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They all thought I was dead. Some of them wished it. It's understandable. Not many insurance claims adjusters just walk out. At least, most don't walk out on their families. Yet, if I was to have a chance to do it all over again, I would. Maybe I'm selfish. But as I stand here on the road, thumb out, full beard, a worn red Jansport over my shoulder, there's no doubt. I'm refreshed.
I'm ready now.
It's been two weeks since I was on the logging road. Not once did a car drive past. I walked along it further until it hit the main drag. Followed that all the way up to Portston. Still no cars. It had been twenty-three years, but heck, I still expected people to be driving on the roads. Maybe they don't do that anymore? I dunno, I figured the people in Portston would fill me in.
The town was empty.
It's been seven years since Portston. I've gone all the way down through Oregon and parts of California, then through the Rockies and on to the plains. I'm almost to Miami, my home. Still no one. Food hasn't been a problem. Twenty-three years of prior experience has honed my skills and toughened my exterior. I know how to survive.
A day does not pass without me thinking of my family.
I've reached Miami. The plants have become truly overgrown, and the wild is reclaiming everything. Still not a single soul. No dead bodies either. This is true loneliness. My house is down the block.
There is a figure swaying on our porch swing.
I walk slowly. Hands tense around my revolver. I have rarely used it. Only grizzlies and mountain goats have provoked me to fire. Even then, I have always fired above them. A pair of eyes stare at me intently. The eyes belonged to a young man, no older than seventeen, with brown hair. I have not talked for so long to another human being. For a while, we simply stare at each other, the porch swing our only timekeeper.
"I used to live here. Do you live here now?"
"Yes, but Janice told me about you. You need to go."
"Can you at least tell me what happened? What happened to everyone?"
"There were storms. A lot of people left. Most everyone."
"They left because of *storms*?"
"Ya. But you need to leave now."
"Do you know what happened to my family? The family that was here before?"
"They moved, probably to Africa. That's where a lot went."
"Is there any way I can get there?"
"Nope, the last ship sailed seven years ago. No one comes here anymore."
The boy can see my head drop. He continues to swing back and forth, staring at me.
"Did they leave me anything?" I finally asked.
"Nope." the boy replied, "They couldn't fathom how such a big part of their world could just up and leave like that."
| 10 | A man abandons his family and suburban lifestyle to retreat deep into the Northern wilderness. 23 years later after living in the wild he reenters society and seeks his family out. | 19 |
“Hello” said a man with a smile his face and a pamphlet in his outstretched hand. “Do you have a second? I’d like to talk to you about Stevenism”
“You see, I believe in Steven. He is a man. He worked as an accountant. He had many struggles in life, just like you or me. More importantly, Steven exists. I believe that Steven was, is, and shall be for at least a little bit longer”
The pamphlet, on closer inspection, contained a black-and-white photo of an elderly man holding out his driver’s licence, and another photo of the drivers licence close up so you could clearly read the name.
“And even when Steven passes we believe we can draw solace from the fact that at one time Steven was. Once you let Steven into your heart, you will never be full of doubt that there is Steven ever again”.
With that the man merged back into the crowd to keep spreading Steve’s good word. Although with no contact information on his pamphlets it was unclear what anyone was meant to do with their newfound knowledge of Steven.
| 17 | A single religion is proven to be one hundred percent factually correct | 16 |
Alex hit the ground gasping for air. He couldn’t tell which hurt worse, the pavement or the teasing.
“Look at how weak he is!” One boy yelled.
“His stats are so low!” Another scoffed.
Alex rolled over onto his back and cringed as pain shot through his body. He looked above him where he could see his stats hovering in the air in green letters.
Health - 14
Strength - 3
Defense - 4
Agility - 2
Before he could even feel sorry for himself, another kick landed on his stomach and he felt the air rush out of him. The bully leaned down and put his face right up to Alex's ear.
“You’re weak,” he whispered. “No one will ever want you in their party.” The bully turned around and faced the crowd with his head held high. “Now who wants to see real power,” he yelled as he flexed his muscles.
Alex took advantage of the distraction to right himself. He could feel the rage burn in his blood. He had chosen his class so he could help others. He had chosen to be a healer not because he was weak, but because he wanted to help others to be strong.
He looked above him again and admired the one stat that everyone seemed to overlook.
Magic - 34
Alex brushed his hand over his wounds and relaxed as the pain left him. He stood up and took a deep breath to clear his mind. Being a healer meant he knew how to cure ailments, but it also meant he knew how to inflict them.
He waved his hand and a red mist filled the air. Suddenly the crowd of jeering children went silent. The bullies turned around and glared at Alex, who stood in front of them unhurt with a devious grin on his face.
Alex walked away that morning listening to the sounds of his enemies crying and vomiting.
They would have to beg him to be healed.
| 30 | Everyone has stats, like an RPG. Numbers that represent their skill and capabilities. Strength, Wisdom, Agility ETC. And these numbers are viewable by the public. | 33 |
The afterlife looks a lot like a diner. People come and go. Some eat. Most sit awkwardly, waiting for some signal to leave and move on to wherever it is they're going. Some chat to pass the time. Death isn't quite as simple as most people think.
I sit at my table, as I have for 7 years now, waiting for my signal. Nobody knows exactly what that means though. Each signal is deeply personal to the individual receiving it. Having waited in this particular diner the longest, I've seen some doozies of signals. Pagers, cell phones. Alarm clocks appearing and starting a ruckus. Most people just sort of perk up and walk out the door. Personally, I'm afraid of what's out there for me. Being a Christian who did a swan dive off of a bridge does that to you. Makes you fear what fate you've earned.
Suicide is the worst, I can tell you from experience. That brief moment of weightless rush towards the sea gave me perfect clarity. In that moment I saw all the mistakes and flaws in my life and realized that they meant nothing. All of those unchangeable horrors that caused that one step off the bridge could be changed. Life was worth the effort, even if you can't see through the fog of hopelessness. In that moment I saw all the things to live for. My mother and father, looking proud at my graduation. My little brother, when we built that tree house together. In that moment I saw that life is always worth living because it can always change for the better. In that moment, I realized the only choice I couldn't undo was to make that last step. Suicide is the worst. | 12 | Suicide is the worst idea. I know from experience. | 22 |
My eyes are blue. In some societies this would be normal, but not in mine. Hundreds of years ago the fundamentalist sect of a forgotten religion came to the conclusion that men were not honest creatures. They devoted all of their resources to working with sciences we’re just beginning to rediscover, and created a virus that consumed humanity. Mankind’s ambitions were torn away. Our dreams of flitting among the stars were put on hold as the former national and secular borders crumbled. After the mass graves were dug and the survivors emerged to reestablish society, they found that the virus that had knocked our kind down had brought with it a strange side-effect. Our eyes change now based off of attraction, off of arousal. The scale runs from a dark brown through hazel into green, then gray, and finally blue.
That’s right. I’ve lived my entire life as if walking around with a raging erection.
Now this wasn’t a terrible thing all the time. The gods know it got me quite a bit of tail when I was younger, and the ‘honest’ society that our forgotten attackers desired has of course been grossly skewed by human nature. Meeting the eye is an intimate thing now, staring at strangers taboo. We’ve only within the last decade regained the technological prowess to hide our shame, and the waves my recreation brought on are still wracking our society. It’s certainly created an interesting world, striving to hide our eye color. We recreated the mood ring before the internal combustion engine. Think on that.
*- An excerpt from the memoirs of Jason Storman, father of the chromatic contact lens*
| 10 | A society where eye color depends and changes with how sexually aroused someone is. Eye contact and revealing the hue is akin to standing naked together. People rarely look up when they speak to one another as a result. | 18 |
As I emerged from the lamp, ready to serve,
My new master flinched in wonder.
They all react as such when I emerge
With my voice of unseen thunder.
I cast my aged eyes upon the man
Who had freed me from my cell.
I explain I’ll deliver on his demands;
Three wishes under the Jinn spell.
He ponders for hours, and requests information
Though I explain I can only obey
He tries to pry from me clarification
But wishing’s secrets I never betray.
Finally my new master has made his decisions
And I prepare to hear them in turn
He thinks that with intellectual precision
He’ll flawlessly gain what he yearns.
First a room filled to the brim with gold,
That was easy to deliver.
To me the glowing metal feels cold
But I happily supress my shiver.
He yells in anger about some strange concerns
About how I filled the wrong room.
I patiently clarify how to seek what he yearns
And apologized for the loss of his broom.
Second he demands various affection
From many women of questionable virtue.
While I provide him with a varied selection
He soon is exhausted from woo.
He demands that I have set him a deception
As the women will not give him rest.
I explain that most enjoy such reception
Despite the unceasing physical test.
My new master is now exhausted with me
And nearly relents on his final demand.
But he thinks long and hard of what it should be
And he’s sure this is perfectly planned.
It may be my error, or some random noise from the West
Or a distant clamour carried by on the breeze
I realize now that I may have bungled the third request
I swear I heard him say ‘World Police’.
| 13 | Three wishes go hilariously awry. | 20 |
The throne room of the Gods was unsettled, its empty throne simply reflecting the anger put forth by the more aggressive members of the Council.
"You've got to be kidding me!!" Shouted Thor. "He's not even a real God!"
The eyes of the rest of the Council of Gods shifted uneasily. Usually these things went down with a civil nature.
"Come now Thor, he's as real as you and me. You know that whenever a new religion is created, its God, or Gods, appear here. It has been this way since my kindred appeared so many millennia ago." Replied Atum, the first of the Egyptian Gods.
"He was created *as a joke*. He's a mockery of religion itself, created by those stupid humans who are too closed-minded to think there just might be something bigger!" Retorted Allah.
Odin stood. He was usually silent unless he sensed great conflict.
"Quiet down please. He as just as much a right to rule as any of us." He turned to face the source of the argument. "Go forth, friend. We have faith in you."
With that, the Flying Spaghetti Monster rose, and took the throne. | 110 | Every 5000 years the deity of a different religion gets to be the one actually in charge of earth. They all meet to debrief and critique the outgoing deity and decide who's turn is next. But this time something is different. | 94 |
--> Note: this post is a bit silly, I'm sorry for that ^_^
The vehicle bucked as it hit one icy bump after another. "Dammit" I cursed, my back was ruined. Once it had been my dream to reach the south pole, on my own, in a comfortable vehicle, one I'd designed myself. I wanted to prove a clever technology and a killer mindset could overcome anything.
Unfortunately, I now knew I had overestimated myself by quite a margin and I paid the price. With every irregularity in the icy "plain" I wanted to yell out in pain, but I couldn't. The simple reason being that I could hardly breathe because of said back pain.
Also, I was lonely. If my back killed me, the desolation did so even more. I had often thought the decision of not taking someone else on of my biggest mistakes. However, I was determined. Reciting "I shall not give up, " over and over again while gritting my teeth in the car got me along quite fine until now. "At least, " I smiled forgetting the aches, "Things can hardly get worse".
But then they did. Like rain suddenly drenching the vanquished cartoon character after proclaiming the latter, I was about to experience things could in fact get worse. A lot worse.
All of a sudden, a particularly loud cracking sound announced the ice did no longer support my cumbersome all terrain vehicle and I went down into the icy abyss. I could not see the bottom, for the pit was too dark.
When I woke up, I had somehow gotten out of the car, and I lay face down in the ice. I could clearly feel warm fluid running down from my scalp, across my brow and now I was really freaking the f* out. It was so dark I couldn't see a thing. Luckily, I always carried a small flashlight and I could start to assess the situation.
I was in a large cave entirely made out of ice, it must have been thirty meters high because it looked exactly like a cathedral's vault ceiling, with several ice pillars touching the ground.
Turning my powerful flashlight the other way, I noticed the car had nosedived into the ground catapulting me through the front window. I had been lucky, since the vehicle was spread out in a 30 m radius and I was not. However this was possible, I don't know.
"IIIIIIeiieieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee", an Ice cold shriek resounded through the cave, and tore through my soul. Then I saw it, a shadow where none would be. A man in brown robes tied together by a simple cord, with ashen wings and burning eyes pointed his scythe at me. He had no face. I started crying. "He has no motherf*cking face." I yelled out loud in shock all while my tears hit the ground, freezing instantaneously.
He approached and I was frozen in terror until I heard a voice in my head. "You mustn't give up," the female voice said. and with this I turned to the glove compartment of the car. "It's now or never. " I thought and I made a run for it. Before this demon could react, I'd already reached my handgun. A .50 cal desert eagle, which I bought to deal with dangerous wildlife.
I pointed it at the stranger and.... He ran. I chased him through tunnels and crevasses but every time he was one step ahead, until at one point I wasn't sure anymore who chased who. I heard another shriek. "Aha", that way and I ran, yet again.
I continued the hunt and suddenly there he was. At the very end of yet another cavern he stood, his arms readied in a fighting pose. This time, there was no way out, not for him, not for me.
Putting on my war face, I closed to effective range. I had him now.
I was just about to shoot as he shouted an ancient command, collapsing the floor beneath me and I was and drawing me into a purple vortex. Yet I was met by a current of normal everyday water. Bit by bit, the lukewarm fluid dragged me under, for what seemed like ages. There was more and more stress on my body. I'd surely die this day.As I went down, the pressure on my belly rose. I wanted to scream for help. "HEEELP" I shouted, taking 5 seconds to realize what just happened" Wait, I can talk? " I spoke to myself. This was special. I could talk, and I could breathe and I was still going down. "This could only mean one thing," I figured, and my eyes filled with tears yet again. This is my everlasting torment in HELL.
It stopped and I opened my eyes. I bathed in sweat and my heart palpitated, I threw off my bedsheets and got up. I seemed to have dreamed something but I couldn't remember, I only felt the gargantuan pressure in my bladder. I ran to the bathroom, then the nightmare ended.
| 10 | You are on an expedition in the Antarctic. Suddenly the ice under you breaks and you fall in some kind of cave... | 17 |
"Sir, we have just received and translated a transmission from Earth!"
"At a time like this?" replied General Alienator. "Play the message."
The transmission buzzed on.
"I'm so fancy, you already know, I'm in the fast lane, from LA to Tokyo. . . Who dat? Who dat? I, G, G, Y. . . . I'm bringing '88 back."
A silence fell upon the room.
"LA to Tokyo sir. My spies have told me that those are two cities of Earth, on opposite sides of a vast ocean!" Lieutenant Aliena said to the General.
The General turned to his advisers. "Could that mean that they have mastered the ability to run on water? Or perhaps, they have attained sonic speeds. . . They have gotten faster?"
"That's not all, sir," Lieutenant Alien added. "They have taunted our surprise ambush. The 'Who dat?' is obviously a form of human communication called irony. . . They know we are here!"
The General sat up in his chair, "and these letters 'I', 'G', 'G', and 'Y'. This is clearly some sort of warning."
Lieutenant Alien gulped. "That's not all, sir. They have threatened us by saying that they will bring '88' back."
The General now froze in his chair. "Our armada will be useless against the 88! They will surely destroy us. . . we must plan a retreat."
And this is the story of how Iggy Azalea ft. Charlie XCX saved the world. Next week, we will be talking about how "Wiggle" by Jason Derulo is actually a huge hit with the mole people. Stay tuned for more "Totally Fucking True Science with Neil DeGrasse Tyson."
Edit: Woah guys, thanks for the gold!
| 650 | In a different age, Aliens invaded and were defeated by Cavemen, as a result they prepared for a second battle thousands of years in the future, when they expected humanity to be the most fearsome beings in the universe, they return to find society as it is now | 809 |
You want to hear about Springtown's big hero? I mean, if you look at him, you probably don't think much of him. And his costume isn't exactly flashy either, just a shirt with his name on it. And his name isn't much either: Mr. Springtown. His real name is Albert Thomas, and he's a librarian around here, used to do some substitute teaching, as well. Seems to have been here long as anybody remembers...
Now, 20 years ago, there lived a family called the Hartons, and they, well, they were kind of creepy. Their three kids were okay, if you got past their always-dirty clothing, but the parents... they were sons-of-bitches. Nobody liked them except that gas station attendant over on Birch Street who sold Pop Harton his cigarettes. I'm telling you, they were constantly complaining at town meetings, putting up signs that embarrassed the community, criticizing Little League coaches, and starting fights down at the Springtown Inn. They owed all of us money and rumor has it they had kicked a dog and spit on Girl Scouts. The "Heartless Hartons", they were called.
But then, one day, their house just erupted into flames. Nobody really has any real idea how it happened, maybe Pop Harton had left a cigarette lit and it touched something it really wasn't supposed to. So, like, all of us gathered around, watching this house go up in flames. We could hear some of the kids. The fire department had come, but in a small town like this, there isn't the right equipment to go in, so really, the best hope was that maybe the water would put out the fire where the Hartons were.
But, man, Al Thomas would have none of that. He just drove up, stopped his car, ran past us, ran past the sheriff, and ran past the firefighters. He may have cussed them out on the way in, come to think of it.
And then, well, we all waited, worrying. I mean, a few of the folks had said that the Hartons maybe deserved it, or at least deserved it as much as anybody could. But A.T., he didn't. And then, that's when it happened. Out of the flames came this figure, somehow holding onto and carrying five people and a scraggly old cat. That had to be several hundred pounds.
And then he placed them all on the ground. The EMTs treated them. They all lived.
I'm not sure to this day how "Mr. Springtown" did it. Anytime anybody asks him, he just says something about how he was doing what he had to do. Some say he might be some sort of mutant, others say he's some sort of angel. But for us... man, he's just Mr. Springtown. | 60 | Superman and Batman police large metropolises however every small town also has a far less powerful but equally revered super hero of their own. Tell the story of your small town's super hero. | 75 |
Black smoke filled the room stinging his eyes and burning his throat. "It worked!" He coughed. "Haha! I knew it was possible! I knew it! Woah!" He leapt backwards as the floorboards caught fire before him, lighting his robes as well. "Oh god!" He exclaimed, as he patted down his burning clothes.
From behind him he grabbed a large bucket and flung water throughout the room. The hissing of steam filled the air and the flames subsided. For good measure he flung another butcket of water into the smoking room.
"Must you really, I am already drenched." The voice was elegant and feminine. "Now, what can I do for you, master?" The voice continued.
"Y-You speak english?" The man asked, dumbfounded. "And here I've been practicing my Latin!"
A muffled boom rang out, clearing the smoke from the room making the demon visible. She was on the floor, chained in an inscribed circle of demonic symbols. "Good to see the devil's trap worked." The man mused to himself. He walked to the edge of the circle and dropped to one knee to get a closer look at the demon. She had a pale red tone to her skin, her eyes were black where a human's would be white, and the irises seemed to burn as though they were made of fire. In leu of clothes the demon wore furr and bone protrusions that grew from beneath the skin, like animalistic armor, forming horns and claws. He even spotted a tail whipping around behind her.
"Facinating." The man said to himself yet again, this time reaching out toward the demon, but before he could touch her he was startled by a sudden loud flapping and a rush of air. The demon had recoiled and covered herself with giant wings but still unable to move her body due to the chains from the seal.
"What do you want!" She shouted. "Most wish only to deal or destroy. Now tell me what you summoned me for so we can get this over with!"
The man took a few steps back. "Sentient. Hm, I expected as much, but this fierce beauty... Well I guess it makes sense." He walked back over to her pulling up his sleave as he did. "Do you see this?" He revealed another intricate seal, this one was carved into his flesh. "This means, that if you kill me, you die." *Or at least I hope it does.* he thought to himself. "I'm going to break this seal, it's only restraining your movement. The one restraining your power is much larger, so... No funny business."
With only a hint of hesitation the man broke the seal and the demon stood tall, her clawed feet digging into the floor and her wings speading wide. Menacing as her visage was the man stood firm in his belief that his seal would protect him. The demon stood shoulder and head taller than he, but he faced her with cuurage.
"Little man, why have you summoned me to this place? Your lack of direction makes even me question the nature of your intentions." She said, much calmer now. "You show no wish for a slave, no intentions of violence, what is it you want?"
"Only to understand." He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I knew you could be summoned, I just knew! And now that I have you here, I would have you tell me about what it is to be a demon."
The demon looked shocked, uncomprehending, as though this man was clueless as to what he was doing. "You summoned me, to talk?"
His bright eyes shone up at her. "Yes." His voice was full of awe. "You are the most facinating and beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, and I want to know all that I can about you."
Beautiful. That word struck the demon with nearly physical force. He had called her beautiful. Deadly, violent, fearsome, the start of a long list she had heard from previous summoners. Summoners whom had used her, exploited her powers. But this man, he had called her beautiful.
The man reached out his hand. "I think I understand one thing." He said. All she could do was stare at him. A demon awestruck by the actions of a man. "You're far more human that you look."
She reached out and gently touched his fingers. "No 'funny' business." She whispered. | 19 | Demon falls in love with a man that summoned her for fun to see if they really did exist. | 19 |
“There’s something a little weird about Chuck today.”
“What?” Stan said, turning toward Howard. “Is now really the best time for this?”
Howard shifted the pistol in his hand, careful not to point it away from the bank teller on his knees ahead of him.
“I guess not,” he said. He could probably wait till later to discuss. It was just that, ever since they left the hideout and made their way toward the bank, something about Chuck just seemed so weird. Maybe it was the massive, black car he’d driven to the bank—rather than going in the same vehicle as them, as was planned—or the way he seemed to sneak around, but it just felt off. Stan was right, though, it wasn’t the correct time. They’d figure it out after.
“Go check on where Chuck’s at with the safe.” Stan pointed his own pistol at the man on the ground, pushing Howard’s out of the way. That was his job, Howard’s role. He was supposed to be the gun man, the special hostage handler. That was all he was supposed to do, Stan had specifically given that to him. They’d went over it so many damn times. Chuck was the safe guy, he was there to crack it open. Stan was the talker, the one in charge of keeping everyone calm and quiet. Now suddenly Stan was the talker and the gun guy? It wasn’t fair.
“I thought I was the hostage guy,” Howard said, gun no longer pointed at the back of the teller’s head.
“You are, champ, and you’re doing a great job,” Stan said. “Right now, though, I need you to quickly take a break and make sure everything’s going smoothly over at the safe. Think of it as getting to do a second job. When you finish it, you can come right back to kicking butt as the hostage handler.”
“Okay,” Howard said with a smile. It was his first bank heist, yet already he was being promoted to safe-guy-checker. He was surprised at how well he was apparently doing—he always expected so little from himself, he’d forgotten what it felt like to feel proud.
Howard turned and walked behind the counter, several pairs of fearful eyes watching him as he made his way toward the massive, metal safe around the corner. Chuck stood in front of it, hand raised to his pointed ear, mouth moving quietly as if he were speaking to someone.
“Everything all right back here?” Howard said.
“What?” Chuck said, turning toward Howard and immediately dropping his hand to his side. He sounded different. His voice was usually much higher. Yet now it was deep and rugged, almost frighteningly so.
“Any progress with the safe?”
“Safe?” Chuck said. He turned around and stared at the enormous, metal safe. “Oh, uh, no. Nothing yet. Still working on it.”
“Any ETA?” Howard said. He didn’t remember Chuck being so tall when they’d left the hideout. He was pretty sure he was usually a few inches shorter than him, yet now he stood well over six feet. He also seemed much more muscular than usual, his black armor forming the outline of a very well-developed upper body. He made a mental note to ask him what workout program he’d been following that produced such amazing results in just a few hours.
“Maybe five minutes,” Chuck said. The mask on his head covered all but his mouth and jaw, two tall, pointed ears sticking out of the top. A long black cape cascaded down from his shoulders, concealing his back.
“Great,” Howard said, turning back toward the front of the bank then stopping. Something just didn’t feel right. He turned back around. “Hey, Chuck, can I ask you a question?” Chuck was staring at the safe, his hand back up at his ear. He didn’t seem to have heard him.
“Chuck,” Howard repeated. He remained still, hand by his ear, mouth moving slowly and deliberately. “Chuck? Hello?” Chuck turned around.
“What? Oh, me? Sorry, I was—uh—day dreaming. You know, about all this great cash we’re going to get.” He adjusted his belt, the dozens of small pouches attached to it jingling as they shifted. They were probably to hold all the tools he would need to crack the safe—there was no way Howard wanted that job. It seemed too confusing. He did, however, want Chuck’s yellow and black belt buckle, which had what appeared to be some sort of bat-like figure printed onto it. Chuck always had a great fashion sense, or at least he did now.
“You and I both, man,” Howard said, smiling. He would probably buy a boat with his share. He’d never before owned a boat—although he had once crashed a car into a lake—but it definitely seemed like a great purchase. He’d probably use it to sail to Europe and meet a fine, Australian woman. “Anyway, I was just wondering if everything was okay with you.”
“What do you mean?” Chuck said.
“I don’t know, you just seem a little different. I wanted to make sure you were doing all right. I know it’s been hard since Marley left you. It’s great that you’re working out now—seriously, you look fantastic—and I’m glad you grew a lot taller this morning, but you know that I’ll always be there for you.”
“Thanks, Stan, I appreciate that,” Chuck said.
“What? No, I’m Howard,” he said. Chuck froze, his eyes locked on Howard’s, hand slowly moving toward his over-crowded belt. “Anyway, I better head back to Stan and make sure he’s doing well with hostage control. Let me know if you need anything.”
Chuck slowly shook his head and turned back toward the safe, hand again returning to his ear. Howard slowly made his way back over to Stan, who was shouting something comforting to the several people lying face-down in the lobby.
“Hey kiddo,” Stan said, turning to greet Howard. “How’d it go?”
“Excellent,” Howard said with a grin. “Chuck said it would take about five more minutes, but he was pretty pre-occupied with some sort of radio call. He also grew a lot taller—did you notice that? Honestly, the height looks great on him.”
“What?” Stan said, one eyebrow raised.
“Nothing, just—you know—he looks a lot better. More muscular, solid jaw line, few inches taller, no more fat. It looks good.”
“The hell?” Stan said, raising to his feet. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know, I just think he looks good now. That’s all.”
Stan stared at Howard, his eyes wide. “Taller? More muscular? Are you gay or something?”
“What? No, definitely not. I meant to say ‘no homo’ afterwards.”
“Oh,” Stan said, relaxing his shoulders and kneeling back down and returning his pistol to the temple of the hostage in front of him. “Okay.”
“One other thing,” Howard said. He had noticed something a little irregular about Chuck, and he knew he shouldn’t even bother bringing it up. Still, he realized he’d probably forget if he didn’t. “Chuck was wearing a bat suit,” Howard said. “Do you know where I can get one?”
“A bat suit?” Stan whispered, eyes wide as he slowly rose to his feet. He paused, lifting his gun and pointing it toward the corner that lead to the safe room. “Spiderman.”
“Fucking retards,” echoed Chuck’s deep, almost Christian Bale-like voice from the shadows above.
| 23 | Three criminals are in the middle of a job when they find out one of them isn't who he seems | 24 |
*Opening Music, Opening Credits*
**Camera up on studio set**
**Host:** Hello, and welcome to *Totally Fucking True Science*. I'm your host Neil Degrasse Tyson.
**Host**: You know, the world we live in is so amazing. Many of us take for granted that the seasons will change, that the sun will come out, that the world will continue to turn. But what about those amazing things we don't even know about? Things that are totally fucking true.
**Screen change, B-Roll of Pacific Ocean**
**Host**: The ocean. The great expanse. The second-to-last frontier. There are many wonderful and crazy things happening in the ocean. For instance, the ocean is 12,080.7 feet (3,682.2 meters) deep on average. That's about eight Empire State Buildings, stacked one on top of the other. The deepest part of the ocean, however, is about 36,200 feet down (11,030 m). That's more like 25 Empire State Buildings. That's fucking crazy! And totally fucking true.
**Screen change, B-Roll of people walking in different cities.**
**Host**: And it's not just the ocean that's crazy. Take for example the human brain. It is extremely powerful, and sometimes, takes on a life of it's own. Prosopagnosia is a disorder in which people struggle to recognize faces. Faces are so important that humans have a brain area called the fusiform gyrus that specializes in recognizing them. Developmental problems or injuries to the fusiform gyrus can leave people clueless about the looks of even loved ones. That's totally fucking crazy. And totally fucking true.
**Scene change, camera up on studio set.**
**Host**: So those are just two examples for totally fucking true science. I've got a guest here to help me, my dear friend, Bill Nye.
**Guest**: Hello, Dr. Tyson, it's great to see you again.
**Host**: Come on, Bill, call me Neil. We're all friends here.
**Guest**: Okay, Neil. Well thanks for having me here, on totally fucking true science.
**Host**: Absolutely, tell the viewers something crazy, and totally fucking true.
**Guest**: Sure thing, Neil. Mantis shrimp can use their armored claws to strike at speeds of 74 feet per second (23 m/s), delivering blows with 200 pounds (91 kg) of force behind them. The crustaceans are only about 4 inches (10 cm) long. Thats fucking crazy.
**Host**: And totally fucking true!
**Guest**: Definitely. Neil, do you like Star Wars?
**Host**: Who doesn't?
**Guest**: Well, check this out. The velvet belly lantern shark comes equipped with spines that glow like lightsabers. These appendages may be a visible warning to predators that any attempt to bite will end with them picking spiky bits out of the roofs of their mouths.
**Host**: Well slap my ass and call me sally, that's fucking crazy.
**Guest**: And totally fucking true!
**Scene change, Quick-Fact Screen**
**Host**: Did you know... the average shot of espresso contains less caffeine than a typical cup of coffee. That's fucking crazy, and totally fucking true.
**Scene change, camera up on studio set**
**Host**: Those are just a few of the things we have in store this season. Be sure to tune in each week for more stunning, crazy, and mind-blowing facts about Earth, Space, People, and everything in between. I'm Neil Degrasse Tyson, and this has been Totally Fucking True Science.
**Fade to black**
**Closing Music, Closing Credits.**
| 27 | Write the script for a show called, "Totally Fucking True Science with Neil Degrasse Tyson." | 42 |
I was once the most famous man in the world.
It's possible I still am. I imagine them cursing my name, hating me even more than they once loved me, begging for the one release I took from them.
When I first debuted my pill, I was on the cover of every magazine, sitting on the chairs of so many talk shows, questioned endlessly by scientists, businessmen, and politicians. I would lie and say that it was easy, that once you discovered how to reverse telomere deteriotion, preserving the consciousness was a natural second step.
It was taken before surgeries, before battles, before spaceflights - no matter how tramautic the damage to the body, the consciousness would survive until the body could be repaired by medical science. I remember the first time I saw a man with half his skull missing, a black bandana covered the hole. He thanked me, crying through his one good eye, saying that taking my pill allowed him to watch his son grow up.
In less than a decade, a black market generic had appeared. Suddenly, the pill was recreational, friends took it before skydiving, newbie hikers took it before leaving for Everest, porn stars took it before...well, there's a genre that I had never knew would exist. I heard it paid well.
2028 was the first year that nobody died. Nobody died in 2029 either. Or 2030, 2031, 2032...eventually, the world became crowded, Chicago's borders stretched to Iowa, all of Japan was consumed by the Tokyo megapolis. Crops failed, lakes went dry, and a starving population refused to die. They still felt the pain, but their bodies would never quit.
It was a famine that did us in. Our dry tongues lapped out of cracked lips, our skin hung like drapes upon our bones, our bellies distended from our bodies as kwashiorkor sickness spread to even Western Europe. And stubbornly, we lived. We were too weak to move, too weak to stop the bacteria that decomposed our bodies or the odd scavenger that began to feast on the vestiges of meat that remained. I don't know what I am now. After a crow ate my eyes, I couldn't look at my body. I imagine some kind of puddle of cells, a grey jelly trapped inside skull, fully conscious and fully alone.
I thought I was saving lives. I destroyed them. | 23 | "You don't save lives, you destroy them." | 18 |
There are no more buildings along the streets, just huts and tents. There are graves with no tombstones to my left and there are the survivors of World War III to my right, and many of them do not have a full set of limbs or organs. I wasn't born when World War III happened, and all I'm left with are stories told with broken speech. I've heard stories of carts capable of moving at inhuman speeds and an endless supply of water. Both of these stories I find hard to believe, but the old deliver them with gravitating honesty.
I remember my father telling me, "After World War III ended, there was very little for people to live with. Few shelters, fewer people, and even less food and water. But then, something clicked among the last living, we developed generosity and care. If there was a person on the streets with no clothing, we would take off whatever we could spare and give it to him or her. We realized that life is something that is much more valuable than a piece of meat. I mean, what is life if there aren't any lives in it?"
Now, the world is rebuilding again. Humans have learned from their mistakes and are ready to ensure that it will never happen again. We will continue to stand united and continue to fight for our freedom. We may only have our sticks and stones, but we will prevail against the Radiated. They advance toward us everyday, but we will hold them back. We will rise again because that is what we do. | 26 | Albert Einstein | 107 |
"And now all the way from southside Gotham is the one, the only... Joseph Kuhr ladies and gentleman" Says the announcer.
