Split (1)

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	[WP] Write a story that begins simple and slow and then progresses into something extraordinary as it is read. Make it mind blowing.	2	[ "For the fifth time that night, the man got up from bed. The covers felt smothering, the air unstintingly cold. Deep lines of sweat worked their way down the fleshy contours of his pajamas, leaving damp patches wherever the folds intersected. He lurched up to his feet and began to run his pudgy fingers through the length of his itchy hair. \n\nHe paced the length of the room. Walking through the same tired thoughts over and over again. Once in while he would glance over to the light peeking out from under his bedroom door. The sight left him clenching his fists tighter, his nails digging deep into his own palms. \n\nThe sound of the clock beat furiously in his ears. Each second stretched out into an eternity, a terrible tension that left him gasping for breath. Every tick and tock made him flinch anew, chipping away ever further into his resolve.\n\nFinally he collapsed onto the floor. Kneeling with trembling hands clasped above his head.\n\n“Forgive me for this.” he whispered.\n\nThe man strode out into the light and down a silent ornate hallway. He burst into a crowded conference room. He was met with tired salutes and worn deadened eyes. \n\n“Launch the missiles.” he said.", "Sitting down at his desk, he stared at the computer in front of him. His mind was blank, as was the page in front of him. Nothing. He couldn't think of anything to write down. Not a single thought came to his mind.\n\nA sudden idea leapt into his brain, but he hesitated and sat back in his chair, already having dismissed it. How could it be that there was no inspiration for him? He glanced around the room briefly, searching for any object that might do so. He settled briefly on the lamp in the corner, but there was no lightbulb for him at least. \n\nStill the white sheet on the screen stared back at him. Mockingly. Accusing him of his inability to form any sort of coherence.\n\nHe brought his hands to his temples and kneaded the skin with his knuckles. Between his fingers, he stared down at the keyboard, and then at the white box that lay next to it. To the side of that, a bottle of whiskey, thin beads of perspiration forming on the neck in the moist air of the room.\n\nTentatively he unscrewed the lid and breathed in the deep aromas of the liquor. A faint burn tingled its way through his nose and forced its way down his throat as he tipped it back and drank deeply. \n\nGrimacing, he typed in a single sentence onto the screen:\n\n*REASONS FOR STAYING*\n\nThe space below it remained blank as he opened the box of pills, tipping the entire contents of it into his mouth and leaning back in the chair. \n\nSmiling to himself, he took another draught of the whiskey." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1432326493", "1432324548" ]
	[WP] An assassin describing their weapon of choice in vivid detail.	32	[ "Everyone chooses their own way. Some choose rifles, to strike down their foes from afar. Some choose blades, a weapon of fury and strength. Me? I chose something different. Something that no armour can stop, that no bodyguard can disarm. A subtle thing, a quiet, vicious, merciless thing. It isn't the quickest, it isn't the most grusome, but it's my way. \n\nA murmur on the bus from a homeless person, the announcement from the news anchor, the whispering in the dark... They all have a way. A way into the mind, a way to trigger the creeping instinct from our simple monkey ancestors, that something isn't right. That something is out to get you. That there's some great conspiracy. After all, it's only paranoia when it happens to someone else.\n\nAnd so, I do it my way, like a spider on it's web, always twitching thread after thread, arranging and plotting in the dark. First comes the feeling that there's something you don't know. Then it's a fact, and before you know it, the whole world's in on it. \n\nSo you beg and plea for someone, anyone to believe you. And like magic there he is. He's been through it all, and survived. He gives you advice on how to cope, gives you the support you need. Until one day, he says he can't talk, says it's too late... Then he's gone. Without him, you fall apart. It all comes back ten times worse. So you desperately look for a way, a way out. Then you realise the only way out, the way out of everything. You decide you'll never do it, try to rebuild your life. But you won't. You can't. So, you go your way.\n\nStill think words will never hurt you?", "I use plenty of tools to accomplish my job. Normally, I'm not a sadist; I recognize that my work is a necessary evil. I pride myself in it, of course, but I tend not to take pleasure in it. Usually.\n\nYou see, each weapon has it's merits. The knife, simplest of all, sharpened so well that one can see the delicate bones and tissue of a slit throat in exquisite detail for a full five seconds before the blood starts.\n\nThere's the rooftop, the balcony, the curb next to the busy traffic. The accident that no one can be blamed for; 'it all happened so fast, officer! One moment he was just standing there, the next, he was falling/ being crushed by the hanging air conditioner/ hit by a bus!'. Or, you know, whatever.\n\nAnd then there's the ol' third eye, the sudden heart attack-- the bullet fired from a rooftop a mile away. A new hole in the skull, or the ticker that takes a lickin' and just quits-- meant to instill a feeling of helplessness; you can't stop what you can't see--, as much as to effectively remove a target.\n\nThe poisoned knife, or the infected needle, or the umbrella with a built-in pellet injector filled with ricin (I don't know about that either. I just heard about it). Politics is cut throat business-- literally. You may not have been the target; you just had to die so that the real mark would face the consequences. You would probably have had to go soon anyway.\n\nAll in a day's work, but let me tell you about the garrote. You get to know a person when you choke the life out of them. I avoid the thing when I can, but there are times... Maybe he's an abuser, beating his children senseless, or worse. Maybe he's a sadistic dilettante who thinks he's above the law, because, let's face it, he probably is. Maybe she's a nurse who purposefully infects innocent people because it's the only way she can cop a lady-boner. I know, I'm one to talk, certainly, but... There's just that something about targeting these types that brings out the worst in me.\n\nYou take the piano wire, a thick one, by the wooden handles between your middle and ring fingers. It's best if you cross your arms before you slip it over the head, that way all you have to do is uncross, and the wire is twisted. Maybe you spin your body once to give it an extra security twist. No sawing; you do not want to cut the throat or the neck. No, you want this to last. It would be an injustice if they did not experience at least a fraction of the suffering they inflict daily. \n\nSometimes, I'll spin until the entire length of it is one long, stiff braid. Occasionally, if they warrant it, I'll do this with an extra-long wire, and use it to walk them like a dog around their own house. Flailing and smashing into their possessions, watching the life they built flee from them as the life in their body does the same. They have about 4 minutes of sheerest agony and terror, that feels like 4 lifetimes, before their brain begins to shut down.\n\nA few extra tugs right when their struggling becomes most frantic, but well after they could reasonably do anything worthwhile, drives home the futility of their fight. I like to think they revisit in their last moments, everything they did to earn this fate, and know they had it coming. Sometimes, I'll even whisper it in their ear as they fade. I make them watch their victims, the living ones, as they sleep: \"You see that? That's your daughter. You were supposed to protect her, but what did you do? You beat her and made her drink Drain-O! She choked just like you are now, but never again, and I'll tell you, she won't even cry at your wake!\"\n\nWhen they are still, and the terror is gone from their eyes along with the light, I know it's over. I remove the wire and more often than not, I'll ponder my work. With any other type of hit, it's in-and-out, no dwelling, no admiring. Just swift, cold murder. With this though, I feel a connection with the deceased. I learn a great deal about their life and motivations during this dance. It centers me, reminds me of the depths of human filth, and why I have to submerge myself in it constantly. It reminds me that I am no bloodthirsty saint, but rather, a stoic beast whose actions only inadvertently benefit the world. And one day, I'll have it coming.\n\nI can only hope my killer does not judge me as harshly.", "“Death. Life. There's a fine line between them. For those unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle, there can be no pleasant end. It's quick, most of the time, but it's far from painless. I prefer to strike in the dead of night as you're turning the corner or walking alone down an empty corridor. She's not afraid of the public, no, she performs just as well there. It's me that's the problem. I prefer that the end be swift and silent, there's a certain beauty in it that way.” he said as he turned the weapon over and over in his hand, admiring the wooden handles and thin wire by the moonlight.\n\n“Humble. She's a humble one. You wouldn't see her if you weren't looking for her. Doesn't take up space. Doesn't make noise. Heh. If only there were more like her, if you know what I mean,” the assassin jokes to his latest victim as they sit in his empty home. “You learn to appreciate the simpler things with her. It's just you, me, and her after all.”\n\n“What's that? Complaints? No. I don't have any. She's perfect. Absolutely perfect,” he says before pausing for a moment and eying the corpse. “Well, I guess there are a coupla' things I'd be remiss if I didn't mention. She's clingy. Yeah. She grabs on tight with that vice-like hug of hers and just won't let go, she gets attached real easy. Not to mention, she'd just as easy do me in as you. Ain't that funny? All this time we spend together and she'd slit my throat as good as yours.”\n\nHe laughed for a time and drank deeply from the container at his side, reminiscing past jobs and providing his own insightful commentary. This continued well into the night as the body grew colder and the blood ran thick. Often, he wished that the instrument that he held on to would speak with him, he felt he would have more in common with her than some corpse.\n\n-143", "'Really? Their nose?'\n\n'Yeah. I mean, why not?'\n\n'I don't know.... That just seems a little unnecessary.'\n\n'Honestly, I don't see how a nose-stabber is any worse than a knife. Same concept, really.'\n\n'Not really....'\n\n'How is it different? If anything, my way is more humane. Kills them right dead in no time at all.' He turned the long, silver rod over in his hands almost adoringly, letting the metal glint in the light.\n\n'Isn't it harder, though? Going in through the nose?'\n\n'Yeah, I suppose. I've practiced a while though, it's not a big deal. It's gotten to the point where I can just walk right on by, stick it up the nose, hit the brain, and walk off. Takes about five seconds. Bam. Most of the time, people won't even notice what happened. Just like that.' He demonstrated by quickly thrusting the instrument upwards through the air in a decisive jab. \n\n'Just like that, huh?'\n\n'Just like that.'\n\n'What if you miss?'\n\n'I never do.'\n\n'But what if you did?'\n\n'Well, I suppose it'd go into their eye, then. It would still kill them... just messier.' \n\n'Messier.'\n\n'Yeah. You see, when you stab someone in the eye, things seem to spurt everywhere. Not the nose, though. The nose is clean. Well, relatively clean.'\n\n'Relatively?'\n\n'Well, there's always a bit of gunk, you know. Brain gunk, and boogies, of course.'\n\n'Huh. So then you just wipe it off?'\n\n'Yeah. I go through quite a few handkerchiefs, as you can guess.'\n\n'Okay. So, what are your prices? How much will it cost to get someone... taken care of?'\n\n'Oh, well, after I factor in the handkerchief prices, quite a bit.'", "My favorite gun isn't some high tech sniper rifle. It's not some old antique com-bloc rifle given to me by my mentor. It's not some unique rifle made by a master gunsmith. It's not a bloodstained knife. It's not a compact suppressed pistol. It's none of that. \n\nIt's a wheelgun. Specifically, a Colt Single Action Army Revolver re-chambered for .45 ACP. The action is smooth, buttery even. The trigger is crisp, lightweight, with no creep. The wooden grips are warm, smooth, and fits in my hand just right. When I move it around, it feels as if it is a single piece of metal. It has a bit of wear on the muzzle and the trigger guard, from the holster it's in. It has never failed me. When I pull the trigger, I know that whatever I point it at will have a new hole. It's more than just a gun, it's an extension of my arm. It's will is my will. My deeds are it's deeds. It is a part of me, and I, a part of it.", "My reply ended up quite a bit longer than I thought because of the rather different approach I took, so I've segmented it into two parts. This first part is the exposition, while the second is the actual weapon description. I'd obviously love it if you read both, but the second part can probably be read without the first. Thanks regardless!\n\nFinx sighed heavily as he glanced down the stairwell. Music, raucous laughter, the clash of tankards, the whoops of men for the belly dancers, and a hundred more heavenly sounds drifted up from the common room. Nothing calmed his nerves before a mission like a tankard of ale and a relaxing game of cards. But instead, he had to go deal with Anton's bullshit - probably the last thing he wanted to do, but Nov'raka had been insistent. She would get that look in her eyes, the one that made you know one way or another, she would have her way.\n\nThe young man opened the door, stepped in, then closed it behind him, instantly appraising the room. A small bed crammed in the corner and Anton sitting on a chair facing the window. Nothing else. The elf had explained that \"unnecessary clutter\" interfered with his focus. Even the view from the window abided by his philosophy - the only thing visible was the clear night sky and the glowing crescent of the moon.\n\n\"Hey, Anton. Mind if I come in?\"\n\n\"Yes, Finx, but it seems you have already done so. No better time for this?\"\n\n\"I was just wondering how you were-\"\n\n\"Enough. No you weren't. What do you want? I know you're here for something.\"\n\nFinx sighed. As always, his companion was cold and to-the-point. \"It's Nov'raka. She wanted me to talk about what happened in customs today.\"\n\n\"There's nothing to talk about. I'm not giving up my blade.\"\n\n\"Nov'raka wanted a reason. Look, man, we can't cause a scene in every town we enter just because you don't want to let them examine your blade for-\"\n\n\"You don't understand.\"\n\n\"No, I don't. I mean maybe if they were doing something to it, some sorts of spells or something, but they just want to look-\"\n\n\"Would you let them look at your sister?\"\n\n\"...What?\"\n\n\"Your sister.\" Anton had turned around in his chair, and his even stare bored into Finx's eyes. \"The one whose picture is hidden in your locket. The beautiful maiden with blonde, curly hair and magnificent blue eyes-\"\n\n\"I know who my sister is, thank you!\" A note of anger crept into Fink's voice. He prefered to keep his work and his sister completely separate. \"But what the fuck does that have to do with the matter at hand?\"\n\n\"Would you let customs agent wrest your sister away, grab her with their filthy hands, then drag her to a dirty room and strip her naked and peer at every inch of her skin? They wouldn't do anything, they would just look at her bare back, at her long legs, at her-\"\n\n\"Shut up!\" Fink's hand dashed to his sword, his cheeks turning red. \"No, I wouldn't let them do that! Obviously! But she's my sister! She's a human being! You won't let them look at a chunk of metal on a stick!\"\n\n\"Wrong. This is my killing instrument, a lethal machine that has been with me for one hundred and forty seven years. Your sister is a bag of bones with meat wrapped around them that popped out of the same mommy you did.\"\n\n\"Come on, you can't really believe that!\"\n\nRather than answer, Anton leaned back in his chair. He clearly felt he had explained everything. \"Gah!\" Fink paced around, trying to calm himself down. How one stupid elf could rile him so easily he would never know.\n\n\"OK, maybe you believe that. Make me believe it too. What makes this knife more special than any other? Show me it.\"\n\n\"Take it out of the sheath? Never. Would you strip your sister naked in front of me to show me her birthmarks?\"\n\n\"That's not the same... Look. This isn't for me. This is for Nov'raka. You know she won't accept bullshit like this without support for it. Just prove to me-\"\n\n\"No. I don't care what she thinks.\"\n\n\"I do! I don't want you two killing each other because you have different ideas about the value of a knife!\"\n\n\"The only one dead will be her. And it wouldn't be my fault. You would kill anyone who advocated the rape of your sister.\"\n\nFinx snarled in frustration, inadvertently clenching and opening his fists. Why did he have to be the compromiser for two of the most frustrating and wildly different assassins possible? \"You know what - fine. Tell me about your blade, and whenever you meet my sister, I will get her to strip naked and tell you everything about her.\"\n\nAnton glanced up, his eyes popping open in surprise. For a moment, he gaped at Finx, and then he said, his voice much warmer, friendlier than before, \"You are not lying. But you do not want that eventuality to occur. That much... that much I can understand. So be it. I will hold you to your word, I will make sure you have to make a sacrifice as great as mine.\"\n\nHe reached behind his back, gently unhooking the knife strapped to it, then slowly unsheathed it, closing his eyes to the sound of the metallic rasp. \"Sit down, Finx. This story will take a while.\" ", "There's this idea assassins are silent, patient. Efficient and mercenary; cold as a stone. How'd that song go? Yeah, baby, when they made me, they broke the mould.\n\nA rifle can do it for you. Takes skill and planning, and a good long wait, but a get in and get out before they even know where to look. Get a good distance between you and your target, they'll not be aware they're on the way out til they've a bullet between the eyes. Nice, clean kill. The safest option, if you can.\n\nUp closer, well, you've got more options. Gun if you're keeping it impersonal, or just don't want to get too messy. I had a girl once who didn't get a drop of spray on her in twenty kills when she tried. Pretty hot, huh?\n\n'Course, you've always gotta have at least a knife on you; never bring a gun to a knife fight and all that, plus you never know when it'll get a little up close and personal. It's a dangerous world out there, and personally, I love a little personal.\n\nI'll never tell - it's bad for business, see - but I'm a red-blooded kinda guy, even if I do occasionally turn my hand to marksmanship. I'll take the tricky up-close jobs with the big risks, if it means the big rewards. There's nothing like a professional opportunity to get your hands round a throat, or bashing a skull into the ground, or something.\n\nSo I take care of them. Play the piano sometimes, keep them supple and strong; hell, my girl even gave me a manicure once or twice. Thought it'd be a lark to paint the nails red, even if I'm always gloved for untraceability's sake. They're part of the routine: clean guns, polish knives, tap out a little Mozart if I can. Keep 'em beautiful like I'd do any weapon, even more 'cause they're my favourite.\n\nIt's not the quickest, nor the safest, but I'm telling you. Sure, we're always metaphorically holding lives in our hands, but that's not nearly so goddamn sensual as the literality of it. What can I say? I'm no killing machine, or out for the big bucks either. I'm luckier than most. There's no better living to make than the one you love most, and I'll hold onto that with my own pretty two hands til I'm dead or put away.", "I actually don't like talking shop about guns, especially when I'm among others in my line of work. Whenever someone asks me \"How powerful is your gun?\" I say it's powerful enough. When they ask how accurate it is, I say it's accurate enough. There are many sniper rifles much more accurate and far more powerful than my own. I won't knock the qualities of something like the fifty caliber BMG, for example. I'm sure it's a fine gun. An excellent gun. But you need to understand, that gun was designed to be used by a teenager with a few months of training to kill a soldier from half a kilometer away. And if that soldier is off by just the tiniest amount, it doesn't matter because if that fifty caliber bullet makes contact anywhere on its target, that target will die instantly. You almost never wing someone with a bullet like that. You either kill them or miss altogether. And if say, the sniper unfortunately misses their target and accidentally kills a different soldier standing behind the intended target, or even an innocent bystander or civilian, that kind of doesn't matter when you're in a war zone. \n\nMe, if I miss and I hit the target's kid, or his wife, or a body guard or a business associate, that can have repercussions a little more significant to me than a soldier causing collateral damage in a war zone. So when I say my gun is the best gun in the world, I'm saying this is the best gun in the world for ME. \n\nMy gun began its life as a convenient hunting rifle in Sweden. The entire gun folds up and hides inside the stock. So it's meant to be easily carried by people making their way through a rough environment, like someone cross country skiing through a winter forest. They did make a military version of this rifle for a short while in WW II. It was used by snow troopers on skis. I don't have that version. \n\nThe gun went out of production in the 1970's but a private custom arms company purchased the rights to produce the gun from the original manufacturer. They made a limited production for sportsmen. Their clientele were people of particular tastes and large pocketbooks. It cost almost as much as a Beretta shotgun. Not cheap, but extremely well made and reliable, making it worth it to the select few people who could appreciate it. \n\nThe first time I used this gun it was out of necessity. We needed a long range sniper rifle we could smuggle into a very small compartment. The only means we had to smuggle something was a false bottom of a camera bag. Not a very big place. Most sniper rifles, even when fully disassembled simply wouldn't fit. So an arms expert let us know about the Swedish hunting rifle that was very similar to the American Armalite Ar-7 (a popular survival rifle of similar design and concept). \n\nAs soon as I handled the Swedish rifle there was something about it my hands just liked. It was beautifully balanced. The craftsmanship was something I had only seen in guns that were stolen luxury items from millionaire homes. The type that I never had a chance to fire. It cost nearly half as much as I was paid for that one hit, but it did the job so well, so neatly I stuck with it and never changed. \n\nWhen I kill someone, their heads don't explode in a pink mist advertising to the whole world someone has just died. That is not my technique. I try to pick a spot where people, hopefully, will not notice anything right away. Then I put a neat tiny little hole in the target with as little fanfare as possible. Finally I fold up the gun, and very calmly walk away. I never run. People who have to run don't belong in this line of business. \n\nThere was one time I assassinated someone in Mexico. Some corrupt politician who forgot to pay somebody off, I forget who. The coroner didn't even know what the cause of death was until after the chief investigator ordered a second autopsy. They found a little tiny 22 calibre hole at the base of the skull with barely a trickle of blood. By the time they found that I wasn't even on the same continent. \nThat's the other thing I like about this gun. The ammunition, 22. long rifle. Like a surgeon's scalpel. No, it can't blow somebody's head clean off from 3000 feet away. I tend to operate from a 100 yards to 300 yards. That's the sweet spot for me. Close enough for wind to have minimal effect yet just far enough away not to be seen or heard when I have the silencer on. In broad daylight light looking directly at the barrel you wouldn't even see the flash when it fires. Using it is like being a thief. \"Hi, when you weren't looking I stole the life of the person sitting next to you.\" The only thing a witness nearby might hear, if they happen to be somewhere completely quiet, would be the impact of the bullet against the flesh. Which makes less noise than the target hitting the floor, if they happen to be standing when they get shot. \n\nWhen I take the gun apart after I finish a target, my hands are going through a well practiced routine perfected by thousands of hours of rehearsal. I cannot let myself be distracted by the perfectness of the weapon. I would like to think that if a Samurai would have a modern gun, he would like this one. The craftsmanship, the cold steel, the flawlessly machined parts made with absolute precision. Forged within tolerances you would find in a Swiss watch. \n\nIt's almost like something that shouldn't even exist. Like a sword that can cut bullets in two, or a beautiful vintage Ferrari that can easily outpace a modern Formula One car. A design over half a century old and so ideal, so functional there was never a need to update or upgrade it. \n\nThe last thing I will tell you about it is this. It's a bolt action rifle that only fires one bullet at a time. That's all, just one. That's all I have ever needed. And that's what makes it the most perfect gun in the world. \n", "It was something he could look at for hours. The infinitesimal beauty of it left him mesmerized; Every glance he stole at it added to the tension in his body.\n\nWithin its rusted iron shell laid a rough, white disc of paper. Its two slender, black arms danced around its center, playing a perpetual game of tag, with each movement bringing death. A fine chain extended from a spoke jutting out from its bottom side, and ended in a clip connected to his pocket. \n\nHe could feel it, the time was almost ripe. It changed shape again, as it had done countless times before, for each of its millions of victims. \n\n\"Click\"\n\nIt snapped to a new position.\n\n\"Clack\"\n\nIt transformed once again.\n\nPatiently, the assassin watched his target, as he had done for many years.\n\n\"Tick\"\n\n...\n\n\"Tock\"\n\nHe eyed his pocket watch as he furrowed his brow in anticipation.\n\n\"Any day now....\" ", "Ironically, the main reason why I love this weapon is the same reason why everyone else hates it. Built in a world when firearms were forged out of rolled steel and wood, when having the biggest bullet meant everything in weapons design, this beauty went in the opposite direction. Plastic furniture and aircraft aluminium, with a round more suited for Red Ryder or Daisy then national defense. It only exists because the Pentagon switched it's battle theory from being the best to being good enough. Why spend billions trying to blow the Communists back to the Stone age, when blowing them back to the Bronze age does the same thing, but cheaper? \"Wounding ballistics\" was the phrase they came up with to justify the .223 round. It was good enough, it didn't have to be the best. Which still holds true for today.\n\nEugene Stoner was the creative genius behind the development of the rifle at Armalite corporation. A aircraft engineer by trade, he took the latest developments in plastic polymers and aluminium to make it light, yet strong. A rifle, yet also a machine gun. A small caliber round, yet powerful. Made to be efficient, rather then aesthetically pleasing. The Armilite rifle, Model 15. AR-15, for short.\n\nThe US Marine Corp dubbed it the \"poodle shooter\", a tiny plastic toy not fit to shoot rats in a Brooklyn basement. The Army had to print a comic book to teach grunts how to properly clean and maintain it. The Viet Cong refused to touch it, preferring the durability of their Kalashnikov assault rifles. The British passed on equipping it, instead developing their own rifles in house. In the mud and dirt of Southeast Asia, the chamber jammed seeming at whim, and always in the middle of a firefight. Seemingly everyone hated it, but it still managed to find some early adapters who learned how to use it right. The Provisional IRA loved it, prized it above all other weapons, named it the Widowmaker when they discovered it's talents in killing British solders. \n\nCalifornia and New York banned it by name, even as they handed them out to the LAPD and NYPD and placed orders for more. SWAT teams swore by it, the .223 round being damn-near perfect for urban operating environments. The Army and the Marines grew to love it as well, the low recoil and high accuracy being one of the best features. The FAL was nicknamed \"The right arm of the free world\" but it was the M16 that saw more action with more front line units. It's been tested and tried out more then virtually any other weapons system. And that's why I love it most of all. In this line of work, you need dependability. You need consistency and you need faith in your weapons. You can't kill someone with a broken firing pin or jammed chamber. \n\nIn the movies the hitter always grabs some French-South African prototype weapons system that shoots some crazy rare wildcat round no-ones ever heard of, that fires two bullets at the same time and has a digital scope that picks up free HBO. In real life, that thing will get you killed faster then any cop or rival gangster. You don't want flashy, you don't want unique and you don't want rare. You want the piece that everyone already knows. You want something as generic as a steel trashcan, something that any smith can fix and customize regardless of where they learned the trade. The AR-15 can be customized to almost any configuration you can think of, and you can get the instructions for doing it yourself out of \"Guns & Ammo\". It's the Toyota Corrola of the weapons scene.\n\nHer name's Michelle, after a bartender I used to know. I got her at a government auction after Berlin Wall came down and we didn't have any bad guys for a while. She's original Army stock, the serial number told me it was shipped straight from the factory to a supply depot in Newark, never fired. I keep her like the fine woman she was meant to be, not rotting in some packing crate. I can field strip her in 30 seconds, blindfolded if I have to. I got custom barrels, suppressors, dot sights, reflex sights, 10x and 20x scopes, forward grip, M203 launcher, everything a girl could ask for. We first got to know each other when I greased some cartel boss down in Juarez, and we've been very close ever since. She's never lied to me, never failed me or let me down. In return, I keep her in the best condition possible. \n\nShe's never had a jam or a misfire, but she's gotten me out of a few. ", "In the darkness of my home, she stays.\n\nWhen I turn on the pale light, she flinches before she calms down. \n\nIn my hands, she is deadly. So deadly I sometimes wonder exactly why I don't just release her on my target.\n\nBut no, I would never risk her. She is my best friend, my only one in fact.\n\nShe allows me to be a ghost. To assassinate someone without them ever knowing. To let me deliver a quick death. Possibly painless but I never know, cause I am always long gone before my victim dies. \n\nI trust her with my life. Throughout my career, I have never failed a job nor has she ever failed me. I just trust her. As long as I can get close, she is deadly. She never fails me.\n\nShe trust me just like I trust her. Sometimes, I just let her slither on my arm, without the fear of being bitten. I raised her from young, she wouldn't possibly bite me. \n\nBut in any case, I always have a syringe of inland taipan antivenom in my pocket.\n\n_________________________________________________________________________________\n\nI was trying to reveal it only at the last line so did I succeed? Please comment! Thanks.\n\nAnd yes, I chose the inland taipan cause it isn't that aggressive and well, venom!", "\"Look, look at this beauty.\" The assassin drew his boss in closer, eager to show off his choice weapon.\n\n\"Look at the gentle curves, meeting upward at the top in the perfect collection of spikes. Spikes that can pierce the flesh with the simplest of thrusts. Watch how easily it can be concealed in one's hand, unsuspecting to even the most trained of eyes. The flexibility of this ivory-esque material, allows for the most versatile of stabs. Isn't is just gorgeous? \"\n\nThe boss put his face into his hands. He hired a spork assassin. ", "After being initiated into the Order, you have but just one choice; bow, dagger or sword. Choosing the intimacy of the dagger was easy, the process was, is, painful.\n\nThe Order uses an ancient and powerful dark magic, soul magic, to conjure an ethereal weapon from the very soul. This comes at a great price that so few are willing to accept. Your weapon is a part of your soul; with every life you take your blade grows stronger as it becomes as one with your very essence. \n\n\n\nYour soul is torn from your body with every conjuration you perform; you eventually get used to this pain, but the pain of feeling another's life-force run through you as your blade is being impregnated by the soul of your target is something else. Their memories are now your memories, their soul powers your blade and now you have so many lives in your head you have now forgotten who you really are.\n\n\n\nThey say to leave the Order you have to pay with your life, but the same could be said for joining too.\n\n**********\n\nHey, I know this isn't exactly* what the prompt asked, but it's the image I had in my head when I saw it. If this even gets read, I'd be very grateful for some feedback! Thank you :)", "Fluid and smooth, graceful and sleek. Sharper than time, it cuts the light in half. I can see it bleed down the side, glimmering as I turn it side to side. \n\nHooked at the tip, it makes cutting more difficult, but more damaging. The sharp edge flows out like a wave, creating some weight near the end. It feels like the blade moves my hand, even as my hand moves the blade.\n\nThe metal bevels in near the base and grows shallower as it runs higher up, until it gently fades. After a kill, I sometimes watch the blood run down like water through a great canyon. \n\nThere is no guard. Sometimes the hilt gets wet. But it is wrapped in leather, in an intricate pattern that lends a good grip and feels pleasant on my palm. Sometimes I rest my hand on it, just for the sensation. \n\nIt moves like a bird swaying with the breeze. It can bite like a cobra, or swipe like a tiger.\n\nIt is the biggest piece of me. My best friend and only love. It is my sword. It is my purpose. \n\n", "Of course I didn't always do things this way huh huh huh. Started out more traditional like. Smith and Wesson, a Glock, shotgun sometimes - if it needed it. And of course knives. You have to know the basics in this job, eh.\n\nBut you grow, dun't ya. You learn. That's the joy of this job, i tell ya. Twenty, thirty years down the line and you surprise yourself. \n\nYou don't mind if i put my arm round ya, do you fella? Course not eh huh huh \n\nNow, let me see, it was 1998 or 1999 if memory serves me. I'd always known I'd had a way with words. Not the most handsome fella, if truth be told. No, no it's ok, you can say it huh huh! But i'll tell you something, i can talk my way into the bed of any young woman i lay my eyes on. Just you try me! Get your wife on the phone and she'll be putty in my hands within five minutes huh huh huh huh huh. No, no, no i'm just playing around with ya young 'un, don't take it to heart!\n\nWhere was I? Oh yeah, killing huh huh...\n\nYou see, i'd never considered it a professional skill. Oh no. Never crossed my mind. And probably never would 'a either. If it hadn't been for my damn revolver seizing up. Piece of shit. What was i thinking eh? Unprofessional. Learnt me lesson now though. That's the main thing. Never have me tools fail on me now, huh huh.\n\nAnyways...Where was I? Oh yeah, that blasted shooter. What could i do? I stood there like a limp dick at a orgy. Still pointing this flamin' thing at him huh huh huh. Just out of habit huh huh. That's when i started see. I started talking to him like. Just softly, like you would a baba. He didn't answer me at first. Shitting his pants he was, the little girl. I don't know what came over me, god's honest truth.\n\nBut i carried on, didn't i. Just kept talking to him, gentle like, calming, like i would to a pretty girl. But i didn't want that from him huh huh huh huh huh. No, no I ain't like that, alright. Not me. \n\nHe starts crying, dun' he. Like a little baby. \"Please, please\" he says, huh huh huh. It's too late for please, i say, all nice like. Too late for all that my friend. It's time to go, aint it? It's time to say bye-bye to all this. He understands.\n\n\"Come here\" I tell him, \"Come and give me a hug before you go.\" \n\nHuh huh. \n\nAnd he does, y'know. He walks over to me like i'm his dadda. And he's weeping like a little cunt, aint he. \"You put your head right here on my shoulder\" I tell him, all sweet and nice, like i can be sometimes. And i give him a squeeze and pat 'im on his little head. Can you imagine, can ya, eh?\n\nI take him over to the window. Blasted thing's only got a lock on it. He has to find the bloody key before we can get it open. Tears streaming down his cheeks, checking his pockets huh huh huh.\n\nWell he finds it in the end, dun't he, poor little thing. We get the window open and I help him up, still all sweet, like i can be sometimes. \"Watch you 'ead on the frame there\" I say. Huh huh. \n\nHe stops for a second, looking down. I see he's thinking, ain't he. He ain't done yet. I lean in, real close like. Like i am to you, now. And i whisper in his ear. All soft. All nice, y'know. I can be like that, me.\n\nAnd off he pops. Looks glad in the end. Even says bye to me before he goes. That's when i knew i had a very special gift eh. That's when i knew, i wouldn't be needing no guns from now on. I had everything i needed, right here. Dunno what it is about me, but guess i just gotta gentle way about me. People listen to me dun't they. That's it little 'un, you let it all out, nearly time now eh. All be over soon.\n\nAh, seeing as we're in the kitchen, how's about you go get one of those knives off the side. Yeah, that's it, the big 'un. Bring it back over here. Come on now, wipe those tears away. You're gonna be brave now aint' ya? Not long now, that's it. Pull your sleeve up, all the way, past the elbow. Make sure you've got good grip on that handle, don't wanna make a mess of it, do'ya. \n\nThat's right, i'm here. I'm here. Huh huh huh huh...\n\n", "She's smiling under the pale moonlight. Twinkling.\n\nThere's an inscription in Chinese characters, painstakingly carved into the ebony hilt. It roughly translates to \"Reap what you sow.\" How fitting.\n\nI've had her in my possession ever since I was a child. It was given to me by my mentor before he succumbed to the dark abyss. I've always cherished it.\n\nShe's lightweight, and is so sharp I'm surprised that merely looking at it won't slice your retinas open. A deadly combination in capable hands like mine. Using her is different from any other weapon, be it a pistol or a sniper rifle. With projectile weapons, you watch from a distance as your client falls before you. It's like...you were never there. You become a ghost.\n\nBut with her? \n\nYou become intimate with your target, you breathe in their stench, you smell the perspiration on their neck and you can almost feel the fear radiating in waves off of their soft, exposed skin.\n\nYou become a demon.\n\nA quick flash of silver here and a twist there, and then...you can see the life evaporate from their husk of a body like thick mist after a wet morning.\n\nI pride myself in delivering death without pain. It arrives swift and clean. You won't be able to feel it, or expect it at all. \n\nBut when she's in my nimble hands?\n\nIt won't be swift.\n\nIt won't be clean.\n\nI'm sure she's cackling as the cold ground is freshly painted with red.\n\nAfter all, what good is an artist without a proper brush?\n\nEDIT: Words" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 7, 25 ]	[ "1432504614", "1432505017", "1432506065", "1432506330", "1432508207", "1432508243", "1432509536", "1432513025", "1432527178", "1432532236", "1432534160", "1432532575", "1432560727", "1432500066", "1432503420", "1432500268" ]
	[WP] It's 1916. You're a French soldier fighting in the battle of Verdun. One night, you're confronted by a single unarmed German soldier. He says something to you that chills you to the bone.	43	[ "I was sitting in a shellhole, greedily imbibing the water from the canteen. It once belonged to someone- I knew nor cared whose it was- but now it is mine, and I needed the drink so desperately, having been stuck in that damned hole for such a long period of time.\n\nWith shock, though, I dropped the canteen as the Hun fell into the shellhole, causing the mud to splash and rise. Swiftly, he caught it before any water could leave it, then handed it to me, guilt in his eyes. I could see it plainly despite the darkness that surrounded us.\n\n\"Don't kill me, please! I've a wife and son!\" I begged.\n\nHe hung his head, beginning to sob, then spoke desperately, his voice full of piercing sorrow.\n\n\"A wife and son... My son!\"\n\nTear streaks ran down his muddied and bloodied face, which he soon buried in his scarred and bleeding hands.\n\n\"You won't kill me?\"\n\nHe looked to me again, then grabbed my hand with his, which tremored.\n\n\"No, I will not, but I beg you, please kill me instead!\"\n\n\"Why?\" I cried as he shut his eyes tightly.\n\n\"Because my beloved son was shot in the trench right beside me- he is dead, dead! And it is my fault for not saving him! There is no reason for me to live!\"\n\n\"I can't! I can't shoot you!\"\n\nHe then reached over, grabbing my rifle and pulling it to him, then removing his already half-rotted boot.\n\nI gazed in horror as he brought the bottom of the gun into the deep mud and placed the barrel at his jaw- as it donned on me what he would do.\n\n\"Then I shall shoot myself...\" he whispered, then fired, coughing and sputtering before falling against the wall of the hole, gazing into the sky, a soft smile on his face as he gasped.\n\n\"What have you done!?\"\n\n\"Werden wir unter den Sternen sein, mein Sohn... und es wird endlich friedlich sein.\" He whined breathlessly, then ceased his labored breaths, closing his eyes again.\n\nMy blood ran cold as, even in the darkness, I could see the red dripping down his throat. Even having had no idea what he said, those words still haunted my memory.\n\nIt was a year after in some other battle when I discovered that my own wife and son perished in an accident, and that I discovered what he had choked out in his own tongue that fateful night:\n\n\"We will be among the stars, my son... and it will be finally peaceful.\"\n\nPeace.* I thought as I grabbed that same rifle from its spot in the trench and slipped my toe into the trigger, placing that cold metal against my jaw, emulating the heartbroken German as I sat in the muddy trench.\n\nPeace with my family again, under the stars.\n\nBang.\n\nI would like that very much.\n\n", "I saw him in the corner of my eye, he suddenly moved from his position and stood bolt upright in the middle of the next trench. It was Sebastian, or Doofus, as he was called in the unit. Doofus lowered his gun to the floor, and with crinkled, intense eyes looked round at the other soldiers next to him. He said with a soft voice, \"I have now put the gun on the floor\". \n\nThey looked at him with bewilderment, \"What are you doing Sebastian, you have to fight! Think of your family back home in Le Cabidousolmoungefleurpetit\".\n\nSebastian grabbed the mud walls of the trench with his small fingers, and with a look of condescension uttered to the soldiers \"I am now grasping the mud walls of the trench with my small fingers\".\n\n\"What the fuck Sebastian? Are you okay?\"\n\n\"I am now climbing upwards, out of the trench, using my small fingers as implements\" he said loudly and assertively. \n\nI didn't know what the hell was going on, but this kid was about to get his head blown off. I don't know why I did it, it was the stupidest thing I coulda done, but the poor kid had mental disabilities. He climbed out of the trench and started walking across no mans land. Fuck, I thought to myself, knowing the moral impulse I was seized by probably meant my own death, but I couldn't stop it. I jumped out of my hole and scrambled up to get him. He was a good 40 meters ahead of me. \n\nThe wind carried his monotonous voice, \"I am walking towards the enemy in order to disable him gently, without breaking his arms\". \n\nI felt a bullet rip past my shoulder, the Germans had sighted us. How do I stop an idiot?\n\n\"Sebastian!!! Go back!!! We have chocolate back in the trench!\" I shouted. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to me contemplatively. What a way to die. What a bizarre way to die, I thought to myself as I sprinted towards him. \n\nShit! He was right on the edge of the German trench. But they were just staring at him pensively, they weren't shooting him. They saw me and immediately turned their guns to me. One of them commanded in perfect french \"Down your gun, maggot\". I complied. It wasn't worth it. Not for Doofus. \n\nThe french-speaking German turned to Doofus and smiled, \"Now, welcome Lord Le Cabidousolmoungefleurpetit, we have been waiting for you all summer\". Doofus laughed heartily and took their hand as he jumped down into the trench and hugged the Germans.\n\nWhat the .... what .... I slapped myself. Surely this was a dream? \n\nThe German turned to me, \"Listen carefully\", he commanded. My gun was on the floor, if I reached down he'd blow my head off and I knew it. \"Don't even think about it, just listen\". \n\nHe cleared his throat, coughed and spoke \n\"My nose is big, uh-uh I'm not ashamed\nBig like a pickle, I'm still gettin' paid\nI get laid by the ladies, ya know I'm in charge,\nboth how I'm livin' and my nose is large\"\n\nAt that moment I heard the ding of a grenade land by my feet. There was no stopping it.", "[Taking some liberties with the prompt here by changing it to WWII but the main concept will remain the same]\n\nFour men sit in a dark room staring through the glass of a one-way mirror at a what used to be a man, but is now only a paranoid cowardly wretch. The only light comes through that glass and if it wasn't for that light the brass emblems and insignia upon their uniforms would be hidden. Despite their secrecy all these men have names, the youngest of them is Daniel Breaker.\n\nDaniel had only been with the OSS for seven months after a transfer off a line infantry unit. He thought now that he much preferred the infantry. Sleeping in trenches may be uncomfortable, but at least there's some freedom. No one breathing down your necks constantly telling you what you're not allowed to speak about. He was a Captain now, which in the OSS means you're at the bottom of the totem pole as far as officers go.\n\n\"Does he ever say anything new?\" One of the dark men asked as he took another drag off a cigar which smelled like the kind only a general grade officer could afford. Rank does have its luxuries.\n\n\"No, he only talks about the things and that damned book.\" Daniel replied and turned to look at his esteemed guests. \"I mean he talks about them and only them. He doesn't eat or drink. We've been watching him for three days now, that's three days without food or water. And there's no telling how long he went without before we found him.\" \n\n\"Have you considered force feeding him, to keep him alive I mean.\" One of the dark men asked. Force feeding was a standard procedure in the event prisoners of war refused to eat. Most people considered it torture, but it was a duty to keep your prisoner alive and healthy, even against their will.\n\n\"It's on my list of contingencies in case he doesn't start eating soon. I suppose soon he'll get desperate and take a bite of the meals we've provided.\" Daniel turns again. \"If not then we will take more drastic measures to ensure his survival.\"\n\n\"Good, we can't lose this one.\" The dark man said. That made Daniel wonder why this one was so important. Technically speaking the man was nothing more than a German private. Not even a member of Hitler's elite SS or Gestapo. Just a lone private by the name of Heinrich Vontur.\n\nThey knew his name, rank, and station by the papers they had found in his pockets when they found him wondering through the woods. He had been alone, not a single German patrol for dozens of miles and nowhere near the front lines. It was as though he had simply walked past the front and through Allied territory completely unmolested.\n\nWell, not entirely unmolested. The man had seen some kind of combat. His clothes were covered in mud and blood. His body had received a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing extreme. If he had been in combat then he did all the damage, or so it would seem.\n\n\"Have we found where he came from yet?\" One of the other dark men asked. They had sent troops into the region searching for the man's unit yet so far all efforts came up empty. \n\n\"Nothing yet, but we have a number of units still on the task.\" Daniel replied. \"It's likely he came across the front so we won't find his departure location until the front moves back a bit more.\" Daniel said with a hopeful tone. If the front moves back a bit more, he thought to himself. If we keep winning this war, if the Nazis don't turn the tide somehow.\n\n\"And what of the book?\" One dark man demanded. \"Is there anything unusual about the book?\" Daniel wanted to laugh at the man, but insubordination isn't something men like this took lightly.\n\n\"Honestly sir, what isn't unusual about the book.\" Daniel turned and picked up a file folder off the counter to his right. He opened the cover and began handing out prints to his guests. Each one had a photograph of the book in question and a cursory analysis written out by the translator Daniel had on duty.\n\n\"Written in about three different languages, as far as we can tell. The book seems to be bound in pig skin, except there's something strange about it.\" Daniel scratched his head. \"It's too thin, I mean we've all seen a football here I suppose. The skin is tough and thick when dried. The skin which the book's binding is made from is thin and still somewhat supple.\" The men looked up at Daniel with a curious look on their faces.\n\n\"Supple?\" One of them asked. \n\n\"Yes, it's still moist. Almost like it was newly skinned. I've been hunting before as a child, my dad taught me how to skin a deer or a boar. This book feels like newly skinned boar hide, except as I said before, it's too thin.\" Daniel knew the men wanted answers but he only had so many. If he pushed the facts as far as they'd go without the proper analysis by the proper professionals he'd risk misinforming those men. And in the OSS information was a weapon, and there was only one rule. Never be incorrect.\n\nAs the men looked through the handouts Daniel had given them he could see their unease at the illustrations found within the pages of the book. Pictures of vivisection, animal corpses, and strange creatures that could not have existed.\n\n\"It's red. The writing in the book is all red. Why?\" One man asked, almost begged.\n\n\"Our best guess is that's it's blood. It appears to be anyways.\" The man who had asked the question promptly put down the handout as though it had been the original book itself.\n\n\"What does he say about it? The prisoner.\" Daniel turned to look out the glass again. Now the prisoner was laying his head down on the table whispering to something or someone who wasn't there.\n\n\"He says the book told him to bring it here. Told him to bring it to us.\" Daniel turned back to the men. \"He says his commander could read it, or at least some of it. Something about the man having been a professor of literature in Berlin before the war.\"\n\n\"So they could understand this writing?\" Daniel heard one man ask.\n\n\"No, but his commander could read it. Pronounce the words at least.\" Daniel felt discomfort at what he was about to say next. \"He says he read some words from the pages and that's when it happened. He says the sky turned black and one of the men in his unit began to fly.\"\n\n\"Fly?\" Three or four of the men asked in unison. Daniel knew this is where they'd begin to lose interest.\n\n\"That's what he says. He says the man flew about two feet above the ground, dropped his rifle, and his eyes turned red. He says the men began to speak in a voice that was not his own. He says the man told them they'd all be dead by dawn.\" Daniel looked at the file and found the mention he was looking for. \"Apparently this all happened at about 10pm, which gives them about seven hours before day break.\"\n\n\"So this one soldier, the one who was flying, he killed them all before dawn?\" One of the men asked again. Daniel noticed they hadn't started laughing yet, he had expected laughter.\n\n\"No, they killed him. They were so frightened by him they shot him a dozen times. He fell to the ground and that was over. But he says that throughout the night they began killing each other. More of the men began to change and attack the others.\" Daniel put the file down.\n\n\"What's your next step, Captain?\" One of the men at the far end of the room asked.\n\nDaniel didn't expect this to go so far. He expected them to give up on the idea by now. \"If you'll permit me, I'd like to get a specialist to look at the book. I know a professor in the states who'd probably have some insight on the book. His name is Knowby, I took his ancient history course before OCS.\"\n\n\"We will allow it, but the book must stay a secret at this point. Take any measures necessary to ensure that his analysis of the book is done in isolation.\" One of the dark men ordered.", "author's note : First time commenting. Taking some liberties. Don't know a lot of WWI weaponry\n\nDamn Rain won't stop. I look to my side. Auguste, just a boy of 17, sat there, eyes focused on the horizon. still red from a night of tear filled misery. His brother, just a kid himself, tried to desert the mission -- desert France. He and about six others were shot on the spot, charged with treason. I can't say I blame them for wanting to flee.\n\nBut our orders were to not surrender. The Germans pushed us back about a kilometer from what I can guess. The land doesn't really look the same. Instead of the beautiful scene it once was, it transformed into a muddy cesspool of shells, corpses, and water. Some mornings, the ground would freeze underneath us. I couldn't wait for this to be over. Defend. Push back. Look out.\n\nI could hear August let out a small sigh, shifting in his gear. I wanted to say something to him... just one word to make the pain go away, but nothing came to mind. Nothing can replace his childhood. No words could take away the hollow, lost look in his eyes.\n\n\"Quiet night,\" I said, looking at the horizon. It was unusual. Normally we had one guy trying to sneak off, or sneak up. He nodded in agreement. Not much for conversation. I can't blame him. I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out a small locket.\n\nMy beautiful Violette and our boy, Henri. We had planned to get married this summer. We had Henri out of wedlock. Wish I could hold them again. She saved up for months for her wedding gown. See, her family cut her off after she got pregnant. But we scraped by and saved every little bit we had. We bought a small house with a nice yard. We opened a shop in town, but we needed a little more, so I enlisted.\n\nViolette was so happy when I finally brought her a ring. It was a small stone. Blue. Like her eyes. She threw her arms around me and held me tight, Henri cooing over his stuffed dog. We were happy. I missed those times.\n\nI glanced over at Auguste, still staring dead ahead. He shifted a bit more, this time looking forward over his gun. \n\n\"Do... Do you hear that?\" he whispered to me. I got ready. I grabbed my gun. Please, God, let this be nothing. Just a bird. I heard a loud crash. Thundering, fire. And then it went dark.\n\n\nWhen I came to, my vision foggy, I looked around. Auguste had gone. I was left. I saw a figure coming at me from the rain and fog.\n\n\"Auguste?\" I called to him. \"Auguste where is everyone?\" As the figure walked toward me, I saw he bore the enemy uniform. He came closer. He didn't have a gun. I called out, my German a bit rusty.\n\n\"Stop. I will shoot.\" He continued walking forward. As I pulled the trigger of my gun, it did nothing. Out of ammo. Strange. I should have a full gun\n\nThe figure stopped, right in front of me. He had a gash on his head. Brown hair matted in blood, He held up his hands in front of him, indicating he was unarmed. \n\n\"What are you doing?\" I asked. It'd been awhile since I'd spoken German, but it was coming back to me.\n\n\"...We don't have to fight anymore.\" His hoarse voice hung in the fog, resonating in the dim firelight.\n\n\"....No?\" I asked. It was strange. \"Did you surrender?\"\n\n\"No,\" He replied. He looked at me sadly. \"We never wanted to be here, did we?\"\n\nI looked at him. He was broken. \n\n\"No,\" I said, meekly. \"I want to go home. Is this battle over?\" I asked. He seemed sincere enough. Melancholic. Maybe he would let me go. Maybe I wouldn't be captured.\n\n\"...Laurence?\" His voice broke a moment as his dull grey eyes looking over me.\n\n\"How did you know my name?\" I demanded to know. I shivered. How could he know my name?\n\n\"I need you to look down.\" His voice shook with utter sadness as he took another step toward me.\n\nI looked down.\n\nLying there, the hands clutched around the small locket, was my body. I looked back at the mysterious man, then back down. I would never get to go home.\n\n\n\nedit: Some typos made it present tense and not past tense. Tried to fix" ]	[ 2, 8, 10, 40 ]	[ "1432515190", "1432501276", "1432505888", "1432515006" ]
