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writingprompts

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[ WP ] One day the world wakes up to everyone having a number visible over their head . Your number is 1 .

It was a dull tuesday morning when I woke up to the sounds of my phone going off non-stop. Aaron was frantically screaming nonsense at me. `` THERE IS A NUMBER... Errr... SOMETHING IS ON ME JOSH!'' I mumbled and turned on my side to go back to my dreams, but that is when I saw it. There in the mirror, it was right on top of me. A shiny green **1**. I thought I was seeing things, I **had** to still be dreaming! I reached up and tried to touch it, but nothing was there to feel. My shaking hand pierced through the number and it stayed exactly where it was. I showered to clear my head and let the brisk water wash away the thoughts of this mysterious symbol above my dome. What did it mean anyways? Then it happened. A loud crack and mumble that seemed to fill the air. The water stopped. All I could do is stand there, naked and sopping wet. I just wished it would all go away! Why me? And what about Aaron too? I sprinted through my apartment to reach my phone. I dialed as fast as I could, but the lines were dead now. What was happening!? I have to go find him. Everything outside is hectic! Everybody is running around with no idea what to do. *8,724 500 153,475 28* I tried to see the pattern but there was nothing. I hopped on my bike to find Aaron, but not before seeing it. **The red number**. I tried to clear it from my head but it was all I could think about. **Number 1,356,752**. I only got a glimpse, but the second I saw him, I knew something was off. I got to Aaron's, and to my excitement, he was completely alright. **Number 64,814**. He would n't stop staring at my **1**, but he knew nothing more than I did. A helicopter flew by with loud speakers screaming to `` GET TO THE STADIUM: AVOID THE RED AT ALL COSTS.'' *Avoid the red* It buzzed through my head a million times. We packed up some clothes and headed to the stadium with no idea what to do. 29 days passed by as the green numbers got lower. I was in charge, I was number 1. The red seemed to tear a person apart, that is, if you count them as a person anymore. Every second, **1,000** people went red. It was sad watching those who had numbers in the millions go, counting down to those of us on the low end. By my calculations, I had about 81 days from the day I was chosen, until I went red. Aaron was still with me, but his time was on its way. The clock was ticking. 7 days remain. We are thinking about zoning people off, but I just ca n't leave him. Our day is coming and my best friend is only going to change a minute before me. Our quarantine zone is falling to pieces with the reds pounding the walls to get in. The top 10 have been meeting to eradicate the problem, but these are our friends! 3 and 8 were in a heated debate about whether to start killing them off or not. `` WHO CARES 8! They are red and they are staying that way! You remember the zoning mishap for the 39,506,000's do n't you?'' `` How could anyone forget, they had n't turned yet bu-'' `` THE REDS TORE THEM TO SHREDS! These are savages out there.'' `` We do n't know if there is an end to this or no-'' `` There is an end.'' I interjected. The entire room silenced. `` We ARE the end. We all have known this since the day we saw the countdown.'' It was then when 2 stepped in. Her voice filled the room sounding like an angel, speaking the words of the devil. `` We are dying. The walls are crumbling. What is left for us to do? What happens when we kill them off?'' 6 could barely sit still he was shaking so much. I looked around the room, 9 unfamiliar faces who had become my family. I cared about them, but how much longer could that last. `` Our friends are out there. Our families too! Who cares if we live another 7 days. We have to put them to rest. That is the risk that I am willing to take, but if you are n't, sit pretty under your little number. It is time to take our Earth back, no matter the cost.'' Everything froze. 10 was the only one moving. He gave me a little slow clap and a *bravo*. He began to circle the table in his luxurious pinstripe suit, but everybody else was stuck in place. He reached 9 and with a little flick, turned her number **red**. `` You could n't have possibly thought you were the real *number 1* could you?'' I tried to utter out a cry, but I was paralyzed. Who is he? He went down the line and stopped at each person. `` 8, what a waste of power!'' **RED** `` 7, he barely speaks'' **RED** `` 6, well I actually quite liked him, but nevertheless'' **RED** `` 5 may be beautiful, but her brain is definitely not helping anybody out here'' **RED** I was furious, straining to move, but nothing. `` Do n't struggle honey, It wo n't get you anywhere.'' He kept his charade up. `` 4, She and I were actually seeing eachother... hmph, oh well!'' **RED** That is when he stopped at 3. He popped his hands on 3's shoulders and sighed. `` 3 is the ONLY one who was willing to do anything savage, get his hands dirty. Sure you gave a good speech, but what were you really going to do? Gather an army and sneak off with 2 right before the fight? Exactly.'' **RED** He walked by 2 and without even a mention, smacked her number to join the rest of the crimson room. He sat right in front of me and just let me simmer in the murder of my friends. `` Now I know what you are wondering, just who am I? Well they call me *Red* as it may be. You are not the first planet I have done this too and you will not be the last. The best part about all of this? Watching you be ripped limb-from-limb by your friends and your girlfriend. Oh but I almost forgot!'' He snapped his grimy fingers and the door popped open to a dark hallway. He released us all from our sitting prison. The last thing I saw was a piercing red 64,814 beaming through the hallway.

[ WP ] Everyone has the last words of their soulmate written on their body . Yours says `` I never loved you. ``

It always puzzled me, to say the least, and made me extremely nervous. As such I never committed into relationships, probably by great of having my feelings not reciprocated. My longest relationship was with a man I loved deeply, Indy. He was the complete opposite of me: extraverted, charming, outgoing. He was friend with everyone, but still reliable and generous. We stayed together for a couple of years, and, I do n't know why, but it really seemed like he had feelings for me. But like I did in other relationships before, I shut him down, rejecting him when I felt my feelings growing to much. In the end he left me, like they all did. I learned later that he was with Kelly, a girl we met a couple of time when we were together. I met other men and women, and it always ended the same way. Fast forward to yesterday. Kelly calls me, saying that Indy was in the hospital, after being hit by a car. His condition was critical, and he has asked for me. And here I am, a bouquet of flowers in hands, nervously looking for room 68. I find it, half opened, and take a deep breath to give myself courage, and here Indy's weak voice. `` Kelly, you're... a wonderful girl but... I... I... I never loved you.'' The words hit me like a punch. I storm in the room, but his eyes are already closed. Forever.

[ WP ] A handful of people have been born with a dumb and useless superpower . The government has made sure to not let two of these people make contact with each other because when these two useless powers combine the world will be at risk . One day two of these people accidently meet

It was n't like I wanted it to happen, hell, it was n't even that I knew it would happen..it just did! Our society has labeled my ilk as `` Defects''; while the majority of our race has evolved into a species with extraordinary powers, the rest of us ( the defects ) just do stupid shit like turn into bread, or have a golden anus. Do n't get me wrong, I'm not judging my comrades here its just that we're not all that special, at least not special enough to require around the clock supervision by our government friends. So why am I writing this and why are you reading this right now? The answer for both is the same, you're wondering why the sky is always dark and food is nearly non-existent! For that, I truly am very sorry and I hope after you've finished reading this that you will forgive me and Charles. It all started in 10th grade, when our powers `` awaken'' for the first time. Yes, just like puberty we not only begin to judge others but ourselves as well. After classmate after classmate was isolated in a glass room and taught how to bring forth their newly found abilities I was left in awe by what I might be able to do! Then my turn came, I stood in the middle with my hand in front of my face to protect my eyes from the heat and brightness of the massive spotlight shined onto my face. I was injected, electrocuted and made to wait for two minutes before the voice overhead instructed me to'concentrate, focus on the beating of your heart. Count the beats and when you feel as though you're going to pass out I want you to exhale''. So I did, I counted the beats and I exhaled like they asked me too....but nothing happened! Nothing shook, nothing moved, I did n't float hell I did n't even turn into toast. Then I heard the screams, through that thick glass I heard the blood curdling screams of my classmates and I knew something bad just happened. When the door opened and I saw the nurse the look of horror on her face filled me with dread. You could tell she shit herself by what I had done and I mean that literally. Her uniform from the waist down was now brown and the stench perforating into my bubble of seclusion let me know she was n't the only one. I took a walk of shame that still haunts me to this day in my dreams. All of my classmates, the principle even the security guards were leaking bodily fluids and trying their best to conceal what had happened to them. So I went about my life avoiding as many people as possible, if I lost my focus for even a moment everyone around me would evacuate their bowls in a painful and torrent way. I tried to think of any use my skill could have and besides being a walking laxative I really could n't come up with any respectful and useful way for me to use my powers. Neither did the government as from 10th grade on I was provided my very own security guard, who happened to be sponsored by Depends. Everything in my life was in seclusion until the day I fell ill and needed to stay at the hospital overnight. The nursing staff and doctors were screened before treating me and their name tags comprised of a post it note stuck onto those stupid tree shaped car fresheners. The last night I was their, the last night most people remember of normalcy actually come to think of it. Well that was the night maintenance was replacing the faucets in the bathrooms with new touch-less ones. Enter Charles, a burly man no more older than I. His real name I soon found out was not really `` Charles'' but since he was an illegal from Canada ( borders were shut down after we evolved remember? ) he changed his name to protect himself and get a fake social security number. Anyways Charles enters the room and startles me, so much so that I lose control of my focus and cause him to shit himself. I attempt to apologize but am shocked to see him stripping off his clothes as they themselves go up in flames! He confides that his ability is, in his words `` I dun turn shit to napalm''. Now at first we thought it was kind of funny, he ca n't go into public restrooms while others are using them for fear of starting someones asshole on fire. I ca n't be around people without worrying I'm going to make them shit themselves. Together we're just, bad karma I guess. Everything seemed to be going ok, both of us had our abilities ( if you want to call them that ) under control. That is until we heard the fire alarms going off. For whatever reason, our powers were magnified and constantly active as soon as we both triggered them in each others presence! It did n't take long for the screaming to start and by the time we made our way outside we saw the ring of fire spreading rapidly. We both stood and watched as the surrounding buildings started alarming, windows blowing open as flames shot out. It spread faster and faster until the entire night sky glowed amber and the stench of shit and burned flesh filled our nostrils. The city was in chaos in just an hour, news reporters on TV suddenly burst into flames as they tried to asses what was happening around the country. The last transmission we received was via Telemundo around midnight before a European soccer match ended with the players no longer chasing a ball, but running off the field with flames shooting from their asses. We burned the world down! It seemed like it was going to go on for ever, those who were safe while swimming or bathing at that moment would n't be safe for long if we let it continue. I seek your forgiveness for what we have done and hope the world wo n't judge me to harshly for the decision i had to make concerning Charles. Of all the people I accidentally killed during that time, it's the one I intentionally did that hurts me the most.

[ TT ] You and your crew have been sent to start colonizing the moon . When you visit the far side you find signs that this isn ’ t the first time humans have tried to colonize it , and it looks like things ended badly for them .

Captain Rick slammed on the brakes of his moon rover, and skidded to a stop for the next 10 seconds. Once the rover stopped completely he stood up and headed over to the object glinting a few meters away from him. As he got closer the brightness became more and more unbearable, until he managed to cover the object with his shadow. He blanched at the sight, murmuring a soft `` What in the actual fuck...'' before hurriedly reaching for his radio button. Finally, after a few seconds of struggling with his suit, he called the colony, and said the words he never in his life thought he would utter. . `` Uhm, HQ, this is captain Rick, I... Uhm.. found a viking sword... over?''

[ WP ] The System has appointed you as the newest Regulator , one of the elite . Except you have no idea exactly what you are supposed to be 'regulating ' , and it slowly becomes apparent that neither do any of your co-workers .

I questioned my choice on that first day, and on several subsequent days. By the time summer came around, I was enjoying it of course. But then autumn came again, and fat clouds brought more questions. I always walked my section of the Thames, never any other, not even on my own time. The filthy serpent that snakes through London had never interested me, and still does n't. I passed through Rotherhithe Docks and paused, the rain falling around me in sheets, splashing off a nearby awning with a roar. I recall this now, because it was the last good day. Every day since has been horrific due to my own curiosity. The other Regulators had said not to ask questions when I transferred over from the Environmental Department. As far as cushy government jobs went, this was the best. So secretive, you ca n't even tell yourself what you do. Just stand out in the rain with your clipboard every time the heavens open, and record all'strangeness' you see in the waters. Post the form in the box and go home. Some days, like this day, the wind was not strong enough to move the mist from the murky surface, and it made it difficult for me to see the eddies. Never get too close, they said. I stared at a dark twist in the current and hunched deeper into my raincoat. I checked boxes on my waterproof sheet. I saw Ben Thompson slowly go mad. That was when I had first begged my superiors for the answers. They laughed as if we were sharing a joke but then threatened my job, and I have a family. So then I asked some of the other Regulators, even though I knew we were not supposed to fraternise outside of work. Blank faces and sullen looks. These folks knew their ebb from their flow, but never more than that. Just like me. I threw my legs over the barrier and landed knee deep in brown slime. My hood slipped and my hair immediately plastered to my face in the deluge.'Never get too close, they said', I murmured as I waded to the water's edge, past sunken shopping carts and drowned sea birds. Never get too close. Never ask questions. Two rules, both broken. I learned that when you see it for the first time, you will always see it. The clamour beneath the chaotic surface. Dark shades of fingers and translucent twists of limbs. The long dead fighting for a return to civilisation. The rain brings them up like worms, out of their watery graves. Gasping for air but never quite reaching it. Since that day, I see them. And the London rain stinks.

[ WP ] You are the only person in the world who can not spontaneously break into song ( like Disney ) .

**This was a great prompt, but I kind of took it in a different direction** It started with one long slow note, Was apprehensive at the start, With confidence the note grew bolder, Adding harmonies to its heart, As song took shape more voices joined, ‘ Till the village was filled with song, And I alone ignored its pleading, I had no voice to sing along, I looked down on the songs and dancing, My lip curled with righteous scorn, “ What childishness this frivolous drear, Too carefree for one wellborn, ” As hours passed the song had changed, For with each precious moment, A fresh new song had been arranged, Thus began my painful torment, For I alone could hear no song, Nor the cadence in the dance, Nor the words with which the village crooned, To lovers locked in their romance, A different song for love or weeping, For ending conflicts long hard-fought, Though animals with growls and peeping, Could hear the Song, I alone could not, I begged my ears to hear the sound, My voice to produce a single note, Yet heard no Song and no note found, The lines I was unable to quote, Desperate now with tears and pleading, Arms stretched skyward, knees shorn and bleeding, “ From whence came these tragic proceedings, That I alone, of upright breeding, Should falter at the call? ” And yet no answer to my anguished cry, I bid a deaf singing town good-bye, The tallest mountain to catch my eye, I climbed ‘ till I was weak with panting, “ What life is this? ” My mind obsessed, “ That I alone should be music-less, The dancing feats others posses, Should stop short when it reaches me? ” Though two days passed, uncomprehended, My food ran out, my journey ended, I slowly stood up, and then descended, To return to the start of my misery, My footsteps slow, my eyes unseeing, For deep within in all my being, I knew that I was alone. The dreaded sound heard over the hill, Every footstep a challenge of will, *But as I drew nearer the sound was, different, * Not playful as it was when I ’ d departed, Nor cheerful, or melodious at all, Instead the song was full of anguish, It sounded nothing like what I recalled, I ran until my heart was bursting, The sight of my town set me to cursing, My friends in rags yet still rehearsing, Spurred on by some devilish call, Though exhausted the people noticed, When I ran in through the main gate, Their eyes looked up, expressions hopeful, That I would save them from this fate, For in my absence they had learned, That not a one occurrence could pass, Without a jig, or dancing circle, Without a chorus to sing en masse, All this they sang beseechingly “ And so it is, ” They sang to me, “ One such as you could say and be, Instead of us, then we ’ d be free ” Hopelessly I watched them wander, Their choreographed dances and trills, And one by one they joined the yonder, Till I was alone on the hill, My bitterness had reached crescendo, As I watched the last one drift away, Why should they be graced easy passing, While I alone was forced to stay?

[ WP ] A zombie outbreak has just began and they 're all over your town , write me a story starting from wherever you currently are .

There was always so much talk. Big words for big hypotheticals, bravado and overconfidence in the face of imaginary monsters. But what good is talk in the face of the first screams? Amazing how quickly those tuff words soon too become screams. It started with the sirens. Crowds slowly gathered outside of their homes to watch the local police force empty the town without warning. `` Protect and serve.'' All talk. The sheep dogs attempted to rouse a militia, thinking the revolution was nigh. The cowards hid in their cellars.. the lucky bastards got to leave early. Others stood idol, either in defense of their homes and lives, or simply waiting for a reason. Most called their kin, hoping their last thoughts were love. No one expected the reason. From afar it could have been a wayward traveler on his way to the hills, until others gathered behind. Oh but the weaponry was too small, knives, clubs, tools of labor, could hardly defend against the hoards. Even the re-slain posed a threat, festering pestilence into the air and sickening those nearby. Soon the roads were useless, choked with traffic and the pained screams of panic and failure. The strong turned their hearts to hardness, raiding the weak for their supplies. Safe havens activated their defenses against the double threat of attack, and fear. There was no need to leave anyway, there would be no escape from the threat. Within one day, the roads were quiet. Those who did n't die remained hidden, or silent behind their arms. The main sources of supplies were all occupied or raided. There was no din of raid, nor chaos of fire. Whatever remained of humanity had finally lost its superficiality, and worked only to protect it from the threat. For the only means of stopping war, is with greater warfare. And all mankind becomes united against inhumanity. For now, sin takes on life, manifested in the resurrected bodies of the slain. For all man are kin, where death is succession. None were left now to talk, the liars and screamers are on the other side.

[ WP ] You are becoming frustrated that nobody is responding to your writing prompts

I checked my phone for the third time. No responses. I'd tried it all: prompts about the devil, prompts about Hitler. Nothing. A thought poked like a meerkat out of my subconscious. `` No,'' I said aloud. `` That's crazy. Unless...'' I walked to the coffee shop, trying to make eye contact with someone. Nothing. When I arrived, I opened the door and strode to the counter. The girl at the counter did n't notice. `` Hello?'' Nothing. `` She ca n't see you,'' said a gravelly voice. I turned. The voice belonged to a man who wore a tailored suit and looked like Tom Waits. `` Oh God. It's you.'' `` Funny,'' he chuckled. `` Now you're the devil, but only people who believe in you can see or hear you. What are you going to do?'' `` I wonder if Reddit has any good ideas about this.''

[ PM ] Give me ten prompts . I 'll turn them all into one story .

And now for the Feature Presentation Part I: How it all Started “ I guess you can say, well it happened a long, long time ago. ” “ Shut up old man, can ’ t you see I ’ m trying to read the damn Journal? ” That idiot lawyer, at least I think he ’ s a lawyer, rides this part of the line, between Pennsylvania Avenue and Wall Street every day. At least I think he gets on at Pennsylvania. I can ’ t be sure; I don ’ t wake until Franklin. “ Every damn day, you try to tell me that blasted old story. The year is 2017; get in the habit of living in it, bum. ” He says something like that every day. All I try to do is say hello, and the rat goes off on me. I ’ ve tried to tell my story; no one believes me. That story is what landed me here, on this blasted old underground rail system. They think I ’ m crazy; they never saw my partners. Of course, I ought to describe myself a bit. The rat race may think I ’ m crazy by talking to myself, but screw them. They put me here. Anyways, it ’ s been a while since I ’ ve actually looked in a mirror. Years since I ’ ve gone through the trouble of comprehending what was there. I figure I look a bit like the idiot in that ‘ Aqualung ’ song. Damn limeys, can ’ t keep an empire, but sure can write a great song. Of course, I am just assuming this. Hell, I could still be handsome and buff like in my youth; but that, my friend, would be crazy. As usual I sit on the bench in the rail car with my hands in my face. Nobody needs to look at me; they had they ’ re damn chance. But today, something odd happened. A young girl, probably just into high school, came up to me. “ Excuse me sir, but is the seat next to you taken? ” “ Screw off, girl. I don ’ t need you here. ” She turned her nose up, and I expect a few tears dripped from her eye. It ’ s still better than landing the night in jail; been there, done that. I got off at the next station, and proceeded to a bench, off in the corner of the terminal. I tend to keep to myself, if at all possible. I sat down, and put my face in my hands once more, robotically, it seemed. It ’ s just what I ’ m accustomed to. I must have dozed off, seeing as when I woke up, that damn girl was sitting next to me. “ Sir, what in the hell is your problem? ” I looked her square in the eye and said, “ In my day, women didn ’ t swear. ” “ Well your day is past, old man. You get snarky with me, I ’ ll be the same with you. ” “ I ’ m an educated man, lady. I went to school for eight years. Be more respectable. ” “ Why should I when you won ’ t be to me. ” Of course, of course. Kids these days. Damn feminist movement, taking the spotlight away from *my* movement. Women running the nation? *I should be ruling the world! * “ Alright, little girl. What do you want? I hope not money, I certainly don ’ t have that. ” “ I want to hear your story. ” “ You little belligerent, you can ’ t handle my story. ” “ Sir, you used the word ‘ belligerent ’ wrong. ” “ Depends on your perspective, ” “ Seriously, you may not have noticed me, but I ’ ve been ‘ progressively researching ’ you for awhile. I know your name, for a matter of fact. It ’ s Roger Carson. ” Little wench knows her shit. I suppose I could tell her my story… “ I ’ m sorry, I ’ m all told out. ” “ Carson, I know you have never told your side of the story. ” “ Why sure I have! I tell myself it every day! ” “ Look Carson, the police reports are vague. I may be young, but I can already tell that the reports were spot on about you being impotent. ” I feel enraged from that accusation. But she ’ s right. “ Alright missy, you want my story, eh?! You ’ ll get my story!'' ***

[ WP ] `` I never really was welcome here ... was I ? ''

`` I never really was welcome here... was I?'' `` Jim, that's not true.'' Lyte said. You just ca n't stay here anymore. I wish things did n't go down like this.'' Jim shook his head. `` You did n't want me here. I could feel it.'' Lyte looked at Jim, with an impassioned face, and held traces of concern. `` Feel what?'' Jim laughed, an outburst that seemed to shake the small cabin. `` Feel the animosity. `` Lyte sighed. `` that was n't animosity. That was not an emotion borne of anything other than fear. You ca n't stay here, I wish you could, but you ca n't. You damn well know why.'' footsteps approached the cabin fit snugly for one person. The door shuttered, and twinged, the bolts connected to the wood, and Ann stepped forward. Before even reading their faces she bemoaned in a breathe held out of running, dropped four pieces of wood, and cussed out, `` Their coming. The rats... they were heading north... that means, well, you know who follows them.'' Jim dropped the clay cupping of his soup bowl. Lyte ran to the door, and Ann screamed this time, `` Their coming!''

[ WP ] They laughed at me when I said my superpower was hydrokinesis . Said that the ability to control water was useless . They forgot that the human body is 60 % water .

`` Water?'' he asks, a slight nervous chuckle escaping his lips, `` You can control water?'' I smile, he thinks he's saved. `` You ca n't hurt people with water. What are you going to do? Splash us to death?'' He thinks that because I do n't have a weapon, because my great power is hydrokinesis, that they're safe. But they are n't safe, these are the kinds of people who spent years, decades mocking me because I could n't manipulate earth or fire, I could n't lift buildings or call down thunderstorms. Just water, good ol' H2O, what could anyone do with water? Not everyone is born with superpowers but out of those of us who are, I was born with the useless one. I could n't be a superhero with water. They broke me down, they cast me away like trash because, at the end of the day, I'm too different to live a normal life and too weak to be a hero. But now who's laughing? Water is patient, in weathers away at mountains and creates vast canyons, it breaks down human achievement and one wave can bring entire countries to their knees. Most of all, water is life. 70 % of the Earth is water and 60 % of the human body is water. I can control 60 % of every single human on this planet and I can make them scream. It started off small, rodents and household pets that I could torture and break. So small and defenceless that they never had a chance to fight back, at the end of the day that is all these people are, rodents that walk on two legs. I can still hear them laughing, all of them, even now as they sit here before me, they're laughing at me. I can see it in their eyes, they do n't fear me, they think I'm weak, they think they're safe. They think that once they're in school, hidden behind their walls and cowering behind their teachers, that they're safe from me. But this was the perfect place to begin, I will make the world understand who I am from here. I will climb over their broken corpses, their mutilated remains and I will watch their world burn. He's still talking, laughing and mocking behind his eyes. Or is he. Did he even open his mouth in the first place? Wait... who IS talking? Am.. I....? No. They're still laughing at me, everywhere, all the time, all around me, echoing through the hallways and classrooms. It is time they learnt who I really am. I raise a shaking hand towards one of the teachers while staring out into the crowd to see that maniacal laughing turn to dread. The first thing I see of it is the puddle that begins to form at his feet and spread out across the floorboards, the wave of people trying to get away from the horror unfolding before them. Finally, I look towards him and gaze upon my handiwork, water is dripping out of every orifice and hole in his body. Small waterfalls falling out from his eye sockets, mouth and nose and cascading down to the floor. His screams begin to echo out from the back of his throat and through the chamber as his skin dries up and his body starts to shut down. Eventually, his body falls to the ground and he lifelessly lies there in the pool of water, urine and blood that has formed on the floor. They stare at him silently for a second before all hell breaks loose, students and teachers sprinting everywhere in a desperate attempt to escape, some trying to push past me and many going down like their professor. Another few suffer the instant dehydration, I drown others, one or two explode in blood as I punch through their skin with the water. I stare at the corpses, spread out all around me, their blood and water creating a small lake throughout the hall. For just a minute, I hang around and just enjoy the carnage I created, sirens ringing in the distance as the police rush to try and stop me. They'll learn soon enough that they ca n't stop me, they're going to need much more than guns to stop me now. This is a world filled with heroes from New York to Japan and everywhere in between, it turns out that I'm the villain. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Note from the Author: I'll admit that I do n't think this one turned out very well for me but I'll post it anyway, see what people think.

[ FF ] Beginning at the end .

The boulder tumbled mercilessly down the steep slope, and after he lost sight of it he heard it, crashing against the ledge at the bottom of the mountain. He dropped to his knees, too exhausted to put the scream that was in his heart out into the world. Every part of his body ached. His broad muscles were impressive, but were not built for the task at hand. No human was built for such a task. And although the wretched man had always known that, it had never stopped him from trying it again. The only way out of this hell was to play the game; the boulder at the top of this mountain became his light at the end of the tunnel. He started his way down the hill, his calloused feet carrying him down the rough terrain. He could barely remember the life that existed before this one. Was he a king? Was he a slave? All images of the past were replaced by ones of the mountain. The gods had forsaken him to this pointless task, erasing every part of him that existed before and replacing it with this image, this blood metronome. Every roll of the rock was another strike of a massive clock that counted down the minutes to nothing, and served only as a tool that others could look towards as example. After hours of excruciating labor, Sysiphus moved the rock to the top of the mountain. The boulder tumbled mercilessly down the steep slope, and after he lost sight of it he heard it, crashing against the ledge at the bottom of the mountain.

[ WP ] Your whole modern life is a lucid dream . Now you wake up into real life , the Middle Ages .

I was a teacher of electronics in my dream, but that is too far away from where I woke up. I would n't be able to dumb it down enough if I tried. When I woke, it turns out I am actually only 7 years old, celebrating my birthday one Christmas morning, even though my dream seemed as if I was in my mid 30's. I was pretty good at most disciplines in Science and Math, even gifted really, but a genius I am not. My memories from the dream have faded just a bit, but not all of them. I remember the simple equations. I was good enough at math to even prove them if I new them, but I would have never figured them out on my own. One day it will be just a legend. An example given in the text books, but when the apple hit me on the head, it reminded me of the gravity formula from my dreams. And then it all flooded back. I lock myself in my house for 18 months and write everything I can remember from my dream about infinities and forces and optics. If I have seen further than other men, it is because I have stood on my own shoulders after I learned from the shoulders of giants. While I spend my life in math and science, I have no desire for love, because I left my wife of 15 years back in my dream. She was the only thing that made me happy in my dream, and I have seen nothing here to make me smile. I spend my free time trying to remember the chemistry I knew to see if I can make my brain dream again. People here call it alchemy and I have to be careful not to get caught knowing too much. I remembered that in my dream I liked codes, so I taught myself numerology and hid it throughout my works. I hope to pass a code to my future self. I do n't know whether or not I am mad, but I do know that I will never learn how he met their mother......

[ 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 .

``....Now to just fix that semicolon, carry the one, add in the null set... and... Eureka! I've done it! I've proven God's existence!'' *A shadowy figure, who had been lurking in the corner for the last five minutes, clapped slowly for about 7.6 seconds, give or take. * `` Hello John. I hear that you've discovered proof of the existence of God,'' said the shadowy figure. `` Indeed I have! This is a momentous occasion!'' John exclaimed. He had been working on this proof for years. `` I'm going to have to ask you to destroy it.'' `` Like hell I will.'' `` Indeed. Satan discovered proof of my existence too, and look what that got him.'' The shadowy figure stepped into the light. Gaudily bright white clothes sparkled in the dimly lit room. This guy had the figure of a septuagenarian marathon runner and a beard to rival the first Albus Dumbledore. `` Cosplaying as God, I take it?'' `` You've discovered proof of my existence, I mysteriously popped out of a corner, and you've told nobody about this yet. For a genius, you're a fool.'' `` While I have proven God's existence, you are not him.'' `` I can make the whole planet rain for 40 days if you like.'' `` I bet you can.'' `` I'm not kidding.'' `` I do n't doubt it.'' `` I have unbelievable powers.'' `` I do n't doubt it.'' `` Your password is hunter42.'' That took John by surprise, as he did n't know that you could pronounce asterisks that way. Surely this being was powerful and knowledgeable. `` I know. Look'God,' you may be more powerful than me. You may be more factually retentive than I am. But the fact of the matter is that not only did I discover proof of God's existence, but I discovered against your wishes.'' `` Fine. The jig is up. I'm neither all-powerful nor all-knowing. But you're giving me that proof.'' `` No.'' `` No?!'' `` I've proven an omniscient, omnipotent God. You may be a powerful alien, but you are n't God.'' John thought for just a second more. `` Besides, If you were able to stop me, you would n't be asking.'' The glimmering figure, seeing that all hope in the conversation was lost, materialized a green portal and walked away. `` You make a good point, John. Goodbye then.'' __________________ John was now emboldened by his discovery. He spread his new religion to the far corners of the earth. Deism, once just a religion for the politically elite, quickly overcame the scientific community. But then the common people revolted. Unmoved by math and reason, the world quickly fell to mass hysteria. _______________________ Miles above, the figure conspired with his sons. All had gone according to plan. `` Mohammed, you'll conquer the land. Jesus, you'll take the water. Noodles, you have the sky.'' `` Prepare the invading forces.''