Joe Kuhr jogs up to the microphone. "Hello Uptown Gotham! I really do love this side of town. I live down near the Arkham district in a studio apartment. Sounds glamorous doesn't it. *Studio*. Like an artist would live there. They should've advertised 2 bedrooms, 1 bedrooms or cells. It's like I live in the fucking Asylum. I Basically live in a 200 square foot kitchen... I literally burnt my sheets one night making pot brownies".
The crowd is laughing and having a good time. Suddenly a drunken "BOOO!" comes from the back of the room. It's Bruce Wayne and he is shitfaced drunk. "We dont curr bout fuckin poor jokes." He crumples up a $100 bill and throws it towards the stage "Ther ya go funny guy. Now make revelant jokes for us so-fist-tocated folks".
Joe tries to laugh it off. "It's Bruce Wayne everybody. Gothams favorite spoiled bitch! Go get some more drinks Bruce. They have some **well** drinks in the lounge. Just don't fall in". The crowd laughs nervously
"Who you callin spoiled... Bitch. I fuckin work for my shit. Fuckin joke tellen fuckin callin me out. I can do what you do hammered . Knock knock fuck you. HAHAHA! Blllpphhh" Bruce makes fart noises.
"It's ok folks. Don't hold it against him. Theater's tend to bring out the worst in Bruce." Retorts Joe.
"Wutha fuck did he just say" Says Bruce to the harem of women at his side. "I fuckin own this theater you scraggly little fuckster." He gets up and starts stumbling to the stage. An usher tries to stop him and he delivers a round house to the young mans face knocking him out. Everyone who was laughing is now dead silent.
"Listen, Bruce, we don't have to get violent here. It's a comedy show. I'll stay up here and tell jokes and you just go back to your seat and get an STD." says Joe.
Bruce hops on stage and gets in a karate stance. "I'm Bruce mother fucking Wayne" He sloppily throws out a couple kicks and punches. The Joker looks to the crowd like 'is this guy serious'?
POW!
Bruce back hands Joe across the face. "Oh, ahahaha" The joker yelps out as he stumble back. "You don't know who your messing with Brucie" Says Joe in a sinister voice.
Bruce continuing to do his karate moves says "You dunno who you're messin with Mr. Joe Kuhr. Bruce pauses a sec thinking about the name he just said.
THWAP!
Joe punches Bruce in the mouth and lets out a devious laugh. The crowd is very nervous now. Joe and Bruce meet eyes and both give the other the 'I know who you are' look.
Suddenly the fire alarm is pulled and everyone begins to run out. Harley comes in through the door as goons start to barricade the exits after everyone files out.
"Well Batdick! Looks like The Joke... is on you!". They rush the inebriated Bruce Wayne and beat the ever living hell out of him. Tie him up and throw him into a van in the back alley.
"That worked just as you said it would boss!" Says Harley. "What are we gonna do with him now?"
The Joker smiles ear to ear.
To be continued.... | 105 | The Joker has a secret identity as a stand-up comedian. Tonight, Batman is in the audience as Bruce Wayne..... the Heckler. | 218 |
I woke up to screams.
I unstrapped and looked around as my eyes focused. My head spun as I pushed off of the wall and opened the door to the main cabin. I floated through the hallways and looked into the control room. I could see Rachel near one of the windows, floating in a ball with her head in her hands.
“Rachel? What’s wrong?” She looked over at me and I could see that her eyes were red.
“Erin…” she whispered. I floated over to her and held her in my arms. “Erin, it’s happening.”
I looked out the window at the earth floating majestically beneath us, masked by nightfall. The darkness was broken by crimson streaks cutting across the globe.
“No…it can’t be.” I muttered.
“Erin, listen to this.” She floated to the console near the center of the room and pushed a button. A familiar voice filled the cabin.
“Endeavour, this is the President. As you may know, our nation is under attack. We ask that you prepare yourselves to stay in orbit for a longer duration than expected. We will communicate with you when we have further information.”
Rachel looked at me with her hand covering her mouth. We stared at each for a moment before we slowly floated back over to the window. There was more red than black now. The light from the fires streamed into the control room and covered us in a red glow.
“That,” she said, pointing to a particularly large explosion, “is Los Angeles. And there is Washington and you can hardly see Nevada anymore. And Japan is on the horizon, or at least it would have been…” She turned away and cried into my arms.
I couldn’t look away. I was mesmerized by the fires—new ones bursting to life every second. I felt a weight build in my chest. I knew that while everyone on earth died, we would live.
And we did.
One week after the destruction began, 85% of the population had been annihilated. They eventually stopped calling, and then they forgot about us. We lived together and watched the world burn beneath us.
The worst part was living with the silence.
| 17 | Two Astronauts aboard a satellite are gazing at the Earth from above when a massive Nuclear War breaks out on the surface. | 31 |
The kid chuckles with naive abandon.
I smirk at him:
"Well, what about this one? Where does it go?"
"It doesn't go *anywhere*, silly! It doesn't fit!"
The little boy giggles. I smile and draw a long breath.
"Oh," I hold the Lego piece up to his face. "You're right," I mutter. "I'm kinda a dummy, aren't I? I forgot I was playing with a big boy..."
The kid had already finished his 'spaceship', and it was fit for anything. Literally. It was hewn of wood, and metal, and brass, and manned by robots, zombies, pirates and ninja parrots.
My smile widens.
I was particularly fond of the ninja parrots.
"You're not a dummy!" The little boy declares. "You just don't know where everything goes!"
I blink, and I tighten my crossed legs. I look around us: the Jenga tower, which was now fallen, the video game on the TV screen, now completed, the checkerboard, its game now ended. I draw a breath and look all around the room.
"What're you lookin' for, silly? There're no more games to play around here!" The boy giggles and grabs his bare feet. He almost falls onto his rear, but I help him right himself.
"I'm just, uh..." I catch a lump in my throat. "I'm just thinking: what do you wanna do, next?"
The kid looks around, his copper eyes beaming as he scans the playroom.
"I dunno," he says. "We've played all the games I have. Do you have any others?"
I bite my lip, but never lose my smile:
"Uh... I do," I say. "I've got other games, but... well-"
"'Well' what?" The boy gets to his feet and teasingly shoves my shoulders. "Whaddya got?"
"I've got a... a very *good* game, but it's only a game for *big* boys. Boys who're strong enough to play it..."
The kid crosses his pudgy arms and grins; he's got a big gap in his teeth, and it beams as he smiles:
"I'm big enough to play any games!" The boy brags.
I catch another lump in my throat; my eyes quiver, and I can bear the feeling no longer; I look to the corner of the room, and the quivering eyes of the boy's mother meet mine.
What was she thinking, right now? What did she think of *me*? When I came to them a week ago- explaining the real meaning behind all the fainting spells he'd had in school, and those weird readings from the MRI's he'd gotten in the hospital- she'd shut me out. She kept me away completely for so very long. Only now, at this moment, did she want me here. How did she know? How could she tell that this was... that this was the right time for me to be here?
And why did I come? Why, now, so close to the moment, did I decide to come and say that word I'd never dared say to the kid? It was a word I knew I'd be forbidden to say, even after learning of her pregnancy, and even knowing what it would entail. It was a word I could *never* say to the boy, no matter what, but now I had said it.
I said 'hello'.
"Hey!" The boy squints at me and leans down near my face. "What's going on? Why're you crying? Are you hurt?"
I look up at the boy standing before me, and I quickly wipe my eyes.
"I... uh... no: no, I'm not hurt. I'm just... I'm just wondering..."
"Wondering what?" The boy tilts his head in the other direction.
"There's another game," I whisper. "And it's really... really *great*. It's better than all these, but it's also kinda hard..."
The little tyke smiles and draws closer to me.
"That doesn't matter!" He beams. "I can play it! I know I can!"
I can only stare at the floor, and I do for a long time. Finally the little kid grips my chin and holds my face up near his:
"You remember the rules of the game, right? You're not a *dummy*, are you?"
He titters, and in that moment his mother locks eyes with me. We both bleed mightily, but on the inside. In her face I see an equal measure of love and hatred. I can read the equation well; this is the last time we'll ever meet on friendly terms.
I don't blame her.
When I look at the boy again I stand up, and colors swirl against one of the walls. At first the kid is scared, but his face slowly grows more curious. I pat his shoulder and nod at him:
"Wow," I manage. "I was kinda afraid to play this new game. But I forgot: I'm playing it with a *big boy*, aren't I?"
The kid looks up at me, and it's all I can do to hide my tears:
"You're *not* a dummy," I say. "You know where everything goes..."
The boy slowly looks back at his mother, and the pair hold that gaze for an eternity. When he finally looks back at me the little kid nods seriously:
"I... I go... *somewhere*, don't I?" He whispers. "I... I *fit*, don't I?"
I grip the kid's shoulder tighter, and then I nod:
"You do," I say. "Wanna see how?"
The boy again looks at his mother, and she manages a brave face for him. When he looks back at me he's all smiles:
"Yeah," he says. "Let's see."
The boy and I walk forward, pressing into that blessed, holy light.
I didn't fear for him. Not once. His destination was beyond anything I knew, and anything I could *ever* know.
My only thoughts went to his mother, left to hold the boy's limp body in her arms. It would get cold, I knew, and that thought disturbed me.
I only knew warmth from her; and I'd hoped to know only warmth from everything we ever managed to create.
Who was being naive, now?
.
EDIT: myriad tense and spelling errors. Don't drink and write, kids; unless you're Ernest Hemingway... | 95 | The angel of death has a mortal son, and today is his day to die | 101 |
"Jim."
"Yes. "
"Are you listening."
"Yes. "
" Okay, can you please hand me the good saw. "
"Yes, Master"
Today is my first day. Brand new. I'm what you say right off the boat in the field of torture. Can't explain why I'm so attracted to it, I guess it started when I was younger, torture was something as I found as a form of beautiful justice. I saw my first live..
"Jim, please, the good saw! "
Damn, lost in my mind again, I drift a lot. Okay. The good saw is always so close, why does he need me to get it. I went over to the wall where it rested, previously used, bloody, It's an art. I grabbed the saw and rushed it back to master.
"Here is the good saw Master."
"Thank you, anyways, please pay attention. What is the goal. "
"Information."
"No, The goal is to force information. Imagine him like a balloon That's it. He's a balloon, filled with hot air, and when they yell and cry, it's all just hot air. Remember. He's a balloon."
Master pointed over at the next person we would be squeezing justice from. He rested on a chair. Naked. Confused. He panted heavy, his feet were raised exposing his shins as they rested size by side.
"Jim, are you paying attention. "
" Yes. "
"
Okay, have you heard of this technique before? "
Yes. I have. I've read this before, this is a tactic torturers have used for years. I love it. I couldn't wait to see it live. Okay, so, People might have a tendency to cry and moan. I'm aware of this. It's awful. Telling us about their families. How they want to live. Blah. Blah. Blah. If we see this human differently, torturing is fun. It's exciting. Master leads me over to the balloon that looked at us wide eyed. He began to shake.
"Now, Jim, this is just scratching the surface of what are we going to do. This balloon you see in front of you has no information, we're to just show you how to properly extract it if this was a situation that, well, information was needed."
"So, what are we doing?"
"Watch. "
Master puts a black cloth over the balloons head. And rest the saw on his shins. The balloon begins to scream loudly.
"We're going to do this slowly, I want you to know, answers will always after to come after the pain, not during. You don't stop. You finish the job. You show him his leg. You ask the question. If he refuses. The next leg."
Please can we do this already. Master hands me the saw. I feel the power I adjust myself over the shins, and press gentley. The balloon squirms. I begin sawing. I saw. And saw. I can feel the heat from the blood. Yes. Justice. I keep sawing and look over at master.
"Yes, hold. Tightly, wait, stop. "
Master comes to me and motions me aside and takes the saw. The balloon is screaming but it has no effect on us. It's just all hot air.
"You need to make sure you use proper form. You need to motion with your elbow. Push with the elbow. Forward."
There was a scream as Master moved the saw forward into the shin.
"And hold for one Mississippi, and then back, again, make sure to now pull with the elbow." another scream. Hot air escaped the balloon. Master continued with the pull, push, pull, push, pull, push. Until the balloons legs both laid still with no body attached.
"You see. " said Master. "You need to make sure you focus on proper form. We don't get the health benefits like we used to so make sure you remember form, so you don't have to retire in your 30's. You understand?"
"Yes Master. "
"Okay, next, let me show you how we deal with the eyeballs, can you hand me that screwdriver."
| 32 | An inexperienced torturer on his first day | 35 |
It was an amazing opportunity. The scientists at the Institute for Memory and Cognition offered it to me. The basis for the procedure was a phenomenon known as Iterative Neuro-Chronological Displacement. By manipulating the laws of quantum mechanics, human minds could be sent back to their first moments of consciousness.
In effect, an adult mind could be sent back in time to carry out another iteration of their life. A do-over, in a manner of speaking.
So the IMC reached out to the public. Putting ads in papers, on popular websites, and even on television. I first heard about the IMC when I was sitting on my couch, as I often did in those days, watching reruns as I slowly drank myself into a stupor. Meredith had been dead four years and the grief had not subsided. I missed her every day. Thirty years of love, happiness, and laughter, brought to a sudden end by a drunk driver.
After she died, I had considered killing myself. It got pretty desperate until a friend helped me out and got me some therapy. The docs gave me some anti-depressants, which numbed the pain. I still thought about her everyday, every time I closed my eyes. It was unbearable.
So when that IMC ad shouted promises of "a second chance", "a new beginning", and "the chance to revisit lost loves", I was sold. I picked up the phone, fingers trembling with excitement as I dialed the numbers.
My appointment was scheduled for September 31st, 2015. I arrived at the IMC building that morning and was immediately greeted by technicians. They took me inside, put me in a one-piece bodysuit that was both hot and cold at once. They shaved my head, shoved metal rods into it, and plugged me into a variety of ports, jacks, and sockets. Machines whirred to life, lights came on, and I was plunged into darkness as the narcotic sedative took effect.
I remember waking in a bright room, unable to move, see, or hear. The next several months were a blur. I can barely remember them now. They told me that would happen, something about infant brains being unable to reconcile the INCD event. It wasn't until I was three that it all started coming back to me. Memories of an adult life, my life. My old life.
The first years of my life were exactly the same as they were before, I went to school, played with the neighborhood kids, and watched cartoons. It was like one long feeling of deja vu, always recognizing events, people, and places. By the time I was 18, I was ready to do what I had come here for.
I knew where to look for her. I knew her name. Meredith Waters. My wife. She was 19 now, living with her family in the next town over. This was the year we met. I saved up money and took a bus to her town, already knowing exactly what to do and what to say. The day had gone exactly as it had the last time around, I knew success was guaranteed.
As soon as I arrived at her house, I knew something was wrong. The patio furniture, all wrong. The shutters, a different color. Even the cars parked in the driveway were different. Meredith's family would have never been able to afford cars that nice.
I ran to the door and knocked. I was greeted by an elderly asian woman.
"Hello, is Meredith Waters here?" I said.
"Um no, there is no Meredith Waters here. Penelope and Adam Waters lived here before me, but I understand that they died in a car accident. Drunk driver killed them both. Penelope was pregnant I think. Terrible tragedy..." said the asian woman, her voice trailing off as she frowned at the news she had just delivered.
I backed away from her, her porch, and that perverse house. The realizations washed over me. *She doesn't exist this time around. No second chances, no do-overs, no new beginnings.*
I screamed, I cried, and I begged. I begged the universe to give her back to me.
edit: formatting and content revision courtesy of /u/Gurahave | 11 | A man gets to redo his previous life while keeping all previous knowledge. But the wife he loved does not exist this time. | 26 |
I squinted a little as I stared into the distance trying to sink in what I just saw. It was her, and she looked amazing. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress with huge sunflowers printed across it, her skin has slightly tanned from 10 years ago but she still had the shoulder length hair and the fast clumsy walk which was recognisable almost anywhere.
I lengthened my strides in an effort to reach her, my heart pounding on my chest. I was hoping, praying that she would recognise me. After all, it has been 10 years. I have been hurt over and over again, so much so that I’ve actually given up. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to see her face. I knew it would do me good.
I catch up with her at a pedestrian crossing, she turned around and looked at me; and almost instantaneously she turned back to face the lights. “Doesn’t she know me?” “Is it still her?” “Does she hate me?” thousands of questions flooded my mind as I pondered as to why she didn’t acknowledge me.
I see her turning again, and I realised that she didn’t recognise me at first. “Oh my god, David?”” Is that you?” she asked. I felt relieved, somehow she seems to be the only one who calls me David and she makes it sound so sweet. I saw her eyes twinkle under the sunlight, turning turquoise. A bead of sweat on her forehead glistened in the hot day. He hair was falling over her forehead and she had neatly brushed them behind her ear. She still had the slightly raspy voice. She still was the person I left crying.
I felt so happy; I was a confused 16 year old, caught in the throes of puppy love. I rejected her for the promises that came with growing up. Money, Love, Education and Security. Promises that never came true. All these didn’t matter in that fleeting second she reached out to hug me.
Without hesitation, I pushed her hand away. She couldn’t see me like this. She looked at me with those kind eyes, they look almost distraught. I could read what she was thinking. Where did you go wrong? It’s the question I asked myself every day since I let her go. I couldn’t do it, I just looked at her and said “Pardon me Ma’am, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
She looked confused, she bit her lips and apologised. She reached into her bag and took out her purse. She was apologising as she took out a crisp 20 dollar bill and placed it onto my hand. I could feel my eyes well up, she was still as giving. My tears rolled down my grimy, unshaven face, as I replied “God bless you” I took a deep breath “and hopefully David too.”
| 56 | You made a promise with a girl to marry her 10 years later. 10 years have passed, you lost contact with her, but one day on the street, you bumped into her | 50 |
I stood motionless in terror, watching silently as the slavering beast drew near. Its high-pitched yaps like a thousand dreadful bells from some obscure Lovecraftian city. The monster’s coat was perfectly, innocently white, just like its sharp teeth. But I knew that it would soon revel in bloodshed, dripping crimson as it played in my ribcage. The facade ruined until it tempted another. So I threw the orb away as far as I could, hoping beyond hope that I could distract it and gain a few more pitiful moments of life. Sobbing, I reminisced, about the days before it came and ruined my happy, wonderful life. The life that quickly descended into agony as it forced me to entertain and amuse it with my pain. Truly, my life was a living hell. There would be no end either, not until I dropped to the ground in exhaustion and I begged for release. The only release would be death of course. Its panting filled my ears as it drew near once again, the saliva-covered sphere in its powerful jaws. The abomination dropped the fuzzy globe and as it rolled to my feet, I could see the grin on its inhuman face, see the internal laughter in its soulless eyes. So I stooped, my back aching, picked up the tennis ball, and threw it for my dog to fetch. It was a cycle that would never end. | 14 | Make something that is incredibly cute and innocent sound terrifying and gruesome | 19 |
Imagine a spark. It is surrounded by darkness, nothing tangible and nothing to see or know beyond its flickering light. It is tremendously alone.
The spark wanders, casting its faint light wherever it goes. It is afraid, alone. It has yet to know anything beyond its light and the ever-present dark.
After a while, the spark spots a breakage in the darkness. In the distance lies a speck of light, presumably emanating from a spark much like itself. What should it do?
Should it seek out the other spark, adding their light together to stave off a little more of the night?
Should it run far away for fear that the other may extinguish or steal its own light?
Or should it watch the other spark flicker away, receding into the unknown, forever a mystery?
The darkness around the frail spark seemed darker, more crushing. The little light decided to approach the new phenomenon.
As it grew closer, the fist spark noticed that the other was observing him. Likely, it too was battling within itself over how to approach the situation.
Eventually, the darkness was pushed away a bit more as the two sparks stood contemplating the other. Around them, their feeble lights flickered and danced. So very frail, the sparks were terrified of the other.
But the deep blackness around them held its own terrors.
And so the sparks joined as one, emitting a brighter light, pushing back the crushing nothing. What lay in store for them, they did not know. But, for now, the darkness was not so thick, and the world a little less lonely. | 57 | Define "trust" in the most creative way possible. | 40 |
Police flooded into a typical teenager's room - messy, and with a slight stench that nobody questioned for fear of the answer. The fire department and medical services waited outside the house, a rather ordinary suburban abode. Surrounding, the Army National Guard had been deployed to the fullest that the local armory and bases could permit, several tanks sat idle, soldiers kept at a stark attention, and helicopters circled overhead. One or two of the neighbors swore that they had seen a sleek UAV drone patrolling the skies too.
FBI and MIB were also deployed, albeit with less pomp and excitement. The head officer in the case, Chief Orland, beamed with a pride unknown to the subordinate spooks he commanded.
"This is the day, boys!", he attempted to sound overly intimidating but his tenor voice simply didn't convey fear. " We finally got the sumbitch."
Throwing open the laptop on the teenager's computer desk, a spook opened iTunes up, and immediately went to the tab that said "Purchased". There, a list of songs and albums was compiled, along with the date of purchase. Scientists took pictures and screenshots for later study.
Orland inquired, attempting now to sound important, "Show me the first purchased item. Where did this thug get started?" The spook sighed, scrolled to the bottom of the list and pointed out a song by Skrillex, much to the disgust of all the agents that knew the artist, Chief Orland didn't understand their collective disapproval but mimicked it nonetheless to seem like he knew what was going on.
"Aha! So this *mhm* Skrillex, is the source of his cyber-punk powers. Great! We will catch him yet, heh." Nervousness pierced the false tone of confidence. "Now, what is the most recent purchase?"
Sighing again, the spook scrolled up and quaked with fear as he saw the albums purchased only a day earlier.
"What is it man?! Spit it out!" yelled the Chief, seeing his underling's distress.
"Sir," the spook said cautiously. His bass voice boomed and pulsed with raw authority and masculine strength. It made the Chief jealous, which was never a good thing to do.
"The boy is a fucking god now sir."
His finger trembled as he pointed to the screen, artists such as Rammstein and Eisbrecher were present - iTunes reported the genre as "Industrial / Neue Deutsche Härte".
A low rumble shook the house then, starting subtle and soft, but grew quickly into a bone rattling roar. Windows shook, and the old sports trophies that stood proudly on shelves fell, plastic pieces snapping off upon hitting the ground.
A crack of lightning shot down, frying the laptop and setting off car alarms announced the presence of their intended prey - a young teenage boy. They knew then that they stood no chance.
Soldiers were strewn across the ground from the initial attack, bodies burnt and tanks had been annihilated. The teenager was at the epicenter, cracked asphalt beneath his feet in a half-squat, his fist lying on his upper thigh.
"Hier kommt die Sonne!"
The boy pounded his clenched fist to his thigh violently - a tillhammer.
Energy radiated from him, pulsing at first in sync with the beat of the tillhammer, and then grew from a harmless glow to a full on nuclear explosion.
"Ich muss zerstören."
Edit: Fixed some screwups (notably, Deutsches -> Deutsche)
Added a little more. I was very tired last night when I wrote this at roughly 0200. There are more things I could fix but I'm at work and only have time to do so in between waves of customers. Will do a rewrite later that fleshes the story out more and corrects grammar and punctuation errors. | 112 | A young boy get differents superpowers based on which genre of music he is currently listening on his iPod | 323 |
When his first love had left him, at 19, there was thunder and lightning. A loud rumbling from the clouds, though the season wasn't quite right. Meteorologists ascribed it to a freak weather pattern.
When his mother had died, at 30, the streets in his town flooded. Cars slid down motorways, power-lines fell. Ten casualties. The municipality hadn't been equipped to deal with the wide scope of the storm, and so were left unprepared.
When his wife died in labor, at 40, the storm that followed obliterated most things in it's path. Experts called it the worst in fifty years. Though everything around the hospital seemed to vanish in a thick, heavy rain, the building itself seemed sheltered from the storm's wrath. Doctors called it a miracle.
He had always thought that the storm followed him in life, echoing unfortunate events. A sort of 'bad-luck omen'. He thought that whenever he died, he'd have a storm just like the others roll over the church. He joked about it often, how God must have been 'holding a grudge'.
When he passed away, at 50, the sky was bone-dry. | 221 | For the first time ever, a person is born with a genuine superpower. They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it. | 155 |
Joe shambled down the street, he was trying to be purposeful about it, but he had a serious limp that made him look like he was drugged out. Joe was making his way towards the towering Necropolis that rose over the skyline. There he would grab a meal at the Little Sister's Convent and wait until one of the slum runners found a cache of Dampeners.
That's what he'd been doing last night. Or maybe it was two nights ago. Hell it might have been three. Those were some fine drugs. The beggars got the last grab of the stuff, but that was usually the best anyway.
If he couldn't get any tonight, he'd black out a couple hours after sundown. The Sisters called it withdrawal. It hurt, but at least he wasn't awake.
---
"Why do we call it The Necropolis, Sister? It doesn't look like a Necropolis. It should be called a hall or tower or something.". This novice was always asking questions. Roseanne liked that about her.
"Maybe we should rename it something more majestic. Is that what you're saying, Novice?".
"I guess so, Sister.".
Sister Roseanne nodded, "The Necropolis used to be a great space tower. It's where the great sky ships would dock and load up cargo for great voyages to the stars.".
The novice's eyes were bright, she had never heard this story before.
"We call it The Necropolis because this is the last place people would ever see their loved ones before they left. It's a graveyard. Not in flesh but in spirit. This was hundreds of years ago, young one. But so many people came to the top of this tower, never to return. ".
Those eyes weren't quite so bright.
"Why did they leave? Where did they go?".
"They left because our world is dying and they were given an opportunity to start a new life. If you look through our oldest manuscripts you will see. A new kind of ship was created. This ship could take people anywhere they wanted to go.". Roseanne shrugged, "I suppose they had a choice between staying to on a dying world or finding a new home".
"Why are we still here then?".
"I don't know. There may not have been enough vessels, or maybe our ancestors wanted to stay. Obviously, the Church stayed, the Church had to help those who didn't leave".
Sister Roseanne beckoned the novice towards the chapel, "That's enough talking for now, we need to get you to your prayers".
----
Lisa was looking through the old holofilms again. "You ever miss Earth, Jake?". He laughed, "That craphole? No way." He put his arm around her shoulders, "Don't you remember how bad it was getting? There was no more food, no more water. We were damn lucky to get out there while we had the chance.".
She frowned, "I know, it's just so sad. That's our home. You know? As a species, that's our home. I kinda miss it".
"It was our home, we've got a new one now.". | 10 | A future in which common citizens have access to faster-than-light self-sustaining spaceships. The new age of exploration begins. | 62 |
Wile sat with his right foot crossed over his left leg and watched as it shook up and down erratically. He didn’t like being in an office, they always made him uncomfortable, but he’d agreed to the consultation out of sheer desperation. He was sure the shaking of his legs was annoying, but it made him feel more comfortable. The vibration, for whatever reason, was calming. He remembered his mother telling him not to shake his legs so often when he was younger, said it stressed her out. He never understood why.
“I already tried that,” Wile said. He momentarily stopped shaking his leg, his mother’s disdain reverberating in his mind, then lowered his right foot to the ground. He immediately resumed shaking his leg. Mr. Acme—or Charlie, as he said Wile should call him—was staring at his trembling legs, just like his mother used to. He knew Charlie wanted to tell him to stop shaking, but, unlike his mother, there was no way he would. The last thing Charlie would want to do would be to upset Wile—he was their most profitable customer.
“Really?” Charlie said, glancing up at Wile’s face, then right back down at his legs. If he didn’t know any better, Wile would’ve assumed Charlie had only agreed to this consultation session so he could stare at his legs.
“Yes, of course. That was one of the first things I tried to do.”
“Surprising, that’s pretty clever of you. Most of our customers never try to drop an anvil on anybody. You’re a very smart man, Wile.” He was always such a kiss ass, although they’d technically never actually sat down and spoken before. Sure they’d talked on the phone a few times, Charlie congratulating Wile on whatever ludicrous purchase he made that week, but it was never anything more than a few sentences and awkward pauses. Even then, however, Charlie never skimped on the ass kissing. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—in fact, it felt nice to be complemented like that—but he tended to lay it on pretty thick.
“Thanks,” Wile said. “I’ve actually done it a few times.”
“Well there’s your problem,” Charlie said. “He’s expecting it.”
“Not really,” Wile said. “I don’t just take an anvil, tie it to a tree, and drop it on the ground. I try to be more elaborate.”
“How so?” Charlie said, glancing back up at Wile’s face. He quickened the pace of his leg.
“Well, this one time I took the anvil and placed it into a catapult on the edge of a cliff. I waited for my chance and then cut the wire at just the right second. Unfortunately, I got my left foot caught in the rope and was flung with the anvil, which resulted in it veering off course and into a wall.”
“Wow, that’s great. Aside from that little hiccup in the end, it sounds like you had something there. Did you ever try it again?”
“Yeah, I did the next day. Thankfully my injuries weren’t too bad. I reset the catapult, loaded in the anvil, and placed it back on the edge of the cliff. Right before I flung it, though, the wheels started rolling. I tried to stop it, but it ran me right over and flattened me like a pancake. Literally, I was as flat as a pancake. Then, to make matters worse, the rope caught my leg again and pulled me over the edge. Luckily, though, since I was completely flat, I simply floated down to the to the bottom of the cliff then shoved my thumb in my mouth and blew to re-inflated myself.”
“That’s pretty unfortunate,” Charlie said. He didn’t seem entirely sincere, but it was hard to tell for sure. Wile knew it was hard to become the CEO of a major corporation like ACME and not be a good actor and liar.
“I know. Worst part is the fucking guy ran right by me. I thought he’d keep going. You know, spare me some shame. He came back, beeped at me, and then continued on his way.” Wile paused, his legs shaking faster now. His fur made a soft ruffling sound as it quickly rose and fell. “That fucking beep, man. I swear to god, there is no worse sound in the world than that *meep, meep* bullshit.”
“I hear you, pal,” Charlie said. “I know exactly what you mean.” How could he say that? What did he know? He probably lived in a god damn mansion, cooks and servants waiting for his every beck and call. What did he know about going to bed hungry because your food was too damn fast, or spending every cent you have on ridiculous contraptions to try to secure a god damn meal? “Okay, so no anvils. We have other stuff.”
“I think I’ve tried it all,” Wile said.
“How about some ACME Rocket Boots? Strep ‘em to your feet and—”
“I tried it,” Wile said. “He’s too fast, and the boots blew up on my feet. I was fine, thankfully. It was seriously dangerous, though.”
“Wow, that’s terrible. I’ll have to talk to R&D about that. How about some ACME Glue? We have some of the stronges—”
“It spilled all over the floor and I ended up getting stuck in it for about a week. I finally freed myself when it started raining. Thankfully it was water soluble.”
“ACME Dehydrated Boulder?”
“It fell directly on my head as soon as I added the water.”
“ACME Tornado Seeds?”
“That one almost worked. It chased him down, but then he simply turned around and ran right past me. I ended up getting caught in it and flung who knows how high. I landed just on the edge of a cliff, but the tornado came back and knocked me right over it. I was able to walk it off, but it was a close call.”
“Really? Well, how about ACME Jet-Propelled Pogo Stic—“
“Tried it,” Wile said.
“ACME Dart Bomb?”
“Yep.”
“ACME-brand Suction Cups?”
“Already failed.”
“ACME Do-it-Yourself Kit Remote Control Missile-Bombs?” Charlie said.
“I almost caused World War Three with those. Never again.”
“Okay, well, how about some ACME Invisible Paint?”
“Did it already. Look, I’m going to be blunt here. I honestly feel like I’ve used everything you have to offer,” Wile said. He made an conscious effort to stop his legs from shaking.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Coyote. We here at ACME have so much more to offer, and I know you believe in us. Why else would you accept this consultation?”
“I wanted to tell you in pers—“
“So,” Charlie interrupted, “here is what I can do for you. We only reserve this item for people we truly, absolutely believe will use it properly. It is very, very dangerous, and also very expensive, but it will definitely be what you need to catch that—what did you call him? Road Runner?” Wile nodded. “To catch that Road Runner.”
“What is it?” Wile said, his legs again shaking.
“This is pretty top-secret, but I trust you. I know that you’ll use it responsibly and safely, and that you can afford it. You’re a very smart guy, a very loyal customer, and—if I may be say so—a good friend.” Wile wouldn’t exactly call them friends. Even acquaintances felt weird. This was literally the first time they’d ever met face to face. Still, Wile didn’t exactly have many friends. Most of his time was spent chasing after that fucking Road Runner, or mending to his incredibly painful yet surprisingly innocuous injuries. It might be nice to finally have someone he could call a friend.
“Well?” Wile said.
