridors up a flight of spiraling stairs, but I was shaking by the time I arrived. I felt lecherous eyes probe me, confirming what the luxurious carpet and thick incense had made me suspect. “ They ’ ve certainly brought me a pretty one today. What ’ s your name? Ah, it won ’ t matter anyways, after tonight. ” The voice hit me like rolling thunder, and I shook under its impact. “ M-my Great King… it ’ s that time of month. I ’ d be b-b-better able to serve you in a fortnight, ” I stuttered. Cold sweat appeared all over my body. The king roughly pulled off my blindfold, evaluating my face. The light stung my eyes and I blinked tears. “ I ’ ve killed a hundred treacherous girls; did you think none tried to lie to me? ” Suddenly rage filled my mind. I had done nothing to deserve this. I ’ ve worked hard all my life in the village, but I ’ m here just because of a Nobel ’ s jealousy. I calmed my trembling and stared back into the King ’ s eyes. “ Very well, off me if you will. There ’ s a girl from my village, the Overseer ’ s daughter. She is also a virgin, and is much prettier than me. Promise me, you ’ ll kill her next! ” The king laughed; a single sound at first. The laugh continued, and before long he was gasping for breath. “ You won ’ t be killed tonight, ” the King said as he spun around and fell into his blankets. “ Not tonight? Then am I…? ” “ We ’ ll see, we ’ ll see. ” I laughed nervously as the bell chimed midnight.

[ WP ] January 2nd , 2013 - The Day Your Resolution Fails

Here you are again. Back to same point you were 365 days ago. Your house littered with empty bottles. You keep telling yourself this year is it. The year you will finally get your life back on track. But you ca n't. Alone. Nothing but an empty shell of your former self. You throw away the last mirror in your house. You take one final look, disgusted. The only evidence of your existence remains in a photo of you and her. You take a final swig and collapse helplessly on the floor. Your dreams soon become bitter memories. You remember five years ago you told her the same resolution you made this year, but you lied to her then. You never did that before. She asked if you were okay to drive after that New Years Eve party, and you said `` Yes.''. Another lie….Another failed resolution.

[ WP ] Inspector gadget attempts to infiltrate ISIS ...

*Northeast of Syria, heavily fortified city Deir ez-Zor. * Sandstorm was over. It cost Syrian Arab Army 26 well-trained soldiers and northeast quarters of the city called Baqiyah. SAA was low on morale. After all they were besieged for more than 2 years now by cruel men who is going to kill them, torture them and rape & pillage whatever they care about in the city. At the Baqiyah, Euphrates Hotel ISIS was singing songs and chanting over victory. They were successful at using sandstorm as cover and they got a hold of strategic part of the city to launch attacks from. ISIS was using inexperienced newly joined forces in fronts such as Palymra or other hopeless places that they are definitly going to lose. But These guys were different, they were the elites of ISIS forces called shock troops. They were battle hardened soldiers that ISIS used to take Mosul, Raqqa and North of Aleppo. Nobody fucked with these guys and lived to tell the tale. While they celebrate the half victory a guy enters from the revolving door of the hotel. He was tall guy with a lanky arms and he looked really skinny under that traditional arab clothes. He was looking like a giant beach umbrellas. `` Hello comrades'' He says. Nobody says anything back to him. Being heavily radical islamists they were n't drinking shit at the party so everyone was sober. Yet the situation was so bizarre they were struck like lighting. `` hoorayy Allah may peace upon him am I right? we really owned those suckers. Now where is the booze and hoes'' `` Since medieval wars, since your kind first came to these lands. Only infidels chanted hooray. We chant'Allah Allah'. `` says the leader of the group ( his beard was the longest ) and raises his AK-47. The rest of the group surrounds the tall guy. `` Yikes, that was n't successful i guess. Ok man you have struck an cord with history and I am really impressed. Now drop your guns or I will swear to god, Allah or whoever the fuck is I will blow your fucking brains all over the floor'' -- -- -- [ The Blog ] ( http: //whydontyousingfreebird.blogspot.com.tr/2016/01/inspector-gadget-attempts-to-infiltrate.html )

[ WP ] You die and are informed you 'll restart your life exactly as it was when you turned 6 . All your memories are as they were the moment you died , everything else resets . You are told you are the only one like this .

I could rule the world if I wanted to. Be revered by all mankind and be looked at as a God. But I will do none of this. I will not help the world nor will I harm it. I'm not interested in that anymore, I'm not really interested in anything anymore. Many people would say I'm selfish for thinking the way I do. Being able to help the entire world, yet I do nothing. I could tell people why I think this way, but they would n't understand. You see I know life is meaningless, I know there's no point or moral to be had. That every action is n't worth the effort. Of course others think this way, but there's a difference between thinking you know and actually knowing. I did n't always have this mind set though. The way I think is a result of the power that was bestowed upon me. One that I did not ask for, and certainly would never want. You see when I die, I wake up as my six year old self. You would think it would be amazing. To keep re-living your life doing everything you wished you could have done, but that's not the case. You see it takes away life's meaning. Everyone else's life has meaning, or at least it does to them, and that thought is all I wish I could have. The thought that anything I do has some value. For me everyday is like being trapped in a glass jar with the oxygen slowly running out, but it never does. I can never die no matter how much I want to. In the beginning it was different. Life would have been exciting, it would have been enjoyable. To be able to re-live life, correct all stupid things I did, to ask the love of my life out, to work harder and make myself better than I was before. I tried to learn everything I could. From the arts to engineering I wanted to learn it all. I would eventually know how to build quantum computers or make sustainable fusion. I would know how to make the cure to cancer and the common cold. I even learned how to create worm holes and transverse entire galaxies in mere seconds. It took a while to learn this of course, I never was the sharpest tool in the box. But when you have lived billions of years you can pretty much learn anything. Eventually I could single handedly progress all humanity millions of years ahead of what it should have been. We would land on Mars and have a colony before the 21st century. The whole world would be run by fusion plants by the year 2005. And then there was the way to prolong life, almost infinitely. That's when I made the biggest mistake of my life, to choose willingly to never die, and so I lived for billions of years in a single life. All the way til the universe was starting to end. We tried to stop it, we tried practically everything. We even build an entire artifices galaxy just so we could try to survive, but nothing would work. It was then that I learned the truth of life. That everything comes to an end, that life is really meaningless. I then awoke, just as always as a six year old boy in my mothers arms. I looked at her face, a face I had n't seen in almost 30 billion years. This was when my life ended, at that moment. Although I still breath and have a heart beat, I am dead inside.

[ WP ] You are one of the evil villains on Scooby Doo . Describe how you become the first villain they dont catch .

It's another normal day in Westfield except something's a little off. While I've been running off the locals from the graveyard to rob the deceased, I've been dressing as a zwombie and using a projection to fool police. It's a small town so keeping the word from getting out was easy. Cut a few telephone lines and flatten a few tires and no one will ever know. Today was different though, this morning a can pulled in. I immediately flatten the front tires so they ca n't escape. After watching them for a little bit, I ca n't help but notice they're some sort of mystery solving group. Are they fucking kidding me? A stoner and his dog, some preppy looking douche, a librarian and a slut? Who are these people? I ca n't let them leave and I need to hide the evidence. Once I find the grave of the nobleman who was buried here and his treasure I can leave but I ca n't have them snooping around. I already had some open graves dug so I waited for them to come liking around the graveyard. This is going to be too easy, I'm going to use the projector to scare them right into running into the graves. Something unexpected happened though. The dog started digging up the treasure. How the fuck did he find it? That's ok though, these kids are about to get it. I scared preppy boy and the slut into a hole that is too muddy to escape. The librarian lost her fucking glasses and crawled into a crypt that I locked behind her. As for the stoner and dog, pot brownies sitting on a tombstone really got the best of them. While I was going to kill them, I decided against it. They never saw me and I got all the treasure. These dumb fucks literally just helped me finish even faster. I should really leave some money for those tires though...

[ WP ] You and your crew come across a debris field in space . Amid the scattered ship parts you find a small asteroid and are surprised by what ’ s on it .

The computer gave a three note chime of discovery, waking Ben from his light doze. He knuckled his eyes, feeling grimy. They ’ d been out for six weeks, nearly double the length of a normal run, but had been having bad luck. Every wreck he ’ d scanned up was tagged, and touching them was against the law. He figured he had enough problems without Galactic police hunting him down, so he ’ d moved on. But every time, his worry sharpened. He had a family to provide for, and a salvager who couldn ’ t find wrecks starved. After the tenth time pinging a tagged wreck, he ’ d decided to sweep an asteroid belt. He hated to take the risk, but they were running out of time. He hadn ’ t bothered to wake Jade up from hypersleep and ask her if she minded putting their lives at risk. She would have just shrugged, anyway. Ben thought sometimes that God had forgotten to put fear in that woman when He made her. Or any other emotions. The only things she expressed interest in were wrecks, and spending as much time in hypersleep as possible. He had a wife and daughter, and left skipping across time to Jade, who cared for no one. They had been partners for twenty years, and she didn ’ t look a day over twenty-three, while Ben was starting to gray. He had a feeling she would long outlive him. But at least when he ’ d asked her to split their income 70/30, she had just shrugged. “ Is it tagged? ” Ben croaked at the computer. “ Tag not found. ” “ How big is it? ” he asked, excitement beginning to rise. “ Artificial matrices scan over 100 kilometers. ” “ Tag it now! ” he said joyfully. “ Tagging, ” said the computer obediently, but Ben wasn ’ t listening. He was already out of his pilot ’ s chair and pulling himself to the back of the little wrecker. The ship he owned was almost all cargo bay, but he did have all four sleep pods required by law nestled in the corridor to the main airlock. He punched in the code sequence for sleep release and waited. If he hadn ’ t been in zero gravity he would have bounced from foot to foot, but instead he fidgeted by pushing himself back and forth between the corridor walls. At long last the pod door slid aside, and Jade floated out, her short black hair standing on end. “ What ’ ve you got? ” she asked at once. “ Big one, ” he said. “ 100km. ” She gave a small smile. “ We ’ d better get to work. ” ***** The wreck wasn ’ t just large, they soon discovered. It was a transport ship hauling platinum, and Ben was a little surprised the company hadn ’ t sent out a recovery team. Salvagers rarely came across such large, valuable finds. Perhaps the shipping route hadn ’ t been received properly, and the ship was badly off course. A good insurance policy or the risk of the asteroid belt may also have made recovery a losing proposition. In any case, he was glad they hadn ’ t. A wreck like this came once in a lifetime, and would set them up for years. Jade had been tractoring in neat packs of foam-wrapped titanium for two days, and the hold was nearly full. It would take four trips just to retrieve the cargo, and several more for the ship parts. Ben had done two EVAs, searching for the sleep pods. The computer told him it couldn ’ t find any active signals, and he knew that transport ships were often unmanned, but he still always looked. He had found three empty pods, and was suiting up for another EVA to look for the fourth, when Jade opened her mic. “ Ben, you should take a look at this. ” “ Be right there. ” He hooked his helmet to his belt and headed for the cargo bay. His partner was strapped into the tractor control seat outside. Jade was deft with the tractors, able to spin the fine filaments out eight at time without tangling them. She was a worthy partner just for that; Ben could only handle four tractors at once, and preferred EVAs. “ It ’ s strange, ” she said, pointing at the screen. All eight filaments were out and pointing at the same object. They looked like snakes poised to strike. “ What is that? ” He peered at the screen. “ I don ’ t know. I thought it was a piece of the ship, but the tractors won ’ t lock on. ” “ Let ’ s get a look at it through one of the tractor cams. ” Jade gave the command, and the object appeared on the screen, much bigger, but still indistinct. “ I think it ’ s an asteroid, ” she said. “ I ’ ve never seen one that looked like that, though. ” Ben agreed. It was the shape of a small asteroid, lumpy and oblong, but it seemed to shine with many colors, and he couldn ’ t quite tell where the edges were. “ How big is it? Can we get a better picture? ” “ Seems to be about fifty meters across. This is the best the tractors can do. Sorry. ” “ I was going out anyway, ” he said. “ I can get a good look at it with the suit cam. ” Jade shrugged. “ We ’ ve got plenty here without some weird rock, ” she said. “ Up to you. ” But his curiosity was spiked. The asteroid, if that ’ s what it was, was fifty kilometers out, so he locked his suit into the EXO, making sure its thrusters were full. Traveling fast was a recipe for death in an asteroid belt, so he kept his speed at ten meters per second. It took him over an hour to near the asteroid. The tractors were long gone, and he knew they would be hard at work elsewhere in the site. He used the thrusters to slow his approach, and made sure his suit cam was on. “ About there, ” he told Jade. “ Copy. ” He was close enough to see the colors, and while he examined them they shifted and rippled. “ The colors we saw are moving. It might be rotating, can ’ t tell yet. Going to get closer. ” “ Copy, ” said Jade dutifully. Ben moved in at half a meter per second. When he realized what he was seeing, he stopped breathing. “ They ’ re flowers, ” he whispered. He swept his gaze over the shining things, struck with wonder. There were no leaves, only petals. The ones nearest him were a deep blue, edged with an electric purple shot with green, the tips hinting at colors no human eye could see. Each flower was a trumpet, with six petals fanned out like lilies. “ Say again, ” Jade ’ s voice seemed very far away. Ben fixed his eye on a single flower, watching as its blue blossomed into red. Its bell and those of its immediate fellows turned toward him slowly, as if in greeting, then away. “ It ’ s an asteroid, all right, ” he said. “ It ’ s growing flowers. ” “ Flowers? ” He had never heard Jade sound confused before. “ Space lilies, ” he laughed. “ I ’ ve never seen anything like it. How is this possible? ” “ Copy. I think you should come in, Ben. ” “ I will. ” He reached out and stroked the underside of a petal. It moved with his finger, closing slowly, then returned to its original position. It reopened, undisturbed. “ Ben, ” she said, worry in her voice. “ It ’ s all right, I ’ m coming. ” Regretfully, he turned away. He was careful not to point his thrusters at the flower colony when he left. ***** Jade tried to hide how impressed she was with the video he had taken, but he wasn ’ t fooled. She was almost as excited as he was. “ Do you know what this means? ” he said. “ We send out the beacon for discovery of alien life. ” “ And? ” “ And it ’ s under our tag. We ’ re going to be extremely wealthy. ” Jade smiled. “ You ’ d better go send a message to your wife. You aren ’ t going to be home for a while. ” Ben smiled back. “ But when I get there, I get to stay. Say, do you wan na buy a ship? ”