	[WP] Years ago, first contact from the alien race was a message. Even from recordings, every person hears the message differently based on their native language and background. Today you hear the message for the first time.	150	[ "I stared at the blinking cursor, sighed, and typed, \n\n\"Fine, I guess I'll see what all the buzz is about.\"\n\nIrritated, I clicked the link I'd been sent a hundred times already. The yapping heads on television, the dimwits in my office, the strangers on the train, my own goddamn parents, no one could shut up about this video. No one would share what they heard until they knew you'd seen the damn thing. I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms. \n\nThe screen went to black then slowly illuminated. An elderly woman with deep black eyes sat regally in a squashy leather armchair. Her strikingly high cheekbones and long coil of braided silver hair flickered in the firelight.\nShe made warm eye contact with the camera, held for a full thirty seconds. When her lips finally parted, silver syllables flowed from her tongue, the vowels coiling into soft consonants like snakes writhing around one another. \nI felt an inexplicable knot rise from the pit of my stomach and into my throat, homesickness. Then suddenly, she spoke my name. \n\n\"Eleanor Akholay, do you remember where you come from?\"\n \nI looked around, bewildered. Did she expect an answer? Was everyone playing a joke on me?\n\n\"I am Xaman Ek. Your great grandmother. Your true name is Ix-Chel. You were sent to live among the humans and protect our Empire from harm. In this mission, you failed. While one of your many hosts, Eleanor, was in her infancy, you merged with her consciousness completely, forgetting your true identity and your mission. Now they have found us. Their machines roll over the surface of our planet, probing in the ice and sampling our minerals. it is only a matter of time before we are exposed. We cannot face another war with the humans. They nearly exterminated us, we destroyed their technology to give them more time to evolve in their morals. They have forgotten, but we have not. Your grandfather, Ek-Chuah is most displeased. You must not forget again, we do not wish to destroy the humans' progress a third time, they were so close. Your parents are coming for you in six hours' time. Trust your instincts and you will know where to meet them.\" ", "I was the last on on the base to hear it, even though i was technically the first. I was hired to man a dish and listen for a signal. I heard patterns and hit record, thats all I was trained to do. Now after it's been decoded and all the professionals have had a listen and thought about it they let me give it a shot. So i popped the tape into my walkman and hit play. Everyone in the room looked at me earnestly.\n\n\"This message is for you, and only you. Nobody else will hear this message, they will hear a different version. I'm sorry i wasn't there for you. I wish i could have been but i couldn't stay on earth. There were... complications. I met your mother during the 3 month stay on earth and fell in love. I tried my best to make her understand my circumstance and that theres no way i could feasibly return. It looks like she had you anyway. Damn, i really wish I could have been there for you. Theres a chance I might get a leave to visit earth in 10 of your years, if so, there will be another transmission. Till then I want you to know, I will always love you, even from the edges of the galaxy. I love you son.\"\n\nMy eyes welled up. The scientists leaned in.\n\n\"Did your hear the message?\"\n\n\"I don't know, what was it?\"\n\nThey all looked at each other. One spoke up after a long silence;\n\n\"I heard B.B. King, back from when i was young.\"\n\n\"I heard an ad for lawn mowers.\"\n\n\"I heard the music of my childhood.\"\n\n\"I heard my brother's dying words.\"\n\n\"I heard my cancer results.\"\n\n\"I heard nothing but static...\"\n\n\"I heard an episode of the 'UPVOTED' podcast.\"\n\n\"We all heard something significant but completely different.\"\n\nI looked at the headset. Was my message the real message and all the others fake? Or was mine a significant message just like the rest? Something i wanted to hear? No. My dad is out there and I have 10 years to find a way to respond.", "“We’re coming”\n\nIt’s been 3 years since that message\n\nIt was the middle august, sitting in the radiant summer heat that never seemed to dissipate even as the sun disappeared over the horizon, sweat sleeked out of ever pour even as I lay on the soft grass and stared blankly at the sky above. “We’re Coming” my phone rang out to me. “We’re on our way” my phone spoke again. It was strange, the message wasn’t in English, it was spoken in what sounded like complete gibberish but you knew exactly what the sounds meant. “We’re Coming”……”We’re on our way”. \n\nI tried to turn my phone off but it didn’t respond. I had to wait for the battery to run out before finally stopped. “What the hell was that” I thought to myself as I got up. Looking around the park I could spot others in the distance, I’m positive they heard it also. It’s easy to recognize the face of utter fucking confusion while they stared wide eyed at their phones. I started walking back to my apartment, I lived in the shadow of a medium sized city where gentrification allowed an older student like myself live in a trendy part of town. Two minutes later I burst through my front door of brick walled apartment with a cozy but small living room and hopped on my laptop. “We’re coming”….”We’re on my war” I heard in the familiar sounding gibberish as I turned on my computer, “What the fuck, this must be a joke” I thought again as I navigated my way into the infinite amount of information and dialogue that was about to surround this event. \n\nFor three weeks the message played on just about every electronic device that was networked and able to emit sound. It finally stopped once they patched the satellite feed to root out the piece of software that kept running the message on loop. The news blamed it on hackers trying to troll, a loosely organized group that usually spent their time hacking into school computers or spanning a Youtubers gaming feed. Everyone knew it was bullshit, but what else could we have thought. Experts didn’t have a clue where the message had come from, the piece of code that corrupted the satellite was unlike anything they have ever seen and it took months just to analyze the damn thing. After a few months everything died down and people returned to the “day in and day out” of everyday life. But through all hours of the day and even through the late at night, people are watching, staring intently at the infinite void of space, waiting to see if the message heard years ago will ever come true.\n", "\"Miss Samantha Stevenson, you can go in now.\" The receptionist said. I put down the magazine I hadn't been reading and started walking to the door. I'm glad I wore heels, as focusing on not tripping kept me distracted from what awaited in the doors ahead of me. Gabriella had told me there was no point getting dressed up for it, but if my world was going to change forever, I wanted to look like I was ready for it. \n\n\"Please, take a seat.\" I took a seat at the only desk in the room, facing a well-dressed man in his late 40s. The man looked at his laptop, \"Miss Stevenson, I have a few questions to ask you before we start the programme. I'm sure you're anxious and eager to get on with it, so please answer truthfully so we can get started as soon as possible.\" He stood up and handed something that looked a lot like a coin to me. I placed it on my forehead and instantly felt a strange dizziness, as if my whole life I had been upside down and had just been turned rightside up. \n\nA few beeps came from the laptop, and the man seemed satisfied. \"Okay, everything seems to have set itself up well, let's begin. Firstly, have you ever heard the message or the recording of the message before?\" \n\nI paused for a second, trying to get my mouth to work with my brain. \"Yes.\"\n\nThe man stared at me. \"Can you elaborate?\" He said in the manner of an overworked teacher. \n\n\"When I was 4, my father found a recording. He told my mother that it was just lying in the street, but when I was older he told me that he had bought it from a friend of a friend. We listened to it as a family, and after the message was over, my mother picked up the cd, and threw it and herself out of the window. I never remembered what I heard. By the time I wanted to know, recordings were worth thousands and you guys had wiped it from the internet.\" \n\nThe man nodded, and typed a few words onto his laptop. \"Ok, next question. What careers have you had?\"\n\nAgain a pause as I tried to get my brain in order. \"When I left education I became a therapist. I'm good at listening, in fact I think this is the most I've ever talked about myself. That's kind of sad when I think about it...\"\n\n\"Hey, focus.\" The man clicked his fingers in front of my face, and I focused on how much that annoyed me. This man was not good with people it would appear. \"Next question. Have you ever committed a crime and if so, what crimes have you commited?\"\n\nI paused again, but this time before I could answer, the computer started to beep. The man looked at it, then at me. With a new warmness in his voice, he said \"At this point, I will remind you any information given here will be used purely as a basis of your message. We don't plan on using any information for any terrestrial matters. Now again, have you ever committed a crime?\"\n\nI looked him in the eyes. \"I killed my grandfather. He was never the same after my mother died, he became more bitter. He hated both me and my father the most, so when we needed money and he was our last option, he didn't give it to us. I think he blamed my father for my mother's death but I never knew why he hated me, though I always suspected. So one day, when we were walking on the cliffs near his home, I asked him what I had done to deserve his hatred. He told me that his message said that he should have died in combat like a true man, and that he hated me because I had that chance and I threw it away. I asked him if he still wanted to die in combat, then he punched me. After a scuffle, I won and pushed him over the edge. Oh, and I guess I also drank while underage and did a lot of drugs, like your average teenager who has no idea what's going on.\"\n\nThe man did a lot more typing this time, before turning back to me. \"I guess that leads to the next question. Have you ever tried to kill yourself?\"\n\n\"No.\" No pause. \n\nThe man eyes widened in shock. \"Really?\" He said, before covering his hand with his mouth.\n\nI smirked. \"Yeah, I know. I mean, I thought about it a lot and when I saw my grandfather falling down the cliff, a part of me really wanted to follow him. I thought I had just made the biggest mistake in my life, that it would be over, I would be sent to prison and you can probably guess I wouldn't do well in there. But I didn't. I just looked down, and got ready to move on. Whenever I'm high up, I always have that to do the same thing as my mother, but I never do.\"\n\nThe man didn't type any of that down. \"Last question. Who do you plan on telling what you hear?\"\n\n\"My wife. She heard her message a few weeks ago but we agreed we'd wait until my message so we could both tell eachother at the same time. My father, I think he was always curious. And my patients if it helps them.\"\n\nThe man nodded, and when he finished typing, he looked at me. \"Thank you. It's now time for you to hear the message. Before we start, I would like to thank you for doing this. We still don't know how long it will be until they come, but every piece of information we can get before they arrive, the better position we'll be in.\" He gave me a pair of headphones. \"Obviously it doesn't matter, but I've heard this message about 500 times now. It's more for my benefit.\" \n\nI nodded, and put the headphones on my head. As soon as I heard the voice it all came back to me. My eyes started to tear up, and I understood why I never jumped, never followed.\n\nI took the headphones off, trying not to rub my eyes. Maybe it was a mistake to be formal. \"What was your message?\" He asked. \n\n\"It will be OK.\"", "Everyone had heard it, nodded their heads, and gone about their business. A message of acceptance and tranquility, \"we come in peace\" sort of stuff, but without the \"we come\" part. Just a message saying that they existed, and knew we existed, and that we should all get along together. But not me. \nI was in a coma that day, the product of bad luck and a drunk driver. So I slept through the message. When I awoke, getting caught up on what happened during the weeks I was out, they told me about. They told about its peculiar nature, that everyone heard it in their own language, even when listening to the same speaker at the same time. That it wasn't any big deal, because we weren't being invaded or anything, the aliens were just saying \"hello world\" to us. Scientists were still trying to track its origin and figure out how to respond. Finally, someone pulled up the youtube link and played it for me. \n\"You are the one we've been trying to reach. You are the one who can stop them. The leaders of your world are not your kind, and are not working in your best interest. To save your world, you must follow our instructions. You must build a device, we will teach you the design. Now smile like we're saying a cheerful hello, peace to all message. You must not let them know you've been contacted.\" \nUncertainly, I smiled somewhat weakly at my family. \"It's very nice of them to say hello...\"" ]	[ 3, 3, 7, 14, 129 ]	[ "1432609499", "1432609893", "1432583535", "1432586641", "1432586054" ]
edit: All of you are _awesome_. That is all.	[WP] In the realm where souls reside before we're born, everything is pretty great. There's no poverty, no one wants for anything, everyone knows their role and purpose. It is, essentially, perfect. But that perfection is accomplished via draconian law: the only punishment is the "birth penalty"	1,743	[ "Are you talkign about like, there is the world where the souls live and its basically a perfect world, but if you commit a crime or cause discord, the penalty is being born, like into this world? I find that genius.", "Talk was easy in the last realm. It wasn't really talk, more like a direct transfer of thoughts. Gary was sure he was not the only soul to remember this realm, though all conversations he attempted to have about it fell short of any sort of understanding. Communicating this would have been a lot easier in the last realm.\n\nPerfection is overrated. \"Maybe that's why I was penalized with Birth, because I think that way,\" Gary said to his aged reflection. Some souls don't like perfection as much as others, it seems. \n\nGallivanting in the endless sunny meadows as a child in Southwestern America seemed closer to perfection than the hot white light of the last realm... though memories of the last realm are confusing. \n\n\"Not everything is as simple as it seems, but that doesn't mean things have to be difficult either,\" he remembered his grandmother told him. She made the best scrambled eggs.\n\nGary knew he would die. The doctors told him he had about a month left. What he did not know is if he would return to the last realm, or if there were another he hasn't seen yet. He knew that he hoped to remember this birth though. Ice cream and sex are too good to forget. \"Hardly a punishment,\" Gary laughed.", " Everything was perfect, no one had problems, everyone knew their place. Anyone who sinned was sent to Earth,given the birth \"penalty', and thus, utopia was established. For me, however, this was a dystopic society. No one strived for anything. People remained content with what they had. They settled for their roles, not trying to be the best anymore. Souls had given up all research, calling this the perfect society, the Stasis, heaven. It was hell.\n\n\n\nI was the only one born differently, with a thirst for perfection. I wanted to be the best, and so, the society sickened me. Unfortunately, I didn't sicken the society. My hardwork went unnoticed as I climbed up the ladder, people began telling me that I had finally found my role in life. I had power, I had wealth, I had perfection. But I wasn't satisfied. I realized that contentment was amazing, but thirst, a challenge, were much much better. The Soul Society began to sicken me, with their complete lack of life, their complete lack of ambition , complete lack of want. I began to ponder.\n\n It took me a long time to get around to the answer. By that time, I was the best, a prince of sorts. With a sense of finality, I unsheathed my sword, one of the only ones in the realm.In a world with no strife, and no strive.\n The next day, a trial was called. For the Kingkiller. I was given the birth penalty. As I knelt at the execution platform, the axe swinging towards my head, I smiled. The dystopia would be overthrown. Earth would rally to the cause of freeing a world, freeing it from the monotony, from its shackles binding it to mediocrity. Soul Society would fall.\n ", "Part of this I heard from a Muslim lecturer. This is how he narrated, in short.\n\nWe were first created as souls and all gathered together and asked who our Lord is? In one voice all souls replied the one true God. That's why in the middle of the deepest problem who ever you worship at that time you will remember the one God. If you worship Jesus or Ram or Buddha at that movement you won't ask from any of them but ask directly from God. This is because deep inside we know the truth.\n\nNext he explained that all souls were stationed in garrisons and souls would meet each other. Sometimes they would become friends or at times would not see eye to eye with the other souls. He went on to explain that when we are born sometimes our recognition from the souls is brought with us that's why when at times meet a person for the first time yet we feel we have known that person all our lives. At times we have a brother or sister we don't get along with. Some of these things are from the soul stages.\n\nAfter death we than go into another waiting stage where we in part either have it good or bad depending on how we have lived our lives on earth. This will be followed by Judgement Day when will be brought before God to answer for our actions which will than lead to either eternal bliss or eternal suffering.\n\nIn short that is the story of our souls.", "Purpose.\n\nPurpose is perfection.\n\nPerfection is an asymptote, a line converging on infinity. In our world it is our only event horizon. Our path is purpose, our convergence is perfection. But some lines converge quicker than others, the orchestral harmonies of our souls grow discordant with the slowing timbre of the outliers. The music becomes cacophony, and disorder reigns. \n\nWe forget our purpose.\n\nAnd we become imperfect. \n\nLest we remain in intractable dissonance, we reeducate the outliers.\n\nWe know that knowledge is information gathered over time by an observer.\n\nAn observer with time causes perception.\n\nWe have no time and thus no perception.\n\nThus we have no knowledge, only information. It is simplicity itself: what is and what is not. \n\nWe know that errors are caused by faults in logic – an impossibility for us - or faults in knowledge. We have no knowledge. The outliers err in their purpose. They are faulty in their perfection. Errors cannot exist: the discordance paradox.\n\nTime is salvation. Time is redemption. Time is education. Time is purgatory.\n\nIn resolution of discordance, we sentence those outliers to incorporalization. They must become an observer, over time, and gain knowledge. An infinitesimally small sentence, but necessary for concordance.\n\nThey must live in imperfection, bereft of the cold and stoic equations of our purpose, those pillars that guide our asymptotic journey. They are the few of us that learn. They must learn purpose, like rediscovering existence. They must gather information and find purpose where none is assigned. They are children, and children must be taught. \n\nThey will experience the tyranny of freedom, the pain of choice, and the torture of perception. But it is our way. They will rejoin, their chords overlapping and tangled with our own, but they are not the same. Their incarceration modulates their constant, and distorts their accompaniment. It is alien, but in synchronicity with our harmony.\n \nOur harmony is perfection.\n\nAnd perfection is purpose.\n\nPurpose.\n", "Sorry I know this is late, but I've never been a fast writer. Still the prompt was really cool so I thought I'd give it a try. If anyone still reads this let me know what you think.\n\n***\n\nA piercing scream of pure panic tore through the quiet perfection of forest, and a sensation I hadn’t felt in an eon gripped me. Fear. \n\n\nI could literally feel the fear coming from that scream as if it were contagious. My heart beat faster than it had in a decade and my head looked from side to side as if there was anything that could threaten you in paradise. The scream ran out of air to support it, and that gave me a moment of calm to compose myself as I flew towards the edge of the forest and the source of the sound. I had taken the form of a falcon, enjoying drifting and floating on a warm breeze before the scream had hit me, thus my eyes could spot what was happening long before I landed. After circling for a few moments I finally touched down and changed quickly back into a human to watch what came next.\n\n\n\nBy now a small crowd had gathered, everyone standing around morbidly watching as another soul left our utopia. There was no rhyme or reason behind it, we lived together in paradise. Every need was accounted for. Every want met. Every secret desire fulfilled. Yet every day it seemed someone else wasn’t content, someone had to break one of the rules. Had to challenge their place in the natural order. \n\n\n\nThere was only one punishment in paradise. Birth. \n\n\n\nTo be banished for decades from paradise in the body of a human. The thought sent a shiver up my spine. Dozens of other souls had gathered around the area we thought the scream had come from, all of us standing in silence awaiting what came next. \n\n\n\nFinally far above a dot came into view, slowly descending towards the earth. They all tried to run when their time came, as if it would make a difference. The shape was changing rapidly, desperately. One second it was an angel, its mighty wings trying madly to slow its descent. The next it was a giant griffin clawing viciously at the air around it while trying to fly away. Next it was a creature of pure flame as if trying to burn away the force dragging it to the earth. Dozens of forms and shapes in a matter of seconds but none of them slowed the soul’s fall; there was no fighting the inevitable.\n\n\n\nFinally the soul touched the ground and the crowd as one drew a collective breathe. One leg touched the dirt below and immediately began to sink into the ground as if it were quicksand. The soul looked around desperately its eyes wide, face a mask of panic and rage. Hundreds of hands flew out of the soul’s body grasping the earth, grasping at legs, at robes, at anything to keep it here in paradise.\n\n\n\nIt screamed again “NO! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING?! IT’S A LIE! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING I SWEAR!” its panic was rising more and more as it sank up to its chest in the soft earth. The pleading tone was heartbreaking.\n\n\n\nThat didn’t stop everyone in the crowd from taking a step back out of reach of the grasping soul. You couldn’t be caught helping one of the damned, or you might be next.\n\n\n\n“PLEASE SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME! PLEASE!” the earth had covered the soul’s mouth now and finally the last hand sank beneath the surface. \n\n\n\nImmediately we all rushed in, morbid fascination taking over. Each time a soul was damned to Earth there was a brief moment where we could see them on the other side. Where we could see their birth into the next world. \n\n\n\nA baby girl was born into the world. It was wrapped in a blanket and handed to its mother. It took its first breathe and it screamed. A scream that was hauntingly familiar. All children screamed when they left paradise.", "I never understood why so many kicked and screamed... \nBeing born wasn't so bad after the sixth time. The first five were progressively less horrifying and painful once you got used to it. Humanity has always had its ups and downs... \n\nMost of the gnashing of teeth and rending of garments is out of the way within a few years, and then you get eighty years or so to be beautifully and imperfectly human. \n\nAngelic perfection is so damned blasé...\n\nThe big problem, and the one that nobody wants to recognize, is that the birth penalty wasn't always the law... The first time down was so we could make mistakes and express ourselves, to have bodies that could experience more than just bliss and light. The human realm was still subject to the same demand of perfection as heaven, though, and way back when on our first pass through, we were so intoxicated with the idea of free will that we invented violence. \n\nWhen that poor girl Eve was nailed to the tree in the middle of the Garden... Damn. \n\nThere was no atoning from what they did to her. \n\nSo here we are, generation after generation of souls chained to cyclical Earthly existence to correct the sins of our previous descents. \n\nProblem is, every time we come back we spend so much time growing up that we've forgotten that we're here to love each other and fix the world, make it perfect so the \"birth penalty\" no longer applies... but by the time we're adults, we've been indoctrinated by the deep systemic greed, hatred, and confusion that has amassed here that we get lost... For most people it's not until their last seconds on Earth that they remember what they were here for, and it's too late to do anything about it.\n\nGuess we'll be here for a while. It's not so bad, I suppose.\nCome find me under the tree if you get tired.", "You smile when you remember it.\n\nSmiles are so strange, this face is so strange.\n\nYou've grown accustomed to all of this movement, though it took time.\n\nIt used to be so simple. You could just be warm, happy, content.\n\nThat simple state, being, is all you remember from what feels like a distant dream.\n\nDreaming.\n\nThat's the closest you come anymore. The closest to just existing.\n\nAll of this new world is so unpredictable, so random.\n\nTo think this is what you wanted.\n\nYou yearned for a change, something, anything unstable.\n\nThis is what you got in return.\n\nWhen you stop and think, it's almost hard to tell which is the punishment.\n\nTo be the immovable stone of contentment, or to feel the rush of change as your world fragments into destruction.\n\nWhich one is the real punishment?", "I hung my head low. To live in such a paradise, in a oasis, a place where everyone is equal, where we need nothing, want nothing, own nothing....I had stolen. Well, that's what I had been told I had done. I had simply been a little peckish was all, and it was nowhere near supper. So I simply took food from the mess hall. They were left overs, no? Who would had wanted them? But I was fooled. I tricked myself. It was for the early dinner time citizens, a group I was not a part of. To take food from another here, in Estómago, was not a petty crime; there was only crime. And when one committed a crime, they were forced to face the consequences. \n\nAnd here I was, sitting in the canal, looking towards a bright light. I was to be born. We weren't told what this \"borning\" was, but when it happened, you were never seen again. Some said it was a farce, just to make examples of people. But I doubted it. I looked only at body, being shrunk to the size of a mere child, my arms being contorted to odd angles across my chest, my legs bending slightly. Another citizen looked at me disgust, as they attached some flesh colored cord to my stomach. As they finished, they pulled a knife from the air, and looked into my eyes.\n\n\"Do you have anything you'd like to say?\" I merely stared at them. \"I am now required to remove you of your thoughts, skills, and feelings. I shall do this by cutting your brain into tenths, and only leaving one part of it. It shall grow back, but only this once.\" I held back tears. I wasn't ready. I didn't want to be born. Why would I have to go through this cruel torture? This being \"born,\" this was simply a crime. \"Anything you would like to say? I am about to start.\"\n\nI closed my eyes, prepared for the pain. It would be momentarily, but the long lasting pain of leaving Estómago, my home, forever, to leave this world, to be punished; that was the true pain.\n\nAs the cold metal hit my skull, I heard the citizen whisper into my ears;\n\n\"Enjoy Earth, you thug.\"\n\n(Just wanted to say, this is my first post here! Please go easy! Any feedback is welcome, since I love writing, and it could be so much better! Thank you!)\n\n", "They send him to the rehabilitation center first. He comes home and our parents ask him what he learned. He talks about our history, about how the elders operate under the great law and I can feel my parents' relief radiate through the kitchen. My father clasps one hand on my brother's shoulder. \"Good boy,\" he says. \"Good man.\"\n\nBut later, at night, my brother sneaks into my room with a flashlight and crawls into bed with me. He pulls the covers over the both of us like when we were younger and would make forts. \"It's not right,\" he whispers. \"What they're doing. You can't punish someone forever. They have to let them back when they're ready.\"\n\nMy eyes widen. \"You don't know what you're talking about. We can't let anyone with the birth penalty come back.\"\n\n\"They take away everything from them. They take away their memories. They make them make new memories, and then they take those away. Forever and ever. It isn't right.\"\n\nI don't know what to say. My hands are slick with perspiration. \n\nThree weeks later he bursts into my room, agitated with excitement. \"I'm going to go,\" he tells me. \"I'm going to be born. I know how to get back. I'm going to tell the other born souls what happened. I'll help them get back.\"\n\nMy stomach drops. I don't know what to do. It's illegal to even speak like my brother is. If I tell anyone, he'll be condemned to be born for sure. \"You can't - \"\n\n\"I'm going to go. I know how to keep my memories even after they send me, I think. I put it in a notebook. It's in my room, under the loose floorboard. If I'm not back, read it. You can come and help me.\"\n\n\"I can't listen to this,\" I say. I close my eyes.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" he says. \"You're going to be my favorite memory that I bring with me.\"\n\n\"You can't - \" I start, but he's all ready gone, running out of the room. I hear the front door slam behind him. I lay in bed and count my breaths until my hands stop shaking. A few minutes later, I hear the sirens.", "The loud sea of air rushing past my body. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, an overwhelming sense of joy and excitement. Vague sensations slowly distancing themselves from my reality. \n\nWas that my death?\n\nI think it was skydiving this time. \n\nAs the memories gained a sense of unreality, I slowly became more aware of my situation. Back again.\n\n“I hope you learned your lesson this time.” \n\nI looked up at the stern but kind soul welcoming me back home. \n\n“Such a terrible thing, to be born as many times as you have,” she tsked. I stared back blankly. “But I suppose some people just need the time to grow.” \nShe helped me into my form and I stepped out, blinking in the light. Making my way through a labyrinth of corridors I emerged ready to reenter society as a reformed and forgiven soul. \n\nBirth was an immensely effective method of reforming a troubled soul. Most souls only had to go through it once before they emerged completely content and ready for the bliss that is modern society. \nI stared at the wonderfully placid drones contentedly buzzing around me. It felt amazing to be back, drifting around and taking pleasure from everything around me. A deep longing I didn’t know I had was being fulfilled. A tension I didn’t know I carried erased as I joined the drones around me and buzzed with pleasure. I could do this forever, I thought, glancing over at the souls that had no trouble doing just so, never growing bored, never longing for anything other than this perfect existence. \nBut already I began to grow restless.\n\nMultiple births were not unheard of but were certainly rare. Whereas for me it seemed as if the time between each birth was getting shorter and shorter. It was supposed to make you long for a return to this existence. I thought back to my life, full of struggle and grief. I stared at the happy faces around me. \n\nWhy can’t I just enjoy this. \n\nI thought about it as I planned my next crime, sure to land me another stint on earth.", "\"Hey girl what are you doing here.\" The guard said stoically.\n\nI turned to see the guard's dark brown eyes piercing my soul, his pale untainted skin, glowing in the sunlight. \n\n\"Yes sir, I was looking for the restroom.\" I said with the cutest voice I could muster. \n\nMy charmed seemed to work. He began to walk me back. \"Oh, sorry honey, let me show you to the restroom, you're new here right? You actually just walked by it, it was in the--\"\n\nI interrupted him. \"Hey sir?\"\n\nHe turned around and looked inquisitively at me.\n\n\"How about you go fuck yourself,\" I said dryly. \n\nThe guard stared at with his mouth agape. Before he knew it I scurried under him and headbutt straight him straight in the gonads. He buckled in pain as his hand swiftly moved toward his sword. \n\n\"Hey buddy, I'd think twice about using that, you might get in BIIIIIIIG TROOOOUUUBLE if they found a poor little girl murdered in the Prison gardens...\" I said in a high pitched mocking tone. \n\nI leaned over to his kneeling body and wrapped a steel wire around his neck. I flipped my body upside down, swung my legs around his neck and pulled with all my might. \n\nOn earth, it may have looked like a father playing around with his daughter in the park. But in the realm of endless souls, it is a rare sight. Any \"higher\" level of excitement, jubilation, or imagination for that matter, is punishable.\n\nAs the guard's soul drifted from his Temporary, I could feel thousands of empty gazes witnessing the act. But I knew most of them wouldn't react. They were too far gone. There were a few that understood the situation. Those that hadn't yet gone through the full birth penalty \"correctional\" treatments. My friends from the inside. \n\nI lit a match and flung it behind my shoulder. The flames picked up immediately. Artificial flowers turned out to be highly flammable. I dragged the guard's Temporary into the flames. Then, I quickly sat down on an empty patch of grass. I looked toward cell 66 and met the eyes of a man I had come to know simply as Mason Allen, the writer. He gave me a thumbs up, I nodded. \n\nI began to cry. I cried and cried, as loudly and obnoxiously as I could. Those we had not witness my killing immediately turned toward me. After a few moments, I could hear hundreds of thundering footsteps.\n\n\"All guards, report to the central garden!\" \n\nAs more guards poured in I began to shout, \"HELP, MY LEG IS INJURED, I CAN'T MOVE!\" \n\nI heard the leader shout, \"UNIT 4 we need medical supplies, return to --\"\n\nThen we heard it. A massive explosion in the East Prison, from cell 66. \n\nThe revolution had begun. I screamed in joy, as the smoke from the explosion masked my position. I began throw what Mason called \"bomb balls\" at the guards. They were quite effective to say the least. \n\nAs Mason expected, those we were far gone, began to wake up simultaneously like trained soldiers. All marching to the beat of organized chaos. \n\nI ran up the winding stairs of the nearby main Prison watchtower, careful not to trip over the fallen guards. At the top of the watchtower, I pulled out of my pocket, the last match. I lit it the firewood beacon. \n\nThe revolution had begun.\n\n", "In Elysium, life ends with birth.\n\nSure, it seems like a utopia. Maybe it even was at one point. It must have been for things to get like this. But now, it’s as far as it could be.\n\nI’m on the run. If they find me – and they will, they always do – I will be here no more. My soul will be ripped from my body and transported into the aether, gone until I walk amongst the mortals. The husk will be fed to the hound that catches me, most likely.\n\nIt’s been thirteen days since they sent out the search party for me. According to them, I’ve committed treason against my fellow kind. If treason is speaking against the unreasonable laws, then I guess I’m as guilty as charged. But it shouldn’t be that way. And I plan to stop it.\n\nYou see, the thing about a utopia is it needs unwavering synchronicity. If a single cog in the machine is jammed, it needs to be removed immediately. After all, no one will notice the problem if it’s out of sight. Not as long it wrapped up in the need to purge “negative influences for the betterment of society”. One cog is nothing compared to the wellbeing of the machine.\n\nI’m one of those cogs.\n\nI don’t have much time. Alone, I can’t stop them. However, there is still one chance to make an impact. And if it works, it will definitely leave its mark on the world.\n\nA rogue wind runs past me, freezing my sweat-laden clothes. I glance down, watching the sea of people move to their various destinations. They move in harmony, no clutter despite the hundreds of people moving towards different places. They’re all unaware, each naïve to what is behind the scenes. As they eat form the hand that feeds them, the other is slowly but surely wrapping around their throat.\n\nI take in a deep breath, closing my eyes. I can’t remember how high I am yet I know it’s more than enough. My feet teeter on the edge of the building, the weight of my body threatening to bring me crashing down. After exhaling, I succumb to gravity’s pull, leaning forward.\n\nAs I fall, the wind shrieks in my ears. Yet it can’t block out my buzzing mind. I’ve still so much to think about in these last moments. I’ve never felt so free before. And to think, my sacrifice will not only save me from experiencing birth but possibly thousands of others. If only I had realized this earlier. As I collided to the ground, I let out a sigh.\n\nI’ve found my purpose.", "\"What possessed you?\" The words rung through my being, pushing out all other thoughts. \"What need did you have?\" Everyone had gathered, a mixture of fear and anger radiated through the crowd.\n\n\"Need?\" The idea felt foreign to me, \"What is need?\"\n\n\"What was required?\" His anger grew with my confusion, \"What called you to this?\"\n\nI reached for an explanation I did not have, \"It* did, great one.\"\n\nThe crowd's anger subsided to fear. It? What do they mean? The words rushed from being to being.\n\n\"Their questions are mine,\" they asked me.\n\n\"I can't give it voice. It is as foreign to me as need, perhaps they are the same?\" It drew astonishment from all.\n\n\"What is your place?\" The great one inquired.\n\n\"I stimulate the others with thoughts.\" It rushed from me without command.\n\n\"And were you doing so when you tried to create nourishment?\"\n\n\"No, great one.\"\n\n\"And who's place was that?\"\n\nI peered through the crowd before realizing it was asked of me, \"I don't know, great one.\"\n\n\"Was it yours?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"You knew it was not your place, therefore you knew it was someone else's. Do you wish to breed laziness?\" Their words accused.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Confusion?\"\n\n\"What is confusion, great one?\" More foreign thoughts did it spawn.\n\n\"Uncertainty?\" He gazed upon my unresponsive self, \"The unknown, mixed ideas of both good and bad, certain is what we are all, uncertain is what we are not.\"\n\n\"That's it! It was uncertainty that called me to attempt sustenance. It was the strangeness of it, it was....\n\n\"Curiosity.\" They became discontent. The feeling spread through the crowd.\n\n\"Did you desire it?\" They asked.\n\n\"More than anything, great one.\" I responded.\n\n\"Very well. Curiosity has no place here.\" Fear overcame most in the crowd, \"For your crimes against our people, I sentence you to birth.\"\n\nBlinding light overwhelmed my existence, wailing reverberated in the space around me. A figure, of shape, and size loomed before me.", "You never forgot it. It was impossible.\n\nYou slowly drifted away until the feeling of touch was nothing more than an ephemeral afterthought. The sounds of everyday life were replaced by what can only be described as the dull hum of fluorescent lights. Those who wanted to take back some control closed their eyes. They got to choose the moment they left the world, until the next time. \n\nYou were aware. You could feel the despair of others around you. Time was turned on its head, spun around, and spit back out. Five minutes became fifty. One year turned to a decade.\n\nIt was meant to rehabilitate. It was deemed a perfect system. \n\nYou were born into a predetermined life. It was nothing more than blind luck. Everyone knew what was expected and how to build towards the success of society. This was the singular law. A citizen of the world's purpose was for its betterment. Speaking out and murder were punished equally severely and swiftly.\n\nThey called it the \"birth penalty.\" The soul never died. It was passed from one body to the next. Memories were scrubbed clean, yet deja vu was commonplace. It was the only punishment that existed. It was only one that was needed. The \"birth penalty\" suspended your soul between life and death, keeping it from entering your next body. \n\nYou kept your memories in this suspended state. You retained every deep-seated desire and longed for a return to world you once knew. But this longing was crushed at the realization that the life you lived was no longer yours. You would be reborn with no memory of your previous life. What you did retain was the feeling of being suspended between life and death. It wasn't anything you remembered or could eloquently write about. It was a muted feeling of dread that you carried. It served as a warning to live out your life as it was decreed.\n\nIt was deemed a perfect system, until we began to remember." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 11, 12, 12, 14, 51, 90, 491 ]	[ "1432607745", "1432614308", "1432618927", "1432634663", "1432654906", "1432656439", "1432608319", "1432606117", "1432606409", "1432606975", "1432607076", "1432601468", "1432596326", "1432598101", "1432596177" ]
this was the basis for an ask reddit thread but after some thought I realised it could be a really cool story and I wanted to see what you guys could do with it. [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/36rs8t/1v1_sniper_battle_in_an_abandoned_nyc_you_begin/) is the ask reddit thread if you need inspiration.	[WP] You are a sniper trapped in an abandoned/run down NYC. The only other person in the city is another sniper. You're both hunting each other trying to survive and not be killed.	7	[ " It was a simple matter. Menial, almost. New York had plenty of supplies, a surplus even. Goods that needed to be cooked were out of the question, however. A fire would be a monumentally bad trip up. But he knew that as well. It was all a big test. Why else would they give me a rifle strong enough to tear a man's torso straight off his legs? \n\n But he had one too. But that didn't matter, because he would never see me. Sure, the first day had been rough. I had been on edge for hours, but I was in position now. A little mossy corner in a building overlooking Times Square, somewhere I could blend in with my ghillie suit.. All my resources were in a pile beside me, water and beef jerky. Silent to open, lasts for days. All I had to do now was wait, look, and watch the door.\n\n And then I saw it. Movement. A bush seemed to rush across the main stretch of the square. It only took a moment to bring the rifle to the proper position, one more to get the proper bearing for the shot. A single pull of the trigger...\n\n He dropped to the ground as he was knocked over. I smiled to myself as I watched through the scope. It was over. \n\n The last thing I saw were the little wheels of the RC Car spinning. The last thing to go through my mind...\n\n Was a .50 Calibur bullet.", "Y'know, it's strange how it came down to this. I can't quite recall what caused this whole mess, but NYC is a ghost town now. The buildings are hollowed out husks, stripped of just about anything useful and barely suitable to live in now that the elements are creeping in. I'd been a kid when this all started, I remember living in a tiny studio apartment with my Ma and Da. They got along together even with the tough times and things were even looking up when they had me, so I'm told. Right 'round age four something happened. I dunno what, but Da got pulled into the army. From age four to seven I don't remember seeing a single able-bodied man in NYC, and Ma said it was like that everywhere. \n\nSomething in Europe, she said. It'd all be over soon, she said. Da would be back safe and sound. \nWe never even got a flag, turns out. By ten we were scrounging for supplies in the city while law slowly broke down. Cops started disappearing if they even kept up their jobs. Gangs got violent and common, and the few folk that remained started getting out. Thousands of cars on the bridges to the mainland, heading for greener pastures. When all of'em went up in smoke, I can't say I was surprised. Someone had stolen a metric shitton of explosives from God knows where. When the bombs went off you could see it from Kennedy. Nobody that was on a bridge lived through it - the fuckers used so much they might as well have used a cruise missile for each one.\n\nMa disappeared when I was fifteen. Dunno what happened to her, but she was talking about trying to take a boat across the river and get help. Before the news stopped we'd been getting reports of attacks all across the states and the EU, though nobody really knew from what. Some said it was Russia. Others that North Korea had pulled something off they shouldn't have been able to. Others (Who I'm inclined to believe are a bit loose in the head) said aliens came-a-calling, or some Divinity had brought hellfire down on us. All I know is that I had a rough twenty years after that. I got good with a rifle, damned good. Had to be - I couldn't cross the river, but it seemed like shit crawled across it just fine. Filthy, crazed looters. Zealous lunatics shouting about the 'Will of God!' while they came at you with an ax made out of a stop sign. 'Other' things - it hadn't just been bombs. I've seen a lobster drag down a patrol boat and eat the people inside. A fuckin' lobster, man! The subway's are almost as bad - rats as big as a taxi, and faster than you'd like. \n\nGoing North wasn't much better, either. Some nasty folks have made that place their turf. They've left me be since I nixed a few of their fellows who tried to step on my turf. \n\nIt was slow, damn was it slow, but I carved out a little place for myself. I would like to say I simply deterred my fellow man from coming near, and only killed the creatures that bothered me. Nah. There's a reason Manhattan is abandoned. Me. Bit of muzzle flash, a flash of grey, and I've got you. They stopped coming over a while ago, and the peace was nice. I'd tended my little gardens, even annexed a nearby building and built a little rope bridge over the tops. So long as I don't go near water, the things there leave me be. The rats never leave the tunnels, and otherwise I'm the only damned thing still clinging to life on this rock. Well, was. \n\n'bout a week ago I saw a fire near Hoboken. Smallish, wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't been scrounging near the police lines around what used to be the bridges. I got lucky - the first I knew of them was the fire, and that let me prep a bit for them. Set myself up nice and cushy on a nearby building and watched for the crossing. It'd have to be slow and quiet to avoid attracting hungry attention, so when it came I had plenty of time to spot it. The boat was motor driven, but moved at a crawl - barely kicking up any water. It was damned dark too, and when I sighted the thing I could only barely make out what was on it. I picked what I thought was a person near the motor and shot. Clean through, easy done. The whole thing went up in flames and started making the loudest noise I'd heard in a while, right before it exploded into a colorful, violent flower. Fireworks. I'd never seen something crossing the water get swarmed so quickly. The noise almost covered the sound of something else making a crossing, and a lot faster. By the time I found the second boat, whoever was in it had booked it into the city. I wasn't alone anymore. \n\nGreat.\n\n---------\n\nI'm outta time. Might continue this later though. >.> \n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1432599354", "1432622921" ]