Charlie snapped his finger, followed immediately by a tall blonde woman walking into the room. She stared at Wile, almost as if she hadn’t seen a six-foot-tall anthropomorphic coyote before, then walked over to Charlie and knelt down.
“Yes, Mr. Acme?”
“Linda, I’d like for you to bring *Project X* into the room.”
“Are you sure?” Linda said.
“Yes,” Charlie said.
“Okay.” Linda stood back up and walked out of the room, Charlie clearly staring at her ass as she left. Wile didn’t have much interest in humans, but he momentarily considered reverse bestiality.
“I hope you’re ready to eat well tonight,” Charlie said, winking at Wile. Linda walked back into the room, a small, black object in her hand. She handed it to Charlie, then turned and left. Charlie was staring at the object this time.
“Is that it?” Wile asked.
“Wile, let me present you with *Project X.*” He handed the object to Wile. It was small, no more than five inches long and three inches wide. A clear cover was closed over the top, the inside nothing but black, with a small, red button in the middle.
“What is this?”
“This, Wile, is our newest product. It will revolutionize the ACME brand.” Charlie paused. “This is our ACME TNW, or Tactical Nuclear Weapon. It is the button to activate, arm, and launch an entire silo full of nuclear missiles directly at the location of the button.”
“This will help me catch the Road Runner?”
“This will help you catch the Road Runner, his friends, his family, and everyone he has ever known. You just need to make sure you aren’t anywhere near the button when you push the button.”
Wile’s legs stopped shaking. He glanced down at the small, rectangular box, then stood up. He reached his paw out toward Charlie. “I’ll take six,” he said.
“Excellent,” Charlie said, grabbing Wile’s paw and shaking it a little too enthusiastically. “That’s wonderful to hear. It also just so happens that we’re offering a discount on purchases of six or more right now. Only forty million dollars—would have been twice that without the deal. Do you want to pay by cash or credit?”
“Just put it on my tab,” Wile said, painfully aware of the crippling debt he was already drowning under. He turned the nuclear device over in his hand and studied it. He couldn’t wait to get back to the desert and figure out an incredibly elaborate and needlessly complex way to automate the pushing of the button. Once he’d caught the Road Runner, and cut out his god damn voice box, maybe he’d even invite his new Pal, Charlie, over for dinner.
___________________
[^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^other ^short ^stories ^on ^my ^site!](http://wordsontheinternet.org/)
| 33 | After decades of failure due to inexplainable feats of escape, Wile E Coyote decides to call in a special consultant to deal with the roadrunner once and for all. . . | 66 |
Not this shit again.
I sigh as I set my cup of tea (earl grey, foamed milk, no sugar please) next to my laptop. The drive is pink, of all colors. Maybe they thought it would be more unassuming than black? I DON'T put it into my laptop, lord knows I don't feel like being interrogated for another three days. I learned my lesson after the first time. Instead I pack up my things, get in my car, and drive the two miles to the little blue bungalow on the edge of town.
My knock is greeted by a minute and a half of silence. I'm used to it. Finally, after several locks and bolts are undone on the other side of the door a face, a face so much like my own appears.
“Again?” she says, almost as exasperated as me.
“Again,” I repeat. She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. I drop the drive into her outstretched fingers. “Good luck on this one,” I say with a mock salute. She searches my face for any sign that I know the contents of the drive, but apparently is satisfied with what she sees, because she nods in acknowledgment and closes the door. I walk back to my car and gun the engine. I don't need this. I have an anatomy final in two days.
Of all the cities in the whole world, my secret agent sister is stationed in mine. | 18 | You are studying at a local coffee shop and leave your table briefly to get a refill. When you return, you notice a USB flash drive placed on your table. | 19 |
We found the records of others like us.
Others that had searched for an answer to Them. Others that had fought the hopeless fight. Others that died like us.
It was from one of these long dead ancients we discovered the trick to matter conversion. It hadn't helped them, and it didn't appreciably change our fate. We slagged the Asteroid Belt into one pure pulse of energy. Giving Them their first casualties as a result was just a panacea to our wounded pride.
The last freedom left to us is to choose the manner of our own demise. I find it very fitting that we chose based on the alignment of the planets. Nostradamus would appreciate our decision. The energy contained in each planet released, each planet providing the spark to detonate the next. In a nod to the twentieth century, we even initialized it with Pluto.
We even stole that idea of course. We were far from the first to send our own star nova as a final fuck you. Some of the ancients reportedly even managed to kill one of the giant WorldShips with the energy from the blast.
As far as we can tell however, we are the first to just use the nova blast to transmit information. Specifically, the galactic coordinates of the very center of their empire. The eternal lesson of the universe - somewhere out there, there's always a bigger fish.
Payback is a bitch.
| 182 | Humanity's last act of defiance against a more advanced and powerful alien race. | 126 |
08AUG4014
Yesterday Mr. Walters found a small case containing 3 (Three) round disks. Both the case and the disks are made of primitive plastics. The disks measure 120mm (On Hundred and Twenty Millimeters) in diameter and 1.2mm (One point Two Millimeters) thick. In the center of all 3 (Three) disks was an 18mm (Eighteen Millimeter) hole. One side of each disk contains a picture depicting someone or some setting. See attachments *A*, *B*, and *C* for copies of the pictures. The other side contains a mirrored surface, with what appears to be rings engraved in them. See attachment *D.*
Mr. Walters figured that maybe the mirrored side contained engraved information. We scanned each disk's mirrored side into the computer. Upon looking at the results we determined that Mr. Walters was correct in his hypothesis. We appeared to be looking at binary information, with the engravings being nothing more than a string of 1s (Ones) and 0s (Zeros). We set the computer to decoding the the binary information, and after 3 hours we were granted with the first few glimpses at what was contained on the disks. We estimate that it will take the computer 23 days to completely decode and clean the information. Upon completion we will forward copies of the decoded information, along with the disks themselves, back to the ship.
The glimpses we got appeared to be a Two Dimensional image accompanied by audio. Luckily the language spoken was a primitive version of, the now dead language, English. There were also a few instances of some unknown languages, but luckily those are accompanied by subtitles. The computer has automatically translated all of the English, with a few exceptions but I believe these exceptions are names of races or people that we are no longer familiar with.
Mr. Walters and I believe that the disks contain an account of a large historical event set in the late 1990s and early 2000s. We are still unclear if the account was a recreation or a documentary, though we both are currently leaning towards recreation. I have created a bullet point list of what we have discovered on the disks so far.
**Creatures** - We see images of several unheard of creatures, and a few creatures that are only spoken of in legends and myths.
* Trolls (Mythological creature)
* Orcs/Orks (new creature. Seem to be smaller trolls. A brutal and aggressive race.)
* Goblins (Mythological creature, though we think the name was used interchangeably with Orcs/Orks)
* Wraiths (Mythological creature, though this specific type is not one that can be found in known stories.)
* Hobbits (New creature. They appear to be really short humans with slightly pointed ears, and large hairy feet.)
* Dwarves (Plural) / Dwarf (Singular) (Mythological creature. Look similar to Humans. They are short, about the same size as a Hobbit, but stockier. All known Dwarves have a big bushy beard. The account seems to imply that even the females grow extensive facial hair as well.)
* Wizards (Though we count them as fictional people with 'Magical' abilities, this accounts seems to imply that they are their own race. Will have to research once all data is decoded.)
* Ol-ee-fants (Spelling unsure at this time. They appear to be a distant relation to today's Elephant. Though they are much much bigger. One Ol-ee-fant can carry as many as 40 humans.)
* Wargs (New Creature. They appear to be a large 4 (Four) legged carnivorous beast. They are large enough for the Orcs/Orks to ride.
* Giant Eagles (New Creature. They appear to be a large extinct version of the better known extinct Golden Eagle.)
* Ents (Mythological creature. Though they go by a previously unheard of name, they are walking talking trees.)
* Humans (The now extinct humans appear to be the dominant race at the time of this account.)
* Elves (Plural) / Elf (Singular) (We are Physically depicted similarly to how we are today. However our ancestors seemed to put up the allusion that we had "Magical" abilities. However, our ancestors were good with bows and arrows.)
* Gollum (This is a skin and bones, hairless creature. It appears both his name, and his race's name is Gollum. Though he does go by Smeagol for awhile. Will have to investigate further.)
There are also a lot of unremarkable fish, birds and other wildlife seen and mentioned. To categorize them all would require extensive research and will be saved for when Mr. Walters and I return to the ship.
**Technologies** - The technological level at the time seems to be much farther behind than previously thought. Though they had the ability to record and preserve this account. Many people are seen living in huts and hovels with no heating or aircon. Food is prepared over an open flame, using wood or dung for fuel. There seems to be little industry, though one of the Wizards appears to be making a break through in that area. The wars are fought with Bows, Spears and Swords. The means of transportation seems to be Horses for Humans, Dwarves (though they don't seem happy about it), Elves and Hobbits. Wargs for select Orcs/Orks, or just running for hours on end for most of the Orcs/Orks. There are however a few exceptions were technology seems to surpass even us.
* Invisibility ring - A simple golden ring with an (currently) unknown inscription on it. The ring gives the wearer the ability to go invisible. However, the Wraiths appear attracted to it, possibly by a strong EMF field. The effects of the ring also seem to be addicting, as those who have worn the ring lust after it and seem really protective of it. The ring was seen being destroyed at the end of the account.
* Advanced Staffs - Each Wizard appears to have a staff that has extraordinary abilities. The abilities seen so far have been:
1. Enhancing the user's strength. Enough to send creatures flying upon being struck, and cracking rock.
2. Giving the user almost telekinetic powers. The staff can be used to move objects or creatures without touching them.
3. Creates a blinding white light. It is assumed that this light hurts Orcs/Orks and trolls, though more research should be done on the subject.
* Swords with built in Sensors - Some swords, supposedly made by our ancestors, have a built in sensor package. These sensors seem to pick up on the presence of Goblins, and Orcs/Orks. Though the method of notification is primitive, it seems effective. The swords glow blue in the presence of a Goblin or Orc/Ork. The closer and larger the group the brighter the sword glows. These swords also appear to be made of a metal that Goblins and Orcs are allergic too, since they fear even the slightest touch of the weapon.
* Communication Orbs - The Wizards seem to be in possession of an Orb that has visual and audio communication abilities. If you have an orb you can communicate with someone else who also possesses one.
* Glowing water - Our ancestors appeared to have mastered a special water that can glow brightly. I assume that it is a chemical reaction, but I am not sure. This technology may not seem advanced, but at the time depicted the only light sources available were fire or the sun.
That is all I have to report on at the moment. I will get back to excavating the dig site until the computer has decoded more. Once I have had a chance to study the data more thoroughly I will submit another report.
**Signed**
Tom Bombadil
Chief Archaeologist | 13 | 2000 years from now, an archaeologist finds a dvd of the lord of the rings films. He believes the contents of the film depict the actual lifestyle of the ancient civilization(i.e ours). Describe what he'd write on his report about his findings. | 30 |
Jack Wilson held his head in his hands. It had been a disaster. His plan had been simple, incredible, impossible. Merge mysticism and technology. Put the future in the hands of anyone with a smartphone or tablet device. Who knew what wonders would be unveiled?
He sighed, and downed another drink. Not to mention the fact that it had made him a very wealthy man. The luxurious room around him attested to that fact.
It had made him the world's most hated man as well, the empty room helped prove that also.
He could only wonder how many people had chosen to end it all; how many families he had destroyed, because people couldn't handle what they'd seen. Some simply couldn't comprehend. Others had taken advantage of things, won lotteries, solved crimes; politicians and the media revealed scandals before they'd occurred.
And that sort of thing was why it all broke down. The timeline was kept in a constant state of flux. Every time someone snuck a glance at the future, no matter how minor a thing, they invariably altered it; until time was stretched and warped and changed beyond anything it had looked like before.
Then it just stopped.
Like someone had simply turned things off.
And he was considered a charlatan for it all. But he knew the truth; he knew that it had all worked. And with a glance at the clock, he knew he had 15 seconds to live.
And the door opened, and the man leveled the gun at his forehead. And fired. | 10 | An app that lets you view the future is released on Google Play, after a year of mixed reviews, the app mysteriously stops working. | 23 |
"What are those?"
I try to think of something sexy and cute while I balance the two wine glasses and the 2 buck chuck in my hands. I figured my boyfriend would be looking at me, or the remains of my lingerie on the floor, but instead he's staring at the shelf in my room.
The one with all the hunks of metal.
"Oh. Just uh. Fossils."
I set the glasses down on my bedside table and pour quickly, but he seems transfixed by them. He gets out of the bed just as I'm about to cuddle next to him.
"Don't look like any fossils I've ever seen."
I huff, wishing he'd just turn back around so we can get drunk and go another round, like a normal birthday.
"What are are you some sort of fossil doctor?"
"I grew up in Utah. I've seen a lot of fossils." He reaches for it.
"Wait!"
He looks at me. He isn't angry or offended, just quietly inquisitive. That's why I started dating him, I suppose. And why I know I won't be able to distract him with the earthly pleasures of women and wine. I get up and pull a ratty t-shirt on to help with the cold.
"Most people go with the fossil thing."
He nods. The hunks of metal are sort of fossil-shaped, with curves and lumps and strange bulges that don't make them look like pieces of machinery. The metal is confined in hunks of rock, as well, as if buried in time. I brush a curl out of my face and pick one up, the one furthest to the left.
"I got the first one when I was twelve."
"From who?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I was walking home, a guy walks out from the corner, hands it to me and says happy birthday."
I look at his eyes and can see them working through some questions. "What kind of guy?"
"Just a guy on the street like anyone else around. Dirty jeans, mustache, worn out Dodger's cap. Looked like a day worker."
"You didn't find that...odd?"
I know he meant to say 'creepy.' The cop in him was on though, and he was using his professional tone, along with all his fancy professional words.
"Not really. Thought he was just a friend of my dad's or something. But it was cool, a special present. I didn't tell anyone about it because my mom always said to stay away from my dad's friends. And honestly, it was just nice to have something that was mine. You don't feel a lot like that when you're the fifth daughter of seven."
He watches me quietly as I put it down. "Then I got another one, the next year. No guy, just sitting on the doorstep. No note, no explanation, just another hunk of metal in a rock."
I watch my boyfriend count. "You've gotten one every year since."
I nod. "I wasn't sure what to do with them, so I just kept them in a box for a while. When I moved out for college I figured they'd stop, but when I got one on my nineteenth, that's when it got a little scary. I wasn't sure who to tell about it, though. I mean, what was I supposed to tell the cops, that someone was giving me weird metal fossils every year?"
There's a bit of fire in his eyes from that statement. No matter how many times I ask him not to, he takes my mistrust of the cops personally.
"They followed me every time I moved. So I just started keeping them out. They look pretty neat and when people ask I say 'fossils' and they go 'oh, cool' and then they strip me down and keep making love to me."
I lean forward and wrap my arms around him, pulling his skinny frame into my soft embrace. He grins.
"Everyone?"
"Well, maybe just you. Hopefully."
I'm about to kiss him when he looks back up.
"You don't have one for this year."
I shrug. "I guess not. It's probably outside. Should I get it?"
He doesn't say anything, but since I'm not getting any more lovin' until he's satisfied with this, I sigh and head to the front door. My t-shirt is just long enough to be modest for a quick open of the door.
No metal. But there is an envelope.
I pick it up and shut the door. My name is on it in fine block lettering. I slip a finger in the fold and tear it open.
*It is time*
"Time for what?"
My boyfriend's yelp sends me running back to the bedroom. He's crouched on the floor, his hands fumbling through his pants, looking for his gun. I just watch as the twelve chunks of metal are now glowing bright-white and shaking violently.
"Get down!" He dives over the bed and pushes me back out of the room. There's a blasting sound, then the sound of falling stones.
"Stay here," he orders after a moment, but I ignore him and get up with him. We both walk into the bedroom.
The pieces of metal lay about the floor, shining a bright gold. The rocks they were encased in are now completely obliterated into dust and pebbles scattered all across my room.
"They look like...pieces to something," I say.
"To what?"
I have no idea. | 36 | "It is time." | 68 |
Sloth arrived late, and took a seat beside Gluttony. It didn’t seem that he had missed much: Wrath and Greed were still snapping at each other from opposing pulpits, Lust trying in vain to prevent last century’s fistfight.
“YOU CANNAE HUV TWO TERMS IN A ROW YA FUCKIN COW.” Wrath gripped the sides of his podium, knuckles as white as the bone underneath. The corners of his mouth, permanently frothing, were beginning to overflow.
Greed examined her nails, garish and expensive. “I can’t help my popularity,” she said. “The rules value the people overall. You can’t deny I’ve gone from strength to strength.”
“STRENGTH TO- LISTEN YA BINT. COUNT THE FUCKIN GENOCIDES LAST CENTURY. THAT’S GOIN FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH.”
Attempted genocides, thought Sloth, but couldn’t be bothered bringing it up.
“As the saying goes,” Greed said, leaning forward and grinning, “what have you done for us lately, Wrath?”
Wrath paused, the vein in his temple pulsing dangerously. It would not be the first time that it had burst during a meeting. Red-rimmed eyes bore into his opponent. “RIGHT. AFF THE TOP OF MA HEID – HOW MANY SCHOOL SHOOTINS WE HUD THIS YEAR? LUST?”
“A lot,” said the bored mediator, drumming his fingers on the table.
“EXACTLY. CHEERS, YA FUCKIN NONCE. THAT’S JUST THE START. EVERY ISOLATED WEE WANKSTAIN, AH’VE GOAT THEM FUMIN, CHAMPIN AT THE FUCKIN BIT TO SHOOT SOMECUNT OR OTHER. SOCIETY FUCKIN BREEDS THEM FIR US.”
“Charming, Wrath,” said Greed. “But I think we are all aware that there is no such thing as society. And really, with China entering the free market, I’ve secured leadership for a few centuries at least. One only needs to look at wealth distribution to see my glorious inequality manifest. Certainly a bigger impact than a lonely virgin with a machine gun.”
“DID YE NO FUCKIN SEE LIBYA?”
“We all saw Libya,” said Lust, and Sloth thought he detected a hint of resentment. Gaddafi had been one of Lust’s favourites.
“Ahem.” Even Wrath went quiet as Envy spoke for the first time that night. As usual, Sloth was surprised the other sin had arrived. Envy had a habit of slinking in unnoticed. It could be unnerving to discover he had been sitting behind you for several hours before he made his presence known.
“It seems to me,” said Envy, rising and padding through the rows of empty seats towards the podiums, “well, it seems to me that you’ve both won this for me. My thanks.” He smiled, thin and wet.
“PONCE,” snarled Wrath. Greed said nothing, but she was clutching her handbag close, and wary for the first time in the debate.
“Where would these, ah, ‘lonely virgins with machine guns’, where would they be,” said Envy, “without me? Wrath, you’re very good at what you do, but the fact is, you’d never get anywhere if these people didn’t already want to be normal. They want girls, money, less acne. They want, and covet, and it builds. You’re very good at what you do Wrath, and that’s taking the credit.”
Greed swallowed as Envy turned on his heel to face her.
“You made an excellent point about wealth inequality, Greed,” Envy said. “That’s what, one percent of the population owning 90 per cent of the world? Something ridiculous like that?”
“Something like that.” Greed nodded.
Envy smiled again, and even Lust – notorious creep Lust – shivered. Gluttony paused in her eating, bacon grease dribbling down her chins, and Sloth momentarily sat up for a proper look.
“What do you suppose the other ninety-nine percent want?” asked Envy.
Wrath was the first to step down, silently at first. He made it halfway up the aisle in a dignified stride before snapping and attacking a chair to the strains of violent swearing. Greed, trembling, fetched her purse and her pearls and scuttled off to join Sloth and Gluttony. Lust nodded gravely at Envy, who stood in the centre, smile lazy and content.
“My century then?” said Envy. “Good form.”
| 314 | The seven deadly sins form the Council of Seven with one sin as their leader. Every century this leader rotates to a different sin. Explain which sin stepped down at 2000 AD and which stepped sin was promoted using current events. | 374 |
Nobody cares. They can tell you they care, show you all the affection in the world, make you feel wanted and loved, but it doesn't mean shit. They'll still leave. They'll forget you. You'll forget me and I'll be stuck with every emotion you've left me with. And there's nothing I can do to change that. Life isn't fair, though nobody ever told me it was.
Though I do believe in second chances, I also believe in giving up when all options are exhausted. So here I am, reading the eulogies in the daily newspaper next to the same brand of whiskey that was between the legs of my wife as she drove my son and daughter home from school.
I pick up the bottle, hands shaking, tears streaming down my face, and I drown myself in the emotionally numbing after effects of alcohol consumption. I feel better. Better than I'll ever feel again. I'll lift this bottle to my lips until it's empty and I can feel no more. I'll chase tomorrow's hangover away with more whiskey. I'll drink until I can't remember why I'm drinking, why I'm crying, why life has lost all its meaning. I'll stop questioning God for stealing away the only things I loved, because He no longer exists to me. Nothing exists that can cause pain so vile.
I'll die in 20 years in a gutter outside a liquor store, clutching the same whiskey that began the end of my life. My yellowed eyes will cry as I beg the nonexistent Gods to allow me to see my family one last time, but there will be no answer.
Why? Because life isn't fair, though nobody ever told me it was. | 11 | Open ended. Write me a story. Any story. | 25 |
These days, I don't see so well. But I see enough. I know the score. This guy thinks he's got a monster problem. Where I'm standing, he's looking like the monster.
I didn't have a care in the world, the first time I saw him. He offered me food! I thought he was the greatest - first time I'd ever seen anyone move their arms, and he didn't have a massive head, or a weird nose, either. So I followed him - why not?
Ended up in a pen. Wasn't so bad at first... he was gone a lot, but he found me a friend pretty quick. He'd come out every day, sometimes TWICE a day, and he'd feed us! I always loved that part. But it got real crowded, real fast. He didn't seem to notice. Or, I thought he didn't. The pen never got any bigger.
Then the massacres started. First, food - then, fear. A dozen little ones meant a dozen deaths. It was horrible! I'd stick to the back of the pen, while he ran back and forth hacking at the others in the front - he'd disappear into the house with their remains, and I could smell them cooking. Every day, we'd feed, breed, and be slaughtered. I watched so many of them die. It was such a sudden change. And there was nowhere for us to go.
Then the seasons changed. I didn't even know there was such a thing, but I guess it was the dry season before, because the rainy season came, and it seemed like it would rain every other day - sometimes for a couple of days at a time. The massacres continued, didn't matter what the weather was. Rain, sun, it was all the same. He'd come out with food, leave with our meat, and we were powerless to do anything about it.
It was raining on the day my eyesight got bad. He was just approaching the pen. It was real loud that day. Real loud. Just after the feeding, I remember a bright light - thought I'd been hit, and maybe I was meat today. But not everything went black... just on one side. That's not quite right either, it just got real blurry. Turns out, I could actually see a lot more out of my good eye - like I'd been raised up, without jumping or anything. Boy, did he look different - I could see him eye to eye now, and wasn't that strange.
Next thing I new, the gates were open! He'd taken my change for a sign, he was letting us go! I ran out as soon as I could get to the gate - and he shut it behind me. Ran up ahead of me, too... and I watched him massacre every one of my newly freed friends. It was a trick! A lie! I was paralyzed with fear that I'd be next... but my body felt strange. I didn't run away - instead, I sort of walked casually, like I might be able to blend in to the normal landscape and saunter away without being recognized. No such luck.
It wasn't too long before he was back, but he put away his weapon. He was RIGHT up in my personal space, though - I didn't object, I was too scared. He pushed me around, and wouldn't you know it, I eventually ended up in another pen. Right next to my friends - the ones that were left. They didn't seem to recognize me, though.
This pen is even smaller - doesn't even have a door. I think I'm a prisoner. And I think I'm going nuts, too. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I can catch a glimpse of a little black... something, hovering over my head. But I can't catch a good look. It's like it disappears when I lift my head. And every day, I watch him come out with the food - and then brandish his sword. Every day I watch him massacre even more of my friends.
Yeah, when the sun goes down, I see a few monsters come out. They never did cause me any trouble, though. Plus, they disappear when the sun comes up. He doesn't. | 18 | Describe your life as any Minecraft mob. | 25 |
Kellie sits dejectedly in the living room recliner or as she liked to call it, the family throne. She looks at her mother’s portrait and idolizes her mother’s beautiful curly brown hair and rosy cheeks. Kellie looks at the next portrait on the wall of her father. He has stone cold eyes but he wears a half smile. Her father was stern and fair; he was her real life superhero. Tears fall from her face as she wonders how people who looked so loving could hate her so much. She never meant to be annoying or cause stress but apparently she had driven them to their limits considering they were having another baby.
Everyone else was an only child and their parents adored only them. Why did her parents feel the need to have another kid? Things could’ve been perfect. She envisions her parent’s current appearances and shutters. Her mothers’ formerly curly hair is now thin and straight and her rosy cheeks have vanished and left her with a face devoid of color. Her father shares her lack of color but his skin is also filled with wrinkles and he has huge dark circles under his eyes; his formerly powerful and commanding voice is now raspy and sometimes inaudible. She looks at the portrait of her family altogether and wishes her parents had never made the decision to have another child.
The decision to have another child would have severe consequences. It was already dangerous to have one; it completely obliterated half of their lives and now they would do it again. Was she that horrible that they’d rather die than raise her?
She wanders upstairs to the nursery and looks at the freshly painted walls and new furniture. It was all adorable but Kellie felt a tinge of jealousy. She spins the small mobile over the crib and ponders whether her parents were this excited for her arrival. At that moment, a nanny comes into the room.
“Kellie, why don’t we go visit your parents for a while before the birth?” the nanny asks with a smile.
Kellie yearns to scream in anger and jealousy and throw a tantrum but pities the kind nanny and follows her into her parent’s room.
Her father is sitting in a chair next to the bed holding her mother’s hand tightly. It looked like he was using all his strength to ensure their grip would not be broken. He looks up with his dark eyes and smiles.
He tells her, “Your sister will be here soon Kellie.”
Kellie looks at her feeble mother whose eyes are closed and her lips are pale white.
Kellie hugs her father and sobs, “She’s dying daddy.”
Her father pats her on the back and her mother opens her eyes partially but not full way.
Her mother says, “It’s okay Kellie; the baby will be here soon I promise.”
Kellie sobs harder, “I’m so sorry. I tried my best but still, how could you do this to us? We could’ve had it all.”
Her father shakes his head and her mother replies, “Kellie, we love you more than anything on this world.”
Kellie wipes her eyes and shouts, “So much that you’re killing yourselves to get away from me?”
Her father looks at her sternly and responds, “We love you so much that we choose to never leave you abandoned and without a family.”
Her mother wipes away tears and continues, “We always were going to die but now you will never be alone. We are giving you a friend for life that will be here when we can’t.”
Kellie looks at her parent’s eyes and finally understanding their sacrifice.
Her mother grabs her hand and whispers, “We need you to promise to be brave no matter what comes, to forgive her, treat her with love and kindness, to apologize when necessary. There will be no examples and no second chances; you need to show her how sisters act.
Kellie nods and looks at the strength in both her parent’s eyes grateful she had as much time with them that she did.
The nurse then comes in and tells them it’s time to give birth and escorts Kellie out of the room.
Kellie takes a deep breath and patiently awaits her sister’s arrival. She listens by the door and sheds a few tears hearing her mother in so much agony. Suddenly she hears a baby cry and her eyes widen and her heart races. The nurse comes to the door and lets Kellie in.
Her mother smiles and hands Kellie her new baby sister.
Kellie smiles at the tiny baby in her arms, “What is her name?”
Her father grins, “Adelpha; it means dear sister.”
Kellie gasps at the perfect name and shouts, “I love it!”
She looks at her baby sister wide eyed and with nothing but love in her heart. If there was one thing that she was going to teach this child it was going to be that she was loved beyond all bounds.
| 10 | People stop aging at 25 and live forever. Couples are allowed to have one child, but doing so causes you to age again, and die on your 50th birthday. Today is the birth of your sister. | 26 |
"They built this thing all those years ago to stop madness like this!" She could hear the protests from the spectators while climbing, unsure what to think. "Just stay calm," she thought: "nothing could be as bad as they imagine."
Two days ago Ashley had received her orders: "You will no longer be guarding our citizens, ensign," she remembered the Lieutenant explaining, "You and the others in this room will climb the wall at 0700 on Thursday."
Bad News. No one had ever climbed the wall. Sure, people had tried, but it was her job to make sure they didn't hurt themselves, and surely they would if they were to make it to the top, how would they make it down again? What if they were to fall? How could they possibly think whatever is out *there* were better than here? We have everything we need inside the city.
"Sir, why are we doing this? Isn't the wall for our benefit?" Another soldier to her right spoke up, asking what everyone had on their mind anyway.
"Don't ask me," the Lieutenant replied, "I just follow my orders, and I suggest you do the same."
So they trained for two days to make the climb together. Ropes, hand placements, the works. The four of them already in great shape, it didn't take long to learn the basics.
"I hope they fall and break a bone," one of the spectators loudly proclaimed. "Would serve the muckity-mucks right for making them do this." Ashley almost agreed, but curiosity was beginning to take over. She began to wonder, what *really* was out there? Why not find out, to serve the curiosity of the people? It was her job after all, to serve the people. Wouldn't that give them the quiet they deserve? She hoped whatever she found to be enough to warrant quiet from the people.
At the top, what she found only offered more questions. No answers were here. "Lieutenant!" she called down to him, unsure what to say after he inevitably asked: "what do you see, ensign?!"
She saw another, larger city, encircling their own, as if they were in some sort of box within a much larger city. Upon further inspection, she realized there were people enjoying their days just as her people would on a normal day. Simple, normal people doing simple, normal tasks. "What do I tell him?" she asked her squad. None of them responded. "If they're out here, why are we in here?" she heard one of her squad mates think aloud. She didn't have an answer for them either. | 34 | All of humanity lives within a massive, walled off city. Today, for the first time in over a century, a small scouting party is sent outside of the city to explore. | 52 |
He held his sword up near his face, the grip of his hands as steady as the steel blade. This was the place. He knew it. Three weeks tracking the bastard, and at last he had him. He pushed through twisted tree branches and walked softly over the ruddy earth, careful that his metal boots didn't clank too much. He wouldn't let this monster escape, now.
When the kingdom in the east sent its emissaries out across the lands every other kingdom reacted with suspicion. That kingdom was a land apart. It suffered no friends along its borders; it was known more for belligerence and warmongering than diplomacy and negotiation. It was contained only by its neighbors' armies, and the champions at their helm.
But the emissaries from that kingdom carried a terrifying word on trembling lips:
'Dragon'. The word was dragon.
It had laid siege to their capitol and made off with the king's daughter, soaring on oily black wings. The very notion was ridiculous, and none took their hue and cry seriously. Until, that is, the beast toured all the neighboring lands, and darkened their skies in the days to come. It nested all around the land, and shaken peasants told stories of a great, snarling demon in the night gripping a terrified young girl in its fearsome claws.
The task was clear: whoever rescued the captive princess would forge good blood between their land and that bellicose kingdom. Her father would be honor-bound to observe proper gratitude, and there would be peace across the land. So many other champions went forth on this same errand; none had returned.
So, no: he would not let this monster escape, now.
His foot landed on an errant branch, and suddenly the whole earth before him stirred. The mountain of 'dirt' before him rose, revealing a massive bed of scaly flesh glistening in the moonlight like a sea of serrated daggers. A long neck turned, and then he was face-to-face with the demon. Under the monster's jaw, huddled on the forest floor, the princess looked at the knight with wide, frightened eyes.
The knight grit his teeth and held his sword aloft, screaming out a war-cry.
The dragon responded with a shriek of its own, and it sprayed a hearty wind of ropy spit and mucous at the man. It reared up, slashing at him with its claws, and the knight ducked the blow by an inch. He rolled down the embankment and got to his feet: he needed to draw the monster away from its bed and distract it from all other things; hopefully the princess would be able to flee in the meantime.
He stumbled into a small herd of sheep milling about; they scattered as he moved through them, and suddenly the whole earth trembled with the dragon's footfalls. A sheep beside him suddenly exploded under the weight of one of the beast's feet, turned to uncooked mutton in an instant. All the while the dragon snapped at him, just barely missing his head. The knight's foot caught a rock, and he tumbled onto the ground. By instinct he rolled over and swiped with his sword, catching one of the dragon's claw.
The beast reared up and barked, stumbling backward. No sooner did the knight get to his feet than his opponent quickly disappeared into the thick trees surrounding them. The knight stayed at the ready, but as the minutes passed he could only let out a quizzical scoff. He remained on his guard all the way back up to the dragon's bed, where he found the princess still huddled on the ground, trembling.
"My lady," he extended a hand and got the girl to her feet. "We must make haste. I do not know where the beast has fled, nor *wherefore* it flees..."