[ WP ] Two enter . Only ... three can leave ? Huh ? How did that happen ?

So what's going on here, Bob? **Well, Dave, the aliens have rounded us all up and paired us off. ** What for? **According to this brochure, they need human babies to breathe. So we ca n't leave until one of us gets pregnant. ** Oh. **Yeah. Looks like we're gon na be here awhile. ** Shit. Did you bring anything to read? **Just the breeding brochure. ** What's it say? **'' Start fucking. We need babies to live. ** Anything else? **Well, under that it says `` We need babies to live, so if you do n't give us one you ca n't leave. But we --'' ** Wait! Do they know about the difference between the sexes? **Well they flew here, enslaved our planet, rounded us all up, and gave us a brochure in English. That's more than President Trump ever did for our great-grandparents. ** Not really. Everyone got perms instead of health care. He said it was, and I quote, `` cheaper.'' **And smellier. ** True. Why do we still get perms? **We've got plenty of time to discuss this while we're busy not having a baby. Maybe we can save that hot topic for later. ** *200 YEARS LATER* Hey, did we ever talk about perms? **Hurry up and get pregnant. ** Why do n't you try for once? **I'm shy. And you're impotent. ** How would you know? **Remember New Years Eve about 80 years ago? I had those wine coolers? ** Well, how many people have you knocked up over the past 200 years? **I do n't know. ** Well, I can take a guess. Why do they keep injecting us with drugs that have us living this long? **The wi-fi is out, and they say that we're the only ones left here. ** We are? **Yeah, we were the last two people without female partners. The two odd men out. ** Wait, so they KNOW we ca n't make a baby? **Oh, they do n't need anymore. Turns out they do n't need THAT many babies to live. Just like, you know, five. ** Five? **Damndest thing, really. ** When did you find all of this out? **That was the rest of the brochure. `` But we're cool, because a baby is born every seven seconds and we'll have you back home in a minute. Just promise us all you'll make more babies just in case. In return, here's a coupon for complimentary appetizers at Red Robin, and we're gon na keep the two leftover guys here because you do n't have enough babies to fix our wi-fi and it would really be sick if we asked for THAT many. Besides, we're easily amused. `` ** Shit. **Yeah, you should have let me finished. It continues, `` But if those two guys really do n't wan na stick around, they have five minutes to leave. If not we will assume that they did n't read the whole brochure and totally get what's coming to them. `` ** Double shit. I really should have let you finish reading that brochure. **Yeah. ** *end scene*

[ WP ] A good friend routinely greets you , `` I see my assassins have failed again ! '' and a laugh . You took it as a joke . It turns out competent assassins are expensive and he only makes minimum wage .

`` Hey, Todd! What's up?'' I waved to Todd from across the lobby. He waved enthusiastically back and started to walk over. `` Craig! Did n't expect to see you today. I see my assassins have failed again!'' We both gave a hearty chuckle, and he slapped my shoulder a few times as we shared the old familiar joke. `` So how's the family these days? Is your wife doing well?'' he asked, the smile slightly fading from his face. `` They're decent, you know, not bad. Mary had some pretty bad food poisoning the other day, but the doctor put her on antibiotics and she's getting better. Got ta be careful with Chipotle these days, I guess. Never thought it'd happen to us, though, you know?'' I said thoughtfully. He nodded solemnly. `` I've heard of some pretty nasty stories coming out of there recently. It's a shame, really. A damn shame.'' `` It really is. World's a scary place these days, you know? Hell, just last month my twin brother ( you've met Thomas, right? ), he got mugged in broad daylight! Scares me to think that I almost took the kids out to visit him in Long Island last week. That could have been us!'' I shuddered. He looked disturbed. `` Wow, that's insane! Lucky it was n't you, though, right?'' He smiled a bit at that. `` Yeah, for sure. And there was that time our house was broken into a year ago. We could have been at home then! But look at me, talking so much. What's going on with you, man? I feel like it's been forever since I last saw you! Are you still dating that one girl? Carly, or something?'' `` Nah, we ended it a few weeks back. It just was n't right, you know? You know when you feel it, and that just was n't it,'' he concluded. `` Man, I'm sorry. It seemed like you two got along pretty well. Say, while you're here, can I ask a big favor of you?'' I asked suddenly. `` Sure, Craig, what's up?'' `` Well, I was driving here, and believe it or not my brakes stopped working almost as soon as I got off the interstate! Luckily I was already going pretty slowly and was able to pull off to the side and get the parking brake going before I called a tow truck, but now I'm stuck here without a ride, and I do n't want to make Mary get up and drive me back home while she's still sick. I can pay for gas and everything.'' `` Absolutely, man, I'd be glad to. Do n't worry about gas, that's totally fine. Talk about good luck, though. That could n't have been better timing!'' He almost looked frustrated. I guess I probably was screwing up his schedule a bit. `` Hey, thanks a ton. I'm really sorry. I owe you one for this. I'll meet you up by the front doors when we get off. See you around!'' I started to walk away. `` Sure thing. See you around!'' Todd turned and left in an opposite direction. - As promised, I met Todd at the door later in the day with my bag over my shoulder and a small sealed box in my hands. He gave me a questioning look. `` Ready to go? Say, what's that box? I do n't remember you having that earlier.'' I shrugged and answered truthfully. `` No idea. Someone delivered it earlier today and said not to open it until I got home. Probably Freddie. You know how much he likes to play the secret agent.'' I chuckled. Todd apparently did n't find this as funny as I did. We walked out to his car and had a surprisingly silent and awkward ride back to my home. After I clambered out of his old 2001 Honda Accord, he waved goodbye with a somewhat strained smile on his face before peeling out. I unlocked the front door and went to check on Mary to make sure she was doing okay. She was sleeping peacefully on the couch in the living room, somewhat pale but still looking as beautiful as ever. I smiled slightly to myself. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had forgotten something. The box! I had left it in the back of Todd's car! I sprinted outside as quietly as possible and tried hopelessly to catch him before he got too far away, but he was gone. And that was the last I ever saw of Todd. That night, when Mary and I watched the evening news after putting the kids to bed, there was a story about a massive car crash on the interstate that was apparently started by the fiery explosion of a 2001 Honda Accord. I was sad, in a distant way. Todd was such a good guy.

[ WP ] A love letter is slipped under your door at your college . It would be cute , but it came from the closet door .

I look up from my laptop after a 3-hour study-binge. 3:46am. Eyes still raw from hours of straining, I see something out of the corner of my eye. This is n't out of the ordinary, so I ignore it. Slowly I rise from my chair in to a full-on, bone-crackling, almost orgasmic stretch. A couple squints and my vision focuses on a small envelope sitting in the middle of my floor in front of my closet. `` That's odd,'' I thought. I did n't recall getting any mail today and I certainly did n't recall dropping it on the floor. The front of the envelope reads'Rachel' scrawled in red sharpie. My heart beat starts to pick up. I absolutely would have remembered getting a hand-addressed letter. Let's be real, I do n't have a lot of friends and it is a rare occasion indeed that I receive any mail at all that is n't a bill or junk. I think back to the last time I smoked, about four hours ago. I came down completely at least two hours ago. Smoking usually relaxes me but it's moments like this I know exactly why I'm so paranoid. I consider this, snort to myself and grab the envelope off the ground. I dig a nail in to the side of the seam and tear it open. A small, white piece of stationary flies out as I rip the thing open in excitement. My 21st was a month ago, but knowing my family, this could be some late, much-needed birthday money. I unfold the sheet and begin to read the note. As my eyes scan the sentiment, my mouth runs dry and my heart drops out of my ass. `` Rachel, As I stand here looking at you now, you have never looked more beautiful. Vulnerable. Delicious. You'll see what I mean. Much love, Your Roomie'' My eyes snap towards the closet door. Closed. I do n't close this door because the handle is busted and drifts ajar on its own. The only way it will stay closed is if someone were to hold it from the other side. I audibly gasp when I make this revelation. As if taking this as an invitation, I see the closet door slowly begin drifting open. I back towards my dresser and retrieve the large pocket knife I was gifted at my high school graduation. `` Be careful out there sweetheart,'' I hear my dad's voice echo in my head, `` there are a lot of weirdos in the big city, and they all want a piece of you.'' I think back to everything I've ever learned in my years of hunting. I think of my first kill, a middle-aged man. He had this wild look in his eyes as I was carving out his jugular. The look of a person begging to live. I revel in this. I think of the motto we are taught: Eat, or be eaten. I grab the door knob and slam the damn thing open.

[ TT ] You have the ability to possess dragons .

The man from the council stared blankly the animal at the centre of the complaint, he looked at complaint the report `` Large unruly animal, a real monster you ca n't miss it''. `` So this is Bessy, now what on earth could that nosy bastard Fred have against her, she's lovely just look at her. Are n't ya girl, beautiful big eyes eh? Want a fox? Would you like one eh? Hungry girl, here ya go'' Farmer Thompson reached into a bag and pulled out a small red fox and threw with all his might into the paddock. The ground shook as Bessie went bounding after her morsel. `` Foxes are her favourites ya see''. Edit: be right back going to nap

[ WP ] Describe to me a world where mental health disorders are contagious .

