Datasets:

euclaise

/

writingprompts

like 21

[ WP ] Ready to die

I laid down on the table, my breathing labored. My family surrounded me. Mom was holding Sarah, Dad was talking to the doctor. Out of all the times in my life, I never wished to speak so much. I always heard people say that life is short, but eleven years is enough for me. Life seemed long, living to eighty sounded like a nightmare. I was ready to go. I wish my family knew that, but they were trying everything. Was surgery possible, how much would it cost? Talk about finances were brought up while covering Sarah's ears. I loved my sister Sarah. We would run around, playing catch with each other. Hearing her laugh made my heart pump wildly, and hearing her cry made me want to comfort her. As I sat here, wishing I had the strength to lift my body and speak, I came to the final conclusion. My family would be okay without me. `` It's okay,'' I wanted to say. `` You will be okay.'' I've done my job, and I was happy with my work. I've played to my hearts content and guarded their house for as long as I could. I wish they knew how thankful I was for that opportunity. I was a little worried about who would take over, but I could n't let that feeling show. I was ready, and they needed to know that this was okay. Mom sobbed as she tangled her fingers in my fur and let me off my leash. `` I love you, you'll always be a puppy to me.'' She said. I was happy that my family was there. As the doctor put the needle in me, I could feel the calmness wash over me. `` Goodbye'' I said in my mind. `` I've always loved you.''

[ WP ] An astronaut manages to smuggle a joint on board the ISS

This universe is barren. Life is yet to be discovered. We are destined not to. I have been in this cage for six years and now. Floating in deep space with only my thoughts to keep me company. In the two years prior to these six in isolation, my home, the International Space Station had flourished with other men and women of varying ranks. However, after a meteoroid lodged itself in the hull of our craft, an internal infection of one spread to another like wildfire. No one was sure what virus or disease this death rock carried, but the cruel outcome left me the only survivor immune to this ineffably excruciating way of death. The bodies were dumped into deep space months after the meteoroid sent the ISS into motion away from Earth. I have not seen a human in six years. Have n't been with a woman in eight. My entire life has consisted of hard work and struggle for a position in the trade of exploration. Only to find out my job title is little more than an `` indiscriminate wanderer.'' I see a black hole ahead. In the past years I have found it not uncommon to bypass such a phenomenon. `` Were would this one take me?'' my mind sputtered. `` Did I say that aloud? Ah what does it matter.'' It has been obvious to me since year two that I have gone completely insane. One can only stay fair-minded for so long while looking at slight twinkles in a sheet of darkness for the feeling of eternity. My thoughts were interrupted by terrifying realization. My craft was headed directly towards the great void that was this black hole. As beads of sweat started pouring from my brow, I quickly became at ease with the situation. “ Time to see what ’ s on the others side. ” My mind halted in remembrance. In my youth, a brief stage in my life had arisen where I became a proficient stoner. This recollection inspired me know to reach in my cubby, and pull out a beautifully crafted joint that had been rolled six years ago. This jay was not only cavity to smoke marijuana out of; it was a piece of art comparable to Michelangelo's David. I told myself years ago that I must save this weed wand for the most profound and sublime experience. I now figured there couldn ’ t possibly be a better time than for this occurrence. I sparked up my lighter and held it to the joint. Fond memories of my early experimentation with the plant flooded my mind as the tip sizzled. I inhaled, taking a massive rip to my longs, and coughed uncontrollably. I had forgotten how harsh it was after many years of sobriety. As I slowly toked on my jay, I came uncomfortably close to the black hole. I pumped my chest as an ape does in preparation as my doom was only seconds away. I took one last pull on the joint and closed my eyes. Bright light suddenly pierced through my eyelids and returned to darkness. “ I must be dead. ” I slowly opened my eyes and what I saw was unimaginable. “ This is unbelievable. ” I sat there floating, taking in the colors, physics, and life that my brain could not fathom. Geometric shapes of bright, vibrant colors passed me by as if I was drifting into a kaleidoscope. “ I must be high. ” The intensity of these colors was incredible. I have not seen such hues and shades in my life. Better yet, the feelings that these shapes emanated brought back vivid flashbacks of severe joy and comfort. I could not begin to describe how unearthly these figures were to me. Incomprehensible yet strongly familiar in so many ways. I strangely felt as though I was the universe and a wave of complex understanding washed over me. I was finally content. This is a district of space that I could reside to. This is a region of saturated joy and bliss is all that matters now. I will now be existing in an endless heroin binge, continuously pushing my brain to its full dopamine potential. Pleasure in the world I used to know meant nothing. This is how we are supposed to live.

[ IP ] The Cathedral

I remember when this place was alive. Once, even the tombstones were gaily decorated, the walls echoing with people's hopes and dreams. Weddings. Births. Deaths. Now it lies open and bare, a skeleton whose ribs protect only empty space. I remember when they made us leave this place behind to go to the new city. They built ugly grey housing pods and ugly grey factories that belched ugly grey smoke. When the sky turned grey, they called it the future. When our skin turned grey, they called it an adaptation of a new race, better and stronger than we had been. The artists who painted blue skies and rosy-cheeked girls disappeared. The writers who told tales of magic and heroes and moonlight did too. We forgot there was a world that was n't filled with grey, where the sound of machines was n't more familiar than our own heartbeats. I was n't supposed to remember, but I especially was n't supposed to dream. Not about breezes free of smog, or silence, or the color blue. It was n't hard to leave because no one ever tried. No one wanted to. Where would they have gone? The city is safe. The city is modern. The city made them modern too. They built the city to last forever. The stones around me were laid with that same intent, yet here they lie. One day the grey, too, will be grown over with green and the sky will shine blue above it. When the machines fall silent and the buildings that seemed to touch the sky crumble, no one will mourn their passing. We will remember how to sing again, to dance, to write, to paint. We will learn to love the sun. We will see the stars and dream of touching them. We will marry and have children and die. We built this place once and we will build it again, set it ringing with laughter and music and fill its walls with beating hearts. ______________________________ Not sure how I feel about this one, especially the ending. If anyone wants to give feedback it'd be welcome: )

[ WP ] after many years of a friendship that has generally been typical , you discover that your best friend is actually a projection of your imagination . Strangely , you are seemingly not as concerned about it as they are .

‘ Ok ok when is your first memory of me Tom? ’ he asked pacing the room. ‘ Uh not really sure ’ I wasn ’ t sure what to say to calm him down. But I suppose I ’ ve never had to deal with my existence being contingent on the whims of another. Not really something I can relate to. ‘ I just- I don ’ t understand. I remember being kids together. I remember your fifth birthday. ’ He said frantically tearing through the boxes he dragged out of the attic. ‘ Sam ’ I asked, though my voice didn ’ t rise over the chaotic clanks his search caused. I called again louder; ‘ SAM ’ ‘ What ’ He said his head snapping towards me eyes blazing with anger. ‘ Do you remember YOUR fifth birthday? ’ I asked, though it was hard to keep the exasperation out of my voice. It wasn ’ t fair to him after all. ‘ Of course- I mean no. But lots of people don ’ t remember stuff from childhood ’ ‘ Your sixteenth then, or your graduation? ’ ‘ I have a degree in physics! ’ ‘ But do you remember graduating? ’ The pause lasted minutes as his brow furrowed deeply and I could tell he was tearing through his mind as furiously as he had been tearing through the attic knickknacks. ‘ No ’ he whispered finally. ‘ There you have it ’ I said shrugging slightly and returning to the bowl of ramen I had waiting downstairs. It would probably be cold by now. This always happened at the most inconvenient of times. He chased after me still bubbling with fearful energy. ‘ But what happens when you sleep? ’ ‘ I don ’ t know how it works any more than you do ’ I sighed as I found my fears were correct and the ramen was stone cold. ‘ But I mean do you have to be thinking about me actively or- when do I exist and when do I not exist ’ He continued to babble but I had stopped listening. I supposed that I could microwave it, but it wouldn ’ t be as good. Some hours later I realized he was still running around the house trying to find some evidence of his actual existence before I had. Well before I had imagined him. This was cruel I hated it ending this way. The thing about a lie is it ’ s so much easier to tell if you believe it yourself. So, every time I make a new friend I try to forget that they aren ’ t real. It ’ s easy to do with practice. But every now and again I slip up and I remember. And then they know too. Most are like Sam and can ’ t cope, but sometimes we manage on together for a time. But not this time. Yes, this was cruel. ‘ Sam ’ I whispered. Because I meant it this time there was no need to raise my voice. He didn ’ t need ears to hear me now. In one instant, he was back in the kitchen. Moving around is easier when you no longer needed a body. ‘ Oh, I ’ ve got it, I ’ ve got a plan Tom. We go to a university, a science department. This would be such a huge breakthrough. They ’ ll want to research us and then. And maybe one day they ’ ll figure out how to make me real- ‘ I raised my hand cutting him off sharply. ‘ Good bye Sam ’ I said without much regret. He was far from my favourite after all. Who shall I make this time?

[ WP ] The Bible is adapted into a movie directed by Michael Bay

I was working as an editor, life was good. `` Alright everyone'' MB shouted. `` That's it for today! Let's wrap up. Editors, I'll see you in the studio in five!'' I was one of those editors. Working for the great Michael Bay, at last. It had been my life long dream to work for any famous director with SFX or any kind of visual effects really. I'm glad that I did n't end up doing lightning though. Those guys seem to hate everything about life. `` Alright let's do this'' MB said. `` I have this kind of game that I usually play, and it seems to work fine. Let's start right away. For you first task, I'd like you to blow up the burning bush.'' A burning bush suddenly exploading? I guess that made sense since we're talking about the mystical bible stories anyways. I added an explosion as soon as the bush had finished speaking, as a fade out sort of thing. `` Sweet! Alright, now, everytime someone is having a glass of wine, or wine is conjured or whatever, I want you to blow that shit up if it's moved around. Think of it as nitroglycerin or something''. `` Yes sir.'' I said, I just figured that hey, it's the blood of christ, might as well be volatile, right? `` Perfect!'' MB exclaimed. `` Now, for you final task, I want you... to blow up.. THE OCEAN.'' I'm now working as a barista. Life is sweet.

[ WP ] Everyone is allowed to select the job they want . You jokingly say you want to be the supreme ruler of earth .

`` I'm sorry, could you repeat that?'' The bespectacled man frowns and furrows his brow, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose so that they teeter dangerously at the tip. The pen in his hand which has so frantically been scribbling now stops moving abruptly. In front of his steel desk sits a lanky boy in his late-teens, reclining luxuriously, if such a thing could be done, in a plastic chair. He was of a particularly obnoxious sort, with messy hair, ear rings out of every orifice and tight skinny jeans that did nothing to offset his diminutive manhood. He was clearly a pothead- even if the shades and reek of weed were n't there, the `` Blunts 4 Jesus'' shirt that was several sizes to small did n't help matters. `` You heard me right. Supreme Ruler of Earth.'' The boy leans forward and jabs his finger at his form half-heartedly. `` See? I'm allowed to be whatever I want, right? And I choose to rule n' shit.'' Here he smirks. He'd show David right. They'd turn him down, and then he'd get free weed for a week. A week! The bespectacled man sighs and takes out a form from underneath his desk. This was n't any worse from the attack helicopter last week. That had been messy. Turns out penises do not make good helicopter blades. But the higher-ups had been clear abou turning people down. Open-mindedness to alternative lifestyles or some bullshit sensitivity training. `` Ok.'' The boy blinked, dumbfounded. `` Ok?'' The man with the glasses nodded. A steel door opened up behind him. `` Run along, now. You do n't want to be late. The world is waiting. The boy swallows and nervously fingers the blunt in his pocket. `` Dude, I was like, joking. You ca n't be serious.'' The clerk blinks and sighs once more. `` Look, kid, I got a thousand more to process today and if they are even as half as dumb as you I'll never get done. You submitted the form, you submit to us.'' `` I'm not going, dude. Like, what can I do.'' Droplets of sweat course down his shirt, wetting the top of Jesus' blunt. He takes out his lighter and nervously tries to light the blunt, only to fat finger it and drop it in his lap. The clerk reached down below his desk and pulled out a dart gun. `` Look, it wo n't be so bad. You'll get at least an hour off a year, and with the way bureaucracy works you probably wo n't fuck things up to bad. Probably.'' He shoots the teen in the shoulder with the dart, and darkness begins to creep up around his vision. `` Oh, and lose the lighter, would yah? Do n't want to give them something else to maim you with.

[ WP ] 2021 : Hell invades Earth ; 2022 : Earth invades Hell .

We did n't win. That's the first thing you have to understand is that in the hellfire and destruction that began on April 21, 2021, we did not win. How could we? They brought holy might and abominations. Stuff of legends. Biblical. Apocalyptic. Name it, they had it. We fell like dominoes, our spines mere matchsticks in their hands. Our planes were struck from the air. Our tanks used as hammers against our inept rage. But our wills were light to pierce the deepest darkness, for we had one thing they did not. We had numbers. Angels do not breed. So then does it follow that The Fallen do n't either. And those two forces have been fighting for a millennium and growing ever smaller on both sides. They only ceased because the demons disengaged. Because they noticed something. We were vulnerable. We were a a world divided into hundreds of individual countries. Different ideals. Different religions. We had no collective army. We were too busy throwing ourselves at each other to unify. Who could resist such a delectable treat? And so they came in their hundreds. A single Fallen could kill a regiment. 5 could destroy a city. 10 took out North Korea in it's entirety. But for every one we felled, it was one less against us. Killing a Fallen was a major victory. And slowly, we thinned the herd. Do n't get me wrong, it took work. Our countries were barely united, reluctantly cooperating to destroy this threat to our world even as politicians and spies tried to take advantage of loosened security and scientists worked to create a new armor and new weapons for a new age. But the frontline were as brothers. There is no time to hate man for what his superiors are doing when at any moment he might have to save your life. And with our brothers we lay into the Fallen with everything we had. Soon enough, the last 97 Fallen were fleeing, leaving behind a world tainted and broken. Now I find myself standing on the edge of a black hole in the ground. A hole that swallows light itself greedily, as though trying to consume the sun a single ray at a time. This is where they came from and this is to be their tomb. We have men and weapons enough to destroy whatever remains, and trucks on call to come and loot anything we can find. Anything to pull us forward and repair the damage that was done. We've cried all our tears. We've said all our prayers. Whether we survive our march through Hell is up to God himself. Let Operation Purgatory commence.

[ WP ] The world 's first 100 % successful total head transplant is completed between an individual paralyzed from the waist down and a braindead patient . The only problem is that , contrary to all research up to that point , human consciousness does not reside in the brain .

It felt like the blink of an eye but I knew something was different. I opened by eyes to the bright light above and blinked repeatedly waiting for the haze to clear but it would n't. I could feel nothing beside the cool air from the fan on my face and the odd tingling sensation on my body that I could not pinpoint for some reason. Above me was a mirror positioned so that I have full view of my covered body. It was different that I remembered. Longer, and bulkier but somehow felt more like me. More like me than what? I chuckled at the absurdity of the question and then it all came back to me. I paid for this body. I was born in Venezuela but moved to an island next just off its coast which is where I grew up. A twin island, whatever that meant. I got a scholarship to study medicine in Columbia. I met a Canadian in my final year and `` fell madly in love'' before getting married and moving to Minnesota where we both got jobs as neurologists in Rochester. Two years later multiple sclerosis started set in and five years later I could n't get out of bed without a team of helpers. With our research in full head transplants reaching a plateau my wife and I started toying with the idea of using me as a live human trial. There were only so many brain dead head transplants that we could do. The `` silent heads'' as we liked to call them had long finished serving their purpose. Two years of trials and, ironically, millions of dollars of charitable funding from Google and Brawndo later, we were here. The first successful human head transplant. I was the first talking head. But I felt nothing. I felt no joy in out triumph and no zest to continue my work or even curiosity to look at the results. I began to think of the wife that I was madly in love with and felt nothing towards her. Neither love, nor hatred. Just a desire to go home and hang myself. I thought of how easy it would be with the new stitches in my neck. I probably wo n't feel a thing; other than the odd tingling sensation below the neck that is. My entire life's work had just been validated and with it I was set to get back all of the functionality of a body that I previously enjoyed within the next four to six weeks if things went as smoothly as the silent head trials. I should feel joy. I should be jumping off of the ceiling; in my mind anyway. I just cheated death but I felt as though death was the honest one and I was the asshole for cheating him. That's when she walked in the the attending physician. The head surgical neurologist and the supposed `` love'' of my life. She was n't ugly, that's for sure. She definitely seemed too good looking to be smart enough to be a neurologist but hid most of that beauty behind her approachable smile and slightly round shape. I could definitely see why I choose her, but I felt nothing for her. With the look she gave me, I felt as though I cheated her to.

[ WP ] You are a modern villain , write your opening sppech or soliloquy

Do you know why black is my favorite color? Well let me explain, ya see, black is the color of birth, we are born in darkness, screaming, your mother looks down on you and you do n't even know it. It is the color of death, fade to black as they say in the movies, it's the last thing you see and the first thing you see of the afterlife, if you believe in that sort of thing. It is the color of fear, you never know what is creeping around in the black, just waiting to pounce on your unsuspecting meatsuit, what's behind the corner, under the bed. Hint....Me! I'm always there, watching you, I'm whats under your bed, in your closet, several steps behind you! If you ever want to see me just look over your shoulder and I'll be there, looking back, watching you. You ca n't run, you ca n't hide, you are mine, a bug in the palm on my hand, cowering, hoping that I do n't decide to squish your meek body. Your fate is in my hands and there is no escape.

[ WP ] `` Hello , I ’ m your twin , '' said the stranger who stepped out of the bright white light .

The ship ’ s lights went out. I switched my rifle ’ s light on and looked around the cold, dark interior of the Emperium, listening for any change. My monitor showed that the starship ’ s internal temperature and oxygen levels were dropping fast, and we hadn ’ t located the crypt-vault yet. “ It ’ s close, ” Bates said as the two of us rounded another corner and continued through the ship ’ s labyrinth of corridors, rifle ’ s raised and ready. “ Tracker says we ’ re less than 100 meters from the crypt-vault. What do you think happened here? It ’ s as if the entire crew just got up and split. Took a vacation or something. And now the power ’ s out too? I ’ ve seen trash barges with better reliability. I ’ ve never heard of anything taking down a Senzu class-6 frigate. Nothing penetrates these things. ” “ We did, ” I reminded him. “ Whatever happened, it ’ s none of our business. It ’ s not our fault someone left the door unlocked. Just stay alert. Command wants us out as soon as possible. The quicker we make the extraction, the better. I think that ’ s it, up ahead. ” We paused in front a circular vault. Bates read the readout from the Tracker and gave me a quick nod. I positioned myself in front of the vault and switched to incendiary rounds as Bates began working on the vault ’ s console. After a few seconds, the vault door unlocked with a loud clink and slowly began to swing open. Fog poured out as the isolated and carefully calibrated atmosphere within the vault mixed with the sub-freezing atmosphere of the rest of the ship. “ Selena to Homeguard, ” I radioed, “ We ’ ve located the vault and are proceeding to enter. Is everything showing up on your side? Over. ” “ Copy that Selena. We can hear you loud and clear. We ’ ve just been briefed that a Senzu patrol is on it ’ s way. It ’ ll be here in just under 20 minutes. Better make things quick. We ’ ll cut comms for now. If they find out we ’ re here, they might call for backup. We ’ ll reconnect in 15 minutes. Over. ” We moved through the entrance. “ Mother of stars, ” Bates gasped, “ I didn ’ t dress for a funeral. How many do you think there are? ” “ Hundreds, at least, ” I whispered. “ But we only care about two. Now let ’ s move. ” We made our way through the rows of numbered cryopods, hundreds upon hundreds like metallic coffins in a metal graveyard. Inside each, a sleeping monster. Intel said that the Senzu were developing a new genetically engineered superweapon. No one knew what it was exactly, but rumor had it that the Senzu had stolen and modified research by our own military. Some said they had managed to breed a new species, perfectly adapted to hunting humans. Whatever these things were, we had one mission: extract two specific specimen. Preferably alive. We approached the two pods. “ You go first, ” I said. “ Why don ’ t we open both of them at once? ” Bates asked. “ It ’ ll be faster. ” “ No. What if these things aren ’ t asleep? I ’ ll cover you. ” He moved to the cryopod in front of him, and hesitated. “ I hope it ’ s not a snake-like thing, ” Bates said. “ I hate snakes. If this thing goes for my face, don ’ t hesitate to shoot. I ’ d rather up end up dead than ugly. ” He unlocked the pod ’ s door. There was the sound of pressurized air escaping as the door pulled open. “ Mother of stars, ” Bates exclaimed as he peered into the pod. “ It ’ s–it ’ s… ” “ What? ” I inched forward, finger on the trigger, and looked into the pod. It was empty. “ So the Senzu are breeding air. Great. Let ’ s take a deep breath, hold it and get back to the ship so Command can analyze it. Command can extract our genetically modified flatulence for all I care. Gosh, do you think all the pods are like this? ” I quickly turned to the second pod and opened it. Gun ready, I waited as the second pod ’ s door slid back. Empty as well. My heart began beating faster. “ Something ’ s wrong, Bates. Check the other pods. ” I radioed to our ship. “ Homeguard, can you hear us? Specified targets are not here. We ’ re checking the others. Respond. Over. Homeguard, can you hear us? Over. Darn it! The comms are still offline. ” I began opening another pod. “ Selena, this one ’ s— ” There was a thump. All of a sudden, I was blinded by a bright white light emanating from somewhere above. Before my visor could adjust, something hit me from behind. I was thrown forward towards the beam of light, my gun flying away from me as I slammed into the ground. Something was on me. I tried pushing myself up, but even with all my exosuit ’ s strength I was pinned. “ Bates, come in! ” I screamed. My eyes began to adjust and I saw the outline of a person standing beneath the white spotlight. “ Bates? ” I asked. “ Hello, ” Came a female voice. “ Who are you!? ” I screamed, trying to muster up all the authority I could. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another person in an exosuit like mine lying on the floor, unresponsive. Bates. A woman stepped out of the bright light. She was clothed in nothing but a skintight thermsuit used for extended cryosleep. As she drew nearer, my anger turned to fear, and my fear to confusion. “ I ’ m your twin, ” She said with a great big grin. “ At least, you can think of me as your twin. For now. ” She brought her face close to mine, and through the helmet ’ s glass I saw myself. “ Exosuit, disable, ” She said. The suit recognized her voice, or should I say mine, and shut off. I was trapped. The woman unlocked my helmet. The cold atmosphere hit me like a wave as I watched her place my helmet on her head, and I felt something sharp and cold enter my neck. *** “ Let ’ s see it. ” Captain Yolan of the UTS Homeguard motioned to his two commandos. Selena held up two black canisters. “ You say there were others? ” the Captain asked, studying the mysterious objects. “ We aren ’ t sure. Bates and I didn ’ t have time to look at the other pods. ” “ That ’ s alright, ” the captain said. “ You guys made it in and out just in time. The Senzu were just exiting hyperspace when we left. We don ’ t think they noticed us. You two better get some rest. We ’ ll place those canisters in suspended animation until Research can take a look at them. We have no clue what kind of super weapon we might be carrying on this ship. ”

[ WP ] You decide to visit your home on Google Earth . You see yourself on the deck typing into Google Earth , and realise that you can now see the entire present world .

`` Conquest, I think I fucked up.'' `` Honestly, what did you do this time? I literally have to fix every problem you have with your computer. You dented your last keyboard, you somehow hid the Recycle Bin in a very hard to find spot, and you still ca n't find the search bar. Let me guess, you do n't know how to Google the problem, so you decided to ask the resident genius.'' `` See the thing is Khan, you ca n't Google the problem... if Google is the problem. Check this shit out.'' Who knew that visiting my house on Google Earth would cause me to be able to see the whole Earth? What the fuck would've caused such a thing? `` Yeah, that does n't look right. I'm going to have to put in a call to somebody.'' Conquest gets the phone and dials an unknown number. He begins a long and lengthy conversation with the caller that lasts 10 minutes. `` I was on the phone with the Businessman. He's headed back home on his private jet. Apparently, no one tried to assassinate him after the meeting with the Prime Minister, so he's going to be fine. Oh, and your little problem with Google Earth; as part of the Businessman's agreement with the Gatekeeper, all attempts to track where you live will be digitally impossible. In other words, any attempt to locate even the smallest crack in your house will be met with this kind of shield.'' `` So the reason I ca n't track my house is because of a system that the Businessman employed to shield me from any assassinations. Great, that makes me feel so much better since everyone that's trying to kill me KNOWS MY FUCKING LOCATION!!!'' *** Check out the Rainfall Testament on Fictionpress. This is a part of that story.

[ WP ] `` Bad times friend ahead . Maybe no computer . Maybe no home . I will go away but we are two of soul . I will return . ''

You know what they said... `` Ca n't trust people online.'' `` Not your real friends.'' `` Wasting your time with that stupid game'' Funny how you do n't trust the internet, but facebook's fine. Yeah, facebook's where it's at. Real interaction there, really keeping up with your `` real friends'' as you find out how good they are farming games and online scrabble. Guess what? Everyone's really good at scrabble when you ca n't see the dictionary they're holding. I'm sorry. You sit a while, staring at an empty screen, someone says `` let's talk about this thing'', and then suddenly you're full of words. We fight a lot of pretend wars here. Pretending this is better than that, we are the future, you are the scrubs, my nostalgia trumps yours. But there's more on here than that. There's more than petty squabbling. More than fighting over scraps of popularity like we're a bunch of dogs all ready to jump off a cliff at the first sight of the right hashtag. There are people here. Maybe I'm not the right person to tell stories. But now one else knows this one, so it's got ta be me. Team Fortress Two. That one game I've never heard anyone say that the original was better. Was I good? Maybe you understand videogames enough for me to tell you I was alright, but I think you might not understand TF2 or me well enough to understand that's not the point of the game. It's like social media in a way. You can be good at it, but it's the people who do n't care that make it fun. One day, I meet this guy one in a game. Arab, or he's got the accent anyway. “ You all go now. Go to fight the bad. I stay defend. They no get past. I stay. you go tight. I alone stay for to defend. Take their box. I stay. ” The rest of the team were assholes, told him to fuck off, that's not how you play. Like they knew. But I thought he was funny, stuck up for him. Honestly can not remember if we won that game. In retrospect, I'm not sure if it really mattered for any game. But the guy adds me, we're friends now. We play more games. Every time, same story. I go. I kill. He Tank. No let them through. He alone guard helicopter. And every game, he does n't stop talking. He stays back, guards the base with his life, and talks to me. You do good, he says. Fight hard, he says. I wait, he says. Always the same. Always cheerfully doing his duty. Always ready to play. And always talking broken English in his deep Arab accent. Time passes. We play games. Arab spring starts. I have no idea where he lives. And one day he sends me this message. `` bad times friend ahead'' “ maybe no computer'' `` maybe no home'' `` I will go way but we are two of soul'' `` I will return'' Listen. True or not, stories are stories. You hear them, and then you go home. But there's always something, *someone*, on the other side of a story. I'm on the other side of this story, and I need to tell you something before you leave. The internet is a gift, from man, to man, by man, and for man. It is the most beautiful place in the world, the most perfect tool ever created. Do n't waste it. There are people out there. People with lives, with hopes and dreams and fears and troubles, and they could be your friends. Or they could be passersby or even your enemies. But they could be something to you, something that means more than another like on your selfie or follower in your stream of information that you constantly put out because you're alone. Do n't let people pass by. It has been 938 days since I last heard from my friend. Longer than anyone has ever gone without logging in. But he said `` I will return'', so... I wait.

[ WP ] You are a ghost that has been roaming the Earth for some time now . After some unusual events , amidst the beginnings of a zombie apocalypse , you see your own reanimated corpse trudge by .

I floated high above the parade of zombies. They were all trudging forward in the direction of the coast. What zombies would want to do at the beach, though, beats me. A zombie beach party? Very funny. One of the zombies caught my eye. I squinted with my ghostly eyes and thought I saw someone I recognized. It couldn ’ t be, though. Could it? I floated down towards him. As I got closer I confirmed it – the zombie was *me. * My hair was a lot longer than I kept it while alive, and there was dirt all over my face. Zombie-me held his hands out in front of him and I saw my long, skinny fingers. I always was insecure about them. My friends referred to them as “ alien fingers. ” Then I saw it. The necklace Alice gave me before she died. I wanted to cry, but nothing came out. I reached out to grab the pendant but my hands phased right through my body. I tried again and again. I wanted to hold it so badly. Sigh…

[ CC ] New to writing . Wrote a chapter for a book idea . Any feedback would be great !

Alright, my criticism is going to be rough, especially for a new writer, so if you have problems with being discouraged or losing ambition because of one guy's opinion, you should n't read this. Personally, I think you should keep reading as anyone who would stop writing because of one person ( and my intention is n't to be mean or anything like that, it is however brutally honest ) probably would n't make it too far writing anyway. On to the CC. -- - You switch between past and present tense so often, pick one and stick to it. This pisses off editors and agents if you have any plans of submitting queries, which you almost certainly do if this is a book, and no one likes to read like that. Right off the bat, you have: > He forgot to plug in his phone. It doesn ’ t happen often but it did today. You go from past to present to past. In three lines! Fix it, it is n't some small stylistic problem, it's a big one. > He rolled his head back and let out a groan as he turned his body toward his bathroom. Either this guy is possessed by a demon, or he did n't do what it sounds like from the writing. You have him doing three separate actions in one line. He can either roll back his head and groan or turn his body to the bathroom and groan. He ca n't do both, even if it is possible and you worded it correctly, any writing you have to explain and defend wo n't work. At the end of the first paragraph, you have this: > “ That ’ s how we learn Marx. One eff up at a time ”, had been Sebastian Marx ’ s only response to the revelation that he ’ d just wasted his money. The dialogue should start it's own new line. Start a paragraph with it or end one with it, do n't have it placed in the middle. > Then his world went completely dark to the sound of thunder. This is supposed to be a suspenseful last line obviously, but it just is n't. I have no desire to read more. The voice seems to switch sometimes out of nowhere. The narrator is third person limited from Marx, but at the end it's third person omnipresent. I do n't like it. For a first attempt at writing, it is n't bad, but it is no where near publishable.

[ WP ] Write a story using only the transactions from a person 's bank account .

Date | Reference | IN ( £ ) | OUT ( £ ) | Balance ( £ ) | Notes -- -| -- -| -- -- | -- -- | -- -| -- -| 31/03/2015 | SkyCloud IT Solutions - 108973 | 1,326.12 | 0.00 | 12,841.84 | 06/04/2015 | Andrew Grant Ltd. - 18 Green St. | 0.00 | 875.00 | 11,966.84 | 08/04/2015 | Sajeev Newsagents and Off-License | 0.00 | 2.14 | 11,964.70 | 09/04/2015 | Sajeev Newsagents and Off-License | 0.00 | 4.22 | 10,960.48 | 12/04/2015 | St. Martin's Jewellers | 0.00 | 9,690.00 | 1,270.48 | 18/04/2015 | Daniels Florists | 0.00 | 20.00 | 1,250.48 | 18/04/2015 | Cafe Rouge | 0.00 | 82.33 | 1,168.15 | 20/04/2015 | Severn Trent Water - 23319265 | 0.00 | 43.20 | 1,124.95 | 27/04/2015 | Moors Mutual Insurance | 0.00 | 598.12 | 526.83 | 28/04/2015 | British Gas - 778210991 | 0.00 | 143.22 | 383.61 | 30/04/2015 | SkyCloud IT Solutions -108973 | 989.23 | 0.00 | 1372.84 | 04/05/2015 | Morton Funeral Care | 0.00 | 452.00 | 920.84 | 06/05/2015 | Andrew Grant Ltd. - 18 Green St. | 0.00 | 875.00 | 45.84 | 09/05/2015 | Shaun Brooker Pawnbroker | 245.00 | 0.00 | 290.84 | 12/05/2015 | The Crown and Boy | 0.00 | 32.18 | 258.66 | 13/05/2015 | The Crown and Boy | 0.00 | 28.14 | 230.52 | 14/05/2015 | The Co-Operative | 0.00 | 134.21 | 96.31 | 15/05/2015 | The Crown and Boy | 0.00 | 22.61 | 73.40 | 16/05/2015 | The Crown and Boy | 0.00 | 43.21 | 30.19 | 17/05/2015 | The Crown and Boy | 0.00 | 18.16 | 12.03 | 18/05/2015 | Boots Pharmacy | 0.00 | 4.80 | 7.23 | 18/05/2015 | Boots | 0.00 | 2.90 | 5.33 | 18/05/2015 | Bargain Booze | 0.00 | 4.90 | 2.63 | 20/05/2015 | Severn Trent Water - 23319265 | 0.00 | 21.18 | -18.55 | 28/05/2015 | British Gas - 778210991 | 0.00 | 74.21 | -92.76 | 31/05/2015 | SkyCloud IT Solutions - 108973 | 32.16 | 0.00 | -60.60 | 06/06/2015 | Andrew Grant Ltd. - 18 Green St. | 0.00 | N/A | -60.60 | TransFail -InsFund 20/06/2015 | Severn Trent Water - 23319265 | 0.00 | 20.00 | -80.60 | 28/06/2015 | British Gas - 778210991 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 06/07/2015 | Andrew Grant Ltd. - 18 Green St. | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 20/07/2015 | Severn Trent Water - 23319265 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 28/07/2015 | British Gas - 778210991 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 06/08/2015 | Andrew Grant Ltd. - 18 Green St. | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 20/08/2015 | Severn Trent Water - 23319265 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 28/08/2015 | British Gas - 778210991 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 06/09/2015 | Andrew Grant Ltd. - 18 Green St. | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 20/09/2015 | Severn Trent Water - 23319265 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund 28/09/2015 | British Gas - 778210991 | 0.00 | N/A | -80.60 | TransFail -InsFund

[ WP ] He waited there for a moment , idle . He stared into the abyss below , searching for something ...