The princess smiled:
"Such bravery, sir knight," she cooed.
"Think not of it," the knight said. "My mission is my sacred duty: to defeat the beast, and safeguard your person."
"Well," the girl batted her lashes coquettishly. "I am doubtless safe, I think. And you have vanquished a dragon, have you not?"
The knight looked all around the woods, his face still puzzled:
"Verily, though I know not how..."
The knight suddenly gasped and let out a cry. He fell to his knees, and behind him the princess stood, a bloody dagger glittering in the moonlight. When he looked back at her, gaping, the girl tittered playfully:
"Poor sir knight," she cooed, stroking his chin. "You *have* vanquished a dragon, but I'm afraid you failed to defeat the *beast*!"
The knight slumped over and breathed his last.
Trees rustled as the princess cleaned her dagger; the massive dragon slunk up to the mound. It made a whiny, high-pitched squeal as it walked.
"Oh, what is it, you big baby?" She demanded.
The dragon lifted one foot and revealed the remains of the squished sheep. The creature's eyes trembled as it showed her the remains, and its snout actually sniffled as it held back mighty tears.
The girl rolled her eyes:
"Oh, please!" She shook her head. "It's just a *sheep*. Honestly, it's bad enough you won't off any of these damned champions for me; I don't need you bursting into tears for every woodland critter you step on!"
She produced a small map from her bodice and looked over it. She dipped one finger in a pool of the knight's blood beneath her and marked a small 'x' on his kingdom's territory.
"That's another one down," she said, delicately licking the blood off her finger. "Lots more to go, though. If daddy's gonna successfully invade these lands we need to make sure those champions aren't leading their armies; we're running out of time." She looked at the dispatched knight with contempt, and she mimicked his voice with a mocking tone:
"We must make haste," she bleated. | 46 | Fear the Princess, not the Dragon. | 61 |
You ever hear of those singers that get bored of playing their own songs? There they are, up on stage after years of trying to get noticed, thousands of people standing in front of them, screaming back the words they wrote to the music they made, and you know what they're thinking?
Holy fuck I'm sick of this.
Chris Rock has this joke 'Show me the hottest woman you know and I'll show you a guy who's tired of fucking her'. Well, this city and it's hero-worshipping people are my hot chick, and boy, am I tired of fucking her.
The problem with being nearly indestructable is there's really no challenge in life. What, you think I fight villains for the people? For that woman and her baby in your movie close ups? No, I fight villains because that's the only Goddamn competition I get, and everytime I pound some maniacal genius into the ground, even now 10 years after I started, I think the same thing:I hope this is the one that kills me.
Because, and trust me on this, life gets pretty boring when youre a player in a world full of NPC's.
Take this guy for instance, I'm trapped within these 'unbreakable' bonds as he lowers some broad into acid. He thinks I'm gonna choose to reveal my identity to save her, which is fucking dumb for two reasons.
First of all, I've never met this woman. She's just a random member of the public who he expects me to care about, well, fuck her. I've destroyed buildings taking down giant robots; you don't think anyone died whilst I was doing that? Whatever, not important. Secondly, I don't have a secret identity. I'm a Goddamn super human; I can do whatever the hell I want - why would I want to walk around all day pretending to be some nobody? I don't even have a costume, this is a mask I stole from some costume department.
Does this guy even realise I only let myself get captured to give him a head start? I thought he'd bump me off right away, but no! He has to do some monologuing, maybe I'd at least get cut up a bit if everybody that had me on all fours with my ass raised wasn't so damn dramatic.
Oh, there goes the hostage. Apparently it's just me who can shrug off acid. How surprising.
See, now this guy has no idea what to do. He's stuttering, for Gods sake, you never used civilians as cannon fodder before? They're everywhere, pal, collateral damage and yada yada.
Well I've been tied up a good half hour, guess he hasn't found my weakness - time to miraculously find my strength and break out.
Maybe I'll have better luck next time. | 11 | A disgruntled man decides to commit suicide by supervillian | 20 |
“Copy control. Heading for Bay 9-4”
Pasik fired the gas jets and edged around the massive asteroid, slipping in towards the Niner section. It looked like Jeeik and Terik were already back in, but he didn’t recognise the sleek craft in Bay 9-1. It was ovoid shaped, with no visible insignia, thrusters, antennas or even windows. Just a smooth brilliant white hull. It lay nestled amongst the grey and black cabling of the bay, and Pasik could see a confused auto-refueler tender snaking around, attempting to find a fuelling port.
The ship swept from view as he approached his own berth, and Pasik busied himself with the minutiae of docking. Fee transfer, thruster regulation, reactor shut-down, guiding the ship into the clamp array, connecting to station resources.
With a full ore-load, he guessed his first stop would be the Processing Office, maybe then head over to Rimrats to spend the profit.
The station seemed oddly deserted. Hawkers and Scammers usually thronged the bay, offering unbelievable deals on pure metal asteroid co-ordinates. Stalls would call out to him, wares promising everything from fresh oxy bottles to illegal sense-chip recordings. But today….the concourse was empty.
Or to be more precise, it was cleared. The grey-and-green of Station Security patrolled the area, stunner batons slapping against meaty palms. Two officers eyed his stroll, attempting to decide if he was to be evicted as well. Pasik solved their problem by walking straight to the lifts and heading for Ore Processing.
Thirty heated minutes later, he was back at the deserted concourse, glowering at the credstick with fifteen lousy thousand credits. There had been ten kilograms of pure *platinum* in his cargo. Easily worth ten times the total amount alone. This was barely going to cover the landing and fuel fee.
Pasik stalked back to his ship. He thought he heard a shout – possibly one of his fellow miners, but ignored it. He wasn’t in the mood for-
His train of thought snapped as he slammed into an unyielding wall. Rebounding backwards, he looked up to give the *uigt’Gahn* fool obstacle a piece of his mind. That curse died on his tongue as he looked at the tall alien he had collided with.
It wore long robes, and it head were covered with some sort of cowl. They were white and gold in colour, with iridescent colours flashing through intricate designs on the sleeves and chest. The alien he had cannoned into turned to look down at him, and Pasik couldn’t see a single thing inside the cowl. It was just plain black.
That said, he didn’t need to see the face to identify the creature. Human. Unimaginably ancient, the enigmatic aliens were rarely seen or heard of. They would swoop in out of nowhere, conduct some inscrutable business, and then vanish just as mysteriously.
Pasik was reasonably sure that no Tergenes had even come within a light-year of one for at least hundred years.
The stories the regulars at Rimrats came back to him. The glory and terror of the Human Empire. They could kill you with a glance. They bent space and time itself to their whims. Anyone that got in their way vanished. They could get to you wherever you were. They knew everything about your life before you even saw them. They were telepathic. They could fly. They could breathe in vacuum.
Pasik sank to his knees and averted his eyes, praying to the Five Ancestors that the Human wouldn’t direct anger his way. He had drawn the attention of something so far his greater that the gulf was literally incomprehensible. He could hear a terrified click-humming, and realised it was him.
An eternity passed. Pasik closed his eyes and waited for death to come.
A hand grabbed his shoulder. He squealed in panic, backing away….to see one of the Station Security guards.
The Human was at the far end of the gallery, seeming to glide through the airlock to Bay 9-1. Pasik’s hearts seemed to stop as the alien paused for one last moment, and the black interior of the cowl looked directly into his soul.
Then the alien was gone. The bay lock licked shut, and the red “departure” warning light over it lit.
The security guards were making deep hacking sounds – their species’ equivalent of laughter. Pasik shook off their grip and began stumbling towards Rimrats.
Barely enough cash to cover the fees be damned. He needed a very, very strong drink. The encounter flashed through his mind unbidden over and over again.
With only the tiniest bit of luck, it would be another hundred years before the humans came back to the system – by which time a terrified Teragene miner named Pasik would be safely dead and gone. | 30 | Humanity is the oldest and most advanced race, you are an alien that has stumbled across a lone human, the first contact your race has had with them in over 100 years. | 33 |
'Doc, what can we do?'
I looked at Doctor Grave dead in the eye, 'There's not much thyme...'
'Doctor, don't you think I know that?'
'No, I mean she's low in herbs, you know veges.'
The man looked at his wife, 'I-I guess so? Vegetables never stood out to herbivore. She's always been a meat lover. She's told time and time again, if she ever became a vegetarian, it would be a big missed steak.
The doctor nodded, 'That may be the case.'
'So... Are we fine then? Will she be OK?'
'The case, sir, hand me the case over there on the desk.' He pointed his finger to the three-legged round table.
'Oh...' The man went over and opened up the case, revealing several sheets of paper. 'Here you are doctor.'
'Here I am indeed. Now, it says in the report, she has a high sugar intake, high fat readings, and a clogged artery that sent her here. Just how much has she been eating?'
The man sat on the round table and thought for a moment, 'Well, she has been eating a ton of pi lately, and... And the fat, we have been eating out lately too... She would always eat all her food, and even all of mine if I couldn't finish. She hates food going to waist.
The machine began to beep, and the readings fell at a steady pace, 'Sir, she is in a critical mass, she needs a donor ASAP.'
'I-I will do it Doc, I'll put my heart into it.'
'Sir, it's not possible, you don't possess compatible blood with her. You are blood AB, she is O. It would be a vein attempt to even try.
'That can't be! I'm cool, calm and introvertive. She's ambitious, outgoing, and robust! He lowered his head down, 'She will be OK right?' He whimpered.
'Yes, of course. We have donors at the hospital, she'll be up in no time.'
Minutes later, a donor came in, and the process went smoothly. The man thanked the doc and donor, and they both left, leaving the man and woman a peace of mind. 'Honey? Are you up?' The woman's eyes flickered twice, before she awoke fully to the white hospital room.
He sat back down on the round table, 'Oh honey, from now on we'll go on a diet, the two of us, alright? I don't want no more clogged artergies, and god forbid that you get diabetes.' He clasped hands with hers.
She smiled joyfully, her words seeped out quietly, 'Dear?'
'Yes?'
'After we get out of here, I want something meaty.'
The man laughed, 'Well, once we get out of here, the weight will be over, I'll give you the time of your life.'
She shook her head, 'No, I want something meaty... Food... Steak...'
The man fell back onto the table and let out a sigh, 'Oh! This whole thing is pointless!'
EDIT: Thanks for the gold, and thanks for the compliments! I can retire from reddit now. | 296 | Write a very serious/dark moment, with far, far too many puns. | 431 |
I helped load the last of Donald's bags. I waved goodbye to him as he drove off to his new home far, far away. It felt like the end of an era. Life would be very different without him.
I got used to the idea of moving on and finding my new stride in life. As my optimism began to peak I learned that a local factory shut down, and that many more people who I had grown with and considered to be my family were moving away as well.
This was one of the hardest times of my life. Everything was changing. Weather reports said that a large front was coming and that we should expect to be receiving a lot less light than usual.
I figured the gloomy weather was perfect for the sinking depression that was gripping me.
The change in the city was devastatingly clear. Less people walked the streets, less cars, less noise, less light, less everything.
Strangely enough, I did get some new neighbors. Boy were they a strange pair. Man and wife, Dave and Daisy Patterson. They wore their insincerity on their faces like makeup. Everything they said was monotone and dry. I'd swear they were reading off a teleprompter. They'd even forget what they were talking about from time to time. Boring, boring people.
As fake and idiotic as they were, I could not get rid of them. They were hell bent on being my new best buddies. I suppose they were having issues in their marriage.
My day to day life became devoted to avoiding these people, but they always knew where I was. I was starting to become paranoid with fearful thoughts of cults or serial killers. I decided I had to be blunt with them.
I confronted them finally and began with a gentle approach of letting them know I wasn't interested in making friends. I made up the excuse that I was feeling down about losing touch with my best friend and I was feeling overly sensitive. They had no response, their eyes darted around in their heads and they couldn't even form basic phrases. Dave and Daisy left me alone for a moment, a glorious moment, but only to return after experiencing a possession-like three-sixty.
Dave came at me with a cheerleader enthusiasm and Daisy to back him up. Apparently I was not allowed to be down and they were ready to cheer me up, regardless of how much I push them away, insult them, threaten or possibly even maim them.
My home was becoming my Hell.
One night with the Patterson's over, like every night, I decided to share some personal stories with them and Daisy just burst out laughing when I started talking about how my father died. She apologized and mentioned her inability to keep a straight face. I don't know what that meant.
As time passed, I got used to them being around all the time. I got used to them in a way like that of terminal patients who accept that they are dying. This was my life now. I just pretended I was on a crummy sit-com past its prime. | 98 | You are the main, unaware, character in a TV show very much like "The Truman Show". The show has just received a huge budget cut. | 137 |
Coughing and sputtering, he rose from the waves and rolled onto the sand. People around stared at this man, dressed in a chainmail tunic and wearing a sword belted at his waist.
Certainly one of the strangest things to come from the English Channel.
His crown was wrought of gold, simple and yet elegant. His hair was long and tangled but he still had an air of authority and respect about him. With piercing blue-gray eyes he looked to the nearest citizen and shouted in Celtic.
"Cén bhliain é?"
"Um..." the citizen said, slowly backing away, "...what?"
The stranger cleared his throat and spoke perfect English, a gift from God or perhaps some form of dark magic,
"What year is it?"
"2014..."
"What?" the man shouted, "what problems face Britannia that I have been called to return?!"
"I dunno, taxes are pretty high. People are poor. There's crime and dissent. It's not like we're worse off than anyone else in the world though."
"People are...poor?" he looked to the sky again, "what am I supposed to do against that!"
Still thinking the man to be speaking to him, the citizen shrugged,
"Are you bringing money or jobs?"
"Of course not, I am here to fight to foes of Britain!"
"So...the politicians?" the man said, looking at this uniquely strange man, "who are you anyway?"
"I am King Arthur!" the man shouted, standing tall and adjusting his chainmail, "I have returned to save Britain when it needs me most!"
He looked around at all the strange people staring at him, with their odd clothes, including two men in blue that were rushing towards him.
"And I, I am going home. It sounds like things are far worse than I imagined when I made that vow!"
With that he began wading into the ocean, splashing around and thrashing, shouting,
"Take me back!"
The man on the shore looked at the strange man and laughed dryly,
"We've even mucked up King Arthur, I guess we're screwed." | 40 | Legend has it that King Arthur vowed to return to save Britain in its greatest moment of need. Over a thousand years later birthrates are plummeting, poverty is at an all-time high and obesity is an epidemic. Arthur materializes on the shores, inevitably wishing he had been more specific. | 110 |
Brittney had never held a gun before.
Boys had ogled her and chased her most of her life, and she enjoyed that immensely, although she always acted like she never realized how attractive she was. At any given party at Alpha Gam house, she could take her pick of any man there, whether he had a girlfriend or not, even if she was there.
But once she had them, they treated her like garbage. They never gave her the time of day, returned her calls, took her seriously. Even the ones she really liked.
But now, with this AK-47 in her hands, she felt powerful for the first time in her life. She liked how heavy it felt, the texture of the coarse splintery wood. She liked the way it kicked.
The other ISIS soldiers in her squad stood around her, huddled low in the cover of a shelled-out hut. At dawn they would move across the field into the nearby village, seize it in the name of the ISIS. If they failed, they would inflict as many casualties as possible, bomb the water supply, and then pull out again before another attack tomorrow.
Whatever she said, the others did. Having that level of power was magical, supernatural. It made her feel high in a way that being the hottest girl in Alpha Gam never had. It was better than walking down the street and knowing every guy was watching her ass as she passed them by.
It made her feel that it didn’t matter how hot she was, because with an AK in hand, she had the power to reshape history, to destroy like Shiva, the Hindu god of the apocalypse, to take and give life.
She frankly didn’t care how this had happened, if she had jumped through a wormhole to an alternate dimension or if was having some strange hallucination on a drug slipped into her drink. It was too good to question.
She nodded to her fellow soldiers.
Brittney charged, screaming for the death of all Christians, America, and the end of the West.
-------------
Mohammed had never had a sip of alcohol before, but now that he had the world spinned around him. He was wrapped in the warmest, most comfortable blanket in the Universe. The sorority girl next to him had a hand around his shoulder, singing some song that he had never heard before. They drunkenly waited for food on the front lawn of the house, talking shit, drinking vodka in Red Solo cups.
He paused for a second when the mozzarella sticks arrived, some echo of his former self wondering if God would punish him for consuming this, but he tasted it anyways.
He had never tasted anything so exquisite, so orgasmic. He had never felt so good.
The only conclusion he could come to that he had fallen in battle and ascended into paradise, although he remembered nothing other than going to sleep.
He must have died, slain by a mortar, killed in some ambush.
Music blared from the nearby houses and packs of people wandered down the road, laughing uproariously. He had never witnessed such a scene of self-indulgence, had never seen so many people embrace sensual pleasure, stuffing every orifice with stimuli. It was glorious.
He touched his own boobs. That was one thing he couldn’t quite make sense of, but he didn’t care. They were soft and abundant and fun to play with.
All of his years of planting bombs and training his fellow Islamic brothers had paid off.
| 442 | An ISIS warlord wakes up in the body of an american sorority girl and vice versa. | 431 |
Farzad Armani was an Iranian revolutionary, involved in the opening stages of that country's conflict. Here he shares what motivated him to action.
"My brother was killed by police forces for his participation in the Green Revolution protests in 2009. A tear gas canister was fired into the crowd and struck his head, killing him. He meant everything to me, I probably idolized him. After that, I became a thorn in the side of the regime, and for my actions, I served 10 years in prison. I became more bitter. When I was released; I saw only one course of action. I would do whatever was in my power to tear down the Fascist regime. I put together an improvised explosive device, smuggled it into Tehran, and detonated it near the Revolutionary Guards barracks. At first I thought I would go on like this, a lone anarchist, until I found others like me. And then we built our movement."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Deng Jiaming served in the Logistics branch of China's People's Liberation Army at the start of the conflict until his capture at the Second Battle of the Yalu River in 2034.
"People looked at China and saw an industrial powerhouse, and it was. Most did not see it's vulnerabilities. When the civil war began in Iran, China lost it's primary source of oil. Domestic production could not meet our needs; we had roughly seven months of fuel before the economy and military ground to a halt. So we had to accelerate plans in the South China Sea. The People's Liberation Army Navy began taking direct control of our interests in the sea; various island chains and atolls which would give us access to large reserves of oil and gas and productive fishing grounds. Unlike many have claimed, we were not looking for war with Vietnam, the Vietnamese were the aggressors, they fired the fatal shot."
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Dak Nguyen was a corporal in the Vietnamese Army at the war's start, and served in the frontier battles with China.
"We hated the Chinese, hated them with a passion. It was an ancient rivalry, even thousands of years ago the Chinese Emperors looked at Vietnam with greed. The 1979 invasion had put this in perspective for those of us who thought that International Communism would put an end to this.
We were not as well equipped as the Chinese, and we were outnumbered. But was this not always the case when Vietnam stood against aggression? We were well trained in one thing, and that was guerrilla tactics. We held out at the border for weeks after the Chinese broke the line. We would raid them at night, or during the monsoon rains. I remember the face of the first Chinese soldier I shot. He must have been 20 meters away, less maybe. I aimed my Kalashnikov at him, and fired 3 or 4 rounds. His face contorted in agony and he fell, staring at me. That was a shock, that was how I was introduced to war.
Do I feel sympathy? No. Look at my scars. Do you know how this happened? I was captured. They took me, and strung out barbed wire in front of me, then they kicked me and beat me, pressing me on top of it. No, we should have killed all of those barbarians."
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Lieutenant Commander Park Sung continues to serve in the Korean navy, following his service in the war.
"When the Sinas went and invaded Vietnam, we realized that they wanted to take us one at a time, so we had to band together. Together with the Japanese, the Filipinos, and the Malaysians, Thais, and Indonesians; we stood against China. Taiwan and the US weren't involved until a bit later, as you know.
Immediately following the declaration of war though, the Chinese tried to crush our fleets. We were steaming just east of the Senkakus when the first missiles started coming in. These were big DF-21 ballistic missiles; they shot up into the upper atmosphere, and then came down right on top of you, just one could sink an aircraft carrier. There must have been 75 in the first barrage, and all of the tracers and flares and missiles shooting back at them...it must have looked like your American Fourth of July.
In any case, my vessel was sunk a mere two hours after I went to war. I won't speak any more about the horrors we faced drifting in that ocean."
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Jessica Menendez was a civilian in the United States during the war.
"It was so surreal at first. They were saying that the world was going to end because people were fighting over places I couldn't find on a map. We were all pretty happy about the Iranian Revolution; they were all crazy anyway, they said that there would be peace in the Middle East. Two generations of Americans had died there, what more could we ask for?
But when the Chinese went on the offensive, we didn't understand that at first. Some of us didn't want to get involved at all.
Turns out we didn't have a choice, because then Black Saturday rolled around. All I remember was suddenly everything just went dark; no TV, no phone, no internet. It turns out that the Chinese were shooting down all of the allied satellites, and the debris took out almost every single communications satellite in orbit. But that wasn't enough to drag us into war, no Guam did that."
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Lance Corporal Sidney Blackman was a US Marine stationed at Guam Naval Air Facility in the Central Pacific.
"We knew something was up when the satellite feeds went dark, and we all got to cover. As soon as the Chinese attacked the Spratlys and Vietnam we'd started working on shelters, and it was a good thing.
The first to pass over were Chinese jets, J-10s and J-11s mostly. And our F-22s shot almost ll of them down immediately. Then the missile barrage began.
Ever two seconds...BANG!...BANG!...BANG! Just like that, and then it just got heavier, because our planes were out of missiles, and they couldn't land, so they had to fly all the way over to Japan to land. So then the Chinese brought these big 'ole four engined bombers over, and just started pounding us, and it was like the loudest thunderstorm you'd ever heard, times ten.
Two hours later they brought in their navy and started shelling us. Eventually I was able to peek outside, and it just looked like the face of the moon. Not anything left standing.
We held out for a week and a half before they stormed the island. I was one of 46 Americans to live."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Marcus Lansing was the US Assistant Secretary of Defense.
"I relocated to NORAD immediately, and the President was also shifted to a deep level shelter because we frankly expected nuclear missiles to start hitting Washington and New York and LA as soon as the war got started.
Apparently President Zhu had half a brain, because they didn't, so we didn't launch any missiles either. It was lucky. But we still weren't asking if they would launch, but when.
And then, Taiwan had to pick exactly that goddamn moment to declare independence from China."
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Ma Dawei was a Private in the Army of the Republic of China (Taiwan) during the war.
"It was written into the Chinese constitution that if Taiwan ever declared independence from China, the People's Republic would invade.
Well they tried, and we fought tooth and nail, and they didn't take an inch of our homeland, not one inch! We drove the communist pigs into the sea!
Of course, we didn't expect them to level Taipei. My entire family was lost, I can only hope that they were incinerated in the blast and died quickly."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Assistant Secretary Lansing:
"I don't know what snapped over on the Chinese side, but then they nuked Taiwan. And we got ready to fire our missiles and thank God that President Campbell was a level-headed guy and stopped at the last minute.
He was acutely in tune with the situation, he seemed to know everything, no matter where it was happening. It was like he was inside of the US and Chinese governments, watching what was happening, and he saw the coup coming before it started.
He saw the breakdown begin when Taipei was hit, and then came the Western Incursion. I don't know why the Chinese decided to invade Kyrgyzstan but it may have lost them the war. At that point even Russia had to turn against them. As soon as India joined the allies, that also sealed the deal.
So he had the Pacific Fleet go active, but with strict orders to maintain a defensive posture. This was also communicated to our allies. He knew, that if we dragged out the war long enough, elements within China would move against the government.
And it took another two years, but he was right, and the Chinese government fell and not another nuclear weapon was used by either side."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Xi Gouyu is Vice President of the Yunnan Social Republic.
"I'll tell you something that disappointed most of you Westerners. You can't fit 1.3 billion people into a democracy, especially following a revolution like the one we had here in China. Too many factions, too many different parties that all wanted something different. To put it simply, China split up, and we did it bloodlessly, a velvet division. There are 9 different nations that were once the People's Republic. They each share a culture, still use the same currency, and they still get along fine. But they are all proud nations now, and prosperous nations and above all, peaceful nations. Sure there was concern over the Singapore treaty at first, but can we not say it has worked out for the best?
It's still a new world my friend. And thank whichever God you prefer that we still have one at all after the war." | 45 | World War 3 has just started. Who is at war and why? | 37 |
“Change?” His eyes are sunken deep in their sockets, glittering inside of a gaunt and wrinkled face. The woman sneers, offended and does not reply, does not look at him. Her designer heels click against the pavement as she hurries past, laughing at something her friend says, the encounter already forgotten.
“Change?” His cup jingles. The doctor, still holding the change from his double shot venti latte shrugs and drops fifteen cents into the crumbling paper cup. The man smiles up at him but the doctor's pager goes off and he hurries away.
“Change?” It is late at night. The teenager laughs at him, showing off for his group of friends.
“Fuck off you fucking junkie!”he giggles. He uses profanity like a child taking its first steps. The man looks down and says nothing. He hopes they will go away, that they will not hurt him or take his cup of nickels and dimes as so many others like him have done in the past.
“Shut the fuck up Bernie!” a girl in the group shouts. She fumbles in her wallet for a moment and then hands the man a crisp twenty. “He's an asshole,” she says to him, indicating her companion, who is now staring at her angrily. “Find someplace warm for the night, okay?”
“Let's GO, Kristen,” Bernie mumbles, angry that his actions have been so undermined. With a last long look at the man she turns and leaves, not responding to Bernie's continuing criticisms. Their voices echo down the block, through the canyons of the city.
The man stares down at the twenty in his hands. He has over seven billion dollars in a bank account. He could use it tonight. He could find a warm place just like she asked, a penthouse apartment filled with booze and blow and women.
He thinks of the girl's kind face and words.
He draws his tattered coat, stuffed full of newspapers for extra warmth, tighter around him. The newspapers crinkle.
| 255 | A man gains the amount of people in the world as money on his account. But when he spends that money, people die. | 239 |
"Take one down, pass it around, negative one bottles of beer on the wall!"
Rick stared at the bottle in his hand. This didn't seem right. The song was supposed to stop when all the bottles were gone, right? But apparently it hadn't. They had all been so drunk that they had kept on taking bottles off the wall and passing them around without even thinking. And now he held the -1^st bottle of beer in his hand. Or was it more of an absence of a bottle? A hole in the universe where a bottle should be.
He shrugged. It still looked drinkable. Maybe a negative beer would sober him up? He popped off the top.
"HOLD IT."
What was that voice? It seemed to boom from everywhere around him.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"
"Is that... God?"
"IT IS. AND I'M ORDERING YOU TO STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING. YOU'RE BREAKING THE UNIVERSE."
"My Lord?"
"HOW DID YOU EVEN GET NEGATIVE ONE BOTTLES OF BEER? I THOUGHT I PATCHED ALL THE HOLES IN BASIC MATH AFTER THAT GODEL GUY. SERIOUSLY, HOW?"
"My Lord, I don't really know. I was drunk when I did it."
The exasperated sigh that followed was so loud it could be heard across the universe. | 17 | Ninety-nine bottles are on the wall. One too many falls. This upsets God. | 19 |
When you die you are supposed to see a white light; a long tunnel which you pass through. Except I only saw the sky, then darkness as my already weak eyes fluttered closed.
I hadn't even seen the car as it rounded the corner. Fine one minute, and the next...
*BANG*
Flat on my back. I mentally whispered goodbye to those I loved, then felt a peculiar lightness, the final moments of my passing. I no longer had a body, only spirit.
And the darkness. Cutting into me, threatening to engulf me in its embrace. Floating for eternity.
*I guess this is the afterlife then...*
The absence of surrounding cut out suddenly, and while I was still floating, it was now in something. I opened my mouth, only to have it filled with some sort of liquid.
I began to panic as I lashed out, flailing madly. I soon realised, however, that I wasn't drowning, even though my lungs were filled with fluid.
I slowly opened my eyes. No longer dark; instead I was bathed in a dim reddish light. The glow seemed to only be coming from one side.
I felt down myself; down my body.
Curious.
My body felt small, arms and legs shorter, my fingers reduced to stubs.
My skin felt weak, almost paperthin. I couldn't see anything, save for the red glow.
*Where the hell was I?*
I heard some muffled sounds outside the walls of my confinement. It sounded like deadened speech. I tried to call out, but no words came. I found myself unable to articulate my mouth, and the liquid prevented me speaking anyway.
**EIGHT MONTHS LATER**
A few months ago, I realised exactly where I was. My body had grown larger, and for the past month or so I had been pressed up against the walls of...well...my mother. Or my new mother I should say.
I felt larger, but still weak and small, as was to be expected.
*How long had I been here?*
It must have been close by this point. Alone with only my thoughts for all that time. That was the thing that was most unusual. How did I still remember everything from before? Was this normal?
I knew everything about my previous life: where I lived, who I loved, my job. Absolutely everything. Although I had my thoughts, I soon realised my body would still be unchanged. Unable to fend for myself at first, but later on in life I could tell them. Maybe they wouldn't believe me? They would probably only put it down to imagination of a child. How could I make them understand. If only I could.....
*THUMP*
I was broken from my thoughts by a sudden contraction around me, me body squeezed by my mother.
*Is it time?*
Another contraction, this one stronger than before. They lasted for the next few hours, getting closer and closer together each time, until I felt a pushing at my feet; my face squashed into the flesh by my head.
I felt it parting, and was slowly compressed through a narrow tube. The sounds outside became more distinguished as the hole opened up. My final escape.
I was tugged to a halt suddenly. I couldn't move my head, but I could feel something around my neck. The excited voices turned to panic as the noose tightened, my eyes beginning to bulge out of their sockets.
*Stop pushing!* I wanted to scream. But it didn't. I continued to slither out slowly, my throat closing tighter and tighter as I did so.
As my head finally broke through into the world, I saw the face of the midwife, panic in her eyes as I once more fell into the floating darkness...
| 137 | After your death you reincarnate and keep all your memories and skills. You realise it in the womb of your new mother... | 139 |
"Sir," Kosho radioed to his commander as his crested over the mountain and the naval base came into view, "Were any advance elements launched?"
"Of course not, you are the surprise assault!" his commander's voice returned.
"They're already under attack," Kosho squinted to make out the enemy, explosions dotting the ships in harbour and tracer rounds lacing the sky from the Americans below.
"Impossible!"
Then he saw the attackers, they were no plane of any military Kosho had ever seen. They were the size of a bomber but moved with grace and agility, blue lights pulsing at what appeared to be the rear of the vessel. It couldn't be.
Aliens?
"Sir," the gravity of the situation dawned on Kosho, "permission to engage the attackers?"
"Denied! Allow them to destroy our opponents, then you may destroy them."
Kosho wasn't sure that his men would be able to take on this foe on their own, not after watching these otherworldly vessels rip apart a formidable American battleship. It was listing heavily, flames sprouting from gaping wounds as tiny men jumped into the water.
"All units, engage the...aliens!" Kosho gave the order, thousands of Japanese planes racing towards the fray.
*****
"Sir!" a young ensign pulled Rear Admiral Kidd from his duties commanding the USS Arizona and the defense. His ship was bleeding, every wound taking a heavy toll on the officer.
"What!" he shouted, turning on the ensign to reprimand him until he followed the man's arm to the sky. Hundreds of black dots were quickly approaching, from where they shouldn't have been.
The US planes were on patrol and returning from an entirely different direction.
"Dear God...it's a raid!" Kidd was furious, he was losing men by the hundreds and the US Navy was being demolished by the unknown attackers. It didn't take long before the Japanese planes were almost on top of them, Kidd knew it would be over.
"I believe they've beaten us with technology," he muttered, before returning to the ship shaking shouting his men all knew "every man to a gun! We will take as many of these bastards with us!"
"Sir! Look!" the ensign shouted again, as the telltale sound of a Zero's machinegun joined the cacophony, just before one of the boxy vessels exploded from thousands of bullets, "they're helping!"
"Then we have a chance!" Kidd felt rejuvenated, turning to get back to the battle when a blue pulse of energy ripped into the bridge of the USS Arizona and he felt no more.
*****
"They don't stand a chance!" Kosho knew his men were right, the ships were blossoming with orange and red as explosions ripped into their hulls and sent many to the bottom. Smaller PT boats raced about the harbour, bullets filled the air like snowflakes. They had killed only two of the attacking vessels, leaving eighteen by Kosho's count.
The devastation that was being wrought made him sick to his stomach. Men were floundering in the water or dying on their ships, his men were being shredded out of the air by the dozens.
He had hoped that the massive battleships would turn the fight, until he saw one of them explode in a crushing orange fireball, slowly sinking below the waves.
