Dataset Viewer
prompt
stringlengths 5
331
| story
stringlengths 404
40.3k
|
|---|---|
[ WP ] Leonardo DiCaprio in a fit of rage begins to torpedo his own career by deliberately acting poorly and taking on bad films . He finally wins an oscar for starring in Paul Blart : Mall Cop 3 .
|
The wet marble floor pressed on his cheek like a thousand hands slapping his face frozen in time. Smattering piss of rain ignored his indignant mumblings. His eyes fluttered. Pins and needs ran from finger to shoulder as he pushed back against the floor, contorting his aching body into a cross legged position. Last night was bad. He gathered that. His routine dullness of though crept inwards from the edges of his mind toward the black mist that veiled his most recent memories. He struggled to recall whatever he could n't recall but only for a moment before he decided it probably was n't worth the effort.
He glanced around the room for a few minutes before concluding that he probably did n't know where he was. His investigation was n't entirely fruitless, he discovered a mostly full bottle of vodka. It was cheap but would definitely get the job done. Taking a few swigs made it childishly easy to ignore that gigantic black cloud of fog blotting out whatever the hell he did before he woke up.
There was a mirror in the room and for want of anything more interesting to study he gazed at himself. It was a game he'd play with himself, glancing at the mirror and seeing if he could recognize the person looking back. If he did n't know better he'd have guessed he was a very successful mattress salesman, or perhaps a bum who had managed to score some luck gambling.
His face was portly and unshaven, in that limbo place where it had been too many days without being clean and too few days to become a beard. His stomach was round but firm, like a basketball stuffed under a shirt and then semi deflated. The hair was long and unruly, receding far into the past. But his eyes were the giveaway. Looking closely enough at them he could still see an intensity. It was n't the sharp kind he carried in his youth but rather like a rusted dagger. Still sharp enough to cut.
`` DiCaprio.'' The curse rasped out of him in a choke. After all these years spent working on the hallmark channel and tv series based on mediocre movies he was still there. Despite his best efforts to bury himself under all of the alchol and drugs he was still in there. He thought for sure after the bankruptcy he'd be done, but no that god damned rerelease of Titanic the royalties started pouring in and he could n't get rid of the money. Not even the live action version of the nut job could destroy him.
Cursing he hurled the bottle at the mirror but his wet hands slipped and instead of a shattering crash there was only a thud as the bottle bounced off the dry wall and rolled on the floor.
His rage thwarted by his impotence he slumped against the floor and finally noticed why there was rain coming into this room.
The window was smashed. He looked at the bottle, confused. No, he had n't done that. At least not with the vodka. He looked back at the glass etched around the window sill and his eyes hung on the red that stained the jagged teeth.
The headache crept back towards the front of his mind while the bloody glass pinned his eyes in place. What the fuck happened last night?
|
[ CW ] Kill the writer in first-person narrative .
|
It's been three days since my boyfriend pissed off the neighbors.
They had to be pissed, he called the police on them. The neighbors had been harboring a runaway criminal. We did n't live in a bad neighborhood, there were families and good people living here with solid steady jobs. They cared about their yards and such. But, there was a bad egg, our neighbors to the south of us were shady. We could hear them yelling at their dog many times a week. Strange smoke often came out of their house, and the lights in the garage were on at odd hours. We never had proof until now that our concerns are legitimate.
The car the escaped criminal was driving had been parked at the neighbor's house and my boyfriend decided he should turn them in. This lead to the police parking in front of *our* house, and watching them through our bedroom window for hours until they caught him. They had to know it was us. And it freaked me out.
I had started tucking my pink taser in my jacket pocket when I took my miniature Yorkie out to go potty. My neighbor to the north, Jay, seemed to notice my tension, so when he saw me step outside, he'd come out and chat with me. He'd ask me about work, and talk to me about his latest construction jobs. Jay always pretend to be grabbing something out of his massive pick-up truck. It usually followed the same pattern - he grabs something out of his truck, sees me out with my dog, then starts in on how it baffles him how such a tiny dog was smarter than most of the people he worked with. We'd both gripe about our jobs and laugh about stupid customers, chase the puppy down when she tried to go after squirrels, and then part ways until the next potty break.
The sun was beginning to set when my dog started doing her potty dance by the door. I put on my jacket, slipped my taser in my pocket, and opened the door. She bolted out the door and went straight for the squirrel sniffing around the sidewalk.
`` NO! BAD GIRL, COME HERE!'' The squirrel started running across the road and her tiny legs skittered out of it. I ran after her, swearing as I tripped over a crack in the road. I felt a snap in my ankle and I went down.
The roar of a large pick-up engine was too close and I did n't know what to look at - my little dog bouncing across the neighbor's lawn, or the tires that were n't slowing down fast enough. I chose neither and closed my eyes.
The last thing I heard was the clatter of of work boots and Jay voice cracking, `` Oh god, oh god, oh god...''
|
[ EU ] Sean Bean has a hard time leaving his role as Eddard Stark . He vows to get revenge against those that assisted in his execution , starting with George R. R. Martin
|
George fled. Not terrifically fast, not at his age nor in his shape. The voice echoed throughout the house after him.
`` I'm coming, you fat fuck! You've done me in and you'll pay for it!''
George wheezed into his office, closed the door and got to work tipping the file cabinet next to it. Over it went, blocking the door. He knelt at the safe set under his desk, opposite the door.
There was a pounding at the door, a shoulder slamming into it. The cabinet held in place, thanks in some part to the thick carpet. The door pounded again as Bean slammed into it again, this time the wood cracking a little bit.
`` I'LL GET IN THERE YOU FAT FUCK!'' Bean shouted.
George twisted the lock furiously, muttering under his breath. `` Oh six... Oh six... Ninety six... DAMNIT!'' The lock failed to open. He tried again, a second time.
`` Georgy Porgy, I'm going to get in there and cut off your head just like you did me. I only wish *your* family were here to watch.''
The safe opened just as the door cracked in half. Martin pulled his pistol from the safe and rolled over just as Bean vaulted through the door, a gun in one hand and a sword in the other.
**BANG**
Bean fell to his knees as blood stained his pants. He raised his gun but too slowly, another shot rang out, **BANG! ** This time blood stained his shirt as George hit him in the chest.
`` Oh... Oh George... this is n't it.'' Bean wheezed as he collapsed.
George R. R. Martin climbed to his feet as he heard the garage door go up. He took the gun from Bean's cold dead hand and tossed it in the safe with the others, then met his wife in the kitchen as she came in with a load of groceries.
`` George, dear, you look like you've been running or something! What's happened!''
`` It's Bean again, Parris. He got close this time.''
`` Gods, how terrible! What happened?''
`` I shot him. Right in the chest.''
`` Again?''
`` Oh yes. He just keeps coming back, only to die every time. At this rate I'll *never* finish the last book.''
|
[ WP ] A kid doodling in a math class accidentally creates the world 's first functional magic circle in centuries .
|
It was dark and Levi was pretty sure he was lying on his back. There was firelight flickering off of what was left of a ceiling. He could hear something but it was muffled. He was almost positive it was screaming. When he tried to move he felt an excruciating pain in his left side that caused him to cry out. His hand moved to it instinctively and found something protruding from the wound. It seemed to be a pipe of some kind. He attempted to pull it out but it was covered in blood making it slick.
Levi's ears began ringing and the sounds began to become clearer, it felt quite a bit like some one was driving needles into his eardrums. The sounds he was hearing were definitely screams and not just one person's, a lot of people were screaming or yelling. There was some one close to him that was crying. He looked in the direction of the tears and seen his sister kneeling beside him, her hands covering her face.
`` What happened Laur?'' He was shocked at the sound that barely rasped out from between his lips. His sister's hands jerked down and she stared down at Levi with a shocked look on her face. `` bu... I tho... you were n't breathing!'' What started as a whisper ended in yell as she threw her self across her brother and began to sob anew. Levi cried out hoarsely but she did n't hear. She just continued to cling to him like a little girl that had just found her lost doll.
He put one of his arms around her and scanned the room as much as he could. It looked like a warzone, like something out of one of the many shooters in his gaming collection. `` What the hell?'' There were dead bodies everywhere, he recognized some of them. There were firefighters and EMT's running around trying to find survivors in the rubble. Most of the screams were coming from survivors.
He seemed to be laying on top of the bottom of a desk, and he was pretty sure the pipe sticking out of his side was a actually one of the legs. Then he spotted it lying about two feet from his right leg, a round section of desk about the size of a softball. On it was a round symbol with geometric shapes glowing with dark red embers and a dull tendril of smoke rising up from it. It all came back to him in rush.
He drew that in his notebook. It was second period and his trig teacher had this monotonous voice that could put a crack head to sleep. Laurana caught him doodling and had thrown a pencil at him to scold him silently, which made him jerk as he was connecting the last line on his drawing. Then there was the light and the heat and lastly the dark. Did he do this? What the hell was going on here?
A voice brought him out of his little flashback. `` Sir. Sir? Sir!'' it was a firefighter. `` I need you to stay still. You're going to hear a loud noise from behind you. I need you stay calm.'' `` Kay.'' He just blew up his classroom with a piece of paper and a pencil and this guy wants him to stay calm. `` it's going to cause this desk to vibrate a lot and your going to feel some pain but there is nothing that we can do about it. We will work as fast as possible.''
The sound of the saw kicking on was not near as bad as he had thought, but Levi was no where near ready for when it made contact with the leg of the desk. His cries of agony began to drown out the sound of everything around him until darkness overwhelmed him.
*Sorry about my grammar it's been a while since I have written anything also < < < first time poster so take it easy on me; p
|
[ WP ] As a Space marine you have an allowance of one call home a day . Today 's battle was especially bad and your best friend died I 'm the heat of it all . Time to call home .
|
`` Hi dad!''
The words snap me from my thoughts. I focus on the screen to see my son staring at me. He had a gap where a tooth had fallen out.
I forcefully pull a fake smile back. `` Hey bud, how's it going! Is mom home?''
`` Isaac, finish your homework first!''
My wife's voice makes my smile less forced. `` Alright Isaac, go do your homework. I promise we'll talk more soon, alright?''
`` Okay, dad.'' He replies, but the tone tells me he's upset. His visage disappears and replaced by my wife's.
`` I swear, the smallest thing distracts that boy.'' Her hair is in a hasty bun, and judging by the glisten of sweat and the smudge on her cheek she had been in the garden. Her blue eyes show more relief than anything else. `` Hi honey, so nice to hear from you! It's been almost two weeks, is everything alright?''
Her question brings me out it for second, and I ca n't seem to focus on anything.
`` Mark?''
I rub at my eyes to clear them, and open them to see my wife's often kind face twisted with concern.
`` Mark.''
`` No, everything's not alright Emma!'' I realized I yelled. `` No, nothing is alright.'' My eyes begin to go blurry again, this time from welling tears. Dammit, marines are n't supposed to cry.
Emma retained her calm composure. `` What happened?'' Was all she asked.
I try to think, but it does n't work. Nothing is right, everything is jumbled. `` Jason.'' I'm able to mumble out.
`` Oh god...'' I hear her get up from her chair. `` Isaac, go do your homework in your room for now. Daddy and I need to talk.'' By the time she gets back my composure is better. `` Mark, what happened?''
''' We were ambushed. The area should have been cleared, but they must have missed them. We lost four men before we knew what was happening. Jason and I wound up next to each other behind a truck.'' I can feel my heart beating faster. I can still hear the gunfire, the crack of our weapons and the hiss of theirs. `` It looked like we were fighting them off, so we started following them.'' I remember the order from our CO, to kill every one of the bastards, ASAP. `` Jason and I glanced at each other, and I swear I could tell that he smiled at me.'' My voice begins to waver. Emma starts to speak but I hold up my hand.
`` He did n't even get his shoulders above the ridge. It went through his neck.'' I remember watching, seeing the plasma bolt sear a hole straight through Jason's helmet and out the back. Watched him fall backwards. Crawled over to him. `` He might have lived, the wound was n't anywhere vital in his neck, but his oxygen system was severed.'' I remember looking into his eyes, blue like his sister's. Watched them go from shocked to panicked. Listened to him scream in pain, then start coughing, then gasping. Watched the skin around his eyes turn blue, hear his breathing grow more and more shallow. The fear in his eyes to the last moment as he stared at me, his hands like vices around my arms.
`` Mark...''
`` He asphyxiated before the medic could get to him.'' My hands start shaking, and my eyes blur with tears again.
Emma does n't say anything, and we sit in silence for almost a whole minute. It seems like hours, and every second I remember it. His eyes staring back, blue like his skin. The medic prying me off of him, me screaming for Jason the whole time.
`` Mark, it's not your fault.''
`` If I had gotten up first, or we had waited just another second, he may be alive!'' I catch myself yelling again. `` When we enlisted, I promised to keep him safe.''
`` You did all you could.''
`` I could have done more.''
More silence. I hate it, almost as much as the sound of battle. Every little sound rings in my ears. I ca n't take it, and force myself to talk.
`` They asked if I wanted to escort him back.''
`` What?'' She looks back, confusion replacing sorrow.
`` My CO requested it. He knew mine and Jason's connection, and felt it would be better to send him home with a friend. I leave the front tomorrow, I should be home by next week.''
I see the relief wash over her. A hint of a smile forms on her face as she wipes her nose. `` Oh, Mark. Should I tell Isaac?''
I smile myself. `` No, I want to surprise him.''
`` He'll love that.'' She smiles more, then suddenly giggles. `` Oh, god that means I have to actually look presentable for once.''
I chuckle. `` Oh, come on. You're beautiful all the time.''
`` Promise?''
`` Promise.'' I look at the clock on the screen. `` Ah, I have to go. Still need to finish packing what little I have.''
Emma's smile fades. `` Mark.''
`` Yeah?''
`` Be safe.''
`` I will, promise.''
`` Thank you.'' She blows a kiss at the camera. `` Love you.''
I smile and blow one back. `` Love you too.''
|
[ TT ] `` Shut the dog up . ''
|
“ Shut the dog up, ” shouted my head officer from the jeep. The dog was running circles around our vehicle, barking at the people inside. The officer tapped my shoulder and pointed to the yellow, skinny animal circling our jeep.
“ But sir.., ” I managed to spit out before he took both his hands and pushed me out of the vehicle. I went tumbling out, and landed on the rough sandy ground. I stood up adjusting the gun hanging from my shoulder and proceeded to walk towards the canine. The dog stopped its barking, and shifted its black eyes to me.
“ Come here little pup. Hey come here, I ’ m not going to hurt ya, ” I said trying to coax it nearer to me. Actually, I didn ’ t know if I was going to hurt the little mutt or not yet. Reaching my hand towards my waist, I pulled off a tiny bit of my rations. I held it out my hand, with the ration laying on my open palm. The dog perked it ’ s ears, and came a few inches closer to me. Ever so slightly the skittish animal moved its way closer to my hand. At first only a couple inches, then a foot closer, until finally its snout was centimeter from my hand. I could see the small flecks of sand coating its fur. I pushed the ration closer to its teeth.
“ GRUNT, ” the sound of my officer ’ s voice rang out, scaring the dog away. A shot rang out, and the dog ’ s body spasmed. The dog kept running, while blood trailed behind him. The blood leaving a streak in the sand. It kept running into the desert, and then promptly collapsed. It sides heaved one last breath, and then went flat.
I stood up, turned towards the jeep and just stared.
“ Grunt, get back in the jeep, were running off schedule, ” the Head officer yelled at me.
“ Yes sir, right away sir, ” was all that came out of my mouth. As I walked back to the jeep, pictures of the dog ’ s death ran through my head. I stepped up into the cab and sat down. We drove off, but I didn ’ t keep watch like I was supposed too. My eyes were fixed on the dog.
|
[ WP ] A man finally discovers his superpower ... well into his 80 's .
|
`` It's just that half of all them gals down there are just bitches, ripe bitches,'' some young white punk with greasy cornrows said as he lifted up his glass of vodka. `` This one be for the bitches.''
The crew of young high school dropouts lifted their glasses and banged them together. The smell of cigarettes and Doritos polluted the bar as they simultaneously exhaled after slamming their empty glasses on the table obnoxiously hard. For the next hour and half they energetically went through a myriad of conversation topics -- porn, ex-girlfriends, heroine, cars, dead friends, and alcohol. Their banter slowly descended into a madness of laughter, shot after shot. Suddenly they were hushed.
An elderly man opened the bar door. A white light from the street temporarily blinded the table of boys. The man pathetically shuffled over to the counter. He wore a worn-out plaid jacket and a pair of corduroy pants. Lightly tapping the table with his fingers, a husky bartender leaned over.
`` Need help, friend?'' the bartender said, keeping an eye on the group of kids who were now suspiciously looking at the old man.
`` Yeah,'' the old man said. `` Just a shot of scotch for now. Actually I'll do two right now.''
`` Sure thing.''
The old man sighed as he looked at his watch. It was a habit. He was n't going anywhere later. He had no meeting to go to, no one to see, no job, no curfew. He thought sometimes that if the hand struck twelve, he would die. It was a habit though.
`` Hey hey how ya doin there sucker?'' the kid with cornrows said, while taking a seat on the vinyl chair at the bar next to the old man.
The old man glared over at him. For some reason he knew he would get dragged into some joke of a conversation with one of those kids.
`` I do n't know, sucker.'' the old man said while the bartender slid two shots of scotch in front of him.
`` Course you do, you just think I'm being some sharp-ass punk for doing this.''
`` So?'' the old man lifted a shot to his mouth a poured it down. `` Got any reason for talking to me?''
`` Yeah, yeah I do sucker. You been in war?''
`` Sure.''
`` Then you know what --''
`` What it's like to have a gun pointed at me?''
The old man noticed a small silver handgun concealed under the kid's grey sweatshirt.
`` How much fuckin' dope you got?''
`` Doe and dope are two different things.''
`` H'much doe then?''
`` About a hundred,'' the old man said, lifting the second glass up to his lips.
`` I want it,'' the kid said, tensing his index finger on the trigger. `` Gim me.''
The kid was sweating at this point. He was more distraught than the man.
`` Okay,'' the old man said while the scotch was lifted up to his mouth. `` Let me finish.''
`` Finish the fuckin' drink grampy.''
The old man lifted the empty glass from his mouth and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall.
`` No, I mean finish this.''
Suddenly a burst of white fire consumed the bar. The wooden pillars gave way and a cloud of dust arose while the building collapsed. It was all rubble now. Bodies lay across the ground. The kid with the cornrows collapsed, bricks crushing his legs, his face covered in a pale coating of dust. The old man shuffled to him and showed him his watch. The hand struck twelve.
`` Okay,'' the old man said while glancing at his watch. `` Time for you to die.''
|
[ WP ] Reddit buys the moon
|
Dickbutt... That was the first thing reddit was to do with their recent purchase of the moon.
`` We're going to etch dickbutt with freakin' lasers across the surface of the moon!'' cried one post with over 100,000 upvotes.
There was n't much else they could do with the moon. I mean, reddit just spent all our money buying the floating rock. The government required an astronomical amount of funds for the purchase and the rest went to legal fees from all the other countries suing reddit for purchasing something that belongs to humanity.
`` We are humanity!'' exclaimed a majority of reddit users, which eventually won us the case.