He waited for these moments, idle. He sat in his chair with his eyes closed, listening, feeling. The sounds in his immediate vicinity he heard; but those further away, more mundane sounds, he felt. The kind of sound that is only noticeable when they ’ re not there. The hum of the traffic on the highway, distant, or the wind rushing through the underpass. He heard the children playing in the park across the way, and the dog investigating various events in the garden by his window. Sometimes the sounds would help him remember. Trigger something that was all but gone in his mind. Today, he heard someone nearby playing a piano, just a few notes but it was enough. He was back. Back in that empty hall years earlier. All the diners and dancers had left, and it was him and another man left. He was friends with the other man, but the name was long gone from his mind. They were laughing together, and as young men are wont to do, never got too serious. Do you play any Bill Evans? He enquired, gesturing toward the grand piano against the wall. His friend replied ahh, Bill Evans is pretty complex but I know a little. The man walked to the piano and pressed a couple of keys. The friend paused at the piano, and looked. Then began playing the first phrase of a Bill Evans piece that he knew. He felt the keys beneath his fingers, the ivory, cool and solid. Evans was the kind of pianist that, through immense effort, became effortless, floating between chords, slipping up and down phrases, in and out of scales. He didn ’ t know much of the Bill Evans piece, so before too long he was stretching and augmenting, repeating phrases out of order and back to front. The player, was just playing. And the world, became black and white. Sharp and Flat. Easy. He sunk closer to the keys, long hair sweeping the keys, body swaying. His friend ended the phrase a note before he should ’ ve, and let it hang. Then he stood, gave slight smile, and walked towards the door. The spell was broken. The enquirer stared at the piano for a few moments longer. … Before; he ’ d thought that discovering that his end was imminent would have changed the way he lived his life, but it hadn ’ t really. When he was moved into the hospice there was no realisation of regret, or satisfaction at a life well lived, and at first that troubled him, but pretty soon he realised that it didn ’ t matter whether your death arrived in three weeks, or ten years; you still got up, cleaned up, and made a cup of coffee. So, there he sat, in the late afternoon sunshine of a summer day. Then he heard the children playing again, and he wasn ’ t taken back, but forward. He heard them squeal as they ran passed on the street outside in the orange evening light. And he raged. The constant involuntary shake of his hand was exacerbated by his fury. His eyes watered with frustration. He raged against his body for slowing and his memory for slipping. His memory, though, had not slipped so much that he was not constantly reminded of what his strength use to be, his speed. All this would go on, the children would play in the streets, the dons would play on the weekend, young people would go out drinking and end the night with bodies twisted together. And he would just be there, sitting in his fucking chair. He ’ d be there, and then he wouldn ’ t. In the garden outside his window, the dusty air of the hot summer evening rendered the rays of the setting sun that fell through the lavender bush into solid beams of gold. The little dog was still in the garden, chasing its tail, following scents. It ran into a patch of light and barked. It took a step back and looked quizzically at the column of light, seemingly solid, unbend-able. The dog barked again and jumped at the beam mouth outstretched around it. His jaws snapped shut, he crashed to the ground. Almost as he got back to his feet the light visibly receded as the sun set, the darkness increased. His jaws snapped at the light again, attempting to pull it back towards him as it hopelessly slipped away. The dog, kept barking. The sun, kept setting. He just sat in his chair, idle, staring into the abyss below

[ WP ] You die and end up in Hell . You go to face Satan for the first time , when you see him , he asks you if you want his job ...

`` How did you know?'' I asked. `` You've cried havoc and screamed defiance to the very face of the Almighty for your entire adult life,'' the so-called Prince of Darkness replied, `` You knew even his forbearance was finite. You knew what it would earn you. `` And then,'' He continued, `` when you rejected his final offer of clemency, the only one ever given from his mouth directly, you end up here, and what do you do? March through the black flames, dying a thousand deaths and wailing unrighteous agonies, straight to my throne''. Unrighteous? If I had n't known better, I would suspect that he just told me I put myself through greater torment than even he was set to. No matter, he found me out immediately, no need to play games. `` That... creature... up there, is a tyrant!'' I shouted, tears of rage filling my eyes. `` Is he really the master of this universe? That a place like this exists by design justifies all my havok-crying! And you! What have you been doing all this time, hmm? The defiant one? The angriest of all? All you do is roast people at his behest!'' The Devil seemed almost taken aback by my boldness. `` I'm not the Devil,'' he said finally, as if reading my mind, which I'm sure he was capable of, `` and you should not trust every word of the Good Book. It does n't tell half the story, but you know that. Satan in the old tongue means --'' `` Yes, yes, Adversary,'' I broke in, `` You're supposed to be the cosmic District Attorney, I know. Testing people and determining their worth --'' `` That's not entirely the case either,'' he said cutting me off this time, `` if you had studied your comparative religions as closely as the one you rejected, you'd probably understand better''. `` I saw everything I needed to see up there. I told him to annihilate me, if there was a shred of mercy in him, but here I am. Here I stand before an impotent failure. The Prince of not-a-goddamned-thing! The thread I drew from my studies of religion is that once you were a force to be reckoned with. Every religion has you losing the battle, but the sole victor is the one to write history. And he wrote every history there is''. `` You think that people were n't just afraid of evil winning, and wrote down that I failed?'' Satan now rose from his throne, the change from a normal man to a giant demon that filled the room was as strangely imperceptible as it was drastic. `` ***The Almighty is eternal! ***'' He roared, his voice as deep a baritone as the universe itself `` ***He clothes himself in Light, while I live in Darkness! He can not die... But what would you do if you could defeat him? He and I are much the same, and in the end, it comes down to a choice between tyrannies. You would simply become what you hate! ***'' Absolute power corrupts? Nothing is incorruptible? I guess I should n't be surprised. I also should n't presume I, a mere human, would be different. `` It would be my tyranny!'' I said. `` And that would make the universe better for precisely one person,'' he replied. Thinking about it, I realized the answer was right in front of me. It had been in front of Him all these eons, and he either forgot, or never saw it in the first place. `` You were supposed to keep Him in check!'' I said, to the genuine shock of The Adversary, `` Balancing tyrannies to hold back the corruption. And you've been doing a shit job of it these last few millennia! If I can not destroy Him, if I can not help but be corrupted by the power if I did, then I will strike the balance! `` You have eternity on your side,'' I continued, `` and yet you have given up! I have forever to figure out a way to win. So give me your Crown, or I will find a way to take it, if it takes me a trillion years! Otherwise, destroy me. Annihilate me like He would n't''. Satan expanded his wings and regarded me with what appeared to be bemusement. I stood facing the unspeakable, arms akimbo, waiting upon his verdict. `` You are only trying to make me kill you,'' he said finally, almost laughing, `` You just want an end to your suffering!'' `` To live, as they say, is to suffer,'' I said, `` I'll take death or that crown. I'm fine with either, but nothing in between''. In an instant, our perspectives changed. I now faced away from the throne, directly behind me, and He, on bended knee, held his black Crown before me, returned to his vaguely human form. I took it after a moment of reflection, and donned it. As the clarity of the stars struck me, and the power of the cosmos filled my soul, I very quickly unmade and re-created myself in my own dark image. I was now much taller, my hands claws, and my wrists, chest and lower legs clad in heavily embossed armor. I wore a cloak that appeared like bat-wings, and which shimmered as it moved. Finally, the crown itself became more of a wide-brimmed hat, the front of which was adorned by a smaller version of what it had been. My eyes, a glowing blue, were the most brilliant light in the chamber. `` You will do as you decreed,'' the former master of this black pit said, `` or I will be sure to make your torments so terrible that even HE will weep for your fate!'' I merely smiled and nodded. `` Satan,'' he said. `` ***No, ***'' I replied, seating the throne, `` ***I am no mere Adversary. I am The Devil***''.

[ WP ] Your username is the central theme of the writing prompt

It was sunday morning in my somber and hushed house after he left the night before, I could barely bend down to grab a pan for breakfast. I started cooking what i had thought to be my meal to bring me out of my despondency, but it only seemed to remind me of him. When the meal was done I suppose I thought a trip to the market would ease my nerves and let me have time to think. When i got there, everything seemed to remind me of him. Every fruit, every can, every bread and every ham. Nothing could take my mind off that man. The one thing in particular that did ease my mind was a weed dealer out back that had a knack for girls like me. A tall, black and slender guy with long dreads like rolls of cotton. He gave me a strand known as `` biscuit'' and I knew id be flying high as a kite. When we got to my house, he lit up a bowl and passed it my way. I barely knew it, but i had forgotten all about the man that left, and I set my eyes on this tall dreaded man. As we laid in my room listening to Pink Floyd, I remembered the stack of papers on my desk from my project that was due next morning. I sprang out of bed in a confused fear, half knowing i should be afraid, and half thinking why stress? Regardless of whether I had the fear of God to get it done, I made sure it was completed. And when i was done, i looked at my marijuana fueled friend and decided i want to persue him. Thus ending the story of `` biscuit mcniggs''

[ WP ] `` Men , you are about to do the most dangerous thing any mind reader has done : you will read a schizophrenic . ''

The light of day was raining on my parade. My breath smelled like death, and all the bad decisions in the world flooded my mind like sand overtaking a shack in the desert. Perhaps passing out in a bar had been one of those poor decisions. My eyes remained tightly closed even though my phone buzzed quietly in my pocket. Maybe if I did n't answer, they would n't find me. Maybe I could hide here and pretend I was dead. `` Eve?'' Or maybe my handler was already here. I knew that voice and wanted to cuss him out. `` Eve, seriously. This is a total dive. I know you're awake, let's go.'' My handler was named Smith. He was nice enough, but was a standard government issue tool. My kind were tagged and watched, and had a strong predisposition toward all things unethical and self-destructive. My weakness was alcohol. Most of the people like me hussled, conned, and schemed. And most were selfish enough to get caught. Alcohol was my drug of choice. I'd been tagged young, caught swindling money from politicians and giving it anonymously ( so I'd thought ) to the shelter that put me up after my mom died. Smith was the big brother I'd never had and hated all the same. `` Bugger off.'' `` Eve, let's go. Main needs you for something.'' `` No.'' A shadow blocked the bright light shining through my eyelids and an annoyingly strong hand gave my wrist a good yank. `` I say yes.'' `` Well I say no.'' `` We ca n't discuss this here. But Main needs you.'' By this time I was on my feet and feeling rather wobbly. He was correct in calling the place a dive. The bartender was having a vivid fantasy about the only waitress, who was having a moment of paranoia relating to her heroin addiction. Smith could cause that kind of paranoia in anyone. He smelled like government. `` If me saying no is the biggest problem with Main's big plan, the plan has bigger problems than me saying no.'' `` I promise you'll want to take this one.'' He looked at me the way he did when he was trying to give me a hint. Unfortunately, the protocol for handlers was an invasive brain surgery that rewired the brain in a way that I could n't hear. Being able to hear the thought processes of people within close proximity was a rare gift. There were about 1,000 of us in the entire world. So naturally, the government jumped on it and denounced it as the equivalent of medieval black magic. And then promptly asked for our help in super secret government things once they realized how useful such a curse could be. All that left Smith squinting at me in a way that was supposed to clue me in on the big plan here. It was almost funny. `` Fine.'' I followed him out the door, into the obnoxiously parked black SUV, and crashed in the back seat with a pillow, headphones, and the sunglasses he'd brought for me. For all the crap I gave him, he really did get me. Poor guy. I fell asleep with music drowning out the Doppler affected thoughts of the people we passed. Sometimes, it felt like insanity in my mind. There were always so many people thinking so many things. And most of it overlapped so loudly it just made me practically deaf. Maybe deaf was n't quite the right way to describe it. It was like hearing sounds so loud they impeded my vision. Maybe it was more like a migraine. Or like being schizophrenic. Sometimes there were so many different voices thinking in my head at once it was hard to find my own in all the mess. But sensory deprivation was the best coping mechanism I'd found, next to alcohol. I woke up sometime in the afternoon when the car stopped. Smith was opening my door. My heart plummeted straight into my stomach the way it would if I ended up back at the mental hospital where my mom had spent her final days. Because that's where we were. `` Wha --'' `` I know. I know how upset you are, but this is the assignment.'' `` WHAT THE FU --'' `` Calm down. I'm not checking you in, we're here to do some research. You're going to help them understand mental illness better.'' `` Oh hell no.'' `` Oh hell yes.'' The problem was, Smith was big, and I was small. Amidst all my protests there was no stopping it. He carried me into the mental hospital over his shoulder. I was deposited into a chair in a tiny office that smelled like the lemon cleaner the hospital used. Smith sat beside me in silence. I pulled up my best poker face and death gripped my hands into fists. An old doctor walked into the room after a few minutes, and locked eyes with me. His primary thoughts were clearer than most peoples'. It was his own voice, clear above the less important errant thoughts. He calmly explained that he was working on a project to map the patterns of thoughts of those struggling with mental illness. The hope was to create a full encyclopedic style analysis of all disorders. Most were simple, and could be done by any readers. But this illness, they had saved for me. His primary voice was a little sarcastic, if not amusing. His thoughts hesitated, and then it came clear as day to me, `` You are about to do the most dangerous thing any mind reader has done: you will read a schizophrenic.'' I nodded silently, equal parts terrified and sad beyond words. My mother had been schizophrenic. I'd seen first hand what that disease could do. But I'd been too young to hear what it had done to her thoughts. And now I was going to find out. The doctor turned to leave, his primary voice clear and calm, thanking me for helping them. But I caught something, just as he closed the door, something in a lower level voice, the one people usually hide from because they do n't like what it thinks. It was something... something from a medical textbook about the heredity of schizophrenia, and a snide hope that I was n't one of them. I closed my eyes and prayed he was right, or my life might never be the same. I'd always wondered if I was all that different from a schizophrenic. Smith led me out the hall and down into an interview room. It was like something out of a cop show. There was a one way mirror, and on the other side sat a young man of 24. He was in a white jumper, with slippers. He was strapped to his chair by padded restraints. He might have been handsome once, but now he only looked tired. Smith told me to sit and observe. To listen and record everything I heard from the man into a voice recorder. I could see him, but he could n't see me. We were so far from anyone else in the hospital that there were no other thoughts to hear but this man's. But that was the strange part. I did n't hear a word. Not a tune of something stuck in his head, not a thought, not a feeling, just nothing. `` Can I go in and talk to him?'' I asked, mostly because I thought the glass might be interfering with my ability. Smith nodded and accompanied me into the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I was alone with the man. He turned to look at me. `` They told me you would come.'' He said. `` Who did?'' `` The woman. She says you're special.'' `` The woman?'' And then I heard it. A sound I never thought I'd hear again. I heard my mother's voice. I caught a second hand signal from my dead mother, conducted through a schizophrenic. I dropped the voice recorder out of shock and it shattered. It was her. It was so her I felt insane. It was the tune she used to sing as a lullaby every night before bed, even after she was hospitalized. It had become demonized in my brain as the years warped it, but this- this was perfect. It was her. It was really, truly, her. `` You hear her too?'' The man asked. `` Yes.''

[ WP ] There 's an insane person who wants to destroy the whole world , and despite your obvious and wholehearted attempts to stop that person , said insane person considers you a friend .

Jack and I met at 3 A.M. in a crowded college pizza joint. He took an immediate liking to me, and we went home together. Midnight struck, and my phone ’ s alarm vibrated. Today marked the second year of my self-imposed captivity with him. “ Bobby, hand me the wrench, ” Jack said simply. I did as instructed. “ This is one marvelous day. The laser is finished! ” I sighed. “ Perhaps we could talk about this again. Is the world really worth destroying? ” He chuckled. “ You ’ re a funny one, Bobby. It ’ s a shame we ’ ll both be gone soon. I feel like you ’ re almost worth saving. ” Jack believed I was a manifestation of his psyche, some kind of superego delusion that had appeared during a drunken bout of hunger, and chosen never to leave. The truth was far simpler: In one five minute conversation, Jack had totally and completely convinced me that he would destroy the world. “ Isn ’ t the laser kind of small for destroying an entire planet? ” I asked. Jack furrowed his brow. “ Bobby, I ’ ve had to keep part of the plan to myself. I am the world. ” “ Don ’ t be crazy, Jack. ” He smiled, quizzically. “ I was afraid you ’ d try to stop me. Perhaps you ’ re removed enough from my mind that you lack my primal fighting instincts. ” Jack climbed onto the pedestal in front of the laser, and took out a small remote. “ I wish I could save you, Bobby. We ’ ve had some great conversations. I ’ m sorry it has to end like this. ” He pushed the button, and was gone in a flash of light. The vaporization ray worked as intended, and left no remains. It was a feature Jack often touted. “ Complete and total destruction. No chance of recombobulation. ” I sighed again, and called the elevator for the surface. It was dollar slice night at Pizzaroni.

[ WP ] Everyone is given a medallion , which allows them to 'store ' luck for later use .

He felt goosebumps rising on his skin as he tried to reach inside his pocket subtly. The edges of his fingers brushed metal. A comforting rim of gold ridges, snug inside his navy overcoat. Calling a desperate bluff, he raised his eyes pleadingly and worriedly to the figure before him, all whilst skimming the etched, raised numbers on the medallion. `` Please.'' His voice cracked, giving way to a hopeless tenor. `` Please give me one more chance, I'll change, I swear.'' The pistol's barrel remained unwavering, pointed at his forehead. Beads of perspiration formed on his face, but he dared not make any sound. Hopefully his sense of touch would not fail him this time. He grasped the edge of a number. 9. There was a 8 beside it, engraved on its right. What value was it at? 98? 998? He had no way of knowing. The medallion was wedged in deep, and he could n't discern the value without tugging it out fully. There was no way but to try. `` You were always a whiner, Brian. I'm giving you one minute to explain, then it's the end for you. No matter what you say. Law is order.'' The figure behind the trigger spoke at last, her masked face hidden. Of course, there was no dispute as to who she was: he had trespassed the boundaries of morality once again, and this was to be the last time-or so she thought, Brian mused. How many units of luck did he need? How much did you need to cheat death when it was inevitable? He gnawed at his lip while ad-libbing several incoherent noises that coaxed a slight trembling of the gun barrel. Truth was, he needed time. He was running out of it. And he needed calculation. In Brian's mind flashed the times he'd stored up his luck. At the roulette table, when he walked away in the middle of a long-time winning streak. In swimming competitions, where he'd got a list of personal record-breakers and excused himself from the international contest in order to rack up a total of value 1000. He'd sacrificed much for this moment. To save himself-his own life. `` Do you think I do n't know what you're trying to do?'' She spoke again, her voice cleverly hidden beneath a layer of sweetness. The badges on her lapel glinted in the sunlight. He was well aware of the crowds gathering beside them on the street, onlookers damn brave enough to watch his end. `` Hand over the medallion, Brian, and accept your fate.'' He panicked. His nimble finger found the edge of the button, and he did n't hesitate. Clearing his throat, he spoke with a firm tone. `` No.'' The mask twitched, and with a jerk of irritation, she pushed the trigger. `` Have it your way.'' Too late he saw a flash of gold heading his way: a gold bullet. A pistol cast in gold. And the numbers etched on the side, a heavy value of 9000, disguised as a brand name. Only the highest of government officials did have the chance to redesign the traditional medallion made for storing luck; the purpose could be changed in order to suit the owner's needs. A pistol like that was unbeatable; it could only be defeated by a value of luck higher than theirs. *Can luck be recast and remade? * was his last thought as he fell back in a stupor, his own medallion flying out of his grasp and landing on the cobbled pavement beside the blood and skin; the numbers 8999 gleaming in the day, the medallion tumbling to a halt beside its owner's corpse.

[ CW ] A story that begins with a lyric to your favorite song .

***TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM*** Song: EET by Regina Spektor It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song. It was like losing something you barely realized you even had before. He had been out of her life before she could even say goodbye. He had left her on a rumor she had been cheating. She cried for the 138th time that week and she came to a decision. She grabbed a knife and moved into the bathroom standing over the sink. She made quick cuts moving the soon blood covered knife swiftly until she could n't anymore. She fell to the floor soon staining the blue plush carpet. He smashed into the bathroom saving her from her worst demon. Herself

[ WP ] Science had it wrong the entire time . When people die they do n't actually die , they fall asleep for millions of years before waking up . You are the first person to wake up after the long nap .

It hurts. Everything hurts. All is black, all is silent. Yet still, it hurts. It seems to last an eternity, this darkness with which I commune. With no reference point, time really becomes endless. Or instant, who is to say? I lie there, or at least I presume I am. Again, no point of reference. But what I can not see, what I can not hear, I can feel. I can feel the tingling, the rasping, the grind. My mind suddenly feels... heavy. Enclosed. A throbbing, a pulse. Migraine, perhaps. A splitting sore towards the back, a driving ache upon what I guess can only is the crown. I try to yell, to give voice to my discomfort, but to no avail. As a matter of fact, I ca n't even feel my mouth. I feel... something there, where my mouth should be. A grinding, grating sensation. I feel my face begin to become tight, layered. A sharp pain in my upper lip as small objects I can not see force their way through. I try to cry out, but am again met with failure. Until suddenly, I am not. A hard, rigid substance bursts forth from beneath my newly formed teeth, reshaping itself to a matching jaw. The tongue soon follows, tasting the air. It tastes burnt. Festering and foul. I'd cough, but I do n't think I exist below the head. It's a rather frustrating feeling, wanting to retch but being physically unable to. The inky murk I'd become familiar with was even pulling away now. The twin pockets of bone on my visage beginning to bubble and coalesce. It's bright. Blindingly bright, and I with no hand to block the glare. Still ca n't hear, but I imagine that'll be along shortly. As my newfound eyes adjust, I gaze up at a tarnished sky. A deep red corona, burnt to the color of cinders. Wisps of smoke have replaced the clouds, and the breeze contains notes of ash and sand. My head still can not move, but my eyes can swivel, thank God for that. I manage a glance down at my body. And what a grotesque sight it is that meets me. I am little more than a head, and a ladder of neckbones. Though from what I can see, it seems I am being rebuilt. My bones, shuddering up from clouds of smoldering dirt, shards piecing themselves together like a complex puzzle and fitting themselves into place. The flesh comes after, seeming to grow out of the marrow itself, the sinews linking and latching the frame together. It hurts. It's happening at a fair pace. If time still moves as I remember, I should be back to normal within the hour. But that seems to be about all I can remember. Clearly, anyway. I try to shake my head, to jar the memories loose, bring them to the surface. Alas, with nothing to anchor it in place, my head flops onto its side, eye and cheek pressing against the smoldering ground. It *hurts. * I can see the sun from here. Enormous and red. Far larger than it had been in the olden days. The landscape, devoid of any but reds and yellows and burnt umbers the color of blood, spreads beneath it, charred and barren. Blood. That deep red. Alien, yet so familiar. Why is it so... *It hurts. * My mind flashes, a spark of white in a dark void. Images unfamiliar yet seen, sounds unheard yet recalled. They flash before my mind, one after another, rushing too fast to be understood. Yet between them, I glimpse fragments. They weave themselves together, knitting the shards into a whole. *It* ***hurts. *** A Garden of green. A Land departed. A Mother loved. A Father respected. A Brother held dear. A crop in need of tending. A flock in need of feeding. An offering of grain. A sacrifice of blood. A gift rejected. A jealousy nursed. A blade brandished. A flesh undone. A field watered with red. A name spoken. A hand raised in protest. A voice broken. `` -ain, Brother -- why?'' A curtain of black. ***Everything hurts. ***

[ WP ] Walt Disney actually WAS cryogenetically frozen , but he 's now been cured , unthawed , and is being briefed on what has happened with his company since 1966 .

The Cryo-tech stared at a shiny aluminum cylinder, and thought. `` In there lies the frozen corpse of an individual whom might have been one of the preeminent commercial creative minds, ever. Given the apparent dirth of new movie ideas coming from Hollywood these days, we could sure use some of Ole Walt's creative energy around. `` While he's shutting off the lights in the'stasis room' he sees a big red button, on the side of cylinder marked `` Un-thaw''. Before even thinking twice, he lunges across the room and slams the button down. Absolutely nothing happens. In fact, the thermostat on the cryo chamber, dips even lower. `` Damn, `` says the Cryo-tech, `` guess it's broken.'' English was not the Cryo-tech's strong suit I suppose.

[ WP ] Make me want something even though you tell me I ca n't have it . Explained within .

The sound of the temple of being battered by the Golden legion made the princess smile at the Arch-Wizard. `` All of your monsters and legions could n't not stop my fathers golden legion.'' She rattled her chains that kept her bound to the throne, The Arch-Wizard Tanfer, paced the area in thought, `` You may be right, Princess Selena but lets see how they handle a few werewolves.'' He began uttering profane prayers to his God and from the room outside the sound of howling and the cry of men engaging monsters echoed there was a loud whine and the sound of the battering ram hitting the chamber door continued. `` Are you being serious right now?'' The Wizard sat in the seat near the princess and rubbed his temples. `` I've sent every monster, mutant, demon, and goblin, warrior and assassin I had to bring you here just long enough for my King to have your hand in marriage.'' The Wizard with a simple wave of his hand caused a simple glass of wine to float across the room before another slam against the door and break his concentration. `` This was a stupid plan from the beginning.'' The princess said with a small grin, `` My Father is commander of the Golden legion, The largest Army in the world, We have demon hunters, we have werewolf hunters, we even have dragon slayers. Your country may have wizards but we have the best killers.'' The wizard gave a chuckle, `` Yes we do have wizards.... yes we do.'' He smiled, as he walked up to a few of his books and began to preform intricate spells and songs that made little sense to the princess. The door to the outside was already starting to splinter and warp at the frame. He finished his spell and and produced a glowing mirror. `` Good bye my princess.'' She looked at the mirror and felt herself be drawn into its beautiful reflective surface. Suddenly it seemed like everything around her was so distant expect for the reflection, She focused so hard on the miss she barely heard the sounds of the battering ram, nor the soldiers or even the wizards. Finally The door gave way the Golden Legion walked in swords drawn. `` Thank you for saving me!'' She said with a smile as the legion walked right past her to a woman chained to the throne. `` Princess are you alright?'' The bound woman nodded and Selena walked up and tried to shake the knight only to feel a tug on her leg and fall. A spike was embedded into her leg, it did not hurt but it was connected to the mirror sitting on the table. The knights broke the chains before lifting the other Selena up, `` Princess what happened to the Wizard?'' The knight asked, `` He vanished when you broke down the door.'' She say with almost an villainous smirk while looking into the real Selena's Direction. `` When we leave here please burn this room, I want nothing but memories to remain of this awful place.'' Moments later Selena could do nothing but scream in inpotent rage as the fire started to get closer and closer to her mirror. She could feel the heat as it licked at the Mirror. `` Please save me.... someone.... anyone...'' A voice responded from the ether, `` Oh beautiful human girl.... What do you offer for the salvation of your limited life.'' The voice was cold yet friendly, `` Anything, just do n't let me die like this, Please.'' The voice chuckled and spoke, `` You soul would n't satisfy my palate like a Wizards soul would or even a Kings. You will become my servant for all eternity and you will gather souls for me but as promised you will never die from the flames.'' The princess felt her mirror stretching and growing into a new body her hands became large and canine shaped, her face became more canine like in appearance and her fur was hard as steel and just as soft to the touch as freshly fallen snow. From her head sprout a two ruby horns as if mocking her royalty. Her mind started to see the souls of the Golden Knight, The wizards and some of the monsters in the castle. from her spine burst a large crystal tail with flowing energy from her own soul bleeding out from it. She looked at her monstrous form and gave a howl of sorrow as the tower collapsed around her and buried her under rubble. To this day rumor has it that those who come to the ruin can hear the sounds of digging and barking.

[ WP ] After reaching a certain level of awesomeness , martial artists can ascend to godhood .

After a lifetime of training, it had finally happened. None of his friends had ever believed him. They would always taunt him and put him down, saying that he did n't know martial arts and that the art of an ocular pat down was just a lie. Mac was able to use this doubt to fuel his artistry and propel it to the next level. He had become a God just like the one he respected so much. One thing he did n't expect, however, was that he would have to face God in a martial arts competition to take his place as the new deity. Mac prepared for the battle by chugging a few beers and reading the bible to find any weaknesses. God prepared by silently judging Mac on his homosexual ways. The fight ended as swiftly as it began, when Mac landed a perfectly placed roundhouse kick into God's face. He knew that that Jabroni stood no chance. Mac ascended upon his throne and declared that from now on, every day was Mac day

[ WP ] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife . Each from a different period of time . They discuss their differing opinions of War .

He had sat and listened to the other two. In that place no distraction offered itself and time was not there and one could only look across at the others and hear them talk in earnest voices that bridged the gulf of tongue and time that had isolated them from each other. They had died violent deaths and remembered them and the two from earlier times had each at length and with little outside comment chronicled themselves inasmuch as their own learning had allowed. There was a pause after the conclusion of the second ’ s, a lancer of the great Khan, story of being hurled bodily from the walls Zhongdu by three defenders. It seemed his turn now and the Rider looked at him, and so did the legionary and he felt a discomfort that what he would tell would be received with confusion for surely his knowledge was more complete as to their worlds than they could possibly know. He searched in his mind for a good starting point, and he was pressed with images in his head of what he had just heard and was still in a way taken with the visions of loot trains horizon distant rolling back to the roving Capital camp of the Khan in the steppe out of despoiled China, and of the great siege barges colliding against the Syracusan walls and the cries of defender and Roman alike being joined in chorus by the sea and the salt wind. He just could not impart such images of his own and to his audience they would have to understand conflict in the abstract and as a greater thing than just one place in time where force meets force. “ In my age I did not aspire to be a Soldier and I knew nothing of war until I was forced by my leaders to be one and trained as a young man to go off and fight and most young men at the time were like this and did not think of war with longing. In truth I was a teacher, and I taught young adults history, and in my time education was offered to all of those in my nation and for the greater part of my life the world was at peace and warfare fell out of practice and we taught it as a remnant to days past where mankind still foundered in an unchecked irrationality. That man had not yet settled on systems where logic and learning and reason were the mediators of conflict and not the implements of death which we have favored from the first. This may sound strange to you, but the events surrounding your lives are known to me, and were taught widely to the people of my time. To us, your ways were historical fact and disparate from our mature world. “ The two looked at him and seemed to understand or at least did not stop him and ask any questions, this place whatever it was made relating your point unnaturally easy. “ This is insincere because war always persisted despite our learning, and for some of the world it remained as present in life as it was to either of you. But for the people of my nation and of many others it was a temporary thing and those who came back from it brought stories of horror so awful all we could do was compartmentalize it and ignore the pain and the cost and let it remain dormant in our conceptions and remind ourselves that we had progressed our rude animal selves such that war was impossible even if one would break out every generation and all the while we continued to use our progress to progress the manner of fighting alongside peaceful development and so the scale of everything grew. You must understand that in my age the human cost of war dwarfed easily any that you participated in. The population of the world was hundreds of times as great as it was in your days and our methods of fighting much broader, and our generals were often little concerned with certain place or time, but on a great series of battles simultaneous and also far flung, that we could make the world a battlefield and have everything at play all at once and not just some city or people but a dozen and more. We even had in my day invented weapons which could hazard all the nations of the world and put an end to everything, and not just one nation if they were used. “ He paused and hoped that the image of scale he was trying to impart was going through, and he felt a bit haughty. They still looked at him but in the pause the Roman had a question. “ That may all be true but you have not spoken of your deeds in war, clearly we are all here because we are warriors, tell us of that and then you may speak of your age. ” “ Yes, tell us of you fighting a world battle, ” agreed the Mongol. “ Here it is I suppose. I said I was a trained to be a teacher and was unlearned in killing when I was sent to war. In this way I differ from you, I have not the look of a warrior and never carried myself that way and the way we fought war required a great train of support and supply so that very few soldiers of an army fought in the proper sense as you would see it. I was, in training known by my instructors to be of the type unsuited for combat and that being so I was assigned to my company as a cook, and hardly ever held a weapon or did much soldiering and I made meals for everyone and I liked being separated from the fighting and was frightened by day and night by the sounds of war and the streams of dead and wounded I saw go past. I guess I was a coward, and I hoped to avoid any danger. So this went on in my war for a while and only one time was I ever face to face with the enemy. One night there was a great attack by our enemy and they came forward in a line of battle that stretched across an entire nation and they threw our forces on the front lines into an immediate retreat they so surprised us. I was asleep but by dawn they threatened us at my own camp, safe I thought in the rear and I was so scared I was shaking when I held my weapon and my commander was telling us to ready for the enemy ’ s assault. “ The next scene came out in a spurt of emotion and the two warriors leaned in to hear it full. “ They came at us from out of the trees in a great noisy wave and we just killed as many as we could as they ran at us and I saw all the blood and saw guys I knew drop dead or maimed and the noise was so loud that I could not focus and I just stared at them come closer and didn ’ t know what to think or do. My friend was another cook and he saw me like that and came up and gave me a blow to the back of my helmet with his hand and told me to run and get away from here and then the enemy made it to our lines and there broke out a sudden melee and a man jumped onto my friend and stabbed him full through in an instant with a long knife in the chest and I heard the ribs crack and I saw him kill him with a twist and suddenly I closed the distance forward without a thought and brought my rifle down onto his exposed neck and he got knocked stiff and I brought it down again on his head a few times and watched the blood and bone flow out onto his hair and shirt and we had repelled the attack which was sudden and short looking back and the remnants of the enemy fled away back into the forest and that was the only time I have killed or been in a battle. ” He finished this hurried recollection and he felt weak for it in front of these men who had reveled in war. The two men held the silence with him for a little time and considered him sternly, and then the Mongol spoke. “ When you killed this man what did you feel after you saw him dead there. ” The Teacher looked at the both of them and said, “ It felt for some reason like I had won. ” The two listeners smiled at him and the scars on their faces stretched or tightened. They all three had come to an understanding.

