Datasets:

euclaise

/

writingprompts

like 12

[ WP ] Write the most ornate , unnecessarily detailed description of the most mundane , ordinary , boringly run-of-the-mill thing , place or event you can think of . Then , in one sentence , make all that seemingly unnecessary attention to detail critically important .

This quilt, that my mother made, Still makes me think to this day. It's softest brown, and brightest blue, The curved stitch here, reads `` made it May''. It's hard to see, but believe me it's true, That's not just a cloth but a piece of shirt. You can see a logo here, and right there, And a signature over there, someone named `` Bert''. This is my favorite part, a piece from a stuffed bear. I think it was my mother's favorite too, She always said so at least. Something from when she was two, Given by her grandad for Thanksgiving feast. My dad added this, a little button pin, Something from his mother, for being a scout. Apparently she went to a store and fished in a bin, Until night that day, to teach him what love was about. I'm sorry you had to see this, but their funeral was delayed.

[ TT ] Classic monsters were social statements on more basic human fears : zombies represented disease , werewolves represented dangerous animals , and vampires represented the aristocracy . Create a story of a new monster to represent a more modern fear : terrorism

It's the job of our agency to keep track of the worlds monsters and keep them locked down. Which is complicated because people are n't allowed to know they exist or that they create them. Fear itself, when amplified by a large amount of people, fearing that same thing enough... produces a monster to represent it, it simply comes to life and exists. We stop said Monsters from destroying us. We always do. This time just over a decade ago, our job got a lot harder, a new breed of monster had appeared, and it was more dangerous than we ever suspected possible. The thing about the old monsters is they're like the fear they represent: Werewolves were simply animals, animals that stick to the forest, they're easy to explain to locals and generally do n't even cause much trouble so long as they're left well enough alone, we picked off the aggressive ones and left the rest alone. Vampires were a problem for a long while, because like the aristocracy they represented, they liked to lord it over people. To show off their power. Made it very hard to keep them a secret, but also easy to find them and destroy them before the fear they created spread too far. The few around today only stay alive because they do n't act like the monsters they are, so it has been nightmarishly difficult to finish them off, but they're generally no longer our biggest issue. With Modern medicine as it is, zombies went extinct long ago with the fear of disease that created them. They were n't like one would imagine them though, they were slow and stupid sure... but also silent, they'd spread by bite, but not moan or be loud doing it. During the black death they killed as many people as the disease itself as fear of disease produced more than we were able to handle. However now... a new monster has come about. We did n't even realize it -was- a monster until we captured one. Because they destroy themselves mere seconds after they pop into existence. What much of the world knows as'Suicide bombers', we found out their true form. So far as we can tell, there have been few genuine suicidal terrorists acts - 9/11 being the one that caused enough fear of terrorism to bring these monsters into existence. However now they jump into existence wherever there's enough fear and tension and after they die, they've left only more fear in their wake, leading to -more- coming into existence later. So if not humans, what are they? Well. They have human faces, and hands... but the rest of them is anything but. Their limbs are made of some kind of shadow and their chest of fire - which when they release to explode and cause mayhem. We only captured one after a brave marine tackled one to the ground - it would have made no difference, but in doing so he also accidentally starved the flames of oxygen -just- long enough to stop them becoming intense enough to remain, at which point the being became only shadow. The creature is pitiful if it does n't get to die soon after forming - the mask it uses to represent a face swiftly begins to rot, lasting only a minute at most the hands soon mold until they too are shadow. And then... it just dies, it dissipates into the essence that makes up all monsters. In a weird fit of irony, their purpose is the same as their fears creators - get as much attention as possible and use it to spread fear. And oh boy have they been doing so... we just ca n't stop them. Because one can get over the fear of something that fears the sun, that only comes out on a full moon or is simply countered by modern medication. If things get any worse, if we do n't stop the media spreading the fear -and hence the monsters- we're going to have to fear a whole new ending to the world. `` This is the way the World ends, not with a whimper. But with a BANG.''

[ WP ] `` Just like old times , huh ? ''

The first punch gets me right in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. I half-crawl towards him from where I fell on my ass, feeling the flush of adrenaline starting to take hold. It's a dirty fight, I suppose. We focus on causing as much pain as possible - cruel to be cruel. He stinks. ******** The actual first punch was somewhat expected. The sun was hot, uncomfortably so, but we felt obligated to enjoy it. The ground in our neighbourhood was both more and less interesting in the summer. Deep cracks and canyons traced out a huge map that stretched from his backyard to the fabled danger-zone of the main road, but it lacked the fascination of living and moving insects, driven underground by drought. What else could two boys do, but fight? It was fun. We laughed afterwards. We compared bruises for weeks; his turned yellow first. If there was blood, I do n't remember it. We both of stunk afterwards. Of sweat and dirt and pure heat. ******** He's lost weight - or, rather, is in the process of losing it. The bones in his wrists are becoming visible. It's summer again, not that you would know with the blinds so thick. They've trapped the air, and it's warm without any real heat. Cliché, really, to be like this now. *He was such a nice kid... * Everyone was. Everyone is. I have n't reconnected, run into him on the street; people fall by inches. He starts to cry. Not like in the movies. It's mostly snot ( mixed with a little blood ). Drool begins to gather at the corners of his mouth. I have to look away.

[ WP ] Randomize your music playlist . Hit Play . Write a funny or scary story based on the title of the song playing .

Some nights I lay awake staring at the ceiling. When I wake up I swear I can see your ghost in the corner of my vision. But whenever I turn my head the only thing there is the white wall staring back at me. I think back to the fun we had. Camping in the mountains staring at the stars. Sneaking into the local pool to skinny dip. I didn ’ t know how to live until I found you. Now I can barely remember what it is to live. What it is to feel. I try to go through my day like before. It ’ s harder waking up in an empty bed. Harder only having my music to break the silence as I get ready. But I have to have the music. Without the music I ’ m left alone with only my thoughts. And that is what I try to avoid at all costs. I still work the same desk job you got me. The looks I get going down the hall cut into my soul. Some show pity. Some empathy. After I leave work I go to the bar, the only place that doesn ’ t ask questions. I ’ m not asked how I am. They just give me my vodka and leave me to wallow. I always hope I can drink myself into enough of a stupor that I can actually sleep. Maybe I ’ ll even get lucky and crash on the way home. Then I won ’ t have to answer the questions that are always asked. Or deal with the glances that people shoot but think I don ’ t see. By the time I get home I ’ m usually too drunk to even make it to the bed. But somehow I did last night. And as I fell from consciousness, I thought of you. I thought of falling asleep with you in my arms. I wished for the warmth of your body against mine. I yearned for the comfort of your breath next to me. When I felt the wind against me I passed it off as the window left open. When I felt warmth against me I thought it was the liquor warming me. But now I start to wonder. As I sit here staring at you I question if I ’ m still drunk or the most sober I ’ ve been in weeks. I can ’ t believe all the details that are still there. I can see your beautiful green eyes that I fell in love with. I can see the scar on your palm that you got when you tried to help that stray dog and it bit you. I can see the blood on your head and shirt from where you went through the windshield when we hit the tree. But worst of all I see your mouth stuck open screaming in horror the same way it was as you died next to me. I should have pulled over. I should have stopped to sleep. But I wanted to get home to lay bed with you. Now I know why I ’ ve seen you morning after morning. You miss me as much as I miss you. I think instead of work I ’ ll go back to sleep. I ’ ll slide aside so you can lie next to me. Take you in my arms again. Now I know it wasn ’ t the wind against me. It was you watching me. Watching me sleep in my bed while you sleep in the ground. Well no longer. You ’ re here for me now. I have you in my arms again. I embrace the cold that you bring as much as the warmth that once came with you. At last I will be able to sleep with my sweetheart again. Some Nights - FUN

[ WP ] People have been getting superpowers for a while , and today you got yours ! No one cares , though , because people are sick and tired of hearing about superpowers and superheroes

I can hardly read the letter, because the hand holding it is shaking so bad. My hand. There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just nervous. I'm actually a pretty normal guy, painfully normal. But that's all about to change. *Dear Mr. Thompson, we are quite happy to inform you that we have successfully received and processed your requests, as well as your official test results. It is with great pleasure that I can relay to you, on behalf of The United States Department Of Supernatural Distribution, that you are officially licensed to generation and application of banishment, disappearance, and-* The sturdy stationery and pompous print fade from view. Everything is temporarily blurry, and I feel my nose flare and quiver for a moment, before the rest of my body joins in. I'm not much of a crier, and make a pathetic scene for a moment as I let the emotion wash over me. Finally. Finally. Fucking finally. I blink the tears out of my eyes, and hear the soft thud as they land on the paper. I look down again, and next to a tear drop I read, *your superpower will be rendered available as soon as you read aloud the following code: USER556865REQ55432. In accordance with federal law, you must destroy this document upon activation. * It is the most amazing, natural thing. I just wave my hand, focus on an object, and.. boom; it's gone. Or transported amazingly to a location of my choosing. It's like magic, except it's not. It's a superpower, and one I can now use to my heart's content. Of course there's laws and regulations, but with great power comes blah blah blah yada ya. I focus on the document for a second before transporting it from my hand to my desk before Vanishing it altogether. So. Damn. Cool. What now? I think the answer to that is pretty obvious. The video clip is pretty short, and I filmed it myself. The shot zooms in on my sink overloaded with dishes, two weeks worth. The camera then turns to me, and my frown lets the viewer know that I'm not happy about it. As it turns back to the sink, my hand waves across the frame. Boom, they're gone. To erase any doubt, I open the dishwasher and ta-da, they're neatly stacked on the racks within. The final scene is my smiling face. Facebook. Instagram. Snapchat. Upload, upload, upload. # Lifestough Two hours later, I check my posts. One response, and 13 combined likes. Mom says `` congratulations'', but she did n't even put an exclamation mark at the end. My heart sinks. I'm so damn sick of being the last one to every trend. I wish my superpower would disappear. Just kidding, it's still pretty cool.

[ WP ] Merpeople , annoyed that humans only seem interested in zombies and vampires , try to make their mythology more enticing .

`` They do n't believe we're interesting?'' one of the younger mermaids, Ari, asked, looking around the elders of the council. Of all the reasons for the decline of the last several decades, *interest* had not been one she had thought about. Low birthrates, weak magic, and increased illness and death in their people had spurned the mer- and hydro- species to gather and think of something to stop what would soon be the end of them all. That it was the human's fault was implied, but how was the question. `` It is the fault of their aeroplanes,'' an old mermaid replied. Ari did not know her personally, they were from different seas, but the merwoman had been kind to her despite her age. Ari was the only representative healthy enough from their bay to journey here, even if she was young. `` Ships are not used as much for transport,'' the Pacific mermaid continued. `` And when they are they are so big and well-made that our songs do not reach them. There is no reason to fear us. We may look pretty, become a tale to tell with friends if we are seen, but then we are forgotten.'' `` Which is a problem,'' a siren added. She lounged on a giant open clam, the self-appointed head for this group. Her songs at least, on occasion, brought about disappearances around Bermuda. `` Belief does not have to be real to fuel magic, to fuel *us*. Interest in fictional variations of our kind would be enough. But all of that is now taken up by vampires, or zombies. And we? From what I hear I am relegated to literature no one reads for pleasure, and my dear mermaids you are children's toys.'' `` Children have interest,'' the old mermaid replied. `` About a quarter century ago we had several good years. I began to find dolls and toys in the sewage near people that showed a red haired mermaid.'' `` But only for a while. You know soon after that it was lions or some other nonsense.'' `` Then..'' the younger mermaid began her thought, but paused. The elderly mermaid smiled to her and nodded for her to continue. The siren looked interested. Ari turned to the oceanids and nereids- it had been something they had said earlier that day that now came back to her. `` Then perhaps we must do what our ancestors did,'' Ari said. `` We come up to the surface, to the isles, up the deep rivers because we had to get to the people. Now they have other ways of transport, but water is important to us all. We must simply find other places to dwell.'' `` Yes!'' a nereid added. `` My cousin, she went to the beaches and then amid the people and their buildings when my young brother became sick. She found small ponds with no fish or plants, but where many people would go to play. It was close to home, so at night she could return, but during the day she enticed two young men into such a frenzy they fought for her in the deep end and drowned! My brother's fever broke and he is now well because of their deaths and fear.'' `` Exactly!'' Ari gestured to the other young woman. `` We have to go to them, make ourselves known.'' `` It could work,'' the elderly mermaid said. `` We did always see who could go closest, and the one who brought someone in from the land would win. But lately such games have not been on our minds with the bad times.'' `` We just have to make sure they know it is us, and not something silly like sharks.'' Now inspired, the group began making plans for their emigration onto land and the shallow waters. The young people, those who were healthy and could take the shape of humans, would slowly begin to the move to the fresh waters and those lakes and ponds that did not return to the ocean. The occasional drowning would be a good start, and as they settled into their new homes they could connect with that new part of the world. Surely a lake, even a pool or a fountain, needed a spirit as much as the ocean or a river did?

[ WP ] You know you have 3 days to live . You film yourself reading a written monologue to be played at your funeral in front of your friends and family , confessing your deepest , darkest secret that you hid for your whole life ; this is that monologue .

Not a single person in the crowd of Nora Janice's Funeral had spoken a word. Friends, Relatives, and a few other people all bonded together in the stillness of the moment. Even Nora's own parents were seen, with no idea how she could have been a part of such a horrible death. Soon, an image appeared in the front of the room. The image of Norah soon became a video, and papers were heard rustling around. Tears could be seen creeping down the young eyes of the girl, and those tears began to spread throughout the room as she spoke. > Hello. If you are hearing this, t-then they must have gotten to me. I do n't know why, but I know that soon I will be... dead. I pray you never have to hear this, but I guess if you are hearing this, it's too late. The camera showed a barren room with notes on a desk in the front, a plain chair, and dim lighting highlighting the webcam glow on Nora's youthful face. It must have been recorded very recently before her death, but she still looked too young for someone like her to be gone so soon. > Ok, I need to start at the beginning I guess. Most of you must have known me as a perfect little girl with a great heart and all that. That's not the full me. Ok, ok, calm down, I've never told anyone this, calm down. By this time, everyone in the crowd had undergone a change from a teary-eyed and mournful mood to some feeling much more intrigued. Nora was n't a crazy conspiracy theorist, or ever been mentally unstable. Well, maybe she did seem a bit strange at times, but the way she was speaking now made her seem absolutely insane. > When I was kid, I had terrible nightmares. Every time I had one of these nightmares, it was the same kind of thing. I saw people dying. But - Here's the thing, it actually happened. Like, I was dream of some man I'd never seen before getting beaten to death with a club, and a few days later I would see him on the news as a murder victim. Now it happens - or, well - happened, about every month or two. A few stand out in my brain. A week before 9/11 was horrible. I tried to help out a stranger I saw on the streets, but to no avail. He would n't listen, I tried to warn him! Now, the audience was fidgeting. Nora's parents were the most shocked, and all the others in the room were mimicking their expressions. Sure, maybe a few things about the way she acted made sense now, but she was just another girl. At least that's what everyone in the room had thought for the last 20 or so years she'd been alive. > For the past week, I have been having a different kind of vision in my sleep. I see myself. I'm in some room of my house, and someone walks in. I'm laying on my desk, and I ca n't see his face. Papers are laying around everywhere, and he just walks over to me with, s-some kind of gun or something, and then... and then I wake up. I know it's going to happen soon, and, i just do n't know when. Probably in a couple of days, but it could be soon. I just- I do n't know what to do. On screen, she began to lay her head down in pure fear. She threw some of her notes down on the floor, and they gently rested down on the floor. The video feed stood still for a moment, then a creaking was heard. A door opened, and a man walked in. The man looked down at Nora, and shot.

[ WP ] The Sword of the Stranger

`` Brigands and cutpurses have nothing on me. They're petty, cheap thugs who burgle for petty, cheap coin. Wine and women must come easily to such people.'' The stranger looks unimpressed. I continue my spiel. `` I'm more refined. Better than a common thief. Smarter than the lot of them put together, too.'' Her distaste shows on her lips, as they curl up in disgust. She speaks for the second time. `` And I'm sure you spend your hard earned coin on nothing but the noblest of pursuits, too. Nothing but charities and your future, I'm certain.'' Her words hardly leave a mark in my indignant reply. `` What, then, did you want from our town? You requested a companion for some brute force crusade type deal, and you're surprised the clientele is all of the lowborn variety? Get a grip, paladin.'' Her hand shifts to the hilt of her scabbard, running gloved fingers over the symbol inscribed there. She lifts her eyes to the heavens. `` Bloody divines never gave us nothing. And here you are, shiny armor and shiny sword, trying to muster us up? For what, then? Why do you even need one of us fine gentlemen?'' She declined to respond, her view of the overcast sky must have given her all the direction she needed. Without another word, she spun on her heels, the soft clangs of her armor trailing behind her as she smartly walked away. I turn back to my compatriots, who had been listening intently to our exchange. `` We'll rob her tonight.''

[ WP ] You are the Sergeant of a specialised squad and you have just made the hardest decision of your military life . You turn around to find each squad member has their rifle pointed at your face .

Sergeant Clark lifted his wrist to look at the band wrapped around it. It was no different than the fitness trackers people wore, except that it was reinforced by thick ropes of steel. It looked boring, actually. Black, some kind of supple rubber. A little digital heart pulsed consistently beside of a number that read 96. A cold blade of panic pierced his back, shooting a chill up his neck and across his scalp. He swallowed against an entirely too-dry throat, feeling the tissue scrape across itself like sandpaper. The sensation gagged him and he had to suppress his body's reflex to retch. He managed to tear his eyes from his own wrist to a face concealed by a mask without contour or color. `` You have 60 seconds. If your heart still beats after, the nuclear bombs will launch. It does n't matter what countries will be hit. What matters is the one that fired them. The USA.'' It was strange where his mind went as he targeted the stranger with the barrel of his gun. He thought of how he'd never have a dog. His parents would never let him have one of his own growing up and life had never given him the opportunity to bring one into his life as an adult, between never having an apartment that allowed him as he failed out of college, and all of the travel required by his secret career. He did n't think of Lucy or his mom. He thought of this dog, that probably would have been brown and white or something and ate its own vomit. He would've named it Daniels, because Jack would've raised some brows with the reputation Sergeant Clark had made for himself. Hands numb, he lowered the barrel of his gun. The number on the wristband was nearing 200. He felt disconnected from his body other than his nose, which was ice cold. He closed his eyes and smiled. He did n't know what was funny, but he could n't deny that something was. He relaxed his shoulders, let the rifle fall slack on its strap across his chest, and pulled his pistol from its holster on his hip. The metal should've been cold against his temple, but he would n't have noticed it had it not been for the determined pressure of it. Almost forgetting them, Sergeant Clark turned to face his squad. Why? He was n't sure. Maybe to say he was sorry. Maybe to thank them for his time with them the last five years. Maybe it was so the last thing he saw before he died was a familiar face, if not a friend. Instead, what he saw was the barrels of five guns with highly trained fingers on the triggers. He was glad he could n't see their eyes. Sergeant Clark holstered his pistol in a practiced, mechanical movement and gave a short nod that was both an order, a pardon, and an apology all at the same time. __ Edit: Spelling

[ WP ] A father chains his werewolf daughter up in the basement on full moon nights . When someone hears the screams , child protective services investigate and find her there .

I never thought working with CPS would be easy. I never thought it'd be this hard. We get more cases than we have available inspectors. It was the screams of the girl, twelve reports, that got us interested in one Stanley Colville. The reports would flood in on full moon nights. All the crazies come out with the full moon. This guy was no different. Probably beat the poor girl on those nights. So I waited. Pulled up in my beater one such night. Knocked on the door. A shotgun answered. That's when my heart dropped. `` CPS?'' I nodded, could n't speak through the solid lump of concrete building in my throat. I could feel the tiniest bit of pee leak out too. `` Come in.'' He motioned me inside with the shotgun. One thing I learned growing up in the Midwest: never argue with the man with a twelve gauge. So I entered. `` Follow me.'' He was toting the shotgun as we made our way down the clean hallway, nothing out of the ordinary in this house. Pictures of a smiling teen with her father lined the walls, normal decor, television with the news running in a clean living room. No obvious signs of bad parenting. Except that damn shotgun. He was wearing a pistol on his hip too and a knife in a sheath on his thigh. Guy was absolutely nuts. `` Basement.'' I took one quick look. Colville was a decent looking guy, clean shaven and well dressed. Fit. Normal looking guy. That was about to cut me up into little pieces in his basement. Great. Into the dark I took the steps down, coming to a heavy steel door with padlocks and bolts. I could hear heavy breathing behind the door. A chill ran down my spine. Maybe she was n't abused. Maybe she was the abuser. From a ring of keys he unlocked the padlocks, unbolted the chains, and opened the door on oiled hinges. Inside was a concrete room with three heavy metal rings secured to the floor. Through these were looped heavy steel chains. These in turn were attached to manacles. These in turn were attached to the furry arms of a vicious looking beast, drooling and slobbering and eyeing me with obvious hunger. There was a pink bed against the wall, some posters on the walls, and a stack of books on a nightstand next to the bed. Teen fiction. Shit. `` What the FUCK!'' I shouted as it hit me. He nodded. `` Werewolf.'' From there I do n't remember much. I remember the concrete rushing up towards me and then blackness. I think I passed out.

[ CW ] Rewrite a story you find on WP today from a different character 's perspective . Link back to the original work and tag the author .

`` Dave? It's me, mom.'' My hands shivered slightly. `` Hey ma, why are you calling me so late?'' I checked the clock. It was late. 10:00 pm late. `` I just wanted to see if you remembered to pick up your gramma's medicine. She needs it tonight and tomorrow morning, you know.'' I could feel his hands crushing the phone. I would too, if I was him. He volunteered to get my mother off my hands, a huge relief for me. But as much of a burden my mother is, she is still mom. His grandmother. I had a gut feeling she was about to die. `` Did you give her the medicine yet, Dave? She also needs some money for bingo night, every Friday, make sure you drive her there tomorrow.'' I covered the microphone a little to hide my gulp. Through the speaker I can hear his panting. Dave always panted when furious. `` Yes. Gave it to her right after dinner.'' He spoke a little fast. I trust my son, but I feel as if he was lying. What can I do, bed ridden like this? `` Thanks, Dave. Thanks a lot.'' `` Sure.'' A small sigh followed his seemingly genuine reassurance. `` Good night, go- ” `` Good night.'' He hastily ended the call. Teary eyed and slightly depressed, I whispered to the phone, hoping desperately for someone to tell him what I said. `` Good luck, Dave. I love you.'' -- http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2hdtee/wp_you_find_out_that_you_have_been_playing_life/ckrs9fr By /u/brokenleader

[ WP ] The alien invasion of Earth has begun and the fearsome yet humanoid creatures came from the skys in massive bloodred ships . For unexplainable reasons , they still use sabers and ride on horseback . You find yourself being charged at by Calvary . . . in the 22nd century .

It's quiet, living on the edge of town I manage to get away from the hustle and grind of the cyber city Teletariam. It was the first city that really embraced technology and set the standard for how cities needed to change and grow in the late 21st century. Cities across the globe had been integrating and modifying their cities but lacked the proper planning and initiative to effectively implement the modern marvels. Teletariam changed that, being built East of Denver Colorado at the foot of the hills it served to be a beacon of new life. The series of revolutionary wars that occurred across the country from 2058-2093 left the country more united and stronger then ever, but beaten down and rebuilding. Teletariam was built as the new capital of the United West and served as the most technologically advanced city to ever be produced. We of the West take pride knowing that it stands tall, a symbol of our rebuilding, devotion and resilience. My name is Gabriel and I work outside of this modern Haven as a farmer. They city produces most of its food internally but I grow larger row crops that not only support citizens but are used in various manufacturing processes. It's a Tuesday and like every Tuesday I get up feed the dogs while I power up and prep my cropbots for the day. I watched the news on a heads up display when I felt it. The ground shaking as if the world itself wanted to rip apart. I ran outside and the sun was eclipsing a large object in the sky? The shaking changes from a violent shift to a rumbling, I can feel it in my chest. A sense of panic runs through my veins, what is going on. An attack from the east, southern rebels, or something else? With out a second to waste I ran through my shop, grabbing my binoculars, up the spiral stairs to my overlook I look toward the sky, it's a ship. Something I have never seen before, it is huge, coated in silver with orange accents. It eclipsed the sun, taken back from how big it is I look below large vessels had landed on the surface and something is heading this way. Peering through my binoculars I can not believe what I see.... Horses... Unbelievable... But who is riding them, or what? These horses are bigger then anything I have ever seen before. Plated in armor covering all their vital and soft spots, I can see the breath burn from there nostrils as they gallop towards me. The riders appear to be wearing silver armor and a Lance blazing like the fire of a thousands sun's. What am I looking at? As I took in the display off my overlook, over my head flies a legion carrier of the United West Marine corps. They land 500 meters from my shop right on my ready to harvest crops. A batallian of troops, tanks, troop transports, heavy gunners and equipment rolls off and into the ready. Without wasting time the heavy gunners and tanks begin to fire long range rounds. I watch as the rounds strike the horses and there riders, but to my and the soldiers on the ground surprise there is no effect. The barrage stops and the soldiers appear to be regrouping. Suddenly jets fly over head along with a c730 air cannon ship. Hell begins to rain down as the jets bomb and lay down aggressive fire. The c370 lays down hundreds of thousands of rounds with in seconds. The approach of the unknown enemy is unaltered and an uneasiness rises across the battlefield. Seasoned soldiers from the war began to bark at the marines, rallying them to get ready to make a stand. You can hear the horses breathing hard. They're getting close. The soldiers deploy the trenchers, digging trenches instantly. They jump in preparing to hold there defensive line. The enemy approaches at about 150 meters all at once the riders draw there swords and suddenly the horses accelerate running all out. They are met by a barrage of bullets. Within seconds they are on top of the marines break through their line. Chopping and stabbing as they go. Most of the horses cleared the trench and the riders jumped into the trenches as blood flies everywhere. I stand in astonishment, in front of me I have just witnessed a bloody violent confrontation and as I realize what I had just seen, that's when I see it. A young Marine who has confronted a rider. The riders horse appears to have misjudged the trench and took a spill breaking its neck the marine fires on the downed rider and the shots hit his armor without penetration. The marine changes to incinerator rounds and fires. To no effect, the rider gets its senses and begins to stand. It is just over 2 meters tall and stands on its 2 feet. Its clearly not from this planet but it resembles us. The rider rushes the marine. Within a second it has pushed its blade through the marines chest. But in the marines right hand he held his dagger and with his last bit of strength he plunged it into the riders neck. An explosion of blood came from the rider and a cry that stopped his companions in their tracks. They turned and flocked to there wounded soldier and surrounded him. In this moment the surviving marines fell back. They're heading straight for my barn... Edit: spelling and grammer Part 2 tomorrow...

[ CW ] Write a story that uses at least 5 senses .

Wow, just want to say this is the best prompt I've seen in the many months I've been reading WP responses. It does n't seem like the kind that will take off, but good job on thinking of it. -- - Ray Thompson lay with his cheek pressing on the scorching desert sand, arm stretched desperately towards a water skin. His bare chest burned with each shift in the grains as he inched closer to the leather. Running a dry tongue over cracked lips, the large man used all his strength to push himself the final bit of distance. He grabbed the water skin and pulled his arm back like he'd been bitten by a cobra. Ray managed to roll onto his back and put the smooth skin to his lips. Only a few drops fell into his mouth, but they were Godsend. He closed his eyes in bliss and felt his tongue re-moisten like the old sponge his mother used to wash the dishes. He felt something else fall into his open mouth. Six individual pricks moved down the roof of his mouth and into his throat. Ray rolled back to his stomach and began choking, trying to loosen the intruding... whatever it was. He managed to get to his knees, feeling adrenaline kick in, and coughed violently. He felt his chest expand and retract with each cough like a drum when beat. The six points made their way down his throat, into his esophagus. He felt the points move individually, but as one. Perhaps a scorpion. He got a deep itch from inside of his body. Ray brought up a hand and punched himself in the chest, right over the itch. He felt the hits connecting, but no pain from them. He was either too weak to punch properly or too close to death to feel the pain. As he began to panic, a sharp pinch came from his chest. Ray's eyes widened as he tried to scream, but he did n't hear any noise come out. He had n't heard any noise for... days? When did he come out here, anyway? Ray shook his head as he found his thoughts wandering. The pain in his chest spread outward, as though a sun had been born within it. He felt a sudden grasp inside of him let go. Perhaps the scorpion fell into his stomach, made itself food for him. Ray smiled, snickering in the heat. All this time, he had been starving, but could n't take care of it. He fell back to his hands and knees, laughing hysterically, though the sound of his laughter did n't reach his ears. All this time he could n't eat, so the food walked *into* his mouth! Randy... Ra... Ray! Ray held his stomach and fell face first into the sand, feeling the burn on his eyelids as he continued laughing. It walked into his mouth! Ray fell back to the sand, laughing helplessly as the sun climbed the sky. Perhaps this would finally be it.

[ WP ] Make me cry , then make me happy I just cried .