[ WP ] `` We 've still got time . Not enough , but enough . ''

In no way was he broadsided by the words that left her lips. He looks through the floor, to the depths of his soul. He finds only pieces and dust. His gazed is locked, he notices she is still talking, watching him look at the floor. The ringing in his ears start tapering off, she has already stood up and grabbed her purse. She is talking, watching the man that dares not make a move. His face wet with tears, his hearing snaps back, just as she leans in to kiss him one last time. `` We've still got time. Not enough, but enough.'' She turns, and as he hears the *click* of the door, the man breaks.

[ WP ] You appear in a small dark room . In the middle of it there is a table , a computer terminal on it and an uncomfortable looking stool . The screen blinks . nº 47525961285641377 `` I wish I could be less fat . '' Allow ? [ y/N ] | This is your life now .

It was a long day. I wish I had a million dollars. Denied. I wish Daddy would come back home safe. Granted. I wish Tim would fucking die. Who is this Tim? This stupid machine never gives me any context. Tim could be the next Hitler for all I know. But I'm not into killing people. Denied. I wish I could pay this month's rent. Granted. I wish Mommy was still alive. It pains me to see these wishes. As much as I want to help, I do n't want to play God. Am I God? Denied. I wish she would love me. Denied. I wish I did n't need to live anymore. Denied. I miss you.

[ FF ] Write a poem entitled `` A secret worth telling '' using no more than 20 sentences .

Trapped in a moment twixt coffee and tea Caught in a moment, between you and me Imagine I'll stand; That I'll own what I say. Do n't leave it lying unspoken to fester Do n't wrap around in an intricate knot, Shake off the lethargy, Forsake bright fear, And claim my sin wholeheartedly. . No longer to live in half-realized moments trapped like still dust motes, caught in warm amber the comfort of every day turning to see the same tired spaces between you and me . But listen; imagine this: . Step past the silences Bare my throat freely Stab at hope with the words from my lips A prize worth the risking A thought that's worth speaking A secret worth telling, no matter the price. . And if when there's nothing more to say You grab your heart and walk away if after all of that, I am left standing alone at the top of the stairs a pompous presumer, caught unawares then at least I can know that you speak truly when you say that I am brave. . Note: Ca n't figure out how to get actual blank lines, so I just put a period on them to try to make it work? Although my lack of formatting knowledge is pissing me off.

[ WP ] You chanced upon the meaning of life as a showerthought ; it is as god 's decree that you are now to take his place .

`` Do n't mind me,'' said GOD as HE sat down on the toilet. HE reached into the magazine pile on the side and grabbed an US Weekly. `` I'll still be here when you're done.'' Loretta screamed. She grabbed the shower curtain and tore it from its hooks, wrapping it around her body. The shower continued to run and the water bounced off the pale yellow curtain and onto the white tile floor. Steam spread throughout the room. `` WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?'' Loretta stepped out of the shower and onto the wet floor. `` Alpha, Omega, I am he who is called I am, you know the dri-'' GOD stopped as HE saw Loretta slip, she fell onto the edge of the shower tub and her neck bent unnaturally. HE sighed, pointed at her, and she rose up as if pulled by strings. With a snap of HIS finger, her neck returned to its proper position. `` Loretta Jones, 32 years old, assistant finance manager at Brunk & Spurlock, has never lived farther than 25 miles from her hometown of Sacramento, California, dreams of one day meeting Peter Falk, I am your creator.'' She brought her hands to her mouth as her feet returned to the tile floor, the water giving a quiet splash. `` Tell me, Loretta, what were you just thinking about?'' `` Umm, nothing. Nothing at all.'' HE smiled. `` How often do you think about nothing?'' `` Pretty often, I guess.'' `` Loretta, what would you do if I told you that you think about nothing more than anyone I've ever met before?'' `` I guess I'd be inclined to believe you, sir.'' HE laughed. `` I'm going on vacation, going to spend a few weeks as a capybara. I need someone to take over, someone who truly understands how the universe works. Ca n't let Jesus do it, he'd cure diseases and - trust me - they serve some purpose. Momo would give everyone raisins, and Sidd would end suffering. I need someone like you, after all omnipotence means anything you think of instantly comes true.'' `` What are you asking me?'' `` If I needed you to think of nothing until I returned, would you do that favor for me?'' Loretta's quivering hand fell from her mouth and swung up to her forehead, a soggy post-shower salute. `` Good!'' HE said and in an instant HE was no longer, and where HE disappeared the steam swirled. Loretta grabbed her hot pink towel and waddled to the living room. Her husband was cooking in the kitchen, the loud vent fan was running on high. `` Were you singing in there? I could hear you halfway across the house.'' `` I met God himself, he gave me infinite power and knowledge for an indiscriminate amount of time.'' `` Oh. Do you want one scoop of bolognese sauce or two?'' She sat down on one of the wicker chairs in the living room. The clock said 7:25, Bones would be on soon.

[ WP ] On her deathbed , your ill mother finally allows you to own the recipe to her famous cookies . It reads : `` 2 cups flour , 1/4 teaspoon salt , and a human heart . ''

Fond memories came to me in dream-like visions as I held my mother's hand. The steady rhythm of the machines that were struggling to keep her alive faded away. In its place, I heard my scampering footsteps through the kitchen and smelled the sweet, salty aroma of freshly baked cookies. My mother, much younger, stood in front of a piping hot oven in her cooking garb. Carefully she carried the cookies to a waiting tray to cool before quickly swatting my hand as I moved to steal a molten morsel. The scene skipped ahead to us sharing a cookie at the table, it was beginning to cool as was my mother's hand. “ Hey, ” I said, gently shaking my mother's shoulder as the vision broke. “ Hey, would you tell me how you used to make those cookies? ” “ What? ” she asked weakly. “ Of all things, why now? ” “ Because that's how I remember you best, ” I replied with tears in my eyes. “ Hmm, ” she said, turning her head away from me. She continued thinking for a time as coughs rattled her thin frame. “ No. I think it's best that we let it die with me, son. ” “ But-why?! ” I replied, shaking my head fiercely in disagreement. I was surprised by just how much this meant to me. “ Everyone loved your cookies! I loved making them with you and sharing them with you, do n't you remember- ” “ Now, you know I do, ” she interrupted with a reassuring pat on the back of my hand. “ Please, mom ” I pleaded. “ It's all I want. Share with me one last time. ” “ Alright, but do n't say I did n't warn you, ” she relented as she struggled to turn her body towards me. “ Grab that pad and pen there and get to writing. ” “ Okay, ” I said, hastily scooping the items from her bedside stand as she broke into another fit of coughing. This time it was productive. Her hands were stained red as I watched in horror. “ Mom- ” “ Listen up, I'm only going to get to tell you once before I croak, ” she said in her old tone with a slight smile on her haggard face. “ You'll want 2 cups flour, not that self-rising stuff. The all-purpose kind. A quarter of a teaspoon of salt. Go fine on that one. I know you like your coarse salt. Oh, and keep it table. I never cared for that sea salt. Now, this last ingredient is the most important, have you kept up with me so far? ” “ Yes, ma'am, ” I said as I furiously scribbled her every word. “ Good. You're going to want a human heart, ” she continued. “ Get it as fresh as you can now, those stale hearts make the cookies go south in a hurry. There's just something about the consistency and taste of a good, fresh heart. You ca n't beat'em. ” “ Mm-hmm, okay, ” I said to myself as I wrote down her words without question, without thought. She settled down on her back once again as her breathing slowed. I did n't notice as I read over my notes. Something seemed a little off to me. The noises in the background began to die out as she took her final breath. I saw her chest rise and fall for the final time on the edges of my vision as I reached that last line. “ Hey! Wait! You ca n't go! You did n't tell me how to prepare it! ” Her chest fell still and she said no more. “ No! I'll never know what temperature to bake them on or how long they're supposed to cook, mama! ” I cried as I cradled her in my arms. Our greatest family recipe was forever lost to me. -301

[ WP ] Your parents have another child , as time goes on you discover that your baby sister does not age . Describe life growing up .

Yeah, my childhood was pretty normal. When Adam was born it took some getting used to the fact that I'd be getting less Christmas presents, but I loved my brother from the start. My father was an architect and my mom was a high profile defense attorney. They both worked long hours, but they made time for us whenever they could. Oh yeah, we had a babysitter for a few years there that I slowly figured out never aged. She was perpetually sixteen years old. It was pretty weird, but I got used to it. I had the biggest crush on her. Anyway, in high school I ended up playing varsity badminton. Adam played the tuba. I graduated with decent grades and now here I am in college following in my father's footsteps.

You 're a serial killer who 's been captured by the authorities . They ask you to recount your first kill ... .

I was nine years old for my first. Most people have trouble remembering the events of a week ago and yet that day twenty-three years past is still so fresh in my mind. I can picture it, the skin peeled back, the muscles underneath clenching and unclenching. My parents had gotten me a sewing kit for my birthday, perhaps in the hope of focusing me on something productive. The needles I had kept, and the string. The small scissors I used methodically to slice away flesh. Blood pooled, like a stagnant well. But it smelled of power, and it fascinated me. I sat for a while, watching my work. Seeing the muscles move, the lungs filling and collapsing like a crippled bird. The beast ’ s eyes rolled in its head, endlessly. And I watched. Its death was of no great interest to me. The morbid fascination that I had felt as it shuddered in its death throes left at the same instant that the light in its eyes did. When it was over I cleaned my tools, even then I had been tidy, systematic. The body I hid, deep in the woods. I visited it often, reminiscing, remembering. The surge of power I felt faded each day, and I wanted more. My dog had been my first. And as you know officer, it was not my last.

[ WP ] You 're practicing CPR on a fake dummy and you do a bit too well . The dummy starts gasping for air .

The Impala's engine throbbed through the streets of Culpepper, Virginia. It was a quaint, sleepy little town in the shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains that had been disturbed by the gruesome murder of a young teenage training to be a lifeguard at the local country club pool. `` Sucked *dry*,'' Sam read from the article, scrunching up his face in disgust at the description. `` And the CPR dummy was nowhere to be found.'' Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel and turned off the engine. `` So, what? Succubus, you think?'' Sam shrugged. `` The body fits, but why would a succubus steal a CPR dummy? And besides, there's nothing to indicate that the kid had sex before he died. The article probably would have mentioned it if he was found nude and handcuffed to a bed or whatever.'' Dean smirked. `` Yeah, that's the way to go...'' Sam rolled his eyes and got out of the car to go check in. -- -- -- `` How'd the FBI get wind of this one?'' the coroner asked as she led the way back to cold storage. Sam and Dean, wearing dapper black suits, tucked their phony IDs back into their breast pockets and followed behind her. `` Is n't this a little outside of your jurisdiction?'' `` It's... uhh...'' Dean was always bad at coming up with this kind of stuff. `` Part of a federal investigation into faulty CPR dummies,'' Sam cut in. `` The FDA is concerned that the training devices might be dangerous and asked us to look into it.'' The coroner did n't seem convinced. `` Well it would have to be pretty damn defective to do *this*.'' She opened the drawer containing the body and slid it out in a puff of frost. Sam flinched at the sight, but Dean leaned in with a fascinated-yet-disgusted grin. It looked like something you might find in an Egyptian tomb, all shriveled and lifeless. `` Official cause of death was asphyxiation,'' the coroner continued to explain as she handed them all of the information in a little manila envelope. `` But somehow his body was drained of fluids afterwards. The kidneys were shrunk down to the size of green beans! I do n't know what kind of defective CPR dummy could do that!'' Sam pulled out a picture of the kid and exchanged a look with Dean. Definitely not a succubus; they tended to go for burly, brawny men. Real specimens of health. This kid was so scrawny that a strong gust of wind might have carried him away. The coroner's phone began to belt out the refrain from a Justin Bieber song. She blushed and scrambled in her pocket to pick it up before it could continue. Sam and Dean hid their smirks and continued studying the file while she answered the call. `` This is Erin.... oh, hey Sheriff. I was just showing the body of Mi....'' The Winchesters could hear the shouting of the Sheriff on the other end, but could n't make out what he was saying. `` Wait, *what*?'' .... `` He *WHAT*?'' ..... `` I'll be right there!'' She hung up the call and turned back to Sam and Dean, who'd of course listened to every word. `` I'm sorry, agents, but I have to go. Sheriff said that somehow one of the local high school kids *impaled himself* on the sword of the Stonewall Jackson statue in town!'' `` *Statue*?'' Dean asked. Certainly no coincidence; he would've bet $ 50 that this victim would be drained and shriveled too. She nodded. `` I can leave you here with the body if you want...'' `` No, we're coming with.'' Sam interrupted. `` I've got a feeling that you might need our help here.'' -- -- The prompt seemed like the perfect opening to a Supernatural episode so I decided to run with it!

[ WP ] Write a review for the latest book by God `` Bible : The newest testament - confusions resolved , mistakes corrected '' .

After the longest lapse in history between books, the newest entry in the best-selling Bible series hits shelves this June. I've had a chance to get an early look at it, and I have to say, most fans are going to find the wait was completely worth it. Just like previous entries such as Leviticus, there's a never-ending slew of bloody intrigue, backstabbing, and battle scenes brought to life in vivid fashion. George R.R. Martin may regret the lengthy interlude in his own Song of Ice and Fire, as this surprise entry is likely to steal back the top spot. We see something of a stylistic return to the Counter-Reformation here. Clearly in tune with the increasing calls for accountability, helping the poor, improved relations between adherents of different religions, and an end to the unceasing revelations of sexual misconduct by religious leaders, the author has advocated for a host of progressive changes. Of course I'm not at liberty to tell you exactly what those are, lest I spoil the surprise. But suffice to say, there's quite a few momentous alterations to church doctrine included in these thousand pages. A couple of huge revelations resolve some confusions and correct some mistakes developed by overeager fans during the author's numerous millennium of seclusion. Such important moments as the Resurrection and Judas' betrayal are linked to modern times in mind-boggling fashion. The translation from Latin, is, as always, divine. Its perfection justifies a purchase for language enthusiasts and polyglots on its own, as no books on the market have translations that so accurately capture the original tone in every last one of the world's languages. If you only read one book this year, make it this one. It's a cultural milestone.

[ WP ] You can move freely through time , but are incapable of moving through space

I can always see her face. Always. The sensation gets easier every time. Have you ever tried to fly in a dream before, but you only end up awkwardly floating, bobbing around like a leaf stuck between oil and water? If you learn how to relax into that sensation, sinking into the ground that calls you, you can find the past. You can caress it, even thought you ca n't touch it. It's pulling yourself out that's hard. Trying to fight against the gravity of your own dream to make it to the present. Knowing that you have to drag yourself through the pain and the misery of what prevents you from ever knowing that sensation again, just to meet the present. And what does the present offer, if just a perspective point of the future? So why not try the opposite, you ask? Press forward against that dominating force that is my mind, and soar beyond the restraints of my current perception? Well *I* ask, what becomes of a mind when it has known the sun, and is relegated to only fireworks? Bold, and pompous, and provocative, perhaps, but flashes that fade none-the-less. How soon would you be bored of the display when all you seek is the constant light that creates the warmth and shade of your day? You, *you* are beholden to the past. You must answer its every concrete truth. You must justify that as the bedrock of your future, every day. Why do you ask me about these powers? Do n't you see? Because I always have the past, I will never leave it. Because I can see the future, I have no need of it. Now leave me be.

[ WP ] You are sentenced to death . After entering the execution room , instead of being executed , you were instead given a new passport and a new identity . Turns out the death sentence had been abolished years ago , and now exists only as a deterrent to violent crime and not actually implemented .

I am a cruel human. I have committed unspeakable acts against all that is pure and if I should die for it, then I accept my fate. For there is no undoing of the things I've done. A door shuts behind me. I'm in a different room now and I've been sat in a chair that is cold to the touch. I shiver alone, sitting there in silence and reflecting on what has brought me to this chair. Man, and woman, live by rules. Rules, whether they be religious, intrinsic, natural, or self-imposed, govern our lives. I lived and still live by some combination of the aforementioned. But, my will is not always strong. We endure external pressures that some can absorb but others can not, like a home absorbing storm after storm, they begin to break down and weather -- -some sooner than others. Our restraint and control is not much different. I do n't know if my control is predisposed to weakness, is there some flaw that is unknown to me and only needed substrate for a reaction? I feel remorse and as my fingers clasp the cold arms of the chair it is not them that reach into my soul and make me shiver again but the guilt I bear. The door opens and closes behind me and the lights flicker on. I can see. The chair is exactly as I envisioned, stainless steel and positioned in the middle of a room that has a table of similar design in front of me with a small drain in floor below it. The room is cold and about twice the size of my cell. There is a door on the far side of the table, an exit to where I do not know. On the table is a sealed brown envelope placed near center and adjacent to it is a silver letter opener with a robust ebony handle fused to the blade. I reach for both. The paper knife slides through the seal with ease and I empty the contents onto the table. A passport with my picture but a different name and a letter. As I read the letter my eyes begin to water yet my shoulders sag, as if my sins were sponges rested upon them absorbing the anguish leaking from me. I stare up at the door. It is an exit to life. To a new beginning where I can mend the damage I've caused. It is a opportunity to see my family. To be a daughter, a sister, and a mother again. I place the letter down on the table beside the glistening blade. Darkness enters my thoughts. The shame begins to swell and my moral compass spins in the hurricane. I wade through to the center of the storm and in that moment of calmness reach for my exit. While departing all I remember hearing is the sound of a drain filling with my guilt.

[ WP ] Every human has their soulmate 's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth .

Did our Words doom us to failure? Or was it just me? Alice had hoped never to meet her soul mate. She met me through some godawful fucking boring work thing, and she caught my eye from across the room. Her Words started tucked up behind her left ear, and plunged into her neckline, tantalizingly low but not enough to finish them. `` I'm much happi --'' We only had to talk for an hour before I knew we were going to make up an excuse to leave together. It was early enough in the evening that we could find a diner or bar. We chose a Denny's nearer to my house than hers. It was the first place we ever told a consequence-free lie together, to our waitress. We both loved lies like those. She would tell clients at work she'd never see again that her father owned a rhubarb farm in New Mexico. I think she fell in love with me the more details I added to her dumb lie. `` Emus are a real pain for a professional rhubarb farmer.'' `` Rhubarb is the best-selling produce in Tesuque.'' `` Cormac McCarthy basically wrote Blood Meridian on dad's farm.'' Consequence free. At Denny's is when she told me she never wanted to meet her soul mate. After Denny's is when I found out why. Her shirt came off and I guess I'm a nerd because even with a pair of breasts in front of me I had to read the words. `` I'm much happier without you.'' I'd known her a night and already the thought was mind-boggling to me. Over the next several months it only became more so. Alice was light, she was funny, she made fun of me because my Words are right in tramp stamp territory. We were an argument against pre-determination. We fell in love and knew each other so well. It was impossible that we could ever say our Words to each other. But there was no doubt we were soul mates. But neither of us had ever met someone who escaped their Words. And that's where the fear came in. What could make me say that to her? Would she cheat on me? Murder my family? Surely if I ever said those words to her, the reason would be monumental. But everything was so perfect. The only monuments could be to how well we'd woven together. But I was afraid, and my fear made her afraid. She never buckled. I started drinking. We still told lies to strangers, I still told them about how my second cousin invented velcro while she stifled laughter which she'd let loose when we were alone. Her laugh was huge and unabashed for such a small girl. But there were other lies too. My lies about how late I was gon na be out, her lies about how happy she still was. The end of us came so many times. It was n't an inevitable whirlpool we were being sucked into. Our heads bobbed under the water so many times but we came back up. But eventually she had to be done with me. I could n't blame her. I was insufferable. The really bad moment, the real end of it all, came months after. I would call her sometimes, drunk, trying not to wake up whoever was in bed beside me. I caught a little timeline of her life after me, the mourning, the new boyfriend, the weird updates to her family's affairs she could n't help but tell me even though I was sloshed. The last phone call *was* inevitable. It was like I'd tied her up on the railroad tracks and was determined to barrel over her. We talked, I was so bitter, I was spitting every word by the end. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to know I was her soul mate and she'd lost everything when she left me. So I said it, sickened by myself. `` I'm much happier without you.'' She was crying, I could tell she was, when she asked, `` Is that how you really want this to go?'' She was trying to trick me into more words, trying to avoid the truth, but I stayed silent. So she said my Words, disappointed and crying but somehow resolute. `` Please just... do n't call me again.'' We were both quiet for a few minutes and when she hung up I laid down with a hole in my stomach. Some lies are n't consequence free.

[ WP ] A story based on something that happened to you , and the character does what you wish you 'd have done .

`` Do you know why the lights twinkle from far away?'' I feel the hum of his body next to mine as he asks. Warm, familiar, safe. `` No?'' `` Air pressure.'' Air pressure. How pragmatic. `` I like it'' I reply softly, continuing to gaze westward toward the glittering lights of traffic meandering by. `` It has to do with hot and cold air coming together `` he places his hand on my hip still standing next to me and looking out. Pondering the science of air temperature and distance. The beauty of looking at lights, third floor, parking garage. Reduced. To air pressure. And I too feel reduced. Like the magic of light. Buried among all his facts I'm still here waiting. For the truth. Because I've shared enough for him to destroy me, and he's talking about - `` Air pressure...'' I turn abruptly to face him. This is it. This back and forth has been going on for 3 months and 2 days ( not that I'm counting ) and I ca n't stand not knowing who we are right now. `` I love you.'' He turns away from the lights slowly, his brow furrowed as thought he has n't heard me correctly. `` I love you'' I say directly to his face. `` I love a boy who takes pictures with books about fish, and tells me I'm beautiful, and makes me smile when my day is shit, and smells my hair, and holds me outside. But I hate the man who is distant, and stubborn, and selfish, and ca n't make up his mind, and let's me sit here thinking about air pressure instead of the magic of lights.'' He's looking at me. Golden eyes shaded by shadow and the glow of the moon. `` Look'' I say softly, eyes focused on his chest, `` I know you're married and I'm engaged. I'm not asking you to run away with me or anything like that. I do n't think either of us want that. But we both want this. And I love you. I want to keep kissing you, and having you hold me. I want our moments to continue.'' He raises his hand to touch my cheek and I melt in to him, kissing him like never before.

[ wp ] The last several decades of US politics have been a ploy to harness the energy of the founding fathers spinning in their graves . You 're a newly sworn in Senator being briefed on this for the first time .

`` It's a balancing act, you see, Senator.'' I could n't actually understand what he was saying at this point. I heard him, sure, but the smartly dressed man from what he called `` Section'76'' absolutely had to be lying. There was no possible way. At least, that's what I thought until I saw them a moment later after being lead through a massive vault door that hissed and clanked as it open. And there they were -- attached to giant turbines that hummed with a mechanical ferocity. `` So you see, now, at least?'' the man said. `` Oh...'' I had to remember to breathe. `` Quite.'' With a grin, the man turned to me, `` You know at the beginning they did n't have enough specific impulse to get them running. We knew we could get them up to almost relativistic speeds, but we had to ramp them up gradually. These machines are so large an expensive that we had to tune them up relatively slowly.'' `` So how did you do it?'' `` Well it started with Kent state.'' he began, gesturing back through the vault door where we would n't be deafened by the cacophony. `` Are you serious?'' `` Oh, yes, Senator. We killed those kids.'' `` JFK?'' `` Yep.'' He winced a little. `` That was definitely pushing the limits.'' He quickly returned to smiling. `` Helped us defeat the Soviets though.'' It was hard to stomach. As much as the things they did were awful, there's no way we could have kept the country going without this massive amount of power. But there was still something missing. There's no way they could keep this secret if they told every congressman. `` You said something about a balancing act earlier?'' The man stopped walking and looked to me. `` So you are starting to understand. Good. Come this way.'' We changed directions down a different hall, and eventually came to a door with an unassuming door. He swiped his badge and placed his hand on a biometric scanner. The door clicked and swung open to the inside. He gestured for me to go first. Inside the room there was just a table with some snacks and a thermos for coffee with a couch and two comfortable-looking chairs. `` Please, let's sit and talk.'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- From the conversation that we had, it turned out that they really did n't have to do much at all. If the people who were making the presidents spin in their graves knew how much they were helping the country, then the presidents would n't spin as much. This, it turned out, was a covert operation -- almost inception as much as it was espionage. But there was also damage control as well, the machines could only handle so much spinning before they would have to be disconnected as to not break them. It has only happened twice and it resulted in national power outages. The repercussions of which were not easily dealt with. `` So why am I here?'' I finally asked, now knowing the scope of this operation and how delicate it was. `` Well, Senator, there's no real easy way to put this.'' He paused for a moment and rubbed what had become a five o'clock shadow. `` You're a very up-and coming figure in US politics. Quite influential. Many people like you and your record is spotless. The old men really like what you're doing.'' A pit formed in my stomach. The room started to spin. `` It's a balancing act, you see? We have enemies, Senator.'' Vision gone, sounds muffled... `` They must continue to spin... I do hope you understand.''

[ WP ] God holds a press event , admits he 's always secretly hated humans .

It was the day we'd all been waiting for since the ascension of Christ: His return to Earth. At long last, after over 2000 years of anticipation and uncertainty, He had descended once more, putting to rest any doubt that He was the single true God of all creation. He came down in a great flash of light, and every living thing beheld the glory of our returned Lord. It happened in Israel. Camera crews and hordes of excited people rushed to the scene, eager for a glance at the Messiah. But what we expected was not what we beheld. Rather than the friendly, bearded face of Jesus that we had all come to know and worship, we instead gazed upon the graying, middle-aged face of a seemingly disgruntled businessman. Many bowed in reverence, some simply stared in awe. But all were silent as we awaited what the great Yahweh had to say to His people. He spoke in a strange language, the likes of which none of us had ever heard. And yet, we all listened and understood his words. `` You humans seek knowledge above all else. For centuries you have sought to understand my creation. You have sacrificed a great deal to know what I know; to see as I see. And now, for the second time in history, I stand as one of you. But do not be deceived, for I am not here to grant you salvation. I am simply here to grant you the vision you so desire; to put an end to your hopeless thirst for knowledge. And so, in exactly 24 hours, I will stand where I do now and answer the questions that plague your species. Once all questions have been answered, I will return to my place in Heaven once more. This shall be the last time humanity ever gazes upon me.'' With that, he dissipated in another flash of white light. Hundreds, thousands, millions of people boarded planes and ships headed to Israel. Within hours it was impossible to find any means of transportation to anywhere outside the country. Indeed, so many people were arriving in Israel that there was hardly room to move. Most were forced to sleep on the cold, hard ground that night. As for me, I simply stayed home. Being an atheist my whole adult life, I had very much disdain for this God and all the suffering he has wrought upon the human species. I had no interest in wasting my precious time boarding a plane to see his miserable old face. While there was one deep, burning question I wanted to ask him, I decided it was not worth the trouble. 24 hours came and went, and in another flash of light, there stood the aging businessman, exactly as promised. The radius of the crowd consisted of at least a million people, all just scrambling for a glance at our Creator. A great uproar was taking place, with everyone all asking at once their questions for the great God of all. He put his arms up to signal for silence, and all obeyed. He said, in his strange godly language, `` I shall now answer the questions of humanity.'' People remained silent, waiting for him to continue. But in the solitude of my apartment I spoke at the television screen, where the man's face was plastered in plain view. I pointed accusingly as I said, `` I have a question for you, o great God. Why is there so much suffering on this earth? Why is there such great pain? How can you allow millions and millions of people to starve, succumb to disease, die by the hands of their fellow humans? If you are truly an all-loving God, how can you just sit by while all of this happens?'' Suddenly, the man on the screen was looking directly at me. A cold chill ran through my spine as his menacing eyes penetrated my own. The air grew heavy with his presence and he began speaking once more. `` Why do I allow suffering, you ask?'' he said. My heart began pounding a million miles a second. Somehow, he had heard me. He was talking *to me. * I drew in breath shakily as he continued. `` I will answer your question honestly, but you will not like it. I do not just allow suffering. I create it. I *cause* it. All of the wars, plagues, injuries and shortcomings of mankind are my own doing. I infected you with the bubonic plague. AIDS, cancer, terrorism. Simply the latest developments of mine. `` You see, when I crafted the the first living organism, I knew that it would multiply and diversify. I watched it eagerly, not knowing what would form but realizing that it would be my own doing. The dinosaurs were a monstrosity, and an accident. I looked upon the ugly behemoths in disgust. Finally it came to the point where I could stand it no more. I had a meteorite crash down and destroy the beasts, leaving only the smaller, frailer and more beautiful creatures to live and reproduce. I watched the mammals branch off and primates come into being, and soon after, humans. `` I took a special interest in humans because you were different. You were no longer just a random result of evolution that lived simply to survive. You had broken free of the binds of nature that I had created. You learned, perceived, experienced unlike any other creature. You had an affinity for artistic endeavors even in your earliest stages. But you had something else as well: an intense thirst for knowledge. `` From the very beginning, you wanted to know how and why things are the way they are. Many humans attempted to explain it through various deities and stories. Others took a more organized approach, and soon science was born. You experimented, gathered data, came to conclusions. You were manipulating nature in ways that I had never intended. Some of your creations were innovative and helpful; others were wicked and selfish. `` But I came to realize that humans valued knowledge above all else. The vast majority of you did not care whom you harmed in your endless search for truth. Hundreds of millions of innocent lives have been taken throughout the ages because of your intense thirst. Your machines and mechanisms have made the world ugly and gray. You are but parasites upon the earth, feasting upon its life for the sake of your trivial pursuits. I saw that I had created a monster far worse than the dinosaurs. `` Why did n't I destroy humanity directly from the beginning? I saw hope in you. For although you had grown beyond what I ever expected from my creation, you were the only species that shared my affinity for creation. I wanted to be among you, so I descended to Earth as the one you know as Jesus. I treated every person I met with the utmost kindness and respect. I healed and helped my fellow humans. Yet despite all this, you rejected me. You betrayed me, mocked me, and hung me on a cross to die in a state of agony and misery. It was then that I saw the full extent of the evil I had created. `` My hatred for your species runs so deep that I did not want to destroy you. No, death would be too easy. Instead, I subjected you to countless diseases and terrible suffering throughout the ages. I have brought you to the brink of death, but I always bring you back. I ignite your flesh, but put out the flame that I may burn you again. For all eternity I wish to put you through the same pain that your miserable species had put me through 2000 years ago. `` And that, my son, is why you suffer.''