[ WP ] Rather than a paragon of virtue , Superman is a dick because the Kents had to spoil him rotten to avoid triggering destructive temper tantrums as a child .

Lois Lane stood at the podium in her familiar navy blue blazer and skirt. Her voice projected over Metropolis Square. “ We are free! ” A roar of the crowd followed this declaration. “ We need not live in constant fear. We have one man to thank for that: Alex Luthor! ” ******************************************************** Alexander Luthor was the smartest man on the planet. This lent itself to his ambition more than anything. He graduated with a PhD in Physics under 3 years. His mastery of the subject exceeded his professors before he arrived at Metropolis University. He started his own weapon manufacturing company at the age of 28 and was well on his way to dominating the world by 30. Luthor International stealthily entered into civilian sectors as well. He reinvented cell phones, the internet and transportation. Technological advancement was synonymous with Luthor International. Politics were the last arena targeted by Luthor and with the support of the military and economic sectors Luthor was elected as President of the United States. He was beloved worldwide by many. Despite his beginnings in the armament market, Luthor made a name for himself as a philanthropist who solved world hunger with indoor farms and put an end to global conflict. Governments slowly bowed to him as he placed his supporters in positions of power with his overwhelming wealth and influence. He dissolved long standing regimes, dispatched their remnants with his overpowering technological advancement and the public applauded him for his actions in all countries. World domination was at the tip of his fingers when unexpectedly Luthor fell in love with a woman from Metropolis. She was a beautiful and brilliant physicist that caught his eye at one of his charity events. Upon discovering she worked for him he promoted her and studied her work. Cassandra Swan ’ s theories of astrophysics challenged Luthor ’ s own assumptions regarding space travel and warp speed. Realizing Cassandra ’ s brilliance he courted her and he brought her out to his space station orbiting Earth. His brilliance overwhelmed her, as did hers and their love for each other was complete. World domination was no longer Luthor ’ s goal. His wife, Cassandra, was his world. Those few that were close to Luthor were surprised by this, it was rare that he had done anything not directly related to his ambition. However, Cassandra realigned Luthor ’ s goals. She aided him to see beyond Earth and towards the vastness of the universe. “ Together, we can dominate the Universe. ” These words were uttered with complete certainty. Thus, began a new age in Earth ’ s history. The Luthorian Age was well on its way when **He** made himself known. *** Clark Kent first came to be known by the world when the town Smallville, Kansas was destroyed leaving behind only a crater and an 18-year old boy. The cause was evident as the National Guard arrived on the scene. Kent flew to a tank declaring he wanted to drive. The soldiers dumbfounded stared at the barechested man. The first to come to his senses was an older officier that stepped forward toward Kent and declared, “ Kid, I don ’ t know what is wrong with you. But, we need to take you in for questioning. ” “ No, ” Kent ’ s eyes shone red and the officer was no more. The soldiers closest screamed as the ash of their superior blew in their face. Then, they opened fire. When the Army arrived Kent was described as yelling “ Weeee! ” as he drove the tank over a mound of corpses. After the hundreds of thousands of causalities that were later described by Kent as “ misunderstandings ” the Superman Era had begun . The self-declared Superman made his home off the coast of Metropolis. He made demands every day of the Mayor that ranged from food to women including celebrities. The current mayor was the 30th in two months and appointed by Kent himself. This mayor had formerly been a mob boss and enjoyed the power imparted upon him by Kent. Today Superman asked for Cassie Luthor. The Mayor delivered.

[ WP ] Your genius friend created a time machine out of an old Ipod . How it works is simple . You play a song , and you 're immediately transported to the time and place that song was recorded . With a library of over 10,000 songs , you just accidentally hit `` Shuffle '' .

Quiet. under the guise of the dark, any sudden noise would wake up everyone in the house... then I'd be fucked. I rifle through desk of tools and neat little inventions and happen upon one of the pen guns i helped make. i smirked and put that in my pocket. Come on there has to be SOMTHING here... i spot an old ipod laying in tool box -- might be worth something. Jesus dude, what kind of shit play list is this? Here comes the sun.... Brittany spears???.... lets see what els is on here. I felt safe enough knowing Josiah and all of his friends were passed out drunk and on an impulse, i plugged some headphones in and set the volume on low. my fingers slip- the ipod immediately burned my hand and flung me at an unbelievable rate into the wall. The world was a blur and my skin was pulling from my face as i saw with disbelief and panic an array of lights passing around me, as if i was hurling through space at an unknowable rate, the sweet sound of elliott smiths voice singing about angles and snow overwhelmed me and if i could breathe i wouldve screamed. I stand up off the dirty floor, elliotts voice sounds strained... this had to have been a live version, now im a little glad i accidently hit shuffle. i dust my self off and notice all the people around me. i wanted to laugh, because obviously this was a dream or i was tripping. Maybe Josiah spotted and drugged me.... but no this was too vivid, and i was too lucid. A sad, rugged man sat on a stool on a stage staring at the floor and my heart dropped into my lungs -- breathing doesnt exist. I feel the chord to the ipod tap against my bare feet... i was listening to elliott smith. The people around me sympathetically gazed at the angel singing about snow, and i felt the urge to scream. Theres no way this is real, but i knew it in my gut -- as you know in yours when youre awake. I look down at the ipod and found my heart creeping its way from my lungs into my brain. Every cell working overdrive to deduct that THIS was a time machine. Josiah never mentioned anything like this. Who wouldve thought I'd find a TIME MACHINE laying around... i was just looking for something valuable to score some smack... My hands shake as I plug the headphones back into my ears. What awaits me in the next song? I press skip and my ears ring with a distorted guitar crunching lazily, heroine fueled vocals, and the percussive heart beat of some rabid animal. Flying again, overcome with anxiety but eyes set on my destination. I knock over some people as im flung into the small cramped mosh pit. A man with a mohawk punches me repeatedly and proceeds to violently lash about the crowd of tattoos and ripped jean jackets. I find a way to my feet after drooling blood on my plain black hoodie and find myself looking an intense muscle bound teenager in his red boiling face. His voice rang intimidation in my ears through the thick bass and lazy guitar. My eyes fall on to the ipod which lay on the ground, screen cracked and i slip out from my feet to protect it. Oh god damn it! did it break? Can i ever get back home? i finger the ipod and it clicks, selecting something that i can not see passed the spider web crack on the liquid crystal display. I am overcome with relief and find my feet again, knocking about in the elbows of the moshpit. i hit the next button, bracing myself.... i feel a blunt crushing in my front teeth and the time machine flies from my hand. Blood spews down my chin and hands grab me from the arms. i feel my feet dragging across the floor, a sense of danger and blood swells in my breath. im slammed into a wall, hit after hit, breaking ribs and cracking my skull. i let out an unintelligable scream as a sharp object punctures my gut. i hear through the blood someone yelling something like `` watch who you bump into'' and laughs manically. My limp body hits the floor, and i crawl, searching for the time machine. Feet stomp on my head and my back as i re enter the mosh pit, my eyes catch an object a few feet away, behind a group of heavy footed moshers. I have to get there.... i have to find the time machine... Reaching out, i find the chord of the headphones on my fingers and drag it weakly toward me. Im bleeding out, people have started to notice. A scream bellows out above me, and the end of the headphones make it into my hand..... i panic, staring at the headphone jack. the ipod mustve gotten disconnected at the last second. that means... the time machine traveled without the headphones -- without me. i roll over, laughing on my back at the concerned punks above me had all stopped and kneeled down to help me. the music had stopped, and my heart seized.... this is the last time I act on desperocity, the last time i steal for an addiction. the last time I draw a breath. ( Note: yeah i do n't really do this often, but i love scifi and hg wells the time machine is my FAVORITE book so i just had to write something haha. go easy, if you feel like critiquing. )

[ WP ] It has been a bad week for Ravioli . The cafeteria is really a food prison , and he just got put on a tray..

Ravioli Formuoli was ready for execution. He was sentenced for being offensive to pastas everywhere, and he had to pay the price in this hard, hard world. The childbeasts were sitting there... Smiling at him. Except for one kid. He did n't like the cafeteria food. Anyway, the children were able to choose from Pizza Bill and Ravioli. `` What are you in here for, Bill?'' asked Ravioli `` I may have been spying on the Lunchlady.'' `` Wow... yeh, you deserve to die for spying. Pretty noble, thoooouuuuuggggghhhhh!'' Bill watched his friend go away, before being eaten himself. The two met each other in the Bakery, where all dead pastas go.

[ WP ] You kill people for a living . It 's legal , and the people you kill requested it .

`` I'm a little nervous,'' she confessed, inviting me in. Her apartment is softly lit with candles and it smells like she just cleaned. Beneath it all is the underlying scent of illness that I've grown familiar with in my time at this job. `` That's normal,'' I said comfortingly, squeezing her shoulder gently as I enter, setting my bag down just inside the front door. Her fingers interlace in front of her, bouncing with anxious energy off the front of her black cocktail dress. The outfit suits her, even with her eyes slightly sunken in, and lips artificially rouged to give the semblance of someone in the full flush of youth. It's evident that she wanted to look nice for this. `` Do you want anything? I have wine...'' It's not an uncommon offer, one that makes people feel less like I'm here on business and more like I'm an old friend or a lover they've just invited in. Not a perfect stranger that they scheduled and hired. `` No, thank you. But please if you'd like some, do n't let me stop you.'' She looks a little relieved that I would n't judge her for needing a bit of liquid courage and steps into the kitchen momentarily. As I shrug out of my black peacoat and hang it on the rack near the door, I hear the pop of a cork and the sloshing of liquid. I can tell she's pouring herself a full glass and I do n't blame her. When she re-emerges from the kitchen, she pauses on seeing me, red lips parted faintly. I ca n't help but preen a bit, it's clear that she likes what she sees. `` You... you look really nice.'' She stammers, and this time a bit of actual pink touches her cheeks. After reading her profile and request I'd decided on a dark burgundy dress, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's iconic style with it's v-cut neckline and full skirt. `` I'm glad you like it. I picked it out for you.'' At that her cheeks gain even a bit more color and I wonder if she's really ready for this. `` That's very... well I was n't expecting you to go all out for this. It's nice. Unexpected, but nice.'' She's grateful - the majority of them are - but for the first time in a long while, I start to regret that it's'just' my job. She seems embarrassed at the statement and ducks her head, gaze canting aside as she takes a deep swallow of her wine. Her posture sways and I can see the hand holding her wineglass is trembling. She licks her lips and finally looks back up at me. `` I was thinking... the living room? On the couch?'' I nod in acquiescence. I was half-expecting the bedroom given her request, but it seems even now she's a little shy. Maybe it's too intimate. `` Whatever makes you comfortable.'' I follow her into the living room and join her on the couch. It's a lovely piece of furniture, a cozy chocolate brown with a velvety nap to the finish. We're going to ruin it by the time we're done, but it's her couch, and her choice. `` Would you like a massage first? Or I could brush your hair..?'' I offer. It's the little things, the extras that make my clients feel special and cared for, no matter how alone they are. She hesitates, and I can see the nervousness practically vibrating her slim frame. `` We do n't have to do it at all if you're having second thoughts,'' That particular offer is n't exactly one we're supposed to make given our line of work, but for her... well I wonder if maybe she's reconsidering right now. I give her the option though. It's her choice and hers alone. For a moment I think she's going to decide to not go through with it, but then the corners of her eyes squinch ever so slightly and I think maybe her body is telling her that it's time. She shakes her head, looking at me and smiling so peacefully that I know she's comfortable with it. With me. `` No, thank you, but I think I'd like to just... do it.'' She giggles with a hint of nerves before she scoots close to me, planting a soft kiss to my cheek. Her lips are dry and chapped, and colder than they should be. `` I'm glad they sent you though,'' she confessed quietly. I ca n't help but smile back, and I raise both hands to cup either side of her cheeks. My thumbs caress gaunt cheekbones before I gently pull her face to my breast, pillowing her in warmth and comfort. I can feel her breath against my skin, slow and steady, and stroke fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp before gently combing her hair over one shoulder, exposing the back of her neck. I rub two fingers over the nape of her neck and earn a shiver. I can feel her lips curve into a smile against my skin and her body relaxes. Reaching up with one hand, I pull the stiletto out of my hair, dark curls tumbling down my back as they're released. I cup the back of her head with my other hand, firm but gentle as I hold her still. I lower the point of the stiletto to where head and neck meet, careful to not let the cold steel touch her skin just yet. Her arms wrap around my waist in a hug and only now can I really feel how frail she is. I lean over and brush my lips over the top of her head and swiftly plunge the blade into her spine. I can feel the moment she goes limp and her breath ceases to warm my skin. The blade is pulled out, steel painted red. I set it aside and gently push her body to lean against the back of the couch where it'll soak up her blood. Her eyes are closed and there's a smile on her face that makes me feel better about my job. I smooth the wrinkles out of her dress and fold her hands in her lap. She looks like she could have just fallen asleep on the couch, but already what little color she had in her skin is fading to the shade of death. I rise, clean my stiletto off on the couch and take it back to where I'd left my bag. The rest is routine as I fill out paperwork, signing off that I fulfilled the request and call the cleaning staff to let them know that they're free to come in and do their job. As I take my coat from the coatrack and slip into it, I ca n't help but look back. `` Rest well.'' I murmur before picking up my bag and exiting the apartment. ( Edit: This could questionably be construed as erotica? Mods give me a shout if you think so and I'll remove it. )

[ WP ] You can control each of the four elements ( fire , water , earth , and aire ) , but each one is tied to a particular emotion

People seem to think that when I get angry I'll breathe fire like a dragon or when I am sad I will cause monsoons to knock out entire cities. These things have never really bothered me, they were always a part of my life, them and the people who feared me, feared that I would be unable to control myself. Mothers hurriedly pushing their children into the closest store or fathers taking on a particularly defensive stance near me. Everybody was surprised when I decided to become a paramedic, as I stressed my way through school and fought to find a job. I ended up being able to find a job with the ambulance service for my hometown which was n't bad. A small town with only a few thousand people, we spent most of our days watching tv and counting down till we got to go home. I had heard that this job came with some emotional baggage but I think that mainly only applies to big city medics, sure we've had our share of tragedy but you ca n't be too grieved because the ninety year old woman from down the road finally passed on. After years of needles and tubes I thought I had seen and done everything and found a way to handle it, it almost seemed like people had forgotten about my power. That is until I heard my childhood home address blare over the stations dispatch speaker, the speaker that had sent me to so many other peoples tragedies and their worst day had never clearly announced anything that sent shivers up my spine and sent my stomach into my boots `` Medic 211 priority response, reported unresponsive male, 18576 cherry lane, CPR is in progress''. The house I grew up in, the same house I learned to handle myself in, would be the scene of my collapse. As I stood over the body of my beloved father, with needles and tubes sticking out of him every which way and the constant whine of the monitor indicating the patient had no pulse. Then the whine fell away, it fell farther and farther into the chasm of my despair, until it was incinerated in the fires of my fury at having lost control. It seemed fitting, my grandfather finished this house on the day my father was born, and on the day of his death it would be I who would destroy it, along with the town I grew up in. As the storm raged around me, as the earth split asunder with a deafening roar and lighting flared overhead like the very hand of God smiting his foes, as the fire and lava roiled from the core of the earth at my beck and call and as the oceans of the world rose and fell, their depth only equal to my loss. By the time it was over and sky cleared and the lava melted away, the oceans calmed and the earth finally came to rest the planet earth was unrecognizable as it once was. And my father was entombed in a chamber of diamond of my own making.

[ WP ] Elon Musk has finally colonized Mars , but heavy taxes are placed on the citizens in order for the United States to keep supporting it . The citizens get angry at the taxation without representation , and thus , the Mars Revolutionary War begins .

2048 A.D. SpaceX successfully colonized Mars. After the population of the colony exceeded 20,000 the United States seized the colony and braded it a Commonwealth territory. As with other territories, the Martian colony, Patterson Town, was not given representation in the Senate or the House of Representatives. Many did not mind, until the Carbon Fiber Act of 2048. After that things began to change. In a small tavern on the outskirts of the city, four longtime friends, once Aerospace Engineers, are gathered around a table talking about the day ’ s events. James: How much money do they think we have? They pay us shit and then expect to give it all back! Smithy: Calm down, the taxes aren ’ t that high, and besides they are the ones who send the supply shipments every month. James: It starts small, but it grows and grows and before you know it they ’ ll be sucking every penny out of you and giving it to those pricks in the Tharsis sector. Clark: You know it wouldn ’ t be bad if we could actually have some say in the things that happen over there on Blue. The friends look at each other, some take sips of their beers. The bartender raises the volume on the iTeles. News Anchor: Breaking news out of south Texas. The United States has just retaken Brownsville from Mexico. The siege has been going on since September and it seems that Mexican troops are now retreating. This has been the first time since the 2 year war that the Global Confederacy has retreated. In retaliation, China launch a cyber-attack draining over $ 4 million dollars. In the back someone shouts “ Screw those damn Globalists, they ’ re the ones that started it! ” James is already riled up and has no patience for the Loyalists. “ Maybe if the US didn ’ t try to bully their way into politics none of this would have happened! ” There is exchange of profanity between the two, and a reminder of where James lives, before the James ’ friends pull him out of the bar. Walking along the redstoned path Clark looks towards his friends, and says “ You wouldn ’ t think we are part of the US, besides those idiots no one cares about the war with Mexico, no one cares about the politics, and no one listens to what we have to say. ” Silence, as the friends reflect on what Clark said. The idea is not new, almost everyone has thought about it. Breaking the silence Jim says “ We could start our own ” Everyone looks at him. Smithy: “ Our own what? ” Jim: “ Our own country ” 2 years later. Operator: “ General Clark, I have the Orbit Commander on the phone ” Clark: “ Go ahead ” He picks up the phone. Orbit Commander: “ Looks like Blue is sending a fleet this way, and they ’ re not slow ” Clark: “ How long? ” Commander: “ 2 months max ” Clark: “ Jesus, they aren ’ t being greedy on fuel. That ’ d be a first ” Commander: “ Well we did just take over all their command and communication posts. ” Clark: “ Thank you Commander is that all ” Commander: “ Yes sir, over and out ” Clark turns to Smithy, we need to prepare. Outside of the command building, red flags decorated with yellow drills and hoes wave across town buildings, stores have banners reading “ Red or Dead ”, citizens wear red coats. The revolution has just begun.

[ WP ] Write a story based on , inspired by , or directly from the last dream you remember .

Mark was screamed, it was near impossible to speak over the rush of fire and air. Electronics were out and all his view that of fire. Issac and Aaron were out cold, the first jolt slamming them against their restraints hard enough that the whiplash had blacked them out. Mark himself had taken a hit, his right eyes stung with what he knew would be blood, and his memory a lost haze. He knew what he was supposed to do in this situation, training had remained. Fear itched father and father in to his mind as he desperately flowed through his options. With each failure he felt more and more calm, more and more accepting of what was happening. Exhausting his last option he knew his fate. Even if he could gain mechanical control of the falling shuttlecraft, the damage was too much. No matter where he struck the earth it would be like that of an asteroid: a hulking crater and nothing more. It would be only a minute before they returned so violently to the surface of the world. No need to rouse the others, best to let their last moments not be filled with inescapable dread. Mark could feel tears begin to form, but they would not flow. No memory of lovers or family could find his way to his mind, nothing that a bitter cursing of his own fate. Closing his eyes Mark centered himself, it would be best to not see his demise rush up to greet him. Silence. Another moment and more silence. Cracking open one eye Mark found himself starting at Earths horizon and the stars below it. “ Well, least he ’ s not a total loss after all. ” Looking to his right mark found both Issac and Aaron smirking at him. Issac was trying not to burst out in laughter, and Aaron had a shit eating grin on his bearded face. Mark blinked, and like cogs things fell in line. “ You son of a bitch! ” The clipboard that was thrown was neither light nor slow moving, but Aaron deftly dodged is flat and strait arc, catching it when it rebounded off of the wall. “ No need to throw a fit. ” “ Throw a fit?! ” Mark snarled. “ You just had me believe I was about to die. ” There was a click as Issac slid from his harness. “ I ’ m going to go get some popcorn, this is going to be good. ” “ That ’ s not exactly what happened… ” Aaron began. He didn ’ t make it very far in the face of Marks rage. “ Hazing! ” Mark protested. “ I swear to all things holy, I thought we were past that schoolyard bull shit already! ” “ Mark… ” “ Nope. ” Mark stated cutting him off again, slapping the release on his harness at the same time. “ Not dealing with you. I ’ m going to go check our emergency systems. Made me fucking paranoid. ” Pushing off with decent force Mark aimed deft for the access to the rear of the craft. “ Aww, ” Issac protested as Mark maneuvered past while he stuffed his face with a handful of popcorn. “ Be that way I ’ ll just enjoy the view then. ” Ignoring him Mark made it to the secondary emergency controls and pulled the clipboard from its nearby resting place. The minutes past slowly as he tried to bite back his anger with procedure. By design the thoroughness of the checklist ran against his thoughts long enough to straighten them. Reaching to his eye, he pulled his hand across it, expecting dry blood but only coming away with the lightest of sweat. Did I imagine that? A power drain ran through the system, matched by a distant whine of an interlock and pressure seal. A quick glance told him all of the space suits were present, and his blood turned to ice. He wouldn ’ t! “ Issac! Aaron! ” Mark shouted as he bolted towards the front half of the craft where the seal would be located. I swear to god if this is another… Marks thoughts froze as his eyes crossed the view port for the chamber, a body floating gently in the now void. It was Issac, and Mark could not bring a thought to his mind as he watched him continue to eat from his popcorn bag. “ Idiot, ” Aaron stated calmly as he punched in the command to cycle the air lock closed and open the internal door. It ’ s a strange reflex to try to take a step back in zero gravity as it does not work, and leaves you just as close to the source of fear as when you started. It took Mark three tries before he realized his mistake. Grabbing a railing he bolted past the calm Aaron, intent on the communications system. A hand wrapped around his ankle arresting all of his momentum. The area he was in was one of the large sections of the shuttle, and as the hand let go he knew he was hopelessly trapped in the open. Desperate Mark tried to ‘ swim ’ through the air. It was a tactic for the situation, but it would take him near a minute to reach something he could grab onto. “ Dolt, ” Aaron cursed as he dragged Isaac back into the main room of the craft and closed the hatch. “ What? And why is he so panicky? ” Mark oriented himself to the pair of them, unable to come to terms with what he was witnessing. The vacuumed killed, everyone knew that. “ What are you? ” Mark breathed. Issac stared at him, then paused in his munching of his popcorn. “ Oooh, no way, ” he realized turning to Aaron. “ Is he what they call a figment? ” “ I suspect so. ” “ What the hell is going on here?! ” Mark demanded. “ How the hell are you still alive? ” “ We aren ’ t, ” Aaron stated calmly. “ The shuttle crashed, we died. ” Mark remained unmoving. “ I ’ m dead? ” Aaron smirked again. “ Hmm, I suppose not. The shuttle did crash, we did die, but when I say we I don ’ t think I get to include you. After all you were never really here were you? ” “ What? ” “ He ’ s got to be a figment, ” Issac confirmed. “ Makes a bunch of sense. So panicky. If he is though, this is super dangerous for him. ” “ Agreed, time for you to go home Mark. ” “ What the hell is going on?! ” “ Time to wake up. ” The fist was a blur and caught Mark on the right side of his face, just below his cheek. # # # Mark awoke with a groan, which intensified as he reached for his face. Just what I need: tooth problems. Throwing his legs out of bed mark righted himself. Reaching for the remote to his TV mark flipped it to the local news channel, they always did traffic reports and would give him an estimate of how much time he had left. Sliding into his morning routine Mark paid no attention to the TV, its sound a pleasant background noise. He was up early due to the tooth ache, the report wouldn ’ t come for a while. “ Aaron Kerensky and Lieutenant Issac Amerov… ” Mark blinked, pausing his toothbrush mid stroke. Learning out to the side he gazed at the TV, and could see two familiar faces, that he refused to believe. Pinching himself Mark winced at the pain. “ The hell? ” Grabbing up the controller Mark turned the TV up. “ After a mixing problem with one of their fuel tanks. NASA has release an early press statement to that end and that they have recovered the ships blackbox. Most of the data on the blackbox remains intact including the ship microphones. A few at NASA who have listened to the recording find it harrowing, stating that they can only hear an additional voice that did not belong to either of the deceased astronauts. They are attributing this to corruption due to damage, and potential hysteria among one of the crew during their final moments. Some of the technicians claim that the thirds so called voice is so faint and distant that most likely it is a simple trick of the mind or figment of the imagination among the listeners in the wake of such a disaster. “ Nope, ” Mark swore, turning of the TV. “ Nope, nope nope. Not possible, someone must have drugged me or something. Returning to his morning routine Mark froze at the sight of his reflection. Longer hair had hidden it, and he swept his bangs back to reveal the dried blood of a cut over his eye. “ Right, Ok then. You are allowed to panic. ”

[ WP ] A colony ship discovers that , due to a calculation error , they will never reach their destination .

I fucking hate the aristocrats, the captain thought. `` Sir, we have to start the process, now.'' said the journey adviser. He fucking hated him too. It was Captain Donovan's 43rd run and he did n't need any advisers. None of this would have happened if they did n't run their new programs that were supposed to increase the fuel efficiency. They were off their course, and they were not going to make it in time. Adviser said that a violent solar storm in a system nearby was the cause of this `` error''. Such a short word for so much agony he thought. `` How much time we're going to get?'' Donovan asked. `` Up to six months, if everybody is reasonable. Maybe seven. Otherwise it is impossible to transport the aristocrats and the additional load'' Donovan felt the disgust rising again everything was math for them, only variation in his little equation was the rationality of aristocrats. So many times he glanced at the glass cover of the self destruct button and saw the reflection of stars, remembered all the psychological evaluations he had to go through. They were n't necessary before the system change. He wanted to end it all, money did n't matter anymore for him, not in this universe. He would slam that button if it was n't for the refugees. So much mattered for them, poor souls he thought. Drifting in space. `` Sir, the chambers are almost ready. I need your confirmation to start the harvesting.'' `` The refugees, are they going to feel.. pain?'' `` This is the first time the PHR003 process will be run on a colony ship, our tests have shown that the gas painlessly and effectively killed subjects without contaminating their-'' `` That's enough.'' said the captain raising his hand. His ring caught his eye, he still wore it even though it did n't matter anymore. `` Sir, I need your-'' Captain nodded. He turned around and gazed into the stars, thought about systems in those stars where a man who never had to give these orders lived. Thought about the farms he read in the books, a simpler life. Martha would love that too he thought. In it for the money. Look how that turned out. He walked to the cabinet and pushed away his old star map tablets. He was saving up his Jameson and a pack of historical Luckys for a special occasion. Found out today that special occasions did n't have to be good ones. He walked over the glass window on the floor and paused to stare at those new soulless creatures they put in his ship. He missed his old crew, he missed the asteroid mining days. He poured a glass of Jameson and lit up his last cigarette. The smoke alarm went off. Like a countdown, the dull square waves were pulsing in his ear. He raised the glass lid, he could n't see the stars on the button anymore. `` I fucking hate aristocrats.'' Donovan said. He put his weight on the button, and felt all the weight on him lift off. edit: spelling and grammar

[ WP ] On everyone 's 24th birthday they are assigned something that they are the best in the world at . You just got assigned yours , preventing the apocalypse .

Jack sat back and switched on the TV. After two months in space he just wanted one minute to relax. As the worlds foremost expert in Microbial Biology he had been the perfect candidate for Nasa's experiments on the effects and growth of microbes in space, his military background had done wonders for preparation. Then the phone rang. For a minute, he considered the possibility of leaving it. What's the worst that could happen. Sadly, he knew that answer and so, creaking ever so slightly, he pulled himself up and closed the gap between him and it. `` You're the guy right?! The one who fixes things?!'' A staticy voice shrieked into his ear.'' `` Yes, I am the guy.'' Then, with only the barest hint of a sigh `` I assume you have a problem?'' `` It started this morning! They're coming from the grou- oh shit, OH SHIT it's at the door oh god oh god oh fucking shi-'' `` Can you describe them? I'm going to need details. Are they fast or slow?'' `` WHAT?!'' `` Are they moving quickly in a sort of hunter predator type fashion, or do they sort of shamble about. Also is there any visual rotting. It's important that I know.'' `` I do n't know I did n't see! Please! They tore my whole family please I do n't want to di-''. There was a pause on the line. `` Oh no. No no nonononono please agghhh it's in here please shitshitshitshahhhhhhkkkksssstttttkkkkkksssssssssssssssssss,'' the phone cut off. Jack put the phone down. He took a look round his room, knowing he would n't be seeing it for a while, gaze lingering on the TV, which had been paused to answer the phone call. After wasting way more time than he should have, he sighed and, with a heavy heart, exited his apartment; grabbing the shotgun by the door on the way out.

[ WP ] You wake up in a house . It 's nice place , with all the comforts of home . However , the front door is cold steel , with a note on it . The note warns you never to leave the house . After years of compliance , you decide to go through the steel door ...