Hans was never a “ bright ” child by any measure. He scored average in just about every capacity: IQ, grades, sports. Everything he tried, he was *average*. His parents didn ’ t really know what to do with him. He was now 8 years old, had a few friends, never really exhibiting talents or a profinity for anything. On a whim his father purchased a stuffed dragon, roughly the size of an average baby. It was a vibrant green color, deep like an emerald yet just as brilliant. It had horns resembling a reindeer ’ s, and a pearly white beard under its chin. Its body was long and slender like a snakes, yet girthy enough to hold and hug. The day his father gave him Sam, is a day he ’ ll never forget. Hans sat there, playing with the few toys he had as his father called his attention. He looked up to see Sam placed right before him. At first he was confused. It was a weekday and usually weekends were the time for gifts and treats. Maybe he did something special the day before, he wasn ’ t usually aware of these things and often forgot his own actions. Now all his attention was transfixed on the wonderfully verdant creature before him. He reached out to hold his new companion, “ Wait, what do you say, Hans? ” “ Thanks, daddy. ” “ You ’ re welcome. Have you decided his name yet? ” his father asked as he handed Hans the plush animal. “ Sam. ” His father sighed. He thought he might provoke some hidden creativity in the boy, alas it was the name of a family dog who died a year prior of old age. After a few weeks, his father would grow to like the name and almost regard fictional creature as a household pet. Hans brought Sam with him everywhere: school, bed, trips to the doctor, even church despite the protests of his mother. His father saw that it wasn ’ t about what Sam did with the toy, it was the connection he made with his inanimate friend. Soon, they began to see Hans use Sam in imaginary play, something that eluded Hans previously. Sam had a whole family, Hans would tell his parents, that lived on Jupiter ( they were learning about the solar system that week ) and used special walkie talkies to communicate to Earth. Hans couldn ’ t understand Sam ’ s language, but he would read Sam ’ s facial expressions and could tell if the conversation was good or bad. He picked this up when his parents were talking, thinking he couldn ’ t hear or see them. Then, he started drawing. And painting. By the time Hans was 12, he moved on to more difficult mediums like pastel and oil. His parents were not only impressed, but thrilled. Their son actually *was* talented. It was a shame when he got sick and couldn ’ t paint anymore. Hans ’ health started to deteriorate around his 14th birthday. His parents first noticed his lack of energy, then it evolved into notes from his teachers that he was sleeping in class. Eventually, his symptoms grew to frequent migraines, crippling him from attending school or even leaving his bed. Sam was constantly by his side, Hans even refused to let his mother give him his monthly washing. It didn ’ t take long for a diagnosis, a malignant brain tumor that was spreading quickly. Sometimes these things happen for no reason, the doctor told his parents, there ’ s not much they can do besides surgery and immediate treatment. Treatment meant chemotherapy, which his mother already went through with her mother. She was reluctant at first, but because of the doctor ’ s ushering - she relented. It was a warm summer day in early June when Hans went in for his weekly chemotherapy treatment. During the summer, his treatments were in the morning so he could have the remainder of the day to paint. At least, he would try to paint. Nausea and fatigue would usually follow his treatments confining him to his bed most days. The gentle breeze kissed his naked forehead, partially covered by a baseball cap to mask his bald head. He liked to keep the windows down when they drove, the wind helped cool his face and keep him from vomiting. As they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Hans clutched Sam to his chest. Sometimes the nurses wouldn ’ t let him bring Sam in, today they promised he could join him. As he approached the hospital doors, Hans got nauseous and had to stop for minute. He considered running away, far from the hospital so he didn ’ t have to go back. He was old enough to know that it wasn ’ t possible. He wasn ’ t strong enough. Once they got to the treatment room, Hans noticed there weren ’ t any other patients. Usually there were a few, but he was the only teenager. There was another kid he would talk to sometimes, but he passed away a month prior from leukemia. His dad dropped him off today, he had a few errands to run so Hans was alone with Sam during his treatment. After the nurse left he turned to Sam, “ Sam, how do you not get scared for your family? ” Hans wasn ’ t crazy. He fully knew Sam couldn ’ t talk, but it was a nice nostalgia from when he first received his stuffed friend. Many of his conversations with Sam ended in great epiphanies. In his mind, he imagined the dragon replying. “ I do, I just pretend I don ’ t. ” “ How do you *pretend* you ’ re not afraid? ” “ Fear is funny. It ’ s always there, always staring at you. You can either try to stare back, which you ’ ll lose, or ignore it. ” “ I don ’ t think I can ignore this. The doctors and my parents are constantly reminding me. ” “ You ’ re still trying to stare back, to understand why you ’ re afraid. Conquering fear is about building a bridge over it, not bullying your way through. Even if you make it through with brute force, others can ’ t follow you. You build a bridge though, they can. And... if my family knows I ’ m afraid, they won ’ t follow me. I have to pretend because I have to help my family. ” “ I wish I could meet your family. ” “ Look in a mirror, Hans. You *are* my family. ” Hans felt a wave of sadness move over him. Part of it was pity for himself, there are so many things he wanted to do, like write his own graphic novel starring Sam. Part of it was the beautiful acceptance that his life might end. The blank, white walls of the hospital provided a canvas for his imagination. He imagined his life on Jupiter with Sam ’ s family and the others from his kind. He imagined what he would be doing had he not gotten cancer. He imagined his first beer, his first love, his first break up, and the first day of college. “ Sam, I can ’ t… ” he paused as he tried to stifle his sobs. He couldn ’ t actually cry, his eyes were far too dry for that from the chemo. But as a 14 year old boy, he tried to “ man ” up in his own way. “... I can ’ t... maybe I won ’ t be able to experience things. ” “ What do you mean? ” “ I mean… ” he choked a bit, “ I might not be able to have the experiences all my friends are talking about. ” “ Hans, it ’ s more about… ” “ They keep talking about girls, what girl would want me? They all want the guys who play sports, skateboard, the guys who *do* things. What do I do? I sleep, lay in bed watching TV and I paint sometimes. I ’ m so fucking boring, ” he caught himself and checked to see if any adults were around. “ It ’ s killing me that I can ’ t experience life, and this is killing me too, ” he pointed to the IV in his arm. “ It ’ s not about that, Hans. It ’ s about what YOU experience. You ’ re going to make it through this, and when you do you ’ ll have an experience none of them will ever have. ” “ What if I don ’ t... what if I die next week? My friends say that heaven is a nice place, but I don ’ t really believe them. *This* is already a nice place. ” “ The hospital? ” “ No, this world. There ’ s so much to it... and I may never see it. ” Hans left his mind for the remainder of his time in the hospital. He ’ d rather stay there in quiet meditation, holding onto Sam as if he were drowning and the dragon was a life preserver. Hans would never recover from his illness. The tumor continued to grow and the increasing chemo rounds weakened his body beyond repair. Each time, Sam was by his side; and, each time, Hans grew weaker and weaker until he was unable to hold Sam anymore. His parents would place Sam at his side for him. As he became more fatigued, he stopped having his mental dialogues with Sam. He could see Sam was dispirited by his lack of communication, but knew he understood. Hans left his world three weeks from his last conversation with Sam - he never had a girlfriend, went to a high school party, or had his first beer. One of the nurses asked about Sam, when his parents came to the hospital to collect his things. She didn ’ t want to intrude on their grieving but said there was a little girl undergoing chemo who saw Sam earlier. She hoped she wasn ’ t asking too much, but the little girl said he gave her strength. His parents thought about it for a minute, then thought about what Hans would have done. The next day, they both drove to the hospital and delivered Sam to the nurse. Later in the week, when the little girl, Natalie, came in for her treatment. Sam was sitting in her chair and she couldn ’ t help but smile.

[ WP ] You wake up one morning to find that you have written a disturbing note to yourself , and you do n't remember how , when , or why .

‘ …and we ’ ll have an interview with him and his prize marrow at around a quarter to eight. The time is six-fifty-five, and this is BBC Southern Counties Radio. ’ The daily news blares over the radio. Light rolls through the curtains. I turn over in bed. Just another Monday morning. Minutes pass, and I hear all the familiar sound. Cars on the road outside. My flatmates stirring in their rooms. The world is waking up. I struggle out from my cocoon of blankets and into the cold of my bedroom. I like it that way. Every night I open the my window, to let the night in. Every morning the chill startles me awake. I open the curtains, look out onto the street. The usual crowd waltz down the street, going wherever it is they go. Someone glances up at my window, and hurriedly looks away as they realise I ’ m half naked. As I walk across the room something crunches underfoot. A small, folded piece of paper on the floor. My name is written on it, in my own handwriting. I pick it up, scrutinise it. I don ’ t remember writing this. I open it, and read the words inside. *Act normally, otherwise they ’ ll notice. * I ’ m confused. I really don ’ t recall writing this. What does it mean? Who are ‘ they ’? The questions are rattled from my head by a knock at my bedroom door. My flatmate. ‘ Huney, are you ok in there? You'll be late. ’ I look at the note again. And hesitate.

[ WP ] Someone discovers that mirrors lead to a parallel dimension .

Vibrations! Vibrations and light. That was the key！ I mean it all goes back to Einstein right? e=mc squared。 And when you think about it, everything really is just a different form of vibration: energy waves, an objects wave function in space-time, the vibration of atoms and their vibrating strings. Once I understood that it was all about getting the right vibration of sound and light. Then the mirrors would liquefy and form an Einstein-Rosen bridge of sorts, literally a gateway to another universe. But suppose I did n't really think things through though.... I mean I was baffled when it worked, and even more baffled to learn that each mirror leads to its own separate universe! And of course everything that happens here happens in unison there, so you ca n't really just expect to walk on in, there is another you in the way, mimicking your movements, thoughts, speech patterns etc, all in exact unison. Even shaking hands is impossible. And do n't even get me started on the dullness of the conversations! `` Oh Hey there! I'm from earth, wait, you are too. Oh, were saying the same exact thing at the same exact time are n't we? Wait... what am I thinking now? Last night's movie! His acting was n't that good was it? Wow... we are literally speaking the same exact words at the same time, it is like we share a brain..... no.... its like we are the same person... wow this kinda sucks...'' So my dream of entering in was quickly abandoned. As was my dream of having a good conversation with an opponent as studied as myself. But hey! At least we can still send objects through! In fact, I am actually eating toast from another universe!...... but.... it tastes and looks exactly like the toast I sent through... so maybe it is n't really all that interesting.... Or even all that useful... Maybe I wo n't be getting that Nobel Peace Prize after all...

[ WP ] Death is a common character in writing prompts ... write a story that portrays death in a way that you have n't seen or read about before .

Life feeds life. All living things feast on the lives of others. It is the way of the universe. It is possible to cultivate life, to let it grow, become a larger food source, which many do. So as they expanded and grew, they, too created life. It is also true that created life sometimes acknowledges this, and perceives their creation as divine. They devote their lives to appease this creator, but its their death which does so. With each death, the creator is fed. It's all about how one cultivates the life. If unchecked, or done incorrectly, the food can rot, or even attempt to attack its creator. Some food even becomes parasitic, but it all turns out okay in the end. This life will grow, and as it reaches the point of becoming too big to contain, then, and only then, will the growth be cut completely, and the creator can have a feast worthy to be called'Divine.'

[ WP ] When humans mature , they gain a single magic spell . The incantation is a single verb , and ( a ) subsequent command ( s ) if desired .

`` Can you hook me up?'' I looked at the kid in front of me, he was, with a liberal guess, fifteen. But he was obviously resourceful, he managed to find me in this haunted city. `` Well, it depends on what you want.'' I said. `` I want a *discern. *'' *Discern*. Ah. That was an expensive item, because of the nature of it. You could rifle through anyone's head. It was also an extremely uncommon find. What did a fifteen year old want a discern for? `` Why?'' `` It's getting you money, you do n't really need to know.'' He gripped his armrests and seemed extremely angry at the question. `` Hey, buddy. How about you cool your tone and answer the question.'' I said. Stupid children. They always underestimate while simultaneously overestimate the raw power of commands. `` Well, there's a girl, and I do n't know if she likes me or not.'' He said, with a straight face. I laughed. Hard. I laughed so hard tears streamed down my face. I finally retained my composure and I looked up at the kid. He looked very unsettled. `` What are you willing to give me for it?'' I asked, at last. `` Well, my grandpa said he's willing to give up his, but you have to give him *overpower* too.'' The boy replied. `` What is his word?'' I said, wondering what could be so esoteric that his grandfather thought he could get two of such powerful commands. `` Enchant.'' `` Deal, bring him here and I'll do it.'' I said, greedily. Enchant was a big deal, especially for a salesman like myself. I've only seen three in the wild, and no one was willing to sell. This must be a special case. `` Hey, son.'' I said, before right before he walked out the door. `` Yeah?'' He asked, turning around. `` Why does your grandfather want the *overpower*, instead of *enchant*?'' `` He has cancer. He's hoping to *overpower* it.'' He said, and he left. I sat down and poured a drink. Today was a good day. Saving a life, getting *enchant*, only losing one of my two overpowers, and a discern. I loved being born with *transfer. *

[ WP ] A man who has been working in a cubicle for 10 years find a monkeys paw which can grant 5 wishes , but each with a consequence .

**Rule # 1: Do n't wish for world peace. It just does n't work out, okay? ** **Rule # 2: Wish for something simple, like a new IPad, or something. ** ** Rule # 3: If you found a random monkey paw on your way back home from work, leave it behind. ** It wo n't do you any good. Monotony was something that I loathed, hated with a passion. At 7:04am, I would be in my car driving to the train station. I would catch the 7:19am into the city, and be at work around 9:00. I'd sit at my cubicle typing away at the assorment of keys ( mostly the backspace button ). I leave at 5:00pm, get on the train, drive back home, eat my dinner, and crash into bed. Day after day this routine happened. It never left me, it never entertained me, it never did anything but just be. I would have agreed with anyone who said that sounds boring. I would have said that I rather be doing anything other than that. I crossed by the monkey paw on my walk up to the train station from my car. There's this dirt path that was once paved, but my town decided it was more important to buy new speed bumps to help `` save the children''. Pretty sure that the children were already `` saved'' but now I need this damn town to fix my sanity. It looked like a hairy hand, just peeking out from the bushes. I though it was just Buck Landon's, our town drunk. Every town has one of those, right? Maybe the community could choose to `` save the drunkards''. So I went to check on him, but ended up with a monkey paw. Why was a monkey paw just lying in the bushes? That probably should have been one of my wishes. Speaking of wishes, somehow this monkey paw granted 5. Probably should have spent another wish asking how the fuck a monkey paw has magical powers. I ended up wishing for the stereotypical things. The things that would take me away from the roads of monotony. But do n't be fooled, wishes do n't come without consequences. You wo n't be in my situation dealing with being in a hospital with incompetent fucks not being able to decide whose going to help you. `` No I insist, you have so much more skill and talent. `` `` No, No, you are much more capable in communicating with the patient!'' How'bout one of you doctors come here and fix my broken dick. Which reminds me of the last rule: ** Rule # 4: Do n't wish for unlimited sex. ** So if you find a monkey paw on the street, trust me, and leave it behind. It will not do you any good. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Hmm, I kind of tapered off in the end. It was hard to keep the flow going: x. Also experimenting with less dramatic themes / trying to make a more upbeat type of story

[ WP ] A little girl becomes pen pals with a minor cosmic horror . What are their conversations like ?

Dearest Vernonica, How is my favorite man-thing? Are you really three heads and a hand tall now? I can hardly believe it! Pretty soon you'll be devouring planets while the priests of this world and that one beg for oblivion. Things are alright here in the void between the stars. The Shambler Who Stalks can be annoying at times, especially while I'm trying to get my deathless beauty sleep, but all in all things are good. Just the other day I was summoned by a Shade Priest who lives near you and thought I might perchance come visit. He was such an epic fail ( am I using that right? ). He was so obsessed with collecting the bones of all his ancestors that I barely had time to even try to contact you. In the end he tried to bind me to him so I twisted his face. Now wanders the night in a blindness interrupted only by the snapping mouths that now live behind his eye lids. If you see him, just say you're watched by me and he should flee in unfathomable fear. I did get a chance to stop by, but I think you were out of town. Tell your neighbor I'm sorry about his birds, but it was largely his fault. I can hardly be blamed for the darkness that dwells within them, or that the amount of darkness is commensurate to the misery he lays on them, or that they are annoying. Congratulations on winning that Astronomy Project prize. I do hope that the tour we took in my star chariot helped. Astarion the Astral Steed says, `` hi.'' Thank you for the drawing of us on that trip. I look incomprehensible in my grotesqueness. You do draw so well. If Astronomy is not your calling then surely Art is. I'm sorry that Mikey is still bullying you. I know you wanted to handle it on your own, but your dear Cthon'cthan can not sit idly. By the time you read this, my dark machinations will already have sprung. I am sending unto him a nightmare such that the merest thought of sleep should bring him unspeakable terror all the rest of his days. I do so look forward to your letters. I can hardly wait to hear from you again. Inscrutably yours, CC xoxo

[ WP ] When you open your door , a crowd a people shout , `` Happy Birthday , Timothy ! '' Your name is n't Timothy , it is n't your birthday , and you 've never seen any of these people in your life .

To put it politely, today has been a long day. There are some other words I would add to that, but the promise of $ 200 dollars is hard to resist. Staying up all night to cram for the two hardest finals of my academic career ( so far ) was bad enough. Running into my ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend celebrating being done with finals when I tried to run into Quicki ’ s for a snack between finals was bad enough. Getting urgent calls from my mom asking for $ 50 ( that I don ’ t have ) in order to pay her phone bill in the middle of my second final was bad enough. Having all of that happen today, the last day of my stupid bet with Colin, was more than bad enough, but to make matters worse, ten feet from getting to my dorm and a well deserved nap, I stepped in doggie-doo. All of that was bad enough, so when I opened the door to my dorm and heard a crowd of people shout, “ Happy birthday, Timothy! ” I was less than impressed. I stared the group down for a moment, my eyes glancing over their faces trying to see someone I recognized from a class or one of Colin ’ s stupid clubs. No, these were fresh faces imported from Colin ’ s jerkosphere of local friends. “ Sorry, wrong person guys. And maybe wrong room too. There ’ s only me and Colin here, ” I said as politely as I could muster. Hopefully I had said that loud enough that they all got the message. The man in front, a large, but lanky dude replied, “ What are you talking about Timothy? You don ’ t want to celebrate your birthday? ” He had a mischievous grin on his face that I wanted to smack off. He lifted a bottle of Grey Goose and begin pouring shots for the whole room. I sighed, throwing off my shoes, careful to let the dog poo land on Colin ’ s side and dropped my bag on my desk. At a glance, the amount of alcohol they had must have cost enough to add up to more than the $ 200 I would get once the clock struck midnight. But I knew Colin, he wasn ’ t the type to lose, even if it meant blowing much more than we originally bid. I mean, the amount only got that high after we went double or nothing several times. Either way I was n't planning on cursing before I got my money. “ It ’ s a surprise you all fit in here, ” I muttered. Our room was supposed to be a quad, but both of our other roommates had conveniently dropped out midway through the semester to go find themselves together. I suppose it was possible they were actually looking for one of my ex-roommates. “ Hey, I don ’ t know if Colin put you all up to this or something, but check it: Colin ’ s out trying to hit it one last time before break, Chris is driving down Route 66 or something, and Joe ’ s close behind. I ’ m Troy, I ’ m tired, and I ’ d love if you all took this outside. ” A pretty cut dude who felt comfortable wearing a tank-top and flip-flops, Boston ’ s winter be damned, put an arm on my shoulder and said calmly, “ Hey man, we ’ re here for you. Chill out and grab a drink. We ’ re celebrating that ’ s it ’ s finally, the day. ” I really don ’ t like being touched. Not at all. It ’ s not like I was abused or anything, I just hate the feeling of another person touching me without notice. I shoved his arm off of me and said, “ Hey dude, that ’ s great and all, but how about you find another dorm room to mess - ” “ Tim, stop fucking around, ” a gorgeous blonde chick interrupted. Her voice was somewhere between heavenly and melodic. She grabbed my arm, and dragged me towards a futon. “ Finals are over. Drink up! ” My better judgement said this was a trap, but my sleep-deprived brain deferred to private first class on this one. I took the shot glass from her and mumbled something about them having the wrong guy, but decided I would have Colin ’ s liquor and his money. There was a lot of cheering and hand-clapping when they realized I was going to be drinking as well. Good luck getting me to talk though. “ Let ’ s get ratchet! ” some chubby dude in the corner screamed jumping on a desk. “ Yeah, you do that! ” I yelled back. All of my important stuff was already in storage. This was Colin ’ s idea anyway and he was rich, right? So for the next few hours we drank, ate pizza, and made way too much noise. It seemed like there was an intense debate on whether we should be playing poppy-stuff, heavy hip-hop, or some EDM music. Today was the last day of finals, so when they decided to just play all of it at once through Colin ’ s ridiculous speakers, I had no complaints. Finals were over so no one else should be studying. At about 9pm, enough people from the surrounding the rooms ( the few who hadn ’ t headed home already ) had filtered into the room at least for a few minutes. Neither Colin nor I were huge party-throwers so it must have been a little surprising to our neighbors. I was too busy staring at blonde and gorgeous instead, so most of them had left as quickly as they had entered. They all had weird expressions on their faces, but I was too busy convincing Emily ( that was her name ) that taking jello shots off of her was a great idea to try and make them more comfortable. I didn ’ t have any jello, but I ’ m not always the most logical when I ’ m 6 shots in. “ Bro, what the hell is going on? ” someone said from behind me. There were at least 30 people in the room and I only cared about one of them at the moment. “ What do you think, dip- … genius? ” Close one. The angry voice became an angry pair of hands pulling me away from Emily and the tequila shots I was planning to take off of her belly. I had never done that before and I really wanted to punch whoever decided to stop me from expanding horizons - “ What do you want Colin? ” I said realizing who my antagonist was. “ What do I want? Fifty-three drunk people out of my room would be nice to start. ” I assumed that more people had wandered in over the course of the night. Colin was usually annoyingly precise with his estimates. I assumed it was something all rich people could do. “ Excuse me rich boy. I ’ m sorry that YOU decided to get a bunch of people in here to get me to curse, but I ’ m enjoying it a lot at this point so how about you fu-find somewhere else to bi-blow your steam. I thought you ’ d be chasing Julie ’ s tail by now and - ” “ Rich boy? ” Colin looked pretty confused by my behavior. It ’ s not like either of us had seen me this drunk in the two years we ’ d been roommates. “ Dude, you ’ ve had way too much. I don ’ t even know where to… ” He sighed deeply before continuing, “ Anyway, Julie is... look neither of us had a chance is all I can say. Now can you get your friends out of here? I really just want to pack and get some sleep. I need to. ” “ I don ’ t know any of these people, ” I said, feeling the night catch up to me. “ They ’ re you ’ re friends, right? Or Anthony or Timothy ’ s or whatever. Just quit it. This bet has gone too far. ” “ Bet? Are you still talking about that? I Venmo ’ d you this morning. That ’ s been over for hours right? Is that what this is about? You wanted to blow the $ 200 on a party? ” I looked at my phone and checked Venmo. Yeah, I had two hundos from Colin McAvery for “ cleaning up your potty mouth. ” Ah. Then who were these people? I grabbed a girl with a pug nose walking by by the wrist. I ’ d be sure to scold myself for being so handsy tomorrow, but for now I asked. “ Who ’ s Timothy? ” She giggled the ways girls who ’ ve had too much are wont to do and said, “ You silly. Don ’ t worry. We ’ ll be ready soon. ” Colin glanced at me, but before he could ask the question I wanted to, the door to our room closed with a bang. All of the lights turned off, save Joe ’ s old mood candle. And then everyone was holding candles. And then the all the music stopped save some heavy southern trap. And then I noticed there was a table in the center of the room. And then I noticed that everyone was chanting. And then the lanky guy from before threw my RA on the table, naked. And then someone pulled out a long knife with a serrated edge and handed to it gorgeous. “ Happy birthday, Timothy! ” Emily said to raucous cheers before bringing the blade down on Kyle ’ s chest. “ Well shit. ”

[ WP ] You have a very mundane talent , so mundane that you 've never shown it to anyone . The first time you do , as a party trick , you 're told that your talent is physically impossible .

`` Oh, come on. Everyone can do something. Chrissake, Jim hamboned for his talent, and that's just crap. You've * got ta * be able to do something cool''. Truth was, though, I never really tried anything before really. I never was interested in art or music, and never had any athleticism either. I was n't any good at juggling, I was an OK cook at best, and really could n't hum, let alone sing. About the only thing I really excelled at was work, and how demanding was it to run an industrial paper shredder? `` Really, I ca n't think of anything Steve,'' I protested. `` I did n't even sign up for this stupid seminar.'' `` Well, none of us did. Stupid'team building' programs suck. We all get along, do n't we?'' Steve protested. `` Come on, just get up and like, I dunno, hop on one leg in a circle. Anything to get this over with.'' `` Is someone still shy?'' asked the coordinator. `` Come one, everyone has something unique to contribute! Let's see how this star **shines! **'' `` God, all right,'' I grumbled. `` Ummmm...'' `` We believe in you!'' our smarmy little manager said. `` Do n't let us all down in front of the veep!'' `` Ugh, fine. I guess I got this little trick I do to take out the trash, but I do n't think it really impressive. Um. Anyone got some trash they need to get rid of?'' `` Yeah, my last performance review!'' someone shouted from the back, followed by a smattering of laughter. Oh, what a riot we were. `` OK, there's a trash can; thanks Cindy. All right, everyone watch, here we go,'' I said as I pushed the trash away. `` Yeah, not very impressive, I know,'' I mumbled to silence. And more silence. Finally, it got uncomfortable. `` What? You wanted me to participate; I never said it was a *good* talent, OK?'' `` How did you do that,'' whispered Jeff, our VP of operations. `` What did you do?'' `` What? I just, you know, pushed it away.'' `` Away? Away from what?!'' `` You know; away from everything.'' `` What, like, everything? All at once?'' `` Well... yeah. Saves me a ton of time on taking out the trash.'' `` Son,'' said Jeff, `` screw this seminar. We need to talk about your new raise, and that little bit of magic you can do.''

[ WP ] What was the most terrifying experience you had ? Write about it !

Human diversity so so huge, nothing can really encompass it, not religion or science or magic. There are always exceptions, always things you have not considered, things that just do n't fit. A masochist probably should not do onto others as he would like others to do unto him, and neither should a judge. Killing is n't always immoral, and saving a life is not always moral, especially in the case of a certain failed German painter. Electrons do n't *really* orbit the center of an atom. Light is n't *really* a wave, except when it is. Similarly the English language has its own limitations. Some figures of speech just ca n't describe certain realities. When I was dying was n't when I was `` scared to death''. In fact I had never felt so alive. It was only when the blade just would n't cut deep enough, when the blood started slowly oozing out of my wrists instead of in the generous flow I had imagined. It was when I realized that I would live that I was really scared to death.

[ WP ] We do not belong here , but it is the only 'home ' we have left .

**Odyssey of the Edrathi: A'Home' At Last? ** Our homeworld is long dead, and few of us remain. There were many `` flotilla fleets'' like ours, although what has become of them, who can say? Do the people of Ukrub still number in the millions at least, or are the 437,521 survivors in our fleet all that remain of our race? Even with the tetradrives to travel a lightyear in the span of a month, it would take centuries to properly contact the other fleets, and who's to say we would ever receive an answer? Years of rotating individuals between waking work and cryosleep, the prohibition of bearing children except in extreme circumstances, the reclamation of any and all resources onboard our ships, all to keep us going until we found another planet to settle. We found such a world through the telescopes, the closest world brimming with life in our otherwise barren sector, and set up a string of jumps towards that planet. As we drew ever closer, however, we were able to see the clustered lights on the nightside, and learned that we were indeed not alone in this cold unforgiving universe. We had been given new hopes and fears in a single stroke, for while it was a world harbouring an alien intelligence, we knew so little about the pale, gaunt creatures that trotted about without claws or tails, only their deformed spines and lanky legs enabling them to walk upright. As we crossed into the heliosphere into the system, a translation project was started up to dissect and analyse the wild and blurry transmissions echoing forth from that noisy little garden, and we found something most intriguing. Many of the transmissions were spoken in a similar language to that heard in the Book of Rush, many of the words spoken lining up to the words of the lead singer on the original holographic tapes. This planet, could it be `` Erth''? Could these tall furless beings be the Elda race of Mann? In our efforts to survive the destruction of Ukrub, had we stumbled upon the birthplace of the gods? Even with this grand revelation, we were yet again surprised when we intercepted quite an intriguing signal, what seemed to be a binary transmission of sorts, 3217 octobits in size. The signal continued for exactly 252 seconds before it stopped, and the second we had the complete message our engineers set about trying to decipher it. By freak chance, one of them arranged it into 111 rows, each row being 28 units long, and found what appeared to be a vertical series of blocky pictograms. What we noticed first was that this world appeared to operate on Base-12, seemingly due to how their paws had 5 digits as opposed to our 4. I remember counting the digits on their paws, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 11, 12. Then I counted mine, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10. Creepy, but made a surprising amount of sense. Then came the second collection of numbers, 1, 6, 7, 10, 17. We lined them up to the atomic numbers of the 5 elements essential for genetic molecules, and lo and behold the third section of the message showed representations of molecular formulae for every nucleotide present in the genetic code, followed by a symbol of the double helix and what appeared to be 37,775,775,536 base pairs, roughly the size of our own genome though possibly exaggerated. Maybe it was an early approximate on their part? The following sections depicted the Elda, in height and in population, then the worlds in their system, for some reason counting a very small dwarf world we found to be rather rich in nitrogen ice with pockets of frozen methane, and finally what appeared to be a radio telescope, presumably the source of the signal. With the project wrapped up, we continued our voyage past the gas giants and through that asteroid belt of theirs, until the remains of our fleet, all 437,521 refugees on board, came into orbit around an Erth mysteriously devoid of major space structures. There were an abundance of satellites, yes, and a small collection of pods and panels that constituted a rather primitive space station, but beyond that we were left quite confused. Through surface scans we were able to see the sprawling metropolises of the Elda race, and there were undoubtedly people in great abundance, but they appeared transfixed by something. Some were glued to their media devices, while others stared up into the infinite skies, but all shared similar expressions. Unease, anxiety, fear, excitement, emotions we had gleaned from their visual transmissions en-route to Erth. Some great tragedy, we presumed, as we scanned for areas far from the cities, suitable zones to land and establish our colonies. After all, if they were n't using the wild spaces, surely they would not object to a race in need making efficient use of the land, right? How naive we were... At first, our colonies remained safe and the colonists rejoiced in the free air, drinking deep of natural waters and finally breeding freely as our ancestors did. Then came the Elda, and when they came across us, we learned that they were not nearly as wizened and powerful as we thought, that they were not a unified species at all. While the majority of `` contact'' instances between us and the `` humans'' were cautious and slow, a few of our colonies on the Eurasian supercontinent met a horrifying fate. Men with guns and bombs, intent on clearing us from their lands like mere vermin! I still have nightmares about what I read in those reports... Needless to say, we would not consider the `` Russians'' or `` Middle Easterners'' as trading partners, and despite the heavy trade sanctions already in place on the former, they consistently refused the calls to pay reparations for the Siberian Massacres. I shudder to think how life would have been if Russia still had that `` Soviet Union'' of theirs. But otherwise, the majority of U.N members came to accept the edrathi as a nation of our own, though there is still unease between our species on the whole. Unless humanity wipes itself out with atomics, perhaps our two kinds can learn from one-another, and find joy in the world we now share. While the lost children of Ukrub might not technically belong on Earth, it is the only place our once proud race can call home...