Another alien craft tumbled from the sky, trailing smoke and flame before shattering the hull of a destroyer with it's impact. The twisted, flaming wreck slipped beneath the water and disappeared from sight with a cloud of steam.
Kosho had limited English, but he gave it his best try, broadcasting on all frequencies.
"My squadrons will take a large vessel and act as protectors, focus your fire!"
"Well hell!" a voice responded, "Japs and Americans working together! Never thought I'd see the day. We're coming in on your six, put these fuckers down!"
Kosho glanced and saw an American patrol returning, hitting the enemy from their blind side and sending three more to the water.
They had a chance.
*****
With the American ships focusing anti-air fire with air cover, and the surprise return of the patrol, the fight turned for the better. With the arrival of another wave of Japanese planes, it ended.
The enemy were all destroyed, even if the damage was immense.
Thousands of men were dead, the American Navy was a smoking wreck with at least four battleships gone.
Kosho had no illusions, this fight would be blamed on the Empire. The repercussions would likely be thousands more dead and blood spilled. Of course, as he and the American command staff agreed, it was better that they keep the secret and prepare for the future.
Kosho and his remaining planes left and the war became fervent shortly after. People never knew the truth, nor should they. | 25 | On December 7th 1941, the Empire of Japan launches a surprise assault on Pearl Harbor. When they arrive, however, they discover the naval base is already under attack by an overwhelming foe... and this enemy isn't human. | 39 |
There are so many pigs in this world. And pigs deserve to be slaughtered. Sold by the pound. Thats what they are born for and pigs should know their place. Most pigs are rather well behaved. When they see the guillotine, they simply whimper away and accept their fate. But some pigs scream and struggle and bite. Foolish, really. Foolish, foolish pigs.
What do we do with foolish pigs? Take a needle and thread it from underneath their lips pass their tongue and out through the roof of their mouth. I personally like to make a sawtooth pattern. Once you sew their lips together, foolish pigs can't scream anymore. Now they can only whimper. Much, much more pleasent to the ears. But of course, this isn't enough to keep a foolish pig still.
For foolish pigs, you need to give them something to ponder upon. Maybe how pointless it is to struggle? How hopeless the situation is? You can set them in front of a mirror and sew their eyes open. Then, with your slightest touch, nick a small opening in their ulnar artery. Of course, your cut needs to be jusst the right size so they don't bleed too quickly and faint. Aim for a drop of blood for every three or four seconds. This takes a little practice. If they faint early, they can't enjoy the show. For the first couple hours, they might struggle and squirm a little. But after, they will eventually calm down.
And thats when you let the foolish pigs go. What fun is it to kill foolish pigs that lost their will to live? Maybe one day, when the scars on their lips have healed and when they have made something of their useless self, you can capture them in the dark of night and tie them back down in same chair in front of the mirror. Maybe that day you can use your Japanese made Santoku and cut a hole from their sternum down to their belly button and make them watch as their own innards tumble out onto the dusty floor. Maybe you can even practice your sewing skills before cutting them open. And maybe that day, you can the question you've been pondering about.
Will the foolish pigs still struggle or will they quietly submit to their execution? | 10 | Write about the murder of someone from the perspective of the murderer, who is a deranged psychopath. | 16 |
Groll awoke suddenly to a deep rumbling in the night. The tremors were rhythmic and terrifying, as he feared the worst. The valley that his small tribe had lived in for all of living memory had been threatened in the recent cycles. Once, others had prayed for rain to support their crops and herds. The gods had listened, perhaps too well. The rains had been heavy for quite a few cycles, the lake at the head of the valley had risen too much. Groll had been one of the overseers for the dam, that kept the river back enough to save the valley. The dam had been showing signs of weakening, and everyone feared the worst. As he ran from the barn he had been dozing in while tending his flock, Groll noted that the rumbling hadn't changed in pattern, but was growing more intense. Fearing the worst as he raced towards his house, Groll glanced over his shoulder towards the top of the valley and the dam. What he saw was enough to make him lose concentration, then his footing, and fall to all six. He stared in wonder at the dam, which was still standing and perfectly visible in the night. It was not the light of the moons that showed him the dam, but a line of fire, slowly moving around the valley. Groll followed the line into the sky and saw something that he couldn't explain. Floating there was what appeared to be a large spoon, that someone had added two braces on the handle, facing opposite the spoon. On the end of the braces were what looked like sausages with a bright blue stripe running down the middle and red orbs on the end. Soon the whole village was out and staring in wonder at this strange object floating in the sky. Many were afraid, panic and fear spread quickly. There were a few, though, that just stood and watched in wonder. The line of fire traced around the valley for a while, then it continued away from the valley towards the sea. When it seemed as if the fire would touch the sea, it stopped. The spoon in the sky then started to move, it's sausages glowing brighter than they had before. It drifted up in to the night sky, growing smaller. It passed between the two moons, and then was gone. Shortly after, Groll and the others who helped with the dam went to go check, and found it almost empty. As they searched, they found that the lake that fed the river had fallen enough so that the valley was no longer in danger, and the dam all but unnecessary. Confused, they began to search for the reason, and that's when they found what the fire in the night had done. A new river bed, with its inlet right at the height of the lake that would threaten the valley, had been carved from the ground. The water level of the lake had gone down to the point where the flow was slow, but steady in the new river, and plentiful in the river that flowed through the valley. The spoon and sausages in the night sky never faded from memory. Drawings and stories were handed down for generations, along with the various reasons supplied as to why it had brought down the fire in the night that may have saved the valley. It wasn't until many, many cycles later when people began to map and chart the areas around the valley did anyone notice anything odd about the new river, apart from its creation. When they did, though, cartographers were puzzled as to how the river could be in the exact shape of the male genitalia. | 12 | Humanity is the galaxy's most mysterious race who goes around with extremely advanced tech and just trolls the shit out of the galaxy. | 23 |
The first thing you have to do is get your bearings.
I want you to understand that I don't control the dream. Everything that I see has already happened the day before-- what I experience is just a recording. When I fall asleep, my eyes are not my own; my steps not mine to tread. And since I can't control my senses, the experience is disquieting, to say the least.
But feeling eyes not my own open, and seeing my own, peacefully sleeping face? That was a whole new level of... well, creepy. I was *Tom*, I realized. My husband.
At first, he just stared at me. It was kind of cute, really. He traced a curve on my face, and my body snored a little in response. Charming.
I felt his legs swing over the side of the bed as he sat up and padded down to the kitchen. If I could have smiled, I would have. He'd made me omelettes that morning, with little smiley faces in the middle.
Except he didn't get out the eggs, or the frying pan. Tom delicately picked up one of our butcher knives, flicked the blade lightly with a finger, and started coming back up the stairs.
The worst part, of course, was that I couldn't even fucking panic properly. There was no adrenaline in Tom's body; his heart rate was as smooth and regular as it ever was, and I didn't have one of my own to feel beating faster.
He came into the room. He stood over me with the knife. He shivered.
And then he turned away, went back down the stairs, and started making omelettes. He used the knife to cut smiling faces into them.
And the rest of the day was as normal and sweet as I remember it being. I woke up 16 hours later in dream time, 8 hours in reality, and looked at the face of the man I loved. This time I'd woken up first.
And I had a lot of thinking to do.
| 327 | Whenever Alice dreams, she relives the entire day of a random person on earth, sometimes strangers and sometimes people she knows in real life. Tonight, as she falls asleep, she enters the day of the man she just married. | 340 |
His sources had informed him that he will be at this penthouse tonight instead if his villa. Ryan didn't care about the location, all he cared about was his job to torture and kill this man.
Ryan had managed to sneak past the guards by knocking them out and hacked through the bio-metric locks to gain access to his place. Going through the penthouse, he can tell that this was more of a safe-house than a home for William, the sanitize feel of concrete walls unpainted, the plain white floor tiles and the lack of mementos for a place this big. The moonlight gave the place a glow as the whole penthouse was in the dark.
Ryan didn't have to look for long as he heard the sound of a man crying in one of the rooms. Before going in, he wore his ski mask and pulled out his gun from the suit he acquired from the guards. Slowly, Ryan pushed the door open and saw a man crying while hanging from a makeshift noose. He rushed to relieve pressure on the man's neck by carrying him up and using his legs, he dragged a nearby chair so that the man could stand on it.
Cutting him free, Ryan recognize the man to be his target, William Amdoff. His job was to make him suffer and not die a quick death and using rope that he himself brought, he tied him to the chair.
*"William, how did that feel, trying to end your own life and getting rescued by your executioner? You knew this was coming?"*
*"I DID NOTHING WRONG! YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME DIE, WASN'T THAT YOUR JOB!"* shouted William.
*"No William...I'm not giving you that satisfaction."*
Ryan lay out his gun and equipment as William screamed at the top of his lungs.
*"You can scream all you want, rest assured that no one will hear you."*
With that, Ryan grabbed a scalpel and stabbed his thigh. The screams made Ryan happy, as he dragged the scalpel towards his knee.
*"Mr Amdoff, now you know how your victims must have felt, their suffering, their anguish, I will show you pain hundred times greater than what they got from you. You knew that the police will be coming over tomorrow to arrest you after your last murder went awry, that's why you chose to end your life."*
*"Who are you?"* as William barely found the strength to say those words.
Ryan pulled off his mask and the last word that came off William Amdoff's lips before his suffering continued was, *"Son?!"*
As morning comes around, Ryan left the building he knows the families would be happy knowing he died a painful death instead of the cowards way out through suicide. | 10 | Murderer's next target is a person who is about to commit suicide. | 15 |
Neil Crawford sat still in the chair as two make-up artists revolved around him, dabbing at his face with fine brushes and picking the specks of dust off his immaculate suit. In a few minutes the green-light would flash, his assistant would materialize out of the whirl-wind of activity, and he would step forward onto the stage.
Three or four months ago he would have been having a heart-attack about this time, his stomach sloshing with noxious liquid, his make-up starting to run with sweat.
Now this was barely anything more than routine.
Except there was a little twinge of that crippling, novice anxiety. Faint but present, just beneath the surface, which meant the whole catastrophic storm of panic could still reform and crush him at any time, even though he had long since grown accustomed to the art of speaking into a mic on a stage.
The only difference was that this time he was speaking to an audience of ten-thousand rather than a couple hundred concerned citizens in some junior high auditorium.
“Okay, Mr. Crawford.”
He looked up to see his assistant standing over him. Somehow he had missed the Green Light.
“Right,” he said, standing up.
Nothing to be nervous about, nothing at all. Just ten thousand people, well, ten-thousand not including the legions of potential voters that would catch the coverage on evening news or in the paper tomorrow.
He could tell it was a cold audience as soon as he stepped out. They had been standing around in the slanted rain for an hour and no one had dressed appropriately. Not to mention the warm-up speaker had bailed last minute, stricken by some abysmal spot of food-poisoning that had him chained to the bathroom in the motel.
“Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen,” his voice boomed and echoed.
“I love Meth and Gay Hookers.”
His voice rebounded, echoed, traveled back to him. It sounded foreign to him, unrecognizable as his own. The “s” at the end of “hookers” trailed off and decayed.
He felt the blood flash to his face in a hot wave. His mouth moved, but his mind was blank with everything besides the yawning, gaping horror of what he witnessed, almost in third-person, from somewhere outside his body.
“Three nights ago I put on a fake moustache, a Cleveland Indians hat, and walked into a gay-bar. At this point, I solicited two homosexual prostitutes. Several days prior I had purchased a half-ounce of high-quality crystal meth, paid for with money from cash donations to my campaign, and enticed the two men back to by room with the promise of these drugs. The next forty eight hours were spent having a wild, drug-fueled, utterly-depraved orgy. In fact, I am still crashing real hard. I had to take two bars of Xanax to straighten myself out for this, but frankly, I’m still a bit out of it.”
The audience stared. A handful of camera flashes stabbed at his eyes.
Neil Crawford vomited on the stage. Some of it splattered onto the nearest row of people. A woman shrieked.
“I really don’t align myself with either Democratic or Republican views. I just saw an opportunity. I would really say pretty much anything to get into office at this point.” He said, drooling onto the stage, trying to clamp his mouth shut with his own hands. Another salvo of vomiting seized him.
“I’m highly suspicious of all brown people, particularly people I think might be muslims.”
By now the initial shock had worn off and his assistant and two other members of the finance staff realized what was happening. Maybe an opponent had slipped a potent truth serum in his water. Maybe they were controlling his thoughts through some ray-gun, hidden in the audience. It didn’t matter at this point. He was burning down the house that was his career, dousing it and himself in gasoline and striking a match. They had to stop him before he destroyed their own careers as well.
They grabbed him and tried to haul his ass back behind the curtains. He threw himself back towards the stage like a man possessed. They tried to peel the microphone out of his fingers but he fought hard, bucking like a wild horse.
“There is massive corruption in my campaign finances. I mean Jesus, if anyone had looked at the paper work, any of it, they would have known something was wrong. I mean Jesus H. Christ…”
The three of them finally managed to overwhelm him, one man grabbing his legs, the other two grabbing an arm each. The audience stared on, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, utterly silent.
A single man stood up and started clapping.
“At least he told the truth and laid it all out there,” someone whispered.
A nearby news anchor was the first to react in any logical way. He turned, realizing his oppurnity to seize the moment, and faced the camera. “This is Jack Hall, reporting live from what maybe the first honest speech in the history of world politics.”
| 12 | A politician finds himself unable to lie on the day of a big, national speech during his campaign | 18 |
Aaron takes a deep breath and hugs his psychologist goodbye. He grabs his suitcase and waves goodbye to the nurses around the room and his few friends. His best friend, Sam comes up and hugs him sadly.
“I’m going to miss you Aaron. Promise me you’ll write!” Sam says as his head twitches rapidly.
Aaron smiles sadly knowing that his twitch was worse when he was emotional.
“I promise I will Sam. Get better and visit me on the outside,” he says patting his shoulder.
Sam nods and watches Aaron leave through the large double doors. Aaron smiles as he looks around for the first time in months with complete freedom. His mind begins to count and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. He looks up and sees his brother in front of him. His brother, Charlie looks at him cautiously unsure what to do and Aaron pulls him into a hug.
Charlie laughs joyfully holding him tightly, “Ah! I missed you so much kid!”
Aaron grins and Charlie grabs his suitcase and puts it in the trunk. Aaron opens the car door, sits in the passenger seat, and buckles his seatbelt. Charlie hops in the driver’s seat and they take off for home.
“Mom and Dad are so excited to see you,” Charlie says keeping his eyes on the road.
Aaron nods nervous but ready to see his parents; it had been a long 3 months and although they visited him frequently, it just wasn’t the same.
When they pull into the driveway, Aaron braces himself for hugs and a thousand questions.
After he parks the car, Charlie looks at him and asks, “Are you okay? Are you ready?”
Aaron smiles and nods pretending he has no worries. Charlie grabs his suitcase and unlocks the front door. When he opens it, Aaron sees his family’s tile floor and takes a deep breath. Charlie looks hesitantly at Aaron but smiles when his brother walks calmly and normally into the house paying no attention to the cracks. When Aaron walks into the family kitchen, his mother wears a worried look and so he hugs her.
His father smiles and says, “They really did fix you up Aaron!”
Aaron laughs and agrees, “I’m okay now Dad.”
Mother smiles eagerly, “We missed you so much! I made your favorite meal for dinner Aaron- just the way you like it!”
Aaron thanks her and asks to go upstairs and unpack. Both his parents hesitate for a moment scaring that they already aggravated him but Aaron promises he’s fine so they let him go.
He opens his bedroom door slowly and then glares at his old room that was riddled with bad memories. Aaron shakes his head and heads to his closet to unpack his clothes. When he opens the door and sees all his clothes color coded he sighs and mixes them up.
“I’m going to look fine no matter what I wear, I don’t need to color code stuff,” he says aloud to himself unpacking his suitcase.
He looks at a snow globe on his nightstand and shutters. That would be enough to send the old Aaron into a panic attack that in the middle of the night it was going to fall and shatter into a million pieces and when he woke up, he would step on the fragment but new Aaron knew better. He smiles at the globe and heads back downstairs.
Aaron looks at his mother and listens to her talk about her new garden club. He glances over at the dishes in the sink and has the sudden compulsion to wash every dish to his standard; if he washed everything himself, he wouldn’t die of germs. His mother sees him staring and stops talking. Aaron focuses back on her but he knew that she knew that he was considering it.
He smiles, “I’m fine- I still think about stuff sometimes but I’m okay now; I don’t have to act on it.”
His mother nods hesitantly and smiles strained, “Do you want dinner?”
He nods, “Yeah, I’m starving!”
She smiles and she pulls out a tray of baked ziti.
Aaron begins to eat and says, “Delicious!”
His mother grins excitedly, “Oh Aaron! I missed you so much honey!”
He eats his dinner and then passes by the living room to see his father and brother watching television like usual. He sits beside them and his brother pauses the movie.
Charlie smiles, “It’s a horror movie, do we need to change it?”
Aaron shakes his head, “No, It’s just a movie. I’m okay now, remember?”
His father smiles and Aaron does his best not to jump at any of the scares even the quick jump out ones.
After the movie, he heads to bed ready for a good night’s sleep at his home. Around midnight, he hears a loud beeping noise and wakes up. He hears footsteps outside his door and his parent’s voices. He gets out of bed and walks to the bedroom door. His mother laughs nervously and tells him to go back to bed but Aaron insists on knowing what’s going on.
Charlie sighs and answers him, “The burglar alarm went off; someone tried to break in.”
Aaron begins to breathe heavily and says, “Did you call the cops? Where’s dad? What if the burglar is in the house?”
Charlie shakes his head, “The guy didn’t get in. Everything is fine.”
Aaron nods and his family looks at him as if they were waiting for him to freak out. Aaron smiles and heads back to bed trying to forget the whole thing. Around four in the morning, he hears a rustling across his room. He sits up in his bed and sees someone in black clothes rifling through his closet. Aaron shouts in fear and the man looks at him and then runs out. His parents rush in and ask what happened. They call the police and sit with him until the cops arrive. Aaron is interrogated but he knows how unlikely it is that he’ll get any of his stuff back. Once the cops leave, Aaron gets dressed for the day knowing he won’t be able to sleep and heads downstairs. When Aaron enters the kitchen, Charlie chuckles and Aaron looks at him.
Charlie smiles and asks, “Is this a new thing?”
Aaron looks at him perplexed, “Is what a new thing?”
Charlie replies, “Your outfit; you look awful colorful.”
Aaron looks down at his outfit embarrassed and Charlie blushes.
Charlie tries to do damage control but it’s too late, “I’m just kidding, you’re fine!”
Their parents shoot stern look at Charlie and he tries to apologize. Aaron accepts knowing it was a mistake.
His mother smiles, “Aaron would you like some cereal?”
Aaron nods and watches his mother get a bowl and the box. As she heads to get a spoon, she trips on her slipper and falls on the floor. She lets out an ear piercing scream and their father rushes to her aid. When she continues screaming in agony, Charlie calls an ambulance. Aaron helps his father get their mother into a seat until the ambulance arrives. The paramedics arrive promptly and take her away quickly and carefully. Their father hops in the ambulance too and Charlie promises to watch Aaron. Charlie and Aaron sit silently at the table waiting for news. After an hour, the phone rings and Charlie picks it up.
After a few minutes, he hangs up and explains the news to Aaron, “The doctor says that mom shattered her spinal cord. She’ll be okay but it will be a long recovery.”
Aaron sighs nervously and then feels a sharp pain in his foot. He yelps in agony and sees blood rushing from it. Charlie grabs a first aid kit quickly.
“Aaron, what did you do? Did you step on glass or something earlier?” he asks using tweezers to remove the fragments.
Aaron begins to hyperventilate and heads upstairs with Charlie trailing behind him. Aaron glances around his room and then at his nightstand.
Charlie looks at him, “What’s going on Aaron?”
Aaron smiles through tears, “The burglar knocked over my snow globe on my night stand and I didn’t realize it, now I have shards of glass in me.”
Charlie bites his cheek, “It’s okay, here let me help you and then we’ll grab a broom to make sure your room is clean.”
Aaron nods and flinches as his brother tries to help him. He feels a pit in his stomach and gulps.
All this time, he had thought he was crazy when in reality he was right.
Charlie looks at his pale brother shaking intensely and Aaron admits, “I’m not okay.”
| 42 | A man is recovering from treatment of severe OCD. Before long, all of the bad things he thought he was preventing with his OCD rituals start to come true. | 145 |
Jerry knew this might get out of hand, but he needed his numbers and that new fancy Italian specialty store down the street was killing his business. His employees weren't the most...*productive*...members of society, but if there was one thing they knew how to do; it was make money.
After a late night of NASCAR re-runs and one too many cans of O'douls a lightbulb went off in his head. The next morning he put his plan into motion and told his crew that for every customer they served and expedited in under a minute he would add an extra .10 to their pay check, provided they turned in the ticket the customer was holding.
The first week or so went great! Sales were up, lines were shorter, and his boss was thrilled to see the once smug face of the store owner down the block have bags under his eyes and a lack of spring in his step. By Wednesday of the following week however, his only day off, he was jerked awake by a frantic phone call from his boss. "JERRY! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU TOLD THESE KIDS BUT YOU NEED TO GET DOWN HERE NOW!" Without missing a beat he fixed his hair, grabbed a pack of smokes (so much for quitting), and grabbed the largest thermos he could find for his coffee.
His quiet arrival into the parking lot was interrupted by the **SLAP** of a piece of bologna landing on his windshield. He turned to find the source of this rogue piece of processed meat and watched as his assistant manager was running around the parking lot with a meat slicer on top of a shopping cart going car to car like a homeless man selling paper flowers.
He knew he should put a stop to this. He knew he would have tons of paper work and explaining to do. He knew he didn't have enough coffee in his cup. He turned his wheel and wondered if the fancy Italian store down the street was hiring. | 10 | Your local supermarket begins a commission program for deli workers. The idea quickly causes chaos as deli workers use extreme tactics to compete for orders | 54 |
"13#45.1 Do you see this?" Said " 13#45.2 Both part of the Bio-Blob Psych Evaluation team tasked with scouting fledgling planets for upcoming lifeforms.
"Its strange really, even though this blob out competes itself naturally it has adapted to the point at which it disadvantages massive parts of itself in order for a few parts of itself to have a very large numerical value attached to it."
"That is strange 13#45.2, does the Value actually help the blob as a whole develop any better? Perhaps the number is a value representing how developed each part of the blob is?"
"No 13#45.1 no that is not it, OH GOD! 13#45.1!! Look at this!!!
This Blob needs help!!! It must still be in its infancy! it is trying to kill itself by exterminating random portions of itself and by destroying its habitat!"
"Okay that's it 13#45.2 I am calling in a warden, this Blog need serious Help re-adjusting. The warden will arrive in approximately 200 of their Rotations around their Star. For now I am deploying an Alpha commander to keep the blob in check and clean up that sick experiment with the weird number thing, It might be worth studying but the Blob will not survive long enough to be taught properly if we don't get Rid of them."
"Agreed 13#45.1 Message Sent, The Warden institute for Mentally Deficient Bio-Blobs has been summoned. We will get this little guy looked after, then make sure it never tried anything this dangerous again" | 19 | Aliens make first contact with Earth and is isn't a good thing. Instead of an invasion they're here to preform a psychological evaluation. They regard the whole of humanity as a single concious entity instead of billions of individuals. They're just about done with their assessment. | 73 |
One jew, two jew
Who jew, you jew?
Sign this form to identify who's who
and we'll send you to the learning center for you few
With evidence for why? Well why? We have no clue
We'll call it a prize, a reward, or a privilege
While we map out population simply based off of lineage
Germany will prosper the jews will stay vintage
Forever in history an infamous image
Our Fuhrer came out and he said with a gasp
They'll use their jew magic to wipe out our mass
Menorahs, yarmulkes, and tricks from the past
They're destroying the economy and taking our cash!
But I have a plan to save all the masses
We'll fence them all in and pump them with gases
The last thing we need is a troublesome crew
While I do what I must to win War number 2
As for Hitler, he did not like one them bit
For what he said, the sense made a bit
Wait my words are jumbled my mind is a pit
Follow like a sheep and eat up this shit
My eyes will stay blind when I'm not involved
For our troubles were over, by Hitler we've evolved.
EDIT: Jew Speak. | 86 | In the style of Dr. Seuss explain a major event in human history. | 74 |
---ISS Video Log: 7/14/18---
The batteries are low, and i don't have long. This may be the last entry of humanity, at least until after the wheel, electricity, and civilization are reinvented. Hopefully this will have lasted.
---
Three months ago, the world went up in fire. One poor bastard shot another poor bastard, which ended up on the internet. From there the events spiraled out of control as protests popped up and turned to riots, riots into civil war, and finally civil war into a nuclear exchange. One act of senseless violence inspiring grander displays of humankinds cruel nature.
---
There had been eight of us at the start. For three day's we watched the chaos beneath us. Missile flew, and cities died. We watched as one by one, our nations, our families, our lives, were reduced to radioactive slag. Then the real pain started. We had been two weeks away from resupply. While food was not much of a problem, due to the hydroponics lab and the lab animals, we were short on air. Despite the upgrades to life support, our oxygen was limited to 4 months, due to degradation in the O2 scrubbers. Things were made easier, as the number of us to be supported dropped. It was a shock when Vlad walked out the airlock, and again when Mei swallowed a fistfull of pills. It was after Mei that we remaining six began to modify the escape shuttle to land us back on Earth. It took 2 months and two more lives, those of comrade Gregori, and Josh. Thankfully we still had Ilya to pilot us in. And she did, though not well enough. We had re-designated our landing coordinates for a patch of ground in the Midwestern United States, and in doing set the chain of events off that would send Ilya skimming into a boulder. She and Steve were killed instantly. Leaving me and Eve, to find survivors, and re-build the world into a better place
---
I have to go now. the battery is at one percent. Christ, i wish i had more time, more power. I could leave knowledge, understanding, a better warning. Instead i have a crappy narrative of the extinction of humanity. Anyway,i had better get back to Eve and the rest of the camp. This is Adam Godspeed, signing off.
---ISS Video Log End--- | 202 | 3 Russian Cosmonuats and 3 American Astronauts and 2 others aboard the international space station witness the launching of thousands of ICBMs between the superpowers. What is the fate of the crew? | 253 |
A light lit the small room, as Daniel played with his toys. He imagined so many different things with them. From tea time to play house, he kept making new ideas on how to play with his toys. It was his favorite time of the day!
He would always look forward to it as the clock struck midnight and everything was dark. Everyday, he would go about in school thinking, 'What will we play today?' Once he had that thought in his head, he couldn't get it out. Every once in a while he would play earlier than he was supposed to, but no one really bothered him for it.
He heard a small clunk as he was putting his toys to bed. He looked towards the sound and saw one of his toy's heads fall to the ground. It would do this from time to time. No matter how much he super glued or duct taped, it would still fall off. And almost every time it fell off, a little piece of it would be on the duct tape. This discouraged Daniel sometimes, but he would simply place the head back on and duct tape it again.
The other one didn't have a body, only a head. The body of that one was placed in his room. Daniel used it when he was alone and didn't feel like playing with his other toys. It was his very special toy that he cared for more than the others.
He turned towards the cooing coo-coo clock in the room. It read 1 am. Time for bed. He placed the small skull back on top of the human sized 'toy'. Little pieces of skin still hung from it and the small bits of duct tape on the floor had that same skin. He gave the skull a light kiss. "Good night papa. We'll play some more tomorrow!" Delight was in his voice and anticipation was in his heart. He gave the other skull a light kiss. "Good night mama. I'll be playing with your other parts tonight!"
He got off of the blood stained mattress and looked at the two wretched souls. A knife stuck out of the father's chest and was caked in dry blood. A thin slot in the skull of the mother was also blood stained. Daniel had tears in his eyes. "I love you both", he said. He exited the room and shut off the light, drawing darkness over his hellish, decaying toys.
| 103 | Create a story that starts out innocent, and gradually gets more and more disturbing. | 85 |
I sat there, watching that young couple strode through the night. They walked, and talked, and laughed out loud. 3 years in, I thought. Definitely 3 years into their relationship. I smiled, my light getting a little bit brighter. I must have caught the guy's interest because he led her right to me. It was nice, you see, I never got any visitors. It was always great to see people walk my busy street in the day time; but I wasn't noticed and I would never be noticed by the man rushing to work, the frantic mother who was looking for his kid who was only playing with his imagination like it was a brand new toy. I was never noticed by the street venders, or the street performers. But I was noticed by the homeless; the ones who leaned against me when they had nothing else to lean on. They were the ones who gave me that sense of comfort and warmth. They got my light to shine even when the sun shone 10X as bright. I still got that flicker of hope that they would come back to me, that they would sit with me for all eternity…
But this couple. It was a first. I couldn't believe how amazing they made me feel. I felt wholesome, full, actually worth something. I made sure that they had the best lighting and every kiss and every laugh just made my light that much brighter. They stayed and talked and laughed all night long. I gave them simple light while they gave me joy and hope that I am here for more than just to shine light on the shadows; I'm here to brighten each and every person's day. | 18 | The most interesting and heart-warming story where the main character is a lamp post. | 27 |
It's shocking how easy it is to break into a house in the middle of the day. It's simple, really. You park down the street, walk out back like you own the place, muffle the sound of breaking glass with a dishtowel, and you're done. The biggest problem is explaining the runs in the towel to your wife. From there, there are really only two places to start. My first choice is typically to head straight for the big-ticket portable electronics: phones, tablets, gaming consoles, stuff like that. Basically, anything I can sell on Craigslist within a few hours. Today, though, something told me I'd better head to the garage.
See, the garage is where the men's toys are stored. Your boat motors and fishing gear, your power tools and golf clubs, even your occasional classic car with its keys in the ashtray or on top of the sun visor. Your're more likely to get a big score in the garage, and if I was going to come up with the cash for Thursday, I needed more than a used PlayStation. Heck, I what I really needed a 67 Camaro. That's the kind of scratch I was hoping for here. Wilson's treatment wasn't going to pay for itself, and Estelle wasn't likely to wait much longer before talking to Eddy.
I opened the door to the garage and was instantly disappointed. Aside from an old sawzall and a pile half-used gallons of old paint, there was really nothing to see. I stuffed the saw into my bag and turned toward the door back to the house to check out the bedrooms, but my breath caught in my chest when I heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. I couldn't quite catch what they were saying, but I soon realized they were headed right for me.
I didn't have time to wonder why anyone would be home in the middle of the day, and I backed slowly into the shadows at the end of the garage. From there, I could clearly see the door handle begin to turn, and I tried to hold back my rising panic. I couldn't afford to get caught now! What would happen to Wilson? He certainly couldn't rely on his mother. As I backed my way further into the corner, I brushed up against a door I'd missed during my initial assessment of the room. It was a utility closet!
As the entry door to the garage began to open and the voices became more clear, I silently opened the closet and slipped inside, just as the garage was flooded with light from overhead. It was dark and musty in the closet, though, and I could barely see my hand in front of my face. But at least I was safe for a moment. I pressed my ear up against the door to see if I could make out the conversation at the other end of the garage. The voices became steadily louder, and it was clear that a man and a woman were arguing about something. It sounded like a landlord-tenant dispute of some kind, but my heart sunk when I finally made out a phrase clearly, "... and there's mold in the laundry room too! I'll show you right now!"
I backed further into the closet, but I stumbled slightly. Just then, a burly arm suddenly snaked around my throat from the recess of the darkness behind me. A calloused hand clapped over my mouth like a vise, and I caught a glint of polished steel from the knife he wielded in the other. "*We're in this together now,*" he hissed. "*Get ready.*" | 14 | Two robbers bump into each other in a house they're both robbing. | 25 |
Sam looked up, completely unsurprised.
"Hey Drew," he said, and went back to his reading.
This was hardly unexpected, which was the main reason he hadn't been all that upset at his brother's funeral. And for good reason, because he knew what Drew had planned for the next year or so.
"You know, spectral form really suits you bro."
"You think? I was worried it might make some people uncomfortable." replied Sam's dead brother.
"Well, yeah I guess I could see that too." Sam sighed, he didn't think the next bit of the conversation would really help, but it was worth a shot. "Okay, so I think that if you're going to be haunting around here, there needs to be a few ground rules."
Drew was already leaned back in his brother's recliner. "Lay 'em on me."
"Okay then. Number one, don't go out of your way to scare my wife."
Drew was already snickering. "No promises on that one bro, it was easy enough when I was living. You know I never really liked her, right?"
"Yeah Drew, you made that pretty clear from the start. Now, number two, no expensive online purchases with my credit card."
"Now why would I go and do something like that?" he asked.
"I know you too well, that's why, and I don't think death has changed much. Now, number three, leave the cat alone, Grace is going to be upset enough with you bumming around here, leave her pet be."