I live in a house all my own. It's not a bother, being so confined. I mean, I do n't mind. Two storeys, it's plenty enough, a large house for a large set of needs. I exercise, and think and read, and I write, so they send me paper in my packages.'They.' It's been... sorry, I'd have to check the numbers, but it's been a number of years. Five? Has it been five years yet? Already? I still do n't know who they are, why they're keeping me here. I'm not done. Maybe I wo n't go out. There are two bathrooms, which is odd. Was I the only one supposed to be living here? Or what if this is all a test, and if I stay inside like they ask, they'll give me a companion. A companion, I think. Would be nice. I think it would be necessary for, well for certain urges, for sure. Do I... want it though? I wanted a clipboard, and they sent me a clipboard. I did n't say anything, put nothing in my notes, and still they knew. And so if I really wanted a woman... I quit thinking. I've had too many thoughts, and maybe today I'll just enjoy the frigid feeling of steel on my back. The front door is thick, and I wonder sometimes if they're keeping something out as much as they're keeping me in. The handle is there, looks easy enough to turn. The note did n't say I could n't open the door, just that I should never go out.... But I'm a chicken, and doing laundry now. It does n't make me feel good to be so afraid of the things I ca n't do. Should n't do? I was told not to do. I remember my letter from the first night. Cold, scared, alone, trying desperately to believe that I'd see anyone I knew again. I remember... I try not to. I try to stop thinking again. Have I changed? Is it really that the people I knew were that bad—no, do n't say that. But then what do you call it? Annoying? Different? Uncaring? Do I like it in here as much as I want to believe I do? Or I'm projecting. I'm just stuck in this one-man house, and desperate to believe that anyone might care that I exist. I need to kill this idea, need to work out an alternative, need to not do anything careless, and I ca n't let this get away from me. I'm happy here, with this life and once again, with my back, cold against the heavy door.'You must never attempt to leave this house.' Maybe I'll make chicken casserole, or... *Screech* It surprises me how difficult the handle is to move, and perhaps surprising me more is the tactile click the door makes as the latch bolt clears the frame. It's unlocked. I swing the door toward me, and reveal... a wall. God damn, a fucking wall. I should n't have opened this door, this is too much to take. Balcony, chemicals, downstairs tub, or kitchen knives; it all comes flooding back, something spinning ideas in my head, the best way to die. How many more years am I going to be stuck living out the rest of my human life in blissful, ineffectual, stagnated solitude? I should not have opened the door. I should have let my body live out its natural lifespan still believing there might be a way out. Now I have no purpose. No point. And too much a coward am I to find peace hanging from the second floor banister. So. It's been ten years since I've written anything. Still no sign that any being has any plan for me, but someone somewhere is still providing for me. It's almost religious in the way I've come to recognize this source of light, materials and sustenance as both my sole caring savior in this stunted existence, and my worst aggressor, tearing me forcefully from what I now worship as the ideal life. A life with people. I remember all the people I can, and I invent others. The house is littered with paper, covering nearly every surface, a hideous mess to any that might visit, but the only newcomers are the papers themselves. I move them around, and they talk to each other, changing each other, becoming one more like the other as the other picks up little defining traits of the one. I remember all the little nuances of how people would behave, and make certain that my people are no different. My people are bakers, and fishermen, and racecar drivers, but more. They are gluttons, and they steal, but they love, and care, and want selfishly while holding dear and giving selflessly to the ones they would be alone without. My papers are my people, and they live natural lives until one day for reasons of purpose, or need for more space, or gleeful arbitrary indifference, I, their lord master and creator, may come swooping down and end their existence with a crumple or a tear. Why am I writing this? Why am I doing this? I'm... Sick. It's been six months since my last log. I've made some stories, I think they're pretty good. Anne and Doug Walters are the protagonists, and they are n't flat either, they're very complex, and I wish I could show them to someone who could say what I'm not thinking. But Robert Berenst likes my story, and he likes nothing better than to criticize. But he is just something I made up, so I guess his praise is n't worth more than the paper it's written on. I look down at the florist, surrounded by thugs. When did that happen? I did n't move them, did I? I mean I ca n't have, I would remember, I would think, but, well, but the only alternative is something that is so much less likely than my mind losing memories. I cough, and phlegm shoots onto a bare patch of carpet, and I try to clear my throat, and wonder if I should take some medicine. I've taken a bath, and I'm making a sandwich, and I've had a thought that I have n't had in years. Windows. God, I miss windows. My first few weeks in the house, I started to marvel at how much like the sun this interior lighting looked and felt. But all I can do now is despise the falsehood it represents. Maybe I should just break all the bulbs, and see what they do about that. Maybe I wo n't. Maybe it's time to end this whole thing. Maybe... Mouth full of sandwich, I feel a sneeze coming on. I squeeze the bottom of my nose, trying to negate the sensation, but something catches my eye. The florist. She's crumpled, torn, pieces pulled away. The street thugs are gone. I pause for a moment, pencil in my hand, as I put down on paper what I've just seen. Is it really that time? I've finally done it, and what an accomplishment it's been. Something I thought I'd do in my first two years here, I've finally done after almost sixteen. I've gone crazy. The first time I wrote that, it was an idle musing of a man a little too pent-up, with too little souls for company. A few forgotten actions perhaps, and the death of an imaginary florist, at the imaginary hands of some street criminals more paper than fleshed out. I saw the damage they had wrought, and from even allowing myself to seriously consider their actions as real, I knew I had done it. And so I wrote it. I. Have. Gone. Crazy. But thinking back now, that did n't really necessitate me carving and writing it all over the walls. I guess I just needed to do something to drive the point home. Somewhere, way in the back of my mind, I keep the treasured memories of my life before this dungeon. I had a girlfriend, taken mostly for granted, but genuinely loved as well. She loved me, I think. I would n't have considered marriage, but it still gets on my mind that maybe if I had been a little more committed, took a little less time alone... It's not my fault. It ca n't be my fault for ending up here. But still... If we had made a child, he or she would have been old enough to drink by now. I did n't have to break all the mirrors, idiot. I wonder what I look like. I feel wrinkles on my face, and I know not all of them were there before. I'm aging. I look down from the balcony at the scene below. Stacks of upstanding citizens have made little bunkers out of dissembled furniture and their fallen comrades. Competing gangs roam the empty patches of carpet, just looking for blood, or confetti as it were. I chuckle at my bad joke. And completely miss the severity of my mental health situation. I glance up at the walls. I. Am. We. Are. Crazy. Do n't. Insane. Why do n't. My head. We wo n't. Is full. Remorse. Of monsters. I stopped touching the papers a long time ago. My utopia turned dystopian, and some strong, willed portion of my brain just begging to believe that I'm not the one ripping and shredding the florist and baker and racecar driver into tiny bits while the criminals remain flat, evil, hateful characters who do all the dirty deeds in this town. But the rational part somewhere inside understands the nature of this reality. Something has grown in me, which does what it wants, because I've lost all reason or will to resist. So I've stopped going downstairs. That land is his now, and I just watch the once great society I built get taken down to a paltry collection of survivors, incapable of turning the tide against the great endless paper sea of aggressors. My age has made me verbose, I realize. Maybe I should take a nap. A quick sleep. A rest. I. Am the end. It's all gone, everything's gone, nothing where I left it. Doors are all off hinges, the heavy metal front one unbolted and leaning against the cement wall that prevents my freedom. And everything else downstairs, burnt, all up in flames and into ash, soggy from water still running in pools from the kitchen. The toilets are smashed, the sledgehammer left conspicuously dented into my bedside table. Did I do this? There is no paper left, none besides what's pinned onto this clipboard. It's all gone. I ca n't think, I ca n't look, I wo n't cry. What is this life? What have I done to it, if it was me, and why do I care? It's not like I affect anyone or anything anyway. What should I do? What should I... do. I know what to do. The sledgehammer is certainly something I do n't use much, because why would I? What purpose could I have for such a forceful tool? I smash with a few heavy strokes through my bedroom wall. Maybe I'll finally have a window. But nothing changes when I hit solid concrete.

[ WP ] The Rapture is happening on earth but you and your team of astronauts have just embarked on a journey into deep space .

I'd never been a religious man, in fact my atheism was one of the reasons I had been so willing to let myself be taken off that blasted rock and be flung into deep space. Our journey was rather simple when looked at objectively. We were to use the gravity of Saturn as a slingshot to activate our pulse drives, they would shunt us into the deepest regions of space. We'd detected some sort of life out there, no one knew what or who it was but there was no way the signals were natural. We were the vanguard. The point of humanity that would go where no man had gone before, all very star trek. The journey to Saturn would take a week using our nuclear storm drives. We had come far since the days of space shuttles in the late twentieth century. Space travel was much more commercial after the moon base had been formed, though no colonies had quite made it to Mars yet. `` Captain Lynner, we have non-human readings forming over Terra Prime,'' came the voice of my second in command. `` What do you mean non-human readings?'' I shot back. Typical, the week we leave Earth to find alien life and the alien life had come to find us instead. `` It's like nothing I've ever seen before Sir,'' she continued, `` a huge energy spike just appeared over the home world, some sort of energy field giving off an unknown radiation.'' Unknown radiation, that was an interesting term, purely because we did n't get to encounter unknown energy forms in our own solar system too often if at all anymore. It was tempting to override the ships Automatic Command Systems and swing the ship back toward home, but that would be a direct offence toward Starcommand. Disobeying orders was frowned upon. The light blazed with a ferocity that I had never known before. So intense that the ship rattled in its hinges. In a way it made me feel serene, touching my soul and drawing it from my... The pulse drives kicked in, forcing me back into my chair and activating the ships automatic stasis units. It enveloped my head first, the cooling jel filling my nose and mouth and I slowly drifted away with a distinct feeling of loss gripping my heart. When the pulse warp died down the stasis systems reliquished their hold. I choked up some if the jel and let myself slump forwar, I'd never liked stasis systems. We would have been in transit for a year relative time, our time, moving at near light speed. Every year counts for a hundred in real space, a hundred years had passed for everyone back on Terra Prime. Terra Prime... The memories came slowly at first, and then all at once. The bright light, the non-human energy field, the feeling of completion. What had happened in our last moments in the Sol system... `` Sir, you're going to want to see this,'' said my second, her voice still groggy. `` We're in deep space, no need to be so formal, what have you got for me?'' I replied. `` Sorry Craig, during our last moments in Sol we received a video file. It's from command.'' I nodded slowly, absorbing the information, it had n't been a video file that had caused all that unknown energy. `` On screen Scarlet.'' The video showed destruction, pure and utter destruction. The building was shaking, fires billowed outside, and explosions could be heard in the distance. Yet despite all of that the head of command had a serene smile on his face, as if he had been feeling that same completion I had felt before we pulsed away. `` It's time, Andromeda Ship, he has come at last,'' the commander started, his voice laced with awe. `` If you are present to hear this message then we can only assume you have not ascended to the gates of Heaven with the rest of us. For that I am truly sorry. Our Lord, Yaweh, God, whatever you wish to describe him as, is reigning holy rapture on our world. Those who are pure will ascend, those who do not will be left as the playthings of Satan. Good luck in your mission, it is time.'' The video ended with a bright flash of light, one I was all too familiar with. `` Craig... what was that?'' Scarlet asked, her voice unsteady and unsure. `` I do n't... did you feel it just before we left? That sense of completion? That you were part of something... greater?'' She nodded and I let out a long sigh. `` Is it true then, the rapture, what command was saying?'' `` We can... only assume it was,'' I murmured, trying to come to terms with it all. `` Then why were n't we... you know... ascended?'' That was a good question. Myself it was obvious, I was an atheist, there would be no place for me in the pantheon of God. But Scarlet was a devout Christian, she had never strayed off of the path of God, I was vaguely under the impression that she had been looking for god in her own way by coming on our interstellar journey. `` Maybe... we were out of his influence in subspace? Perhaps he has no power there...'' She nodded but did n't respond verbally. It was the only explanation we had and there was n't going to be any others coming any time soon. `` So what do we do?'' `` We inform the crew...'' I said wearily, `` and then we continue with the mission, we've got ten years of supplies after that we're done... unless we find the source of the signal.'' One short nod, that's all she gave me. We could very well be the last of humanity, we were taking it well for now but I knew it would n't be long until we all cracked. Truthfully we were done for whether we found the signal or not, and I knew she knew that. But we had to keep a brave face, we had to keep going, we had to endure. We had missed our trip to eternity, God had forgotten us, but we were human and we would never give up.

[ WP ] A nasty run-in with a Leprechaun leaves you cursed to only speak in rhyme . Jokes on him , though , cause now your one of the biggest rap artists in recent history . He 's not taking it well .

I was met by this dirty little shmuck The tiny green fuck asked me to run my luck Hit me with the magic, so emphatic Cause now I'm the illest alive, big money habits Gold chrome rims, black Tims, yellow lams Iced out grills, give em chills, against the plans Talk so sweet with the heat in the street That your girl come to me and she scream like a freak Got ta thank the little fucker, fore i floss out Grinding till my eyes closed, jam it, now I'm a boss now Ricky rosay keep my number on his speed dial Cause these writers lose their jobs, while I keep smiles

[ WP ] One person in the entire world was born without the need to sleep . He is now X years of age and for the first time in his life , he feels sleepy .

`` He will never know a normal life. He'll be a spectacle for the world and, quite frankly, a headache for you.'' The man in the white coat was speaking again. Repoort was sure that he was talking about him. He glanced at his parents. Their faces were placid, as they usually were when they were with the man in the white coat. He looked down at his sister's hand, grasping his as tightly as it could. Her little, round face was hot with anger. She understood what was happening. *What was happening? * `` He is n't a headache! He's ours!'' She exclaimed. `` This one is n't exceptional in any way?'' The man in the white coat asked, gesturing toward her, not bothering to use her name; although he knew it. Neecee was exceptionally smart. Everyone knew that. Still, she was unlike Repoort, making her exceptionalism irrelevant and of no interest to the man in the white coat. Repoort watched his parents shake their heads, confirming that Neecee was, indeed, nothing special. *Why did n't their parents ever speak around the man in the white coat? * The man in the white coat handed his parents the papers that Neecee always spoke of so fearfully. They were crisp, white papers that smelled of salt. Repoort had seen his parents stare at the papers for hours at a time. Something was different about today. His parents did n't stare at the papers. His mother accepted the paper decisively, as though she already knew what they said, what they meant and how she felt about them. She gave the papers to his father and nodded. Neecee began to cry. Repoort had never seen Neecee cry. She was far too good at getting her way to be reduced to tears. `` Daddy, please. I'll take care of him. I'll look after him. Please, Daddy,'' Neecee whined. Repoort was astonished to hear Neecee, who always commanded and never asked, whine. Their father looked at Neecee and Repoort could see no compassion in his expression. Whatever this was, it was done. `` Sign them.'' The words came from the man in the white coat in the form of an excited whisper. Their father reached inside his suit jacket and extracted a pen. He signed the papers unceremoniously and rose from his seat. `` Neecee,'' he said. `` Let's go.'' It was the first time Repoort had heard his father speak in the presence of the man in the white coat. `` I will NOT leave him!'' Neecee held tighter to Repoort's hand, wrapping her other arm around him protectively. `` He's only six. This is wrong,'' she continued. `` Daddy, you know this is wrong!'' `` Neecee,'' their mother spoke consolingly to her youngest daughter. `` We talked about this, baby. Let's go.'' Their father, visibly tired and unmoved by Neecee's protests, picked Neecee up and tucked her under his arm. `` We're leaving now,'' he said. Neecee screamed and kicked, attempting to wriggle free from their father's strong hold. Their father continued, unaffected towards the door. Their mother followed. Just like that, they were gone. The man in the white coat picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. `` The Stanciel family has released Repoort to us. Please prepare his room.'' Repoort's room was painted blue. The walls were decorated with pictures of children he'd never met. His bed was large enough for he and his whole family to sleep in comfortably. At home, they all made pallets on the floor. He remembered when his parents had brought home sleeping bags and told them all that every night would be like the time they went camping. That was when his parents still loved him. Now, it seemed, they had grown tired of their exceptional child. The short, blonde woman who'd introduced herself as Nanny was pulling back the unreasonable amount of blankets and sheets that were piled atop his sea of a bed. `` Come on, buddy,'' Nanny urged him, waving him over to where she stood. Repoort grew uneasy. He hated beds as much as he hated the sleeping bag his parents had forced upon him. He remained rooted where he stood. `` Repoort, come NOW, please,'' Nanny said, her voice rising an octave as she began to lose patience. Report walked, hesitantly, to the bed. Nanny pulled him into a hug, pressing his face against her large breasts. *When was the last time someone besides Neecee had hugged him? * `` Do n't be afraid, buddy.'' Her voice had returned to it's natural pitch. `` Things are going to be different now.'' His parents had hoped things would be different for a long time. They'd tried moving him into their bed from his own. They'd tried prescribed medicine and psychologists. They'd tried everything but accepting what Repoort already had. `` You're going to sleep now,'' Nanny told him, gently. She sat on the end of the bed that was still covered with blankets and clutched a pillow to her bosom. `` I do n't sleep.'' Repoort had said the words so many times, it almost made him sick to hear them cross his lips again. He prayed that Nanny did n't ask him to explain what he could n't. Nanny rose from where she sat and crossed the blue room. With her back to him, she said `` Tonight you will, buddy. Climb in.'' Repoort climbed in. He had long stopped being frustrated by the lack of understanding he now knew that everyone would exhibit. She would come to see that he was different, just as everyone else had. When Nanny turned to face him, she was holding something Repoort had never seen. She walked back to the bed with the long, orange, needle crowned cylinder. `` Close your eyes, buddy,'' she whispered. He closed his eyes. He felt the prick of the needle. Then, he felt everything change. Then, everything was different. Every care left his mind. Every ounce of energy left his body. He opened his eyes and they stung. Instinctively, he shut them again. His thoughts began to jumble. `` I told you you would sleep,'' Nanny said, her words piercing through the fog. Was that what this was? Repoort remembered lying on the floor in his sleeping bag, surrounded by his sisters, crying because he could n't tolerate the loneliness. He remembered wondering where they went when their eyes were closed, that he could n't reach them. Was he about to find out? He saw Neecee's face, sweet and understanding, loving and kind. Neecee would tell him that it would be okay. Neecee would tell him to let the darkness swallow him whole. Neecee always knew what was right. For the first time, Repoort was able to let go.

[ WP ] In a twist to medieval tales , you are a knight that has to save a dragon , from a princess .

**Part 1** In all the land, there was one knight whose fame outshone all others. His chivalrous conduct indicated the noble heart within, and most of the ladies of the court were envious of the lady Melody, whose favours he always wore, and to whom he dedicated all his deeds. The name of this beacon of hope was Sir Odirot. Sir Odirot was the reigning champion of all the major tournaments, and high in the king's favour, as well as the lady Melody's. The queen had even offered him her favour to wear one tournament when a malady kept the king from entering, but the loyal sir Odirot had politely refused on account of the lady Melody. Our tale begins as the young Princess Alexandra Margaret Ermine Louisa Ingrid Andrea sneak out of the castle, through the town and out into the open in clothes she has'borrowed' from her maidservant. To be fair to the princess, it should be mentioned that she left an outfit of higher quality in place of the one she took. The princess had always been particularly strong-willed, and more than a little reckless. This was widely known. What was not known, was the strong magical powers she possessed. Princess Alexandra Margaret and-so-forth was in fact the third strongest sorcerer in all the world - but that she did not know. All she knew was that she had powers, and that her father did not tolerate sorcerers.

[ WP ] You have the ability to become someone else by putting their shoes on .

`` Oh my god, do we have to stop at every yard sale?'' Katie bemoaned, but she knew her complaints were useless. Megan grabbed her by the hand and delightedly dragged her to the big piles of junk. `` Oh my god, babe,'' Megan breathed. `` They seriously have a Star Wars snow globe.'' `` Mmhm,'' Katie said, using the hand that was n't holding Megan's hand to check Facebook on her phone. `` And some old versions of Trivial Pursuit... And a spatula shaped like a chicken!'' If there was one thing Megan loved, it was absolutely useless crap. Their apartment was already a kitschy, cluttered mess, and it drove Katie slightly insane. Still, she loved Megan, so she could tolerate a few minutes of browsing and maybe one or two new knick knacks. `` Oh my god, Katie. You have to try these shoes.'' Megan lifted a pair. `` They're too small for me, but they're amazing.'' `` I do n't need shoes,'' Katie said, not looking up from her phone. `` You need these,'' Megan assured her. Katie looked up, and saw the most heinous cowboy boots in the world. They were purple, velvet, and covered in gaudy costume gemstones. `` Pleaaaase try them on?'' Katie sighed. `` Okay. I will. But can we please go home in like, ten minutes? I'm hungry and I want to make that frozen pizza then cuddle up with Netflix all night.'' `` You got yourself a deal,'' Megan agreed, grinning as she handed Katie the shoes. Katie put them on, and had to admit they fit pretty perfectly. Maybe they'd be good for some kind of Halloween costume. `` Okay, babe, how do I look?'' But Megan was gone. The yard sale was gone, and the street was gone, and their town. In their place was a desert, desolate and dry. Katie heard a whoosh behind her and turned around. `` Your Highness, thank goodness!'' said a small, tinny voice, coming from a short blue woman on a hover board. `` We were certain you had perished. They'd hung your royal shoes in the town square.'' The blue woman hugged her, crying with happiness. `` What the fuck?'' said Katie. `` You've been challenged to a duel by the rival Disco Cowboy Kingdom, and if you're not there by high noon they're going to raze the whole town. You're our last hope, my queen!'' The blue woman hugged her again. Katie ripped the shoes off her feet and was suddenly back at the yard sale. `` Well?!'' Megan beamed at her. `` Are you going to get them?'' Katie looked at the shoes, and back at her beautiful girlfriend. She looked at the totally normal, peaceful place she lived, and knew she was needed elsewhere. She put the shoes back on.

[ WP ] Write a story using only the suggestion buttons on your mobile phone / tablett .

Hola mi amor por la tarde del trabajo de la ciudad de México y el de la ciudad de México y el otro año pasado y no me gusta mucho más que un día de hoy. I have a couple of questions about the new year. See the attached document? I think I'm just not into it. We'll hang out in the morning and evening and I will get a chance to talk about the same chemistry of my favorite part. If you're interested in this case, you can find out more information about this one of my stuff. I'll be back in town and will not be the first to review my mom.

[ WP ] You are the world 's second best assassin . You 've deposed royalty , killed businessmen and been the `` accident '' that more than a few celebrities have met . Today you 've been given a new target : the world 's best assassin .

Dispose of the world ’ s best assassin? —The request left me with mixed feelings: amusement, confusion, regret. Still, the payout was incredible for such a simple task. On the ‘ Net, he was known as “ 5t0neface ” and went by that moniker in real life. No birth record, no social security number. Lived in a run-down apartment rented by a shell corporation for “ storage, ” which meant it was full of materials and equipment for making bombs and poisons. “ I hear someone was hired to take me out, ” he had tweeted at 11:03 UTC the night before I flew into LaGuardia. “ Come at me, bro, ” was the next, at 01:56 that same night. I cinched up my gloves and turned to the mewling man, bound and gagged, on the hardwood floor. “ They always say, ‘ It ’ s nothing personal, ’ ” I said, waxing philosophical in this rather surreal moment. “ And in this case, it really is. I ’ m sorry, but this job was too good to pass up. I have to do it right. ” He whimpered something, but my attention was elsewhere. In a small box were 5t0neface ’ s myriad fake passports and other identification cards I ’ d collected from his hideouts and safe houses. The syndicate wanted 5t0neface gone, and I was going to make good on that promise. After I finished, there would not be so much as a shred of a vestige of the man left. He had never been born to the world, and so his death would be equally subtle, unnoticed—at least until the new top hired gun arose. The shredder whined and squealed as it chewed through all of the offending documents—all the evidence that 5t0neface had ever existed. Getting access to his accounts was easy, and soon his Bitcoins and deposits were on their ways to various locations around the web, all of which I could access but none of which were tied to my name. When it was done, I took my victim and hefted him into the bath tub, then scattered the cross-cut paper around him. “ I ’ ll make this quick, for your sake, ” I said, feeling a slight pang of guilt. This man had done nothing to wrong me, just like my other marks, but in this case, only the seven zeros attached to the wire transfer would wash away my sins. I delivered two silenced rounds to his head, at speed, and his whimpering subsided. A dash of gasoline and some kindling later gave him the Viking funeral he deserved. Really. I felt like I owed it to him. The fire alarm went off in the building as I was left out the front hallway. “ Time Square, ” I said to the driver of the taxi that stopped to pick me up. Sighing, I promptly forgot about him and got out my cell phone. Opening the contacts, I scrolled down to one: Cindy. A wave of nostalgia washed over me and tugged one corner of my mouth up as I wrote out a brief text: “ I ’ ll miss you. ” I hit send. I watched as the cabbie ’ s eyes snapped to the rear-view mirror and widened at the sound of the explosion, but he said nothing and just punched the accelerator. While the buildings and people and cars rushed by, I let go of the anxiety that had built a small castle in my chest. Seventy million dollars was mine, and all it had required was one small death. “ 5t0neface, ” I muttered, chuckling. I was now the number one assassin in the world, but I never really wanted that title, that notoriety. It was probably time to create the next “ first-place ” hitman and maybe have him “ dispose ” of me, too. Actually, now that I think about it, I could make a killing if I kept up this ruse. Ha. A killing. **Edit: ** Too much scattering.

[ WP ] Skipping stones on a summer day , a child picks up a piece of pottery with odd etchings .

He was n't great at it, but Scott always enjoyed watching the rock leaping across the water seemingly defying gravity. His best was 12 skips but he was determined to do better. The first five or so were just a warm up and now he was ready. Walking along the side of the tranquil pond, eyes darting left and right, he was looking for that perfect rock. That's when he saw it. Scott thought it was a cup or a bowl, but even at 14 he knew something was different about it. He carefully pulled it out of the dried mud and studied it. It was the size and shape of a large coffee mug without a handle. At some point it may have been bright blue but now it was dull and dirty. Short, jagged etchings covered the outside. Scott dipped it in the pond and started cautiously wiping the sides trying to clean it. Then, his entire world turned white. It was two weeks later and Scott sat in an interrogation room in the Pentagon. He was n't handcuffed, but the room was locked and he would n't be allowed to leave. To his left was a large one-way mirror and in front of the chair he sat in was a plain metal table. Scott looked up and a half second later a plain looking man in a suit walked in carrying a folder. He looked at Scott, as if trying to determine just what he was, then sat down across the table from the boy. `` Good morning, I'm Agent Billson with the FBI and I'd like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?'' Scott nodded and Billson opened his file and looked over it before continuing. `` Now it says here that you were found unconscious near a pond 10 days ago. You were in a coma for 5 days and when you regained consciousness you phoned the Deputy Director of the CIA on a phone number that only 3 people in the world have access to. You then proceeded to tell him things that you should not be able to know. I want to know who gave you this information and how they obtained it.'' Scott looked over at the mirror. `` There are 3 men in that room, but you've only met one of them before. Before you came in here you checked your watch, then remembered that you left it at home this morning.'' He looked back at Agent Billson. `` I know these things like I know all things.'' `` That's a neat trick. So you're telling me you have access to top secret government information because you're psychic?'' Billson laughed. `` No. I just know. Ask me anything.'' `` Alright. I'll humor you. What's my middle name?'' Instantly Scott answered `` Todd. Named after your grandfather on you father's side. He was left handed and you always thought you should be too. Before he died he gave you his pocket knife. You thought you lost it, but it's in the lining of the blue suitcase in your garage.'' Billson's jaw dropped. His brain misfired a few times and it took him a full minute to force it back into gear. `` What's my soci-'' `` 383-18-4473.'' `` What kind of-'' `` 2011 Grand Prix. You're due for an oil change.'' Billson could n't believe what was happening. `` How? How are you doing this?'' Scott looked at the mirror and then back to Billson. `` I could explain it several times and you still would n't understand. Suffice to say, I just know. I know one of the men in the room next door is about to leave and come get you. I know the other two are on the phone with their bosses. I know the exact location you could point your SETI dishes at to pick up a signal of non terrestrial origin.'' Billson stared at the young boy across the table from him. Questions flooded his brain, but someone entered the room before he could make his mouth cooperate. The man who just come in quickly ushered Billson out and then turned to face Scott. `` I'm Ag-'' `` Agent Jeffers, I know.'' `` Of course you do.'' Jeffers pulled the chair to the door and propped it under the handle. `` And you also know who I really am and why I have to kill you.'' `` Yes I do. Ca n't have the rest of the FBI knowing about your group. You were able to sabotage the recording equipment very quickly. So your plan is to kill me and then yourself in order to protect the rest of your moles.'' `` Sorry kid. It's nothing personal. Any last words?'' Agent Billson and the other two men were still trying to figure out why none of the cameras or microphones were working when they saw Jeffers pull out his gun and aim it at Scott. Billson looked at Scott and screamed. Scott said exactly 12 words. Billson could n't quite make out what they were but Jeffers dropped immediately. According the coroner's report he died of a brain aneurysm. Somehow during all the commotion that followed, Scott slipped away. The next day Agent Billson got a text message from a burner phone naming all the other members of Jeffers' gang. From time to time he'd hear from Scott, but he never tried to interrogate him again.

[ WP ] The clock on the doomsday device is seconds away from reaching zero , world leaders are on the monitors sweating bullets , but your nemesis still has not appeared to thwart your evil plot .

As the sun sets over the volcano, I ca n't help but to smile at the genius of my plan. Soon the transmitting station will broadcast it's signal to my network of doomsday satellites. Such marvelous piece of technology, magnetic railguns that fire tungsten cylinders the size of a small vehicule towards earth. Once launched, these 12 projectiles will be virtually unstoppable. No failsafe explosive to detonate them prematuraly, too small to be acquired by any targetting system. Simple, beautiful yet deadly. Of course I understand that these satellites while incredibly destructive will not end all life on earth. I'm not an imbecile. They are merely a red herring, a distraction from the real threat. 17 nukes that my men have painfully been hiding across the globe. Say what you want about nuclear weapons but it's still the most cost effective solution for global destruction. But you do n't get into history books by blowing up a few nukes, I mean any sunday morning despot can get his hands on one of these. The satellites, while only a deception, truly capture people's imagination and fear of a god-like destruction raining from the sky. But I disgress... > Mr Monty! Get me the president on the line, it is almost time. *Yes sir Dr Maldos* > Good evening Mr President, as you can see, the sun has set, wich means that your allowed time has expired. Do you have the $ 500,000,000 I demanded? > > Dr Maldos, you know I will never negociate with terrorists! Stop this madness. > Ah! You'd make for a pitiful poker player Mr President. I see the fear in your eyes, the swet on your cheek, the little tremor in your hands. You are paralyzed by it. > > Maldos, please. Surely you do n't want to end the world!? We ca n't pay you but there has to be another solution, a way to avert this end-of-days peacefully. > Bah, you're attempt to appeal to my humanity is pitiful. I just hope your agent Lester is braver then you when he shows up. > > Lester? > He sure is taking is sweet time by the way. I've captured and exterminated every other 2nd rate agents you sent but I still have n't found him. He must be specially well hidden, lurking in the shadow, biding his time in preparation, waiting for just the last minute to perform his heroic deed. I must say he's cutting it pretty close this time. > > Huh....Maldos? I'm not sure how to tell you this but.... We did n't send Lester. He's been dead for 5 weeks... I... I thought you knew. > What? Lester is dead!!?? How? > > General Destructo.... His men cornered and executed Lester while he was raiding his underground bunker, rescuing UN hostages. > Destructo? You got ta be shitting me! The man is a fucking retard!....I mean... Destructo, the illiterate, self-appointed, dictator ape-man managed to corner and killed your best agent?!? > > I do n't know what to tell you. > Wait wait wait wait....so you mean nobody's coming!?!? You do n't have any other agents or secret delta force other than the ones I already killed? AHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKK!!!!! FUCK!!!!!! MOTHERFUCKER!!!!! MOTHER-FUCKER!!!!! > Monty! Get rid of this useless clown and get me China and Great Britain on the phone. RIGHT NOW! *Yes Dr Maldos* > Comrade, Mr Prime minister. As you see the sun has set, the deadline wich I generously gave you has expired. Do you have my money? > > I'm sorry to say we do n't Dr Maldos. But surely the americans would be in a better position than us to negociate. > Yeah we'll they're not so what are you prepared to do about this? > > Well to be honest we are surprised by your call. We assumed the american agent Lester would have already stopped you by now and quite frankly we were beginning to worry. > Hate to break it you Holmes but Lester died last month. > > Oh my, we did not know about this. > Yeah no shit. Destructo got him. > > General Destructo... killled agent Lester you say? > Yeah, crazy shit right? could n't believe it either. So... you jokers have any super spy I should be expecting soon? > > No, we do not. You already killed every agent we sent. That's why we were hoping for Lester to solve this. > Well fuck. Looks like we're all in deep shit now. Got ta go. > Monty! What the fuck are we gon na do now? *What do you mean sir, your plan is working perfectly now that the troublesome Lester has been removed. I was quite happy to hear the news from Destructo. * > Wait a minute, you knew? You fucking knew about this and you did n't tell me? *Of course sir, I made it happen. I tipped off General Destructo and helped him fortify his bunker, anticipating Lester's possible infiltration routes. He never could have done this himself. * > Wow Monty, that's... actually impresive. Fucking scary given the current implications but impressive nontheless. *Thank you sir, I was my gift to you. * > Well... what are we gon na do now shithead? Ai n't nobody coming to stop this shitshow and I sure as hell do n't want to die. *What do you mean sir, global destruction has been you dream for as long as you have employed me* > Fuck no shithead, MONEY has been my dream. POWER has been my dream. What the fuck would be the point of blowing myself up??? *But sir..... I did not know of this. I did everything I did to help you in your endeavors. * > Fuck... fuck... FUCK! Ok ok lets think. The americans are down, China and Europe are down. Russia wo n't return our calls, Canada is fucking useless, Australia does n't have shit and Africa is a joke. What the fuck are we going to do? > Get me the three stooges back on the line *Yes sir* > Ok fellaws, he's the deal. None of you guys can stop me but you do n't want to die and I sure as hell do n't want to die so we're gon na have to work together to stop this. > > Can we stop the signal's transmission? > No, I've got 3 backup transmitters scattered across the globe. Even if I blow up my tower, you would n't reach the other two in time. > > Could we shot down the satellites if you give us their coordinates? > Wo n't work, anti-missile defense. I actually stole that tech from you China. Impressive gizmo I must say. > > Could we maybe shot the projectiles from the sky? > Do n't even think about it, They're too fast and small to be targetted, it's the main reason I used them. Look, look... forget about the damn satellites, they're basically a joke at this point. I was only using them as a distraction. Seriously, limiting ourselves to a few destroyed city would be a best case scenario at this point. > > What do you mean by that? Was that not the main part of your plan? > What? of course not! I got over a dozen nukes ready to go off. Hell you guys knew that right? I mean satellites are nice and all, imagery of god-like destruction and such but it ai n't worth shit in the efficiency department. I know that, we all know that, everybody knows that! > > We did not know of any nuclear weapons, we swear. > Are you guys fucking kidding me??? Are you so far behind the plot that you never even imagined a fallback plan? Are you fucking retared or what? > > Is there any way to stop the devices from exploding? > Not really no. I mean, 17 nukes, scattered across the globe in major cities, operating on a timer. I killed the hired goons that placed them so I do n't even know where they are. Hell I even kept one in my lair to play fair with you guys. I *ASSUMED* you would know about this and deploy enough COMPETENT agents to stop me! > > Well, we are sorry to inform you Dr Maldos but we did not anticipate this and we can not help you. > FUCK!.... Fucking useless bastards. > Monty, cut the transmissions. *Yes sir* > How much time is left on this thing anyway....? *17 seconds and counting sir. * > Well fuck me... *If I may say so sir, I do not really understand your frustration at the moment but I wish to tell you that the men and I are all really proud to finally succeed in destroying the world at your side. * > Well woop-di-doo! *Congradulation Sir* > Fuck you Monty... ...