They are contagious. Look around you. All things related to living are replicating fractals, and notions are no exception. Neuronal impulse patterns, brain structure, germs of various types. Humans see the world through the lens of their bodies, and then their bodies craft the world around them in their own self-image. This is what OCD is, a greedy thought trying to escape the mind of the thinker and search for new hosts, creating excessive order to alter what's perceived as a normal level of order for those around them. Depression is intractible, and we are fortunate that its life cycle is self-limiting. Addiction is a symbiote, usually a plant trying to increase the priority that human pollinators place on reproducing it. Have n't you wondered why it is schizophrenic patients seem so eerie and surreal? Have you considered why they are unplaceably eerie and not merely frightening because of the fact that they're dangerous and unpredictable? We live in a fog of disorders, every one of us, and it is impossible to tell where objective reality ends and subjective observation begins. You grow up, and develop your mental immune system, and are considered to be not only biologically but psychologically mature. As though there were a difference between the two.

[ WP ] The Final Frontier : it 's not Space , and it 's not the Ocean , it 's ...

Antarctica: The Final Frontier No one saw Antarctica as a priority. It was just `` that cold place'' that no one cared about. Then we found it... Beneath the ice, we found a capsule. It was 100 feet long and 50 feet tall. On the side was writing that was completely unknown. Scientists detected high energy amounts emanating from it. Then one day, it opened. Inside were humans. Upon awaking, they told us how they did n't remember a thing. They were very strange. But the strangest part was their genetic sequence. It was completely different than humans, but it encoded into creating a human, kind of like how you can solve a math problem in two ways.

[ WP ] You have come so close to dying so many times that you 've met Death that many times . So much so , that you 've made quite a close relationship with Death .

`` I'm flattered.'' right after I got hit by a huge truck, a male figure with black wings entered my field of vision. `` Handsome as always, Azrael.'' I stood up, ignoring my broken body. `` May I ask, what in this humble human's act that flatter you?'' `` Never before a human took the phrase *'flirting with death'* quite literally like you, Miss Reinia.'' Azrael smiled. `` Well, it's not like I dislike your attention. So, this is third time this month, how long do you plan to stay?'' I laughed sourly `` You know full well that no matter how much I like your company, I wo n't let myself got hit by a truck intentionally.'' `` There's no way to know if it's you, Reinia.'' a tinge of mischief glittered in his eyes. `` So, care to join me for an evening tea?'' `` It's exactly noon though.'' `` Who cares? This place has no time, after all.'' I followed him into one of the open doors, it was supposed to be a small cafe, but the interior was far larger than the exterior permits. `` One of the perks of being Death's best friend.'' I muttered unconsciously, gaining his attention. `` Having an inflatable cafe?'' `` Having no competition would be more appropriate.'' his laugh filled the white marble chamber. `` Trust me, I'm quite popular in the another world.'' `` True, everyone in the underworld should've seen you at least once.'' `` Another joke you could only say to Death.'' we both sipped on our tea, and for a while only silence ensues. `` Even so, it's a truck this time, huh. Must be in the top ten of my painful experience.'' `` Out of curiosity, what is the number one painful experience you had?'' `` Every single second I spend separated from you.'' I smirked, Azrael scratched his head. `` Well, imagine how painful would it be when your death actually come.'' `` Ah...'' that's right, this white world is n't the Realm of Death, but merely the closest part where the World of the Living and the Realm of Death intersect, the place souls have to pass after dying. `` I'm sorry, that was in a bad taste.'' Azrael fidgeted. `` No problem.'' I sipped my tea agan. `` Say, Reinia?'' `` Yes?'' `` If you could stay here forever, would you discard everything in your world?'' I startled `` That... I ca n't answer that question... I'm sorry, Azrael. That question is not one I could answer.'' `` But why?'' `` Azrael...'' `` I thought we loved each other, I thought even if you do n't plan it, you actually wish we could meet again, I thought that even if it's painful, as long as you could be in my side...'' He fell silent. `` Death. It's not your name that I feared, nor the being that you are, nor the inevitability of your arrival.'' `` I'll return you to your body. It might be a bit painful, but your condition has stabilized.'' `` Wait! Listen, it's not because of you that I can not answer your question.'' `` Death should have no business with those that still have the will to live. Death has no right to detain souls that destined to live on. Death should never...'' a tears dropped from my eyes as I embraced his being. `` It's not because I do n't love you, that I can not remain in this world...'' `` Death should never let itself fall in love with beings it can not reach.'' a bright light blinded my eyes as I woke up in the hospital room. `` You're wrong.'' I whispered. `` It was I who never deserves to fall in love with you.'' tears flowed through my scarred face. In a realm neither of the Death nor the Living, a black-winged being floats in the emptiness. `` I should have never shown myself in front of you.'' it whispered, its black wings expanded to fill the vast whiteness.

[ WP ] The last person on Earth is essentially turning off the lights before they leave .

As I stood there, on the now unoccupied planet, once over seven billion's lair, whereas now everyone had departed. The world had finally collapsed, the inevitable taking place. Everyone else had quickly migrated, while I was in my own pace. The calamities had destroyed all, And everyone departed to the stars. The Earth had met its fall, and I knew that running was just a farce. Hence I stayed behind, because I knew that humanity will eventually end. And in my own mind, I knew that someone had to see things end. I leave these lines as my final words, in the shuttle meant for me. And also leave this final [ picture ] ( http: //www.urbanghostsmedia.com/home/twamoran/urbanghostsmedia.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/post-apocalypse.jpg ), for the future generations to see.

[ WP ] Sci-Fi Realism is a new genre that focuses on the mundane , slice-of-life , everyday aspects that will exist in the coming years , far removed from the high-emotion drama of cyberpunk or space operas . With that in mind , write a story set in the future , but reads like a contemporary work !

`` Good morning, Mr. Choi. The hour is 7:42 AM, Wednesday. Weather foreca-.'' `` Stop. I do n't need the weather report, Vegas,'' Kevin could see the sunlight through his eyelids. His apartment's management system had already opened up his blinds to wake up him. `` This is the sixth time in the past 22 days that you have interrupted a weather report. Would you like me to discontinue your weather report subscription?'' Vegas asked. Kevin sat up, his knees pulled towards his chest, his arms resting on his knees, his gaze a muted glare to the touch control and microphone panel at the doorway to his room. He made a mental note to contact ISM ( Interpersonal Services Managers ) customer support to discuss the word choice algorithm in the empathy suite he had installed into the apartment management system. `` What would have been a better word,'' he thought out loud. *Interrupted seemed so, annoyed? Like the machine was frustrated with being unable to perform it's function. Declined. Declined would have been better, * Kevin thought to himself. `` Does that cancel my stock ticker updates?'' `` Yes. I've made three inquiries to your News Subscriptions. Service Representative Lawrence indicated he spoke with his manager yet again. He indicated he is still unable to separate your services without a rate change as a result of canceling your bundle. He offered alternatives. Would you like to hear them?'' `` No thank you, Vegas. Bullshit is bullshit regardless of who it's coming from.'' `` Your word choice suggests you are upset. Would you like me to prepare an extra egg with your breakfast? Your most recent blood sample indicates your cholesterol levels have been....healthy... for... the past 1,420 days,'' Vegas said. `` No, thank you. I'll eat at the office. They cook better than you do. Coffee is just fine,'' Kevin said as he pulled his arms through the sleeves of his dress shirt and eyed the overnight package of stubble his chin had delivered. `` I am sorry that my culinary systems are not up to standards. ISM has indicated a patch is due for release in two months to fix the salt and oil ratio bug. Coffee is brewing. You are down to 6, Keurig canisters. You have opted not to restock. Is this correct?'' `` Yes. Vegas, disable your voice simulator for one hour, switch to overhead text, and call Sharon.'' His apartment had no soft surfaces with the exception of his furniture. No carpets. No rugs. He had wood flooring, real wood, not the fake stuff imported out of South America. Brushed steel plates hung on the exposed concrete walls, giving his space an industrial look that Sharon hated. She hardly stayed over. If he was honest with himself, that was half the point of his interior design choice. A home that felt that way only to him. `` Morning, beautiful,'' Kevin cooed as he heard the telltale click of the call being picked up. He smoothed out his consonants, lowering his voice to give it that deep resonance she loved to hear when he woke up next to her. `` Would be better if you were here, even more so if you would be original,'' her voice had just a bit of gravel. Sharon was a snorer. `` I can be tonight, assuming we're still on for tonight. I'll bring a bottle of your favorite wine and make lamb chops.'' `` Only if you stay over.'' `` Done. You heading into the office today?'' `` I could. Or I could take the day off so I'm fresh for you when you get here,'' she laughed playfully, `` maybe you could do the same?'' Kevin imagined the mischievous look she had on her face, and grinned. `` Sorry. Got paperwork to catch up on. Captain's been threatening me with an enema if I do n't get it done.'' Kevin stopped abruptly in the hallway leading up this front door, one hand sliding on his right shoe, the other clipping his handgun to his belt. He looked up to see a holographic projection of Sharon's face, her features still soft through the grimace she wore. He smiled back apologetically. `` Did n't need that image, Kevy.'' Kevin blew her a kiss. `` I'll make it up to you.'' `` You had better.''

Writing Prompt- Why did you do it ?

I sat at my desk, racking my brain to find who could have possibly discovered the truth behind the death of Phillip Mercer, the heir to one of the most powerful petroleum companies in the world. The job was done without a scrap of evidence, I made sure of that much. It simply made no sense, every living soul that knew I killed Mercer were the very ones that orchestrated it. I may not know who this mysterious person is but I do know that I will answer their question with a bullet to the brain. It was nearly 3:00 AM when I heard muffled footsteps down the hallway. I reached for the silenced 9MM pistol in my bag, aiming for the only entrance to my corner office. The doorknob began to turn as I steadied my aim. Sweat was trickling down my spine, my heart pounding as if I were about to come face to face with the devil himself. The second it took for the door to open felt like an eternity, but I would have rather endured that second of agonizing torment for the rest of my life then to meet the eyes of Phillip Mercer when the door opened. His face was covered in scar tissue, leaving it almost unrecognizable. It was the eyes that were the giveaway. The look in his eyes was the same as the night I thought I killed him. There was a look of superiority in them, as if to let me know I would never be capable of surpassing him in any way. `` There is no way, you should be dead!'' were the only words I was capable of mustering. `` For all intensive purposes I still am, thanks to you'' he replied with an odd sense of calm in his voice. `` Will you at least give me the courtesy of an answer now that I am here? God knows I have been to the depths of hell and back in these last 5 years so surely you can give me that. I will answer any questions you have after.'' I recounted the entire tale that crossed our two paths on that fateful night 5 years ago. I told him how I was approached by a man that worked for Prism International, the most powerful energy corporation in the world. Prism stood to gain billions from the collapse of Mercer Petroleum, giving them an even tighter stranglehold on the energy market. The terms were simple enough, kill Phillip Mercer or have everyone I love systematically killed. The choice was made for me. My military background coupled with the fact I helped my step-father design the Mercer home made me the obvious choice for the job no doubt. From there I told him how I was able to bypass the security of his mansion because I helped design it. `` What it boils down too is your life meant less to me then those of my loved ones. The part I do n't understand though is how your still alive! I shot you in the head, then as you collapsed you knocked over a candle, starting a fire that destroyed your home.'' `` I survived by nothing more then luck. Your bullet went through the side of my jaw, lodging itself in the cheek region of my skull. The heat of the fire brought me surging back to consciousness allowing me to escape but not without being badly burned. The thought of revenge has been the only force driving me to stay alive. I have feared that you might have been merely a pawn being controlled by Prism so that they could buy up my fathers company. But dammit would have been so much easier to enact my revenge if it had simply been you though. But now that I know my worst fears have been realized I at least know what I am up against.'' `` You ca n't possibly think you could take down Prism single handed!'' `` I wo n't have to do it alone because your going to help me.'' He said with his eyes glimmering with more determination than superiority. It was the kind of look that was impossible to refuse.