Dickbutt was only the beginning though. Thanks to an anonymous donor that built and sent a huge laser to reddit as a secret santa gift. They used it to mark reddit's newly found territory. More memes were to come and in great detail. Soon after, the surface of the moon was a hub of graffiti of all and every meme that had ever found it's way through reddit.
People exclaimed that this was a travesty, that the purchase should have never happened if... this... was to come of it. After all, the moon in all it's majesty, was a symbol to humanity and a first glimpse for all mankind to the wonders of the universe. Now it's just a floating wad of toilet paper for the internet to smear its shit onto.
It was n't long after that reddit sent out a satellite to orbit around the moon. It acted as a mirror to etch on the dark side of the moon. Now it's covered in the most prolific and vile things to ever posted on reddit.
I'm not sure what reddit has planned to do next with the moon. Some speculate that we're sending robots to mine the ores and riches of the moon. They think that reddit can become vastly rich off the spoils of the moon, share that wealth, and create of utopia on earth. Others think it's a conspiracy. That the government now controls reddit and uses the graffiti as a front to cover what they're actually doing. They say the government is going to colonize, mine, and weaponize the moon. No one really knows.
I grew sick as to how `` big'' of an ordeal this became, what reddit has become. I deleted my account and tried to forget the whole ordeal and move on with my life. However, that was all in vain really, because whenever I look out to the night sky I see it, staring at me with his smug, glazed eyes and a wiener hanging out his butt.
Dickbutt forever stands guard over humanity.
Edit: Fixed a few sentences.
|
[ WP ] You have a very shitty type of precognition .
|
Just looking at the guy I already knew it. He was in for a seven on the Bristol scale and it was only hours away.
Looking at his carefree face from below as he was slowly transported towards me on the escalator, I wondered, not for the first time, if I should warn him. But as always I asked myself: How could I tell him? How could I tell anyone?
Tell people that I could see the future. That I could see their fate? That I could feel the forces that were at work, often without their knowledge and beyond their control, inside their own bodies? That I could see shape of things to come? That I was a coproscognitive?
Nobody would believe me. Not until after a few predictions had been proven to be correct at least and few humored me for long enough to realize the truth of my predictions.
And this guy did n't have a few predictions to confirm the authenticy of my gift. He needed to know and believe me about the very next event I could foresee and there was no way to convince him in time.
And thus I stayed silent again as the escalator carried us past one another leaving him to his fate. I was going up and he was going down.
I could only hope for him that he would be close to the right place two hours and thirteen minutes from now, because I could tell it would be a fast and quite explosive one and without my word he would not have much advanced warning telling him to run for salvation.
I put him out of my mind I had my own future to worry about and I did n't need my gift to tell me about it. I started looking for the signs pointing the way to closest lavatory.
|
[ WP ] `` Before we allow humankind to live among us in the stars , tell us the faults of your kind . ''
|
Tell us your faults? Really? This was the question - the shibboleth - that unlocked the cosmos?
The Masters could have picked a scientist to answer but they feared she might mask ignorance. They could have picked from our global leaders bit they feared that they would mask deceit. They could have picked a holy man but feared he would mask violence, oppression, hate, intolerance... the list of disqualifying sins was almost too long to enumerate.
So they picked Josh Thornton, a 45 year old MBA in human resources.
`` Our greatest weakness? Well, I think we work a little too hard and, as a race, we might be a bit of a perfectionist.''
|
[ WP ] A magical mirror shows your reflection and your future soulmate . You only see your reflection .
|
Carnival music seemed to dance in the background. A cacophony of color and knick knacks decorated the fairgrounds. It was just another day at the carnival. I sit at my stand reading another old junky sci-fi novel.
“ So how much to see it? ”
Some pre-teen girl interrupted my book with her piercing voice. I sigh towards her and lean in.
“ Ten dollars, just like the sign says. ”
“ And it works? ”
“ So I ’ m told. ”
“ You mean you ’ ve never looked? ”
“ Nope, ” I say, picking my book back up.
“ Well why not. ”
“ Because some things in this life should be a mystery, ” I reply.
“ Well I want to see, ” she says. I tap on the money box and she places her ten dollars in. I watch her go in and wait for the audible reaction. After a couple of seconds I can hear an excited squeal. She runs out jumping up and down.
“ He ’ s so handsome! ”
I can see her run off in excitement. I smirk. Another idiot, I think to myself. The carnival director walks up shortly after.
“ Time to start packing up, Isaac, ” he says. I nod and begin to break down my stand.
My table is put away, and the money is locked up now. It ’ s that time again to put away the mirror. I stand in front of it like every other day. It ’ s just me, again. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, I am alone in the reflection.
I smile at my reflection as I cover the mirror. I put the tent and everything in the back of my trailer with a skip in my step.
You have to feel sorry for these suckers, I think. They ’ re destined for one person only. Who knows if they ’ ll ever find them? At least I know where to always find myself.
|
[ WP ] A person with a high school education gets sent back into the 1600s and tries to explain science and technology to the people .
|
`` So everyone is a Witch in the future?''
`` No, like, you know thunderstorms? The jagged beams of light that come from the sky?''
`` Lightning, but I d-''
`` Ok, that is the electricity. Okay, a couple hundred years from now this guy, Ben Franklin, has this... Well I'm not going to tell you exactly what, but he harnessed the electricity with a conductor, which electrocuted him and he was like'whoa that was a lotta power' and then all these other guys started using it. One of the most innovative inventions was the light bulb, whi-''
I stopped and noticed a crowd had gathered. Each of the spectators examined my appearance as they listened. `` What is this *light, bulb*? It sounds like black magic to me,'' he said accusingly.
`` It is not magic,'' I said in emphasis, `` a light bulb it a thing that uses electricity to give off light. It can light up anywhere from a small closet to a football field!''
`` *Football. Field*''
`` Oh my god. There is this sport whe-''
`` *Sport*'' These people are either highly uneducated or sports are n't common. Probably a combination of the two.
`` NEVER MIND THAT,'' I said, laughing after I realized I raised my voice, `` they can light up very large areas adequately.''
`` But.. How?''
This was pointless. `` MAGIC. It's powered by magic.''
The entire crowd around me murmured things like `` See I knew it,'' and `` We did tell him.''
|
[ WP ] Everyone has a reaper . The further away it is , the longer you have left to live . Every day it inches a little bit closer , but it is always there . Except yours , which disappeared three weeks ago
|
So this is where it had all led him. The sun rose beautifully over the cityscape, painting the clouds with its rays in pastel hues, colors changing as particles of light refracted and reflected, bouncing around the skies aimless and endless, purposeless, never to rest, and most of all unknowing of their own vain labors.
Ray stepped over the guardrail and perched on the precipice of his 100-story lookout, pensive. Many things ran through his mind; his shitty job, his hateful parents, the loss of his wife, the only person he'd ever truly loved. But mostly he wondered how his reaper could have abandoned him so.
To most people, a reaper was a curse: a constant reminder that death was always there, waiting. An undeniable proof that no one lives forever, and everyone will die sooner than they think. The closer it was, the sooner you would die.
Despite society's countless incredible technological achievements, they could never figure out how to separate themselves from death personified. This never stopped the rich and powerful from trying; as their reapers got closer, no insane pitch from a fast-talking entrepreneur was too outlandish for the wealthy to throw their money at. They called them Death Profits: a play on words of both the money made from misfortune and the undeniable truth that their failures proved. The diamond guillotine, the snake oil supplements, the guided meditation and isolation, even the hyper-boosted trips to space; nothing could rid a person of their reaper.
Which is why Ray loved his. Where most saw a terrifying ghoul, Ray saw a comforting promise. A guarantee that he would not have to exist forever. When his wife was killed in the car crash, Ray had seen in the rearview his own eyes, his own fear reflected as his wife's reaper came barreling in from behind. In just a moment he realized it all; they were due a freak accident, a change of fate. And then, grotesquely, a smaller reaper, its ghostly feet beating a silent *pitter-patter*, arm outstretched as it struggled to keep up with its mother.
His daughter in the back. She was being cooed at by her laughing mother, gurgling happily in her carseat, blissful in her unknowing. What could Ray do? *WHAT COULD HE DO? * A thousand thoughts crossed his mind. *Prevent it somehow. Change fate. Swerve off the road. Offer your life as collateral. Pray for their earthly salvation. Something, something! *
She looked to him, one last time. In that final moment. Her eyes met his, laughing creases changing to worry in slow motion as she saw the unbridled terror in his eyes, he could see everything, he knew as her mouth begin to move in formation of the question **he knew**, it was too late, too late, and he would never forget. He could see it now in his mind in perfect detail, wind streaming in the half-open window, playing lazily with that lock of hair that she could never keep tied back. Her lovely chest beneath her white sweater expanding ever so slightly, unfettered by the seatbelt she hated so much to wear. The hazel-flecked green of her questioning eyes in the light, the pupils contracting in turn as the sun flowed over one before the other. Her soft lips just beginning to form his name, asking him to protect her, save them, keep her safe: his wife, the mother of his child, his only love and the only thing he ever loved, *save us Ray, save our baby* and yet he failed her, just as with everything else, he failed her too and her would never forgive himself.
*Remember, Ray. Memorize it. Remember what you did. Never forget. *
Just before the impact he could not find his reaper. He knew what was coming and he did not want to live, without them there would be nothing to live for and he knew he could not save them and he wanted to die. But his reaper was not there. It was not there and then the impact came, his world ending in a great explosive conglomeration of crashing glass and screeching metal and shrieking twisting screaming tearing and then blood, theirs and his mixed up slick and smelling of iron and heat in the smoldering car.
She had gone through the windshield. There was a gash above his head pouring blood but remarkably his limbs were intact and he crawled out of the overturned car to find her, cutting his hands and knees on the crystal shards that lay in a carpet around the vehicle. His ears were ringing. As he failed to stand, he realized he could hear the baby crying weakly. He tried the door but it would n't budge. He surrendered his broken hands and pulled with all his might, the glass cutting into his fingers and bleeding down and around the handle. Nothing. He was raising his elbow to smash it into the glass, and then felt a ghastly chill.
It was passing through him. Her reaper. Bony arms outstretched, wisps of ethereal smoke trailing behind as it moved to fulfill its grotesque destiny. He thought his heart stopped. He could n't move. And then he raced to her, that white smudge on the concrete, falling to his knees and pulling her into his lap, her sweater curiously untouched except where his bloody fingers colored it red. He willed her eyes to open, wanting to wake her more than anything, wanting to have one more day with her, one more hour, one more look into those eyes, one more kiss. She was scarcely breathing. Her hand was limp in his.
He tried to speak, but all that came out was an anguished sob. The reaper was only feet away now. He had seconds.
`` Please!'' he sobbed to nothing and no one. `` Please, please, god, take me instead, leave her. Take me!'' There was no answer. The damned thing was n't even 5 feet away now. He lifted her into his arms and tried to run. His boat shoes had long since flown off, and the broken glass crunched deeply into his feet. He hobbled along, unwilling to accept the inevitable. Looking over his shoulder he saw the reaper keeping its grim pace, arms outstretched and dead eyes unseeing.
`` Damn you!'' he snarled, as he struggled onwards. `` Damn you, you -- you fucking monster! You *freak*! Fuck you, fuck you, I'll kill you somehow, I swear it, please do n't, please --'' and as his threats devolved into pleas he slipped, falling to his knees. He gave up. It was done. He had made it barely 10 feet. There was nothing left he could do. Faintly, he heard the baby crying. The reaper came on. It had never fallen behind. Finally it reached them and gently, gently, took her soul in its arms, its bony limbs passing through Ray's own, and disappeared. In Ray's arms, his wife let out her last breath.
He was finished. He wished fervently to die right there. And then he realized where he was kneeling. Gently he laid his wife on the ground, clearing away the debris. He laid his last kiss on her bloody forehead, then stood.
Ray stepped on the running board of the delivery vehicle and opened the drivers side door. Almost comically, out clanked several beer cans, *one, two, three*. Inside the cab of the white box truck was a very clearly inebriated man. He stared wide-eyed at the destruction he had caused. Ray grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out roughly to the pavement.
The man fell hard on his face. He looked up, arms raised.
`` Look man, I'm sorry,'' he began. `` I -- I do n't know what happened, it just --'' Ray began beating him. With every punch he imagined he was killing himself. Tears streamed down his face. Every strike drove shards of glass deeper into his hands. He focused on the pain and ignored the man's steadily weakening pleas. When the man raised his arms to defend himself, Ray kicked him viciously until he felt bones in his feet break. Then he began punching him again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ray noticed something. There was a reaper creeping nearer. He was beginning to tire, but with every punch he threw, the harbinger of death jolted closer. Finally, he had to stop, exhausted and panting, doubling over, hands pouring blood all over his knees. The man was a gory mess; nose broken, face swollen, making small mewling noises between gasps for air through his bloodied mouth. A few of his teeth had fallen out.
The man's reaper was a few feet away now. 15, 20 maybe. Ray caught his breath for some moments, then plodded with red-ribboned feet over to a piece of curb that had been broken free by the crash. He lifted it above his head with his tortured hands and brought it down on the defenseless man once, twice, three times, each with a sickening `` *thunk*.'' With every blow the reaper reappeared closer, and as the man's skull broke open from the final strike, it embraced his body with its arms and then lifted off, disappearing with his soul, leaving the expired shell behind.
Ray had no tears left. He crawled over to his wife's body and held her in his lap, stroking her hair, staring into the flames of the burning car as the sirens grew closer. The baby stopped crying.
|
[ WP ] A person with a high school education gets sent back into the 1600s and tries to explain science and technology to the people .
|
`` So basically, magic,'' said the bartender. The rest of the villagers murmured in agreement.
I had stopped concealing my sighs hours ago. `` No. Elec-tri-city.''
The hardest part about suddenly appearing in the year 1612 is thinking you're going to change the world and then realizing you have no idea how things really work.
I had started with the whole bacteria thing and that went nowhere for awhile. I mean, think about it. Yeah, so there's these tiny living things that are so small that you ca n't see them ( but trust me they're there! ) that are attacking your body, which by the way is made up of billions of tiny things themselves, and when the bad tiny things get the better of your good tiny things, you get sick, and your body has these specialized tiny things that fight the bad tiny things and if those fighting tiny things win, then you get better.
Fuck me, right? I had actually succeeded in introducing pasteurization. I did n't exactly know how to do that either, but I brought the pond water and milk to a boil before cooling it back down ('cause it kills the tiny bad things! ). The few people who looked passed my lunatic rantings and committed to trying my stuff were getting less sick from liquid, so I guess the process worked. I had a larger following now and they were listening to me.
`` How about this,'' I said. `` So the lightning, that we create from... uhm, this lightning creating station, travels through the metal wire that's connected to every home, and is received by this glass ball that has this tiny piece of metal in it that glows from getting hot from the lightning and that's electrical light for you.''
The villagers looked around at the candles and oil lanterns that lit the bar quite well, gave each other nods that seemed to say `` yeah we got this whole'light' thing down already, stop your lightning harnessing nonsense'' and turned back to me.
`` So basically... magic,'' said the bartender.
`` Get me a key,'' I said over the ensuing rabble. `` And a kite. There's a storm tonight and I'll show you exactly what I mean.''
An old lady answered me. `` What's a kite?''
`` Get me some sticks and string and... uhm... paper? Or cloth? Uhm...''
Fuck me, right?
|
[ WP ] After brushing your teeth in the morning you go downstairs to fry an egg , but when you try the frying pan buzzes at you and text appears reading , `` level 18 cooking required to use object '' .
|
I lifted the box of cereal, tilted it down a bit, and sent a shower of Lucky Charms cascading into the bowl. Then I lifted the jug of milk over it and tilted until it glugged out on top of the cereal. I picked up the bowl, carried it to the sink, and threw it down the drain. Then I returned to my seat at the counter.
I lifted the box of cereal, tilted it down a bit, and sent a shower of Lucky Charms cascading into the bowl. Then I lifted the jug of milk over it and tilted until it glugged out on top of the cereal. I picked up the bowl, carried it to the sink, and threw it down the drain. Then I returned to my seat at the counter.
I lifted the almost-empty box of cereal, tilted it down a bit, and sent a shower of Lucky Charms cascading into the bowl. Then I lifted the jug of milk over it and tilted until it glugged out on top of the cereal. I picked up the bowl, carried it to the sink, and threw it down the drain. Then I returned to my seat at the counter.
`` Level 12 cooking reached!'' a voice announced from every corner of my kitchen.
`` Great,'' I grumbled. I eyed the half-empty pallet of cereal boxes in my dining room next to the twenty-something gallons of milk I'd bought. Outside, the sun had nearly reached its apex. Noon already? I'd first tried to make eggs at 7:30 AM. `` Only a few more hours of grinding till I can have my damn breakfast.''
-- --
This story brought to you by the millions of iron daggers crafted in Skyrim while trying to level up my smithing skills.
|
[ WP ] While searching the site of a disaster , you find your own corpse .
|
`` How is this possible?,'' I wonder staring at myself. Around me is a dusty rubble that was n't there seconds before. A seemingly little steam of blood that runs down my head drenched my hair partly in a sticky red mess where it had seeped in. She... I...? am here for more than a few seconds.
I reach out, `` is this for real?,'' as my hand passes through...
I touch my own head wondering, how, again. I feel weird tingly but it did n't hurt at all. `` So this is how it ends?'' I look up right into the eyes of a friendly, familiar face smiling at me.
`` Not quite,'' she answers my question as she stretches her hand out to me. Inviting me to a bright warm light behind her.
|
[ WP ] While walking home from work one day , someone who looks exactly like you jumps out of a bush and attacks you saying `` YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST REPLACE ME ? ! ''
|
The gravel crunches under my feet as I walk, steps in time with the music that echoes in my ears. Bach. A genius, to be sure. I've always liked his music. Partially for the way it makes me seem more wise, perhaps, and partially just out of a genuine enjoyment of his work.
*'' You think you can just replace me?! `` *
It takes me a tenth of a second to register the voice and spin around. There, raising his hands in twin fists, is someone *very* familiar.
`` James?'' I query, taking an instinctive step back even as I feel knowledge of various martial arts practises flooding into my mind. `` Is that you?''
He takes a step forward, and I can see he's panting, out of breath. `` James is my brother! I'm *you*, you fucking idiot!''
It's simple to keep my distance from him. The key with aggressors is to back off slowly, not giving them an excuse to close the ever-widening gap. `` Please, there's no need to get angry. I'm not quite sure what you mean. *I'm* me.''
Unfortunately, my technique is not quite perfect - or perhaps it just does not matter - and he advances anyways. Now that the initial shock of someone screaming and swearing ( ugh ) at me has worn off, I'm free to examine him. To be quite honest, I must admit he does look like me. He's a tad malnourished, not even close to being in shape, and has a potbelly that does n't quite fit on his frame, but otherwise he looks similar to a me that has n't washed or shaved in a week.
`` I do n't know who the *hell* you are but you are going to get the fuck out of my city! Out of my *home*! You... you ca n't just replace me!'' One fist turns into a pointing hand, stabbing me in the chest with his index finger. I do n't think he quite expects the resistance he receives.