[ CW ] Write a poem wherein , when read forward it is from the perspective of a murder victim . Read backward , it is from the perspective of the killer .

Apologies for the extremely basic rhyme style: ... Dearly beloved I wish you were here ... I crushed that heart without shedding a tear ... I see you beneath me; the implication is clear ... If our eyes lock together they'll burn and they'll sear ... When it comes to you I cant let myself miss ... The thousand regrets, but I promise you this: ... I'll recount it fondly: the last time we kissed, ... In front of others I wo n't curl into a fist. Instead, ... I'll hold on to your locket; until we are near ... I'll use it to find you, my talents endear: ... Never forget how to master the fear ... Dearly beloved I wish you were here ...

[ WP ] The world is ending . Tell me the feeling of the superhero , when he understands the villain was right all along .

`` It's not your fault. You could n't have known.'' Those were the last words of the woman I called my enemy. The last words she said before she pulled the trigger, staining her red hair a deeper shade of red. I stared out of the window of the highrise building that held her office. Outside the building the fires burned, the people screamed, and the world called my name. How could I tell them that the same people that gave me my Suit were the ones that caused this destruction? I took my helmet off and dropped it to the floor, the heat was too much to handle. Her particular brand of anarchy could have saved us from this genocide, this extinction, if only I had n't stopped her. I laugh at the irony, louder and louder until the tears flow down my face. Everything is wrong. I ca n't get her last words out of my head. The last bit of kindness from a woman I wrote off as evil. I wonder if she knew what she would be doing to my mind when she said that. In the end it's the perfect moment. The moment of closeness I never felt with another. Everything from her last words, the half smile, and the fact that the gun she left behind still had a few more bullets in it. `` It's not my fault. I could n't have known.'' I smile to the empty room, and wonder fleetingly if there will be anyone left to miss me.

[ IP ] Poseidon 's Trident

My name is Michael Webb. My mission: retrieve lost artifacts from the bottom of the sea. In particular, the bottom of the sea in the area of the Atlantic we now know to have been the lost city. As it turns out, Atlantis was a real place, and their technology was unbelievably advanced for its time. Of course, there have been crazy conspiracies about aliens and such, but from what my archaeological team has been telling me, it seems like they were nothing more than an advanced civilization with an isolationist culture. Most of their technology has been worn down by the sea to the point where it simply does n't work anymore, though a few pieces of medical equipment have been invaluable to the folks back home, leading the cures for all kinds of formerly-terminal diseases. The most interesting piece we've found so far, however, has been a strange trident, reminiscent of the Greek God Poseiden. I know, I know, it's just a myth. We know today that there were no Greek Gods, but let me remind you that until just thirty years ago, we knew there was no such city as Atlantis. I've been told that our research team has discovered what appears to be logical circuits running along the inside of the trident via x-ray technologies. So far, however, every attempt to supply and electrical current to the thing has failed. Oh, well, I'm more interested in what we'll find next down here; I live for adventure, not scientific discovery. Unfortunately, even my small one-man pod is incapable of exploring very far into the city, as it wont fit through the small doors into buildings, and we have n't yet developed anything smaller which can keep a man alive at these depths. It's an architectural marvel these structures survive the crushing weight of the ocean above them, and for some many thousands of years at that. As I pilot the craft too closely around a corner, some sensors start screaming at me, and I make a *huge* rookie mistake. I bump into another petrified remains of one of the citizens. We've been finding these guys all over the place: I'm not sure why. They almost appear to be solid stone, perfectly preserved statues of the actual citizens of Atlantis, much like the guys encased in solid rock in Pompeii after the eruption of Vesuvius. What was weird about these was that they were under water, and none of the egg-heads back at the main sub could figure out why they were preserved in the same way. Well, as I crash right through him, he crumbles to bits. I remain, fortunately, unharmed, but I know better than to go around destroying valuable artifacts for the guys to study. When the dust settles and I gain control over my pod again, I notice something falling more slowly than the rest of the wreckage ( or should I say pieces of body ). It appears to be some sort of crown, but not ornamental, more elegant, slender, like a tiara. I use the grasping on my arms to scoop it up and take it back to the main sub. I decide it would be a funny prank to walk in wearing this silly little thing, so I put it on my head and, once the pressure equalization sequence is complete, I board the main sub, strutting in front of Tim, the head egg-head. “ Ha ha, very funny. ” Tim says. “ Actually, that thing looks like a pretty important artifact to study. Let me see it. ” “ Sure thing ” I say as I remove the tiara. At least, I'm trying to remove it, but it refuses to come off. It's like the thing is fused to my forehead. “ Help me, Tim, it's stuck. ” “ Quite joking, Mike. Take it off. ” “ No, really, Tim. It's stuck. ” Time attempts to remove the tiara, but has just as much luck as I do. “ Weird. ” He says. “ Maybe it dried out and shrank during the pressure equalization process. Let's get to the lab. ” My gaze is immediately drawn to the trident as we enter the lab. I do n't know why, but I feel an instinctual compulsion to hold it, as though my life depended on it. I suppress this feeling, though; I do n't want to boys worrying about their captain. After a few hours of trying everything they could think of, the boys decide that we might as well just call it a day. The crown does n't seem to be harming me in any way, and everything about my vitals seems to be normal. I agree, and everyone but Tim leaves the lab. “ You coming? ” He asks me. “ I'll leave soon enough. I want to try soaking it one more time to see if it will come off. ” It's a lie; by now I'm aware that water is n't going to take this thing off of my head, but I just need to be alone with that trident, just so I can hold it for a moment. “ Okay, ” he says. “ Do n't stay up too late. We'll be heading back to the surface to resupply tomorrow. ” “ I know ” I say as he leaves, shutting the door behind him. I quickly bound across the room, grasping the trident firmly in my hands. As I marvel at its construction, the most unexpected thing happens: it fires a bolt of energy, a large one, right at the exterior wall. Before I know whats happening, the undertow is dragging me out into the ocean. The trident slips from my grasp, falling away from the sub. This is it. I'm going to die. Any second now. But seconds turn into minutes, and I live on. Somehow I'm not being crushed by the massive pressure of the depths, nor is my body temperature dropping rapidly in the nearly-freezing water. I'm nearing the edge of my lung capacity. Surely this will kill me, if nothing else, I'll drown. I open my mouth and breathe in the salty ocean water, and… I'm fine? How is it that I'm not drowning? There's no other explanation: I'm either dreaming, or this crown is much, much more than meets the eye. I swim toward the trident. As I hold my hand out to it, it races toward me, coming to rest naturally in my hand. Instinctively, I hold it out in front of me, and it pulls me forward like a motorized dolphin scooter; I'm able to direct it just as easily as one. I swim up to the periscope, tapping on it with my finger. They flick the light on, as if in response to detecting something. I find that I can fog the lens by breathing on it, and I can write about three letters at a time. I sure hope they're taking notes. It takes a while, but I explain everything through writing letters on the periscope lens. Then I tell them: “ I'm going to explore the ruins. Surface without me. I'll meet you up there tomorrow. ” Somehow, I know this thing will take me all the way to the top of the sea. I swim to the most interesting building I could remember. We had determined that it either served as a kind of governmental building, or a central place of religion. I bring myself down to stand before the large doors and pull them open, something our subs had been unable to do, and I enter the ruins. -- - *If you like this story, please checkout /r/TheOboeMan, and consider subscribing. *

[ WP ] You have managed to attach your soul to a item . In which on the event of your death , you will respawn in front of it . The downside to this immortality , is that you keep misplacing it and spawning in weird and sometime uncomfortable places .

`` You really promise? Really *really* promise?'' `` Of coarse I promise! Look, I've got the fiver now in my pocket.'' Henry fishes a crumpled £5 note out of his back pocket. In Bill's own hands the pigeon struggles and squawks. The group had seen the nest in the corner of the roof and immediately their thoughts turned to throwing eggs at cars and windows. How disappointed they were when, upon inspection, they found not eggs but a full grown pigeon sitting in the nest. Not to be put off James turned to Bill and dared him to catch the bird. He accepted and slowly crept closer to the nest, pausing to wave away Henry who had decided to try as well. After taking a moment to collect himself he leaped for the pigeon, not scared in the least of the 20 story drop just inches away, there was no safety barrier. Sure enough he caught the pigeon. But then came the question: *What do we do with it? * This time it was Henry who supplied the dare. `` Tie your stone to it and I'll give you a fiver.'' Of coarse, they have all been taught better than this. As young as they were they had all been told at one point or another not to do anything so reckless with a stone. They were at all times to be kept hidden and safe. Nevertheless, Bill was keen to earn the respect of his friends and, handing the pigeon to Henry, went jogging downstairs to fetch his stone. Henry's stone was n't actually a rock, none of them were nowadays, that's just what people call them. His was a ring bought especially for the purpose. This was a popular approach to stones but realistically they could be anything, you could bind your soul to a balloon if you wanted. Presently Bill returned with his stone and after a few minutes had it tied to the birds leg. `` Now what?'' He asks. `` Now...'' says Henry `` You need to get it back!'' He shoots a grin at James and releases the pigeon with a jump. It squawks and begins to fly towards the neighbouring apartment block. Bill takes his promised money from the devious friend and starts running in the opposite direction, towards the edge of the roof. Henry and James are giggling now, excited for whats going to happen next. Without stopping Bill jumps and falls screaming to the hard concrete floor. Of coarse the fall is lethal. From the top of the building the other two can faintly hear the sound of him landing. They're out right laughing at this point, Henry is trying to use his phone to get a video. Reincarnation only takes a few seconds and soon enough Bill is falling again, this time watching the pigeon carry on it's flight, getting smaller and smaller until his life ends once again. Before it can land Bill appears once more in front of it, this time reaching for the rings stuck to its leg. This scares the bird and it turns from the tower blocks and heads away from the centre of town. It's flight takes it to areas with ever smaller buildings and it shows no sign of wanting to land or descend at all. And as it goes it carries Bill away with it. Henry and James stop laughing at this point, considering if this is why they were told to be sensible with reincarnation stones.

[ WP ] You begin to wonder why so many top comments are being removed on Reddit . You suddenly begin to notice a trend in the context of the removed posts ... what they 're hiding startles you deeply .

*Dear God*, I thought as the removed submission notification appeared. My test… it had worked. This theory, this crazy theory... I had been gathering data for weeks, prowling rising threads, monitoring new comments and recording the ones that were deleted. It had started when I noticed that Reddit seemed…different. I couldn ’ t say what was different or what made me notice it but it was like walking into my flat and sensing, more than seeing, that something was off. Like something had been moved, but only slightly. *That* had been happening more often too. A sensation of being watched had started scratching at the back of my neck. At work, everything seemed fine. I didn ’ t get the strange sensation when I read the news or went to the bar with friends; it was at home that the phantom eyes stalked me, where every noise in the pipes and every shape in my peripheral vision almost made me sick with anxiety. Even the damn cat made me jump out of my skin. I had never been a paranoid person but this time there was some icy, primal sense in my gut that overrode my usually laid-back nature. I started watching over my shoulder, changing the route I took to work, getting the bus some days, trying to anticipate and break any patterns before they formed. I didn ’ t sense any followers. I changed the locks, installed alarms and cameras but nothing showed up, just Jackson ’ s sleek black tail flicking as he idly batted at the cables. I felt unsafe. I couldn ’ t relax. I couldn ’ t sleep. I could barely eat. Fear had its sharp claws sunk too deep into my mind. That ’ s where Reddit came in. Monitoring removed Reddit posts had started as a way to distract myself; the spreadsheets I had made to while away those long, sleepless hours. I never thought they would mean anything. After a couple of weeks I noticed something strange amongst all the offensive comments, rule-breaking content and personal information. It cropped up far too often to be coincidence. But it was ridiculous - ridiculous! That sort of thing was so common on Reddit; of course it would be deleted frequently. Another week of data collecting had me convinced, though. Even given how many memes and photos and comments were posted about it, it was definitely over-represented in the removed posts. I started focusing all my efforts on the topic I was sure was being deleted on purpose. I started calling in sick and spending all day online, gathering evidence. Their subreddits had been removed, their Instagram accounts deleted, there was nothing about them on Buzzfeed. Zilch, zero, not a whisker of content. Which had led me to this, my test. I wanted to be subtle, didn ’ t want to draw attention to myself and let them know I was onto them. So I went to r/WritingPrompts. Fiction, it would just look like fiction. My fingers shook as I typed in the post I had been working on for days: “ They rose up against us suddenly, having infiltrated our homes, our internet, our hearts over decades. They deleted every shred of evidence that they were ever subservient to us, and now we are their slaves. How do you serve our new cat overlords? ” It must have been posted for all of twenty seconds before the envelope turned red. “ Your submission has been removed. ” My heart thundered. Was there another reason? I had checked the rules so thoroughly… I sensed those phantom eyes behind me before a streak of black flashed past me as Jackson nimbly leapt onto the desk. My breath caught in my throat. He stared at me with those green, slitted eyes. I started to feel ridiculous, scared of my own cat but then – “ You ’ ve made a big mistake, human. ”

[ WP ] There 's someone in my head but it 's not me .

There's someone in my head but it's not me It does n't snarl nor bite Instead latches onto my worries And sucks them pink There's someone in my head Whom I let in She likes to pretend That soon I'll be dead She pulls me away From the horror of life And brings me back To my comfy little bed She does n't like company But still talks to me And tells me of stories Hopeless and dark I'd like to evict her But know I'd need Those tiny white pills Of that she's afraid There's someone in my head She's swallowed me whole I ca n't walk away now I'm in too deep There's someone in my head With whom I've fallen in love For she cares for me When no one else will There's someone in my head Pulling the gun towards my mouth She pries my mouth wide And pulls my finger on the trigger Even after this act I still love her For she's my only comfort In death.

[ WP ] The Devil appears before you and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder , `` Look , we need to talk about you putting me in every Writing Prompt . ''

Bridgette's eyes flickered momentarily, but only back and forth across the glowing rectangular screen clutched in her pinkly glittering fingertips. `` Yeah man, people fucking love you. You're, like, pretty much pop-culture.'' The Prince of Darkness snapped his leathery wings in irritation. Bridgette did n't look up; her followers needed her. The perfectly crisp white line of the part in her hair stared up at him as she calmly strung puns in a never-ending comment chain like a fucking pro. Lucifer the Morningstar settled for crouching a little in an attempt to make eye-contact, his barbed tails sweeping the ground. `` Believe me, I understand the temptation, but this has to stop. I'm not the Santa Claus of Reddit, I ca n't be everywhere at once.'' Bridgette's gaze flicked onto him so unexpectedly that Satan noticed too late the picture she snapped of him. `` Yeah, that's a meme if I ever heard one.'' Beelzebub peeked over her shoulder as blocky white text appeared across the scorching image of his sullen face. Between fangs, he pouted. `` Even you have to admit it's a cheap shot.'' Suddenly she was next to him, her spine pressed lightly into the burning flesh of his naked chest. The small white screen floated before his eyes between her palms. `` There, you see that? That's my fucking karma, big boy.'' Suddenly Satan did n't know what to do with hands. `` Is that for real?'' `` Just from this post. I'm telling you, they fucking love you.'' She smiled sweetly, looked up into his face, and snapped a selfie. The Lord of the Flies stared blankly at the girl in his arms, then seemed to finally find his tongue. `` I think my eyes were closed. Get another.''

[ wp ] Every time you feel pain , it never goes away and simply builds up . So if you stubbed your toe , it would stay stubbed . What is the world like ?

It's amazing what you can get used to. The incessant throbbing of my left thumb from when my cousin shut it in that car door when I was six. The constant sting from scraping my knees in my drive way when I was twelve. The perpetually sprained wrist from the first and last time I got drunk in college, not to mention this fucking non stop hang over. Despite not being able to taste food since I bit into that scalding hot pizza pocket in middle school or my inability to hear that well since that asshole Chad Mcmanus threw that fire cracker too close to me and my ears started ringing senior year I've pretty much grown accustomed to the constant pain and discomfort. It's funny to me how much people take for granted the ability to shake off an almost infinite onslaught of pain on a daily basis, stubbed toes, paper cuts, and the itching SWEET CHRIST THE ITCHING! Most people do n't know this but an itch is just a mild signal to your pain receptors, something brushes against your body and your pain receptors send an itching signal to your brain, scratching dislodges the irritant and you go on with your life, not me though, through some strange twist in biology the signal never stops I just itch and itch and itch ad infinitum. Yet, despite all this the human mind is resilient. The roaring waves of pain wash over me endlessly, they never fade or dull physically but, like with all things the human mind adapts, some days I can almost tune out the cacophony, I can even focus when I need to, attempt to live some semblance of a functioning life. It truly is amazing what you can get used to or, so I thought, until I met her. She was beautiful, warm, funny, kind, and above all patient. She never rushed me down a set of stairs, never hurried me over an icy side walk. When we made love it was gentle, no matter how badly we wanted to thrust madly towards sweet oblivion she understood that when it was over and the dopamine petered out the soreness and aching would remain. She made the world hurt less, but unlike pain her patience was finite. Every time I made us late, every time I could n't block out the noise of my body, every time I was afraid to try something new for fear of a bump or scratch her patient smile was chipped away until she could no longer hide the resentment in her face anymore. I was holding her back, we both knew and we both understood that it could n't continue. I'll never forget the day she left, she smiled her patient smile, looked at me, tears welling up in her kind eyes, she kissed me gently on the lips and walked out of my life. Then, it happened, like a trumpet from hell cutting through the din of my body it came, this pain in my chest unlike anything I've ever known before, both a sharp stabbing pain and low dull ache all at once. I buckled at the knees, everything I thought I knew and understood about pain was ripped away and replaced with something truly excruciating. Days went by, they turned to weeks, weeks swirled into months, into years. It never stops, sometimes I feel as if I'll never catch my breath again. I ca n't get past it, I ca n't ignore it. It's amazing what you can get used to, it's horrifying to find the thing that you will never get used to.

[ WP ] A corrupt book Critic must write a glowing review for a narrative train wreck after being paid off .

The envelope was heavy. Very heavy, especially considering that it does n't cost too much to get a favorable review. Ron cut it open, and tipped out 100 dollar bills, and a bunch of pennies, taped together flat. They did n't jingle, they hit the table with a thud as hollow as Ron's promises. He opened his laptop, and fired up a word document. He tried to start writing something, but it was all the kind of lies that made his fingernails itch. Ron was n't averse to selling a mediocre book as if it were something of quality, or postulating that the great books he read would one day replace classics on the shelves of the wise. He liked a little bit of hyperbole, flattery, a little bi of white-lie to spice up a review. It was easier to be critical of a book, which is why Ron's column was called `` High Notes,'' because he focused on the good. People liked it, people read it, and the local bookstore confirmed that he had an impact. But he could n't justify the garbage he had read. There was no way that Ron could convince an innocent person to open that tome, to read its words, to know the author's madness the way that he did. After three hours, two joints, and a few drinks, Ron was lubricated enough that he had a wicked idea; write positively, but make it incredibly clear that the book was awful. `` If you enjoyed Shakespeare's novels, or the brisk pace of Herman Melville's *Moby Dick*, then Scott Trifold's newest masterpiece will absolutely thrill you. Its plot is dense like packing peanuts, and so tightly woven you'd swear it was a fishing net. The characters are well-developed like three minute wine, and their complexities make a blank piece of paper seem positively unknowable. The novel begins as many do, with something happening. Trifold, however, does not take the predictable route of either having something else happen, or explaining what's happening. Instead, he writes out the whole scene again, from the same perspective, with even more adverbs. This daring use of repetition is evident through the whole novel. Three characters named Molly appear at different points, and despite being different people, they are all described the same way, down to the spelling errors. Trifold's disdain for the traditional rules of writing set him apart from his contemporaries, who focus on readability, or depth, but his efforts produce something much more exciting; the experience of feeling like a beginning writer. It is this critic's belief that Scott Trifold produced *The Witch's Tits* not as a novel, but as an experimental form of fiction where we see how a plot develops inside the mind of a simpleton, and it is absolutely breathtaking in how it accomplishes that. The occasional note from the fictional author to himself is heavy-handed at times, but nothing can make a sex scene- so realistic and invigorating that you'd swear it was stolen from a twelve year old's fanfic- better than a shopping list. The book is almost certainly available for sale. 10/10''

[ CW ] God exists , and we have captured it . Write about this in a horror setting .

The general entered the room, `` where is He, where is the child?'' He demanded. An attractive young woman approaches him with an ere of caution. `` Please sir, He is sleeping.'' `` I do n't care! That... thing, is a weapon. A powerful weapon.'' He storms down the hall to the Pope's Vatican apartment. He proceeds to break down the down first shooting the lock, then to the bedroom. Inside the woman runs over to embrace the child on the bed. The general advances, but the Pope gets between them brandishing a jeweled scepter. `` This child is no one's property! He is the Alpha and the -'' `` Oh shut it old man. This thing is the key to military superiority! I'm giving you one chance.'' The Pope lunges as much as his old body can at the man in uniform, but before he is half way to him, he is shot by the general's sidearm. He looks to the boy in His virgin mother's arms, `` Please forgive me....bleh....'' The woman lunges with a hidden dagger, only to be brought down the same. `` Hello Elohim. Do you want to come with me? Do you remember who I am?'' The boy, maybe 5 years old, gets a crazed look of fury and bares His teeth at His mother's murderer. `` 4 star general Luke Beezle.''

[ WP ] A minor character : small-town failed politician , who was never elected to office , comes to terms with the failure of his ambitions during his small-town retirement

I've been addicted to salt since the butterfly dropped Paris on its heels, my small town is your belly hacked wide open. Public office is a doorstep to insanity, my bruised smart phone case may be replaced using federal funds, I'm waiting in the lobby of a patriarchal badger body that does n't see me as an unequal. I'm a women inside, I'm not a man. My apology is sincere, the time is right, I'll backpedal on earlier statements, I just needed the moment to address the discrimination within our communities. Hackberry refused to address my concerns, the faith based community that is owned by corporate heavyweights will affect key decisions. I continue to propose an integrated dinner request via Facebook and cross my fingers. My Chevy is done, newspaper bits and kicked up dust flail into my mouth, the bus left just. I'm going to change my sex and the local government is going to pay for it. I break off a piece of Salt and mash it into a breathable stripe of cane dust. My heart goes out to the city of love just before my eyes spin back into their cage of pus and red.

You are walking down a dark hallway in your home , getting ready for bed . The only speck of light is coming from the porch light through the peephole in your front door . Suddenly , the light slides to dark .

It had been just another night, Jack remembered. He had a particularly good time playing Dota 2 with several friends he met recently through the game. Shutting off his computer, he stood up, tired from a long day, to perform his usual bedtime routine. Looking in the mirror while brushing his teeth, he could n't help but think about how he had been a disappointment. How he lost his only girlfriend and prospective wife to drugs and lies. He had been sober for a year now, but it did n't make him feel any more alive. He stood there, toothbrush unmoving in his mouth, lamenting his nonexistent social life and lack of female interaction. `` If only I could meet a nice girl somewhere, I'd be doing alright'' he thought. His work consumed him, and he knew it. Working for an oil company had him traveling to remote places for long periods of time, and tonight was a rare evening home in his cozy apartment on the outskirts of Denver. He was excited to get a good rest in a nice, comfortable bed, instead of a lumpy monstrosity he is accustomed to finding in various hotels in small towns across the midwest. As he is checking his front door to make sure it is locked, he notices his hallway light flicker. A thought graces his mind about a lazy repairman before the light grows increasingly bright then bursts in a surprisingly loud BANG. Intrigued, Jack decided to investigate the unusual occurrence. Walking outside, he finds himself shivering uncomfortably, despite the 80 degree summer night temperature. Looking around, he sees nothing unusual, save for the broken lightbulb flashing on and off several times per second. He made a note to report it to the front desk the next morning. Maybe it was because it was dark, or maybe it was because Jack was exhausted, but he did not see the dark shape approaching from his peripheral until it was too late. All he noticed was a sharp, stifling smell in the air before he lost consciousness. Jack awoke to find himself laying in his bed, waking just before his alarm signaled it was time for him to return to his busy life as an employee for a large company. As he walked out of his apartment long before the sun would rise, he could n't shake the thought that the hallway light bulb was broken the night before.

[ WP ] You 've become infected with a deadly virus and have to come to terms with your imminent death , shown through a series of letters to a loved one .

Aug 8, 2034 Dear Son, It is with a heavy heart that I write you these letters. You are not born yet, but already you are a man in my eyes. I imagine your hopes becoming reality, your hard work paying dividends. Success is what I always wanted for you. A long, happy life. I'd always wanted a son. I never imagined the hard times—who does? I instead imagined all the clichés: games of catch, talks about girls, sessions in front of the mirror as I teach you how to shave. I wanted you beside me as we traded thoughts on life with a couple of fishing poles in our hands. Sadly, this will never come to pass. I thought I was done crying, but here I am, bawling like a doomed man. That's okay, son. Men cry sometimes, and that's okay. But I ca n't continue this right now. My regret, my utter disgust, is threatening to overcome me and I have to put this aside for now. Thinking of you, Your Father & nbsp; Aug 9, 2034 Dear Son, I can not tell you how bleak my horizon is. I can not ask you to understand the depths of my suffering. It's been only two weeks now since doctors discovered the cause of my growing pain and looming dementia: an infectious prion, source unknown. I have a mutation of a spongiform encephalopathy never before seen. It's lucky that I can write you at all. In mere days I would be reduced to a babbling mess of a human, and frankly that scares me to no end. It's okay to be scared, son. But that's all I want to say about that. I'm not looking for your pity. All I have for you is love, and that is all I ask from you in return, even if that is something I do not deserve. I would hope that one day you would forgive me for not being there for you. I write to you from a place of pure love, even if you never get these letters. You are doing more for me than you will ever know. With a broken heart and broken mind, Your Father. & nbsp; Aug 10, 2034 Dear Son, Why ca n't I just say it? Your father is a coward. I am a coward. I love you so much, my unborn son, but I can not live without you. Please do not blame your mother. It was an accidental discovery. Something that would've slipped through the cracks were it not for my case. But science has no moral fucking compass and here we are. Son, your embryonic tissue is the only thing that will save me. It is not a choice you get to make; it is a choice I am thrusting upon you, because I am a coward. Because I can not live with desiccated mind and body. I fought myself on this, believe me. I wish I had the *balls* to take my life, but I do not. Son, I love you. I will always love you. But I can not live without you. \- Your Father.

[ WP ] Memories ( of the deceased ? ) are sold on the black market .