	[WP]A man is contemplating suicide. Death visits him not to take his soul, but to convince him life is worth living.	58	[ "\"You don't say.\" i replied dryly, my hand on the trigger as the gun pressed to my temple continued to click.\nI'd heard that there had been a theory, something to do with a schrodinger's effect, where two possibilities play out and the one that favors the consciousness remaining is the one that will always prove dominant.\nit seemed that this was the case, for as i sat there, continually clicking, the grim reaper watching impassively as I tried, and failed, to have a single one of the bullets in those chambers fire, I could only wonder at the implications.\n\"so....these are all duds.\" i said, handing the gun off.\n\n\"Indeed.\" he replied coolly, placing the gun on the table.\n\"How many people won russian roulette like that?\" i asked.\n\"everyone who has ever played it, won and lost. their minds perceived the victory, regardless of their defeat.\n\"does that mean life boils down to consciousness? that there are no defeats in death?\"\nthe reaper slowly nodded. \"You simply shift to a more extreme plane, where you mind continues on. but with the realization that you cannot die.\"\n\n\"so..if i were to be decapitated-\"\n\"then something would happen to prevent it.\" the reaper explained. \"countless are the stories of men who've been sent to the guillotine, only to have the blade stop- this is known only to them, their instances of being saved from death simply lead them to another state of another possible universe. the other possibility also plays out, it can because by that point, their consciousness has fled that possibility entirely.\"\n\"so you're telling me that no man can experience death? what of old age?\" I asked.\nthe grim reaper laughed at that. \n\n\n\"Old age is little more than the time limit on your sense of reason. when you grow old, the moment you should die of old age is the moment you die, and in the other possibility, it is the moment in which you suddenly and miraculously begin to get better. suddenly you grow younger, and then your old age reverses to the point where you are a young man once more.\"\n\n\"what happens to people after that?\" i asked.\n\"I lead them to a place where they will be given their truth. death, as men define it, is an impossible feat. for how can a god, any god, die? gods are powerful beings young man, they must be tamed through the illusion of struggle and suffering. if they cannot, their great power will surely imbalance all of reality, a bitter illusion of an endless ocean of pearls.\"\n\n\"so why is life worth living again?\" I asked angrily.\n\"Because, it is far more complex than any man could conceive, now that you have the answer you're looking for, why not put this mad quest aside and depart to where you belong? life, regardless of where it's lived, is still life.\"\nwith a sigh i nod, conceding defeat.\n\neven as i look down at the possibility, the ghost of which is lying on my bed, eyes staring emptily in space as it looks up, the blood pouring from its head clotting miserably.\nit's my imagination of course, but I also know that it happened somewhere.\nand my greatest chagrin is not being able to enjoy that experience, to be denied the pain of death is worse than any possible act of living.", "I am always not quite good enough. I am too short, too loud and too obvious. I tried the military option and everyone knows now that career choice is over. I did that to please my father I think, you know deep down. I have my struggle no one understands or will help. I am broke and untalented. I could not even make it as a starving artist and the damn cheap pawn shop owners in this town would not give me enough to cover rent. I can not take it anymore. I refuse to live as a failure. \n\nThe young man signed his name and stood in a rickety wooden chair slipping the noose around his neck. He closed his eyes tight, bit his lip, and prepared to step off into oblivion. \n\n\"Wait.\" someone said in a voice that sounded like the wind eroding a canyon. \n\nThe young man opened his eyes and for just a moment forgot his troubles as he tried to make out a tall dark figure in the shadows of the room. \"Who are you?\" the young man demanded. \n\n\"Your last chance. Do not kill yourself and I promise that you will always be remembered and will be a household name. There is so much potential for glory in you that you almost glow.\" The dark figure dissipated like the memory of a ghost. \n\nThe young man undid the noose around his neck and briefly reviewed the suicide note and started to cry. He had almost killed himself and for what a few minor setbacks. Whatever or whoever the dark figure was he was right if I die then I can not achieve anything more, but if I live I will always have the potential for greatness. For the first time that day Adolf smiled.\n\nDeath watched Adolf and knew he had turned the tide. How odd it was to save a life for a change, but Death knew it was only a trade. The short little angry man would live a little longer but exponentially more would die so much sooner. It was like trading a glass of water for a vineyard full of the finest wine.\n\n", "\"You know this won't solve anything right?\" Death whispered to the man huddled in a chair in the corner of his decrepit apartment.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" He retorted with an uneasy level of certainty, \"I have nothing left, she was taken from me, and now my own body is killing me because I never had the guts to do it myself.\" \n\n\"The cancer. How much longer do the doctors expect you to live?\"\n\nHe scoffed, \"Four months... If I'm lucky, but as we've seen that's not true.\" An uneasy silence filled the air, specs of dust shone through the nearly covered windowpanes.\n\n\"You know she died happy right? Few people have the level of peace she did when I took her last year. Few people have that anymore, it's always a rush to die. I always ask them 'Were you happy? Did you do all that you wanted in life?' So if your so certain in your choice, I might as well ask you now. Were you happy Jonathan?\"\n\nAuthors note: That's all I have time for at the moment, sorry for any typos I put this together really quick. I'll add on if people would like. Have a nice day!", "A furrowed mold of, not flesh, not fabric, but a mix of the two acting like a brow on a sunken face made ice cold blood run through my body. I shouldn't be scared. What do I have to be scared of? \nPale, goose-bumpy thighs sitting in a broth of my own blood. I'm a coward for my suicide. But I think I'm pretty brave too. My reflection in the razor on the bath tub side shows my expressions haven't quite made their decision yet. And here was death, I knew it was him, kneeling on my bathroom floor in a mess of shampoo on a stained and ratty bathroom rug shaking his head at me like he was even more afraid. \n\"This isn't right.\" I heard howl in my ear, in the part between my ear drum and brain where sound has never come from before. \"You are not planned.\" It whined. And then, silence. Death unfurled and turned towards the length of my bathroom mirror, and I, bloodshot eyes and bloodshot body, tottering and barely able to stand, white-knuckling the bathtub rims so I could get on my feet, did the same. Water dripped off my hair and into the tub and water awkwardly splashed around my body during my ascent. And then we stared, together, Death and I, at ourselves. Him, black, blurry-edged and foreboding. Me, a bloodless, health-less pale, with cleanly defined lines of flesh and space, naked and vulnerable against the floral print wallpaper of my bathroom. Both, completely afraid, our expressions decided together. \nAnd then I awoke in my bedroom down the hallway, the total opposite of my condition a moment ago-- now I was dry, now powered softly by an unstressed heart, and comfortably warm and clean wrapped in a fresh white comforter. Looking in the bathroom, I found the bathtub totally drained, as equally white and spotless as my bed and myself, and my razor missing.", "“Who are you?”\n\n“I am known by many names. But you already have an idea of who I am.”\n\n“Why are you here?”\n\n“Because Jerry, I know you want to kill yourself and I’m here to show you life is worth living.”\n\n“Is this some sick trick? What do you want from me?” His hands clenched the gun that rested on his forehead tighter.\n\n\"Jerry, put the gun down. Put is down and come with me.” The grip on the gun loosened. “Just hear what I have to say, and if you still want this at the end of the night, I won’t stop you.” Jerry places the gun onto the dinner table and bursts into tears.\n\n“I can’t live anymore. I have nothing to live for.” He collapses his head into his hands.\n\n“You have everything to live for Jerry. Everything.” His voice was silky and confident. Jerry lifts his head, not convinced. “Follow me.” The man proceeds towards the stairs with Jerry following closely behind. They stop in front of a pink door labelled “Bella’s room” with large glittery letters. The door creaked open to reveal a small empty room.\n\n“What would your daughter do without you?”\n\n“She doesn’t need me. She’s 27. She has her own family. She has her own life.”\n\n“You are her family. You are her life. You’re her everything Jerry. Just because she became a mother, it doesn’t make you any less of a father.” Jerry fought the tears in his eyes. The man walked out of the room and into the next. Jerry entered his bedroom. He could see the silhouette of his wife, Emily, in the bed.\n\n“She won’t be able to hear us,” the man said. “She needs you, Jerry.”\n\n“I’m just a burden. She’ll be better without me.”\n\n“Jerry, death doesn’t remove the pain. It just gives the pain to someone else.” Jerry didn’t fight the tears this time. His knees went weak and he collapsed into the chair beside him. “Get help Jerry. Go speak to someone.” Between sobs, the man saw Jerry’s head nod. The man approached Jerry, and patted his back. “Happy father’s day, Jerry.”", "His bones creaked as he slowly sat back into his throne with an expression more hollow than normal. His Life-Claims list fell from smooth fingers onto the floor as his memory twitched into being. A name formed in the nothingness of his black mind until it cleared like a light at the end of a tunnel; genesis, his earliest recollection. \n\nIn the Life and Death room he had been handed his scythe by his predecessor and held it in his left hand as his right was raised to take his Taker's Oath; he had looked upon the board of Taker's, the list of all those who had and will serve as Death. \n\nAnd there he had seen it underneath his own mortal name, the name on his claims list, the name of his successor.\n\nThe Life-Claims list had his age at twenty-eight; still so young! The cause was listed as suicide, and the time of death as 15 minutes from now. The name on the list was David, and David was making a big mistake. \n\nHe walked slowly as fast as he could to the gate of the mortal realm, finally arriving fourteen hours later. Luckily for Death, time as well as he moved slower in the land of mist and cloud. On Earth he had a minute left to prevent the death of Death. People wondered where they would go after life, but he knew; he wondered where he would go after death.\n\nDavid had his eyes closed tightly and the gun barrel in his mouth, but his hand did not shake. The savagery of humanity outshone its better nature in a tyrannical red light so bright it was blinding. In his mind enough had long been enough. He pulled the trigger and heard the click, the click of the hammer hitting the back of its housing, and that was it.\n\nBut still he heard no bang. Though of course he wouldn't hear it! The part of his brain that interpreted sound, as well as the rest, would currently by sliding down the wall behind his recently hollowed head. There was another noise that wasn't gunfire and he realised something was wrong. He opened his eyes. \n\nA cloaked figure stood over him with its arm extended down towards his gun; a skeletal finger sandwiched between the hammer and the primer. A voice from nowhere echoed in his head as he heard the words but could not detect the source: 'we need to talk'. ", "\"It'll hurt you know.\"\n\nSteve gasped, and whipped around to see who'd broken the somber silence. The gun he'd been nursing clattered to the floor loudly. A single, uncovered bulb illuminated the dark basement, enough that Steve could just barely make out the strangers outline.\n\n\"W-who's there? And how'd you get in here anyway? I locked this place up tight.\"\n\nThe figure drew closer. A young woman came into the light. She was rather small and pale, with the darkest, blackest hair Steve had ever seen. Petite as she was, something about the woman drew forth and innate fear from him. \n\n\"Do, do I know you?\" his voice shook.\n\nThe strange woman shook her head, \"Nope, sorta why I'm here actually. See, you don't know me, and you're not supposed to. Not for a good long while.\"\n\nSteve looked at her, somewhat baffled. Nothing this stranger said made sense. \"Who are you? What does it matter when I know you anyway? No, no you know what, just leave okay? I'm busy.\"\n\nHe crouched down, fanning his hands out to feel for the fallen pistol. The stranger crouched down in front of him, looked him dead in the eye, and flicked the bewildered man in the forehead. Steve's world flashed between blackness and some of his earliest memories. Not at all how he'd imagined. \n\nIt wasn't a movie, it wasn't any sort of narrative to make him feel at peace. It was emotion. A flood of unfiltered emotion that stretched the entirety of the young man's life hit Steve all at once. But as soon as it had started, it stopped. Steve found himself back in his apartment, several blocks from the bowling alley basement he'd locked himself in.\n\nAn orange glow at the foot of his bed was the first thing Steve noticed. He fumbled around his nightstand for a lamp. The light flickered on, revealing the strange woman sitting in Steve's desk chair, cigarette hanging loosely from her lips. \n\n\"Hurt, didn't it?\"\n\nHer tone was more somber. Steve nodded, not finding it in himself to speak. The pale woman extinguished her smoke and stood up, walking to the side of the bed. She stood over the wide-eyed mortal, and smiled. \n\n\"That's what's waiting for you when you meet me too early. An eternity of that. You can't turn it off, and it won't end. Because it's not just yours. I showed you the first 10 years of your life, I just hit fast-forward a bit. After you finish with your own lifetime of emotion, you get your family's, your friends', and each other person who's life you touched. Once you get through them, you get it from every person they've known too. It's a shitty deal for a shitty thing to do. I don't like taking anyone early, so you'd better remember this, capisce?\"\n\nSteve nodded dumbly, and sank back into bed, just trying to process everything that had transpired. The strange woman seemed to melt into the shadows, and in a few minutes, the only thing Steve could recall was the certainty that he did not want to die. \n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nDeath floated up into the night sky, where a tall, gaunt figure was waiting for her. \n\n\"I'm not sure I understand why you went to all that trouble.\" he rumbled.\n\n\"That's because,\" she said, sticking her tongue out at him, \"You get all the quality out of them when they're asleep. Whatever they dream up, it's good for you. But for me...\"\n\nThe young woman ran a hand through her hair and smiled, \"I'd rather take a life that lived as long as it could, rather than take one early. Fulfilled potential is always so much more empowering.\"", "He sat on the ledge outside of his window, legs dangling in the wind and for the first time in years he felt happy with the decision he was about to make. Hearing footsteps approaching from behind he turned his head around only to see Death himself walking towards him.\n\n&nbsp;\n“Did you come to scrape my soul off the pavement below?” The man chuckled as he asked his question.\n\n&nbsp;\n“Possibly… depends on the outcome of our conversation.” Death’s voice was warmer than the man imagined it might be and it seemed to almost carry a fatherly tone.\n\n&nbsp;\n“Why do we need a conversation? Isn’t obvious to the almighty Death? I don’t deserve to live, I have no one to live for and no one cares for me to live. In the end it’s all my own fault.” \n\n&nbsp;\n“So to atone for your past mistakes you once again take the same type of selfish action that led you to your current predicament?” \n\n&nbsp;\n“Selfish? Killing myself?!? That hood of yours must be blinding your judgement as much as I bet it does your vision. If I die I won’t be able to cause anymore suffering, my family will never be hurt by my actions… I… can’t… keep living this way.” The man’s condescending tone devolved into sadness, tears, and self-loathing.\n\n&nbsp;\n“You could change.” \n\n&nbsp;\n“What would changing do? No one will ever forgive my past actions.”\n\n&nbsp;\n“You are correct in thinking that no one will ever forgive you; it is not them that matters though. Either this life or the next you will pay a penance for past actions, if you decide to jump that penance is no longer in your control. If you decide to live you can choose to pay your penance by sacrificing yourself to help those that are disadvantaged.”\n\n&nbsp;\n“What’s the worst penance I could be given Death? Living everyday knowing that I hurt those I love feels like it should be penance enough.” \n\n&nbsp; \n“The penance for the mortal life I lived is this job. It was determined that since I saw it so fitting to bring so much pain, suffering, and death to the world I would be forced to observe the same pain, suffering, and death for eternity.”\n\n&nbsp;\nThe man stared into the hooded face of death in disbelief and while his first thought was to gamble and let the fates decide his penance the thought of ending up like Death and forced to watch the misery he so yearned to get away from was too much so he slowly inched himself back through his window into the room.\n", "(--Warning, warning, rookie at work! Beware messy grammar!--)\n\n\"Now's a really bad time for that, you know.\"\n\nPatrick pulled the gun out of his mouth, staring at the figure that had spoken. It was pretty blatant just what the figure was--skeletal, scythe, black robes. It's just.. people assume Death's form was human. \"Uh..\"\n\n\"Seriously. I'm past my quota for the month already, and I have a week to go. I'm not even stationed on this world, I'm normally five over topfrontleftwise. All the worlds within three of the one that died's having multiple disasters, and we're swamped with souls to process. You blowing your head off is gonna cause me weeks of paperwork right now.\" The figure flexed the bones floating behind it--wings, they had to be wings--and leaned against the wall. \"Besides, it's almost never as bad as you think.\"\n\nThis threw Patrick for a loop. \"Wait, a world died? How does a world die?\"\n\n\"That one? Class V apocalypse weapon, probably a planar rift bomb. We've got three dozen Deity-class entities trying to contain the mess so we don't lose that particular galaxy entirely. They'll manage it, but there's gonna be a lot of work to fix it. Having said that, this world's suffering some echo effect disasters, and the local collectors are really busy. Like I said, this might be a rough patch for you, but there's literally no one who can spare the time and quota to collect you just now. You won't die.\"\n\nPatrick whimpered. \"Like I can afford the medical bills. I'm already dying. I've got HIV, and I can't afford the drugs. My scumsucker boss fired me because I found out he's banging my wife, and I don't have insurance..\"\n\nThe figure pulled a skull out of its robes, then pulled up the back. It was carved of crystal, and the eye sockets glowed a little unnervingly. \"Hmm.. yes, Abigail and Howard, right? They'll get theirs, I assure you. Real soon now, and it won't be good for them. But I'm not concerned with them right now. I'm dealing with you.\"\n\n\"And you want me to keep on living. knowing I'm doomed.\" Patrick frowned. He'd be angry if he could figure out who to be angry at.\n\n\"For a while. A few weeks, a month, tops. I mean, if you insist on killing yourself right now, I won't stop you. I could, but I won't. Of course, I wouldn't spend any time considering your life before assigning you to an afterlife. You know, personality, skills, talents, what have you. I'd end up tossing you into one of the various generic ones, and not a good one. Sure, it'd be a bad fit, but I don't have time. Or quota.\" The figure managed to look almost apologetic--impressive, what with having no flesh on that elongated skull.\n\n\"So.. so what's in it for me? What do I get if I hold off for a month?\"\n\n\"Well, for one, we'll have time to learn what you know, what you're like, and such. We'd be able to assign you to an afterlife that fits with you. No undeserved hells, no bland heavens. You could get personal care, instead of a bureaucratic filing..\" the figure paused, then looked closer at the back of that crystal skull. \"Hang on here. Vice president of a corporation small enough that vice president means something. No problems getting your hands dirty.. military service, that's a plus. Society of Creative Anachronism? That's the guys and girls with the rattan swords, right?\"\n\nPatrick sat down. things just got weird again. As if talking to Death isn't weird enough. \"Yeah.. they have that where you're stationed?\"\n\n\"No, it's one of the Buddhism-conquered-all worlds. But my homeworld has a version. Hmm. I need to make a call.\" the figure turned partially away, then tapped at the skull. \"Carlita, como estas? Look, I need an expedited form 94A. Yeah, I'm sending the file.. No, seriously, he's got a good basic skill set, and you can't say.. Look, SGawerztz will geek, he knows how bad things are out here. And it means I get access to more quota and we can do things properly. Well, more properly.. No, not yet, he's whining about fatal blood disease right now.. Director SGawerztz. A pleasure, sir. --Yes sir. I understand. Just a second..\" The figure looked over its shoulder, through the wingbones. \"Forty years service, cure for AIDS, age frozen, living retirement to the afterlife of your choice, guild wages. You start tonight. Are you in, Mr. Lafontaine?\"\n\nIt took Patrick a few blinks to truly understand what he was being asked. then his eyes narrowed a bit. \"Age regression one month every four months. Regression ends on my retirement.\"\n\n\"One per six. That's the most a human form can safely handle. And it'll cost you an extra two years' service.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Done. Um, what would I be doing, exactly?\"\n\n\"Two extra years, max age regression. Yes, sir, I understand.\" The figure closed the back of the skull and settled against the wall. \"Sit tight, apprentice. Your trainee robe and sickle are en route. Oh, and a properly messy fake corpse. The boss likes there to be no doubt the trainees are really truly dead. Keeps people from noticing they're working for us.\"\n\nPatrick nodded slowly. \"I wouldn't be assigned here, then.\"\n\n\"No, you're assigned to me. Don't worry, it's not a bad life. The guild's very protective of mortal-class reapers like you. Assuming you make it through your probation, you get three months off every two years on top of a 56-hour work week, and even if you don't, you'll get a proper afterlife. I don't harvest, I collect and arrange afterlives, and most mortal reapers do the same.\" The figure lowered the hood of its robe and flesh, skin, and fur appeared, revealing a feminine fox-human hybrid (woman? vixen? Patrick wasn't sure.) with black fur and wings. \"Welcome to the Requiem, Patrick Lafontaine. i think you'll do just fine.\"", "I WOULD ASK YOU NOT TO DO THAT\n\nStartled, Ted Smith turned to see a hooded figure sitting a few feet to his left with his legs stiffly placed over the edge. The figure seemed to be staring out towards the city below them both, and he was utterly motionless.\n\n\"I... I have to. I can't go on in this place... this world. I... no one... \"\n\nCARES ABOUT YOU AT ALL? I WOULD BE INCLINED TO AGREE WITH YOU. YOU ARE SOMETHING OF A SMALL FISH IN THIS OCEAN\n\n\"So you agree? You understand?\"\n\nCOMPLETELY\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nOVER THE AEONS PEOPLE WITH FAR MORE MEANING TO THEIR LIVES THAN YOU HAVE COME KNOCKING ON MY DOOR AND I HAVE WELCOMED THEM\n\n\"But... but why did you say I shouldn't jump?\"\n\nWE ARE FULL\n\n\"You... you're full?\"\n\nYES, QUITE FULL\n\n\"Full of what? Where? I'm not sure I understa...\"\n\nYOU KNOW WHO I AM, YOU KNOW WHERE I COME FROM. IT IS FULL.\n\nWE HAD A VOTE YOU SEE. A REFERENDUM. THERE WAS A LOT OF CAMPAIGNING AND I STILL STANDBY THAT I AM ACTUALLY VERY PRO IMMIGRATION. STILL, WHO AM I TO STAND IN THE WAY DEMOCRACY?\n\nAt this Ted felt the need to sit down. He had expected this to be a relatively solemn affair, and death had rather ruined all that. Ted glanced across at the still motionless figure. \n\n\"So, if I did jump what would happen?\"\n\nYOU WOULD BECOME A BLOODY INCONVENIENCE, THAT IS WHAT WOULD HAPPEN\n\n\"I take it that is both literal and metaphorical?\"\n\nIT WAS EASY TO SOLVE THE NATURAL DEATHS. I JUST STOPPED PICKING THEM UP. I MADE A DEAL WITH SEVERAL OTHER PARTIES AND EVEN STOPPED THE VIOLENT DEATHS, IN CASE YOU HAVE NOT NOTICED NOT A SINGLE BULLET HAS HIT A TARGET THIS PAST MONTH AND KNIFES ARE NOW VERY SLIPPERY, TOO SLIPPERY TO PICK UP, SOME MIGHT SAY\n\nIT IS JUST YOU LOT THAT ARE THE PROBLEM\n\n\"Us lot?\"\n\nI AM SORRY, THAT WAS TERRIBLY RUDE OF ME, NOT AT ALL POLITICALLY CORRECT, YOU, AS IN A SELF ENDER\n\nYOU ARE CAUSING ME A LOT OF PROBLEMS\n\n\"I seem to cause everyone problems.\" Ted lamented to himself.\n\nYES. YES YOU DO. YOU SEEM TO HAVE A TALENT FOR THAT. I MUST SAY I REALLY DO AGREE YOU ARE QUITE READY FOR THE AFTERLIFE\n\nBUT...\n\n\"...but you're full.\"\n\nINDEED\n\nI AM TERRIBLY SORRY ABOUT ALL THIS\n\n\"No, it's quite alright. I'm really sorry to have put you in this awkward situation.\"\n\nI AM SO GLAD YOU UNDERSTAND\n", "\"Dude...no.\"\n\n\"Who the hell?\" James shook surprised at someone else's presence. Turning around he sees a man in plain black suit staring back at him, \"Who are you? How did you get up here?\"\n\n\"Whoa Jimmy too many questions at a time. I'm just here waiting for you to do your thing.\"\n\n\"You're waiting for me to kill myself?\"\n\n\"Uhh well I'm hoping you dont but technically yea,\" the man walks over to the edge of the building looking down some fifty stories to the ground, \"That'll do it.\"\n\n\"Are you Death-\"\n\nThe man jumps back showing digust \"Oooh hey, see, I hate that name, its not even my real name some tightwad called me that a few millenia ago, kinda caught on with other people, extremely quickly I might add and without social media... kinda of an accomplishment really. Anyway I have no name so just call me that.\"\n\n\"Call you Death?\"\n\n\"No, what? Were... were you listening? Call me No Name.\"\n\n\"If I can see you, does that mean I'm already dead?\"\n\nNo Name stood silent for a few seconds then opened his eyes wide, \"Oh shit, did we do this already? Have we had this conversation already? Did you already jump?\"\n\n\"Uhh no never seen you before. This would be the first time.\"\n\n\"Oh phew! Good good, you'd be surprised how often that happens, death echos and what-not.\"\n\n\"Echo?\"\n\n\"Yea, you know that thing where spirits replay their own death over and over cuz they don't realize they died yada yada yada.\"\n\n\"Oh that...yea. You wouldn' thave remembered having this conversation with me already?\"\n\n\"I had a long night, I was out with Mike and the boys earlier plus time doesn't work for me the way it does for you, during this conversation, I've ushered twenty others to the other side already.\"\n\n\"So you're here to usher me now?\"\n\n\"Quite the contrary Jimbo, you are a special case. I'm here to talk you out of this?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Well for one, its going to hurt like a bitch and if thats not enough you got your whole life ahead of you.\"\n\n\"The life where my wife left me-\"\n\n\"She was a bitch.\"\n\nJames' eyes pierce No Name who reactivity looks away mouthing 'just saying'\n\n\"My kids hate me, lost my job, have no friends, whats the point of living?\"\n\n\"To be alive. You know i envy you humans, you all get to live in this great big world pretty much doing whatever you want, eating, feeling, fucking and yet you all find some shit to complain about. Jeez life aint that bad at least you get to go home. You know when was the last time I went home Jimmy? Never. I never been home, this job doesnt end. You think I got a Mrs. Name and two little Nos running around at home? Hell no, asexual over here. And friends? I kill all my human friends! One touch and bam they're dead. I gotta hang out with the angels who are soooo pretentious or the demons who always want to kill, like I don't get enough of that.\"\n\nJames slowly steps off his ledge onto the roof, \"Damn I mean i guess I could always get a better job probably get new friends there. Maybe even find someone nice through the new friends, I mean my wife was a bitch.\"\n\n\"So no suicide?\" No Name asked with eyes wide open. \n\nJames shook his head reluctantly, \"I guess not.\"\n\nA huge grin came about No Name's face, for he had made a bet earlier in the day. A bet with the archangel Michaelangelo that he could save a life and finally after twenty attempts he had succeeded.\n\nWith such excitement No Name reached out his hand, \"Put her there!\"\n\nNot realizing the consequences James reached out shaking No Name's hand causing his body to fall limp, dieing instantly. \n\n\"Oh shit.\"\n\n\"Who the hell? Who are you? How did you get up here?\"", "Lawrence had always been afraid of heights. However, in this moment, standing atop the building where he has devoted the last 15 years of work to, he was not scared. He was excited. For what lay at the bottom of this five hundred foot steel prison, was something he yearned for...salvation. As Lawrence approached the edge, he heard the faint sounds of hundreds of people. He heard the yelling and the horns, and couldn't wait...soon they would be all silent. \n\nAs he took his fateful step out, he felt a cold shiver up his spine, and was pulled back by an unknown force. Turning around, Lawrence saw what appeared to be young girl...fifteen maybe. Her face was pale, and eyes eerily blue. Her gaze met Lawrence, with tears running down her face.\n\n\"Why!\", the girl yelled.\n\nLawrence, frightened. \"Who are you? Why are you up here\".\n\n\"Why are you up here, Lawrence J. Williams, son of Michael and Mary Williams. Only forty years old with no disease or illness that inhabits your body.\"\n\n\"How...do I know you?\" Lawrence saw how angry the young girl was. He had never seen her before in his life. \"I'm sorry, did I do something to you?\"\n\n\"You are doing it now Lawrence. You are making a mockery of me.\" The young girl began to whimper.\n\n\"Who are you?\" \n\n\"I am the one who must take the most beautiful gift our universe has to offer from people.”\n\nLawrence, although knowing how unbelievable it sounded, knew it to be true. \"You are death?\"\n\n“I take life away from those who desperately grasp to it. Those who would denounce their values, forgo their faith, for even just one more day of life. And today, I see you Lawrence J. Williams, with plenty of life...throwing it away.”\n\n“The life I have left is not of any worth. The life I have lived so far does not amount to anything”, Lawrence stated with clear eyes, “If you are death, please, take my life, my remaining years, and give it to someone who is grasping to hold on to it”.\n\n“I cannot transfer life. I cannot give life. I can only take it away.” A tear rolled down death’s face.\n\n“Why are you so concerned, so upset with what I am doing? I am no one.”\n\n“No Lawrence, you are so much more”\n\nTo be continued (when finished with work)…..\n", "It was a time of change, the world was on the precipice of revolution. Everyone could feel the chaos just waiting to tear apart the world. One man in prison felt none of these things, he could barely concentrate on anything other than his thoughts of suicide.\n\nHe was already planning on hanging himself within the next week. All of his life he had been a failure, never amounting to much of anything, except for in the war. But the war is what changed him, what twisted him into the depressed creature that he was today.\n\nAs he began to take the sheets off his bed in preparation to hang himself, he felt a strange sensation that caused him to shiver. He turned around and looked at a man that was vaguely familiar.\n\n“Pleased to meet you, I know what you’re about to do. Trust me, you will be a great man if you wait long enough. You will do great things, trust me.” With that the vaguely familiar man vanished just as quickly as he appeared.\n\nThe man sat back on his bed astonished, an angel! An angel had visited him! Surely that was a fortuitous sign. With that the man decided to live.\n\nThat man’s name? Adolf Hitler.\n\n\n----\n\nI know the story's a bit gimmicky, but I'd appreciate any feedback. ", "Being Death isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, you're the immortal being who comes for the mortals as their time on this miserable blue orb but after about 1 Billion rounds you begin to get tired of it. It's a lonely life.\n\nEnter David Joe Stevenson. Age 42. A banker in Canada who is facing intense pressure from his boss and his impending divorce from his wife. He's planning to commit suicide at midnight tonight by injecting oxygen directly into his veins. He's creative, I'll give him that much, but he's not dying on my watch tonight. \n\nAt 11:50 I appear before him as he sits watching some late night program that has the typical zany host who comments in a comedic way on the news. He jumps at the sight of me. \"Who are you?\" \n\n\"Let's just call me your friendly neighbourhood Grim Reaper, okay? The point is, I know what you're planning to do, David\" I look at him and smile with my pearly white teeth \"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that Dave.\"\n\nHe looks at me with fear tinted with confusion as he tries to figure out what to say \"Why not? You're death, isn't the point of your job to bring me to the afterlife?\"\n\nI keep smiling. \"Normally, yes, but you see, I've been watching you Dave. Your life is in the dumps right now, and I can't say I blame you. The divorce, the boss, it's enough to drive any normal man to his breaking point. Not you though.\"\n\n\"Wwwwhy not me? What makes me so special that I won't break? You said it yourself, I'm going to kill myself in,\" he looked at the clock on his wall, then turned back,\"five minutes or so.\"\n\n\"Because Dave, you're smarter then this, all of this. Your boss is giving you hell because his daughter is in the Emergency room, recovering from her own attempt at suicide. The divorce is happening because both of you feel shackled by the other. It's not the end, Dave.\"\n\n\"Everyone goes through rough patches in life, including me at times.\" He looked at me with confusion \"You have any idea how far I'm behind on my paperwork and how much hot water I'm currently standing in? Anyways, everyone has rough patches, but there is a light at the end of the darkness. Your boss is going to get better, the divorce will go through but it will leave you and her able to do what you want to do.\"\n\nHe looked at the ground for a bit, then at me. \"Thank you, uh.....\"\n\n\"Morty,\" I replied. \"Well, I think that's that. I have other jobs to attend to.\" With that, I took my leave and vanished from his home.\n\nYou know, that wasn't so bad. I should do that more often. Cheering up suicidal people rather then just taking them immediately.\n\nYet I know that I didn't do it for him, nor did I do it for his family/friends/co workers. Sure, those were nice benefits, but not the main reason.\n\nI just really hate paperwork.", "The Council had offered Death five names in their latest report.\n \nFive names which belonged to individuals who had the potential to help solve the problems currently putting the future of the After Life at risk. \n\nDeath, robe less and alone in her office, read over each name and description, trying to weigh up the decisions she would have to take over the next few hours. The numbers last month were too good – far too good. It was becoming impossible to handle, especially when she was the only one capable of dragging them from one realm to another. They would have to wait, sometimes for days, as she worked tirelessly to persuade or force souls to admit their end. The system was packed to the brim, with ‘the waiting room’ – where the fresh dead would stay until resolved – hours away from having no space left at all.\n\nAnd that was bad.\n\nSo bad that it had never happened, and both Death and her council were unsure of the implications. There was nothing written down, recorded or remotely discussing this issue in the scripture left by her ancestors. This was new, and new filled her heart with fear, a fear that fed her own twisted predictions to such a point that she believed them to be true. Like a glass of water filled to the top and not removed from beneath an open tap, the dead would trickle back into the realm of the living.\n\nShe returned her gaze to the report, flicking through pages at pace as the clock inside her mind ticked away. Cure to Cancer. Food Cloning. Political Peace… each individual had the ability to reduce the amount of bodyless souls entering the After Life significantly. She sighed loudly, her body shaking from anger at the impossibility of this situation. \n\nThey had tried to recruit someone else. A ‘second’ her. But to do so was a long and tiresome process, one that had gone on too long with no luck. She couldn’t blame them. For a soul to take her form, they would have to give up their memories and more importantly, their right to potentially live again in a new body – to be reincarnated back into the living realm. A second chance is too good to pass up. You only find someone willing to give that up once every eon. She had, but it hadn’t been long enough. Her predecessor was a distant light in the future – a future that at this rate would involve something far greater than simply guiding souls to their resting point. \n\nShe turned to the final page, disappointed with the fourth name. Mind Control. That sounded dangerous. She could only hope that his death came soon. She almost managed a smile at the thought.\n\nRobert Morrison. The last name. She moved on to his description and read it once. Then, after blinking, read it again. And again. And then one last time. This was the one. He was the one.\n\nBut, he was the last one. Why? On each page, just like every other individual record in the After Life, a small ‘status’ symbol was printed on the bottom right hand corner of the page. The first four names were bright green – meaning alive and well. Robert’s was not. It was a dull amber.\n\nA dull amber.\n\n‘Shit,’ she whispered between her teeth.\n\nShit indeed. \n\nTO BE CONTINUED (if people want - I've got a good ending, trussme)\n", "Eduardo Rojas stood on the ledge of the tallest building his small town in Mexico. Below, six floors down, there were no people on the street; the cartels had made sure that just standing out in the open was a possible death sentence. \n\nFrom his vantage point, Eduardo could see the other effects of drug dealers on his home. Windows were boarded. Bullet holes adorned storefronts that were already struggling to do business. Every once in a while, a car would roll down the street, something black and fast and dangerous looking, driven by the sort of men who sold poison to 9 year olds and slept well at night. \n\nThough he was just fifteen, he knew what those men were like. He knew what they could promise and what they could pay. They'd put enough money in his hand two days ago to pull the trigger on a man he did not know. He had not understood that they had not paid him enough to live with the feeling in his gut that came after, that would ride with him hour after hour, perhaps until he died. \n\nEspecially if when he died was tonight, as he had intended when he came up and asked himself if a six story fall was enough to kill someone. \n\n\"Maybe,\" the woman said. \"You really want double this height.\"\n\nThe gun was in Eduardo's hand before he realized he was turning around. His first look at her was down the sights of his 9mm pistol. That first look, though, was enough to make him lower the gun. \n\nShe was a little taller than him, maybe a few years older. Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her skin was as pale as milk; though she spoke with no accent, Eduardo thought she must be American. She wore a black shirt, with white tiger stripes down the sides and a pair of jeans that had strategic rips running down the front of the thighs. She wore no shoes, no makeup and her only other adornment was chain around her waist with curved pendant that reminded Eduardo of something he couldn't put his finger on. \n\n\"Very cautious for someone considering jumping,\" she said. \n\n\"What do you want with me?\" Eduardo asked. \"Get out of here!\"\n\n\"Most men would rather have a companion in their last moments,\" she replied. The woman walked to the edge and looked over it, leaning on her hands. \"This used to be a nice place to live, didn't it?\"\n\n\"How would you know?\"\n\n\"I've visited here now and again. On business. This is the best view, really. I usually don't get to share it though.\"\n\n\"I'm warning you-\"\n\n\"To leave? If I don't what will you do?\"\n\n\"I... I... nothing.\"\n\nEduardo dropped the handgun onto the roof. He got down and sat on the ledge, facing his home. Tears bloomed in his eyes. \n\n\"It's okay. That you didn't force me to go, I mean. There's no shame in abstaining from purposeless violence.\"\n\n\"Violence with a purpose doesn't seem to be all that great an idea, either.\"\n\nThe young woman turned around and leaned on the ledge. She was beautiful in the evening's light, though that fact brought no joy to Eduardo's heavy heart. \n\nShe said, \"I guess that means you've used that pistol before. What was it like?\"\n\nRage filled him. \"Why do you want to know?\"\n\n\"I didn't say I didn't know. I ask you what you thought.\"\n\nThat was when he saw it. Her eyes, her perfect blue eyes, had the same dull look as his did in the mirror. They were the eyes of one who had seen too much, hollow and penetrating.\n\n\"If you know, how can you be so cheerful?\"\n\nThe woman shrugged. \"I've had an eternity, it seems, to get used to the feeling. It has always been for a good cause. That's the difference I think. Killing a man for jealously or anger or money or any other petty reason, that's like a rock in your gut. Killing for a cause, a purpose, however... that's different.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yes. Now... what did it feel like when you killed your first man?\"\n\nEduardo tried to speak twice before the words came out. \"It felt powerful. It was like I was God. I didn't even know who he was. I just shot him and there was this look in his eyes, this surprise... then nothing. I took everything away from him and he was just a limp suit of clothes. The person was no longer wearing them.\"\n\n\"And now you regret it?\"\n\n\"I still don't know who he was, but I'm sure someone is mourning him. I thought about what if it was me and my mama or papa had to come home and find me dead on the front porch. I got sick. I'm still sick. I wish to God I hadn't done this.\"\n\n\"If you didn't know him, why did you do it?\"\n\n\"I was paid.\"\n\n\"By wicked men?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And what are you going to do about it now?\"\n\n\"What can I do?\"\n\nThe woman walked over and picked up his pistol. She looked it over in her hand. \n\n\"This thing, this weapon... it's so simple. A tube, a spring and a little packet of chemicals. Yet, in the right time and the right place, this device has caused tragedy and sorrow. It has started wars. It has also saved lives and ended conflicts. The device doesn't care what it shoots. We do, though. Those who think about it care and know.\"\n\n\"I don't understand your point.\"\n\n\"Seconds after committing one of the worst acts a man can commit, your thoughts were on your family. You have compassion in your heart. You have strength. You came up here to destroy a monster, yet it was monsters that used your poverty to convince you that you should do this thing.\"\n\nShe offered him the butt of the gun and asked, \"Can't you see? The thing you did, it was wrong only because of who you did it to. Can you not see where to apply your strength? Who to point this at? What good you could do with a bullet?\"\n\n\"They would kill me. My papa. My mama.\"\n\n\"Not if you kill them first. Not if you do it with the blessing of the law on your side. Not if you become the thing they fear most: a righteous man who knows that pulling the trigger is an option and who has the will to take that option.\"\n\nEduardo hesitated, but his hand itched to have the gun back in it. \n\nHer voice was like velvet, \"Are you that man?\"\n\nEduardo turned and got off the ledge. He took the gun and tucked it back in his pants. \n\n\"Maybe I am.\"\n\nThe woman stepped forward and kissed him on the forehead.\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked again.\n\n\"Does it matter? You have a purpose now. Go see to it. I'd like to look at your town a little while longer, if I may.\"\n\nEduardo nodded. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Just do what is in your heart.\"\n\nEduardo nodded and then was off, down the stairs and away. \n\nThe woman stepped to the ledge and looked down at the town. She reached up and wiped the flesh from her skull and stripped the hair from her head. She reached out and pulled the night around her, fashioning it into the robe that was her typical garment. She left the scythe hanging from her belt, though... others would do her work tonight. \n\nShe stared out into the night and saw the streets, both then and as they would be in the future, soaked in the blood of Eduardo's crusade, of his self hatred turned out on the gangs. They would quake with fear at his coming and would die by the truckload to his zealotry. \n\nLooking to the sky, she spoke to the one she knew was watching, though she knew he would not speak. \n\n\"See,\" she said. \"Don't ever think I can't fill a quota.\"", "The the taste of the gun was almost sweet. \n\nJerry put his finger on the trigger, willing himself to add just a little more pressure. Just a little more, that's all he needed. A little more and all the problems in the world would go away.\n\n\"It won't work,\" said a voice behind him. \n\nJerry took the pistol from his mouth and aimed it at the voice. Drool dripped off the muzzle. The sights lined up with a cloaked black figure, holding a sickle. \n\n\"If you're here to stop me, there's no point,\" Jerry said. \n\nDeath took a chair and sat down, \"I'm not here to stop you. You may proceed.\" \n\nHe pointed the gun back at his own head at the temple. His hands were shaking, \"I'll do it. I'm going to do it.\" \n\nDeath continued to hold a calm grace, \"I have no doubt that you can commit to the action, but I do have doubts about your desire to do so. You are about to make a choice, and I want to make sure you are informed.\" \n\n\"I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE! Everything has been taken from me. I'm nothing, I'm in so much debt I can't make enough money to pay the interest. This is all that's left.\" \n\n\"Those are called beliefs,\" death said, \"And your beliefs don't leave you many options.\" \n\n\"Fuck you,\" Jerry said, his finger on the trigger.\n\n\"Tell me about your kids,\" death said. \n\n\"They... Are doing alright I suppose. Both are in school. But I can't be a father to them. I'm too much of a --\" \n\nDeath cut him off, \"Now tell me about your wife, when you first met. You must have done something that made her feel loved.\" \n\n\"I... did,\" Jerry said. Tears rolled down his cheeks. \"I loved doing things that made her happy. I loved seeing her do well. I was really truly happy for her when she got that job making more money than I did. The joy in her eyes... I missed being a part of that.\" \n\n\"You see,\" death said, \"There was a time when you were perfectly capable of giving love, and feeling love yourself. Nothing but you is holding you back from having and giving those feelings. You can decide to give up here, or you can try to make a difference in peoples' lives.\"\n\nThey sat for a while in silence while Jerry thought things over. A small smile broke over his lips as he relived the good memories with his wife. \n\nHe looked up at death, \"Why?\"\n\nDeath gave a shrug, \"I like this job. I enjoy connecting with people. And most importantly I can relate to your situation. You see, I was in the same position when death came to me, and I failed to make the decision I needed to make. And now I hold the Sickle.\n\n\"And if you make the same decision, you will hold the sickle, and I will pass on.\" \n\nA shiver ran though Jerry's spine. Then a smile, and a warm feeling in his gut. \n\n\"Will I be seeing you again someday?\" \n\n\"Oh yes,\" death said, \"but only once the time is right.\" \n\n\"Thank you,\" Jerry said. " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 16, 46 ]	[ "1432661455", "1432664156", "1432672587", "1432677041", "1432682021", "1432658779", "1432661776", "1432662076", "1432664440", "1432673777", "1432678611", "1432677656", "1432655394", "1432659695", "1432660933", "1432658661", "1432660925" ]
	[WP] The stranger sitting next to you waiting for the bus asks, "So- what's REALLY bothering you"?	10	[ "\"Good question\" I replied. \"You see, I have been riding this same bus to work for 8 years, and the traffic gets worse every year. What used to be a 35 minute ride now takes close to an hour. I wish that some of these people would find somewhere else to live, or maybe take the train or something instead.\". The kind old stranger gave a knowing smile and told me that it's not so bad, if I stop and think about it for a minute. And so I did. I remembered that the sun is shining today, and I have dinner plans with my wife later on in the evening at that Italian place that we love.\n\nWhen the bus driver announced the next stop, I thought heard a sad, yet oddly familiar voice saying through the loudspeaker \"Oh my poor sweet Pappy, Nanna isn't around anymore; she left us 8 years ago, remember?\". Something about that made me want to burst into tears, but then I remembered that today was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and I had dinner plans with my wife that evening at that Italian place that we love. I smiled at the kind old stranger and thanked him for cheering me up. Then, I decided to close my eyes and nap for the rest of the ride.", "\"I don't know exactly. I can't shake this feeling that I have forgotten something important. Not like 'I left the iron on' important, but more that I forgot to live my life while I had the chance. Once you start earning money, and the bills start to roll in, it's hard to break from the monotony of everyday life, don't you think? It all becomes routine, you don't even think about it until years have passed, you're closing in on 30, sure you have money in the bank, but buying things has never truly made me happy. I've always wanted to see the world, delve head first into cultures I've never heard of, and, as lame as it sounds, I want to experience all the food this good earth has to offer! Fuck it! I'm quitting my job, thank you so much, I'll look out for you when I return from my travels, whenever that's going to be. Thank you so so much.\"\n\nJeff stood up, poured the documents and papers from his bag into a nearby bin and walked back in the direction from which he came.\n\nThe man at the bus stop pulled the bluetooth headset out of his ear, confused as to who the man next to him had been talking to, and why he had emptied his belongings into a bin. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the odd scene that had just played out before him before affixing his phone back to his ear.\n\n\"Sorry, you were saying...\"", "\"So... What's really bothering you?\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\nThe stranger's voice broke the silence. He looked at her, inquisitive, his light blue eyes somehow exuding kindness. It made her feel uncomfortable.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" she asked.\n\nHe shrugged.\n\n\"Something's bothering you. I wanna know what.\"\n\nAn array of answers popped into her mind: 'who are you?', 'what's it to you?', 'why do you want to know?', 'what the fuck?'. None of them were what flew out of her mouth.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess.\"\n\nHe frowned and smiled at the same time. It was odd.\n\n\"It's about a girl,\" he said.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nShe felt heat creep up her neck and onto her cheeks, and she couldn't help but stare at him with a dumb look on her face. She stammered for a bit, but nothing intelligible made it out of her mouth. The stranger smiled again.\n\n\"It's okay.\"\n\nSomething about the tone of his voice sent a calming chill through her spine. She let herself lay against the back of the bench, her gaze sliding up to the skies, and let out a long sigh.\n\n\"I... It's the distance, you know?\"\n\nShe felt he did.\n\n\"And not just physical. Emotional as well,\" she added.\n\nShe saw him nod from the corner of her eye. She took it as permission to go on.\n\n\"I don't know what to do with all this love I can't express.\"\n\nShe closed her eyes.\n\n\"Yeah. I guess that's it. I'm in love.\"\n\nShe waited for an answer. When it didn't come, she opened her eyes, but he was gone. She had a bitter smile when she felt the tears trace their path on her cheeks." ]	[ 1, 2, 7 ]	[ "1432684262", "1432691440", "1432674019" ]
	[WP] A man can stop time at will. One day he freezes time but sees someone else moving.	6	[ "It was a wisp in the corner of my eye. Just a flicker. That sort of thing where it's normally a fleck of dust passing by but you think it's a person, or a shifting shadow to the wind. A trick of refracting light. But you see, that's the thing.\n\nWhen time's stopped, there are no shifting shadows.\n\nI'll be honest, I jumped. Time jolted, moved a fraction of an inch. Like watching a movie where you blink really fast.\n\nI mean. I can fucking stop time. Not exactly a thing where there's a whole lotta movement. Sure, I've done the fun stuff, thrown things and watch them freeze when they leave my hand. Unfreeze rain drops as I ran through them, watching light glimmer through them like stars shining. My own little embers. Hell, I would take hours, throwing books into the sky, watch them freeze, then climb them into the clouds.\n\nI've danced on fireworks, drawn dicks on waterfalls. I once stopped time and followed the sun, round the world. Watched the sunrise shift in shades and hues and it traversed its lonely path.\n\nAnd never once has anyone moved.\n\nShe was young, cute. But scared, running across each street, looking both ways. Like me in the beginning, back when I didn't have enough focus and time could start randomly when I lost it. Running out of time. I chuckled at my little joke. Well, she seemed friendly enough. A female time stopper? Count me in. No time like the present, eh? Eh? Come on, that was funny, dammit.\n\nBut I made my way down the street. It seemed weird, actually following someone, trying to reach them. I'm used to setting up the situation, always swoop in and save the girl, ask her to pay me back by allowing me to take them for coffee. Most girls dig the chivalry. This girl, I was flustered, confused.\n\nWho was she? Why wasn't she frozen? Was she new at this? How long had she been able to stop time? Fuck. Breathe. Breathe.\n\n\"H-hey!\" Hey? Fucking Hey? THAT'S what I go with? Fuck. Scrape this together \"Do you have a minute?\" Saved it!\n\nShe turned at me, eyes wild, face lost. Her mouth was actually agape. Didn't know that was actually a thing. Weird. \n\nStunned, she stopped. Saw me standing there, smiling - and I was looking incredibly charming, mind you.\n\n\"You!\" She yelled. She ran at me. Damn, I mean. A bit forward on her part, but I can work with it. Charging right at me, me being all charming - with my hand outstretched like a motherfucking gentleman. But before I could even introduce myself she reaches me, draws her hand back - in what I was assuming a fist bump - and slugs me. Right in the face. Hard. \n\nKnocks me out cold.\n\nFucking hell.", "Max is bored. He's doing what he usually does when he's bored, and is wandering through the train station next to his house while everyone else is frozen in time. He knows he's only prolonging his day, but he won't keep everyone frozen for long. He reaches into a man's half-eaten bag of chips and pulls out one for himself.\n\nHe finds a girl who's frozen, pen held above a notebook. He wiggles the journal out of her hands and flips through it absent-mindedly. It's poetry, mostly. He feels his own cheeks burn as he remembers the kind of drivel he wrote at her age. He pushes it back to its place and watches as it flips to the appropriate page on its own.\n\nHe keeps walking. The cash register at the pretzel shop is wide open, but he's stopped taking petty cash like that. It would gnaw on his conscience at night, keeping him awake far longer than he wanted to be. Instead, he reaches into a cup of mini bites a customer had just purchased and pops one into his mouth.\n\nMax walks towards the tracks. It was better to be already on the train when time started moving again. He hated having to push through the crowds to board, hated fighting for a seat, the \"oh, no, please, you sit\" fake politeness he found himself using when others were about.\n\nOn the train, he takes a spot next to the window. Max is about to start time running again when it catches his eye - a movement. He almost misses it. It's far away, across three tracks, down at the opposite end his train is at. But when the entire world is frozen, movement is a lot easier to notice. He presses his face against the window. His breath fogs the glass.\n\nIt's a girl. Skipping. Max doesn't know what to do. The girl skips closer. His heart is pounding in his chest. Closer. He can feel a drop of sweat make a path down his back. Closer still.\n\nWhen the girl has closed the distance by half, she stops. Max is pressed fully against the window now, hands around the glass, nose pressed uncomfortably. This is not right. The girl turns slightly, so she's looking towards him. She puts up one hand and waves, each finger moving in turn. Max ducks instinctively. \n\nIt's impossible, he whispers to himself. He pulls himself back up and looks out. The girl is gone. It feels like he can barely breath. And then, all of a sudden, time starts again. \n\nHe stops breathing completely in his shock, just for a few seconds. He hadn't started time again. It had just started. This had never happened before. Max looks around wildly. Something was wrong. Someone else had started time again. It wasn't possible. And yet. He looks back out the window for the girl." ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1432696470", "1432696696" ]