`` I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I do n't know who you are or why you think I've replaced you. Perhaps you should try inquiring about this at a local police department?'' *Rule three-hundred and seventy-nine. Defer to the local police for matters requiring authority. * Huh?
He growls, and he's in my personal space, now. Not something I am entirely comfortable with, but it's nothing that would set me off. Staying calm is always the correct path to take. `` Look, *kid*, you're going to fuck off or die or something *right now* because I'm going home! To *my* home! Not *yours*!''
I see the shove coming, and let him do it. My stumble backwards is entirely anticipated, and I feel *great*. It's such a nice day outside. The man-
What man?
I swivel around, blinking and searching for someone. I'm not quite sure who. There's nothing there.
Something *is* odd, though.
In the corner of my eye, I see a truck retreating into the distance, coloured completely white.
It's not that. The hands on my watch have jumped forward by seven minutes and fifty-nine seconds.
Odd.
|
[ WP ] Fabricate an inspiring encounter with a stranger that changed your life .
|
I've always had trouble deciding whether to help someone or not. I'm always worried that I'll be cumbersome while I help someone, so I tend to ignore the needs of others. It's something that I'm actively working on, and one of my main inspirations for improving my speed of assistance comes from this story that happened to me.
I lived in Hong Kong back when I was a kid - out in the New Territories ( the'rural' area ), and would take the bus home from school. The public transportation was and still is fantastic, so I was alone when I rode the double decker bus back home. When I got to the nearest station to my home, I began to walk towards the subway tunnel, which led to the pathway to my house. The path to my house was under this long canopy of trees, and was squeezed into a thin lane between the trees and a wall right behind the trees - basically you could only walk on this path. The path extended past this sort of village place, then went on towards a cul-de-sac. The cul-de-sac was where I lived, and took about an hour to get to. It was a long but nice walk.
Unfortunately there were a lot of wild dogs around that area, and I had an almost pathological fear of dogs ( I think I was bitten by one when I was really young and I kept that fear ). At that moment in time though I only ever heard the dogs' barks; at that moment I had never seen a wild dog. Today though, I spotted a dog lying on the pathway in front of me. First reaction was to be quiet and just step over it, since I did n't have enough space to go around. But when I actually got to the point of doing the act, I stopped. It was probably smarter to just wait for the dog to wake up and leave. So I turned around and began to walk back. But then I heard growling behind me.
Somehow I had woken up the dog ( I think I stepped on it's tail by accident ), and it was mad at me. So, faced with the danger of being bitten, and with faded memories of other encounters with dogs rising up, I chose flight and began to run. Of course, my stubby legs could n't outrun the fully grown dog, and it caught up to me quickly. Realising the situation I was in, I decided to turn around and fight the dog. So I promptly tried to punch its nose with my right hand, but instead got it caught in the dog's mouth. Fear of the dog was n't ruling me anymore, and I bit the dog back. Dog whimpers and runs away, but leaves me with a bleeding hand - and the possibility of a disease. It also hurt a lot and I was still an hour away from home. I was happy that my bag was safe and sound though.
So I began to walk home. But about five to ten minutes after I began walking, I met a nanny ( they're pretty common in Hong Kong ). She had headgear, so she was from Indonesia. She was also pulling an empty little cart that was probably meant for groceries. When I walked up to her she made a gasping sound and began talking Cantonese to me. I was an expat's child though and did n't understand. She then dropped her little trolley, and lifted me up in both of her arms. She stuttered out the words, `` Come with me, I have bandaids.'' I just nodded and let myself be carried off down the pathway. She lived in the village that the path passed by, and so only took a minute or so to reach. She brought me into her employer's house and sat me down. She gave me a phone and motioned to call and said, `` Parents.'' Then she went into another room while I called my parents.
I told my mom what happened, she sounded flustered and told me that she would come pick me up in her car. The nanny then came back from the room she was in and was holding some alcohol, some paper towels, and those long white, wrapping bandages. She wiped off the blood that caked my hand, and added a liberal amount of the medicinal alcohol. She honestly added too much in my opinion. It honestly stung more than the bite... Anyways, she then wrapped those bandages around and told me to sit tight for my parents. My parents arrived, and I left.
I guess some people might say everything the nanny did was expected, and that anyone would do such a thing. But she could have easily ignored me, and that's what I probably would have done: I would think the person does n't want my help because that person is n't asking. The nanny's speed of reaction, and her willingness to do all those medicinal acts will probably always be stuck in my mind. Even if what she did was minimal. She was just'someone's in trouble - > must help.' Nothing was in between the two motions, and I want to remember that.
|
[ EU ] In your favourite fictional universe , the villain won . It 's one year later .
|
*'' The Alliance... Will die. As will your friends. Good. I can* **feel** *your anger. I am defenseless. Strike me down with all of your hatred and your journey to the dark side will be complete! `` * ~ The Last Words of Emperor Sheev Palpatine
_______________________
Luke could feel his father calling to him through the force, upset with his lack of punctuality. He started jogging through the corridors of the Death Star. Everyone he passed gave him more room than they would anyone else. Luke sensed their fear, and smiled. Soldiers should fear their commanders; it was the right way of things. Position alone does not give one the right to lead. Excellence alone is not a reason to be followed. If you intend to rule, your subordinates must see your strength, and submit to it. Anyone who thought differently was either misinformed or simply a fool. The regional governors in this meeting will be both.
Luke sighed as he considered the conversation to come. It will be the same as the one with the Rebel leaders. Well almost the same. The Rebel leaders were so surprised to see Luke standing alongside his father that they did not speak for a long time. And when they did, they were so held back that the meeting accomplished nothing. His father had tried to explain to them that things would be better now. The injustice in Galaxy stemmed from Emperor Palpatine alone. Together, the two Skywalkers would lead the Galaxy to true peace. They did not believe him, but they will come around. Leia did not attend.
Leia. The thought of her pushed Luke ’ s thoughts in a different direction. He felt an old pull, remembering Leia, Han, Chewie. R2 and 3PO. And old Ben. He did not like to think about them. He had done what was necessary to save their Galaxy. They were never in his position. When you are weak, you can never understand the decisions the powerful must make. And live with. They too, will one day understand. The power Luke and his father have together. They can make things the way they want them to be. As always, this line of thought led frustratingly nowhere, so he pushed it from his mind to focus on the upcoming meeting.
This meeting with the regional governors, only a few years removed from being Senators, would be unbearable. Even before he joined his father, Luke had hated politicians. What an egregious waste of time! Petty fools, arguing over nothing but pride! There were precious few, Leia ’ s late father among them, who governed for the good of their people. Leia. No, she was not to be thought of. Luke pushed the thought away more powerfully than before. Focus on the governors. They will be weak. They will ask for things they do not need, for power they do not deserve. Their existence is an unfortunate by-product of the size of the Galaxy, nothing more. They will be short-sighted; incapable of understanding the great things Luke and his Father can accomplish together!
And accomplish great things they will! As the only two force users left, they can lead the Galaxy to a rich a prosperous future! And as Luke ’ s father ages, they will seek out Leia and Han, for their child will be tied to the force as Luke and his Father are. Leia ’ s son will be the next in line to learn the ways of the Force from Luke. They will use their family ’ s talents to rule the Galaxy for centuries to come.
Finally, Luke reached the conference room. As he stepped into the room he heard his father ’ s voice, and smiled.
“ *khwoooooh……khwaaaaah* Welcome, my son. ”
_______
Hope I'm not too late. I really liked the ideas from Anakin in Episode III, when he tells Padme that he can overthrow Palpatine and the two of them can rule, and again in Episode V when Vader tells Luke the same thing. I also wanted to take the `` villain won'' part of the prompt and try to not make it so cut and dry.
Lastly, I'm not a writer by any means, I just saw this prompt and thought it would be really fun to try.
|
[ WP ] Write the same scene at least twice , making only miniscule changes , to drastically alter the scene
|
It just did n't make sense. The scenes of a bombing run creating fantastic flashes of light against the green night vision display used in the recorded video the media kept on repeat, to show the campaign which they cease to talk about. The flashing of the television lighting and darkening the room with each bomb exploding. There is talk of escalation.
Raul turns off the T.V.
He leaves the living room for the bed room and pushes open the door into the dark. Only the flashing of an alarm clock can be seen blinking'11:03 P.M.''
Crawling into bed, he lays his head upon the pillow. drifting into sleep after thinking about everything he possibly could. He beings to dream...
*BOOM*
He is awoken in a startle.
`` What the hell was that'', jumping out of bed and tripping on his shoes. The room being still dark with only the alarm clock flashing'1:25 AM'. He felt what seemed like a drifting rumble, but that was nothing to indicate an explosion; everything seemed to drift back into quite. Could n't have been an earth quake, not out here on 90, not out here outside Rapid City, North Dakota. He thought for a while more. Confused as ever, he walked out into the living room and flipped on the television. Still more talking heads going on about escalations in this proxy war, but nothing about a local'boom'.
Satisfied with an explanation of hallucinating and simply being delusional from work stress, Raul shuffles back to bed. Leaving the T.V. on, in case any emergency signals come through to wake him or provide explanation.
He drifts to sleep and begins to dream...
*BOOM*
Jumping from his laying position in fright. The light of day filling the room, but no echoic scream of an emergency broadcast could be heard. Just a faint rumble in the ears, almost imperceptible - like airliner flying over lower than usual. The T.V. is off.
`` What the hell'', said as if annoyed by the phenomena.
`` I thought I left that on'', turning his head toward the alarm clock. The faint rumble now becoming louder and the light of day slightly dimmer.'3:38 AM'
`` What the hell is going on'', said now with concern.
The roar of a freight train now coming closer, consuming the audible space and Raul's own ability to think. The light of day now burning brighter through the windows and with a faintly colored hue of shifting orange. Tripping over his shoes as he burst from the bed, Raul runs to the window.
As he reaches for the curtain to see outside, to see what ever could be so loud and bright at three in the morning, he is ripped into by the burst of exploding glass. His body barely hitting the floor, his face hardly able to cope with a gesture of surprise, he is consumed in nuclear flame.
|
Constrained Writing [ WP ] Write a story sentence by sentence that takes on a different meaning if you read it backwards .
|
Might as well put something in. I tried this prompt a while ago, and got one response from /u/smootilicious. Here was their response:
He had always suspected that it might get ugly, but he never thought it could go this far. He took a look at the knife lying on the floor. There was blood on the carpet, blood on the walls and even blood on the ceiling. The man and his wife had fought before and the police had been called to the flat before, but none of the fights had been this bad. Trying to keep his calm, he went through the door.
For easier reading, the other way around:
Trying to keep his calm, he went through the door. The man and his wife had fought before and the police had been called to the flat before, but none of the fights had been this bad. There was blood on the carpet, blood on the walls and even blood on the ceiling. He took a look at the knife lying on the floor. He had always suspected that it might get ugly, but he never thought it could go this far.
|
[ WP ] You live in a world were a drug exists that allows you to have an out of body experience converse with a dead family member . After months of speculation you decide to take the drug to have on final conversation with your son who committed suicide
|
His eyes were as green as they ’ d been the day he was born. Jade. Shamrock. Emerald. Moss. Olive. Teal. I ’ d lived with him for almost 17 years, and I still couldn ’ t define them. They didn ’ t come from me or his father. They were simply green.
The rest of him was smoky gray, transparent enough that if I looked straight at him, he wouldn ’ t be there anymore. He sat delicately on the couch, gazing at me.
“ Mom. ”
“ Charlie. ”
His lips quirked up into a small smile, and he ran a hand through his messy hair. Even in death, that would not change. “ You know, I didn ’ t think you ’ d have the guts to do it. Take the drug, I mean. You were always against it. ”
“ You ’ re my son, ” I said fiercely. “ I would do anything for you. ”
His smile faded. “ You don ’ t have to anymore. I ’ m dead. ”
His words sent a jolt through me, reminding me why I was there, using a drug I had so passionately fought against.
“ Charlie... ”
He did not smile again. “ Mom, ” he said gently. “ Why did you come? ”
I felt my breath catch in my throat and thought of the empty pill bottle I ’ d found hidden under his pillow. I thought of how pale he ’ d been, and how cold his hands were. I thought of his laptop, still powered on, open to a blank Word document.
“ Why did you do it? ”
“ Why did I kill myself, you mean? ”
“ Yes, ” I breathed. “ Why? ”
He looked as if my words both disturbed and shocked him. “ Mom, I... I can ’ t explain. Not now. Please. ”
“ Charlie. ” I worked to keep the emotion down. “ Charlie, *please*. ”
“ Fine. ” His face set into a mask, and his green eyes - the only color left on him, hardened. “ Let me tell you why I killed myself.
“ It was you. ”
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where light helps you retain and regain memory while darkness makes you forget everything . One day . . .
|
Jennifer woke up in a dark room, no light. She rubbed her eyes as if that would help her to see. `` Oh god... what in the hell...?'' She threw herself on bed again, too exhausted to move.
Not that she remembers, but waking up in the dark room with no memory happens to her on regular bases. If she has a bad day, she turns off the light before she goes to sleep so she does n't have to think about anything, and possibly avoid nightmares.
But what the hell happened last night that made her this tired? It must have been something horrible. Last time she was this tired to wake up was when her dog died. She stayed in her dark room for 2 days straight.
`` I should get something to eat'' Jennifer woke herself up and opened the door. From the distance, she saw a dim light from kitchen's curtain. A memory came back.
`` Lucy!'' She yelled as she remembered her 4 months old daughter. `` Oh god Lucy, my baby, Mommy is coming!'' She started to wander in the dark hallway and tripped over an object.
`` What the hell was that...?'' she muttered as she fell on the ground. The floor was wet and it was still too dark to see anything. `` And what is that smell?'' a terrible smells started to fill out the air. It was coming from the object that tripped her. She stretched her hands, trying to find the object, the source of the smell.
She followed the smell and got to touch the object. It was soft yet cold. She instantly knew something was terribly wrong.
`` No... It can ’ t bee...'' She had to know what was going on. Still not admitting the reality, she carried the object and walked toward the kitchen. She wanted to make sure under the light.
As she came close to the light, her memory started to come back. Her childhood, college, wedding, pregnancy, Lucy, and when she remembered her argument with David last week, she stopped.
She fell down to her knees and tears started to stream down her cheeks. `` Mommy is sorry Lucy... Mommy is so sorry...''
She put Lucy back on the floor and head back to her room. She knew what she had to do, or what she could only do.
She closed the door behind her and just before the dim light from the kitchen went completely off, she said
`` Hi David''
|
[ WP ] Killing any creature inflicts an illness or blight upon yourself , for example killing a spider gives you a persistant itch , and killing a dog renders you paralysed for a long time . You 've just had to kill an animal that was attacking your young child , and are now suffering the consequences .
|
It is the one sound that can shatter a parent. In the back of their mind, buried behind the mundane everyday worries and clutter hides the fear of hearing the sound of their child's voice, their last earthly sound as it is ripped from their throat as they take their last breath.
My son lay upon the grass, the knees of his stained and his trainers kicked off as he played. The picture of childish curiosity, his head thrown back to look up at the clouds and his soft voice called out the shapes his mind formed for him. I was lounging on the sun bed set up on the patio, reading the latest trashy paper back novel, I knew I should have kept a close eye on him however my mind was whisked away on romance and the pangs of lost loves that the novel inspired. What danger could possible happen to my son, even if I was not there in mind? I believed my bodily presence would worn off any potential evil doers.
The sound of his voice, one terrible long plea was all it took destroy me.
`` Mummy!'' He cried. It was the last sound, the last mark on earth that would hold the memory of my son. It would echo though the ages, as I now sit, burning itself into my consciousness. Least I forget my folly.
A snake has wrapped itself around the arms of my son and plunged it's venomous fangs into his tender, pale fresh as easily as a knife passes though butter. Vivid green with a body as thick as my son's torso, this snake was fresh from the garden of Eden. Satan was taking my child from me, it seemed. It's tail trashed on the ground, mocking me to save the Apple of my world.
I gripped the hellish tail and pulled with all of my might, feeling the satisfying coil of my muscles as adrenaline surged though my body. It come free from my son with an odd squelch, red rivers oozed from the wound on his neck but I had a more pressing matter of Satan turning his wrath upon the only available Eve.
It lunged forward like a bullet, it's fangs getting stuck on the rubber insole of my shoe. A shovel that my husband had been using to do yard work was impaled in the ground, I grasped the hilt like it was Excalibur and brought it down upon the snake's head. There was a sickening crunch and it was over, the life drained out of the snake's coils, lifeless as a piece of string.
I turned toward the body of my son with relief coursing though me, I had won! I had saved my son! I fell to my knee beside him and scooped him tiny body into my arms, watching how his head lolled to the side as it was made of lead.
If you have ever had a moment where your mind seems to disconnect and the pounding of your heart is all that you can hear. This is what that moment felt like, I could have died a thousand deaths in those few precious moments before it hit me.
The sound of my Son's voice pushed against my ear drums, a soft whisper that I had to strain to hear over the gasping on my breath and the tears that flooding down my cheeks. His plea sounded again, this time crescendoing to a ear spilling scream.
`` MUMMY!''
I looked down at the life my husband and I had created, our own piece of heaven that Satan had taken from me. His lips were still, no voice was coming from his throat.
His voice screamed again and then I knew I would be hearing it until the day I died. It would not stop until it has engraved itself on the inside of my skull and the whole world would hear of my shame.
My next door neighbours laughter danced over the fence. A twisted benediction for my Son's body.
|
[ WP ] Aliens have arrived , and ask for a single human to plead humanity 's case and save them from extinction . The human is selected through a lottery of the entire human race , and on the day of the drawing , your name is picked .
|
I'm not especially smart.
Maybe that's why everyone seems to hate me. My job, of course, was one that required someone especially smart. Someone like Winston Churchill's third nephew or Abraham Lincoln's half ancestor. But they chose me.
Was n't my fault, being chosen. I mean, shit, I did n't even apply for the job. I applied for almost 20 jobs over the summer and the one that chooses me was the one job in the whole God-damned universe that I did n't even want.
I got a call back from Safeway as well, but they were just trying to give me advice on what to say. So many people trying to give me advice on what to say.
I suppose being chosen to be the voice of the entire species puts a certain target on your back, one that means, *Hey, come manipulate me or we all fuckin' die! *
But they chose me, the aliens did. They chose *me* to plead the case of Humanity's existence, not Einstein's lesser known son. *Me. *
I walked passed one of the countless shops playing my speech on the TV. It was a McDonalds, for crying out loud. Were they even aloud to have TV's in their windows? I supposed it did n't matter, since we would all be dead soon anyway, but shit. As always, they cropped it out to show only the bad part. The subtitles spelled out the words so even the deaf could see my fuck up.
`` If you decide to exterminate us, make damn sure you do it right the first time, or we'll come after you.''
The picture switched to a news anchor drinking straight out of a bottle of vodka.
`` He'd *killed* us all!'' The subtitles said.
How technology has achieved emotions and punctuation in subtitles was beyond me.
`` Asshole!'' An old man threw a McChicken wrapper at my head as he passed. I headed in. Maybe they were hiring.
|
[ WP ] `` And that was the first of the three lies ... ''
|
“ I thought you knew what you were doing! ”
The panic in my voice was clear despite the blaring of alarms that sought to drown it out. Trying to keep my composure, I held the bag now filled to the brim with money with one hand, and tightened my grip on my rifle with the other.