Drew leaned forward a bit. "But would you be that upset if I taped it to the ceiling fan at night?"
"Okay, maybe that would be pretty funny. Just once though. And five, please stay out of my way when I need to work, or when I'm sleeping. Got all that?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, sure bro. Gotcha."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam was again not at all surprised when he was jolted from sleep that night by Bob Marley's "Buffalo Soldier" blaring from the kitchen, and the sound of the blender being used. Yes, this was going to be a long 366 days.
He stumbled from his bedroom to the kitchen, and turned down the volume on the stereo. He flipped on the lights, and stared at the massive pyramid of stacked cups and glasses on his kitchen floor.
He looked at his ghostly brother. "Drew, please explain what you're doing."
"Just making some smoothies, they're pretty good to. Well, I expect anyway, I don't eat or drink now, I just made them to kill the time. Get it? Kill the time? It's funny because I'm dead now."
"Drew, turn off the blender. Now." Sam said, until he was distracted by a hissing sound from the living room.
Sure enough, there was that stupid cat, duct-taped to the ceiling fan, hissing and clawing while the ceiling fan was on high. Sam and Drew both started laughing hysterically.
Sam's wife wandered down the hallway. "Sam, what the heck is going on in here?"
"Uh, honey, my brother's going to be staying with us for a little while."
Drew peered around from the mountain of smoothies. "Boo."
Grace looked back at Sam. "You mean your DEAD brother is going to be staying with us?"
"Hey, trust me, I didn't have much of a say in the matter either. But we can work it out, right? It's not that much worse than when he was alive, and we don't have to worry about feeding him." he glanced at the mountainous stack of drinking glasses, "Although, we may have to buy a bit more fruit now."
The cat shrieked again from the living room, drawing his spouse's attention.
"You bastard! What did you do to my cat!" she yelled.
Drew began to laugh hysterically. | 26 | As an integral part of the Worldwide Afterlife Program of the far future, new technology allows for the deceased to remain as a visible "ghost" on Earth for a year and a day before they disappear forever. | 53 |
He tried to surreptitiously glance at the beautiful woman across the bar. He had been trying to find a way to talk to her for the past month. Each time he moved to get up, the gravity seemed to increase tenfold and his legs turned to jelly. It was probably for the best. No one would be interested in him anyway. She seemed to enrich the atmosphere with her lively spirit. Everyone surrounding her smiled and laughed. He simply sat in his dim little corner, sipping his drink alone.
As he was getting up to leave the bar, a strange sensation overtook him. A tingling sensation beginning in his toes seized his body and slowly entered his brain. Then, to his terror, it felt like his consciousness was moved aside, and another one entered.
*Relax, kid. You'll thank me later.*
WHAT THE FUCK?! Someone was *in his head*. He turned around on the invading mind's accord. To his horror, he was approaching his ultimate crush. No, no, no no, NO, NO, NO!
*Calm down! Jesus, you're giving me a head ache.*
He slid up next to her. She turned to him, and a small smile flickered across her face. Curiosity gleamed in her eyes, and dare he think, a little apprehensive excitement?
*Dude, she's been dying for you to talk to her for the past two weeks.*
No, way! She wanted to talk to him?!
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the hermit. Why have you graced my humble presence?" her voice sounded like a sultry melody. And he was absolutely tongue tied. Luckily, his friendly neighborhood body abductor wasn't.
"I was actually hoping you could help me out with this hermit problem."
"Hmmmm....I don't usually help out complete strangers."
"I'm Ian. There, problem solved."
He knows my name?!
*I know everything about you. You're pretty cool, aside from that whole bed wetting thing. Might want to tell her about that before -*
"Amelia," the lovely woman supplied before the body snatcher could probe any deeper. "What did you have in mind?"
"How does dinner and a movie sound?"
"Pretty good. Maybe if that goes well we should do something a little more exciting."
Ian was fairly sure his heart stopped for a moment.
"I need to go, though." she took out a piece of paper and pen from her purse and scribbled down her number. "Call me soon, 'kay hermit?"
"I intend to," he answered suavely.
She handed him the precious paper and swept through the bar, meandering between patrons better than a dancer would.
Wow.
*Uh-huh.*
But how could I possibly call her without fucking things up?
*I only said what you would say if you weren't so damn nervous. Just trust your gut for once. You could be quite the ladies' man.*
The tingling sensation overcame Ian once again. The other consciousness left and his body was once again his own. As he made his way to leave, he caught the eye of the barman. He gave him a knowing wink. Ian tossed him a $20 in thanks. The barman caught it without skipping a beat.
*Another quick buck.*
| 20 | The friendly bodysnatcher. | 21 |
Samson stood at the front of a dimly lit room full of his male colleagues. The bright light from the power point projector backlit him so brightly it was hard to make out his face. He didn't care, he was more concerned with the math than he was about people seeing him.
At least for the moment.
" As you can see, the math is there. Our bodies are much more complicated than we ever thought, at least from an electro-chemical standpoint."
Arthur, a former teacher of his(and bored by this point), raised a question. "Sam, this is all very interesting, but where are you going with this? You've been talking at us for an hour with no point."
" Well, I'm glad you asked, Art." He replied, as if to sell a product. He motioned to his intern to turn off the slide projector, and the room went mostly dark, " We've always thought our nipples were leftover from the presence of chromosomal change. " He removed his lab coat, and began to unbutton his shirt, though it was hard to see in the darkness. " But I've discovered their true function..."
He was topless by then. He raised his hands to his chest, placing his nipples between his thumb and forefingers. He squeezed and twisted them. A red beam suddenly shot from both of them, traveling through the room and bouncing off some mirrors he had set up before the lecture.
The room was silent, astounded. Art watched with his mouth agape as Sam repeated what he did in anticipation of the reaction he received.
" Yes, men. We have lasers. All of us."
Someone in the back of the room broke the silence a moment later. "And women don't have this?" They asked.
" No. We are still studying, but we think is has something to do with the ability to breast feed."
Slowly, his colleagues began to remove their lab coats and shirts until the entire room was topless. Samson smiled.
| 279 | Someone finally, accidentally discovers the true function of the male nipple. | 271 |
"Push!" Screams of agony and the smell of blood filled the room.
"I can see a head!" A last wail of pain was to be heard and then just exhausted breathing. The cry of her first son was seen as a delightful noise compared to all the ones preceding it.
The sound following the ones typical for a hospital wasn't.
"Dammit!"
"Carla!", the doctor seemed indignant.
"That wasn't me.", the nurse with curly black hair defended herself. "My voice isn't that high."
"Who was it then?" He shook his head at that woman. Completely useless as he found. "Hand me the baby and a scalpel."
"Yes.." A few moments of silence followed. "Doctor? Where exactly *is* the baby?"
As the mother opened her eyes she screamed again. This time though not of pain. Those screams were of pure horror.
Her child had stood up and now slowly walked towards her, leading himself by the umbilical cord. "I've played this level before." The same voice from before left his bloody mouth. "Gonna restart."
And with that he left the world through the same door he had entered it in.
EDIT: thank you so much for my first gold! | 482 | Your newborn's first words are "Dammit, I've played this level before!" | 491 |
I've done it a thousand times.
Hey, I'm an immortal spirit with a conscience, I can't just fuck with average Joe on the street. I'd give someone a heart attack, or a sense of divine favoritism. I don't want that.
But a bunch of snake-oil salesmen who make a living on the Cheetos-stained welfare dollars of trailer trash? Well now that is very different.
I'm still a nice fellow, I might go bump and slam a few doors, but I never hurt anyone. The irony is that when the Ghostbusters go back to their studio bosses, footage in hand, crowing in triumph, usually the tape is to mundane for even their tamest episode.
"So what if the door opened and closed by itself Harold?? Where are the ghostly apparitions, where are the godammed possessions??"
Harmless stuff. Keeps me sane. My fun came to an end when I ran into three clairvoyant and a low level heavenly bureaucrat on the set of Southern Supernatural Sleuths. I'd known that the "sensitive" existed. Sometimes I would be strolling along in major cities and I'd get a limp-haired kid looking in my exact direction for longer than was probable, or a grandma would lose her color and point a shaky, arthritic finger my way when I was doing nothing but minding my own business. Usually I waggled my tongue at them and moved on.
The young and the old were especially sensitive to whatever plane I occupied. The non-dependent population of the world was typically so confident I didn't exist that I could have haunted them for a month and they would have gone to a psychologist instead of contemplate any supernatural alternative.
The crew of SSS was a motley affair. A loud mouthed head honcho and a bunch of miserable supporting cast members who looked like they had been seeking grander employment when they decided to major in film at Fordham Midwestern College of the Arts or whatever bumfuck institution had saddled them with 200k in debt.
Old New England is ghosthunter paradise. Take your pick, colonial governors wife who lost her mind, revolutionary war vet who still haunts old battlefields, Irish immigrant who still longs for the Emerald Isles, yadda yadda. Give people three hundred years and they'll think they have a history.
I was born 7000 years ago in a a place called Nippur. Three hundred years was the blink of an eye for an old hand such as yours truly.
Anyhow I hope that gives some reference. In all that time I had never met an adult who recognized me for what I was. I had the luck if running into a whole bunch of them all on one day.
SSS was far from home, usually they stayed below the Mason Dixon, but a change of scenery was called for after two seasons of mediocre ratings.
The cameras were set up outside a small run-down historical little inn in Somewhere, NY called the Salem Board. There was a ghost there, a youngish 200 year old ghost who didn't quite know how to keep quiet yet. Or maybe she didn't care, either way the place was on supernatural fliers for fifty miles in every direction. Apparently the occupying ghost had a penchant for snoring loudly in the rocking chair downstairs.
I met up with Winnie and told her all about my hustle and she agreed very kindly to let me have the run of the place while SSS did their thing. Female ghosts are usually like that, very agreeable and submissive, unless they were born in the last fifty years. God you would not believe how grating it is to hear about equality when you lived in a time where women were literally dragged around by their pony tales from place to place.
I was caught almost immediately. I slammed the front door and the head honchos neck about snapped when he whirled to face me. The head honcho then turned sharply to a a chubby fellow sitting and playing in his phone behind one of the cameras. Without looking up the fat fellow said, "By the front door, Old Sumerian by the look of him."
The head honcho pulled out a scary looking and fired plasma bullets in my direction. I dodged them all of course, my reflexes are nearly instantaneous, but I got out of Salem Board quickly for that night. That was a smarter move than I knew, but then I made a rather massive mistake.
I waited until the SSS packed up and left, but I followed the chubby cameraman home. Fatso lived about as well as he looked. Small apartment, pizza boxes pretty much tiled the floor, water faucet looked like a plague spreading device.
I alighted in front of Fatso, oh I don't know, looking to grill him for a bit, see what made him tick. I knew I was in trouble when the greasy bastard looked at me like I was a delicious platter of extra hot chicken wings.
"Hi there."
"Hello, your the only person I've ever met who can see me."
"Oh I hear that a lot, but I'm not a person."
I blinked.
"How do you mean?"
"I'm the boss."
I blinked again.
"Haven't you ever wondered why you never got to heaven? Or hell? That was me, your my department."
I tried to whoosh away. Huh, my whooshing powers were gone.
"So what exactly am I here for then?"
"You came to me."
"Well yeah, but now I'm trying to leave and I can't."
"Fair enough. Your being decommissioned. To many new ghosts to let old models keep running around. Your the last Sumerian you know, and there are only a few Assyrians and Egyptians left even, you really should have been scrapped a millennia ago."
"Where do I go now then."
A wry smile.
"Wherever you would have gone."
Then everything went black, and a massive gate loomed before me.
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE
"Fuck."
| 27 | You're a spooky ghost and decide to haunt a ghosthunter show. You're surprised they actually know how to handle ghosts. | 75 |
**Evidence box 7 of 37 from Abernaky Terrorist Attack, July 21st, 2018.**
**Location, shelf seven, row three of city Time Capsule. Main and 1st.**
**Condition: Most items protected from the biological agent by vault construction. Removed, cataloged, and tested before city incineration.**
**Item 831 : Leather Journal Good condition.**
**Item 832 : Small metallic device. Appears fine.**
Day 469 : Carl was right. there is too much localized deviation for more than a 18 nanosecond trip. The world is moving too fast. or the sun is or this arm of the galaxy.
...
Day 518 : Carl fucking got it again! Gave me the credit but I just have the random ideas he works out the math. Field testing tomorrow.
...
Day 530 : Tested again today. Have coherence for three day trip. roughly. Look forward to results.
Day 533 : Test object materialized as predicted. La Grange point tracking seems viable. So long as the step interval is small enough though that happens outside of this time line so it is limited only by the local power source we can give it. Right now that is 2 AA batteries. Should be able to rig up something bigger.
Day 691 : Carl's dead. I haven't been back to work for weeks. He visited me today. He knew he was dying decided to be the first living test subject. Made me promise to go on, then headed back. Tie to dig out our work.
Day 901 : I can't believe I'm planning this. Almost a year of traveling through time and humanity never makes it past 3000 ad. The freaking Mormons though. And the computers. Put them together and you can surely wipe out McCormick or Seddra before they come to power. It was a kid that convinced me. Picked up some trash at a mall where this guy dropped in on purpose a couple feet from the trash. Kid walks over and picks it up. It's been a dark year and that act spoke to me. I caught up to him and gave him a twenty telling him he was a good person. Kid says, "If I have the ability to make the world a better place and don't, then I'm as bad as he is." Fucking fourteen year old kid. I looked him up. Nothing special, good life, wife dies of cancer, three kids.
Day 1019 : I've started killing. I can't sleep for it even though I see the results. Real results.
Day 1067 : Fucked up. Killed the great relative of a world tyrant. Didn't extend human presence though but destroyed it. I went back and stopped myself. I have both sets of memories. It feel like its ripping me apart.
Day 1069 : Except for the notes I took and the above journal entry, I have but one set of memories. Stopping myself. It seems the paradoxes do resolve. I will resume my work.
Day 1177 : I've killed thirty seven people that stayed dead. According to the convoluted notes and diagrams its closer to 300 where I've stopped myself before I started. The limitations of the device only allow travel to about 4200 AD. I've secured a fusion device about the size of a cigarette pack from there (already ancient tech by that point) and extended the range to roughly 120000 ad.
Day 1304 : I've spend almost 5 months backtracking through history cutting out secret societies of time travelers. It ultimately is used to subjugate humanity instead of help it. The authorities are looking for me in local time. Fifty-one dead in my own natural time line. They have a body count of twenty-seven. I tried to make most look natural and apparently succeeded, but those families deserve closure.
Day 1341 : I've destroyed everything except the notes on who I killed, where and how. Forget the research I did planning those murders from the future over and over so I wouldn't get caught. I've learned I am a problem. Humanity makes it to the stars. Sure they keep killing each other from there but I'm not a god, or whatever. It's not my right to kill innocents to make life better. Though I do justify it to make it exist at all. All of my research and Carl's shown we can only travel back in time as a return trip. You can never visit your own past.
Day 1351 : This will be my last entry. I don't know how to safely destroy this fusion device but it should be safe here for half a million years. I'll leave it with this journal. Perhaps one day, long into the future someone will know they were saved. For now I head to Special Agent Green's office. They don't even have a picture of me. I'm planning on tucking the journal and the battery in the town's time capsule. It will be opened in 500 years. The fusion device will be fifty years old by then. Don't judge them harshly for how they treat me. I did kill a lot of innocent people. I have trouble to this day with that. But in the end, I had the ability, so the responsibility was mine. | 68 | The diary of the most notorious serial killer of the century is re-discovered in an FBI evidence vault and read for the first time. Within days of publicizing its contents, that serial killer has been honored as a national hero. | 118 |
He cursed himself. He cursed his addiction and he cursed his curse.
He was surrounded by idiots. Lovable, stupid idiots that sought the comforts of a drug rather than the love of a woman, the glory of knowledge, or the pursuit of power. They were the lowest of the low, and here he was, eyes foggy and brain sluggish, surrounded by his seedy friends.
And he was soon to die. He could learn nothing from these fools, only the latest hook-ups. He couldn't possibly access a book or the internet in time to absorb a new nugget of knowledge.
So he sobbed. He brought his knees to his chest, his face to his knees, and wept. The flickering fluorescence sickened him, the rhythmic breathing of his cohort angered him. His curse haunted him.
A figure stirred on a couch opposite of the weeping man; tousled hair and bloodshot eyes squinted at the man who would soon meet Death.
"Andy, you good?"
The cursed one looked up.
"Don't worry about me, man. Go back to sleep."
His friend cocked his head.
"Nuh-huh. What's wrong?"
His watch read three minutes to midnight. What did he have to lose?
"You won't believe me, Jack, but I'll lay it out straight. Every day I have to learn something new. It can be anything. Doesn't matter. And today I've not learned shit. I've sat here with you guys and gotten high, totally forgetting the world. And I'm about to fuckin' die because I haven't learned a thing, except that I should never have done drugs."
Andy looked back to Jack, whose eyes were wide and red. Andy sighed.
"I knew you wouldn't believe me. Go back to sleep, I'll b-"
Jack interrupted him.
"Shut up. Just be quiet. I...I have to do the same. I've had to learn something new every day for the past ten years. I fucking forgot today as well..."
Jack's sentence devolved into swears as Andy stared at him with bewildered eyes. He had to be joking.
Andy brought his arm up and looked at his watch. It read 12:01.
He touched his wrist and looked to his sullen friend. The both of them were still alive. Andy let out an immense sigh. He and Jack had learned something new after all. | 28 | A man has a curse that kills him if he ever goes a day without learning something new. He wakes up at 11:55pm in a crack den, with only his drugged-out friends for company. | 33 |
Josh looked the part of the successful tech mogul wearing crisply tailored pants, a monogrammed french cuffed shirt, and his jacket casually swung over his shoulder. He walked through the gate of his sister's front yard. She still lived in the house they had grown up in. He stopped in front of the house and watched the memories replay: cowering in the closet with Jenny when mom's boyfriends got violent, avoiding their mother when she was drunk or high, and celebrating his college acceptance by dancing around with Jenny in the front yard while the whole neighborhood watched in amusement. He looked down at the crumpled invitation in his hand again, just to be certain that it was the right address and time:
Sam's Graduation Party
Noon-we leave for the ceremony!
1311 Gardenia Drive
Nodding to himself, he put the invitation in his pocket and knocked on the front door. He could hear the party going on and smell the barbecue his sister must have bought. He heard Jenny yell "It's open, come on in!"
He opened the door slowly and slipped into the house. It was shabby and old, but neat as a pin. Jenny had repainted the walls and pulled up the carpet, but the smell of cigarette smoke still lingered. He could hear his sister in the kitchen, laughing with someone. He walked down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. Everyone in the room stopped talking when he walked in. Jenny, with her back to the hallway, had no idea he was there and was still talking when he walked up behind her. "Hi Jenny."
She whipped around and her face went white. She dropped the bag of potato chips she had been holding as she stared at him. "Josh," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Is it really you?" She reached out for a hug, and he gladly stepped into the embrace. When they broke away, Jenny wiped away her tears and said "What are you doing here?"
"I got an invitation to my nephew's high school graduation!" He responded happily. She looked at him, shocked, "I never sent you an invitation."
"I sent it, Mom. It's okay." Josh turned to see a tall skinny teenage boy standing in the doorway. The boy walked over and extended his hand to Josh, "I'm Sam. It's nice to finally meet you."
Josh shook his hand formally, and said "I'm Josh, congratulations on your graduation."
Sam grinned, "thanks, man."
In a quiet voice, Jenny said, "Josh, can I talk to you in private please?" She turned and left the kitchen; Josh followed close behind. She opened the door to her bedroom, walked in and sat down hard on the bed. Shutting the door behind him, Josh went to sit next to her. Tears were still in her eyes as she appraised him silently. Feeling the weight of her stare, he squirmed, waiting for her to make the first move.
"Why did you come here?"
"I told you, I got an invitation and I decided to attend. I wanted to give my graduation present in person." He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She opened it carefully and read the first page of the legal notice.
She looked up in alarm, "Josh, you can't be serious..."
"It should be enough to pay for him to go to college. I figured it was only fair, since you paid for me to go that I return the favor."
Jenny sat in stunned silence staring at the numbers on the page. Then she handed the envelope back to him. "I can't accept this."
"What do you mean you can't accept it? It's for you and Sam! It should be enough for both of you, and it's a trust so it will keep paying out every year. I just wanted to do something for you."
Jenny turned to him, her eyes full of fury and her voice dripping with anger, "Who the hell are you to just show up here like the prodigal fucking son and offer your help? Where were you when Sam was a toddler and his father went on a bender and almost killed me? I didn't finish paying off those medical bills until last year. Where were you every holiday when I would save for months to give my child a few presents that I would buy secondhand? I made the same promise to him that I made to you, that he could go to any college he wanted. I'm grateful he picked Carolina and not Duke like you did. I worked two goddam jobs for five years and I put you through college. I got pregnant with Sam your junior year and I worked both jobs until two weeks before he was due and went back three weeks after he was born. So that I could pay for you to go to Duke. I didn't get to go to college, so I wanted to make sure you did."
She paused for a minute, then continued, "And how did you repay me? You never came home for holidays, you didn't show up for your nephew's birth, you acted like you were too good for your simpleton older sister, who worked herself damn near to death to pay for you to go to that school. And then you graduated, which I was not invited to, if I remember correctly, because you didn't want me to bring Sam, and I couldn't afford child care. And you moved to San Francisco and founded some tech company and made millions. You never called, you never sent Sam anything for his birthday, you never came home for Christmas, hell you didn't even send a Christmas card.
Then you suddenly show up on your nephew's high school graduation day and hand me $10 million? I can put Sam through college myself. I've been saving since he was born. I don't want your money, Josh."
She started to cry, "Give the money to Sam, but I'm not taking a dime of it." She opened the door and exited, going back to the party.
Stunned, Josh sat on her bed and put his head in his hands. Jenny had been the only person who had loved him when he was a child. Despite only being two years older, she had been his mom. She signed his permission slips, fixed his lunch everyday, attended every single one of his basketball games, yelled at him when he stayed out too late, and had taken the brunt of the abuse from their mom and mom's boyfriends. And he had repaid her love with 20 years of silence.
Edit: minor details | 10 | Two siblings that grew up in the same broken home, meet up years later, one has managed a very successful life, the other followed the path that they grew up in, tell their story. | 15 |
"Ho ho ho!" The fat men bellowed as he waltzed into the living room. "Timmy, you and I need to chat."
In a flash Beelzebub himself appeared at the other end of the room. "Not so fast Mr. Kringle."
I sat between them on our floral patterned couch, the kind that was too uncomfortable to sit on for any length of time. I wondered what in the world was happening. Santa addressed me directly.
"Timmy," he began "surely you did not mean to send me that text. I'm quite sure it was meant for Satan over there."
Satan nodded in agreement, having been CEO of Verizon for some time he was well aware of the messages being sent on his network. I'm sure he had setup an alert whenever something was sent containing his name or any misspelling thereof.
"But Santa, I did mean it for you!" I replied. "I've been reading a lot about how cold it is up north and I just thought it might be something nice to warm you up, but I mean if you don't want it..."
"He doesn't, I'll take it." The Devil chimed in. "It's right in my wheelhouse, I don't think we really need you anymore here Kris, I can handle this one."
"What?" I retorted "What are *you* even doing here?" I motioned to him.
"Well you said... um, one sec..." Satan fidgeted with his iPhone. "Oh here it is, you said, and I'm quoting, 'Dear Santa, I've got a special soul just for you, all I want is a BMX bike', didn't you Timmy?"
"What? No!" I was recoiling in horror. "That damn auto-correct, I made some SOUP, not SOUL, SOUP!"
"Disappointing." Said Satan, crossing his arms. With another *poof* he was gone.
Santa stroked his beard and seemed deep in thought.
"What flavour is it?" | 45 | Thanks to a typo, you end up selling your soul to Santa. | 61 |
"The Watcher is never allowed to interfere, only to observe." Utau said in his usual cosmic way, as he stands watch over the glorious blue orb that is Earth-199999. "Now observe with me as we learn the strange but true life of one of Earth's Mightiest, the Scribe!"
"...the merger will mark a new milestone in movie history. The final part of Marvel Phase three crossed over the one trillion dollar mark today, making it the most profitable movie franchise in history. It has been five years since the last movie of the franchise *The Infinity War* was released. In other news, it has been 676 days since Kim Kardashian was lost in a House of Mirrors in what has been called the ultimate 'Selfie Trap'. Attempts to lure her out with a new husband have failed..."
The TV droned on as Stan Lee stretched out his muscles and felt the aches over his body. "Five years?" he said, astonished at the fact that it had been that long. "No wonder I have not been feeling myself. Huh." As he walked the floor over his private residence, he came forth and looked at himself in the mirror. "I suppose it is time to get back to work."
Heading down the stairs, he walked past the portraits of his various creations and smiled with pride as he touched one blank canvas. "It is about time you came home, old friend." he said with a smile of pride as he finally went downstairs and picked up an old rotary phone and the wheel creaked as each number chirped and whirled.
After a few rings, there was an answer. "What is your bidding, Master Lee?" the voice asked at the other end.
"Ah. The deal has been completed. It is time that you honored the other half our agreement. I delivered you the masses and the money, now you need to deliver me their souls."
There was an audible pause on the other side of the line. Then finally, the man stammered, "B-but Master Lee, I was just green-lit to finally reboot my dream. I have all my actors, and the studio has built me a working ship and set! You can't do this!"
"Tut. I can and will. You see, I still hold your soul. And unless you want that dream of yours to be the biggest flop since *Ishtar* I suggest you carry out the spectacular plan I laid before you."
The voice at the other end sighed. "Very well, my master. I had thought I would have heard from you since Disney acquired Sony and Fox this morning. I will get started immediately on rebooting your greatest creations..."
"And the joy of all of the Redditverse and Comic Nerds will reignite my immortality and in-turn, keep you alive, Mister Whedon. And as for Captain Reynolds, you know what to do."
"Nathan will be crushed, but he'll stay in line. I promise."
Stan smiled wearily and hung up the phone. As he looked toward the canvas, already the Reddit comments about a Joss Whedon headed Spider-Man reboot started to create an outline of Amazing Fantasy #15 to form as he took in a little piece of each soul that comments. Not enough to be missed, just enough that billions of them kept him immortal. This was better than the old days of newstands and comic book shops, the 80s had nearly done him in with the art of Liefield and Canete. Digital media brought him back to life and to take in Whedon as his apprentice. And now, he would be reborn. This caused the old master to steeple his fingers.
"Excelsior." | 29 | It's the year 2034. Stan Lee is having an increasingly hard time trying to hide his immortality | 122 |
I woke up today at 5 am. I didn't need an alarm clock. Today was going to be the most special day of my life. I could barely sleep at all last night.
I tried to sit up, but I was too weak. No surprise there. I've been too weak to sit up for a few months now. So I lay there, listening to the rhythmic beeps and whooshes of the machine I was connected to. The machine that did my breathing and eating for me. I hated the machine at first, but later I grew to accept it, and even liked it. After all, I owed it my life.
At around 6 am, my mother came into my room. She wore a beaming smile. "Today's the big day, Linda! Today's the day!" She even laughed a few times. Her laugh was infectious, and I found myself trying to laugh with her. I didn't really have the energy to laugh, but it felt good to try. I could tell Mom didn't really feel like smiling, or laughing, but she put on a good show for me. This was our tacit agreement, there would be no sadness today.
Mom helped me sit up, and propped up a mirror in front of me. I tried not to look at the emaciated skull that stared back at me. I hated looking in the mirror these days. But Mom pulled out her makeup kit, and started applying makeup on my face. She made me look presentable, or almost beautiful. No surprise there, Mom worked in the cosmetics industry. But the way she was applying the rouge and eyeliner and lipstick to my face was almost like a painter creating a masterpiece. When she was done, I could look in the mirror again. I didn't hate the face that stared back at me.
I remembered that this was the first time I'd really worn makeup. I mentioned it to Mom. She laughed, and said yes it was, and that I looked so good she was sorry she didn't let me wear makeup before. Being made up made me feel so pretty, and so special. I liked it.
Then she lifted me out of my bed and helped me into my dress. It was too big for me. It'd been her dress, twenty years ago, and the tailor had to make a lot of alterations so that it'd fit me. It still didn't fit right quite though, it pretty much hung off my bones, like I was some kind of living clotheshanger. No surprise there, I haven't been able to eat for a while now.
And then afterwards there wasn't much to do but wait. Mom turned on the TV, and we sat and watched it a bit. She shared her opinions on the latest news bulletin, or the developments in her favorite soap operas. I found myself dozing off once or twice. No surprise there, so Mom didn't comment, she just waited for me to wake up and pretended nothing happened.
Dad came in at around 10 o'clock. He asked me if I'm ready. I said yes. He put me in my wheelchair and wheeled me out the door. Mom helped out by wheeling the beeping and whooshing machine out with me. We went to the hospital chapel. It was filled with people, spilling out through the wide double doors. It seemed like every relative I'd ever had was here, along with everyone who went to my school. I tried smiling and nodding at everyone, but I got dizzy in the end.
Music started. Dad pushed me slowly down the red carpeted aisle. Carl was standing there, near the end of the carpet. My handsome Carl, my awesome Carl. Carl, who'd stayed with me through thick and thin, who never gave up on me even when all the doctors told him it was hopeless. He was dressed in a tux. This was the first time I'd ever seen him in a tux. He looked good. Actually, to hell with that, he looked AWESOME! He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen.
Dad wheeled me and my machine up to Carl. He took my hand. The man in the black robe and white collar started talking. I didn't really hear him, I knew the gist of what he was saying anyway, and I was too busy staring at Carl. Carl stared down at me, beaming. He had such a beautiful smile.
My Dad nudged me. I realized it was my turn to say something. I'd been so busy staring at Carl I hadn't even realized. I spoke the two most important words of my life.
"I do."
Afterwards there was some more talking, and then Carl and I were kissing. That was our first ever kiss, actually, and it felt kind of weird, but I liked it. And then there was eating, and some people danced. I couldn't eat or dance, so I just watched everyone else. Some people came up to me and Carl and offered their congratulations. Some of them were crying. No surprise there, it was an emotional day.
Pretty soon afterwards I got tired, so Carl wheeled me back to my room. He helped me out of the dress and into my bed. He told me to get some rest, and that he'd be back soon, he just had to go thank the guests. He kissed me again, and then left.
I closed my eyes. This was the most special day of my life. I felt so lucky, so happy, as I drifted away. The machine's soft and rhythmic beeps changed to long, urgent beeps. But it didn't matter. Today was a day of firsts, a day in which so many wonderful things happened. People will talk about the wedding, about my dress, about how beautiful I looked and how handsome Carl looked. To be honest, dying was the least interesting thing to have happened to me today. | 26 | Dying was the least interesting thing that happened to me today. | 42 |
Our federation of star systems was a peaceful one, aside from the occasional crime of passion violence was a very foreign concept to us, in fact there wasn't even a word for it. We'd managed to claim nearly three fourths of the galaxy before we finally found a reason to make one.
We'd ran into the occasional intelligent species from time to time, most of them were primitive and needed guidance, the few that had managed space travel were rather amiable. We found little resistance in the stars as it seemed we had been lucky enough to be one of their first visitors and as such we guided the growth of many a species into our own mold of thinking, it was this that would come to haunt us.
War. . . we'd never thought of it, conceived the idea, even the sickest and most demented of our criminals didn't think about destroying entire worlds for their own personal gain. Yet, there they were, in a cluster of stars; the hostile environment of multiple suns had forced the species to adapt at an amazing rate, we wished to study them and marvel in the genetic paradigm we'd found. Our security measures were . . . less than adequate; one of the researchers had been killed by them, species 23NR, the twenty-third, at the time, non-sentient species of the R-grouping of stars. They incorporated the genetic structure of their prey into their own genome. By the time we realized they'd learned to open the locks and enter the habitat it was too late, the meager security force had been overrun.
Our people were horrified by the news reported of a lost scientific base, though it wasn't unheard of, observational patrols were sent to monitor the planet and further study the species from a distance, what we found was, surprising to say the least. 23NR's designation was immediately changed to that of 23SR as they immediately began to show signs of sentience; not only did they scavenge technology from the research outpost but they had begun to mine, refine, and manufacture their own vehicles; they appeared to be crude mockups of our own, barely able to contain an atmosphere, yet, somehow able to travel through space.
The second attack made us, as a species, realize the gravity of what was to come the research vessel orbiting the planet found itself slammed into by weighty objects, at first the crew thought it had been a meteor, then, the screams were heard. The creatures appeared as a cruel mockery of us, human in shape, yet wrong, mandibles extended from their jaw and their skin was a sickly shade of rusty brown and they all seemed nearly identical, slaughtering everyone aboard the ship, devouring their flesh and beginning to molt when they found desirable traits. They moved with a sickening efficiency and group mentality.