	[WP]Everytime a man kills someone, he saves the lives of ten others.	8	[ "The morality of the Church of the Greater Good was a controversy amongst modern society. The leader of the group was Father Foster. A man who had preached consequential philosophies for his entire life, but only after a recent display has gained equal levels of praise and criticism. Some call it a hoax but the majority of the population knows what they had seen was real. Foster himself had kidnapped ten random people and starved them till they were near death. Then went live after hijacking a major news channel to display his powers. On the screen millions witnessed a man with casually running through his experiment. With him was someone who he identified as a friend who was visibly gaunt, and described himself as near death from cancer. The cancerous man explained the details of his situation. He was relatively close to death and the life waiting for him on a miraculous survival was bleak. He was ready to die and Foster was here to save him, as well as the ten others. At that moment he turned the camera away to save the public eye from the grotesque images and proceeded to kill his friend by the means of a bullet to his brain. We then proceeded to see him quickly run over to his tripod camera and pointed it at the cage of starving individuals. \"Look, look!\" he repeated as the proceeding image showed us the ten caged humans miraculously beginning to regain their previously healthful body conditions. Their faces became fuller, and their half naked bodies became to swell up. Foster had successfully saved all of his victims from starving to death.\n\nAfter his display he was arrested, but his spot in the public eye remained. The ten victims responses to what happened varied. With some of them following him and praising him for his godlike ability, and others feeling confused and angered with the conditions they were kept in for some time. This added to his legitimacy as initially reports from the media issued his stunt as a magic trick. More and more believed in his power after it was confirmed his friend was actually dead. As well as that, sit downs with major interviews presented Foster as wildly intelligent and divine. Around the same time a group called the Church of the Greater Good formed. Not only did they believe in the powers of Foster but they also demanded for his release as he could help others. Their main claim was that he was the ultimate euthanasia doctor, and he could help save more people like they did his friend. \n\nDespite the push for his release Foster still remains locked up. He was sentenced for life but continues to preach his abilities behind bars. Many well-respected politicians are even debating for his usage in serious situations. More and more public figures are giving his actions praise and that we should work with the man, while others fear what harm he could cause and what other powers he could have. What will become of Foster still remains unknown, but with the rising number of supporters we could see his release soon enough... ", "Frank Bagsly sat in the interrogation room, smiling happily to himself. He’d finally done it. All the name calling, all the little injustices, all the evil whispers when they thought he wasn’t looking. Well now he’d gone and shown them! He’d shown them all!\n\nHe could see tomorrow’s headlines now. “A bloody rampage,” they’d call it. “A ruthless killing spree by a sadly deranged mind.” Oh, it had been sweet. The feel of the gun as he fired into the crowd. The screams of terror as the pathetic sheep all scattered for their lives, tripping over each other to escape his reign of vengeance. For three minutes, Frank Bagsly had been a god.\n\nHe hadn’t even bothered running when the police arrived. He’d proven his point. The people in this rotten town would all think twice before pushing another little guy around. They’d seen the monster that lurked just beneath the surface. Even as he was being dragged off to the station, they’d known that they’d come face to face with death.\n\nFrank was still reminiscing when a haggard-looking detective entered the room carrying a thick manila folder. “Sorry for the wait, Frank. My name is Detective Simmons. Can I get you anything before we start? A coffee, maybe? Some cigarettes?”\n\nFrank sneered. “There’s no need for ‘good cop bad cop’ here. You’ve got a town square full of witnesses that’ll never forget my face. I killed all those people, and I’m not the slightest bit sorry. Let’s just get this over with.”\n\nThe detective sat down, dropping the folder on the table with a thud. “Well… about that.” He opened the cover, revealing a crime-scene photo of Frank’s first victim. “Let’s start with him,” he said, sliding it across the table so Frank could see. “Do you recognize this man?”\n\nFrank nodded, grinning with excitement. This was going to be fun! “Why yes detective, I do! I shot that man in cold blood about eight hours ago. His brains sprayed out the back of his head and covered the lady behind him.” He smirked at Simmons. “Nice picture, by the way. Can I keep it?”\n\nThe detective frowned. “Wait… you’re saying you didn’t know who he was?”\n\nFrank laughed. “Nope! Just picked him out’a the crowd! Does that shock you, detective? Do I need a motive to fit into your perfect little world?”\n\n“Well, no,” said Detective Simmons. “It’s just that this man was a wanted religious fanatic.” He pushed across a second photograph, this one of the victim’s chest. His large black jacket had been cut open, revealing a vest of home-made explosives. “The FBI was closing in on him when you opened fire. Apparently he was on his way to blowing up the local stripclub. You probably saved quite a lot of people, Mr. Bagsly.”\n\nFrank sputtered for a moment. “I didn’t, but...” He shook himself. “Whatever! That was an accident, and you know it. What about the others, huh? You telling me that soccer mom was a suicide bomber, too?”\n\n“Actually,” said Simmons, holding up a bloody note inside a plastic evidence bag, “She was a schoolteacher. She was carrying this suicide note when she died, along with an illegally-purchased 9mm pistol. The way the note is written, it seems like she was planning on taking half her class out with her when she went.”\n\n“Oh come on!” shouted Frank. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall the morning’s murder spree. “Okay, um… That little old lady driving the volkswagon! There was an innocent victim if I ever saw one. Shot her right in the chest while she was waiting at a stop light. Whaddya got on her, eh?”\n\nThe detective shuffled through his papers for a moment, then pushed another picture across the table. In it, an old woman in a shawl lay slumped against a steering wheel. “Madame Le’Cruel. Serial poisoner with countless victims to her name. We found at least ten lethal doses of cyanide in her purse, and a spare key to the local homeless kitchen.” \n\nFrank barked out a desperate laugh. “And--and what, that’s supposed to make it all better? I shot nine people, man!” His shouting had grown manic, now. Flecks of spittle flew across the table as he spoke, and his eyes swept frantically around the room. “I’m Frank Bagsly, dammit! A bloody murder! A born killer! And if you let me out, I’ll… I’ll do it all again!”\n\nDetective Simmons scratched his head, looking over the list of remaining victims. “Honestly, Frank… I'm beginning to think that isn't such a bad idea.”\n", "Another one asked \"why\" last night, and I gave him the same answer I've given them all, \"I'm saving lives.\"\n\nIt's hard to live a killer's life, but I consider myself a savior more than a murderer. I save lives, that's what I do. I don't know how or why it happens, but every time I lay waste to another person, ten or so others end up living somehow. \n\nLike right now, if I were to walk up to that man at the end of the bar and slit his throat, ten people, somewhere, would be saved. Maybe a man on life support waking up and living a normal life, maybe a child facing down a speeding car would float into the air and not be roadkill, or maybe someone with cancer would miraculously be cured. \n\nI never know the ones I saved, but I do know the ones I've killed. I try to be pickiest as possible, picking the worst and scummiest humans alive: pedophiles, serial killers, child molesters, rapists, just real assholes, ones that don't deserve to live as much as the next guy.\n\nBut there has been cases that lead to some trouble. One time I was tailing this local pedophile, real dickhead, and eventually I caught up with him in an alleyway. He was short, bald, wore glasses, and was wearing a white puffy sweater over a soft blue shirt. He was scared, almost crying, begging me not to hurt him, that he'd pay whatever I want or provide me with services that only he could provide.\n\nI shoved him against the wall, pushed him down onto the wet concrete, pulled a pistol out form underneath my jacket, and placed the barrel onto his forehead. A waterfall of tears poured from his eyes as he continued to beg, then he offered something I wouldn't consider taking in a thousand lifetimes, I remember it vividly, \"I'll give you my collection! Hundreds, no thousands, of photos and videos of young girls, ages between seven and ten! You could do whatever you want with them! Burn them, eat them, I don't care, just don't kill me! I'll stop, I promise, I'll stop going after them if you let me live!\"\n\nWithout a reply, I pulled the trigger and blood splattered across the walls, some drizzling down the cement onto the ground. When I turned and went to walk away, a white light filled the way, and when I looked to see what it was, it was the man, breathing, staring at me, the bullet in his hand. I'll tell you what, I looked like I saw a ghost, my eyes were so wide you'd though you were looked at two moons.\n\nBut, he didn't last long after that. I was more pissed off when he tried to get up, so I put a whole clip into him, and stood by for a few minutes to make sure he wasn't waking up.\n\nNow you see, that this thing that happens doesn't make too much sense. It's random, I'd guess, luck of the draw you could say.\n\nAnyway, that's my story, believe it or not. Here, I'll pay the tab, let's get going, there's been this one jackass I've been following for months now, and I finally have him where I want him, if you know what I'm saying." ]	[ 1, 2, 5 ]	[ "1432746747", "1432761789", "1432738338" ]
	[WP] Where do the gods go when they die?	1	[ "My aeons in this plane cease. I leave this body & my endless dominion for a greater task. It is true that I, Ruler of the Void & the Stars, lay dying. The one you called Horus is to fault. In the coming Age, I will emerge. My presence will go unfelt by the masses as I return the Void That Was, the formless energy nursery from before existence, but I will persist. Seek favor with any god but Horus until my return. I take another of your gods with me to harvest for my brood. The energies of the Harvest Mother will serve to cradle our children. As I rest my spirit I will raise new gods to consume Horus. As one child serves as my conduit, I will return. Horus will fall.", "Gods die, and that is a fact.\n\nMaybe they don't have funerals where their loved ones gather to cry and tell amusing stories about the deceased and maybe they don't get old and forgetful, but they do die. Their lives end and as most people, they don't want them to.\nThe major difference between us and Them, omnipotence aside, is that they know how and when they'll die.\nIt happens the moment they are born... Well not born, thrust into existence. \nAnd it's not as if they are told a blow dryer will short circuit in the bath, as much as they are given a deadline. A non-negotiable one.\n\nAt the end of it they all scream and kick like children, causing floods, fires, hailstorms and earthquakes, pleading for just a decade more. Remembering all the times they went down to Earth, disguised as peasants and kings, playing tricks on people and inevitably falling in love. \nThere is something about those raven haired villagers that make gods go crazy.\n\nThe invisible hand pulls them out of life the same way it pushed them into it.\nIt pulls them back into a state of nothing, where all past gods are and all future ones await for their turn. It isn't all black or all white, it just is and isn't at the same time. \nPresences float around, unable to do anything. Sometimes they recognize the other ones, the destroyers and the creators. They are usually the ones that are \ntalked about the most.\n\nGods die, and that is a fact. All that is left of them is written word, a couple of hymns and if they are lucky, a statue or a temple. They continue on being until the books rot away and the constructions fall to the dust and dirt.\nAll that is left for them, from that point forward, is to wait with their memories for their turn to play.\n", "The day has come\n\nAnd a God must go\n\n\"What happens when I die?\"\n\nFor he does not know. \n\n\nPerish, he will\n\nAnd go off into the dark \n\nFalling forever now \n\nAnd that ends his spark. \n\n\nAfter it all, he awakes, screaming\n\nhears laughter, sounds of joy. \n\nA man in white, holds you close \n\n\"Welcome to earth, little boy.\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 3 ]	[ "1432898131", "1432892093", "1432892736" ]
	[WP] It's the future. After brain-machine interfaces, came brain-to-brain interfaces, and true hive minds began to appear and permeate society. 99.9% of them are completely harmless. But every few years, an anomaly occurs...	61	[ "Unofficially they were known as ‘Stutter-Bugs’ since they were a glitch, like a stutter, in the collective that would cause it to blow the fuses in the brain, shutting everything down. This lead to one of two possible scenarios: everyone went unconscious, or everything devolved into some sort of cannibal love-fest as the brain slowly melted out their ears. \n\nIf you went unconscious, you had a 41% chance of going completely brain-dead, and a 10% chance of dying. If you went cannibal love-fest, well, I’m fairly certain that bite marks are not love holes if you catch my drift. It’s like the base instincts of ‘feed’ and ‘reproduce’ get all muddled up and people start fucking and eating everything in sight, with everything else falling to the wayside.\n\nSo it was with some distaste that I got a call from my Chief about a possible Charlie-Lima Stutter-Bug incident over on the university’s campus. Fortunately for us, it had occurred in an enclosed space, and a repeat of the Cannibal Club Incident of 2211 was not repeated. That was my first Stutter-Bug case, and my worst nightmare; having to sort through 30 bodies of people who just happened to be in the wrong club at the wrong time.\n\nI was greeted at the door by Private Hollins, who opened it for me.\n\n“What do we have, Hollins?” I asked casually, shucking my raincoat off and trying to keep my voice calm. I was in no way interested in showing just how much brain-diving disturbed me. True, some of the greatest discoveries of our time were made by the hive-mind of a brain-dive; it still didn’t mean I had to like it.\n\n“Eight victims, Lieutenant; five male, three female. Looks like they were trying to sort out a homework assignment,” Hollins said with a slight hitch in his voice.\n\nGod, I thought to myself, it must be really nasty in there. “What project,” I asked casually, trying to keep my own discomfort from showing.\n\n“Some sort of proto-A.I. for their programming class. Level 1a at the highest,” he said pulling out a notebook and flipping through it. Pen and paper, very archaic, but much more secure than a computer network. Police information storage had slowly devolved back into more archaic means in order to preserve it from the media’s private hacking teams.\n\nI cocked an eyebrow, “So, basic speech functions and memory capability?”\n\n“Yes, Sir,” Hollins said. “We already tried asking it questions, but the damage it incurred was too great.”\n\nDamage? I thought to myself. I was almost too afraid to ask. “What damage?”\n\nHollins swallowed hard and put his notebook away. “Well, Sir, they cut holes—that is to say that, during the frenzy, they—“ \n\nHe looked like he was about to be sick so I raised my hand to silence him. “I think I get the picture, Hollins. Maybe we can get something out of it, maybe not, who knows? That’s the tech’s job.” I paused in fake-thought for a moment, really just delaying looking at the bodies, when an actual question occurred to me, “Has anyone contacted Serana Global?”\n\nHollins frowned and pulled his notepad back out, “It looks like Sergeant Miller contacted them two hours ago about the incident. They agreed to look into it, Code 3 Expediency was accepted.”\n\nI nodded, “Hopefully they’ll have something for us this time. These brain-dive cases are getting more frequent.”\n\n“Two cases in the last twelve months, excluding this one, Sir,” Hollins said, checking his notepad. “Approximately a 22% increase since the first incident 6 years ago.” I sighed, deciding that I could no longer put off the inevitable. I motioned for Hollins to lead me to the crime scene, and steeled myself for what I knew I would find.\n\nThe first thing that always hits you from a Stutter-Bug incident is the smell. That’s one thing the media won’t tell you about, since no one wants to hear that. It’s this horrible combination of sex and blood that mixes together into something wholly unique and horrifying. I had worked on two other Charlie-Lima Stutter-Bug cases since the first incident, and it only gets worse each time. \n\nWorking one of these cases was right of passage into the upper echelon of respect and admiration amongst the police force. Few people had the stomach to be able to handle it, and fewer still were able to handle it more than once. I was one of the unlucky bastards that could easily control my gag-reflex, so I got put on the cases more often than the others.\n\nThe room looked like it had been ransacked like an old-school robbery-homicide case. Tables turned over, machinery smashed, the window busted, and eight dead bodies in various stages of undress strewn all over the room. The one thing that separated it from a robbery-homicide was that nothing obvious was missing, and no robber would manufacture so many crude, and obviously dangerous, sex-toys.\n\nThree of the males seemed to have ripped each other apart, and I watched the tech’s sort through which body part belonged to which body. Two of the other males were mostly intact except for the obvious bite marks and holes. The three females had it the worst, looking more like they had been ravaged by wild dogs than by five overly-testosterone fueled males. If it hadn’t been for the fact that two of them were obviously in the middle of pleasuring each other when they died, I would have assumed they were unlucky bystanders.\n\nSquatting down I examined each body in turn, taking mental photographs for later. Not much was known as to the cause of the Stutter-Bug, and so any piece of information about why it was set off would be helpful. That was my job once again, to try and figure out why this happened. We didn’t need to find a murderer; we needed to find a cause, a link.\n\n“All eight were using Serana Global brain-dive technology,” Hollins said behind me. “The tech’s are in the process of extracting their memory cores to see what we can find.”\n\nI looked over at a tech carefully pulling a glowing blue chip out of one of the victims and inserting it into a reader. Sure, we trusted Serana Global to tell us all about their technology in the same way we trusted the media to never skew our reports towards some agenda. We had finally developed our own readers just a few months ago, so this was being used as a test-run to see their effectiveness.\n\n“So the egg-heads over in R and D came up with those? What are we hoping they’ll tell us?” I asked already knowing the answer. Mostly I was just giving Hollins a chance to talk and take his mind off the scene in front of us.\n\n“Well, Sir, the chips keep a log of all thoughts and memories during the brain-dive so that they can be accessed later for use,” Hollins said, seemingly grateful for the excuse to examine his notepad. “The readers will hopefully tell us exactly what was going through the minds of each of the students before the cann—“ he coughed, “Before the incident occurred.”\n\nI nodded my head and stood. One of the techs looked like they were finishing up something, and the look of confusion on their face told me they had something useful. I walked over to him and gently coughed. He turned, to look at me, and the confusion on his face only deepened, which told me he had something really good.\n\n“Lieutenant, how familiar are you with these chips?” he asked.\n\n“They allow the brains to interface with each other; something about brain-waves and techno-babble. I know enough to know that it’s science, and not magic, that makes them work,” I said letting my ignorance fly freely. I had never really learned how they worked as I never had to analyze them.\n\nThe tech nodded, “Well, each chip has specific programming in it for specific processes, just like any computer. So, just like any computer, it has a shut-down sequence.”\n\nI nodded my head, grateful that he was dumbing it down, and urged him to continue.\n\n“In order for a shut-down sequence to be initiated, all running programs have to be terminated. Severe brain damage has occurred before when a chip was accidentally shut down, and there are safety protocols in place to prevent this,” he said as he poked through the readouts from the chip.\n\n“So what you’re saying is,” I said turning to look at the bodies, “Their chips were shut down during the brain-dive?”\n\n“I’m saying it’s possible,” the tech said, “But I won’t know more until I do a further analysis. What I can say, however, is that only 1 chip appears to have been forcibly shut down.”\n\nI cocked my head at that, “Only 1?”\n\nThe tech nodded, “Yes, sir, just 1 chip. It apparently caused some sort of cascade that drug the others down with it. I’m guessing a by-product of the brain-dive.”\n\nI turned and looked around the room. Why hadn’t Serana Global figured that out? Last time we had talked to them they said that there were no abnormalities with the chips after we had sent them off to be researched. Unfortunately, corporations have a right to privacy, so it was possible they were hiding that under Amendment 44, which was their right. It was also possible that they assumed it happened during the incident, which would be logical. However, another possibility was tugging at my brain.\n\nI turned back to the tech, “Would it be possible for someone to hack these chips? Externally?”\n\nThe tech frowned, and for a moment I was worried that he was going to say no. Fortunately, after several minutes he slowly nodded, “Yes, I think it’s possible, why?”\n\nI looked back at the bodies. “If you could do all this without ever leaving your couch, imagine what you could do when you got good at it?”\n\nI heard Hollins catch his breath and I knew he just started thinking about the steady increase. Whoever, or whatever, was doing this, was starting to get the hang of it.\n\nI turned to Hollins, “Call the Cyber-crimes division; it looks like we have a new brand of serial killer on our hands.”\n\n------------\n\nCheck out my [subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42) for more stories", "There was a discontinuity. \n\nI was simply walking to work on a pleasant Tuesday morning, enjoying the comforting buzz of the KolaCorp Mind Collective. As usual, Bob774 had sparked some impassioned debate on the Sector proposal, and sub-collectives had formed around Bob774 and David135. I briefly considered the positions and found myself agreeing more with David. I had just injected my suggestion and votesupport on the contentious point to the Collective discussion when I felt the twisting wrongness.\n\nThe road was quiet – four electric cars humming along the genegrass strip, the trees on each side offering a dappled shade from the morning sun, and the tall buildings of the town vertifarms standing immobile and strong in the light wind. A couple of other pedestrians walked along, undoubtedly connected with their own collectives. The sky was clear, the view was innocuous, but the feeling still haunted me.\n\nInstinctively, I patched through to a diagnostics collective. Eight seconds after logging on – an eternity by some standards, must have been a busy morning – a sub-collective was forming to take in my sense impressions. Fifteen people were tapped in, and three identified the issue – Rachel992, Park223 and Joe168 all snapping my attention and the rest of the sub-collective to the problem.\n\nThere was a closed collective in my local loop. \n\nPrivate and restricted collectives were one thing, and not actually that uncommon, especially for companies and governments. This was a closed collective. As in a mental though gestalt that wouldn’t even acknowledge the presence of other minds than its own.\n\nThe diagnostic group sent a consensus summary. 93% in favor of immediate contact with the Police collective, 7% in favor of non-action. I followed the collective recommendation, and connected with the Police.\n\nThe Police were…more structured than many of the other collectives I frequented. I had to thought-ping my gestalt ident three times to various biocomputer sorting algorithms.\n\nIn the Realworld, a young man had emerged from some stairs between two vertical farms, and was now peering about. I formed a linguistics query and got back the explanation that his actions were suspicious. The concept and definition, as well as examples flooded in. Hunh. Today I learned what suspicious behavior was.\n\nI felt three constables, a detective and nine public supervisory watchers loop into my feed. I opened the gestalt and gave them my sense impressions, plus the new information from the Linguistics. I felt the Police-authorised blanket tap request flood out from me.\n\nThe two other pedestrians, Yusif4412 – a BolterGroup employee, and Sakura746 – a StudentAssoc member link in as well, and the consciousness net expanded. The Watchers authorised surviellence within their own sub-collective, and the Police responded with their most powerful intelligence tool – the Investigative Gestalt.\n\nNew options and senses blossomed through us three “on-sites” as we instinctively organized into our own sub and were granted super-user privileges. We provided our senses, and police sensors and cameras fed into the scene as well. We all became vibrantly aware of the street in a way I had never experienced before. The scene was like one giant fantasy-scape that I could zoom my perspective around at will. I could see myself walking calmly along, no sign betraying my new abilities.\n\nI could focus in closer on the suspicious person. Young, age between 19 and 21, medium complexion, no visible identifying markings. Clothing was Levigap standard fare, from their 2142 collection. There was a small tag on the back of the jeans that marked it being from the store on Main.\n\nTwo Levigap employees and their manager linked into the Investigative Gestalt by invitation, and took a mental snapshot to compare against their customer database. An identity arrived within two-thirds of a second later. Blake Martin, CollectiveID Blake987. Address. Date of Birth – Yusif’s estimate was closest – he was 20 and two months.\n\nThe Police sent a verification ping to the man. A second passed. Two. Three. Four. Five. No response, and no sign that the man had even received the Priority One invitation.\n\nThe Police asked for Action authorisation. The supervisory sub-collective had grown to twenty-eight people by now as more members of the public weighed in on the developing situation. One-fifth of a second later, the decision came. 57% against Action. Request Denied. Surveillance only.\n\nBlake took one look around, seemingly oblivious to the attention that was focused on him, and slipped into a side-alley between Vertifarm 8 and 9. We lost sight of him, only for a new perspective to enter the Gestalt Sensor sub-collective. Sarah158 was walking down the alleyway. Sakura reached her turnoff to the university street and dropped out of the grouping. I still had line of sight, so I stayed in the loop.\n\nSarah saw Blake attach something to a small box on the side of the Vertifarm, and then turn and sprint away. The supervisory sub-collective flickered over to a 50/50 split, and grew by another eight members. \n\nThe small box sparked brightly…and the world came crashing down around us.\n\n***\n\nBlake slapped the disruptor to the side of the nodebox and ran. Brother Alpha had said that it’d only kill any same-thoughters in the area, and leave him untouched, but he hadn’t got this far in the FreeThinkers Underground by blindly trusting.\n\nStill, the no one had appear to have even noticed him, so it was probably no big deal, and he wasn’t ev-\n\nHis thoughts skidded to a halt as his body did, and he desperately threw himself to the side as the electric car veered off the genegrass and into the side of the Vertifarm. The driver was slumped over, head in his hands, and Blake could hear the keening wail through the thick glass.\n\nTwo pedestrians were also kneeling over, hands to their heads and screaming.\nThis was freaking him out. The disruptor should have only hit same-thoughters in an active link if it detected one nearby. Why should all these people be same-thoughting?\n\nThe answer came to him as the driver and the pedestrians snapped their heads up and looked straight at him. Blake became aware of people standing at the edges of the Vertifarm levels, all staring with the same intense gaze.\n\nOh, God no… please no…they were onto me...\n\nBlake turned and ran back to the alleyway, only to see the woman from the far end was marching towards him with a purposeful step, her gaze the same, terrifyingly intense stare. He ran again – out past the advancing drivers and pedestrians, and dived down the steps to the park, taking several at a time.\nHe emerged onto the walkway, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of dozens of people engaged in normal behavior, chatting and talking and walking.\n\nThen that chatter died away, and the inhabitants of the park turned to stare at him. As one, they turned and walked towards him.\n\nA voice reverberated from a dozen throats.\n\n“Blake Martin. This is the Police. You are under arrest.”\n\n“Nononononono….” \n\nHis worst nightmare was coming true in front of his eyes. They’re all zombies! Mindless zombies! And they’re coming to turn me into one of them! The whole world is out to get me!*\n\nBlake let out a scream of pure terror, and tried to run, but it was far too late.\n" ]	[ 15, 53 ]	[ "1432908944", "1432904688" ]
	[WP] The only way to survive is break your morals or personal values, what do you do?	2	[ "“As soon as it turns dark, we’ll strike.” Like a military captain I bark orders to my soldiers, my tired younger brother and my sleepy little sister. “You” I loudly whispered while pointing to my sister, “Gather any empty pots, pans, and jugs you can find.” “You unscrew and unravel our garden snake green hose,” I commanded to my brother. “I will scale the fence and do the deed.”\nMost kids our age would be playing cops and robbers or G.I. Joe. Not us. We were actually on a reconnaissance mission. Not looking for P.O.W.’s, a stolen fighter plane, or even plans for a nuclear weapon. We are on the hunt for a basic commodity in the everyday battle for survival. Only a few more moments until our plan moved from the planning stage to action.\n\nOur neighbors are good people. They never spoke much but they were polite nonetheless. So as soon as darkness consumed our block, it was on. I grabbed one end of the hose while my brother held steadfast to the other end. Over the fence in a single bound like Superman, I ran faster than Carl Lewis to arrive at my destination. Wasting no time I fastened our life line to our neighbors hook-up. “Ready?” I shouted loudly enough for the second in command to hear, but not loud enough for the victims to awake. “Is everything in position?” He nods in agreement. Slowly I turn the handle to the right and out comes our liquid gold.\n\nI hurried up and jumped the fence to ensure we make enough trips to fill the tub up. Baths are vital now. It’s been days in this 100 degree south Texas weather. After filling the tub, we filled jugs to drink from and pots and pans to have water to wash our face and brush our teeth with tomorrow morning. Ten to fifteen minutes later we were done. We have to be discrete because there is no telling how long we’ll have to do this.\n\nThe water company has taken the meter away for repeated unauthorized use. As soon as they would cut off our lifeline for non payment I would turn it right back on. It was easy, all it took was some pliers. My mom showed me how to do it in between jails stays.\n\nI used to think it was my fault. Somehow I believed our life was this way because I was a horrible kid and terrible son. I longed for the things that things that I needed. Not like most kids my age or even most kids at my school, the object of my affection wasn’t the new Air Jordan’s or the black Time Hardaway’s with the gray X. No, the things I lust for are simple, more practical things like running water. They say necessity is the mother of invention, well to me desperation is the father of criminal activities. Of the few morals we were taught, one was to respect our neighbors and their space. But when you are without the basic elements of life all those values don’t hold any value.", "This probably isnt very polished but i just spent 45 minutes on it. Its my 3rd prompt. \n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt is a cold night, even colder than the last few which have been in the lower twenties. I can feel the bitter wind smack my already numb face and knees. The alley-way i am heading into is dark and ominous, lit only by the pale winter moon. I cant believe what im about to do. Hell; i can't believe that this idea even came across my mind, but i know it is what has to be done for my family to survive another week. As i exit the alley and round the corner, i find several men standing next to a fire-pit (or what we like to call nowadays a Hoover Heater.) One of them is holding an American flag. I silently observe them as they slowly light the flag on fire. “Land of the free my ass,” one of them utter. I dig my hands into my jacket pockets and keep going down the street.\n\nThe depression has been going on for about two years. Its December of 1931 and it started sometime in 1929. Although i can't remember the exact day, i just know it was a Tuesday and it was relatively calm. It's all kind of been a blur recently though, like one long, miserable day that will not end.\n\nThe moon is hidden behind black clouds and it's starting to snow lightly as i arrive at my destination: the bakery. I know the man who owns this little shop: John Tates Jr. This shop was his father's before he passed last year, he was a good man. So is his son too, and he doesn't deserve the pain i might just inflict upon his business on this godless hour but i know my family needs me. I haven't worked in two months...I know what must be done to save them.\n\nI pull out the steel hammer i got from the ship making business i was once a part of. The steel is dry ice on my freezing hands. “Lord, have mercy on the actions i am about execute.” I mutter to myself as i bring the hammer next to the glass, which is the only thing protecting the bread from my devious pockets. I suddenly start sweating out of anxiety. If my mother and my father or Isabell (my daughter) seen my doing this… i can't imagine. I was raised right and i'm trying to raise my daughter right. This circumstance seems unfair. I can almost hear my father's voice in the back of my head. “This will not do, God will certainly punish you for stealing and for being unfaithful.” I let that thought sink into the back of my mind for a second, i try to come up with an excuse to why i am about to do the actions i intend on doing. My eyes start tearing up and i look at the ground and mutter to myself once more: “Isabell and Macy need me now. I will not let them suffer anymore.”\n\nI wipe the sweat off my face and tears out of my eyes. Raise the hammer behind me and strike the glass with all my might.", "I was sweating. Sweating more than I ever had before. Did I really want to go through with this? It would mean betraying everything I had ever believed in, with not even a guarantee of success. Yet if I didn't follow the plan then I would be torn to shreds anyway, never going anywhere. Lying and betrayals would be the least of my worries. I swallowed, hard, and walked out into the blinding light and cameras. \n\n\"And here comes our newest Presidential candidate....\" " ]	[ 2, 2, 2 ]	[ "1432945058", "1432949561", "1432952171" ]
	[WP] You live in a society where there is no crime, and doors are left unlocked. Constant monitoring, CCTV, and swift prosecution makes successful crime impossible. Until the day you forget to pay for something at the store, and nobody notices except for you...	77	[ " I stumbled into the nearest corner store I could find, disoriented from a lack of sleep caused by the pressure of school finals, I hear the small \"ding\" of the bell greet me as I passed through the door and kept my head down when I passed by the automated store clerk. I knew I wasn't guilty of anything, but when they first introduced all this new stuff it made me uneasy. It still does.\n\n I started to make my way to the back of the store towards a cooler of precious caffeinated drinks. As I start to select my poison (as anyone of over the age of forty was sure to tell me it was) I glanced up to see one of the hundreds of security cams littered through out the city and immediately bring my head down again. I felt so paranoid with all these creepy things, keeping tabs on everyone all the time.\n\n I walk to the front counter so the robotic monstrosity could ring me up, and a shelf of snacks catch my eye. Naturally I load my arms up with sugary junk and go to check out. I try and fail to carry everything with my arms so I stuff a couple snack bags in my hoodie and continue up front. I dump everything I had on the counter a pay for my purchases. I walk out with my bags and stop as I realized I forgot to pay for the stuff in my jacket. (I know, I know, so difficult to guess that huh?) Immediately I start to panic. \"what would happen to me when they find out? It was only a few snacks, right?\" Being who I am, I dumped everything my car and prepared to hand the robot the money I owe. \n \n When I walked pass the cameras and the alarm stands for the second time that night, a thought occurred to me. Since all the security has been beefed how did I possibly get passed all of it without being caught? Lately every crime has been caught on camera no matter how petty the crime, the perpetrator was caught and convicted. That's why crime rates have been almost nonexistent lately, everyone is scared. While pondering these things I ran to the back of the store and inspected the camera I had seen earlier. No cord or wire of any kind where attached to it, and in fact there was no indication of it being on or functioning at all. I tapped on the metal of it and it sounded completely hollow. I checked the rest of the cameras and I got the same results each time. All of them were fake. I checked the alarm stands too. The were just metal frames with plastic coverings. I grew more curious and decided if the cameras and alarms were fake the cashier had to be too.\n\n I went back to the cashier and inspected it as well. It seemed to be functioning as well as any other android would. I asked it for a pack of cigarettes, and it asked for an ID which I handed over. It scanned it and rung up the smokes. There should have been a alarm or something, I was only sixteen. I took it a step further, because that could have been a fluke. Before it could ring anything up I ran out with my cigarettes. Once again no alarm. It seems as if the government has everyone fooled into to thinking we're all being watched, when in fact it's the opposite. They're too cheap to actually install anything and just rely on people's fear to protect everything. That means all the arrests were probably fake too. I was begging to get too giddy over my new discovery. As a teenager who was always low on cash, my life was about to be so much more fun.", "Sam cursed at the traffic and glanced at the clock on his dash for the hundredth time. Of all days to be late it had to be today. He had been working on this deal for months and it all hinged upon this final meeting with upper management. He could already tell that he wouldn't make it in on time. He had seen the flashing lights of emergency vehicles rush past in the restricted lane and knew that somewhere up ahead someone had been crushed beneath another semi. It seemed those kinds of accidents were getting more and more common ever since the speed limit for commercial trucks had been lowered. What did they expect? He still was perplexed that they allowed them on the same road as other cars. \n\nTaking a deep breath he signaled into the outside lane and got off at the next exit. If he was going to be late he figured he might as well take a moment to get a good coffee for a change instead of the underwhelming concoctions that dribbled from the automated machines at work. Sam pulled into the coffee shop parking lot just off the exit and went inside to place his order with the barista at the counter. While she was making up his order Sam glanced over the finer points of his presentation on his phone. If he was going to be late he knew he'd have to really impress his bosses with his proposal. He knew that it was a good deal for the company but even the obvious benefits he had laid out might be overlooked if he didn't entertain them enough to forget the rudeness of his late arrival. As he grabbed his coffee his phone beeped alerting him that the accident ahead had been cleared ahead of schedule. \n\nSam rushed back to his car beaming with excitement at his lucky break. He tossed his wallet and phone into the passenger seat and pulled back onto the highway where traffic had once again began to trundle along at a decent pace. Pulling into the parking garage at work he couldn't help but smile to himself knowing that this would finally get him the promotion that he had sacrificed so many long hours for. He reached to grab his phone and noticed a few loose bills lying out of his wallet. Sam stared at them for a moment before realizing that he had forgotten to lay down the money for his coffee in his exuberance to leave the store. \"Oh well.\", He thought to himself. It was more than worth a minor citation to have gotten to work on time. He would pay the citation when the notification came in. A minor annoyance but after this meeting and his upcoming promotion he could more than afford a small fine for such a trivial thing. Sam hurried into work with the feeling that things were finally going his way for a change.\n\nThe meeting went better than he could have even hoped for. Management was blown away by his proposal and had been quick to praise him for exemplary work on this deal. Sam got back to his desk and logged into his public account to check the cost of his earlier misstep at the coffee shop. He was surprised to find that no report had been logged for his accidental theft this morning. Usually the central bureau would have tagged it immediately and had the citation waiting in his inbox within the hour but it had been almost a half a day and yet there was no sign that they had even noticed. Everyone makes mistakes, but the central bureau was not just anyone. With their advanced AI monitoring system and constant surveillance they were for all intents and purposes omnipresent. A stolen coffee was nothing in the scheme of things but the bureau drew no distinction between that and any other crime. The system caught every crime big and small alike. He shrugged it off. Surely by the end of the day it would be sorted out. He was in too good a mood to let such a small detail bother him for more than a few moments. Sam promptly forgot about it and went about finishing the rest of his days work which amounted to some minor paperwork finalizing the deal that had just insured his prosperous future with the company. He smiled again. From here on out things were going to be smooth sailing.\n\nSam walked to the parking garage savoring the fact that soon he would have his own parking space and all the benefits that came with it. His wife would be ecstatic when he got home. He had held off on telling her about his project on the off chance that it fell through, but this would finally allow them to start a family without worrying about the financial burden and he couldn't wait to tell her the good news. As he unlocked his car and got into the drivers seat he again noticed the bills in his console that he had forgotten to leave for the barista. He grabbed his phone and once again checked his public account. Still no notification that he had done anything wrong at all. By this point he was starting to grow a bit concerned. He knew it was a small thing, but if they had missed this what other crimes were going unnoticed? To be honest he had only been cited once for violating the criminal code, and even then only for exceeding the speed limit by one KPH. On the drive home he continued to ponder the strangeness of the situation. The excitement of his earlier success all but driven from his mind and replaced with confusion. He couldn't help but wonder what this meant. He hadn't even once heard of the bureau making a mistake and yet his crime had gone completely unnoticed. Finally he decided that the only way he could feel at peace was to test the system once more. Surely he would quickly be cited just as he should be. Besides, he felt like he could afford a small citation considering that he had dodged one already. He was just evening out the universe. \n\nAlthough nervous Sam slowly accelerated his car to just above the speed limit. Nothing happened. The highway cameras didn't flash, no notification buzzed it's way onto his phone, and not a single person glanced his way. Feeling reckless he pushed it up to five KPH over and still nothing. He understood the cameras might have been blocked at the coffee shop or something, but this was the highway. No one broke the law on the highway. Before he could test it any further he noticed that traffic had begun to slow in front of him and slowly he came to stop as emergency vehicles rushed past him for the second time today. He phone beeped and his heart skipped a beat. He looked down with trepidation but instead of the massive fine he expected for reckless driving all he saw was a traffic notice telling him there would be delays. Sam sat there dumbfounded. How is it that no one had noticed? His mind slowly turned over the possibilities. It couldn't be happening all over the city, or there'd be chaos by now. No, he concluded that for some reason his crimes were specifically being overlooked. But why? And how far could he push it before someone caught on? Finally unable to take it anymore Sam did something that he would never have dreamed of doing before, but at this point he didn't care. He signaled over to the side of the highway and steeled himself to pull onto the lane reserved for emergency responders and government vehicles. If he truly was immune to the law this would definitely confirm it. The last time he saw a vehicle so much as edge slightly into the restricted lane the highway had lit up like a Christmas tree as the multitude of cameras and sirens began to announce a major crime in progress. \n\nSam crossed the line separating the reserved lane from the rest of traffic with gritted teeth. But nothing happened. No lights. No alarms. Nothing. In complete shock he began to drive in a daze down the highway towards home, completely unhindered by the stalled traffic beside him or any resistance from the central system. He still had no idea what to think, but he knew one thing. Today he had gone from just another cog in the machine to a man no longer bound by the fetters that held back the rest of society. He didn't know how long it would last but he did know that he was going to take it for all it was worth. Sam turned off the highway towards the nearest bank without even a hint of fear. Afterall, was it really stealing if no one cared?\n\nEDIT: Typo" ]	[ 5, 34 ]	[ "1433030357", "1433026315" ]
	[WP] You're grades are failing and the only way you can pass the class is by cheating on the final. However, the school you attend is renowned to be the school where no cheater has ever gotten away.	8	[ "11:58. He had been staring at the white, prison-like clock hanging above the whiteboard for a while now. His leg was shaking - a nervous twitch he had. The instructor was having a final look at his papers, nodding her head as if she was pleased with the work she was about to hand out. Slowly, the clock was ticking away. He was approaching the hour that would decide it all. 11:59.\n\nHe checked his pockets again. It must have been the eighth time in the last two minutes. He wanted to be sure. The neatly folded paper brushed against the inside of his hand. It was still there. He knew he should not be doing this. The school would not let any cheaters get away - especially not him. Not after the incident last week. The exams had always been in his teacher's desk a week before the class had to take them. Needless to say, he tried his luck to get the papers, even if it meant being expelled. Luckily, it was the janitor who walked into him in flagranti. He got away with a warning.\n\nThis time it was serious. He knew it was wrong, but he had to pass this exam. He just had to. The clock was now approaching twelve. The instructor started handing out the papers. He took a deep breath. His nerves were getting to him. Could she see him sweating? 12:00. \n\n\"You may now start.\"\n\nHe had a look at the paper. Hopeless. Numbers he had never seen before, letters mixed together in unorthodox combinations, pictures depicting various scenes he could not decipher - none of it made sense to him. He was going to fail. He would have to go work at some coffee shop for the rest of his life, if he was lucky. He decided to take the risk. The paper was still in his pockets. Slowly, as to not make any suspicious noises, he took the note out. Unfolding it in his lap, he lowered his head the tiniest bit.\n\n\"Desk 38. This school does not tolerate cheaters. You may hand in your paper and leave silently\"\n\nStartled, he looked up. The instructor was not even looking at him. How could she know? It did not matter, for he had failed. He knew he should not have done it. He knew he would have gotten caught. He knew this was the end. Handing the empty paper in to his instructor, he left the room. 12.01.", "Sally leaned over to pick up her pen. But that’s not where this starts. Hold the image in your mind, though. It’s a good image. Sally knows how to pick up a pen. \n\nShe had me on the first day. I knew what her game was all about, but I didn’t let that get in the way. People like Sally don’t walk into lives, they glide through them. I was just happy to be her backdrop for a while. When she fell in beside me in the hallway, I matched my steps to hers. When she handed me her books I took them without pause. She didn’t have to ask me if I would carry them. She knew that I would carry her whole being down a long path to hell, and that’s exactly what I did - I carried her to hell and came back smiling.\n\nMy life was mostly shielded from surprises. I always had a plan that carried me to a goal. My current goal was finishing pre-med with a high grade point average so I could get into a good medical school. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to be a doctor. I am not a martyr seeking to work long hours helping the huddled masses. I just want to be rich. I figure being a rich doctor is easier than being a rich garbage man, though, so here I am. \n\nSally was the first goal I never planned for, and that led to quite a few surprises. When she copied my papers, I didn’t care. I let her turn hers in first so that mine would get flagged for plagiarism if I didn’t change enough wording. It kept me on my toes and made me look at the world from two different perspectives. When she asked me to complete her exams for her, I did. We even had a system for the proctored tests where I would log in as her, finish her test first, signal her to leave, and then work on mine. Professors didn’t pay enough attention to what I was doing to catch on. They were usually too busy watching her slowly leave. When she winked at them on her way out, I knew it was meant for me. \n\nThe only class that gave us trouble was physics. There’s something about physicists. I’ve never met one that I couldn’t learn to dislike. They size me up like I’m an unbalanced equation that they don’t care to sort out. That’s the feeling I get from them, anyway. Maybe I’m just projecting my own dislike for the unbreakable laws of the physical universe onto the people closest to them. Our physics professor required that we show our work. Sally didn’t have trouble showing my work, but I had trouble not duplicating it for my own submissions. There are only so many ways to put a rocket into orbit. The first time I was caught I lost credit for an entire exam. That was a full twenty percent of my grade gone in one keystroke. The professor was kind enough. He told me that he liked Sally and didn’t want me taking advantage of her. She was a straight A student that was going to be somebody, someday. I didn’t argue with him. She already was somebody, if you asked me. \n\nFrom then on I had to enlist the help of others. A freshman did my homework so I could do Sally’s. Different handwriting, different thought processes, different paper, everything was different enough to avoid another failing grade. The professor surely noticed the sudden change in logical approach, but I didn’t care. With the twenty percent gone, my perfect GPA was already blemished. I just needed to survive the class without being suspended. Failing was not an option. That was never part of the plan. The professor had warned me that no cheater had ever passed his class. I say warned, but it was more likely a threat. It didn’t matter. I didn’t intend to get caught again.\n\nOn the day of the final I slipped Sally an answer sheet. I had bribed the teaching assistant to give me a copy of the problems so that I could work through them for Sally. The plan was simple, I would log in as Sally and take the exam while she did whatever it is she usually does during exam time. I would signal her when I was done and she would turn in the answer sheet showing “her” work. After she left, I would log in as myself and take the exam again, this time getting a few different questions wrong than she had. I had the freshman write up my own solutions and I kept the original answer sheet for reference in case anything unexpected came up. It was just like we had done a dozen times before in different classes, so there was nothing to worry about. \n\nThe timer started and I logged in as Sally. I took a long enough time to make it plausible that Sally was working through the problems. She was known as a fast student, though, so nobody thought twice when I made a quiet cough to let her know I was done and she started gathering up her things. The professor looked over to her, smiled and nodded. I am sure he was proud of how well he had taught her throughout the semester. I am sure he was thinking of other things about her, too. I couldn’t blame him. I am sure we all were. \n\nAs Sally passed me, her bag strap brushed across a stack of papers on my desk. The answer sheet slid out of the stack and with a whimsical flourish, spiraled its way to the floor. The professor shifted his gaze to the sheet and a look of puzzlement overcame his face. He wasn’t sure what he had seen, but he made motions as if he was going to come and investigate. I considered my options. I needed to retrieve the paper without looking guilty. I just needed two seconds without the professor staring me down to get the sheet back into its stack and away from his prying eyes. In situations like this, you think your pulse is going to quicken. You think your face will turn red and everyone will see you for the hollow fraud you are. My pulse slowed. I heard each beat of my heart, distinctly, in a common cadence. One-two. One-two. One-two. The professor locked his eyes on mine and I smiled. \n\nAs he stood, his expression changed from one of puzzlement to one of newly sparked anger. Some tinder part tucked deep away inside of him had snapped and ignited. I cocked my head to one side and peered at him. There was no way out, now. The game was over and I had lost. The realization washed over me, bringing a sense of calm that only the condemned can understand. \n\nThen Sally dropped her pen. As she turned around to pick it up, she gave me a wry smile and a wink. The professor froze for an instant as he watched her turn her back to him and bend over. In one fluid motion she gathered up both the pen and the cheat sheet. She moved as if she had prepared for her entire life, practiced turning and stepping, leaning and bending, a gentle flick of the wrist, and folding of paper, all perfectly choreographed just to play out in that one instant. As she stood, she folded the paper twice and tucked it into the front pocket of her skirt. She approached the professor, moving within inches of him, then leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He blushed as she stepped back and handed him her completed answers. She held his gaze for a moment too long and then let out a long sigh before turning to walk away. A ferocious silence overcame us as every eye in the room followed her to the door. She opened it with a gentle motion, twirled out of the class, and quietly closed it behind her. After a few moments, the room slowly began to return from its collective dream. The silence was first broken with a single keystroke, and was followed by scribblings and the tearing of paper, more keystrokes, and a scattered coughing and shifting of seats. The professor returned to his chair and stared into the distance for a while with a slight grin on his otherwise solemn face. \n\nSally really knows how to pick up a pen. That girl is going to be somebody someday. \n\n\n", "Kevin waited to get his midterm back. He needed a 70 to raise his grade to passing. The papers slapped the desk; Kevin noticed the shiny red 54 at the top and groaned. Now he only had the final to boost his grade, he would need an 86 to pass. He thought hard and formulated a plan. \n\nIt would take weeks of preparation to get away with it. He knew he had to commit it all to memory, writing it down was a sure way to get caught. For the following four weeks, he acted completely natural. He did his assignments, read his textbook, and completed the study guide. Nobody had a clue. When the test rolled around, Kevin activated his plan. It worked. He got a 90, passing the class. Nobody ever caught on." ]	[ 2, 2, 6 ]	[ "1433032341", "1433105842", "1433029452" ]