“ Of course I do! Just keep moving! ”
Ryan turned and started to rush down another grimy maintenance corridor, his head spinning wildly this way and that looking for any sort of escape route. It had been far too long since we had blown the safe and grabbed the cash - we should have been long gone by now. Instead, we were still stuck here, pushing against locked door after locked door, trapped like rats in a cage.
“ But… ”
“ Shut up! We are getting out of here and getting far away, and then you can pay those medical bills and your family will be cured, ok? Just get off my case for a minute! ”
Mentioning my family only made me feel worse. They were the only reason that I had got myself into this mess in the first place. Not like I would have taken any other course of action, mind you - they meant everything to me. To see them all dying slowly of that illness, with my wreck of a life and lack of a job making me unable to get the help they needed… I would do this all again if I had to. I would just hope that next time it would go more smoothly.
“ Finally! ”
Ryan ’ s excited cry snapped me out of my thoughts. A set of heavy doors had finally swung open in response to his attempts, and there up ahead was another set, the sun peeking through their edges, the glow they created almost beckoning us towards them.
“ Go go GO! ” he shouted, but I did not need telling. Breaking into a run, I darted past him as fast as I could, reached the end of the corridor and pushed upon the door. A brief flicker of joy erupted inside of me as they opened to my touch. It was crushed almost instantly as my eyes took in in everything around me – the dazzling sunlight. The endless rows of police cars and flashing red and blue lights surrounding the building. And the dozens of police officers hidden behind them, guns raised, ready to fire at anything that appeared in their crosshairs.
I did n't hear the shots get fired. I only felt the pain, so sudden, so agonisingly painful. The force of the shots sent me spinning to the ground, my head cracking harshly off the concrete, a small puddle of crimson splattering down next to my body.
“ MICHAEL! ”
Even through the pain I heard that shout, and my vision remained clear. I could see Ryan coming out the door, the mix of terror, grief and confusion etched so perfectly on to his face it looked as though it had been carved there. Then he too was struck by another volley of shots, blood starting to rush from his chest almost instantly. As I watched him also fall to the ground the realisation came to me so clearly, even though my thoughts were fading away – he had never known what he was doing. He was trying to help me and help my family, but not with a grand scheme or any sort of plan, just with his instincts and the desperate hope that everything would turn out ok.
And that was the first of the three lies. The other two merely followed as a consequence - we were never going to get out of here. I was never going to be able to help my family. Guilt and sadness flooded through my dying body, but I was comforted by the fact I knew I had tried. I had not just let them die. As my vision blurred, I took in Ryan ’ s body one more time. I held no anger towards him and the lies he had told me – he had only tried to help. The choices I had made were my own, and even though they led to this, at least I had made them. I had tried to make things better.
With this in mind, I closed my eyes, and made peace with God.
|
[ WP ] You just started a new job in a large office building and what you do n't know is that at twelve o'clock every day , there is a office wide Purge style battle to the death , those who survive an hour get a significant pay raise and can come back tomorrow . A bell just went off , it 's twelve o'clock .
|
As I finished up my research on Alligator breeding habits for a story I was tasked with writing, a bell began to ring loudly throughout the office. I could feel the sound vibrating off the cubicle walls. I looked over my cubicle wall to ask a co-worker what the bell was for.
I watched as he calmly opened his desk drawer, to reveal a small armory. There were multiple handguns, knives and magazines and other assorted weapons neatly stashed away.
`` What the hell is that for?'' I questioned loudly, and nervously.
The man looked me in the eyes, and pointed his handgun at my face. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and could n't understand what circumstances had arisen to put me in this position. I heard the gun fire, and the sound of the shot rang through my ears.
I heard something hit the ground loudly behind me. I turned to see the woman who had hired me yesterday, lying in a pool of blood on the floor. She was holding a rifle in her arms. I looked back at the man who had apparently just saved my life. He seemed to be about 40 or so, well built, muscular and had a scar down the right side of his face that went from his forehead down to his beard.
`` She liked to go after the new hires'' he explained in a deep voice. `` She hires the ones she wants to kill''
I was n't sure what to make of this, but my thoughts were cut off by the sounds of screaming throughout the building.
`` What's happening'' I asked, barely able to look my savior in the eyes.
`` You survive today, and you'll receive a bonus of $ 5,000 and your salary will be raised 5 %'' I cut the man off.
`` What does that?'' He continued to speak, while motioning me to stop taking.
`` I'll keep you alive, if you give me your bonus and half your raise'' He finished.
I just nodded, still unable to understand the position I was in.
He grabbed my arm so hard I thought it would break, and pulled me over the cubicle wall, and under his desk. Then, he placed a gun in my hand.
`` The safety is on, and it's fully loaded with one in the chamber'' He said, pointing to the safety switch.
The weapon felt heavy in my hand, I flicked the safety off with my thumb and gripped the gun tightly.
The man looked down at his watch. `` 45 minutes to go''
|
[ WP ] A cell in your body is just your average middle class working `` Joe '' . One fateful day there a massive onset of disease . Give his first hand experience of event .
|
Joe was your average working nerve cell. Every day ( and night, his shifts were rather long actually ) Joe sat down at the sensor panel and sent out the readings he saw. He never much cared for what they were, that was what the brains in the brain were for, he just passed them up and on. Course, Joe never really got tired or slow, even though sometimes the signals from on high were a little slow or fuzzy. Then Joe would wait, patiently, a little bored, while the powers that be got their act together. Today was one of those days.
*I'm getting tired so I'm not going to finish this for now. But I'll put down some ideas I was going to implement. Joe is a nerve ending in a skin cell in a finger. Finger gets burned then infected. Joe experiences this as a bombing of his city ( with lots of resultant fires ) and the nearby office buildings are shattered. Joe calls for help but the lines are too clogged for him to get noticed. As they begin the repair effort people start acting weirdly, basically a zombie apocolypse as the virus takes over. Joe turns into a zombie himself and then gets eaten by a macrophage. *
*Feel free to steal the ideas and finish it for me. *
|
[ WP ] You are hiking in the woods when you hear a deafening shriek from close by . Your guide 's eyes grow big and he whispers , terrified , `` One must have survived ... . ''
|
Something in the way he said it made you shiver. You knew when you first met him that something was off, and with the way he reacted to that scream you knew. `` What have you done?'' I asked, afraid I already knew the answer. `` The same thing that will happen to you.'' His eyes were glistening with tears. `` The same thing!'' I began to run. Almost instinctively I ran towards the scream. `` Ahhh.'' There it was again, getting closer now. I looked up to a girl that was cocooned in a tree, only her head visible. `` Hold on, I'll get you down from there'' I yelled, forgetting about the guide I left behind me. That's when I heard it, the clicking of several little feet. It was the only thing I heard, but I could not pinpoint where it was coming from. Thats when I noticed the girl. She was staring at something behind me, her eyes moving ever so slightly. The look of terror on her face held me in place. `` It's behind me.'' I said under my breathe, as I spun around. It was the tour guide, only his bottom half was now a giant spider and his face had pincers. A Drachnid. `` She was n't cocooned, she was webbed.'' Was the only thought I had time for before the bite. All went black.
|
[ WP ] The Fourth Wall has been breached and our world has come into physical contact with previously fictitious realities . What happens next ?
|
My name is Dr. Tel'Vara Troperras, and I will recount the tale of the Breach that changed our world.
I remember when the Fourth Wall came down. I was in my living room, browsing people's artistic creations on my 55'' HDTV, when my screen became an infintitely long hallway, much like when you face two mirrors towards each other. From within came the sound of elephants, clashing of swords, and all manner of rainforest wildlife.
I wisely jumped out of the way before they came out, destroying half my house.
The most logical thing to do was alert my friends to this bloody awesome scene, and then call the insurance company and police. However, the network was being swamped; everyone else was thinking the same thing, as it was happening in their living rooms as well!
Reports started coming in: people dressed in strange costumes, talking strange languages. There were mutated creatures and high-energy explosions throughout the globe, which were thankfully confined to sparsely-populated desert and mountainous regions.
No one really put two and two together until they saw a wizard, with a lightning bolt for a scar, casting a thunderbolt in Trafalgar square. Or until a battallion of pointy-eared fair folk were found in a national park, speaking a foreign yet vaguely familiar language.
Either there was a global convention, or the world of fiction merged with ours.
The Breach has no physical form. There was no crater formed on impact, nor a collision trajectory viewable from space. Rather than coming from the outside, it seemed to have come from the inside, through the mediums we used to craft those worlds: books, pens, tablets, and even paintings were gates and keys.
Half the world did n't know what to do.
The other half, we of the younger generations, knew exactly what to do.
Every creative writer and artist became an architect. With their tools at hand, they could summon forth fantastic creatures, and rearrange a piece of the world to their own image. Art and words became their spell circles and incantations. Brush and pen became their wands.
We discovered that how big a person's alterations could be was strongly dependent on their level of delusion and artistic ability. The more practical you were, the less power you had in this New World. Naturally, anyone who's won the lottery, received an inheritance, or suddenly found themselves attractive can tell you what this'll do to a person.
War broke out. First it was between the Realists and the Dreamers, as they called themselves. The Realists quickly lost ground, and now live on reservations. Then there were fights between the Dreamers, divided by canon. OCs became mercenaries, their'delusion field' only extending to a small radius around their person. Those who subscribed to particular canons could form gestalts, and entire cities could congregate together to essentially change the laws, within a six mile radius, to suit the consensus.
But though laws of physics can be changed, there is still a meta to metaphysics. The newest academic field is Fandom Physics, which analyses the large-scale phenomena that result when different canons collide. What happens if two cities have six-mile Delusion Fields, but are only three miles apart? Will they cleanly integrate like most Modern stories do? Or collide violently when you cross Final Fantasy and Dead or Alive ( Monty Oum has been elevated to patron deity of that region ).
And magic! Vancian and Functional magic paradigms have mutually exclusive clauses. What does the hybrid look like?
This is truly an exciting time we live in. I hope I live long enough to record it!
|
[ WP ] Share your thoughts
|
I said something stupid. I said something stupid six months ago. That person was mean. I might have been wrong. I did n't express myself clearly. Get in shower. Get in shower. Get in shower. That's it. Check phone. Get dressed. Check phone. Coffee. Work. Go to work. Come to your shift on time. Prompts. Prompts. Prompts. 100 words, at least. Anything beats nothing. Phone! Pick up. Sell tickets. Good. Video games? Book idea? Science? Coding? E3 games look nice. I remember what I'm interested in. Games are amazing. Truly, they are. There is no doubt. Book. Fantasy. Space, but scary space. Everything does n't work perfectly. Interstellar, not Star Wars. Characters must still be vulnerable, even if they're essentially space ninjas. Phone! Sell tickets, again. What was that game about the robot dinosaurs? That does n't make any sense. Horizon. I like stealth games. In those ones, you need to be careful. You need to think about what you're doing. Do n't shoot'em up. Maybe, I'm thinking about hard games. Dark Souls: How do I explain this game to someone who does n't play it? Hardest game in the world, adored by many. Medieval setting with a realistically difficult fight engine that forces you to die again and again until you finally get it right. Even the story of the game revolves around a notion of futility and endless hardship. Though the story is not particularly good ( according to some players ), the mechanics and the story are one. That's quite enough of that. I'm conjuring a review, here. Looking around. Sleepy. I went to bed too late, last night. Phone! Angry person. Would it kill him to be upset about something else? He wants to speak to the manager. Okay. Counting seconds. Watching minutes in the lower-righthand corner of the screen. Yawning. *More* coffee? No, I'll feel like garbage. Music? I can listen to music. Low volume. Shift completed. Moving. Hungry. Wow, look at the sun. ***Sandwich! *** Emails. Chores. Anything I can do in an hour. Other job. Other shift. Internet. Marketing. Twitter. Eyes open. Eyelids up. This sucks. Be mature. Be mature. Be mature. I need to edit these works, and I need to edit this site. The boss is nice. She's helpful. She wants me to do a Photoshop-related thing. Okay. I do it. At least I'm not on a phone. **Five o'clock**. Do n't be mature: fuck, shit, cocksucker, ass. Video games. Games, games, games, but mainly death. Again, Dark Souls. That's what it's all about. Thoughts of self worth plague me. I curse at the screen. Why think about such things? Just play the game. Pizza! More games. Many more games. Sleep? Sleep.
|
[ WP ] A story about a modern-day Roman Empire .
|
Summer. I had fond memories of summer- it was my halcyon days where I would sit next to the banks of the Euphrates and watch the river. Ebbing and flowing, the generators on the newly minted Fortunae dam pounded away like a dull hammer-
“ Lowering angle- in range of active scanners. Prepare for descent. ” the pilot stated too matter in factly.
“ All men. Up! ” Decanus Severus barked.
Over the undulating whirs of the odonata's wings, Decanus Severus stood up in front of the contubernium. With a solemn glance, my eyes met the rest of the men as I rose- these proud men from all stretches of the Empire, most to seek citizenship for their families no doubt. As I stood, my body jerked from the initial resistance of my lorica. It adjusted itself and streamed down a list of armor checks.
“ Callum Malleo VII... online... OK ” my suit said aloud- with the same words echoing for each man.
“ Drop point in two, ” the pilot stated.
At that cue, Decanus Severus pulled open the 300 lb steel door with ease. Wind swept in and had our suits not been as heavy as they were, we would have all been thrown back. Right next to us, in formation, were the rest of the century. Decanus Severus nodded at the others.
“ Drop! ”
Red lights lit up around us as screens displayed the word, In Nomine Imperator!
“ From the skies brothers! ”
My suit's legs roared into action as we, one by one, jumped out of the odonata into the great sky beyond. At hundreds of pes in the sky, we could see the battle ensuing in Nova Romana. While the Vigiles Urbani held up positions using wreckage from fallen buildings- our drop point was far from them.
“ Once we hit, group up. We're the strike force. ”
A hundred men were all falling from the sky- while we were donned in our Callum Malleo VIIs in a rapid-response configuration, a couple of the other contuberniums each held Scutum Indominae. They were responsible for holding the entirety of the front. My suit displayed an ETA on the lower right HUD. It counted five seconds before we landed.
“ For the Emperor! ”
For the unlucky few who stood below us, their bodies were vaporized. Like a hammer, we landed. Dust swirled around us as a hundred new craters formed on the barren ground.
|
[ WP ] On the day of their death , every human gets to have a vision of meeting the man they could have become .
|
Motor sport vehicles were the first to be outlawed. When you tell a man he has a day to live, and remind him he could have been a monster car driver if he had n't knocked that slut up in high school, more often then not, you end up with a wrecked truck and a dead man. Which is fine, insurance pays and you garnish the wages of his progeny for three generations. To outsiders, it just looks a little... exploitative.
It happens to everyone. You wake up drenched in sweat, with crystal clear knowledge of the totality of your failure. To some men, the heights they could have soared made recognizing this day nearly impossible. For many, the dream came with the depressing realization of how little they could have amounted to. But for those in the middle, those who cold yet conceive of a perfectly actualized life, the allure of this alternate reality consumed even the knowledge of their imminent demise. This combination of hope and myopia was the lifeblood of payday lenders for generations, it took them an embarrassingly long amount of time to tap this market.
The applications were the prospectuses of lunatics, incapable of separating their life of booze sodden compromise from the cloistered life of work and neglect which lead to their best selves And at the bottom of each is the untidy scrawled signature of the approving manager. Auto sports, oil prospecting, and pyrotechnics were all out. Cupcake bakery had become a fairly wise investment, after the first hundred thousand went under. For the most part though, these impossible missions were inaugurated with the nod of a middle manager.
They walked out of the florescent lobby and back into the lobby of a bank. There was a time when a man could show up at a medical supply store looking to buy one operating room in cash, but it was never long before a man in a faded polyester suit and a summons came to politely ask for all that money back. Cash or an overpriced platinum card, it made no difference. Purchasing alone took hours, and many had stress induced coronaries or wrapped their business Porsches around a pole before lunchtime. The hardier souls remaining sometimes even had optimism sufficient to order business cards before they succumbed.
Then came the collectors to inform the family their property was now forfeit. Complicating matters somewhat was the fact this was often the first the family had heard of their dearly departed for some time. Not many perfect lives contained imperfect families. Auctions were held, and deals made. Cheap cremations yielded coarse ashes in a bargain vase. Cinders and bills are all that are left of these most sad, most hopeful creatures.
|
[ WP ] The root password for the universe is discovered .
|
The password was n't so simple. It required a sequence of well-timed thoughts, followed a series of moods, and then a frequency inaudible to the human ear.
And yet, I cracked it. The possibilities opened up before me, vast and terrifying in all their permutations. The longer I stared into the truth, the reasons, the very secrets behind everything, the more I realized that neither I nor anyone else could properly harness the immediacy of all knowledge.
Ignorance was n't necessarily bliss, but there was a joy in gradual discovery. Humanity was meant to play this game without cheat codes.
I changed the password before wiping my memory clean.
|
[ WP ] Magic exists , but the nature of it is unique to the user , like a fingerprint .
|
'can we stop for food?' moaned Ghon from the backseat.'Ghon, i swear to god, i will reach back there and kill the fucking shit out of you' snarled Jerris, riding shotgun. Ghon laughed'I'd like to see you try, Jerry'. The nickname Ghon called him always got Jerris' nerves, but Jerris refrained,'I actually can not even be bothered, youre not even worth it'. True. I thought to myself, Ghon was practically immortal, simply because he could regenerate from any wound, a handy trait to possess in our line of work. But the side effect was that to keep up this unbreakable defence, he was always hungry, and had to consume copious amounts of food, often at the expense of the Ministry that funded us.
The conversation between my companions had always been savage and violent, to the extent they would often fight until they were exhausted, with no amount of intervention able to stop them once they began, you really did just have to let it take its course once that occurred. Anyone new to our dynamic would deduce that we'd been heaped together for our abilities of huge strength and versatility, but in truth, when shit hits the fan, there are no two people i'd rather have watching my back.
'were almost here' I said. Partly because it was the truth, but mostly because if i had n't they would be at it each other in less than 30 seconds.'have to say Im keen to see what new recruits we have in the regiment' asked Jerris.'I wonder if they'll serve lasagna' chimed Ghon.'can you think of anything besides what can go in your fucking stomach?' said Jerris.'I once thought about opening my own restau-'.'dont answer the question Ghon' i said'anything more will set old ticker here off'.
See Jerris was what the ministry call a combustion-based Rogue, but anyone who knows anything, refer to them as bomb-men. and never has a bomb man not been short tempered, its both their biggest strength and their biggest weakness, i guess.
Turning into an alley, I turned the key to turn the car off. Us three piled out, with the car suspension finally being relieved with Ghons exit, returned to its original height. we entered through a metal door and into a vast expanse that does n't meet with regular architecture, as this space was much larger than what the outside should allow it to be. designed by Leorik Sundergaan, a man defined by the ministry as an architect, had built many of these creations with just his mind, many like him have been classified as architects, but his power stands above the rest, as he doesnt require raw materials or an original design to copy, he simply imagines it and it appears. nifty power, i thought.