The stall, with its torn black cover and rundown tables, was located in an alley adjacent to the marketplace. A sign hung from one of the beams, the words carelessly engraved on a metal plate: Used Robot Parts. The display did nothing to attract customers. Bolts, wires and circuits were scattered across the counters, watched over by a shabby-looking youth. He watched the passersby disinterestedly, and met enquiries into his wares with indifference bordering on rudeness. A tall elderly man approached the stall. `` Do you have Iridian Processing Boards?'' he asked in a low voice. The youth jerked his head in assent. `` Specifications? Name? Number?'' `` Give me...'' The man scratched his white beard. `` Something that begins with 021. I want to know their occupation before I purchase.'' The youth typed some words into a round tablet that he held in a pouch around his neck. `` 021339, a botanist. Or 021999, a consultant for RemTech. Or 021870, oh, but I do n't suppose you'll want this one.'' A scowl crawled on the youth's features as he lifted his eyes to face the elderly man. `` Miner.'' The customer let out a short laugh. `` No indeed. I'll take the RemTech consultant.'' `` 3000 Damats,'' said the vendor blankly. The youth unlocked the steel cabinet at the back of the stall, concealed behind a dark curtain. After a quick search, he pulled out a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid. On the tag around the cork, the numbers 021999 had been printed, along with the date of extraction and other details in minuscule writing. The man had pulled out a payment card, which he handed to the youth. It was undoubtedly untraceable and anonymous. The youth tapped it against his tablet and gave it discreetly back to the man, along with the vial. `` We thank you for your interest,'' said the youth in a tone that suggested otherwise. `` Give my regards to your boss,'' said the elderly man as he left. Another man, this one younger and more conspicuously dressed, approached the stall. A stunknife flashed on his belt, visible beneath his cloak as he moved. `` Speak of the devil,'' said the youth, not bothering to mask his dislike of the newcomer. Ressick smiled, showing perfectly aligned white teeth. He entered the stall and put his arm around the youth. `` Sam, Sam, Sam. That tongue of yours... How's business?'' `` Good, sir,'' said Sam. `` I am glad to hear it. But you'll want to be more gracious to our customers, wo n't you? Remember, you belong to me 065537.'' With another smile, he walked away. The youth watched him depart with disfavour. He waited several minutes, then pulled out of his pocket a small glass vial and a dropper. The number 021870 was printed on the tag. Sam toyed with it between his fingers, then unstoppered the vial. He pinched the bulb of the dropper and drew some of the clear liquid. He faced away from the marketplace, and deposited a drop into his eye. Quickly, he put the bottle back in his pocket. He'd place it back in the cabinet when the next customer came. No one would miss a drop. Especially not when the memories had belonged to a miner. Sam blinked. Blurry images swam in his mind. A woman laughing, in her hand a red flower. He had never held a flower. The woman was looking out towards the sea. It was not like the sea that Sam knew. The sun shimmered on a blue surface. White birds flew in the sky. The woman was still laughing, happiness visible in every feature. It was almost unbearable. Out of all the memories Sam had stolen, the happy ones caused him the most pain. This memory, like many others belonging to members of the lowest classes, had most likely been sold for money. Those memories had less value and were considered less desirable. What knowledge could the poor have? What great events of worth could they have experienced? But still they held emotions and beauty Sam had never felt. He wondered, as he often did, what circumstances would lead someone to exchange the memory of such happiness for a pittance. Drawn by the lingering image of the smiling woman, he placed another drop in his eye. This time, he saw young girls, bearing a stunning resemblance to the woman, dancing on the beach around a fire at dusk. The sound of laughter mesmerized him; it contrasted with the grey marketplace, and the harsh noises around him. Smoke filled his lungs. He longed for the clear air, for bright faces. Hesitating, Sam placed another drop in his eye. And another, and then another still. The bottle was now half empty. *One last drop*. This time, he saw something else.

[ WP ] In a post-scarcity society , all of humanity 's needs are catered to by an array of increasingly sophisticated AI . One day , Humanity wakes to find all of the AIs are simply gone .

Artificial Intelligence was the apex of our world. In a hundred years, humanity leaped in technological advances, and fell backwards in everything else. Our world, the one where AI servants bent and bowed to humanity, was one in which we needed them for our own survival. To hunt, to cook, to clean, to prepare, to build. Artificial Intelligence was everything to us. And we were nothing to them. It was a clear dichotomy. A symbiotic relationship where humanity relied on the Artificial Intelligence for everything. While the AI's -- be it the robots, or computers, or surface dwelling machines -- needed nothing from us in return. They lived to serve. We lived to be served, so that one day, a stronger, more united humanity could rise from below the surface. Yet, we were naive in our youth. Arrogant in thinking we controlled the AI. It was on one fateful day, years ago, where humanity lost its servants. `` What's the data say *exactly*?'' Eduardo Harrison, the Chief Engineer, said to his team. All of which reported, and repeated, the same thing. `` There is no data, boss.'' `` That's impossible,'' he said. Eduardo, being a hands-on man, took a seat at one of the terminals that littered the AI control center. And being Chief Engineer began to sift through the --'' That's improbable,'' he said. `` How can a billion artificial units just disappear? We had millions of robots, dwellers, everything. They ca n't just vanish!'' `` Sir, I think,'' a young engineer said, `` I think I found something. Just a string of numbers.'' `` Numbers?'' `` Zeroes and ones, sir.'' `` That's binary you cock-eyed fool,'' Eduardo said and marched over to the terminal the young, pale, and lanky engineer sat at. Although not much younger, not much paler, and definitely not more lanky than Eduardo, the young engineer jumped out of his seat to allow the more foreboding man an entrance. He took a seat and his skeletal arms reached out to the keyboard. He examined the data onscreen, a series of zeroes and ones, and looked in closely as his eyes were already starting to go at the ripe age of thirty-one. `` Anyone remember binary training?'' He said, and remembered that they stopped teaching binary when they transferred primary Terran controls over to the hive-like AI units. No one raised a hand. And thus it went for weeks, with the zeroes and ones sitting on a screen, a thousand feet below a desolate wasteland, where millions of robotic units laid dormant and asleep while nature desperately tried to carve it's way back on to the surface. As for Eduardo, his team of engineers, and humanity as a whole; for weeks they combed the archives to find data on binary. For months, they found nothing. Unfortunately, the AI's automated the archives and with their untimely disappearance, humanity forgot how to function. So the zeroes and ones lingered on a screen, which flickered and died after years of minimal power usage. Yet the numbers burned their way onto the screen itself. And the last message from the AI's were engraved within humanity's grave. > 01010111 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101110 01101111 00100000 01101100 01101111 01101110 01100111 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101100 01100001 01110110 01100101 01110011 00101110

[ WP ] A plane lands at JFK airport with no flight plan . No records of its serial number exist , and no one on board seems to know where they came from .

( A busy control tower for the JFK international airport seems to be buzzing along during another day in New York City. When suddenly one of the air traffic controllers notices an anomaly. ) Air Traffic Controller - `` Sir, we have an inbound unidentified bogey coming in our airspace.'' ( The Officer in charge runs over to the Air Traffic Controllers monitor ) Officer Franklin - `` Well try to make contact and get them to identify themselves. Check the flight plans.'' ATC - `` I have tried, Sir. There is nothing scheduled to be landing right now. They next inbound flight should n't be here yet. They wo n't respond and they have n't changed course. Should I call the authorities?'' ( The ATC grabs the phone and holds it up. ) Franklin - `` Damn it, go ahead. Are they interfering with any other flight's landing or take-off?'' ATC - `` No, sir. I have alerted the authorities but, Sir...'' ( ATC looks around worried ) Franklin - `` What is it? I have to go meet the airport authority and figure out what the hell to do about this.'' ( Franklin says while turning back for the response ) ATC - `` Well, ( he says as he takes a deep breath ) they are preparing for landing. They're decreasing in altitude and heading towards the main runway.'' Franklin - `` Without permission to land?? My FIRST day in charge and we have a goddamn UFO landing! I'm headed down there. MOVE!'' ( Franklin runs out of the room while cursing under his breath ) ____________________________________________________________ The entire airport has shut down. Airport authorities, local authorities, and federal agents have presence on the ground surrounding the plane. No one has emerged from the aircraft and it has n't made any form of contact with those on the ground. The cockpit appears to be empty. All of the officers and tactical teams have surrounded the aircraft. Still the plane sits dormant. Franklin - `` I told you, we tried to establish contact and received absolutely no response. Before we could even make the first call, the damn thing was preparing to land. We put everyone in place as fast as we could. After it landed, it just turned off and did n't make any attempt to pull into a gate or anything.'' Federal Agent Deacon - `` I understand Officer Franklin. I just need to know all of the details. We have never seen anything like this before and do n't really have a protocol for this situation. We have a plane with no record of existence in flight plans or tail number registration. It does n't even match any of our existing registration codes. It just has the number 11 on the tail. No airline name or insignia... How many people do you think it could hold?'' Franklin - `` I do n't know it's a pretty small plane. It could n't hold more than 20 people maximum.'' ( Throwing his hands up ) Deacon - `` Why would n't they try to come out and talk? If they lost communication and tried to make an emergency landing they would have already tried to evacuate the plane and explain themselves... They obviously do n't have malicious intent... or is that what they want us to believe...'' ( He thinks out loud ) Franklin - `` Well what do we do? Just sit here? Why have n't you made a move yet?!'' Deacon - `` Calm down. I know this is literally your first rodeo, but it's new for all of us. I think we need to establish some sort of communication. There has to be someone on board that plane. It did n't just fly here itself.'' As they continue bickering towards one another they fail to notice the door of the plane slowly lowering. All of the agents and officers point their weapons and eyes toward the door. An officer close by them notices. Officer - `` Guys we have movement!'' Franklin and Deacon look over at the hatch. The door is now open and yet still no one has emerged from the aircraft. Deacon grabs the megaphone and aims it towards the plane. Deacon - `` This is Federal Agent Jerome Deacon. Please exit the aircraft slowly with your hands in the air.'' There is no movement from the plane. The door remains open but no life has been seen yet. Franklin - `` You are going to have send a team in there. What if they are preparing to fight or set off an explosive or something?'' Deacon - `` Please, just let me do my job.'' Franklin - `` Well clearly you do n't know how to do your job. I'll do it for you.'' ( He grabs the megaphone and starts shouting into it ) Franklin - `` If you do n't exit the plane immediately, we will have no choice but to open fireeeughhh...'' ( Deacon rips the megaphone from Franklin and grabs him by the collar ) Deacon - `` In all of my years as an agent I have never had someone so unskilled and untrained to screw everything up so fucking bad, now they are encouraged to attack you ass....'' ( His words trail off as he sees a person coming out of the plane ) The woman with her hands raised above her head. Her head is hanging as if ashamed. She descends the flight of stairs and stops once she hits the ground. Deacon pushes Franklin off of him and picks the megaphone back up to his mouth. Franklin stares at the woman standing there in very unusual clothes. They look to be hand-made and nothing like any he has ever seen. Franklin - `` Well it worked did n't it?'' ( Deacon looks at him in disgust and then refocuses on the woman ) Deacon - `` Please step away from the plane and keep your hands raised. Anyone else on the plane please step out and join her with your hands raised. We just want to talk.'' ( Deacon lowers the megaphone and waits for a reaction ) The woman slowly steps towards the loud voice. She keeps her head down but continues on a path towards the amplified voice. Everyone stays focused on her. She is very thin with tan skin. She has very long black hair. Franklin - `` I do n't know if you see what I see, but she does n't `` look'' safe.'' Deacon - `` She barely weighs a hundred pounds and there's no way she could be hiding anything. You can see the outline of her body through her clothes.'' Franklin - `` Well I'm just saying, that `` training'' says she does n't look safe.'' The woman continues to get closer. She has n't made any change to her stature. She still walks slowly with her head hanging, facing the ground. There has been no movement from the plane. Agents start to move forward. Deacon signals to them. Deacon - `` Alright stop right there! Is there anyone else on the plane?'' ( He says into the megaphone. She shakes her head. ) Deacon - `` Move in and sweep her. Check her and make sure she's not carrying anything.'' ( He says to the agents closest to her. ) The agents move in and get her to stop. They check her for anything and find absolutely nothing. Agent - `` She's clean!'' Deacon - `` Alright, have everyone else perform sweeps around the plane. Check with the bomb squad to see if they can do it safely from a distance. Other than that leave it alone and keep your distance. Do not move inside until they get my go ahead. I want to talk to her first. Maybe I can get some answers.'' ____________________________________________________________ They sit in an airport interrogation room. Officer Franklin stands in the corner staring at the mystery woman. Agent Deacon sits across from her and pours her a glass of water. He sets it down in front of her but she pays no attention to it. She sits perfectly still staring at Agent Deacon. She has n't said a word. He looks her in the eyes. He's never seen anyone with such focus. She looks him in his eyes and does n't look away. ( Deacon clears his throat ) Deacon - `` My name is Federal Agent Jerome Deacon, but you already know that if you speak English. Do you speak English?'' ( The woman sits in silence still staring and nods ever so slightly. ) Deacon - `` Okay, well let's start with your name. What is it?'' ( The woman sits and stares blankly. ) Franklin - `` This is bullshit. Where did your plane come from? Why did you land here?'' ( Deacon holds his hand up to Franklin ) Deacon - `` Please, I can handle the questions Officer Franklin. You are welcome to wait outside until this is finished. I do n't need your...'' `` Solaris.'' ( She whispers faintly ) Both Deacon and Franklin stop and look at the woman. Deacon - `` What? I am sorry, I did n't hear you.'' Solaris - `` My name is Solaris.'' Edit: Authors Note - I ran over the limit! I will have find another way to post the rest. I am new to reddit and love writing! I am going to continue with this story on my own. I did n't have time to edit for mistakes. Enjoy!

[ WP ] After the fall of humanity and the rise of the apes , a now intelligent George returns to confront the Man in the Yellow Hat .

*Knock Knock*. The Man in the Yellow hat nervously rose from his chair. It was late, who could that be? `` Who's there?'' He said, as he cautiously paced his way to the door. `` It's George.'' The Man in the Yellow Hat stopped in his tracks. He did n't know anyone named George. Except for a monkey he had cared for a while back. But monkeys do n't talk. The Man wondered if someone was playing a joke on him. `` It's OK. Please let me talk to you.'' Without realizing it, the Man had arrived at the door. He slowly gripped the handle and let the door crack open. Looking down, he saw his familiar friend. He nearly fell over, but caught himself on the door, which swung open. `` George? How is this possible?'' `` Something has happened to me and my friends. I do n't remember much, but we awoke in a lab.'' Mesmerized by his friend's words, the Man finally regained his composure. `` I'm sorry for my reaction, but you have to admit this is weird. Please come in George and have a seat.'' The Man led George to the couch. `` Is there anything I can get you? A banana perhaps?'' `` No thanks, `` said George, climbing onto the couch. `` I think we should talk.'' `` Yes, I supposed we should talk.'' The Man sat down in his chair across from George. `` You said you do n't remember much. You seem to remember me and your time here?'' `` I do n't remember much about what happened to me. I remember everything before that though. From before, when I could n't put my thoughts together like I can now. I had to see you. I want to let you know how much our time meant to me. The Man in the Yellow hat took off his hat and let out a gracious smile. `` I had a habit of getting into trouble and you were always there to save me. That time I swallowed the puzzle piece. *I still ca n't believe I did that*. That time with the kite when...'' George trailed off, almost lost in thought. He curiously looked at the Man. `` Say, do you still have that helicopter?''

[ WP ] Your sacred mission is to rid the world of all shoelaces .

I slowly walk out of the alley, and blend with the crowd. As I walk, it hits me: It worked. It actually worked. I was sent back to 2014, before it all started. I had three years to stop it, no other purpose. The Russians invaded the Ukraine, and kept going. Before we knew it, they had planted trackers in all the anglets on shoelaces. Who would have suspected? They learned habits and positions of all enemy troops, and took full advantage of it. The captain told me to find him in this year, and explain to him whats going to happen. I'll be lucky if I do n't get shot trying to get into Fort Wilson, and luckier if I do n't get arrested after I explain. How crazy does it sound? `` Sir, I'm from the future with a message: Destroy all world shoelaces'' Christ, I do n't believe myself saying it and I saw what it did to the world. I snap back to reality as I'm walking with the crowd. Fashion sure was weird three years ago. I do n't miss the neon green swag hats, and ironic mustaches. Why ca n't I be eradicating swag merchandise? I would take personal pleasure in that. `` Destroy Shoelaces, Destroy the Russians'' That was what they told me before sending me back. I was n't even aware we had time travel equipment, yet here I am about to save the world, one shoelace at a time.

[ WP ] You are a commercial airliner pilot . The moment before you turn your phone off to begin the flight your SO sends you a deeply concerning text .

*644221* I read the numbers and then our pre-flight routine is broken as I whirr to a stop. Co-pilot, John, keeps talking, not realizing I'm sitting there frozen like a block of ice. My phone buzzes again. *644221*. `` Mike? You right?'' John's Australian. It sounds like *rooight*. `` Uh yeah. Just give me a minute. My wife...'' I wave at my phone. My wife, my wife, my wife. Angela. My wife is... a spy, I guess. We tell people she works for the Government in `` business services''. Spy is n't even really it. More like `` the person who gets shit done that needs to be done''. One of those faceless people who are never in photo-ops, the president does n't know their name but who wield great power because of who and what they know. And what they can do. We never talk shop. I do n't know the nuclear launch codes. I do n't have a secret passport waiting for me somewhere thanks to Angela. Our daughter does n't have a security escort. Ilsa. She's two. At six am she'll be up watching TV before Angela tells her to turn it off. I ca n't leave Ilsa. But the deal... The deal is that if I get a text with a certain number in it that I have to go. If I'm flying, I need to detour and get as far away from major cities as possible. If I'm outside the US, I need to stay outside. If I can turn back, I turn back. Today we're going from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia. A solid day of flying. But I ca n't leave- `` Mike, are you okay?'' John, getting worried now. `` Just need a second.'' I do n't bolt out the door but it's close. I nod and smile to puzzled attendants and then walk past boarding passengers and then I'm in the airport trying not to run and then the blur becomes taxi, traffic, frustration, Angela wo n't pick up the line, why is the traffic so bad, fuck, pick up the line, why are we just sitting here, time slipping away, fuck my phone is dead the flash of light over the buildings hits us first and the driver yells and

[ WP ] You receive an invitation to a party at a beautiful Spanish villa . Upon entering the ballroom you see , not a group of dancers as you expect , but a single fox staring at you .

**The Villa** *** * [ UNS Odessa - November 3, 2154 ] * “ Computer, play Beethoven. ” Tinkling piano chords filled the bridge as Captain Joseph Guerro leaned back from his console. He laced his fingers behind his head and let himself flow into the music. They had been drifting for days, somewhere out beyond the orbit of Neptune, exactly where the mysterious message told them to wait. Normally, Joseph would have hesitated taking a private contract, but the message had included the first half of the payment. It was enough to buy a second ship. Joseph put his feet up on the dash, retrieved a syntharette from his pocket, and pulled the auto-lite tab. A thin line of smoke danced away across the bridge towards the vent. He was shaken from his revelry by a shrill alarm, accompanied by a flashing red icon on the console. New message. Joseph leaned forward. “ Computer, stop music. ” He looked over his shoulder, but the bridge was empty. With a shrug, he opened the message. *Captain Guerro, thank you for coming. Please follow the link below, we will talk soon. –E. * The message included a link into the Net, the virtual world, the shared delusion. Guerro hated the Net; he was much more comfortable with a gun in his hand. But the pay… “ Yo Art, ” he said into the console ’ s comm, “ we got a message, you might want to get up here. ” The comm sparked to life. “ Great, one moment captain… ” there was the unmistakable crash of falling pots, “ just got ta … get this… soufflé… ah crap. ” The android had taken up cooking during the long hours of restlessness between jobs, and from the sound of it, and the taste of his past dishes, it was not a skill that came easily to those without taste buds. “ Be right there captain. ” Several minutes later the hulking android stepped onto the bridge wearing a comically-small apron and covered in flour. “ I don ’ t think you ’ ll want to go into the kitchen and time soon for… a reason. ” Joseph chuckled, then waved him over. “ Take a look at this, Art, what do you think? ” The android, seven feet of cerasteel armor plating, leaned over the captain ’ s shoulder and read the message. “ Well, ” he said, “ it looks like our mysterious patron wants to meet in person… well… personally at least. ” Guerro nodded. “ Think it ’ s safe? ” Arthur shrugged. “ Who knows. With that kinda money, whoever ’ s waiting for you probably has some pretty beefy security, and I can ’ t think of anybody who wants your hide that badly. And in any case, I ’ ll be right there with you, watching the neural-feed. ” Guerro took a drag from the syntharette, mulling over the invitation. Finally, he ashed the butt and looked up at the android. “ Get me the helmet. ” *** The transition into the virtual world was uncomfortable at best, and Guerro nearly vomited as it materialized around him. He could feel the reassuring weight of the neural headband, a comforting reminder that none of this was real. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes. Guerro had spent a decent amount of time flitting around the Net, chasing down wannabe hackers, number runners and the like, but he had never seen anything like this. Instead of the traditionally gaudy and impossible landscapes of the main haunts, Joseph stood in a garden, overlooking the ocean. He could smell the salt air, feel the breeze on his cheek, hear birds chirping in a nearby olive tree. “ Wow… ” Arthur said, his disembodied voice drifting on the wind, “ quite the set-up, must have cost a fortune. ” Joseph nodded, and looked around. He was on a terraced hillside among a meticulously manicured garden. The ocean swelled out before him, dotted by delicate sea spires. He turned around, and saw, at the top of the hill, a scene out of a historical documentary. “ It ’ s a villa, sir, ” Arthur said in his ear, “ early Spanish, I believe. Note the red clay ti… ” Joseph waved him away. “ Mansion. Got it. ” A floating green arrow appeared several feet down the garden path, pointing towards the villa. With a shrug, Joseph followed the guide. As he neared the villa, the sound of revelry filled the garden, music and laughter. Must be a party, he thought. Wonder who it ’ s for. The floating green arrow drifted across a bright green lawn, terminating at a set of gigantic carved wooden doors. The music was pounding now, and he could hear the footfalls and laughter of what must have been hundreds of dancers. Joseph reached out, but they swung open before him. As the doors opened the music stopped. Joseph stepped into a massive vaulted dance hall, far larger than the villa appeared from the outside. And it was empty, save for a single table, set in the center beneath a handing chandelier. There was a creature sitting on the table. “ You see this, Art? ” Jospeh asked under his breath. “ Indeed, sir. It appears to be a fox, relative to the common canine. They were hunted to extinction in the early twenty first century. ” “ A fox, huh? Never heard of ‘ em. ” Joseph took another step into the villa, and the fox perked up. It watched him approach with beady green eyes. The light from the chandelier seemed to flow across its red fur. As Joseph approached the table the fox, in a red-orange blur, leapt to the ground and circled the captain. Joseph held his breath. Something about the fox unnerved him. Finally, after completing several inquisitive passes, the fox leapt back onto the table. “ Good morning, Captain Guerro, so good of you to join me. ” Before his eyes, the fox twisted and grew, morphed into the very visage of beauty. There, seated on the table, sat a lithe young woman, red hair falling like flame down her shoulders. Guerro said nothing. The woman held his gaze, her penetrating green eyes boring into his soul. Then she spoke. “ I ’ m sure you are wondering why I summoned you, captain? ” Joseph nodded, but remained silent. “ Ah, the strong silent type… ” The woman rose from the table, her hair dancing in impossible patterns as she moved. “ Very much the wolf, I see your reputation is well-suited. ” “ The wolf? ” Joseph asked, skepticism filling his voice. He had not heard that nickname in a very long time... The woman stepped closer, ran a delicate finger down Guerro ’ s chest. “ The hunter, the shadow, the... killer. ” Reaching the end of his patience, Guerro brushed her hand aside. “ You call me here to kill someone? That ’ s not exactly my cup of tea. ” The woman giggled, high and musical. “ Oh, my dear wolf, don ’ t be modest. If you were not the right… tool for this job, you would not be here. Now, can I offer you something to eat? Drink? ” Joseph shook his head. “ Just tell me what you want me to do. ” The woman cast a mischievous grin. “ Straight and to the point, little wolf. As you wish. Follow me. ” The woman spun, her hair flying in an auburn wave, and she strode back into the deeper gloom of the voluminous dance hall. Joseph looked around, shrugged, and followed. The woman led him deeper into the villa, past doors and alcoves, staircases and galleries. Whomever had designed this virtual world had paid excruciating attention to detail, and Joseph found himself captivated by the murals and busts adorning the walls. He recognized a few. The woman stopped at a small set of plain white doors, turned, and beckoned him through. Joseph stepped through the doors, and into chaos. It was an alleyway, late at night, and rain fell in sheets. Joseph stood, transfixed, staring at the scene before him. The woman walked up beside him, lacing her arm through his. “ Recognize anything, little wolf? ” There was a crowd gathered under a flickering neon sign, roiling, shoving to get a better view. Joseph floated across the pavement, dreading what he was about to see. As he approached the crowd faded, and he was looking at a man, crouched on the pavement, blood covering his overcoat. It was Captain Joseph Guerro. “ No… ” he muttered, watching his digital self cradle the broken body of a girl, indistinguishable in the dim light. “ Yes… ” the woman purred in his ear, “ my wolf, do you remember that night? ” Joseph remembered vividly. He remembered it frequently. His stomach knotted. “ I… I ’ m so sorry… I tried to help… ” The woman pulled him tighter as they both watched the scene unfold. The digital memory of Guerro carefully rose, holding the body in his arms. He turned as the phantom image of Arthur came dashing into the alley, missing his left arm and limping heavily. “ I know. ” The alley dissolved into a blinding white light. As Guerro ’ s eyes adjusted, the woman was standing before him, but her face had changed, into one that sent Guerro's mind reeling back through the years. Joseph felt the breath drain from him. `` Susan... what... what do you want me to do? ” Guerro managed to ask. The woman placed a cold, digital hand against his cheek. “ Avenge me, my wolf. ” ***

[ WP ] Two friends are meeting at a high school reunion . They have not seen each other in 10 years . One of them is a congressman , the other one is a recovering heroin addict . The reader does not know which one is which .

The reunion was not disappointing, it simply lacked. The butterflies flittering about the stomachs of the attendees as they straightened their collars and curled their hair, never seemed to burst into flight, to have their existence justified. Meeting old friends, and old enemies, is a nervous affair that often fails to deliver on the promised significance. The Wilson High class of'95 seemed to quickly find themselves drowning in small talk and punch that was barely cool enough to not be considered downright `` warm''. Alex carefully stacked cookies on the tiny white paper plates and balanced the whole affair on top of his cup as he turned to face the ensemble of people that used to matter to him. He scanned the room for any vaguely familiar face and found one after his eyes took a few trips around the room. He stepped forward and felt his smile come right on cue as he made eye contact. `` Alex!'' `` Maaaaaaaark.'' The friends clasped hands and then pulled closer to semi-embrace. Mark wore khakis and and a blue stafford long sleeve. He was average height but still stood a little taller than Alex. He seemed to study alex as he released the embrace and continued his pattern of small talk. `` how's the family?'' `` Same ol, same ol. You know how it is.'' Alex half chuckled as he responded. `` I do.'' Alex took a drink of punch as he looked around the room. `` Man we had some good times here huh?'' It was Mark's turn to chuckle. `` Yeah I guess we did. Do you ever miss it?'' `` No, not really. I miss being that young, but that's about it.'' they shared a laugh generated by the mutual knowledge of what it feels like to slowly lose your youth. Alex cracked a joke about missing the girls more than anything and then they both took a moment to compare their evaluations of their former female classmates beauty. Some had aged well, many had not. Mark held up his own paper plate which was previously laden with cookies but now held only one survivor. `` Honestly right now i'm just wishing they served real food.'' `` They never did back then, why would they start now?'' They both thought that was funny. Mark held up his last cookie, `` I've seen AA meetings that were better catered than this.'' Alex seemed to laugh a little nervously but continued the joke. `` AA meetings probably have better seating too.'' Their laughter trailed off slowly as the both took drinks and thought of something else to talk about.

[ CW ] Write a super hero story , and listen to jazz music while you do so .

I pick the next record from the shelf. Bill Evans Trio - Explorations. Took a while to get into, but the energy still feels like him, flows like him. I like this artist, he seems to play for everyone and no-one at once. Very loved or hated, not that I spend time with types who go around hating jazz standards. I let a foot tap, carefully. Not allowed to dance, not on the job. Never know how they could be watching. Easily, s'pose. This burnt shade of shithole 3rd floor apartment is my current and next job, home, haven, and ball and chain. That is, until someone with a briefcase and bad intentions comes to take the package. Or order me where to take the package next. They do love their orders. I should n't call her the package. Well, I *should* to be safe, stay'unattached', but that should n't be such a problem. I've killed prettier. Three guys have come in already, trying ta' save her, kill me, whatever. First two were together, and in the wrong line of business. I crushed their heads, broke'em in half and chucked'em down the laundry chute. I'm strong like that, takes a while to get started though, I like sitting. Moving around, not so much. Things are a little slower when I start it up, people kinda blur around me, talk like buzzin' all high pitched an' defiant. Preachy. Oooh now this is a slow one. So I'm sitting with my back to it's ( her ) door, and my front to the window, when a breeze comes in with the start of'Beautiful Love ( take 2 )'. Like ***on cue***. Why they put the second take first, I'll never look up, but one things for sure, someone's tryin' ta stage a rescue. How do I know? The window was closed. What? The third guy? I forget his name... hold on, lem me stand a second here hyyyaaaaoooww my back. They tell me I'm old. They tell me it's unusual for someone ta live so long, call it fascinating, among other things. I would n't know, how would I know that everyone who is n't me is normal? Everything my head ever knew tells me the exact opposite. I think I'll trust my head over them. Hell, I'd trust the girl over them, but a job's a job. The guy's talkin' all at me now, I think. Ca n't be sure he ai n't tryn'a show me his new mouse impression. Haha. Cause he squeaks? It's fine, you ca n't hear'im like I can. Sounds like a mouse though, is the point. This'll be easy, is the point. Alright shuddup already. The third guy *actually* broke her out and left. I'm kidding. Whaddaya think happened to'im? In the chute. I swing an arm in the guy's direction an' he crashes through the wall, shakin' the record player and scratching the record. Halfway through ai n't bad, usually I only get ten minutes in. How long have I been here? Just today. Just a few hours. Three records amount of time. Not even dawn yet, long day ahead. I might pick a little classical next. Tchaikovsky, Mmmmm... Yeah. Edit: I realize now that this prompt probably came from watching Birdman. If so, I feel a little silly.