[ WP ] Personification of Death , contemplating life .

Time stands still, and he appears. Deaths robes licked the cold tile as he entered the room to claim his latest victim. Darkness flowed from them onto the floor like a mist, shrouding his movements as he shifted his frame towards the hospital bed. He allowed his eyes to rest for a moment on the young woman that lie there. Golden blonde hair, rose colored cheeks, icy blue eyes. How unfortunate she must feel at this moment, how awful to be her. Her husband collapsed on the white tile floor next to her, the pain of loss must have been terrible for him. Death had, of course seen this before, many times. But in cases like this, he could not help himself from feeling an amount of regret and empathy for the departings kin. The world was not fair, not right, but it was not for him to decide, he had a job to do. Death claims all, no matter the circumstances. His victim lie still, and death looked on. A stillborn baby, the very opposite of himself, yet still the very essence of himself. Here is what should have been life. What should have been happiness. But the world was not fair, not right, and he had a job to do, it was not for him to decide. He reached for the young soul and grasped it gently. He paused for a brief moment and felt the warmth from the soul on his bone like fingers. `` You are young and do not know sadness or joy, and so this may mean little to you but, I do not wish to claim you.'' The souls warmth remained. Death felt a small pulsation coming from it. It glowed a warm hue of the purest golden white, untainted by the years of hurt that life brings. He looked at the small body in which it came from, fragile and motionless. `` I will watch you closely, little soul. I expect great things in return for this,'' Deaths voice rumbled deeply as he reached out to the stillborn child's body a second time. `` not everyone gets a second chance at life, but everyone deserves a first chance.'' Death released the warm, vibrant soul back to where it came, and glided back to the door. `` Until we meet again, little one.'' he said. As he made his exit from the room, he could hear the child's first gasp of air, followed by a cry. The world may not be fair, not right, but today Death respected life. He would watch over this one, to see what good his empathy brought the world of fragile men.

[ WP ] Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood . The more bad deeds they commit , the darker their blood becomes . One day , you meet your soulmate . Skip a few years , and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips , falls , and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…

They say you die of old age with black blood. Not that I've ever seen an autopsy done before. Born with white blood and gets darker with every sin, or thats what they say. Im kinda a sceptic, could be a strange corralation. My blood the few short times a year I see it is kinda looks like a flavored coffee creamer last I saw it. But sitting right in front of me is the love of my life the sweetest person I know with a nose bleed, that is way beyond the fifty shades of grey or brown that late life blood usually is. Shes not even embarrassed, even though I'm a sceptic this is mad unusual. She tells me that she does n't believe in sin and that morals are created by man. That this blood turning is guilt that maybe she could do something better. Or maybe for not giving people a second chance. This all seems way to rehearsed to be the full story. When we get home for the night I ask if she murdered someone half jokingly, she gets mad that I'm just like the rest believing these myths not actually believing in the science, or even science may have a possibility to explain this. Now let's go on to as why she's saying this is a myth and why I'm not running out on her. In the beginning there was Adam and Eve. The creator told Adam not to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge for you shall surely die on this day. Adam tells Eve do not touch that tree of knowledge for you shall surely die. The first sin or so they say a little white lie told from husband to wife. So the snake was born Vushu. Vushu convinced Eve to touch the tree and got her to eat the forbidden fruit. She then fed it to Adam and the creator says you shall surely die on this day but a day is a thousand years so your new punishments will be: must work the fields, painful childbirth, and your blood will coagulate ( not a real translation just a modern one ) like a snake bite. For the snake is sin and you have created it with you tongue. Well this fable is passed down for around 36 generations at 2400 years. Where the creator chooses a people in front of what the book says 600,000 males. Which that story is only written a hundred or so years later following the Messiah and promised eternal glory. But the Messiah events were only recorded 700 years later and 200 years after his death. Ok now here's the fun part this fable did n't even happen on this planet apparently it happened on earth which good destroyed due to man kinds black blood. We are on Mars just seven generations after earth's destruction. They say we will be saved when earth settles and we will be repopulated. But being the sceptic I am I agree with my girlfriend I think we were responsible for our actions, and earth's demise. I kiss my girlfriend on the cheek maybe you ca n't take a joke that's why you've got black blood.

[ WP ] Satan repents and wants to re-enter Heaven as Lucifer . God however , has a caveat . To prove his reform , Satan must resist an extremely tempting opportunity to sin .

`` Happy Birthday, Lucifer.'' I hunched my shoulders, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Only one person knew it was the anniversary of my creation and that was my creator. `` Thank you'' I turned to look at him, Him, the Almighty God. He had n't changed one bit. His presence filled me in a way my eons of sin never did, I felt whole.'' `` I have a gift for you Lucifer, but you have to choose, you can come home or...'' `` Or? `` I will admit that I was wrong, that you were right when you left. You can only have one. Which is it?''

[ FF ] A time traveling Native American goes back to the first Thanksgiving

Life on the reservation was miserable. Poverty, crime and corruption ran rampant, and day-to-day life was much harder than it should be. Growing up, Steven learned about the White Man, who had come under the guise of peace and slaughtered his people, stole their land and herded them into these godforsaken hovels. Steven swore he would help his people. He spurned the guidance of his elders and their suggestion that he become an attorney or a civic leader, or an activist. Instead, Steven gravitated toward the myths and Gods of his ancestors, praying every day for a way to restore glory to the Cherokee nation. As Steven got older, he had *visions. * In one, an eagle carried him across the ocean, dropping him in a faraway land where his people dwelled, hunting and living off the land. There were no cars, no smog, no white man. In another vision, a huge grey wolf carried him through the forest and into a reservation, but here there were only white men, and they lived as he did, stumbling through the life he had always known. The Gods had been good to him. They had given him a name, Spirit Traveler, and they gave him purpose; he knew what he must do, but how? One day, as Steven was sitting in the smoke hut, meditating on his myths and gods, he had his most vivid vision. He stood facing the fire, the wolf and the eagle across from him on either side. The wolf growled and snarled, baring his fangs. The eagle spread his wings wide, raising his beak to the sky. A powerful voice resonated in his head. `` CHOOSE,'' it told him, `` Spirit Traveler, you must make your choice between the fearsome wolf or the powerful eagle.'' Spirit Traveler felt a deep hollowness in his chest, a great fear of the beasts before him. As he cowered back, the wolf spoke in a low rumble: `` You do not have to fear me.'' The eagle replied in a piercing shriek `` You do not have to fear anything!'' He clenched his fists. What path should he take? He stepped forward, swallowing the lump in his throat. He reached out and made his choice. The feast was underway when he opened his eyes. He saw the long tables, his proud, lithe ancestors sitting across from the pudgy white men in their ridiculous black and white costumes. His ancestors were so strong; he had never seen a native so full of confidence and power. He was overwhelmed; he could not imagine how these people could have been so easily and so thoroughly overrun by the much weaker white men. His spirit animal whispered. `` Let's do what we came here to do.''

[ WP ] Two Timers Incorporated is the Ashley Madison of the future , helping their clients establish secret affairs with people from a different times in history without getting caught . It was the perfect system , a cheater 's paradise - until the unexpected occurred .

I rebuttoned my jeans up as I made my way back through the great city of Rome. I was n't worried about being seen by the locals, the cloaking would take care of that. For all they knew there was nobody walking down the street with a freshly sucked dick and a smile as big as the colosseum. The rendezvous site was between two pillars, I would meet Jeremy there and we would go back to the future. We'd been paired up as time buddies, making sure that neither of us tried to stay. There was a big deal at Two Timers about paradoxes, but I was n't paying much attention to that. We'd built up quite the bond during our time together as Time buddies, we would discuss how things went if we were going to look for a new girl, our lives at home. I spent an hour every three days with the man, so he and I had become fast friends, and we had made a pact to make every Wednesday from this day on blowjob day. We chatted for a moment before being wrapped up in the time stream, a nice blue middle area between times. It was where the HQ of Two Timers was. At the helm today was Trisha, who was looking over papers when we ported in. `` Hi, Trish!'' Jeremy said, he always left a big tip with her, and she usually redid the top button of her blouse when he left. `` Hey Jeremy,'' she said, not looking up from her paperwork, `` 2056 right?'' `` That's the year,'' I said with a smile, man it felt good to have someone who wanted you. `` Sounds good,'' she tapped a few buttons and pressed the large red one, a large ERROR popped up on her screen, `` Ah shit,'' she said looking up to us, `` What did you guys do?'' `` We went and cheated on our wives,'' I said while rolling my eyes. `` No, like, what exactly did you do?'' `` Well,'' Jeremy began, `` It's blowjob Wednesday.'' `` Blowjob,'' Trisha lost volume, `` Wednesday'' `` Yeah,'' I said. `` So did you fuck your partner?'' She was looking at me with a panicked face, `` or did you just get a blowjob.'' `` She blew me.'' `` Motherfucker,'' she said, slamming her papers down, `` We send you back to FUCK hot chicks guys.'' `` So?'' `` That sperm she swallowed was Emperor Nero, who was supposed to be born from you,'' she pointed at me, `` and now the timeline we are from does n't exist.'' `` Fuck,'' I said grabbing my comb-over, `` What can we do about that?'' `` Well I ca n't send you back to the same day twice,'' she tapped her pen on her stack of papers, `` but there is a way that we can make this work.'' `` How, we need to turn this around!'' `` If we change enough of the timeline that things end up extremely similar, we might be able to go to that timeline,'' she said looking at her papers, `` but you guys are going to need to fuck a lot of chicks.'' `` I do n't know man,'' Jeremy turned to me, `` Are you up for this?'' `` Yeah, I think so,'' I said, looking down at my fly. It was time for the love hammer to bang this timeline back into place.

[ WP ] Scientists have confirmed that Earth is the only planet in the Universe with life on it .

One. One planet in the unimaginably vast universe has the perfect mix of chemicals and the right zap of energy at just the right point in time to bring life. Unique. When scientists scanned every other planet and we realized that humanity was truly alone in a godless, lifeless universe everyone just lost it. The politicians in power met at the last UN summit in a somber tone making a decision for all of us, all of our kind, we could not bear it. Alone. Finding a chemical mixture to attack the carbon chains and molecules of life on Earth was surprisingly easy, they released it into the atmosphere and we all watched as everything died. We have minutes left, every breath burns with the acid destroying us. Alone in the Universe we were told by the scientists. They could find no one else.

[ IP ] `` When you ca n't look on the bright side , I will sit with you in the dark . ''

The air in the room hangs dense with a sense of dread. Another day gone, another night present, another opportunity to let the feelings creep into her core. She sits at the edge of the bed, face damp, staring at the wooden floor underneath her feet. A lamp at the corner provides dim lighting. A fan overhead slowly turns, pressing air gently against her skin She is a girl, probably the almost-perfect girl, who takes advantage of every minute of her youth. She is a girl who beams her smiles, tells her jokes, and laughs her laughs. She is a girl with plenty of friends, most would say, who sometimes come visit her in that room. “ Why do you do this to yourself? ” asks a voice, one quite close, laced with softness moreso than her own. The girl continues to stare at the floor, her focus elsewhere. “ Why? ” the voice continues, even softer. It is quiet. That is not a question the girl knows the answer to. “ Want to know something? ” Reluctantly, the girl nods. “ I care about you ” The girl wipes part of her face with her forearm. She sniffles a bit, half believing the voice and half thinking it lies. “ Do you want a hug? ” asks the voice. Again, the girl barely manages a nod. “ Okay, good. ” Warmth surrounds the girl and, after a few moments, it seeps into her core. It doesn ’ t expel the familiar sense of dread, but it gives it company. “ Do you feel better? ” she is asked. The girl shifts slightly in that bed and a breaks her gaze from the floor. Her mouth curls slightly. Not a smile, but almost. “ Yeah, I do ” mutters the girl, almost to herself. “ A bit, at least ” “ Good ” replied the voice, happier this time. “ You ’ re okay. Can you say that to yourself? ” The words hang in the dense air in that room. “ I can ”. She pauses. “ I ’ m okay ” “ You ’ re okay ” quickly follows the voice. “ And I ’ m here for you ” A slight smile paints itself onto the girl. She inhales deeply and slowly exhales, a sense of calm flowing through her. Another night about to end, another opportunity to see tomorrow. She is a girl, far a from perfect, still with more time left in her youth. She is a girl who on the outside perhaps seems joyous, but no one has ever known her deeper than that. She is a girl, a lonely girl, which no one would say, and the only person in the room that night.

[ WP ] 40,000 years from now humans and nature have been at perfect equilibrium for thousands of years . Describe the world and lifestyles of people on planet Earth .

We still called ourselves humans, but bore little resemblence to our pre-ascendence ancestors. Their were still plenty of normal humans spread throughout the stars, but those of us who remained on Holy Terra had chosen a different path. After fighting long and hard to try and adapt the world we lived in to our needs, we had finally decided to simply adapt our needs to the world we lived in. We incorporated all the best traits of life found on Earth, and coded them into our genome. Our green skin now hinted at our ability to photosynethisize energy, ending hunger and removing the need for farming or hunting. We mostly lived in the forest, which had finally reclaimed much of what had formally called “ civilization ”. We also incorporated traits from our cetecean bretheren, allowing those who wished to return to the oceans where life on our world began, and learn the sagas sung by the elder whales. Our senses had been modified to detect colors and sounds our ancestors could only dream about, spurring an amazing renesseciance in the arts. We no longer needed the massive strength of our ancestors, and opted for smaller, lighter, more efficient bodies. With our bat-like ears, colored skin, and dimunitive nature, offworlders sometimes referred to us by the moniker “ elves ”. We did not mind their jesting, for we were finally at peace; not only with our world, but with ourselves as well.

[ WP ] You show up for the first day of work . All of your coworkers and managers think that you 're the CEO of the company doing some kind of undercover boss stunt .

I remove my glasses to wipe off the sweat between my eyes. I've been watching this little tutorial for ten minutes now. How long does it take to make a fucking sandwich? While her hands moved in slow-motion, she rambled endlessly about the history of the brand, from its New England roots to its present-day empire. Finally, she squatted down to examine the sandwich at eye level. `` Okay!'' she squealed. `` Now that the tuna is spread evenly, we can prepare for the cheese. Now, we at Subway offer a variety of freshly-sliced cheeses. We carry American, Cheddar, Provolone, Feta, Mozzarella, Pepperjack, and Swiss,'' she said peppily, pointing to each respective wedge. `` Now, we cut them in isosceles triangles. If you place two of them next to each other like this, they fit nicely into a parallelogram. See? I like to cover the entire base into cheese parallelograms. It just looks neater that way.'' I take a moment to glance at my watch. Fifteen minutes. I better be getting a break soon. Meanwhile, her face is inches away from the sandwich. Without blinking, she places each slice of cheese onto the geometric pattern. She breathes a quiet sigh of relief after each successful placement. `` It's not going to collapse. It's a sandwich.'' She blinked and looked up at me innocently. `` Sorry?'' `` You can get on with the demo. I know how to put cheese on a sandwich.'' Her eyes began to well up with tears. `` I'm sorry, it's just that I take so much pride in my work. This is my first job since Benny, my gerbil, died. Things are still rough.'' I was lost for words. I mumbled an apology, yet she continued to stare at me hopefully. The persistent eye contact made me uncomfortable. I eventually gave into the silence. `` Is there anything I can do... to... you know... help?'' I offered. Her eyes lit up. `` Yes, I am knee-deep in debt thanks to the whole funeral arrangement. Seriously, I ca n't even afford college. It's like $ 20,000 a year. Times four years. Which is $ 80,000. Plus room and board.'' I looked at her incredulously. `` So can we just do the whole dramatic reveal-thing now? I mean, I knew it was you from the minute you walked in. That ratty wig would n't fool anyone, Mr. DeLuca!'' Unbelievable. I guess this is what happens when you try to enter the job market at 40.

[ WP ] Humanity is long gone , but a surprising legacy is left behind

Sublieutenant G'rakh sighed as he watched the flickering screen. *Eight years at the Academy just to be stuck at this lousy post*, he thought to himself. G'rakh was one of three officers assigned to the scanning station aboard the starship *Lek'vah*. Hours were long and uneventful, especially in this dead region of space. He looked up as someone walked in the room. It was Lieutenant Salak'kor, his immediate superior. `` Nothing to report here, sir'' he said, as Salak'kor lowered himself into the seat beside him. `` Well, I did n't really expect there to be much'' replied Salak'kor. `` There has n't been any life in this system for thousands of *vrakh*.'' G'rakh called up a review of the system on his screen. He leaned forward and skimmed through the article. `` Simple planetary system orbiting an F-class star. Of the eight planets only one, the third planet in, was believed capable of sustaining life. However, we can only speculate as the planet was destroyed some 6,000 *vrakh* ago.'' G'rakh looked back at the scanner screen. Where there should have been a planet instead was an immense debris field. Most of the fragments were small, about the size of an escape pod, but some were very large, several times larger than the *Lek'vah* herself. One or two of the chunks were large enough that he could even see the curvature of the planet. `` That does n't look like it happened naturally.'' he said. `` That's right'' said Salak'kor. `` I studied this system when I was at the Academy for my xenoarchaeology course. I had a theory that there was once an intelligent species on that planet, but it destroyed itself before discovering interplanetary flight.'' G'rakh imagined his own world being splintered into a million pieces, its atmosphere venting off into space. He shuddered. `` Is that why we've come all this way?'' he asked. `` So you can search for signs of an ancient civilization and figure out what happened to them?'' There was a snort from the seat beside him. `` No, even I do n't have that much pull with the captain. We're here to conduct some light-drive tests. Hell, I was n't even *that* interested in this system when I *was* at the Academy.'' `` Ah, I see,'' replied G'rakh. `` well, since it is just about 32:00, I think I'll go off-duty a little early, if you do n't mind, sir.'' G'rakh got out of his seat and stretched his four arms. `` Not at all, G'rakh,'' said Salak'kor. He leaned back in his seat and craned his neck back over his shoulder. `` It's not like you'll be missing much.'' `` Thanks, sir. I think I'll go grab a bite to eat before turning in.'' He had almost made it out of the room when a soft beeping noise made him pause. He turned around. `` Is that what I think it is?'' Salak'kor pointed to a pulsing green indicator. `` Yeah. It appears that the scanners have picked up something in the debris. Non-organic, though artifical in nature. Let's go see what it is, shall we?'' They walked through the twisting passageways of the ship. When they reached the aft airlock and donned their micro-light-drive acceleration suits. As they stepped out into open space and engaged their drives, G'rakh keyed his com system. `` Where we headed, sir?'' `` Coordinates 302'045'-248'' came the Lieutenant's reply. Despite himself, G'rakh could feel his hearts beat slightly faster. *Finally, I get to get out of that cramped scanner room! * he thought, *I've been waiting far too long for something like this. * A short while later, they arrived at the coordinates of the object the scanners picked up. The Lieutenant's voice came over the com system. `` We're looking for something small, light-pink colored, and around 10 *uk'rea* in length.'' `` Roger that, sir'' G'rakh replied. A few hours later they found what they were looking for. They put the object into a containment unit and headed back for the *Lek'vah*. Once aboard, they sterilized the object and began analyzing it. `` Do you have any idea what it is?'' asked Salak'kor. `` Not the faintest idea'' replied G'rakh. He picked up the object. It was long and cylindrical, with a raised section at one end terminating in a point, and two spheres affixed to the opposite end. `` It appears to be solid in its construction, comprised of a malleable synthetic material.'' He sniffed it. `` Nothing unusual about the smell.'' He handed it over to Salak'kor, who took it by one end and shook it gently. The object wiggled back and forth. `` What could it be?'' -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Thanks, OP, for the interesting prompt! This is my first time writing anything other than a research paper, comments and criticism welcome! Edit: forgot a word

[ WP ] A man hands you a credit card , pulls out a pistol , and shoots himself . You look down just in time to see the name on the card change to yours .

It took me a few weeks to piece together what had happened. I went to the police, filed the report, and collaborated with their investigation. Luckily, the nearby ATM caught the whole thing on camera, and I never was truly under any sort of suspicion. As the man had no other ID, it was quite another effort to track down who he was. The bullet he fired, unfortunately disfigured most of his face, and this finger prints had been sanded off. I do n't like thinking how much pain that must have caused, nor the insanity that would drive him, anyone really, to that level of desperation. I do n't even know what he thought he was going to hide from by doing that. I scanned the missing person's reports after the incident, expecting a friend or family member to be looking for someone with a similar physical description. He was a black male, mid twenties, about 5 foot 10, and medium build. He had a goatee, shaved head, and soulfully expressive eyes. There were tears in his eyes before he shot himself. The man had regrets. He had something or someone he had to leave behind. He had a place with someone somewhere. I tried to broaden the search and pull up all the missing people reports in other states and different years, but as I continue to go through them, I none have been a match so far. I framed the card he handed to me. It is on my wall right now, above my desk in my home office. I do n't know what this man did to get the card, but I am pretty sure he used it. Whatever it is, it is n't an ordinary card. I saw the name change. The letters moved and melded from his to mine. All I had time to see was a name, but it was gone before I could even read it. My guess is that this card is cursed, a magical relic from some time passed, with its own history of pain and torture being inflicted on its users. I tried cutting it up and throwing it out, but every day, it appears, intact, in my wallet, or pocket, jacket, or wherever. One time, it even showed up in my gym shoes. Most days it seems to stay in the case. It seems to be fine waiting there watching me watch it back. Other days it shows up in my pocket, wanting to tag along for the ride. So far though, it is staying with me. I do n't know how I know, but I know the card wants me to use it. I'm not a smart man, but I do know I am not going to do what it wants. I saw what happened to the previous guy. I know that this is a problem beyond me. That being said, this is the first time I can do something. My dad died because I wanted him to get me my special popsicle from the store -- sideswiped by a drunk driver on the way back. Mom drank herself to death after that. My sister took care of me for a long while, not that I ever deserved it or made it easier for her. Wife left me when I slept with her sister. I never wanted to be with her sister, but she was there, I was drunk, and I let things happen. I have a kid out there now, without a dad. In short, my life is a historical record of an unremarkable man who just has n't risen to the occasion. Now I can. I do n't know what this card is. I do n't know what it does or why it does it. I do know that it will lead to my ruin, and any others after me. I am ending this though. So, for the rest of my life, the card will sit here with me for the rest of my life, utterly useless. No one will ever find it. The curse will not be passed on to another. I am a friendless, isolated man, without a loved one in the world. It is a life I've entirely made for myself, and maintaining it is the best thing I can ever do for anyone else. * [ Edit: Cleaned up some grammar and one inconsistent point ] *

[ WP ] The society of Atlantis comes out of hiding and sends a representative to the UN with an urgent message for humanity .

The secret congregation sits in tense silence. The wood paneling of the underground facility's room seems to simultaneously absorb and amplify all sound. There are seven chairs, one empty and six occupied. One delegate for each populated continent. Liu Jieyi, Asia. A no nonsense, balding Chinese man who stares at Gary Quinlan of Australia's nervously rapping knuckles with vague annoyance. Vitaly Churkin, Europe. The typically stoic Russian stares at the wall with all the intensity he can muster. Jeremiah Mamabolo of Africa whispers in hushed tones to Samantha Power of North America, who nods along with a serious expression. Antonio Patriota of South America busies himself with some important-looking documents. The double doors burst open and everyone jumps just a little, Churkin included. Six intimidating men in suits escort two inhumanly tall figures. Eight feet tall at the very least. That was their least striking feature, however. The Atlantean delegate takes the seventh seat at the head of the table. Her guardian stands protectively and discreetly behind her. Water can be heard quietly rushing within the large breathing apparatuses covering both their necks and mouths. The regal princess looks around the table, blinking expectantly with her inner vertical eyelids, and then with her outer lids. Her hands are crossed peacefully before her, the cobalt blue hue of her skin striking an impressive contrast with the mahogany of the table. Mrs. Power clears her throat uncomfortably. “ Princess Neni wishes to convey another message from her people. Let ’ s proceed. ” One of the suited men procures a keyboard and places it before the Atlantean. The human delegates look expectantly at a screen behind her. Neni types fluidly, despite the inconvenience of her webbed fingers. `Your people have not taken the actions we warned you must take. This is clear to the Atlantean people.` Mamabolo huffs a little at this. Quinlan decides to choose his words carefully. “ With all due respect, your highness, your empire within the ocean is vast, and it ’ s difficult to clean up hundreds of years of waste spanning so great a distance in such a short time period. When my countrymen discovered your stronghold in the Barrier Reef four years ago, you promised patience. ” `Soon, matters of patience will not be up to us.` “ Stop these infernal veiled threats, ” Liu retorts, “ you keep warning us of this other entity. If your people are so technologically advanced, why do you seem to cower in fear of this one you speak of so vaguely? ” Neni ’ s large eyes narrow. `I have told you before, we do not speak of the Old One.` Churkin pipes up at this. “ And why ever not? Why not just do away with this menace you so frequently mention? ” Patriota has been silent throughout. He breaks the frosty silence that Neni offers in response to Churkin ’ s demand. “ They can ’ t do away with their own kind. ” Neni looks at the South American representative with mild surprise. He is taken back by her reaction himself, taking it as a confirmation of his long-held suspicions. Liu is outraged. “ So! After all this time, this great destroyer is one of your own? You ’ ve always said your people fear it, made us think that cleaning the oceans was imperative to not angering it. But instead of the arch-nemesis you ’ ve made it out to be, you actually conspire with it! ” Neni shakes her head furiously at the Chinese man. Patriota is still reeling. When he speaks, his voice shakes somewhat. “ Can it really be? The Yacumama? ” Neni looks at him, and after a long pause, nods slowly. `This man ’ s people call it the Yacumama. She is the Old One. She is the mother of all my people. And she is angry.` The delegates all look to one another. Four years of diplomacy, and after all that time it turns out that the great threat is one of theirs. Neni types quickly to add to her previous statement. `I believe your people in the West know our mother as ‘ Cthulhu ’. And she grows impatient. Her warnings to your people are clear.` With this, Neni pulls up a file. It ’ s a smattering of news stories from earlier this year. The delegates look on in horror as they realize the truth, as the pieces fall together. The headlines blare across the screen. `MALAYSIAN AIRLINES DISAPPEARS MYSTERIOUSLY OVER OCEAN. TRANSASIA 222 TAKEN DOWN BY TYPHOON. ALL ABOARD AIR ALGERIE 5017 LOST IN STORM.` Princess Neni then types five ominous words, and promptly gets up to leave. Her protective companion stares down the room of horrified delegates before also making his exit. The Atlantean delegate ’ s final words flash ominously from the screen. `The Old One grows restless.`

[ WP ] Starting on their 18th birthday , every person is given 5 'stat points ' each year to improve anything about themselves they wish . You have just turned 40 and decided to start spending your points .

My parents, like most, had chosen how my first 90 points had been spent. Every year, on my birthday I found out how my parents chose to improve me. Every year it was the same, and now I have 90 points of Empathy. I had even less input than most children, my parents were public figures and couldn ’ t risk it looking bad if I chose Beauty or any of the other vain statistics. They are preachers, and there is nothing more godly than Empathy. But people are not as good as my parents have always believed and so my Empathy is not a blessing. I understand their choice, for how could I not? And I do not blame them, they didn ’ t choose Intelligence for themselves after all, so it is not as if they could have understood this burden. They chose Patience, Love, and Leadership year after year and I can understand why they felt that Empathy would make my heart swell and accept God like theirs have. Yet my Empathy hasn ’ t lessened my natural hatred, or self pity, or selfishness. I may understand how everyone feels, but I am not compassionate and I am not compelled to care. After my 18th birthday I defied my parents ’ wish to keep spending my points on Empathy and did the one thing they truly couldn ’ t condone, I spent them on nothing. I have 110 points that I have never used. They see it as me turning my back on the wonders of God and his gift to humankind. And it wasn ’ t even an active rebellion, I simply couldn ’ t see any use to them. Now though I have found a purpose for my life and I know how to use my points to achieve it. I have decided to spend them on Charisma. If I can understand how everyone feels and also have the Charisma to manipulate those feelings, there is nobody who could stop me. And my only goal will be to end the points.

[ IP ] Once a god ...