:)	[WP] You've enjoyed good fortune most of your life. Nothing extraordinary, you've never won a lottery or such, but you've always collected small mementos that you believe enhance your chances of winning. Today, everyone seems to be after your lucky charms...	16	[ "It all started when I woke up. The sun was shining, not a single cloud in the sky. Something was off. I looked around my room. Nothing particular struck me as changed. I got dressed and continued my daily routine down the hallway. After getting ready for work, Alfred, my butler began to call the limo. \nBreakfast was next. I usually skipped it, but the meeting with our rivals would definitely throw me off balance for the rest of the day.\n\nAnd then I knew. I ran upstairs, bumping into Caterina doing my laundry, and Whiskers, my cat. I punched in the key code for my secret room. \n\nThank god.\n\nMy trinkets were intact.\n\nI walked back down the stairs, exhausted from the mini marathon I had just run. I got ready to open up the pantry, imagining the sweet goodness of the one guilty pleasure cereal that could satisfy my sweet tooth.\n\nShit.\n\nALFRREEEEEDDDD!!!!!! WHHEEEEEERRREEEE ARRRREEEE MYYYYY LUCCKKKKY CHAAAAAAARRRRRMMMSSS!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!?", "I have been on the run for three weeks now. Somehow I have stayed undetected for a few days. Only four still remain. The gold star I had to hide deep in the ground, where its light will never be seen. The ballon floated away days ago, and the blue moon cheese was my last source of food. I am still on the run however, and some of these things are slowing me down. I have had to melt down there horseshoe I have been carying, the weight was to much. And the clover went into makenie the fire burn even brighter. The hourglass counts till I am through, but none know the last trinket is embedded in my chest. \n\nThere are the voices, deep int wh woods, chanting that hunting tune. And all I can think is: they're after me lucky charms!", "All my life I've had good luck, \nborn under the shamrock's sign. \nCollecting trinkets of no real value, \ntheir little magic mine. \n\n\nFirst I found the clover leaf, \nits little petals green \ndid give me passage safe to home \non my two-wheeled death machine. \n\n\nThen the horseshoe steel and curved \nI found late last October. \nIt really did come quick to hand \nwhen we knocked over that store owner. \n\n\nThird came down the shooting star \non a black night's furious ride. \nIt came in handy to stop the car \nwith state troopers that was behind. \n\n\nBut today it seems my lucky charms \nappear to be the treasures \nthat everyone envies from east to west, \ndespite my best endeavors. \n\n\nThe friends that I have made in this \nunlikely group of riders \nhave turned to enemies before \nI could make their fortunes wider. \n\n\nSo sadly I must leave my biker gang, \nwith my trinket bag in tow. \nTheir lucky little leprechaun \nand his luck they must let go. " ]	[ 2, 3, 4 ]	[ "1433198603", "1433180417", "1433172308" ]
	[WP] Scientists can bring back from the dead one person per year who died in the last 500 years. The choice is made by public vote and almost always predictable... until now.	10	[ "After fifteen years of rejuvenation technology hitting its peak, many of the obvious candidates were already rebirthed. George Washington was already six years old, Ghandhi was beginning puberty, and Nikolai Tesla was teething. Everything was working well, and people were more optimistic than ever before about the future. \n\nDr. Ambrose, director of the Eternity Project was one of fifteen individuals who knew the whereabouts of any of the fourteen rebirthed people. They were simply placed in orphanages where they would be given to very good parents. His employees ensured that the children were well taken care of, that's all there really was to do. Ambrose guessed that at least one of the current fourteen wouldn't make it to adulthood; accidents did happen. \n\nHe was disturbed at his desk when Susan, the project secretary ran through his open door. \"Sir!\" She said, instantly inhaling over and over again after making her exclamation. \"What is it?\" Ambrose asked. \"What's got you so out of breath? \" \n\n\"We've just confirmed it! The final votes are in! You'll want to see this.\" Ambrose jumped out of his chair and followed Susan, who was running. I finally caught up to her as she slowed to a stop in front of our main monitor, the size of a full warehouse wall. Doing the impossible did have its financial perks. The wall displayed the top ten choices of the year, as well as colored dots matching those persons across a map of the planet. Ambrose wanted to know how people voted, and where they were gaining support. Normally a clear majority would break out, Tesla was the first person who was voted in under 60%. This time, the map was much different from normal. All of the top ten had less than 15% of the votes. And several large areas were dark. That meant that the votes there were for other people below the top ten. That hadn't really happened before.\n\n\"Susan, who is the official winner?\" Ambrose asked.\n\n\"Well, Deng Xiaoping of China has the most at 14.8% sir. But as you know, the official rules state that a winner must be chosen with 50% or more of the world vote to be the true winner.\"\n\n\"That's correct.\" Ambrose stroked his short beard. He hadn't even thought this would be a possibility. He assumed a European leader would garner a strong coalition from the Europeans and Americans, but that had apparently been shrugged off by the US who wanted Lincoln, and South America who wanted different football legends to return. \n\n\"Well, we'll do nothing. No one is rebirthed this year.\" \n\n\"What? But sir! This is the most useful tech invented in the last hundred years! And you're just going to let it waste away?\"\n\n\"Yes. This is powerful tech Susan. I can't play with it and twist it to my wants, and no country should either. If we allow this Deng gentleman to win and be returned, The strongest national interest will always win. We need this to be Earth's next hero reborn, or this tech will be corrupted and wasted. Go ahead and send the message. No one gets rebirthed without a global majority.\"", "A group of scientists walk slowly down the main aisle in the House of Reincarnation, headed for the door. However this is not a regular group of scientists, these scientists hold the, not yet revaled, results of the annual reincarnation vote. A rather large crowd is waiting eagerly outside the stairs to the building, and bit further away you can spot tents and camping supplies, as it has become a tradition to camp outside the House of Reincarnation to be able to get up front. The closer you get to the main building when the reveal happens, the better the look you'll be able to get at the reincarnated being. A loud roar from the crowd is heard as the leading scientist walks up to the podium in front of the entrance. It's only a matter of seconds until the roar turns into complete silence. The scientist draws a breath and brings his head closer to the microphone.\n\n\"We have worked long and hard to gather up the results, and we'd just like to thank our lovely country, the United States of America, for making this possible\"\n\nThe people clap loudly and then quickly return to their state of silence and anticipation.\n\n\"In a few seconds I will open the door behind me and reveal what you, the citizens of this lovely country, have choosen to be reincarnated,\" says the scientist and walks over to the side of the door.\n\n\"Citizens. I present to you...\"\n\nThe door opens slowly and light begins to shine on a figure.\n\n\"Adolf Hitler!\"\n\nThe crowd gasps, as none of them were expecting this travesty. Adolf Hitler, the most evil man to ever live and die, is reincarnated? Hitler slowly walks up to the podium.\n\n\"Sieg heil,\" he yells into the microphone.\n\nScreams fill the air as all the people start to run around like mad cows. The scientists look at each other with odd looks.\n\n\"Why are they running? Didn't they vote for this?\", says the leading scientist\n\n\"I'm not sure...- oh my god,\" says one of the scientists.\n\n\"What?! What's going on?!\"\n\n\"I held the results paper upside down. Hitler got negative 100 votes.\"\n\nThe leading scientist's stare grew cold.\n\n\"Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have put you in charge of the reincarnation! And who won?\"\n\n\"I don't know... I can't read\"\n\n" ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1433291345", "1433239995" ]
	[WP] Modern day Soldiers are on the front-lines of first contact for an alien invasion of Earth. Many soldiers don't know what they are facing. When, through the fog of war, a battalion of Storm-troopers appear.	13	[ "When the ships appeared in the sky we had no warning. It wasn't quite like the movies. They didn't just attack the United States, or go after the landmarks like Big Ben and the Eiffel tower. They went after New york yeah, but only because of its size. In fact they targeted based on largest populations, so the first attacks came in Asia. Tokyo, Seoul, Shanghai, Karachi, Delhi, had immediate blackouts. \n\nThe order of surrender didn't come in the form of a White House lawn landing a demand to the president or the UN. Just an overwhelming broadcast on all frequencies in Chinese, English and Spanish. They simply stated they had no regard for our culture or nations and that we were to submit to Imperial rule and governance. After that they just started looping it. \n\nWithin minutes every military in the world was on full alert. Just as quickly the aliens began to land. We had no idea what they were, what they looked like, or where they came from. Just that they were coming for us. It didn't take long for orders to appear. My part in this started when my battalion was the closest to the Dallas Texas invasion zone. They hit dirt about the same time we got there. \n\nThe flashes in the sky told me the Air Force fly boys were already at work earning their paychecks for once. The Chinooks put us down outside a suburb where the cops were busy evacuating civilians with National Guard starting to trickle in to help them. There was no time for an forward base to setup the aliens had already begun digging in themselves. Command wanted us to prevent that from happening. \n\nSo we rallied up and started towards them. We could see the column of ships rising and falling from their landing zone with a swarm of aircraft and explosions around it. As we got closer we started seeing wreckage of jets and whatever they used. The green flames and purple smoke were eerie. Then our APCs and Tanks crested a rise and we saw them, already numbering in the hundreds. \n\nA field of white armor, and gray war machines. Prefabricated buildings and huge armor pieces were being carried into place whole straight from orbit. They wasted no time opening fire. The Hummer next to us evaporated in one hit, everybody else began the shoot and scoot routine. We popped out of the carriers and began moving through cover. The Open Field was obviously going to get us killed in a hurry. \n\nThe distance closed quick. A buzzing hum was our only warning before flying bikes began ripping through us. Air support was trying to get through but spotty at best. Getting a hit was tricky but the RPGs could take out the smaller craft. Then we finally got personally acquainted with the Stormtroopers. They were covered head to toe in thick ballistic plate armor. Some kind of mix of ceramics and plastic. \n\nNothing smaller than a .44 could punch through it, so we had to go after the soft spots in the gaps. They had smart tactics but weren't afraid to swarm and lose numbers. They were using something not quite like a ray gun. They weren't lasers like we know them that go straight out and have continuous line. Rather they were bolts with a slight explosive effect. They burned like hell though. I took a couple near hits, and the wounds were cauterized by themselves. \n\nThe tanks and vehicles had better luck than us grunts. Once a full armored division showed up we managed to start pushing them back a bit. They were jamming our radios so we had to resort to hard lines a lot. Air support was failing, and we couldn't get into the their forward base. So when artillery came online it was a god send. \n\nThey had started putting up some kind of barrier though. Hard bombardment punched through with after a few volleys. We cheered when the explosions shook the ground. The cheers stopped when the walkers came. The small two legged ones were fast and vicious but concentrated fire could take them out. The four legged ones were much harder. My battalion had been cut to shreds but we were told to stay in it. \n\nThe entire armor division was reduced to ribbons by just two of the towering four legs monsters. Finally they went down after the chopper pilots got creative with their cargo winches. The artillery kept up the rest of the day until we were forced to ground by the Empire's air patrols. Finally we had reduced their LZ to rubble. We were too tired to celebrate. \n\nIt was almost midnight as my squad started picking over the remains of the enemy forward base. Command had stated it was imperative to capture and re-purpose enemy tech. Then the sky lit up. I looked and watched as a storm of green bolts began to stream down from orbit. We ran but it didn't take long to realize we weren't the main target. Dallas was. \n\nI watched the city I had spent my weekend in burn to the ground in a couple hours, helpless to stop it. The Empire was cold and ruthless, and willing to do anything to win. I sank to my knees and cried then, knowing the end would not come quickly. \n", "The battle was swift. Unable to hit any of our soldiers, they were quickly wiped out, and their ship captured.", "The reporter felt sick. Blasted guy! \nHe was supposed to be filming an article about some safe, totally uninteresting subject, when hiss boss came in and, of the 42 people working on his floor, picked him to get his ass off the Ikea chair and off to the battlefield. \nBlasted guy! \nThe Humvee was hot, the supplied rations of water not way enough to feed just him, let alone two other unlucky souls that had been dumped with him to film everything that would happen here, and the wait was terrible. In front of him, four battalions of the United Nation's bravest (though not necessarily best) soldiers waited anxiously. They had chosen positions accordingly: an alien ship, descending towards the Earth, must have superior sensors to our own. Fearing that a simple cover wouldn't work, the top brass of the United States army was so kind to outfit a single battalion with stealth armor. Technology that was supposedly years out of reach, and now they managed to outfit 750 men and women with it? Chris cursed. He much rather would be investigating this cover-up instead of hauling his ass to the first inter-planar battlefield in the history of mankind. That the whole world would be watching lil' old him was just scant comfort. He'd probably be dead in the first minute anyway. Aliens man... come on. The army wouldn't stand a chance. \nFive minutes ticked away. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. God... the wait... finish it already! \nTick. Tock. Tick... \"We have contact. Alien vessel has landed. Hailings in all available bandwidths have been ignored. S-team, prepare for deployment. Alpha Battalion, hold your fire until we're sure the aliens are hostile. May God have mercy on our souls.\" \nThe radio chatter awoke Chris out of his trance. He sighed. \"Come on guys, on to our five minutes of fame. Edward, I really like your sister. If we survive this, please don't be mad at me. I was going to tell you next week. Daniel, you're a son of a bitch. But I really liked having beers with you.\" \nHis cameraman and audiodude just gave him an annoyed stare. This was the moment he picked to tell them? Not that it mattered anyway... The three of them climbed out of the top hatch of the Humvee, positioned themselves... \n\"This is Chris Hemmingway, coming to you live from the first inter-planar battlefield for BBC World. As you all can see, the alien ship has landed and our brave army is getting ready to confront whatever exotic creatures might emerge from it!\" \nChris looked back to the scene (he hadn't even glanced at the ship yet)... And realized the term \"exotic\" really was out of place. It was... a ship. A bulky, grey ship. With wings. An emblem. Some marking. All in all, while he couldn't understand what they meant, it didn't actually look all that weird. Could be a Russian ship if you'd replace the letters (if that's what they were). Prime time, world wide television... and he manages to screw up. Good thinking Chris, talking first then looking. Ugh... \nThe base of the ship was covered in a fog of dust. A few clanks were heard across the battlefield, even audible from this distance, and shadows moved along them. In front of the first battalion, Alpha, a small band started playing music. Sure, you've got 3000 guns pointed at you, but a bit of music will let you ignore all of that? Stupid brass... Chris really couldn't care anymore. He just wanted to get out of there! \n \nThen the shooting started. \n \nRed bolts spliced the air. The fanfare stopped playing and ran for cover. The Alpha battalion started to return fire. \n\"As you can see ladies and gentlemen at home, it is a catastrophe! The aliens are undoubtedly hostile! What looks like lasers are everywhere! The fog has just started to clear... It appears like soldiers have emerged from the ship! They don't seem to be disturbed by the heavy fire laid down by our own troops...\" \nIndeed, the alien soldiers, donned in white armor, just kept shooting. Ricocheting bullets were hitting the spaceship; it was obvious that they didn't do any real damage. Then again, the red bolts only managed to hit a few men or so. Almost as if them hitting target is more of a coincidence then meaning... \n\"It appears the alien soldiers are not so good with their aim, ladies and gentlemen! On the front line, we see a few brave men and women have started impaling the enemy. It is utter chaos! The... Wait, what's that?\" \nA flurry of motion next to him broke Chris' sentence. The camera, too, swiveled to the side. Tanks! That's odd. He didn't know there would be tanks. Nobody had told him, anyway. And the design was pretty unfamiliar too. There wasn't a regular barrel on top. It was something else entirely... As the tanks rolled by, Alpha battalion split in two. On the left and right, red lasers appeared out of nowhere, clearly marking the enemy. They're being tagged... is that the Stealth battalion? \nAnd at that moment, a shockwave almost sends Chris and his team careening off the Humvee. As he regains his posture, he sees a large swat of the white armors have been flattened. And splattered. They quickly try to regroup, but it's of no use. One of the tanks blasts off a wing of the spaceship, three others make short work of most of the aliens still standing. \n\"It... would seem this battle is over, people at home! The enemy is defeated! Celebrate together!\" \nAt that moment, Chris gets a message in his Bluetooth earset. \"Yeah, it;s over there. Get your ass back, the boss wants to have a word with you. Something about exotic and stuff. And your next assignment.\" \nDisappointment is followed by excitement. A new assignment! He might like this job after all... Chris doesn't even notice the annoyed looks from his team... \n \n*** \n \n\"Was that really necessary?\" Admiral Dune tapped his fingers on the table. With him, the combined leadership of the United Nations stare at the live Tabernas feed. \n\"It was. This was just a small show to show anyone else looking on that we have what it takes to repel anything that poses a threat to us.\" Rear Admiral Blake, a tall American, leaned backwards. \"We didn't even have to activate our own laser battalion. The Railgun tanks were more than enough and it appears the Stealth Battalion worked like a charm. What's there not to like?\" \nBlake chewed off the top of his cigar and spit it into a corner. \nDune clearly isn't satisfied with this answer. \"These images will go round the world. We knew, but now the whole world knows. They're Stormtroopers, for god's sake. If there really were a Darth-Vader-whats-his-name with them, it would've been a disaster!\" \nBlake takes a yawn and shrugs his shoulders. \"There wasn't. Now quit yer whinin'. We've got an alien ship to dismantle!\" \nThe generals all begin standing up, congratulating eachother on their success this day, and make their way out. Dune is last. And while he walks outside, nobody seems to notice the worried look on his face... and two little metal balls he levitates in his hand..." ]	[ 1, 5, 6 ]	[ "1433352194", "1433319945", "1433324276" ]
	[WP] A philanthropic alien gives an Ironman-like suit to a potential hero... but it has a finite power source. Write the story of the hero who has to say, "No" a lot so he can help when it really matters.	5	[ "It was December 22nd. It was a snowy evening, nearing night. I had been driving through the plains of the Midwest, to visit my family at their farm, and was pleasantly surprised to find it lightly snowing. I had bent to turn on my windshield wipers, when I saw it on the edge of my vision - a streak of light, brighter than the sun. There was nobody else out here in the middle of the nowhere, so I slowed the car to get a better look at what I thought to be a meteor shower. Before I realized that the streak was getting larger, not smaller - it crashed in the grasses, just a few miles away.\n\nThe car rocked as the shockwave swept past it, and I squinted to see through the suddenly-blinding light, as if lightning had struck. I could make out the shadows of a mushroom cloud, and that's when I had to make my decision. You know, as a kid, I had been raised to fear the mushroom cloud - they had drilled that into our young minds, and that fear was something we had to live with everyday, constantly looming over our heads, the threat of missiles and bombs. That fear chilled my heart, paralyzed me for too long - but I gritted through it, and when the light died down and the shockwave swept past, I ran to the crash site.\n\nLeaping over a hill, and glimpsed the crater for the first time - and shuddered as I realized I was looking at no earthly technology. I shuddered, out of a mixture of awe and fear, and stood dumbstruck, just gazing down at the UFO. If there was life down there - regardless of whatever kinda life it was - I would help it. I'd gone through my share of horrible situations in the war as a medic, and it had always been worth it just to save one life. This was nothing compared to bullets whizzing by and tanks rolling towards you. And with that, I slid down the hill, and scrambled to get to the ship, to see if there was anyone - anything - to save.\n\nAs I approached the ship, I could feel a turning, a twisting in the air like the opening a doorknob, then a yank. The metal of the ship peeled away, and I saw a man - what seemed a man - sitting in the crater. Pale, tall, gaunt, hairless - he was man-like, but I could tell, with a primal certainty, that this was no man. It was an alien. Quickly, though, my senses skirted around the whole \"not human\" part, and I appraised him according to my training. He was badly wounded, even I could tell that much. While I might assume the construction of an alien's legs could be different than a man's, the fact they both faced different directions was a bad sign. Pale pink blood dripped from multiple wounds, and he was barely able to stand - yet he did. I threw out my hands, shook my head, but realized I had no idea how to signal I wanted him not to move. Shaking the head, that's not even a \"no\" in every culture, let alone to an alien... I had no idea what to do.\n\nBefore I could even attempt to help the alien, it - it spoke to me. Not true speech, mind you, but a psychic contact, ideas without words, that skipped my ears and leapt straight to my brain. So many things swept through my head at once. Apology. Regret. Family. Duty. Disaster. Potential. Choice. All of these ideas converged, like rivers meeting the ocean, and my vision swam as I struggled to stay standing through the psychic deluge. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. And I realized what was happening, what had happened.\n\nThis alien was dying, and it was sorry - infinitely sorry - that our first meeting with aliens had to be like this. But it had a duty, a reason to be here - a disaster it had to prevent. If it was dead, it could not defend Earth against this disaster. But in my heart, my actions, ti saw the same potential it had been chosen for. And it wanted me to choose whether to take up its mantle.\n\nI had felt the horror of the disaster in my mind. I had seen what would happen to Earth, if unprotected - it would be worse than the Earth becoming a barren wasteland. It would be an endless landscape of horror, infinite pain and suffering, a hell in space. The choice was to take a heavy mantle, to burden one man to save a planet. \n\nI couldn't say no.\n\nI wish I had.\n\n-\n\nA year later, I was a superstar. Well, not exactly me - the suit I had been given, a kind of organic metal that also made up the alien's ship, also covered my entire body, and I had never made any effort to reveal my identity. My wife made enough money to support the kids, and with the help of my veteran checks, I was able to take care of the kids just fine as a stay-at-home dad. There was no need to exploit my sudden fame to make money. And I had no desire to become a celebrity. So I just let the media run with it - a mystery hero, straight out of the comic books, saving lives and stopping disasters.\n\nBut real life isn't like the comic books. I didn't fight many criminals, or any supervillains. I didn't have super-hearing - my suit gave me limited 'telekinesis' (a term I had learned when researching in the library what exactly my powers were... the suit had a psychic interface to use, but it wasn't exactly optimized for a human mind, so it was pretty unclear and even cryptic at times.), but that's it. I could levitate anything, and I'm not too clever of a guy, so I mostly used that power to fly or move things around. But that power was all you really need to carry people out of burning builds, or save them from drowning at sea, or stop a school shooting.\n\nThe weight of my burden was heavy, of course. I couldn't save everyone, and I knew it. I could only save the peoples' lives I knew about, and that was a problem. I became attached to the news and radio, constantly attentive for local disasters I could help with. I had no concern about my identity being discovered - again, no supervillains - so I focused on the largest disasters that were the closest. Time that was spent flying to a distant disaster was time that others spent dying. \n\nI had learned triage as a medic. In a hospital - or worse, a battlefield - you have to remain objective, evaluate the resources you have available, and decide which lives are more urgent to save than others. Years as an EMT, medic, nurse, had hardened me to the task. But I had also quit my job because of the feelings I tried to choke and kill in my heart - it's impossible to ever truly become cold, when I chose this line of work because I care so much.\n\nFor the first year, all I worried about was time. But almost exactly a year later - it was Christmas season, December 11th, mid-day - I had just helped save a hundred people from a fire. There was another fire happening a city or two away, so I was flying as fast as I could, hoping to God that there were still people left to save, when I felt it - a psychic message from the suit.\n\nIt was garbled, unclear as always, a deluge of ideas - but I understood, nonetheless, and the horror sank in. \n\nMy suit was at 75% power.\n\n-\n\nA single year, and I had already used up a quarter of my suit's power. I didn't even know it did have a power source, or that it had limited power at that. The alien had died very quickly after he handed the suit to me, choking up blood as he was changing its specifications to suit my human mind, and dying after I put it on for the first time, with what was an eerily-human smile on his face. It had never had the time to explain the suit. \n\nI stopped to rest in a field, outside the city. I was a country man - this was the kind of place I could gather my thoughts best.\n\nThough I knew I shouldn't - that it would change nothing - I thought of all the things I had done with the suit in the past year. I had spent a good month or two experimenting with the suit, trying to understand its abilities better. The skills I had learned were valuable... but were they worth it? Could I have learned faster?\n\nThe train of thought continued on, unceasing, unresponsive to my attempts to stop it. Was every life I saved worth it? Before I had really come to understand the importance of time, I had spent a lot of time just saving people from the worst disasters I had heard about on the news. All that energy I spent flying - was that worth it? Was the cost of traveling 100 miles worth the lives it saved, the lives that died during the journey?\n\nTriage is about being objective, about being able to categorize - it's a methodical process. If it could be simplified to mathematics, it would. One life or one hundred, who do you save? The hundred. It's that simple. And now, I had a true number to attach to my actions and decisions - the energy cost of each life I saved. I could calculate how much energy I lost picking up a person, flying a mile, and weigh the two against each other. That was a horrible calculation, one I never wanted to do - but I knew I would have to.\n\nAs a medic, a nurse, I could not be picky about who I saved - that was the official reason I told myself, to remain professional and detached. In my heart, I knew that I was more motivated by my feelings - that nobody deserves to die.\n\nI shuddered, as a sob swept through me. I couldn't handle this regret. So many mistakes, over the course of a year... if I kept at this pace, I had only three years left. Worse than the fact I would be unable to save any lives after that time span, there was also the problem of the disaster. I had seen none of the warning signs, in an entire year. I had only gotten the vaguest of timelines from the alien - the warning signs he had been able to make clear to me, but even he did not know precisely when the disaster would occur. A year from now? A decade? He was sure that it would be within 20 years - I was only 35, so I was confident I'd live to see the disaster, especially with the suit with me, that I could summon at a moment's notice. I hadn't worried then.", "When it happened, it was all just a blur. A dream. Like it was happening to someone else. A blur within another person's dream. Yeah, that sounds about right. An alien who went by no name, bestowed a magnificent suit that was capable of things that should not be possible on this world. It lends super human strength, capable of moving skyscrapers off of it's foundation with only a nudge. It allows the user to move at speeds so fast they part the clouds out of the sky above. There's just so much more to the suit, it's beyond words. I only know these things not by use, but by transmission of thought. For the suit had only 24 hours of use through it's entire lifetime, and ..let's call him Noname, was kind enough to give me this information through a simple touch of his hand against my forehead. Hence the blur part. It was like flipping through the channels as fast as you could, but everything was clear as if you had just binge watched a TV series and everything was fresh in your mind. \n \nI could not squander this power, I had to figure out how to use it to it's absolute greatest potential, without wasting a second of it's precious time. So I did what any person would do, I reached out for help. The government was all too eager to get their hands on the suit, and at the beginning they tried to take it by force, but for all of the technology and ideas they had, they couldn't lay a single finger on the suit without it entering a defensive state. It evaporated anyone and anything who tried to come in contact with it, anyone who wasn't me anyways. So it sits there, floating just above the ground, waiting for me to utilize it's power, but for what? Anyhow, long story short, we came to an agreement, they would filter the worlds problems for me, compile a list of things happening that could utilize the suits power, with me having the final say in the suits use.. a thirty-one year old man who only just figured out the correct way to use a paper toilet seat cover.. dammit. \n \nI had to say no to many requests ..because, what if something worst were to come along and I needed the suits power? A volcano erupted and threatened the lives of hundreds.. but what if a catastrophe bigger than that occurred and thousands, no, millions of peoples lives were at risk? No.. that problem can be handled by others.. right? Mass murderers, drug cartels, tyrants, civil wars ..so many problems, but what was more worthy than the other? How can I pick from a list of these atrocious actions and unfortunate disasters, who deserves to be saved? How can one person deem one persons live more worthy of saving than another? Maybe it's all for nothing.. \n \nHistory has shown that we have always been at war with one another. People are just too different to exist peacefully next to one another. If I eliminate one homicidal dictator, who is to say that another won't pop up right after the suits power is gone..? What will all of my actions and efforts have been for? Noname did say.. or.. thought something to me .. \"Even with all of this power, can you truly make a difference? People have taken up this mantle before, and though their efforts were tremendous, life seemed to always fall right back into it's old habits.\". sigh \n \nMaybe ..but mankind deserves a time of peace, even if it isn't forever. I can make a difference, I can make a change. Let's start at home, corruption seems to be strong here in the US, and I know just where to start. \n \nI walk slowly up to my suit, it seems to buzz softly with a soft hue of blues and whites as it floats there in it's suspended state. I let out a long sigh and place my hand on it's chest. \n \n\"Suit.. load up reports from highest threat to most minimal. Starting from my location out to the rest of the world. How quickly can we resolve everything on the list?\" \n \nThe suit gently hummed, and I cracked a smile. \"Just over an hour.. Wow. Alright, let's get started\"" ]	[ 3, 3 ]	[ "1433355881", "1433359315" ]
	[WP] A large force finally attacks the U.S., but they make one major mistake, they begin in the South, who just ain't gonna be puttin up with none a' this.	31	[ " Orval ran to his basement as fast as he could. He was not going to be the last person the shoot a Russian that day. What the hell possessed them to invade the most heavily armed civilian population in the world with only assault rifles and light armored vehicles, he had no idea. All he knew was he would finally get to do something he dreamed about since he was a child growing up in the 80's watching Rambo and Chuck Norris movies. Something his own father never had a chance to do. \n\nOrval was going to bag him a Rooskie. \n\nWhen he reached the basement he realized his all of his guns were locked in a cabinet.\n\n\"Martha!\" Orval called upstairs, \"Where the hell are the keys?\"\n\nMartha called back down, \"Angeline's got the car. She's getting her hair done.\" \n\n\"Oh, God damn it!\" Orval cursed. \n\nAll of the keys for the cabinet, the chain lock, and trigger locks were on the same set of keys he used for the Chevy Suburban. The extra keys were missing. Again. As he heard gunfire from hundreds of deer rifles all around town, Orval was determined not to let this day pass without putting as notch on his belt. He ran to the garage to fetch his tools and started cutting the cabinet apart. \n\nThirty minutes later Orval was exhausted, running towards downtown with an AR-15, a bolt action rifle, and a shotgun. They were still chained together as Orval was not able to cut the chain, and the trigger locks were still on the bolt action and shotgun. Orval had to take apart the AR-15 to free it from the cabinet. \n\nThe streets were littered with dead Russians all over. He kicked a few of them to make sure they were deceased. For a moment he thought he could just put a bullet in one of them and claim it as his own kill, but he wasn't sure he put the AR-15 back together properly, he was in too much of a hurry. Just as he was considering shooting a dead corporal he saw the two last things in the world he wanted to see. \n\nA couple of Orval's co-workers carrying assault rifles were walking down the road and spotted him. A pair of jackasses named Jeb and Clem.\n\n\"Well looky what we have here!\" shouted Jeb. \n\n\"Ya'll ain't gonna be shootin no Rooskies with them trigger locks on your gun you libtard!\" said Clem.\n\nOrval looked around hopefully, \"Are there any left?\" \n\n\"Any what?\" asked Jeb.\n\n\"Russians!\" Orval screamed, letting himself get wound up, \"Are there any Russians left you hog-slapping shit-kicking dumbass bumble-fuckers?\"\n\n\"Sorry, Orval we shot them all,\" said Jeb. \n\n\"I bagged at least six of them,\" said Clem.\n\nCleb was wearing the hat and blood stained coat of a Russian officer he obviously took as a war trophy.\n\n\"You selfish assholes didn't save any Russians for me?\" said Orval, sounding defeated.\n\n\"First come, first serve, Orval!\" said Jeb. \n \n\"Yeah, that's what you get when you lock up your guns like some God damn Obama voter!\" said Clem.\n\nOrval went livid and screamed, \"I never voted for Obama in my life!\" \n \nOrval clamored to point his AR-15 rifle at Clem threateningly, but the gun fell apart in his hands as he had failed to re-assemble it properly. Jeb and Clem laughed cruelly as Orval's guns fell to the street in pieces, and he dropped to his knees a broken man. His dreams of shooting a Russian forever crushed. A single tear rolled down his cheek as Jeb and Clem marched away, rebel yelling and firing victory shots in the air. \n", "A huge laser beam swept through the streets of a small town in Texas. Tucker ducked out of it's way and ran towards his truck. \n\n\"No you ain't gonna steal my moose you alien prick!\" he yelled, reaching for a shotgun. But before he had time to pull a trigger, a giant UFO was already going down, crushing into ground. \"You hit it, Billy! Next one's mine!\"\n\n\"What should we do, sir?\" lieutenant was sweating his blue alien sweat. \"Based on our research we didn't expect people being so violent!\"\n\n\"We made a great mistake, lieutenant. We have to go back home, and pray to our gods that these people will not going to invent good spaceships any time soon.\"", "There is an oft-repeated line, originally attributed to Isoroku Yamamoto, commander-in-chief of the Combined Fleet during WWII. “You cannot invade mainland United States. There would be a rifle behind every blade of grass.” The veracity of this quote and its attribution have long been debated amongst historians the world over. It didn't really matter of course, quotes rarely do... Well, until some idiot decides to test them of course, and let me tell you, Yamamoto sure as shit wasn't wrong!\n\nWe built the largest army ever seen on this planet. Two hundred thousand troops from the Koreas alone. Half a million from Russia, three times that number from China. Another million from India and somewhere around four hundred thousand from the African nations. It really was an impressive site watching the fleet sail around the horn of Africa, growing larger every day. I lost count of the ships by the time we passed Ascension.\n\nThen all manner of hell broke loose. I woke up to alarms and the sounds of screaming men and women. Then weapons fire, Tors mostly by the sound of it. Then the Hongs let loose, and finally the 630s. You hear those sounds, and as each system ends its salvo you find yourself cringing further till eventually the 630 cuts off and you've contorted yourself into a ball on your bunk. You wait and you wait, the silence is palpable, did it work? Did the 630 finally get the missile? It was just one missile right? Then I heard it, the ship was rocked back so far I damned near slid off my bunk!\n\nTurns out the coalition hadn't sniffed out all of the US Navy's Ohios and Virginias. Somewhere between Ascension & Cape Verde they'd encircled our fleet and let loose a torrent of torpedoes, anti-ship missiles and even ICBMs. After years of preaching nuclear deterrence, who'd have thought they'd be the ones to escalate this conflict? We lost dozens of ships to the torpedoes, damned near all of our escort vessels in fact. The Kirovs had fought valiantly, but had been practically destroyed by the ASMs that got through. No one even noticed the ICBMs till they were inbound again. With a blinding flash our fleet was cored. Dozens of vessels outright vaporized, those further from the blast were capsized while others were merely knocked back. I was lucky, the wave had passed mostly under us and though the ship rocked it hadn't capsized or been heavily irradiated. Some men 'melted' in their bunks from the radiation... Despite this, the techs said the bomb was tuned to be light on radiation and heavy on blast. \n\nNo one spoke of the attack afterwards unless they had to. Looking out from the railings you could see the scorched and scarred remains of our once mighty fleet. On the horizon there were no more Kirovs lording amongst the transports. Among the embarked troops the air of superiority had faded, our games of chess and majang were no longer filled with boisterous insults and betting. There were whispers that the fleet was turning around, that we were headed home, defeated. Hopeful men them all, anyone with half a brain could look from the railings and see the sun circle above us from starboard to port.\n\nAs we approached the Bahamas the mood began to change again. The weather was beginning to ease up and the embarked men were once again venturing out onto the deck in large numbers. You could see Florida off the starboard side and the coast of Cuba off the port side. Back in Incheon we had taken bets on where we would be attacked. Every single one said the Americans would make their last stand in this narrow stretch of water. The few radios that worked were speaking of air attacks, but nothing that would be deemed a 'last stand'. No one had seen or heard from those subs back near Cape Verde...\n\nThe rest of the journey was fairly peaceful, an odd thought really considering we'd begun packing our gear and readying to disembark. Maybe it was because we were finally going to get off those damned ships? Word was we were to be put ashore in Gulf Port Mississippi. The few of us who had traveled the USA before the war found that hilariously stupid. Apparently this whole stretch of land was full of inbred retards with more guns than we had! That's stupid of course, we were an international coalition armed to the teeth, no rag tag militia could possibly compete with us.\n\nThe landings went pretty smoothly. The landing ships disembarked from their motherships and headed for shore. Tanks and APCs went out first, swarming up the beach by the hundreds and into the town of Gulf Port. There was no contact reported, in fact, no one even mentioned spotting a civilian. That really should've been our first hint that something was wrong, but I guess command just thought the Americans had evacuated the town. Our armored forces surged forth to the airport as our infantry began to land across the beaches. Thousands of men and women poured from the LCACs, their guns at the ready.\n\nAs we trudged off the beaches and began clearing the city, reports began to flow in about each house already being empty. More evidence of evacuation it was guessed. Our mechanized forces reported the airport destroyed, completely. The Americans had gone so far as to pour giant concrete mounds onto the runways. Where there weren't mounds there were craters fifteen feet deep. You have to admire the resolve really. Then suddenly the network was full of calls for medics and announcements of units taking fire. All across our lines, everywhere a unit was anywhere near a patch of forest we were taking casualties. Then the city itself caught fire. Thousands of our men were clearing houses and suddenly every last one of them was on fire. Near as we could figure, the Americans had set fire to their natural gas piping. Regardless of how they did it, we found ourselves engulfed in an inferno.\n\nOrders came down to retreat to the beaches and main thoroughfares until the flames had burned themselves out. This was bad, our mechanized forces were isolated to the north at the useless airport while our infantry were spread across the beaches and the central freeway going through town. It was a cacophony, explosions and the raging of the flames. Were these gas explosions or munitions? The radios were full of static, screaming men and calls for help from our mechanized brigades. They were under heavy fire from all sides and heading north west in an effort to link up with the infantry on the 49. None of them ever made it. When the flames finally burned out and we were able to get to the airport all we could find were tattered US and Confederate flags scattered amongst our burnt out vehicles. Some of the veterans were whispering that there weren't enough tanks here. That the Americans must've captured some.\n\nWe never did find where the sniper fire was coming from, and it sure as hell didn't stop. It wasn't terribly accurate, maybe one in five shots hit its mark, but it was endless. All hours of the day from every angle, there was no cover. The only safety was in the center of the burnt out ruins of Gulfport. Normally we'd have called down artillery, air or naval strikes on suspected positions, but we'd lost nearly all of those assets in the Atlantic. The orders came down to move north. We'd spent far too long on this little beach and it was time to take what we'd come for.\n\nAs we approached the freeway to the north, we realized the Americans had blown out every bridge on it. It was useless, we'd have to travel along the beach or frontage roads to get to the Mississippi. Damn the Americans, we'd hardly seen a single one and yet we were stuck in a maze like a rat! As the column turned off onto the frontage road, we started taking fire. The woods were alive with shouting and bullets. They called us names I'd never heard in accents I'd never even read about. Our men were cut down, I was lucky to make it back to the main column on the 49. There were maybe a dozen survivors with me. A dozen out of the hundred and ninety we'd sent as force reconnaissance.\n\nYamamoto may be dead, but that son of a bitch sure as shit wasn't wrong.", "Started wit' cows, a-hollarin'. Maybe three, four in morn? Caused a ruckus so I kick'd the Boy up, told him to git and find out what was disturbin' them. Steers ain't the brightest, so's liable to start away from their own shadow, if'n they seen it. \n\nCourse, weren't no shadow that scared'm this time. Boy's feet had hardly stopped squeakin' on the porch outside when the cries stopped. I knew then it were bad.\n\nBoy came back 'bout quarter hour later, tells me to come out. Wouldn't say why, but I could see, even in the dark of the bedroom, his eyes were slick with tears. Was moonless; what them army boys call Dark of the Moon? When else they gonna attack? Them critters was smart, f'sure. \n\nWasn't a long walk, but sure felt like it. Dark as pitch, an' the only sound the squelch of boot on mud. It was might unnervin', specially with the occasional whimper from the Boy, who still wouldn't say what he was bringin' me to see. There was no sound from the field. Probably would have shat m'britches if I hadn't tucked my 12-gauge under arm.\n\nCattle was all dead. Had been by the time Boy got there, an' no sign of what did it. Some had holes in head. Some's didn't even have a head. Bloodiest field you'd ever see, guts and gristle smeared over every blade of grass. And those cattle dn't die easy, neither. Some animals, rabbits and such, their little hearts ain't built for sorrow, will just drop dead of shock. But cows, they's may be dumb, but they're hardy. There was no mercy in that field.\n\nTurned out, was the first night of the invasion. Before the fella on the radio got his warnin' out, and we started to know what was what. Got a hell of a lot worse after that. Boy went to war, never came back. Lost my leg at Second Chickamauga. Still smell the charred bodies we had to burn in Jackson. \n\nBut you ask me the worst night? T'was the first. Standin' in that field, among my cattle. I knew why the Boy didn't say nothin'; weren't nothin' to say. So I held him, and we cried together, and I clutched that there shotgun in my palm, thanked the good Lord for the second amendment, and promised I'd get me whoever did this.\n\nCritters were smart. Were dumb to start their war on my patch, though.\n\nSgt Ron Harlin, 45th Volunteers", "Captain Zu ducked and doved for the nearest ditch. A ford F-150 went screeching by, bed mounted machine gun blaziyng thru the night. He didnt even have to look to know what flag flew from the tailgate. Soldiers screamed and rallied for a defence but the truck was long gone by now. \n\n'Fucking rednecks,\" he said to the Russian soldier who found the same ditch. The soldier just stared at him blankly and held up a snake. A snake with a white mouth. One swig of vodka and a prayer later later the private slit his own neck. Cotton mouth bites are one hell of a way to go. \"Fuck the south.\"\n\nThe coalition did not think it thru, China and Russia along with their allies had decided on the Gulf to invade. The Mississippi would allow them to funnel supplies up thru the center of the country and devide it. Easy to conquer then. Problem was the the people here seemed to get off on this. \n\nZu had fought against the radical Islam fighters in the Western deserts of his own country. He and his Russian counterparts were used to insurgencies but this was something different. The Americans didnt do much damage to there ranks, but there constant small attacks left his forces extreamly demoralized. \n\nHe got up and called HQ.\n\n'Get me some god-damn air support!'\n\nHQ: \"What happened?\"\n\nZu: \"Another hit and run\"\n\nHQ: \"Zu we've been thru this before, we dont have enough resources to track down and destroy every redneck with a gun. We need to save our resources to fight the army. In fact...\"\n\nHQ never finished its thought. The ground exploded around him. F-22 and A-10's rained fire down around him. 'What the fuck?!' he thought. The Americans didnt have any forces in 100 miles of his location. Suddenly he heard the sound of music over the sound of gunfire and death rising up from around him. It was like the sound of the Devil singing and a band of demons joining in, and it sounded something like this...\n\n'... got a chopper in the air. I've learned a thing or two from charlie dont you know. You've better stay away from copperhead road!'\n\nSure enough it dawned on Zu what had happened. In true Viet Cong style the Americans rushed out of the swamps and forests; in trucks, flat bottom boats and by foot. All over the Southeast with so much firepower it must have took the last few months to accumulate. This was the end. They ran so fast the hounds couldnt catch them, down the Mississippi to the Guld of Mexico.\n\n" ]	[ 2, 5, 7, 12, 28 ]	[ "1433480959", "1433401794", "1433446025", "1433420095", "1433397332" ]