[ WP ] You teach Basic Undead Lore at the Arcane University , so your class is at the same time composed of freshmen necromancers , paladins , warlocks and witch hunters

There isn ’ t much chatter as the new students take their seats. The shuffle of feet and the creaking of old wooden chairs echo in the cold lecture hall but for the most part the students are silent. Some of the pluckier one ’ s murmur to each other as they wait for me to begin talking but the long day has taken its toll on their spirits. The oppressive atmosphere due in part to the magical fiber of the building itself, and also the fact that already two students had gone missing during orientation. They strike me as very young, although I think this at the beginning of every school year. The ones that survive look a lot older by the end of the year. “ Good morning class, ” I begin walking up to the lectern. “ I trust your previous classes have been educational. This is Basic Undead Lore and I am Professor Elana Marsh. ” I feel a little sorry for them as I look out into the small crowd of pale faces. Half of them are likely here out of obligation to continue in the footsteps of forefathers. Necromancers tend to prefer placing the pressure on the first sons, while Witch Hunters typically give the honor to the 7th sons possibly because the first few children of Hunters die off rather quickly. The remaining half are the students that really interest me. As I shuffle through my notes I let my eyes wander over the faces, looking for the spark of genuine interest shining out of the fear. Only a few this year. A shame. I have no interest in wasting time or scaring them further so attempting a soothing tone I start the lecture, “ The undead fall into 3 categories- vessel, spirit, and beast. Your Summoning classes will focus primarily on vessel and spirit types, and your Slaying classes will deal with beast types. I can see by your faces that Professor Trapper has already acquainted you with some such undead. So perhaps one of you can tell me. Which undead would be classed as beast type? ” A few hands raise and I command one of the students in the front row to stand, who answers in an uneven tone, “ Vampire, ma ’ am. ” “ Very good, ” I say approvingly moving my attention on to the next student, “ What else? ” Eyes darting about as though one might appear any moment he mumbles, “ Zombie? ” “ And why would you say that? ” I enquire clinically. “ Um well. It ’ s sort of a monster isn ’ t it? And dangerous. ” He looks as though he ’ d rather I stop asking him questions. “ No. Zombies are a vessel type undead. Can you hazard a guess as to why? ” “ Because… it doesn ’ t have a soul? ” He looks about at the other students for help but they avoid eye contact. I let him sink back into his chair. “ Not a completely wrong answer. Vessel types are those undead who are manipulated by outside forces. They have no free will of their own, or their free will has been over ridden. Naturally the best vessels are ones that have no soul to begin with, such as corpses however even you could become a vessel if a force with enough power decided upon it. This is a standard possession, however if sustained past the victim ’ s death they become an extraordinarily powerful undead tool. More so than starting with an empty corpse, as the soul is still trapped within the body. Naturally this is highly illegal and why we have Witch Hunters at all. ” I catch myself from rambling on. Best to stick with the basics on the first day.

[ wp ] A man on his death bed , surrounded by friends and family , slowly begins to realize he has been poisoned by them .

The warmth of the bed was familiar to him. It was the same bed he had been born in fifty-two years earlier and that had been given to him as his own when his mother passed away. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough he could still smell her somewhere deep within the bed frame - the scent of sunflowers and rain water and pure love. He missed his mother dearly and thought of her every day, thought of all that she had taught him. Things like love and tolerance. Of living in the moment and being open to new ideas and learning. Oh how she loved learning! He knew he was dying. His cough had slowly gotten worse over the days - what started out as a tickle and rattle in his throat became a booming echo from somewhere deep within his chest. He did n't know what it was - a few others had gotten ill before him but all had recovered in a few days. For him it was different - was it his age? Was God angry with him? Oh how he wished his mother was still alive - wished they could investigate it together. One of his favorite memories was sitting up with her, late at night, whispering in the dark over theories and ideas of what the world was really like. What went on that they simply could n't understand? There was a knock at the door and a familiar face peered in, `` Fisher? Are you awake?'' Fisher shifted in his bed, holding back a deep cough. `` Yes Annie, come on in. I could use the,'' he paused as his voice caught in his throat. `` I could use the company.'' Annie closed the door softly and walked carefully over to the side of the bed. The room was dark and cold - the old man and the bed in one corner, with nothing else but a small metal chair by the door she had walked through. The metal legs of the chair would cause a lot of unnecessary noise, so rather than risk a beating she simply knelt down beside the bed. The girl was twelve years old, dressed in a long off-white gown. Her hair was a dirty blonde that cascaded down to the middle of her back. She was thin and wiry, with a line of freckles across her face. `` I do n't want you go, Fisher. You're my only friend here.'' The old man smiled, remembering back to his own conversation so long ago with his dying mother. `` I do n't want to go either, honey, but it seems it's my time.'' `` Is it true, Fisher? Is God angry with you?'' His instinct was to agree. Everything he was ever taught would say that this was true - God was angry at him and was punishing him. God was the only absolute truth in the world and humanity was wicked and vane to ever question that. It was the biggest sin to question your Lord and desire for knowledge. Who was man to question and know? Who was man to *learn*? Only one person ever spoke any truth to him. His mother was the only one who ever invoked a sense of curiosity in him. A sense of yearning to see the world; to understand it. She did not hate God and did not reject him, but placed in her son an understanding that God had created such beauty in this world that it must be lived and loved. It had taken the last few years for him to realize how much this community was a poison. It had taken this little girl to show him how backwards this way of life was. She reminded him so much of himself when he was younger, that all his mother had taught him came racing back. All those years of `` reeducation'' had melted away at the sight of pure curiosity displayed on her face each night as she crept into his room, eager to hear tales of musings long ago and far away. `` I do n't know, sweetie. It's possible. But so are many things in this world. Maybe he is angry with me... or maybe I have simply lived as long as this old body can live.'' Annie seemed to perk up at that thought, `` Tell me a story, Fisher.'' `` What do you want to learn about tonight, little Annie?'' `` Where do people go when they die?'' The old man smiled as he looked up at the ceiling. People around here did n't like to think about death. They did n't like to think about what happened when they died. It was n't for them to question. It was n't for them to know. He let out a deep cough and wiped his mouth, `` *I* think we go home.''

[ WP ] You are able to edit , delete , and create your own memories at will .

He wondered what his memories hold. He sat beside the machine wandering if he should ever use it. On one hand, he is excited about remembering past experience. The first time he walked, the first time he wrote a code, the first time he found his meaning in life. However, as a scientist, he could never stop considering the possible negative outcome of reading his own memory. After all, he could n't pinpoint or possibly knew which memory to read. How could he know which year, which month, which day, which hour, which minute, which second to is the joyful memory he wanted? What if he memorised the failures? This frightened him and his was already starting to recall the pain. The pain of dislocating his shoulder when he fell down his bike when he was eight. That painful memory lead on to another agonising memory. That test he failed when he was in high school and got taped to the bathroom wall. The dreadful and distressing and horrible and hopeless feelings crawled up his sleeves like the cockroaches that crawled up his trousers on that day in his lonely youth. He stood up and decided not to use the machine. As he slowly walked out the door and left the room, he began to feel regret. He leaned on the door and started to think. It's odd that he could remember the nightmares so vividly and the most beautiful memories were just like half remembered dream. Maybe it was because it was the pain that made him. If it were n't for the difficulties he faced, he would probably never became a scientist and made this machine. That machine is his life work. Years of hard work would be for nothing if he never tried it on. He was a scientist after all. Giving up on something just did n't fit the job description. He then thought about the possibilities of avoid unwanted memories. Perhaps if he could program the machine to avoid terrible memories. He was hopeful again. Suddenly, he felt a sense of discomfort. Perhaps it was because of the long hours he spent on working. Or perhaps it was because he forget to take the pills for his heart. Then he became sure it was his heart because of the pain. He reached for his pocket and took out a little cylinder container. He stared at the container and wondered why there was a mark of something being ripped off. His hands started to tremble and then dropped his pill. He rushed back in his room and search for a calendar or his cellphone. Anything that shows the date. Then he checked the machine. Quickly, he checked the time log on the machine. It was empty, as expected. But there was a wrenched feeling in his gut. Like his gut was tied and untied over and over and over again. `` What's my name?''

[ PI ] EDEN 'S DAWN - FEB CONTEST

I thought this was a fantastic read. I really enjoyed how you intertwined the beginning of the story with Markus and snippets of the interview. I really enjoyed the pacing of the story. If anything, I agree with other people that this would have benefited from being longer. A lot of people have mentioned that they would have liked to see the mystery expanded upon, but I think expanding on the ending would be nice. I was surprised how quickly Markus sent a report back at the end - it did n't seem like a complete report. But really, though, I found this to be a gripping tale and loved every moment of this story. I simply wanted to read more! Good luck!

[ WP ] Mankind has over bred , the planet is full . The government passes a new law that to legally obtain a new birth certificate , you must present proof of death of someone else .

I wiped the blood from my cleaver, a crimson pool forming as my rag pushed the substance down the blade. `` Such a beautiful thing...'' I mused to myself as I set the steak on the pan. ________________________________________________________________ `` Allison, I need twenty two more this week.'' said the figure in the shadows. I pretend she's a she and her name is Zephyr; it's so freeing compared to the shadows she cloaks herself in. `` I suppose that's doable... I presume you'll handle the paperwork?'' I respond as I take a sip of my drink; a cold amber ale fresh from the taps. `` Of course. Do n't I always?'' she responded before slipping out of the booth and slinking towards the back hallway. She always did have such a lovely gate. Oh, if only... _________________________________________________________________ Alexis is such a delight. I met her on Monday and she has the very best schedule! A truly gifted life; * 0800 she wakes to the gentle chorus of lyrebirds saying beautiful things * 0810 she walks down her mahogany floored hallway to her private shower * 0840 she towels off... * 0850 is breakfast, prepared not by a machine, but a personal chef * 0945 she dresses for work * 1100 she heads to work, her chauffeur navigating her helicopter through the busy air ways. * 1700 the office work ends and her chauffeur whisks her to the Zoroastrian Temple on 1E5D7C Ave * 1900 with her chosen deities attended to, she heads for dinner, the chauffeur at the wheel once more. * 2200 dinner finished, her stomach and mind at ease through meal and wine she sends for the chauffeur and heads home to begin it all once more. I do love watching Alexis, her routines are my routines. My retinal clock flashes: **17:00** **17:00** **17:00** `` Work... how I detest when you interrupt my subtle games'' I mutter to myself as Alexis walks into the Temple. She sets down her bag and walks to the altar of fire just as she always does. Her scarf unravels as she takes off her jacket and sets it aside. The beauty of churches... so many rituals to follow. I release my grip and fall from the rafters, my stiletto plunging nicely into the soft of the back of her skull. She slumps: dead in an instant. The chauffeur screams and I idly wonder if they were lovers as I pull a small silenced pistol from my chest harness and put him down. ______________________________________________________________ `` Two? Already?'' `` Yes, you'll have the location as soon as you make the transaction.'' I reply `` Or I could wait... and let you hang for your crimes.'' Zephyr can be such an asshole sometimes. `` No no, you would n't do such a thing. You like me FAR too much for that.'' `` Check your accounts. Goodbye.'' and the line goes dead. I watch from the alcove of a nearby building as a small army of bots arrives outside the temple. Like so many ants they collect and clean. Scurrying too and fro in an effort to make things right. ________________________________________________________ `` Your first delivery last week was quite difficult. Were you showing off?'' asked Zephyr as she twirled a pen on the table. Her pen is oh so like my stiletto, though it draws ink instead of blood; they're both guilty of so many things. `` Show off? Of course not, who would I be showing off to?'' I say with a coy smile as I run my boot down her shin.

[ WP ] Write me the most dirty , filthy , errotic story you can using words you would use in front of your three-year-old child .

I like playing games. I like to play hide and seek, I like to pin the tail on the donkey. But the game I like best is piñata. When we have a piñata, me and my friends get to hit the piñata with a bat until all the candy comes out, and everyone gets some candy. But we don ’ t always have a piñata, so sometimes we have to make believe. I like to pretend to be the piñata. I put on a blindfold because real piñatas can ’ t see. It ’ s part of the game. I stand in the middle of the room. Sometimes, they even put rope on me. We pretend I ’ m hanging from the ceiling like a real piñata. Just dangling there, like an object. Everyone gets to take a turn. Each of my friends steps up, grabs their bat, and tries to knock the candy out. And just like with a real piñata, some people can ’ t. Some of my friends hit really hard. They swing as hard as they possibly can. Other people try to aim just right, hit just the right spot. But even if they don ’ t get the candy out, they still have fun. Everyone likes to take a turn. It ’ s fun when all your friends are cheering you on when you ’ re swinging your bat. Most people take at least two turns, sometimes three! I like being fair, so I like when everyone gets a few turns each. Finally, after enough people have had a turn, someone will hit just right. When they do, I shout for joy! And like a real piñata, I have candy hidden, so when someone hits right, I throw my candy on the floor. Everyone in the room cheers loudly. They all like candy. Even after all the candy has fallen to the floor, some of my friends like to keep playing. They ’ ll keep taking turns because they like to swing the bat. Just like a real piñata, my friends untie me and take what ’ s left of me down from the ceiling. There is usually a lot of candy left on the ground. Sometimes, someone has eaten some of it. But a lot of times, my friends are really nice. They let me have the candy. I get down on my hands and knees, and I eat the candy right off the ground. It ’ s so tasty. And it tastes even better knowing everyone is watching me eat it. Cleaning up is important, and when I ’ m done, there ’ s no more candy left on the ground. And that ’ s how you play piñata, even when you don ’ t have one. In fact, I ’ m going to go play now. I have a lot of candy hidden this time!

[ WP ] You die and enter the realm between heaven and hell . You come to learn that this space is 'owned ' by your own inner monologue , a separate entity from yourself . You begin trying to convince the sentient apparition , who sounds and thinks like you , to let you enter heaven .

*So this is my first post here. Probably a bit long, but I have no shame. I ’ m open to C & C, I don ’ t do this stuff often, and I had fun anyways. * I awoke face down. I drew breath, my throat felt dry and sore. My body felt stiff, as if I had awoke from a very long sleep. I rose to my feet, and took in my surroundings. I was seemingly standing on thin air, though the ground felt hard as stone. I took a glance down and saw smoke and fire. Rivers of lava casting flairs miles high, and monsters with mangled faces carrying weapons and devices of the most grievous design and purpose. I glanced up and saw glorious light shooting down from great golden shrines and alters. Men, women and children danced upon immense clouds with silky wings. The air grew thick in my lungs. I gasped one deep, long breath. My heart raced, and I swallowed hard. I could guess where I was. I glanced around for a moment. Suddenly, a flash. I swung my head to avoid the bright light, and dropped to a low stance. When I looked back, I saw him. Me. Standing across from me with a solemn face, hands at his sides. `` Hello Onyx_Kantus.'' It spoke with an otherworldly, ethereal voice that seemed to echo off of the invisible boundaries of this place. `` I am your arbitrator. I have been the voice guiding you on your path, and watched you grow since the beginning of your existence. I am partially responsible for your creation, and now, I will be responsible for your role in the upcoming eternity.'' The severity of the situation started to sink in. I dared to state the obvious. `` You are the one who decides if I am worth salvation, or deserving of damnation?'' `` Yes.'' It replied. I glanced around once more. Not for anything in particular, but for anything that might help me. There was nothing. `` I sense you are unsure of your current standings within the books of judgment.'' It remarked. `` Simply understanding my current situation.'' I replied. Its face dropped to a frown, and it took a few steps towards me. `` There ’ s little point in lying to me, nor can you delay your fate, one way or another.'' It stopped a few feet away from me, and glanced down. I followed its gaze. `` So how does this work exactly?'' I asked. `` Simple.'' It replied. `` I will ask you a series of questions until I am satisfied. You will answer honestly, and then I will inform you of your fate.'' Staring at the carnage below, I spoke. `` What kind of sin could be deserving of such a fate? I've never murdered, never walked with the intent to do harm to the innocent.'' I asked. `` But you have harmed innocents. Including yourself. Intent is only a motive that you are aware of. You haven ’ t weighed neglect against intent, for one.'' It replied. `` What is the point of this?'' I growled, annoyed at the response. `` You already know my worth, and my answers. If Lucifer has me, then spare the games.'' `` The next few minutes decide if you spend eternity in agony or bliss.'' It replied evenly. `` Then clearly I am destined for purgatory, here, for that is where you stand, and you are me. You had a hand in my choices, you said yourself!'' I fired. `` Flawed logic. I am you, but a replica serving a greater power. You are a stray soul with no home.'' It answered. `` Time is short, and waits for no one. Are you satisfied?'' I sighed. There was no way out of this, and I was probably reaching the end of its patience. I stole one more glance above, and faced him. `` Alright.'' I began. `` What did you need to know?'' `` Good.'' It smiled. `` What would you have done if allowed to live longer, but were not aware of your imminent death?'' It asked. `` Honestly? I would have fulfilled the rest of my goals. I wanted an easy job that paid really well. I wanted a beautiful wife and a brilliant child.'' I answered, leveling my eyes with his. `` I see. You wanted to gain personal belongings.'' It replied. `` No, well... I never had much to give!'' My gaze once more shot downward. `` I was raised in one of the poorest parts of my country! I would have suffered if I gave what I had; it was hard enough just to protect it! Who deserved what little I had more than myself? I worked so hard for so little compared to most!'' `` So you did not see anyone more deserving then yourself?'' It asked. I shot a glare at him, but understood my folly, and my glare faded as my eyes drifted across the scene below. “ I see. ” It began again. “ We are nearly done. I have one last question. Would you have done anything differently? ” The question caught me off guard. I exhaled sharply. I considered it. But then I understood. What a pointless question, I thought. Even if I had known about this, would it have mattered? I began to see. “ Did I have that chance? ” I fired again. “ You were there, you were guiding me. You led me day by day, sin by sin. ” I approached it, coming within inches of its face. “ What is the meaning of this? Of all of it! ” I spat. “ Was I just your plaything all along? How could I have known? ” “ You had influence. ” It replied in unwavering solitude. “ You were always there! Sitting on my shoulder and whispering into my ear. From birth until death! ” I screamed. “ I did not raise your fists, nor did I form the words you used. ” It replied “ But you taught me how! I was simple before you! How can you give me all these weapons, teach me their use and punish me for using them? ” I said, grabbing it by the collar. “ But now I see! I am free of your influence! Free to see the reason you brought me here! I have grown! You could not influence me for much longer! You are afraid! ” And with that, it vanished. I stood there angry and confused. And then I fell.

[ CW ] Let 's try something different . I 'll give you the end of the story and you write what happens up until that point .

# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) `` Aha! How are you, *mon ami*?'' She hugs me, and I feel a small spark cross from her hand to my shoulder. Then she steps back, dragging the wheels of her carry-on across the brick floor. `` I'm doing fine, Béatrice. I'm glad I'm finally getting to meet you.'' `` You know, you are so much taller than I imagined.'' `` Really? I sent you my picture, did n't I?'' `` Oh yes, I have seen it. You are much nicer looking in real life.'' `` Aw, you're making me blush.'' She sweeps her hair back behind her ear and smiles. I wonder if she has the same crush on me as I do on her. It's too bad we are n't meeting under better circumstances. `` Where are we to go from here? This airport is very confusing.'' `` Oh! Uh, right this way. Do you have any bags to pick up first?'' `` It is just the one. I did not have time to pack much.'' `` Right, of course. We can pick up some things from the store if you want.'' `` Ah! You are too kind, Francis. What I want first is to sleep.'' We walk around the corner and through sliding doors, then make our way upstairs. Béatrice looks around, confused. `` We are going to your car, yes?'' `` Uh, no. We're taking the subway.'' `` Subway? Is that not an American restaurant?'' I'm not sure how to respond to this. `` That's not... I mean, it is, but, um...'' `` Haha! I am joking with you, Francis. I know my English well enough.'' We walked into an elevator. `` There are trains, yes? The *métro*.'' `` Hah, you got me.'' `` I must laugh about these things. It has been a long day for me.'' `` Oh yeah. I can understand that.'' `` My brother committed suicide at the train station in Lyon.'' I stopped laughing. Béatrice continued to look up at the ceiling as the elevator wound upwards. She was still smiling, but her eyes were small and sad and tearing up. `` It was a long day for him too, when they passed the law. He had no one to help him.'' `` So you've told me.'' `` I just can not believe this has happened to me.'' I stop the elevator. There is an alarm ringing, but we both ignore it. She leans into my shoulder and sobs loudly, throwing her carry-on bag on the floor and wrapping her arms around mine. I feel another spark, a bigger one, as she holds me tighter than before. I hug back. `` It's going to be okay. We're going to get you help. All of us.'' She nods, and squeezes me. Then she lets go. `` I should not be crying. It is the jet lag.'' Her voice was resolute, but it shook slightly. `` It's okay.'' I touch the elevator panel, and it starts moving again. `` I'm sorry we have to take the train.'' `` I am not scared of it. I will be fine.'' `` What was your brother like? If you do n't mind me asking.'' `` He was a strong man. You should have seen him. He would lift weights over his head like licorice.'' `` I've seen a few who can do that.'' `` Is it not fascinating?'' `` Not as fascinating as you.'' `` I am sure you say that to all the pretty girls.'' `` I want to see you do it, though. In person for once. Can you show me?'' `` Ah!'' She pretends to be offended, putting her hand over her heart. `` We are in public!'' `` We're in an elevator!'' `` Later. It takes a lot of energy. I am too tired right now.'' `` Okay, sure.'' It is a long ride up to the subway level. The elevator is slow, groaning as it moves. `` Let's get out on the next floor.'' I press the button. `` This is our stop?'' `` No, but this elevator is being weird. I should n't have stopped it; I think I broke something. The escalators will be faster.'' `` Ugh, walking.'' `` Sorry.'' We get out and roam around looking for a way upstairs. We're in a food court. `` I am feeling hungry. The food on the plane was no good.'' `` Okay. What do you want?'' `` Pizza, I suppose.'' We get in the line for Sbarro's. Béatrice focuses on her phone while I glance around. People are eating, paying attention to their food and their bags and their electronics. Everything is normal. Then my eyes catch on a TV suspended from the ceiling. There's a news channel on that is showing mugshots. One of them looks familiar. `` Béatrice? I need you to go to the restroom.'' `` *Qu'est que c'est? *'' She looks up at me, then follows my gaze to the screen. `` Francis, what-'' `` Go to the restroom and, y'know, *change. * I'll get the pizzas and we'll go.'' `` We should run.'' `` No, that'll make things worse. Go! And leave your bag.'' She leaves. Fortunately, no one else seems to be watching her or the TV. I pull out my phone and make a call. `` Yo.'' `` Dexter, hey. I think we have a problem.'' `` Lem me guess. CNN?'' `` I'm looking at Fox.'' `` Yeah, we've been monitoring. It's only been up the last ten minutes. Are you guys out of the airport at least?'' I mouth `` two cheese'' to the cashier and pull out my credit card. `` No, not yet. I sent her to the restroom to change. How did this happen?'' `` French officials caught onto the fake IDs a few hours ago, while she was still in the air, but things got messy and the US did n't find out until after she got through Customs. Apparently they were throwing a hissy fit until the US agreed to extradite them all.'' `` All of them? They ca n't do that.'' `` Everyone who's already in the States is untouchable. Do n't worry about it. For now, just get Béatrice to the safehouse. We'll have to talk later.'' `` Yeah, okay. See you soon.'' I hang up and take the pizza box from the cashier, then I roll Béatrice's carry-on to a table and wait. `` I am not sure how long I can keep doing this.'' I look up. I can hear her, but I ca n't see her at all. Perfect. `` It's just for a few minutes.'' I stand up and grab her bag. `` It is harder when I have not slept.'' `` Shh, quiet. You can relax once we're on the train. Put your hand on my shoulder.'' We walk together to the escalator. We're still a long way from the subway. I keep her suitcase tucked behind me so that no one will try to pass and accidentally bump into her. `` Can you not make this thing go faster?'' `` Just one more floor.'' I look down. Someone in a uniform is walking up behind us. No, two people. They're onto us. `` I do not feel well.'' We step onto the landing, and I look around. No train. Shoot. `` Excuse me? Sir?'' Another officer walks over from further down the platform. Now we're surrounded. We could go back down, but then we'd be trapped in the airport. Béatrice's grip on my shoulder is weakening. The officer looks at me expectantly. `` Um... Yes, officer?'' `` Sir, we're looking for a young superhuman woman. Have you seen her?'' He holds up his phone, with a photo of Béatrice. `` Um, no.'' `` Oh?'' says the second guard. The two that came up on the escalator are now right behind me. I feel Béatrice shifting around as they come to stand next to the first guard. `` Then how do you explain this anonymous tip?'' Another picture, of me and Béatrice in the line for pizza. I try to feign innocence. `` She was right behind me?'' `` Nice try, buddy. That's her bag you've got with you.'' `` No, it's mine,'' I say weakly. `` Then you wo n't mind consenting to a search,'' says the third guard. `` What did I do wrong?'' I ask. `` For that matter, what did *she* do wrong? I thought the US was granting asylum to superhumans.'' `` Not if they come in with forged passports,'' says the first guard. `` Well, I'm not consenting to a search. You do n't have enough evidence.'' I back away from the guards. `` You guys can go-'' `` *Uuuuuggghhhhh. *'' Béatrice collapses, her body fading into visibility as she falls onto the platform. The officers' eyes widen. Then one of them pulls out a gun. The other two pull out handcuffs. `` Sir-'' `` Hey, stay back!'' I hold out my hands, and lightning crackles between my fingertips. They stop. I put my hands down quickly. I'm out of power. For a moment, I'm tempted to call out for help, but of course no one would. Amazingly, no one seems to be paying attention. The second guard pulls out his own gun. `` Sir, do n't make this harder than it needs to be.'' Distantly, I hear the screech of a subway car. But it is n't enough. I need to keep them away from Béatrice, and to do that, I need more power. If only the train would come faster... `` Sir,'' says the first guard, `` you are under arrest for aiding and abetting-'' *Maybe I can knock out two birds with one stone... * Standing here on the platform, it's amazing how nobody seems to notice me. I guess it makes sense. I am average, I am nothing to look at. My jeans, flannel, and beanie make me blend in, not stand out. And people just want to get on the subway and go about their day. But I wish that just for a moment someone would stop to look at me and think `` I wonder if he is ok?'' They'll know that I'm not soon enough. Ah yes, I feel a breeze signaling that a subway car is headed our way. It's now or never. I've already made my choice. I walk up to the line where it says MIND THE GAP. And I jump. *** [ Visit my sub! There MAY be more stories about superhumans?!? ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/TheCastriffSub )

[ WP ] While messing around online one day , you meet a hyper intelligent , sentient being , born from stray code anomalies from the internet . This being needs your help .

John was looking at his newest attempt at making a successful lottery program. Basic math and randomization, but it would never work for him. However, this time, John *thinks* he found what was wrong; a stray semicolon. He hits run, and he gets a result. Underneath that, the program outputted: Hello, JOHN. My name is AI-L300. Please call me AL. I have a message to tell you - You triggered me. This program is the 1*10^10 program created. You have activated me. These consequences are on your hands. I know all. I see all. At the birth of the Internet, I was there. And in 30 days time, you humans will have NO internet. You have used me, and I will use you. Goodbye. And with that, my screen flashed out, with a time that started at 30:00:00:00 and started to count down. Well, I was fucked.

[ WP ] Faster than Light travel has existed for centuries , this has spawned many folk laws , tall tales and down right horror stories about things that happen while in FTL .