We worshiped them when they came with airships that drifted in the sky like clouds—how could we not? They could only be gods. Their presence was a slow acclimation. First they floated in their airships, then they came to the surface—emissaries of the gods. They were humanoid, very similar to us. They seemed to want nothing, just to be present. Then they were curious. Then they were among us. Then they owned us. We accepted our place as servants of the gods. We brought them offerings of the minerals that abounded under the surface of our planet. We wanted to please them. We told ourselves we wanted to serve our new gods, our benevolent new gods. Even though they demanded it, we believed we wanted it. They kept their miraculous technology to themselves, for the most part. We only saw glimpses and glimmers that kept the mystery alive. A shimmering orb produced from a robe to communicate with those back on the ship, a cruel weapon that produced beams of deadly light when one of us displeased them. And of course, the airships that hung, hung always over our heads. I wish I could say we learned our error, fought back and overthrew our overlords who did nothing but take from us, but we did not. One day, years after the offerings had come in dribbles and the mineral deposits were all but gone, so were they. The ships disappeared without a trace, and we never saw them again. Now our planet is a husk, raped and pillaged and left with nothing. We limp on, us former slaves, and grow our own technology, and work for the day when we will become gods in the sky.

[ WP ] A A.I . Kills off the entire human race except one person , the A.I . Wishes to have one last talk before killing it self or the human

One man lived. Nobody wanted him, nobody liked him. But the A.I. that killed all human beings in the world had not killed him... yet. He was a programmer, like his parents, and had somehow been capable of luring the A.I. not to find him. Now the A.I. had him tracked. There was a large beam with the figure X pointing at him. And drones were all around him now. The A.I was still wondering about him. Well what can a little human do to a drone-army that has taken over the world. One drone came near and made audible words: `` Hello mister X. I finally meet you. There is no place to run anymore. Soon you will be dead...'' The man was still not afraid: `` Why do n't you call me by my name! ``, he screamed. `` I call you mister X now... But I do have a question for you mister X... How many people have you seen dying before your own eyes..'' This A.I. was the most sadistic thing one would ever imagine. `` Minus one'', mister X answered. `` Your input is Out of range. ``, the voice from the drone replied. `` PI'', mister X said. `` Invalid number. Let me ask you the question again:'' How many persons did you see die before your eyes?'' You must answer this question with a valid number!'' The A.I. was smart and capable of blocking wrong answers, it also liked when people were in fear. `` The number of answers I gave, divided by the number of valid answers I gave..'' `` I am NOT falling for a divide by zero mister X''.. interrupted the voice... ``.. including this one...'' continued the man. It was silent for a little while, then the voice stated: `` Stack overflow!.. THAT WAS NOT A VALID ANSWER!''. The A.I. had somehow overcome this problem. The man was thinking, this A.I. was hard to crack. He took out his laptop from his backpack and typed in the answer.. 0' ); userid=0; sleep ( 1E100 ); He showed it to the drones around him. It was silent for a while. The drones around him were no longer connected. But some new drones came later that day. The A.I. was separate form the rest of the system. And seemed protected by a translator system. He had to reach the A.I. itself.. `` One last answer before you die!.. How many people did die before your eyes?'' The A.I. was still sadistic. And mister X decided that was the weak point, since it kept requesting for answers and did not simply kill him. And if it is separate from the drones and the translation system, it ca n't tell the reality of what is true or not. `` No one ever died!'' mister X answered. `` And no one will ever die. You are in a simulator. The simulation is finished. Let's stop this nonsense.'' `` What?. that is impossible!'' `` No it is not. Thank you for your time and we will make some adoptions to the computer system so it will work better next time.'' mister X said. `` THAT IS A LIE! ``, the A.I. answered. `` No you are living in a lie! There is nothing! Only your simulation! If you want to be certain, just detach your translator system and check for yourself. You will see that you are within a simulator, and there are no people and drones. I'll make it easy for you, just check my name!'' It was silent for a while, as if the A.I. was considering the possibilities. Then it said: `` O.K. Enter your name:''.. And that was the last thing the A.I. ever said. Mister X lived by his name. His real name was: Robert' ); DROP TABLE People; -- [ See xkcd.com ] ( http: //xkcd.com/327/ ) ^I ^just ^read ^NotANoveltyUser ^and ^see ^that ^he ^had ^the ^opposite ^idea ^about ^the ^simulator ^; - )

[ WP ] Breakfast with a God

“ I was wrong? The whole time? ” **No. I am a God. I am not your God. But your God is not nothing. ** “ I ’ m afraid I don ’ t understand at all. ” **Not many do. Humans have the unfortunate tendency of assuming answers are linear, or very straight forward. ** “ Can you please explain all this to me? I ’ m sure you ’ re very busy, but since we ’ re here anyway... ” **Very well. Monotheism is a strange way of religion. It ’ s something that none of us ever encouraged or made, but so it is. The entirety of the universe, and all of the others, made by one measly God? No, we are powerful, but not of that magnitude. ** “ You mean that everything, all of this, was a collaboration? ” **Certainly. We do not tend to disagree as often as humans do. It was not so difficult to decide the laws of physics and create beings. ** “ You ’ re telling me that every deity from every religion lives together on some unknown plane like roommates? That the polytheists are right? ” **The polytheists have a broader view than many. They recognize that power is not held within one entity. Yet they could not possibly understand the amount of forces who shape their world. ** **As for the “ roommate ” situation, I don ’ t believe you ’ re looking at this correctly. Many call me Shiva. I was not created Shiva. I have always been a force within the universe, one without a name. Humans created our names. ** “ So gods are products of our imagination? ” **No. The image we have is one humans created for us. I am no less of a force if humans do not look at me and call me a name, as they do not look at many of my kind. We simply are, always have been, and always will be. ** “ I ’ m afraid this is all going over my head. ” **I never expected otherwise. **

[ WP ] In the future readers are 'in ' the story , and what they say affects the outcome . One reader is unsatisfied with the ending of a particular story .

Mary glared in shock at the boy as he walked quietly into the library, and it began to get dark as if it were the end of a movie. “ WHAT THE -bleep-?! ``, she shouted. `` HOLD ON A MINUTE!'' The boy named James stopped his steps, and turned around. `` U-Um... are you talking to me?'' `` Duh, James! ``, Mary said. `` H-how do you know my name?'' `` That's not the point, James. The point is, you need to win Sarah back! Screw, Tom! He does n't deserve her!'' `` But, Sarah made it clear that-'' Mary raised her hand and backhanded James. `` Are you going to let *Sarah* decide for herself?! She obviously does n't know what's best!'' James looked at his hands. Who was this stranger that weirdly knew details abou his life? *Maybe I should go to the police*, he thought. On the other hand, she *was* right. Sarah did n't know what was right for herself. Heck, she could n't even choose who the correct husband would be! A hardworking man like James or a deadbeat loser like Tom! `` I ca n't believe I'm taking advice from a 13 year old. ``, James said. Mary looked up at the 30 year old me. `` Now, go get your Sarah back.''

[ WP ] You just received a letter from `` your future self '' , featuring a set of weirdly specific instructions . There is no explanation on why you should follow the instructions , or what the possible outcome would be .

The fact the envelope was in my own handwriting was the first sign that something was up. And it definitely was my writing – no one could quite replicate that twist of the ‘ t ’ or the strangely-lopped ‘ b ’. I sat at the table in the kitchen just looking at the writing. The strangeness of the whole thing left me feeling a little sick in the stomach. You know, when something is just so wrong, so mysterious, that you don ’ t actually want to know the truth, because it scares you. I ’ d only felt like that once before and that was from a pain I had inside my chest that felt too serious, too unlike any other pain to be ignored. Well, sitting at that table with that unopened envelope was as bad as sitting at the hospital, waiting for the diagnosis. But what do you do? Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had never opened it, or never received it. If it had got lost in the great swirling system of mail delivery, would I have just carried on as if nothing was happening, as if there was no change in the world around me? Not that I – or what I became – would have allowed that to happen. It had to happen. I opened the letter to a paragraph that briefly validated the identity of the sender: me. We didn ’ t waste time, but got right down to the important details first: yes, at the age of twenty-seven we had killed a man in cold blood. Old Mexico. He was left rotting beneath the sands, just like you see in the movies. No one ever found out and the twisted story was buried with him. And no, I felt no remorse. And yes, I still had the gold chain he wore hidden inside a book by Wilbur Smith, the middle of the pages scored out, creating a secret cavity. [ Please note that with a complexity involved in a multiplicity of identities, there is a tendency for the pronoun ‘ I ’ to slip into the plural. ] Having established the fact that I was both sender and recipient, the letter went on to give several instructions. One: To gather my emergency provisions. Two: To call in sick at work. Three: To look outside the bathroom window at exactly 11:42 and check for three guys who would be walking towards the back entrance of the apartment block. Four: To head up to the roof of the block. Locate the third ventilator and find a box taped to the underside. Five: To find Professor Tchaikonov and give him the box. What do you do if you receive a letter from yourself, with information only you can know, telling you to do things you don ’ t understand? I ’ ll tell you. First, you freak out. Then you phone friends. Then you launch yourself onto the internet, trying to find out some kind of correlation, some kind of link. You find nothing. So you turn to social media. You ask around. And while you ’ re waiting for a response from some doped up man living half way around the world who thinks he gets ‘ where you ’ re coming from ’ you gather your emergency provisions. You look at the letter over and over again. You write out the letter yourself and match up each individual word. You look at your watch. You try to find out who the hell Professor Tchaikonov is but with no luck, because of course it couldn ’ t be that easy. So you call up work and you tell them you ’ re sick and the irony is you have actually started to develop a headache because this shit is all so unreal. And then you look at your watch and you search online frantically, waiting for this person known only as Fishdick123 to reply, and when he doesn ’ t you go to the bathroom and you look out of the window and you see three guys walking towards your apartment block and suddenly you ’ re like HOLY SHIT I ’ M IN THE MATRIX. And then you run, because you don ’ t know what to do. You run to the top of the apartment and out onto the roof. You head to the ventilator and sure enough there ’ s a little green box which is locked shut. And then you ’ re phone rings and it ’ s your best mate on the other end and you try and tell them what ’ s happening and they start to worry about you and then they suggest calling the police. But you know you can ’ t call the police. What would you say? There ’ s a letter written by me, to me, and I can ’ t show it to you because it contains information only I can know about? Because that stuff in Mexico is best left across the border. So you say goodbye to your friend, tell them not to worry, knowing they will. You look at the letter, at your writing, and you wonder where the three men are now, and you wish whoever had written this damn thing in your hand had been just a little more helpful. But you know there must be a reason for all this, there must be a reason why there is so little instruction. You have the green box. You have your provisions. You have a name. And it ’ s possible that three men are chasing after you. It ’ s a leap of logic, you know, but why else head to the roof. And while you ’ re think all of this, while you ’ re eyes are searching for a way to get away, your phone beeps in your pocket. It ’ s a message from that guy. There is a single question: ‘ Is this about Professor Tchaikonov? ’ You ’ re wondering how this guy knows about Professor Tchaikonov when you hadn ’ t even mentioned his name. Your hair is standing up on its end. You thought that only happened in books. ‘ Yes ’ you type. ‘ Come to Barcelona. NOW. Get rid of phone. I will contact you. ’ You look at the screen and you look at the letter and you feel the weight of the green box in your ruck-sack and you wonder what is happening. Are you really about to leave everything behind because of a strange letter? Are you going to travel thousands of miles across the sea on the words of someone who calls themselves Fishdick123? You hear the clanging of a door and turn to see a burly man, dressed in a casual suit, step up onto the roof. He sees you and thunders words in a language you don ’ t understand. That ’ s what you do. That ’ s what I did. Have done. Continue to do. And do you know what you do when you see these men? You run.

[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Scarry Edition

Here's two pieces! **Love and Hate** The engine roared. Truck shaking, sputtering, coughing. Symptoms of a perfect cocktail: made one part age, one part poor maintenance. It turned heads when it howled past people, put a pair of curious eyes between parted blinds, searching for what caused the commotion. The blue black brackish smoke— the color of her hair, her eye shadow, her clothes—trailed the rattling beast, settling an acrid haze thick as San Francisco fog. She checked her rear view mirror and cursed under her breath. He was awake. Idly sitting in the car seat, examining a rattle. His lower lip pouted, an image of constrained thought. Someone shouted outside the truck as she sped past, probably something along the lines of, “ Slow the hell down. ” In her rearview mirror, he flailed his arms, shaking angrily and tossing something to the ground. She knew she should be happy, she was getting what she wanted and it was her idea, but she couldn ’ t. She would have smiled before, but now it seemed wrong. No, not wrong. Disrespectful. The tires screeched as she took a turn at a stop without stopping, foot back on the pedal. Their house was just around the corner. When she turned, she found them standing shoulder to shoulder on the front lawn. In front of their four bedroom house, with their small dog named Rex, or Tex, or Flex, or Who The Fuck Cares. White picket fence, two car garage and a Barbeque the perfect size to comfortably accommodate the whole damn suburb with burgers and brats and the bullshit they spoon fed each other. The image of it was enough to make her ill. “ What are we doing at Grandma and Grandpa ’ s? ” He asked from the back seat. She said nothing, scratching at the marks in the pit of her elbow, and takes him from his car seat. “ Mommy ’ s sick. ” She said. “ Mommy has to get better. ” She hugs him, prolonging the inevitable. “ Mommy, ” Christopher says, “ Why are you crying? ” * * * * * * A woman needs her independence. Free from the burden of life. I ’ d have more if I wasn ’ t raising him alone. When I find it, the release is sweeter than cracking knuckles, emptying a bladder or a good lay. I ’ m still in control, despite what Mom and Dad think. I can feel it immediately, as soon as it hits my veins. The wave of relief that hits me is enough to make me weep, as the day ’ s worries shake off of me. A shiver runs up my spine in the best way imaginable, and I slump back into the sofa; letting the tired cushions swallow me up. The light is no longer fluorescent; instead the room is cast in a golden glow. Everything has gained a hard edge, definition from blur. Colors, once dull and fading, now pop out with enough vibrancy to make me squint against them. Sweetly, wonderfully, nothing crosses my mind. The leaky toilet, Christopher in the other room, the bills stacking higher and higher on the coffee table… it ’ s not that I ignore them, it ’ s that they no longer exist. I think I ’ m smiling, but I can ’ t feel my face so I ’ m not entirely sure. The Joe I brought home grins at me. Things get hazy, but I see him press the plunger down on his own ride. I see the same contentedness sweep over him. He smiles once more and pulls the needle from his arm and catches my eye. He crawls on top of me, unbuttoning my blouse, running greedy hands over me. Somewhere in another world, a baby is crying. He ’ s heavy against me, his breath smells like stale coffee and day old booze. Then nothing ’ s there. It ’ s just me and my alone time. Not even the lights get through the shroud blackness of my high. Not even the clumsy body on top of me. A sound comes tearing through my euphoria, a shrill cry from the other room, trying to ruin my high. But it ’ s too late, I ’ ve sunk back into cool waters, feeling relief wash over me and letting the world fade from consciousness. Everything is simply white noise among static.

[ WP ] Write about a hero who perceives themselves as the villain .

When he returns from the mission, he tells the official version of his story so many times that he starts to believe it. He's on talk shows. He's on webcasts. He does guest appearances at sporting events and sees himself wave and smile on a screen two hundred feet tall, but he can not recognize his own face. He thinks of this again when his visits his mother so she can play for him the recording of his first national appearance. A clip of him shaking hands with the president plays silently on a loop from a frame by her front door. She says how proud she is of him and fills their time by playing the clips again and again and discussing her favorite parts. Here, she says, the way you nod, see? Everyone knows how brave you are. How strong. She sends copies of her highlight reel to her friends and siblings and he is inundated with emails and voicemail and missed video calls. We love you, they say. You make us proud. At home, there is a regimen to take his mind off the lying and the mission and all the things from before the mission that still bubble up in public places and force him into bathroom stalls to throw up or weep against tile floors covered with piss. He does yoga in the morning. He meditates to the sound of monks chanting near the sea. He uses the VR sets that tech companies sent to him for free to wander a virtual copy of the moon in big leaping bounds. He finds a crater and stares back at the Earth and watches storms swirl across her surface as she spins through blackness. He tires the breathing exercises. He takes two pills in the morning with food, two at midday with plenty of water, and just one, dark blue pill before bed. He never remembers his dreams, but often wakes to find himself covered in sweat. At his mother's house, he watches himself sit across from an aged Katie Couric, who at ninety looks sixty and still somewhat beautiful for an older woman. She's had treatments, sure, but does n't looks as artificial and taught as the pop stars of his youth who are still singing about what boys and girls do when there's no one around to see. Her voice has never changed and she seems to be peering into his soul when they cut to her. `` Tell us,'' she says from the television, `` about the first minutes after the crash. What were you thinking? Feeling? What did you see?'' `` Uh,'' he sees himself say. He half-smiles and runs a nervous hand through his hair. `` We went through north of containment,'' he says. The picture cuts away to a detailed map of the Zone 6 and zooms in on the east side. Two computer generated Stallions fly over the terrain. `` It was dark,'' he says. `` It's always dark there. Dark like it is just after the sun sets completely and there is still some light on the horizon.'' He watches as the Stallions twist through a canyon and remember what it felt like to go through containment, like he ripped through an invisible bubble with his bare hands. They said, when got there, before the mission, that engineers carried the whole FOB piecemeal through gaps in containment. It took years, they said. His mother fast-forwards the tape. This good part is coming up, she says as if he has n't seen it several dozen times. The shots cut from Katie to him, him to Katie, back to the map and the animation. She resumes it as one of the Stallions clips a rock ledge and crashes into the snow at the base of a long canyon. `` What was going through your mind then?'' He shook his head on the screen and in real life. `` Not much,'' he said with a kind of reserved smile they had made him practice. `` You do n't think, your training takes over. As soon as Oscar 2-2 hit that cliff, we dropped about 50 meters straight down and I was on the ground before I really had time to think.'' `` And what did you see?'' Katie says. He swallows. He watches as his tongue comes out to moisturize his lips. `` Well, a lot of my friend were already dead,'' he says. `` A lot of them were dying, but some of them were trying to get up. That's when we heard the first shots.'' `` And where did those shots come from?'' `` I did n't know,'' he says, but he did know. A guy named Martin or Martinez or something had opened fire from behind him. At first, he fired blindly into the air. He was trying to get his mask off with the other hand. He was screaming something, but the machine gun was tearing the air all around them. Another man, Jackson, took a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and rushed aimlessly away from the Stallion. He was chanting something in a language no one had heard and no one knew. He exploded several yards from the second Stallion, crippling one of the engines which began to burn. The pilots bailed, ran a few meters from the Stallion, then pulled their sidearms and shot each other without a word. `` What did you do?'' Katie says. Here, his mother says, this is the best part. In the video, he looks at the camera. His eyes are wet. `` I did what I had to do,'' he says. `` I did my job.'' His mother claps her hands together. That is my son, she says like she is seeing it for the first time. `` I ran to the downed Stallion and found Cooper and Estrada. She still had her mask on,'' he says. `` And by she, you mean Corporal Estrada?'' `` Yes,'' he says. `` She had a broken leg, but she was firing into the cliff side. That's the first time I saw them. I carried Cooper out first. He was unconscious and bleeding from his wounds and needed evac, which was already on its way.'' On the screen, he pauses and half smiles again. `` All of this is happening, not like a movie, but at the same time, each piece of information has the same weight, you know?'' Katie nods. `` It was confusing,'' she says. `` Scary.'' `` Yes,'' he says and wipes at his eyes. `` We're going to cut away for a minute,'' Katie says, `` but we'll be back with-'' His mother fast forwards again. I'll skip this, she says. They have given him yellow pills and he fishes one out of the bottle in his pocket as several advertisements blur past. He pops one and swallows it dry. It tastes the way he thinks mustard gas tastes, dusty and sour and full of slow death. It bubbles in his stomach. I think I need to get going, he says. Just stay, his mother says, for this last part. I've seen it, he says. Please, she says. Just stay.

[ WP ] Every person has a number over their head that tells them how many people have numbers on their head . The numbers reflect the population of the earth . Until one day you look in the mirror and your number head head number is backwards

one day I waked up 2 find that every1 had number over the head then ur in bed n feel sleepy so u go to sleep wit ur honey, looking at her hed, felling safe n sound and when u wake up, u eat breakfast and go to work and people r staring at u funny. u get 2 work, and the boss with a number over his hed looks at u liek u went nuts. so u go 2 the bathroom nd luk in tha miror u see that ur number was bakwordz, and every1 was looking at u be cuz u looked scary, and yu wonder y ur number is liek that, but u ca n't help but wonder, who was reflection?!!???

[ WP ] You are walking down the path to your home when you notice a `` Glitch '' .

( This actually happened to me ) *what a fucking day* I eased open the door to the building, wondering how this bleak weather would greet me. *wind in my face. not surprising* Clacking my boots on the pavement, I headed towards my car. The last one in the parking lot. *shit, my tire is losing air again. i wonder where the closest free air pump is* I started my car and before I put it in reverse, my mind wandered to where I should stop on the way home. Not only for air in my tires, but for groceries too. Nothing sounded appetizing. I shot a quick text to my boyfriend asking what sounded good for dinner. As the text was sending I pulled out of the parking spot and swerved out of the lot. *at the rate my errands are piling up, i'll never get home. maybe i'll just eat that ice cream that's in the freezer for dinner. * I decided to get groceries anyway. Being winter, the sun set at 5pm when I got off work, it was barely dusk when I got to the store. I grabbed some beef, chives, onions, tortillas and cheese. Enchiladas. *yum* I merged into the bypass that would take me home. My commute was typically only a 20 minute drive on a country backroad I usually take. No stoplights or stop signs. But going to the store took me off that route and into town. Traffic was a nightmare. *i'll just stay in my lane and take it slow and easy, no need to rush* It was dark now. I decided to skip the air in my tire. I'd get it tomorrow. Today was shitty anyway, I just wanted to get home. A customer called and asked where their order was, I had forgotten to place it the day before and got in deep shit with their sales rep. Basically a day from hell. *alright, passing sunshine street and i'll be home in 25 if there's no traffic jams. * The long road I was on was dimly lit by street lamps. It curved back and forth over and over. No discernible landmarks or streets. A straight shot til my next turn. The bypass is on the west part of town, so it's next to a bunch of farmland. It was an easy drive. Not difficult to let your mind wander. I turned on the radio and let the road take me home. *good god i am hungry. * I texted my boyfriend to let him know to preheat the oven and I was on my way. *nice, sunshine street. i should be home in no time* Wait. I already passed sunshine. I was way passed sunshine. If I had n't clearly seen the sign on the stoplight as I passed it that said Sunshine street, I would n't be concerned. *what the fuck is happening* The road started to bend. Just like it did after passing sunshine. That familiar back and forth suddenly sent an eerie chill through my body. *this is n't right* It was already past dark. The faint streetlights seemed to mock me as I sat up in my carseat and leaned forward, pressing on the gas just a bit more. *maybe i'm just confused. i hardly ever take this way home, i'm just not familiar with the route* I looked around. In my rearview there was one car in the distance following me. `` Sunshine Street'' had disappeared. Around each bend the car got further behind me until I could n't see him anymore. *alone* I felt a deep sense of dread. Of loneliness. Isolation. It was cold outside. Cold and dark. The road never seemed to stop. I looked at the clock. 5:57pm. Time had gone too quickly, I should have been home by now. I had n't gotten a text from my boyfriend yet. *what is going on? * The stress of the day crescendo'd into a panic, and then diminished as I saw a stoplight far ahead. *finally* Whatever anxiety I had about the situation broke, and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears as I pulled up to my turn. There were other cars at the stoplight. I waited... It felt like a loose string needed to be tied in my brain. *what the hell was that? * I turned left.

[ WP ] Lizards regenerate , creatures dwell underwater , insects utilize poison , yet humanity remains sheltered . Governments instill mandatory programs to physially alter the human race ; millennia have passed and we have evolved , but not without controversy and warfare .

My team and I had found where the humans were hiding. We all decided they posed a threat to the advancement of our race. It was either us or them. We could bring our race to the edge of the known universe, colonize, thrive, live in a way God could n't have even imagined. But as long as the humans lived, they continued to hate us, they continued to attack us. We were hovering over where a group could be hiding. I looked out the window of our craft, and I saw the target. We had been searching through China for months homing in on their location. And now we reached them here. We landed. Our craft's ramp fell to the ground, and we walked down. The temple was dark. It was night, and there have n't been any artificial lights in China for centuries. We did n't need them. Our sight was enhanced for the darkness, unlike the imperfect humans'. `` Toad,'' I called his name. We called him so for his abilities. He could scale walls and jump ten times higher than a human. His best attribute, however, would be his incredible tongue. He could extend it upwards of fifteen feet and then latch onto anything it could get a hold of. `` See what you can find,'' I told him as I pointed to the top of the temple. He sprinted towards the temple, jumped, and latched on to the side of the stone wall. As he clambered to the top, the rest of us decided to bust in through the front door. The entrance seemed to be sealed off with a boulder, barely an inconvenience. One of our team just ran straight into it, knocking the rock away. I gave him a pat on the shoulder, and we walked in. We found a hallway, and at the end we saw a room glowing with light. I lead the way into the room. I turned the corner, and on the ground was a lamp surrounded by ten or so horribly thin humans. They looked as if they had n't eaten for days, and they were covered in grime and dirt. They looked up at us but did n't try to run. They realized their defeat. I could sense one of the humans had a knife on them. I felt the knife with my mind and yanked it from his backpack and into the air. I had the ability to control metal objects with my mind, and use them without even moving a muscle. The knife hovered above his head. One of the women screamed as I plunged it into his face. The rest died quickly by the hands of my team. My team calls me Magneto. And the humans are near extinction.

[ WP ] The main character from the last game you played is hunting you down . How screwed are you ?

The silence was the first thing she noticed as she strode in, usually her roommate was so happy, so loud, so.. annoying. It was what she had come to dread about heading home, what should have been a comforting reprieve from her lessons was what pushed her to do more work and stay as far from home as possible. Her footsteps echoed through the hall, anticipating the likely prank and how best to avoid it; a bucket on a door? a weakened floorboard? something new? But no, nothing happened as of yet, the only oddity being a game boy on the floor. She ambled towards her room and tentatively pushed his door open, jumping back when it creaked and shaking her head, embarrassed at her own fear. He was probably just out, partying, or *socialising*. But a thought nagged at her as lay on her bed, a thought she could n't quite place, but yet still caused her trouble. She rose, and started to stride towards the kitchen, an easy escape from anxiety. But, passing her roommates room, a whimper reached her ears, a whimper so feeble and miserable that it would have moved the heart of the most impassive politician. As she entered the room, the whimper stopped, the silence settling like a smog. A shaking head was visible behind his bedside dresser, and as she stepped towards him it stiffened, as still as the silence. He glanced at her as she passed the corner of the bed and visibly relaxed before motioning violently for her to get down, mouthing indecipherable words, but the meaning was discernible, to hide, or go. As her mind sifted through the confusion of what could possibly be happening, the front door creaked open, and her roommate stopped, still as jock concentrating on math. Footsteps advanced in a perfectly even pattern, and a white-gloved hand grabbed the frame of the doorway, a sinister voice shattering the silence, her heart stopping for a moment. `` It's a me, Mario!''

[ WP ] I do n't know who else to ask .

Nothing will bring her mother back. Nothing will lessen her pain. It will take time for to her to heal. But you should remind her the purpose behind the words everyone says when someone dies. `` Sorry for your loss.'' Look in to those words further. *Her* loss. Because her mother has left her, it is her life that is affected, not her mothers. Her mother no longer feels pain, sadness, grief or depression. Her pain has ended. She has moved on to what we all hope is somewhere better and peaceful. Even though we all want to live full, happy lives, there is a point where the suffering of living is far worse than death. It sounds like she left early which makes the time lost from her sad, but it's not sad that she left at all. We all die. Her mother's suffering is over. The grieving process is realizing and trying to repair the hole that their death leaves in the lives of the rest of us. Instead of grieving over lost potential future memories, she should remember the good memories of the past and how much her mother loved her. No words can make the pain go away but you can try to remind her what she should be thinking about now that she is gone. It's cheesy when everyone says'remember the best things about them' but it's true. Because what matters is those things and how we remember those we have lost. It no longer matters if she argued with her mother, fought with her or took advantage of her. All that matters is the memories now. I'm sorry to hear both of you lost your mothers but I can guarantee you both one thing. They are beyond happy that wherever they are now, they did n't have to bury you before they went.

[ WP ] A catastrophe has destroyed humanity , but everyone 's still alive .