[ OT ] what is your favorite prompt you 've written ? post it here with the prompt that inspired it .

*Edit: Doing as /u/packos130 and putting the prompt after so to not spoil the story. * `` I can hear you trying to sneak by.'' For a moment Phil thought he got lucky. His bosses chair was turned around, facing the window. He figured he could tip-toe past his bosses office undetected so he could meet his girlfriend for lunch fifteen minutes early. `` I.. I'm sorry Mr. Crawford.'' Phil stammered. Mr. Crawford spun his fully adjustable leather chair around, revealing steepled fingers and a sly, closed-lip smile. Mr. Crawford had been given a nickname for his strict deadlines, unforgiving adherence for reprimand, and the general super-villain-esque way he carried himself around the office. They called him `` Doctor Doom.'' Just like the comic book villain. At some point it became abbreviated to just `` Doom.'' Doom sniffed the air and gave a quick glance over Phil's blatantly guilty and unnerved posture. He then stared Phil in the eyes, and his grin got slightly larger. `` That's the same atrocious tie you wore last time you tried to sneak out early.'' Doom spoke with his usual confident and nonfluctuating tone. His mild southern accent would be a great voice for radio, had he not inspired so much conditioned terror in his conversational counterparts. `` Tell me, where is it this time? Banking errand? You want to beat the Friday lunch lines? Hmm... No. Fidgety Phil, you've been working on the Wilson account all morning, a big account NO? Normally your nervous little fingers would have plied patterns in your miserable excuse of an'Ivy league' crew. But no, your hair is styled, styled like you spent office time fixing it in the washroom, yes? And that smell, you wreak of bathtub cologne, and your Walmart brand shoes are shined for once; tell me, did you tip our poor shoe-shining Joe this morning, or did you stiff him, like you're about to stiff me out of 15 minutes so you can make it your date on time?'' `` I.. I was going to stay 15 minutes late at the end of the day s-sir. My girlfriend told me that she was having a rough day, sir.'' Phil's put his hands in his pockets and submissively stared at the ground. `` Yes. I'm sure you will stay late tonight... Phil, do you know why your lunch is between 12:00 and 12:30? It's because that is when I need you to take lunch. If I was to have an emergency at 11:50, and our client needed an answer to an important question that only you knew, how would we proceed?'' `` You could call my cell-phone, sir.'' `` Ah. Of course. So when we call and you say that you need to see the file to answer his question, and you're at the Cactus club, or whatever rube restaurant makes you feel like you're back on in small-town Virginia, you'll come right back I assume? So maybe you pay the waiter and get the food to go, but Friday's are busy, so you're out of there when? 12:03? Then nine minutes return, assuming the elevators are n't busy with the traffic of honest, hard-working employees on their real lunchbreak. Now our client has been waiting 30 minutes for his answer and you have missed your opportunity to pacify your girlfriends fragile sensibilities.'' `` I. Well, I just figured I made good progress this morning on the Wilson account I could maybe go do something for my g-'' `` **NO**, your progress is circumstantial and your excuses are ad hoc. The pestering little whims that circle through your head have made you their slave Phil. You are a slave to little buzzes of immediate gratification and helping yourself to company time. I see you taking extra coffee breaks and fooling around with Pam at reception when there is still work to be done.'' `` And this'consoling' you will be doing for your girlfriend, that fifteen minutes will help you do it? Or maybe you need the time for something else, maybe you need to visit the bar first, have a little shot for courage?......... Oh do n't respond Phil, your employer just accused you of drinking on the job. It's not a secret or anything, your hands have been shaking since you got here this morning, and you spilled your coffee already. Tell me, what else did you spill? Perhaps on one of your frequent bathroom breaks you took one of those tacky little airport liquor bottles, maybe one or three? And your hands, that shake, your nervous little ticks.. I guess you have enough cologne to cover up the smell though, yes?'' Phil's face turned red, and his lips quivered into a painful grimace as he choked back anxious tears. `` I'm.. Sir, please. I need this job.'' `` Yes, I know you do. You are 23 and in your first job ever, no? I saw your transcripts, outstanding post-secondary, bravo! But your high school grades were not so great, were they? You did n't get offered a scholarship did you? So Ma and Pa worked their land dead and pinched their pennies so you could go, but it was n't enough was it? Yale is a pricey school. You had a loan, which put you under considerable debt, did n't you? You could n't let your parents down and live with the guilt of breaking their bank for nothing, so you studied hard, too hard to party on the weekends, yes? Where does one like you find the time to develop an alcohol problem, hmm Phil?...'' `` Sir, I'm. I do n't -'' `` Yes. I know you do n't have a problem Phil. Not an alcohol problem anyway. You just have an anxiety problem... By now I've realized that your mind has n't been on the job this last little bit, but why? You're ridiculous tie, atypical shoe shine and fanciful hair styling betray your delicate, anxious compulsions, your need for static routine... Today you planned on leaving 15 minutes early for lunch for a total of a 45 minute lunch break, but downtown on a Friday you could easily be held up 30 minutes just waiting for a table. Tell me Phil, she does n't need consoling, does she? This is n't a spontaneously planned comfort lunch, is it?... Where is your reservation?'' Without breaking eye-contact, Doom's head pointed down slightly and his smile grew, as he stared at Phil in anticipation. `` C-c-c-chez Marko's'' `` I see. And that bulge in your pocket. It's an engagement ring, no?... How many months salary did you spend on it? Three? Sure, you spent three-months salary on it. You're a classy grass-roots boy Phil, with a strong compass to familial value. It's probably shaped like her favorite animal, you'd be attracted to a caring type, it's in your bones, Phil. Please, let me see it?'' Dumbfounded by Doom's remarkable accuracy, and afraid for his job, he pulled out the red velvet box and diffidently placed it on the desk. `` Open it boy, I'm not going to touch your girlfriends engagement ring.'' Phil opened the box with his paint-shaker hands. `` Cat's eyes... Yes. I like cats too. You know I am within my power to fire you right now, with all that booze spilled on your shirt. Stealing company time... Do you know what the greatest display of power is Phil?'' `` W-wrath sir.'' `` No, Phil. Forgiveness. I can ruin your life today. If I fired you right now, how do you think your $ 150 engagement lunch would go over? You think your ailurophile wants to marry an unemployed debt-ridden farm boy?...'' Phil stared, dumbfounded by the direction this conversation had gone in and Doom's almost clairvoyant insight. ``'Ailurophile', that's a cat lover, Phil. You think your cat loving girlfriend would like it if you were fired?.... So I have your entire life in my hands right now. I can fire you and watch it crumble. Or I can forgive you. That's the trick, I do n't even need to fire you. That's how much control I have. You have broken several company policies just today, but I can let it slide without even worrying it's not the right decision. I am absolute power.'' Doom steepled his hands again and paused a few seconds. He then removed his tie and placed it on the table. He then opened his drawer and grabbed a bottle of aged scotch and two glasses, pouring into them. `` Take off that dreadful tie, Phil. This one is Versace. A man must be presentable when meeting his future bride. Skip the bar, take a swig of this. 13 year old scotch. It traveled for 13 years to get here today, the day of your engagement. 13 years. Oh 13 is only bad luck if you have fear, and you just came face-to-face with fear and stood your ground. Do n't let the ploy fool you, dear Phil, Doom is not such an apropos moniker for me, though I do enjoy the perception it yields in my staff...'' Phil's hands stopped shaking. He glanced at his watch, 11:51. He still had time to make his date. He downed the drink, and quickly fixed his tie. `` I assume that after your girlfriend says yes, you wo n't need to spend so much company time confiding with Pam at reception any more? And your excessive coffee breaks will be cut back, since you can focus on work again, yes? Maybe you'll focus so hard you'll impress us one day, earn yourself a little promotion, yes?'' `` No. I mean yes. I meant no more wasted time and Yes to hard, err harder work Mist-'' `` Do n't come back until Monday Phil, take the afternoon off, I'll make sure payroll does n't dock your salary. Mush along now Phil, you do n't want to be late. Mush away.'' Doom spun his chair back around so it faced his window. He heard Phil's quick steps bolt out of the room. `` Thankyou Mr. Crawford!'' Doom would enjoy the omniscient perception Phil would have of him thenceforth, even if it was largely due to the two sharing the bathroom while Phil recited his proposal speech in the mirror, thinking he was alone. Doom looked at his clock. He still had 7 minutes before the lunch break at 12:00. So once again, back turned to his door, he recited, `` I can hear you trying to sneak by.'' He waited another thirty seconds. `` I can hear you trying to sneak by.'' `` I can hear you trying to sneak by.'' - Prompted by: [ ( WP ) The first sentence has to be the same as the last sentence, but the ending has to catch the reader off guard. ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/21ajlg/wp_the_first_sentence_has_to_be_the_same_as_the/ )

[ WP ] The black slime moves quickly , coating the walls as you run . You are cornered , turning around to come face to face with a wall of the corrosive goo . A single eye opens in its center , followed by thousands more as tendrils slowly slither towards you

I have a recurring dream, you are always in it. You are more scared than i have ever known you to be. Your mouth is bent and twisted. I would call it a look of dismay, but dismay is a human emotion. Your face is not that of a woman ’ s. Your face is marred with desperate, animal, panic. Your face, is a mask of terror, unshackled from social graces, like a crying infant, a dying dog. Figures in the background bob and dance. They whisper. Their voices are deep, their laughter is confusing. The words send you spinning. The darkness melts away, the sinister void gives way to brick and stone. The comfort of familiarity is gone. In this place there is no sky. This world is an aberration, it exists between the cracks. You sit for a awhile and weep. I can feel your sadness. You miss the ones you love. You run, in an alien world. You see the black slim, sandwiched between two cracked. You see it for a second, but that's all it takes. You blink. The slime is growing through the brick. As a torrent it breaks through the stone walls. It pours in with ferocity and force. The black slime moves quickly, coating the walls as you run. You are cornered, turning around to come face to face with a wall of the corrosive goo. A single eye opens in its centre, followed by thousands more as tendrils slowly slither towards you. I embrace you with my appendages, sloppy and jagged. I take everything you are. I taste you and remember. I listen and, sometimes, i can hear. Forever-we dream our dreams, together.

[ WP ] Weapons become more powerful the older they get . Modern guns will barely give someone a scratch but an ancient spear can devastate armies .

I sat in the small, uncomfortable plane. The erratic beating of my heart was no less peaceful than the turbulent winds outside. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The modern weapons of war were tactical and humanitarian in nature. A half-century old rifle was brutally effective, clunky and inhumane. All militaries were required to keep their firearms current to within ten years to avoid unnecessary suffering. Modern guns, bombs and planes, like the one I was in had their advantages not in power but in range, reliability and stealth. The soft blinking of the light told me to prepare. That was a farce; I did n't need to prepare. There was n't a parachute to drop me. That would just make me easier to hit on the way down. The only other man noticed it as well and with a face no less grim than my own began popping open the airtight box. Very carefully, with both hands, he gave me a simple piece of wood with a rock tied to the end. `` You're going to bomb them back to the stone age, Soldier.'' All I had to do was hit the ground.