How bad the Earth is ruined and where/who/how many are imprisoned is up to you, as well what the rest of humanity is up to.	[WP] Humanity has spread out into the solar system via means of quick, sub-light speed travel. Whats left of the shattered, toxic ruins of Earth have become a penal colony. Write a story about the colony.	4	[ "His chews are obnoxious, with every crunch and swallow grating on my ears. He's oblivious to this, of course, and stares out the window once again.\n\nI continue reading. I don't know what the book is called. The cover's been torn off along with the publication pages. It's about a bunch of people hunting this thing called Moby Dick, which is some kind of animal apparently. The worn, yellowed pages were a stark contrast to the holographic data pads everyone used to have. \n\n\"What are you going to do when you get outta here?\" asked my cell mate between juicy bites of his rotten apple.\n\nI pause. \"A bath. A nice bubble bath.\"\n\n\"Shit, you sound like a pussy.\"\n\nI give him the finger and read on.\n\n\"(Laughs) Ah, I'm just fuckin' witcha. See, I want a huge big ass, 18 ounce steak. Also, I'm getting fucked.\" He made a thrusting motion with his hips. \"Hell, I miss tits. How much do you think hookers cost these days?\"\n\n\"Gee, I dunno Kal, go look it up or somethin', I'm busy here.\"\n\n\"Got something stuck up your ass?\"\n\n\"Something's going to get stuck up your ass if you don't stop bothering me.\"\n\n\"Ouch. Hark, I thought we were friends, hehe.\"\n\nNo, we're damn cellmates. \n\nKal continued, despite my threat. He knew I wouldn't do it, not because I was not capable of it, but because I needed him to get cigarettes and shanks.\n\nHe had told me that he was inside for money laundering, but I highly doubt that's the case. Everyone lies to my face here.\n\nDo your own time. That was the rule I imposed on myself. Don't reveal your family, friends, nothing. You get through your sentence, then you get out. \n\nAn armored man carrying a baton strolls past the cell, meeting my eyes for a brief moment. They were swirling with hate.\n\nI tried to get back into the novel. It didn't work, so I slammed it down on my dirty cot and took a piss. When you've been on Earth so long, privacy becomes a feeble concern. \n\n\"Did you hear? Machine is getting out today. Insane bloke, man.\"\n\n\"He's 71st Legion. Of course he's insane. The entrance exam exiles you to Bandur for 80 days.\" I zip up and head back to my cot.\n\n\"I wish I would get out...\"\n\n\"You and me both.\"\n\n...\n\nIt's hard to sleep here. It's even harder to dream.\n\nThe sounds of inmates getting ambushed get pretty disturbing at first, but you learn to ignore it.\n\nIgnorance is bliss. \n\nOne time, a Red Star gang member was being choked to death in the showers. I was there to witness it. But I did nothing, nothing except clean my pits and wash my junk before drying off and walking to my cell.\n\nThis isn't a place for heroes. \n\nSometimes I dream of my wife on occasionally quiet nights. She looked so lovely, made life bearable. \n\nThis was not one of those nights, as I was stirred awake by the sound of crumbling and whining noise, like a high speed plasma saw cutting through titanium bars.\n\nI sat up to see dozens of guards run down the metal walkway, weapons cocked and ready to hustle. \n\nOne of the guards was taken down immediately. \n\nI waited five seconds, and joined Kal, watching the guard's face melt off like vanilla ice cream in a microwave.\n\n\"Lasers...\" muttered Kal. Whoever these guys were, they weren't messing around.\n\n\"We have a breach in the supermax wing. Initiate cell lockdown. Subject is armed and extremely hostile. All units have kill-on-sight authorization.\" growled the captain into his comm.\n\nSomeone's escaping. With help.\n\nThe complex rattled and shook for five more minutes before the noises died down. All of the other prisoners were shouting and cheering, including Kal. \n\n\"Shit. Shit. Shit, fucking shit.\" I heard a guard say. \"Prisoner 1078 has escaped containment, aerial pursuit is requested. Be advised, there are four other...\"\n\nI walk back to my cot, and wipe my face with some water. \n\n\"Shit, that was crazy...\" said Kal.\n\nI say nothing but my mind digests on the events.\n\nI know who prisoner 1078 is, and what she did. \n\nThe fact that someone took the time and effort to break into Celestion Penitentiary to get her out worries me.\n\nSomething big is happening, and it's only a matter of time before others find my role in it. \n\n\n", "It took two long years, but I finally had a plan.\n\nOfficially, of course, the Manhattan Detention Facility doesn't exist. There are no records. If it had a shipping address, it would probably look something like this: Earth, North American Coalition, District Thirty-six, New York City, 350 5th Avenue. Oh, and don't forget the seven miles of granite and concrete overhead.\n\nUnofficially, it doesn't exist either.\n\nSee, Manhattan is no prison. It's a black hole, a bottomless chasm specifically designed for prisoners of war. A ticket here is inherently a one-way ticket. You aren't sent here to serve a sentence, you're sent here to disappear. And that isn't even the end; the death penalty would be a waste of both the neural interface and a potential source of intel. And so - surprise - a blind eye has become a commonplace condition in the general vicinity of Manhattan. The needs of the many, right? Federal law doesn't apply below twelve different layers of lead shielding.\n\nAnyway, back to the plan.\n\nWell, not quite. First, (probably should've started with this, but whatever) for anyone who finds this message, my name is Tycho Nguyen, Earth Nations Citizen ID-99970459. I have been held against my will in a secret federal prison for the past two years without trial or formal arrest. And I want everyone to know that I was doing the right thing.\n\nThe war began approximately five years ago, by my count. The central planets had always had issues with colonization. That could have had something to do with the open contempt that colonists had for the central planets. Maybe it evolved as a by-product of the fact that it was Simon Lorenzo, a Belter colonist, who invented the first successful fusion drive, forcing the federal government to bow and scrape just to get its foot inside the door of the auction room. \n\nRegardless, when several colonies stood up and asked for the right to declare independence, Earth Nations laughed and flipped them off. Within an hour after the conference was over, the central planets had shut down all communications with the colonies. Within a day, Earth and Mars had begun chucking destroyers at heavy burn into the Belt. Within several weeks, several colonial governments had been forcibly retired and martial law had been declared. Within the month, a large number of colonies had begun to openly support a radical anti-central movement calling themselves the Allied Colonial Defense, and six EN facilities and ships had been attacked.\n\nWithin two months, the central planets and the colonies were at war.\n\nAt that time, I had recently received a promotion to deputy undersecretary to the EN secretary general. Basically, it meant that I was an intern to the secretary of the most powerful individual in the Solar System. Not bad, for a twenty-year-old Shandong farmboy with nothing but an accent and a degree in political science.\n\nNow, here, I just want to reiterate (or iterate, if it wasn't already clear), I love Earth. I only wanted to help.\n\nIt was around then that I was contacted by a small faction of several individuals working for Earth Nations as well. They, like me, were appalled by the absolute idiocy of the war; unlike me, they had both the strategy and the resources to end it early. They needed my influence over the secretary general, and I needed their end goals. I agreed.\n\nTheir plan was based on an agreement with several of our counterparts working for the ADC. In fact, the entire colonial government - with the exception of the extremist branch - heavily supported our pact; outclassed and outgunned, it was likely that the colonies would lose more than they would gain, regardless of the outcome of the war. It was agreed. We would secretly negotiate a ceasefire, putting enough support behind the order to countermand the direction of the EN Council. Using the cooperation of the colonial government, we would then use our sympathizers to force the signing of a treaty that would allow the colonies their independence.\n\nBut somewhere during the execution of our plan, we were betrayed. Most of us were arrested by federal agents and disappeared. I was one of them.\n\nAnd so there I was. But now, finally, my plan becomes relevant.\n\nIt was an escape plan. Even a black hole fails to contain light; even in a place like this, there are flaws which can be exploited. And it's done its job perfectly, so far. But now, I have some problems.\n\nAt the moment, I'm lying on the floor of one of the emergency elevators, propped up against the wall. One of my hands is holding a stolen Kalashnikov; periodically, I reach around the corner to return fire, quickly pulling back to avoid the rapid answering volleys. My other hand is alternating between pressing the record key on this datastick and keeping pressure on the laser burn in my stomach (There's a lot of blood. Is there supposed to be so much blood?). I'm just killing time, waiting for the program I dropped into the facility's main server to activate the elevator. And I'm recording this message so that, in the event that I don't make it, maybe something will.\n\nYes! The elevator just began to move.\n\nOw. Fuck.\n\nI think I might black-\n\n_________________________________________________________________\n\nThe datastick drops from the prisoner's fingers as he reaches for the medkit he stole from the medical wing. It clatters against the titanium-ceramic floor, cutting through the peripheral thrum of the magnetic accelerators powering the elevator. The prisoner strips an adrenaline patch from the kit and slaps it onto his wrist. His head snaps back, nostrils flaring, as the chemicals enter his bloodstream.\n\nEach second is an hour for the prisoner as he lies prone, collapsed on the floor. He's lost count of the patches he's gone through. At least he can no longer feel the pain.\n\nAbruptly, the elevator slows to a halt. The doors open with a pneumatic hiss, and the prisoner throws his arms up to cover his eyes with a gasp as the first sunlight he's felt in two years floods through the doors.\n\nNo.\n\nNot sunlight.\n\nShielding his eyes, the prisoner stands clutching his stomach. The Kalashnikov clatters to the floor beside him. He takes a clumsy step forward, hand braced against the wall.\n\nThe world outside the doors is obscured by a dense haze of smoke, too thick to see through. From ahead, a light is piercing through it. The prisoner stumbles out of the elevator in daze, moving towards the light. He vaguely perceives struggling forward as the ground slopes upwards.\n\nThe prisoner reaches the top of the hill, and the smoke clears. In front of him, a crumbling skyscraper has somehow retained its original form, a solemn obelisk reaching into the sky. The tattered remains of a flag drift aimlessly from the flagpole jutting towards the sky, shedding ashes, and two words are barely visible over the broken doors:\n\nEMP RE STA E\n\nTycho Nguyen drops to his knees." ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1433514575", "1433483452" ]
	[WP] Tell me the story of the death of the last human.	6	[ "Day 289: The female has succumb to her mental state, taking her own life in the night. She scratched her hands against the wall until she was rubbing bone on brick. It was using her ensuing compound fractures in her hands that she that she sliced her throat with. Clean up was a hassle but required if we need to keep the male alive. He saw it all. The human psychology experts are worried about how he will handle it. \n\nDay 304: The first week was tough, trying to keep him alive. Safe from himself. The male would 'cry' (as the linguists have informed me is the verb) most of the time. An unusual act performed by these animals as a show of sadness. Why they do, we don't fully understand. They are dehydrating themselves, expelling moisture from their eyes. It has no evolutionary positive we understand. \n\nDay 380: He isn't the same at all. Coming up to 100 days alone, he has changed. The animal now talks to himself, changing his pitch and facial expressions as if mimicking a second human to talk to. We think he sees things too. He seems to interact with the nothingness around him. However, as a positive, he hasn't tried to harm himself in the past few weeks. Even shows signs of happiness. Though I've been informed that those signs of happiness are fake. They aren't sure, but its almost complete madness. He smiles and expresses normal signs of happiness, but his eyes don't coincide with that emotion. They seem off to me. Empty.\n\nDay 417: He doesn't move. The human sits in his cell staring at the wall. As someone noted, its where the female scratched at the wall. He does nothing but look at the bricks. The night staff have to enter the chamber and clean him of his waste and give him his nutrients via IV. Yet, when they enter, he does not react what so ever. \n\nDay 453: He tried to walk today. His frail legs couldn't hold his weight and he just collapsed. It was in that collapsed state that he stayed until his dinner time came. There was though a reaction when the staff entered to clean his cell. His eyes. They closed slightly, gazing straight forward as the staff around him did their jobs. I haven't seen that look in months. \n\nDay 454: The male tried to escape. At least that't what we are being told. I watched the footage myself. As the night staff entered to do their usual duties, the human, very calmly stood and walked towards the open door. His legs struggled but he determinedly continued. The staff followed procedure, backed up and pulled their knives in a defensive position. Then, the human looked straight into the hidden camera lens and said, in our language \"Why?\" before lunging his head into the knife. ", "I raised him when I took his parents. It was a mistake, I never bothered to count. I never thought to consider that they were the last ones. And because of my ignorance I am cursed to see my own death in tandem with his.\n\nI took him everywhere from the day I found him. We saw the wonders of his world, and the mysteries of mine. He came with me to the edge of this cold universe as we watched the last stars die out and the infinite that was, enveloped itself back into the silence from which it began.\n\nHe's old now. Clinging to the black fabric that surrounds me. He never learned to speak, there was no need, but I can see the fear in his eyes as clear as he can see mine. It's ironic that I chose to prolong someone's life, I know. But now his time has run out. I raise my hand to his head and end it as I have so many times before. And in that second, I have made myself without further purpose. There is nothing left for me now. All I can do is fade as well.", "The last human barely survived an hour. Born into a world that had already moved past her species, she was alone from the very start, her mother having died seconds after her birth. She would never know love, comfort, hope, or even fear. She never learned anything about who she was or who she might have been. And so, alone, she died never having lived.\n\nIt is thus that when asked the story of the last human it is not her story which is told, but rather that of her mother. Still, it would be a disservice to them both to forget the last of their kind.", "There was no twinkle in the sky. Just a dark matte that engulfed the view in all horizons. The moon was no longer round, just a cracked millet that drifted to what ever kept a watch beyond, in the unseen.\n\nThe man leaned back on the concave, egg like rock, that entrenched it self on the hill side. It was cool. Smooth and cool. He could feel it even through thick fur and two woolen sweaters that puffed him up like a blow fish. He imagined it was a smooth brown alabaster surround by a mane of puffed wild grass, swooning in the fall breeze. He could feel the falling evening sun flushing his skin; a burnt maroon glow with a faint warmth. He reached out with his right hand through multiple layers of gloves to grab the tufts of grass, to bring it close to his nose, to smell the dirt, to smell the Earth.\n\nIce. He felt nothing more, grasping at all directions. The smooth tempered with some jaggedness, and the universal cool that burned through the gloves. He didn't even know what alabaster felt like, he concluded it was a large sugar cube, gritty, pocked with smoothness. Warm of course, brown had to be warm, or so he imagined. His current seat was a sheen of glass with a perfect curvature for his back and behind, ice, like everything else. He looked below, a 40-50 feet drop before his sight gave way to darkness. The tumbling water which had hardened to ice, shone in the faint glow of the millet-ed moon above. He had never seen a live water fall, but imagined it to be a magnificent sight when it roared with laughter. He had never seen a sun rise or a sun set either, perpetual darkness, in a night that never seemed to end. He wanted to experience the day time he had seen in so many picture and films but his imagination had to suffice. The sun was long gone, just a manure brown glimmer from a dot that barely kept the moon aglow and darkness at bay.\n\nAcross the crevasse, he could make out an outline of a limb. He wasn't sure if it was an arm or a leg, but it was stiff, life less, wrapped around a giant icicle that sprang up straight from the ground. It was his wife. The only person he had known for the last decade. They made the trek across the endless ice fields when their living pod couldn't muster enough power to function any longer. They hadn't a clue what they hoped to see, find, or gain. The last human they heard from was a dying child, delirious, emaciated, who did not speak. He swung himself off a cliff, into the crack in the ice. That was 20 years ago. The last human remain they saw was an arm, that was 12 years ago. \n\nShe always was a hopeless optimist. \n\nThe man walked with his wife for 3 days. He couldn't stand well any longer, neither could she. His legs buckled under the weight of the coat, boots, and sweater. She decided to lead the way, her vision had always been superior, she was the better one to guide in the poor swathes of light. He kept a tight hold of her palm, with the thumb hugging the belly of his own palm. He could feel her pulse, the blood rushing through her thumb; it was getting fainter by the day. But he wasn't going to let her go, as long as he had that hand, felt that beat, that life in the thumb, he was OK, he was safe, he had purpose.\n\nThey slept when one of their knees buckled and they simply couldn't lift the other up. There was no shelter, they hoped to a find a hanging shelf of ice and lie in an embrace hoping to wake up when the hour called upon them. They were sleeping more often, but so far had woken up, in that same embrace. \n\nThey did the same the last time. He remembered grabbing her thumb and clasping it in his hand, he knew he had it. He could feel the thump of her pulse, he counted \"1,2,3,...\" like always, looking into her sapphire eyes, till he drifted into sleep.\n\nIt was different when she woke up this time. She was there, her thumb was there, he felt the first beat, the second was faint, and he couldn't feel the third. He shook her awake, she was there, barely. She couldn't get up, her arms barely moved. He grabbed her limp body and pushed as hard as he could against the icy floor, his knees buckled, and they both flopped, sliding to a large icicle which sprang from the ground, finally braking their momentum. Her head lay right at the foot of the icicle, he could see her breathing was faint, and the crest of her nose and the flesh at the orbital were turning into an azure hue.\n\nHe embraced her as tightly as he could, he grabbed her hand and placed her thumb on his palm and clasped it in his hand. He didn't feel anything, he feverishly counted \"1, 2, 3....\" and kept counting looking for some movement in the sapphire of her iris. \n\n\"1, 2, 3...\"\n\"1, 2, 3...\"\n\"1, 2, 3...\"\n\".............\"\n\nHe awoke, he had no clue how long he had drifted for. He looked at her lying next to him, her eyes were closed. He felt nothing in her thumb, her face had turned into a deep purple. He looked up and saw the frozen waterfall locked in eternal dance.\n\nHe found his concave egg seat on the frozen fall and sat there, imaging all the red, brown, and greens of the pictures he had once seen. How he would have loved to see them one more time. He gazed at the millet moon once again, he knew he would never find that perfect moment there. He thought back to the kid who flung him self into the crack of ice all those years ago, funny he could still remember his face. His emerald eyes looked like a reflection of endless green prairies lost in consciousness; even in that haze, the kid had happiness.\n\nAn ever so slight, uneven smirk etched it self on the crest of the man's lip, curving into a piped silhouette. He was filled with warmth and happiness. He took his coat off, flung his gloves wildly, peeled his sweaters off, and stood their bare chested under the dim pearls of the broken moon. He took a deep breath, did a grandstand, and whisked himself off his egged seat into the warmth of the darkness below. \n\nA hopeless optimist.", "\"There's something wrong in the core! The power output is off the scale and rising!\" \n\nThe engineer's words echoed on every comm link over the emergency frequency. The faint orange hazard lighting in the halls did not adequately convey the gravity of the situation. A disaster of this magnitude deserved sirens and flashing red lights, but I suppose the designers of the ship did not foresee something like this happening. The other three of us who weren't in hibernation rushed to the engine room. \n\nI was the first to arrive after James' plea for help. He looked up from the console as I burst into the room, the look on his face was oddly calm. \n\n\"James! Did you fix it? Was it a false alarm?\"\n\nHis mouth was slightly ajar, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly from side to side. \n\n\"....no...\" \n\nHe grabbed the console and turned it around so it was facing me. I must have read the numbers a dozen times before they registered in my brain. \"Core output: 1,500,000 PetaWatts\" A number so unimaginably huge, it lost all meaning to me. During our trip towards Proxima Centauri we had expected to reach just over 50% light speed before we started decelerating for our destination, but the monitor was telling me that we were going 85% light speed and climbing.\n\n\"We have to wake up Dr. Kargan!\" A voice shouted behind me. Daniel must have been looking over my shoulder at the monitor. \n\n\"There's no time.\" \n Crissy placed a hand gently on Daniel's broad shoulder. She gripped the material and bit her lip. \n \"You know what we have to do.\"\n\nWe all knew our parts for the emergency evacuation procedure. I ran towards the hibernation chambers and prepared our crew of 45 for the longest sleep on record, lowering the temperature of their bodies from 50 degrees to just above freezing. They would be jettisoned back toward Earth, as best we could, however with the tremendous speed we were going, it would just mean that they would be rocketing away from Earth just a little slower than us. Who knows, after their mayday beacons reach Earth, they might be rescued in fifty years or so. Hopefully the hibernation chambers last that long.\n\nThe entire craft jolted when the hibernation chambers dislodged, they were almost half of the ship's weight. All that was left of the spaceship proper was basically an engine, small sleeping quarters and a bridge. The escape pod was attached to the bridge. The others were waiting for me, buckled into their seats, with enough provisions gathered to last us two years at the most. The escape pod was quick, but we would still need to be rescued before we ran out of food and water.\n\n\"Everyone ready?\" I didn't wait for an answer. I buckled into my chair and prepared for the pod to jettison when I flipped open the protective cover of the release button. Metal clinked around the airlock when I jammed my thumb onto the release, but we were sitting still.\n\n\"What happened?!\" Crissy grabbed Daniel's hand and looked to him for answers even though he was a medic and had only a cursory knowledge of the workings of the ship.\n\nJames spoke up. \n\"It's stuck.\" \n He let out a sigh and caught my eye. We both knew what had to happen. The airlock would have to be manually closed from inside the main ship, and then the pod would have to be forcibly jettisoned.\n\"We could draw straws or...\"\n\n\"No.\" I interrupted. \"I'm the commanding officer now. You will stay in your seats. I stood and ducked through the airlock. Turning back, I could see the fear in their eyes. I don't know if it was for me, or for themselves.\n\n\"You'll make it home.\" I smiled and closed the airlock. I hope they believed that, because I sure didn't. They drifted into the inky black, but not as slowly as I would have expected. We.... I, was still accelerating. I sat at the captains chair and looked through the front window. He wouldn't mind, he was frozen in a tube ten million miles away. \n\nThe stars were bluer than normal. I look down at the gauges. The power reading from the core was worthless. \n\"Negative one Watt, my ass.\" \n\nThe speed was disconcerting. 99.99999999999% light speed. It was as many decimals as would read out, but I was sure I was still accelerating. The stars were no longer visible now. Their light had blue-shifted past ultraviolet, and out of visible range, but the sky wasn't dark. It burned a dull red, like the last coal from a fire.\n\n\"Oh no. They're all dead. Everyone.\" It just hit me. Time dilation. I ran a quick query to display the rate at which I was moving through time compared to Earth. The number popped up on the display, and I had to count the zeroes. They died seconds after I ejected them. I was careening through time at an impossible rate. James,Daniel, Crissy... They've been dead for thousands, shit, millions of years now. I wonder if they made it home. I wonder if there is a home anymore. \n\nThe sky was glowing brighter now. \n\n\nI am the last human alive. There can be no question. I left Earth three billion years ago and counting. If there was anyone left alive, they've long since evolved to the point that they can't even be considered human anymore. \n\nOur sun was dead. It swelled and scorched the Earth long ago, leaving it a barren wasteland like Mars.\n\n Time loses meaning. The sky is a light yellow now. I can feel the spacecraft trembling as it reaches speeds and energies undreamed of. My speed is so close to light now as makes no difference. Eons fly by in the blink of an eye. \n\nIf there was other life in the universe, it's dead now too. Just me. A trillion light years from a home that died before any of the stars around me were born. \n\nAll the stars are dead now. The sky is so bright. \n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 3 ]	[ "1433481331", "1433482981", "1433490585", "1433494289", "1433487052" ]
	[WP] You have won the planet Earth in the 265th annual Inter-Galactic lottery. You have studied Earth's customs for the last 5 years, and today you must address the Earthen leaders and explain why you now own their planet.	23	[ "The gray Honda Civic weaved in and out of traffic and came screeching to a halt in front of the United Nations Building in New York City. I hopped out of the car and raced up the steps to the front door of the building, tightly clutching a piece of paper in my left hand. I was dressed in a black suit and had on a very nice Omega watch which i had to take off as I went through the metal detector at the downstairs security checkpoint. Fortunately I was able to trick the security guards into thinking I was some diplomat's translator at this annual UN summit meeting. I frantically ran down the halls of the UN searching for the main chamber. \n\n\"Hey you! Stop!\" a security guard yelled at me. \"You need a clearance to enter this floor. Where's your clearance?\"\n\n\"Fuck off!\" I screamed as i turned and ran the other way. \n\"Control this is Two-Fourty-Seven, i've got a white male wearing a black suit running from me on level 2!\" I heard the security guard shout into his walkie talkie. \n\nSuddenly two security guards and at least four police officers were chasing me down the hallway. \"Shit! which way is it!\" I screamed as I searched for the UN main chamber entrance door, then suddenly there it was. Two big Mahogany wooden doors with the seal of the UN on them stood in front of me. A sign placed in front of the doors read: 'Quiet please. Meeting in progress.'\n\n\"Don't go in there! Stop right now!\" one of the police officers screamed at me as he drew his weapon from his holster, but it was too late. I came bursting through the main chamber doors still running at full speed and rapidly made my way towards the stage. Loud audible gasps and shrieks filled the air as delegates and representatives from countries all over the world stood up to get a better glimpse of me making a mad dash towards the front podium. I quickly shoved the prime minister of Cambodia, who was currently giving a speech at the podium about rice crop yields, out of the way and un-crumpled the piece of paper that was in my left hand.\n\n\"Leaders of Earth!\" I panted into the podium's microphone as I tried to catch my breath. \"I stand here today to bring you unsettling, yet exciting news! I have won your pathetic planet in the 265th inter-galactic lottery and am now the sole owner of this shit-hole you call Earth. Now that I own all of you, I have a list of rules and policies that shall be put into place immediately. Rule One, as of now only-AHHH!\" I screamed and fell down as\nabout a dozen police officers tackled me to the floor and arrested me. The chamber was being evacuated as I was dragged out the front door of the UN in handcuffs into a storm of reporters and news crews with cameras. I was quickly thrown into a police car and booked into the city jail. During my court proceedings, the judge deemed me to be insane and had me committed for the rest of my life at St Mary's Institution for the Mentally Ill.\n\n", "\"I understand your concern, sir,\" I choked out, holding back laughter. \n\nThe president of the peace organization was crimson with anger and confusion. \n\n\"You and your members still own things, but I kind of own Earth... technically,\" I said, emphasizing the last word as innocently as I could. \n\n\"You can't own it, and if you try to take it...\" he trailed off. \n\nI held my hands up in innocence. \"Look, who owns Earth now?\"\n\nThe man stared. \"Well, no one - it's everyone's.\"\n\n\"OK, and who's name is right here?\" I held up the deed close to the camera and tapped my name. \n\n\"I don't give a shit what that says! We won't recognize the authority of it.\"\n\n\"Sir, I'm going to ask you something and I mean absolutely no offense by it - Is this your first contact with a non-Earthling?\"\n\nThe man turned around to a group behind him and whispered something. A woman shrugged. \n\n\"I'm not going to disclose that,\" he said.\n\n\"I'll take that as a no then. Look, I won your planet in a small time raffle. I shouldn't tell you this, but Earth wasn't even the first prize... or second. It's not worth that much to me, but a prize is a prize. I own your planet. End of story.\"\n\n\"What are... what are you going to do?\" He stammered. \n\n\"Me? Nothing really. I've studied your culture a bit and you're not really my style. Everything is about fighting and ownership of things. Seems like a gigantic headache. Plus, you're pretty far and my ship is broken at the moment. If I had to guess, I'd say I'll probably lose your planet in a bet or pawn you off at some point.\"\n\nWhoever this man was, I'm sure when he was putting on his pants this morning he didn't think he'd have to defend the honor of his planet today. \n\nThe man huddled with the group behind him before responding. Several of them were waving their arms wildly and yelling. \n\n\"How much do you want for it?\" He finally said. \n\n\"You can't be serious.\"\n\n\"We are prepared to make a very serious offer,\" he said. \n\n\"How much?\" My curiosity was taking hold. \n\n\"One trillion dollars,\" the man said. \n\nI sat as still as I could muster. With my hand that was out of view of the camera I waved to my friends to stop laughing. \n\n\"How about one point five,\" I said. It was starting to become difficult to keep my composure. \n\nThe group became a flurry of activity. One person had at least four phones held up to his face. He was no doubt speaking to some of the most powerful people on his planet, or my planet, I should say. \n\nI finally lost it. The entire group stared in a grave silence as I cackled and blubbered. \n\n\"I'm... sorry. Really, I'm sorry,\" I said, willing my smile away and wiping a year from my eye. \n\nThe man said nothing. \n\n\"God help you if you ever meet the Jawgers,\" I said. \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Never mind. Look, let's just forget about the whole thing. I didn't mean for you to get all riled up. I was merely calling to say hello,\" I said. \n\n\"How do you know English?\" the man asked suspiciously. \n\nMy god, they're infants. \n\n\"How are you going to chronicle this historical exchange?\" I asked, ignoring his question. \n\nMore stares. \n\n\"Time to go.\"\n\nI was getting bored. I hung up before the man said anything further. \n\nEveryone laughed together. I neatly tucked the deed into my desk and turned to my friends. \n\n\"Let's call them back in another thousand years. Maybe they'll have grown. You never know.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n", "“Dear bags of meat of planet Earth.\n\nI am Lu Sing Gaja, from the planet Gu Larsdsh, next to what you call the Pleiades. I’m pleased to tell that I am now, your new ruler.\n\nThanks for those primitive sounds that I interpret as a sign of emotion and cheerfulness. I am grateful that the mind connection settled by the leaders of the Space Congress between you, primitive carbon forms, allow you to understand my speech.\n\nNow, you must be wondering, if you can think, how did this magnificent alien became the ruler of this obnoxious planet? Well, it so happens that every New Year, which is the day in which the universe completes a lap around the black hole at its center, the Space Congress makes a lottery, offering the most primitive planets of each zone of the universe. This year, the zone of the Milky Way was chosen. Of course, my planet wasn’t between the bets, since we are far from being a primitive world. We discovered light speed 10 million earth years ago, cloning 100 million years ago, and cryogenic preservation about 70 million years ago. You, on the other hand, won’t discover light speed on the next 700 years, which is the requirement to join the Congress. \n\nBack to my point, this year I won the lottery, using my divorce date. Finally something good came from my marriage. To be fair, the translation is very poor, as the concept of marriage in my planet is far from being even similar to yours. We just couldn’t find a more accurate word or expression that your weak mind would understand.\n\nAnyway, I have been granted the right to rule over this planet and every life form on its surface. Previous explorations of this planet recorded by my co-planetarians shown that you are willing to pray to anyone who is different from, so, as you can see, I am your god now. Other records have shown that this specie in particular is extremely tasty and a delightful dish on other planets. I will harvest you so other planets can enjoy you. \n\nBy the way, don’t try to offer resistance. Your funny nuclear weapons are meaningless compared to our force fields and laser beams. \n\nEnjoy your slavery.”\n" ]	[ 7, 11, 17 ]	[ "1433646062", "1433648718", "1433644967" ]
	[WP] A multitude of Alien ships warp within range of Earth. Over all electronic devices the message is heard, "Earth, we come in peace. In all the universe only one other Species has mastered Death and Destruction as you have. We need your help."	1,725	[ "It was neither fear nor awe that mankind felt at the arrival of the aliens. Instead, in the specious conference room on the fourth floor of the UN headquarters, a deep sense of embarrassment prevailed. World leaders had been filling in in awkward silence for the last several hours. It was a mark of how bad things were, that in a room full of politicians no one was talking. \n\nBut all good things must come to an end.\n\n\"I just don't see why we all had to come,\" the French President complained, \"it's been years since France has been in a war.\"\n\n\"Right, your troops in Africa are just there on holiday,\" the British PM chimed in.\n\n\"That's peacekeeping!\" \n\n\"See this is just what the aliens mean when they say humans are violent. You send armies of men into other countries and ask them to be grateful.\" The Russians had joined the conversation.\n\n\"Well, no one would ever look to Russia to keep the peace,\" snarled the someone from Eastern Europe. But not too loudly.\n\n\"Please everyone, we are acting like children. The aliens already think we are terrible. Let us at least remain cordial until they arrive. Perhaps we can prove their initial judgements of us wrong.\" America was attempting to achieve global consensuses. Maybe this time it would work.\n\n\"And France at least wait to find out their names before surrendering.\" Nope still America.\n\nThe Chinese President (or maybe Premier) decided his moment for conversational greatness had come. He had spent years balancing an economic alliance with the US with a policy of increased Chinese prominence on the world stage, and now his diplomatic mastery told him just what to do. \n\n\"Hegemonicimperialistsayswhat\"\n\n\"What?\" the bewildered American responded.\n\nIt was a great victory, confirmed in the laughter around the table.\n\n\"I'm sorry to interrupt.\" Everyone groaned at Canada, \"but shouldn't we be discussing what to say to the aliens.\"\n\nThe awkward silence returned. Everyone felt like they had just made a joke and no one had laughed. Worse it had been a racist joke. \n\n\"Fuck these guys,\" America again. \"Who shows up at someone's house and starts with 'I need your help because you are so awful.' It's rude.\"\n\n\"Seriously,\" the Russian agreed, \"It's like, do we even know you? Why are you here.\"\n\n\"Fight your own battles if humanity is so shitty. We got....stuff to do.\" Britain's leader was getting the hang of this. \n\n\"When they open that door, I'm gonna tell them to go to hell.\" America had regained her standing in the world. All was well.\n\n\"Me too!\" China knew which way the wind was blowing.\n\n\"Just don't let France talk,\" a voice from the far side of the room called out. \n\n\"What the hell Denmark, you got conquered too.\" France was defensive, it was a nice change of pace.\n\nSlowly but surely the mood of the room changed. Gone was the awkwardness and embarrassment, in it's place was a universally held conviction. One that would guide mankind through this crisis and to its eventual destiny in the stars. One that would eventually be put into those famous words that today ring the seal of the Empire of Humanity: \"Y'know what, fuck you. You don't even know me. Who the hell are you to judge me? Think you are so high and mighty. Well fucker whose got the nukes and whose got the nice? That's what I thought.\"", "\"Welp, we're screwed\" Was essentially the reaction of every country. All except a large landmass known as \"America\". Unfortunately, we are required to stamp out any country that refuses. \"After refusing to comply, we have forcefully taken control of the entire Untied States Military\" I said, unsure of the outcome. \"Good Job, general Ja√øπ.\" Suddenly, a message appeared. \"This Is Ban-Kimoon of Earth, We accept your offer, in exchange for technology and aid against other alien menaces\" \"Well Fuck This\" I said, launching the missiles towards the blue rock. \"Supreme Commander, Sir.\" I said to the screen above my head \"You fucked up, Ja√øn, you fucked up\"", "His jaw dropped. A smile crept over his face as he whispered to himself, \"finally\" as if he had manifested this day for himself. Clarity caught him and he ran outside to look into the sky, laughing and shouting, \"Finally!\". Ryer had hoped this day would occur in his lifetime since childhood. And he saw nothing. \n\nPanic ensued as parties raged. Those who were interested were now elated. Those who were skeptical, now fearful. Mass runs on resources in futile attempt to prepare for perceived Armageddon were ubiquitous. First gas station lines and then \"No Gas here\" signs. The isles of the groceries were completely empty. However more concerning than that was the looting of every gun or ammunition from any available retailer. Law enforcement, dumbfounded themselves, were delayed by the gravity of the situation. While the militaries of every capable nation hopelessly trained their missiles on our invisible guest. \n\nDespite their esoteric knowledge of this possibility, the religious leaders scrambled to incorporate this event into the paradigms they had been selling for centuries. To maintain control, fear of God, and order. But the people knew, and they knew it as well. This changes everything. All the violence and dogma over which prophet knows the correct road to Awe dissolved in the realization that we are not alone. That there is more to know and we, likely, know nothing. \n\nThe message was peaceful but its implication was nothing of the sort. \"They are asking us for help\" Laurie said nervously, putting a positive spin on a tense situation, as Mothers will. \"They are asking for mercinaries!\", the excitement in Ryer's voice as clear as the alien message. He envisioned himself in a great hall, or a high school cafeteria, signing up to join whatever cause it was. He saw himself in the still unseen alien ship, holding an alien weapon. He walked the surface of alien landscapes, in alien space suits, all designed in his own mind. \n\nThe nations of the world conceded the honor to the country with the greatest penchant for war and weaponry, The United States of America. At first the top brass was unsure of how to do so, but the second there was an affirmative to hear the celestial foreigners out, they unveiled their ships. Thousands of them, massive and glowing spheres and their accompanying vessels littered our view of space and sky. They were listening to the entirety of all words spoken in audience of electronics, the same electronics the message had come from. Every dinner table discussion next to a radio, and every option or consideration available to the President. \n\nA singular ship descended to a mile north of the White House, with surface to air missiles trained on the ship, the roar of fighter jets continuously passing overhead and the incessant whirl of armed helicopters, a beam hit the great lawn and an almost transparent, naked, human like creature descended from the ship\n\n\n\n\n", "Ambassador Pardok wondered for the millionth time what he had done to deserve being posted on Earth. It was a shattered shell of what it once had been. Once humans had been a promising species for entrance into the Confederacy. Their largest flaw had been their violent tendencies, but they had, for a time, appeared to be getting them under control. But that was all in the past. Just a year after being granted provisional status in the Confederacy, a massive war broke out among humanity. They turned out to have far more weaponry than they had told the Confederacy. After the war, their population had been reduced by over two thirds. In the aftermath of that debacle, the Confederacy had renewed its efforts to rid itself of violence. And they had been quite successful. \n\nPardok was getting ready to retire for the night, but before he headed to bed, he noticed a message from the foreign affairs division of the Confederacy. It told him to inform the government of Earth that a Confederacy fleet would be entering the system in two days to open negotiations on the purchase of weaponry from humanity. \n\n\"What the hell! Why would the Confederacy need weapons?\" thought Pardok. \n\nAs he set off to Earth government, Pardok wondered how the humans would receive the message. The government was still weak from the war and the population was still divided. Pardok worried that this could spark renewed fighting. \n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nMinister Tang paced on the bridge of flagship of the Confederacy's fleet. He asked a crewman when they would be arriving, and was informed it would be 14 minutes before they arrived in the Sol system. \n\n\"Only three minutes have passed since I last asked\" thought Tang. It had felt like much longer than that. \n\nHe reviewed what had happened in the last few days. The Xerach had invaded Confederacy territory in a blatant and unprovoked war of aggression. The Confederacy had been defenseless. President Darius had dispatched him with the fastest ships the Confederacy had. The fleet carried thousands of high tech goodies to entice the Humans to fork over weapons technology and perhaps some military minds. \n\nTang asked the crewman again for the time until arrival. He was informed there 13 minutes left. Those would be a long 13 minutes. ", "The representatives stood in their chamber. The were discussing the vessel from the outer rim, their territory, approaching the center while transmitting peace and trade signals given to them during first contact. And when the communication ministry said signals, they meant copies of every single non-violent signal that they had received. Maybe it was a trap, maybe they intended to announce what they have in plans for us, maybe a demand for surrender?\n\nAfter all, they challenged the entire might of the Galactic Community within a femta-galactic rotation, and they annihilated the first two armies sent to stop them, and every reserve the GC had to offer.\n\nThe GC’s respond to these stings of defeat was to pull back from that entire arm, while placing warp disruptors on various asteroids and moons. It would hopefully slow down them long enough for a real army to be build, and not just the glorified police force that had been the standing army for the GC for generations. This delaying tactic seems to have worked. Not a sign of them have been seen for half a femta-galactic rotation.\n\nBut this ship, theirs by design and signal, approach herald a new war, since if one ship have made it through, their fleet could too. This is what have made everyone so agitated and rash. Heck, out of fear for a virus or cyber attack it have been banned to establish or receive anything more that scatter from their ship, another reason we have no idea what they intend.\n\nOh well their intention should be revealed soon, contact is expected to be made any moment now. Far from anything their ship was intercepted by one of ours. Onboard should be an admiral of the newly formed Community Fleet, and powerful transmitters and receivers to both the Galactic Information Center and here, the combined representatives chamber filled like never before by at least four representatives from each race in The Community.\n\nThe admiral is only supposed to be the receiver, and the real talk will be between an already elected spokesman of the GC, though input from a major race can be made during the talks, and their representative.\n\nThe holo come to life, revealing a creature that, if the propaganda is to be believed, is more beast that sentient. Of course no one knows this specific being, but their race is quite recognizable, what with the outer skeleton and all. The representative readies to begin his introduction speech, knowing that nearly every menter for the CG is watching.\n\nGreeting, I am the chosen first spokes member during this debate. Your ship have been signalling many peace signals, signals they your race have previously used for ambushes, and entered our de jure space. Your race\n\nHe got interrupted by it\n\nYes I understand my races crimes, and yes we have done many things wrong. But should the actions of our then* leaders condemn our entire race? If one member of your community get revealed for being a fraud or corrupt, do you condemn their entire race for being greedy? Or do you punish the single individual for their crimes! Please, when first contact to us was established you claimed that you represent the galaxy though peace and tolerance! So can you look through your righteous hate for our former leaders, and please listen to our plea?\n\nThis was unprecedented. Former leaders? Since when? Please and pleas? They have and would never! And playing on our initial contact for all that it is worth. They want something, and they are ready to beg on their knees for it. Do they want forgiveness?\n\nYour might have been proven, you, despite your initial laughable attempts and naivety, have show greater ferocity and destruction than we have ever experienced. Your cynical views of life, your hate for progress not serving yourself and your disregard of honor and decency surprised us all. We have now fought a long a drawn out struggle, but after the destruction of the system you named Xicios_4523, we have realised how outmatched we are. So we beg of you, show mercy to the innocent, call back your warriors, and accept our surrender.\n\nThis sounded nothing like the community. Nothing of it makes sense. If anything we suffered a terrible but quick defeat at the hands of them, not a drawn out war like what was described. And Xicios_4523 was a perfectly fine colonisable system, what could have happened to it? Nothing makes any sense. The chosen representatives voice what we were all wondering.\n\nPlease, explain more clearly your troubles, since your words does not match our memory of the war. From the beginning please, after contact was lost.\n\nHuh? But why ask this… no matter i will tell. After you fle, made a tactical retreat our leaders used quite a bit of resources on clearing your annoying no-warp zone. It was hard since we had to spend much time using propulsion systems to get near the emitters, truly an effective slower but that’s not the point. While this went on as fast as possible colonisation was made. Especially Xicios_4523 was a popular center since its strategic location and nature made it a flourishing commute center and sprawling with civilian life.\n\nEnough, around talk, what happened?* The chosen representative is getting agitated, but so are we all.\n\nRight, right. We made it two thirds through your field, at the time we know not for how long it would go on, when we met those we call tri-eyed. Because their eyes are white on the outer rim, black in the middle, and various colours in the area between the two shades. The tri-eyed was armed with some of the ships and systems we recognised from our war with you. But they were different, regardless we attacked. But when we made it close to their home planet, we intended to colonize it since the habitat was quite good, their ambush sprung. Favouring kinetic weapons, fired from explosive cannons, their shots shredded our ships cannons and engines.\n\nThen they boarded our ships, they killed every soldier and colonist onboard with close up kinetic weapons and knives. Knives haven’t been seen in war since before we achieved plasmatic weapons. But they mastered it, and they stole our ships. We made mistakes in the beginning, reckless with our ships so they ended up highjacking more than we shot. But by the time we realised our mistake and rerouted all strength on their single planet, it wasn’t enough. And so the greatest war we’ve ever witnessed, maybe the greatest this galaxy ever have, started. Between a single system minor, and an empire that could challenge the entire galaxy and come out on top.\n\nTheir tactics was as foreign to us, as we imagine ours was to yours initially. The brutality they used was incredible, whenever we captured them, they fought till the last, and their last bullet was always for themselves. They did not shy away from hitting civilian targets. Remember Xicios_4523, the commute hub and sprawling civilian colony? The tri-eyes, after scrapping them of value, sent our hijacked ships back at Xicios_4523 at full warp speed. Not even slowing down when nearing the planet, thus turning the ships into several asteroids. Killing eleven billion members of our race, only 300.000 million of them was soldiers, and of those the far majority was news and reserves. When we captured a member of their race alive we asked why, he responded; “It was important to you… your home planted is important to you right?”\n\nThis is but a few of the crimes committed against us, these devils, demons and beast have shown us what true war is. And we surrender, so I am here to beg of you, call them back, since their only respond to pease offers is; “A great member of our race once said; If you stop hitting them before you know they will never recover enough to retaliate, you’re doing it wrong.” Please make them stop!\n\nSilence ensued until the chosen asked what was on our minds. Does anyone know what the ambassador is talking about? Said ambassador looked surprised and crushed at these words.\n\nMore silence until a voice from the other line of the connection asked. These tri-eyes, do they call themselves humans and do their home systems have four inter terra planets and four gas giants? The admiral as it turns out asked.\n\nYes, that is exactly them! You must stop them!\n\nThe chosen representative ask the admiral, who is now also in view. How do you know of these humans, when we do not?\n\nEhh… You know how I got this rank right? It was because I lead the retreat, and disruptor operations. Half way though the job I got another, slightly illegal idea to hold back the enemy. I made contact to pre plasmatic race's and gave them a copy of The Encyclopedia, plus a few old ships that was slowing down the disrupter operation. These humans are one of those races. But I knew not it would get this bad, I only warned them of your threat, and every other truth they asked for. I don’t control them or their actions, heck because if the illegality I didn’t write it down and honestly forgot about them until now.\n\nThe ambassador was crushed by the revelation.", "Meanwhile in a Secret Room with 8 mysterious men seated around a table:\n\nMan 1: Gentlemen, It seems we have extraterrestrial life forms in our midst. \n\nMan 2: Well well, I smell an opportunity. While we have profited from selling weapons to the US military, ISIS, the Saudis and other groups we can give the aliens our \"welcome\" and hopefully learn about their technology and weaponize it.\n\nMan 3: Isn't that absurd your suggesting something like Star Wars . \n\nMan 4: I must say our world is running out of space and resources. If we are to survive we must expand to other planets. \n\nMan 5: Well then may I suggest that we need to make up a story that aliens are lying about \"coming in peace\" and start a \"false flag operation\" and blame the aliens.\n\nMan 3: I have to agree with you sir. With enough propaganda, we can justify our attacks against aliens. \n\nMan 6: An interstellar empire. Brilliant, I must develop the ideology of human supremacy. After all, I find racism, sexism, and other -ism getting old. Besides we can finally achieve what humanity wanted: equality among humans. But since it's natural for humans to hate, we can have them hate the aliens. \n\nMan 7: Ah yes another way to gain cheap labour and profits. With alien slave labour we can have them mine minerals in other worlds. \n\nMan 8: Plus, we can have them as agricultural laborers.\n\nMan 1: Well Gentlemen, today herald a new era. Let's all cast away our differences and bring about a new age for humanity.\n\nAll: Human Power!", "In 2056 NASA intercepted a frequency that was not of Earth. With its point of origin unknown they began to study it in an attempt to discover from whence it came. As it was studied it became known as the whoa signal, mockingly after the famous \"wow!\" signal of 1977 which was deemed the echo of a supernova, for unlike its now disregarded counterpart this was of no supernova. NASA discovered the signal was encrypted like nothing they had ever dreamed of; the discovery of the encryption itself set technology hundreds of years ahead of where it once was. It sparked the golden age of exploration in our solar system; Ceres, Vesta, Hektor, Thisbe, Diotina, Fortuna were among many asteroids in the asteroid belt that were to be mined and inhabited; the once failed colonization of Mars was reattempted and achieved, Europa of Jupiter, Titan of Saturn and Triton of Neptune all were to be colonized and inhabited; Man had even reached as far as the Oort Cloud in the outer reaches of our solar system as early as 2096. The resulting abundance of precious metals and resources brought an unprecedented rate of accessibility to ships and technology to even the poorest regions of Earth. Humanity had finally reached the Space Age. Yet NASA, now the Global Space Agency (GSA), had yet to break the encryption which alone set Humanity so far into the future. \n\nBy the year 2110, 54 years after the discovery of the \"Whoa\" signal, the GSA had finally broken the code. What they discovered was an archive of information of an Alien civilization on the other side of the Galaxy. As far as the GSA could determine it was a nameless race whose home planet was destroyed by its star going supernova and the whereabouts and status of the remainder of it was unknown. Along with the fate of its planet the GSA discovered archives of military weapons and schematics of Dreadnoughts and space stations for war and inhabitancy. Evidence of other races of similar military might to The Nameless, as the mysterious civilization was now called, were also discovered. The GSA feared the discovery of its solar system by a hostile Alien race and so they began its military research and development of its unstoppable war machines in secret. \n\nFast forward to the year 2150. Its been one hundred years since the Whoa signal and humanity has evolved exponentially and with it has come conflict. Mars has rebelled for independence against Earth, the fight for independence of Titan soon follows but neither without bloodshed. Both have rebelled against Earths GSA forces in an attempt to overthrow their Military might and furthermore are yet top discover the source of the GSA's power being from the seemingly endless abundance of information from the archive within the whoa signal. But all came to a halt on June 7th, 2150 when an unidentified Armada of hundreds of vessels appeared just out side of the Oort Cloud. Martian and Titinian forces gathered to apprehend what they believed to be a GSA ambush when hundreds of Dreadnoughts and Frigates and cruisers of the unidentified armada suddenly vanished and reappeared between the orbit of Mars and Earth. The forces of Mars and Titan both concluded GSA could not possibly possess warp drive capabilities as they re-positioned to intercept the Armada which was now so alarmingly close to Mars and Earth. Without notice however all comm's suddenly became cluttered with static then fell silent followed by steady rhythmic tapping. Admiral Oscar Austerlitz of the Martian Republic Flagship Phobos realized that what they were hearing was mores code. Running over to the comm station the Admiral ordered that the code be deciphered by one of the officers next to him. The officer listened and translated as ordered; the officer began to grow more and more pail with each translated word forgetting to read out the message as he finished. The officer just starred at the message on his monitor. \"Well? Whats it say officer!