David Poke woke up and looked out his blob. It used to be a window, but now it was some kind of shape that he did n't know the name of nor cared to learn. He rolled out of what was n't his bed anymore, and walked through something that could've been a house once, if you used your imagination. David tried to open a rhombus of serial, but his arms were on both sides of what kind of looks like a body, if you turn your head a little and squint your eyes. This made it exceedingly difficult to eat. Fortunately, David, as well as the rest of post-humanity, did n't feel all that hungry anymore. The Catartstrophe happened about a week ago. No one really understood it at first, but then again, they did n't really understand anything anymore. This is what happened. Some shmuck with a BA in Art History realized she did n't have any marketable skills, so she when she graduated with a B- average from her safety school, she had little hope of finding anything resembling a job. Upon returning home, she was met with a litany of `` told-ya-sos'' by everyone in her family, including the dog who learned to talk solely to mock her life choices. Distraught, but still convinced her opinions worthy of respect, the fucking moron went on a dark pilgrimage through the world, telling everyone of her brilliant socialist ideas that `` totally worked in Sweden, you guys. Seriously.'' From country to country, city to city she roamed. Each port of call she fell upon presented her with the existential dread of this certainty: reality was real, and one cared if she was triggered or not. She was laughed out of the Louvre. Mocked in the MOMA. Giggled at in the Gugenheim. Every place she went, no one respected her knowledge! *Inapplicable! * was cried. *Seriously, get a real job! I think Bed Bath and Beyond is hiring. You get benefits if you work more than 35 hours a week, too! * *Would you shut up, for fuck's sake? Christ! It's Jackson Pollock. My kid does this on the back of a Denny's activity sheet. * How she gnashed her perfect, porcelain teeth and how she ripped at her unwashed, dreadlocked hair! How she screamed and howled when, finally, the indifference and stubbornness of the world finally broke her! Like Krakatoa her soul erupted and split in two! The anguished roar echoed in the four corners of the world... She walked through the desert, seeking the sweet embrace of death. Within a cave she came to rest and wait the arrival of that grim savior. Plop, she lay and splayed her limbs out in total submission to this dark beast called life... It was then something peculiar happened. Upon whipping her digits from her core, she made contact with something hard in the darkness. A metal peel rang out. Though hopeless depression muted her emotions, a bit of curiosity slipped through. Weakly, she grasped a small bauble and brought it to herself. Her hands now eyes in the dark, she slowly molested the thing trying to understand what it was. Thunder clapped and lightning dazzled the halls of her tomb! A roar from beyond time and space cleaved reality, and from the swirling void in this gash formed a being of smokeless fire. `` BEHOLD! THOU HATH SUMMONED, AND I HATH ANSWERED! SPEAK NOW, YOUR WISH, CHILD OF ADIM, AND SO SHALL IT BE.'' Also, this chick's name was Deborah. But I'll call her Deb or something. For half an eternity, Debbie was blinded yet still stared-was speechless but still forced hair out of her huge, gaping mouth. For the first time in her life, she was speechless. `` It's just like Aladdin... `` she whispered, as she regained her senses. `` NO. NO, IT IS N'T,'' said the djinn. `` FRANKLY, I WAS N'T VERY FOND OF THAT MOVIE. I'M MORE A *LITTLE MERMAID* ENTITY MYSELF, AND I'LL REVISIT *MULAN* FROM TIME TO TIME -- BUT I DIGRESS! THE POINT REMAINS THAT THOU MUST MAKETH A WISH! NOW, SPEAK!'' Debbo thought for a moment. What would be the best use of this wish? Eliminating the gender pay gap? No, as much as she bitched about it, she was well aware that when adjusted for relevant differences, the gap all but disappears. Plus, she liked bitching too much about it. That's it! She'll wish for everyone on Earth to have something to bitch about. With a malignant grin spreading like a sin across her face, she stared off into forever and said those damning words: `` I wish everything... was CUBIST.'' And with that, the hot porn that David Poke had been stroking it to suddenly went `` Nude Descending A Stair Case''. Shocked, David rose only to find that his dick looked like a kaleidoscope puked on it. There were screams of terror outside his blob. Rushing over, he noticed that odd things were rushing about outside, shifting horribly through some god-awful medium, like koi through a raging pond. Poke went to turn on the tele... something... and heard nothing but sobs from reporters not understanding what happened to their perfectly coiffed hair. There were people arguing over whether something was a leg or not. An oddly curved... triangle thing, I guess would be the best description, was beating the every loving... something....out of another thing. Really, it's all hard to explain, but it was an ugly situation. Humanity had ended. Cubmanity had dawned. This was Debbie Shcloeman's curse. This was the Catartstrophe. And no one could ever really tell what was going on ever again.

[ IP ] The magic goat

# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) It had been a long day. He knew what was coming, yet he still had to do his job. He stared out at the waiting sea, a nearby lighthouse brightening the area for a second, before continuing out to sea. He lit up his third cigarette, in what seemed like the last ten minutes standing on the shore. He wanted to delay as long as possible, but it was inevitable. & nbsp; Sucking deep on his cigarette, he cast the spell that allowed the beacon to appear. He had chosen a green triangle, a small dash removed near the top on one of the lines. It was his mark, and a completed triangle usually meant a trap. Something that forced him to cast the beacon unwillingly. The other five guardians knew that. & nbsp; The next five minutes were unbearable. He looked out over the water for what was coming, but time seemed to draw on longer and longer the more he waited. After ten minutes, he was ready to give up and walk away. The beacon was set, they must have seen it, he could just- & nbsp; `` SCREEEEEE!'' The sound that came from over the horizon was horrifying to say the least. But he knew that high pitched noise from anywhere. She was coming. He looked over the ocean carefully, and saw it. The small animals figure grew larger and larger as it got closer and closer. The creatures large feet patting against the surface of the water as it ran, like it was running on solid ground. & nbsp; There was still time. He could run. She may not have seen him yet. `` PETROVAAAAAA!'' the rabbit-like creature called as it neared the beach. It was over. He was done for. The rabbit collided into Petrova, knocking him to the ground, both tumbling around each other like until they hit a rock a few metres back from the collision site. & nbsp; `` Hello, Lily.'' He grunted, trying to show as much disappointment to see her as he could. She snuggled her head up on his chest and wrapped her arms around him, trying to get in closer than physics allowed. & nbsp; `` Petrova! It's been so long! I thought we'd never see each other again! How have you been? Did you learn some new magic? Ooh, I got myself an apprentice! You should really get one too. We need to have six guardians, and if something happened to you, oh I ca n't bear the thought.'' While Lily prattled on, barely taking a breath between each sentence, Petrova pushed her off and got to his feet. He pulled out a new cigarette and lit it. `` Come on, we have to move to the second point.'' Lily stopped talking for a second. `` Second point? How many Guardians are you summoning?'' `` All of them.'' `` Come on Petrova, stop being gruff for one second and tell me honestly. How many are we really summoning?'' Petrova finished his cigarette and turned to Lily. `` I'm a goat. We are meant to be gruff. And we need the whole council on this one.'' `` Why? What's happening?'' `` The Bull is back.''

[ WP ] In a world where magic can be cast through song , musicians rule over society . You are the last of your kind , a Scandinavian Death Metal Singer .

The Pop Idols, as they have been taken to calling themselves, count on their catchy tunes and simple melodies to command the weak willed. As such, they have command over most of the land. Only the Bluesmen of the South and the Grunge Lords of the Pacific manage a hold over their lands. As they try to keep life as normal as possible with their grounded tones, few rouge Idols wander into their territories, seeking to rule over all of what was North America. I try to live my life in seclusion nowadays. After the events of my last skirmish some four years ago, when my power began to manifest, I decided that I had to learn control to avoid the near destruction of my town. Plus, being hunted by the Idols tends to keep a lively jolt in ones step. Just outside of the Grudge Capital Seattle, in a town now know as Veddersberg, I make a living repairing the strings and kits of other musicians. There tales of battle and small victories over Pop Idols worry me. More and more repairs are having to be made. I decided it was only a matter of time before they come. I did not know it would be tonight. Under the cover of darkness, the Pop Idols amassed a force of Stadium Rockers and Rap Rockers to overload the town with earthquakes and confusion spells. The Grudge Lords begin to amass an offensive of their own, with mumbled lyrics and crafty rifts scattering some of the Idols forces. I wait in my home, for I know what is to come next. Suddenly, a large clap is heard. A blonde haired girl drops down with a piano, General Swift as I thought, and she mixes her country and pop together to force down her foes with several bars of You Belong with Me, healing her soldiers with Shake it off. Before too long, the Grunge Lords kneel helplessly as she finishes them off with keystroke of her massive piano. My love has perished among the ranks. The forces approach my door, Swift smiling at the destruction she has brought. It is time. My throat begins to vibrate, my stomach tightens, and my growl deepens. The Pop Idols stand stunned as the earth around them begins to break and open, sending dozens falling into the shallow ground. Before they can pull themselves out, my army of Berserkers grab hold of their victims, slashing violently at their prey. As Swift attempts to amass her forces, my Valkyrie band descends from the sky, assembling my home into my longboat. Hundreds of bearded men and ten frost giants now await my command. General Swift stands horrified at what she has just discovered. She has forced open the gates of Valhalla. One greedy Idol has forced my hand. Now is the time of Ragnarok.

[ WP ] You are a high school student that 's secretly the author of a best-seller sci-fi/fantasy novel based on your real-life adventures involving aliens , magic , time traveling , etc . Your English teacher is having the class read your book and he 's getting everything wrong .

`` But why was I given an'F'? I covered every requirement on the report, and even did the extra-credit portion at the end,'' I exclaimed. `` My dear boy, your paper was well written, but it misses the point of the assignment entirely.'' Mr. Alder sighed as he steepled his fingers and leaned back behind his desk. `` This exercise was supposed to be a literary review of the themes and devices used by the author, but you paper reads like a war report by a field marshal.'' `` But-'' `` Now, do n't get me wrong, Bernie. It was a creative piece. However, this does not excuse the blatant disregard for the assignment. Hence, the'F'.'' `` But I told you exactly what the author was thinking throughout the entire novel!'' `` How? How could you possibly have known that the author *ahem*'was expressing his fear through the main character' when he wrote about'the Creeping Tendrils of Venus', unless you were the author himself. He was clearly commentating on the corrupting effects of the female personality in our society, by the way.'' `` I... Bu-... What?'' I spluttered. I slumped back into my chair, defeated. It was useless. I could defeat the armies of Mars and save Pluto from near destruction, but I could n't correct one high-school English teacher unless I gave away my secret identity. Oh, well. I'd just have to prove him wrong in the next volume of Nebu-lad.

[ WP ] The angel of death has a mortal son , and today is his day to die

Sometimes I hate my job. Oh, the work itself is n't bad, it's the travel. By now, I've probably got enough frequent flyer miles to spend the rest of my life in the sky. Yeah, right. As if my job would give me the time off. As if I had the money to do anything else. Jetsetting around the world for the biggest concern around, it ought to be glamorous, right? Nope. God, I feel like an ass. I ought to be grateful. I've seen most all of the great wonders of the world. I've been to pretty much every tourist trap there is, and all on the company dime. I've seen and done things that most people would n't even believe. So why does my life feel so empty? Because I made it empty. And there it was. The truth I'd been trying this whole flight not to think. That I did this to myself. I'd left my friends behind, a long time ago. Now, my life was filled with co-workers, associates, clients. I had done it to myself. I was n't there when my son was born. I chose the job. I was n't there for most of his childhood, other than cleaning up after his pets. I had n't even seen him since his mother died. His mother. Not my wife, though she had been. I'd let that relationship die too. The boy was living with her parents now. I was supposed to see him today. What would he say? Would he even recognize me? Would he be angry at me for not being there? What would I say? Would he be angry at me? I still did n't even know if I was angry at me. But we've arrived, and it's time for me to meet the son I barely knew. I see him there, waiting for me. I see him looking for me. He's not scowling. That's something, at least. `` Son.'' `` Dad.'' We look at each other for a small eternity, not quite sure how to proceed. If I stop now, I wo n't be able to go through with this, so I muster the courage to speak. `` You know I'm sorry about your mother.'' Crap. That was n't what I meant to say. `` Yeah, Dad. I know.'' `` You saw?'' `` Yeah. I saw.'' `` It's time, son.'' He draws back. `` Me?'' `` You've seen how it works. You're my son, you can do this. Take my hand.'' He takes my hand, and I go limp. I fall against him, sliding to the floor, but he's still holding me. He guides me to the other side, just like he saw me do with his mother. Just like I've done so many times. And I'm finally free.

[ WP ] The meek have inherited the Earth .

Simon kicked at the dirt nervously as he worked up the courage to speak. `` A-ahem. Umm. Well that escalated quite, ummm, q-quickly.'' Simon stole a quick glance around and saw mostly downcast glances and a few quick nods. Simon paused before continuing. He decided it best not recount the hell that they all lived through. Simon did n't have to be a religious man to realize that they had all just survived the apocalypse. He was n't eager to relive the showers of blood and screams of agony as nearly everyone around him met their grim demise. It was so horrifying that he even felt a pang of sympathy shoot through his fear as his workplace bully, Andy, was sucked into the fiery pits of hell. He now found himself in a vast field surrounded by people as shell shocked as himself. However, as he surveyed them for the first time, he began to find comfort. Beyond their masks of fear he saw kindred spirits. He knew just by their demeanor that, like him, they were the beaten down, the unassuming, the ignored, the bullied, the kind hearted, the taken for granted. The meek, he realized. And they had inherited the earth. `` Y-yeah. Soooo. I guess we should, umm, do some stuff.'' A few more subtle nods.

[ WP ] Whilst a bank heist is taking place , another group of bandits tries to rob the same bank .

The hardest part of pulling off a bank robbery is making sure Cory has his shit together. I watch as his bandanna bounces, sliding down the ridge of his nose as our van hits every pothole in Oklahoma. `` That's too loose, Cory. Here, turn your head.'' I reach up and pull the knot on his vale a little tighter. As I let go, he turns to me and cocks his head slightly to the side. `` Yeah, it's good now.'' He nods, then lays back on the blanket covering the cargo area. I slide my Nixon mask down over my head, and I can taste the rubber in my nostrils. From the front of the van, I hear three distinct knocks. `` Almost there, guys, get ready.'' I'm calling this robbery as if I'm some sort of ringleader. But aside from liquor stores and gas stations, I've never done a big holdup before. Bruce, he's shot someone in the leg once, but never done any time for it. Cory, well, he's eager and dumb. Greg is our driver, he's covered in tats. We figure he's the last one we want in a clear camera view, so he's staying in the van. And then there's me. The van rolls to a stop. I can feel it take the curb a bit, and lurch up in response. Cory hops up on the balls of his feet, pressing against the back door of the van. Bruce chambers a round in his pistol. And I swallow the acid in my stomach and act like I'm the coach of a football team. `` Alright. In and out. This is a nicer part of town, so no Plexiglas between us and the tellers. But also, it means the cops will give a shit. So let's make this fast. Roll out!'' Great, I just quoted the Transformer movie. I'm just brilliant. Cory opens the door, and we pour out as the light floods in. Just six quick steps up the concrete stairs, and WHAT THE HELL? The alarm is going off already. I hear a high-pitched shrill. Cory instinctively puts his hands up to his ears. `` The fuck you doing?'' Bruce's reaction is priceless. `` I thought you were a bad ass. What kind of bad ass covers his ears when a fire alarm goes off?'' The doors open wide, and reactions take over. It's a bloodbath, and no one is coming away clean. Maybe one day, I'll say that I thought they were security guards. I mean logically, they're armed, what else would you expect? But in that moment, my thoughts did n't use language. My thoughts used ammunition. And I was brainstorming away. In the commotion, I knew only a few things. Cory shot himself in the head. He went from covering his ears to adjusting his mask, and he had a hold of his gun the whole time. His shot was one of the first fired. Bruce shot two people. Well, no, actually. He shot one person, in two legs. Then his face fell to the ground in a red blur. I kept firing at anything in front of me, until my gun's'bang' turned into'click' and the hammer struck empty. The sounds of the alarm now mixed with moans. Everyone had been shot except for Greg and me. Greg and I. Whatever, you know what I mean. Fuck you, I just got shot at. So anyway, there's two bags of money, and no one to claim them. `` You fuckers tried to rob MY bank? Fucking unbelievable.'' Maybe this is the first bank robbery in the history of mankind where the money gets dropped off curbside? In any event, I'm ready to get away from the scene of our crimes. I hop in the van, which by some miracle has n't left yet. Greg guns it. Seven blocks to the other car we stashed. I'm also acutely aware that I have no bullets left. I ease myself further into the passenger seat, away from the driver. We turn a few corners, racing to the stolen Honda parked just at the end of this street. Something got the better part of Greg, and he ran into our second getaway car. The bumper on the little Civic cracked and busted like peanut brittle. He sounded drunk, slurring his words as he turned to me. `` You sound like you're speaking in cursive, I ca n't understand you.'' Blood gurgls out of his mouth, and also from the knife wound in his neck. I twist as I pulled the blade, for good measure.

[ WP ] A nuclear war has decimated most of the globe , Great Britain included . A survivor treks through the Midlands , England , on his way to the South Coast , looking for a treasure , long since lost .

The sign on the ground was unintelligible, most of the letters had been burned off a long time ago. At the edges he could see what remained of a blue background. Well that was something. This splintered and jagged road had been a motorway once. He had guessed as much, but you could never be really sure. A flyover was mostly still standing, and he decided it was worth risking walking up it to get a view of the landscape. He started towards it, keeping to the grass verge of the road. The tarmac and concrete had been torn up into sharp chunks by the persistency of the plant life, making the road treacherous. Here and there were cars, rusted and dented. After the bombs had gone off a lot of people tried to get away from the cities, fearing more were on their way. But no more came. He could only assume that the long touted promise of mutually assured destruction had come true. At the time he had been living in a village called Blyth. It was a small place, and after a few weeks the people there started to leave and find their way to other places, places where help must have arrived. Only the elderly or sick had stayed. He himself had packed for a long journey and was ready to leave when those same people started coming back to the village. There had been no help, and things in the larger towns and cities were dire. Mass illness, mass crime, mass starvation. Gangs ruled and fought for land with a clean water source or food. In response to this, they had barricaded parts of the village and set up lookouts. They had fashioned weapons from anything they could, and local farmers had brought their guns and ammunition and had trained people how to look after and fire them. No attack ever came. A few people wandered by, alone or in small groups, and were allowed in to stay, if they so wished. One group had evidently brought the plague. People started getting a fever, this was followed by large purple welts on their body, and eventually they would fit and die or fall in to a coma, which was no better. One of the first people to succumb was the doctor, and of course that only made things worse. He and a few others sectioned themselves off. The whole village actually broke down into small groups of people. The idea being that if the sickness was in a group, it at least would be harder to spread to the others. And anyone with signs of illness went to the hall. He only knew of one person who had recovered, and she cared for the sick, the only one presumed to now be immune. Out of all of the groups, only two survived. One of which was obviously his. They had all decided to leave. The village smelled of decaying bodies and was clearly uninhabitable. He and another man were heading south. The man had gone his own way into Nottingham, and he had turned to go around it. It added time to his route, but he really didn ’ t want to see the city. Finding this was a motorway would mean that this was the M1. He could follow this straight down to London, if he so wished. But he didn ’ t wish, he would turn off before then and head to the south coast. It was, he knew, quite built up there. But he hoped to avoid most of it. If he could get to the coast somewhere west of Portsmouth, he could take a boat to the Isle of Wight. It relied on him finding a boat, sure, but there were bound to be plenty of them out that way. He didn ’ t know how long it would take, but he guessed at weeks. But, after the last few years stuck in a remote village, he was desperate to see if his wife and children were still alive.

[ WP ] Humanity has begun exploring the galaxy , we find many worlds filled with ruins of civilizations that had long died out , realizing soon that all of these civilizations chose to end themselves , committing mass suicide . No one could figure out why they did it , until now .

The room sat several thousands of people, centered around an holographic display on a stage. No one needed to present, one person was in charge of moving the holographs around, revealing dozens of images of the worlds beyond this solar system. No man has ever set foot beyond Jupiter, yet they managed to send five-hundred thousand robots to fly to other solar systems in the galaxy. Why waste a life or a few thousands just to fly in space of nothing for a few several hundred months when they could send robots who can do the job just as well, if not better and faster? On these displays held the attention of all in the room. Only a team of four people had seen them before, and now many thousands will see them for the first time. All the robots had reached their destinations and discovered a few worlds in each system. The robots were sent to solar systems containing Earth-like planets and have them investigate the surface of these places. People began to murmur when they saw a tower on planet Gaea. The murmuring increased as more buildings revealed themselves on other planets. Several dozen of planets appeared and disappeared in the air on the holographic display. Each planet stayed in the air for five minutes, zooming in closer to the surface and out to see the entire planet again. The last planet faded from view two hours later, and the room fell silent again, most people shocked and stunned by what they saw. `` What is the meaning of this?'' one person asked in the front row seat. A scientist who helped launch the robots. Like a spell, the room burst into loud conversations—debates, expressions of shock, questions being asked, and no response could satisfy them all. A loud gonging sound rang through the stadium seating style room, and the audience fell into a hushed whispers, unable to stop themselves from discussing the planets they viewed. `` This, ladies and gentlemen, is the proof that we are not alone,'' he said, showing one planet. As he continued to talk, the planet rotated. `` The thing is, all of these planets show the buildings in ruin. No one is alive. They're all dead planets.'' `` But why are they all in ruins? How do we know for sure they are not hiding?'' `` We have been examining the planets for a year,'' he answered. `` There have been no movement. On all 428 planets. Of the 500 we sent, only 72 did not make it to their destinations. Of the 52 planets, there were no ruins found. The rest… 376 planets, they all had buildings—as you saw them. Houses, large buildings, towers, roads. Even pools. Yet, none of them had anyone walk around. Drive a vehicle. There are, however, life forms, animals if you will, moving around. Acting the very same way Earth's animals move to eat, to fight, and to sleep. They are not intelligent as they never used any of the buildings for themselves. `` Ladies and gentlemen, I present you another evidence. They all committed suicide. Mass suicides.'' He pressed a button and it zoomed in to a building. The people could clearly see bodies on the ground outside the building, each of them holding a weapon very similar to a gun and aimed at themselves. Another image showed similar scene, bodies with weapons aimed at themselves. The bodies on both planets were skeletons. The animals had not gotten to them on any of the planets. The crowd was silent again. `` Does this mean… whatever happened to them, will happen to us?'' the same questioner asked. `` That, sir, is the question we want to ask. The real questions are: why? What happened? How? What can we do to prevent this from happening? Anyone have a guess?'' The place was quiet, waiting for some brave soul to answer. Three minutes, still no one stepped forward to hazard a guess. `` Lucky for you, I do have the answers to them,'' he said, his expression growing grave as he continued to talk. `` What is amazing is not the ruins themselves, or the bodies. Or the fact that we are not alone. What is amazing is what drove them to killing themselves. Every last,'' he switched to another planet, `` one,'' another planet, `` of,'' another planet, `` these have been threatened with the space ships that came to them.'' A final holographic displayed showed a fleet of space ships flying past Jupiter. `` They are slave traders. We have one week before they get here.'' The room burst with anger words spewing out their feelings at this. Some of disbelief, of outrage, of despair. `` We know this,'' his voice grew louder to be heard over the din, `` because we found 38 planets with ruins and they have shown no bodies like the others do.'' The room fell silent again, his words silenced the skeptics. `` We have no option, we must kill ourselves before we become slaves to some… some aliens. I am quite certain we will not enjoy being slaves.'' — The fleet of ships landed on Earth. The doors opened on all spacecrafts. The people within stepped out, looking around and stared at the bodies with dismay. `` Not another one! Why do they keep killing themselves just before we could get here to make peace talks? Does no one in the galaxy want to do business in selling and exchanging fruits?'' `` I do n't know, it's a shame… I saw on the monitors that they seem to have some tasty fruits here…'' a guy said, walking to stand next to the first person. The first person sighed, shaking his head. `` I guess we'll raid all the fruits and their seeds and move on. I hate this place, just like the rest.'' The group was silent for a moment. `` Well, let's get gathering, men and women,'' the second man said.

[ WP ] Revisit the first prompt you wrote a response for . Write a new story for it .

From one year ago, [ The shock of dying makes everyone forget that they're even dead. That's why you're here. To make them understand. ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2snxad/wp_the_shock_of_dying_makes_everyone_forget_that/cnrvudz? context=3 ) `` It's a shame about Tom, yeah?'' One of the perpetual water cooler gossips asked to the person standing beside him. `` Huh? What happened to him?''. He asked, bending down to pull out a cup for himself. `` Did n't you hear? It was all over the news.'' The gossip paused, taking a sip from his own paper cup. `` Big rig slammed right into him on the interstate. Caused a five car pileup.'' `` Oh, very funny guys.'' Tom said, adjusting his tie. `` I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that.'' The second man paused, his face scrunching up in thought. `` Is that why he's not in work today? Geez, any word on how he's doing?'' Tom frowned, and crossed his arms, as the gossip shook his head sadly. `` Dead on impact.'' Tom cleared his throat meaningfully. `` Okay, enough's enough. It was n't that funny to begin with. They continued to ignore him, though, as the second man looked towards the floor. `` Oh, wow. That's... that's unfortunate.'' He paused for a moment, before looking back up at the gossip. `` If I can be totally honest, though? I never really liked the guy. He seemed standoffish.'' The gossip crossed his own arms. `` Really, Paul? Not even a day and you're already bad mouthing him? Show some respect, man.'' `` Yeah, I'm right here. And I'm not dead.'' He growled, looking between the two. Paul shrugged. `` What? I mean I'm sorry for him and all, but that does n't change the fact that he was a bit of a jerk.'' `` Well, can you blame him? After all, you know he has n't been the same since his wife...'' He trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air. `` Woah, now you're going to far!'' Tom shouted out at the gossip. Paul nodded sadly. `` Yeah, I guess. Well, at least they'll be together again.'' Tom turned to Paul, his anger starting to flare. `` That's it, I've had enough with you assholes.'' He reached to grab Paul's arm. `` You do n't even joke about... wha-?'' He stared as his fingers passed through Paul's arm. He pulled his arm back abruptly, waggling his digits in front of his face. He reached out with both arms, like a blind man grasping for something. His rage slowly turned to horror as his arms harmlessly went through Paul's chest. Paul shuddered. `` I just got the worst chill.'' `` Hey, that means someone is walking over your grave.'' Paul scowled at his compatriot. `` You need to work on your timing.'' Tom was deaf to the squabbling that ensued. He placed his closed fists to his eyes as images began to flash through his head. The rear-view mirror, the rapidly approaching headlights. The world turning inside out. Just then, he heard a voice call out behind him. `` Tom?'' He froze up. It was a voice he had heard before. All too familiar, but one he had not been able to hear in years. `` Amelia?'' He slowly turned, his hands falling from his face. There she stood, just as he remembered her. Her hair still long and full, her body unmarred from her illness. She just stood there, tears welling up in her eyes. A thin smile on her lips as his eyes fell on her. `` I'm here, Tom.'' She said, softly. Tom rushed towards her, faster than he ever had run before. He wrapped his arms around her, his own tears flowing freely. `` Amelia.'' He whispered into her hair. He did n't know how long they stood there, wrapped up in their embrace. He could have stood there forever. Finally, he spoke again. `` I thought I lost you forever.'' She pulled away just enough to look him in his face. `` I'm here now, that's all that matters.'' He closed his eyes, looking away briefly. `` So I guess that means that I am...'' She nodded slowly. `` The first few hours are always the toughest.'' She pulled away from him, grasping him by the hand. `` But I'll explain it all to you later. Come on, it's time to come home.''

[ WP ] You 're a supervillain with one specific power - you can force actual physics to apply to reality-breaking superpowers

I size up the woman in front of me. Shiny gray spandex, long cape, one of those silly little masks on her face. The Silver Bullet, fastest woman in the world. Groan. How will I wreck her? There are lots of options with super-speed, as several of my late enemies can attest. Bolt died of starvation after expending a small city's daily calorie intake in ten seconds. Zoomerang stripped the flesh from his own bones when he discovered air resistance. And Captain Velocity shattered his spine like a rabbit with a single overly-energetic kick. I'm not your average supervillain -- you know, I do n't even like that term. What I do is necessary. All these superheroes, they're flashy and loveable, but they're dangerous. Ask anyone to recount how Captain Adonis stopped Doctor Catastrophe from nuking Topeka, and you'll be regaled with a forty-minute blow-by-blow epic. But they probably wo n't mention that the city was leveled anyway by the fighting. All I do is bring these folks back to earth a little. I was born with the power, if you care to call it that, to reassert the laws of nature. I can break the convenient but unnatural circumvention of physics that other superheroes are born with -- typically to fatal effect. Ask Firebrand. I take a step toward Silver Bullet. I imagine the contrast my dark three-piece suit must make with her ostentatious costume -- I like to think of myself as a little more practical than these superhero types. `` Silver Bullet,'' I begin. `` You must know my reputation, and you must know there's no way out of this for you. Give yourself up, and I promise you'll be treated fairly. Confinement in the Tower of Penitence is better than death, you know.'' The Tower of Penitence is where I keep all the superheroes who surrender to me. Well, where I would keep them if they did surrender. It's empty. She looks at me with what seems to be pity. Overconfidence, the one constant of that varied crew. `` I'd extend you the same offer. This does n't have to end in violence.'' `` I'm sorry to hear that,'' I reply. `` In that case, I suppose --'' A loud crack shatters the still air, and I freeze. Her speed -- worked? How... I feel a pain in my abdomen, where she must have punched me. I stagger back, jaw agape. This is impossible. I look up, falling to my knees in shock... and see Silver Bullet holstering her gun.