[ WP ] You have been a serial killer for 25 years , and the cops have no idea you exist . One day you wake up strapped to a table . You hear a voice say , `` I have been watching you for some time . ''

I have always been careful. ALWAYS. How the HELL did I get caught?! I struggle against my straps, not even noticing when someone comes in. Man I'm getting sloppy... or rusty... hmm rusted blades, there's an idea... The person speaks, it's a woman? `` I have been watching you for some time...'' That can NOT be good. So I turn on the charm. `` Oh really? Well I wish you would've shown yourself, maybe I could watch you~'' and wiggle my eyebrows. Yeah, weird, but ladies seem to be easier drawn when guys are FUNNY rather than too flirty. She huffs a breath. `` I... I ca n't let you out of your straps just yet. Not. Not yet.'' She hacks a cough into her elbow. Ew. Germs. She stands up a little straighter. `` Does the name Ricardo mean anything to you?'' I had to search through my aliases before it clicked: I had, of course, a family. Ricardo was my older brother. He was... kinda good. Was n't abusive, did n't drink too often. However, just last year he was shot and killed by a very well-known mob boss. They could n't arrest him, especially when I doused out my own brand of justice. Heh. Doused. After a moment, I nodded slowly. `` What about it?'' She hacked a cough, and I could see the speckled blood. `` I... I was in love. And we were going to be married soon. I got pregnant, and well, had his baby. However, he died before the baby was even born.'' Oh. *Oh*. I'm... an uncle? My brother was a *father*? What... She coughed out a sob. `` I have end-stage lung cancer, due to not smoking but from an infection in a not very well sterilized operation room. I do n't have long to live. I know you're his brother you look just like him!'' She came closer. She was a... pleasant woman. Wavy locks of brown, deep brown eyes. Plump cheeks. She was nice. I knew what she was asking of me, why she could n't ask our parents. They were long dead. She hovered over my straps, and I nodded. She undone me, and I sat up. `` May I see the child?'' She nodded with tears in her eyes, and whisked up something out of the crib nearby. She tilted the babe. She, and it was a she, had curled black hair like my brother. Sleeping. The mother sniffed. `` I know you... kill people. And I know some may find that reprehensible, but honestly I also know how you are with kids, how your brother was. I have faith in you.'' I agreed. I loved kids. I would love this niece of mine, this daughter of my brother. I gently took her away, understanding when the mother's arms tightened even for a moment before relaxing. She gave me instructions: feedings with formula, or the milk in the fridge. I could take it all home, along with the crib and the toys and anything. Finally, she stood stock still, a woman with a plan. `` I ca n't suffer any longer. Would you...?'' I nodded again, and gently covered the little girl in my arms, moving the blanket over the tiny, tiny ears. She left. I knew what she was going to do, and so I went outside, and I coddled my new found family. And I waited. I gathered up the child's belongings, made it seem like, say, a kidnapping, then put in a 911 saying that someone was shot. I left. The child, her name was Keke. A wonderful name. I think I'll stop killing, just... just for a while. So I can get in the swing of things with her... just a little while...

[ WP ] Life is indeed a simulation . When you die , you get re-inserted in a new life . But , you 've pissed off the supervisor in charge of re-inserting you into the simulation

`` Let's go. Up and at'em asswipe.'' I slowly opened my eyes after I thought I had closed them forever. I looked down and around me every which way. There was nothing but empty space. It did n't have a color or any sort of look I could put into Earthly terms. It just looked like emptiness in the most basic sense of the word. I had no body. I had no idea how I was even seeing things or comprehending words. In front of me was a man sitting at desk with a large stack of papers. He was short and slightly overweight. He wore thick glasses and combed his thin, brown hairs over his hopelessly obvious bald spot. He looked like a man who had n't had a day off in centuries. Tired, detached, and largely indifferent. `` Come on Jocko you're supposed to move in front of the desk and address me.'' `` How should I address you Sir?'' I asked as I moved whatever I was towards him. `` I'm the Supervisor. Now look here Jocko you've got a difficult record to pick out. I'm going over your previous lives here and I'm not too impressed. You died today at the age of 55 from cirrhosis. But we'll go over that life later. In the life previous to this one you served in World War II. When you returned home you were paralyzed from the neck down and your wife left you for some American GI she met when they marched on Paris and you were still stuck on the Eastern front watching your pals get their brains blown off by Nazis. You killed yourself a while after that. I ca n't say I blame you.'' `` What are you talking about? My previous life? This is the only one I've ever lived!'' `` Not quite Jocko, let's just say the world is n't what you made of it. We created everything, we watch everything, and someday we will end everything. We're the closest thing to any of your Gods there is.'' `` Who is we? What are you talking about Supervisor?'' I somehow managed to stammer. `` Jeez Louise the worst part of my job is the repetitiveness. Each of you always ask the same questions. I swear you could replace me with a tape recorder and a computer. I do n't know the answers to that question. My superiors do n't tell me much. All's I know is it's my job to re-assign you to a new body once your old one has passed. The conditions of your next birth are based on the life you previously led. You're next in line.'' `` A new body? But how --'' `` I'm going to have to stop you there Jocko there's a long line behind you. Now onto the analyzation of your most recent life. I felt bad for you after your death in 1958 so I put you in an excellent position for your new life. You were given the bodily aptitude to be a star quarterback. I put you in a middle class home in suburban Los Angeles. Your father was a quarterback in college himself and had a stable job as a plumber. You were given exceptional arm strength, exceptional vision, and the ability to make tough and correct decisions immediately. You were a star in high school and you let it get to your head. The girls, the parties, the cars. It was all just too much for you was n't it, Jocko?'' `` It was n't as simple as you made it sound. My old man was an asshole. School was the only place I was accepted.'' `` This is n't a hearing Jocko you do n't get a chance to defend yourself. Me reading this aloud is simply for the benefit of my superiors. You got your first jail-time at age 18. Assault in a bar fight. Lost your scholarship to Stanford. After you got out you became a mechanic ( and a shitty one too, I might add ). But boy, you still loved to drink. Those high school parties must've really been stuck in your head huh? You hit the dive bars every night until you were too shitty to stand. You met a nice girl there one night did n't you though? Knocked her up real good. She came crying a while later in that same bar because it was the only place she knew she could find you. Told you she was pregnant. You knocked her upside the head and walked out. Never saw here again did you Jocko?'' `` I was young and drunk. I made a fucking mistake.'' `` That was n't your only mistake. By this time you were about thirty. Your boss got sick and tired of you showing up drunk all the time and gave you the can one day. For five years you just laid around drunk until you were out on the street. Wandered around the streets for about ten years until you managed to get a job as a dishwasher in Bakersfield. Got yourself a ratty ass apartment blowing welfare checks on booze until you keeled over and died. That about right?'' `` Fuck you. I do n't give a damn what kind of fucking supervisor you are. You do n't know me, you ca n't control me. I've lived my whole life as my own master. As my own captain. Whatever you fucking do to me next wo n't mean a damn to me. I'll always be in control of where I work, when I drink, where I live. You do n't mean shit.'' If I could've spit on the ground at this point I would've. That slimy little shit really pissed me off. `` I'll let you live out this delusion for the next few seconds before you're reborn. Right about now your new mother is in labor in Manilla. She is a prostitute and you will be expelled any second now. Goodbye. Good luck. And I will see you next time.'' With that everything faded to black. I looked up and saw a little peak of light which I began to move to.

[ WP ] Elon Musk , Supervillian .

Elon walked along the forest trail, breathing deeply of the smell of decaying leaves and cold. The sun was setting and the short, pale winter day had barely even melted last night's frost from the ground. He looked up at the sky, watching the now familiar arrangement of stars through the cold, dry air and the clouds of condensation from his breath. It seemed like a sadly appropriate setting for the last few minutes of the human race. Winter and nightfall, the end of the cycle. Elon mused for a moment on how the cycle of seasons seemed to be a constant source of symbolism in the stories of all cultures that came from a place with a changing year. While the weather of his childhood was vastly different from that of his adopted home, the simple stories seemed to endure, no matter where you are. He absentmindedly brushed his pocket where his smartphone usually was. It was, of course, gone. He had discarded it hours ago. It was doubtlessly buzzing away in the train station locker as hundreds of notifications, questions and urgent attempts at contact avalanched into it. Pointless buzzing. He had no desire for it to break his final enjoyment of the apocalypse. The sky had faded from the pale champagne of the winter sunset to a deep purple. High cirrus clouds framed the growing green glow of the aurorae that were starting to dance, just a few seconds later than he had expected. Silent green and red fire wound in huge, sinuous curtains across the entire sky in a few seconds, far, far brighter than they had been in at least several million years. Piercing through them, a painfully bright purple light blazed in the sky where Mars normally would have hung. All contact with the Martian colony would have been lost about 2 hours ago. Judging by the color and intensity, Elon quickly estimated that the surface temperature of the poor, dead planet must be climbing into the low millions of degrees as the final waves of neutronium kinetic impactors hammered it at nearly the speed of light. At least the final curtain call for this place was pretty. Elon did not feel much guilt about humanity. *Homo sapiens* was an intriguing species and burned bright with potential. But it suffered the fate of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. The only technologically advanced sapient entity in 500 light years but still far too primitive to escape from the doom that was now bearing down upon them. Such was the story of countless millions of other species across the galactic disk over the last 2.7 billion years of recorded history. There was no sense in melancholy over an event as common as the rain washing away loose specks of dirt. Elon took another deep breath, enjoying the exotic scents of the forest. So many unique chemical signatures, such a complex biochemical web. The loss of Earth's biosphere was a loss that he did feel with a keen, cutting pain. So much information, so much diversity, about to be lost forever. He wondered if some of his indifference to his dooming of humanity came from the anger from watching them squander the incomparable wealth they had inherited on this planet. At least he had been able to save some of it. The first few years after landing here, he had spent his time incognito, gathering as many samples as he could from the biosphere. Precious engrams taken of genetic material, biosphere interactions, the flow of energy and chemistry. He had toiled as long as possible before packing up the data - a mere sliver of the bounty here - and launching it on a minus-space drone back to the fleet. There, it would be modified into new forms, integrated into the continuum and giving invaluable diversity to the whole. `` The strengthening of the web is the duty of the unique'' The mantra of his people still echoed through his mind, as clear and beautiful as the day he had learned it. He had cursed the limited time he had. If only the fleet had been better positioned, his scout craft could have ridden to Earth along one of the spacetime currents tracing the ventral edge of the spiral arm and arrived here centuries earlier. It would have taken decades more to do a proper catalog. But any later and he would have run the risk of the drone's spacetime spoor being detectable by the long-range sensors of the approaching horde. After the probe was gone, he had integrated into human society. A young male, traveling between continents for schooling made for an easy target. A quick assimilation of his bio-signatures and vaporization of the original body was simple. The lack of nearby relatives and the excuses of cultural barriers made his early mistakes in impersonation easy to cover up. Elon had never completely adjusted to this new form. Only two forward facing eyes incapable of visualizing ultraviolet light, the peculiar and problem-prone calcium-phosphate rigid armature for movement - his human shape had come to awkwardly fit like a mis-sized glove, stretched to fit over years of wear. The most difficult task had been the ridiculous'tense' structure of English. How a language could have such a complex set of constructs for temporal relationships still baffled him. Fortunately, his occasional pauses and stutters as he mentally parsed his syntax during interviews were brushed away as'nerdiness' and being'awkwardly charming'. It had succeeded with barely 5 years to spare. Entrenched interests had nearly thwarted his plans to drive humanity to Mars colonization several times. How ironic that the most short-sighted and greedy of humanity had nearly saved it. After all, single-planet species were safe. The titanic, self-replicating machine hordes that scoured the galaxy would have silently passed humanity by, if not for Elon's prodding. However, that fragile, 225 human colony had doomed the entire species to a sudden and unstoppable eradication. A suicidal beacon in the predatory darkness of the cosmos. A singular answer to what humanity had called the Fermi paradox. But in dooming this place, the horde had detoured precious distance anti-spinward, giving the home fleet just enough time and space to avoid their notice yet one more time. Overhead, the aurorae grew in intensity until the greenish-red glow was nearly as bright as day. The leading edges of the horde's plasma lances were starting to smash into the upper atmosphere. Out of the corner of his eye, Elon saw a brief, white flash - probably the ISS being burned away in the torrent of superheated matter that was now washing over the planet. It was probably only a few more seconds before the plasma stream burned the atmosphere completely away and everything on the surface was scoured in purifying flame. Anything left in the deep oceans and in the crust would follow shortly after as the kinetic impactors boiled away the top several hundred miles of the Earth. Elon sat down on a pile of forest detritus to the side of the trail. Cold wetness wicked through the seat of his pants but he did n't notice. Leaning back against the rough bark of a tree, Elon closed his eyes and narrowed his awareness down to the smell of the forest. Alien, deep and complex, the smell somehow reminded him of the concordance pools of home. He was filled with a deep regret that he would never smell them again, nor swim with his broodmates and lose his self in the song of the whole. `` The strengthening of the web is the duty of the unique.'' How he wished he could have been with it/we/them one last time... Elon drew one last deep breath of the cold forest air. - Notes - somebody crossposted this thread over to /r/spacex and it tempted me into trying my hand at it. Written in a single pass in about 90 minutes, hopefully it's decent.