The ministry had always attempted to group and label abilities to better identify them, but because of the slight difference in each individuals they often fit into multiple areas, which is an administrative nightmare for their seers. a fancy name they call their paper pushers. Because just as they define a power, it is not uncommon to have that power never reappear, so in the end, there was no point. The powers that have never reappeared are what we call god-tier, as they are often incredibly powerful or useful. There have been only 7 recorded, with only 1 currently still being active. It belonged to the man who was the head of the Ministry, a man called Reqrestrius John, an imposing man standing 7f 5, and with the incredible power to cancel, as in cancel anything he wanted, all he had to do was touch it, and it would vanish. with this power, he had ended all adversaries in their stance, and had brought peace to our world. But another power was quickly being considered as the 8th god-tier trait, the ability of complete mind, body and soul manipulation, and the one to possess this power, was yours truly.
With this power, I would take Johns position and rule this world. i thought to myself
|
[ WP ] You are a Tank in an MMORPG dealing with the psychological trauma of being constantly revived from horrifically fatal wounds .
|
Blackness, nothing but endless blackness. It feels as if I'm falling, yet rising at the same time, yet neither. Something feels familiar, but what does familiar mean? I ca n't hold on to thoughts. They float through my mind like fog and then blink away, just to float back in from another direction. Yet amongst the empty, I feel peace.
Then slowly a blowing wind begins. Where from I can not tell, there is no up, down, left, right. It picks up pulling me towards a bright light, I grasp at the nothing trying to resist. Like a tornado the wind pulls me up into the air towards the light. I do n't know how but I know the light is wrong, I must avoid the light. But as certain as death, I'm sucked through to the other side.
Noise, so much noise. Battle, there are people fighting. Lights, beams, magic shooting everywhere. Someone is yelling, yelling at me I think. A short long haired woman with pointy ears and a white robe is yelling at me.
`` Into the fray NoobPoner657, the Alliance needs you!''
I've been revived. Again and again they bring me back, and every time I die. I ca n't remember the order of the deaths but they sit there in my mind. A wolf tearing out my guts as I scream in pain. A bolt of lightning arcing from the sky electrocuting me. Always surrounded by enemies, always dying.
I must get out of here, away from this endless cycle. I turn away from the battle looking for my escape, but I can not move.
The voice has returned. It never truly leaves. I feel my feet guiding me back towards the battle. I try to stop as I have a thousand times before but it is no use. The voice carries me forward. I can hear it muttering in the back of my mind in a strange language *That guy is so op since the last patch, its fucking stupid. * I know not what the words mean, yet they send a shiver down my spine.
I long for the days spent doing heroic tasks for my homeland. When I collected 15 boar tusks for Edelon's new house in the Forest of Talleron. When I defeated the evil ice witch of the Resson Tundra. Heroic deeds for people who need help. Instead I am dragged to and from death in this endless bloodbath. There is no end.
I plunge into the fray with the fury of one who can do nothing else.
|
[ WP ] Suicidal person realizes he can not die
|
Well, it's not the most usual line of work, and it does n't pay much, but I am definitely a whole lot happier than I was. It started at the absolute lowest point of my life. Actually, I think the day before the lowest, because the lowest was the next morning. On the day I tried to die, I was really depressed. Clinically depressed, it's called. Every thought I had revolved around what a terrible person I was, how I deserved to die, how I wanted it to just end. I would think briefly how much happier people would be when I was gone, but I realise now that I actually barely thought about other people at all. I was basically mad with pain and not thinking straight, even if the pain was emotional rather than physical.
So I jumped in front of a train. It was n't even a decision, not really. I was trying to get to my doctor and I suddenly could n't face the idea of telling someone who had been so blank the last time, what was going through my head now. It was my only way out, but it just seemed impossibly hard, and there was n't any future that was worth having. And then the tube was on its way in and I was jumping before I'd even decided what to do next.
It was like being smacked really hard into a giant speaker. It did n't hurt, not at first. Just this THUMP. And then I landed, and I thought this is it, I'll land on the rails or get sliced up. But I sort of rolled under the train for quite a long time. I could smell oil and metal more than anything. I do n't remember seeing the driver. I'm really, really sorry about the driver. I just was n't thinking at all, not about anything. I did n't know I was going to jump. I definitely did n't go there to jump.
And then I lay there for a really long time, and the physical pain started, and you know what? I felt a lot better. I really hurt, physically, all over. It made the endless thoughts finally shut up for a while. I was thinking this is it, I am dying. I could n't smell any blood, or really feel anything either, other than that I was hurt. I was just lying there while people moved around, cleared the platform, rolled the train forward.
The other passengers were really angry and upset. I could n't make out words, but they did n't sound happy. I should have gone for paracetamol, except I did n't actually plan to kill myself at all. It just sort of happened. Anyway, the lights came back on and I had police looking down at me. I was blinking in the lights and one of the men swore and then went and threw up. It really stank. Another man kneeled down and asked if I could hear him, and I said yes, and a woman was talking into her radio, but I could n't make it out. The police man told me not to move. And eventually paramedics came and put me in an ambulance. They made me not look at anything. All I could see was yellow blocks either side of my head, and this woman's face, a paramedic, telling me I was going to be okay. I met her again later on and I did n't recognise her until she said hello, and then I burst out crying. It was really embarrassing, for all different reasons.
Anyway, the rest is all in the news, if you want to look. I made a miracle recovery, and now you ca n't tell anything had ever happened. I did get to see a psychiatrist without a referral. Most people were really good about it. I just felt so awful about what I'd done to everyone and how much time I'd wasted. I got lots of post, but nobody would let me read most of it. I got a lot of hate mail and threats, and my parents got it too. Dad was shouting at me how I was ruining things for him and mum, how they were going to have to move and it was all my fault, and then some nurses came in and he left and I did n't see him again, or mum, or anyone really. Mum sent me a card, but I did n't reply and she did n't send another.
Anyway, I was back on my feet with all my arms and legs and everything back after twenty four hours, and I thought fuck. I'm back exactly where I was before. I got really high off the morphine until they realised what was going on and I could n't have any more, and I missed it. I missed not feeling anything and not giving a damn. And I spent a while in a loony bin, which was n't as bad as I thought it would be, even with all the nutters. It was mostly really boring. I talked about what had happened and after a couple of weeks I was let out to go into therapy, CBT. I ca n't remember what it stands for, but you think different about things and it helps put life in a different aspect, and it's really good if you can keep going to it. But I think people need more help right at the start, because once a week is n't enough, not when you're really bad.
So anyway, yeah, I think it was about a week after that when I went around and got loads of paracetamol and tried again. I spent the whole day going around London, just getting pills at different supermarkets and shops. I thought somehow the pharmacies would pick up what I was doing but I did n't think supermarkets would care. Going around buying stuff to kill myself, it was the happiest I'd ever been. It's sad, really. Honestly, I was actually smiling and everything. At first I was worried a reporter would find the Miracle Girl but I was only in a couple of tabloids and I looked really different, with my hair cut short right after I got out of the hospital.
So yeah, that was a really rotten week. Do n't commit suicide with paracetemol. It feels really, really bad. Like, worse than getting hit by a train, and I would know. I did n't tell anyone, and I feel really crappy that nobody checked up on me, even at therapy when I missed going. I just sort of slipped through the net. I definitely took enough pills to die. It was more than a thousand.
Anyway, that was when I realised I could n't die. I could be hurt, but I always got better really quickly. Slower for poison, quicker if I really fucked myself up. It got a bit mad after that, after more people realised what was going on and I hit the national press. I did n't have any money, and I did n't know what to do with all the post. I could n't get any emails or go on Twitter.
People offered me loads of money for my story. There was this one reporter, he was from this terrible newspaper, and I thought it would be awful talking to him, but I thought back then I deserved to feel awful all the time. But he was really nice, and I just opened up about everything that was going on. Just talking about it, what was going on and why I kept trying to kill myself, it helped. Like, I realised it just was n't ever going to change. I realised that the only time I was actually properly happy was when I was getting things together for another attempt, because that was the only time I was really looking out for myself. It's screwed up, but I felt terrible and I was just trying to feel better.
Anyway, this reporter said there's all this evidence that you just ca n't die, so why not do some stunts? I think he said have you thought about going into stunts or extreme sports. But you need to be really fit for those, and if I was motivated to get fit, well, I would n't be depressed, would I. But I did get a camera and start putting the videos on YouTube. I got in so much trouble for that. Liveleak was showing them, but I was n't getting a penny, then someone offered to set up a domain, and the advertising, and I could afford a lawyer just with interviews. I did twenty videos before I gave up. I got some really weird fans.
So it was after all that, that's when that reporter got back to me. He'd been doing this bit about how people doing hazardous clean up on things like nuclear accidents and chemical accidents die really early, and he thought of me, but we could n't work out how to sort out training. But that was the first time I actually had something I wanted to really do, and it turns out it makes all the difference.
I really got into the CBT, and tried different pills which were horrible, but I was warned they could be. I just kept trying new ones until I found one that worked and did n't make me fat or a zombie. Six months after getting onto sertraline I was getting my life back together. I stopped doing the videos, and people forgot really quickly that I even existed. I tried with the fire department and the army. That reporter was amazing, he knew all these people. He wanted to make a long feature out of it, but I think if he had n't cared at least a little he would n't have worked so hard to get me on the right path.
And now I've got a life. It pays fuck all, honestly, especially considering I've already died three times, but I've got a job, got a degree even, and I love what I do. Obviously I ca n't talk about it in any detail, but yeah, the Navy really came through for me.
I think killing myself was the best thing I ever did. But obviously it wo n't work for everyone and really, you should n't try it. I've not heard of anyone else like me, so you'll probably just die.
|
[ WP ] You are a supervillain named The Keymaster . Instead of creating grand plans to conquer the world , all you do is run around and free other captured supervillains from prison , after the superheroes defeat them .
|
`` Here's you lunch, Commander!''
Said the security guard, tossing a tray full of grey paste into the nearby cell. The prisoner that resided lay upright on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Yet another Super Villain caught by a Super Hero.
`` You'll be wanting some sauce with that, am I right!?''
Yelled the guard as he waddled away down the corridor, laughing boisterously as he turned to meet his colleagues in the office/poker room.
`` When I get outta here fatty, you'll be eating those words''
Whispered Commander, sighing as he watched the grey gunk pulsate on the plastic tray. `` Food like that should never move'' he thought, `` and it especially should n't be doing that''. He threw a nearby book at the tray hoping the food would scurry away to disgust some other poor soul, because he sure as hell was n't going to eat it.
Suddenly the cell began to vibrate. The tray on the floor, the bed, the shelves, everything began to move and shake. The Commander covered his eyes as sparks began to flash in the middle of the cell, and a blinding light followed from an opening in thin air. The light grew brighter as the opening grew wider and a loud creaking noise followed, echoing down the corridor. The light subsided and a tall figure caped and clad in majestic armor, stepped out of the opening. A wave of his hand caused the creaking to start again, before thuddng as the opening closed itself. The figure stood up straight and his eyes glowed a bright blue through his helmet visor.
`` Greetings fellow Villain!'' Bellowed the strange figure, `` fear not, for I am your salvation!''
The Commander stared in awe at this strange being who materialised before him, hundreds of questions flooding his mind, but no words could escape his mouth.
`` I see you are in need of answers'' said the knight `` well I shall give you 3 questions so be quick about it, I have n't got all day''
The Commander snapped out of his trance began to stutter.
`` Er -- erm well. I-I-I guess my first question is how the hell did you get in here!?'' Asked the Commander, now rising from his bed.
`` Oh, I was n't expecting that question first, but very well!'' Said the knight, holding out his armored hand to demonstrate. `` That was what I like to call my Doorway. I can create small doorways from one place to another'' he said, creating a small portal in the space above his palm, complete with creak and light, like a door opening into nothingness. `` I simply opened a door from my lair to here, and we'll here I am. Please do not ask me how it's done. I have neither the time nor the patience to explain the power to every villain I free''
`` Free!?'' Quizzed the Commander, his eyes widening in excitement
`` Okay! Second question! That's right, I'm here to free you, you poor sad man!'' The figure laughed, brushing aside his tattered cape and revealing a large leather-bound book. The book appeared to be old but upon close inspection, it was just made to look old. He opened the book and cleared his throat. `` Now then, you are The Con --''
`` Wait wait wait, who the hell are you?'' Interrupted the Commander
`` Oh, okay then, third question it is.'' He answered closing the book again. I, dear boy, am the Keymaster! Master of Locks! Conjurer of Doors! And the KEY to the victory of the Villains in this city!'' He opened the book once more, this time equipping a pair of reading glasses in front of his visor, and reading from it nonchalantly. `` Ahem! Now then, you are The Condiment Commander, correct? You were attempting to rob a safety deposit bank on the 18th of July, exclaiming that the law would never, and I quote, Ketchup with you, when you were foiled by leader of the Solar Squadron: Final Flare. That right?''
``...... yes'' admitted The Condiment Commander, begrudgingly.
`` Right then!'' Said the Keymaster, slamming the book shut and taking his glasses off, `` well despite your below-average evil-doing success rate, and your ranking in the Villain's guild database, I have a feeling that the villains of this city will still need your unique......... skills? During the final face off with the heroes that plague this wretched place. Do n't you want to even the score with that Final Flare. This is your chance, boy!''
`` Final face off? Even the score? The heck are you talking about?'' Questioned The Commander
`` I'm sorry but all three questions have been answered, but do n't worry all will be explained once the villains have all gathered'' he waved his gauntlets over the Commander's cuffs, opening them with ease, then with another wave opened up a portal. `` Now come along, my time is precious. I still have to rescue that bone-head Bullserker, and that god-awful woman Typhoonia or whatever she's calling herself now''
As they both stepped into the Portal, the final loud creak echoed once again through the halls, overlapping the footsteps of the guards running to the disturbance, and a flash of light covered the cell. Condiment Commander had escaped once again.
|
[ WP ] You have just died and are now face to face with God . You ask him if what we know about him and the Bible is true . He says no not at all . Document the conversation .
|
`` No, not at all.''
`` Not at all? What do you mean?''
`` I mean the whole Bible, totally wrong. Old Testament, New Testament, Pseudepigrapha, Apocrypha,'' God ranted, his aggravation clearly expressed in wild gesticulations, `` And all the more modern interpretations that have come out of spiritual syntheses..and pipedreams..and the ravings of cult leaders and schizophrenics. All completely bonkers!'' He softened after a moment and brought a hand up to stroke his beard. `` A few of them have gotten close though,'' he mused. `` It's funny, really. Science gives me less and less places to hide, and so do the faithful, and they're both wrong.'' He sighed a small chuckle and wistfully gazed out across the landscape.
All of a sudden he seemed deep in thought, and I forgotten. I hesitated to break the silence, yet as I tried to remain patient I wondered awkwardly how long it might take until a god broke their own silence. It could be forever. On the other hand, I did n't appear to have anything else to do, or anywhere else to go. Truly, this is what being dead felt like.
`` So, what's your best guess then?'' God spoke in the direction he gazed before turning to look back at me. `` I'll tell you how close you get.''
My awkwardness was now compounded tenfold. `` I, er, have n't really given it much thought.''
`` Well we have all the time in the world. Or out of the world. Just give it your best, that's all I ask.''
`` Ok, but wait.'' God raised his eyebrows indulgently, a small smile on his face. `` If everyone has always been wrong, does that mean that whatever answer I can come up with will be wrong too? Is it possible to be right?''
`` Not at all. People have described me before as being ineffable. Which, as the logic follows, means that I can, in fact, be effed. It's just that no one has hit the nose yet.''
`` Ok,'' I mumbled, and tried to muster some confidence. Then I had another question. `` What about when people refer to you metaphorically, does that count?''
`` If we're thinking of the same thing then no. Much too vague.''
`` Ok. Interesting,'' I drew myself up, to convince myself more than He. `` So, if, if everyone has always been wrong about you, that would mean that you're neither all-powerful nor not-all-powerful, and the same with your omniscience. You are not the Creator, nor do you comprise some essence of the universe, you do not represent truth or goodness, nor do you have any special covenant with man. Oh, wait, that means you did not make us in your image either. So why do I see you like that?''
`` Ah, there's a trick to that but I'm not giving you any hints.''
`` Oh. Ah, you mean, you did not make us, someone else did. And they made us in your image. Which would explain Jesus not being your son either.''
`` Hm, you are clever. Go on.''
`` No, I think I've got it.''
`` My my! Slow starter but clearly not just a pretty face!''
`` Well it all came together when I remembered Acts 17:25, which says: **'Nor is He served by human hands, as though He needed anything, since He Himself gives to all people life and breath and all things.'** I mean the second part is clear enough, just look at the world as it is, it's pretty miserable. But the first part would mean that you are served by us, and you do *need* something. So, taking everything else together, here's my idea.''
`` Yes, I'm listening.''
`` The Universe was created for you by someone else, and all of the things inside it as well. You were placed here, and left alone, which means that you are all-powerful here but that's only relative because it's your universe and whoever created it for you is actually more powerful but they're not here. Furthermore, they gave you the Earth and humanity in your image and left you alone to care for us. You do n't have a covenant with us, but you are beholden to the one that put you here. My Lord, you are *doing time*!''
God's lips were pressed together in a grim expression, his eyes narrow and hooded. I hesitated to continue, but realised that really, I had nothing to lose.
`` The universe is your prison. You have to take care of us, for how long I do n't know. Maybe forever, as long as forever lasts here. We look and act just as you do because that makes you identify with us, you ca n't help but be involved with our progress. If you do n't take care of us, and learn from all our faults, and reconcile yourself with whatever crime you committed or other reason why you were put here, then you'll never get out. Whatever happens to us after that, I do n't know.''
I stopped then, having run out my train of thought. God, with the same expression on his face, nodded, stepped closer, and put a hand on my shoulder. He leaned forward and murmured in my ear.
`` Almost.''
And he sent me on my way.
|
[ WP ] You died . You were reborn . You remembered your previous life . But that 's actually pretty useless - because you were n't reborn human .
|
You've got to be kidding me. A cat? Of all things to be reborn as, I'm a black freakin' cat. The very ( creepy ) creature I feared the most when I was alive. When I was human. Before the bastard killed me.
I race past a mirror before I can catch a glance and freak myself out. Do cats have heart attacks? I hope so.
What's this? Why is he here? Please tell me I'm not in his house.
I am.
`` Here kitty, kitty...''
The bastard's in his boxers dumping a can of fishy mush into a plastic bowl. I stare at him smuggly. Does he really expect me to the lick that up with my twisted shrunken cat mouth? His hand's in my fur now, stroking my head. He barely held my hand in public when we were together and now he's petting my neck like I'm the most loved thing on this sick planet. I mean, really? A cat. Why not a piano or a violin? At least when someone played me, something beautiful would come out. Not like when this bastard played me when I was alive. When I was human. Before he'd killed me.
He's calling me Charlie, but my name is certainly not Charlie. I wonder if his wife, you know, the woman he did n't tell me about when we were dating, likes cats. I wonder if she's allergic. I wonder if she's here.
I hear a sneeze. One tinnier and cuter than the one this bastard makes. He blesses her. For the first time I'm glad my new face is permanently smug and judgmentally indifferent.