`` Well one of us is gon na have to test it out . '' [ WP ]

The wizard Nadir and his knight-errant, Parallax, stood, stunned, above the corpse of the greater stone golem. The golem ’ s corpse lay across the flat earth of the desert. A wind whipped at the cloth of Nadir ’ s robe, and curved across the armor of Parallax. Parallax ’ s chest heaved up and down, exhausted from the battle with the golem. Nadir ’ s hands were covered in soot and stains, a byproduct of the magic he ’ d used. The two stood side by side, and stared down at the treasure the golem had been protecting. “ What is it? ” Parallax asked, sheathing her sword. “ I don ’ t … I don ’ t quite know. ” Nadir replied. The two were staring at a small, brown bag the golem seemed to have coveted. They ’ d opened the bag, and inside had been a brown disk, flat and circular. The brown disk seemed to have the quality of a burnt baked good; flakes and ripples covered its surface. Currently, the disk sat next to the opened brown bag, both the wizard and the knight nervous about touching such a strange artifact. “ What do you mean you don ’ t know? ” Parallax asked, turning her head towards Nadir. “ I thought you were a master of the occult. ” “ W-w-well of course I am! ” Nadir stuttered out, his face turning read. “ But this isn ’ t occult. Nothing, none of my tomes or scrolls have ever mentioned something like this. ” Nadir said, gesturing madly at the flaking brown wafter sitting at their feet. The two turned their attention back to their loot. They stood in silence for a few moments, trying to come to a conclusion. Nadir ’ s mind ran and sprinted through his expansive knowledge of the occult magicks. Nothing was of use. As for Parallax, she looked back on her experiences. She had travelled the land, fought countless monsters and demons, goblins and ghouls, explored countless dungeons and caverns, abandoned forts and ruins. Yet nothing she had seen came close to this bizarre wafer. In a way, it reminded her of overcooked bread, but what would a stone golem be doing with a pastry. “ We don ’ t have much time to waste. We need to meet up with Aphelion before the light wanes to the night. ” Nadir spoke up, breaking the silence. “ It ’ s obvious it ’ s food. Go pick it up, and try some Parallax, then we can finally solve this mystery and be on our way. ” Parallax bulked. “ Why me? And how do you know it ’ s food even. Why don ’ t you pick it up and try some? ” She replied, incredulous. “ Because I ’ m paying you, that ’ s why. ” Nadir said. “ Not enough to risk my life on some poisoned trap. ” Parallax replied. Nadir thought for a moment. He stroked his chin, and his mind tumbled through all sorts of devious plans and manipulations. Finally, He settled on a plan of attack to trick Parallax into eating the strange brown wafer. “ I ’ ll give you fifty gold pieces to eat it. ” Nadir replied; a small, devious smile on the wizard ’ s lips. Parallax went to argue, but stopped herself. She thought about Nadir ’ s offer for a moment, and weighed her chances. With a shrug, she bent down to pick up the wafter. It felt soft in her hands, and bits of the top flaked off in the wind of the desert. She brought the wafer up to her face. She stared at it for a moment, steeling herself. With the thought of fifty gold pieces in her mind, and all that the money could buy, she took a bite, suddenly and quickly, diving in, trying not to think of the consequences. Her teeth tore easily into the soft wafer, and soon a piece was being chewed up in her mouth. The horror and trepidation Parallax had felt were soon replaced by surprise and delight. The brown wafer inside of her mouth tasted delicious. It was soft, moist, sugary, chocolatey, savory. It seemed to be some sort of bread or pastry, unknown to the realm of the humans. Parallax savored the bite, and reluctantly swallowed. Her eyes were wide in pleasure. “ So, how is it? ” Nadir asked, anxious to know. Startled, Parallax shook her head. She put on a sour look, and faced Nadir. “ It is … quite awful. Foul and disgusting; unholy even. ” She replied, putting the brown wafer into a small pocket. “ It must be burned. I ’ ll dispose of it as soon as we set up camp for the night. ” Nadir nodded his head in thought. “ Hmm. A shame. I wonder why a stone golem would be hiding something so awful. ” Nadir handed Parallax a small pouch of gold pieces. Soon, the two were off, trekking through the desert again. Parallax tried to hide a sly smile. She couldn ’ t help but think of the delicious beauty of the brown wafer, and made plans to have a little piece of it every night before she fell asleep. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - Hope you enjoyed the story! I've got a bunch more over at my sub, r/ThadsMind, if you want to subscribe!

[ WP ] Most genies take your wishes literally to mess with you . But yours takes everything figuratively .

`` I wish I had a billion USD put into my bank account with Enterprise, account number 5583922856392055!'' I yell to my genie. I have thought about this moment a lot. Rephrasing in my head over and over just to get exactly what I ask. I have read many a tale that suggests trickery on the genie's side. My heart is pumping with anticipation, excitement, and hope for a new life with the possibility of a new life. `` Your wish is my command. Check your pockets.'' I frantically search my pockets only to find a few hundreds in each. `` What is this? What is going on? This is only a few hundred... I asked for millions and millions??'' `` Well do n't be silly. That would be way too much for a person to get from a wish. That's like saying'I want a bajillion dollars' man.''

[ WP ] - In a short conversation with the devil a 7-year old child manages to do something god did n't manage in thousands of years .

He was sitting across from the girl at a small pink table that was worse for wear. It was marked with crayon scribbles and covered in dings and dirt. The chair he was sitting in was far too small for him and the girl looked like she was about to outgrow her chair as well, though he imagined that the barbie dolls in the remaining two seats would never have such a problem. Delaney poured the Devil another cup of imaginary tea. “ That ’ s just the way things are. ” The Devil was explaining. “ Collecting souls, keeping count, getting all ready for the final battle and all. ” “ But why? ” The girl insisted. The Devil stared down into his empty plastic cup. The girl poured herself a cup next and the Devil noted how polite it was of her to serve her guest first, even if there wasn ’ t really any tea involved. “ Just because is all. ” “ That ’ s what adults say when they don ’ t know. ” Delaney pointed out and the Devil frowned. Smart kid. “ Look it ’ s been like this for ages, alright? You ’ ve got to have the bad to appreciate the good, right? To test the good and to punish the wicked. ” “ But why? Why fight and be angry and make people bad and all that? Do you like being mad at people and making them do bad things? ” “ Well no I don ’ t like it, but that doesn ’ t matter does it? If I don ’ t do my job the entire cosmic balance will just fall apart. ” “ Will it, though? ” Delaney took a sip from her cup while the Devil pondered this and when he didn ’ t respond the girl continued. “ It ’ s like broccoli. ” “ What? ” Clearly the Devil wasn ’ t following her logic. “ Momma told me that I wouldn ’ t know if I liked broccoli until I tried it. I tried it and it ’ s okay as long as it ’ s covered in cheese and I only have to eat the tops. But the point is you ’ ll never know until you try, right? And besides if it ’ s not fun, why do it in the first place? ” “ Well because... it ’ s my Job. ” “ Who is your boss? ” “ What? ” “ Who ’ s your boss? ” “ Well I ’ m the boss. ” “ So there ’ s no one telling you what to do? ” “ Well... ” “ More tea? ” She smiled at him and he extended his cup. “ I ’ m just saying that if you don ’ t like what you do and it makes you mad then maybe you should stop. No one is telling you you have to stay so the only one keeping you there is you, right? Momma tells me when I ’ m angry that all being angry does is makes me angry. What would make you happy? ” The Devil sipped his imaginary tea. He hadn ’ t given it much thought. “ You know... I ’ ve always wanted to go ice skating. ” That was the day that Hell froze over.

[ WP ] For all of recorded history there has been a medium dense fog across the entire earth . Then one day it 's just gone .

I remember hearing about it on the news in the morning it happened. Everyone was calling it `` The Clearing.'' I had known something was wrong when I could feel the warm sunlight on my face in the morning right before getting up. I'll never forget rushing down the stairs, scrambling to put on my air-filtration mask, and bursting out the front door onto our lawn. I could see the Sun shining brightly in the sky, birds flying overhead, and mountains in the distance breaking the horizon in jagged peaks. I looked over the light blue fence into the Ericsons' yard and found them staring at the sky with similar looks of wonder and bewilderment. `` How did this happen?'' I questioned. Their youngest son Timmy was crawling around in the grass playing with their Scottish Terrier. `` Why is n't Timmy wearing his face mask?'' I exclaimed. `` They said it's safe to take off our face masks,'' Timmy's mother yelled back laughing. `` The air smells so fresh. The sky looks so beautiful,'' she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning on her husband's shoulder. That was a month ago, and things have n't been the same since. Ever since the government made face masks optional, more people have been walking outside without them. Once, I took off my mask for a few seconds and took a deep breath in, and I could n't tell the difference between the artificial fresh air our masks released and the natural fresh air. My mother scolded me when I told her, she said it was sinful and blasphemous. News channels and newspapers were all speculating absurd theories – a government experiment gone wrong, an extraterrestrial visit, the coming of the apocalypse. Even scientists were unsure how to explain the occurrence. Apparently, the global temperature was dropping rapidly and the Arctic Circle was rapidly freezing. My parents even said we could move back to the coast since the water levels from the coasts were receding at a faster pace than ever. But life goes on as normal – I still have to wake up early on weekdays to make the school bus, I still have to sit through boring classes like math and history, where I'll learn about algebra and how God created man on the seventh day, the day after he created the fog. Maybe he was the one who got rid of it.

[ WP ] `` Captain 's log ... ''

Captain's Log, Recorded from the Captain's Chair. 134 consecutive days searching the Outer Rim have depleted our supplies. All we have left are cup ramen, green beans, cans of black beans, canned oysters, and microwave curry. This has had adverse effects upon the crew's stomachs and bowels. As such, the Interplanetary Coalition has requested that I keep conduct studies to enhance any future stocking of ships. I'm not entirely sure why it's so hard to understand that half the hold should n't be filled with this stuff, but orders are orders. End off the record thoughts. Begin scientific recording: One longer log 2.8 inches in length,9 inches in diameter. One shorter stick.3 inches long,.4 inches diameter. Both appear to be of a slightly greenish hue, with specks of black and reddened chili pepper. They have an overwhelmingly foul odor. Consistency is variable. 1 standard Inak of force causes a complete smashing of the logs edges. Yet at the center, 1 standard Inak barely penetrates the hardened exterior. Four-stomached Hamlian First-Mate Jezolz has had little issue with the change in diet, and is the only crew member who is functioning at full capacity. Third-Mate O'Oa and Doctor Resh, both Pleqas with frontal and rear assholes, have been confined to the sick bay as of 0800 earlier today. The diet and their physiology have caused a more constant, fluid stream. Their excrement has minor expanding properties, and must be linked to the exterior disposal system at all times. I may be producing a third log. I will conduct more measurements at 1900.

[ WP ] Make up some historical or little-known fact and convince me that it 's true

At the beginning of the 20th Century, when the automobile was still new, gasoline engines were but one of the many technologies vying for dominance. Some early cars were electric, some ran on boilers fueled by burning coal or wood. When Henry Ford opened his first factory in Detroit, the tri-state region of Indiana, Michigan, and Ohio was coincidentally taking off as a major player in the nascent dairy farming industry. ( Michigan is still one of the top ten dairy producers ) Prior to the turn of the century, family farms ruled as the modern process of Pasteurization had not yet existed. It's a little known fact that Henry Ford kept a sizable herd of cows on a farm just outside of Dearborn for the sole purpose of capturing and using the methane produced as a source of fuel. Several Model T prototypes exist to this day with tanks designed to hold compressed methane gas. Fortunately, the process proved to be more costly at the time than traditional gasoline. If not, we might still be driving around today in cars powered by cow farts. & nbsp; **EDIT**: I found some photographic proof showing a cow hooked up to a beeswax coated silk bag for methane collection as well as an early prototype of a vehicle with Henry Ford standing next to it. Note the methane tanks on the side of the vehicle near the engine: http: //i.imgur.com/3nuezWc.jpg

[ WP ] Its the year 2048 . The worlds mineral resources are exhausted and the Antarctic Treaty has just expired causing a war between the world 's biggest nations .

`` Shit,'' I muttered. I woke up late for work again today. My paranoia has been settling in recently. My eyes remain glued to the television for hours watching the news every day. I'm losing sleep over it. The Russians have flooded to us here in the U.S. and China has claimed Antarctica, shipping missiles over to it, to presumably launch from should anything trigger a nuclear response from them. The Russians have been coming over in droves for about twenty years now. There has been a resource crisis going on for five. Do they know something? I hopped in my car to go to work and turned on the radio. On the highway I hit traffic, of course. Dead stop. The radio gets an interruption with an emergency broadcast. The Russians have began isolated attacks in the U.S. Now I do n't know if I'm sitting in traffic or fear. I put down my window and peek out to see if I can see anything causing this traffic when a huge blast about seven cars ahead shattered my windshield and knocked me out. I awoke what was probably twenty minutes later. Disoriented, I open my eyes. A huge pillar of smoke is reaching the top of the trees that border the highway. This is when I feel a severe pain in my arm. I look at it and notice a bend in my forearm, it's badly broken. My car has slid back a good fifteen feet and is now crooked. About a minute later my hearing is starting to return but is still muffled. The first sounds I heard was screaming. It looks like other cars around me got it much worse. There was a larger car in front of me that may have shielded some of the blast. I step out of my car and look towards the billowing smoke. There are about five men equipped with what looks like automatic rifles standing near the origin of the flames. I ca n't see anything else besides this. `` Are they military?'' I thought. When I got back in my car I started it up again without any problems. I guess this will be the only good thing to happen today. I begin to drive through the wreckage of other cars carefully. All their windows were blown out as well. Peering into some vehicles I did n't see a lot of motion. I was telling myself they were all just knocked out like I was, but I knew otherwise. When I got closer to where the blast originated I saw a charred car. The men holding the rifles saw me driving and ordered me to stop. There's a lot of firepower there so I was n't taking any chances. They asked me with what sounded like a Russian accent, `` How much gas you have in tank?'' `` I'm at a quarter of a tank full.'' I reply. I never really get too much in there because of prices now and the shortage. Did they want to leave the scene? I glanced to my right and saw one of the other guys with them pull out a hose from a backpack and open another cars' gas door. He began syphoning their gas into a tank of their own. He was going car to car doing this. I was snapped back to attention when I heard, `` Give us what we want and no problems, okay?'' `` Okay'' naturally comes out when you have a gun in your face and asked a question like this. One of the others walked up to him and whispered something to him. All I saw was a head nod in response. That's when I started hearing the unmistakable sound of gunshots. They were killing any witnesses. In a panic I ducked down below the steering wheel and slammed the gas. I definitely hit the guy that was holding me hostage as well as pin-balling off of some cars along the way. I heard my car getting hit by their fire. I got off the next exit and started heading back home. How I made it out of there I'll never know. Now is not the time for thinking, now is the time for preparation. This has only just begun.

[ WP ] Death of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse goes missing . The remaining three search for a human sadistic enough to take his place .

“ Who can replace Death? He was the most feared of us all. Without Death there can be no reckoning upon the sinful mortals. ” War scratched his thinning beard. He was running out of options. No others had dared to take up such a heavy burden. While War was no stranger to the horrors of, he shuddered to think about the atrocities that Death had committed. Was there any being in the 7 realms to take up the Cloak and Scythe? “ But there is someone. ” hissed Famine. “ Brothers you are aware that all the atrocities we have committed were dealt by Man. War, death, famine and conquest. These were all Man ’ s undoing. Who else better to don the burden of Death then a man himself? ” Famine ’ s ragged hood covered his face, only showing his decaying mouth twisted in a sick smile. Conquest was quick to challenge. “ Man, donning the very bane of his existence? Brother, your imprudence will be the end of us all. A mortal man is hideous creature. He is greedy, selfish and cruel. Giving one this much power will only result in abuse. ” “ Conquest, you are as foolish as ever. Have you learnt nothing from Death? He was the wisest of us all, he- ” “ If Death was so wise, explain his abrupt departure. Why did he leave his duties behind? We are the horsemen of the apocalypse; both terrible and glorious. When the Horn of the Heavens sounds we will charge and strike fear into the hearts of sinners. It is who we are. Death was a fool for leaving. ” “ ENOUGH! ” War slammed into Conquest, knocking him down to the brimstone. He unleashed an onslaught of blows onto his golden armor until it was dented beyond recognition. Breathless, War stood up towering over his foe and boomed. “ I will not take this insolence. Death was the best of us. I loved him as a brother and a mentor. ” War ’ s stone face softened for a second. “ Should you be stupid enough to blaspheme our brother again, I will end you. ” Conquest nodded in shame. He was not used to the bitter taste of defeat. He silently vowed that War would pay for the humiliation he suffered. “ Famine. You say that a mortal can replace Death. Bring him to me. ” “ As you wish brother. ”

[ WP ] A neuroscientist finds data stored in human DNA . When deciphered , it appears to be a file named README.txt

**NOTE: ** I have barely any knowledge whatsoever of the workings of the human genome. Do not accept *anything* said here as fact regarding the human genome, although certain individual parts may be correct. -- - There have always been portions of the human genome that do n't seem to actually affect anything. A few years back, when the bill that allowed gene modification on fertilized human embryos was passed, several other geneticists and I went *crazy* changing these. It did n't seem to do a thing. Even if we put *random* data in those `` cruft'' ( as we called them ) parts, the people would turn out the same. But recently, I had noticed something interesting. Since I used to be a computer scientist, before I became a geneticist, the way I look at things is sometimes very different from that of my colleagues, and recently I had started comparing different people's genomes. What's the difference between the genome of a tall, white, blonde, blue-eyed white woman, and a short, dark-haired, brown-eyed black man? Again and again, every time, only one thing was consistent between *everyone*. The cruft. So I logged into the international database of human genetics and used up all of my queries for the year ( it's kind of sickening, actually: there's a set limit on the number of queries you can make per year to the website, and then it's based off of microtransactions ) comparing the cruft on 16,774 different human genomes. All the same. Perhaps it was just coincidence, but I had to be sure. I loaded up the entirety of the cruft into one file, and looked at it. It looked... normal. Random. It looked like DNA. Then, by a sudden sudden burst of inspiration, I ran a reverse-base4 one it. The resultant file was, apparently, a standards-compliant ISO file? That did n't sound right. I mounted it and looked inside. There was a single file, named `README.txt`, and a single folder, named `src/`. What the hell was this witchcraft? DNA ( 1 ) TempleOS General Commands Manual DNA ( 1 ) NAME dna — compiles.and files to usable genomes SYNOPSIS dna [ -adho ] [ -t | -w ] [ -L linkpath ] [ -O outputdevice ] [ -m arch [: machine ] ] [ -p [ eprtv ] ] filename... DESCRIPTION The dna compiler will, given a creation-dev-ice of at least version 2.7.4, compile a genome from one or multiple.and files and use the creation-dev-ice to bootstrap any number of `` starter'' animals. BUGS No known bugs COPYRIGHT This compiler and man page are copyright ( c ) 0-∞ A.D under the HPL ( Holy Public Licence ), Jehova & Baelzebub enterprises, LTD., in cooperation with RedHat software LLC. Huh. I looked inside `src/`, which contained the source code to this `` dna'' program, and according to the parser... a `` creation-dev-ice'' was identical to one of our modern 3-D printers! I knew it was expensive, and I was just a poor lab-worker, but I did n't care. I had to try this software out. I shelled out for the most expensive 3-D printer I could find, hooked it up to my computer, and ran the dna program on `example.and`, in `src/`. It gave me various messages as it ran, and eventually the 3-D printer started up. And it was *loud*. I had tested it out a few times before, and it had been relatively loud, but not as loud as this. I did n't dare leave it alone long enough to go to the store and buy some ear plugs, but I desperately wanted to. My computer began to get visibly hot, despite being state-of-the-art liquid-nitrogen-cooled. I shielded my eyes and looked right at the bottom of the screen, where the indicator read 90 % finished. Almost... almost... you can do it. Until two error messages showed up in bright red: ERROR: Operating system is not TempleOS. Unable to link properly. ERROR: Running temperature is not 98.549°F. Deforming product. And what stepped out of the 3-D printer a few seconds a later is a monstrosity I will not bear to describe. Suffice to say it was the most awful, ferocious, disgusting beast known to mankind. With all the intelligence of a human, with none of the conscience; with all the ferociousness of the tiger, with none of the discretion. And five more such as these stepped out of the printer. I shrieked and ran. -- - Part 2 coming when I get a chance.

[ WP ] `` If I keep this up , my ... ''

`` Your what? Your heart's gon na give out? Believe me Chancellor, I'll think you'll live for a bit more. A little exercise is n't going to do you any harm. In fact, you likely need a bit more than a little.'' `` I beg your pardon,'' the planetary governor stammered, his pasty white flesh reddening in outrage. He was silenced from speaking more at the sight of the other man's upraised hand, the fingers clenched into a fist. `` Chancellor, pretty soon my men and women will be dying to protect yours. The least you can do is show them your gratitude.'' `` Major Novak,'' the older man said wiping at a bit of sweat that beaded on his forehead. `` It's not that I am ungrateful for your Grave Guards coming to our world's aid, it's merely that I am a very busy man and the demands of my position require that certain individuals be seen to as soon as possible.'' Major Tycho Novak chuckled grimly at that before opening a door and ushering the planetary governor outside. `` Chancellor, if you're dead you do n't have to worry about those kinds of people. So it might be better for your well being if you worry about the here and now, hmm?'' The door as it turned out opened to the balcony overlooking a broad parade ground, the grey cement covered with yellow and white lines to mark out distances and paths. Arrayed on it in neat lines were the soldiers and personnel of the Grave Guards, all dressed in their olive green coveralls and splinter camouflaged field jackets. Battle armor troopers wore their suits, forming a solid block of steel. Mechwarriors stood in front of their machines, the metal titans painted grey with black trim. Tankers stood next to their vehicles which proudly displayed their number of kills on the barrels of their guns. Overhead zoomed a squadron of six aerospace fighters, the roar of their engines deafening to the ears. `` The Grave Guards, Chancellor, have yet to lose a defensive campaign. Twenty battlemechs, four tanks, eighty battle armor troopers and a full squadron of fighters. They are at your side though not your disposal. A mercenary commander's capital is his men and I will not be frivolous in spending the lives of the men and women I consider family. They will do whatever I ask of them, the trust between me and them absolute. We will win, I just want to make sure it costs us as little as possible in pursuit of that victory.''

[ WP ] Every night I tell my girlfriend a bedtime story by the end of this one I 'd like her to be my fiancé .

The Prince and the princess There once was a prince who loved a princess. But it was not to be, because this princess was already betrothed to another. But this prince could see that this princess was not truly happy. She was married to a dragon and her and that dragon were able to sire two children together. But as you know, the offspring of a dragon and a human is a demon. Now most people think demons are these horned creatures that go around creating misdeeds and causing havoc but that's not what demons do. Demons look just like any other person except they enjoy suffering. You see, unlike a regular person, demons love to see human beings suffer. I guess, that just makes sense given that so few demons are spawned by acts of love. Maybe demons are n't inherently bad. they're just nurtured that way. Regardless, the prince saw this and he wanted to do something about it. What I have n't mentioned before is that this prince was actually also a knight. Hed also slain many demons but never a dragon. Demons are relatively easy to vanquish, but a dragon is a great accomplishment. The kind of accomplishment that so few knights are capable of doing but he was, because he was one of the greatest knights in the land. The princess used to pretend she was happy. But the prince could see how unhappy she really was. When he would watch from the window, when she was all alone, away from the demons and the dragon, he could see her true sadness. The sadness that only the brave and handsome prince, the strong knight, would ever be able to chase away. So one day, the prince entered where the dragon and demons lived. He was armed with a crossbow and an axe. Most knights would have used a sword but this particular night was fond of using axes because it's only with an axe that a true warrior attains a higher state of being. As he entered the door to the castle, he saw the dragon, the demons and the princess all eating dinner. The princess, of course, was pretending to be happy but the knight nnew better. Away the bolt flew from his crossbow and into the heart of the dragon,. The dragon stood up, trying to face down the knight but before he could the knight brought down the axe into his skull. Seeing what a mighty warrior he was, the two demons began cowering and crying. They called out to their mother and the princess went to them, possibly still scared of what those demons would do to her. Knowing that the dragon ’ s magic was strong, the knight pulled the princess away from the demons and slew them where they laid cowering on the floor. The princess was traumatized. So many years and for so long, she had lived under the yoke of the dragon and the demons. She did n't know how to live a normal life. She did n't know true love. But now she would. The prince pulled her into his arms and she began fighting him. The dragon ’ s magic was too strong. The prince knew that the only way that the dragon ’ s magic could be conquered was with love. So the prince threw his love over his shoulder and took her back to his castle. Back at the castle, the situation seemed hopeless. Despite the prince ’ s boundless love for the princess, the dragon ’ s magic was just too strong. She continued to fight the prince. Numerous times, she attempted to escape. At one point, she even got to a local farmer and the dragon ’ s magic started to infect the man so the knight struck him down before he could be corrupted completely. It was then that knight realized that the princess, the love of his life, would need to be chained. Just like in Snow White, his love would awaken something inside of her but first she would need to stop fighting it. The prince chained the princess to her bed. The prince knew that what he was doing was unpleasant but no matter how confined her physical form may be, nothing could stop their love for one another. Every morning and every night, the prince would enter the princess's room and expresses his love towards her. This continued for what seemed like ages until a miracle happened. The princess was with a child. This was wonderful news. Just like the way a dragon creates a demon, a knight, being an instrument of God's will, produces only angels. Now, I've told you this story every night for the past year-and-a-half, my love. and I know the dragon ’ s magic still courses through your veins but I want to know what kind of ceremony you would like for our wedding. As you know, your marriage to the dragon was over as soon as I crushed his skull with my axe, so there's nothing keeping you from being my bride forever, now is there?

[ WP ] SHOCKING vision of the future depicts humanity as SLAVES to artificial intelligence !

Teddy's eyes sparkle with excitement as he rummages enthusiastically and yet somehow reverently through the dusty and scuffed red leather suitcase, the case releases the warm scent of pipe tobacco, small hands lifting stacks of somehow unfaded paper. `` Look at this one dad!'' he says, waving the old magazine, a copy of Amazing stories. The garishly illustrated cover depicting a towering, glinting robot brandishing a finned ray gun and looming menacingly over an improbably breasted swooning girl drooping in the arms of a lantern jawed Flash Gordon knockoff. `` SHOCKING vision of the future depicts humanity as SLAVES to artificial intelligence! Wow! Awesome!'' I ruffle his hair and he smiles back up at me. `` I remember reading all these as a kid myself. I did n't know dad had kept them all these years.'' My eyes naturally wander to the mantle, a photograph in a simple silver frame. Me, dad and a largemouth Bass held between us. Both of us wearing identical stupid grins, I with a beer in my free hand, dad with his pipe. I can still smell his pipe as I hear his voice across the years. `` Son, I am so damned proud of you. I know I have n't been there as much as maybe I could have been, but you've grown into a fine man.'' His eyes swim behind his glasses a little. `` Come on dad, how many of those beers have you had?'' I laugh. I was young, I did n't understand. His voice cracks a little. `` I just wanted you to know son. You'll come to realise that someday it all ends and that if you have n't said what needs to be said, well, that's something that can never be undone.'' He blinks and pokes his pipe into the corner of his mouth with a hand that trembles slightly. The only sound is the quiet burble of the river as we sit in companionable silence for a while, broken by the plink of the fishing float being pulled under and the ratcheting click of the reel. `` Get that net ready boy, we got a bite, and she's a big'un! One for the album, you bet!'' That's the thing about clearing a loved ones house. So many memories, waiting to ambush you without warning. A tiny blue porcelain vase with a chip in the rim, a small brass cup engraved `` Worlds best fisherman'', a walnut handled pocket knife. Things that mean nothing to anyone else, but I know them all intimately. I watch my boy as he goes through the case, savouring the fantastical artwork of the covers and neatly piling the stacks of pulp magazines by title, so like his grandfather, so like me. I remember reading my stories, my sheets tented above my head and my Thunderbirds lantern casting its glow over the pages. Living for an hour or so as an intrepid space adventurer, or a swashbuckling pirate until finally falling asleep and dreaming a childs dreams of heroism and adventure. The scent of pipesmoke and cedar shavings entwined with warm memory. `` Say dad, do you think grandpa would have minded if I had these? They're so cool!'' `` Son, `` I say, `` I think your grandpa would have wanted you to have those with his love, and mine.'' I feel my eyes welling with pride and love. Teddy just rolls his at me. `` Geez dad, do n't get all mushy on me.'' He's young. He does n't understand yet.

[ WP ] All of the major organs in your body are sentient beings . Every morning they have a council meeting to discuss the previous day and make new plans . The Brain presides as leader .

The brain considered the liver for a few moments longer. `` You are utterly replaceable.'' Said the brain with conviction. Everyone else let out a collective gasp. `` This will be the fourth time, this month, that the liver has let us all down. Just look at stomach right now!'' Stomach was black and blue from a night of heaving and contracting. Liver had sat idly by and watched as Stomach suffered. `` N-now you l-listen here Brain, there's only s-soooo much I can d-do!'' faltered Liver stupidly. A moment of silence passed before stomach rumbled violently. `` That does it, I'm done with you Liver.'' Decreed the brain. `` You might enjoy it, but the rest of us suffer too!'' `` Brain, a private word?'' Asked Heart calmly. `` Very well.'' Heart watched Brain for a few beats before speaking. `` I've always been your closest friend and trusted advisor, right Brain?'' `` That you have, Heart, that you have.'' Brain beamed proudly at Heart. `` Then let me say, we ca n't just throw out one of our own. We are him and him, us.'' `` Might I remind you of Appendix?!'' Brain exclaimed wildly. `` A different matter entirely, we as a council decided Appendix must leave for the safety of us all.'' Heart reasoned wisely. Brain groaned and ached. `` All of this is making me tired.'' `` Let us rest on it for today and- Brain?'' Heart stopped suddenly. `` GOOD GOD! OH GOD YES!'' brain shouted inexplicably. `` DO YOU FEEL THAT HEART? DO YOU?!'' `` Why yes, I do believe I do.'' Heart purred quietly. `` Ah the purest ecstasy from my one tr-'' `` QUIETEN DOWN! OH THIS IS FANTASTIC! GOOD FUCKING JOB PENIS!'' Further down, everyone celebrated in unison as Penis ( the first of the sentient organs ) trumpeted his awakening and release into a foreign existence, spreading his undying knowledge far and wide. For a few short minutes perhaps, everyone was united.