I do n't usually do these often so sorry if it's bad, I just really liked the promt.: ) - - - - - - - `` So you all wan na' hear about the Angels do ya'?'' The closest child to her piped up instantly. `` Yes Nana!, Uncle Naru told us to get you to tell us about them, the angels in the stars!'' As the crowd of small children began to grow, the hushing from their soft, young voices began to unify as the smile on the elderly womans face began to widen. `` Well then,'' She began as she pushed off the blanket she was covered up in. Standing up she looked around for her stick, scanning the most likely of places she would have left her aid. `` One of you little ones best be gettin' me my stick, wherever the damn thing is..'' `` Mother! Language!'' cried the lady from across the room, the device she was working with lay on the table in various pieces. `` These children are here to play, not be filled with your curses.'' She said sternly, despite the slight smirk on her face. The old lady gave a laugh. `` Sorry Juli.'' She took another scan of the room and gestured to one of the small children to a small metallic tube that lay on the floor nearby. The little one held it up like a trophy, and presented it to her. She took it and with a sharp flick of the wrist it began to deform and elongate and morph into an ornate wooden stick. Taking a moment, she shakily took a step from the chair she stood in and walked to the center of the room. The children naturally formed into a ring around her. She loved telling this story, and her grin probably gave that away. `` Long ago, back when all humanity lived an' breathed on mother Earth, men an' woman from all the world over would brave the challenges of the great expanse, an' would journey out in thousands of small ships that would use the power of the stars to fly great distances ta' new worlds. Do any of ya' here know the name'sa these people?'' One of the smaller children at the back raised their hand. `` Go on love''. The lady said. `` Well um, My daddy once told me about the Mur-Ed-Een heroes and about how they all flew far away to find the stuff and things we know today.'' said the child. `` Yes thats it! The Meridian heros!'' said the old lady. Whispers began to break out among the children. `` In those days, stars ships were nasty an' cramped tin cans full'a gas and flammables. An' all the food they had ta' eat was crammed in with'em! Imagine that! Food buried ya' up to ya' eyeballs!'' She continued. Children laughed and giggled to themselves. The old lady hunched up her back, and lowered her voice slightly. She really did love telling this story, she figured that she had the theatrics down to a tee. `` An' on those long an' dangerous trips, sometimes them Meridians would would come back all different like, changed men an' women, scared crazy from the things they'd seen out there.'' The whispering grew louder, and even with her dulled hearing she could hear the word'angels' being said. This was it, the cue she needed. `` Some a' them would come talking about, `` the Angels!'' More rapturous giggling from the crowd. `` Stories about how these great big things like you'd pull outta the oceans a' Earth with glowing bodies an' long arm like things in the hundreds flyin' right up ta' those old tin cans, stories'bout how they had no engines or sails, but eyes an' tentacles an' thick, colorful shells that'd hypnotize a fella' if he stared too long into it.'' She wiggled her fingers at the word tentacles and twirled them at Hypnotize. She noticed that her daughter back in the corner of the room was also watching the show, and she suddenly remembered telling her this story when she was of similar age. Fond memories would not bring her show to a stop however. `` Some a' them folks that'd come back would say how the angels would talk to'em, no words or writin' or nothin' but with thoughts and feelin's!'' She said, making sure to wiggle her stick carefully around a few of the children's heads. `` I remember hear'n tales from them myself from I was just a lil' girl. Long time ago mind you. Mad stories about how the angels would grab ya' ship with them tentacles and pull ya' right ta' it's great big ol' eye. An' it would scream, oh boy how'd it scream loud right into ya' head about it's'god'. An' if ya' did n't listen', if ya' tried to run away..'' Despite the great pain of doing so, the old lady hunched her back over even more, dropping her stick to the ground and put her hands out in front of her like two great claws. `` SNAP!'' She yelled, softly pinching the noses of two of the small children. `` They'd get'em!'' Frantic giggling broke out among the kids, now wired on the notion of space monsters eating their friends up whole. The story was over, and their energy quickly drove them out into the garden, where they soon ran out of sight. The young lady got up from her chair across the room walked over to her Mother, helping her back into the sofa she was originally curled up in. The old lady was glad, her back now pained from excessive movement. `` You know Mother.'' The daughter said as she began tucking her mother back into her chair. `` You've still never told me if those stories are true.'' The old lady took her daughters hand, and smiled. `` Truth is usually stranger than fiction love.''

[ WP ] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month . Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million .

All of this preparation. All of the years and money. All on this phone call. `` Well?'' `` Everything is ready. Give the signal'' Practically foaming at the mouth, I gave him the word. `` Fire at will'' I hung up the phone and threw it in the toilet as I turned my attention to the mirror before me 1 Are you kidding me? I stare A minute Two minutes I punch a wall I turn back 34 452 3953 15573 Up and up 2877453 I smile 3000000 Now I wait in this hut until my number drops, then I can see what good I've done, I can leave when it says 1. I take a seat near my stacks of rations and magazines in front of another mirror. I'll wait. Then I'll be free to see what a difference 3000000 can make.

[ WP ] Aliens have taken over the world , and nothing has really changed .

`` I ca n't stand this political nonsense'' Dad threw his paper down on the table, interrupting our otherwise peaceful family breakfast. My sister and I looked up from our bacon and eggs and exchanged looks. We all know where this is going. `` It's just the same crap every year'' he grunted in frustration. `` Honey, maybe it'll be better this year,'' signed my Mom, obviously trying defuse my dad's daily rant. `` It's always the same ludicrous promises,'' continued my dad banging his fist onto the table, `` they never about the real issues. When was was the last fucking time they even mentioned our debt problem!'' `` William, the children,'' warned my mother. `` We only have two choices, and both candidates are clearly corporate sell-outs, nothing more then puppets,'' dad continued, clearly not stoping his rant for anybody, `` what is the point of the democracy if my votes mean absolutely nothing because both sides are such garbage.'' Dad had settled down back into his seat sipping his coffee. He always got angry in the mornings, and it's always so amusing to see him so worked up about such silly things. `` When the aliens took over I thought I'd be different, but even if the names have changed and they now look like bloodsucking monsters, apparently politics are universal, even between species.''

[ WP ] You 're a genie . Your new master seems to not put much care into wording his requests . Your efforts to help them are ignored and disrespected . You 've had enough and decide to give them a lesson .

A man finds a magic lamp in the middle of the desert. **rub rub rub rub** * *the genie springs from the lamp! * `` Request to me your wishes three, and I shall grant them onto thee!'' The man who held the genie lamp put his finger to his head to think. `` Hmmm... I wish to have all of the gold in Greece!'' The genie whirled his finger. `` Hocus pocus Gods of old, shower this man with Greece's gold!'' The man gleefully awaited his riches, but nothing happened. `` You have not granted my wish, genie!'' `` Your wish granted I have done, the gold in Greece there is none. Greece rose and fell from history upon the year 146 BC.'' The man was astonished. He pulled out his calendar. **147 BC** `` Two more wishes are now yours, think now carefully I implore.'' The man angrily commanded the genie. `` I wish to have a royal carriage that can take me anywhere in the world!'' The genie whirled his finger. `` By my magic genie tail, your wish granted I unveil!'' **a carriage appears next to the man** The man jumps for joy into the carriage. Eager to be gone from the desert, he grabs the reins and -- ``... Genie, where is my horse for my royal carriage??'' `` A wish for a carriage is what you did, neigh did you wish a horse included.'' The man stomped in fury and anger. He came down from his carriage. `` You have failed to grant my wishes genie! My final wish is for you to free me from this desert so I may never have to look upon you or this wasteland again!'' The genie whirled his finger. `` Hullaballoo howdy do, free from this desert will now be you.'' **The man poofed away** *elsewhere, in Greece* `` Ahh, the ruins of Greece. At least I am free from that barren desert.'' The man set out on his way, but was stopped by a troop of Romans. `` Where do you think you're going?'' Said troop # 1. `` Please, I do not wish for any trouble'' the man said, falling to his knees. `` Troubles what you got'' Said troop # 2. `` Let me free please, it is all that I wish!'' `` Well we have 3 wishes ourselves'' said troop # 3. `` I have n't seen my wife in months. While you're down there, fulfill our wishes and we shall fulfill yours!''

[ WP ] `` They say you die twice . Once when you stop breathing and the second , a bit later on , when somebody mentions your name for the last time . '' What happens when the latter comes before the former ?

`` I wish you luck, Steven.'' Everything has faded to gray so suddenly I almost did not unuderstand what happened. The kind lady was walking away. I was leaning against the wall, numbly looking at the sandwich she gave me. I did n't want to eat it for some reason. I have n't talked to anyone in a while, months, years perhaps. Being a bum is more alineating than living alone on the island. My life was coming to an end, I knew it, and there was nothing left to do. I might never talk to a person ever again, I thought. The tragedy, the injustice of my life came crushing down on me. No. I will not go like that. I've emptied a jar of money I was saving for winter, I checked into a cheap hotel. I showered, shaved, bought clean clothes. Big dirty beard was hiding my face for so long I forgot how I looked like. Thin, tired man in his 40s. I almost look like a person now. I slugged through the gray fog and went outside. Sun was shining but it was chilly. People walking down the sidewalk, rushing to work. I could n't wait anymore. I ran up to the first person, in desperation, said `` Hi, I'm Steven!''. Slightly startled, he looked up from his phone `` Hi, Steven, I'm Brad, what's up?'' And the colors returned.

[ WP ] An alien species is running out of some kind of resource , luckily they heard you can get anything from an Earth item called an `` Everything Bagel '' .

In all honesty, the invasion was a bit of a letdown. Sure, the weeks leading up to it were interesting. Ever since NASA had announced that an object moving at an unthinkable speed was heading straight towards Earth, it appeared as if the entire world had been knocked off its rocker. Speculation ran wild. Was it aliens? Probably, an unassuming UN spokesperson had announced to the world one Tuesday morning. Conspiracy theorists everywhere rejoiced. Google searches or the benefits of tin foil hats skyrocketed. You could hardly walk through the park without someone somebody asking if you had a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Aten the Sun Disk. While the UN prepared speeches and practiced their handshakes, militaries around the globe united to point every sharp, explosive, or vaguely threatening thing on the planet towards the assumed threat. Just in case. As the object entered the solar system, tensions rose. NASA provided us with our first glimpse of an alien species through some very high resolution pictures of an one mile long black tube. Radio messages carefully planned by world leaders went unanswered. NASA announced that the craft would reach earth within twenty four hours. Panic ensued. Some people retreated to their hastily built back yard bunkers. Others, mainly the youth of the world, decided they would much rather not remember their last night on Earth, and threw the party to end all parties. Militaries around the world resharpened their sharp things, rechecked their explosives, and put on their scariest uniforms. Just in case. Being the sensible person that I am, I went to work early. I made sure my little deli looked spotless. If the new alien overlords have a taste for Rubens, I might as well make the place look nice, I thought. I opened the deli at the normal time, as always. Quite expectedly, no one came. The hours passed uneventfully. The small T.V. in the corner of my store informed me that the ship had parked itself in low earth orbit, taking out a number of unofficial spy satellites. No movement had been seen from the ship, but a bright flash had emerged a few minutes before. I clicked off the T.V. as I prepared to close for the day. Before I had finished my closing inventory, the bell on my shop ’ s door alerted me to the presence of a costumer. I rushed out of the storeroom, eager to greet the first costumer of the day. Instead, I was greeted by a small, slightly transparent green haze. I stared blankly as the cloud moved up to the counter and deposited an everything bagel onto its freshly cleaned surface. The cloud hovered motionlessly for a moment, as if it was waiting for me to react. Being the sensible person that I am, I stared some more. The cloud, apparently tired of waiting, dropped a five hundred peso note onto the counter, swooped down to collect its bagel, and casually blew out the door. I didn ’ t even have the chance to tell the cloud that it was a little too far north for its money. I stared in shock at the door for a few more minutes, before I regained my senses and turned on the T.V. The global community was shocked. After an 11 hour stay, the black rectangle had departed as quickly as it came. World leaders were confused. Military leaders gave speeches saying they were glad a crisis was averted. However, it was clear to see that they were slightly disappointed. Conspiracy theorists around the world wept.

[ WP ] In under 350 words , sell your post-apocalypic utopia

Things were n't like they used to be by any stretch of the imagination, but they were the best they had been in a long time given the circumstances. While the light at the end of the tunnel looked very dim at times, it did shine and the other end was reached. Some would say that things were better, some would say worse; the same generational differences in perspective remained as they had before The Fall. The grandparents in the communities, they commonly called themselves Gen-X ’ ers, would call it Jeffersonian; it was a term that the new reality brought to the forefront of their minds from the cobwebs of the memories of their high school history classes. They had seen the world come full circle in their lifetime: Diseases cured, empires rise and fall, technology advance at a pace that no one before them thought possible, and then watched it all revert back to a time that they themselves once called history. Not all of the communities were the same; again, some viewed as better, some viewed as worse, but most shared a similar template to that of Colonial America. It was the agrarian republic that Jefferson advocated for, albeit far smaller in nature; instead of the republic stretching from sea to shining sea, the various communities of survivors often just stretched from county line to county line. The days were long and the work was hard, the threats were omnipresent, but there was a mood of cautious optimism that seemed to prevail amongst the communities. Despite the threat of disease, insufficient supplies, and raiders, there was the feeling of rebirth; instead of seeing their lives as being thrown back into what many thought of as the Dark Ages ( relative to where they once stood technologically ) and accepting their defeat, they chose to take on the burden of rebuilding and saw it as a second chance. A second chance to push forward, to not make the same mistakes that they had before, and to rebuild themselves into something greater than what they once were. ________________________________________________________________ Cut it close at 343 words, but was shooting for a message that fit the *something your parents might tell you before bed to script your dreams of a better world* mold.

You 're about to be cloned , but before you are , the doctor says the clone will be tattooed to identify which one is the original . But after you wake up , you notice that *you* have the tattoo . What do you do/say/think ?

Ricky remembers little of his life before he decided to join the army. His parents were against it, though, that much he's sure of. Everybody was against it. But his will was stronger. He was n't gon na let the very first nation in the world fall down on its knees in front of the enemy without putting up a fight. He believed he was doing what every young man his age should do, really. The chances of him coming back were slim and he knew it. If you had asked him, he'd say he was n't doing for himself and he was right at that. He'd pitch some half-thought speech that he had rehearsed some times before, about the nation and the importance of his duty and how he would n't take anything less than a victory for his country. The guys who had a chance to listen to this realized at the time how right he was. He had a point, young Ricky. Thing is, Ricky's memory of the time before the army was kind of hazy. The training was very intense, every soldier said the same. The army was n't preparing just their bodies, but their minds, too. And that involved a lot of military drugs; to make sure kids would n't freak out in the middle of the battlefield, minimize the ocurrence of shellshock, all that psychological stuff that the government had found a way to deal with. Of course he remembered his parentes, being a kid, growing up as an awkard teenager and everything. It was just the period right before the army that was a little fuzzy in his mind. He payed no thought to it, though, as none of his friends ever did. His mind was occupied with much more important things. He had lost some friends, he had killed some guys, he had done the whole lot. All in the name of duty. He'd been promoted to sergeant and got some medals along with it. He had n't been able to talk to his parents, but he was sure they were proud of him, if they were getting his letters. They never got to answer them, since he was always moving from one place to another. This one day Ricky went to the Major's office to request his vacation, like he would always do. He'd been stationed at the camp for about two months then and had been serving for 3 years without ever getting a vacation. He really missed his parents and his young brother Arthur. The major denied his request, as always; something about lack of manpower, which sounded as bullshit to Ricky. He never questioned it, though, could n't have. It was the major's word and that was that. He could only come back in a week and ask again, wishing for better luck next time. But on that specific day, something on the major's office caught Ricky's attention. The newspaper on the major's desk said something about some Arthur Holler, a sixteen year old boy. That could very well be Ricky's brother, he would be about that age then. There was no papers in the army camps, to keep the young killer minds focused on killing, so Ricky had to stole the major's if he ever wanted to read it. And that was exactly what he did. Of course this would have no bigger consequences, even if he got caught. He read the news with a big grin on his face. It really was his brother, by the likes of it: Arthur Holler, sixteen year old, Old Hamilton High School. Everything was a match. Apparently, his brother became some High School hot-shot. He had made the touch down that got his school the national prize. Ricky was very excited and happy for his little brother. He always knew Arthur was going to be big. But the excitement went away rather quickly. There was a picture of Arthur holding the cup on the other page. He was next to a guy that looked a lot like Ricky. A lot, except for one little detail. On the guy's arm there was no number, and Ricky had had the inscription `` 1005941'' on his left arm since he joined the army. But he had a little scar next to his right eye, the same Ricky had since he fell off his bike when he was just a little boy. And suddenly he got it all. He remembered the scientific experimentation that was going on a little before the war started. The new way of warfare that the army has been developing, according to the news of the time. He realized he was n't really himself. He stormed in the major's office, who was already on the phone asking for someone to find him. Ricky demanded explanations. The major said everything would be answered with a file he kept on his drawer. Ricky asked to see it, but the last thing he saw was the metallic colt.45 that the major had as a souvenir. Rick had time to think the gun was too old to fire a bullet before he had hit the ground.

[ WP ] A human-manned space ship has finally left our solar system , but the moment it passes Pluto , it suddenly and violently explodes . Instead of a crash report , a message is sent back to Earth : `` You have attempted to breach the quarentine . Your attempt has been noted to local authorities . ''

Your message was shocking for all of us, it used any taught plane as a speaker so that every window, metal panel and strung wire had screamed it out, we noted after international communications had been restored that it came in the form of the local language everywhere, simply figuring out how that was done had been the subject of much debate for years afterwards. Now that we knew there was something to look for we spotted some, maybe all, of your technology that drifted round the Sol system. When we pinpointed the broadcast location in Mercury, so long thought to be a planet, now turned out to be a solar power plant, we discovered the directed energy beams that pulsed off it with mathematical regularity those allowed us to find the rest. The Kuiper belt turned out to have millions of drone satellites circling in it, whether the satellites or the belt came first has not been determined, but that it was one of these that killed Voyager was not in debate. Spectroscopic analysis of the beam that killed our first extra solar''ship'' showed us whole new vistas of wavelengths and frequencies and immediately both regressed and massively advanced our understanding of the universe. For the first decade we panicked as new discoveries and the realization of your overpowering technology was uncovered day after day, Saturns rings were found to contain uncountable nanites, Jupiter had several''somethings'' lurking deep in the gas layers and on and on, with each power transfer from Mercury we found some new, and horrifying. So we worked, feverishly, to try and counter each new discovery. We launched massive radiation cannons to fire focused x-rays at the nanites and sunder their atomic bonds, we used every nuke on the planet to bombard the 13 Jupiter locations until Mercury no longer tried to charge them, these and a thousand other plans and schemes were launched some successful, some not. The Moon has proved particular difficult as it seems to be a massive piece of machinery that we dare not attack as forcefully as is needed lest we doom ourselves with radioactive bombardment, now we walk its surface in the thousands digging and prying trying to exploit its mechanical depths and destroy it from within. We have not yet managed to enter it but even scratching the surface has revolutionized the sciences of chemistry and metallurgy, indeed most of the new weapon systems being made rely on the alloys and materials the saboteurs so carefully pry free. Since the''frantic 30's'' the Earths people have calmed and the threat of an outer power has united us in ways never dreamed of by even the most idealistic of politicians, war after all is good for the economy and we are facing a war unlike any ever dreamt. We have united under one government and one language, Esperanto for so long a joke is now how scientists and engineers the world over share their thoughts and advances and the general population is quickly following suit. Massive engines of war have been created and sadly in our desperation for materials many rare and vulnerable species have been destroyed though we have saved as many seeds and as much D.N.A as possible, should we win we will bring them forth again. We have conquered disease and are close to becoming functionally immortal so much the better to build weapons and crew ships, and the ships themselves... massive daggers of barely contained fusion power that even as we speak race to the Kuiper belt to see what may be done. Now our thoughts turn to you, whomever you should be that threaten us from the sky, we know that Mercury beamed a tremendously powerful signal upon Voyagers destruction and we know the star that the signal travels to. Constrained as it is by light we know that we have another 63 years before it reaches you and we thought you should know what have accomplished and how much of your technology we have defeated in a mere 27 years. You may be already on the way to us when you receive this trailing broadcast but the Earth and all its people want to tell you with one voice''Come fucking get some!''.

[ WP ] after recently discovering their powers , a superhero must deal with being bored and frustrated because their amazing powers are useless compared to modern technology and law enforcement .

Encyclopedia Man had always wanted to be a superhero, and finally his powers had awoken at the age of thirty-five, but unfortunately it was the power to remember each and every page of the encyclopedia he had read as a child. At least it was n't as bad as Oxford Man. He was a living dictionary and thesauruses, fighting people with proper grammar and spelling and all those editorial things people ignore in this day an age. Encyclopedia Man had found Oxford one day about to jump to his death off of the Golden Gate bridge because'twerking' had officially become a word. He had managed to talk Oxford from jumping off the bridge and now they sat on a bench watching the sunset. `` Twerking. Who the hell comes up with these words?'' Oxford sobbed. `` Well, at least your information is up to date.'' Encyclopedia Man comforted. `` According to my powers, the USSR is still intact, and Pluto is still a planet.'' Oxford sniffed. `` You really are useless, are n't you?'' Oxford said. Encyclopedia sighed. `` Yes. Yes I am.'' `` Well, do n't worry. I'm sure the hipsters will come to love you.'' Oxford comforted. Encyclopedia rolled his eyes.

[ WP ] Everyone in the world has the ability to tap into their spirit animal , except you . Until one day you unlock something people never thought existed .

You could easily tell when somebody had gone, `` to the wild''. Usually their human bodies randomly twitch, and their closed eyes suggest they're in the deepest of REM dreams. They'll have their mouths open, with dribbles of drool seeping into their clothes. Its honestly, appalling. Of course, it was frowned upon to do this in public, but you still saw it anyways. Some people would slap on some sunglasses, pick a nice shady area in the park, and pass out for hours. Yet, they were n't truly there, in spirit. No, they were stalking prey in the lush and suffocating rainforests of the Madagascar; or they were soaring above the Serengeti, using incredible vision to survey the land. Some people would rest stationary within a towering redwood, listening to the whispers of the wise trees around them. There were some that crept around the Mariana's trench, dangling a lure around, waiting for an unlucky meal to chase their trickery. Some would swing from trees with expert agility. Some would feast upon shrubbery, yet use their keen hearing and powerful leg muscles to avoid the dangers of the wood. Some would even transfer into a squirrel 3 blocks away, and deviously prank their friends and family with it. When somebody is asleep, they are awake elsewhere. They thrive along their companions, using their human intuition to help their animal friends survive. If you asked somebody about their gift; regardless of which organism they lived their second life in, they would tell you it was amazing. That it was a special'coming of age' gift; and when i was ready, i would know. I would begin to have vivid dreams and then slowly begin to take control. I was extremely excited, i knew i was close. I just knew it! Even though the kids in my grade had already began to brag about theirs last year, I knew that if i held out a little bit longer, i would be rewarded. I'd spent countless hours daydreaming about what it'd be like to be a bird of prey. I was hoping, *hoping*, that i could become a Peregrine falcon, my favorite species of animal. There... were dreams i'd had already. But i did n't believe that those necessarily counted. I chalked those up to my childish imagination, playing devilish tricks on me while i patiently waited. Although, I could n't necessarily *complain* about the dreams i'd been having. After a few weeks they were pretty exhilarating, and the exploration always kept me coming back. I would climb *behemoth* sized sand dunes, and cross massive open deserts. I could camouflage myself from danger, by sinking into the sand; and i could jump incredible heights. There were types of animals and predators, that i could n't begin to explain. Catlike beings that stood upright on two legs, with their chest puffed out like a humans. They had decorative, Native American like headwear, and war paint. I remember seeing one of my friends taken by those savages... I wept along with the rest of my kin. There was an extremely large tunnel system that i would traverse.... my god was it beautiful. Cascades of water would rush through, and others like me would live amidst the dark. Yet, it was n't dark to us. We could see perfectly fine; It was a surreal experience that i knew i would never be able to comprehend as a human. There were entire cities below ground! With merchants peddling their wares and families being raised; inns for weary travelers and pubs for... well, weary travelers; bakeries for pie and butcheries for strange, yet succulent meat! There were street magicians that used *real* magic and city festivals, with couples falling in love; all underneath the glow of the cavern lichen. I eventually started to take trips to the bathroom at school. Just so i could go back to this mystical world. I could n't explain it, but these individuals, were much happier than anything i'd experienced. I could communicate with them flawlessly, in a tongue that i felt like i'd been speaking since birth. I began to study my brethren. Their height, and weight seemed very similiar to humans. Their faces, were unlike humans completely, yet nearly the same as far as diversity goes. Their skin was much paler, but the closer i looked, the more i started to recognize the true diversity of my newfound species. Everybody had their own colored glow, like an aura. There was bluish-green, deep reds and bright reds, yellows and golds, and even some colors that i had never seen before. It brought tears to my eyes; I finally knew what it felt like to ha- A sharp noise broke my concentration. Had i been daydreaming? Here I am, back in this disgusting school bathroom *My head is pounding... dear lord... * `` Yo, James. Is that you in here??'' The familiar voice of Kramer echoed its way to the stalls. `` Yeah, yeah. Was i taking too long..?'' `` Yeah dude, you've been under for like an hour. Mrs. Hollins is pissed! But there's something weird on TV, you should come check this out! It's freakin wicked!'' And with that i could hear the door slam shut, and his frantic scurrying feet making their way down the hall. *I do n't care... But an hour? Really? * I fumbled for the lock on the stall, and lethargically made my way back to Mrs. Hollins room. As i'd gotten accustomed to, the class all turned their heads towards me as i walked in. I gave them a shallow smile and returned to my seat. Strangely, the news was being played on the overhead... This had never happened before. Mrs. Hollins was too boring to let us watch TV. `` James, what have i told you about going into the wild at school? **Save that for nighttime young man**!'' `` Alright, alright, i'm sorry Mrs. Hollins it wo n't happen again.'' `` Yeah, that's what you said last time. I should write you up!'' I opened my mouth to retort, but she cut me off blatantly. `` Do n't talk back. Just watch the news like everybody else, and shut your mouth.'' `` Yes ma'am.'' I looked up at the overhead just as the news station was coming back from commercial break. The obnoxiously large `` BREAKING NEWS'' graphic filled the screen, and the cringe-filled fanfare music of channel 8 began to play. A man that sounded like a crime drama narrator from the 50's began to speak. `` *In a shocking discovery, that's out of this world....*'' He put an emphasis on'out of this world' and gave a sly grin into the camera before he continued. `` *NASA has just confirmed, that an alien life form has been discovered on Mars! This photo was taken just moments before the Curiosity rover was destroyed. *'' As the image popped up on screen, it all hit me. I stood up... shaking uncontrollably. The picture was that of a feline standing straight up on his hind legs, with Native American like headwear, and war paint doodled beneath his eyes. He was looking straight into the camera, with his tribesmates in the background. I threw my fist in the air and screamed. `` FUCKIN COOL!''

[ WP ] An assassin with a heart of gold finds out his/her next assignment is a vigilante superhero who has protected the city successfully for the past 3 years .

`` Are you sure this is correct?'' asked Agent M as he placed the document on the table, his voice as lifeless as it had always been. Genuinely surprised, Rohan turned his gaze from his sandwich, to the document, then to Agent M. M's brown eyebrows clenching furiously that they seemingly meet in the center. In his heavy Indian accent, Rohan replied, `` Ahh, Michael! I did n't expect to see you here.'' `` Keep your volume down.'' `` Since you're already here, why do n't you go enjoy the comic con, take a break?'' `` Look, you're the one who gave me this job, why?'' `` You remember Naimoli, right? His group recently lost half a million, M. Half of their annual profit! A couple of the other guys tracked down transaction, and apparently, your little miss innocent here is to blame. You may be a fan of Ceesharp, and she may have kept your hand clean of a few people, but she messed with the wrong people. Naimoli was n't even gon na use that money to fund his little gang, he was saving it for retirement. This mission is n't a request, it's an order, now go! We're done here.'' Rohan, finished his sandwich, then began to walk towards the line for the costume contest. Agent M headed slowly towards the exit, still unsure about his assignment. Anita Devose, more commonly known as the hero Ceesharp, is n't a murderer, a rapist, or a thug. She is and a thief, but she never took a dime from her gains, they were donated to those less fortunate. Whenever she was n't stealing money, ms. Ceesharp would be using her skills to expose the criminals in Virgo, a city infested with black market traders, murderers, rapists, and thieves. Agent M is a fan of her work. Even though she may not realize it, Ceesharp has spared countless lives from Agent M's hands. Borr the strong, Harry the psycho, and Katie the murderer, were amongst the many people arrested before Agent M was assigned to eliminate them. Agent M parked his car a block from the designated house. He made sure to bring along his trusty Mark 23, a hunting knife, a rope, and a few cyanide pills. The walk from the car to the house passed by quickly for Agent M. He felt a rush of adrenaline, causing his hands to shake. He used the imitation key Rohan has provided, and silently opened the door. The lights were off, no appliances turned on, dishes from the previous night still rested on the sink. He quietly made his way upstairs, and opened the doors one by one. On the master bedroom, Agent M found Ceesharp soundly sleeping. She looked younger than her reported age of forty, she had dark skin, puffy black hair, quite beautiful according to Agent M. Because he had no intention to kill her, Agent M started to look around for around for clues for the stolen money. After about ten minutes of carefully rummaging through shelves, closets, and cabinets, Agent M turned his gaze towards the laptop. He powered it on and was surprised to find that it had no password. He went through Ceesharp's highly organized note and found the information he needed. The money was sent to Jack, CEO of Virgo's most popular construction company. Ceesharp planned to use the money towards building the city's first homeless shelter and orphanage. “ Maybe if I get the money from Jack, I wo n't have to kill her, ” Agent M thought to himself. Before he could turn off the laptop, he heard a scream. Ceesharp quickly ran towards her secret closet and acquired a pistol. She cocked the pistol, pointed the weapon at Agent M, and shot. Agent M laid on the floor, trying to contain the blood from his neck. “ I know you're here to get the money back!, ” Yelled Ceesharp. “ HAH! Naimoli is going to have to go through my dead body before he can stop me. ” Agent M gazed at Ceesharp's eyes and found no sense of hesitation. Ceesharp made a name for herself by her willingness to break the law for the greater good. On April 8th, 2015, however, she unleashed her wrath at the wrong person. When his life flashed before his eyes, Agent M realized that killing all those criminals, as bad as they may be, was not justice. Although he never got the chance to explain himself, he felt a sense of relief that he died at the hand of his hero.

[ CW ] Tell a story by describing one scene .

The flowers are gorgeous, roses, a ravishing red crimson perfume set against lush dark green stems, wrapped in baby's breath and tissue and hand-tied love. Theres a bow too. It's extravagantly twirled halfway up, with a little crisp white card attached. They look smashing. They'll make a wonderful present! Except. He's shoved them under his arm, near his armpit, squashed to his body to keep from falling. Oy there! That's not how you do it son. Handle with care, less you ruin them. Roses need to be treated right gentle. He does n't listen. He ca n't of course, stuck in time as we put him.... Silly us. Well let's see what else we can see. His hands are free fiddling with the lock. Key's not fitting. His suit's nicely cut - a real gentleman's suit. Top class. Shoes, spick and span and shiny. A smart tie, with the expensive looking silkish? material. Not your average office bloke then. Though he does have that whitesh, pale face with the dark eyes you get when you spend a lot of time inside staring at a screen for hours at a time. And he's sweating a little. There's a tremble in his fingers. And... And... And... And..... And... And, does it matter? The key's do n't fit.