I want to skip away into a room ( a closer would work too ) but I do n't know my way around. He'd only invited me here once before.
He's calling me Lucille now. No, that's not me either. I turn and see another cat with a creamy orange coat waltz by, head high, pink nose drawn to the ceiling. But I'm not as afraid of her as I would have been when I was alive. When I was human. Before he'd killed me. I see a glimpse of myself in Lucille's devilish eyes.
`` Hmph!'' she says, `` At least he'd cut a key for me. I can move around here with my eyes closed.''
It's the way her smirky mouth does n't move as I hear her words that does it for me. My heart feels like it's being squeezed tighter than the bastard's hands around my throat. He was just trying to keep me quiet. But I'd kept screaming at the threshold and his wife was still sitting at the dining room. He'd squeezed too tightly. Now my lungs feel too tight.
One life down. Eight to go.
|
[ WP ] You are a god that hunts other gods
|
I knelt behind the gooseberry bushes and listened.
The river was loud, but despite the cacophony of waters slamming on rocks, I could hear their chit-chat and laughs. I crept closer, always as silent as possible. I pushed some branches aside, and then I saw them.
The river made a small pool around a small slope that resembled a tiny waterfall. Four maidens were bathing there, each more beautiful than the last. But she, Artemis, stood out. Easily.
Her golden hair waved down on her shoulders as perfectly as the river itself, and reaching her ripen bosom. Her laughter was like a nightingale song. Her eyes seemed like Zeus himself had plucked out the Moon, doubled her, and placed her in Artemis' face.
The three Nymphs that surrounded her were of an equal blinding beauty for a mortal, but not for the likes of Artemis and myself.
All four were laughing to a joke one of the Nymphs was saying. They had n't noticed me. Nor did they see me when I drew out my bow and arrow. When I took aim right at Artemis' breast. When I shot. Only when the arrow hit her, they realised what was happening. They panicked.
Golden ichor sprout out of her wound and mouth. The Nymphs were screaming.
I ran away. She's my fourth god to kill in this Pantheon.
See, it's not that difficult to infiltrate a Pantheon. Humans love adding more and more deities to their pantheons, or love expanding the fields one deity dominates, over a vast array of different fields.
My name is Apollyon. All I needed to do was kill Apollo first and take his place. Apollo was also known as Apollyon, thus it was n't difficult to replace him, at least in the subjects we both represented: destruction.
Back in the old days, one religion to dominate over another and completely eradicate the former one was virtually impossible. While it may have happened, traces of the original religion stood out, because the old gods never truly died.
But a slight mistake from some snow-ridden bastards made me and my associates quite lucky, for the ixos bough is easy to locate and even easier to make into god-slaying arrows.
Next stop: Olympus. Zeus, here I come.
|
[ WP ] You are recognized as the villain who is successfully stopped by the superhero each time . Tell the story of how the superhero is actually evil , and each time he stops you he gets closer to accomplishing his evil plan .
|
`` OMG, you guys,'' The Prick crossed his legs and arms, leaning back in his chair and slouched. `` How many times do I have to say iiiiiit?'' His lisp-laden voice pitched so high that several officers stuck a finger ( or two ) in their sensitive ear holes. `` I'm not a bad guy, Super Geist is.''
Commissioner L. Labasco squinted her eyes at the supervillain. He had tried to look imposing with his large skin-toned helmet that pointed straight up ( though some would say to the side and then stand a little stiffer afterwards ), but all he did was look and act like a dick. Still, he managed to get into these situations day after day, week after week. He was more of an annoyance sometimes when she had to talk to him like this. Everytime she locked him up, he found a way to get out and wind up in the same messes. He was ruining her city and making a mockery of her while he was at it.
Thank goodness for Super Geist. Labasco leaned back against the reflective mirrored wall, arching an eyebrow. Two detectives stood to the side, mustaches twitching and ready to pounce if The Prick tried anything on their boss. `` Lem me ask you something, Prick.''
`` It's `` The Prick'','' he mumbled back, effectively pouty now.
She ignored him. `` Lem me ask you, Prick, why would Super Geist do such a thing? Why not join forces with you, or just take over the world already? Why is he such a nice guy and saves puppies and cats in trees when he's not dealing with the trash,'' she looked pointedly at him.
`` I keep telling you, Commish baby, he's got a master plan set in place. He wants your guard down, he wants to catch you with your panties down-''
`` Hey, settle down,'' one of the detectives hollered, starting for him. The other one held him back, barely.
`` Look, every time you see me is another failure to stop him. Do you know how close he is to putting us all in concentration camps?''
`` Now why would he do that?''
`` Geist. It's a German word. Ever wonder why he picked German? Because he's Hitler's great-nephew! In his head, he's a Nazi Jesus Christ with the power to get rid of everyone that does n't fit his uncle's idea of `` pure''. I'm the only one that can stop him.''
Labasco slowly blinked at him and yawned. `` And last time it was'Geist - as in poltergeist - as in he's a ghost'...''
`` Uh,'' The Prick got a little red and straightened up, fidgeting in his seat. `` Yeah, I was wrong before but THIS time I definitely know his backstory and he really is trying to take over the world-''
`` Right-''
`` Serioooouuusssllllyyyy, guys...''
`` Take him to his cell. Time for him to get processed again.''
`` You got it, Commissioner.''
`` Commish, baby, you got ta believe meeeee...''
Labasco pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. Why did she even bother asking anymore?
Outside the police building though, a figure floated by with a red cape flying in the wind. He smiled, twitching his faint facial hair that grew just above the center of his lip. Soon, he thought. Soon.
|
[ WP ] Laws of nature become sentient beings . You can be freed even from death , however the process of being released is like a really bad breakup .
|
Gravity lives next door. He is a quiet, practical guy, and he gets along with pretty much everyone although he is n't that much of a social butterfly. That's why it's his house that always gets picked out for throwing parties when the Laws of Nature-LoNs, as we call them now. Pronounced as something between lawn and loan-gather. LoNs are like celebrities. Everyone knows them. The LoNs love people too-they generally tend to love the whole world. It seems they love anything that they're related to. Lots of people want to be freed from Death, and maybe Bodily Needs and a little bit of Gravity too, but no one can dare ask it. They're too scared of what kind of reaction they might show when they know we sometimes do n't want to be connected.
They say get along with your neighbors. Well, I'm proud to say I do. I'm good friends with Gravity-we get along, we enjoy each other's prescence. I baked him cookies, he likes it, he shows me some cool tricks controlling Gravity as he will, and I like it. Gravity is pretty lenient, so he does n't mind letting your hand go-lightening your gravity-if it's for a short while. He would never completely let go, and it's only temporary, but floating *is* a lot of fun. Friends as we are, I guess it was only a matter of time before he invited me to one of his LoN only parties.
I hear a knock at the door and rush out.
`` Comiiiiiing... Oh, hey! If it is n't good old Grav. What's up?''
`` I'm having a party tonight, with all the LoNs. Thought I'd ask you.''
`` Ohhh! I would be glad to go. Thank you for inviting me! Will Reproduction be there?''
Reproduction really is a celebrity, with beauty that can be sexual *and* purely aesthetic. I've only seen Reproduction on screen, and I was n't about to pass up the chance. Gravity chuckled a little.
`` Yeah, Reproduction's coming. Well, see you then.''
Yes! I muffled an elated squeal. I could n't wait!
Oh my god. I thought with half giggles and half grim repentance. Just how drunk am I? I muttered as the world made a backflip in front of me. Addiction was a sly boy, though I had to admit he was pretty cute. Oh well, at least I turned down the marijuana.
I walked-staggered-to the table, looking for more alcohol to drench my body in. But I could n't make it. Death was right there, in all her glory! She was just like what I heard. Fiery red hair, curvaceous body, shining green eyes. She was one attractive lady. I recalled learning that before LoNs took on the human form, Death was perceived as some skeleton, dressed in black and holding a scythe. I could n't understand how anyone could think that way. Death was full of love. She loved everyone, perhaps to the point where it was too much and she got possessive. But she was vibrant with love and confidence bordering on arrogance. How could anyone think Death would wear black? I took a step towards her, wanting to talk.
I then noticed that Death was n't just enjoying the party. She was having an argument with Life and Inertia. I hesitated, not wanting to get caught up in a fight. Too late, Death turned towards me with tears in her eyes. She told Life and Inertia, `` Let's ask a human then. Let's ask what *they* think!''. She then asked with remarkable force, `` Life and Inertia says that I should n't exist and no one likes me. They tell me I'm a bother. Are n't they so mean? How could they! I'm a Law, just like they are! Dying is a natural order too, riiiiight?''
I spewed a bit of meaningless garble before my brain cleared enough to pronounce understandable sentences.
`` Well, uhhh, but it is only natural that people do n't want to, ummm, die. I mean, I do n't mean that I do n't like you! I really like you, you're a very beautiful person, and uh, really nice. But, you know... Some people dread death.''
Unfortunately, my alcohol ridden brain was n't clear enough for good judgement. Death pushed me back *hard*, sending me staggering a few steps back. When I regained balance, I could see Life and Inertia clicking their tongues at Death behind her shoulder. Death, meanwhile, pushed back her tears and pointed her long index finger at me.
`` Fine! If you do n't like me, then do whatever you want! I-I do n't like you either! I wo n't *ever* take you!''
Then she left, stomping up a storm as she walked away. My fuzzy brain could n't quite comprehend what just happened, and just barely reached some kind of conclusion.
I was now an immortal scumbag.
|
[ WP ] Rewrite your favorite song as a story .
|
Leave Out All The Rest - Linkin Park
I had a dream last night. A dream I went missing. *She* was so scared... so freaking scared. She thought I killed myself. She thought I was dead. But no one would listen to her. Why? Cause no one cared. But that was just a dream.
I woke up this morning feeling depressed, as usual. I've been like this for a long time. That's why I'm writing you this note. If you're asking me, I want you to know that my time has come. And my suffering will be over. But when that happens, please, forget the wrong that I've done. Help me leave behind some reasons for people to miss me. Leave out all the rest. Leave out all of the pain I've caused. I live with this guilt, and I ca n't take it anymore. Guilt that never leaves my heart. Forget what I've done. Forget what I've done to them. Forget what I've done to you. Remember the good in me. Please. I'm begging you. Do n't resent me. And if you're ever feeling empty, keep me in your memory. I'll always be in your heart.
Do n't be afraid, darling. I've taken my beating. I've suffered long enough. I may be strong on the surface, but not all the way through. I've never been perfect, but neither have you. Forget all the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well. Stop pretending there's someone who can save me from myself. I ca n't be who you are.
Goodbye.
|
[ WP ] Everyone in the world has been transformed into a mythical creature ( gargoyles , nymphs , centaurs , etc ) and no one notices except the one remaining human .
|
Doctor Malachi Bint took his little pen light and shined it in my left eye. Then my right eye. Then the left again.
`` Hmm?'' was all he said.
`` Anything, Doc?'' I said as he continued his efforts to blind me one eye at a time.
`` Follow the light with your eyes.'' He took the little light, started at the edge of my vision on my right and moved the tiny light slowly to the left - a tiny Sun looking to illuminate a problem. Any problem.
God, please let me have some problem with my eyes.
When the little light reached the end of it's day and came at last to as far as my eyes could go left, Dr Bint turned his tiny torch off and sat back in his chair.
He stared at me over the half lenses of his reading glasses. He knew me well enough to know that I was deeply bothered by something.
`` Nothing wrong with your eyes Paul.'' He said.
*Well, that just means I'm crazy then*, I thought.
I heard his chair roll forward and then found a lolly pop placed into my open palm - I had n't even realised I had just sat and looked at them, my hands, after he'd given me the all clear. Dr Bint always gave me a lolly pop after a check up. He'd been my doctor since I was six.
*Could be something wrong with my brain. Something neurological? * I thought.
The kindly old Doctor patted me on the knee and said `` Paul? What's the matter?''
I looked up at him. He was wavy and blurred through the tears that filled my eyes, but I could still make out the tiny horns atop his head.
Dr Malachi Bint was a short, grey bearded man, with half-lensed eyeglasses perpetually stuck half way down his thin beak-like nose. He was not a Satyr, a half man half goat, but that is what I saw him as now.
Two tiny horns peaked out from his greying, dark, legoman like hair. Instead of pants he wore furry goats legs. On his feet were hooves, not shoes. His shirt with it's rolled up sleeves and his gaudy horrible tie were the same as ever.
`` It's nothing, Doc.'' I stood up, shook his hand and walked out of his office before he could object. The waiting room of the small practice was filled with an encyclopaedia of mythology. A tiny gargoyle, maybe a little boy, complained to a large pile of rocks that he was bored. The rocks passed the boy a smart phone and said in an entirely too feminine voice for a pile of rubble: `` Please do n't waste all of Mummy's battery.
There were winged things, slug things, people with animal traits, and animals with people traits.
I left the small building, a converted house, and walked with quick long steps to my car. As I pulled away I looked back into the building through the tall glass windows at it's front and saw Dr Bint. He stood, his legs all furry with hair, in the doorway to his office, a look of concern on his face as he watched me drive away.
***
I had awoken that day and started it like any other: a bowl of sugary cereal and a half hour of early morning TV. I watched the news these days. I did n't really care about global events, which I some times felt guilty about, but I was n't giving up the sugary cereal and had decided I needed to do something to at least act like I had lived my twenty eight years. So I kept the sugar and swapped out the cartoons.
There was the same news team I always watched, spread out on couches to show how casual and friendly they were. They would laugh and joke. Apparently, behind the scenes, they all hated each other.
That fact made the show almost worth watching. I had waited and waited for one of them to snap, live on camera.
Instead, I had snapped.
Where I had expected people on couches, I saw creatures. The sports guy was a horned and heavy bull like biped - a minotaur? - and the lead female anchor was a mermaid, her scaly tail flopped in the cool dry studio air.
Those are some good costumes. Why are n't they bringing them up? They are *really* good costumes.
These had been the thoughts that went through my head.
When I had stepped outside to make my way to my office my neighbours had worn similar disguises as they drove off to work. I ran back inside. The mirror showed a confused human man. No animal parts.
Then I went and saw Dr Bint.
* * *
My time with the doctor had been unfruitful and so I had come back home and gone to bed. Despite how real the pillow beneath my head felt, I was adamant that this was all a dream.
`` Just got to wake up.'' I said to myself, hands over my eyes `` That's all. Just got to wake up.''
Someone knocked at my front door.
`` Just got to wake up.''
They knocked again.
I wiped the tears away and went to the door. As my hand gripped the handle I paused. `` Who is it?''
`` It's Carol, saw your car out front.'' Said a voice like Carol's `` Figured we could grab a coffee and watch some'toons if you're not going to work.''
Carol is my neighbour from a few houses down. A friend. She is a young women that enjoys tattoos, skate-boarding, and cartoons - hobbies of which I could only relate to one.
I opened the door and sighed with relief. I then sucked the sigh back in with a quiet gasp as she walked into my house.
She had looked normal, and was - mostly.
A faint and not unpleasant green coloured her skin and darkened in a few areas: her cheeks, her eyelids...
Where tattoos had travelled up her arms there was vines, not made of ink, but real vines. A wreath of flowers adorned her head. She still wore a stretched and tattered T-shirt with the faded logo of some band, grubby blue jeans, and flat bottomed sneakers.
I do n't know why I could tell her and not the Doc, but I did.
* * *
`` That's fucked up, Pauly.'' She said when I had finished describing what I had seen on the TV and at Malachi Bint's medical practice. `` Wait...''
`` Yeah, I'm crazy, right? No one looks like themselves!'' I said. I watched her face. Waited for her to scream or back away from the madman and find an excuse to leave. She just seemed confused.
`` Wait...''
`` You can leave if you want.'' I said `` I think I'll just check myself into a mental hosp-''
`` Wait, wait, wait!'' She had a smile on her face `` What am I? Have I got bat wings?''
`` Um, no.'' I said.
`` Do I at least have a tail?''
`` No. No tail'' She was going to hate what I saw. She would want to be something cool and instead she was some plant lady.
`` Anything cool?''
`` Well, um.''
She squinted, leaned forward and put a hand on my knee `` Paul, describe me.''
I did.
`` What?''
I described her again.
`` That's what I thought you said.'' She looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
`` I do n't get to choose how I see people, sorry.''
`` Paul.''
`` Yeah?''
`` That's exactly how I look.''
I looked at her - green and beautiful and... and...
`` Fuckin what?'' I said as what she said hit me.
* * *
I dragged Carol with me into Dr Bint's office as a bright winged fairy left.
`` Paul, I-'' He started.
I closed the door behind Carol and I, and said `` Doc, I need your help.''
`` Whatever you need, Paul.'' His voice was calm and caring and his eyes were on Carol `` And you are?''
She put out a hand `` Carol, Carol Channing.''
The Satyr Dr Bint smiled and gave her offered hand a shake `` Any-''
`` No, no relation'' Said Carol with a forced smile.
I was giddy and smiling. It could n't be, could it? `` Doc, describe her for me.''
`` What?'' He said.
`` Just do it, please.''
`` Well, um, she is a young women in her twenties who likes a band called, err, *Eedle Moth*?''
She chuckled `` Needle Mouth, the shirts pretty faded.''
`` Ah, I see!''
`` No, Doc, physically, describe her physically!'' As I said this they both looked at me.
He fiddled with his glasses and went red. `` I do n't think that that is appropriate, I hardly-''
`` Just complection and the like, Doc.''
They looked at eachother and Carol shrugged.
`` Well, she has healthy green skin...''
I fought back a cheer as the Doctor said it. *I'm not crazy! *
``... she has a lot of vine work on her arms, very good work by the way, talented artist.''
`` Yeah, I've got a good guy. I'm gon na get him to do flowers on my back.''
`` I always wanted a tattoo,'' The Doctor said with a chuckle `` Could never settle on a design, though.''
`` Carol, describe the Doc.''
`` Well I do n't think-'' The Doctor started, but Carol dove straight in.
`` He's got a kind, sweet look to him; strong hairy legs, I'd say his a runner; he's got a full head of hair, wo n't be going bald any time soon; and has a... *unique* choice of neck tie.'' She looked at me and smiled `` Do I pass?''
I was lost in thought. Had been since she confirmed the Doc had goat legs. *What in the hell is going on? *
`` Wait.'' I said aloud `` What do I look like?''
`` You've got healthy beige skin and hair in only a few places, why?'' Said Dr Bint.
*So, I still look how I thought I looked... *
***
I explained to the Doc what had brought me to him in the first place and then what had brought me back. He offered to check me in to the hospital, to have some scans, and I took it.
They found nothing. I was healthy and, psychologically, was not a threat to anyone.
After a few days I went home.
I now spend my mornings before work trying to find others like me. Others that remember the way the world was. I'm convinced that it has changed - or that I've somehow travelled to an alternate reality.
There's got to be someone else.
At least it gives me something to do in the mornings.
Carol and I watch cartoons at night.