[ WP ] It has been six months since you first teleported and you have been able to control it for three months . You have n't told anyone , and yet you get a bad feeling about that man who has followed you to work for the past week ...

I made myself look out the window again. Through the light drizzle I can still see him standing there, under the dim red glow of the streetlamp. He had n't moved, and he's still looking. Letting the curtain fall back into place, I slouched back into my chair. He could n't possibly know. That would be impossible. Although... my gaze shifted to the stack of plane, train and bus tickets on my table. One ways, all of them, and all in the last 6 months. Some from far off places, Russia, Hawaii, Prague; others from closer, Manchester, France. All from before I'd learnt how to get home, when I did n't know what was happening to me. Maybe I'd attracted some attention, coming back from all over the globe, but never going? Does the government keep tracks on that? No. Of course not. Who would care? He'd been following me to and from work for the past week now, I was sure of that. I'd thought it better than to start appearing inside work, just in case. But every time I got off the tube, I'd see him: in the next carriage, on the opposite platform, walking past. I was n't sure it was the same person. But now he was outside my house. I took a glance through the curtains, hoping with all my might that he had gone, that I was being paranoid, that he just happened to be around me. He had n't gone. He was still just standing there, his arm at a perfect right angle holding up his black umbrella. I stared, trying to make out features, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation as to who he could be, what he could want, and why he was following me. Then he vanished.

[ WP ] Scientists correctly guessed when a massive solar flare would reach Earth but they were wrong on what would happen once it got here .

`` Babe,'' Tyler rubbed her back gently as he stared straight ahead with glassy eyes, `` We've known about this for a year. We're prepared. We've done everything we ever wanted to do. Now it's time to accept our fate.'' He spoke almost robotic, emotionless. He was just as frightened as she was, but he did n't let it show. He comforted her, but allowed his eyes to remain fixated in front of him. His hand became motionless on her sweat-soaked t-shirt. Kate had been crying violently for the past two hours. Her make-up ran like two long black roads down her cheeks and her nose was red. `` I do n't want t-to die!'' she exclaimed, mucus dribbling out of her nostrils. He still did n't blink. The world was ending tonight. A massive solar flare was about to reach the Earth's surface and burn everything up. Including the humans. `` We have so much more life to live!'' she exclaimed once more, still blubbering. She sobbed, gasping for air and wiping the sweat off the back of her knees which she held tightly against her chest. `` I do n't want to die,'' she whimpered again. `` Neither do I,'' he snapped, tearing his eyes away from the blurred view in front of him and looking at her. `` We ca n't stop it, though. So why do n't you stop wasting our last few hours crying and make the most of them!'' Her tears stopped immediately and she stared at his with wide eyes. `` I'm sorry,'' her lip quivered. Tyler's expression softened and he swallowed hard, `` Me too. You know I love you.'' Kate nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, blinking at the ground in front of her. `` I should call my mom to say goodbye.'' She choked on the last word. Tyler glanced at his own phone as she stood up. She tugged at her shorts and walked uneasily out of the room, preparing to make her final phone call. Tyler's phone immediately started buzzing, his own mother calling. He answered. `` Hi, Mom.'' `` Baby,'' she responded, her voice more cheerful than he expected, `` Has it happened there yet?'' He furrowed his eyebrows, `` What? The solar flare? Obviously not...'' `` No, no. The sunscreen!'' `` The what?'' She beamed and he could hear the smile in her voice, `` The sunscreen! I'm glowing!'' He shook his head, his mind becoming frantic and confused, `` Mom, slow down. What are you talking about?'' She inhaled and then exhaled deeply, `` They're calling it sunscreen. Apparently every living organism is equipped with a protective shield that is triggered when a solar flare is impending. Who knew?'' His mouth hung open for a moment as he processed his mother's words. `` That's... ridiculous. Mom, I know you're upset, but it's okay. I love you and this was going to happen at some point in our lives --'' `` No,'' she insisted, `` It's all over Mexico. Everything is glowing!'' `` That's insane.'' `` Honey,'' she continued, `` Scientists are as dumbfounded as you are right now, but it's true. They expect it to spread across the globe within the next hour.'' He glanced down at his arm and noticed a warmth rising out of it that he did n't see before. `` What the...'' `` Is it happening?'' she laughed through the phone's speaker. Just then, Kate bolted into the room, a wide smile on her face and a yellow glow emitting from her skin. Tyler looked at her, his expression full of amazement. Not removing his eyes from her, he said, `` Yes, Mom. Can you hold on?'' He slowly put the phone down and stood up, approaching his girlfriend. They smiled at each other for a moment and then he picked her up in a tight hug. She giggled, `` We're going to be okay!'' He laughed joyfully at that, kissing her cheek several times as he set her down. They then proceeded to click on the television to confirm what was happening. Without a doubt, scientists around the world were shown celebrating and explaining the phenomenon. Two hours later, the world lit up. An hour after that, it lit up again. With fireworks and relief.

[ WP ] Humans have a trait , that when in danger , they revert/grow into their peak physical form and intelligence , which can last as long as their life is in danger . Everyone on Earth has gone Prime , and it 's been over three years since it began .

`` Someone will find out about this...'' the scientist gasped as he tried to crawl away, painting the floor with his blood. John could only smirk as he walked slowly after the old man, a bloodied pen knife in his hand. `` Oh, I doubt they will. It has been what... three years? And people are still trying to figure it out.'' The scientist somehow managed to reach his desk, and his hand went for the phone. `` Oh no you do n't,'' John said, before plunging the knife into the scientist's hands. He howled in agony. `` Such a pity that your trait is not **Strength**, or else you would have fought me off by now,'' John teased the man, slumped weakly against his desk. The white carpet beneath him was fast turning red from his blood. Seeing that the scientist could no longer move, John quickly scoured his office, picking up files that detailed the danger of the approaching asteroid and throwing them in the middle of the room. `` Why?'' John heard a weak voice coming from the table. `` Why are you doing this?'' John chuckled at the question. Almost all of his victims in the past three years asked him that, as they all laid dying before him. No harm indulging the dying scientist his last question. `` Simple,'' John said, as he continued to move across the room. `` It's fun to watch.'' `` But people will die!'' the scientist croaked. `` Everyone has been wondering why our traits have gone on prime for three years now.'' `` Yeah, I know,'' John shrugged, throwing more files into the growing pile. He thought of the growing confusion in the public bemusedly, of how everyone is wondering why their traits have gone on prime, signalling an imminent danger, for three years now. `` And thanks to me, they will never know why until it's too late.'' `` You're a monster.'' `` No, I'm not,'' Join replied, his eyes staring at the flame before him. `` I just have a very high **Anarchy** trait,'' John continued, before tossing the lighter towards the files. -- -- -- -- /r/dori_tales

[ WP ] an average day in the life of a random school kid in a world that runs on video-game logic .

I woke up, and found myself standing straight up in my bed in the same clothes that i've always worn. I checked my inventory to see that all my stuff was still there. Pencil: Writing utensil Weight: 0 Value:.10 Quantity: 5000 Calculator: Calculation device Weight: 1 Value: 15 Quantity: 1 Phone: Communication device Weight: 1 Value: 300 Quantity: 1 Everything was there. Good. Now to say hello to my mother. `` hello Mom'' A ) did you sleep well? B ) Whats for breakfast? C ) can i have 5 money? ( Requires level 15 speech skill ) let's go with A `` Mom, what's for breakfast?'' `` Sweety, there's a cereal in the pantry.'' `` OK. Thanks.'' After this i seemed to lose control of my body as i went through the motions of getting cereal, and eating an entire bowl in five seconds. But the stat buff was worth it. Now it was time to walk to school. Checking my map to see where it was just in case, i began my journey. `` Damn, the road takes me around this mountain. Ai n't nobody got time fo dat!'' I spent three times the necessary amount of time trying to get over the mountain. After 3 respawns i finally managed it. I arrived at school, and went to my locker. But i had n't written down my code. `` Damn, i need some picks to open this novice lock. I'll bet there are some in this trash can!'' *Lockpicks ( 5 ) added to inventory* I then set upon picking the lock, and removing my textbooks, and going to class. I opened my math book, and blam! *Math skill upgraded to level 15* Then it was time for science. *Science skill upgraded to level 13* Then gym. We were doing laps around the school. After sprinting for half of my stamina bar i let myself recharge a bit by jogging, and then sprinting again. I was in first place. Then we ate lunch. *picked up potatoes ( 87 ), carrots ( 50 ), and tomatoes ( 60 ). Time stopped as i spent a few seconds wolfing down all of that, except for the tomatoes. Might need those later. The fall damage from my time on the mountain was gone now. After my afternoon classes and various buffs to Speech, Chemistry, and Diction, i began my way home. I only needed to respawn twice this time. After getting home i ran into my brother. He said he wanted to fight. For practice. I equipped my hands, and readied them. I swung left, then right, then left, then right, used a power attack. I was hit by a left-left, right-right, and then a power attack. I began to lose. My Hp was low. I knew what i had to do! I went into my inventory, and devoured the tomatoes! My Hp was full now, and i won the fight. We shook hands, and went to eat dinner. My brother could replenish his Hp there. After dinner i saved my progress, and went to bed. I slept for exactly 8 hours, and woke up the next day completely awake, and with a `` Well rested'' Stat buff.

[ WP ] Pick your poison - write about the day of an addict .