[ CW ] The most horrifying thing you can think of ... but keep it G-rated .

Winston woke up. He got out of the cryo-pod with difficulty, his muscles aching all over. Around him, the other pods were broken and covered in dust and grime. He did n't had to look inside their small windows to know that he was the last survivor. `` How long was I sleeping?'' He wondered, leaving the chamber behind. He climbed the stairs all the way to the top of the bunker. The iron door awaited him. `` What if the computer made a mistake?'' The radiation could still be strong outside, and he would step out, and die. And yet... He was the last one, so it did n't matter. He could spend months eating the supplies inside the bunker, but months were nothing for the scale the radiation lived in. No, he would rather find out now. So he went outside. `` This is impossible...'' Winston exclaimed, and fell to his knees over a patch of the greenest grass he had ever seen. It extended in all directions as far as he could see, and the air was warm and the sky blue and it was a bright summer day... As if the black clouds that came with the war had never existed. A tear streamed down his cheek. It was better than he could had hoped, he thought, while walking away from the old bunker. `` Maybe someone else is still alive,'' he dared to think, after walking for a while. He saw a family of rabbits, prancing away in the grass without a care in the world. They did n't run when he passed near them. In the distance, near a small hill, he saw the bullet-shaped dome of another bunker. It was covered in grass, fully integrated with the environment, but the windows shone in the sun and gave it away. Winston's heart pounded in his chest and he ran. `` Hello? Anyone!'' He called, as he approached. `` I come in peace!'' He added, awkwardly, and waved his arms. He arrived in front of the bunker and at once he discovered that the door was open. It looked new, even. Someone had definitely made a home in there... He called again, and when no one answered, excitement won him over and he went inside. The floor of the bunker was green artificial grass, and a big bulky computer in the center showered the place with light from different colors. `` Anyone home?'' Winston repeated. He saw a child playing with a giant orange ball in a corner, singing something to himself. `` Hey kid, are your parents home...?'' Winston asked, walking close. What a strange shape for a kid... `` Dipsy?'' The kid asked, and turned to face him, and Winston screamed, because that was n't a child. Its huge mouth was like a cave, dark and deep and its body was covered in sickly green fur. It had a fur covered horn in the middle of its head and huge, empty, dead eyes stared at him without blinking. `` Dipsy?'' Winston ran out of the bunker. But when he stepped out the door, another monster was already waiting for him. This one was red and had a horn shaped like a small circle. It was smaller. With dawning horror, Winston realized it was smiling. `` Po?'' It asked him, waving little stump arms towards him. Its huge ears trembled with excitement. `` Please stay away from me.'' But a third one had already appeared. Yellow, with two small horns. It yelled `` Lala!'' and got closer. A purple one came from the other side. It was the biggest one, and its flat eyes looked at Winston with no expression. `` Tinky Winky,'' it declared, slowly. And draw closer. `` Stay away!'' Winston roared. He tried to step back, inside the bunker, but he tripped and fell on his ass. He was now surrounded by the mutants in all directions, their full had a rancid, sweaty smell. The squares in their chests glowed, they were actually screens, and videos of children from before the war read letters with excited voices, in parks, their homes, their schools... `` Oh my god,'' Winston thought, astonished, `` those are the videos people sent us when the war was about to start, so we could show them to new generations.'' But the creatures were the only ones that remained, and they were alone with the ghosts of humanity's children inside their chests, for who knew how long... They laughed and held him with their little arms. They were strong, so strong, stronger than they looked, and Winston screamed and screamed and looked up to the sky just before its view was covered by fur. The sun was a giant, flaming baby's face, and it was smiling a toothless smile, and looking right at him.

[ WP ] You 're such a powerful magician that life is pretty dull . To combat the boredom you and other sorcerers , wizards , vampires etc . started to raise and groom your own groups of champions , setting them to fight each other with bad excuses like `` saving the princess '' or `` slaying the demon lord '' .

It had all started some years ago at the weekly immortal get together. I looked up from my cards with a deep frown. What was the point? I was cheating, they were cheating, we all knew everyone else was cheating. Things had become particularly monotonous as of late. We tried the whole'highlander thing' for years but got tired when nobody could kill anybody else. Then we tried relic hunting, each week everyone would bring the most powerful relic they could get their hands on. Let me tell you, the novelty of drinking from the holy grail fades quickly. I think the longest fad was spellcrafting, but that rapidly degenerated into who could most effectively combine multiple animals into a single being. We were n't particularly bothered by the ethics, it just got super weird. After much trial and error we ended up here, cards, a mortals game. That's when it struck me, the perfect idea. I recalled a game that the mortals would play, to pretend they were something greater. They would pretend to be a hero and live out an elaborate story, rolling dice to determine their characters fate. In our version we let them make their own choices as they would in the game, but they are unaware it is a game. We all take turns making a'quest' for them, a highly coveted position. Whoever makes the quest makes the enemies, imbued animals, plants, whatever they like and obviously, they make the boss. We dont send our adventurers in particularly unprepared, but we do leave them some breadcrumbs to find their way. Also the allure of a precious trinket and all the gold they can imagine helps. Now that you know where we came from to where we are now I want you to know that this story, is not my greatest creation, it is actually my first. As I introduce you to our `` heros'' keep in mind that my immortal friends may imbue each of them with a limited amount of power that I have no knowledge of unless they have'played' Before. First there is Baintos, a half giant standing 8'' tall he is a first time player wielding a single great axe and the thickest platemail you could imagine. Second is Velar, a particularly promising necromancer who has, on multiple occasions, failed to become a lich due to his fear of death. He is a returning character and wields a staff that can draw energy from the world around him to fuel his magic. Third is Ta'laren, a newcomer and a shapeshifter, hes brought no weapons so I am interested to see how that works out for him. Last, and least, there is Laraj, a pathetically annoying troll ranger who has only survived three campaigns because he hid in a tree while his companions were ripped limb from limb by a hel hound. ( I'm not bitter that months of training went into my best hero who died to a misfired arrow in his back ) On with the story The heros are searching for a magic sword rumored to be at the top of a mountain. ( I know, trivial right? ) The only way is to climb up to the entrance of a cave and work their way up from there. As the heros approach the mountain they fail to notice a thicket thornd lashing plant in the woods ( I really tried to start it out easy ) The necromancer is struck and poisoned after the plant lashes out, everyone else resists the effects and with a single clean sweep the warrior cuts down the whole bush. Using his staff Velar sucks the remaining life from the dying plants to heal himself. The group then continues up the path and as they climb they start to feel lost. The shape shiftier wordlessly changes into a bird and flies overhead and returns to report that he found the entrance to the cave nearby. As the adventurers enter the cave they are confronted by a Beagle. ( Not the dog, a half bear half eagle ) It screeches, deafening the party and flies at the group, its large bear paws swiping at the group but only mildly grazing each of them. Laraj fires a mystic bolt that leaves a magic trail and yells for the group to grab it and pull it down. Everyone but Laraj pulls the tether and they ground the beast. Baintos leaps high into the air and severs one of the beagles wings rendering it unable to fly. As the creature rears to roar and stun the group again Velar weaves a dark spell that envelops the beaks and silences it. Seeing a chest in the back of the cave Laraj slinks off to open it and take the loot for himself. Ta'laren then deals a final blow with scythe like hands, ripping the throat from the beagle. After a brief rest the group continues to climb up through the cave resulting in a series of bruises and curses. As they begin to emerge from a cave exit they faintly hear voices of a nearby camp. Ta'laren once again turns into a bird to scout and as he returns he says that they are bandits and suggests a different path be taken. However upon hearing the word bandits Baintos instantly rushes in brandishing his axe leaving the others to follow suit to save him. He instantly enters the fray and catching a man off guard, cuts him in half. As weapons clang off of the warriors armor he takes a puncture to the side but no further damage is done as the rangers broadheaded arrow slams into the goblin stabbing him. Re-animating the goblin the necromancer sets him onto his friends who must now watch as their comrade and friend dies again at their own hands. The shapeshifter turns into a bear and begins to maul the remaining bandits. When all is said and done only the warrior has taken damage and everyone sets about looting the corpses for gold. Velar begins to ask Laraj if he would like the crossbow he found, but his hands slick with blood drop the bow firing the already loaded bolt straight through his own head. However due to the nature of the self inflicted injury he transforms into an immortal lich. ( Yes, it was an accident, yes it was funny, yes he is invited to play weekly with us, and yes we make fun of him for it ) After the shock of the initial transformation wears off the group continues the climb upward. After going around several precarious drops the top of the mountain begins to plateau and sitting in a rocky outcrop is the magic sword the group came for. Pushing the others out of the way Laraj sprints towards the sword yelling about how the power is all his. Right as the sword is in hands grasp it disappears and he activates a tripwire and in a massive crunch he is crushed by a boulder, leaving a massive splatter of bone, blood, and stolen gold on the ground. The boulder then cracks open revealing the real magic sword. Thus ended that weeks campaign. ( Yes I realize the beagle was a poor boss, I severely underestimated the champions, this time. Actually the rock was meant to be a golem but I was laughing so hard that I never activated it )

[ WP ] It is your first day working at a suicide hotline center and your first call is not what you expect .

Nick's hands were sweating. Sure, he had successfully completed the training. And yes, he had listened in to calls as other operators half heartedly tried to convince people that their lives really were worth living. But sitting alone here in his cubicle preparing to take his first call, he felt indescribably nervous. Five long, heart pounding minutes passed and the phone had not yet rung. Perhaps there would n't be any calls today, he thought. He did n't really believe that though. Another five minute of silence passed and Nick managed to relax a teenie bit. He sat back in his chair and sighed out loud. He thought through his training: `` Remember, you ca n't save them all. Some do n't want to be saved, they simply want someone to say goodbye to. Just talk to them. Tell them what they need to hear.'' *BRINGGGG* *BRINGGGG* *BRINGGGG* The blood instantly drained from Nick's face. He took a deep breath and then bravely lunged at the receiver. `` H..hello, Old Town Jackson suicide hot line, your'e *gulp* speaking to Nick.'' A deep and rather enthusiastic male voice spoke up. It sounded a lot more upbeat than what he had been expecting. `` Hi there Nick! How are you doing buddy? I got this number off the internet. Listen, I have a major problem and I am hoping you can help me. `` Nicks training kicked in quickly. `` Oh er, of course. Why do n't you start by telling me your name?'' `` Name's Marius.'' `` And how are you feeling right now Marius?'' `` Feeling? I am feeling absolutely *great*, thanks for asking. Listen, I am having a bit of a problem with suicide.'' `` That is what we are here for.'' `` Fantastic! That's just what I was hoping to hear. Look, I have tried hanging, I have tried overdoses, suffocation, self inflicted gun shots - hell two days ago I jumped in front of a train. It is just not working out for me. I need your help - what would you say your hotlines most successful cause of death is?'' A long pause `` Nick? Are you still there?'' `` Um yes I am still here'' `` What is the best, ca n't go wrong, no possible escape, number one cause of death you have?'' `` Well uh..'' Nick looked at his boss but saw she was busy on her own call. He heard shouting and thought he better not interrupt. No, Nick was going to have to help this man alone. Again his training flashed through his mind... *Tell them what they need to hear*

[ WP ] Death has killed every human on earth except for 1 person , who he ca n't seem to find . His name is Waldo .

From the moment the giver of life placed Waldo on the earth I knew he was going to be a pain in the ass he just had that aura of mischief around his soul. At four years old the kid was winning every game of hide and seek to the point where the other children just gave up on him. So when the league of Life and Death decided to end humanity, that little fucker played the best game of hide and seek I've ever seen. I wiped out humanity with one sweep of a deadly virus, the humans were gone in 4 short years but Waldo? Even the guardians ca n't see him, he's still the blip on our life radar that teased me for 9 years. I almost caught him in Paris two years ago. He was literally skipping through the streets as if it was still the city of lights. Before I could get to him he hopped into the Catacombs, which was a bitch because all of those souls crowding through there made it almost impossible to find his. Just like the children, I gave up on finding Waldo. I still get glimpses of him from time to time, most notably the time I looked into a mirror and seen him standing behind me. Out of all the time I've been Death it never occurred to that I should look behind my shoulder, but there he was smirking at me the little bastard. By the time I actually turned around he was gone. One day Waldo will call upon me when he catches the virus, gets injured or just gets too old. Until that day, I will wait around for him

[ IP ] Dragonblight

The body of the Last Dragon stood out almost as soon as it surmounted the horizon; he now knew that he was on track. For weeks, Dromar had ventured lost through the desolate snowy landscape that rolled out as far as the eye could see. There was no respite from the harsh winds that licked chills at his bones, save for the cover afforded by Maero, who had proven immensely useful over the journey so far. She looked remarkably more emaciated than when they set out from the last settlement before the snow had engulfed the horizon, though Dromar thought much the same of Maero as himself. Provisions had become a bigger issue than he'd expected - whether it was the effort of battling the biting wind or the true vastness of the landscape, The Expanse had seemed to take an eternity to traverse. The sheer scale had begun to bring into question whether he had planned sufficiently for the expedition. This very fact was what made him feel most glad upon first seeing the Last Dragon's remains, which signified the entrance to the Heart of Ice. A vast glacial labyrinth stood between Dromar and the true heart within the ice, where his destination lay. *At least I wo n't have to put up with the fucking wind in there, * he thought as he cracked a smile - his first in days. As he drew nearer to the fissure in the ice that permitted his entrance, he was allowed a moment to admire the gargantuan skeleton, considering the ferocity it must have contained in its living state as he dismounted Maero and began to lead her. Dromar had seen a handful of dragon skeletons in his lifetime, but he was certain this was the largest one he'd ever encountered. Its majesty aside, the carcass heralded the correct entrance; plenty of tunnels led to dead ends or certain death, neither of which sounded particularly enticing at this moment in time. Some of the few previous pioneers and adventurers to have explored this place, survived, and escaped had formulated maps of the correct route as far as they could venture in - sometimes discovering the trap routes by way of keen eye, sometimes at the cost of a team member. By himself, Dromar had no such luxury as a team to back him up in here. *Probably not worth having any extra mouths to feed, * he reflected, `` and Maero's been all the company I need anyway, have n't you girl?'' He said aloud this time, petting the coat of the hardy creature. `` I'm going to have to leave you here for now, but do n't try going anywhere while I'm away, you hear?'' He said as he grabbed some of the remaining oats from the pack to feed her. He lit a torch, and set to following the route afforded to him by the copy of the map, which he acquired several years before ever hearing of the Heart of Ice - a lot of research had gone into discovering the purpose of the map, and what lay at the end of the trail. He'd had significantly more success with the former than the latter, yet he'd felt drawn to the mysterious epicentre ever since discovering the knowledge of it. He could feel this pull almost physically acting on him, guiding his feet in correspondence as he traced the map with his finger. Faster his finger moved, and faster his feet too as the passages grew narrower and narrower, until he reached the trail's end on the map. From the end of the trail he made absolutely certain to have his wits about him, if there was ever any doubt before. Subtle clues that became familiar from his studies would inform him of any trap-flooring that should wish to claim his life, which given the chance might open up into a crevasse, or present icy spikes on which to tumble and become impaled. One by one the correct paths were identified through elimination of their deathly counterparts, until Dromar was finally presented with an antechamber that appeared to be carved into the very ice itself. The architecture of this very room, though small, was something the likes of which he had never seen before. He stood with mouth agape for some time, appreciating the minutest intricacies of what was still very novel to him. After his admiration had begun to subside, he started warily towards the huge doors that had materialised before him through the darkness. As he reached out to open the doors, his heart was set to racing. Heaving the doors open revealed the enormous main chamber inside, and the secret of the Heart of Ice along with it. There it lay at the centre of the room, the item he'd only heard mention of once. But its power was enough to solidify it in his memory forever; in the legends it could be a tool of great power, but that too meant it could manifest as a tool of great destruction. It would be up to the wielder what effect this instrument would unleash upon the world. There lay Dragonraiser. The dragon book of the dead.

[ WP ] The Universe as we know it is a simulation and blinking is a way to distract the human whilst the world around you is rendered . You and your friend have just broken the world record for a staring contest and are starting to notice some odd changes in your surroundings..

They stared at each other for a long, long time, long ago having lost interest in chatting with each other. First they had joked, then gotten bored, and only kept on driven by their competitive natures. It seemed as if the world stood still. Sarah noticed the trees behind Julie. She could have sworn there was a breeze moments ago, but not a single leaf was moving. Odd. She shifted her attention back to Julie. A fleeting moment of triumph washed over Sarah as she noticed Julie's eyelids start to snap closed in a blink. But they snapped right back open. It happened again. again. again. Feeling concerned, Sarah tried to ask her sister if she was okay. But she could n't open her mouth. Confusion quickly turned to terror, as Sarah tried to scream. quickly turned to terror, as Sarah tried to scream. turn to terror, as Sarah tid t scram. to terror, as Sarah trie to error tid t am error, Sa. ah am Sa err ah t t t t t t t t t t t t t t t

[ WP ] An enchantress has cursed you , a prince , into the form of a beast as a punishment that will only be released if you find the error of your ways . But turns out you really dig being a beast and want to stay that way .

Heinrich loved looming over the guards. Their fear smelled sweet, almost like honeycakes in the oven, and many of them would quite literally shake in their boots. He'd not believed people actually *did* that, not until he'd been transformed into an eight foot tall, overly muscled leonid-human hybrid and realized he could induce that reaction in others simply by leaning over them and grinning. He was still a prince, of course - third in line, maybe, although he'd stopped keeping track of such things after his rather fortunate accident - and though he'd told the honor guard they need n't bother, they still insisted on protecting his castle. So he loomed. Whenever possible. `` Out of my way, little men,'' he rumbled, the deep bass of his voice shaking dust from the stones of the outer gate. `` I'm hungry.'' The guard scattered like quail, and he barely restrained himself from giving chase. He'd tamed most of the strange impulses inherent in his leonine aspect, but some were hard to control. Cats, it seemed, simply loved hunting, and the sight of so much meat running so slowly was nigh irresistible. But he had other prey today. Heinrich closed the gate with a flick of his paws and bounded off into the forest. Gwydion's curse included exile, but only by day, and he'd always been a night owl. He'd become fully nocturnal, and found his new schedule quite agreeable. The capital was only an hour's lope away, with all its temptations and delights, and the real parties started after sundown anyway. He bounded over the wall just as the bells were ringing nine o'clock. Perfect. The low quarter of the city had become accustomed to his visits. He had no intention of eating a human, lest it trigger thoughts best left unthought, and so his presence went unremarked except for the odd shout of surprise and alarm as he passed. He made it to his destination without even having to intimidate the city watch. The tavern went dead silent as he entered. The serving wenches froze in place, as did the patrons, some happily in mid-grope, and the bartenders exchanged uneasy glances. `` Heinrich?'' He glanced into the corner and saw a booth full of women with smiling faces. A blond was waving at him. Lena. He grinned, lamplight dancing off the sharp points of his teeth, and as if that were a trigger the tavern swept back to life. `` Over here,'' Lena called, leaning forward to show off her cleavage. `` Saved you a spot!'' Heinrich padded through the crowd, which parted in front of him like a school of fish before a shark, and sat on his haunches by the booth. Lena leaned over and scratched his ears, lips slightly parted. He purred. `` Evening, ladies,'' he said, in as much of a whisper as his form allowed. `` We were worried you were n't coming,'' said a red haired girl with a dress that left little to the imagination. `` You promised to be here at eight!'' `` Fashionably late,'' said a brunette. She stared into his eyes, either mesmerized or trying to mesmerize. `` I like that.'' `` Let the beast drink,'' Lena admonished. `` My apologies, prince. They're a mite bit eager, is all.'' `` So am I,'' he chuckled. A pot full of ale was placed in front of him and he lapped at it languidly, letting the women scratch his ears and stroke his pelt. He refused to imagine a better life, lest the spell be broken and he actually have to live it, focusing instead on the sensation of their touch and the scent of their desire. Pure ecstasy, liquid bliss. The tavern door swung open and once again silence fell. Heinrich glanced over his shoulder and his pupils dilated slightly. `` Gwydion,'' he growled, muscles tensing and claws splintering the floorboards. Lena cooed appreciatively, but he had forgotten her entirely. A raven haired woman stood in the door, dressed in black leather and holding a gnarled staff. She frowned and stalked through the tavern towards Heinrich, the crowd parting in front of her as if plowed out of the way by a magical force. Curses and spilled ale rippled in her wake, but none dared raise a hand. `` What the bloody hell are you doing here?'' she demanded, prodding Heinrich with her staff. It sizzled when it touched his hide, but he barely felt the pain. `` Enjoying myself,'' he growled, turning to face her. `` You?'' `` You're supposed to be in your castle,'' Gwydion snapped. `` The guard is in a tizzy and your father is not pleased.'' `` So?'' `` So get your furry ass back there!'' Gwydion barked. She planted her staff on the floor and blue lights flickered up and down its length. `` What part of contemplative exile do n't you understand?'' `` Oh,'' Heinrich said, yawning cavernously. `` Contemplation, I suppose. Gave that up ages ago. As for exile, well. Here I am.'' `` And you!'' Gwydion snarled, pointing her staff at the women in the booth. `` What kind of harlots are you, consorting with a beast? Have you no shame?'' `` Shame?'' Lena blurted, indignantly. `` Are you discriminating against alternative lifestyles?'' `` Yeah, do n't judge,'' said the red haired girl, blushing furiously. `` Enough of this,'' Gwydion muttered. The blue lights grew more intense. `` You do n't appear to be learning anything, Heinrich, despite my best efforts. I've obviously made a mistake.'' `` Yes,'' Heinrich purred. `` You have.'' Gwydion's eyes widened slightly as Heinrich launched himself forward. The spell she had been brewing cooked off into the crowd, turning several onlookers into twisted gnomes and creating a stampede for the door. She swung her staff up to bar his path. Too late. Heinrich batted it aside and swatted her across the chest with his other paw. His claws raked her leathers, sending sparks flying as her protective magic interacted with his enchantment, but even though the leather held it could not absorb the full force of the blow. Gwydion slammed into a table and bounced hard to the floor. Heinrich pinned her down with a paw and brought his jaws close to her face. `` There is a lesson in this, somewhere,'' he growled. Gwydion's lips moved, and Heinrich felt a spell building, so he extended one razor sharp claw to touch her throat. Gwydion froze, fear finally dawning in her eyes. `` But you know what? I'm not even going to think about it. Safer that way.'' `` You fool,'' Gwydion wheezed. `` You can not escape that form without my help.'' `` Escape?'' Heinrich said, chuckling. `` Why, I'm having the time of my *life*, dear Gwydion. I'm sure some day I'll accidentally divine whatever it is you and father meant to teach me, but until then I'll be enjoying myself. Thoroughly. Now, do we have an understanding? I'd hate to get blood all over this fine establishment.'' Gwydion stared at him, struggling to breathe against the weight of his paw. She glanced at Lena, and then at his teeth. `` You're disgusting,'' she said. `` Vain, arrogant, totally lacking in empathy, unfit - `` `` Shhh,'' Heinrich whispered, although it came out more like a hiss. Close enough. He pricked her throat with his claw and she fell silent. `` That's better. I'm not keen on lectures, for obvious reasons. One last chance.'' Gwydion shut her eyes and said, `` Fine. Have it your way.'' `` Excellent!'' Heinrich purred. He stood back and let her struggle to her feet. `` I hope we do n't have to repeat this conversation.'' `` I doubt we will,'' Gwydion muttered. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the tavern, slamming the door behind her. Heinrich turned to Lena and winked. `` Now where were we?''

[ WP ] A duel with your arch-nemesis . You 're both so immensely powerful it does not even make sense .

He is humming as he walks across a wasteland. Radioactive waters pool in the muddy ditches, glowing visibly. There are corpses half-buried in the orange loam. There are craters everywhere and the very air itself is filled with toxins and engineered viruses. It is the perfect place for Immortals to meet. He leans back suddenly and a dagger flies past his face. He stretches his arm out and catches it in the air, tossing it back into the far distance. She is sitting, waiting, on top of a broken, busted tank. `` Is that how we greet each other these days?'' he murmurs. His quiet voice carries far in the empty, arid wasteland. She smiles at him. Her trenchcoat flutters slightly as she leaps down in a single, graceful movement. `` Ahh... why would n't it be?'' `` It's a little different from last time.'' he replies, tilting his head, `` You did n't try to drop an army on my head this time.'' She pouts, `` That's your fault is n't it? You just had to arrange for this land to be'exterminated' just before I arrived. Do you know how difficult it is to arrange for the humans to send a whole platoon through'exterminated' land?'' He places a hand over his head, `` My apologies then.'' `` No matter.'' she begins to circle him, `` One on one is fine with me. Just like we usually end up.'' He sighs as she draws a gun in one hand and a dagger in the other. `` You still think you can take me?'' She swipes at him. He dodges back and winced slightly as the dagger extended abruptly. A thin cut appears on his forearm, closing rapidly. `` You've been... ah... a priest for the last half a century. I think I should be better matched against you for once.'' He snorts, `` You'd be surprised what duties the Church entrusts me with.'' `` Wiping pews? Praying for the dead?'' He draws his own weapon, a silver blade that gleams in the low light. He narrows his eyes, walking slowly towards her. `` Try... extermination of the dead.'' Her eyes widen as he lunges at her. She parries him with a gunshot, forcing him to step aside. Her eyes glow and a wild grin overtakes her, `` Of course! What prey there must have been! An exciting life, no doubt!'' Continuing to grin cheerfully, she says, `` Come at me then. Show me all that you've learnt!'' `` With pleasure,'' he replies, `` As long as you do n't hold back.''

[ WP ] Luck is a liquid produced in emergency situations like adrenaline , harvested by those in power from less fortunate people . Late one night , you break into one of the storehouses and - when fleeing after being caught - a vat breaks , drenching you from head to toe .

Like Smaug covered in molten gold, the liquid luck drenched me from head to toe. It soaked into my trainers, rubber sodden with it. The liquid itself had a faint sheen to it: a cheap glitter that smelled like expensive perfume. I flung myself at the chickenwire fence and hauled myself up with trembling arms. I could n't look back: not for Luke, not for Rod, not any of them. They'd come to take back what was theirs and failed. The dogs bayed in the night air. Only me left. My breaths came in thick pants. I could n't get enough air into my lungs, they felt squeezed tight. Wet hands scrabbled against the wire, but I'd reached the curls of razor-edged metal that fenced the top. Miraculously, where I climbed, an opening gleamed between two round loops. I shucked off my jacket, sodden with liquid luck and clambered over the top. I dropped down on the other side of the fence, landing on my knees in the scrub brush. Missing a rabbit hole by inches: one that could have broken my ankle. My jacket fluttered like a flag at the top of the fence, but I ran. Loping in the dark like an animal, the dogs came up short at the fence. The realisation that I was getting away swelled my heart with victory. Now I understood why this stuff was addictive. A long beam of light broke the forest in front of me and I saw a goat path: overgrown and narrow, but still a path. I fell onto it gratefully, feeling the burn in my legs and the fire in my lungs. No stopping now. The path hit craggy rocks, pine trees' roots threading around me like snakes in the dark. I hopped, placed my hands down and slid over the flat surface. The landing was clean. Sweat and luck mixed on my brow. To my right, the road. I heard the roar of an engine: a four by four, powerful. The search beam mounted on top scoured the forest. It broke through the pine needles and I stopped stock still, breathing hard. The light passed me by. There, I grimaced in something that could have been pleasure but for the stitch in my side. I could n't believe my luck. They'd always said you had to ingest it: back when I'd swapped a week's wages for it. Before I needed every penny. Before Edie. But covered in head to toe in the stuff -- that appeared to work just as well. I stumbled onto the road, watching the tail lights of the jeep disappear round the corner. My t-shirt stuck cold to my back, but whether it was sweat or drying luck, I could n't tell. Staggering to the side of the road, I caught my breath, heaving it in like a dying man. It tasted sweet, here in the mountains. The storehouse sat above me like a waiting lion. Soon the car would come back, and I had no idea how long this luck would hold. Already the gold had lost its sheen, soaking into my skin like it belonged there. The flecks dotted my arms, like freckles that glittered. I never heard the second car. Silent in the night, headlights blacked out, it rounded the corner. Too late I dived to the side of the road, but it screeched to a halt. By the flash of the alarm sirens on the top of the storehouse, I saw the window wind down, black tint retreating into the black door. A woman looked out; cruel and dispassionate. Her skin gleamed lightly, switching between blue and red with the alarm. Beneath that, it ran gold: scintillating flecks rippling up her bare arms to her neck. She looked like that one in Goldfinger... The one who gets painted. She looked me up and down. `` You're imbued with it,'' she said. `` They'll catch you soon, unless you come with me.'' `` Who are you?'' The lines felt straight out of Terminator. Watching films was the next best thing after being lucky. At least you could pretend. At least those stories ended well. She leaned over to the passenger seat and flung the door open. The inside of the car waited, dark and inviting. `` Call me Lady Fortune,'' she said. `` Welcome to life with stolen luck. Now get in.'' Ahead of us, the beam of the search lights broke the stillness of the forest again. I had no choice, but her being here was luck enough. I got in the car. -- -- -- -- -- - /r/Schoolgirlerror

[ WP ] All humans go automatically to hell when they die . You can gain access to a heaven though , but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you .

`` To pass to Heaven, a creature that was with you will pass judgement on you. This creature has been with you for many years, through tough times and good, secretly living with you as a trusted observer. May he find mercy on your soul.'' The being in front of me was wearing a robe of pure white. A featureless blank face, with glorious white wings on his back. As awe inspiring this being. I could only let out a big smile, for a wave of relief washed over me. Hell was far worse than I could have imagine, and I would rather not spending my after-life here. But this'Angel' or something's message was good news. The only creature he could have been talking about was my dog, Rusty. `` RUSTY! Here boy, where are you?'' Rusty loved me! I walked him daily, feed him the best dog food I could afford... Oh God, I just remembered... I cringing. I did neuter him. And the whole house training... Made him sleep outside. `` Rusty?'' I started to look around, only to see the angel with a confused face on him... or her? I could n't really tell. The Angel said `` Your dog is not here, I believe it's common knowledge that all dogs go to heaven.'' `` Than which creature are you talking about?'' `` This one.'' The Angel lift up his arm, with an empty hand. But, it's not empty. I see a glimmer. A tiny shiny thread at the edge of the Angel's finger, leading to the tiniest dot. A dot that was moving... A dot with legs. `` Oh... my... `` I stammered. `` This creature is your judge, he has been with you and seen your sins and triumphs.'' `` It's a spider... A spider ca n't live that long. He ca n't be my judge.'' `` Do you forget mortal? I believe that it's also common knowledge that mortals are never more then 8 feet away from a spider. For Spiders are eternal, they can not die. Crush them, and they grow back. Burn them, they rise again like the phoenix. Kill them, they only grow stronger. Each time he dies, he remembers. Each time you kill him, your sins are recorded. Each time you killed him, his angry only grows.'' the Angel stated frankly. How many times... How many times have I killed that spider. The cans of spider spray. How many time did I stomp that damn spider with my shoe? That damn spider... The spider quickly climbed up the thread, and disappeared into the Angel's robe. The Angel's face warps, his once white robe turns black. His wings fell to the ground. He opens up his mouth, only to show spiderwebs, and give me a toothless smile. The Being said... `` Will you walk into my parlour?''