-- -
*Edit: Came back to find that I had some gold. Thank you kindly, stranger! *
|
[ WP ] An exploration of the butterfly effect : write a dramatic scene . Then , choose one tiny detail to change in the initial set-up , and play the scene out again . How drastically have things changed ?
|
He sat at the tiny dinner table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September, a plate of pasta a day old between them. It was just a bit cold as he forked it down, but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. She laughed at how stupid he looked with doughy tentacles hanging out of his mouth. He grinned a sauce coated grin. She talked for what seemed like hours, he just sat there looking at her smile. Her beautiful green irises staring at him. Always. Her brown hair she did n't have time to tidy before their little dinner party. The candle illuminated the little freckles in her cheeks, and he felt whole again. They were in their most casual clothes, they'd shushed each other at the same time when they'd got back to the apartment and went to change in separate rooms. Tired as they were, they walked out in the same clothes and laughed at each other. He in a plain grey sweater, she in the white one with the red speckles. He'd puked on that one when they'd first met. She teased him, saying she could still smell it. He laughed.
The doorbell rang, interrupting the music he had playing in his head. He opened it. *Her ex? What's that metal thin-* he felt the heat of the bullet in the air. It flew past his unassuming face. He heard a thump from behind him, the tinkle of cutlery hitting the floor and the wet slap of pasta, halfway to mouth, following it. His face still frozen, he dropped his hands into his pockets. Desperately shuffling around as the revolver drew to a bead to his sweating forehead.
Click.
He sat at the tiny dinner table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September. A plate of pasta between them, it was just a bit cold but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. She talked for what seemed like hours, he just sat there looking at her smile. Her beautiful green irises staring at him. Always. Her brown hair she did n't have time to tidy before their little dinner party. The candle illuminated the little freckles in her cheeks, and he felt whole again. They were in their most casual clothes, they'd shushed each other at the same time when they'd got back to the apartment and went to change in separate rooms. Tired as they were, they walked out in the same clothes and laughed at each other.
The doorbell rang. It could n't be, he'd moved them away. It'd have to be someone else, right? Congratulating them on the move, however sudden it'd been, only the next door neighbours would know. He got up to answer the second ring, legs shaking. She asked him if he was feeling alright. The door burst open, kicked down, a revolver was drawn in the candlelight.
Click.
He sat at the tiny coffee table across from her, both of them smiling in the light chill of September. A plate of pasta between them, it was just a bit cold but her smile filled him with the missing warmth. The room was empty save for two chairs and a vacant old sofa. He said that each other was all they needed. He'd scrounged up enough money to buy a house in the country, he'd scrounged up enough courage to face her. She agreed, a bit hesitant, but he could feel her glow of approval underneath. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, he would follow her to the end of time. There they sat in the dark of a candle, she seemed a little gloomy leaving the city but she tried her best for him. They sat sharing leftovers from yesterday, when they were still in the city. He'd wanted to leave as soon as possible.
There was a knock on the door, breaking the conversation. His heart sank. He sat there, motionless, with noodles impaled on a fork in the air between plate and mouth. She got up, he started coughing out sobs, trying to quickly down the food before it happened. He heard a gunshot down the hall.
Click.
They were at a train station, he'd convinced her that his family wanted to meet her. That they'd be ecstatic to see her again. His little sister especially. She had blushed at first but followed up with a sarcastic hand wave, pretending to be flush with embarrassment. She saw right through him, but he'd asked for it and she did n't mind all that much. She had a paid vacation saved up at the office, so they did n't mind either. Together they stood on the platform wrapped in their scarves and their jackets, giggling giddily. Both of them were filled with anxiety, but with different kinds. He heard the station bell chime out its robotic ping, the train was coming in. He gestured for them to get ready. She, with false haughtiness, obliged, holding out her hand for him to lead her. He knelt dramatically to accept, the train hurriedly chugging along.
A rushing passerby knocked into her absentmindedly, they turned to apologise but it could n't be heard over the rush of the train flying past them. The lights flew past rhythmically, illuminating his ghastly face and still outstretched hand in eerie yellow rectangles, one by one.
|
[ EU ] Shortly before Order 66 a Jedi knight achieves true balance between the light and the dark side . He become a grey Jedi .
|
Something kept poking at Palpatine's mind; something was calling to him. It had kept him up for days at a time, and was slowly starting to interfere with his grand plans concerning Order 66. Something had altered the balance of the Force, something that ascended the matters of Sith and Jedi.
`` Master, the Kaminoans have told us that the inhibitor chips in the Clones are ready to be activated at will.'' said the voice of apprentice Darth Vader. `` Master? Something disturbs you, what is it?''
`` A disturbance in the Force, Anakin. Someone has achieved a promising sign of power. A rival to your power.'' responded Palpatine, who was now formulating a plan to test his dark apprentice even further.
`` Who is it my Lord? Master Yoda? Obi-Wan?'' the voice of Anakin was filling with hate and anger, he could not comprehend that someone was able to compete with his level of power. Nor did he want to accept it.
`` Yes, let the hate flow through you, Anakin.'' said Palpatine as he cynically started cackling. `` A Jedi Knight who has left the order; he has achieved a balance of both light and dark within himself. Such power, such control has never been seen before. It must be stopped.''
`` Of course my Lord, I shall leave immediately. Where is this Jedi?''
`` No, Lord Vader. You shall not leave today.'' said Palpatine, purposefully adding a pause to rile up the negative feelings in his apprentice. `` The 501st is slated to storm the Jedi Temple, they will dispose of this self proclaimed Grey Jedi.''
`` My Lord, this is outrageous. The clones are tasked with something that you even admit is a rival to **my power**? I could destroy the entire temple by myself! You can not hold me back!''
`` Excellent, Anakin, excellent! The hate flows through you, I feel it. You are ready; join the 501st tomorrow and kill this grey Jedi, kill all the Jedi you encounter on your way to him as well.'' with his plan to rile up Darth Vader complete, Palpatine threw his head back into a wicked crackle and proceeded to stare out his window upon the city of Coruscant.
--
& nbsp;
Darth Vader and the 501st stormed the Jedi Temple, shooting and slicing down all who crossed their path. Lord Vader let his hatred flow through his body and grow with each kill he gained; he was determined to silence any and all competition to his spot as apprentice to Palpatine.
`` Break formation and catch any stragglers. Go.'' the command was simple, yet Vader still thought he placed too much trust in the clones for such a big task. `` I will find you Grey Jedi, show yourself.'' shouting, and sprinting around the temple, Vader continued to slay Jedi until he could focus on his target.
`` Lord Vader, or should I say Anakin Skywalker, traitor to the galaxy?'' said a voice from behind the Jedi Library. `` I am the Grey Jedi you search for. I am Master Ram Dar.''
Vader was not expecting a young man, no older than twenty, brandishing a newly forged yellow Lightsaber in a defensive position. `` You die today, Ram Dar. The Sith show no mercy to any type of Jedi.''
`` So be it. Your angry flows through you, as does mine, but you can not control it; you have let your anger blind you, I have let mine guide me.
Vader had enough of the philosphical talk and force sprinted towards Ram Dar at an incredible speed pounding his lightsaber across his multiple times: to Vader's surprise, Ram Dar was able to keep up to pace with the strikes. Pouncing overhead with a force charged front flip, Ram Dar used the force to push Vader on the ground. Vader leapt back up and continued with the offensive blows while Ram Dar used a defensive style. Vader grew quickly tired of this and started pouring his anger into his blows, his eyes turning into a familiar orange, a sign of a Sith. Ram Dar noting the charge of negative energy switched to an offensive fighting style to combat the power shift, but Ram Dar's offensive blows could not match those of Vader.
`` You tap into the Dark Side for power, very clever. Yet you use the Light Side to remain in your oh so elegant form. How proper of you.'' mocked Vader `` But let's end this-'' interrupted by a force choke being performed by Ram Dar, Vader found himself being choked significantly, the air escaping his lungs and his breath rapidly fainting.
`` Yes, Vader, let us end this.'' said Ram Dar as he tightened his grip, now walking himself and Vader to a nearby wall to finish the act. As Vader was pressed against the wall an explosion could be heard in the distance, knowing this was the clones all Vader had to do was break free of this grip and stall him long enough for a much, much closer explosion. Closing his eyes Vader thought of his true love, Padme, and focused the force flowing through his body to push Ram Dar off of him, screaming with his might as he breathed again. Pulling Ram Dar with the force towards the same wall, Vader told the clones to fire an explosive weapon towards the wall. For once, Vader put genuine trust in the clones and he was satisfied when the explosion crippled Ram Dar to his knees.
`` I will admit you were a challenge, but you were never a real threat to me.'' said Vader as he beheaded the Grey Jedi. Tired and weakened from a fight that should've ended faster, Vader prepared to travel to Mustafar to meet his Master in person.
|
[ WP ] You receive a job offer online . You are given directions that will lead you to someone with more information about the job . You follow the directions to an elevetor . The elevator opens to reveal a man holding a large envelope .
|
Needless to say this was the strangest job interview I'd ever had, and it had n't even started yet. I almost considered not showing up, but as a broke kid with just a bachelor's degree, I could n't look a gift horse in the mouth. I walked into the lobby of the hotel, feeling awkward as hell, my cheap suit making me feel out of place. I'd been told to go to the conference room, and of course I did n't know where that was.
I was on my way to the front desk to ask when the elevator dinged open, catching my attention. A man stepped out, tall, handsome, stylish suit, and a pair of sleek black sunglasses. He took one look at me and stepped back in surprise. `` Michael?'' he asked.
`` Um... yeah.'' I said, a little uncertain.
`` Goddamn man.'' He said grinning. `` I was n't expecting you for another...'' He looked down at his watch, his very expensive looking watch. `` Fifteen minutes. That's the right way to start an interview. Follow me.''
I followed him down a series of hallways before finally entering a small conference room. Inside there was an oval shaped table with eight or so chairs surrounding it. `` Alright so, my name's Eli, I'll be conducting your interview today.'' He said as he pulled out a chair for me. `` You can go ahead and read through this packet, it'll give you all the basic information of the job you're interviewing for.'' He dropped a large manilla envelope he'd been carrying in front of me with a thud and placed a clipboard in front of the seat across from me. `` I..'' he said continuing. `` will go grab a couple bottles of water and...'' he patted himself up and down for a moment. `` a pen.''
He turned to walk out. `` Go ahead and read the packet, I'll answer any questions you have when I get back.''
`` O..ok.'' I called back as he closed the door behind him.
I stared down at the envelope in front of me. It was thick, very thick, what had I gotten myself into? I folded up the metal clip with ease but found that the flap was glued shut, goddamnit. I worked at it for a second, being careful not to rip it. I finally managed to open it and let out a satisfied `` Aha. ``, but instantly there was a loud pop and smoke began to pour out of the envelope. `` What the fuck!'' I shouted as I dropped the envelope on the table.
More smoke continued to pour out of it as I backed away to the door. I tried the handle but found that it must have been locked from the outside. I rammed my shoulder against it, calling for help, as the room continued to fill with smoke, I was coughing violently, my lungs burning. I stopped for a moment, trying to catch my breath, when I noticed my vision going blurry. I held my hand up in front of my face and found I could barely make out my individual fingers. `` What the fuck.'' I mumbled as I slowly collapsed to my knees as my vision finally went, feeling delirious. I passed out.
I felt something hard pressed around my mouth and nose. There was a steady beep coming from my left. I was propped up slightly, but laying down. Slowly I opened my eyes. I was nearly blinded by the white walls and bright lights that surrounded me, but almost instantly I felt my eyes adjust and make it bearable. `` You're finally awake. About time kid.''
I turned my head to the right, finding Eli sitting in a chair against the, facing me. He'd swapped out the suit for a set of doctor's scrubs, but he still wore the black sunglasses and expensive watch. `` What did you do to me?'' I mumbled.
Eli smiled. `` We made you better.''
`` Wha- what do you mean?''
Eli stood up and held a barber style mirror in front of me. `` See for yourself.''
I looked at my reflection and gasped in shock. My eyes. They looked almost like camera lenses. Gray and metallic throughout, a shiny black dot at the center, as I looked at them I could see them dilate, the center ring visibly rotating. `` My eyes.'' I whispered, barely able to overcome the shock.
`` And that's just the tip of the iceberg.'' Eli said, putting down the mirror. `` Of course you probably wo n't notice the rest of your upgrades until you're back on your feet.''
`` Why did you do this to me?'' I asked, suddenly angry.
`` Because,'' Eli said, taking off his glasses. `` We need more people like us.'' He leaned in, his eyes were gray and metallic.
|
[ WP ] You are a lawyer in God 's Court who and you must a find a way to get your newest client , Adolf Hitler , into Heaven via a loophole in the Lord 's legal system
|
`` My client pleads solipsism'', I said to the jury ( whom I had bribed liberally with baby-souls before the trial ).
`` Adolf Hitler was just another idiot who thought reality was just a dream and that killing millions of people in a dream would n't matter.'' I wiped my forehead with my kitten skin handkerchief - the air-conditioning in the purgatory courtrooms never seems to work.
I turned to the judge defensive and dramatically shouted `` And you, God, of all people try to accuse this poor man, my sweet innocent client of genocide - well *you* better send *yourself* to Hell then, because *you* created this motherfucker. Omnipotent? Omnipotent my ass!!! Rather impotent!!! God, if you are omnipotent you should have known that creating a fucked up motherfucker like Hitler would fuck shit up for human kind - but nooooo - you had to go play with your organic chemistry set again and produce this monster, I mean, the... sweet... innocent monster that is my momma's boy of a client.'' I spit on the courtroom floor so that I can look badass but immediately regret it when I see my own spit and feel disgusted. I take a seat and have a little silent giggle because I've never quite gotten over the hilarity of talking to a burning bush with one of those weird white judges' wigs on top of it.
About six hours of playing cellphone games under the table later I am called to make my closing statement.
I get up and start puffing myself up like a prize-chicken so I can deliver my speech ``....and that is why, God, you should put your head through that stupid loophole in your system and hang yourself by it! ( and of course send Hitler to an internal place of happiness that is less boring than heaven, where you do n't have to hang out with all those irritating Christians all day long.''
|
[ WP ] A portal to a fantasy-like land opens in the middle of New York City and exiles start coming through .
|
*Ok, I'll have a go at this. This is my first time and English is not my main language so... be gentle: ) *
It was a day like any other. People were going on about their business, each with their own thoughts, each one indifferent to one another. Then they all stopped to look at the globe of light. Some of them looked at those closest to them, in search of an answer. Others just stared at globe, slowly growing to be the size of an automobile, then a bus, then finally a small home. The light dimmed and through it was a passage to... somewhere else. The other side was packed with people, mostly peasants, just as confused as the people on our side. They looked at us, and we looked back a them. Then they came through.
The news talked about it for weeks. It was definitely a portal, one that led to another world. The people, the ones who came through, were being exiled from their small town after the invasion from the army of a neighbouring kingdom. Most of them looked like us, and their DNA was extremely similar to ours, so much that we were deemed to compatible with them. We sent scouts on the other side, scientists and soldiers, to inspect the world beyond, to decide if it was a risk.
***
`` Sir, the opportunity is too big to pass up'', said the General while looking at the numbers floating on the big, wall-mounted screen.
`` That world, it's so similar to ours. And its population, even with the technology they possess, what they call'magic', they're a thousand years beyond us in so many fields''. The Scientist was standing by the general on this. `` They have a world that is mostly unpopulated, rich of resources and materials that we have never even imagined before. What they used to open that portal, that green rock they pulverize, it defies everything we know about physics. Its quantum properties alone are going to leap us forward a thousand years...''
`` I know''. The President looked preoccupied.
`` Even after we sent that petty king and his army back where he came from, they did n't want to go back. They... they like it here''. The Scientist said.
`` And we have no problem crushing whatever resistance we may encounter, sir''. The General added.
`` We do n't have to go to war, General. And we do n't know what the mutated ones can do''. The Scientist was not pleased by the eagerness of the General, and neither was the President.
`` General, we have sent an army away from a village, and unless we're going to have to defend ourselves, we're not going to take anything by force,'' the President stated starkly. `` Tell me about the mutated ones, Doctor''.
`` Well, the ones that came through, they call themselves mages,'' the Scientist said, `` I... I would agree with them, at least to a point. They have a mutation, a genetic one, that seems to allow them to create and manipulate very powerful magnetic fields. They can set things on fire, create shock waves, levitate objects... if we did n't know better, we would call it magic as well. And what they can do when they use that green rock... they have opened a wormhole that cuts through the galaxy, and a stable one at that, without even knowing a thing about the laws of gravity, let alone relativity or quantum entanglement...''.
`` Spare us your bullshit and get to the point, Doctor'', the General intervened, `` how dangerous are they?''
`` Well, they... they did with their minds and their limited, even non-existent knowledge what we have n't been able to do with nuclear reactors and particle accelerators. What do you think, General? That said, the ones that have come through, even the mutated ones, are adapting egregiously to our lifestyle and they seem to be very eager to share with us what they know. As I said, what they have is going to take us places we've never imagined before. We just have to... ask.''
|
[ WP ] Taylor Swift and Kanye West are running for US President . Jaden Smith is the debate moderator asking the questions .
|
`` How can mirrors be real, if our eyes are n't real?'' Jaden speaks slowly, his tone serious, as his eyes make contact first with Taylor, and then with Kanye. He sets the card printed with his tweet upon the podium. `` Taylor, you have five minutes to answer.''
`` Well,'' Taylor smiles and pulls a wave of blond hair behind her ear, her eyes scanning the audience with nervousness, `` I think, we, as a country, do need to look in the mirror --''
`` I'mma let you finish,'' Kanye interjected. `` But I think it needs to be said that I have the greatest vision for this country, the greatest vision of all time. And mirrors, they're real, and so are our eyes, what is this shit question about?''
A buzzer suddenly goes off, drowning out Kanye, and the timer above the stage has stopped. Jaden raises his hand from the buzzer as Kanye folds his arms and pouts.
`` I do n't have time for this,'' Kanye throws his arms up and walks off stage. A din of confusion arises from the audience and begins to build, louder, and some of the crowd begins to leave while others chant `` Taylor! Taylor!'' and then those dressed in knock off Yeezy ( as none could afford the actual brand and no one can tell the difference from garage sale distressed 90s grunge wear ) begin to push back, arguments and tempers flare across the room.
Taylor bites her lip, takes her mic off the stand and heads toward center stage. `` The haters gon na hate, hate, hate, hate, hate --'' she starts to go in to her hit, the sound guy takes cue and sets the music playing.
For a moment, the crowd looks over, and the Taylor fans cheer, but this only angers the Kanye crew.
Jaden knew what must be done.
Without a word, he heads back stage. `` Kanye,'' he calls out. A shadow stands in a bright doorway, the rear exit off the studio. The name echoes down the hall.
`` Will you hate? Or for this country's sake, can you shake?'' Jaden's silver make up and chrome skirt reminded Kanye of early 2000s TLC and Destiny's Child, a Beyonce that inspired him.
The roar of the crowd reached Kanye's ears.
`` Only you can improve this situation,'' Jaden said.
`` I will freestyle the next verse,'' he agreed, and headed back toward the stage.
When the crowd saw him, the Taylor fans shrieked in anger, their white faces turning red from madness. The Kanye fans were invigorated. The whole place was prepared for a riot.
Taylor sang the chorus with heart and soul, then, tossed Kanye the microphone. He began to rap.