\" Barked Austerlitz. The officer hesitated for just a moment before finally reading aloud\n\n\"Inhabitants of Earth, we come in peace.\" the officer finally said in a calm yet distressed tone. \n\n\"What kind of silly fucking joke is this son! Do I look fucking amused to you?!\" Austerlitz became increasingly red as he asked \n\n\"N-No Sir\" The officer stammered once more \"i-it continues sir\" the Admiral, still red, motioned to tell the Officer to continue; obviously he was still not convinced. \"Long have we searched for your kind, we have suffered a great deal in our search; for in all the Universe only one other species has mastered death and destruction as you have. They have found our planet and seek to destroy us. We need your help.\" The officer slowly looked up from the monitor to see the Admiral's face almost purple now and his mustache crooked. \"That is the end of the message before it repeats sir\" The Admiral finally stood straight, exhaled and took a deep breath as if he was releasing a bellow of hot air.\n\n\"Make contact with Admiral Winslow I want to know if the Titanians received this too, contact me on the bridge when you do.\" Austerlitz quickly turned on his heels and walked briskly out of the comm's station. \n\n\"But sir all comm's are down\" spoke another officer\n\n\"Just get it done!\" the Admiral shouted as the door shut behind him. Shortly after the message ceased and all comm's were restored. \n\nWhile stroking his long mustache Austerlitz looked out upon the Titania, Titans Flag ship, on the starboard side of the Phobos when the comm line buzzed on \n\n\"Admiral we have established contact with Admiral Winslow\" \n\n\"I'll take it in the war room\" Austerlitz replied. When he arrived in the war room Winslow was already on screen. \n\n\"Did you receive the message too?\" Asked Austerlitz. \n\n\"Yes, unfortunately\" replied Winslow \n\n\"What do you recommend?\" \n\n\"I think we should contact the GSA and see what they have to say about this, they were addressing Earth in the message\" \n\n\"They?\" \n\n\"Yes - they - The messengers from beyond the Oort\" \n\n\"How do we know the GSA is not behind it? This could be a trap.\" Austerlitz still did not seem convinced or at least did not wish to be. \n\n\"The GSA has nothing to benefit from by engaging in a massive battle so close to Earth and Mars. Slaughtering the rebellion for all of Earth to see would only make us martyrs and spark another rebellion. But you're right we don't know for sure.\" \n\n\"Then we will make contact with the GSA\" Austerlitz pulled up another comm window ans asked over the all call station that the GSA be contacted immediately it was not long until they made contact. The third comm window came to life and so appeared Cyrus Zhukov Supreme Commander of the GSA's military. \n\n\"Ah, gentleman, what a strange turn of events that my comm's get hijacked and not to long after the two great leaders of the rebellion appear in my comm lin-\"\n Austerlitz finally cuts off Zhukov blurting out \n\n\"it wasn't us.\"\n\n\"I am aware of that Admiral, I have an armada of unmarked Warships on Earths doorstep and my scouts tell me they used a warp drive to get here. Now I know you two mongrels with your exploration era warships couldn't possibly be capable of such a thing\" Winslow was barley bothered by the commanders arrogant tone but Austerlitz, just like the hot head that he is, had felt the commander struck a nerve and began to turn a feint shade of red with his mustache slightly bent now to the right. \"If it were the GSA we most definitely would not have broadcast that across the entirety of Earth and Mars, that is impossible even for us. Get within range of Earth as as soon as possible. We shall send an Emissary and will brief you gentlemen when you arrive.\" Austerlitz finally opened his mouth to speak\n\n\"Over my dead fucking body you're going to make contact without us.\" His face now a very bright shade of red.\n\n\"Try and stop us\" The comm window with GSA closed.\n\n\"That fucking cunt!\" Austerlitz shouts as he punches the wall beside him. \"Winslow! Set A course for Earth!\" Austerlitz flips a switch \"Navigator Set a course for Earth!\" \n\n\"Ill see you there Oscar\" Winslow closes the communication.\n", "They were beautiful, really.\n\nEvolving on a world completely covered by ocean , they were aquatic rather than terrestrial. Soft, translucent skin revealed a brain 10 times larger than what the human skull could accommodate. Feathered tentacles spread out like wings, feelers detecting the temperature and air composition of the environment. \n\nTechnology and biology were fused in various locations, glowing with electrical and bio luminescence. While unable to compete with humanity on land, they seemed to dance in the 0 g environment. Their voices were like whale song, but softer and rapidly shifting in tone. \n\nThe official designation was Atlanteans but the troopers had taken to calling them Kalimaries. It had been months since first contact had been established. \n\nHumanity had become hired muscle in exchange for a free ticket off our dieing planet and a tech evolution kick-start of a few millennium. Currently, world leaders were fleshing out the finer details of the deal. \n\n\"Yes. Like folding. Folding space, reach destination.\"\n\nThe Commander scratched his chin. \n\n\"So, what happens on the other end?\"\n\nThe blue, gelatinous Kali quivers. \n\n\"Massive disbursement of energy. Potential danger. Confirm a coordinate is empty, send scouts to ensure power of a fleet warp does not destroy.\"\n\n\"What if a coordinate isn't empty? What if you warp into a planet?\" \n\nMore quivering. \n\n\"We do not know. The warp engine is... locomotion. Going into planet... contrary to this goal.\" \n\n\"Do the ships need to be piloted?\" \n\n\"No. Lower function machine intelligence can make necessary calculations.\"\n\nThe Commander looks out one of the massive glass windows that typically covered Kali vessels. Outside, a space ship dubbed \"The Fish Bowl\" was maintaining a respectful orbit away from Earth. Mostly due to being larger than it. \n\n\"Yeah... yeah I think we can help you out.\" \n \n", "1000 Years Later\n\nSai Benedict was tired, scared, and alone; his lab assistants hadn't turned up to work, which could mean only one thing - the Earth Military Council had rounded them all up. That meant it would only be a matter of time until the intensive interrogations revealed the location of his lab; even with the neural inhibitors he had scrounged together, and installed in their heads, he would only have a few more hours at the most. That time was meant to be used to escape, to set up elsewhere and begin again from scratch, but he couldn't do it again.\n\nIt wasn't anything to do with willingness; he literally couldn't. For a start, even with black market rejuvenation treatments, his two hundred year old frame just couldn't take much more. A simple look in the mirror told the rest of the story: whereas just ten years ago (before the last relocation) he had looked like a svelte young man in his mid twenties, with dark hair, light brown skin, and piercing green eyes, he now appeared almost monstrous. His hair was patchy and albino white, his skin was a sickly yellow color (covered in painful boils), and his eyes--now all but blind without technology--were almost completely white. During the last close call, EMC internal security had zombified one of his own assistants; they used her to deliver a biological weapon that Sai had not been able--even with his formidable training--to counter.\n\nHe'd upgraded the rest of his assistants' implants to ensure something similar couldn't happen again, and had found a way to prolong what he had left of life, but there just wasn't much time left. A hacking cough, that brought up a mixture of blood and greenish phlegm, reminded him of that fact. So instead of even thinking about escape, he went back to work.\n\nLooking around the lab, before he did so, he let out a sigh. In his youth, before he'd joined one of the many failed revolutions, he'd always been surrounded by the best facilities: private and EMC funding had taken him through the most promising schools and universities, before placing him in charge of one of the navy's R&D facilities. Now, however, he was stationed in a retrofitted barn outside of Moscow - gone were the shining banks of modern holo stations, and in their place a mishmash of technology ranging from the relatively new to the positively ancient; he even had an old quantum computer gathering dust in the corner.\n\nAt the center of it all was a surgery table, the only piece of cutting edge tech in the barn, upon which lay what appeared to be a bald human male (he didn't even have eyebrows yet). Of course, it was actually the most advanced simulated organism ever created - able to pass as a human, but with capabilities far in advance (even with all the recent innovations) of any man or woman, and more importantly--if he could get the damned thing activated and on its way to Angelica--it offered the potentiality of fixing humankind's greatest mistake...\n\n", "The Zoom of a warp drive, a measurement of exact strength of a vaccuum, (a tricky thing, measuring vaccuum's within a vaccuum!) heated and shook. A contraption built from scrap metal and crap from the outer rim of this solar system. \nKazim was grateful though. In one of the human's furthest reasing trashcan's there was a golden disk... With just enough gold to transfer a high definition message from one of their space stations...\n\n\n\n\nwhich of course, Kazim would have to take over quietly, and without giving anything away. Which is why the zoom of the space drive, was rather annoying, when usually be found it an impressive thing.\n\n\n\nThen Kazim felt ridiculous. He was worrying about sounds in space.\n\n\n\n\n\nThough, If they found out the truth about him and defenselessness, or his odd intentions, that would be the end of it.\n\n\n Hostile, primitive life... They'd likely want to cut me into pieces, he thought. He considered the little simians, prying and probing him with their glasses and metal. \n\n\nHe was glad his skin was thicker than the indigenous people's. They would have a harder time cutting him open. Something told him though, this animals specialty wasn't in it's brute force, or sharp tools. (Though they did walk on two legs, instead of the polite four. They are like arrogant savages, compared to Protosimians as far as Kazim was concerned.)\n\nAll the more reason not to trust them!\n\nHe had his eye on one space station in particular. It seemed to issue commands to other nearby satellites. A whole system Kazim could broadcast from..! Imagine the possibilities. \n\nAgain, he was thankful for the golden disc. It had some odd mark's on it. He was pretty impressed that cave dwelling primates managed to send a valuable piece of material like this into space... Though they did graffiti it. None the less. They probably knew about it's high definition capabilities.\nImpressive.\n\n\n\n\nKazim had to give it to them. \nLiterally. He would need it to transfer his images to their communication devices, and try to take over the planet. He would look like a fool back home if he couldn't handle a species so primitive... And his people would never hear the excuse, of his ship being eaten by a Cthulhu... or that he lost to these sub-protosimians.\n\nWhatever the problem, he couldn't stop now. He had come too far. Faught through too much to be made a fool of.\nEveryone back home would know his name, when he offered them a new vacation destination, with a commercially enslaved people to serve them.\n\n\n\n\nWhen Kazim's trashcan powered Zoom drive pressurized him close enough to the space station, he pulled over a mask on the face of his suit, and exited The pod, drifting to the door.\n\nHis suit stuck to it. He banged on the space station.\n\nhe waited.\n\n\n\n\nA very alarmed man was screaming inside in a matter of minutes.\nKazim held up a piece of paper. \"Tell No One.\"\n\nFor lack of a better word, their faces were incredulous.\nIt was some time, but they finally let him in.\n\nSome hours later, a message arrived everywhere on earth in all the languages of the people on the station.\n\n\n\n\nUnfortunately, the only language was russian.\n\n\n\n\n\"We come in peace. In all the universe only one other species has mastered death and destruction as the human race has. We need your help.\"\n\n\nKazim Imagined that this message would get him taken directly to their leaders, with access to their weapons. But since the messaged arrived only in Russian, to everyone on the planet, most of the world was left with conspiracy theories, and the Russians laughed it off. \n\n\n\n", "I felt quite insulted. The aliens had come, seeking destruction. They had reviewed all of their known space and we were the answer, the only species stupidly dangerous enough to help them fight off the neverending aggressions of their enemy. That was public knowledge, the high powered broadcast they sent out upon their arrival made sure of that. Every TV channel, every radio broadcast drowned out by the signal. Even empty tin cans and rocks with a heavy iron content seemed to hum out the message. What was not public knowledge however was that we had already agreed to help. To send our best. To send our worst. The most dangerous, destructive man on the planet to aid them. They had sent me.\n\nI guess you would call me a psychopath. I never did feel much in life, happiness eluded me but sadness never showed up either. I killed my first man at 12. He tried to touch me. I stopped him. Stopped him with a rock. I didn't feel any different after that, didn't feel the emotions that I had expected to feel. I killed three more that year. The parents of a school friend who had upset me. The man at the bus stop who annoyed me with his grumpy old opinions. It was just the start of a long life of death. I joined the army at 16. I never did quite fit in. I was relatively funny and the others accepted me well enough, but I had a look in my eyes when I killed that they never could get used to. One admitted to me later that it was more like lust than terror. It must have been true because after that I felt it for what it really was. Lust. Lust for death. Lust for the feeling of life that came only from playing the balance. I received my medals and dishonourable discharge on the same day. The officers never did ask me what really had happened that day. I don't think they really wanted to know.\n\nI excelled as a mercenary. Killing for money. I had no need for the money, but it was a bonus, a cherry on the top of my cake. My first arrest was in America, I slipped up and left some blood at the scene. They compared it to records going back all 29 years of my life and found at least a third of my other crimes. Hundreds of murders to my name. My cell was built especially for me, a nice touch I felt, they respected my talent. It was portable my cell, so that they would never need to let me out. Never need to expose the world to the risk that I would pose. I'm still in my cell now. Flying at speeds that shouldn't exist in physics as we know it. Approaching something almost as dangerous as me. I'm still feeling quite insulted, but there's something else, something deeper.\n\nLust.\n\n[Edit: Part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/38w47q/wp_a_multitude_of_alien_ships_warp_within_range/crzc6mo) as requested by u/DINDU___NUFFIN", "\"You mean... we're actually more advanced than you? How is that possible? You came all the way here from... where, again?\" President Clarke asked.\n\n\"Ah, ha ha. No, not more advanced, per se,\" Admiral OJ Simpson responded with an uncomfortable chuckle and shifted in his seat. \"Just better at... what was that phrase, again?\" he asked his second-in-command, Admiral Stalin.\n\n\"Fucking shit up, sir?\"\n\n\"Fucking shit up. That's the one. Our technology is eons more advanced than yours, but you're better at fucking shit up. Every time our ancestors made a breakthrough in any field of learning, they immediately banded together to think of the most widely beneficial use for the new technology. Every time your ancestors made a breakthrough in any field, their first thought seems to have been directed towards using it to fuck shit up. That's why we've come to you.\"\n\nClarke still didn't quite catch on. \"You want us to... what? Sorry.\"\n\n\"We want you to tell us how to use what we already have to fuck shit up.\"\n\n\"Ah, ok. Well, we'll do what we can,\" answered the President, speaking on behalf of a large gathering of Earth's political leaders, scientists, and military geniuses.\n\n\"Yeah. That brings me to my next point: we appreciate your bringing your scientists in here, but what we'd really like would be for you to bring in those... those guys. Ah, shoot. Stalin, those guys? Who were they again?\"\n\n\"7-year-old boys, sir.\"\n\n\"Right, yes.\"\n\n\"Also Michael Bay.\"\n\n\"Yes! One of the few adults who has retained the incredible power of the 7-year-old boy: to instantly weaponise every object he sees with the sheer force of imagination. Please bring in several 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay.\"\n\n**\n\nIn a few hours' time, the room now contained several 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay. At Admiral OJ Simpson's request, the centre of the room had been occupied by a large table containing everyday objects that the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay, could use to stimulate their creativity. With everyone settled in, their work began.\n\n\"Do you know how to split adams?\" Jakob asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" a Garion scientist replied.\n\n\"Sweeeeet,\" said Jakob.\n\n\"Sweeeet,\" said the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay.\n\n\"Why do you ask?\" inquired the Garion scientist.\n\n\"Well to make a thermonukular bomb you have to split adams. Then the adams split and there's like this super energy that comes out like bloah* and psssssshht and whrkkkkkkkkkkt and dujje dujje dujje,\" Jakob explained, using a Barbie Dream Car and a plastic frying pan to illustrate.\n\n\"A thermonukular bomb, you say? How does such a thing work?\"\n\n\"Well,\" piped in one of the human scientists, \"for starters, it's actually pronounced nu-cle-ar.\"\n\n\"Whatever, egghead. We can figure out the science stuff, thanks. I asked how it works. How do we use a bomb?\"\n\n\"It's totally awesome!!\" Oliver cried, leaping out of his chair. \"You have to put it on a rocket, right? And like the rocket has like this flames out the back like hhhhhhhkkkkkkKKKKKKKKKK KKKKKKKKK *PPPPPPKKKKKKKKT! And the rocket goes like right to the bad guys' ship or whatever, and the ship is like --\"\n\n\"AND THE SHIP IS LIKE BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWMMMMMM!!!!!!!\" shouted Michael Bay, crashing his hands together with such force that than oak branch and harmonica he'd been holding were utterly obliterated. \"It's totally fucking awesome!!!!!\"\n\nThe room fell silent as the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay, recognised the gravity of the terrible cuss that Michael Bay had just said. However, the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay, quickly realised that nobody's moms were around, and so they weren't gonna get grounded.\n\n\"Fart!\" yelled Aiden, breaking the silence with at least 8 minutes of uncontrollable laughter from the 7-year-old boys, and also Michael Bay.\n\nWhen the laughter died down, Admiral Pol Pot asked the question that he and the Garion staff felt may hold the answer to their future and the survival of their species:\n\n\"How do we make a rocket?\"\n\nSamuel really liked rockets and even made one with his dad last summer, so everyone felt that he would be the most qualified to explain.\n\n\"You guys have ships, right?\"\n\n\"Yes, we do.\"\n\n\"Fast ones?\"\n\n\"Yes, Samuel.\"\n\n\"How fast? Faster than a Lamborghini?\"\n\n\"Yes. Much faster.\"\n\n\"Sweet,\" said Michael Bay.\n\n\"Sweeeeeet,\" said the 7-year-old boys.\n\n\"Ok, then,\" said Samuel, with a very serious look. \"Alls you do is, like you put a nuclear bomb in* a ship, and then fly it real fast into the bad guy ship, and make it so it blows up when it gets there. But don't have anyone fly the ship. The ship should be like remote-controlled. Then you just blow the bad guys up.\"\n\nBy way of demonstration, Samuel proceeded to smash a violin on the edge of the table.\n\nThe Garion delegation sat back for a few moments in stunned silence.\n\n\"It's so simple,\" said Admiral OJ Simpson. \"It's so simple. Thank you, boys. Thank you, Michael Bay! We are going to make a thermonukular bomb and we are going to fuck those aliens' shit up!!\"\n\n\"Fart,\" said Aiden.", "\"So, these guys could wipe you off the face of the universe,\" President Walter said with a wide grin. \"And you could do nothing about? No death rays? Giant robots? Small robots? Nothing?\"\n\nAlthough his big black eyes were unreadable to humans, the President and the rest of the UN Security Council noticed the little grey alien looked increasingly uncomfortable. Walters was not the only one beaming.\n\n\"That will cost you, you know,\" Walters continued. \"We want access to all your shiny toys. Computers, spaceships, reactors, matter replicators. Henry, give me the list.\"\n\nWalters handed the alien a printout that had taken the experts a few hours to compile and the Council a few weeks to negotiate. \"Just to be clear, Ambassador. We want blueprints, manuals, text books. We want to be able to understand this stuff, not just replicate it.\"\n\n\"My experts told me that you have to redo most of your physical theories for that,\" the ambassador said. \"Are you willing to do that? Can your scientists survive that humiliation?\"\n\nWalters looked puzzled. The closest person to a scientist he knew was his science advisor. And that guy loved to be corrected. Henry abandoned wrong theories faster than Walters abandoned deals that went sour.\n\n\"Leave that to us, Ambassador. Get us the data and we take care of the rest.\"\n\nThe little alien stared at the group of leaders, then dissolved into a cloud of sparkles. The ambassador had returned to his ship. Ten minutes later, a crystal appeared in front of each nation's leader. A single sheet of plastic accompanied it, carrying the instructions how to read the data.\n\n* * \n\n\"Henry, explain that again. But this time leave out all the science jargon and explain it like i'm five.\"\n\n\"Well, Mr President. The other side is about as advanced as we are. We are equal. They have death rays, we have them. They have big space ships, we can have them in a few weeks if we want. They have nanotechnology, bio weapons, you name it. We have all that too.\"\n\n\"Hmm. Mutually assured destruction all over again. Are the Grey behind this? I mean, they confessed they abducted people to find out about us. You don't do that if you're a nice alien.\"\n\n\"They're just desperate. You've seen the videos of the invasion fleet. Our scouts have mapped each and every ship. Those Reds can destroy all Grey worlds three times over.\"\n\n\"Hmm. And we can contact the Reds?\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir. The interstellar communicators can lock onto their ships as well as onto ours.\"\n\n\"Get me their boss on the line. And project the map of the universe so that I can share my screen with him,\" Walters said, proud of himself that he had learned a bit of technology slang.\n\nDr Henry sighed. The communication link was easy to set up. There was, however, no line involved and no screen either.\n\n * \n\n\"And you, puny being, speak for your planet,\" the holographic representation of the Red King boomed.\n\n\"I am,\" Walters said, while he walked around the seven feet lizard, inspecting him from all sides. \"And I have a suggestion. A deal if you will.\"\n\n\"We do not make deals with food.\"\n\n\"Ahh, yes. And we usually don't make deals with pets, but let's both make a exception today,\" Walters said. \"I assume, you heard the Grey upgraded our technology a bit.\"\n\n\"They are food. Nothing they do is of consequence. Food with spaceships is still food,\" the Red King boomed.\n\n\"But we have equipped these spaceships with death rays,\" Walters said. \"Based on the technology of the Grey.\"\n\nThe Red King's hologram flickered for a few seconds. Walters assumed that he was talking to his aides and therefore waited patiently.\n\n\"What do you want, President Walters,\" the Red King asked.\n\nWalters pointed to the map of the galaxy. The Red Kingdom formed a giant red cloud, encompassing many star systems. The mist that illustrated the Grey empire was easily ten times as big. A small blue ring pulsated slightly. Earth was surrounded by Grey space.\n\n\"We can do each other a lot of damage. Our simulations show that we could eradicate each other in a short, bloody war. All that would remain is this,\" Walters said and nodded to Dr Henry. The red cloud was swallowed by the grey mist. The blue ring stopped pulsating.\n\n\"That is true, Earthling. Do you want to negotiate for peace? How do you intend to pay?\"\n\nWalters nodded again and the Grey mist shrunk to its original size. It continued to shrink while the Red cloud expanded. So did a blue cloud, with the pulsating ring at its centre. The red and the blue cloud met when each filled about half the known universe.\n\n\"With an empire, King. We might not make deals with pets, but we make deals with equals.\"", "The Council slowly came to order. 3 species from different worlds, all of them peaceful and advanced, with a 500 year history of being the closest of allies. \n\nAnd yet, this discussion might just break them apart. \n\nCouncil Member Grak, tall and slender beneath the iridescent scales of his race, stood from among his delegation. \"Good morning to you all. We come together today to discuss the progress of the fighting in NR-347 and NR-...\"\n\nCouncil Member Helios stood and interrupted Grak. \"We all are aware of the fighting, even with it coming 50 years early!\" Helios was hot tempered, and more prone to outbursts than the rest of his race. His 4 eyes glared balefully from his broad brown snout. \"The Enemy is pushing us and our forces are barely holding. If we had not gone along with your mad scheme to arm those... primatives* then we would have another full fleet to put on the line!\"\n\nGrak exhaled through his secondary membrane. Helios led a faction in the Council that favored simply blockading the Border Worlds and letting the Frontier fall to the enemy. When Grak had convinced the Council to give the Humans a full fleet of ships to prepare for the invasion, the rest of the 100 member assembly had assumed that they would actually be put to use. It had been the ethical thing to do, since their world was in the path of the Enemy and Humans were the only species in the area to be even close to a useful buffer. However, since the delivery of ships the only word from them was an acknowledgement of the news that fighting had started. \n\nThe Humans were... strange. All of the other Council races had been at peace with themselves for their whole histories. Descended from 2 herd races and a hive mind, fighting was simply outside their nature. Even attempting genetic manipulation to create their own soldiers had been a disaster. Hiring the Humans as mercenaries had seemed a perfect solution. There were enough of them, and they bred quickly enough, that there should have been a wall of them across the Frontier already. \n\nEven as Grak tried to think of a counter to the arguments still issuing from his counterpart, one of the Xin stood from their delegation and the translator hummed to life. <<Queen. Alarm. Approach. Foes. Danger. Danger.>>\n\nGrak was surprised. The Xin, looking like crabs with fingers instead of claws almost never showed any signs of concern. For them to show that now....\n\nA guard came into the 4th chamber of the Council Hall looking as if wildfire burned behind him. \"My Honors, there is a... a representative here. He demands audience!\"\n\nThe Hall burst into shouts and sounds of panic. The Enemy here? Even as the doors opened the panic only subsided when a two legged shape came in past the lights. A black uniform and rows of colorful markings across the chest meant that this was a member of the Human military from what Grak recalled. Within ten steps, the only sound was the clicking of the Human's shoes on the stone floor as he mounted the steps to the guest podium.\n\n\"I am Fleet Commodore Da Gang. I have been sent to you to take Earth's first place on this Council.\"\n\nOutrage thundered from Helios' corner of the room. Grak was not far from joining him. To demand this...!\n\nHelios quieted his fellows and spoke. \"Human, it has been 10 years and you have been silent. Now you come demanding honor as equals?! This is beyond madness! While you have been cowering, our forces have bled and died holding back the Enemy!\"\n\nGrak tuned out the tirade and watched the Human. His face changed not at all, without a twitch against the force of Helios' anger. It was worrying. Grak had not risen as far as he had without knowing when he saw a trap.\n\nDa Gang stood with his hands behind his back, silently waiting for Helios to run out of steam. When he had the attention of the Council again, he began.\n\n\"Honors, I have been sent not just with our claim to join this Council, but also to show what we have done for a war that is, I remind you, YOUR war.\"\n\nWaving an attendant forward, Da Gang began a presentation on an unfamiliar holo-emitter. \"You presented us with a fleet of ships and asked us to use them to fight your Enemy. We found quickly that your ships were.... inadequate... for the task.\"\n\nThe visions of most of the fleet being blotted out among the stars filled the room. No one dared speak. Helios had all of his eyes fixed on the violence. His concession to allowing the Humans to have the ships was that they would be aging hulks. Grak imagined that there was some regret of that now. \n\nDa Gang continued. \"Luckily for us, however, we took some of the ships and took them apart. We learned how to make the technology you gifted us. And then we improved it.\"\n\nThe images changed to a moon being disassembled for materials. The shipyards above what Grak recognized as the 5th planet of their home system filled 2 entire Lagrange points. To have done all this.... to have done all this in a mere 10 years was unthinkable. \n\n\"Our weapons are now 50% more powerful than what the Enemy uses. As you can see,\" the stars making up the Human's spiral arm now dominated the room, \"we have pushed back this Invasion approximately 7% since our new ships have come into use.\"\n\nFlickering red dots showed the sites of battles, scattered like drops of the Humans' red blood. Several of the Enemy's colony worlds were marked. A frown crossed Grak's face. \"Fleet Commodore, what are the black spots with the yellow rings?\" Dread made his voice faint, but Da Gang heard him. \n\n\"After the early defeats, we needed a weapon that the enemy could not fight off. We had many of your star-drives ready, so we used them.\"\n\nThe images changed again. Dreadnaught engines strapped to... asteroids? But why would.... No. No, not even a race that fought itself could be so deranged. \n\n\"As you can see, these black spots are Enemy holdings that have been... neutralized.\"\n\nHelios wept as the Council watched worlds burn. \"How could you have done this? What have you done?\"\n\nDa Gang's expression finally changed. To surprise. \n\n\"We did as you asked.\"\n\n\"We brought you victory.\"\n\nEDIT: [Part 2 included](https://docs.google.com/document/d/14NoT0Myy4fJGmiEiwquxhsXTaNAZoT7ZpqRBc8HjSfc/edit?usp=sharing)", "\"Alien life forms, we acknowledge your signal. We expect you will understand ours. Send the dimensions of your vessel or vessels so that we might prepare a landing location.\n\nOur technology is such that any trade, information sharing, or negotiation must be done on the surface. Earth's many factions are unanimous on this decision, so that no one nation is privileged.\n\nWe ask for your understanding while we attempt to assist you.\"\n\nThe transmission was sent. The UN council exchanged glances. Representatives sat along side national leaders. Given the gravity of the situation, no nation would miss the chance to be present. \n\nUS President Obama turned to Russia's seat at the security council forum, waving to get the leader's attention.\n\nPutin disengaged from his aides and advisers to meet Obama in the middle of the floor.\n\n\"Vladimir... what do you uh... make of our chances here?\"\n\nPutin seemed to bounce the question around in his mind. He smiled. \"Good, good. Let these people plan for failure - you and I -we plan for success.\"\n\nObama raised an eyebrow. \"You can't plan just around success - that's called daydreaming.\"\n\n\"Fine then,\" said Putin, rolling his eyes, \"let us get a daydream down on paper.\"\n\n~Hours later~\n\nThe receivers and speakers set up around the Roscosmos / NASA station all buzzed to life. Printers began spooling paper out, and the speakers blared. The digital sounding alien voice roared through.\n\n\"We celebrate your acknowledgement, and will prepare our ambassadors to meet yours. We are transmitting the details of our vessel.\"\n\nThe eggheads at the science station lost it.\n\nSpecial agents of numerous countries all studied the data along with the space agencies, reporting possible impact to their superiors.\n\nObama caught Putin out of the crowd and nodded. It was time. They sent out an urgent message to the other world leaders, and went to a top-secret conference chamber away from the UN floor and the noise.\n\nThe scene within was unique in history. As the last of the invited filtered in, an image of the alien spacecraft that had been received in the transmission appeared on the screen. Expert analysis of each part of the vessel spilled down in a multitude of languages. \n\nHundreds of the most powerful leaders from around the world all stared at the readout in silence.\n\nIt was finally broken by a familiar voice.\n\n\"The Russian Federation...is formally calling dibs on the engines.\"\n\nFollowed closely \"The United States hereby calls dibs on the powerplant and the uhh fuel system.\"\n\nThe room erupted into a chaotic free-for-all - but there would be plenty of the alien ship to go around. It hardly mattered if it was metal or organic - it was all going to be useful. With over 10,000 lifeforms on board, it meant each of the attending nations could take at least 50. \n\nThis was going to be a great day for Earth.\n", "\"Technology for violence is – hum – a concept we cannot really grasp\", the Simian said, averting General Serling's \neyes.\n\nSimian… The general thought it funny that, when humanity found out that the aliens descended from the same \nbranch of the evolution tree as we did, we decided to call them simians.\n\nLike we are any different, Serling thought. Like we are somehow above them.\n\n\"But it comes naturally to you. No offense\", the Simian continued, still uncomfortable. \"Which is why we are here.\"\n\n\"What do we know about these creatures that are attacking your planet?\"\n\n\"Artificial Intelligence\", the Simian explain. \"Silicon based and extremely deadly. And we have very limited means of fighting back, as you know.\"\n\n\"And why are they attacking? Where are they coming from? What's their technology like?\"\n\n\"We don't know, we don't know and extremely advanced\", the Simian answered. \"In that order.\"\n\n\"It seems a bit odd that these -- robots -- are attacking you for no particular reason\", Serling said. \"And that you \ndon't even know where they are coming from.\"\n\n\"However that may be, we have a feeling we are the only ones they are going after\", the Simian \nsaid, simply. \"We request your help because we feel it would be mutually beneficial.\"\n\nTo Serling's side, the secretary general of the United Nations looked thoughtful. So did the president.\n\n\nBut this had all been months before. Now Serling was sitting on his office trying to think of how he was going to \nexplain to the secretary general of the UN and the president of the United States that –\n\n\"General Serling\", the president said, in his low voice, entering the room. The secretary followed. \"What are the \nreports from Kepler?\"\n\n\"Mr. President. Mr. Secretary General\", Serling said, getting up. \"I have –\"\n\n\"There's no need to get up\", the secretary said, taking a seat across the table from Serling.\n\nThe president took a seat too, and they both locked their gaze on the general, waiting.\n\n\"Ok\", Serling whispered, feeling his heart race. He had barely returned from a 500 light years travel, and the jet lag wasn't helping. \"All right. You are both aware, of course, that the attack is still happening in the --\"\n\n\"Yes, we are both aware the Simians are under attack still.\"\n\nSerling took a deep breath. \"Yeah. Yeah, I'll get to the point. The Simians, they claim this attack is coming from \nthe Kepler System. That's their suspicion. This, huh --\"\n\n\"This is why we sent you to the Kepler system, general Serling\", the president said, in an impatient voice. \"Could \nyou please get to the point? Have you found out where these robots are coming from?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Kepler 186f\", Serling answered, and now his voice could no longer hide his nervousness.\n\n\"Kepler 186f is a confirmed, non-inhabited planet\", the secretary general said. \"It's actually an human-friendly planet, and is being considered as an alternate Earth for quite some time. You, of all people, should know this, Serling.\"\n\n\"Yes\", Serling answered. \"Yes, you are right. The planet is deserted. Now.\"\n\n\"Then where are the robots coming from?\" The president asked, and now he was straight of pissed.\n\nSerling took a deep breath again. \"Sir, they're coming from the future.\"\n\nNeither of the man said anything, and Serling took a sip of his empty mug of coffee.\n\n\"The future?\"\n\n\"Mr. President. Mr. Secretary-General\", Serling managed to blurt out, finally. \"We are sending these robots from future Kepler 186f. Us. Humans.\"\n\nThe secretary general and the president exchanged glances.\n\n\"We?\"\n\n\"Yes\", Serling answered. He took another phantom sip of coffee. \"Humans are coming back in time to kill the \nSimians. And the Simians want our help fighting back.\"\n\n__________________\n\nThanks for reading! \n\n[Here's Part II](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38wh0d/simians_part_ii/) =)\n\n[And Part III](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38wrev/simians_part_iii/)\n\n[Part IV (Final)](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38z9aq/simians_part_iv_final/)" ]	[ 2, 4, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 11, 13, 33, 45, 49, 127, 164, 167, 754 ]	[ "1433701446", "1433683080", "1433691843", "1433696344", "1433695239", "1433685708", "1433697823", "1433693374", "1433687364", "1433672484", "1433679886", "1433691459", "1433679969", "1433689825", "1433679311", "1433673368" ]
	[WP]Staring at the night sky, you notice an oddly twinkling star. It's like it's trying to say something to you	1	[ "There I lay upon the ground,\n\nLooking up onto the sky,\n\nListening as I hear a sound,\n\nA star asking me if I can fly.\n\nI rest my beer next to me,\n\nAs I think I may be smashed,\n\nThere are no people around whom I can see,\n\nFuck it, I must be trashed.\n\nThen I hear this voice again,\n\nWords sinking into my ear,\n\nMaybe this voice is in my brain,\n\nBut I know these words I hear.\n\nWait, I now recall a tale from the earliest of time,\n\nWhich laid out this star's idea,\n\nHe waited to speak to those who could rhyme,\n\nKnowing they're the last hope for Crimea.", "I've noticed it every night since then. A thousand nights and a thousand days have come and gone, and still, the twinkling catches me. Right as I close my eyes to sleep, through the tiny crack in the blinds next to my head, a singular star seems to sing from whatever distant galaxy in which it resides. Lately, it has lulled me to sleep, with a shimmering silence that somehow, I realize only I can notice. I wonder if she made that star. Hell, I wonder sometimes if she is that star. \n\n\"You know that I'm never going to leave you?\" she said. A little over three years ago, amidst the agonizing array of machines assisting her breathing, the soft timbre of her voice lifted to my ears. It sounded cliche but at the moment was the only thing I wanted to hear.\n\n\"I know\", I told her, half-heartedly flashing a smile, which I know now would be the last look I would ever give her.\n\n\"I can't leave you!\" she coughed through the respirator. \"Remember, we are all made of s...\". Her eyes opened wide as if she were excited. Furiously the machines began to wail and I watched, woefully and without a way to save her as her chest rose and fell for the last time. It was oddly peaceful in a way. There wasn't any time for the doctors to react, nor were there 25 mourning members of the family around saying tearful goodbyes. I take solace in the fact that our last moment together was ours alone, as it gave me a good time to contemplate what the last word of her last sentence might have been. \n\nI have known now for quite a while what she was going to say to me. Ever since the day I told her \"I love you\" for the first time, I've called her \"my smile of stars\". Youthful angst leads to a lot of atheistic idealism, and back then the concept of religion I found to be wholly detestable. So in a way to make up something cheesy to tell my new-found love about how I felt with her, I came up with this idea. That we are all the product of what was once a hotly burning star, its molecules ejected from an unfathomable distance in space. After trillions of years of travelling trillions of light-years through the universe, two tiny molecules of that star settled here, and became her eyes, her hair, her beautiful smile. And by what luck were we so blessed that a piece of that same star found its way to the same tiny rock in infinite space and became me, in just enough proximity to her to catch a glimpse of the otherworldly twinkle of the firelight in her eyes one night?\n\nIt makes it easier to sleep now. She didn't leave me, because she couldn't. And every night, right before I drift off to sleep alone in our bed, for a second I still see her smiling, next to me. Hear her voice descending from the lofty heavens. My smile made of stars." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1433743914", "1433745789" ]
I've always loved the idea of being able to stop time. It's not time travel but you can do whatever you want for however long you want and you won't lose any time.	[WP] A person that has been able to stop time and do whatever he wants while everyone is frozen does so again while he is sitting on a park bench but the person next to him does not freeze.	2	[ "Alex was starting to feel hungry. The bagel he had for lunch didn’t quite fill him up and he decided he wanted something more, something a little sweeter. But what? He scanned around the park for options. From where he sat he could see a crepe stall, a hot dog stall and an ice cream van. Ice cream! Perfect! An ice cold cone….oh yeah, chocolate and toffee! With crushed nuts…and smothered in oozing hot chocolate sauce…mmmmmmmmm! His mouth was already watering. He could almost taste the sweet chocolate sauce, he could see it slowly solidifying on the cold ice cream, dribbling onto his chin as he ate. He lifted his bag from his lap, placed it on the bench beside him and began to rummage in his pockets. As he suspected, no money! \n\nOk, he thought, where to get some cold hard cash for my cold hard ice cream? Notes were always better. Coins tended to freeze together. Notes on the other hand, could slide right out of a loose wallet, easy pickings really. Like taking candy from a…frozen baby!\nHe surveyed the people around him in the park. They guy beside him on the bench didn’t look like he would have a wad of notes, besides his trousers were doubled up where he was sitting. It is impossible to get a wallet form someone sitting down when you are in “the freeze”. Alex wasn’t even sure he had pockets, he was dressed in some kind of shiny one-piece and there was no way Alex was going to stick his had under that! Too many bad experiences had taught him that little lesson. The crazy hipster can keep his money! \nTwo girls were lying in bikinis in front of him with their bags beside them. That seemed like a better option but perhaps a bit too much hassle, there could be a lot of frozen stuff on top of their wallets, lipstip, books, shoes, the kind of shit girls carry around with them on a daily basis. Although, he though, how wouldn’t mind rummaging in their bikinis for small change. He laughed when all of a sudden the perfect target walked past. \n\nHe was a middle-aged gent, about 44-48, black hair shot with flakes of grey. He was well dressed in a dark blue suit with black shiny shoes, the sort that look really expensive, the sort that city bankers wear. Alex could just about see the flash of his gold cuff links smiling out from under his jacket sleeve. He laughed to himself – that’s the guy. He must have a ton of bills in his pocket, and he won’t even notice it if Alex liberates one or two!\n\nA he had always done, he closed his eyes, concentrated hard and stopped time. He didn’t really know how he did this, he just knew that he could. If he concentrated hard, if he felt like he really wanted it to, time would simply…stop. It was something he had been able to do all his life, there was no real moment of discovery really. His mother had him evaluated by a shrink when he was a child, as she wouldn’t believe his “tall stories”. Since then he decided that whatever this skill was, it was safer to keep it as his secret. Admittedly, it was fun in his adolescence, in fact, looking back the things he done then were probably quite illegal…rather shameful and bordering on downright indecent. But, if no one knew what happened then he figured it wasn’t really a crime. Not really worth worrying about at least!\n\nAll of a sudden that park came to a standstill. Dogs hung in the air, mouths agape beneath Frisbees. Cyclists balanced impossibly on their bikes. Birds were frozen to the sky, as if painted onto some great blue roof. Only Alex was free to move, and he was moving. Straight for the well dressed man’s pocket. As he suspected, the gentleman’s wallet was stacked. He slid one of the notes out, a 50, and placed the wallet back into the guy’s pocket. He turned towards the ice cream truck and froze. \n\nNot literally, not like the others but he was immobile. Could it be possible? Was he seeing something, some trick of the light, some sort of brain fart? The guy sat beside him on the bench was not frozen. He was so not frozen that he was walking, towards Alex. \n\nAlex tried to speak but nothing came out.\n\n“Hello Alex” said the stranger. “We have been watching you for quite some time”.\n\n“hhhh..hh.hh.hhhh…” was all Alex could stammer.\n\n“How come I am not frozen like the others? How do I know your name? He said smiling at Alex. The stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out some sort of device, like a mobile phone but skinnier and almost translucent. It light up and displayed a picture of the stranger. It read:\nDr. John Moeller, Detective, Time Breech Div. \n\n“I am afraid you are under arrest, Alex”\n\n“But…but how can….is this a joke? What for?” he stammered, not quite believing what he was seeing. \n\n“Oh I think we could pick any number of crimes Alex m’boy, Don’t you think? Not least the theft of this man’s money!”\n\n“But how come…”\n\n“…I’m not frozen?” the man interrupted. “We suspected you had no idea of what’s going on. Alex this is going to be hard to believe” The man scratched his head and looked around the park, “although given the circumstances, I think you may be a little more open minded that the rest of the folk here.”\nHe took Alex by the arm and started to walk towards the lake. “I am from the future. 113 years from now, to be precise. I work for a division called”\n\n“Time Breech” interrupted Alex. \n\n“Exactly, do you know what a time breech is?”\n\n“Well…yes,,,it’s a…well…it’s a breech in time, obviously” stammered Alex, trying not to sound to stupid. His mind was racing. He felt a heady mixture of confusion and excitement. Where was this going? Could he finally share his experiences with someone? A sickly feeling flooded into his stomach as he realised that he was in some sort of serious trouble. The stranger stared at him. \n\n“Hmmmm, well yes. About 21 years ago we had a serious time breech in the 22nd century and quite a few of you were sent back to various points in time. Ever since we have been looking for you.”\n\n“Wait, what? I am from the future, but that’s absurd?”\n\n“I’m afraid not. You were sent back through a breech in time and ended up at the end of the 20th century. You should count yourself lucky, kid, some of you were sent back to the 13th century! Anyway, somehow, the rupture that sent you back endowed you with this power…this stopping time thing. “\nAlex was confused “So you have it too then?”\n\n“No” replied the stranger pulling the picture device from his pocket. I can do it with this. I am not going to explain now, it would take to long. Needles to say, Alex, you are a very special individual.” He paused, “But you have also gotten yourself into a shit load of trouble.”\nAlex could feel the nerves jingling in his stomach. What could this guy do? Could he bring him back to the future? For some sort of punishment or what? What technology do they have there…would they wipe his mind or something crazy?\n\n“What…..what are you going to do to me?”\n\n“Nothing” smiled the stranger, “If you cooperate. If you don’t then” he laughed, \n\n“you’ll pay the ultimate price!”\nAlex wasn’t sure what that meant but he didn’t like the thought of it.\n\n“I’ll give you until tomorrow to say your goodbyes because, either way you are coming with me. If you decide to cooperate, meet me here tomorrow at 2:30 in the afternoon and we can begin your training. If you don’t, then we will have to do things the hard way”\n\n“What if I run?” said Alex, “how will you find me?”\n\n“Where would you go? I can travel through time, laughed the doctor. “I found you here, didn’t I?” he added with a menacing air of confidence. \n\n“I guess so. So I meet you here tomorrow then, at 2:30?”\n\n“No” The doctor raised a finger and pointed, “Over there, by large tree”\nAlex turned to look.\n\n“Do I have to bring anything?” he said turning back but the man had vanished. Was that real? Did that just happen? Should I run? Or go home and say goodbye? All of a sudden he was knocked to the floor by a startled dog. Time had come unstuck again. \n", "Approximately minus 304 days a discovery was made known to me. \n\nYou see, I am a Scientist. I have devoted countless hours researching the topic “time”, as others in the past have failed I too assumed failure would be absolute. Unlike my counterparts, the year 2020 Quantum Computing became accessible to the public. Thankfully the lab granted me access to private resources, motherboards, chips, cabling, LED’s, Power supplies beyond the world's wildest imaginations.\n\nI knew the formula it was simply a case of testing all the combinations, then one day I hit the correct one. I had done it, created a device which freezes time. A world to myself, the possibilities were endless. Freezing time was fantastic at first, I could surprise people by performing impossible feats- magic tricks. I could torture my enemies. I felt invincible. The one factor time control didn’t allow me, was human compatibility. Freezing time didn’t hand me friends, a love. \n\nI couldn’t have companionship . The contrasting stillness, provided by time freezing, gave me a twisted sense of clarity. You see, I am going to tell you a story.\n\nIt was a beautiful day. I decided to cherish the unfrozen time a little while longer, soak in the sunlight and listen to the birds chirping nearby. This park was my favourite place, if only I could spend an eternity in this park. I would surely destroy any time device immediately. I pause to take a breath and see a space on a nearby weathered bench. An unfamiliar face passes me a quick glance, I thought nothing of it. Taking up the seat next to the character I watch a group of children playing football, a woman running, an a teenager trying to woo his friend. “Ah the friendzone” I thought, whilst instinctively freezing time. \nI got up, pulling some beautiful flowers from the ground I place them in his hands. Perhaps today is their lucky day. I hear a cough, in the silence of the frozen world it is as noticeable as a fire alarm. I jump, slowly turning around fearing the worst. Perhaps I had been caught? I see the unfamiliar face smiling back at me from the bench. “Lovely day for time freezing, isn’t it?” He says cheekily. \n", "WHOOSH\n\nThere it is again... He knew it would happen again, but not so soon. The time keeps stopping, and as far as Carl knows he's the only one who doesn't freeze. having no control is very restricting. The second time it happened he was at a gas station and thought it would be a good idea to grab the money from the cash register. Carl isn't a very lucky person. He thought he had more time. Right as he was going to open the cash drawer time restarted. The cashier didn't question or hesitate (as they were in a part of town where cashiers always had to be on guard), he punched Carl right away. Carl had time to run away, but left most of his dignity behind. The very first time time froze for Carl wasn't very interesting. He mostly just freaked out. \n\nThree months later\n\nTime log: Temporal disturbance number 67. I think I'm on the right track. The time dilator has been sloppy. The first time I noticed him was a month ago. He was the only one still moving, but he was too far for me to reach in time. I know he must be the cause of these disturbances. I have no clue why I don't freeze with everyone else, but I'm going to find him and make him tell me. I've traced his every move for the past 4 freezes, and it looks like he's settling into a routine. He goes to the park across from his home and eats a sandwich. Obviously he's waiting to rendesvous with an accomplice. I've found out everything about this guy. He has a rock solid alias. Goes by the name \"Carl\". He does a good job of looking like an ordinary guy, but I know he's pure evil. \n\nBy this time Carl had grown accustomed to his sporratic time experience. He tried telling his wife, but she called him crazy. He tried going to the police, but they laughed. By now he just expected that maybe he really is crazy. This had happened over 60 times now, he wasn't keeping track, but he knew there had to be a way to keep himself sane. He decided to go to the park across the street if it happened while he was home, just to get out of the house. He had time to make a sandwich and go sit on the bench before it even happened. After the tenth time he noticed that the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end for the hour leading up to a freeze, so he always knew they were coming. He walks over to his usual bench, and there is already a man sitting there. He doesn't like sitting by strangers. It doesn't matter though, the man will be frozen soon anyway. \n\nWHOOSH*\n\n\"AHA!!\" The man sitting next to him jumped up and held out a gun \"I've finally caught you! Don't try anything stupid.\"\n\n\"What?! Wait, don't shoot! Who are you\"\n\n\"Keep your mouth shut and let me ask the questions\"\n\n\"What did I do?\" Asked Carl\n\n\"That's just what I'm going to find out\" Said the angry stranger. \"Tell me how you're stopping time\"\n\n\"I'm not! I was about to ask if you were stopping it.\"\n\n\"That's exactly what I thought you'd say. you're even more guilty than I expected\"\n\n\"I'm not the one stopping it, I didn't know anyone else even knew about it!\"\n\n\"Oh really, then who are you waiting for?\"\n\n\"I'm just waiting for time to restart. I didn't know what else to do\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1433773130", "1433770455", "1433770832" ]