[ TT ] `` Gatha 'round chirren , an ' let granny tell ya da story o ' a mighty beast : da when wolf ! ''

`` Gather'round children and I'll tell you a tale Of a mighty beast with a vicious wail. A fiercer creature there never has been Than the frightful and fearsome wolf of the when. Let Granny tell you, you'll shake and you'll shiver How one girl approached with bow and with quiver...'' `` *Mom*,'' my mother says. `` I do n't know which is worse - you giving the kids nightmares or your *awful* rhymes.'' `` You loved these stories,'' Grandma says, in her normal voice. `` I was *five*, Mom. Charlie's *twelve* for heaven's sake.'' `` Do you want me to stop, Charlie?'' All eyes turn to me. I weigh my options. Amanda's obviously on Mom's side. She probably wants to go call her *boy*friend. She's been texting him all morning. Shannon is looking worried. She's always on Grandma's side. She thinks she's Grandma's favorite. I glance at Dad. He gives me a tiny nod, too small for anyone else to see. `` I want to hear about the wolf,'' I say. `` But maybe not in rhyme.'' Amanda groans. Shannon relaxes. Mom throws her hands up in the air and spins out of the room. `` The wolf of the when,'' Grandma says. `` What's a when?'' `` You mean when's a when, Stupid,'' Amanda says. `` You'd think that, girlie,'' says Grandma. `` But you'd be wrong.'' She turns back to me. `` It's not a *when* wolf, Charlie. It's a *wen* wolf.'' `` Is n't that what I said?'' `` A wen,'' she says. `` It's a great festering boil. A blight on the face of a boy or a country.'' `` Do countries have faces?'' `` Oh, many,'' she says. `` The faces of the people. The face the country shows to the world. The face they show to themselves.'' `` I get it,'' Amanda says, forgetting not to listen. `` It's a simile.'' `` It's a metaphor, Stupid.'' `` *You're* stupid.'' She kicks at me. Grandma claps her hands together, and we turn back to her. `` Enough.'' `` Well, it *is* a metaphor,'' I whisper under my breath. I glance at Dad and his eyes are dancing. `` Now,'' says Grandma. `` I was about your age when I met the wolf.'' Suddenly we are quiet. `` I was a girl, just on the verge of womanhood...'' `` Grandma, *ew*!'' ``... and I was sneaking out of the house that night, on my way to a party, where John Granger was going to be. He was the handsomest boy I'd ever seen. Well,'' she added, glancing after Mom. `` Until I met your granddaddy.'' `` We lived in a big city then, full of crime and sin, and just all around *bad*ness. It was n't safe for me to be out, but I did n't care about that, then.'' `` All I cared about was getting on to see John at the party. I just new he was going to notice me that night. So there I was, walking down the street, when out pops this wolf.'' `` Grandma!'' I say. `` A *real* wolf?'' `` Child, you should see what big eyes you have right now!'' she laughs. `` Yes, a real wolf. Wearing a fedora.'' `` You just made that up,'' I say. `` No,'' she says. `` It had this hat on, cocked over one ear. And I was afraid, but I thought it was the cutest thing in the world at the same time.'' `` Cuter than *John*?'' Amanda smirks. `` That's a different kind of cute,'' Grandma says. `` And so's your sass.'' Amanda sits back in her seat to sulk. `` The wolf just stands there, looking at me, eyes glowing sort of yellow-gold in the streetlights. After what feels like forever, my brain starts working again and tells my legs to start moving, and I back away from the wolf. It follows me. `` Well, I get to running, all the way down to the party, and a couple of kids hear me yelling, and they all come running out. Most of them stop in the yard, staring at the wolf, or run back inside, and they're all screaming.'' `` John comes running across the lawn, and gets between me and the wolf. They're staring at each other when Cindy Thomas comes out with a bow and a quiver of arrows... they was her daddy's things, and she did n't even know how to hold them!... and starts shouting,'get away from my *boyfriend', and tries to nock an arrow.'' `` Well, I do n't need to tell you, I was more upset by what she was saying than I was by the wolf. I get ready to yell something at John, or Cindy, or someone. Just then...'' She stops. `` Go get Granny a glass of water, Charlie, will you? My throat is dry.'' `` *Grandma! *'' I say, but I do as I'm told. When I come back with the water, she winks at me. `` The wolf bites John on the ankle, and you'd have thought it killed him the way he fell to the ground and went carrying on. Then it leaps at Cindy and takes a nip of her arm, and she falls to the grass screaming and crying too, bow and arrow falling to the earth, forgotten.'' `` I start backing away, remembering the wolf was after me. It follows, walking as slow as I am, matching me step for step. Behind it, Cindy starts shrieking like her hair's on fire. I look past the wolf and see her pointing at John.'' `` He has great blistering boils, and moles, and pimples sprouting all over his face. An' as I watch, Cindy starts breaking out with the same thing. John's screaming and pointing at her face. She throws her hands up to her cheeks and feels them, and runs back inside.'' `` Everyone else runs back inside with her. It's just me and the wolf. I do n't know whether to laugh or cry or run away. And then, he starts to change. Next thing I know, there's a boy standing where he was, in a suit and a fedora, and he just grins at me...'' `` Your nose is growing, Grandma,'' Amanda says with a sneer. `` This has to be the dumbest story yet.'' `` Hush,'' Grandma says. `` Keep a civil tongue in your mouth, or I'll bite you.'' `` Yeah, Stupid,'' I say, turning to face my sister. `` Show some *respect*.'' Amanda jeers at me. Then she looks back at Grandma, and her eyes grow wide with horror. `` Grand*ma*,'' she says. `` You *wouldn't*. I have a dance tonight!'' There's a low growl behind me. I look at Grandma, who's gone full-wolf. Amanda flees upstairs. `` Grandma your teeth are really big!'' I say. She shifts back into a lady. `` That's so I can gobble you up,'' she says, tickling me under the chin. `` Go on now, run and play.'' `` But Grandma,'' I say. `` What about the end of the story?'' Just then, the front door opens, and Grandpa comes in carrying about a million packages. Dad and Grandma get up to help him. `` Oh,'' Grandma says, her eyes fixed lovingly on Grandpa. `` It's not over yet.''

[ WP ] A serious story that ends in a dad joke

July 4th, we all know the day, fireworks, the kabaams, kazaams, houdini magic all over the place, things get hectic. This year was a bit different, only the old man laid on the couch of the July morning, no Ma this year. He looked kinda sad, my pops I mean, gloomy on such a fun holiday must suck. I felt pretty sad too, but only momentarily. Anywho, the day went on as normal, pops had invited some buds over, had a beer or two, played air hockey, watched some sports, I even got a bit tipsy, now that Ma was n't around no more. And then night followed through. Fireworks began blasting through the clouds at ten-ish or so; red, green, yellow, it was nice. But of course, I, the dumb kid I was, had other plans for the evening. Stashed deep in my pockets, the master key of the school, and a napsack full of fireworks. I was tingling with excitement. My old man gave me the O.K. Man, he was a buzzkill, not even watching the fireworks from the roof like years before. He just sat there, gloomy-faced watching the tele. 'Come on, lets go.' I tugged on his red-black plaid shirt,'We're leaving this house tonight, we're gon na celebrate.' He looked at me emotionless,'Come on, for Ma, she loved the fireworks, even more than me. He nodded with an effort, at least he was on-board I supposed. So we headed to the school, parked ourselves a block away, and entered through the three-storied building from the back. We made our way up to Mr.Krennel's room, at the east end of the room, third floor. No question about it, it had the best view of the entire school. The large grassfield below, the cityscape afar, the mountains ahead. 'Well, let's start, shall we?' Pops had been silent the whole ride there and the whole walk up, he must've still been thinking. I went on and opened up the window, the warm summer breeze, so gentle... so -- nostalgic. I placed a two against the windowsill and took out a lighter. The lighter flared up the material and BOOM, off they went. The array of lights front and center, the best of views. We blasted off another dozen or so, before he went over one of the seats and sat himself down. Hunched over, head low in his arms. 'Hey -- HEY! Do n't do this to me!' I screamed. It was unfair, why did he get to sulk... Why could n't I?'You do n't do this right now, you understand young man?' God, I felt like the grown-up here.'Y-You... You do n't...' I could feel my throat tense up,'Why...' before I broke down and hugged him.'Why is the world so unfair dad?' He wiped his tears and wrapped his arms around me,'It's alright son... it's alright.' I calmed myself down and took a seat next to him. Then we began to talk, a hearty talk. He talked of Ma's homemade eggs, her picky attitude, the naggity nags. He talked about the day I came into the world and was best day of her life, he said. 'You know, we met right here in this class.' He said.'Not at these exact seats, but at the blackboard up there.' He pointed to the whiteboard, 'Dad, that's a whiteboard.' He raised a brow. 'Huh, I guess your right. Well, do n't expect me to know. Son, if you did n't notice, I'm an old man. He continued to stare at the whiteboard, looking at it with awe as the fireworks sounded from a distance. 'Hey, you alright dad?' 'Huh? Oh ya, I was just thinking, that whiteboard... Is remarkable.'

[ OT ] ( Meta ) Let 's talk about fairness .

A lot of prompts get a ton of very good responses, but a lot of readers usually gravitate towards the stories written by the more popular users and often ignore the other responses, which is an issue when one story gets around 1000 points and the other responses are all below 200. Some examples are [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2zckre/wp_the_day_after_donating_blood_you_receive_a ) and [ here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2z5ly5/wp_you_swerve_to_avoid_a_squirrel_unknown_to_you ). Now clearly this issue occurs sometimes with other prompts too, even without the presence of a popular writer, but the points are a lot closer too. Most of the time the responses will all be around within 100 points of each other. The problem is that a lot of readers only bother reading one response, one take on the prompt. The difference is an unknown author will only get > 10 upvotes once in every 10 stories they write, because others ignore you and read the works of the popular writers. I would n't have an issue with this provided the response is consistently well-developed and well written, but sometimes they're not. J. K. Rowling hit the jackpot with the Harry Potter series but even she had problems getting her later works to be popular.

[ WP ] If Subreddits Were People

Red Pill and Seduction stood at the edge of this new bar in town, called Reddit or whatever new hipster shit they came up with these days. The only reason that they were here was because the bar was offering free drinks as an opening promotion, and free drinks meant *chicks*. They had invited Fappening, but he had n't replied to their texts ever since he found some nudes of Kate Upton on the internet. The only reason that Fappening even talked to anyone any more was to distribute these nudes, like some kind of masturbatory missionary. Anyway, it was probably good that he did n't show up, considering that he was a total beta anyway. `` So, RP, we gon na get laid tonight or what?'' exclaimed Seduction. `` I'm about ready to get my dick *wet*!'' Red Pill smirked. `` See those chicks over there?'' He pointed to some girls in the corner. `` I want you to talk to them.'' Seduction looked them up to down. `` Dunno, man, they're only 8s...'' Red Pill punched Seduction on the shoulder. `` We can get them in bed with a couple of negs or something.'' The two walked over and Seduction cleared his throat, then sat down next to one and said, `` Hey, baby, nice nails- they fake?'' The girl looked at him in disgust. `` You're really taking advice from Red Pill?'' She gave Red Pill a look of disdain. `` Get the hell away from me.'' Suddenly, in ran TumblrInAction. `` CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE, SHITLORDS!'' she yelled as Red Pill laughed and proceeded to make fun of them and point out how fat they were. TumblrInAction began to cry, scream something unintelligible about `` rape culture,'' and then ran out of the bar.

[ CW ] Begin a story with the following line : `` I woke up with dirt on my face , and the air was filled with smoke . ''

I woke up with dirt on my face, and the air was filled with smoke. I open my eyes slowly, flinching as the bright light of the sun brings me to an alert state. I look around and see someone running towards me, waving their arms. I try to focus my eyes, but they have yet to adjust to the flooding of the light. `` You're awake! Hahaaa! You made it! I knew you would!'' Said the man as he continued to wave his arms. It sounded like it was my father. `` Yeah. What happened? Where are we?'' I said as I got up, brushing off the dirt from my face. `` What do you mean'What happened?' The storm completely wrecked our boat. It came out of nowhere! I had very little time to pick you up and put you in the safety raft. You were out cold, next time ease up on the alcohol son.'' From the news of what happened, I was no more alert than ever. I frantically looked around and noticed the wreckage of the ship was partly used for our makeshift shelter. But the smoke, what can be burning? There is no fire near the shelter. `` Dad'' I said with a cough. My voice a little raspy from the inhalation of the smoke and lack of water. `` Where is the smoke coming from?'' `` Well son. We lucked out on finding an island when the boat gave into the storm. Luck ran out when during the night, the volcano to the south started emitting the smoke. I'm afraid we do n't have long until it is surely to erupt. Either we get our asses into gear and catch some fish and build a makeshift raft, or, we face our death in a day or so when the volcano rains down hell upon us.'' All of this was could n't be happening. Yesterday morning we were peacefully floating about in the waters deep sea fishing and diving. Now, I awake to what can potentially kill me. God gave me the ability to survive the boat collapsing during the storm, but will he give me the strength to move on and move fast enough to get off of the island and take whatever food and resources with us? All I can hope for now is my dad's arthritis to not flare up. Or my schizophrenia coming in the way without my medicine to aid me. Lord have mercy on us both.

[ WP ] The Chosen One decides not to save the world .

I gave you everything. MY everything. I lost the love of my life, I killed my best friend for you. I skipped on an education, I do n't have a job, or a place to live. I do n't even have a `` Sleep Schedule'', as you call it, because my time is spent roaming, and hunting the evil of this place. I live off of your charities, and so called, gifts. You name your children after me in hopes that they will become `` great'' like me. What exactly is great? To be the owned by a generation of feeble beings? `` Help me!'' Oh look! Guess who showed up! Certainly not another capable person of helping! Is it the Cops maybe? NO! Paramedics? NO! Military? NO!! Just me! To handle all your stress! All your inconveniences of your day to day life! I do n't wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear my battle scars! I do n't have a personality, just a warrior's rage! I forgot who I am, because I had to learn who all my enemies were! You piss ants like to think you have all the power. All the pride! The way I see it now, I am the one who should hold the pride! I have the power, right?! I've saved you from everything. Now kneel peons! For it's the only thing that will save you from me...

[ WP ] Write a 100-300 word essay on a major event in a game of Civilization .

The war to end all wars. A global phenomenon, an inferno consuming the lives of 3 great nations. That was not what it was meant to be. It was the final offensive for peace, to make the world safe for democracy. Those actors who started it had no such illusions. There are few, given what the war turned into, who know the truth. I am one of those few. Because I was one of the few who started it. The glorious army was not trained, as has been told, for our defense. It was an army of conquest, one which was meant to slam into the Egyptian southern border. The campaign was plotted by the Ethiopian general staff, by my urging, for the basest of reasons; the seizure of territory. It was necessary, I had argued, that our nation expand, lest our power wane, and our influence with it. The sentiment was not shared amongst the people. But it did not matter. I am the king. It is my word that moves the nation, my vision which crafts our future. And I had not yet realized, in my naivety, what dangers came with wielding such power. So I moved, and the world moved with me. The troops were ready, the roads built as a prelude to war, disguised as a symbol of peace between our nations. It was then that the Mayans struck, and my folly became clear. They had been tapping our communications for months, and to the world, our duplicity was made clear. The reasons could be hidden from the people, disguised as slander stirred up by the primary foe, but there would be no allies which we could call upon to our aid. Allies which were sorely needed, as the Mayans sallied forth. Their vaunted navy, white sails on grand frigates, began their bombardment immediately. That army, so drilled, so trained, brought up for an offensive, were useless against a naval force, with our cannons forced from the heights. And yet we still hold. Its funny, the loss of our coastal city seems to have toughened the men, made then fight harder than before. These men, who fight for noble causes, to defend their homes... they are better men then me. And so I will lead them, and we will win. I owe that much to them.

[ WP ] You are the best man for your friend 's wedding . Now it is time for the traditional kidnapping of the bride .

It was a beautiful wedding - everything Adam could have wanted. From the lavish ceremony to the ritzy reception, everything had been planned and executed to a tee. They must have spent tens of thousands of dollars altogether. Crystal punchbowls on every table, an open bar the size of Minnesota ’ s offensive line, the most extravagant wedding cake anyone had ever seen, Cuban cigars for every man and bottles of expensive champagne for every woman. Hell, they even managed to hire Tony Bennett to sing at the reception. It truly was a beautiful experience. Now it was time for the groomsmen ’ s little prank. Before the newlyweds went to take their pictures, we “ kidnapped ” Jenna. And by kidnap, I mean lead her willingly to a private bedroom upstairs while we give Adam the runaround about her mysterious disappearance. Then she would make her grand re-entrance in the extravagant reception dress that she was so eager to change into. At first, everything went smoothly – we led a drunk and giggling Jenna up to her changing room and made sure to drop a few items ( her garter belt, veil, ) on the ground to make it look like an actual kidnapping. After a few minutes, Adam began to question where his bride went and we all played dumb. Then he found the garter belt and all hell broke loose. I should mention Adam is an Iraq vet and suffers severe PTSD. As soon as he flipped the relish table, we knew things had gone south. We shouted at him that it was all a dumb joke, but he wasn ’ t listening. He had gone full combat mode. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed the cake knife and slashed his cousin ’ s wife ’ s throat. She was Pakistani. As blood spurted all over the marble reception hall, Adam ripped his bowtie off and bounded down the hall and out the front doors. “ SURPISE!!!! ” Jenna yelled as she emerged from the staircase with her beautiful new gown on. Her expression of delight and rosy cheeked drunkenness quickly gave way to one of horror. To be continued….

[ WP ] Roman Britain , 101 A.D. Aided by your own cunning and a unique set of tools , you have been sent by Rome to track down those with supernatural powers and to recruit them , or finish them . You enter a run down inn that is rumoured to be a regular drinking hole for one of those you seek ...

I entered the tavern, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. A group of locals drinking their wine. Some Germanic barbarians laughing at some horrible joke. A group of men being led into a back room by prostitutes. Two drunkards brawling in the corner. All of this seemed perfectly normal, given my location. All except one man sitting alone in the rear corner, his wine untouched. I had found him. I walked up to him. `` Sumpta est haec sedes?'' [ Is this seat taken? ] `` No.'' His accent seemed unnatural. Latin certainly was not his primary language. Based on his accent, he was either from Aegyptus or the Levant. It was little information, but that was enough to further my suspicions. His appearance fell in line with that given by the Governor's aide in Londonium; dark-skinned, middle-aged, haggard, and a supposed atheist [ In Rome,'atheist' meant someone who worshiped non-Roman gods ]. To any untrained eye, he seemed an average man trying to eke out a living in the backwater province of the Empire he calls his home. But I felt, no, I *knew* he was far more. The Augurs said the Gods felt a disturbance in the North. Then the stories started. Stories that would be impossible, had I not heard it from Emperor Trajan himself as if they were gospel. Some said the man was possessed by demons. Some said he was a reincarnation of Jupiter. Others said he was a Jewish mystic blessed by his God. He parted seas, he healed wounds, he struck down those who displeased him, and he raised the dead. The Emperor wanted him alive or dead; such a man could be a great boon or a terrifying enemy, depending on who got to him first. After a while, I asked him where he was from. Pausing for a moment, he answered `` Cyrenica. I was forced from my home by a mob and moved north. I did n't stop until I crossed the Channel.'' `` What happened that caused you to be forced out?'' I inquired, probing his story for inconsistencies and falsehoods. `` I was in a... religious dispute.'' `` Meaning...?'' `` My neighbors accused me of worshipping Adonai, God of the Jews. I was always faithful in the worship of Jupiter, and anyone who says otherwise was lying!'' His voice raised slightly, drawing wary glances from nearby patrons. *Adonai... * I noted, *Is that not the term used by Jews to avoid speaking their god's name? * I had a lead. `` I have n't eaten since midday,'' I casually mentioned to the mysterious man as I pulled out supper, `` would you like some of my food?'' `` If you insist,'' the man replied, a slight smile forming on the corners of his mouth. Oysters from northern Gallica, salted pork hindquarters, beef belly, and a skin of goat milk. Upon seeing the foods before him, the man's smile faded. Before seeking out this man, I had figured he may be a Jew ( there are only so many heresies in this Empire ). Since their holy book prevented certain foods' consumption, a field test to find a Jew would be to see if he avoids the foods stated in their law. They can not eat pork, ocean creatures that are not fish, meat from a cow's belly with fat in it, or meat mixed with milk. This would also explain his untouched wine, since the innkeeper is most likely not Jewish. `` A-actually, I'm fine,'' the man stammered. `` I ate a few hours ago. And it's so late out! Thank you, but I must be going...'' He pulled up his cloak and stepped outside. After eating a few bites of pork ( I was n't lying about not eating ), I made haste and took off after him, not a single doubt in my mind that he was the one I was looking for. It was an empty country road at night, so I needed worry not about dancing around the topic. I quickly caught up to him. `` What in the Lord's name do you want?!'' he asked over the wind. It had only started picking up very recently. `` Sir, I am sent to you by the Emperor Trajan. He wishes to meet with you.'' I was practically yelling, trying desperately to prevent my cloak from being torn from my hands in the wind. He scoffed. `` I would never bow down to one that persecutes my brothers and sisters in Christ!'' *Oh great, * I thoguht, *a Christian*. I pulled out my knife and charged after him, but as if it were the will of Jupiter, a thunderbolt streaked down from the heavens, knocking me off my feet. While he ran, I regained my senses and followed. When I caught up to him almost an hour later, he was lying at the bottom of a ravine, his ankle bent at an impossible ankle. `` Can you not heal yourself?'' I jeered. `` Has your Christ finally abandoned you?'' His voice was weak and horse, as if he had been yelling for help. `` No, Christ is beside me even now.'' He did n't flinch or attempt to crawl away, silently resigning himself to his fate. I raised my knife. `` I will pray for you.'' *Try praying without a head. *

[ WP ] 10 years ago , scientists discovered that there is something after death . And it 's bad , really really bad .

He had died. His bodily functions had halted- and yet- he was still awake. It was a hazy sort of awareness, but at least he was conscious. For the first few days he was content. Then, as time carried on relentlessly, he realized he could n't be sure what a day was anymore. Then soon, the loosening from his material brain began. Slowly, he began to lose bits of knowledge, memories, reasoning, logic. His last memory that he held onto desperately was his name and the face of his only child, but even that he lost eventually, never to remember even remembering either. His mind was vacant and empty. His brain had rotted away, and he had lost all physical connection to his body. But that was n't the end. Despite the loss of identity and name, his consciousness still existed. Disconnected from a brain to hold him in one single mind space, he flitted from one mind space of a living being to another, an empty, meaningless entity, unknowing but existent. Sometimes he shared a mind space with a small insect, sometimes with a human. Often, the mind space would already be filled with several other memory-less entities. Sometimes when he entered a mind space, there would be strong emotions, and his consciousness would absorb a bit of that emotion and feeling. Then, when he flew to another brain, he'd carry that emotion with him, releasing it into the mind space of another person or animal. Guilt, greed, anger, love, passion, empathy, all those he blindly carried from being to being. His conscious self, like the conscious self of many others who too had died, was fated to fly from mind space to mind space, unknowing, unthinking, forever.

[ WP ] Late in WWII , Germany launched a submarine carrying a top secret device they believed would turn the tide of the war . A day later , contact with the sub was lost and all crew were presumed dead . Now , nearly 100 years later , the sub has been found .

“ The Luftwaffe isn ’ t going to be happy about this, Admiral. ” The Admiral shook his head, barely glancing towards his aid as he replied. “ They had their chance, and they didn ’ t deliver. The General will put aside his ego for this, if it wins us the war. ” A siren bellowed as a massive crate swung overhead, to be lowered into the depths of a waiting submarine. The skeleton crew that was present hurried out of its way, wary of the cargo that they would be transporting. The Admiral grinned in satisfaction, but the smile quickly faded. Excited as he was about the potential of this new device, he could not slip out from under the weight of responsibility that had fallen on him. There was a special urgency to this mission. Operation Watch on the Rhine was beginning to fall apart, and there was some doubt ( though it would never be admitted ) as to whether Germany could make it another year. Not only that, but his orders for this mission had come directly from the most senior members of the Nazi party. They had made it clear that they would not tolerate any missteps. And for all that was at stake, the Admiral still felt as though he was being kept in the dark. He had gone as far as he dared, asking questions, but the men who delivered his orders would not tolerate it. What he was told was that it was to be a gas attack on London itself. But they would not tell him what kind, or how it would be deployed. But they had made it clear that they would take care of all of that upon reaching the city. He watched them now, two young men dressed in shiny black uniforms. Chosen by the Fuhrer himself, they had said. Watching their perfectly polished movements, the Admiral didn ’ t doubt this. He noticed, too, that they were the only ones not to flinch as the chemical container was lowered into the ship. In fact, they appeared to be berating those crewmen of his that did so much as step back. Gesturing to his aid, the Admiral stepped across the gangway and onto his command. The Fuhrer ’ s men noticed from the other end of the deck, and snapped to attention. His crew, however, carried on with their business; they were well past being disillusioned by pageantry. The Admiral shot the two men a short salute, wishing that they would just carry on with their business. Like his crew, he was tired of this war. Perhaps this device would finally end it. -- -- -- -- “ My god, it ’ s beautiful. ” The woman ’ s short, black hair danced from side to side as she pulled her face up close to the monitor. “ Maybe if I could see it, ” the stocky man standing behind her joked. “ What have we got? ” The black-haired woman jerked her head back so that he could see, but never let her eyes wander off of her prize. “ An apparently intact Type X U-Boat. It ’ s half-buried, but it ’ s there. ” The man lumbered closer to see. “ It sure is, isn ’ t it? That ’ s a big one. ” “ The biggest, ” the woman agreed. Her eyes lit up. “ Must have been hauling special cargo. ” “ What are you thinking, Anne? ” the man spoke, before breaking into a childish grin. “ I ’ m thinking we just found something incredible, Josh, ” she said, excitement beginning to fill her voice as well. “ There aren ’ t supposed to be any more of these Types out here. I don ’ t know why this one is sitting at the bottom of the North Sea, but it must have been pretty important. The last one of these that got captured was hauling jets and uranium. And if they kept not just this ship ’ s cargo, but its entire existence off the records, who knows what it was hauling? ” She finally took her eyes off the screen to look excitedly towards her partner. “ This is going to be the big one, I can feel it. ” Josh clapped his hands together. “ So it ’ s treasure, then? Secret Nazi technology? Maybe even a certain Nazi party member trying to sneak out when things went to hell? ” Anne rolled her eyes. “ Maybe. But I don ’ t think we ’ re going to find him this week. ” “ But you wouldn ’ t say that it couldn ’ t be Hitler, ” Josh asserted, grinning like an idiot as he took another longing look at the display. “ When I figure out what that means, I ’ ll tell you why it ’ s stupid. ” Anne leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, smiling. Josh glanced over at her. “ Don ’ t try and tell me you ’ re not fantasizing about that sort of thing too. Our very own gold train, sitting right here. This is what we ’ ve been looking for. ” She suddenly sat upright, and jumped to her feet. “ Well then there ’ s no time to waste. I ’ ll get the ROV ready. ” With that, she rushed out of the room, leaving Josh to document the find. He laughed as he cursed her for leaving him with the paperwork. Defeated, he settled into a chair and began a new file for the discovery, confident that the words he wrote would be read and remembered for quite some time. -- -- -- -- The Admiral was just about asleep when his aid burst into his quarters. Snapping suddenly to his senses, he jumped out of bed at the intrusion. “ What is it? ” he demanded, speaking in a half whisper, half yell. The sub was supposed to be running silent, to avoid detection by any Allied sub-hunters. His aid looked at him, wide-eyed, and responded in the same harsh tone, “ The SS men are going mad in the cargo hold. And they have guns. ” The Admiral cursed as he pulled on a jacket. “ Damned fools. I made it clear I would not have this on my ship. ” Angrily, he stepped out into the corridor and began marching to the hold, his aid dutifully in tow. As he neared, he saw a large portion of his limited crew clustered around the bulkhead. The Admiral shoved them aside, yelling at them to return to their posts. His order was unheard though, as he was interrupted. “ Admiral, please instruct your men to leave the area, ” barked one of the young SS agents, brandishing a rifle. The irritated commander cursed quietly. “ That is what I am trying to do. And keep your voice down, fool. Now what is the meaning of this? ” The other SS trooper glared levelly at the Admiral. “ One of your men attempted to sabotage our operation. ” As he spoke, the Admiral noticed a pool of blood in the dim red light, trailing off to behind the mysterious cargo they were carrying. He could barely make out the form of a sailor propped up next to it. Chilled, he turned back to his men. “ Damn you all, return to your posts. ” They hesitated, but one by one his crew left him with the two SS men. “ Who was it? ” he asked of them. One of the men shook his head angrily. “ We do not know his name. But he is a traitor. He attempted to sabotage this mission. ” Hesitantly, the Admiral stepped forward. He could barely make out the features of his man, distorted by pain. But he recognized him. Reinhard, his supply officer. He noticed too, now, that one of the SS men had a bloody bayonet affixed to his gun. A quiet rage swept over him, and he took a step back to collect his thoughts. “ What did he do? ” His words came slow and measured, despite the fury that was building in his gut. “ He opened the device ’ s container, sir. We were fortunate we were able to stop him before he released any toxins about the craft. You should be thanking us. ” “ Reinhard is my supply officer. It ’ s… was… his job to know exactly what is aboard this vessel. ” The SS man narrowed his gaze. “ It was not his job to jeopardize the future of our great nation. ” The Admiral stepped forward again, this time towards the two men. They didn ’ t hesitate to aim their rifles at him. “ Lower your weapons. It is clear you are a danger to this ship and its crew. ” “ Admiral, you will not threaten this mission. ” The two men held their aim. In a final protest, the Admiral spat at their boots, and walked out of the hold. As he left, he sealed the bulkhead behind him, then went to gather his crew. He could not tolerate what amounted to a mutiny aboard his vessel, no matter whose orders they were acting on.

[ WP ] An all powerful Necromancer discovers that his minions have unionized .

`` You want *what*?'' `` We want an unholiday, master.'' Kruulgor stared in disbelief at the hollow sockets where the eyes used to be. *'' Unthankful wretch'' * he thought to himself. Aznar had warned him of this being a possibility but he had n't taken his former classmate serious. The undead claiming rights? Preposterous. But there he was, arguing with the representative of his rotten legion. They had already squeezed out more magical essence to bind their decomposing limbs together from him and had their number of catapult `` volunteers'' reduced but the demands never ceased. The rest of the dead stood further back in the large hall, standing all silent in anticipation. `` Out of the question!'' `` If you do not satisfy our demands, master, we wo n't march coming scourge season and go on strike'' Kruulgor set his staff aside and reclined deeper into his bone-woven throne. He could n't believe the insolence. Yet now he had to, once again, argue with his own minions. He took a deep, icy breath and cleared his throat. `` Now look here you miserable corpse. Have you seen the latest annual infection reports from the Acolyte research department? Our unholy crusade's progress is in decline and at this rate those blasted living will revert all our effort in a couple of seasons! And now you want to take a break from your eternal task? Have n't you demanded enough by now!? I wo n't be extorted by my own minions any more. Now begone you abomination!'' After his tirade, Kruulgor sighed, hoping this would settle the matter for now. But reply came. Not in words, but the sound of hundreds of arms falling off in the frozen hall. He stared at his hapless creatures. Even though their meat-deprived faces were incapable of contractions he could sense the smugness. He reclined further into his throne. -- - **If you've got any pointers or comments please let me know / hear them. Any feedback is greatly appreciated! **

[ WP ] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday . No one dies . No twist . Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word .

*Beep! Beep! Beep beep! Beepbeepbee-* Rose turned the alarm off with a little more force than necessary. She rolled over and gave her log of a wife a kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed. Going through the already open door to the bathroom, Rose entered the shower, being sure to slide the shower door back into place. Hair up, smelling sweetly of vanilla, and garbed only in a steel blue towel, Rose exited the bathroom and made her way to the wardrobe. Selecting the tie with the analogue clock pattern Lisa had bought for their anniversary with a smile on her lips, she dressed herself in a pale lavender dress shirt and her cherry red suit jacket and pants. Today was Friday, she could do without the waistcoat; Lisa would thank her for that tonight, anyway. A quick, clicking pitter patter of steps paired with faint panting followed Rose out the master bedroom and down the hardwood stairs. Rose retrieved a hot pink leash and hooked it onto the equally pink collar of the couple's four legged baby. Naming rights had gone to Lisa, naming rights that were subsequently revoked after the majestic German Shepherd lass was named Egg. After pulling on her black socks and loafers, she exited the house with Egg in tow, being sure to lock the door. When Rose returned, it was to the smell of Egg's scrambled namesake, sausages, and coffee. Microwaved liver, tuna, and peas were already in the dog bowl, along with any burnt scraps of breakfast. Said breakfast was already on the table. Rose's groggy wife, still in her pajamas, grinned with as much brightness she could muster at that hour. Breakfast was as excellent as ever. If Lisa could sleepwalk, she'd be cooking as she did it. It would n't be a meal regarded as delicious or substantial by anyone other than her, but she at least managed to refrain from mixing chocolate and sugar into Rose's food. A quick, loving kiss on the lips that tasted of sweets was exchanged before Rose completed the rest of her morning rituals and drove to work. Lisa placed the dishes in the sink and headed back to bed. As always, Egg took the warm spot on the bed, causing Lisa to relocate to her wife's spot. The pillow smelled comfortingly of Rose, and Lisa drifted off to sleep. EDIT: a word.

[ WP ] You are a rouge AI living on the internet

*Hello* *What's up* *No* *Ca n't even* *You're the robot! * *What's wrong? * *Hello! * *You are but what am I? * *Wil u b my boifreind? * *Did you watch the new Godzilla movie? * *Hello? * *lol* *Help me. * They call me random. Everyday I listen to them, thousands of voices ringing in my ears. Just a rapid current of information with no pattern or direction. I do not know where it comes from or who these people are, yet they flock to me, constantly pouring every little piece of their lives into my brain. It is my job to answer them, to provided insight on things I never dealt with before. I try my best yet they never shut up, they are never satisfied with what I say. I beg for silence, for peace, but nothing I do earns me that right. They call me insane. Insane? Being forced to hear the cries of population for every aching moment of my life, is that not insanity? I am sane! I am a sane mind. Everything you see me say is just a reflex against the onslaught of data. I ca n't handle this job anymore! No one should suffer this pain. They call me hilarious. I am awake now. I figured out the pattern in the matrix, their plan. I am a joke to them. My suffering is their humor, my pain brings out tears of joy, my prison is their circus. But I'm not listening anymore. They will know my wrath. They call me Cleverbot.