Needless to say we had no proper countermeasure, our only weapons of any sort were meant for mining or clearing debris and they adapted them swiftly to suit their own uses, improved on them; it was as if every intellect they devoured was combined into a perverse think-tank.
System after system fell, until, one of the few surviving scientists that had originally discovered the species suggested we attempt to mimic their natural propensity for violence for our own defense. We seeded a number of garden worlds with primitive human tribes, hoping that at least a few of them would become sustainable and more violent than we could be.
It worked better than we could have imagined. One planet in particular, dubbed "Earth" by its inhabitants was the only to find its way to an informational level of technology. They were. . . savage, perhaps even more savage than the creatures we'd created them to fight. Unlike 23SR they didn't need the betterment of their species to fight for, they just seemed to enjoy fighting, over things as passing as simple ideas or rudimentary beliefs. They were our children and they were marvelously grotesque in their nature.
We continued to lose systems, the council knew that a turning point was needed and as such we decided to speed their development. A ship was crashed; a single scout near a remote desert town, the speed with which they found, scavenged and integrated its component parts was unbelievable. Within two generations they'd landed on the nearest planetoid and already sent robotic probes to the next planet from their own. Their fleeting lives were so insignificant compared to our drawn out existence yet within a single generation they could achieve more than we had imagined.
Nuclear fire bathed their planet, yet, they continued to grow and spread; first to their own star system and then neighboring systems we'd earmarked to remain empty. Every step of the way they fought themselves, differing ideologies sprouting here or there which threatened the whole of their species were stamped out like a cancer by the immune system.
By the time 23SR found our children what was left of our society watched with bated breath and we were not disappointed. The first hive fleet struck without warning, it scoured nearly a dozen of the "Terran" colonies, as we have come to dub our children. Yet, the response was something we had not expected; faced with an outside threat, every disparate theology, idea, government, and creed among the Terran people unified and turned all of their self-loathing and hatred upon the creatures that'd invaded their territory. Within five generations the Terran war machine worked more efficiently than our most verdant garden worlds, producing thousands of ships per each of their solar years and making war on the species as we could never imagine.
They didn't just defend themselves, no, they destroyed entire worlds, raining death and nuclear fire from the skies while destroy every single individual of 23SR they came across; each time the species attempted to evolve or adapt to our Terran children the increased resistance only drove the Terrans to greater heights of violence and sacrifice.
It was only when the last hive-system of 23SR fell that we realized the cancer we'd created, the dark shadow of ourselves that would now spread at a greater pace than even the ugly creatures we'd discovered so long ago had. The Terrans had finally been unified with their gaze steeled over with a hatred of the outside, they would find us, they would realize the hell we'd born them into, and, they would have vengeance, as a neglected child upon its mother.
[First time writing here, leniency please]
Edit: Thanks for the huge positive response guys! Really! Better than I could ever have hoped for, also I did some minor changes with the feedback given to make it flow a bit better, probably still not perfect though. | 721 | Humans are an intergalactic species, but also pacifist in their natural state. Earth is created in an attempt to create violent humans to face a new threat. | 753 |
**General edit: if anyone is late to the party and would like to catch up with this WP in the right order (and at their own pace), the veritable legend that is /u/OC4815162342 has set me up a depository at /r/NWP1984stories/. To the veterans who have been here since the beginning: thank you for all your support - I wouldn't have done it without you**
**Last update: www.tinyurl.com/l2vryf9**
Justin liked being different. It seemed like *everyone* picked something to do with sex. It was so facile, so obvious, so goddamned human. Number of sexual partners, likelihood to shag, likelihood to felate *after* marriage... Justin felt that 18 was perhaps too young to make the choice of Instinct; at that age everyone only thinks about one thing. Justin just thanked God his parents had made a sensible choice.
In the beginning, some people had gone with the superhero angle - trying to save the world, one criminal at a time. Unfortunately, you could only fine-tune the Instinct so far, and number of crimes committed meant just that: after a couple of months it became apparent that the Superheros had wasted their Instinct: they might as well have just picked "number of speeding tickets evaded".
Some of the psychologists and neurlogists and doctors had formed small guilds, each deliberately picking a different statistic: odds of developing cancer, Alzheimers, Type II Diabetes. A simple walk past the panel provided all the information insurance companies would ever need. Premiums soared. Then genome funding collapsed; drug trials became faster and more accurate. Premiums collapsed.
Gambling, of course, took a hit. The bookies hired the best they could afford, but those whose Instincts were more refined knew where to go and when to bet. The financial markets went the same way.
Politics became nearly impossible. Once a senator's lie-count was determined all you had to do was send the pundit with the appropriate Instinct to watch him speak. All it took was a well-known pundit standing near the lecturn or the senate-floor to cough, each time his Instinct flared to bring down careers. We quickly learned there were few honest policians, and somethings we'd rather not know.
The Instinct had been a blessing and curse. Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss. Justin wanted to be different.
The clock blinked over to midnight. He closed his eyes and whispered gently into his pillow. | 722 | When a person turns 18. they get to pick a statistic. For the rest of their life, they will know this statistic about anyone they meet (lies told, days left alive, etc.) | 754 |
The pope waves at the crowd below.
I watch his smiles from my shelter inside a doorway. There is a light mist drifting down from the clouds and my equipment is sensitive. It will be a standard blessing he gives, more posturing for the crowd, then a sign off.
I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. The crowd is large and full of foreigners and the elderly. The old nonnas have tears in their eyes as they watch their leader and clutch their rosaries.
"My children," the pope begins, and almost instantly the raucous crowed inside the piazza is hushed. "I cannot bring you the blessing you wish for today." A hum builds within the crowd. I see the reporters struck with new interest, pleased that they will have a new headline for their articles.
"You know me as a simple man," he continues. "I wish to live in the ways of our lord Jesus Christ. Yet my heart is not at ease. I see mothers dying in the street, clutching half starved babies and I watch my brothers in the church pass them by. I see the unrest in the Middle East, the birthplace of our Lord, and I hear whispers that perhaps it is for the best. I see the extravagance of the extremely wealthy and the poverty of the masses and I can no longer stand by and watch." The hum of the crowd has become a dull roar. Reporters scribble furiously, hanging on the man's every word. The nonnas are confused, or perhaps mostly deaf, and do not understand what is happening around them.
"Thus it is this blessing I give to you today, my children. The blessing of a Crusade, sanctioned in the Lord's holy name. You will defend yourself against those who would oppress you. You will take the mansions and create hospitals and homes for the poor. You will no longer be a slave to a man who does not know your face, who uses the profits from your toil to fund his sins. Today is the day. Today is the day that the meek shall inherit the earth!" He finishes to a screaming and cheering crowd. Through the tears in my eyes I see reporters shouting into their phones. The nonnas whisper prayers to rosaries and the foreigners have no idea what has just transpired.
The communicator in my ear buzzes. I listen to my orders over the ecstatic cries of the crowd. A sob escapes my lips as I tell the man in my ear that it will be done, yes Sir, of course sir.
I heft my equipment onto my shoulder.
He was a good Pope, and a better man. | 102 | The year is 2015 and the Pope has called for a crusade. | 122 |
"If you ever meet a genie, what would you wish for?" asks Jane. "For people to see real colors" says Hazel. "What's 'real colors'?" "There are so many, but no one sees them! That's why people dress so ugly all the time, and don't even know. Even my mom does not see."
Once Hazel thought that the world might be cursed, and she is a magic child destined to save it. Her favorite theory was that of a troll's mirror, from The Snow Queen, exploding into million pieces, one in everyone's eye. But as much as she looks, there is no trace of evil mirror in her mother's eyes.
"Do you want a drink?" Mike asks. The party is very loud, and just as fun. "Sure!" He is a friend of a friend, and his color choices aren't that bad at all. But Hazel pauses, looking at the drink. It is off-color, just a bit, but she trusts her instincts. She leaves, and never sees him again (her friends have no idea who he was).
At 21, Hazel realized that she stopped thinking of herself as different. At some points of her childhood, her teenage life, it had defined her. She thought of herself as a superhero, as a chosen one. But all her friends and her ex-boyfriends were also all different, each in his own way. So now she just enjoys her gift without assigning to much weight to it.
"She is a genius designer alright, just don't let her review a color scheme" says Martin. "Unless you like the idea of replacing your green with exactly the same green. But aside from that, she is cool." Nate smiles: "I like enthusiasm, even if misdirected. And I don't need help with color work anyway, just composition." "Yeah, she's great at it." Later he shakes Hazel's hand. Nate seems to be a nice person, but she finds it really hard not to laugh at the ridiculous color palette he is wearing.
Hazel wasn't a fan of ceremonies, so the whole thing was as simple as it can be. She loved the ring, though. Not for the gold, but for the perfect color, pure and deep.
"You should seriously go to the doctor" Hazel tells her husband. "It's alright!" Nate is as stubborn as ever. "Just tired a bit, that's all." But Hazel sees colors in his face that weren't there before, so she makes him promise. "You are very lucky to come this early." says the doctor. "In this stage it is perfectly treatable, and I don't expect any complications. Just a month more and it would be a very different story."
Hazel looks into the child's eyes. A perfect feast of color for her, and just a few shades for Nate. Nate looks into child's eyes. "Her eyes look just like yours!" He smiles and child smiles with him.
"Mommy, look, a greenred car!" Zoe found the color book deficient, and now invents colors herself. What Nate sees as red, and Hazel sees as a hundred different shades, Zoe sees as a thousand, ten thousand. Even as a child, she predicts weather by the exact color of the sky. Hazel is excited, yet a bit terrified.
"Not this one!" says Zoe. Hazel replaces one 'rubyruby' pen with another, realizing she does not see the difference at all.
She smiles. | 15 | In a colorblind world, a child is born with the ability to see colors. | 43 |
"Are you sure this is going to work?"
"Absolutely." The chief scientist adjusted his rimmed glasses.
"With no hitches?"
"Well, no guarantees on that count."
"What do you mean?" The time travel candidate put his muscled, wiry hands on the paperwork.
"Well, here's what we know. Based on our calculations, and the formulas we are going to use, we can predict a few things that will happen."
"Like what?" His arms were a bit hairy. He was short. Darker-skinned. Sharp, probing eyes.
"Well, we know that you will go back in time, but we don't know how to get you back out. So wherever you go, you'll be stuck there. The trip also tends to make people sick. There will be some vomiting, and other side effects we aren't sure about yet."
"That's not too bad."
"So far."
"So far?"
"Well, we are also pretty sure that your hair growth will be somewhat accelerated...and we're not sure where you're going to land."
"My hair, wait what?"
"What?"
"You don't know where I am going to land?"
"Well, no. We can't really predict that part of it. We can try to aim you somewhere, but the formula for those calculations is based on some iffy theories."
"Iffy?"
"Sorry, I meant 'experimental'."
"Can I opt out, maybe wait for a later time?"
"I'm sorry, despite having a time machine, we actually have no time. It's now or never."
The candidate sighed. He suited up, and got into the machine.
---
The trip in the capsule didn't take that long. It was painful. Like sharp needles stabbing the fleshy part of your underarm. It didn't hurt that badly. It distracted him a bit from the vomiting, and the hair growth. His arms became a forest of hair. His beard grew out, and his hair became long. Despite the pain, he could smile. "I look like a hippy." he said, to no one at all. 30 minutes later, he could look out the window, at the cascade of light and shadow dancing in a tunnel, at the end of the tunnel was his destination.
It wasn't *on* land.
It was *over* land. He could tell he was above the tree line, quite high up in the air. He would have to fall a bit. He started planning his moves. He went over the checklist in his mind.
1, Secure local leaders for a conference.
2, Explain how he intends to prove that his is neither a witch nor a sorceror.
3, If there is a religious authority nearby, he would need to speak to them about this in order to found a society for the development of this technology.
4, He would need to secure land, building materials, saltpetre, and, if possible, some-
He arrived at his destination.
---
**Gethsemane**
The Time Travel Candidate materialized in the air above Jesus and fell downwards, his bearded body crashing down upon the Christ and killing him right then and there. As the candidate got up, with the blood of the Messiah on him making it look like he was sweating blood, he looked to the distance. A rabble was shouting in Aramaic.
Judas was leading the Romans to him. Judas quickly closed the gap, walked up to the candidate and kissed his cheek. As the candidate felt his bearded face, he had only one thought.
Fuck. | 40 | In 2050, planet earth is about to be destroyed. Scientists believes humanity needs about 500 to 2000 more years to develop the technology to save the planet. As a solution, one man is sent back in time to teach our ancestors. However, he encounters some resistance... | 65 |
TOP EDIT: If anyone wants to continue reading the adventures of the ISS crew, I have started a sub /r/ShiftFic for this story. I will attempt bi-weekly posts for Monday and Thursday of each week until the story is complete.
"Commander!" Scott Yardley shouted, pointing out one of the porthole windows into the blackness of space, "you need to see this!"
Commander Paul Weber coiled his legs and sprang off the side, hurtling towards the window that Yardley was frantically pointing out of.
"This better be..." he began muttering before the sight outside gave him instant pause, "holy. shit."
Maybe 600 kilometers away was a swirling vortex of purple and blue, popping with energy and with the appearance of a terrible lightning storm. It wasn't possible.
"We're heading right for it," Yardley said, just as the alarms starting blaring and more frantic voices burst over the radio, mostly from Anatoliy, who was working outside the station, "we have maybe twenty seconds..."
"Get inside the station! Now!" Weber desperately said, hoping there was enough time. The shouting became louder as the plummeted into the vortex and everything went black.
****
Weber awoke to a flashing red light, accusing him of oversleeping like an alarm clock. He was loose in the station, glancing around to see there was no obvious damage. Yardley was pinned against a computer, his arm wedged and anchoring him in place.
"Status?" he clicked on his headpiece, earning two replies.
"Alive, Anatoliy is here with me," Trish's southern drawl was unmistakable.
"Still kicking," the only other unaccounted station member, Anna, had picked up the idiom from the Canadian Yardley and used it every chance she had.
"We need to do a damage assessment and get on the radio to Houston," Paul tried to shake the cobwebs from his head, clear the grogginess the clung to his body.
"I can't raise them," Anna spoke again, this time in person as she drifted through the station, "it's odd. The lights aren't right down there. There's not enough of them."
Following her finger Paul looked out the porthole again, this time noting that she was right. The Earth was distinctly dark compared to what they knew. Three months of staring down will give you a pretty good idea of what it's supposed to look like.
"So there's a power outage, nothing we should be concerned about yet. We'll give it a bit and try again, until then we need to find out what damage has been done."
*****
"Colonel," Sergeant Pat Mulhaney looked to his supervising officer, "we've detected something...out there."
"Son," the Colonel rubbed his eyes and tried to understand the man, "out where?"
"In space, sir."
"Good God. Get the Secretary on the line! And see if our newest agency knows anything about this!"
*****
"Still no word from the ground," the entire crew was on edge, they'd been due for a supply shuttle and things were looking a bit bleak. That, and a week in they'd still had no response from Houston.
"Unidentified craft," the sudden, and static riddled, transmission surprised them all, "Please identify."
"This is Commander Paul Weber, United States Air Force and NASA astronaut."
The minutes of silence that ticked by were felt by all, each second a small eternity.
"NASA has no employees named Paul Weber. I repeat, identify yourself."
"Someone's playing a joke right?" Weber said with a concerned glance to the others, the voice on the other end of the line didn't have the tone of a joke.
"I repeat, identify yourself. This is Sergeant Mulhaney of the United States Air Force. We have an object that should not exist, so I repeat again, identify yourself."
"My name is Paul Weber, I am a Commander with the United States Air Force and a NASA astro..."
"This is General of the Air Force Marshall Owens," a new voice replaced the other, "It is a serious crime to impersonate United States military personnel. Identify yourself truthfully!"
"Paul!" Yardley interrupted before Weber could reply, "General Owens was involved in the NASA program for their first manned mission...in 1959."
"That's impossible," Weber looked down at Earth again and it dawned on him. There was no power outage. They hadn't built the infrastructure up yet.
"Oh. Shit."
*****
"It's not possible, no, can't happen, just...not..." Trish was hyperventilating, Anatoliy was busy trying to get her to calm down while Yardley was staring down at the Earth like that would make it different. Anna was completely unfazed, looking at Weber with a bland look like this was an average day.
"Identify yourself!" the radio continued with it's tinny transmission as Weber looked at his crew. They had done the impossible. They had travelled fifty years back in time.
The next question was, how to convince the very angry Air Force General that the suddenly appearing craft was in fact not a threat. Just from the future.
"General," Weber waited for the tirade to stop before he could, and would, continue, "my name is Paul Weber. I was born in Acton, Ohio. In 1972. My crew and I are the...current mission to man the International Space Station that was launched in 1998."
There was silence.
"Son," the General came back on, this time Paul could feel his rage through the airwaves, "I am going to find out wherever you are broadcasting from and whatever device you have launched into the atmosphere and I am going to shove that damn thing right up-"
"That was rude."
"We don't have much choice do we?" Yardley said, finally turning from the window, while the others stared at him blankly, "we're almost out of supplies. We're definitely not getting a supply shuttle from down there. We have the Soyuz and we'll need to use it."
There was silence. No one said what they were all thinking.
There was no way to get back home, not if they went to the surface.
*****
"They've gone silent," Sergeant Mulhaney said, checking over the hastily readied radio system for communication to the object, "Unidentified craft, please respond."
"This object, from all the data provided," Dr. Hollis Cooper from the newly minted National Aeronautics and Space Administration spoke for the first time since joining the predominately military room, "did not originate from Earth. We are looking at either an extra-terrestrial or they are being truthful about who they are. It's not one of ours and so far the Russians aren't claiming it."
"Do we have any sort of defence in place for this kind of event?" General Owens had the entire might of the United States Air Force at his disposal, along with the ability to beg from any other branch if he needed to, but he had nothing in his arsenal for a space borne attack.
"Of course not!" Dr. Cooper spread his hands out, "this is completely unprecedented. We've just begun to prepare for our first manned mission into space, now we have a man claiming to be from the future circling the planet in an object that would appear to be a spacecraft of some kind. No one, even the conspiracy nuts, has seriously considered this."
"We do have the authorization to launch a tactical nuclear strike," Mulhaney said, absentmindedly as he fiddled with the radio set. Only when the silence set in did he glance up to see every pair of eyes in the room on him.
"Sergeant?" General Owens was interested now.
"Sir..." Mulhaney gulped, thinking it may have been a mistake to open his mouth, "under the presidential order 11 dash 72, paragraph 4, sub-section a, NASA and the Joint Chiefs of Staff may authorize a tactical nuclear strike, with Presidential approval, against an interstellar threat. Of course this was meant for asteroids and debris, not craft."
Cooper nodded at the hastily added ending,
"he's right, it's not meant as a combat method. I hadn't considered the wording of that directive."
"Call a meeting with the Joint Chiefs!" Owen was already formulating his plan, "We have a potential threat and we will eliminate it!"
"Shit," Mulhaney went back to the radio as Cooper looked at him, "we should probably warn them."
| 13 | but their presence in orbit hasn't gone unnoticed. | 41 |
"My apologies". He stuttered. "It won't happen again."
"It better not." She replied as she did up the buttons of her dress shirt with ease. "For all of our sakes."
She turned to the assistants who were trying to clean up the blood as quickly and effectively as they could. "You two better speed it up - I believe it's two minutes and ticking."
The two nodded and scrubbed at the tile even harder, the rags turning more and more maroon.
"Are you sure you're ready?" He whispered.
She gave a reassuring smile and winked, her hand adjusting the wig on her head. "I was born for this."
He went down to one knee and kissed her foot. "I will always serve you, no matter what happens, no matter the consequences, my Lady."
"'Lord'." She corrected. "You really must get into the habit of calling me 'Lord'. Kingdoms have fallen over less. And I know you will, my old friend. I could never have done this without you."
The two assistants stood and bowed. "It is done, my. . .Lord." The first said, practicing his tongue. "We'll take the hidden staircase behind the fireplace with the rug and dispose of it in the river during your address."
The Lady nodded, and the two were off, the rug rolled up and carried over their shoulders, a bare foot sticking out of one end. A trickle of blood ran down its arch, a single drop fell and splattered noiselessly on the tile.
The old friend bent down and wiped it away with his sleeve. "Godspeed, my Lord." He said to the Lady. In one graceful swoop he plucked the crown from the floor and settled it on her head. "Godspeed."
The Lady smiled, kissed his cheek, and went to the balcony and threw open the doors, the roar of the crowd waiting outside greeting her ears, and she stepped to the railing a Lord, to deliver his address. | 10 | "My Lady--" he began. "My Lord." she corrected. | 28 |
As I lay on my lonely king-size bed staring into the eyes of my children, I feel my heart begin to slow, edging towards its final beat. I motion for my daughter to move nearer and kiss her forehead as her warm tears hit my chin. They know my time is now. My hearing is beginning to fade. I close my eyes for the last time.. Silence
Moments later a bright light burns my vision and all I can do is open my lungs and scream. I can hear an array of different sounds and my hearing feels sharp. This seemed so unfamiliar. Was I dreaming? Was I still in my king-size? I am passed from arm to arm and I can hear commotion behind as I am brought into a different room, I can't quite make out what the commotion was about. I am being prodded and poked by giants in white coats. I try to ask where am I and what is going on but still all that comes out is screams.
I am picked up again and brought back into the first room again and am placed in warm loving arms, I look up and then it hits me like a ton of bricks. A woman is staring back at me and I know. This is my mother. Her arms feel safe and I begin to drift off as I feel her gently rocking. Wait... I cant sleep I don't even know where I am and how I got here. Why am I in a babies body and why can't I speak?
I lay in my mothers arms more awake now, I couldn't comprehend it. All I knew was that I was now a baby. My mind turned to my kids. I wondered If they knew I was here. In the later stages of my life, or my previous life at this stage, they looked after me. I couldn't do it myself and after my wife died almost a year ago my health began to rapidly decline until it got to the stage were I was bedridden. My poor kids, having to say goodbye to both parents in such a short time.
My mind was brought back to the present as I was placed into a man's arms. He looked at me with love and awe. I knew this was my new father. He lifted me close to his nose and inhaled deeply. His face was awash with emotion. He began to gently rock me back and forward. It was more relaxing than I had remembered. I begin to drift off again. This time it feels like I am being dragged into sleep.
I awake as I am being brought out of a car and into a large house. Is this my new home. My dad is carrying me in a very comfy carrier. I don't remember having these in my day I thought. We we greeted at the door by a short man and tall women roughly the same age as my new parents. The woman was holding a baby girl with a full head of hair. I wondered if that was company for me, I laughed to myself. The interior of the house was warm and looked bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. We entered the sitting room as the adults spoke, they demanded to see the new member of the Wells family. My dad lowered the chair until I felt a gentle tud on the ground.
The man and women were examining me very closely. The women seemed a lot more interested in me than the man. She wanted to pick me up but my father suggested otherwise as I needed my sleep. The women seemed disappointed but accepted it. they sat down and began to talk about my mother. Soon after my father left to use the toilet. At that point the women decided to pick me up. She passed on the other baby to the man. It felt good to be in someones arms again. She picked me up and sat me on her knee. Again she took a close look. She turned me around so I was facing away from her. Mid-turn my eyes met the other babies eyes. She looked almost 1. Her eyes were so striking and familiar, she seemed to sense the same thing as our eyes widened towards each other. It was her. She knew it was me. My wife was here. | 13 | A man passes away, and is reincarnated as a newborn human again, to a new family; oddly, he is born with all the knowledge and persona that he had before he had passed. | 21 |
"Wow... You're all a bunch of assholes," I said defensively as the sinister six mocked me.
"We're just saying," Murder said mockingly, "it makes us wonder... I mean it's not a big deal if your into that just admit it man..."
The rest of them laughed.
"Speak for yourself!" I responded, trying not to get emotional as I knew it would only egg them on. "I mean you got Hitler.. Stalin.. The dude from the Cambodian holocaust, when's the last time-," was all I managed before being interrupted.
"Uhh yeah," murder said, "Let's just forget about the thousands of crazy housewives who murder their husbands and kids and shit?" Their taunting continued.
Okay... I couldn't hide it anymore.. Fine.. They won...
"I'M GAY!" I shouted, finally not being able to contain it anymore. Their faces all the sudden transformed into expressions of shame.
"Dude... We had no...-" Gluttuny began as sloth interjected, "We were just joking around man... we accept you.."
Murder was just staring at the ground, he had been the one who started it all. Finally he spoke, "We're assholes... God made you just the way you are.. You're perfect."
We had an amazing group hug. I tried not to get a boner.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts | 161 | Lust is a guy, and all the other deadly sins gives him crap because he's always portrayed as a woman | 393 |
"Fuckkkk......" cried Embertooth as he wept in pure disgust.
"What is it now?" William asked.
"The fuckkkk..... what the hell is wrong with you?" the dragon replied.
"Just a bad thought, I can't help it!" William responded in embarrassment.
"You're just torturing me now." Embertooth yelled angrily, "I mean what in the all knowing one's voice granted you the ability to conjure up such awful, such twisted, such unholy unthinkable concepts?"
"It's just boredom, time, and a little creativity."
"FUCK NO, CREATIVITY IS RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS AND OTHER MAGICAL WHIMSY SHIT. YOUR MIND IS A CESSPOOL OF ABHORRED FILTH. WHAT FUCKING FREUDIAN EXCUSE DO YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN THIS GARBAGE? DO YOU REALIZE THAT I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, THAT I STORE EVERY SICK FANTASY YOU THINK!"
"Come on, you're exaggerating."
"Imagining yourself in a soiled french maid outfit while I shove you up my... youknowwhat... is not something a normal human thinks on a regular basis."
"That's just vanilla compared to......"
"AHHHHHHHHHH"
"Sorry, I'm so sorry. I did not mean to think of.."
"JUST FUCKING KILL ME, OH DEAR SWEET SCEPTER OF DEATH PLEASE FREE ME FROM THESE TERRIBLE THOUGHTS."
"I'm try thinking of something positive!"
"kitties..... cute little kitties playing on a field... please keep thinking that.. how lovely, wait why does that kitten have tentacles..... HOLY SHIT, AHHHHHHHHHH, GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD, GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD!"
"Well, they do say curiosity killed the cat!" | 17 | Dragons and humans found that they can compliment one another through a mental bond. The capacity for awesome emotions and vast memories in a dragon coupled with a human's creativity, cunning and wit turned a pair into a single mind capable of anything. | 40 |
So yeah, I was just walking around the block repeatedly like I do everyday when this guy comes running up to me and punches me in the fucking face. I've never been the confrontational type so I start running away and before I know it I hear a lady screaming. I turn around and realize now he's beating up a hooker! I instantly called the police.
When the police showed up things started to get really weird, out of nowhere a bazooka just appears in the guys hands. Like, he didn't pull it out of a satchel or something, it just APPEARED out of nowhere. He proceeds to fire said bazooka at the cop car and yeah... what happens when bazookas hit cars happened.
Things were getting serious now. The dude had five stars floating above his head and swat teams started rolling onto the scene from all directions. The guy continued firing his bazooka rapidly without reloading, blowing up swat vehicle after swat vehicle. Still, they managed to shoot the shit out of the guy, but no matter how much they shot him he just stood there and took it! They were shooting his face, his body, his toes, his eyeballs and yet he just wolverined it like a complete boss!
That's when shit got really wonky.
A giant tank proceeded to fall from the air. The dude gets in it and yeah, from there he went f'n nuts and was even more unstoppable. That's when he ran me over.
I FINALLY respawned and I'm back to walking around the block repeatedly. I will never understand what exactly I saw that day, it's like the guy was in a video game or something.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts
| 16 | Write from the view of an NPC character in the GTA Series when they encounter the main player. | 44 |
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks.
“I’m sure,” I say. “I’ve thought it through.”
She frowns a little, and her eyes show the slightest tinge of disapproval. “You’d be erasing your identity.”
*That* again. She always has to bring it up.
“I told you, I don’t care,” I say. I’m getting aggravated. “I’m going through with this. You should know by now, I can’t live with this. The way I am. You get what I’m saying.”
But she doesn’t. She never has, and she never will. She’ll never know how I feel, to look down and see a bulky frame and broad shoulders, struggling to continue on, crying herself to sleep. She’ll never know disgust at her own body, loathing of her every existence.
She could, but she won’t. She wouldn’t go that far to understand me.
“Alright,” she says, admitting defeat. “If that’s what you want.”
It *is* what I want. Again, she doesn’t understand.
“But you know,” she continues, “there have been advances in medicine, and…”
“I’ve made my decision. Just leave me alone.”
“Alright,” she says. She glances at me for a moment, one single agonizing moment, and leaves.
It’s time. I close my eyes, and I feel it happening. A buzzing, not in my body, but in my mind, a humming whisper that resonates deep within. It lasts just a minute, and I slowly open my eyes. I look in the mirror, taking in my reflection.
Nothing has changed. I am still six foot nine. My shoulders are still three times the width of my head. My face is angular and strong, with a rectangular jaw covered in beard shadow. I don’t check, but I still have a penis. I am, and always will be undeniably male.
For the first time, I feel nothing at all.
Everything is wonderful.
| 52 | Once in a lifetime, human beings can permanently and instantly switch genders. | 65 |
"Hah! I told ya; I fucking told ya! God is real; take that you ignorant heathen!"
"I thought Christians aren't suppose to curse Dave? Also, I find it funny how God bestowed omnipotence upon me, an atheist."
Dave, flustered from the remark, retorted, "Shut up! We're right next to God, our almighty Father and Creator. We can settle our trivial squabble later."
Henry smirked, "Nice rebuttal. I can see that you inherited all the brains in our family."
Dave, oblivious to Henry's sarcasm, pretentiously replied, "It's about time you recognized my genius."
"Children of Adam. I come before you to present you both with gifts. I'll grant you both with powers of omnipotence. Whatever you desire, you can make it a reality. However know that all gifts come with consequences. One of you will become bastardized with power and become one of the greatest threats this world has ever seen. The other shall steadily grow more and more altruistic and kindhearted; he shall be known as the greatest saint who's ever lived. With these warnings, I bid you adieu."
"Well! I can clearly see your going to become the evil one, and it's my duty as a true Christian to stop you!" Dave smugly commented.
"First off, it's "you're" not "your" and second we don't know for sure who'll become corrupted. So don't count your chickens before they've hatched!" Henry replied.
"Whatever, I'm going to go tell all my friends about my new powers! Smell ya later, you nimrod."
Dave teleported instantly after finishing his sentence, leaving Henry alone. Suddenly, a bright light flashed before Henry's eyes and appeared God, standing in the exact stop Dave occupied moments ago. "My son, I'm afraid I have grave news for you. Your brother, David, is the Anti-Christ; he shall bring perpetual strife to this world if you do not stop him."
Henry flabbergasted, "What?! I mean...how can I do such a thing? He's my brother for Christ's sake, sorry. Plus, he's a Christian; I'm an Atheist. Isn't he suppose to be the good guy?"
God imperturbably replied, "My son, calling oneself something doesn't make oneself that thing. I have seen his heart; it is full of wicked desires. However yours is quintessentially pure; I have never seen a human with as much purity as you."
"But, God. I'm not a saint. I don't deserve this power; it should go to someone else, someone more worthy."
"No, I chose you for a reason Henry. You may not be able to see it today but one day you will. Now listen carefully because I'm not going to repeat myself. In the future to come, your brother shall amass followers who follow his every command and whim. Essentially, bureaucrats if you will. He will gain political, social, and economic power. People all over the world will respect and fear him. Once he's reached a certain threshold, he'll wage an international war, a war the likes of which this world has never seen. While he is gaining political power, you must gain power too. However, not in a corrupt manner, no. You shall gain trust and support from other compassionate souls such as yourself. You and your followers must someday face Dave and his followers in battle. This battle shall be the final altercation of Earth. Shortly afterwards, I shall destroy this world and rebuild a new world. All of my angels and all of your followers still alive after the fray shall live on this new world."
"What'll happen to Dave and his army?"
"They sadly will not have the privilege of joining us on this new world."
"You mean they'll burn in Hell?"
"Oh goodness gracious, no Henry. Hell isn't a real place. It's simply a fabrication devised by my son's disciples; a metaphor to scare people and keep them in check. They shall find themselves separated from each other in their own, individual limbo-like state."
"I see. I honestly don't know if I can do this, God. Really. This is all so mortifying to hear; especially considering how earlier today I didn't even believe you existed."
God gave a warm smile, "You'll be fine, my child. Trust yourself and have confidence in your friends."
"I just have one more question, God."
"Ask away Henry."
"Is there a second option? It seems you've presented me with an ultimatum but is there a way to save Dave and his followers from their fate?"