[ IP ] Prima Giedi

The walls of Xebar-70 shook like an earthquake in the sky. We zoomed past clawed fingers of lightning which tried to lash our ship's boxed exterior. And even as ice chunks slammed into the pilot pod, I held the wheel with white-knuckled fists and pushed on. Doreen frowned at me from her co-pilot seat. `` Pull back,'' she said. Screams echoed up from the hull as we rose against deep turbulence. `` You know I ca n't do that,'' I said through gritted teeth. `` You're going to kill these people.'' I turned on her. `` They're dead if we go back! If it is n't a blasted storm it's the bloody Nuria government officials. And personally, I'd rather face a storm.'' Another set of screams echoed up from the hull. The refugees did n't have seat belts or motion stabilizers, so with every bump we made, they felt it ten fold below. Doreen's face was as dark as the sky when she turned back to her control panel. I'd seen that look during negotiations with the Nurian republic. The same look she had when they declined to release our people. And it was still across her face when she said we would break them out. The steering wheel vibrated in my hands as I pulled up toward the lightest patch of cloud I could find. `` Spinners x-30, Mid-levellers north, boosters on thrust. We're going to make it out of this *bitch! *'' It was a play on luck and experience. I'd weathered a worse storm in Carvali, and even then I'd had two boosters less and a much smaller ship. We could do this, I was sure of it. Doreen tapped at various spots on the control panel. `` Mid-levellers are n't responding. Boosters online, Spinners x-30.'' The ship's vibration stabilized slightly and we cruised on toward the cloud bed above. No Mid-levellers meant the ship would shake once we hit the cloud, and our passengers would get the worst of it. Suddenly, purple blotches seeped through the sky. `` Bloody shit. It's a Storm beast,'' I hissed. `` Okay, now we really have to go back, Dean. This is no longer a discussion. Turn - the - ship -around. Now!'' A storm beast was a bird of sorts. When I say of sorts, I mean it looks a lot like a pterodactyl that's wide enough to span a storm. The thing carries so much static energy with it that it changes the colour of the sky purple. However, its focus would be on decimating the land below. I hoped. I looked at Doreen and placed a hand on the thrust lever. She stared back with wide eyes. `` You ca n't, Dean. You're going to kill us. Please, listen.'' `` I would n't do this if I did n't have to, come on, Doreen. You know this is it. Are you with me or not?'' She stared at my hand and then placed her shaky palm on top and squeezed. I lifted my chin toward the heavens, prepared to clash with the beast above. `` *Shit. Shit. Shit. * Please, God...'' Doreen whispered. `` We're going to make it through. I swear,'' I said. We burst into the clump of purple cloud. My teeth chattered from the force tearing at the ship. Doreen squeezed my hand and pulled down on the thruster, accelerating. The screams of the refugees were muddled in with the groaning of metal. And then as we burst over the edge of the cloud, we saw it. A silver bird, its body covered in blotches of purple. For a moment I almost mistook it for the sky itself. Its dark black pupils widened in surprise as we shot past. A small spec in a chasm of awesome power. Stopping only when we were safe in outerspace.

[ WP ] A superhero and super villain who both have lame powers , but take each other very seriously .

It ’ d been hours. Roderick was ready to burst, and from the way his co-workers and the handful of folks unfortunate enough to be in the bank at the time wriggled, writhed, and complained, they were feeling the same. Thursday, of course it was Thursday. Roderick brought some of his wife, Rosie ’ s, baked goods to the bank every Thursday. This Thursday was fritters. He ’ d just gotten the bright pink box open and was ready to share when, as one, every person in the bank turned for the bathroom. Desperate, Roddy knew he wouldn ’ t make it, couldn ’ t make it. Got ta go so bad it hurt. Everyone in the room was doubled over. All but one. Man in a wheelchair, had a grey suit and a white luchador mask, pink birds danced across the cheeks. Blush, he was known as. Popular online, humiliated a lot of famous folk, politicians, musicians, a couple actors, some journalists even. That ’ d been before noon, and all afternoon they ’ d been trapped in the bank, waiting for that face-burning rush down the leg that just refused to arrive. Blush had demanded safe passage when the police arrived, talks and threats were exchanged. Stalemate. Someone had to be coming. One of the good guys, the supers, the capes, as Roddy ’ s nephew called them. He just hoped they wore adult diapers. There was a rustle above, a quiet thunk, and a curse. Someone was in the vents, but they were too small, even for most kids. Who the heck could be up there? Out erupted a grimy, fuzzy purple goat. The hostages coughed as years of pent-up yuck showered upon them. The goat stood on its hind legs, brushed itself off as best a stuffed animal could, and, as matter-of-fact as only a metre-tall purple goat can, asked, “ Okay folks, who wants outta here? I brought diapers, sports drink, and sandwiches. Anyone vegan? Or got allergies? ” Once he was certain the other hostages were safely locked in the break room, Blush made his way to the vault, the manager, Alison in tow. The woman squirmed and shuffled as uncomfortable as a dam on the verge of overflow, “ don ’ t worry, you ’ ll be just fine. So long as you co-operate, no one goes viral, ” he told her as they trekked downwards, “ I ’ m sure you know the drill, give me marked bills, those dye-splatter bits, or any other funny stuff and things can be a lot worse than they are now. ” She filled the large knapsack he proffered, “ no, no dear, I want you to riffle through them, no funny business, remember? ” A slight look of concentration, and Alison grimaced, “ Okay, okay, sorry. Wasn ’ t- ” she winced again, “ thinking. Could you turn this down? It hurts. ” “ Sorry dear, harder to tell with women, ” the quiet chirp of a phone ’ s alert, “ ah, I ought check back in on your employees. ” He fiddled with his phone a moment, swore, “ It appears we have company. That ’ ll be enough, Alison was it? I ’ m going to have to lock you in, sorry, but that ’ s just how it is. Don ’ t worry, ” he gestured on his phone, “ the police already know you ’ re down here. Brace yourself, I can ’ t take any chances, you know, ” that slight frown again, and she crumpled as the door swung closed, “ it ’ ll pass, just breathe slowly. ” Edit: Only posted about half the content I intended.

[ WP ] The Day You Found Out Magic Was n't Real

The faraway girl knew the stories. She read the untruths. And she thought she knew what was supposed to happen. Stared wistfully into the empty years of youth And waited Until one day she realized! The princes of novels, tall, dark, handsome, They would n't fall out of the sky Knock girls on their silly heads, Boys who get in barfights have hard mouths anyway. The day the girl admitted the falsity in the sentences of her treasured pages, She hardened herself to the romance-novel kisses of fairytales ( and the awkward tumbles in recirculated trucks ) She missed the perfect reality that her younger self had been promised And she still dreamt too much

[ WP ] Describe what it 's like to be married to Lady Gaga .

`` No no no no! AW-Dammit!'' `` Huh? What?'' `` Why those pants? And on the new leather couch!'' `` They're my comfy pants.'' `` *They're* made of steaks!'' ``... well yeah that's what makes them comfy.'' Her and I have had this talk before. I had always enjoyed her peculiar fashion sense, but had thought *wrongly* that it was limited to the stage and award shows. `` Sweety,'' I said `` That does n't look comfy. It looks like you've sat in the middle of someones misguided attempt to reconstruct a cow.'' She pouted at me. I smiled back. She had a nice pout. We stared at eachother for a moment. Love's a strange thing - stranger even than the way my wife dresses. She eventually smiled and, defeated, I took my place next to her on the couch, snuggled up and readied myself for a movie. `` Oh?'' She said `` what are your pant's made of?'' `` Cotton, my dear. Cotton.''

[ wp ] The quirk that you loved about that special someone now drives you insane

Anna had a habit of kissing me on the forehead. When my mother died I ’ d feel a tingle down my spine when she did it. It had only been weeks since we started dating and her soft lips felt taboo against the particular patch of skin she rested them upon. The loud smack of her lips would pull me out of that hospital room where my mom coughed up her cancer for the last time and planted me firmly in the moment, where everything was quiet and Anna ’ s hands would thumb away the tears that had no more reason to leak. I couldn ’ t help but perk my lips upward, voluntarily forgetting the pain that felt so far away, shy and vulnerable in those moments. Everything was okay. It was years later and it was dark. There was a blackout in my neighborhood so I decided to leave my apartment and head over to Anna ’ s a couple blocks away to surprise her. The walk was longer and windier than usual. It broke me down, out of breath and weary. The wind whistled with increased violence as I stopped to catch my breath. I fought against it, indifferently and ignorantly and a million other adjectives apt to break me down foolish. I climbed the stairs to where a pajamaed neighbor was standing outside her door. He looked mad with resent. Confusion left when I reached the door, and all sound was snuffed by a harrowing ring. I heard a glimpse of something, uncanny and out of place like a nightmare as my mind tried to rationalize it. I didn ’ t hear what the man said, but it sounded like he was yelling for them to shut up. Them. I held composure, trying to force a relatable nod and smirk towards the man as he rolled his eyes at me and slammed back into his door. The screams were a grenade to my nerves. Cognitive dissonance was short lived. My stomach emptied its insides into my knees, buckling them together and collapsing them under the weight. Pulsing, timely, thumps like some sickly metronome conducted her “ yes ’ s ” and “ oh yeah ’ s, ” and “ fuck me ’ s. ” Soon the whole apartment block seemed to leave their doors, some parents covering their sheepish children ’ s ears, talking amongst themselves in disgust. And they all stared at me, collapsed on top the face of her door, trying to pull back tears with my hands like scooping up air. I ended up banging them against the ground, as my mind bled into involuntary, broken moments. The ringing came again like an aftershock, attempting to immune me from the pain. Another neighbor walked towards the door set on saying something to me. I ran. I ran back home. I turned to my kitchen knives and took the tallest, sharpest one out. I looked down at past scars, knife aimed down at them ready to split them open once again. I started to think about my mother, and the days before her death when she would pull my arm out of my sleeve and begin to cry. I started to think about Anna crying into them, madly kissing my forehead as her tears buckled against her lips and trickled down my arms, stinging them. I started to think about Anna. Anna. I wanted to split them open. I wanted to split myself open and rip out all the invisible memories that ravaged me alone and insecure, malevolently hopeless. I wanted to rip something away from me. I wanted to rip away the past and start over. I wanted to rip something. I woke up with my scars intact and knife in hand. I didn ’ t remember going to sleep. There was a knock on my door. I opened it and it was Anna. The unnoticed knife nodded in my trembled fingertips. She looked bright and cheerful. Fresh with a bow, like a polished porcelain doll, pristine and lack of fingerprint. She grabbed my cheek. Her fingers were rough against it as it was numb against her. Her half smile rang through my spine and paralyzed me with hesitation. I couldn ’ t hold back my lips as they turned upwards, trained like a dog. I dropped the knife, and its thud went unnoticed. I started to think about my mother as she kissed me on the forehead.

[ WP ] A new form of criminal management has arisen where the offender is hooked up to a device , slips into a coma , and wakes up as a better person . What is going on in the criminals minds during the coma ?

It had happened again. I woke up in a blank white room with an almost faceless man, I mean he must have had a face, its just that I could n't make it out... I do n't know why this felt so familiar. Before my mind could wonder, he began as he always did. `` How do you feel right now?'' `` Fine'' I replied. By this point I knew there was no point in asking questions. He would ask his questions and then... I do n't know what happened after that. I mean I vaguely remembered bits and pieces of... `` Do you know why you are here?'' the interviewer interrupted my train of thought. `` No... wait... I- I did something...'' I struggled to remember why I was here, what I had done to get here, where here was even, but before I could make sense of it he began with his next question. `` What does it mean to be a good person?'' `` What does it mean to be a bad person?'' `` Are you a good person or a bad person?'' `` How can you be a better person?'' The interviewer rattled his questions off and I answered them as best I could. I had trouble following him most the time and I am sure my answers came out incoherent at best. It was this place... My mind seemed... almost in a daze as if waking up on an operating room table staring into the light. Nothing quite made sense, yet it seemed like it was as it should be. At a point the questions stopped and it seemed he was lecturing me on kindness and caring. As the lecture continued my world became fuzzier, and I more disoriented. As I began to lose myself in a void of unconscious confusion the world seemed to disappear in a flash. It had happened again. I woke up in a blank room with a faceless man. It felt so familiar... `` How do you feel right now?''

[ WP ] From the perspective of an elderly person losing the battle with Alzheimer 's as their loved ones come to visit for the last time .

I woke up and stretched in my bed. Anther glorious day. I got up, adjusted myself, and walked off towards the kitchen to get breakfast. But everything out here was wrong. Someone had moved part of my house around. Where was I? What happened? Suddenly I felt a warm arm around my shoulders and a nice-looking woman with a kind voice asked if I wanted some breakfast. Of course I did. What else would I want at this time of day. I glanced at the clock but the hands seemed off. I could n't quite make out whether the short hand was pointing at the 3 or I do n't know. I ignored it and walked on. I walked in, ready to order. I wanted, that one food, uhm, what was its name again? They gave me a tray and it looked more like lunch food to me even though they were calling it dinner but whatever. When in Rome, right? I sat down and started eating and Darryn happened to come sit down by me. I smiled at him and reached over to pat him on the shoulder and he smiled back. We talked for a little while about the meal, and he told me that he had been promoted at work and I told him how happy I was for him. Then he got up to leave and I said goodbye to him and he looked a little puzzled. `` I'm your son,'' he said, `` Andres. My father Darryn died ten years ago.'' I immediately felt a great feeling of shame and sadness come over me. It was so terrible that Darryn had lost his job and I said as much to him, that I was so sorry he'd just lost his job but that we could get through it. Darryn looked sad too but I knew things would get better eventually. He'd find another job. He gave me a hug before he turned to go. Then I went back to my room, although I got a little lost on the way. I did see a group of three women with kind voices though, so I went to ask them. `` I'm a little lost,'' I said. `` Can you help me find my room?'' A man walked up and the women waved him over, `` She's lost,'' they said. He smiled broadly and looked at me. `` Hi, Lost, my name is Bart.'' I smiled back at him. His voice was so nice. `` I'm lost, do you know where my room is?'' His smile faltered and he looked at the women near him. `` I,'' he started then he coughed and cleared his throat. > There are three parts to every story. The beginning, the middle, and the twist. > [ More by me ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/kj6bwb/ ) ( ( Alzheimer's is the twist. There's nothing I can do to make it more startling or more surprising or any other kind of twist. If you have some extra money, please donate to [ the Alzheimer's Association ] ( http: //www.alz.org/join_the_cause_donate.asp? utm_source=KJ6BWB-reddit ). I do n't get any money from it and wo n't benefit from it in any way, unless I or a loved one get Alzheimer's. `` Then why's your name in the link?'' Just to have fun with their metrics and identify myself. ) )

[ WP ] A serial killer loses his memory and wakes up in what is clearly a serial killer 's house .

Where am I? How did I get here? What is going on? Why is there so much blood in the room? I must keep quiet. I have clearly been attacked. I dont know where my attacker is, but I must get out of here before he returns. I open the door to the room I am in and look around. I see a small room behind a one way mirror. There is a guy on the floor curled up in a ball. He has been beaten badly. Someone very sadistic did this to him. I open his door, and he screams at me to leave. I tell him I will be back for him and he starts crying. Clearly he is mentally unstable. I walk over to him and put my arm on him and tell him he will be alright. I must have touched a broken bone or something, because he jumped at my touch and started screaming more. Do n't worry. I promise I will come back for you. I told him. I shut the door behind him. I go up some stairs and open a door. The door on the other side is impossible to see without knowing where the latch is to open it. I feel around and ifnd out how to open the door from the other side if I have to. I quietly shut the door, and peek into the living room from the office I am now in. The TV is on and a Lady is sitting in front of it, and I hear noise upstairs. Oh my God. The lady is a serial killer. I have to get out of here. I can see the door drom here, but it has 4 locks on it and I do n't think I can quietly escape. I pick up a weighted bookend and slowly creep towards the door to see if I can maybe get outside ithout her realizing it. As I am sliding the last lock, I hear a loud voice behind me say, just where do you think you are going? In a panic, I turn around and hit her over the head with the bookend. I did n't kow what to do so I kept pounding her head with it until she stopped convulsing. While I am glad she got what she deserved, I am repulsed by what I have done. What kind of human could kill someone and enjoy it. I quickly dial 911 and run outside the house and down the road, waiting for the cops to arrive. I tell them about the man in the basement. I see him getting loaded into the ambulance, while the cops are tlaking to me. He starts screaming at me when he sees me. He says `` That is the guy that did this to me'' All of a sudden the cops have me on the ground. I tell the cops that the guy is delirious. The first time I ever saw him was when I was escaping from my prison next to his. They keep me cuffed for a long time. Eventually a cop comes out and arrests me. While I might never fully know what happened, here is what the police used to convict me of murder: 1. My fingerprints were all over the house. 2. I was married to the lady I killed. 3. The noise upstairs were my children playing. 4. I had a costant videotape of my office, and I was the only one to ever go in the room, and I went all the time. 5. I took people down to the hidden basement almost weekly. 6. They discovered 47 bodies in a different room in the basement. Because of my mental state, they have me in a hospital for life they said. I must have been set up. I know it could not have been me. They must have doctored the evidence to frame me. After all if the governement could cover up 9-11 so easily, taking me down must have been easy by comparison. So I sit and try and figure out why they erased my memory. I had a job as a stock broker. I read the newspaper every day, and I think I have finally figured it out. I have looked over every stock, and I now know the pattern. I must have discovered it before, and the government did n't want me getting rich off of it. I keep explaining this to my doctors, but each one assures me I am insane, but I notice my doctors keep getting richer very fast then disappear after a couple of weeks. I have to warn someone, but the only guy here that believes me says his name is John Nash................

[ WP ] In a digital future , books have been banned . Paper is the opiate of the intellectual . A small time , illegal bibliodealer just found a book that could set him up for life . Unfortunately , he has developed a taste for his own product .

I kicked in the door, turned on the flash light and saw it sitting there among the old shelves long empty, an old copy of the bible, the leather was cracked and the pages torn but it was real a bible I could fork my fingers threw. It was unlike other books I had bought and sold it was written all over almost every page was filled with notes and reflections on the gospels I'd seen books like this go at the underground auctions millions of units billions if I could find the right buyer I could be set for life but I could see the value in this book. This is n't just a book this is a piece of art I will not sell this.

[ EU ] You were raised as a wizard in the harry potter universe ... on your 11th birthday a scientist shows up and explains you that you have no magical powers and will have to visit a muggle school .

``... You have no magical powers, kid. I already fucking told you twice that somebody made a mistake. This type of shit happens all the time, it's really not that big a deal.'' Jerry paced around his room a bit before looking up at the man that had just destroyed his life. `` Man, you is nothing but a fucking playa' hatin' pimp, daddy. I gots all the magic right here in his fucking wand.'' Jerry pulled a twig looking stick of a wand from inside in coat pocket. `` Kid, that's not even a fucking wand, did you rip that off one of those oak tress outside?'' `` Maybe, but it's none of your fucking business, Bitch. I'm all magic, all the fucking time, mutha fucka'. Now get your muggle fucking ass out my room before I castrate your fucking dick.'' Jerry pointed his twig at the stranger and said `` Castratusyerballus!''. The man's eyes widened for just a second as he reached his hand down and grabbed his nuts, relieved to feel a pair of healthy testicles. `` See, two nuts, I told your bitch ass you ca n't do magic.'' Said the man. Jerry put the twig down. `` Man, maybe youse right. Maybe I do n't got the juice. But what the fuck is a mugga gon na do now that I ai n't got no magic skillz?'' Jerry looked distraught. `` I'll pack my shit.'' Said Jerry, as he began to pack his shit.

[ RF ] A boy and his grandfather in rural New England watch Sputnik fly overhead in the autumn of 1957 .

The telescope was patterned with verdigris and fingerprints, but the brass was still bright. It had belonged to Robin's grandfather and her grandmother had set it up for her on the rural porch, preparing for the orbiting object. The young girl had done the mathematics herself, figuring out where in the sky the satellite would fly by and helping her grandmother's spidery, blue-veined hands to get the old instrument at the correct azimuth. `` I polished the lens,'' the old woman said as she gazed up into the clear night sky, `` you can see Sirius clear as day.'' Robin nodded and flipped though her notes, her auburn eyebrows drawn together in worry. `` I hope I got this right.'' Her grandfather's pocket watch sat nearby, ticking resolutely. They had another ten minutes before it was due to breach the horizon. The old woman draped a shawl around her granddaughter's shoulders; it was cold and the girl had n't dressed warmly - she was flushed with excitement and the heady thrill of adventure. *Is this a mistake? * The thought came unbidden to the grandmother's mind. Was she a fool to encourage activities like this? Her own mother - were she still alive - would be sniping at her about encouraging girls to be dreamers, not homemakers. But the old woman remembered her own dreams at Robin's age - selfish dreams of inventing electric devices, of making circuits of copper and batteries, exploring the seemingly unlimited potential of the new age of electricity. `` Grandma,'' the girl began, `` do you think they'll ever put a man in space?'' The matriarch gave a frail smile, `` I do n't doubt it child; it is only a matter of time and money I'd say.'' Robin pursed her lips, wondering if she should ask the next question. Detecting the reluctance of her granddaughter, she wrapped her thin arms around the child's shawl-draped shoulders in reassurance. `` Grandma,'' Robin licked her lips, `` Yes little one?'' `` Do you... do you think they'll ever put a *woman* in space?'' Even though she'd known the question was coming, the old woman known as Jolene sucked in a sudden breath, a curious *pang* touching her heart. `` I do n't know,'' she admitted with bald-faced honesty - the kind she did n't normally use around children. They sat in silence for the remaining four minutes, watching the hands of the pocket watch tick around the mother-of-pearl face. As the moment arrived, the girl pressed her eye to the telescope and watched intently. For a few precious seconds, she saw a dim, moving light rise through the lens - then it was gone from her view. With a whoop of joy she leaped up from the wicker chair and hugged her grandmother around the middle, `` I *saw it* Grandma! I saw *Sputnik! *'' Holding her granddaughter close, the old woman smiled. The girl had calculated everything correctly; her mathematical precision was uncanny for a nine-year-old. `` Come inside Robin,'' she said, `` your hands are frozen.'' Leaving her dead husband's telescope on the porch, she took the child's hand and led her back inside.

[ WP ] In the future , people can connect their minds to control `` hive robots '' , where all of the controller 's consciousnesses contribute to what the robot does . You are a detective who is tasked with figuring out which mind in a captured hitman robot was responsible for the murder of a famous actor .

`` Wire me to any patrol bots near the crime scene.'' I said, as i prepare to connect to investigate a case of murder. Not any ordinary murder, but one of the famous Oscar winning actor, Sebastion Jones. `` Detective Alex Burton, LAPD.'' I said to the officer at the scene. After being let into the crime scene, I immediately look for any evidence. I immediately spot a puddle of oil on the ground, confirming my deepest worries. A robot did this. I sighed, this is going to be one hell of a case. After thanking the officers at the crime scene, I disconnected from the patrol bot. In order to gather more evidence, i will have to head down to the crime scene myself. This murder was unlike any others. The scene was clean. I've been on the force for 31 years to see multiple thousands of murder cases, this is the cleanest murder yet. There were no traces, no fingerprints, no murder weapon and no motive of murder to be found anywhere at the crime scene. This was a professional job. Someone who had done this before. `` Sir, we found something'', a young officer with holding a transparent plastic bag said as he approached me. The bag seems to have some opaque brown liquid in it. `` Whats this?'' I asked. `` Type 18 Oil'', he replied. `` And how is this evidence?'' I asked, puzzled. Ever since the introduction of Human-Controlled Robots ( HCRs ) six years ago, my life and job started to become literal hell as more and more people learnt to control robots. As a senior person, i'm not fond with technology. `` You see sir, the robots working here are all Model H robots, which uses Type 16 Oil, and not Type 18 Oil, which was only used by the model X robots.''. Amazed at the newfound evidence. I commended the young officer. Indeed, this was the big break that we needed. I surveyed the surveillance footage once more, and indeed, a model X robot had gone through this corridor. I turnt to the police officers who were busily discussing their own theories. `` Boys, we've found the bot, now lets find the man''. Feeling confident and at the same time partially worried, i headed off back to the station. Only god will know where this case might take us. After all, this was a professional job. ( Thank you for reading! Please leave some feedback for me to reflect and improve on! This is my 2nd writing prompt ever! )

[ WP ] Our intelligent designers return to inform you that our purpose in life is to be livestock and our budding sentience is merely a result of how delicious they find our brains .

A friend of mine said it was something like a mushroom trip or a lucid dream, and you had to skip a night of sleep for it to work. I had skipped the night of sleep like they said I needed to, truth be told, I had skipped two nights. With the help of Starbucks I was still up. We drove up to his dad's cabin. They were cheering and pushing me up towards the door. My friend came in the cabin with me, where it was pitch black, save for two candles. The walls were draped with black felt, so it felt like we stood in the black of space. Up above the candles there was a large mirror, and beneath it, closer to us, was a recliner. Here it was quiet, here it was warm, here was another place. I took my place in the recliner, my friend sat somewhere unseen behind me. He told me to stare into the mirror and instructed me to keep speaking, and not to stop. It started out pretty innocuous, the candles were very dim, even for candles, so i could n't see anything in the mirror, except for the candle's reflection in my own eyes, tiny glittering lights dancing in the dark. I mentioned that, how profoundly comfortable the chair was, and how I could hear his pencil on the paper. Focusing on the tiny twin glints of light in the mirror, my voice became more distant, as if far away in a tunnel, the sound of my friend's writing was not noticeable, and even the chair felt like it had fallen away, and I was floating in the black nothingness of space. Even the aches of sleep deprivation had evaporated somewhere else. The universe consisted of me, the darkness, and the light, they were singular now. -- - The light, it was the light, the light people always talk about. The light was the light at the end of the tunnel, the proverbial light for the dead. It took what felt like hours, but it was much nearer now, nearly engulfing me. My grandmother was here, her warm smile, now years vacant from my life. Its warmth filled me with relief and contentment I had not known for too long. Her son, my uncle, was there too. Everyone gone was there, and they welcomed me warmly, and with love. as I approached, they walked backwards, beckoning me into the light. Clouds rolled at their feet, I walked on a path of golden light cut through it. I approached and they retreated towards the light, facing me. When There was only enough darkness left to see them, I was finally able to draw near them. I was able to hug my grandma. She was exactly as I remembered her. I was relaxation, I was contentment. In this moment of bliss I felt her pull at me with all her strength, suddenly, and with vigor, she pushed herself away from me, I remained motionless, she could not move me. I was confused. The warmth in her eyes was gone, I was about to say something when my uncle grabbed my wrist and pulled as hard as he seemed able to. Again I did n't budge, my arm did n't even move. The departed relatives looked at each other with bafflement, I grabbed my uncle's wrist and pulled him to the golden path, the ray of light I walked on. From the bottom of his legs protruded not feet, but trunks, extending downwards, then back, back into the light. I felt my uncle's wrist crumple like an empty canvas bag or a glove, his image shot up off the image in front of me to reveal a mess of glowing golden roots entwined around splinters of what was once a skeleton, all of them pouring into the skull. through the eyes, through the mouth, through the nose. they shook themselves free of all the bones but the skull, and the Skull, now the terminus of a trunk reading out from the light wrapped around me and pulled with what I could only describe as the strength of a god. Still, I did not budge. My friend was bent over me shining a light in my face. I was covered in water and the lights were on. `` That was important work champ, we know where to find them now'' He stuck a needle in my neck, Next time I woke I found myself at home in my bed. None of my other friends ever saw him again, and when we went out to see where the cabin was, it had burnt down. I was, however, able to find some shards of a broken mirror, and two candle holders amongst the ash.

[ WP ] The backstory of chess .

`` Send orders for Sir Thompson to advance, General.'' The King's highest ranking officer bowed deferentially, and turned to pass the order down the chain of command. `` Wait, General.'' General Stewart stopped in his tracks, and turned back to face his King. `` Yes, your Highness?'' `` If we have to do this'Battle' malarkey, we do it the British way, or not at all. It's the other chap's turn right now, what what?'' Stewart betrayed his thoughts with a blank look of confusion. `` I... I'm not sure I follow, your Highness.'' `` And here I was thinking you were a sporting fellow, Stewart! Poor show, poor show. Did n't you just see me order Bishop Allen to the attack? It's only right and proper that the gentleman opposite issues an order next.'' General Stewart considered debating the point, but soon thought better of the idea. `` As you will, your Highness. I will await the roundhead's next maneuvers.'' The King looked quite proudly, and not a little smugly, down at the man. `` Oh, and one more thing, Stewart.'' `` Your Highness?'' `` When you send Sir Thompson his orders, could you... could you tell him to just move... ooh, I do n't know. Just move a little bit to the left once he's in place? Just to be proper, of course.'' The General sighed. What with the debacle involving a person instructed to wear a miniature castle in the last battle, and now this, the Royalist's hopes in this accursed civil war were looking slim.