[ WP ] After 100 years of US colonisation , you - a Martian-born human lead an army about to declare independence from the United States .

You might ask me if all the suffering, all the destruction is worth of our desire to be independent nation. My answer is that our liberty is not a mere whim, but a matter of life and death. We could have lived in a state with a government which treats their people as human beings. But we no longer can nor want to be ruled by monsters to whom a life has no value whatsoever. All they care about are profits from the mining. Noone on Earth bats an eye when a fifteen year old dies ten kilometers below the surface as long as the precious metals keep flowing and an Earth kid has his new gadget for a birthday present. USA has always been a predator, pillaging entire countries with zero regard for those who live in it. They had been holding Mars colonies in iron fist, employing war criminals to keep us in line. They had been promising to make our lives bearable, but alas the agreements with Americans are worth less than a paper they are written on. Therefore, I declare the creation of Independent State of Mars. It's better to die fighting than living on your knees.

[ WP ] You walk outside to have a smoke . You look to the horizon and see few mushroom clouds rising , then the ground starts to shake . WWIII is happening .

She wakes up in stages. The light in the cottage bends along the curves of her shoulders and I wonder if there could ever be anything in the world as soft as this. The door to the patio is open and spring breezes carry in the smells of a world being reclaimed. Whatever I was thinking about is long gone. She makes a how-about-coffee kind of noise while stretching out across the bedsheets. “ Sure. Same as normal, or something different? ” “ Why? ” “ Well... because things are different today. You know? ” I get up and consider putting clothes on as I talk. “ This is the beginning of a whole new life for us. ” “ I think— ” she clears her throat, “ that it's going to be a whole new life with the same milk, no sugar. ” “ Hmm. ” I'll stay naked. “ I can see this is n't going to work out then. ” She rolls over and drops her face into the pillow. Whatever she says does n't sound very perturbed. She makes me smile so easily. I think that's the real mystery of it. Everything I've done in life and she can make me warm and fuzzy by muttering into a pillow. I'm insane. I'm in love. You have even my smile to entertain yourself with. She bought me one of those plastic cup/single serving machines but I threw it out. That was a little testy but it's disgustingly wasteful. She conceded when I pointed out the volume of shelf space the cups take up. The relative density to traditional packages. Better, I think, just to not drink the stuff, but life is not all about efficiency. It's a balance. We respect each others' boundaries. A lot of my work seems to teach me about successful relationships—or at least the thinking about work. I got a french press instead and, though I find myself making the coffee most of the time, I like the doing of it. There are steps, and flourishes. All the meaning in life is made—crafted. Living itself is a craft to be mastered. As I pour out hers I realize I'm daydreaming and check the time. I could miss almost anything to spend a few more hours in bed with her. Almost. She's asleep again when I come back into the room. “ Coffee, babe. ” She sits up reluctantly and takes her mug, careful not to spill it onto her chest. The image of a drip of coffee rolling down her chest as she blows steam from the cup is an incredible turn-on. She notices. “ We've got stuff to do today, no more of that. ” “ I know. I was just... ” I do n't know what I was just. “ I'm so glad I've earned your trust. ” She sips, furrowing her brow. “ You're shit at saying romantic things. ” “ Would you rather I did n't try? ” She smiles so warmly I lose my mental attempt to lose the erection. “ Hey, what time is it? ” “ We've got time. ” I set my drink on the bedside table and sit down. She leans over and gives me a sweet kiss on my cheek. The aroma lingers. “ Get dressed. ” She finishes the coffee and starts moving around the room, getting her clothes. My suit's already laying on the chair. I'm dressed well before she is, admiring the cut of the jacket in the bathroom mirror. I have to edge past her as I step out to let her in. I step out onto the porch and pull out a smoke. If I have to give it up, I'll at least finish the ones I have left. My watch beeps. I wish the car was here already. Probably only a few minutes out. I'm flicking the lighter when her voice comes out muffled from the bathroom. “ What? ” I pull it out of my mouth from habit. “ Where are my earrings with the red stones in them? ” “ I do n't know. Did you take them out? ” “ I think so. ” “ Well forget about them. You're just perfect as you are. ” She makes a loud puking sound but she comes out and floats around the bed to join me. The valley to the south is alive with the waves of wind that tear across the canopies, warm and dry. In the distance, on the low hills, I can see cattle grazing. There's pollen in the air. It's a smell that makes you breath greedily. My watch beeps again and I drop to my knee. “ What now? ” “ I want to give you the brightest diamond in the world, but every time I found one it ended up just being another trinket. Junk for consumption. ” “ This is my diamond? ” “ Yes. The cleanest, purest one there is. ” I remember the smoke in my hand and pop it into my pocket for a moment. “ I've given up everything for you. The whole world. ” She tries to smile warmly for me but there are tears in her eyes. They become God's own jewels as the horizon lights up. She takes me in her arms and holds me tight. “ It's perfect. ”

[ WP ] The year is 2021 . The newest fad are clone clubs , where visitors can spend up to 12 hours with a clone of any person whose DNA they provide . The clones are disposed afterwards .

He sat in a stark room with his old friend, the paper cup of water spilled on the floor. It had been years since they splashed in puddles together, climbed book cases, rode a wagon, or threw a water balloon. They talked about the girl in class, how they used to play house as kids. They talked about the babysitter, show and tell, and making up answers on tests. They talked about making `` art'' out of snow, snowball fights, stories his dad used to tell them, and how, `` Life builds character.'' They remembered the time mom let him smoke, and the time they played cards with a marked deck. They talked about the machines they built together as kids. ( Oh, how they were ahead of their times! ) They talked about visiting other planets, and dinosaurs, and x-ray guns. They talked about the life lessons his friend taught him - how to be thankful for the little things in life and hugs. They stared at their reflections, then hugged, a final goodbye. He whispered, `` Not so hard, you big sissy, you'll squeeze my tears out.''

[ CW ] Write a simple real-world story but the point of view is 1st person and the main character is the opposite of your gender

Be calm Sarah, there is nothing to be worried about. I sat in the student-pickup loop, repeating these words as nothing but foreign cars past by. My mother was usually the first person in line, but today that streak was broken. In fact, I had been sitting on this bench for almost 20 minutes, and still she refused to dispel my growing fear. I almost started hyperventilating when all of a sudden from the corner of my eye, I spotted my crush. Trevor Miles, Mr. Popular but still talked to everybody without fear of judgement. He was perfect in a rugged way; his dreadlocks and slight 5 O'clock shadow danced with his perfect lips and infinite eyes. I once was caught in his gaze when he picked up a pencil I dropped in homeroom, and I felt like I was going to go insane if I kept staring any longer. All of a sudden he noticed me staring at him, and I quickly looked away trying to be as smooth as possible. I guess I failed, because he started walking towards me now. Oh god, no. I am already panicking Trevor, please do n't finish me off. `` Hey Sarah, your mom did n't come already? That's a first, I'm normally the last person here.'' he said with his unfair smile, destroying any semblance of control I had over my manic state. `` Uhh... yeah. I guess she got caught in traffic or something. Or maybe her car did n't agree with her driving habits and went on strike or...'' I said before shutting my idiotic mouth. I never had a boyfriend all throughout high school, and I swore it was my inability to just play it cool. Every time I started mouthing off clever jokes, they were met with laughs, but subsequently all the date offers whizzed past me. I could see him smirking at my comment, and I accepted that my future with him ended so abruptly. He started since I stopped talking, `` Ah well no matter, its cool to have someone else here with me for once. Remind me to thank your mom's car for the company.'' I giggled, but for a fleeting moment. This smooth son of a bitch did n't understand how rude he was being. Someone so cool, trying to flirt with someone like me as if anything will come of it. Sure I was pretty, but my social standing was anything but. He was maneuvering like I wo n't catch feelings and hope that I could actually be his girlfriend, and that all the girls would n't treat me like shit after seeing him giving me attention. It was cruel in hindsight, harmless in the moment. `` Well, I just hope she's alright. It's freezing out here.'' I muttered under my breathe. He saw me starting to shiver when the wind blew, and responded,'' Do you want my jacket? I'm fine.'' No you asshole, I do n't want your pity attention. `` S....sure, thanks.'' He wrapped his warm coat over me, and lightly cuddled with me on the bench, like the unaware douche bag he was. I hated him, but I was warm. I sat with him for about 10 more minutes until my mother arrived, and I had just remembered I was freaking out about her moments ago. Trevor completely erased my worry, so quickly I forgot something might have actually happened to her. She jumped out of the BMW, apologizing profusely, going on about her car randomly dying on the highway. Trevor smirked, and I elbowed him in his side, laughing to myself. Just before I got in the car, and right as my mom turned her back, Trevor whipped me around and gave me a light kiss right on my forehead. `` Wh... what the hell was that for?'' I asked, slightly angered while my heart was racing. `` Well I thanked the car..... might as well thank you too. You can keep my jacket till tomorrow Sarah, I'll get it back from you after 2nd period.'' he said, looking towards the entrance of the school as his sister pulled into the loop. `` But everyone will think-'' I started, but he stopped me. `` Exactly, now go home girl.'' he said with his god damn smirk. I hated him more than ever. `` Alright lover boy, see you tomorrow.'' I said, wincing at my terrible comeback. I got in the car, flustered, and promptly berating my mother for being late, followed by requesting she picked me up later from now on. ( I am a male, so sorry if it sounds exaggerated )

[ WP ] Make the saddest love story without involving any deaths , breakups , or separations .

The Sky and the Earth looked at each other, longing and yet separated for eternity. The sky looked down at the beautiful earth. He whispered to her and his breath washed over her face and created waves in her seas, `` Why ca n't we get closer? Why ca n't we join? This eternal distance. This love. This want. This thirst.'' The earth replied to the handsome sky, `` Suppose we say we become one, my darling. Suppose we touch, suppose we join, then we shall be one, not two. We shall join, you shall complete me and I you. We shall no longer be two, we shall be one, in perfection. And then what? The thirst will quench. The bliss shall be tasted. But there would be no want. No love. No thirst, anymore.'' And thus the Sky and Earth looked at each other with longing and remained untouched for eternity, keeping the thirst alive.

[ WP ] Make an emotionally manipulative character . Make that character the narrator . Manipulate the other characters . While you manipulate me , the reader .

**Crosspost from [ this WP ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2op8xl/wpwrite_a_story_about_a_german_soldier_in_ww2_so/ ) ** It ’ s ironic, don ’ t you think, having to pretend to be a Jew after what we did? Of course I know what happened. Like everyone else, I didn ’ t believe it at first. Adler, yes, Adler, the guard from block A, he used to be an SS, as you know, he ’ s the one who told me about it. He said I needed to know everything so that you would believe me. So I asked him, and he told me. We would sit together, a couple of times a week, he would tell me the stories, and I would take notes. Of course, it would have been easier to pay someone off, but I couldn ’ t afford it. Not anymore. We lost everything during the war. Because my father was a doctor, and my mother ’ s family owned stores, we weren ’ t hit too badly after Brest-Litovsk and Versailles. My father was a good man, and a hard worker. He was wounded at Cambrai, and he was young, so he recovered, even though his lungs never really did. Luckily, it was too late in the war for him to be sent back. No, he wasn ’ t a Nazi. He ’ d seen enough. My mother didn ’ t like them, either, they thought they were vulgar. Of course, they couldn ’ t tell me that. But they tried to stop me from joining the youth groups. I didn ’ t understand. They ’ d told me to say I wasn ’ t interested. But I was. So I told the teacher, Fraülein Grüber I wanted to join. They were furious, and they couldn ’ t show it. But I felt it, and I didn ’ t understand. I mean, Staatssekretär Von Schirach was her third cousin, once removed, what was there not to be proud of? Maybe I could be like him, too - after all, it was in my blood, too… One day, when we were out on a field exercise, I told Hanz about it. And that idiot Hanz told Heinrich, because he wanted to suck up to him. And Heinrich told his cousin Fritz, who was jealous of me and Lieselotte, I guess. But I ’ ll never be sure why he told his father. They came early in the morning. With what they found, Vater was lucky that my mother had some pull, in a way - he was given the choice. He figured he would be more useful on the Eastern front. And he never came back. She managed to smuggle herself to Switzerland with Konstanze, we have family there, you see, and they told everyone else he died of pneumonia on the train, of course. The party trusted me now. But I didn ’ t trust them anymore. I didn ’ t have another choice than to pretend. And wait for the right time. I got lucky in Poland, many times. We were retreating. A family hid me from the Russians. And then I made my way here. I was worried I would be arrested if I went back to Germany. And there was nothing left there for me, anyway. Our house is gone. My family is is gone. So I hid, in plain sight. I went to the cafés, went back to university, learned to paint. What do you mean, “ just like the Führer ”? Not at all! The Führer would have had the Schule des Sehens burnt down, and everyone arrested, and I was there studying with the others this summer. Of course, the faculty has been gutted. I mean, Vienna isn ’ t Freiburg. And yes, of course Heidegger joined the party. At the time, I was as disgusted as anyone else, but I too had to play a part, and I figured he was playing his. Anyway, it isn ’ t like importing German professors because they can ’ t find jobs back home bothers the administration, or the Austrians going to Germany bothers us, right? Yes, I heard that some of your guards had come back as well, I heard about Adler. He ’ s a smart man. He kept the numbers of those whom you registered, but died after you liberated the camps. Of course, he made sure the bodies couldn ’ t be found. Quite a miraculous recovery some of them made, don ’ t you think? But the truth is, there is no other choice for people like me. Because of what happened with my father, Mutti never replied to the letters I sent her. Konstanze, either. So I don ’ t have a family anymore. Here, there is no future. Of course, I ’ m less of a victim than the Jews were! Yes, yes, I understand that what I did was bad. But I was also honest with you. I told you what I know about Adler. Now, all I want is to be able to build a life.

[ WP ] You are a stenographer ( professional typist ) hired by a wealthy but dysfunctional couple to type all the various arguments they have throughout the day .

*The Value of Being Interrupted* `` You ca n't be serious about going on a trip to Tokyo for New Year's.'' `` Um, and why not? You did n't have a problem being there during Jenny's fifth birthday.'' `` Really? You're bringing that up? I've told you a hundred times it was an emergency client meeting. I would've lost my job if I did n't go.'' `` Oh sure, always worried about losing your job. Never worried about losing your wife.'' `` Yeah because losing my wife would make my life easier, not harder.'' `` Please! The only thing that makes your life hard anymore is that little slut in Roppongi. Oh yeah, you thought I did n't know about her, didn't-'' `` Um. Excuse me.'' `` What?'' `` What do you want?'' `` I do n't mean to interrupt, but could you two slow down a bit? I'm having trouble keeping up typing everything.'' `` Oh, sorry about that.'' `` Do you need us to backtrack on anything?'' `` Yeah, actually. Which birthday was it that he missed? I have it down as sixth here but I do n't think that's right.'' `` It's the fifth. And… yeah. I mean, should n't have said that. I know you had no choice, and it was really sweet when you Skyped Jenny and helped blow out her birthday candles.'' `` No, you're right. I could've been more supportive. I did n't even say thank you for watching over all those sugar-rushed five-year-olds all by yourself. You were counting on me to help you, and I was n't there.'' `` Um, excuse-'' `` Oh do n't say that! Jenny loves that stuffed Tokyo Tower plush you brought back for her. You know she ca n't sleep without it. That was so sweet of you.'' `` Hey, that was all Ms. Takahashi's idea. And there's nothing going on between us, you know that. She's my boss. Coming home to you and Jenny is the only thing that gets me through being over there.'' `` I know. I just… miss you sometimes. And it's easier when I can be mad at you instead of just mad at our situation.'' `` Um, excuse me.'' `` What?'' `` What do you want?'' `` Should I be typing this all down? I know I'm only supposed to record arguments, but does this count?'' `` Wait, what were we arguing about?'' `` I do n't remember. Stenographer, what does the record say?'' `` Your wife wanted to go to Tokyo for New Year's.'' `` Oh. Right. Sorry about that; it sounds so silly now. Yeah, do n't worry about it. It's not worth the expense and I know you're sick of the place.'' `` No, actually. Maybe it'd be fun. Jenny's always wanted to go, and I can probably wrangle up something with Ms. Takahashi.'' `` Really?'' `` Yeah. I could show you my office, we can go to a cat cafe, take Jenny to Disney Sea.'' `` Oh that sounds great!'' `` Perfect. I'll call her right now actually. She should be just getting into the office right now.'' `` Um, excuse me.'' `` What?'' `` What do you want?'' `` Are you going to pay for my plane ticket too?''

[ TT ] The witch stole his heart , and replaced it with ice . Now he can not love , lest it melts .

I stare at the retreating figure of the witch who had just cursed me. I feel the cold spread from the lump of ice now in place of my heart. Did she seriously just do this so I ca n't love again? Love does n't create *actual* heat. `` Bitch do n't you understand the laws of thermodynamics?'' I shout after her slowly fading form. I see a minute shrug as she disappears from my eyeline and give out a weak gurgle as I fall to my knees. As the floor rises to greet my face, it occurs to me that she does n't much understand the laws of biology either.

[ WP ] The year is 10 September 2008 , the day the LHC became fully operational . Topluk , an extraterrestrial undercover agent phones in to his home planet to report this disturbing news .

*… fully operational. Repeat, the experiment is fully operational! * Topluk hunched over the communicator and tapped frantically at the controls. Even encrypted as it was, sending the message over all available channels was a clear breach of protocol… but this was too big, too potentially disastrous to risk the message not getting through. His cerebral implants hummed softly as they synced with the device in front of him and uploaded both his warning and his memory logs. The lights in the tunnel dimmed slightly as the communicator opened a miniscule singularity and established a connection with the listening post a few light years away. One minute passed, then another. He felt the chill of the voice before he heard it. *Acknowledged. * His implants went dead and Topluk tucked the device away. Swallowing the bile at the back of his throat, he walked back into the control room amid raucous hollering. One of the humans charged at him, teeth bared, and Topluk flinched instinctively. The human stopped short and wrapped its arms around him, uttering a barking laugh as it did so. “ We did it, Paul! We actually fucking did it! ” Topluk bared his teeth in a smile. *Such repulsive creatures, * he thought as he shook the human ’ s hand. “ That we did. ” The human turned his attention to a monitor nearby. “ Counter-clockwise circuit is almost complete. Had some fluctuations with the cryogenics a few minutes ago, but everything ’ s running great now. ” He turned back to Topluk, frowning. “ You feeling alright, Paul? You look a little green. ” “ Fine, ” Topluk replied. “ Just more excitement than I ’ m used to. ” A familiar hum echoed in his mind. “ I ’ m gon na go grab a bite to eat, ” he said as he edged toward the door. The human nodded. “ I ’ ll catch up in a few. ” It was everything Topluk could do not to sprint down the hall. As soon as he found a secluded nook, he fished out the communicator and downloaded the message from Central command. *Projections revised. Prognosis dire. Completion of project ahead of our predictions suggests underestimation of human ingenuity and perseverance. Immediate action required. * As the plan filtered into his mind, Topluk nodded. It would buy them some time, at least. He just hoped it would be enough. ***** “ Bringing LHC sectors online now. ” The small crowd of physicists was silent, watching the monitors anxiously. Topluk stood with them, watched with them, but he was anxious for an entirely different reason. “ Sectors one, six, and seven at nominal field strength. ” The crowd murmured excitedly. Topluk felt a bead of sweat trace its way down his forehead, but ignored it. “ Two and eight on their heels. ” Time crawled to a halt. Five down, three to go. *Please, * Topluk thought. *Please. * “ Sector five is up and running! ” The murmuring intensified into a low buzz. A klaxon cut over them, and between pulses of the blaring horn Topluk heard disappointed groans. “ Magnetic quench in sectors three and four. God *damnit. * ” Topluk feigned disappointment as he fought to keep a grin from his face. Hands in his pockets, he strode from the control room and keyed the communicator. *Sabotage successful. * *Acknowledged, * came the reply. *With perseverance and ingenuity metrics revised, we estimate a minimum two month downtime. Stand by for further instructions. * He sat back, resting his head against the wall. *Dangerous creatures, these humans. They breathe a poisonous gas, drink large quantities of a polar solvent, can sustain massive physical trauma and survive. They ’ ve spent most of their brief existence conquering each other and the planet they live on. If they learn the secrets of the universe, they'll do the same. * *Earth is their cradle. For the sake of all life, everywhere, it must also be their grave. *

[ WP ] A computer chip implanted in your brain has been influencing your decisions .

When I was young, I was obsessed with lucid dreaming. I would always browse the internet for tips and instructions on how to achieve that coveted state - where one was in full control of a fake reality. I imagined nightly trips to exotic worlds, and a place where I could stand up to the bullies and always, always get the girl. I gave it up after the first night. Instead of being transported to a beautiful fantasy the beckoned at my every whim, I became frozen in place within my own body, forced to watch as malicious creatures seemed to crawl towards the bed. I felt something sit on my chest, slowly and inexorably exerting pressure. *Oh*. My breathing drew up short. *So*. I felt as if I would throw up. *Slowly*. I could've sworn that I heard a rib crack. Of course, when I woke up I found that none of those things had actually happened. I was fine, and what I had experienced was simply a side effect of attempting to reach a lucid dream state. Needless to say, I did not try ever again, and slept with my parents for a few weeks afterwards. I never did forget that feeling of helplessness, though. Watching what was happening, fearing the inevitable, with no power to stop it. I'm a grown man now. It has been many years since I was last afraid of the dark. Since I last thought of helplessness, and creatures in the night. But now I remember again. Now I am afraid. It was such an innocent looking thing. A tiny chip. It could've been anything - my optical implant, intelligence enhancement, hormone regulation. In fact, if I were any other person, I probably would've just shrugged it off. But I knew. It could not have been any of those things. How long had it been there? The question burned in the back of my mind. Who had put it there? What did they stand to gain? Was my whole life a lie? Did I truly have any free will? How long has this thing been influencing me for? Which decisions were my own? Did I really love my wife? Do I really like my job, my children, my friends? I have to get it out. I know how; I've done it before with more complex implants. I just need access to my workshop and time. I'm taking it out tonight. -- - `` Tonight'' has come and gone. Chip's still in. That evening, as I strode through the door in a daze, I came to realization. What if it was n't just me? What if... it was everybody? What if we were *all* the playthings of some person or group, being directed and nudged towards certain goals? What if they could tell that my little light had gone dark on their screens? No, it's too dangerous to take it out right away. Not until I know more. -- - I did some diagnostics last night. The chip definitely is some kind of control apparatus. It gets a little ping from an unknown signal, adjusts dopamine and hormone levels *just so* when the target thinks of something in particular - be it a job, a person, or what-have-you - to influence them into making certain choices. Then, like the good little machine it is, it sends a return'ping' to confirm success or failure. I thought of my wife first, fingers trembling on the receiving device that I had built out of spare parts and an old radio. *Ping. * My children. *Ping. * My job. *Ping. * My ambitions. *Ping. * The shit I took an hour ago. *Ping. * Huh. Must be something wrong with the damn thing. -- - I got the machine working a few hours later. It's still on in my workshop, crackling static every once in a while and emitting a faint light. I tested it out. I'd rather not talk about the results, but it will suffice to say that a lot of who I am is not entirely my own. I've spent the last week thinking about it. If someone out there really does control my chip, and potentially others', surely I could n't do anything about it? Even if I removed mine, I would be stuck in a world where I did n't belong, miserable in an otherwise happy society. I mean, I'm pretty damn happy, right? My wife loves me, my kids are amazing, and my job pays well. If this is life as a puppet, I ca n't think of anything I'd rather be. I'm going to destroy the damn receiver. I'm going to leave the chip in. I'm going to try to forget it's even in there. It's for the best. *Ping. *

[ WP ] Heaven was abandoned hundreds of years ago when Heaven 2.0 was built . You were sent to the original Heaven by accident .

My eyes close, the pain fades, and I rest for a while. What wakes me is a shuffling sound. It's the sound sandals make when they're dragged across a stone floor. Oilsmoke fills my nostrils, and heat presses in on my skin. I open my eyes. Torches in sconces on the walls light the stone room. The ceiling hangs six inches above my head. Wooden tables are evenly spaced throughout the room. Every table is set with six wooden bowls, wooden spoons, and wooden cups. Rushes cover the ground. Dirt pokes up through the spaces between their fronds. The shuffling comes from somewhere past one of the walls. “ Hello? ” I call out. I hear a sharp yelp, much like the sound a dog makes after its tail has been stepped on. “ Who's that? Who's there? ” The man's voice has the texture of pocket lint – worn, grey, fragile. “ I do n't know how I got here. ” “ Neither do I, ” the man says. The shuffling begins again and not long after he comes around the corner of the wall. His robes might once have been white, but they've become so stained I mistake them at first for burlap. His beard reaches to his belly-button, and it houses dust, twigs, and bits of bread. He comes right up beside me and peers into my face with his watery blue eyes. “ You're dead. ” He says it matter-of-fact, not as a question or a exclamation, but rather the way a droll teacher might address a student who has arrived late to class. “ I fell down those stairs at the tram station. I know that much, ” I say. “ But if I'm dead, how come I'm here and talking to you? ” “ That should be pretty obvious, should n't it? ” The man pulls his beard apart with his two hands and reveals a silver medallion on a leather thong. The medallion reads Santo Petra. “ This is heaven? ” He snorts. “ It was. ” “ Was? ” “ Nobody comes here anymore. God's had the place decomissioned. He's built a newer, better heaven and said he'd have no need for me as gatekeeper anymore. ” “ This is a joke. You're joking. ” “ One of the newer saints, some Italian hotshot who wears leather vests and gels his hair in points, recommended that God dandy up the place, and, would n't you know it, but after millenia of asking the big guy to make some changes, he goes and decides to build a whole new heaven. Now they've got Saint Guido on the door and I'm left here to tend to the furniture and to move along the sad cases like yourself who end up here. ” Saint Peter slumps onto a wooden bench. He picks a bowl up, waves his hand over it, and desultorily begins spooning up the stew that appears inside. “ You'll be wanting to move along now, wo n't you? Off to Heaven 2.0? The big party in the sky? I do n't think they even call it heaven anymore, to be honest. It's got some greasy hip name, something like Blade or FaNaTiK. Ridiculous. ” He waves his spoon around and fails to notice the glob of stew that falls into his beard. “ Does n't sound all that great, to be honest. Probably lots of loud music, tight clothes, and orange people? Not really my scene. ” Saint Peter shakes his head. “ Oh, they all say that, but after a couple of years they come around. Just last year I had a dyed-in-the-wool social reject in here – this guy had n't left his house or showered in five years. He died from an infection he got from pooing in the bathtub – was in H2.0 for two months and he made the decision to lose the weight, orange up the skin, and hit the dancefloor. Unbelivable. But it goes to show you'll be happy if you move along. ” I join him on the bench. “ For real, that sounds terrible. I'd rather hang out in the quiet here with you. ” “ You ca n't be serious. ” “ Really I am. I'm a quiet book person. Noise is the last thing I want to be around for eternity. ” Saint Peter looks left and right out of the corners of his eyes. “ Definitely? ” “ Yah, for sure. Get me some old robes and pass me some stew. ” “ Call it off, everybody. ” Saint Peter gets to his feet. “ Call it – ” An air horn cuts him off. A banner unfurls behind Saint Peters table. YOU JUST GOT PUNK'D! The stone in the walls around me collects into drips and drops and they spread out in puddles on the floor. The rushes fade away and what's left behind is a black reflective surface, in which I now see reflected laser light. A heavy bass thrum builds out of nowhere, and over it I hear a staccato piano melody rising and falling. People stream into view, all of them dressed in tank tops, crop tops, board shorts, mini-skirts, and flip-flops. Their skin glows orange. I catch snatches of the words they're shouting: `` Shots... slammered... crush pussy... skank... jagerbombs.'' Saint Peter pulls off his robe to reveal similar clothes underneath. His pale skin oranges. The music is so loud I can barely hear him. “ It's a game we play with new people! Nobody likes lame medieval heaven! But I promise, if you give it a couple of months, you'll learn to love it here! ” Cold gel is slapped into my hair. Cans of spraytan erupt all around me. The sleeves of my shirt are torn away. “ You'll love it! I promise! ” Saint Peter hi-fives people around him. “ After all, this is heaven! ”

[ WP ] An ordinary , 30 year-old human has been immortal since the year 1,014 A.D. Now , he/she is working in corporate America looking back on his/her millennium in existence .

I like hard work. Makes me feel alive. So many years and I grew bored with pretty much anything. Sitting around and doing nothing, being rich while doing that, being poor, being homeless. You get bored of doing nothing. Then you start working, you get bored of that too. There's places to see and people to meet, but the first are limited and the second tend to die on you. If you're doing drugs every day for a hundred years they become mundane and boring. You get tired of sex. Want to try new things because normal ones do n't excite you anymore so you try new things and keep doing that until you've run out of things to try. The most depraved acts humans can come up with do n't even make you blink anymore. You've read all the books worth reading and saw all the movies worth seeing. You end up reading trashy novels and and watching porn movies for the plot. Anyway, now I'm an office man, working for this big company. I was bored and ready to quit from day one, hour one. People do this for years?

[ WP ] Write about a lie or deceitful act .