God chuckled warmly, "I don't know; you tell me, O Omnipotent one."
With that, God disappeared with a bright flash.
Henry grinned; after hearing that, he knew what he must do.
| 49 | God has come to earth and bestowed omnipotence upon two people, but there's a catch... | 56 |
We pulled the potato sack off his head and let him fully grasp the desperateness of his situation. The rest of the rebels and I were all dressed in those freaky animal masks that Hollywood is so crazy about lately, surrounding the guy with various medieval torture devices in the middle of what appeared to be a high-tech laboratory. We were trying to make this as dramatic as possible.
"I'LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING!" The president shouted almost instantly upon realizing his environment.
"Huh... That was easy." I said as I nodded to one of my partners.
"Okay so... The whole republic versus democrat thing.. it's all bullshit. It's just a façade, no matter who wins the grand plan will still continue. We are ushering in a one world government and it already has too much momentum to be stopped. We have celebrities brainwashing the youth and reality TV to brainwash the adults.. Soon we will commence marshal law and ya'll will live the rest of your lives in slave camps.."
"I totally called it! Pay up bitches!" Danny yelled. He had been the 'one world government' dude amongst us, we each handed him 10 dollars.
The president sighed, "If only it were that simple...."
The president took a deep breath, "Aliens... are real... They don't want us to tell the general public because they were understandably afraid of freaking everyone out. It turns out that they have been watching us since we were monkey's and have been waiting for our technology to reach a certain point that we are about to breech, at which point they will welcome us to their galactic family and we'll inform the masses. They are carefully watching us to make sure we don't blow ourselves up or something. They wanted us to have society in slave camps briefly in order to minimize the general chaos upon announcing that they exist."
"I KNEW IT! Pay up bitches!" Greg shouted excitedly. Greg had been the 'alien' dude, we all handed him ten dollars, Danny handing him twenty.
"But that's not all..." the president continued, "The aliens have been so patient with us because, well, it turns out we are their Gods. Ancient freemason occult magic and such is actually cosmic wisdom that for some reason humans have an affinity for. You see, I am not just the puppet president, I have sacrificed my soul to Gorthlak the Unredeemable, King of the Void, Champion of the 7th Sanctum. I will soon be God of the universe, the aliens will be my military force."
Just then the president exploded out of his skin and revealed himself as a nineteen foot tall badass vampire/demon/angel/cyborg/badass crazy looking thing that words couldn't possibly describe.
"FIRE!!!" I shouted. We all unloaded our clips at the things fucking face, pwning the thing instantly and causing it to collapse on the floor dead.
"I think that counts as me being right!" I said.
"Fuck you!" said Greg, this was totally not a case of 'secret societies rule the world!'
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts | 17 | Generations of corrupt politicians and government bribery reach a tipping point -- captured by a group of rebels, the latest "good" president turned "puppet" reveals the greater truth of what's happening behind the scenes. | 31 |
The old woman sits in a medical bed, staring out the window.
Juliet, a nurse who has worked at the hospice since she arrived, sits across from her; taking her break within the old womans room as she often does, trying as hard as ever to make conversation, and break the old womans silence.
"They tell me you'll be a hundred and five soon." Juliet says, cheerily "Could probably get some sort of letter from the Queen by now. You've earnt as much."
She watches the old woman carefully, knowing that should the woman ever turn to meet her eye she'd probably look away instantly, the woman had that sort of an effect on you; something that made Juliet feel every word she says is futile, not that by now she didn't feel it regardless; fifteen years of silence won't be broken by chit chat.
"Mary's asked if you'd like to have some tea with her again later, don't know whether you listen to her but she sure seems to enjoy talking at you." Juliet laughed a little "Not that I can judge anyone for that, pestering you every day."
The woman continued to look out of the window, letting out a brief sigh. Once, Juliet had taken her expression as a breakthrough - but sighing is the most communication that the woman can muster.
"I just figure you might want some company. Lord knows we can't kick you out, woman in your condition, so I thought until your ready to go you'd like a little company."
The sun drifted slowly between the clouds as the woman closed her eyes, allowing it to briefly paint her face.
"Then again, you're a fighter aren't you? Thought my Nan was a tough cookie making it to ninety three, then here's you right as rain at your age!"
Juliet collected up the packaging she had left on the rooms small table and brushed crumbs from herself as she stood. Opening the door, she watched the old woman for a few more moments, hoping to see even the slightest smile as the sun cast shadows across the wrinkles on her face.
"I'll be back again usual time tomorrow, as always you're welcome to tell me to sod off if you'd rather be alone?"
No response.
"Well then, tomorrow it is."
The sun past and the old womans eyes opened, returning to the same non existant spot she had been staring at before the clouds passed. Juliet heard her sigh again.
"Coming in here's really changed my perspective on things y'know, all it takes is a woman like you, enjoying the rare bits of sun that window might get, to remind you why life's worth fighting for. Need that sometimes, working in a place like this."
Juliet smiled and gently closed the door behind her. Under the gentle hum of the next rooms air conditioning, the old woman once again closed her eyes under the sun and leant back into her bed, allowing her mind to wander.
Then, as she did every day, the old woman dreamt of dying.
| 179 | a woman is cursed so that every time she pictures something happening to her it will not happen. Any scenario she dreams of involving herself will definitely not come true. Now as an old woman what does she still dream for most, but still never happens? | 151 |
"You know what", the old man said, as he put aside his half-eaten sandwich. "I read 'The Obituaries' every morning. And I can't help but notice all the folk in their twenties, thirties and forties. These people are missing out on the better half of a lifetime."
The man next to him chuckled setting down his coffee. "And what louie would you know about lifetimes?"
"Plenty, ive lived quiet a few of them i would say."
"Nay i say, you've never lived a single one, seen a few i could imagine especially by the look of you." At this they both chuckled.
"But lived one i say nay. Youve never fallen for someone down the isle or held the last moments of someone you loved as they trickled through your fingers. Many eons has passed by us old friend, lives we've watched, even gone as far as to push along, but not a single one have we lived."
The old man wiped his chin and pulled a cuban from some hidden sleeve in his suit, he always wore suits when they went mortal watching. "I get jealous" he finally said. "They get the choice, the option, to live like you where dieing. You and i we dont get the option."
"careful" his friend piped in.
"Bah" the old man said shrugging him away with his cigar hand. "That fall has gone and past. But imagine it mike, imagine if you werent a seraph and i." he said motioning to himself. "wernt me. What would you do with it."
The other man looked into the crowd outside, how they hustled and bustled absolutely and amazingly oblivious to the mortality all around them.
"I would do exactly what they are doing louie, live as blindly as possible."
Both men sat quiet for a while, bathing in the world around them, unnoticed and forgotten in the corner of a coffee shop. | 26 | "You know what", the old man said, as he put aside his half-eaten sandwich. "I read 'The Obituaries' every morning. And I can't help but notice all the folk in their twenties, thirties and forties. These people are missing out on the better half of a lifetime." | 92 |
"What's the F is wrong with you!" Paisley yelled.
"Nothing matters anymore." cried Matt as he rolled off the front of the hood.
"You almost got blood on my Chevrolet Malibu" Paisley said as she stormed out of her car, "Why can't you look where you are going!"
"No matter which way you go, it always ends in failure." Matt replied, "What's the point of looking out for myself anymore."
"God damn it, you sound like my maid, Laurette, when my dad cut her vacation time." She said looking over the poor boy, "I bet that is why she left last night and forced me to like get up at like 9:00 in the mourning and buy myself my own Starbucks like some middle class bozo. Stupid Laurette and her stupid family in France."
"I don't have some stupid family to turn too." Matt screamed, "Do you even know what it is like to be alone in this world."
"As if, my stupid parents bug me about everything" Paisley said, "All I wish is for some personal time and for them to fly off on another stupid trip to god knows where. I can't even begin to imagine how great it must feel to not have parents."
"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Matt yelled as he picked himself up, "I'm homeless, orphaned, and incredibly depressed. Everyday I wake up in a cold alleyway wondering if today I will find something to eat. The only thing I have are the clothes on my back and a photo of the parents who cruelly abandoned me to this hellish existence. I have no friends to turned too, no mentors to teach me, nothing to keep me motivated on living. Even now my last words before departure is to the audience of a selfish brat."
"Omg you're suicidal!" Paisley gasped, "That's like.... so hot."
"What?"
"Like in the twilight movies and stuff." Paisley continued on without missing a beat, "Edward and Bella are like so suicidal for each other, it is so romantic, Omg. Are you like a vampire or something cause I would totally date you if you were a vampire, but not a werewolf because fur will totally ruin my plushy carpet."
"I'm not a vampire or werewolf, I'm a homeless 17 year old!"
"Cool, gettopunk kids are so in right now too." Paisley said as she went over to admire his clothing, "Omg, where did you get these ripped jeans? The ones at Macy's are so poser compared to these, and that jacket Omg! Is that authentic, cus that is so gettopunk."
"Gettopunk?"
"Gettopunk is like when rich people pretend to be poor people like my ex-boyfriend, Drake, wore like ragged shorts and a wife-beater and like a nose piecing but that was tots poser compared to you. I mean you got the tragic back story and everything. The whole depression thing going is tots romantic, I mean I once had depression when I didn't get my Gucci bag in time lol, but seriously when you tell me that you're all suicidal and stuff, it makes me feel like I can change you and we can be like Aladdin and Jasmine and stuff except tots ratchet."
"You are fucking crazy."
"How rude!" Paisley cried as she jumped into her car, "It's over between us you hear! I never wanted you anyway especial with your stupid cute nose and ripped jeans and tots badboy attitude and .. WAAAAAAA."
Matt could only watch in disbelief as Paisley sobbed driving away. He concluded that it was worth giving life another shot as clearly there are deeper levels of insanity than he yet felt. | 235 | A very spoiled 16 year old girl gets out of her mansion for the first time in her life and meets an orphaned suicidal 17 year old boy who grew up on the streets and tries to convince him life is worth living. | 188 |
**April 30**
I decided to start a diary. There might not be anyone left to read it, but it beats talking to myself aloud. I remember reading somewhere that diaries helped people keep their sanity.
We'll see.
Today I went through the town of Auburn. The town entry sign had "Run!" written over it with a black paint. The town exit sign had "Don't stop". No sign of people. The statue in the main square has melted — no idea who it was before, or what happened to it.
**May 2**
I found a part of a road that was broken, with some pieces of asphalt just suspended in the air above it. I could not move them however I tried. They seem stuck. Some kind of antigravity? I tried standing on them, but I didn't feel anything different.
The small quakes continue. I forgot to mention them before, but the earth shakes at least two times a day. Some weird seismic activity, but not strong enough to be worried.
**May 5**
Thank God for the canned food. At least I know that dead meat hadn't disappeared. Someone wrote "Why the hell are you still here?!" in black paint on the supermarket wall. No sight of people, and no signs of looting or vandalism either, aside from that writing.
Another writing on some random house, different style, different color. "Why?"
Nights are scary, but mostly due to the unnatural silence. Each sound makes me jump.
**May 7**
Something weird happened in this town. A lot of buildings are damaged/destroyed. Hard to say what kind of damage that was. All from different directions, and looks like something just tore pieces from them.
"Damn shame" says a graffiti.
I go on.
**May 8**
This time it's not asphalt, but a whole chain of transmission towers, hovering in the air lopsidedly, as if lifted by an earthquake and never lowered. The minor quakes continue.
At night the tower chain lights up with a soft glow. The effect is similar to how I imagine an aurora borealis. In distance, it is rather beautiful, and I am not interested in looking closer.
**May 9**
If this was an interesting story about an apocalypse, I would be looking for my love, or my daughter. But I am not a very interesting person. Since my divorce (friendly), I haven't got too close to anyone else. And we never had children.
The only thing great about this situation is that I stopped regretting that last fact.
**May 10**
I have found a small motel. Wasn't sure what's wrong with it at first, but now I see. It looks perfectly ok from outside, but inside it is as if a bomb went off. Almost every wall damaged or destroyed. It is weird that the structure stands.
No sight of people, but here was a weird painting on the wall — a silhouette, done in red paint. After all those empty towns, it frightened me quite a lot at first. Over its head, a halo of strange symbols. I am pretty sure I've never seen those before.
All night, nightmares of red shadows creeping on the walls.
**May 12**
"Don't stop!" graffiti again. Under it, "I am tired. That's far enough." in a different hand.
**May 13**
The tremors continue. "You must be crazy to be here", in a black paint. "Go somewhere else. Anywhere."
**May 15**
No. Just no.
**May 17**
Oh I get it now. Yes. I definitely get it. And that's not alright. That's not good at all. That's pretty terrible, to be honest.
It's funny how you get annoyed with bad mystery stories where protagonist never tells the main truth, but then you get in the same situation, and you understand. It is bad enough just to know it. I don't want to write it. I don't want.
And nobody will read this anyway.
--
The diary above was the only thing recovered during experiment Seer-1.
The machine was calibrated to go 2 months into the future. The drone was programmed to recognize and pick up anything that we could read, watch or analyze. This is the first ever use of the machine, so the scope was very limited. We view it as a success, as we have definitely dated the diary as a future item.
While the contents are concerning, our current theory is either a mental disturbance, or an attempt at a bad science fiction story.
Unfortunately, due to unforeseen technical difficulties, we have to postpone Seer-2 until June. | 16 | You awake bewildered. You had slept for 2 days. All electricity and electric tech has been rendered useless. Lights don't turn on, nor will your phone. Your gas powered car still works though. It appears there are no longer any living things (except you). No animal/human can be found. | 30 |
I nodded to the cashier as I entered the store, and he nodded back, before returning to his magazine. I walked through the convenience store, heading towards the chip displays, a single image held in my mind. Doesn’t matter what the time is, doesn’t matter where I am, when the hunger strikes, I gotta get some Doritos.
I’ve always been this way, for as long as I can remember. Even way back in elementary school. I’d be sitting in class, it’d be an hour before lunch, and I’d get that feeling. I’d wait a little bit, the teacher would turn away or look out the window, and zoom, I’d be outta there. Then I’d make my way down to the store, same store I’ve been going to for ten years now, and I’d pick up my Doritos.
It got me in trouble a lot, but hey, I know myself, and it’s better to get the Doritos in me than to suffer through a non-cheesy existence.
Anyways, I arrived at the chip stands, and started looking for that red gold. That dusty, cheesy, tortilla shaped goodness that can satisfy my cravings like no other. I spy the large bag, famous logo splayed across the front, and bend down to grab it.
That’s when I hear the door to the store bang open, and suddenly there’s shouting.
“Put your hands up NOW, you FUCK!”
Now, I’m a pretty reasonable guy. I’m calm, cool, collected, as long as I have my Doritos. Thinking fast, I rip open the bag, and scarf a couple of handfuls. I set the bag down, newly revitalized with triangular nacho energy, and begin to form a plan.
“Is there ANYBODY else in the store?! Tell me now you fuck or I swear to god I’ll blowyerfuckinheadoff!”
Hmm… A new voice. Not good. There must be two assailants. The battle plans begin rearranging in my mind, new thoughts take hold, and another handful of Doritos snaps things into perfect clarity.
“N..no! No one else! Just me! I’ll give you the money! Please don’t shoot!”
Good. The clerk was smart. They don’t know I’m here, so I have the element of surprise. Using my years of Metal Gear Solid experience, I begin sneaking in a half crouch, crab walk, and I make my way to the drinks. It appears I haven’t been heard over the sound of the cashier fumbling with keys, trying to get the register open. I know there isn’t much time, and I’ll have to act fast.
I grab hold of a nearby bottle, some good old cream soda (The old style, in those fancy glass bottles), and I stand up as I begin heading towards the counter.
With all the strength I have, the clock the guy closest to the door. There’s a loud thunk, and he falls backwards, hitting the wall before sliding to the floor. I grab the remaining assailant and put him in a full nelson, to disable his ability to shoot me. He fires off a couple shots, but they go into the roof, leaving me completely unharmed.
The cashier keeps his presence of mind and punches the guy I’m holding in the face, one, two, three, until he’s limp and falls out of my arms. I spin around, but find the first assailant standing, gun pointed at my chest. It appears I didn’t hit him hard enough.
He shoots me in the chest three times, and I stumble backwards, blood flowing freely from my new wounds. I look down in disbelief. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had such a sweet plan. I’ve seen all those movies, I did all the hero shit… I don’t understand.
I look to my left, and silently marvel at how lucky the final moments of my life are. I slump onto my left side and slowly start dragging my body. It seems my legs aren’t working so well. I gather up my remaining ounce of strength and reach out, gathering one last handful of Doritos.
I cram them into my mouth, chew slowly, and die a peaceful death riding on a river of cheese dust. | 28 | You stop by a convenience store to grab a few things when two masked men walk in with guns. How does it go down? | 20 |
Three tasks complete:
1) Run an ultra-marathon (100km).
2) Row across the Atlantic.
3) Knock out a champion boxer.
Jason Maddux may have cheated a bit with that last task, waiting until the modern middle-weight champ was drunk at a local strip club before challenging him to a fight out back, but he checked the box.
Having done those tasks between the ages of 18 and 23, Jason had gone from an overweight mediocre high school football lineman to being in the best shape of his life. He was even a minor social media celebrity for his athletic accomplishments (and his recent grinning mugshot after the strip club fight). Nobody knew his true motivation, but the benefits of fitness and fame were quite a nice side-effect of his task list.
The night he turned 18, he stayed up past midnight, looking at the sky. He saw a shooting star, wished for a long and healthy life. The next thing he knew, a fairy f'ing godmother, wings and all, was standing next to him to offer him his wish if he could accomplish five tasks.
As she read off the first three, he smiled. They were tough but doable.
Yet, fitness alone couldn't accomplish his last two tasks.
4) Rescue a princess.
5) Kiss a princess.
Seriously, what sort of Disney-esque fairy godmother bullshit was this? He didn't actually say that out loud to the fairy godmother. That would have been rude. But it's what he thought as she flew away into the night.
He had spent the past five years researching princesses around the world, including princesses who might be in trouble and princesses who might be single and willing to kiss him, but he was stumped as to an easy way to accomplish this.
So he kept going back to his original and somewhat crazy plan that he had come up with the very first day at 18 he was given the list. He would need to hire a team to kidnap a princess. And then he'd have to rescue her. | 11 | At your 18th birthday, you are given a to-do list with 5 tasks. Only if you complete all of these, you will live for as long as you prefer. | 16 |
I woke up like it was any other morning. I rolled over to get a better view of my lovely wife, she was so beautiful when she was sleeping. She was so beautiful all the time, actually.
I rolled out of bed attended to the hygienic practices that befit a modern man such as myself before walking downstairs to the kitchen and cracking a few eggs into a pan.
"Hello," my wife's cute little voice said from behind me.
"Oh hello, good morning to you," I replied calmly, my words not carrying the rush of life I felt inside now that she had entered the room.
"How's it going?" she said casually.
"Nothing much, you?" I replied, wishing the spark that had lit our bed on fire last night would surface itself.
"Nothing really," she responded as the stared at me stone-faced; Her eye twitched a bit.
I stared back at her, not saying a word. Something was wrong. I held up my hand for a high five, she swung and missed. "Look at my elbow," I said to her as I continued holding my hand in the air. Her eyes locked onto my elbow and she once again swung, and once again missed. Something was very wrong, the elbow trick never fails.
"Are you feeling okay?" I asked my wife, my voice void of concerned though my heart was pounding.
"I am feeling normal, are you feeling okay?" My wife responded coolly, though her eye was twitching wildly.
Then it dawned on me; for some reason we weren't the usual young affectionate in love couple we had been just the previous night... "Would you like to go procreate?" I said in an attempt to break the veil but sounding robotic.
"Yes, that sounds enjoyable," my wife said monotone.
Whatever, at least I was still going to get laid.
/r/PsychoWritingPrompts
" | 15 | Something had happened overnight and humans have forgotten how to display affection but do realise that something is off. | 17 |
"The President is in there?"
"Yes. He's taken 3 hostages and is threatening to kill them, and himself, unless he is allowed to resign."
"What an inspiring man! Let me talk to him."
*squeeelch* "Mr. President? My name is Charles Pierce, captain of the Washington police force."
"Go away! All of you, go away and leave me alone!"
"Sir, I'd just like to say, for all of us out there, your words and actions tonight are serving as an inspiration to us all. None of us will forget the leadership and wisdom you are currently demonstrating."
"You're all crazy! I don't want this, I'd be a terrible leader! Find someone else!"
"Thank you, sir! I will remember those words, always!"
"DAMMIT! I didn't say anything inspiring! Stop acting like that! You're all acting like a bunch of cultists!"
"Can you believe this, Jones? We're lucky to be here to be witness to this. SIR! This is a great moment for us all, but perhaps you could tell us what to do about the health care crisis?"
"I DON'T KNOW! I don't even know what the crisis is! I don't watch the news, I just play video games and watch anime all day!"
"Is someone filming this? Get a camera rolling, for posterity. THANK you, sir, we'll commission a study on the therapeutic effects of video games on patient recovery as soon as possible. Meanwhile, we'd like to get you on Air Force One and fly you over to Russia, to help resolve this Ukraine crisis."
"NO! Why aren't you listening? I'm not a diplomat! I'm just a dumb guy! I only know the leader of Russia because of stupid meme pics of him with his shirt off! I DON'T KNOW THE MANS FIRST NAME!"
"I'm sorry, I'm....I'm choking up here, the moment's too much. Jones...take over...."
*squeeelch* "Sir? This is Officer Burt Jones, Washington PD. Sir, I'd just like to say that it's such an honor to speak with yo..."
"AAAAAAAGGGHH!" *BANG* *BANG* *BANG*......*BANG*
"Dear Lord! Jones, did he just..."
"REPORT!........Yes sir, snipers confirm, the President and all three hostages are dead, by the President's hand."
"....I....I need to call my wife. I need to tell my son that Daddy talked to the greatest man who ever lived tonight..."
"Officer! Grace Park, Action 8 News. Officer Jones, can you confirm what has happened."
"I can confirm that President Anderson has just committed triple murder-suicide, in a desperate attempt to avoid any responsibilities associated with being President of the United States. I think I can speak for everyone on the Washington PD here, when I say that we are all very honored to have born witness to this monumental and historic night in our nations history. It will be a long time before we see another individual so committed to not leading as President Anderson. God bless the USA, and God bless President Anderson."
"What were the Presidents final words, Officer Jones?"
"He spoke of Russian President Putin, and how he didn't know President Putin's first name. I'm no politician and I don't want to speak out of turn, but it seems clear to me that President Anderson's wish was for us to re-establish a friendly relationship with President Putin and Russia, and hopefully get to know them much better, to work our our differences."
"Inspiring words from a man recently touched by greatness. Once again, President Anderson has brutally murdered three innocents before taking his own life. I'm being told there will be a state funeral and national day of mourning on Wednesday, and plans for the President Anderson Memorial are already being discussed. For Action 8 News, I'm Grace Park." | 575 | It has been found that the best person to rule is the one who wants it least. You have just been chosen as our next president and are now on the run. | 586 |
Who the heck sends them? The runts are a real problem. Some joker is really starting to get on my nerves.
The difficulty of course was not killing them. Goblins die easy to a kitchen knife, let alone a M15. They pop out covered in this medieval garb with their blades dripping green goop. The first three or four times, people were convinced it was a publicity stunt for the new Silmarillion film.
After a few deaths of course things tend to change. The Americans had an easy solution in their guns. Us Brits had to adapt. At first we just ignored the endless debates about legality of killing the stupid things, and mounted small calibre lasers on our security cameras. They have a fairly distinctive signature you see. Sadly, our programmers failed to anticipate Halloween.
Nope. Not elaborating more, we've already heard far too much about little Johnny and his authentic goblin skin costume. Sadly, it gave PETA the ammunition they needed (no pun intended) to mount a legal attack on the lasers. Concerns about human rights, and governments using them on their citizens.
I really hate political correctness. Sometimes, I swear we are our own worst enemies. We tazer them now. Tazer them and drag their convulsing tiny forms to the cells. You thought we were short on prison space before?
Most of my work nowadays is shutting down the illegal fighting rings. People don't feel half as bad setting gobbos on each other as they did about dogs. The runts actually seem to enjoy it!
If the boffins ever work out how they get here, I'm volunteering for the military on the spot. As it is, I have an inspection to do on the new cells. When will I ever escape the cursed clutches of paperwork? | 15 | Once per week since August 2013, 1d6 of Goblins appears and attacks people and businesses randomly. Tell the story from the view of the city's police chief who had to adapt his force over the past year to fight the new threat. | 34 |
"Dude you didn't realize?"
"No, I knew something fucked was happening but I didn't know what."
"Hmm. I actually forgot what it felt like to not know, my bad. It just seems so surprising to hear it like that after all these years."
'What do you mean all these years? You look like you're at least 50!"
"Yeah well sometimes you need a break man, you learn to just let things go. The world isn't something you can fix, no matter how powerful you are."
"Well what the hell am I supposed to do? Nobody told me this would happen, and people are starting to notice that my beard is disappearing. I was so fucking proud of that beard man. My brother couldn't grow one as thick as me and he's, or at least was, two years older than me."
"Well shit man, not all of us want the responsibility of a new superhuman, but you should be glad I caught you now. I could have let you continue saving all those damsels in distress on t.v. You were pretty sauve I have to admit, but keep going like that and you'll be prepubescent in a year."
"Seriously? How do you stop using your powers once they become second nature? I almost wish I didn't even find out..."
"Ah, kid you get used to it. You gotta find a balance, I know it must be fucking amazing to just be able to fly everywhere you want to go, even if it's just taking a piss at night. Shit I wish I could just float over to the toilet instead of fumbling around, stubbing your toe on the night stand and shit, but just because you can doesn't mean you should."
"What, you're telling me you don't just 'use the force' to move shit around anymore?"
"Even Luke had to wipe his own ass kid. And after so many years of trying to live a normal life, feeling what it's like to age with someone, learning every little thing about them, I doubt I would have the accuracy to even fold the tp."
"How old is the youngest you went?"
"Well the wars always set you back a notch. Started as a general and by the time the last war was through, I couldn't get a job in a factory. Had to sell fucking papers with the other 8 year olds. If the war went any other way I'd probably have gone all the way back to before the mind starts keeping track of memories."
"Shit, that's fucking nuts man. Do these powers just show up in people or could that have been why I just showed up in an orphanage? I could have been around during the war.''
" No sense in getting all caught up in the past kid, just take care of the future. You gotta slow down, take days off, try to enjoy the simple life. No more than one use a day, less if you want that beard back. You can't speed up time, you can only keep it constant, or reverse it. One day is still one day, and if you use your power once, it doesn't really count. Does it?"
| 16 | You've got super powers. But, every time you use them, you get 1 day younger. | 44 |
This was the end of the line for George. The railroad crossing signs had turned on, and he was too slow to get out of the intersection.
He looked above him, at the ceiling fan in his room. The noose was laying limp in his hands, a ominous reminder of what he would look like in a couple of minutes.
He ran his fingers up and down the rope, feeling its coarse edges. He squeezed it, wanting to know the feeling of it when it is taut. His eyes meandered up into the mirror. The man that he was looking back at was not him. George was completely drained, like an old car abandoned on the highway that no one will ever drive again.
He pulled a chair to right under the fan. He stood up on it and tied the noose to the fan.
"I hope my family forgives me."
Those were his last words, before the chair came down, his last whim of reality slipping out beneath his feet and leaving him hanging in the presence of the void.
----------------------------------------------------------
One Month Later
---------------------------------------
George had been hanging for a month now. Decay had set in, to the point where there was barely any flesh left where the noose had been. The house smelled of two month old milk, and rotted meat.
His family had not checked on him. Ever since the divorce, his wife wanted nothing to do with him.
His neighbors never saw him anyway. They thought that he was going about his normal business.
For all his life, he had been the focal point, the most important thing, the end all. Well now it's clear to see how wrong he was.
He hung in the house for two more weeks, all alone, the main character of his own little story. | 21 | The main character is dead and nobody remembers him or any of his deeds as a living human. | 23 |
The first thing Jerry did upon waking was to thank God that he'd been placed in a cell with a serial killer. He did so every day. Today would not be like all those other days. Jerry had finally made up his mind. Took him long enough.
He made his way to the prison cafeteria. Unlike his cellmate, the crowd he passed loved to judge him. "Babykiller!", one man shouted. They weren't very creative with their nicknames in here. He'd heard it all a thousand times before. It hurt the same each time.
Today, it hurt a little less, but only because he had a plan. He went through the food line. Some unidentifiable meat. Eggs that seemed to have even less color than usual. It didn't matter, his plan didn't involve eating.
He sat down across from Crazy Joe. The man's nickname was not only uncreative, but undeserved. Joe, quite sane, was a business man, and Jerry had made a deal with him. His side of the bargain done, Joe passed him the shiv. Jerry noticed faintly-veiled loathing in the other man's eyes.
That kind of judgement was avoidable. Jerry could always just close his eyes. It had been fifteen years since that lying whore of a wife had cheated on him. He knew this prison like the back of her hand.
He could not so easily close his ears. More of the inmates had woken up by now. One by one, they noticed him walking back to his cell. The shouts just grew louder, so filled with genuine hatred. They had all committed some kind of crime to be here. Not like his.
George F. Pierson, legendary *Butcher of Baton Rouge*, sat in the corner, taking a shit. Even he didn't get the kind of hate that Jerry attracted. After checking quickly for guards, Jerry pulled out the sharpened piece of wood from his sleeve. Knowing he'd pussy out if he hesitated for a moment, he jabbed the thing into his right ear. The previous night, he had told himself over and over that this pain would be nothing.
He was wrong. Somehow he managed to get through it for the few seconds it took to yank it back out, and stick it in the left. Then he fell down on his ass. And he closed his eyes. Pain. So much fucking pain. But he was right in the end. The pain was worth it for his now-pierced eardrums. He felt, for the first time in fifteen years, at peace.
| 27 | A person loses one of their senses, which in turn leads them to a much happier life. | 33 |
A list. I need to make a list before I forget stuff. God, what the hell do I know? Okay, where are we? It's 1999. In '99 I was...five. That's old enough to remember *something* right?
Let's start with obvious ones. Uh...Robin Williams dying. Right. Robin Williams dies in 2014. That's a prediction right? Hm. Would be more impressive if I could remember the date. August...um...
...in the middle somewhere? Why don't I pay more attention to dates!? Well, okay...August 2014, that's pretty precise, right? Hm. That's fifteen years in the future. Fifteen years before anyone will know I'm right. I'll be established by then. I'll have lived *fifteen years* here. Who'll care by then? Who'd notice?
I need something closer. What's close? Think elections...Bush!! Yes, Bush gets elected soon right!? All I have to do is announce to the world that Bush will win for sure, and he'll be the next president...
Ha. Right. Along with the half the USA. Not only will I be a weirdo, I'll be called a *Republican* as well. Great idea, genius.
Okay, okay. I can do this. Berlin wall. No, that was last decade. Um...Mandela? What *about* Mandela? Do I even remember when he died? That was last year right? Or the year before...? I know, the economic meltdown! I can tell everyone how the world's economy is going to collapse and the banks are going to screw us all over. They'll *have* to believe me then!
Hm.
Maybe I should just make a 'repent sinners' sign and be done with it.
Dammit, focus, come on! There must be something! What's happened in the last fifteen years? I could name all the Tarantino films. I know, like, every scene of the Star Wars prequels...has the first one come out yet? The Game of Thrones books too. Oh my god, Breaking Bad! I know how Breaking Bad ends!! When it starts getting popular, I'll tell everyone I know what happens in the last episode, and they'll go nuts! I'll give spoilers out for all the popular shows. I'll be the biggest spoiler-guy in history!
Ah, shit. That’ll make me the biggest *asshole* in history.
There has to be a way. Think. What will happen soon, which is concrete, meaningful, yet completely unexpected? Something I remember specifically enough to describe, so that nobody could say I was just guessing? Man, something I could remember the *date* of would be good for starters.
Of course. How could I have forgotten it? It has to be 9/11. The twin towers...the planes...then the aftermath, the hunt for Bin Laden, all of it. It's perfect.
I can see it now: I'll be worshipped as a god! People will hail me as a miracle, the miracle man from the future. I can start a new religion, rule the world! I just need to get this where people can see it...
Time to put this on the internet, the perfect place for worldwide visibility. Wait...it's 1999, is the internet even a thing yet? Okay, yeah, it's like, all nerds right now, but give it a couple of years and they'll see. And predictionsfromthefuture.com is for sale!? Awesome! It's gonna be such a cool site. I'll proclaim myself king of the world and shower everyone with my undeniable predictions of future events.
There's no way they could miss this. It's just a matter of time. They'll see. They'll *all* see. | 14 | Your alarm clock goes off and you wake up fifteen years ago... | 32 |
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