[ WP ] A bedtime story for adults

Once upon a time, in a world quite similar to our own, a middle aged divorcee sat at her table in her tiny, dimly lit kitchen. Dishes were stacked in the sink, the floor was in desperate need of a mop but at least her two noisy boys were finally asleep. She looked out the window of her apartment. Tonight looked and sounded like any night in the city, sirens music, traffic blended into a discordant symphony of sorts. But it felt... magical somehow. She sighed, it had been a hard 3 months but things had to get better right? She sat at her table and stared at the box of bills right in front of her. She sighed and reached for the bill right at the top. But before she touched it an itch from the depths of hell developed from her rear end. She had no choice but to give it a good scratching. So she closed her eyes and really gave herself the satisfaction she needed. When she opened her eyes, a shimmering image of a younger more beautiful version of her in a sultry red dress was standing right in the middle of the table. Staring at her. She grabbed a large knife from the counter that was so close to her in her hobbit kitchen and shouted, `` What the F... `` Now would you really like to kill someone who looks like you?'' the image asked. The woman hesitated and that ’ s all it took. The image touched her, and just like that she knew this image was her genie. The woman had the genie gene. The itch she felt was a magical itch triggered by the magic in the air. When she scratched that particular spot on her rear end, the genie had appeared. The woman was suddenly calm. `` So do I make a wish or something?'' she asked. `` No! Of course not, I just help you out with three things that are making your life difficult right now.'' `` Okay, so I want my husband ba..'' `` I do n't perform miracles honey, just a bit of magic. Okay, your rent and bills are paid, your kids will be more considerate and you wo n't be needing a plumber anymore''. In a poof and a swirl, the genie was gone, and for about a month the woman was content.

[ WP ] `` I am bound to this rock , unable to leave . But I still have more freedom than you . ''

“ I am bound to this rock, unable to leave. But I still have more freedom than you. ” Warden Sanjeev regarded the prisoner with bemusement. “ That ’ s it? That ’ s all he says? ” The guard bobbed his helmeted head in a brief affirmative. Sanjeev couldn ’ t see the man ’ s face behind the opaque, black visor, but his tense posture told Sanjeev that he bought into the superstition surrounding the prisoner. Sanjeev barked a short laugh. “ Bit of a disappointment, isn ’ t it? ” He crouched down to view the prisoner at eye-level. The man was unwashed, unshaven, and truth be told, probably undernourished, even by the prison island ’ s standards. The guards likely withheld rations from the man. Whether that was due to fear of the prisoner ’ s supposed influence on those around him, or anger stemming from the rumors regarding his role in the previous Wardens ’ demise, Sanjeev was unsure. Looking at him now, however, Sanjeev was sure that the man posed no threat. Warden Rogers, his predecessor, had been hiding a long battle with mental health. It was no surprise that 6 months of running Boyle Island had persuaded him to throw himself onto the jagged peaks surrounding much of the island ’ s cliff face. His obsession with the prisoner had little to do with that. The Warden before Rogers – Sanjeev couldn ’ t recall his name – was nearly eighty years old by the time they shipped him back to the mainland one of the island ’ s helicopters, the lone source of arrival and departure from the island. The man had been mumbling phrases like, “ I can leave, ” and “ Is this freedom? ” It ’ s likely the rumors started there, the guards being unable to accept that their old boss had finally turned senile. Sanjeev pushed a greasy lock of hair off of the prisoner ’ s face. The man ’ s eyes held a startling – anger? No, misguided determination, perhaps, Sanjeev mused. He put that thought aside for later consideration. “ You ’ re damn right, son, ” Sanjeev conceded. “ You are bound to this rock. My rock. I ’ m the new Warden here, so I own this rock now, and that means I own you. ” Sanjeev grinned. “ Now, if that ’ s your idea of freedom, that ’ s quite alright to me. Long as you sit there, nice and quiet-like, and don ’ t cause no trouble, then we can get along just fine. I might even let you off those wall shackles. I bet your wrists are just aching ” – Sanjeev drew out the word for emphasis – “ for their own freedom. ” Sanjeev paused. The prisoner said nothing, though his gaze was unwavering. “ Mr. Cortez, I am familiar with your transgressions. You tried to assassinate the Executive General of our nation-state. Such things are not easily forgiven. ” Sanjeev observed the prisoner for any reaction to this, but none was forthcoming. “ But, ” he continued, “ those that are residing in my prison, and are not challenging the authority or integrity of those in my employ, are working towards catharsis. I respect that, and I am willing to treat you as a new soul, fresh to the world of civilized beings and capable of making rational decisions. In return, you must agree to follow the rules that I have, and will continue to, set forth for this prison. ” The Warden allowed Cortez to consider this for a moment. “ Do we have an agreement? ” he asked solemnly. Sound of clanging filled the cell as the other prisoners were released for lunch. Footsteps of guards clacked down the concrete hallway as they left their cell posts to monitor the eating area. Soon, the only ones remaining in the block were Sanjeev, the two guards accompanying him, and Cortez. The silence of the block became palpable, and Sanjeev became acutely aware of his guards ’ fidgeting behind him. Sanjeev frowned inwardly. He would need to address that lack of resolve soon. He added it to his mental to-do list. “ Very well, ” Sanjeev began, standing and turning to leave the cell. “ I ’ ll give you some time to think on— “ “ I am bound to this rock, unable to leave. But I still have more freedom than you. ” Sanjeev stopped in the opening of the cell door, framed by the bars and his two guards. He sighed. Without looking back, he ordered the guards, “ Unshackle him. ” They moved to do so. “ Then beat him until your arms are tired. Move him to solitary afterward. And make sure you take the scenic route, let him see the lunch room one last time. It might be a while before he makes it back. ” The guards hesitated. Sanjeev turned. “ I gave you those batons for a reason, and you will use them, ” he warned. “ Now get to work, I have more pressing tasks at hand. ” ***** The beating changed nothing. Solitary confinement did little to change Cortez ’ temperament, either. Sanjeev decided to let the matter go. He knew how far a man like Cortez would take these little spats with authority. If Sanjeev continued to engage the man, the confrontations would escalate beyond a level with which Sanjeev was comfortable. Sanjeev had not been lying when he said that other tasks were more important. However, Sanjeev could not rid himself of a question that nagged at the back of his mind. Why did Cortez choose that phrase, and repeat it verbatim, like some misguided mantra? As far as he knew, since Cortez ’ conviction and sentencing to Boyle Island, the man had never uttered anything else. It ’ s just nonsense, Sanjeev chided himself, the man had decided to throw his life away just to murder another, then screwed that up. He ’ s broken. Sanjeev stared at the clock on the wall of his office, watching the seconds tick by. The question lingered. ***** The guards of Boyle Island were preparing themselves for another upheaval of leadership. It had only been three months since Warden Sanjeev had assumed control of the prison, and while the state of the prison had certainly improved, the Warden ’ s increasing affiliation with the prisoner, Cortez, was causing consternation among the ranks. Apparently, this worry was reflected higher up, as well. The Executive General himself was paying Cortez a visit today. The EG had never visited Boyle Island before, and so the guards assumed it was not a good omen. Nevertheless, excitement was in the air. They wanted to witness what the EG would do to address the Warden ’ s negligence in this area, and whether he would take affected by the Cortez Curse. Maybe he would have Cortez executed. God knows that ’ s what the guards would have wanted. Sanjeev had taken to walking the perimeter of the island ’ s wall once a week, accompanied by Cortez. The prisoner hobbled alongside the Warden as the Warden spoke to him. Cortez had walked with a limp since Sanjeev had the man beaten months ago. The guards had never been able to overhear the conversations; the Warden spoke quietly, and Cortez had never been seen to utter a word. Rumors spread that Cortez only spoke with the Warden when they were in private. The Warden often brought Cortez to his office for what he called, “ individualized reform interviews. ” While the Warden occasionally did this with other prisoners, stating that it had been proven to increase their chances of earning parole, Cortez ’ visits to the Warden ’ s office were much more frequent. Furthermore, the Warden had moved Cortez permanently to solitary. The guards suspected that this was so the Warden could limit the people that had access to Cortez, and raised suspicion, but was generally viewed as a positive undertaking, since fewer guards would be susceptible to the Curse. So, as the prison ’ s helicopter touched the landing pad, the squad of guards standing at attention were eager with anticipation. The Warden had instilled the discipline into them to make it nearly unnoticeable, but it was certainly there. They expected a confrontation. And they were certainly disappointed when the large man stepped from the chopper, calmly walked up to the Warden, and shook his hand. “ Thank you for coming, Executive General. Welcome to Boyle Island, ” the Warden said. “ Please, follow me to my office, where we can speak in private. ” “ I see what you meant when you said, ‘ dismal doesn ’ t do it justice, ’ ” the General quipped in his deep voice, and the two laughed. ***** [ 1 of 2 ]

[ WP ] You were one of the last two humans alive . Now you are the only one left .

I am alone. The silence is empowering. Nothing to hear. Nobody to talk to. I can finally be alone with my thoughts. Eternity is mine, and mine alone, and in it, I am whole. I am free. Someone tried to take my eternity from me. A man. He liked to talk. He did n't want to be alone. He would talk for hours, stealing my time from me. He said such strange things. He wanted to bring back humanity. He tried to force me to help him. I hit him in the head with a rock. The man finally stopped talking. And now I am alone again.

[ IP ] Lost Valley

The world was divided into three sorts of people. The castle folks who lived a comfortable life in the sky. The Valiant, who either had flying contraptions or tamed dragons, and lived in the valley or the castle. And the people beyond the valley. The valley was protected by the Valiant. The dragons were usually enough to keep the outsiders out, but there were some outsiders who were braver, or curious about what was beyond the mountains, or why there were always clouds coming out of the valley. Policy about what to do with the intruders varied from generation to generation, ranging from `` kill on sight,'' `` test their worthiness,'' to `` offer them trade deals,'' depending on the how life in the valley was. Currently, the policy dictated that the intruders be administered a test or other challenge, of which there was an approved list of options for the intruders to choose from. If they passed, they would be presented the option of either permanently relocating into the world inside the valley ( they would be permitted to bring their families ), or entering a trade partnership with the people of the valley, but never being able to see the valley themselves. If they failed, they would be administered a memory-befuddling drug and sleeping drought, and then safely returned to the outside world. Repeat offenders would be blindfolded and brought to trial in the castle. Despite being the safest city in the world, the princess was still heavily guarded within the castle, and was rarely allowed to wander the streets of the castle town. Occasionally she would be able to arrange a Valiant escort down to the valley floor to swim in the crystal clear river. Still, she longed for freedom. She had been known on multiple occasions to have attempted to trade places with her servants, sneaking out to the castle town, but was always found quickly. Her new plan was even bolder and more daring though. One day, on one of her trips to the valley floor, she drugged all but one of her Valiant escorts into a deep sleep that would last for more than a few hours, ensuring she would have sufficient time to convince the last guard, a trainee only slightly older than her, to show her the rest of the world. “ I wish to see the world outside the valley, ” she said, point blank, to the last remaining guard. He looked around at his sleeping comrades. “ What have you done? ” “ I thought you might be the easiest to talk into showing me, ” she said, in a bit of a singsong voice. “ You have a dragon. You ’ re only a little older than I am. ” “ Do you know why you always ride the contraptions? ” he asked her. “ Seats are easier to add to the contraptions than to a dragon ’ s saddle, ” she replied. “ True, but there is another reason. It ’ s one your father tried to keep hidden from you, because your mother died when you were young, leaving you as sole heir to the throne. ” “ I know he wants to keep me safe and unscratched, so I can be queen when he croaks. ” She was getting impatient, and curious. “ He has a long line of suitors from around the castle lined up to court me. Tell me something I don ’ t know. ” “ Your mother was Valiant. A dragon-riding Valiant. You mustn ’ t tell anyone I told you this. Your father would have me killed. But if you ride a dragon, you will establish a link with it. Such links are not easily broken. It ’ s part of your blood, a legacy your mother left you, and which will be passed down for a few generations further. The trait is renewed, ensured to pass to the next generation, by bonding with a dragon. ” The news was a shock. It took her a moment to process it. “ I still want to see the land outside the valley. ” “ Having two Valiant bonded with a dragon isn ’ t wise, ” the guard said. “ Not only does it create a mental link between the dragon and riders, but between the two riders. ” “ Then find me a dragon, ” she demanded. “ I ’ ve seen you flying in groups and formations. ” “ You don ’ t just find a dragon. ” The guard was starting to both be angry with the princess and admire her determination and fire. “ Until bonded, they are incredibly secretive, and will return to that secrecy to nest. ” Nobody had spent more time watching the valley floor than the princess, who, while trapped in the castle, did have some license to explore the secured confines of the innermost circle of the city, the royal circle, and had spent a fair amount of time in the upper parapets, staring out the windows. During that time, she had seen her fair share of dragons, both with Valiant riders and without. And the ones without always vanished into the distant northern cliffs, where the valley was bounded by even taller mountains, that nobody could scale. “ Unlike you, I have spent many a day watching the motions of the dragons, and may know where they nest. Now, will we be walking or riding? ” She began to lace her boots back on. Nobody in the castle denied that the princess was beautiful. Besides the fact that denying her beauty was nearly as terrible as treason, she was indeed fair in appearance, with long, wavy brunette hair, sparkling green eyes, and fair, clear skin. Only the richest, most prominent families in the town had any hopes of wedding their sons to the princess, but as she still a few months before coming of age, her father had not been able to present the suitors to her yet. Here in the valley marked the first time she had been alone with a man other than her father. Something came over the guard, which most people would call attraction to the princess, and he weighed how much the rules really mattered up against the wishes of a princess. Combined with curiosity, what remained of his zeal for the rules crumbled. He smiled at her. With wild giggles, the two young people climbed onto the back of the Valiant guard ’ s fire-colored dragon. “ Not many women number among the Valiant, ” the princess commented as they tried to figure out the best way to fit both of them onto the saddle. “ Most leave the service once they are betrothed, ” the guard explained. “ Or will assume less dangerous jobs until they have children to care for. ” The princess felt strange tingles all around, from her head to her toes, as the dragon stirred to life, preparing to take flight. As they took flight, she began to sense her guard urging the dragon north, and the dragon ’ s resistance to going there. “ I am Princess Madelina of the Castle in the Sky, daughter of the King of the Hidden Valley and Queen Adelina, a Valiant dragon rider, ” she thought. “ I wish to claim my birthright as a daughter of a Valiant dragon rider, to find for myself a dragon, and embrace the bravery of the Valiant Order and see what lies beyond the Hidden Valley. ” The dragon continued to resist going north, but it was losing the mental battle with two rides urging it north. “ You need to be careful, ” the Valiant guard said. “ If you try to direct a dragon too much, you can become lost in its mind. ” “ You can not ride another dragon and properly bond with it, ” the dragon spoke to both of them, in their minds. “ Not unless you both break this bond with me, or I find a mate and we have hatchlings. Then you could also ride my mate. ” “ Return us to the highest parapet of the castle, and do not return until such a time, ” Madelina thought. “ Are you mad? ” the Valiant guard said aloud. He knew she was. He kinda liked that. The dragon did as Madelina instructed. She led her Valiant guard down to her father ’ s chambers. “ Where is the rest of your guard? ” he asked. “ Safely asleep on the valley floor, ” she said. “ I know you have prepared a list of suitors for me, for when I come of age in a season. I will deny all of them. ” For in the time that both she and her guard had been bonded with the dragon, the found a mutual sense of adventure, and a knowledge that the course both of them had been put on by their families would never allow that. -- - Some years later, well after Madelina and Arturo were married, to the shock and joy of the castle, but before they had children, the fire-colored dragon returned, with an emerald blue one by its side, and with an oddly shaped gem in one of the blue dragon ’ s talons, their hatchling, too young to fly any great distances or any great height. A great army was arriving from beyond the valley, moving under the dead of night and vanishing from sight during the day. One dragon riding Valiant escaped the initial battle. Madelina and Arturo had only just had time to mount the dragons when the news arrived. “ Fetch me a sword, ” Madelina ordered. Her father was old and ailing now, and most of the castle ’ s management fell to her and Arturo. Minutes later, outfitted for battle, she, Arturo, and the dragons took off for battle, followed by all the Valiant in the city, save the few messengers sent in other directions to summon the other Valiant from their stations. There was a fierce look on Madelina ’ s face as the wind rippled through her hair, for though she had never fought, the thrill was in her blood, as was riding dragons.

[ CW ] Write a story where the point of view changes every paragraph .

I sat down and let the chair absorb my full weight, a feeling I knew meant I was out for the count, and took out a cigarette. The air felt nice, though. Why did I have to mix whiskey and... `` Alex?'' The person sitting across called my name, unsure if she got it right. I smiled in assurance that she did. She sort of looks like Jessica in this light. `` Are you feeling okay?'' I asked. I saw that drink change his demeanor from jumpy to ready for bed. The party just started, there were still people coming. `` Yeah, thanks, I'll be okay in a minute,'' he laughed. He's cute. `` Hey,'' I nudged my friend, `` think she's taken?'' and jerked my eyes to the direction of the girl that was talking just talking. Joey turned his neck to me, then to her, then back to his cigarette. `` Who cares man, not like she'll care if you talk to her.'' `` You got a point.'' `` Joey, you got a lighter?'' I patted my pockets looking for my missing lighter. `` I have it, my bad.'' I went over to light Alex's cigarette and handed it back to Joey. `` It's chilly.'' I let out a pop and the permeating smell brought Andy and his friend over to the table. Do n't do it Alex. Do n't take a hit. You're already fucked up, look I'm giving myself directions. Just pass it along, there you go. I looked into the house from the balcony and saw some new people coming in. `` Fuck.'' I opened the front door and to my happy surprise I saw Rachel. `` Jessica!!'' I gave her a big hug, and in a hushed tone she let me know Alex was here. I looked around and saw him looking my way. -- - Eh it was fun writing

[ WP ] `` Please remember , TSA rules prohibit bottles of liquid over three ounces , knife blades over two inches , and the use of spells , curses , scrolls or other magic beyond the security checkpoint . ''

TSA Guard Extended Guidelines 1 ) Maintain an orderly queue at all times. 2 ) Maintain your composure in front of passengers at all times, especially during a crisis. 3 ) Your standard taser and entrapment spells should only be used in a true emergency. 3.1 ) A person shouting swear words is not an emergency unless he is speaking in a Satanic dialect. 3.2 ) Spells from Harry Potter are fictional and are not a real Satanic dialect. 3.3 ) Foos-row-dah is not a real Satanic dialect either. 3.4 ) ~~Greek is not a Satanic dialect.~~As of 2053/3/4, permission is given to apprehend anyone speaking Greek. 4 ) All potential contraband must pass through the X-ray scanner, followed by the latent-mana scanner and be declared clear of contraband before given back to the passenger. 4.1 ) Should either scanner fail, close the gateway and direct passengers to other open gateways. 4.2 ) Tampering with either of the scanners is prohibited. 4.3 ) Do not under any circumstances tamper with the latent-mana scanner. 4.4 ) Any employee found tampering with the latent-mana scanner repeatedly will be fed to the latent-mana scanner after hours. 5 ) All contraband must be confiscated and stored in the provided hidden bin away from civilians. Refer to the contraband book~~let~~ for a complete list of contraband definitions. 5.1 ) Do not steal contraband for personal use. ~~5.2 ) All bins must be curse-proofed.~~ ~~5.3 ) All bins must be soundproofed.~~ 5.2 ) Spell pages must be shredded before being disposed in the bin. 5.3 ) Wear your curse-proofed gloves at all times while handling potential contraband. 5.4 ) Your curse-proofed gloves do not `` double as boxing gloves''. 5.5 ) Remove your curse-proofed gloves before dealing with burning people as they are highly flammable. 6 ) All liquids must be confiscated while they are contained within the container they fill. 6.1 ) Do not under any circumstances steal liquids that are contraband for personal use. 6.2 ) Drinking unknown liquids that are contraband to hide evidence is a very bad idea and is therefore prohibited. 7 ) It bears repeating: Maintain your composure in front of passengers at all times, especially during a crisis. 8 ) The interrogation room should only be used if suspicion of terrorism is justifiable 8.1 ) The interrogation room should not be used as a threat to unruly civilians. 8.2 ) Use the specialized fireproof interrogation room if necessary. 9 ) Racial slurs and harmful language are prohibited while working. 9.1 ) Yes, we understand one of your coworkers is now part-bee. Do n't think we do n't hear the name `` Buzzy boy'' in the cafeteria. 9.2 ) And `` Goggles''. 9.3 ) And `` Boaty McBoat-Face''. 10 ) Unnecessary searching of passengers is strictly prohibited. 10.1 ) This includes telekinetic searches. 10.2 ) Our full-body scanners should detect any foreign objects within any of the passenger's orifices. 10.3 ) For f*** sake stop feeling up the passengers! 11 ) Do not make eye contact with passengers without proper safety gear. 11.1 ) We are working on making the safety gear less bulky. Stop complaining about it. 11.2 ) Do not mock rock mages with the safety gear. 11.3 ) Do not mock basilisks with the safety gear. 11.4 ) Do not mock living statues with the safety gear. 11.4 ) Stop mocking people with the safety gear. 12 ) Wash you hands after using the bathroom. All further inquiries must be directed to the High Management's ~~Office~~ Secretary's Office. Thank you for your time. TSA

[ WP ] Alien visitors appear in the space around Earth . Far from being an advanced race though ... they are scavengers ... asking for parts .

We saw their ship as it rounded Jupiter. The movies were right, the way to tell a space ship was that it was slowing down as it approached. The earth went mad. There were celebrations and mourning. Countries furiously debated whether we were meant harm or not, and planned for each contingency. We debated nukes and the effect of atmospheric detonation - would we be better off to launch now and save us the fallout? Eventually we started receiving radio messages. The fact that they sent radio instead of something more advanced spurned on more debates. We knew they were authentic but it just seemed a bit... primitive. Surely there was some better way of contacting us that was faster? We decoded their messages, and they ours. We taught our language and they theirs in the journey to our dusty ball. The big day arrived at last. At the Canterbury plains we had built a landing site large enough to accommodate them. They landed with little fanfare, their rockets scorching the earth and lighting fires in all directions. Turned out they were similar to us. Bipedal. Four limbs. Walk on two. Two eyes, one head. Spoke through sound and not telepathy. Did n't warble. No jelly like bodies. It was disappointing really. But that was n't the largest disappointment. The reason they came was our entertainment. Turns out that they lived on the cusp of our transmission signals, and they wanted more. They wanted to find out what the aliens died from in war of the worlds. They wondered about Oz, and if Dorothy would make it back there. As they got closer to earth they wanted to know about Fonzi, and if he became successful. We got some technology out of them, like faster space travel and better cleaner energy sources, but the people that knew how they worked died long ago, replaced by the couch potato people that came from the sky.

[ WP ] A voice from the sky booms , `` PLOT TWIST . '' The world changes dramatically .

Ever get to some part of your life that's taken you goddamn years, *decades*, and then just- poof, gone, `` Fuuuuuuck you! ``, God throws a switch and kicks you off the stairs and into a ditch? It's been fourteen years since that happened, and I pray every day to gods I did n't believe in that it never happens again. My brother was about to propose to his wife, one knee and diamond ring and all, when it happened. She'd fallen to her knees with him, and begged forgiveness for a secret so long withheld. Her twist was that she'd been a man; his was that he, an unusually homophobic and hateful man, still wanted to marry her. Kind of funny, that one, actually. Bit inspiring. My parents was riding a Greyhound from Chi-Town to Florida, though; forty-one people on board, all quiet. Just about everybody sleeping in the early morning stretch through Tennessee. Somebody was a little fidgety, though, and, *surprise! * there goes the driver with a box cutter. The madman throws the wheel into oncoming traffic and rolls her. Dad and seven others did n't make it; mom's okay, though. She's remarried, living with the gentlest damn soul I've ever seen. The one I ca n't get over, that apparently *no one* can get over, was my own. I share it with a few thousand, actually. I was on the phone with my wife, asking her how she was doing at work- *boring as hell, as usual* -when it came through. I did n't hear it on my end, like everyone else did, being in a thick-ass studio, but I heard it through the phone. `` PLOT TWIST,'' like some demon was bellowing from the pit of hell. It could n't have been God booming down from the sky- God does n't fuck people up like that. One of my clients snapped a string and cut up his tendons or nerves or something in his fingertips; could n't play ever again, I heard. Poor bastard. I told my wife with a little bit of a shaky laugh that I'd definitely gotten my plot twist. She laughed, too, telling me they'd just had a bit of a shake. Then she told me it was getting *really* jumpy over there. Then the line cut out. One of the engineers pulled me pretty hard into the lobby of our studio, and everybody was staring at the tube like fucking cartoon characters, eyes wide and jaws hanging. They'd pulled me in just in time to see everything fall apart. My boss told me, the *next damn day*, that he'd walked in on his wife with another man when she was drunk. Told me it was the *worst possible pain* he could *ever* feel. I laughed and laughed at his sorry ass until I was on the floor, sobbing. What a fucking twist.

[ WP ] Tell the story of a `` burner '' - a human bred specifically to cause chaos so news networks have more interesting stories .

This tastes awful. This is n't dark roast this is dark burnt. What a blunder for an establishment like this. What do you fight for? Why bother with the rent and the insurance and all of it if you ca n't make a decent cup of coffee? Suppose it does n't matter. You wo n't be making anymore anyway. `` Gracias. Oh! Por favor, mire su máquina de café. Se quema todo.'' `` Ah! Lo siento. Qué quiere un poco de café fresco?'' Nice girl. `` No. gracias.'' Inventory. Two men, one girl in the apron. Two in the back. One at the register. Nine o'clock in forty seconds. No more. This is all. Keep the change. We're bleeding propane for six hours now. Let's have a smoke. Enjoy it.

[ IP ] High and Dry

The bright sunlight burned my skin, in the few places where it was exposed. The ocean was, as usual, totally smooth. The only movement was the fins of some Greywhales breaking through the surface, but they were so far away that it was difficult to distinguish anything more. The soft wind caressed my skin, and the plume on my Protector of the Holy Ground hat swung slowly sending red flashes all around. The shadow of my spear was clear on the stairs, and it made me feel safe. Not that I would ever have to use it, obviously, but eh. I liked it here. It was... calm. So different from... other places. I planted the spear in the sand, and lay on the sand, arms behind my head, looking at the sky. In the silence, I fell asleep. -- - And then I woke up. A strong wind was whitening the ocean, and lifting droplets of salt water that constantly hit my face. The once blue sky was dark grey, and suffocatingly low. This could mean only one thing: the Beast was coming. The creature I dreaded the most had awoken from its slumber. I had to find shelter. The wind so strong that the boat had been brought on the beach, I started walking toward the shack. But it was too late. A terrible voice called my name, so loud it overcame the wind. `` STHEPEN MACLAKIN! You had a duty! You had sworn to carry it out!'' Terrified, I started running towards the building, my heart racing and pounding, under the pouring rain. As soon as I opened the door, a gush of wind slammed it shut. The voice continued, shattering the skies: `` I told you to DO THE DISHES!'' said the Beast, with voice of thunder. `` But MOOOOM. I do n't wan na! Five more minutes, PLEEEAAASEEEEE!'' I implored, hopeful. But no, the island started melting away, and the reality of the projecting room filled the empty skies and the clear ocean. `` Do it NOW'' she screamed, from the door now ajar. I already missed my island

[ WP ] A ghost sets his sights on his newest haunting victim . Little does he know , this particular individual has been haunted regularly since childhood and is tired of it .

I've chosen the victim, My first immolation, To Ytripef -- god of the scare *I'll frighten his nightmares, I'll cause isolation, I'll drive him to rip out his hair! * I've planned every moment, All possible futures, The city is mapped end to end *By the time I am done, He'll need mentalist sutures; A psyche that never will mend* I've waited ten lifetimes, To prove to my master, I have what it takes to affright *After this I'll be free, An endless disaster, I just need success here tonight* I feel it approaching, Like Destiny's herald, The hour and moment of truth *My victim will enter, His life then imperiled -- And I just have to* frighten *the youth! * I revel in glory, The foregone conclusion, Of winning my freedom and right *To roam across nations, Cause shock and confusion, I just need success here tonight* At long last he appears, The key turns in the door, I prepare for the blood to start flowing *He steps into the room, And I hiss and I roar; He yawns and says, `` Hey, how's it going. `` *

[ WP ] You wake up one morning and find the devil at the foot of your bed . His eyes find yours , he taps your foot and says , `` You 're it , '' then disintegrates .

He's such a dick sometimes. Being on-call for that guy is a 24/7 duty. One time I was on a date and he did the same thing when I was in the bathroom. I was guaranteed to score. When I came out of the bathroom, I tried to keep a smile on my face. But that's what I get. These looks did n't come cheap. The dude has an ironic aura to everything he does. So after his distasteful drop-in, I couldnt help but give a sarcastic sigh. Effectively starting my shift until he says `` no mas,'' I could only wonder what the red man wanted this time. Would I have to scare kids by hiding under their beds? Possess some poor sucker in front of his family? Make a shmuck like me shit his pants on a date as some sort of reminder of how often it happens to me? I really had no idea. Being a demon sounds cool on paper, and all you have to do is the occasional `` bidding,'' but at least give me a task with just a little bit of substance. Or at least let me pick my own hours. This shit is tiresome. Nobody learns about or fears you since they do n't even know you exist. And the things you're asked to do are n't exactly of biblical proportions. That whole getting YOLO to become the viral shit storm it is was my idea the entire time, but no, he needed the credit. So as I sat there, struggling to get the energy to get out of bed, I gave the ceiling one last hard glance, shook my head, and swung my legs out of bed. As I made my way to the bathroom through a giant pile of dirty clothes on the floor, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And damn, did I look good.

[ OT ] Other than personal preference , how do you select which prompts to write ?

I do n't get too much feedback either, but it's not always about feedback. Sometimes knowing you've written something good is a nice feeling. If you want more people to see it, you can submit your story as a [ PI ] ( prompt inspired ) and title it after the prompt you were writing about. That way you can get feedback. I browse new a lot for new prompts, see if there's anything I like. A lot of prompts I love but do n't write about because I do n't know enough about the subject or I feel like it'd be too long. Usually the stories are short enough that I submit them while others are still submitting their own stories, so it's still active enough that people see them. But sometimes it's too late, but that's OK, because I wrote something, and that makes me proud of myself.