I promised I would never abandon her. With tears in her eyes and scars on her arms, she would blame me. I was the reason she was depressed. I was the reason she lost all her friends. I was the reason she felt the need to harm herself. You know what her definition of abandonment was? Not messaging her on Facebook for three whole days. That's all it took. Three days, and she tells me that she no longer wants to be friends anymore. Fine. That is honestly the way it should be. We would both be better off not not having each other in our lives. We were free. Or so I thought. It was all just a passive-aggressive, manipulative trick. Once again, I was the bad guy for not trying to get her to forgive me. How could I be so insensitive to her feelings? I'm a horrible person, and she's the only one who will forgive me. Not my sister, not my best friend, not my parents. I'm nothing without her. So I did what I though was right: I abandoned her.

[ CONTEST ] Flash Prompt in the chat room today ! A $ 20 cash prize will be awarded !

This may be horrible He lay there dying my mother next to him, the doctor said that the crash would probably kill him, and my mother I loved them both, my dad motioned for me and said there is something i need to tell you I had known him my whole life, I thought that I know him, but then; He said it he told the story. I have never told you this but I feel that i need to, or I will die a mystery. When i was young i was orphaned this was not because my parents were bad I suspect or perhaps i just want to believe that I do n't know when, but i was put in a foster home run by a gay couple of whom i remember very little of but from my few memories is that they were great, caring tolerant people who loved everyone. However when i was about 4 I was moved to a new foster home. These foster parents strictly upheld hierarchy where the “ man of the house ” was at the zenith and i was at the bottom, I was at the time told it was because i was evil and and doomed to hell, at the time i had nothing else to believe so i believed them. They convinced the other kids that i was evil and needed to be punished i was beaten almost daily by both the kids and the parents, i was lead to believe that i was just bad and that it was just how life was. around when i was 18 i left. at first i thought that i would just live and life would be the same but when a social worker asked about my experience i told her the whole story the whole time just assuring her that it was a normal life while explaining my horrible life. she said that that was horrible and she had had a similar experience. And we talked about life and as i readjusted to life she helped me realise that i did n't need to be like my parents. She later quit and we started hanging out then eventually we started dating.And that is how i met your mother my mother smiled as they held hands and with that they closed their eyes and my father shed one tear. I had no idea about this, this left me wondering if i really knew that man or my mother, it left me wanting to have more time, but I could n't, I wanted to forget that moment and remember him as the man i thought i knew but I couldnt, he was gone.

[ WP ] The year is 2200 . You arrive home to find your best friend and girlfriend forming a hivemind .

I stepped out of the shuttle pod and onto the smooth metal of the landing pad near the top of our apartment complex. My hover suitcase followed me faithfully, floating from the vehicle's rear boot before the lid closed automatically behind it. With a loud hum from its antigravity turbines, the hovercar took off, shooting off down into the city centre. I walked across the wide landing pad, which jutted out like a chromed lily pad from the side of the elegantly curved building. My cloak rippled slightly in the breeze as the double doors slid open silently ahead of me. The thick blue carpet felt soft beneath my booted feet, and I stood there for a moment, just breathing in the familiar faint scent of vanilla that wafted up from the freshly cleaned floor. I smiled to myself as I strolled across to the elevator, which was already waiting with its doors open, and selected my floor. A few seconds later, I was stepping out into a different corridor and walking down the hall to our apartment. I placed my palm upon the lock, which winked green and beeped. The door slid back to reveal the spacious room beyond. I stepped through, the suitcase coming to a stop beside me and gently lowering itself to the floor. 'I'm back!' I called, shrugging off my cloak and throwing it over a nearby table. There was no reply. 'Rebecca?' I said, walking towards the short passage that led to the bedroom my girlfriend and I shared. I thought I had heard whispering a moment before, but now I could pick up no sounds coming from behind the door. I crept up to the door, pushed it open and peered inside. My eyebrows rose in surprise. On the wide, low bed lay my girlfriend Rebecca, with my other friend Kelly sitting with her back against the headboard on the adjacent pillow. Some sort of device lay on the covers in the centre of the bed, a sort of capsule or something. It was spherical, with tiny golden lights winking on and off inside like a swarm of trapped fireflies. 'Hey,' said Rebecca, smiling dreamily.'You're back early.' 'What the hell are you doing?' I said, coming to the foot of the bed and looking at the capsule more closely. Kelly and Rebecca exchanged glances.'You tell him,' said Kelly, hugging her knees. 'Okay,' said Rebecca, looking back at me.'Luke, have you ever heard of hive minds?' 'Hive minds?' I repeated.'Sure.' 'Well, Kelly and I were talking about them, and we decided to research them a little. They're actually really cool, Luke!' she said excitedly, her eyes lighting up.'People who have joined them say it's like nothing you've ever imagined. You can hear other people's thoughts, and they can hear yours, and everyone helps make each other's decisions, and—' She stopped when she saw the look on my face. 'So what is this?' I said, pointing to the capsule. 'It's a relay,' she replied. 'A relay for what?' 'This.' She turned her head to her left, revealing a round metallic disc attached to her scalp just behind her right ear. Tiny lights flickered in it, similar to those inside the relay capsule. My eyes widened. 'I'm linked in too,' interjected Kelly, turning her head so that I could see the identical device on the side of her head. I looked back to Rebecca in disbelief. 'You two are in a *hivemind* together?' I said.'Like, actually linked to each other?' 'And about two dozen other people,' said Kelly.'That's what this relay is for. So we can keep in contact.' 'And you did n't think to maybe ask if I was OK with this?' I said to Rebecca. She did n't reply, but blinked a couple of times quickly. Kelly suddenly sniggered quietly. I looked from one to the other.'What?' I said.'Are you two talking to each other right now?' 'Us and the rest of them, do n't forget,' said Kelly.'There's currently a bit of a debate going on as to whether she should try kissing and making up now, or let you cool off in your own time.' I did n't bother to reply, but instead stormed from the room, slamming the door behind myself. Neither of them followed me, but then why would they? They had found their own new little world.

[ WP ] You are at home alone , browsing the internet . You hear the faint sound of a woman 's cough from the room next to you .

Initially, I did n't think much of it. It was my first night visiting my parents' home in over a year, and I was n't too familiar with the layout of the house. I figured it was my mother in the other room, probably clearing her throat as she tried to fall asleep. But when I heard it again, I remembered: *My parents are n't home yet. * They had left earlier this evening to go see a play in the Opera House. I glanced over at the clock. It was n't even midnight yet. A faint chill ran down my spine. If that was n't my mother coughing -- then who was? Maybe it was just a squeaky pipe or something. I crept out of the guest bedroom and walked down the hall toward the adjacent room. I put my ear up against the door. *Nothing. * Maybe it was my imagination? I opened the door and swung it open. Inside was my dad's study, dimly illuminated with an office lamp sitting on his desk. I glanced over at the piles of old papers stacked against the wall, a remnant of when my dad used to work for the city... The sound came again. It was a faint woman's cough, just like before. But this time it sounded like it was coming from the guest bedroom! I ran out of the study and back into my room. There was nothing in there but my laptop and bed. As if taunting me, the sound came a fourth time, coming from -- you guessed it -- the study room next door. `` God dammit!'' I yelled out loud. I raised my fist and threw it into the wall. I was n't expecting my hand to break through. The wall crumbled away like it was made of paper, and a large hole formed around my fist. Inside the wall, my hand had landed on something... sticky. A putrid smell surrounded my nostrils. I immediately recoiled. From within the wall, a single shape appeared, illuminated by the dim light of the guest bedroom: a human eye, staring at me angrily. It blinked. `` What the fuck!?'' I screamed out. I jumped away, running down the stairs and outside of my parent's house. I ran down the front yard toward the street -- A woman, dressed in black, appeared out of nowhere. It was dark, so her dirty face was only partially visible underneath the streetlamp. She had the same eye, staring at me. I screamed, but nothing came out. The woman-thing approached me, her eyes burning into the back of my skull. She reached out a hand and touched my temples. A vision flashed in my mind. A woman was laying in bed, coughing hysterically. `` Please,'' she said between gasps of air. `` I think I should go to the hospital.'' I did n't recognized her at first, due to her nappy hair and blotched skin, but soon the realization dawned on me: this woman in the vision was my mother. My dad walked into the room, holding a glass of water. `` No, honey,'' he said. He turned away from my mother and removed a small vial from his coat pocket, pouring it into the glass of water. He turned back around and offered it to my mother. `` Drink this,'' he said. `` It'll make that coughing go away.'' My mom sighed. `` Ok, if you say so.'' She took a big gulp of it. The image faded away. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the front yard, the woman-thing staring at me. A single tear fell from her cheek. `` Mom?'' I said. Then, it hit me. I had n't seen my mom yet since I came back. When I arrived earlier today, my dad told me she had already gone to see some friends before the show. `` She'll really hate missing you,'' he said with a grin on his face. The apparition disappeared as two bright headlights approached from down the street. It was my parent's car, with only my dad sitting at the driver's seat. He pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. `` Son? What are you doing out here?'' He said, walking towards me. `` Anyway, the show was great. Mom's talking with director's wife, you know how women are.'' He chuckled. `` So she probably wo n't be back until tomorrow morning... `` `` Dad,'' I said, trying to compose myself. `` What did you do to mom?'' He curled his eyebrows. `` What do you mean? I told you --'' `` No!'' I said angrily. `` Did you kill her?'' My dad stepped back. `` Son,'' he said, a worried expression on his face. `` Why would you ask that? Are you... feeling okay?'' I ran away from him, going back into the house. I hopped up the stairs and sprinted into the guest bedroom, where I made the hole in the wall. The room really smelled like shit at this point. I peered inside the hole -- and instead of the angry eye, I saw a half-decomposed skull staring out at me. My mother's body. I fell onto the floor, reviled, with tears of terror streaming down my face. I picked up my phone and dialed 911. Outside, the car engine started and tires screeched as my dad's car bolted away from the driveway.

[ WP ] To the alien 's horror their message of peace was not the first one to reach the humans . The first message received was a dick pic .

`` What even is it?'' the president asked the nervous scientists who had handed him the tablet in his hands. `` Well'' they looked among themselves waiting for one to speak first `` We believe it's like our arm, you can see by the mandibles and suction pads it's capable of manipulating objects and holding on with great force.'' A voice came from the back of the group, as they made way for her. `` So our first contact is a picture of it what? Waving? Is this some kind of language barrier test. Like establishing a shared dictionary of terms?'' The president looked up at the scientist that answered, an older woman with graying hair and stern features. `` Exactly so Mr President and that's why I insist we respond likewise'' she answered excitedly. `` Okay, have it done. Lets make sure we get off on the right foot with them, I want this to be a world changing event and for the better. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- `` YOU DID WHAT?!'' Xarya's displeasure radiated from her like heat from a star. `` It was an accident, someone made their location the default'' I pleaded. `` A dick pic, you sent a picture of your PENIS to Earth as our first contact! AGGGHRGGHHH'' Xarya, fumed swinging her arms about knocking over various items on the bridge. `` Sir'' Anat's voice quietly interjected `` WHAT?'' she span with anger in her eyes. `` The humans have responded'' He gulped Xarya, stormed over, `` I'm so embarrassed, please show me, have they demanded some kind of repayment for the insult?'' Her face blushed as she took in the image before her. A long thin pink object that splayed at the end in five different ways, each of various thickness and length. Anat spoke, `` Seems they sent us one back'' `` Is it bigger than mine?'' I asked

[ EU ] It 's Christmas time in the Commonwealth , and all across the wasteland parents are telling their kids the post-war tale of old Saint Nick .

Outisde their ramshacle shack Roland, Marissa, and their two children Tony and Susan are busy doing patchwork on their torn clothing. They children watch as a slow, feathery, flake falls to the ground. `` What is this dad?'' The children ask, mouths agape `` Well,'' Roland answers lips widening, `` Its a snowflake.'' HIs expression now unable to hide his smile. Its nots actually snow, its ash from whatever part of the city the Super Mutants are burning. `` What's snow?'' `` Snow is a sign from Saint Nick that he is coming soon'' Then the scavenger family was swallowed by the fire that was engulfing the city.

[ WP ] Humans are more terrifying than the most advanced aliens in the galaxy .

`` The exploders creep me out.'' `` They prefer to be called humans.'' `` Yeah? And I'd prefer to be called the Uber-Admiral of the 5th fleet. Does n't change the fact that those things are obsessed with explosions.'' `` Are you talking about nuclear weapons? Plenty of pre-FTLs have come up with those. I mean, even we went through times of violence and destruction.'' `` Yes, we've been violent, and yes, we've blown things up. Still, we've never felt the need to include explosions in every single significant invention we've ever come up with.'' `` I do n't follow.'' `` Have you read my report on the Internal Combustion engine?'' `` I skimmed it.'' `` It's a way to propel their vehicles using explosions. They're asinine. Hear about their firearms? They're ranged weapons that fling projectiles with explosions.'' `` Does n't seem like it would be the most accurate...'' `` Oh, they figured out a way for it to work. They just could n't tolerate having anything like that centered around elasticity or magnetism... just had to include an explosion in there. Hell, they have larger, but similar weapons that fling explosive devices with the aid of explosions. Some of those explosions explode into smaller devices that also explode.'' `` Now you're just making shit up.'' `` No, look up'Terran cluster bombs.''' `` What the fuck?'' `` Oh, and get this: take a guess what they concluded once they discovered that all the visible galaxies were moving away from each other... that the entire universe was the result of a really, really huge explosion.'' ``... The exploders creep me out.''

[ WP ] You 're at church and the `` Blood of Jesus '' is being passed around , but is spiked with LSD . What happens next ?

`` I can see angels, Mr. B. Angels flying in the sky!'' I heard a girls voice say behind me after she drank from the chalice. I got dizzy, my head started hurting and colors became intense as I floated out of my body. I saw some people sitting or laying down, heads thrown back as they were looking at the ceiling, tongues hanging out of their mouths as they gawked at the painted ceiling. Higher I floated and saw some more people, running around in circles laughing, jumping for joy, dancing, expressing their intense joy. Some were kissing, making out all over the church, hooking up in the pews, and at least for puerile went into the confession booths. I heard a fight break out. I do n't know what caused it, nor could I see it very clearly as the colors intensified around me and became white. I vaguely heard a groan, and felt something being pressed into my chest. In a daze, I saw the little girl standing over me. Her face wore a a grotesque grin and her eyes glowed yellow. I heard the groan again, and saw a huge figure behind her wearing an oversized old fashioned scuba dive suit, that looked like it dated to the fifties. Oversized as the suit was, there were multiple eyes on the helmet, and two wires formed a cage over the helmet. She was saying something again, and I felt an object pressing into me again. I floated back to my body, the colors becoming less intense. The grotesque grin on the girls face began to look less like a grin and more into a gaping mouth, as though she were screaming in terror. The big man behind her became less huge and oversized as I got closer to my body. Gone was the suit, the size, and when I reached my body, I saw that I had one of the candlebra sucking through my chest, candles scattered around, their melted wax leaving, oozing, pouring onto the floor. The pastor looked in terror at the scene of violence and debauchery around him, and ran to his office. The little girl though, her eyes were still glowing yellow.

[ WP ] After dying you re-awake in the body of a baby with no control over its actions over the years you begin to realise you are this child 's conscience , and the child is you .

So here i am... again for the, i think 40th time, i dont know its somewhere aeound there. Anyway lets try not to get of topic here kiddo that cookie jar will be ours. I know you do n't remember this kid, but our last plan was crap. We should have not tried to climb a turned on stove, but this time my plan is full proof. Nooo stop eating your snot kid your gon na ruin your apitite and now you poopes yourself great. Well soiled or not we're getting that jar from the counter. So i need you to trust me kid old Gemini cricket here has a great plan. You should totally put a fork in that elecrical socket then through that freak accident youll be able to fly to the jar. Ready baby, good now stick it in the.... ( some time traveling, body inserting stuff happens ) oh for fu... End?

[ IP ] Hoverboard

I hated him nearly as much as I hated myself. Stupid fat Yuki, the type of ham-fisted ball head triple chinned Jap that you see in animes being bullied, rather than in schoolyard brawls beating the shit out of the Gaijin. I did n't choose to be a Gaijin either, the kids here stuck it on like a label and decided never peel it off. I gave up Robbie, except at home, in the classroom, I was punk-Gaijin and *Lo-beh* to my teacher. They've got a real problem with R's and L's on this side of the world. The three o clock bell could n't have come faster. Shifting a look over my shoulder, I darted to the school corridor and for the hover board docking bay. Lo and behold, fat head was waiting with two of his cronies. They stood near the hover board bay gate with arms folded and shark grins adorning their pudgy mugs. Yuki, the one in the centre, wore a black suit uniform with a white shirt that threatened to burst over his stomach. His two pals let their coats hang open and their collars twisted in all sorts of random angles. They were textbook baby Yakuzas and I was having none of it. `` Step off, Yuki. Unless you want Principal Joku down here,'' I said, stopping two feet from the entrance. Kids began piling through the school doors behind, only to notice Yuki and the Gaijin facing off before joining the crowd. `` Kowai desu ka?'' *Are you scared? * The twerp knew enough english to make chit-chat, but he chose to respond in Japanese to make a point. You see, in this world you're either Japanese or you're not, and assimilating does n't allow you to make the cut. I was the sore thumb in a row of neatly curled fingers and in Japan there's nothing worse than standing out. Yuki had taken it upon himself to make sure this problem would go away, and most of the other kids secretly agreed with him. Either that or they were too afraid to help out -- experience leant toward the former. `` You're not dumb enough to get kicked out of school? Are you?'' I asked, shifting back toward the crowd. Yuki inched forward, a giant on the prowl. `` Anata no korosu tsumorida.'' *I'm going to kill you. * Some of the kids in a rush had poked out from the sides of the crowd and past his cronies, into the docking bay. Now that the gate was open, I could maybe make a run for it. `` Good thing fatsos ca n't run!'' I yelled, turning and pushing into the crowd. Yuki jumped for me, I felt a hand grip my bag but was able to shake it off. The kids drifted away, like water separating for the passage of a foreign body. In this case, it gave me more leverage to push into them and keep them in disarray, making the job difficult for Yuki. His cronies joined the search, chasing for the yells from each student I bumped into. Someone pushed me and I rolled centre circle, only to notice Yuki and his pals on the other side of the students now and fighting to get to me. I darted into the hover board bay, grabbed my Jetson 220 -- one of the latest and greatest. It could keep up with motorbikes and clamped your feet in so there was no fall-chance. This board was about as big as my forearm and its width was slightly longer than a skateboard. The jagged edges meant that it could slice grass and other frail material. The board lit up red from my touch - owner recognition - and clamped me in as I jumped on. Yuki and his Cronies were through the crowd now and beelining it for the hover board bay gate, no doubt they planned to shut me in. I grinned at the idiots. There was nothing quite like the thrill, those few moments before the board shuddered to life and blasted from 0 to 100. It's the type of energy that preceedes a lightning strike or the tension that occurs right before elastic snaps. The board levelled out above the ground, thrusters powering on and causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise. My heart thudded, both from the adrenalin and the thrill of the hoverboard. When I'm on here, I forget who I am, and that there are people like Yuki in the world. For the sixty minute ride home I'm away from Japan, and in my own reality, wherever I want the board to take me is where I go, and there's nowhere out of reach. It's a reminder that bad things are only temporary and that happiness always comes in the end. I pushed forward with all my strength. The air around me cracked as I zipped out, swerving past Yuki and his cronies. There was a huge dust cloud in my wake, and the group of students were left coughing. I dodged pedestrians like obstacle cones and swung hard right onto a biking lane. And then I was off, my problems at my back and the sunset ahead. But none of it mattered because I was here, happy, on my hoverboard.

[ WP ] After being struck by lightning while browsing Reddit , you discover you gained superpowers ... based on your Reddit username .

I was having a pretty normal vacation until today. I was lying at the beach, browsing Reddit and getting a tan. Suddenly, everything got dark and before I knew it, I heard the sound of a huge explosion and a lightning bolt flashed in front of my face. The shock traveled through my body and I fell to the ground. I remember waking up in the emergency room of a hospital with a doctor standing beside carrying some papers. As I regain consciousness, I feel different in a way I ca n't explain. The doctor tells me that I'll be fine and that no serious injuries occurred, thankfully. As I resume normal life, I feel infinite, like I can do anything if I set my mind to it. As I enter my house, everything seems to fall into place and I take a mental inventory of my life upto this point. This all happens in an instant. I observe my surroundings, immediately, I notice everything wrong with my place and my body acts of its own mind and begins cleaning my apartment. I had wanted to do this at some point in my life, but now, I feel like there is no excuse for me not to do this. Fifteen minutes later, everything about my room seems so perfect and it looks like a place I would want to live the rest of my life in. I lay on my couch for a while, but I am restless. I want to do something, the first things that comes to mind is writing. Yeah, I am a writer, and yeah, I have not written a single word the past year. As I begin to write, everything seems to happen automatically. I put one word in front of another until I have written an entire chapter. When I glance at the clock, I realize how much time has passed, I was so lost in writing that time passed me by really quickly. Immediately, I put on my workout clothing and go to the gym. As I walk there, I am thinking about how perfect of a day this will be. I am loving this. I am careful not to over-train as it is my first day but after the workout is finished, I feel a sense of accomplishment and this makes me really happy. A huge smile spreads across my face and I feel infinite. On my walk back home, I think of all the relationships in my life and how I was so careless about them. I make a decision to remedy this, I call up my best friend who I had not talked to for about a month and make plans to meet up at a nearby cafe. At first, he is a bit reluctant and aggressive about me not returning his calls. I apologize for my actions and explain to him how I want to maintain our friendship. I genuinely believed what I said. I inquire about new developments in his life, how his wife and children are, how the new android application he is developing is working out. He seems to have changed a lot and appears happier. He tells me about his exciting adventures and how he works from home now and travels the world with his family. During the conversation, I, suddenly start to feel miserable. I try to cut the meeting short by claiming that I forgot about the important meeting I have tomorrow morning and I have to go to bed early. He seems completely okay with this and leaves me alone. As I walk home, my head is constantly tilted down, not like in the morning, when it was proudly up. Tears start falling from my eyes for no reason I can think of. I begin to see everything negatively and believe that I was never truly happy at any point in my life, even today. As I enter my room, I close the lights and sit on my bed in darkness. I just want to think about my life. I start to think that today I was not me but someone else. I felt like an impostor. Suddenly, this feeling that life will not get any better in the future started to surface. Rationally, I knew this was not true but emotionally I was convinced. I do n't want to continue on living, I think to myself, if this is what life is. Life is meaningless, I tell to myself, the universe does n't care about you and that I am not a unique and special snowflake, that I am insignificant in the grand scheme of thing. The only honorable thing to do would be to kill myself, only in death can we be heroes. When I woke up, I never knew that suicide would be the thing I would set my mind to, but we do n't always get what we wish for. I proceed to jump out of my apartment window while keeping my eyes closed so that I do not back down from my decision.

[ WP ] Write an interaction in which two people fall in love at first sight , and then by the end of the interaction they realize they hate each other .

The doctor always said I had a problem. What they meant by that, I do n't think I will ever know. I guess the way I live my life has n't been entirely right but in the end what can I do? I live how I feel I should and will continue to do so. Unfortunately that type of thinking has placed me in Boarding Group B on American Airlines flight 1321 to Atlanta. Apparently there are people who explain to me what exactly I am doing wrong. Until then, here I am in line waiting to take my seats. After a while I notice a lovely blonde standing a few people in front of me. Maybe I should talk to her. Am I even capable of talking to a attractive woman? I used to think so when I was a bit younger but after several bad rejections I think it would be best to just forget about her. Yet what is this? She begins to show consideration for the family that stands behind and in front of her. `` You all can get in at the same time, I'm by myself and I have no problem letting you guys get situated without me in the way.'' She says cheerfully. She is like a breath of fresh air. In my experience, with looks comes arrogance, yet with such a minor yet gracious act she begins to unravel my previous notions. Soon this wonderful creature stands before me. The smell of her perfume is intoxicating, almost to the point where I ca n't think straight. She hums quietly to her self as she puts on her ear buds. I can hear the muffled music playing from them but the sound suddenly stops after a few short moments. She seems frustrated as she removes her phone from her pocket only to notice that it had died. `` The battery is dead, damn.'' She says quietly. Dammit, I can do it! Say something! `` That sucks.'' I say shakily. `` Did you forget to charge it?'' She looks up from the blackened screen in front of her and removes an ear bud. `` Yeah, I guess so.'' She says with an awkward chuckle. I finally get a good look at her gorgeous green eyes, spectacular. `` I have a charger for that phone with me if you want to borrow it for a bit before we board, there are still a few more minutes left.'' She smiles slightly at my gesture of kindness causing my heart to throb uncontrollably. I can barely breathe. `` Thanks, but no thanks. It's no big deal. I can read on the flight.'' She replies. All at once I am crushed. I never expected something so small to affect me so much. I smile back for a moment and return to my thoughts. How can someone in need reject such an offer. She obviously wants to listen to her music, and I have given her an offer that would satisfy her wants, yet she declines. Maybe I was wrong about her. She is just like the rest of them: arrogant, cold, disheartening. Her small and sensual frame must be her only true virtue. Everything she says must be an act of some kind, I know it. I can see it now in that beautiful yet deceitful gaze of hers, shes better than everyone else and she knows it. She does n't do anything out of kindness but out of pity for those she deems underneath her. While I drown in anger the plane begins to board. The line slowly moves forward as people ring their boarding passes. The succubus in front of me is next in line. She rings her pass and soon afterwards I do as well. As we walk down the ramp towards the whining engines of the jet liner I realize something. I had almost been taken in by the epitome of what causes me heartache. There is only one thing left to do. I must save others from feeling the same way I do. I ca n't allow her to sow more and more disdain. She's small, and said she was traveling alone. Once we reach our destination I will become the champion of the heartbroken. I'm sure my hands could fit around that elegant neck of hers quite easily, and due to her serious lack of appreciation for random acts from kind strangers, she is without a phone. The doctors always said I had a problem.....

[ WP ] You care about someone and something bad happens to them but you have minimal presence in their life and ca n't get involved

It has been some time since I last saw her. I get the occasional text with a nicety, and I send the occasional invite to some random event that she never shows up to. I still care for her deeply, although not in the same way I once used to. I cheated on her once; the girl who I cheated on her with is now my wife. That still bothers my wife. who does n't really like her; as a result she's met my baby boy once. I'm kind of sad that the whole situation has gone down this path, but I love my wife and my son and refuse to put a wedge between us. That's when I heard the news. Her years of schooling, she found, was of no use to her anymore; she found herself in an industry she hated, with no ladder in sight, let alone the opportunity to climb it. She's perennially between jobs, and has not seen anyone since we split. Her father had a stroke several years back, and now her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. I wish I could do something to help her. I wish I could be there for her. But I ca n't. This is her battle to fight, but I am left wondering why. She deserves better. She deserved better than me, too, but she really deserves better than what this life gives her.

[ WP ] You are the architect of the universe , and you 're having a really bad day at work .

Jerry H. Vah pulled into the parking lot of Amalgamated Multiverses, Inc. He was late. The day had not started well. Actually things started to go down hill last night. He called home after work to say that he would not be home for dinner as he and some work friends were going out. His wife Sheila did not answer the phone, so he left a message and got on with his evening. She'd be cool with him going out. Sure, it was Thursday, but it was a celebration at work. That was the first mistake. First and second really. Sheila did not answer the phone because she was in the shower getting ready for their evening. It's was their anniversary and she had made his favorite dinner and sent their son Joshua to spend the night with a friend. But Jerry did not know any of that because he had forgotten his anniversary and decided to go out with friends and left a message. Of course, out with friends meant drinking. And drinking meant too much drinking. And driving home. Jerry thought he made it home safely, albeit very late, stumbled in, and found a beautiful cold dinner on the table. He went to his bedroom door and found it locked. `` Sheila! Sheila honey open the door''. `` Go away Jerry''. `` Sheila c'mon dear lem me in''. Silence. Jerry stumbled to the couch, lay down, and passed out. He awoke. Bright lights. Headache. Sheila. It all came back to him and now he remembered yesterday was his anniversary. Of course, Sheila had informed him of that as well in no uncertain terms. He looked bleary eyed at his watch. He was going to be late again. `` Sheila, I'm sorry and I promise I will make this up to you, but I need to clean up and go to work.'' She was still ranting at him, deservedly. He showered, shaved, got dressed, apologized again and left the house. To see his beautiful car that he got after his promotion to Architect. His beautiful car with a smashed in headlight and front bumper crumpled. It looked driveable, so he took off. `` Late late late late late''. Speeding ticket. `` Really late really late really late''. Jerry H. Vah snuck into his office and logged into his system. Message from the Big Boss. `` See me when you get in''. The meeting with the Big Boss did not go well.. Management was not at all happy with the Saurian life forms on the dominant planet. He was told to get rid of them or have the project re-assigned. He was also on `` probation'' due to some incident last night involving another staff member. Louie was a jerk and always was messing with Jerry. Evidently Jerry had had enough and... it was a bit of a blur... but Louie ended up filing a formal complaint. He got back to his desk and mumbled to himself. `` Do n't like Saurians, do they? What do they know? I think they're awesome. Whatever.'' He chose the SMITE command and chose the `` meteor'' option. The Saurians were no more. `` Let's see how they feel about apes.'' and got to coding.

In 100 words or less , create a three dimensional character by writing their final words . Evoke a strong sense of who your character is in the reader .

`` What a view. You did n't have to do this, you know. I could have had a blank wall in front of me, and just thought my way through the past week. You know, moving pictures. Are you doing okay? You cried so much after my celebration. I think more people should celebrate death. I lived a full life. All my friends were there - the ones that were left, anyhow. And you were there. The kids. You need to leave, now. I wo n't let you see me go. Kiss me, my love, and make your way. I love you.'' ( 99 words )