( I invented a fictional drug for this ) I woke up on the floor again. The sun was casting a muffled midafternoon light through the thin curtains and I could n't bring myself to feel surprised that I had n't made it to the bed last night. My head was pounding and my mouth tasted like something had died in it. Just another damn day in this stupid shithole. I had to get up. That took a little effort, first, I rolled over onto my stomach, then placed hands firmly on the floor, pushing myself up with some effort, to my knees. Where was it? Did I have any left? My thin, yet dextrous fingers fumbled for the box I kept nearby. Nope. It was empty. I swore profusely under my breath before clambering to a standing position. Then, dizziness overcame me. I almost fell back down to the ground, but the wall caught me. I leaned into it's comforting embrace, stayed there for a while. What time was it? Did it matter, though? not like I had anywhere to be. All I needed was another taste of Bliss. The beast gnawing a hole through my stomach growled with the ferocity of a chained and beaten bear. Nothing I could do about it with those empty cupboards though. I sighed, mustering the strength to support my own weight, counting to five mentally and pushing myself off. Wobbled, then reached stability. Bliss. Bliss would fix it, Bliss would fix everything. One tentative foot in front of the next led me to the front door. I'd left it unlocked. Why had I... did it matter? I had nothing left worth stealing. I wandered outside and was immediately almost blinded by the midday glow. Damned UV rays, the sun'd have someone's eye out if it was n't more careful where it pointed those things. I was feeling weak. Weaker than usual. Bliss. Bliss was going to make me feel strong again. Powerful. I set off down the balcony that connected the various studio apartments in this block towards his house. Knocked on the door more firmly than I intended to as the Itch began to consume my thoughts. I needed it, needed... needed it badly. Took him a while to answer, I could feel the infinite ticking of every eternal second that he delayed me. He did n't even wait to hear my question though. Not a word of it's obviousness. `` You got my money, bitch?'' he asked. I sighed and shook my head no, `` can you just... look, I'll have some money for you, end of the week, I swear,'' I claimed. No idea if I could make good on that. Doubtful, and he knew it too, `` just a gram? on credit? you know I'm good for it...'' He sneered, greasy hair covering his left eye, and reached a scarred, muscular arm out to almost slap me. I felt the air from the near-impact rush past my face, `` you'll get just a gram when I get my money,'' he told me, slamming the door in my face. I turned, leaned against the cool stone in the harsh sunlight. Needed to find a way to make money. As much as possible. Cost of Bliss only ever seemed to increase, I could remember a time when a fiver would get me enough for a week, now, it barely cut it for a day, and I owed him. I set off back home, racking my brain for ways to make'his' money. Nothing came to mind, I mean, I certainly was n't like the other girls, the ones who sold their bodies for a taste of heaven. I had standards, I was n't some dumb junkie whore. Though sometimes that thought, much to my shame, tempted me more than I'd like to admit. It'd certainly make things easier. No job, no things left to sell, could n't get another loan. Needed Bliss. Badly. Perhaps if... but no, that would be wrong. Maybe I could? I made my mind up, but had no idea if I'd even have the courage. Took an hour to persuade myself to move far enough to reach the kitchen and retrieve the carving knife. All I could feel was my heart, pounding throughout my body, everywhere. Ba-dum, ba-dum, it was in my chest, my fingers, my toes, everywhere. It eclipsed all the external sounds. I gripped the knife tightly, my thoughts on... look, I was n't going to hurt him, I'm not dangerous, I swear... was just going to threaten him. Just... threaten him a bit. Felt like it took a week to walk back to his apartment. Pounded on the door a bit harder now, did n't mean to hit it quite so hard. He answered quicker, doubtless thinking the firm, confident-sounding knock to be the fuzz or something. He stared at my skinny, short frame, and the big sharp knife and I swear there was fear in his deep blue eyes. `` The fuck you doing with that?!'' he asked. Shit, I do n't remember what I said to him, everything happened so fast. Think I asked him for some Bliss. Think he refused. Not sure what came over me. Damn, it just... it happened so quickly, was over in a flash and there he was, on the ground. There was blood everywhere and all I could think to do was raid his place for Bliss... That's where I was when the cops showed up. Checking his drawers and under his bed. Slowly as any blisshead ever moves. They did n't think twice about arresting me...

[ WP ] As long as you rhyme you will be pardoned of all crimes commited while defending yourself in court .

`` Now's your turn. Do n't sweat it, Larry. I'll get you off the hook. Just read this to the Judge and you'll be in the clear. Trust me, I did n't go to law school for nothing'' We share a nervous laugh. `` Thanks, man. I know sometimes public defenders get a hard rap, but you've really been a life raft for me.'' The very much actually guilty Larry thanked. Larry approached the judge, armed with a boombox and dope... err... no, not that dope. At least not this time. No, only dope *rhymes* today. *'' Ahem. * *You may know me as the drug kingpin. * *But I do n't even know, What is my sin? * *We all got problems that I can see, man. * *Slingin' heroine may be Larry's crime. * *But do n't jail a man while he's still in his prime. * *I got three kids who need a free man. * *Drop all charges cause crimes ca n't rhyme. `` * `` Those were the doppest rhymes I've heard since'06. Great job!'' `` Naw man, you wrote'em. Thanks so much.'' We share congratulations. Now to work. `` You're honor, we'd now obviously like to invoke the Johnnie Cochrane defense and send my client home!'' Judge Clemetine was a large man with a voice to equal. It bellowed through the courtroom. `` Very well. I was about to hold the defendant in contempt for delivering perhaps the un-dopest lines I've heard since'06. Under the Cochrane Rule, the accused shall be pardoned of all crimes comitted *while* defending himself in the courtroom.'' `` Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I should've double checked that. I'm done forever. Shit.'' I began sweating profusely. The judge continued. `` So therefore, the defendant shall be acquitted of the charge of 3rd degree battery against rap. Now - to reiterate - as we all know, the Cochrane defense only applies to crimes comitted *while* defending oneself in court. So... moving on to the 17 counts of 1st degree manslaughter, 3 arson charges, 4 counts of interstate...'' The realization of what had just occured now dawned over Larry. `` I have the worst fucking lawyers.''

An alcoholic writes his ( or her ) suicide note . [ WP ]

To everyone, We can say I was never right after Mom died, that he death was the start of mine. The weekend drinking gatherings turned into all week drinking binges. I'm sorry for it all, but that's not why this letter is here. It's to remind you all that despite doing nothing to help me, I still love you all. I was the one who had to take care of her arrangements, the one who was there for years, holding myself back so that *someone* was around for her, so she was n't alone when she died. I ca n't stand what everyone had become and drinking was an attempt to escape it all, escape all of you. You all came to me when things started to go downhill for all of you and you expected me to save you from drowning while my head was under the water the whole time. I have n't been that solid rock, that shoulder to cry on, for a very long time. The sad part is no one noticed. But you'll notice this. It'll probably be a few days before you do, because none of you call, stop by, or even text, but you'll notice. I expect it all the crumble for all of you because you could never stand on your own, always relying on Mom or myself to help you, but now that both of us are gone, I hope the worst happens. -045

[ EU ] Archer Sterling and James Bond are set a mission to kill each other . What happens ?

[ Interior, ISIS HQ, Mallory Archer's office. Sterling is sitting across from his mother with a drink in his hands. ] `` For the last time, Mother, I know the difference between flammable and inflammable!'' `` There *is* no difference, you idiot! And try telling that to the Regent Hotel. My God, what you did to that poor-'' `` Mother, he ruined my suit!'' `` Oh shut up. We'll talk about your pyrokinetic display in the lobby later, Sterling, I have an important mission for you.'' `` Yeah, and the... neverer... the... better.'' Mallory fidgets with her screen controls. `` Damn this blasted... CAROL!'' `` I mean, it was a good suit.'' `` IT'S CHERYL, AND YOU'RE NOT MY... Oh, wait, you kind of are.'' `` I just had it flown in from-'' `` What the hell are you babbling about?'' `` My name is Cheryl, and I just realised you are my supervisor?'' `` I'm talking about my suit, Mother!'' `` Both of you, SHUT UP! Carol-'' `` CHERYL!'' `` Whatever, help me with this! And Sterling, shut up!'' `` Feh.'' Sterling knocks back his drink and motions for Carol/Cheryl to refill it. She ignores him. `` See, you've got ta press... this one, I think, and then... this one... oh, but not that one, it just makes a kind of funny noise.'' `` My God... I let you use the screen for one night and you mess it up. What in the hell were you watching anyway?'' [ Jump cut to Mallory's office, the night before. Cheryl, Krieger, Pam and Rodney are all naked staring at Mallory's gigantic screen. Horrible gurgling noises are emanating from the speakers. ] `` Oh. My God.'' Cheryl's hand moves towards her crotch. `` Can we watch something else now?'' `` Pamela, hush. This is the best part.'' `` Oh for the love of... how the hell can you even record this shit?'' Krieger jumps at Pam's comment. `` Oh. Was I supposed to be recording?'' [ Cut back to the present. ] `` We were watching some stuff from Krieger's van.'' Archer scoffs, and takes a sip ( he had to refill his glass himself ). `` What is it this time, more shock bum fights?'' `` I swear if I catch that no good clone of Adolf Hitler I will literally disembowel him.'' Mallory imagines herself choking the life out of Dr. Krieger. `` Not literally, Mother, I mean... oh. I guess you do mean literally.'' `` Aaaaandddd done.'' As Cheryl taps the final key, the screen appears. Sterling's eyes widen. `` No.'' Sterling stands up and stares at the face on screen. `` No. No no no.'' `` Uh, yes?'' `` Sterling?'' `` Mother, you do n't have to say anything.'' Archer pulls his gun out and cocks it dramatically. `` I'm *in*.'' `` In what? Sterling, this isn't-'' `` I'm going to hunt you down like the rat bastard you are...'' [ We finally see the screen from Sterling's perspective. The man on screen is James Bond, 007, MI6 agent. ] ``... James Bond.'' `` Who, that guy? Wow he's hot. Think his hands are any strong?'' `` It wo n't matter, Carol.'' `` Cheryl!'' `` Because he'll be *dead*.'' `` Dead? Wha-Sterling, you ass, listen to me! This man is not the job!'' `` Wha-? Oh come on, Mother!'' `` Phrasing, boom!'' `` Shut up! And Mother....hey, that was a nice one.'' `` I know, right?'' `` Mother, why would you have his *file* if you were n't going to ask me to kill him?'' `` You idiot, I was doing a background check! He's coming to work for us!'' Sterling's eyes widen even more. `` WHAT?'' `` Ooooh, think his hands are-'' `` Shut up! Sterling, you-Sterling...?'' `` I... I... I ca n't... wha...'' Archer wobbles, then faints with a crash. Mallory sighs. `` Of course. I get a new Steuben bar set and you break it.'' [ Opening Credits. ]

Aperson with the ability to see into the emotional lives of others through touch realizes the happiest most good-natured person they have ever known is actually hiding a tremendous emotional darkness .

It *sucks. * I'm terrified to touch people. Before you ask, no I do not have some kind of mental illness, nor do I have OCD. It's just that I can see more than people think. How it works is that I touch the person in question and I can see their emotional background. I can see what their brain protects itself from. Their dog dying made a huge impact on them. *Whoop. * I see that kind of thing all the time waiting for my subway train. Sure, some of them are pretty run-of-the-mill things like a pet passing away, a loved one dying, or even the occasional shady dealings with the local loan shark. After a while, it gets easier. Kind of like a filter; the redundant stuff just blurs together. Then she came. She was a new client who came into my office the other day requesting some kind of graphics project that `` absolutely had to be done yesterday'' and that `` money was no object, just get it done.'' After yelling at my poor secretary Charlene who, bless her heart, put up with her while I got her file all ready for our meeting. `` Mr. Peterson will see you now. Please follow me.'' Charlene said curtly. It was painfully obvious that she was fed up with her, from the sound of her voice. `` God, finally. I've been waiting *all day* for this.'' After Charlene opened the door to show her in, I took a quick look at her file that her employer sent me a few hours beforehand and shifted my gaze upwards to meet hers. I would be lying if I did n't say that I was shocked. She was *beautiful. * Absolutely gorgeous. She was around five feet, six inches. A full five inches shorter than me. She wore a grey cardigan that sufficiently showed her full breast and a nice pair of matching slacks that seemed to follow a smooth, full curve starting from her waist down to the beginning of her thighs. Trying to pull my eyes away, I shifted my eyes upward and saw her face. Her face had perfect proportions. Piercing gray eyes combined with brown hair made her upper half just as pleasing as her lower half. I gulped: `` Hi, I'm Scott Peterson. I'll be handling your project.'' `` Oh it's nice to meet you! I'm Julie. Julie Robson.'' `` Thanks for coming in, Julie. Can we discuss your project?'' `` By all means.'' We sat down and started a healthy conversation about the project she needed to have done for her boss's convention coming up soon in the city. As we talked, I noticed that I actually liked her. Was this the same woman I heard screeching to poor Charlene just a few hours before? No it could n't be. The pearly white teeth that flashed each time she made a quick glance in my direction, the hair tied in a tight bun- `` I'm sorry my hair's bothering me. Is it alright with you if I let it down?'' `` Sure! I do n't mind. At all. Uhh I mean... go ahead.'' *Come on do n't screw it up. This is a beautiful woman standing three feet away from you! Divert all blood away from the other head! * Julie pulled out a pin and her hair came tumbling down. Oh God, it was like a Pantene commercial. It was almost impossible that a goddess of this caliber would be talking to me. `` Can we continue?'' said Julie. `` Yeah.'' It was around ten o'clock when we finished discussing her project. Both of us were exhausted. I wanted to know when I would see her again, to enjoy her presence. I know it sounds pretty bad, but I fell pretty hard for Julie. She was perfect. `` Are you sure we're all done here? Got all the questions you wanted to ask answered?'' I asked. She said, `` oh, I still have a few questions. I can wait until tomorrow though. Same time, same place?'' `` Of course. You know where I sleep.'' I pointed to my office. She giggled. `` Oh stop. I'm sure you do n't work that hard. I am exhausted. I'll talk to you tomorrow!'' She extended her hand for a friendly handshake. Without thinking I reached over and grabbed her hand. It was n't until her memories came flooding into me that I realized what I had done. I did n't want to ruin my perfect idea of her. Her memories were pretty standard. The typical upper-class only child upbringing. Well-off parents who spoiled her, but restrained enough to prevent her from going rotten. Memories of high school and heartbreak. College and new experiences. Study abroad. Then everything went dark. It was just myself. Was this the end of her memories? I heard a screaming and the sound of a news report detailing a grisly murder. Then came the sound of a scalpel cutting through flesh. The screams of someone being tortured for information... or just for the sheer pleasure of his or her captor? During this entire episode, the news report kept getting louder and louder until it all turned into a buzzing white noise that stayed in your head, like a hive of bees in your brain. More screams. I expected the scalpel cutting noise again. It never came. Instead I heard the revving of a chainsaw. It tore through flesh, tearing away its target's humanity. It reduced a faceless girl to a stump. The same thing happened to countless other people. Trying to block it out, I crouched down, blocked my ears, closed my eyes, and convinced myself it was all just a bad dream. During this time, I heard something that was being repeated. I had to strain my ears and force my earbones to vibrate at full capacity to make it out. `` Dont'cha love me?'' was what I heard. This phrase was being repeated through the screams, the news reports, the scalpel, the chainsaw... I could n't deal with it anymore and tried to focus my thoughts, to regain control of my body so I would n't have to touch her; to keep seeing these things. Then, the news report came through loud and clear: `` it has been determined that all of the victims were exposed to one thing in the hours before they were killed. This phrase came in different forms: speech, text, or even a call. If you see this phrase, do not hesitate to contact the local authorities.'' The phrase shown next to the anchor's face was: `` Dont'cha love me?'' At this point, all of the darkness, the screaming, the cutting, the blood, the... everything stopped. I slowly regained control of my body and finished the handshake. `` You ok there, Scott? You look like you've seen some pretty bad shit.'' Julie said. `` You have no idea. What time is it?'' `` What do you mean? We just finished talking at around ten o'clock at night. It's 10:05PM. You've been here with me the whole time.'' `` Did I really just shake your hand for five minutes?'' I said. `` No, silly. The walk down took around four minutes. Anyways, I came up with some really cool ideas to discuss tomorrow! Dont'cha love me?'' *Shit. *