The fans, moved by Taylor's gesture, the beat, the chorus, began to feel the music. Cries of, `` let's dance, let's stop fighting!'' were heard across the room.
His words captured the spirit of Taylor's work, spinning them in to a form palatable to the tastes of his fans. A new appreciation for pop, elevated by their hip hop god, took root in their minds, and they, too, began to shake.
Soon, everyone was dancing. The riot had been averted.
Jaden took the podium once more. `` Who says we ca n't have two presidents?''
The crowd cheered.
|
[ WP ] You live in a world where people 's shadows show who they truly are at their core . Some shadows look like monsters , some look like animals . You are the only person in the world with no shadow .
|
The sound of the sea wakes me from my sleep.
I open my eyes and am greeted by darkness. Bewildered, I grope around in a panic until I realise I ’ ve been dreaming. It ’ s the same dream every time- I ’ m walking on a sandy beach. The sun is beating down on me, and I ’ m pleasantly hot. I can taste the salt of the ocean air, feel the soft sand beneath my feet and hear the roar of the waves. I am surrounded by golden sand and endless stretches of sea. I look down and see my shadow next to me. I look down to discern its shape, and then I wake up. The few seconds between dreaming and being awake are bliss. Then the hard reality comes crashing down on me.
I look out the window. There ’ s a moon tonight. The neighbourhood is lit up in a soft glow. It ’ s risky, but I have to take what I ’ ve got. Hurriedly, I pull on some jeans and a hoodie and venture out into the darkness. The cold chill of the air hits me and I begin to shiver. I walk briskly. At night, everything is silent. It ’ s too late for anyone except for creeps like me to be awake. All the houses look large and imposing. The trees cast long shadows in the street and shake when the wind rushes through them. I start to jog to warm up, and soon I ’ m sweating. I think back to my dream. Every time, I feel so close to finding out what my shadow is supposed to be. If only I could stay a few seconds longer, I would find out. And then…
I ’ m so immersed in my thoughts that I fail to notice someone on the other side of the road. We both see each other at the same time, and eye each other warily. Fortunately the moon has passed behind the clouds. He looks around my age; another bored teenager traversing the streets at night. Only he ’ s not impaired like me. He looks up at the sky and slowly starts to walk towards a streetlight. The universal sign of peace. I see his shadow come into view. It ’ s a dog. I ’ m guessing a golden retriever. Under the lamplight, both the boy and the dog stare at me, alert. If I was a normal person, a ‘ good guy ’, I ’ d come under the lamplight and show him I have a normal shadow too. But I don ’ t. I turn around and walk in the other direction, and hear him break into a run. He ’ s afraid of me. The only reason anyone avoids the light is if they ’ re ‘ bad'. Their character is reflected in their shadows. An evil man creates a monster.
I shiver again, but this time it ’ s from loneliness. Why couldn ’ t I be like everyone else? Why couldn ’ t I have a shadow. The moon comes out from behind the clouds and the light hits me. I walk, but there is nothing beside me. Hopefully I won ’ t meet anyone again tonight. There are still a few hours left before sunrise.
|
[ PM ] Let 's play an RPG together . /r/WritingPrompts is the protagonist , and I am the DM . You make the decisions , I create the content . Let 's begin .
|
# 6 - COMPLETED || ANSWER SELECTED: 5
You find it best to catch the trespasser off guard by resorting to a proactive action via stealthiness. Shifting into a mouse and climbing up the vine along the wall of your home, you reach the top but do n't commit. Instead, you peek your head over the edge to find your neighbor's kid'Dimitri' casting magic on your roof. His hands are bright blue and a winter chill emits from his body. Dimitri is known for causing trouble in the village, but you somewhat like the kid. If not for his personable traits, but for his courage and persistence. Despite all odds, the kid always returns to prank another day.
What do you do?
* 1. Shift and confront
* 2. Retreat and grab your spell book
* 3. Unshift and try to reason with the kid
* 4. Destroy him at all costs
* 5. Ignore him and return to packing for your journey
* 6. DM's Choice
If your answer is 1, which do you shift into?
* A. Viper
* B. Arachnid
* C. Polar Bear
* D. Drakeling
|
[ WP ] Narrate a game of Civilization as though it were excerpted from a history textbook .
|
( excerpt from Sid Meier's `` Civilization'', Volume 5 - 1850 to 2100 )
It was the period that the pitiful civilization of the French referred to as `` fin de siècle''. Tensions remained high following the Zulu defeat of Pharaoh Ramesses, as India meanwhile swept up the last of the Babylonian resistance, but change was coming.
In 1915, Abraham Lincoln unexpectedly converted to Democracy. This sudden and drastic conversion shocked the world. Throughout the American Empire, from its seat of power in Washington DC, east to London on the British Isles, south to Detroit on the southernmost tip of South America, and west to the plains of Siberia, citizens were tired of endless war.
Perhaps no one benefited more from this change in government than the Romans. In the stronghold of Caesarea, where a single militia unit had desperately held off the American siege for almost a decade, there was celebration in the streets.
By 1945, the so-called Pax Americana had spread around the world. In this year, the Chinese navy retired the last of its ancient triremes, while settlers completed civic improvements to railroad and irrigation around the cities of Paoting, Yangchow, and New City 1. Meanwhile, Shanghai began construction of the United Nations.
In 1965, the Russians completed the Apollo Program, and within a decade had launched five structural components for an interstellar spacecraft. This triggered a space race, as the Russians, Americans, and Zulus scrambled to become the first civilization to reach Alpha Centauri.
By the latter half of the 20th century, peace was the rule around the globe. Treaties existed between all major powers. Democracy was on the rise. Lincoln, Stalin, and Shaka were engaged in a friendly ( but heated ) rivalry to launch humans to another solar system, with the enthusiastic support of UN Commissioner Pravin Lal. It appeared that these civilizations had, at long last, built a peace that would stand the test of time.
Everything changed, however, when Gandhi got the Bomb.
|
[ WP ] It is believed that the cure for cancer has been discovered on Mars , astronauts have only one chance to bring it home where they hope to duplicate its properties for mass distribution
|
`` Dr. Edmunds, something interesting came up on the latest screen,'' stated Johannes, the tremor in his voice betraying a cautious optimism.
`` This better be good. My grant proposal is due Friday,'' stated Edmunds, finally tearing her gaze away from the monitor and to Johannes. He quickly glanced at the ground, concealing his surprise. Edmunds appeared more pale and gaunt than usual. His face started to burn. Hardly anyone dared to enter Edmund's office without scheduling an appointment. Luckily, Johannes' appearance was bold enough to warrant her undivided attention. She noticed he was in an unusual state of disarray, hair greasy and biosafety suit wrinkled. He must have been working double shifts.
`` I-If this is what I think it is, you'll have every big pharma company coming to *you* with the money,'' Johannes replied. `` I repeated this experiment three times, always in triplicates. Data is statistically significant at a *p* of 0.0001. In other words, there is a 0.01 % chance that it is due to random variation, and --''
`` Let me see,'' she interrupted. Johannes passed her the sheets of data. Edmunds sat up straighter and leaned forward, brows knit in inquisitive concern as her eyes darted across the numbers.
Sample 1215: at long last, a positive hit.
A rare smile slowly crept unto Edmund's face, then suddenly burst into an ear-to-ear grin. Eyes shining, she said, `` We spent five years at the edge of this colony, hoping in vain to find some new compound as a therapeutic agent to combat the cancer on Earth....'' here, a hand flitted across her chest and rested across her heart. She coughed violently, spasms rocking her thin body as another hand covered her mouth. Pulling away, spots of blood were seen. She hastily wiped her hand off on a handkerchief. There were n't many unstained areas left on the fabric. The familiar dull throbbing pain returned to her chest.
Johannes offered her water, which she gratefully sipped. After a pause, she continued. `` We took a risk being here. They said we could n't find anything by the mines. But that ended up being our advantage. What was Sample 1215?''
Johannes could no longer contain his once cautious excitement. `` Sample 1215 was one of few organic compounds found from the soil dug up in the mines. There is life down there, likely bacterial in origin, and it is producing this compound in great quantities. Mass spec data revealed a unique peptide sequence found nowhere on Earth, though there is some homology to *Micromonospora* soil bacterial proteins,'' he paused to take a breath -- oxygen content is lower inside the Mars facility compared to Earth. `` When given to cancer cells *in vitro*, it killed nearly all of them while not harming non-cancerous cells. In the animal model, this compound appears to stop angiogenesis. In other words, in addition to its cancer-specific cytotoxicity, it prevents blood vessel growth to the tumor.''
Edmunds slowly stood, smile unwavering. `` You have made a remarkable discovery, Johannes. You will finally be able to graduate with your Ph.D., with nothing less than the highest honors.''
`` Thank you, Dr. Edmunds. Without your direction, this would n't have been possible,'' Johannes replied, bowing his head. A shadow crept over his face. There was a hesitating silence before he continued. `` I... I knew about your condition all along. The cancer you tried to keep secret. The same cancer afflicting most of the population on Earth. The way you are now....There is n't much time.''
Edmunds nodded slowly in agreement. It was foolish of her to think the others would n't have noticed by now.
`` I can give you the first treatment,'' Johannes said, looking up to meet Edmunds' eyes. `` It might give you more time. Enough to see that we take it home over the years.''
Her eyes looked past Johannes towards the window, beyond the red terrain and into the sky. `` Yes, I would like that very much. But that ca n't be the focus now. I did n't tell anyone this, but there's only going to be one more trip from the Colony to go home. Back on Earth, people have given up so much hope that they do n't want to allocate anymore resources to us. The grant I have been writing was for a separate project that can be done on Earth.''
`` What?!'' Johannes blurted loudly. `` There is only one chance to take home a cure we only discovered this month? For all of the people affected on Earth? How can we manage that?''
Edmunds sighed. The weariness she felt was not only physical. `` What we will do is find the organism producing Compound 1215, and find out the conditions it best grows in. Then, we will see if we can mimic those conditions on Earth. If we can grow the bacteria on Earth, we can produce the cure there. I want this done in six months. That is when you all will be scheduled to leave.''
`` Just wait a second -- what do you mean,'you all'? Are n't you going also?'' Johannes said. He pulled a chair from the desk. His head was spinning.
Edmunds smiled sadly. `` When I came here, I never expected I would actually return. There's nothing left for me on Earth.'' Her gaze drifted to a framed picture on her desk, of a smiling family. Edmunds was once a young wife, with a husband and three children. `` I'll carry on work here for as long as I can, and relay information to you from here. It was my hope that *you* would personally take over my work. You were always my favorite student....It is your choice, of course....But should this grant get approved, your scientific career will be set.''
Johannes stood once again, his face hardened and determined. `` I had better get to work, then.'' He smiled.
|
[ WP ] You are drawing your final breathes , dying from a disease that has taken you far too young and far too quickly . Just as you are about to pass , an apparition appears before you and offers you five extra years of perfect health to spend as you see fit . But there is a catch ...
|
`` So you are telling me I can have five more years, but no one I know will remember me?''
`` That sums it up.''
The fit twenty-seven year-old sat in his hospital bed, staring out the window. The only sound came from the heart monitor. *Beep. * *Beep. *
`` Not even my parents? Or my sister?''
`` No. Everyone will forget.''
The two men sat and stared, the heart monitor creeping on. *Beep. * *Beep. *
`` I guess I would have motivation to do everything I wanted to do.''
`` You could see it that way.''
`` But my family is everything to me.''
`` That is often the case.''
The patient looked out the window for a minute, the monitor persisting in its lifeless, yet all-too lively rhythm. *Beep. * *Beep. *
The patient exhaled. `` Can you give me an extra hour, but let my family remember me?''
`` No.''
`` Then I think I will die.''
`` Can you tell me why an hour?''
`` That is when my brother would have gotten here.''
The men stare at each other while they drifted away. One into the air, the other into a sleep. The only sound in the room, *Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-. *
|
[ WP ] A young cancer patient is sick and tired of all these damn celebrities popping in for surprise visits .
|
When Justin Bieber came into the room, I was shocked and surprised. Nobody from my high school would ever have believed it. My icon, my dream, was singing to me!
That was a year ago.
Since then, I've had a string of celebrities from A to TMZ shuffle into my room to lift my spirits. If they wanted to lift my spirits, they'd get me off this damn machine and to the nearest CVS to buy ear plugs. Just yesterday, I had to beg Dave Coulier to leave. If he had brought Stamos that would be a different story, but give me a fucking break. Dave Coulier? What year is this?
So, anybody who cares to listen, I am begging you to have them stop. When I first told my mom, my dad, the doctors, that I had had enough, they thought I was being humble. Brave. The story got on the news. And more of them came.
So this is it.
They told me I ca n't be cured. They told me laughter is the best medicine. Well, I'll laugh today when I look into Bono's eyes and pull the plugs.
Who knows? It just might cure me.
|
[ WP ] Death is a lie made by the government , you are one of the unsavoury characters they send to gather souls .
|
London
Midnight
A raven swoops low over the soot stained tiles of Victorian London, lands on the dark cobbles of Market Street and loses form.
The raven turns first smokey, then grows to the form of a cloaked figure. Standing to his full height, he stumbles down the uneven cobbles as if unsure of his footing.
‘ ’ one more night of this and then I ’ m done ’ ’ he mutters to himself in a tired tone, he walks silently down the road, his presence only betrayed by the lopsided tapping of his cane on the cobbles.
A damp smell lingers over Market street, the daytime scent of spices and fish brushed away by the night time breeze. Oil lamps long extinguished, nobody else dares travel the streets at night. The chalky gaze of the moon on the street reflected by the pooling water, shimmers against the cape of the man as he stalks.
The cloaked figure draws closer to his destination, an inn called the travellers wagon. The warm glow from a fire seeps through a crack in the shutters, interrupted by the outline of a bolt from the inside.
The cloaked figure finally draws to the inn, raises his cane and begins to loose shape once more. First turning smokey, and then losing shape all together as he seeps under the bolted door.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
The traveller ’ s wagon was an ordinary inn by every definition of the word. Tired traders would leave their troubles outside and come in for a cheap pint. The inside was grimy and the walls where filled with various mementoes from around the world, brought by traders who found themselves unable to pay for their drinks as they had yet to turn a profit in the London market; Stags heads, exotic stuffed creatures and various antiques adorned the walls on uneven shelves, alongside artificial alchemist ’ s fire, left smouldering at night to guide any lingering drunks to their beds. An old wooden sign above the bar reads ‘ ’ free bear, tomorrow ’ ’.
‘ ’ I ’ m telling you ’ ’ said Robert the innkeeper, a loud man with no care for personal space. Raising his left hand and pointing directly at a chess board in front of him, lifting his pint with the other. ‘ ’ you have to play offensively of you ’ ll get caught by the same old tricks every time! ’ ’
‘ ’ I have no time for a game like this ’ ’ announced Emmett, a young man who knew Robert far too well for his liking. Rising from his stool he set aside his empty glass and strode towards the bar. ‘ ’ If I could allow time to practice for games like these, maybe I could win ’ ’ he carefully set down his tabs worth behind the bar where the drunk innkeeper would see it and returned to the table. ‘ ’ let ’ s see if you can do any better. ’ ’ Adjusting his dull grey alchemist ’ s gloves and setting himself down to watch the game.
The innkeeper stood over the table as if to make a plan, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted.
A dark fog seeped under the door. The entire room seemed to change, as if the colour had been drained from the air, the gentle murmur of customers was silenced and replacing it was an eerie quiet.
The fog rose to the height of a man and then condensed.
‘ ’ Robert Gus Clark ’ ’ said the now fully formed man in a heavy southern accent. He stood confidently, with stained white alchemist gloves and a matte cloak to contrast. His hair was a dull black and he had a knowing glint in his eye. He wore the recognisable attire of an imperial alchemist.
The innkeeper knew all too well who he was.
‘ ’ Robert Gus Clark ’ ’ he repeated, this time louder.
‘ ’ y…yes ‘ ’ stammered the innkeeper.
‘ ’ you ’ re on my list ’ ’ said the man calmly.
‘ ’ b..bu ’ ’ the innkeeper stammered again, then suddenly understood. He turned on the spot, as if to make for an escape. Raising his arms to push his customers out of the way and reaching for his key chain.
The alchemist smiled, then acted. He took one step forwards and lifted his cane, the glint in his eye grew and then faded.
The innkeeper stopped, as if to freeze, he began to change colour, his expression faded and he began to lose shape. The once man started swirling on the spot and grew smaller, his feet lifting from the unwashed boards. Finally, he condensed into a small orb, pulsating from brown, to red and then back again.
The whole event took only seconds, the onlookers stared on in stunned silence, as their good friend and innkeeper, Rob Clark, had disappeared.
The cloaked man now stood taller, loosened his cloak and drew out a large bottle, he uncorked it and pointed it towards the floating orb.
The nearby drinkers rapidly stepped back in unison as if the events had only just been played to them, nobody spoke out.
The orb where Robert Clark had been standing began floating towards the bottle, condensed even further and was unceremoniously sucked inwards.
The man corked the bottle once more and turned on the spot with military fashion, before unbolting the door and stepping outside.
The door closed behind him as if any other customer was returning home, and the gentle glow of the fire returned to the room.
|
[ WP ] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon . However , this is just a coincidence ; there is absolutely nothing magical about it , and you 're getting really tired of explaining this .
|
I can feel their eyes on the back of my neck. Typical cowards, staring, but looking away whenever I turn my head. Why ca n't they just come out and ask?
Life has n't been easy. My first memories are cursing this dreaded dragon birthmark, which everyone assumed was a sign of power and destiny. Back then I was too meek to admit otherwise, going off the slay dragons and destroy undead without even being asked, because it was clearly expected of me. No more.
I try to enjoy my drink... watered down swill in a chipped glass, but can only focus on the mutterings of conversation behind me. I know they're talking about it, trying to work up the nerve to ask me, the'brave champion' to save them from the barbarians to the west. Those idiots. The barbarians have no interest in attacking this miserable little village, but that wo n't stop them from quaking with fear, waiting for some grand hero to rescue them.
The murmurings seem to grow louder. I ca n't make out the words, but I do n't need to. I can sense the growing desperation, and as much as I try to drown it out, it's overwhelming. I rub at the accursed mark anxiously, trying to focus my thoughts of something, anything, but in the end I know it's no use.''
`` Okay, fine!'' I shout, rising to my feet. At last they avoid averting their gaze, and now watch me with expressions of feigned confusion. `` I'll go slay your barbarians, if that's what's required for you to leave me alone! By the Gods, what must a man do to earn a moments peace?''
I storm out the door of the tavern, one of the patrons asking another'what was that about?'. I'm used to it by now, however. Wherever I go, it's the same story. It would n't be so bad if people actually came out and asked for help, and spoke about the mark, rather than just pretending they did n't notice it. Oh well, off to another battlefield... it may not be magical, but this dragon birthmark has brought me more misery than the darkest of curses.
|
End of preview. Expand
in Data Studio
WritingPrompts Merged Dataset
This dataset contains the writing prompts and corresponding stories from euclaise/writingprompts with all original train/validation/test splits merged into a single unified dataset.
This version is based on the dataset used in the paper "Hierarchical Neural Story Generation" by Fan et al. (2018).
- Downloads last month
- 106