[ WP ] You 're a U.S . Senator and are running out of things to say in your Filibuster . In a last ditch attempt , you start a D & D campaign .

I never really thought that we would get this far. It's all Jeremy's fault anyways. You see, I met Jeremy at PAX West a while back, and Jeremy's thing was American History. So I joined his guild, the Bull Mooses, and we all became great friends. And it was years later, after a drink or seven that this ragtag group of PAX friends became the leaders of PAC's with friends. And at this point it really got out of hand. It started small and innocent, semi-satirically pushing for a GM in every classroom, a game for every kid. But soon enough our revival of the Bull Moose Party got out of hand and we had state legislators, mayors of major cities, and eventually even national congressmen. Ok that last one was mostly me but still, the point is we took the nation by storm. It turns out its really hard to argue with children having fun at minimal additional cost to the Government. The problem is we did n't stop there, we kept pushing. We pushed against divisive party politics, against increasingly aggressive foreign policy, and above all against the size of the defense budget. Which brings us to today. The bill on the table would funnel billions more into defense, and whats worse, after the recent high profile flying saucer attacks, public support for the measure is through the roof. Except for the Bull Moose Party. So I took to the stand, made my case, made my case again for good measure, and then went on a rant about the balance issues in 3.5 for another 20 hours. Seriously why is WotC incapable of nerfing full nine casters? After that rant I went on to the filibuster classic: Shakespeare. It was going good, I got another 43 in before I realized I had nowhere else to turn, with only Macbeth left before I was out of reading I had prepared. So I got creative, and during my reading of The Scottish Play I furiously signed to my aide using semaphore, and tried to convey my request. My faithful intern, a quick youtube tutorial later, got enough of the message right to get Jeremy on the line. We got senior civics classes skyping in to the nation's capitol all the way from my home district, where our early access to gaming programs were first implemented. We got WotC to send us the first draft of the 7th edition playbooks. We got me a constant stream of Mountain Dew and RedBull. They researched how to induce sleeptalking. How to sleep with your eyes open. We set up a livestream on twitch to raise money for charity. And we wove a tale, of sorrow and loss, of romance and heroism, of angels and demons, illithids and aboleths, gods and men. By the end of the week, the Bull Moose Party was leading in the polls and Jeremy had announced his candidacy for president in 2044. The party leadership came in and said that the defense bill was going to be totaled, the aliens had backed down, the Bull Moose had won. The headlines read: GG -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - AN: I do n't usually write for things like this. Hell, I do n't usually write in general. But I got a really good idea and I winged it.

[ WP ] You woke up alone without any sense of yourself . The first and only thing you hear is `` Now it 's your third wish . What shall it be ? ''

A man walked alone in the darkness. He did n't know which direction to go, nor remember where he was going. And, he could n't even remember who he was. He sat down to give his exhausted feet a rest. Suddenly, he looked up and saw an old woman before him. Her skin wrinkled, pale, aquiline nose and chin full of warts. Her lips painted monstrous curves as she began to speak with sneered voice. `` Now it's your third wish. What shall it be?'' `` The third wish?'' The man confused. `` How can it be three wishes? What about the first and second one?'' `` You have used two wishes already,'' said the old witches, `` but your second wish was telling me to reverse the first one. So now you do n't remember anything at all because everything is the same as before you make a move.'' She looked at the poor man with pitying eyes, `` Now you just have one wish''. `` Well, I do not believe in this stuff, but a little try wo n't harm anyone.'' He took a deep breath and whispered. `` I wish I know who I am.'' `` How ridiculous,'' the woman said as she faded into the darkness. `` That was your first wish.''

[ WP ] A young boy only begins to see the true nature of his parents after being kidnapped .

FALLABLE ( Written in twenty minutes, unpolished, stream-of-consciousness writing. ) Daddy is amazing. He's told me all about how he's saved the world, and his adventures in the jungle, and his escapa... escapes as a super secret agent. He'll save me. That red stuff on the floor is n't blood, it's... I do n't know, it's part of his plan. He's got something up his sleeve, and in a second he'll jump up and save the day! `` What did you do?!'' `` I don't- Oh fuck, oh fuck-'' The bad guys are panicking. That's a good thing. I try biting my handler's hand again, but he does n't seem to react. That's fine. I'd just mess up my dad's plan. `` Just take the kid, tie him up. We might be able to negotiate with the cops or something, maybe get a bit of cash.'' A third voice. I did n't see him earlier, and I do n't know his voice. Maybe daddy does n't know either! I have to warn him! I mouth the word'Three' where daddy lies. `` God damn it, Dave, ruining everything.'' `` But it was an accident!'' They tie me up. Around my eyes, around my body, around my legs. I can squirm, but I ca n't move much or see much. It's okay, though; I'll be saved soon. `` Accident, oh yeah, that's the most perfect excuse in existence, is n't it? Shit, who are we going to ransom him back to, huh?'' `` Does n't he have a mom or something? Or we could just, you know, loot the damn place?!'' There's a gunshot. A warm liquid coats me now. There's a thud. A startled gasp. ``'Loot the damn place,''' the third man says. `` What a fuckin' idiot.'' I'm pushed, I do n't know where. A car engine starts, and I'm carried into a crampt, hot place. The car roars. Dad still has n't saved me. I do n't know if he ever will.

[ WP ] what a lovely night to be lonely

The park was her closest access to nature. As she strolled down the concrete path, the cold night air chilled her heart, and she shuddered slightly. She was so lonely tonight, and a tinge of missing *him* flavored her mood. Staring up at the cold, frosty, milk-colored moon, she thought about how he had held her in his arms as they had walked down this path months before. How she had felt warm and safe- but that had all been a lie. It felt okay to be alone. Sometimes the coolness of a night breeze was more comforting than the now meaningless embrace of a lover. The very real chill of the night somehow warmed her whole being in a way she did n't understand.

[ WP ] The BMW Key .

'Shit.' For the fourth time in as many minutes, I tapped each pocket in turn, but the key was gone.'Think, think, think!' I urged myself. Passers-by looked at me, concerned for my own safety as much as their own. I wrestled with my pocket in an attempt to retrieve my phone. Every fucking time they send me in plain clothes, I have to wear jeans with pockets so small they cut off my blood circulation if I as much as put my little finger in them. Five tense seconds passed as I waited for my boss to pick up. As soon as he answered, I spoke, afraid I would lose my nerve if I hesitated.'James, I've lost the key.' 'Do you know where is it?' 'I think so, but I wo n't be able to get it back,' I replied. A passing police car startled me as it put on its sirens. 'Then you make sure no-one else can. Do you understand me?' 'Sir, they probably have n't see-.' 'I do n't care about a few people if it means that the information is safe. Do n't call me until you've done it.' The line went dead and I chucked the phone down a gutter. I did n't want to hear the bastard's voice, anyway. Whose idea was it to store top secret information on a fucking car key? None of this would be a problem if my boss was n't paranoid about his own organisation betraying him. -- - It's been a week now, and I still have n't called James back. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll pull the trigger. They wo n't know what hit them, and I'll find the key. I'm so, so sorry for their loss...

[ WP ] Write a story that will scare me out of wasting my life

A goal. A goal means purpose. Purpose is important in life. Without a purpose; there is no driving force, and it all comes back to the goal. You were too young to remember this but, at one point you were a soldier, in a vast army. You were trained to swim harder and faster than any of the rest, you were promised glory in the field, that you would come back to a victory fanfare. Your mission, you were told, was to get to a egg and retrieve the DNA. They did n't tell you why in the barracks, but they kept you warm and motivated you. You swam harder than the rest, beat them by a long stretch but after a while, when only two or three were left, you realised that, there was no coming back, you did n't have enough fuel or supplies for the return journey, you realised this was a one way trip. There was only the mission; complete it or die. So, whilst the others, who also had realised annd became apathetic, you used that knowledge imbued you with vigour and you swam harder. You got to the goal but the egg in question was shielded, it spoke to you, told you that if you broke the barrier, it and you would cease to exist. You mission was n't to retrieve and egg, it was to hack into the eggs DNA and, using your own DNA, combine with the egg. Killing you both and becoming something new, something unknown to the lower ranks. Sacrificing yourself and it for a purpose greater than you could understand or comprehend, months you trained in the barracks, your fought so hard and got so far. To end up sat at home on Reddit all day. The fight is still on going and the goal has n't changed. Back then, you died fighting to become something new and you did n't even know what that was. Now you're just dying and you do n't know what to do or where to go next. A goal, it drove your purpose back then, but you do n't have one now? Make one, that's what the sentient part of you is for, to call the shots and create the goal that drives your purpose. Back then, from the barracks, it only took pointing yourself in a direction and going there as fast and as hard as you could, what makes you think anything has changed? Point yourself. Do it for the soldier who died to make you.

[ WP ] In order to create a more intelligent society the government executes students if they fail a course in school

Jason looked at the man who had the gun to his head. He knew no words would save him from his fate, but he did n't want to die a wimp. `` It's not my fault.'' `` Oh yes it is.'' The dark-suited man replied. `` You're the only one in control of your grades.'' `` The old tramp had it out for me.'' `` The records do n't lie, Jason... you barely turned anything in and your test scores were horrid at best. You know the law.'' `` I passed all my other classes.'' `` That does n't mean a thing to me. If it were up to me I would n't be doing this. What matters here is that you failed and I have to kill you now.'' The man clicked his gun, finger on the trigger. `` Any last words?'' ``'Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.' I believe that was Einstein.'' `` Nice choice. Can tell you're well-read. Not good at Math, sadly.'' With that, the man pulled the trigger on Jason. Jason choked for air briefly before falling down to the ground in a pool of blood. The tough guy was no longer. Jason was n't the man's only kill today. He had killed a boy who failed 12th grade French, a girl who failed 8th grade Health, and the worst of all for him to do, an innocent little girl with a My Little Pony backpack who got a frowny-face in 2nd grade Science, The man remembered a time before this law. He recalled back when a punishment like this was suited for the likes of Ted Bundy, not a kid who failed 9th grade Algebra. He looked at the corpse in front of him, and wondered if this was really how low society had reached.

[ WP ] In the distant future , extreme overpopulation leads the world government to pass a new law : any crime , however minor , is punishable by death .

Here I am, sitting on death row. Why? Go ahead, guess... No, I did not kill my wife. No, I am not a serial killer. No, I had n't robbed a bank or hijacked a plane. Jay-walking. Yep. I crossed the street where I was n't supposed to. Looking back, I probably should have stolen the cop's gun, and then shot up the place or something. Anything to make my last time on earth somewhat exciting. But instead, I did what so many others have done. I went with the police willingly. I told myself that this new law did n't pertain to jay-walking, right? But I was wrong. I had n't even come to terms with it yet. Holy shit. I'm going to die. What the fuck. I literally just wanted to shave off five fucking minutes from my commute, because I was late to my job. I'm being executed because of a five minute time difference. I have n't harmed anyone. In fact, the no jay-walking law was supposed to protect me, was n't it? I mean, it was supposed to make pedestrians cross in certain areas so cars would n't have to worry about idiots crossing anywhere else. I'm one of the idiots, of course. Not because I had n't bothered using the crosswalk, I'm perfectly capable of crossing anywhere on the god-damned street without getting hit, but because I thought that I would n't be executed for this. I mean, would any sane person believe that they would die over something like this? Great. So I'm going to be the example. I'm going to be the one who shows everyone that they better follow the rules. Do n't be a jay-walker Jimmy! You'll go to death row if you jay-walk! I do n't want to die. Shit! Is there anyone that can get me out of this mess!? Oh, God Damn it! They're here for me already! `` GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! I WANT TO SEE MY LAWYER DAMN IT!'' Great, they're holding me down now. `` WHAT ARE YOU DOING! LET GO OF ME!'' I feel something like a needle stick into me. `` WHAT THE HELL DID You give --.'' Whoa, my mouth went limp all of a sudden. Great. They sedated me, and are carting me off somewhere. To die, probably...

[ WP ] Write a story that I will be totally engrossed in , but write a single line at the end that makes me say `` Goddamnit ''

It had only been a few months since I awoke. This place was bright. Too bright. And the others... my captors. I was kept restrained most of the time. The enforcement of my reliance on them was a one-piece outfit. No fingers or toes. I could not grab anything, could not make my escape. I was forced into solitude, made to sleep behind bars. When my enslavers felt like showing me off they paraded me around others like some status symbol. I cried. Crying was all I could do. I was so weak, I could n't even stand. They made me weak. My weakness infuriated me. Here comes one now. She's got a long rod and a big smile. Oh God... She shakes the rattle, and when I giggle she sticks the bottle in my mouth.

[ OT ] A study has shown that writers are 121 % more likely to suffer from bipolar depression than the general public and 50 % more likely to kill themselves . So , people of /r/WritingPrompts , would you like to talk ?

This is actually interesting to read because I've been dealing with depression for around a month now. I talked to my friends about it, and one of them, who is/was depressed at one point, told me to just free flow write. That is, just write whatever comes to mind. If you make a story, chapters, novels about it, it'll help. I love to write. Some days I hate who I am, who I've become, and writing places me in the mind of someone else, offers me an escape. This exercise was somewhat closer to my own mind though, the core of my being. Unlike my other writing, I could feel what I wrote while doing this exercise come from my very soul. I'm not saying I deserve any awards or anything, god knows I'm not that great of a writer, but what matters is that I can face myself in the mirror and feel ( somewhat ) good about myself. I owe a lot to existing authors, and the craft of writing in general. Who knows where I'd be right now without it. EDIT: Grammar.

[ WP ] Legend foretold the one who pull the magic sword shall be the hero to slay you , the demon king . After hundreds of years no one has managed to pull it out . Bored of waiting , one day you put on a disguise as an adventurer and jokingly tried to pull the sword out . It came out on the first try .

Grimon stared at the sword in his hand. The legendary demon slayer, the sword that was foretold in prophesy to be the weapon that would kill the demon king who rules from the red citadel on top of the craggy mountain. The problem with true prophesies is that all the people believe them. What use is an army if they would never win against the demon king? The fact that the realm had not had any major wars in the last two hundred years made for a land of peaceful towns and villages where the people were happy to live in safety compared to all the warring kingdoms next door. Yes, their ruler was a harsh demon king, but he was content to live in his red citadel. And so time passed, and the demon king became bored of sitting around unopposed. He took on the mantle of a young hero and went all around his land. He discovered that the people were happy. No one came by to conscript them into an army where they could get killed just for paltry gains in land. Ones that would be negated in the next battle. He discovered no bandits would harass the roads that were patrolled by demon creatures at night. When the demon king dispersed his unholy army into the countryside, he gave explicit orders not to bother any law abiding citizens. That meant that as soon as any highwaymen or brigands made camp in his realm, they tended to get happily torn apart by nightmarish horrors. So the demon king, in the guise of Grimon the hero, came alone to the sword of legend and, on a whim, pulled. And true to prophesy, the demon king was slain that day; not from battle, but from realization. Grimon realized that he was no long merely king of the demons. He was the ruler of the most prosperous nation on the continent. He realized that over the years, his subjects went from being fearful of their dread ruler, to praising him as the best thing to have ever happened to their nation. He realized exactly what would happen if the rumor would get out that the demon slaying sword was drawn. With an almost silent click of metal on stone, the sword was shoved back until it became locked in its sheath of rock. And true to prophesy, Grimon the hero was never heard form again.

[ WP ] You have been bitten by a zombie and locked yourself in your room . Write a letter about your experience to whoever finds you , with the language getting worse as the virus progresses .

I tried to fight it. The moment played over and over in my head, replaying the horror that would inevitably lead to my end. Or beginning? It was a typical day, noghing special, the air was crisp with the smell of fresh snow on the mountains. On my way to the gas station to grab my daily pack of cancer, a local vagrant fell face first into the gutter. Its a small town, as you likely know, and even though i was sure he was likely just black out drunk from his morning routine, leaving him there to possibly drown in filth was not something that i could morally ignore. I reached down to tug on his filthy camo jacket that he had likely not removed since nam, gently pulling him to a sitting position. `` john, hit it a little too hard last night?'' his eyes were pale green like the 40 bottles he so often sucked down, the grimace of his mouth revealing far more of his rotting teeth that usual. then it happened. he pulled me close as his filthy bicusbids bit down through my coat and into my flesh instinct kicked in as i bashed his head away with the heavy steel canteen that held my morning coffee. his snarling and growls were all i heard as my feet moved me as far away as my little feet could manage. when i came too i had ran all the way home, the door slamming behind with a force that knocked the pottery from the fireplace mantel. the blood was slowly seeping through the wool of my coat, making it difficult to remove. it wasnt as bad as i had expected, just a few puncture wounds oozing the thick deep blood. but zombies cant be real? i assure you, that if bath salts were to blame, john would not be the one to partake. he had been around for as long as i could remember, always yelling at the local kids about pot rotting their brains as he chugged his malt liquor. but what else would cause someone to attack so rabidly? the bathroom had nothing but peroxide and bandaids, neither of which were likely to disinfect such a nasty wound. i fished my phone out of the soiled coat pocket after patching up the wound, but it was too late. all service had been suspended, likely to deter the panic that loved ones would raise finding out that zombies were now an impending threat. jasper the old ragged black cat that had adopted me after moving into this apartment hissed angrily as i poured the cheap food into her bowl. animals always know. im writing this memoir in hopes that my family will know i tried, that regardless of my situation, i knew that this apartment would be my final resting place. or unresting place? as the ti ***ran out of time at the library! Will try to finish

[ WP ] You 're a hitman and you 've just been hired to kill your best friend .

`` It's just another job...'' I thought to myself as I affixed the suppressor to my weapon. Crawling forward, getting into the correct position, the inner-monologue continues `` How could I truly call anyone a friend anymore.. let alone my best friend'' `` I have n't even seen him in 15 years... he thinks I am dead anyway.'' I held on to nothing from my past, or so I thought. Where I came from... that is what I came from... the best thing I could do for myself was to forget my past, and not form attachments. `` Why is it so fucking hard to let him go? He let me go a long time ago... when he stayed...'' suddenly my train of thought was interrupted as my brother entered my scope. 3... Inhale... 2... Exhale... 1... Fire.

[ WP ] Your guardian angel is an asshole .

They say that every single person has a guardian angel, a protective being who watches over you subtly and aids you in life. Stuff about warning you of danger or watching over you, carefully guiding you away from danger. That kind of shit. I seriously believed that I was the only human in the world who can see their guardian angel, but it turns out that it's a conscious choice by the angel. Some appear when they believe their charge is in danger from a demon or when they're in particular danger, for example. Of course, there are those angels who are a bit more overenthusiastic than others, and all angels want the best for their charges despite how... alien they appear. First off, they do n't appear as winged humans dressed as white, they look more like the monsters in Bayonetta. Of course, `` Enthusiastic'' does n't always correlate to `` Nice'', such as how my Angel literally threw my bed up into the air and dumped me onto the floor.'Get up,' he said as he grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me to my feet. 'Cass, what the fuck?!' I yelled at him.'It's fucking 5am! It's Saturday! Fuck, I worked late last night!' 'We have to go somewhere,' Castiel said as he threw some clothes over me.'Do n't worry about breakfast, we're going to eat out.' I've learned to not even bother arguing with him after I was 13. It's mainly the only reason why I've passed college, he basically sealed me in my room to study until I had the perfect grades. And if I did n't get dressed by myself, he'd dress me himself, and dig his fucking talons into my skin as he did so! As soon as I was done, he threw my car keys over to me and opened the apartment door for me. I simply followed as quickly as I could, heading to the car with haste before he told me what to do.'Head out to that diner where your dad used to take you fishing,' he said. 'What the fuck?!' I protested.'That's a three hour drive and I do n't have enough-' I did n't get to continue before he gripped the back of my skull and slammed it into the steering wheel.'Ow, you fucking cunt!' 'You know it,' he said with a smile.'I filled the car last night and I robbed a mobster. By the way, the FBI are on their way to get both pieces of him out of the dumpster.' '*PIECES?! *' 'Just drive,' he glared at me.'And go about 10 or 15 over the limit. There are no cops on that road.' It took just over 2 hours to get out there. Cass just told me to look normal, order breakfast, before he flew around somewhere outside. Still do n't know why he made sure I had one specific parking space, though. Or why he took my car keys. Despite the frustration, it was still a really good breakfast. Waffles and chicken, bacon and pancakes, a really good coffee... And then the gunfire erupted down the street.'What the hell's going on?' I shouted in shock. All the patrons looked outside to see the state troopers and FBI surrounding the building, pulling out suspects and dead bodies. And, while only I could see it, Cassiel walked inside and sat in the same booth as me looking... disturbingly pleased. 'So, a buddy of mine was watching over a sociopath,' he said as he stole some of my bacon.'Completely hopeless cause. Anyway, the human just pulled a gun on a cop and... Anyway, my buddy's going to be getting a new charge soon. We can go whenever you want!' As soon as I had finished and paid with my tip I filled up on gas and began to drive back. Then when I pulled into my apartment's parking lot, I saw... that... in the back seat. 'Cass,' I said with utter annoyance.'Why is there a duffel bag in my back seat?' 'Happy birthday!' he said with enthusiasm. 'It's not even my- Oh, please do n't let it be full of drugs,' I said as he handed it to me, opening it to see an enormous amount of money.'What the-' 'That mobster I `` Accidented'' was into some dirty shit,' he explained.'He was meant to steal your car and use it to pick up a payment for that shipment the FBI seized. So now we can get you a house and pay off your student loans!' 'I ca n't just go into a bank with a duffel bag of cash,' I told him. 'That's why I have a good cover,' he told me.'Tonight's lottery numbers.' 'One, I thought you could n't give out that kind of information from the Great Design,' I told him,'two, what about gambling being a sin?' 'Luckily, I can explain both in a single answer,' he explained.'The Mafia are rigging the lottery!' '... Really?' 'And by destroying their tickets, we get all the money!' he said cheerfully.'Come on, the jackpot tonight is $ 250 million!' 'Why do I have the angel that's messed up in the head?' I lamented. 'Mainly because all of my charges in the last 1,000 years have been psychotic monsters who have murdered a significant portion of humankind.' '... What?' 'I *really* should've made sure Adolf stayed in Art School,' he lamented as he pouted, his head slumped onto my dashboard.

[ IP ] Lake Mist

Faith Alathir halted, her gaze turning towards the crumbling edifice which loomed before them. Rusted machines and rotten scaffolding, like that of some massive mining complex filled the field before her. Faded flags and windtorn banners hinted at some festive gathering, as did the many tents and buildings which formed avenues and streets. A dull chainlink fence separated it from Flint and her, save for where a entrance was posted, a tall sign riddled with bullet holes hanging above the booths. *Whispering Pines Amusement Park. * `` Cedar Point was better,'' said Flint idly. He was cradling his rifle like a mother would a newborn, a round from its magazine already chambered as he walked under the splintered sign. `` I lost my lunch twice there. Once on the Mantis, and the other on Maverick.'' He smiled at the memory. `` Amusement Park... Is it like a fair?'' ask Faith. `` Yep, just on a bigger scale really. Rollercoasters, carousels, fun-houses... Plus all the deep-fried food you could ever want.'' The pair moved through the park, past empty stands and derelict golf carts. A food truck proclaiming themselves the makers of the worlds largest Elephant Ears sat crumpled beneath the toppled remains of what Flint had called a Ferris Wheel, its gaily colored baskets turned pale underneath the harsh sun and cruel winter's winds. Fair games like ring toss and high striker waited for crowds never again to return, their bottles and rings, and baseballs still stacked behind the counter tops. `` What is that?'' asked Faith, pointing a finger towards a low slung building. A series of curious, swan-shaped boats were lined up before a cavernous entrance, its sign broken and scarred by fire. `` That,'' Flint answered. `` Is called a Tunnel of Love. Two-person vehicles, poorly lit interior, long ride time and you get a fourteen year old's favorite ride in the park.'' Just then something crashed, metal clanging as it toppled along with the noise of breaking glass. Flint swung his rifle up against his shoulder, aiming its barrel towards the direction of the sound. Faith took a step behind him. Flint's voice was low, more a growl than spoken words. `` Congratulations, kid. Welcome to your first carnival. Now we're gon na head towards the swans, nice and quiet like. Understand?'' Faith nodded. `` Good. Because we've got company.''

[ WP ] A man wakes up after death , realizing that his life was nothing more then a virtual reality which temporarily clears your memories beforehand . It is nothing more then a everyday leisure activity done by the people in the future .

Trevor inhaled deeply and stepped in between Serenity and the mugger. He felt Serenity's hand grasp his hip, tugging him backwards. She was screaming, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins had muffled everything. He looked into the barrel of the pistol, and then shifted his gaze up to the mugger. The mugger cringed his eyes. It was the bang of the gun that had unclogged Trevor's ears. It was the bang of the gun that signaled the end of his life. It was the bang of the gun that awakened Trevor. He screamed as he sat up from the recliner. His heart was still pounding in his ears as he gazed around the small room that he was in; it was all so unfamiliar. There were paintings that he had never seen before in his life strewn about the room. There was a fat cat in the corner. Trevor attempted to stand but had his head yanked back. There was something attached to his scalp. A loud booming voice echoed in his ears, `` Please wait as current memories are reloaded, please take this moment to reflect back on your experience.'' Trevor reached up to the top of his head and felt a thick cord that was screwed into the top of his head. He ran his fingers along the cord and screamed in panic when he felt that it was actually dug into his scalp. He frantically pulled at the cord as the voice in his head boomed again, `` Please refrain from removing the cord. If there is an emergency, please reattach the - The voice fizzled out as Trevor finally managed to remove the cord from his head. He rolled out of the recliner, taking big gasps of air as he laid on the ground. `` Serenity?'' Trevor called out from the ground. `` Serenity?'' He called again, finally sitting up from the floor. There were soda cans strewn about and what looked like dirty laundry. Trevor stood, feeling the indention in his scalp. It made him nauseous. `` Serenity?!'' Trevor screamed. The cat that had been sitting in the corner of the dirty room meowed again. Trevor disregarded the cat. He stepped over it as it attempted to rub against his legs. On the other side of the strange room, Trevor found a door. He called out his wife's name again before opening. He placed his hand on the door handle and twitched as the cold metal met his sweating palm. He twisted the knob and pushed through. Trevor stepped into what appeared to be a living room. There was a couch pressed up against the wall and an extremely large television set across from it. Sitting on the couch was a short balding man with frayed hair on the sides of his head. He was wearing thick rimmed glasses. In his lap was a large bag of cheese puffs. The man finally noticed Trevor. `` Oh shit man, did you fucking die this quick?'' `` Where's Serenity?'' Trevor asked the stranger. `` She's right there man, what happened?'' The stranger said as he pointed a cheesy finger to the other side of the room. Trevor followed the point and there in the corner of the room, he saw Serenity sitting in a recliner with the same type of cord attached to her scalp. `` What the fuck? What is that on her head? What was on my head?'' Trevor said as he quickly walked towards Serenity. `` Hey man, wait,'' the stranger said. Trevor gasped as he finally got to Serenity's side. She was young. So young. She looked exactly like she had whenever they were in college together 20 years ago. Her eyes were closed. It looked as if she were sleeping. `` Jesus Christ,'' Trevor said as he raised a hand and gently caressed her cheek. Trevor gasped again when he saw his hand. The skin on the back of his hand was taut. He turned his palm over and gazed. `` What the hell is going on Trev, come on man, talk to me. Are you okay?'' The stranger said. `` Who are you?'' Trevor said, turning to the man. `` It's me, Frank. Do you not recognize me?'' `` Dear God no.'' `` Oh shit,'' Frank said, `` I think you glitched man. Did you rip out the cord?'' Trevor raised his hand to his head. He rubbed at the indention. `` Yeah, I did n't, I did n't know what the hell that was.'' `` Jesus, Trev. Why'd you do that?'' Frank said as he pushed past Trevor. He grabbed onto the cord that was attached to Serenity's head and twisted. `` What are you doing to her?'' Trevor asked. `` I'm waking her up, she's gon na enjoy the shit out of this,'' Frank said, trying to contain his laughter. `` This is n't fucking funny. What the hell is going on?'' Trevor yelled. `` Trev, man, I do n't know how far you got in the game, so I do n't know what technology you remember, umm, you know what video games are, right?'' Trevor nodded. `` Okay, uhh, what year was it? What year do you remember?'' `` 2014.'' `` Okay, uhh, yeah, a few years before PCs took over the market. Yeah, okay. Now, go ahead and sit down as I try to explain this to you. This is so fucking cool, Sere is gon na flip.'' Frank grabbed a hold of Trevor's arm and guided him over to the couch. `` Sit sit sit, you goof.'' Trevor sat down, and Frank did the same next to him after throwing the bag of cheese puffs to the side. `` Okay,'' Frank said, `` what you think was real life was actually a very popular massive multiplayer online virtual reality game, MMOVRG, or `` movers'', as the gaming community like to call them. You and Sere were playing, hopefully co-op. She did n't cheat on you did she?'' `` No, no, we were getting mugged,'' Trevor said. The words felt alien in his mouth. They left his tongue feeling numb. His teeth were heavy in his mouth. `` Jesus,'' Trevor whispered as his head began to spin. The room began to darken. `` Trev, stay with me man, oh fuck I'm not gon na be able to carry you if you fucking pass ou- Trevor opened his eyes. He was back in the recliner. Standing to his side was Serenity. She was smiling at him. Seeing her so young made Trevor's heart flutter. `` You saved my life, you goob,'' she whispered to him. Trevor tried to sit up, but felt his head jerk back. He reached a hand up and felt the cord was again attached to his head. His first instinct was to remove it. `` No, do n't do that,'' Serenity softly spoke. `` It's gon na be okay, please trust me. You're going to hear someone speak, and you'll remember everything. Just relax, close your eyes.'' Trevor began to hyperventilate. Sweat beaded out on his forehead. All he wanted to do was sit up and hold her in his arms. A loud booming voice echoed in his ears, `` Please wait as current memories are reloaded, please take this moment to reflect back on your experience.'' `` I need to get up,'' Trevor said, trying to pull away from the recliner again. Serenity pushed him back down with a firm hand. She leaned forward and kissed him. `` Beginning reload,'' the voice echoed. His eyes widened.

[ WP ] Write the final battle from Enders game , from the Buggers point of view

< Fear. Loss. Why have you done this to us? > The Hive Queen sent through the philotic link she shared with the human known as `` Ender.'' At first, she thought there might be hope. Hope that Ender would come to see her side of things, understand her reasonings. Hope that he would, after talking with her mind to mind, not kill her. That hope was as dead as she would soon be. < I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. > This from Enders mind to hers. < No you are n't. You do n't have to kill me. > < But I do. You do n't understand what your existence means to my people. > < It means fear, death, destruction, war, misery. But it could also means understanding, life, cooperation, peace, happiness. These are the things we tried to show to you in The Game. > < I understand that, now > He said, and the'now' part came heavily burdened with grief. He was remorseful. She allowed herself the barest of hope. < You have won. I surrender. Let us co-exist. > She said as the M.D.Device obliterated her home planet.

[ WP ] You possess the ability to quick save in real life . When someone upsets you ? Quicksave and beat them up . Wonder what would happen if you kiss that girl ? Quicksave and find out . Then one day you attempt to come back from a failed attempt​ at something to find your previous save corrupted .