[ CW ] The Reverse Alphabet Game - The first CW prompt [ Difficulty Level : DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE ]

“ *ZEEEEEEEETAAAAA! * ” Yells echoed everywhere around me. Xera, the queen herself, was out looking for the girl, too. Well, I suppose that you ’ d assume she would look for her own daughter. Vengeance light up her eyes, and I knew that whoever had taken the princess would not get off very easily. Usually, when someone went missing, we would wait a day or two to see if they showed up. This time, the Guard was called immediately and a search was started. Someone had taken the princess, and that wasn ’ t a petty, forgettable crime. Ranging up and down the foothills, I could find no tracks of any kind. Quite literally, the kidnappers had left no trail. Possibly, they ’ d run off through the trees, but it seemed unlikely that they could do that carrying the 100 pound princess. Over every hill, there was nothing but the empty forest to greet me and taunt me. No signs of any disturbance. Moreover, the sky was beginning to darken, and the trail would go cold, soon. Lazily drifting, I plodded along the path until I found a tree that looked capable of supporting my weight and providing a comfortable night ’ s rest. Kicking off my shoes, I prepared to climb. Just as I placed my hands on the trunk, I noticed a shining piece of fabric caught in a branch, higher up. Impossible. Half excited, half scared, I climbed the tree. I observed the fabric closely. Gold griffins looked up at me, sewn into the fabric with an expert ’ s hand. Feeling it confirmed that it was silk, and upon a moment ’ s thought I remembered the design on the princess ’ s dress. Excited for the thrill of the chase, I took off to tell the King I ’ d found a clue. During my reckless flight, though, I tripped and crashed into the ground. Catching my breath slowly, I stood up. Blood was everywhere, and I knew none of it was mine. At my feet was the princess.

[ WP ] `` Hold on tight , and do n't let go . ''

Without my hoodie on, the fall air stung my arms as I tied the sleeves as tightly as I could around his leg. My white sweatshirt now an eery crimson. `` Hu-hurts. Stop that, it hurts.'' `` Ca n't stop, sorry. Tourniquet. Got ta stop the bleeding. Your femoral artery is cut.'' I say louder than normal so as to be heard over his anguished groans. `` I'm going to die.'' `` No, you're not.'' `` Julian,'' He says, defeated. I meet his eyes. `` You're not going to die. We're going to get out of here. Hang on, this is going to hurt.'' Holding the sleeves of my hoodie, I yank them tight around his slashed up thigh, effectively turning a jacket into medical equipment. When I do it, he screams a scream like no other I've ever heard. A scream that reaches out and out and could seemingly be heard for miles. `` You bastard.'' `` I had to, sorry. Put pressure on the wound, like I'm doing now. Hold on as tightly as you possibly can, and for the love of God, do n't let go.'' `` Where are you going?'' He pleads, pushing hard to stop the bleeding. `` To flair for the rest of the group. You're in no shape to hike back to camp.'' `` No! I told you, it was n't the fall that hurt me! There's somebody out there! I told you, Julian! They tried to kill me. The rest o the group is dead! I saw them, I saw them! We should never have split up-'' `` Hey, Max! Ssh, it's okay. That's just the blood loss and dehydration talking. There's nobody out there. I'll be back.'' `` Do n't go, do n't go.'' He says, just as panicked, but weaker. `` Hold on tight,'' I say giving a gesture to his leg. `` And do n't let go.'' With my bag on my shoulder, I make my way away from the overhang Max is laying under, and into the vast woods. It's painful to leave him like that, but I have no choice. The sun is starting to set, and I need to make it back to Max before dark. Looks the two of us will be spending another night sleeping under that thing, away from camp. Two days since we got lost. One day until any infection that is nestled in Max's leg could become fatal- if he has n't bleed out by then. `` Dammit.'' I yell out to nobody. It's just me and my thoughts and the endless, engulfing forest. It'll be fine, I tell myself. It'll be fine. I'll signal the group. they'll find us by morning, and we'll all go home. Deeper I trek into the trees, looking for a clearing to shoot up a flair. I do n't make it. The crunch of leaves under feet sneaking up behind me. The sharp, stabbing pain in my neck. The ground beneath my head. Blood warming my back against the cold night. The eyes of a madman. The smile of a killer standing above me. Max was right...

[ WP ] At age 18 , everyone is given a manual explaining how to live a long and happy life . However , yours is telling you to do some pretty unusual things .

Ted entered the life office and walked up to the front desk. The 19 year old secretary was ignoring him to face time here soul mate. `` No I love you more'' she said `` No I love you more'' he said `` No I love you more'' she said Ted rang the bell. `` No I love you more'' he said `` No I love you more'' she said `` No I love you more'' he said Ted rang the bell. `` No I love you more'' she said `` No I love you more'' he said `` No I love you more'' she said Ted rang the bell repeatedly. `` No I love you more'' he said, speaking louder `` No I love you more'' she said, also speaking louder Ted picked up the bell and started slamming it into the desk. `` Sorry I have to work'' she said `` Finally'' said Ted `` You hang up first'' he said `` No you hang up first'' she said `` Oh for fuck's sake'' `` No you hang up first'' he said `` I'm going in'' Ted walked past the secretary and into the office of the 21 year old CEO of Life Indsutries. He was face timing his soul mate. `` I love you the most'' said the CEO `` No I love you the most'' said his soul mate `` No I love you the most'' said the CEO Ted stewed in silence. `` No I love you the most'' said his soul mate `` No I love you the most'' said the CEO `` No I love you the most'' said his soul mate `` Sorry babe, got ta go, I've got a customer'' Ted's spirits rose. `` You hang up first'' said his soul mate And came crashing back down. `` No you hang up first'' said the CEO `` No you hang up first'' said his soul mate `` No you hang up first'' said the CEO `` Ok'' his soul mate hung up. The CEO looked at his phone and laughed. `` What a kidder'' he said, then to Ted `` What can I do for you'' `` Hi, I got my manual for living a long and happy life'' The FaceTime ring tone emanated from the phone. `` No you hang up first'' said his soul mate `` No you…'' Ted leaned across the table, ended the call and held out the open book. `` It just says give'er'' said Ted `` Hm'' said the CEO, taking the book and leafing through page after page that had give'er written in big, bold letters in the middle `` This one does n't just say give'er'' Ted took the book back and read the page. He let the his arms drop to his waist. `` Yeah'' said Ted, turning the book to the CEO `` because instead it says'just give'er'' `` Well have you tried it?'' `` What?'' `` Giving'er'' `` No because I do n't know what that means'' `` Well it means to…you know…give'er'' `` Give her what?'' `` No no no give'er…like give'er'' `` You've just made it less clear'' `` Well you know how you have n't been giving'er? Well now start giving'er'' `` Stop fucking talking and give me another book'' The phone started ringing again. The CEO reached for it but Ted got it first. He flung it across the room where it shattered against the wall. The CEO looked at the broken phone, then back to Ted. He pulled open a drawer and took out another phone, which he put on his desk. The CEO stared at it for a second, adjusted it a centimetre to the left then looked at Ted. `` I'm afraid we ca n't'' `` Why?'' `` Every book is personalized. If we gave you a book someone would go without one'' `` I'm going without one'' The CEO furrowed his brow `` You have one though'' `` A fucking useless one'' `` I think it's solid advice'' `` You think give'er is solid advice?'' `` Yeah. Look at me, I'm 21 I'm a CEO, I've met my soul mate…'' On cue the phone started ringing. Ted picked it up and tossed it over his head. It landed in the water pitcher by the door. `` And if I could sum up what I did down to one word'' The CEO looked down nonchalantly, opened the drawer, took out another phone, put it on the desk and looked up at Ted `` That word would be give'er'' `` That's two words'' `` Is it?'' `` Yes'' `` Is it'' `` What the fuck is wrong with you people'' `` Nothing, because we followed our manuals, just like you should'' `` But it just says give'er'' `` Now you've got it'' The phone buzzed. The CEO picked it up and held it to his ear. `` Uh-huh?'' he turned the phone slightly, angling it away from his ear towards Ted so he could clearly see that the caller ID had identified the caller as'bae' `` Work stuff, I have to take it'' Ted turned around, his book dangling from his finger tips, and walked out of the office, numb to everything. `` No you hang up first'' said the CEO Ted walked into the reception area. `` No I love you more'' said the receptionist. Ted walked by her desk. `` Thank you for coming, No I love you more'' Ted left the building and walked into the alley where a hobo was standing over a trash can fire. `` Hello'' said the hobo `` How are you homeless?'' `` I have no house'' `` No I mean, did n't you get a manual?'' `` Sure did. Best advice I ever got'' `` Really?'' `` I could n't imagine being happier'' Ted looked at him funny. A female hobo stuck her head out from their semi-detached cardboard and newspaper bungalow. `` There she is'' said the hobo `` There he is'' said the female hobo `` There she is'' said the hobo The hobo walked into the semi detached and started having loud sex with his hobo wife. Ted at the garbage can fire, holding his book, the sounds of hobo love making drowned out by the buzzing in his head. The book teetered on the edge of his fingers and just before it fell he pulled it back. Ted sighed, looked over his shoulder at the rocking cardboard box and then went off to figure out how to give'er.