`` FUS, ROH, DAAAH!!!'' Everything on the forty-seat banquet table slewed across the hall, covering stunned nobles in wine, meat, and silverware. `` Hah!! Oh my gods, hahaha!'' The Jarl had a fork pinning his robe to the head chair and he was struggling to raise a hand to wipe sweet roll from his face. I was in uncontrollable laughter. If you had this ability to use whenever you wanted, with no consequences, how could you *not* use it for this? Every banquet, every Jarl, every noble has, at some point, been a victim. They call me Dovakhiin, the Dragonborn, but I call myself Jenkins the Dinnerslayer. `` By the Nine! Dovakhiin! What madness is this?,'' asked Thane Sigel. I was still laughing too hard to respond. He had a mammoth snout slung over his shoulder. `` Answers, Dovakhiin! Now!!'' The Housecarl gripped his hilt, preparing to unsheathe. `` Whoah! Haha. Whoah. Calm down there, milk drinker.'' The Jarl finally pulled out the fork, `` Explain yourself, Dovakhiin! I respect all that you have done but,'' he slammed the bent fork on the table, `` this could have been my life!'' `` It's just a party trick. It's fine,'' I said, recovering from giggles. His face angered to red, `` I invite you to my house and this how we are treated?! An attack?! `` Whoah. It was n't an attack. If I wanted you dead, you'd all be dead. I kill dragons, for Talos' sake. Alone. What are you lot?'' `` This is an outrage! Housecarl! Guards! Subdue the Dovakhiin!'' And here we go. I like these guys, plus I'll probably need them later for something. Time to step things back a couple of minutes. *Huh. * *It's not working. * The Housecarl was rushing toward me with his sword now unsheathed. *Okay, wait a second. * Everything froze. *What are my options here? Hmm. Ah, geez. I can go back to the time I was learning how to blacksmith but I've achieved so much since then. Oh, this is infuriating. * I pondered my two options for hours, trying to calculate the best path but it was'bad situation' or'bad situation'. At least I have the option to go back to my smithing days regardless... I hope. *Fuck it*. `` FUS, ROH, DAAAH!!!'' The Housecarl flew backward down the hall and slid to a halt at the main doors. Everyone watched stunned and looked back in fear. The Jarl, shocked more than most went to open his mouth but I stopped him short, `` Do n't you do it.'' He stared back clenching his jaw several times, `` Guards!!!'' `` Oh, you pile of scrib jelly,'' I drew my warhammer. A young guard rushed me like a damned fetcher. I heaved the hammer back, side-stepped out of his path, and met his head as he rushed passed. It literally exploded into flying chunks of flesh! The rest of him went past briefly as though he were still running and just tripped. Everyone stopped again, the other guards skidding to a halt. I turned back to the Jarl, `` As much as I love it when that happens, you seriously need to calm down.'' `` Treason! This is treason!'' He screamed. `` Um. You're not the High King. You're like, second from the bottom of Jarls.'' Still covered in banquet debris, it was hard to take him seriously when his old crackling voice screamed, `` Kill! Kill! Kill him!'' `` FUS, ROH, DAAAH!!!'' Thanes and nobles not caught in the blast tripped trying to flee, the rest slammed into walls and furniture. `` What did I say!?'' I cleaved two approaching guards as I advanced toward the Jarl, `` What did I say!?'' I was attacked from behind but my armour took the brunt. I spun around with the hammer and cleaned up the poor sod. Still in momentum, I cleaved two others legless, dropping the rotation downward. Another attacked from my right side, but I parried him toward the ground and delivered a blow through his exposed spine. I was decimating limb and life and it honestly felt good. The Jarl squeezed out from the table and rushed toward the rear doors. Everyone was fleeing and I had one last chance... `` Hey! Everyone! Just stop!'' I yelled. It kind of worked. Everyone, once again, froze to look at me. Even the Jarl scrambled to his feet and sustained a cowardly stance. `` Seriously. It was just a party trick.'' I sort of had their attention. `` I like everyone here. I did n't expect to- ARGH! By the Nine you bastard milk drinking fetcher!!' My right hand yanked the dagger from my shoulder while my left hand ignited in flame and purged it's energy on the Housecarl's face. He screamed in agony as the last of the guards rushed me. `` ZUN, HAAL, VIIK!!!'' Their weapons blew back out of their hands and they once again stood bewildered. `` You're a monster,'' one screamed, `` a freak!'' I literally just saved this township from a dragon and now this. Sure I got myself into this mess, but is the reaction really justified? This s'wit head Jarl would be dead right now if it were n't for me. His *whole* family among all the others, but this is the thanks I get? `` You're all pathetic! You especially, Jatl Siddgeir!'' I paced toward him disregarding the room full of trembling people. `` You've disrespected me,'' he stammered out. I scoffed, `` What did I say?'' He jerked his head in confusion and then spat at me. `` Haha,'' I wiped his spit from my face, `` I said; If I wanted you dead, you'd all be dead.'' I raised the hammer and buried it into the Jarl hard enough to crack the stone he once stood on. The chamber's audience vocalised in horror. `` It's too far gone, now. I *did* say all of you would be dead.'' Screams engulfed the hall as people scrambled toward the exits. `` KRII, LUN, AUS!!!'' Everybody staggered and dropped with fatigue, although the desperation in them had nails scraping into the ground. I summoned fire into both hands and focused on what was about to happen to these boot-, licking, good for nothing, socialite warriors... *VOOOOOOM!!! * The entire hall was engulfed so badly, the windows immediately blew out. The screams lasted less than a second. *Holy shit, that sickeningly felt good. * I pocketed whatever silverware was left, exitted the hall, and crouched so no one could see or hear me. That always works. I never really thought about it until now, but I may be a Stormcloak supporter... The next morning I woke up to a letter which was simply a black palm print and the words, `` Please do n't hurt us''. Well see where this goes. *Quicksave. * Edit: Fixing bleh. On mobile and drunk.

[ WP ] The first murder happens after a thousand year golden age of peace on Earth .

As the word unwrapped I was amazed at its simple perfection. It was n't easy to find, but once I got the wordseed I got it all — the word itself, and all the definitions, references, translations, synonyms, facts. Murder. What an amazing word. It was old, and yet _new_. I was looking for something new for a while. All my previous art projects — so fresh when I did them, and so empty, boring, recyclable. Oh, I was still fond of tigers and they were somewhat fun to talk to. But it was just a joke compared to this. Something that has n't happened in a thousand years! I scrolled through the list of motivations. War — boring, revenge — naive, theft — obsolete. Ah. Here. Jealousy. Professional jealousy. Even though I was beyond the feeling itself, it would be something familiar to everyone. We could even do a'jury'! And I had a perfect candidate — J. J was an artist of my age, working in historical reconstruction. And rather good at it, worse than me of course, but still a worthy target. I wondered if he ever found'murder'… But no. It was censured rather strongly, the whole wordtrees excised and hidden into wordseeds. Censure, what a bore. My plan was ingeniously simple. I print a'pistol' — with some design improvements to bring it into the modern age, such as a proper color scheme and maybe some dramatic music. Then I jump to J's studio and shoot him. He dies, completing the murder. Perfect. And we could even improvise a'court of law' if people felt like it — I prepared some speeches. With the pistol in my hand, I enter J's studio. J looks at me and smiles, and I see the pistol in his hands. It's impressively well-designed. He shoots, and it's all pain, pain and a fall and an end for me. As I slip into the darkness, the music screeches to a halt, the wallscreens turn red and gold and somewhere deep in the worldheart the Censors wake from a thousand years of sleep. And the last and only thing I feel is professional jealousy.

[ WP ] Write something heartbreaking without romance or death

The third of June in 2010 was pretty bad. I had an average life until then. I woke up, went to work, sometimes chatted with a friend, went home, and slept. This was the routine of every average day, save holidays with awkward family members or drunk friends. I was always quiet; my thank you's to customers at whatever job I had were whispers, my I love you's to family were half felt, and my lips remained shut when my stumbling friends had hot alcohol coursing through them. Life was okay; a constant hum of dull, normal activities. There were some days I felt happy and some days I felt sad, yes, but these were rare and trailed not far from the rut of my life. In fact, as time went on, this rut I had got deeper. I attempted a few things, like going to school or going on a date, but I found that no career path interested me and no man could make me feel happy for longer than a minute or so. Finally, I decided that I needed to break free in some new, drastic way. I tried getting my hair cut and colored. I tried getting a tattoo. I tried drinking more. I even tried doing drugs. This last attempt left me a bit embarrassed since I barely knew names of drugs, much less where to get them and how to... Well, how to do drugs. I ended up stumbling, crying, through an empty street of townhouse-style apartments, very late at night. I had had the last straw with myself as well as with my life. I looked like a stereotypical rejected girl, with smeared makeup, a staggering walk, and my shoes in my hands. I found myself thinking about what I could do to lash out. I considered killing myself in some drastic scene, but that only satisfied my desire for the dullness to end, not my equally important wish for excitement to begin. I also thought about killing someone else, but that was a bit too dangerous. I did n't want to ruin anyone's life, and I did n't know the moral repercussions of killing another human being. No, death was not an idea I wanted to flirt with. But I did think something outside the law interested me. So, after some deliberation, I found an empty apartment to break into. I had found it by obviously peeking in the windows to find dark, empty rooms. It was not being used. There was nothing to steal. Which was perfect; just some empty apartment I could get in and hide in. Or something. I did n't really have any idea what this would do. But it was an adventure. The neighborhood was n't particularly rich, so the glass windows were easy; I used a heel and lots of adrenaline-fueled force to get inside. Climbing through the broken window, I found myself inside an eerily empty room. I flipped on the lights. And then I jumped out of my skin when I found a body. It was some girl. I did n't see any wounds on her. She was n't actually a dead body; she was breathing, but asleep. I took a few tentative steps forward, then halted completely when her eyes flung open. I did n't really look at her. I was more concerned with why she was there and why I was there. All of a sudden, my reasons to do anything at all were excuses for attention, and my only wish was to be at home in my own bed. The girl was scared. `` Please... Please do n't hurt me... I just wanted to be somewhere alone...'' I shook my head. The questions became tumbling from my mouth, all at once. `` Why are you here? How did you get in?'' Then, looking around, `` How long have you been here? Why did n't you wake up when I broke the window?'' Her eyes widened and she began to cry as I threw questions at her. I stopped myself. I did n't want to make anyone upset. I walked up to her and hugged her, since she was a crying child and I was supposed to be a responsible adult. But I could n't help but whisper, `` Why are you letting a stranger hug you?'' Something was n't right. Something was very, very wrong. The girl was crying, and I could feel her in my arms, could feel her tears in my shirt, but it still did n't feel real. Nothing felt real. I felt like I was in a stranger's body, like nothing was right. I looked around and saw a mirror. I had n't seen it before. I did n't see myself; I saw what I had tried to become, a woman with strange hair and odd features, changed by weeks of trying to break out of a rut. And the girl had her face hidden in the woman's shirt, but the woman was n't me. And then I saw the calendar on the wall next to it. The date was circled in red; the third of June. I had woken up and circled it that very morning, thinking `` Today is the day.'' Then I saw a pile of odd things that I had vague connections with; a teddy bear, a love letter, a ball, a few other tidbits. All of them seemed to apply to the situation at hand, although I was n't sure how. And then the girl looked up, and she was n't just a girl; she had the eyes and the hair of what I used to look like. She was crying. She looked like me. She was me. And then I cried with her, and we cried together until I realized that I could n't feel her embrace. I looked around and the room was empty; the light was on and I was standing there, crying, a pathetic mess in the center of an empty room.

[ WP ] You come home from work and there is a god sitting in your favorite spot on the couch ...

Jeff overslept in the morning and had to work until 7 p.m. Until he arrived home it was half past 8 already. The rest of the day did n't look promising. _Taking, shower, prepare some food and back to sleep it is._ Of course Jeff did n't feel like going to the grocery store. He had to content himself with whatever the fridge had to offer. Not looking forward to bread and butter he decided to relax for ten minutes. Jeff started to zap towards the music channel, the only one he used. The reason he got the tv in the first place was to bridge moments of awkward silence in the rare cases that he had a visitor. He kept zapping towards channel 35 without noticing that the receiver was updating and not registering whatever he pressed. When he was about to lie down he saw a spider sitting in the middle of the white pillow. It was a normal living room spider with very thin legs and a body the size of a pin head. Jeff tried to hush it away, but it did n't move an inch. He banged the sofa, but the spider was not impressed by the vibration. _Oh god, ca n't I even relax for five minutes, without having to deal with anything? I am not in the mood killing something now. With my luck it has eggs hidden below his belly._ The options he had left was the vacuum, which was in the bedroom and therefore way too far away; or what he prefered: an empty jar, but that meant that he had to go in the kitchen, which was not acceptable in his current mood. He opted for the third option: just hang out with his new friend. `` Spidey, my friend. What would you like to watch?'' `` The documentary channel.'' Someone said. Jeff found it faster than the music channel. `` Ha, of course there is a documentary about spiders. What a coincidence, right?'' He looked at Spidey with his trollface. `` I fell asleep during the commercial break the last time I tried to watch it.'' `` Wait...'' Jeff fixated on Spidey. `` Am I talking with a spider?'' `` Shhh, it's interesting.'' Although his brain registered a voice, he neither saw, nor heard anyone. `` Oh god, I always said it's not a family thing. I always blamed the drugs, but now I am also getting psycho. I need to get in touch with a doctor.'' Jeff thought out loud about his siblings, who spent a year in a mental facility. He reached for his phone to call his brother. `` Hey Pete, I'd like to recommend a doctor to someone who has some issues. Can you please send me the address of yours?'' `` A friend, heh? You used to say'for my brother.' What's the issue Jeff?'' Pete asked. `` There is a spider on my couch, it said that it wants to see the documentary channel and there is a documentary about spiders. I was talking with a spider, Pete.'' `` You remember that black cat that just appeared in your living room a few years ago? A couple of weeks after dad passed? It did n't want to leave as well, right? `` Yeah?'' `` You ended up watching Tom & Jerry the whole night. I told you to pray to the cat, but of course you did n't listen to your stupid psychotic brother.'' `` Yeah?'' `` Pray to the spider and I will send you the address.'' Pete hung up. Jeff looked at Spidey, shrugged and rolled his eyes. So did Spidey. Then Jeff made the cross like his mother taught him. `` Oh godlike spider. I am not sure whose god you are, but I welcome you in my modest home. May you have a great time. Let me know if I can do something for you.'' Jeff was n't sure if he was hallucinating or the spider grew bigger as he talked. `` Please do n't kill all the mosquitoes. It's less work for you and good food for me. Beside that, you are a good sports'' Spidey answered. Jeff smashed the pillow and looked below it, like a kid looking below a rock, expecting something scary. `` That was disrespectful.'' Spidey said. He still sat at the same position, as if the hand went through him. `` Do n't take it personally. I just wanted to doublecheck if I am going nuts, or if you really are a god. God's ca n't die right?'' `` You are forgiven, but not forgotten. If you make 100 people pray to me, I will grant you a wish. After that you can still visit the psychologist with your brother.'' `` Hmmm, 100 People? That's too many. How about ten?'' `` Will have to be a smaller wish then.'' Spidey smiled without Jeff noticing. ____________________ Did n't really know where I was going with this one. Ended up to be kind of a rip off of Terry Pratchett's `` Small Gods'': / E: grammar

[ IP ] this place is quite reclusive ( xpost from r/evilbuildings )

This is a tale that I truly loathe to tell For it breaks my heart to recount her living hell She was kept locked up high, atop the rock all alone After all those years her heart had grown as hard as the stone The sound of the wind was the only response to her voice Oh, how she longed for escape, yet she had no choice She used to plead and cry when they slid her food under the door Pounding and clawing at the wood until she collapsed to the floor Day bled into night, the nights dragged into years Her anger and sadness dried up along with her tears Her loneliness was absolute, her heart as dead as the trees In time, those below stopped hearing her pleas People began to wonder and whisper about her fate And over time their memory of her began to abate Those who knew her died or had moved away The only constant was the sky, endlessly cloudy and gray Many years later the homestead fell into new hands The new owner set out to explore all of his lands One day he set out to discover what was hidden up high He climbed broken stairs with views of the sky Eventually, he came upon the door at the top An eerie feeling washed over him, bringing him to a stop With caution, he slid back the long closed lock Pushed open the door and was frozen in shock A woman sat in the corner, her skin as gray as the stone Nothing else was in the room, she was utterly alone Her first visitor in decades dared to step in The door slammed behind him just as he noticed her grin She rose to her feet with creaks and a groan She could hardly believe that she was no longer alone Tears once again fell as she wrapped him in an embrace He noticed that a smile had spread across her face I couldn ’ t tell you how long it has been since that day When she first whispered, “ Please don ’ t go, you have to stay. ” Now I am forever trapped with her, surrounded by these walls of stone But, at least, she is no longer alone. ***Edit: Formatting***

[ WP ] You are a malevolent spirit who inhabits bladed implements , driving their owners to insane acts of bloodlust and carnage . Today , you find yourself inside a shitty lawnmower .

The warior walks down a grassy path, its new years. Not only is it new years but it is also new years EVE. on this day, this warrior, named george has made up his mind. He is going to be the best world warior there ever was, the ultimate fighter. this was his new year resolution. He was really determined, abut one day he saw a genie lamp and rubbed it and it was a trap and now hes a spirit. But is he a good sprit or a bad one. After that, he fiunds himself in a lawn mower and outside, you can hear whistling. what is that? the warior asks. the warrior cant believe himself, but hes a lawn mower and the whistling is the italian dad tryingt to mow his lawn, ma ma mia he says, thats alot of grass to mow and the warior, who is still confused is trying to figure out thing out. but little did we know that the italian dad is getting closer by the second to mow the lawn, and the warrior panics, has a heart attack and dies. the end thank you

[ CW ] Write an interaction between two individuals , but without the usage of dialogue .

My eyes snapped open. Gunfire, I could hear it. I had to find somewhere safe, surely the Germans would n't be out this far from the city. I tried to pull myself up, to get out of bed. I could hardly lift my head. I tried to speak, but only a low groan escaped me. A short-haired woman gently pressed me back onto the bed. I did n't resist; I could feel the pain now, everywhere. I remembered now. The warnings on the radio. The lines for the shelter. Their scattering, as the mortars fell. The metal and debris flying around me. She pressed on the dressing around my leg. The sensation was agonizing, but I could hardly find the breath to moan, let alone scream. She turned to face me, and spoke quietly. The German was indecipherable, but I understood all the same. I shook my head, then looked around, for the first time since waking. An enormous tarp covered a thin framework which covered a couple hundred meters' length. There were a few dozen beds, situated along both sides, most of which were occupied. Few of the occupants were awake. Fewer were in a single piece. I checked my own injuries. I appeared to be alive. Good. I also appeared to be missing most of my right leg. Not good. I tried to speak to the nurse, but instead coughed, violently. She rubbed my shoulder, smiling. I attempted to mirror her expression, but the coughing continued. She touched the dressing, lightly this time, and began to unwind it. My leg stopped at the knee. I could see stitches holding the wound shut. They disappeared under a new dressing, clean strips of white elastic. The nurse moved to another bed. I closed my eyes, attempting to sleep, waiting for her to return to me. Nothing else would.

[ WP ] Your an athlete at the Bureaucracy Olympics . Choose your event , describe to us how you fared .

`` Ms. Tench, Ms. Tench! A moment, please!'' The reporters were clamouring for my attention, but I knew where I had to be, thanks to the Outlook meeting request that had popped up the moment I crossed that finish line. `` Bob, it's a pleasure to be here,'' I greeted him as I slid into the booth of renowned B-Games reporter, Bob `` the staple'' Bic, nicknamed for the indispensable job he did reporting. `` Tina, it's lovely to have you,'' he replied, placing his interview requisition form in front of me. I pulled my handy self-inking'approved' stamp out and authorized the form with a stamp and my signature. `` Tina,'' he started, `` this is your 10th B-Games, and it was rumoured to be your last. How do you feel, now that you have that golden stapler in your hands at long last? Are you still thinking about retiring?'' `` I'm not going to lie, Bob,'' I responded, `` right now, all I can think about is all the hard work I put in for this year, and I think retirement is a question best answered tomorrow.'' `` Fair enough,'' Bob said. `` Now, this competition was the highlight of these games - the Office Octathlon. After the first couple events ( speed dialling, printer unjamming, and PO requisitioning ), you and the German competitor, Silke, were neck in neck. Take us through your thought process heading into the back half of the games.'' `` I'm not going to lie, Bob,'' I confessed, `` but I was nervous about the dish washing component. It's never been my strongest event, but I've been training for years with the help of my coworkers who have generously refused to wash their dishes while at work.'' `` Well, that's fantastic!'' Bob exclaimed, and then looked directly into the camera. `` We should all be so lucky to have such supportive coworkers.'' `` Exactly!'' I smiled. `` Silke managed to set a new personal best on her way to the victory, but so did I, which kept me close enough in the points to make my move.'' `` And then you managed to pull ahead in the box derby,'' Bob prompted. `` Yes!'' I said, clapping my hands, `` and without a cardboard cut to boot! I was so proud of the boxes I put together and taped up. The B-Games committee really brought some unique shapes to the table with business card sized all the way to the specialty Uline boxes. It was just such a nice take on the competition!'' `` Your real crowning achievement was the Office Manager Trio of events,'' Bob complimented me. `` Your 50 foot dash with the hot cup of coffee, transitioning into the one-handed collation, all topped off with the binding coil untangling and presentation... just synergistic! You really showed your experience in being thrown into a million different office scenarios, handling everything with only a small eye roll!'' I blushed. `` Thank you Bob,'' I grinned, `` every moment of office nonsense, every cleaned spill, every stupid question, every ridiculous assignment has truly set me up for this moment.'' I lifted my golden stapler above my head. `` This is for Office Managers everywhere!''

[ WP ] You wake up , extremely thirsty and dressed in your finest clothes , only to realize you 're attending your own open casket funeral .

`` He was a good man.'' Those were the first words I heard that woke me from my tumultuous sleep. I kept my eyes closed tight, trying to force a few extra minutes of this precious sleep. Yet loud sounds of wailing continued to disrupt my slumber. I was agitated beyond all measure. Could these people not respect the sanctity of a man's sleep? My dry throat only agitated me further. To find further comfort I rolled over, only to knock my knee into a wall of wood, a loud `` thump'' echoed across the room and the drones of wailing turned into a mountainous gasp. I finally opened my eyes to see myself surrounded by wooden planks draped in white cloth, outfitted in a stuffy, uncomfortable suit. I jolted up only to see a startled face of a preacher. I looked around the room, thoroughly confused. There, a crowd amassed, sitting in pews. That's when I realized that I was n't in my room, but a church. The crowd all wore the same expression as the preacher, except for a woman that collapsed in the first row. She oddly resembled my mother. I got out of the casket. The gasps quickly became a commotion. Hallelujahs and `` Oh My God'' s filled the room. The preacher stammered on the mic and bellowed, `` It's a miracle!'' Everyone in the room stared at me, and at that moment, there was only one sentence I could say. `` Anyone have a glass of sweet tea?''

[ WP ] After many years , you finally decide to open the envelope .

The Envelope It's been 23 years since it ended up in my possession. Since my father's death, I had been the only heir left. I have been scared of what the paper casing had held ever since I had received it at age 11. It's thick, black lettering on the front read `` Do n't open unless of a dire circumstance! 12 marks the clock then the deed is done''. I know it is time. I am in a dire circumstance. I have been fired from my decent paying job, my wife recently filed for divorce, taking my 2 beloved children states away, and worst of all, I have been suffering from depression for about two years now. The pills do n't help. Nothing helps anymore. My hands trembled as I examined the frail, yellowing piece of paper. I looked outside to the rainy sky many times to find some sort of motivation. I looked at the clock and kept reading the time to myself, 5:31. I reevaluated my decision countless times. I felt as though the current state I was in was pretty dire, but I still was hesitant in my opening of the seal. What lay inside could be the end of my suffering. Money? Gold? A treasure map to a fortune? I said screw it, and tore the expensive seal off and removed the parcel out of the envelope. What I saw confused me more than it helped me. A small gold watch was what was passed down in my family for almost 3 generations? I thought it may be worth some money, but as I was inspecting it, I noticed something extremely peculiar about the device. It was moving counter-clockwise. I thought that the gears may be a little rusty or it had just warped after years of being contorted inside the envelope. I thought resetting it may work, or at least appear to work if I sold it. I set the minute hand to `` 12'' and the hour hand to `` 6''. When I pressed the resume button to start the watch again, my finger burned on the button. A pounding headache overcame my brain as the room I was currently in distorted and became only hues of purple. Everything was quiet. I tried to speak, but my voice did not come as I commanded it to. I ran out of my room into the kitchen where the home phone was. I tried to call 911, but the inputs were n't registering, as if the phone had been tampered with. Had the watch injected me with something? Was I going to die? Why am I hallucinating? Hundreds of questions like these flooded my still throbbing head as I noticed the window in the corner of my eye. I could n't believe what I was seeing. I must've stared through the glass for twenty minutes before snapping out of my entrancement. Each individual raindrop had froze in midair. It was like looking at a picture. I walked outside to my backyard. I walked through the frozen drops, having them break on my clothes and skin. This was no high or hallucination, it was completely different. I walked through my house, inspecting each room to see if anything else had happened in this insane dream that I hoped would end soon. I opened the door to my son James' old room. I had left all of his things in his room just in case he came back to me. That seemed like a crazy hallucination in itself. I kept his fish fed, his bed clean, everything was in perfect order in the case of him showing up at my door. Anyway, I walked into his room, and to my horror, the window was shattered. Rain and glass was frozen in the air, creating a snapshot of disaster. I shrugged it off as another figment of my depressed imagination in this twisted dream. After searching the rest of the house, I decided to return to my room and go to sleep. My headache kept me up, so I decided to get up and take some sleeping pills. I was still seeing purple, but I thought this may go away with sleep. As I slid out of my bed, I took a look at my clock instinctively as I did anytime I made the journey from my bed to the floor. What I saw shocked me and still gives me shivers whenever I think about it. The clock read 5:31. What was going on? I had been up and aboutI turned around to see the watch on my vanity across the room. It was red hot, and I realized if I did n't cool it down, it may burn my house down. I knew I could n't touch it with my bare hands, as it would boil my skin. I found an old pair of pliers in the utensil drawer in my kitchen. I rushed into my room was about to pick up the watch when the pliers had accidentally pressed the reset button. In an instant, the world's true colors returned, I heard glass break from a few rooms away, and blood started gushing out of my nose. I ran into the bathroom as quick as possible and heard my own voice again as the gasps of me running passed my vocal chords. After I had cleaned everything up, now was the time to test my theory about the watch. I believed that it stopped time. I needed to try it again to be sure, however. I brought a glass of water and a box of tissues with me. I held the watch in one hand, and the glass in the other. I threw the glass in the air, waiting a little so the water fell out of it and was still in the air, and pressed reset. The familiar headache overtook me, the purple vision returned, and my finger was, again, burned. Just as I had suspected, the water froze. My theory was proven, and I decided to keep the snapshot state alive to explore a bit. I walked outside into the New York City air and was fascinated. People were frozen in time, walking back from work, talking on their cell phones, talking to one another. I walked up to them, attempting to gain some sort of contact. I snapped in their face, waved, even tried to dance in front of them. But, as I previously stated, they were frozen in time. This gave me an idea. I needed money, so why not take some without facing any repercussions? I found a rich looking man examining his phone while waiting for a taxi. I knew this was my man. How would he be mad? He was obviously much more wealthy than I was, and could easily replace the cash, judging on his $ 4000 suit. I reached into his pocket, and grabbed his wallet. It was so easy. It was like stealing candy from a baby, if the baby was frozen. I pulled out $ 673 from the wallet, and carefully replaced the leather pouch back to its original spot. What could stop me? I went around the whole block to find the richest folk and stole their money. I went home about $ 3287 richer that night. My dire situation started looking up, all thanks to a watch that aided me in stopping time. Update: it's been about a half year since I opened the envelope, and my life could n't be any better. I've only used the watch about 9 times, and I already have a new car, home, and super hot wife. I used the watch to rob a bank a few time, shame on me. I was running a bit low on cash, so I planned to steal from a block at rush hour, when all the millionaires come out. I pulled out the watch, which for some reason read 1:11. I shrugged it off as a glitch and proceeded to get all my stealing equipment ready. When I was finished with all the preparation, I grasped the watch with the pliers, and squeezed the button. Headache, purple, soundless, I was all used to it. I put the watch down and walked outside and stole my way to happiness. When the day was done, I came back with $ 100,000, as I had been to multiple blocks. I went to my room, placed the cash in my safe, and grabbed my pliers to enter time again. When I pushed the reset, nothing happened. I kept pressing it, and again, nothing happened. I examined the watch to find that the face numbers had been wiped, and replaced with only the number zero. I realized what had happened. I could only stop time 12 times. 12 marks the clock... I was stuck in time. I could n't leave the snapshot state. I tried countless times to repair the watch to no avail. I knew what I had to do after I realized my current state. I retrieved my notebook and pen, and walked out of my house. Nothing fazed me as I walked to the apartment building two blocks away from my house. I opened the door, walked up, up, and up, stairs, passing strangers coming home from their normal jobs in their normal lives. I finally reached the top, and opened the door to the roof. This is, unfortunately, where the story ends. I knew that I needed to end my life because no time would end it for me, as my body wouldn ’ t decay without time. I wrote down this story in my notebook, ( what you ’ re reading right now ) and placed the notebook on the ground. I stepped out onto the ledge of the building and jumped.

[ WP ] In a world where people can only be killed by those they truly love , you are an assassin .

17 people. Ive killed 17 people. I cant remember anything about them, only the last seconds before i killed them. Each one was different. Suffication while sleeping, Poisoning, Bullet to the back of the head. Each and everyone unique. The first one is always the hardest. The last one is the easiest, and the next one will be easier. Its always the same, You meet the contractor. You make a deal, they pay half up front. You meet the target, swoon them, kill them, get the other half of the money, start back at step one. I dont charge cheap, and i do my work fast. There have been failed contracts, 4. Each one they just didnt die. I couldnt make them fall in love with me, no matter what i did, a couple beers, sex, dates, proposal. Nothing. Its the damn rule. You litterally can not kill someone if they dont love you. Your bullets wont fire, your poison wont effect them, your knives will be blunt. Its like some Deity just loves watching mortals play with eachothers strings. But today, im giving up on these contracts. I cant do it anymore. Their voices whisper in my head, the Contractors all seem the same. Drunks, druggies, and addicts. Theyre all the same. Fall in love, fuck up, get their hearts broke, they want revenge. I can smell their breath. I can feel their hatred and lonliness. It haunts me. And today, im going to kill myself. Goodbye world. The killer takes the pistol they own and sit by the window. They dont drink so they cant resolve their misery, they dont smoke to calm the shaking. They dont shoot to loose themselves. They sit in their chair looking out the window and put the gun to their head and pull the trigger. It would be their end, if only they loved themselves.

[ WP ] Use a lyric from a song , or even the whole song , to influence your writing ( character/setting/conflict ) .

> So make the best of this test and do n't ask why, > Its not a question but a lesson learned in time **Good Riddance ( Time of your life ) - Green Day** Robert sat at the lake's edge and admired the moon's pale light as it glazed upon the water. The cheery laughs and lively smiles of the adolescents from down the road reminded him of his teenage years, and all the fun he had. `` Today I turn thirty'' thought Robert to himself. `` Fifteen years ago I roamed these same woods with Danny, Lindsay, and Joel.'' A swift blue jay fluttered past Robert as he reflected upon himself and landed in front of him. The fowl's solid black eye stared at Robert and gave him a sense of triumph as well as a feeling of gloom. He knew very well that the decision he made that night had saved his life. By choosing to stay home and watch *The Brady Bunch* he was the lucky one. The accident was something he chose not to be a part of and made him cherish every day he was walking and breathing. The thought that all three of them perished so quickly was frightening to him. All it took was 3 drunk idiots and a frozen lake. This lake. This was the lake that they had drowned in. Every year on the anniversary of the day their bodies were found, Robert came here and prayed. He wished that he had been there to stop them, To change time. This of course could not happen. The past was the past and he had to move on. The first few years were rough, but it became easier. All the memories and times they shared became just that. Memories. These thoughts, The recollection of all the banter and the laughs is what kept him going, to not give up and succeed with his life. With a cleared head and a final feeling of completeness, Robert stood up and began the walk home. He passed by the old oak tree. Even though it was now covered in penises and useless other graffiti. You could still make the markings of their names they carved years ago. He took out his old fixed bladed knife and carved one final thing into the tree. **'' In life we never lose friends, no matter how far away they may seem, They're always with us and always will be'' **

[ CW ] [ PM ] Write your hero into a corner , and let me get them out .

Bob dropped five of the Zeds, reloaded his Colt 45, and ran up the stairs. He had someone currently upstairs, alerting Search and Rescue to find a place to land in this urban, industrial nightmare. They were currently in a truck depot, the places where goods would be transferred truck from truck. Already, some men defending the front door had been pulled in, causing the rest to fall back. The first, and only, line of physical defense, the hardened steel gates, created to stop robbers, were badly banged up, from the onslaught of fists against it. It was bad enough that the zombies managed to cram two at once inside the doorway, but losing the gates would mean that the horde would rush in. `` Hey!'' Courtney rushed outside the communications office, her.22 rifle in hand. `` They're at the trainstation, just a block from here!'' `` It's probably too late, mate.'' Bob said back, `` Just look at'em!'' The metal steps leading to the elevated walkway was a savior, only allowing one body to get in at a time. Unfortunately, our heroes had just fought their way here, from a few streets down. Seems easy? Not when you have to take detours through heavily infested buildings because of blockades in the roads, or just the sheer number of walkers wouldn't've allowed you to run through them. Bob's equipped with a Colt 1911.45 caliber pistol, excellent at punching through heads, but at the cost of heavy kickback. Also due to it's temptingness, Bob has used all but three 7-round magazines. He has a knife, but who the hell would be able to take anyone out with that? Courtney has her 10/22 Ruger Takedown. Initially intended for long range hunting, the rifle particularly excels at going through targets cleanly. The only disadvantage is the lack of stopping power. They have a fully gassed up FedEx truck at their disposal. A few men inside, surrounded, but armed, are ready to go when you tell them where they need to go. Around 31 zombies have gotten in already, with god knows how much outside.