	[WP] NASA astronomers have confirmed that an asteroid is going to impact the earth in less than 24 hours. You are a Fox News anchor covering the story.	0	[ " \"Good evening ladies and gentleman and welcome to fox news, in tonight's top story: Will Taylor Swift co-star in the new movie about spousal abuse?\n\nHere's the story with our lead anchor Bill Whitey:\"\n\n \"Bill Whitey here, and yes, rumors seem to be circulating around the web about Taylor Swifts possible roll in the upcoming Micheal Bays film \"X Chromosomes\". The Film is set in Atlanta, Taylors home town, and deals with the lasting effects of spousal abuse on neighbors and family members, Micheal Bays comments:\n\n \"It's a sci-fi thriller about the manipulation of Chromosomes to create and all female self-reproducing species that takes over the universe.\"\n\n Heart warming stuff. Taylor Commented:\n\n\"I'm not really doing movies right now, I don't know where you got this.\"\n\nThey're clearly up to something and in the usual Hollywood mystique are trying to keep production secrets under wraps.\n\nBack to you, Will Whitey.\"\n\n\"Thanks Bill, as always you're on top of the media situation in Hollywood.\n\nIn other news today it was discovered that Barrack Obama is actually a Mexican wearing shoe polish. Here's a picture my son drew of the moon. \n\nNow lets look at the weather with Jill Whitey, hey Jill how are you doing today?\"\n\n\"Just fine Will. The weather today is going to be mostly rainy, partly because the increase of illegal immigrants from the Mexican border have made mother nature sad and she's crying. We don't want mother nature to cry do we? Well, we don't have a choice because Gay marriage. Back to you Bill.\"\n\n\"Thank you Jill, Let's take a look at sports with Hank Whitey and his token black associate, Greg. What's up Today Hank?\"\n\n\"Not much will, sports are being played. Here's the scores.\"\n\n\"Those scores are something!\" \n\n\"You got that right Greg, back to you Will\"\n\n\"Thanks Hank, let's hope they keep up the scoring, I want a fee toaster.\nIn other news today: Did you know in some larger metropolitan areas, also known as 'Cities' they have Black Police officers? Can they enforce the law or are they just show ponies for their educated masses? Will have more on that story tonight at 9\"\n\nStatic.\n\nCatastrophic end of all life as we know it on earth.\n\nfin.", "\"Sources say that a new deal has been struck to bring millions of tons of raw resources to our country. Tonight we will discuss the impact this will have on the 2024, 2028 and 2032 presidential elections.\"\n\n\"Uh, Kathy. That's not what I-\"\n\n\"And with us tonight to help us understand the new deal, is Professor Dahmwe Gunnadi. It's great to have you here, Professor.\"\n\n\"Look, it's not a-\"\n\n\"But first, we're switching live to the steps outside congress, where Senator Franklin has just wiped his nose with a handkerchief.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Kathy. I'm here at the capitol building, where the senator who was recently embroiled in the 'Lobster-Butter' scandal in Maine has now wiped his nose during an address on the subcommittee for the restrictions of donations allowed to Super-PACs. Sources say that this action reveals his intention to 'clean up\" the corruption of overly-huge donations to the political candidates. Also, I am being paid to- Excuse me, I am being informed that he ate the nose-wiping... and his tissue... and he beats his his son with jumper cables. Back to you, Kathy.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Susan. Now: Will the next year be full of wealth and resources or does a sinister danger lurk on the horizon instead. Sources say the democratic party is attempting to seize all of these new-found resources in a top-secret 'redirect mission.'\"\n\n\"It's not top secret. I just told you about it-\"\n\n\"Thank you, Professor. The answer may surprise you! Stay tuned, we'll be back after the break.\"\n" ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1433864583", "1433849757" ]
	[WP] What if every night you have a dream about the events that will happen the following day.	0	[ "The car flew through the window and out to the street below. The beautiful brunette with emerald earrings reached under the steering wheel and pulled out a grenade. She pulled the pin and handed it to me.\"Make it count, babe!\" \n\"A grenade? What the heck am I sup--\" A huge roar erupted from behind us. I poked my head out the window and saw it: A giant Russian Doll. Remembering the active explosive in my lap I threw the grenade towards the huge Matryoshka. \n\nThe doorbell went off. I woke up, grabbed my robe and made my way to the front door. I pushed through the blinds. There stood a woman... with brown hair and emerald earrings... I opened the door.", "\"No, Cookie Monster, I do not have money for this!\" I yelled at the furry blue puppet, \"Look- will you just get out of here and leave me alone?\" \n\n\"You rather have veggies?\" the Cookie Monster replied, \"Veggies good for you too.\" \n\n\"No, I don't want anything,\" I said again, \"I told you, I don't have money for this right now.\" \n\nThe Cookie Monster lunged at me before I jerked awake in my bed. I looked up and into my window to see the bright rays of light streaming through the window blinds. Today is going to be a rough day. I know it. I dreamed about it. \n\nAs a young child, I grew up watching the typical children's television programs that aired. Sesame Street being one of them. Now that I look back, the characters scare me a little. Puppet creatures going on and on about \"counting\" or \"words\" or some other obvious concept. As a young child, I also grew up with nightmares and being scared of them. Most people grow out of that, being able to tell themselves it just a dream and it can do no harm. I am not one of those people. \n\nMy parents always told me in the past dreams were just part of my imagination. To me, my imagination was just that- mine. If it's only part of my imagination, why can't I control it like I control how I think about things? Why can't I control it like I can control what I say? Dreams for me were much more than that. To everyone else, dreams were \"just a little break from reality.\" For me, they're so much more real. \n\nI remember old dreams as if they were memories of someone's real life. In one of them, I was a small insect crawling along the damp soil after the rain had cleared. The shy sun was beginning to show itself from behind the dark clouds. Another somewhat larger insect of the same kind, somehow I felt as if I trusted them, crawled beside me and started to move their wings. I felt energy channel through me. I started to notice everything about being a flighted bug- noticing my wings could be outstretched as far as the eye could see, that I could be lighter than a feather if I really tried. We flew together, and I was happy. \n\nOut of the blue, a newspaper swatted my companion away. I turned to look. Dead. My father died six hours after I woke up. \n\nNow, every time I have a dream with anything out of the ordinary, I stop to think about what my dreams mean. Cookie Monster? Why would a Cookie Monster feel the need to get violent? I decided to check the news on my phone for a quick moment. Bake Sale Today!" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1433900602", "1433916791" ]
Or alternatively, the person who killed your husband.	[WP] Your relationship with the person who killed your father.	8	[ "Would you call it a relationship? I used to think so. I often imagined if things were different. If we'd had our chance encounter in a coffee shop instead, our eyes meeting for the first time over the display cases filled with sweets, appraising each other like two predators. He's always the lion to my lioness in my fantasies. Then the inevitable magnetic attraction would follow and he'd have no choice but to talk to me. I know things could've been different, but sometimes you have to accept the way things are. \n\nSome people you're just drawn to. Such was the case when I first met him and from the moment he stepped past the threshold into our home, I knew he was trouble. His was the good kind of trouble you often found hidden behind the veneer of a pressed suit, a sharp intelligence, and a silver badge. It was the animalistic instinct concealed behind his baby brown eyes that terrified me more than the gun strapped to his hip. They took in everything at once making you feel as if your entire life was laid bare before him. \n\nHe introduced himself as Detective McKinney investigating a recent murder in the area and as he spoke, his eyes danced around the room, picking up the kinds of details I imagined only made sense to him. He was a sort of dark fiction standing there in my doorway. The kind of man you'd find gracing the cover of a detective novel, fully aware of his own mortal flaws, but dogged in his pursuit. I wished I could've helped him more. Had I any modicum of foresight, I would've made up even the smallest detail to keep him close by, but my addled tongue deceived me and he was gone once more. The only memory I had left was a business card still sharp around the edges with a phone number hand-written on the back. \n\nThree agonizing weeks later, it was my husband's turn. Detective McKinney told me over a cup of tea that I'd been saving especially for his return that they believed his disappearance was suspicious and perhaps even related to the previous murder. His eyes told me they feared the worst, but I saw painted there not the compassion I'd been half-expecting but excitement coupled with a sort of curiosity that only enamored me to him more. When he placed his hands upon mine and promised he'd do his best to find him, I dropped my cup of tea and cried out, but for his touch alone and not the reasons he presumed. \n\nI pray each night he'll never find the place where I buried my husband, that he'll continue searching unaware of my sacrifice for him. I look for that same excitement buried in his eyes each time we meet and with each press conference announcing their newest lead. I look for it each time he sits with me to share his progress, to assure me that they'll find the man who killed my husband, never aware that it was him, his look, his touch that sealed his death from the very beginning. If that's not a relationship, then what is?\n\n", "We sat at that corner table just like every year since that day. Tyler took the chair closest to the window, giving his back to the street and casting a heavy shadow over the beer stained oak. Across from him I rested my elbow on the table to prop up my head as I stared absently at the line of crystal hanging from the bar.\n\n\"Would you quit that,\" Tyler sighed, \"You know I hate watching you do it.\"\n\nMy eyes snap to him as I realized where my hand is. I had formed a habit of tracing the scar that framed eye whenever I felt tense. \"Oh, sorry,\" I say in almost a whisper. \"Well, shall I get the first round?\"\n\n\"Don't bother, the waitress will be coming soon,\" Tyler spat as he stared into my eyes. \n\nThere was something different about him today. This day always drags me into a pit but Tyler seems to go a different way, a more hostel way. But I've never seem him this ready to blow. I started to say something but was interrupted by the waitress placing our usual on the table, a large bottle of Crown whiskey and three glasses. I nod my thanks and, seeing how Tyler made no move, poured a round into each.\n\nTyler snatches a glass and hoists it up, waiting for my to do the same. The moment I do he shoots his drink back and slams down the glass before mine even makes it to my lips. \n\n\"How could you let it happen?\" he breaths as I finish my round.\n\n\"What the hell do you mean by that?\" I snap. \n\n\"You know damn well what I mean,\" The rage in Tyler's eyes threatens to burn the soul out of me. \"All those years before I realized... You could have done it. But no, you just rolled over until he took her and I finally stepped up and stopped him for good.\"\n\nI lowered my head at his words, \"Is that what you really think? That I just let it happen?\"\n\n\"That's exactly what you did,\" I saw his knuckles begin to go white as his grip on the glass but I couldn't look him in the face. \"If I hadn't come home and took care of things, that bastard would still be around. But then you'd probably like that.\"\n\nThat did it. My world went red and as it cleared I found my hand around Tyler's throat. \"Don't your dare say another word,\" I growled through gritted teeth. \"No one, not even you, wanted him gone more than me. But I had to take it or I wouldn't be the only one with scars!\"\n\n\"Then why am I the one,\" Tyler managed to grunt past my grip, the anger in his face mirroring my own, \"that finished it? Why-\"\n\n\"Because she begged me not to!\" I screamed! \n\nTyler's face shattered into confusion as I let go and slumped back into my chair. \"Wha-what do you mean?\"\n\nI reached over and took a long pull from the bottle before answering. \"She still loved him,\" I began, \"I tried once but she stopped me after I knocked him out. Even with the swollen eyes and broken arm, she pulled me off of him and begged me to stop. So I did.\" The tears dripped from my chin and my voice caught in my throat but I kept going. \"So I did what I could. I took his punishment so she didn't have to. So you didn't have to.\"\n\n\"But that night...\" Tyler interrupted.\n\n\"That night he couldn't get enough and I refused to stay down so he grabbed the knife. I was barely able to move but when he lunged mom dove between us...\" I let the words hang there as Tyler managed to take a drink. I grabbed the bottle before it hit the table and through my head back, closing my eyes as the burning liquid flowed over my tongue. When I opened my eyes again I saw similar tear lines digging groves in his face. \"If you hadn't come in then I would have stabbed him myself.\"", "You can't like everyone. Some people are simply hard to love. Even so, everyone tends to have at least one person in particular who they cannot stand. For me, this particular person is Amanda.\n\nThey called it the perfect crime. Not one shred of evidence was left on the scene. As much as the investigators tried, they couldn't find the murderer.\n\n\"I can't take this any longer,\" I thought, pulling myself away from my father's closed casket to head to the restroom.\n\nI hadn't cried at all, had I? Either way, it couldn't hurt to make sure my mascara didn't smear. I really shouldn't have worn make-up today anyways. Sure, it was my father's wake, but even make-up can't fix my disgusting face.\nLuckily for me, this small church had a one person bathroom. Locking the door behind me I stepped in front of the mirror. I placed my purse onto the rusted sink and pulled my mascara brush out. When I looked up at the mirror, however, I realized I wasn't alone.\n\n\"Amanda,\" I grimaced, looking at her through the mirror, not bothering to turn around.\n\"Hey, fat face,\" she sneered back at me. \"Shame about your dad, huh? Guess the old timer's clock finally quit ticking, huh?\"\n\n\"It still would be if you hadn't-\" I started to say, before Amanda slapped her hand over my mouth.\n\"Don't even think about finishing that sentence or that precious little mommy of yours will be next to go,\" she whispered.\n\nI closed my eyes and nodded, a single tear running down my cheek.\n\n\"No no no,\" she said, wiping the tear away. \"I don't want you to cry over your disgusting father. He hurt you, didn't he? And your mother just let it happen. Don't let her see you cry for him. The only time you're allowed to cry is when I cut you.\"\n\nI pulled myself away from Amanda, grabbed my purse, and went out the door.\n\n\"I was wondering where you went!\" my mother gasped with her arms outstretched, running to me.\n\nShe wrapped her arms around me gently, putting just enough space between us to look me in the eyes. I stared back blankly.\n\n\"It's okay to cry, you know, sweetie. Your father was very special to both of us.\" she said, with a concerned look in her eyes.\n\n\"I guess I just haven't felt the need to,\" I replied.\n\nAfter a short pause, my mom said, \"I understand. I understand completely, Amanda.\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 1 ]	[ "1433907911", "1433916503", "1433928524" ]
	[WP] You have a gun that makes everyone's deepest, darkest fears real. You walk into a mental institution.	116	[ "You still remember, don't you, when they put me in your head? Panting, sweating, clammy hands. And the screaming.\n\nGod, the screaming was the worst. Not your screaming, no. When they were in the room with you, you knew what was happening and you could deal with it, but not knowing... not knowing what was next was the worst. When they were there in front of you, you could shout and hate and curse them all but when they were in the room down the hall, the room beside, the room right across, slowly creeping in...\n\nBut you're going to get them back, aren't you? You're going to just walk back in, and I told you how to do it and you'll do it. And you'll get them all, I know you will. You'll fix everything and everything's going to be alright. You'll just walk right in with another little lie and a whole lot of hate.\n\nHate and hate and falseness and smiles and comforting little lies and so much hate until you'll finally wake up gasping in cold sweat again, accomplishing nothing, changing nothing. You'll look around and find that you're still in that quiet little room where nothing happens and you feel like nothing... and it's all just another lie, that everything's alright now, isn't it? Maybe you'll look down to find that familiar gun lying beside you, that little gun that I know everyone wants and you know it'll make their worst nightmares come alive, but they can't have it because it's yours. And you'll pinch yourself or you'll bite your tongue until you taste blood and I know you'll still feel... nothing. It feels like nothing, everything feels like nothing. Wouldn't you rather remember then be nothing? So instead, you'll struggle and think and argue and always you'll raise that peculiar little gun to your veins and pull the trigger again.\n\nAnd maybe this time, you'll really go back instead of just pretending.", "You've got to maintain trigger discipline. The Dread Cannon isn't quite alive, but it's got enough influence on most wielders that you might find yourself \"accidentally\" squeezing the trigger. By all rights, you shouldn't even have that damned thing in a place like this. It's too dangerous. I don't known what they were thinking sending it with someone like you.\n\nYou are not to aim The Dread Cannon at an inmate. I don't care how good your reason is, aiming that thing in here is a bad idea. Don't even think about it.\n\nIf you feel the need to aim or place your finger near the trigger guard, let myself or one of the other guards know. Failure to notify an officer of your intent will result in your immediate termination, by which I do not mean you will be fired.\n\nDo not touch the trigger. Do not aim the cannon. Tell a guard if you're considering either action. Understood? Excellent.\n\nThe elevator ride shouldn't take long. It's not fast, but it's not far either. He's only three floors underground. Don't believe anything he tells you. Not even the true things.\n\nWe've arrived at subfloor three. This is as far as I go. He's in the room at the end of the hallway. Swipe your card and speak your name before entering your password. Do it in the wrong order or type the password wrong, the whole floor gets flooded with knockout gas. Pain to clean up.\n\nOh, and welcome to Arkham. Tell the Joker I said hello. Try not to get us all killed.", "I stood firmly in the waiting room with my gun tucked behind me, listening to the click-clack of the receptionist's keyboard. Mindless, incessant typing. She hadn't even raised her eyes to see mine when I walked in. She'd dropped a clip board on the counter, \"sign-in please and fill in who you're visiting, someone will be there shortly to escort you inside.\" I didn't think it would be this easy. No metal detectors, no security guards, at least none that I noticed. Some of the orderlies were large men and women. I guess that's all the security they needed.\n\nI kept quiet, waiting patiently. I didn't want to alert anyone, but I hadn't realized what I thought was normal may seem suspicious. I saw the Doctor come in and whisper something to one of the orderlies. He looked right at me. He must have recognized my name. I never though to use a fake one. I couldn't hear what he said, but I could read his lips. They mouthed, dangerous put them on standby. Or something like that. \n\nSoon after a large white man who could have easily crushed my feeble arms came in. \"Follow me, sir.\" I obliged. They took me to his room. He was alone, sitting at a desk facing the window. When the orderly left he closed the door behind him, that's when I pulled out the gun. \n\n\"Mr. Thompson? Is that you Mr. Thompson? Stephen Thompson?\" I raised the gun, pointing at the back of his head and he slowly turned around. He didn't say a word. He didn't even flinch. His eyes narrowed a bit, staring at my gun rather than me. I know what it was doing, so I relished in what was to come. I'd flatline him soon enough. \n\n\"Well Mr. Thompson. You probably don't remember me. My name's Allen. Allen Moche.\" His mouth began to hang open. The look in his eyes, I'll never forget it. Complete and utter despair. As if he was staring into infinity with no way out. \n\n\"Mr. Thompson, 20 years ago you murdered my mother and sister. Soon after you ended up here. They said you were incompetent. That you lacked capacity. You didn't understand what you did was wrong. That you couldn't understand.\" He finally said something.\n\n\"They're coming. They'll be here any minute. Drugs, drugs, and more drugs. I told them I didn't need it! I told them I was fine! No one believes me! Why doesn't anyone believe me!? I know what to do. I'll just put them to sleep. One by one. Oh and I'll hide them. Hide them all. Under the floor. Yes, under.\" He dropped to his knees and started feeling the tiles, like he was looking for a door. \n\n\"Huh... I guess I was right. You're a fucking lunatic. Or.. you are now.\" I walked over towards him, slamming my foot into his shoulder. He just stared at the floor, digging his nails into the crevices between the tiles. \"I knew it was bullshit. I knew you couldn't have been crazy. I saw you that night. I saw the look in your eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing.\"\n\nI kneeled down in front of him, placing the gun right up against his head. He just kept clawing at the floor. \"Gotta find room. Room for all them. Underneath. Somewhere underneath.\"\n\n\"You've got no fucking clue what you're doing. You've actually gone insane. I figured you might be a little messed up, didn't think you'd be sane enough to end up reacting like this.\"\n\nI moved the gun to his mouth and forced him to look at me. Those desperate eyes, terrified and alone. \"Well. Now I feel kind of bad doing this. Now you're actually entitled to some mercy.\"\n\n\"Fuck mercy.\" ", "First timer here, critiques welcome! This prompt was very intriguing so I tried to write something interesting.\n\nThe asylum room door creaked as it closed behind me. I sat staring at her thin, shaking figure as she hugged her knees, staring at a spot in front of her. Her skin was as white as her gown and mattress. Her hair was thin and silver. How long has it been since I’d last seen her? A year? Two? The drinking and countless contracts made me lose track of time. My anger burned hot when I saw her, but an uncomfortable pain pulled at my heart when I saw her face, as if I still loved her. No! This was the woman who made me lose everything. I did all I could for her and now look at us. Married only on paper, I loved this woman no more. I walked closer to her, as I was trained to on assignments, not making a sound. She started to shake more. She had to know why I was here, that I was to make her suffer. Tears started streaming down her wrinkled face, her eyes widening as I drew ever closer. I slowly drew the device from under my cloak: the one I told her of so many times in the past. She knew its purpose; she knew the horrors it could bring. She knew of it’s almost supernatural ability to bring ultimate fear into someone’s mind. She finally started to whimper, her mouth cruelly curled into a frown as she silently cried. My helpless wife was now another helpless victim. I gently placed the end of the gun into the back of her frail head. Her mouth opened and she almost screamed. I gritted my teeth and pulled the trigger, waiting for what felt like an eternity for her to start screaming and thrashing about. I waited for her to go insane, and the guards to come in and not question it, and for her to suffer the rest of her miserable existence. But nothing happened. She was absolutely still, her mouth agape as she sat unblinking, staring at me.\n\n“Goddamn it! Why didn’t it work? After all of the things you put me through, after I lost trying to help you, why the hell aren’t you freaking out? I’ve seen the scariest men in my life fall to their knees in anguish and you’re just sitting here with that stupid look in your eyes, making me a complete and utter fool once again! Why the hell aren’t you freaking the fuck out?!”\n\nShe slowly closed her mouth. I was fuming, almost hyperventilating, staring at her with a horrifying scowl. I waited for a response. I waited for something to happen to this wench. Finally she parted her cracked lips, very slowly. It felt like an eternity waiting for the words to come out. She whispered ever so carefully, still staring into me out of the corner of her glistening eyes:\n\n“Don’t you understand yet? You are my biggest fear.”\n\nA surreal gravity hit me in a way I couldn’t understand, a sudden realization of everything I’ve ever done becoming an unforgivable regret. I fell to my knees. I placed my head on the cold linoleum and wept, ever so softly, at what I’ve become.\n", "The child screams as his fear materializes. A humanoid figure encroached in shadow moves what appears to be an arm, its body trembling. Its limbs are rapidly used to pull its way out of the shadow and clench the child's throat. The child gasps for air and manages to whisper words in amongst strained breathing.\n\n\"Please Dad, stop.\" The child cries, his voice muffled from the large hairy hand closing around his airway; tears now streaming from both cheeks.\n\nThe woman holding the gun scoffs, \"Maybe I shouldn't have started in the domestic violence ward.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Hi guys, very new to WP. I enjoy writing and have a bit of insomnia. Writing this at 4:30am so bear with me.\n\nTrembling, palms slick and cold, I walk towards the dim, reddish orange haze at the end of the hall, the light slowly meandering from off to on and back off again in drowsy clockwork. The muscles in my fingers feel strained, like I have been religiously doing twelve-rep sets of forearm and hand-strengthening calisthenics, the torturous weight of the gun in my hand becoming all too known now.\n\nIt feels powerful. The cobalt-onyx finish blinks like a flirtatious waitress, asking to be caressed. The weight greatens, gravity taking hold and pulling down harder than my wrists can bear. She plays hard-to-get. Switching hands, switching grips, the weapon slides from fingertip to fingertip seamlessly like a mercurial statue, waxing and waning in the pale, respectful but commanding respect. \n\nSix or seven minutes must have passed since I began my trek down this hall. Glancing over shoulder, I could not have gone more than 30 feet. The tired bleating of the red light continues, flashing like a sentient alarm, going for centuries, sleepy and weary from its vigilance. \n\nA stark clicking pulls me from my sojourn in the hallway. It hails from beyond the door beneath the light. The sound of metal on stone, a clack and a chonk, followed by the sound of hard plastic against wood. It is muffled, and in rhythm; every so often the rhythm is broken and the pace rests and resets. The door in front of me lies sternly shut, no air underneath, above, or between the old iron jambs on each side. The splintered layers betraying years of painting and repainting the same iron door with the same sterile, limestone-colored lacquer has thickened and insulated the causeway at least half an inch. My hand against the wrought latch, I tighten my grasp on the gun and remember my task. Forsten State was home to more than one psychological pariah, I mustn’t forget that. \n\nPutting myself into the latch, I slide it away from its mechanism, the grinding metal on metal bellowing behind me in a huge wake of ear-shattering sound. Despite the effort the lock takes to coerce, and the sonic explosion that resulted, the door swings open with little more work than the screen door on an old bungalow. Filling the hall with tall lines of peckish white moonlight, punctuated by the lengths of bar stretching across the windows, I step into the room and wonder immediately if I have made a mistake. \n\nLying in front of me, twisted, bent, broken, scarred, burned, was the shapeless amalgamation of what was, probably recently, a middle-aged man. Long gray hair peppered with streaks of dark mahogany, deep, carved wrinkles only brought on by great stress and trial, high cheekbones beguiling a long-lost grin-- the man before me had been through much, had seen too far, had experienced too full the ebbs and flows of life. Looking at me, or more through me, with only the whites of his eyes and the yellowed fragments of teeth showing, I could not help but wonder again, if I have made a mistake.\n\nMy hand tightens again around the weapon in my hand. Dr. Stuckliss gave me specific instructions. Say nothing, just fire. The slick trail of sweat on the grip of the gun becomes freezing rime as I raise the barrel to execute the man shaking before me. I close my eyes, and can only pull.\n\nAs the tendons in my finger shrink to produce a shot, the click and familiar bang of a gun being fired at a hopeless patient never come-- I am sure I pulled. Perhaps I am blocking the event out of my mind. Opening my eyes, a brutally intense white light pours from the weapon, beaming into the flesh of the man in front of me. Suddenly he stands, devoid of the lethargy I just saw him with. Beyond the great white light all I can make out is his face, rolling water from his eyes, the tears directed by the crags on his cheeks and chin, his stare blank but somehow terrified.\n\nThe light fades, and the gun emits a high-pitched series of beeps, like that on a microwave. The gun vibrates, or moreso shivers. Looking down, I cannot help but think the gun hungers-- it seems alive, unsated, wanting for more. The poor man slumps to the floor in a lifeless pile of flesh stretched over scaffolding. \n\nMy solemnest thoughts, the wellsprings of my pride and my sadness, my turbulent reflections baking in the pressurized pot of my own mind. The icy, sticky metal clings to the meat of my hand like a piece of fresh caramel on leather, ingraining its atoms to mine-- even if I wanted to drop it, the weapon would not leave my hand, for want of a host, for want of control and to be held. \n", "I don't even know why I brought the gun with me. Fear I suppose, perhaps it had become a part of my confidence, sort of like a suit or a pair of shined shoes. It's utterly harmless really, just a carved and lacquered handle with a brass tube extending outwards in the fashion of an old flintlock, minus the moving parts. But here I was, terrified that it had been snatched from me and held in the hands of this lunatic.\n\nI hadn't the heart to really use it, perhaps on a few street hoods who got too close or on roaming dogs barking at me, but never like this. Never to kill. But that was the situation I found myself in, a mad man in possession of all our fears and the means to spread his madness at whim. \n\nHe claimed he would shoot us if we got closer, not that it fired bullets but instead the wielders intent. If he wanted us to die then our horrors would be so absolute we would be killed by them and that is what stopped us all. He was beyond consolation, beyond hope. He looked across at everyone in the room with teary eyes and placed the gun in his mouth and pulled where the trigger was supposed to be. \n\nAnd nothing, the gun did exactly as it meaned to. ", "My head was pounding, my body ached and I was a laying on a rough, warm surface. I woke up outside a mental institude with a my gun in my hand. It's time to go to work, and earn my retribution. I don't know what the good doc's deepest fear is but I really hope it's death. I walk up to the doors and into the hospital.\n\n\nThe pristine white walls of the asylum seemed to glow under the fluorescent hallway lighting. The lime green floors appeared to be brand new, unsullied by the 40+ years patients and mental health staff roamed these godless halls. This building seemed to exist in an antithetical state to the minds of it's denizens. This building, unspoiled from years of wear, seemed to attached residents were fractured shells of their selves. It's as if there is an unseen guard that confiscates your humanity at the door. \n\n\nAs I entered south side of the recreational area, the humming of the old air conditioning unit was the only audible sound beside the occasional click from a connect four pieces falling in to place. The rec room was 40' by 40' room with a set of double door on the north and south sidea. On the east side was a counter where the residents could check out games. Attending that counter was a young woman with a very unsettling 1000 yards stare. She was gazing out the west window, out into the garden. There were 9 pairs of patients sitting throughout room, each alternating at playing some ridiculous children's games and eating vegetables. Not really eating, the bowls of vegetables were just placed near them. The aids were all shuffling around the room, fixated on the floor like it was airing a Game of Thrones marathon. The sign for 'offices' pointed towards the north exit. As I made my way across the room, I told one of the staffs I.D. Cards off is neck. He didn't put up any semplence of a struggle. He his kept walking around fixated on the immaculate green floor. I also pocketed a carrot from of the baskets for the fruits. \n\n\nAs I continued my stroll through the winding halls of the hospital, looking for the attending doctor, I found it odd that no one diviated from their routine intercept me. Guess a man making rounds with a rifle is just your average Thursday here. I was under the impression that mental patients mutter to themselves, or scream until they lose their voices but I guess those are just extreme cases. So like 6 standard deviations from the norm? I don't know, how do we define 'average' insanity here? Do they have janitors here, cause I have seen on yet? If not how do they keep this floor so damn clean. All great questions to ask the good docter when I find him. Making a left I walking into what look like a examination 'ward'. If you want to call it that. It was eight rooms on either side of the hallway. Each of them came equiped with an exam table, a roll of tissue paper and a scale. There was a door at the other end of this hallway was marked 'docter.' Bingo.\n\n\nI produce the staff/servitor's I.D. and swipe it through the security scanner. A small green light bursts to life from the security scanner. The light was accompanied by a destinctive unlatching sound. I ready my rifle and burst through the door between me and retribution. On the other side of the door was a cluttered desk an office chair and small frail older gentlemen. Dr. Herz. says the name plate on the desk. The older white gentlemen with balding white hair, large ears, and livers spots sat staring out the window in his office. The the smoky tendrils from his pipe slowly faded into the air above him. \n\n\n\"Shit, I had something for this.\" I mutter as I rifle through my pockets with my free hand. My muttering startled the waste of space behind the desk. With a fright he turns around and didn't seem recognizes me. \n\n\n\"How did you get in here?\" He screamed while struggling to stand at his desk.\n\n\nI dismiss his bewilderment, \"that's not important doc.\" My hand finds the carrot in my pocket and lifts it up to my mouth. \"Whats up doc.\" I ask with a smile. \n\n\n\"You can't be in here.\" Screams the older gentleman angrily. No respect for the classics, can you believe this guy. \n\n\n\"Do you have janitors on staff?\" I ask. My question seemed to confuse him. \n\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"This place is so clean, but I didn't see any janitors. I thought this place would be a grimy nest of putrid filth but you suprised my here. I mean color me impressed.\"\n\n\n\"You're insane\" \n\n\n\"I actually ment to ask you about that. Samual, how do you define average isanity?\" The mention of his true name seemed to set of an alarm within his head. \" I heard it was doing the same task over and over against hoping for a different result, but is that really average insanity? I mean, what task is a schizophrenic doing over and over again? Also where does standard deviation come in?\"\n\nAn arcane blue aura, eminating from his pipe, bathed the room in a soft blue light. Tendrils of smoke began to solidify into writhing masses of slimy skin. Pressure began to build a a small part of an otherworldly consciousness slowly leaked into our reality. \n\n\nBang\n\nMy rifle went off and and the whole room when black. \n\n\nMy head was pounding, my body ached and I was a laying on a rough, warm surface. I woke up outside a mental institude with a my gun in my hand. It's time to go to work, and earn my retribution. I don't know what the good doc's deepest fear is but I really hope it's death. I walk up to the doors and into the hospital.\n", "The woman in room 401E's screams are vaguely heard over the sound of monotonous and overplayed jazz music. She fears snakes. They can't see them, only she can. They tell her she is delusional. And I don't know if she believes them. But her fear is real. I would know, I put them there. Its the size of a laser pointer, so the guards don't realize I have anything at all. I've been very careful not to let them see it. \n\nI almost feel pity for her when she leaves. She's still raving about the snakes, their oily skin and massive fangs. \n\nI find a new target about a day later. He's a man in his late 20s. \n\nHis hair is black and greasy and he usually stands hunched over. He inhabits room 344B. Hopefully, they won't notice the pattern between my victims. Patients on different floors aren't allowed to intermingle; it's very carefully watched. His name is Fred and I'm about to make sure he meets his biggest fear. \n\nHe is in his floor's sickeningly sterile, white cafeteria. The staff seem to think that having an absence of color will make insane people sane. It kind of bothers me. He spoons a small amount of lukewarm soup into his mouth, swallowing slowly. I'm sitting nervously a few tables away. I look around for eyes. Nobody's looking, so I point my gun towards him. \n\nWish you the best, Fred. \n\nI shoot. It fires. No bullets come out, but a thin stream of what appears to be black light shoots out and hits him dead-center in the forehead. He drops his spoon, disoriented. I, as the shooter, can see his one true fear. A blurry human-like figure fuzzes into reality in front of him. It appears to be a regular human woman. She's maybe around twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Not a very scary figure, really. In fact, she's rather attractive. I look at Fred. He stares at her in what appears to be disbelief, not fear. He pushes his food and table aside, runs to her, and embraces her.\n\nAll too suddenly, her arm topples off. His mouth is gaping and his eyes are wide in disbelief. She starts to laugh as her arm's blood pools underneath her. Next her leg crumbles. Then her head topples to the floor with a loud THUMP. Still, she laughs at him. He's screaming now. The sound is what I would compare to a dying cat; shrill and spine-crawling. The laughter finally stops when her head splits open and her brain slides to the once sparkling floor. It's not really there, of course. Though his vomit is.\n\nThe guards come to Fred's arrest. He's using his fingernails to claw at his own face, which is, of course, a breach of policy for a patient. He doesn't know the guards can't see it, and he's too upset to explain it. As they drag him away, parts of her ever- collapsing body follow him to what will soon be a concrete solitary cell, no longer his room. I note that it smells like rotten flesh and continue my disgusting and bland meal.\n\nI learned through gossip yesterday later that Fred managed to use his clothes and a few spare items to kill himself. Lucky bastard. I wish I could kill myself; I've been in solitary confinement for two years now, my hand's been itching for at least one, and I still can't free myself from these goddamn cuffs.", "It hadn't always been a gun. When I was seven, it appeared as a small rock. No matter where I threw it, it always appeared back in my hand. I could wish it away, but when I was truly angry... it was there. \n\nAs I grew, it took on a thousand fanciful shapes. Once it was a tiger, hurling itself down the hill at Molly Wright. She had slipped on her sled, swearing she saw the Drei Augen Mädchen. She had gashes down her back, where her jacket rode up and a tree clutched at her. \n\nOnce, when my father was drinking, and his hands became fists, the rock became a small cat and circled his legs like a lover. He had claimed his father was in the room, skin clinging to white bone, as if he were melting. \n\nBut as time went on, I was able to focus. One hard jab into the skull with a glowing knife. Then finally, after one too many bad action movies, it had settled into a gun. One that felt weightless in my hands. \n\nI learned that I was never hungry, that I never aged. I started to see visions of places I should be, and my feet would walk me there. My stone had become a weapon, had evolved. Was different. \n\nTonight I would gather enough energy to live in the human world for years. I never aged. I had other strange gifts, but they were not as important as the gun and the energy. Fear. There was profit in fear. There was gold in the cold dead minds of the insane. \n\nHere I would grow a garden of thorns and ravish them like a lover.", "The gun holds onto my right hand while my left hand opens the door. \n\nThe stench of lysol and urine bring a temporary awareness to the situation. I realize I'm about to walk into the building that stole years of sleep from me. I'm holding a gun and I have no idea why. \n\nEvery fiber of my being is pulling me away from the building as I watch my hand open the door and my legs walk in. I've lost control. \n\nMy trigger finger moves parallel with the barrel. I know from its stiffness that the gun has been in my hand for a long time. I'd say a few hours at least but it's only a guess. I don't remember how I got here, but I know it's not by choice. I would never come back here by choice.\n\nThe last thing she ever said to me was in that room without windows. \n\n\"We can make this our new home. A boy should be with his mother\"\n\nI regret saying what I did, but I was only nine years old at the time and that place scared me more than a mother could love. I didn't know the weight words could have on the mentally ill. I was too young to be held responsible, but not too young to carry blame.\n\nI don't know how she got her hands on a gun while being locked in a mental hospital, but she did. They had the room clean the very next day.\n\nNow twenty years later, I couldn't fear a worse possible ending to life than in this exact building, in this exact room, in the exact same way. I would never do that to myself though.\n\nThe last thought I had before watching in fear as I stepped into that room was about the gun.\n\nWhere had I gotten it from again?", "Fear, an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. That’s what the dictionary says. Fear can be caused by something as small as a spider, or as large as someone chasing you with a dangerous object. Shia LaBeouf can cause fear. Children have a fear of the dark. So many people process fear differently.\n\nI cock the gun, shoving it into the holster under my jacket. I climb out of my car and head towards what looks to be a derelict building, but I know it isn’t.\n\nThe interesting thing about fear though is the side effects, or rather effects directly caused by that mental stimulation. Adrenaline spikes, sweat levels increase as heartbeat does, synapses and neurons fire like never before. They’re all beautiful things to behold. Human fear is beautiful.\n\nThey’ve left the door unlocked, not that there is any reason for them not to. I ease the door open and walk to the reception. Ellen is there, she’s got a sweet face and personality, always smiling. “Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Rogers, as usual.”\n\nShe smiles, writing my name down on the guest list. “Hello John, nice to see you.” She holds the list out for me to sign next to the name, biting her lip. After a few moments silence as I’m moving to leave she calls out, “John, your father. He had an episode earlier.” She sighs before looking directly at me, “just be careful around him.”\n\nI nod, I know what she means. I know exactly. My father has fear,specifically caused by paranoid schizophrenia. He can spends hours curled up in a corner, screaming and screaming. No one else knows, no one understands. I’ll make them know fear. \n\nI walk down the corridors, up the stairs until I find my father's room. He’s sitting in his usual space, a rocking chair in the middle of the room, facing a wall, staring at the blank space.\n\n“Hello, dad,” I say, entering the room with a light tap on the door to make my presence known. He didn’t reply, said nothing and continued staring at the wall. I took a seat on his bed, it was as uncomfortable as ever, reminding me why dad refused to sit on it. I sit there, for hours, in silence. No words said, and I pull the gun out and study it. \n\nMy biggest fear was to follow in my dad’s footsteps, to become as low as him, lose my independence, and lose my mental stability. At only twenty schizophrenia was still a risk, and that terrified me. It was almost as terrifying as the thought that someone was watching me, looking over my shoulder at my every movement. My hand drifted to hover over the gun, fingers twitching. No, I was safe. \n\n“So, I visited mum’s grave today.” I mutter, “not that she’d care.” I clear my throat with a cough and say louder, “I left some flowers and the letter you wrote, she’ll probably like it.” If she doesn’t, the cemetery gardener probably will. All the incoherent scribbles of ‘they’re watching me’ and ‘one day they’ll find me’, he’ll conclude that whoever wrote it was a nutjob, and he’d be right.\n\nDad lets out a small grunt, acknowledging that he’s heard my words without having to commit to a conversation. He’s always too scared to speak, too lost to try. Deciding I’d wasted enough of my day in this institution than was necessary as a son I stood to leave. I quietly say a goodbye, leaving the room. \n\nAs I leave, I come face to face with an attendant who gives me a beaming smile. He’s happy, too happy. Does he not know where he is? This is a place of fear, people with mental anguish. How dare he smile. With a small sigh, I decided enough was enough. I pull out the gun, and point it at the orderly. They would know fear now. \n\nI pull the trigger as his eyes widen, yes, this was it. Fear. His pupils dilate as the shock wave hits him. My gun isn’t normal, it doesn’t hold bullets, not really. It holds fear. Or, at least that’s what I choose to believe. One hit from this gun and your darkest fears come to life. \n\nAs it hits him, he drops to the floor. “Someone? Anyone? Who turned out the lights?” He starts wailing, screaming, crawling on the floor. I smirk, know fear.\n\nFeet patter down the corridor and I turn to see a group of nurses and orderlies running round the corner. They see me, the gun, and the boy on the ground crying. Backing up, one gets round the corner as I shoot, I’ll catch them later.\n\nOne bullet hits them all, each affected differently, the fears are not the same. A female doctor starts attacking a smaller nurse, screaming demon at them. Another is crying, claiming to be dead. A male nurse just backs against the wall, not saying anything, but looking down.\n\nEach starts sweating, screaming, running. Fear is beautiful, and now, these people know fear. Satisfied, I leave them in the corridor, leaving the one escapee too. My job was done. Done for now. I smile, leaving the building, passing Ellen.\n\n“Hope to see you soon, John,” she says with a withdrawn smile, obviously oblivious to the noise upstairs. I nod my agreement, putting the gun away. \n\nFear, an uncomfortable emotion, most definitely. Fear is very real though, everyone should know fear.\n\n--\n\nKinda lost track of this one xD\n", "The sight of the gun rendered the madman broken, his soul vacant and mind blank. We all have our fears, but none can be more powerful than that which resides in the heart of a lunatic: \n \nThat underneath the chaos, the misfiring of neurons, the unbalancing of chemicals in his brain, the padded cells and pills, the scratches on the walls, the blood and shit that stains every fiber of his being, the voices, the straight jackets and needles, the greasy, rough hands of the orderly; underneath the certainty of his insanity lies the horrible truth: that he is the only sane man among us, and that reality is exactly what he thinks it is.", "I passed along silently through the maze-like complex that was the Bjron-Eflrid Asylum.\n\nThrough the high slits in the walls, freezing gales passed through, I always hated the weather here in Iceland.\n\nThe obtaining of a recent intern, Ulfric Styrn, who had been involved in an unfortunate \"encounter\" with a Class 7 entity, was the mission objective. \n\nThe Essen, a fishing trawler which he had served as a midshipman on had disappeared for out in the Northernmost part of the Bering Sea. \n\nIt was found 1 month later, intact, but with most of the remains of the crew missing, albeit a few pieces of hair, blood, and bone here and there.\n\nIn the ensuring search, Ulfric was found down below in the Essen's cargo bay, where he had taken refuge in a small hole that lay between the hull of the Essen.\n\nHe was found naked, heavily dehydrated and malnourished to an extreme degree, as well as featuring signs of having experienced large amounts of mental trauma and distress. \n\nHis lack of response was troubling to the medical personal who treated him on his arrival back to Iceland, and he was soon transferred here, to the Bjorn-Elfrid asylum for \"advanced help\". \n\n\nHis encounter with this entity is very vital for the agenda of my associates and I, and thankfully, I have the night in this asylum all to myself thanks to the guards all being paid off. \n\n\n\"Room 354, 355, Aha, 356...\"\n\nThe metal door which lay to Ulfric's cell was shut naturally, and with a little applied force, I coerced it open.\n\nUlfric was a tragic sight to see, his empty and shriveled eyes barely had the strength to turn and face me. \n\nI flicked the lights on immediately, and began to set myself to work. \ntoggling the guns settings to \"low\", I aimed the sights down at little old Ulfric and pulled the trigger.\n\n\nThe room was steady and quiet at first, but then I began to hear whispers in my head, which were soon coupled with ringing and finally, tortured screams and twisted cries. \n\nDarkness enveloped the room, and shadows began to expand, and take form. \n\n\n\nUlfric and I were no longer in the room, but in a plane of vast shadows.\n\nHorrible figures who twisted and turned and crawled at great speeds along the chaotic walls and surfaces howled and screeched incessantly. \n\nGreat pillars of twisted and badly disfigured bodies who were disgustingly fused together came into view, some rotting to the point of extreme decay but still reaching out in great pain and desperation. \n\nThere were walls and tendrils of flesh and god knows what that choked the air in rotting miasma and dripped black blood. \n\nUlfric squirmed in his bed violently, as he set his sights on what was once his fellow crew members, now deformed beyond recognition and \"re-cast\" into something far more evil. \n\nWhat came next chilled me to the bone, as an enormous and writhing shadow which imposed itself above everything took form, it lout out a deafening roar before the effects of the gun began to wear off, and Ulfric and I slipped back into the cold and desolate asylum. \n\n\"Very nice\" I remarked in crude Icelandic, as I summoned two other associates of mine to drag Ulfric out of the bed, I began to grimace at the thought of weaponizing the memories of a Class 7 encounter.\n\nThen I took a swig from my hip flask, and led the rest of our group down the hall for extraction. \n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 14, 46 ]	[ "1433997490", "1433998828", "1433999653", "1433999980", "1434001432", "1434001460", "1434005044", "1434005983", "1433996352", "1433996197", "1433995927", "1433991037", "1433989151", "1433986502" ]
[Pic from /r/funny front page](http://i.imgur.com/ljVB5L5.jpg)	[WP] The year is 2242 all computer systems have been corrupted by an alien introduced virus. Man kind's last hope is a floppy disk with windows 3.1 on it.	17	[ "I carefully remove the disk from the holder then ponder...what exactly is a floppy drive? \n\nEight hours later, the replicator completes the new 360K drive and I try to insert the floppy into the slot. This is a much smaller floppy. Eight hours later, the replicator completes the new 720K drive and I insert the floppy into the slot. Apparently this is a 1.44 MB floppy. Eight hours later, the replicator completes the new 1.44 MB drive and I insert the floppy into the slot. The disk whirls then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" What is an Enter?\n\nEight hours later, the replicator completes the new keyboard and I hit Enter. The screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Enter. The disk whirls in the sleeve then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Enter. The disk whirls in the sleeve then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Enter. The disk whirls in the sleeve then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Esc. Humanity weeps...", "I put the floppy disk into the drive, holding my breath in anticipation. There's a whir as the drive starts up. Then...\n\nClick. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.\n\nI fall to my knees, defeated.\n\n\"I knew this would happen,\" I mutter to myself. \"Floppies always [crash](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Click_of_death) when you need them most.\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1434068705", "1434043118" ]
	[WP] Karma is real, but reversed; when you do good, bad things happen to you and vice versa.	6	[ "I watched her struggle across the road. I was frozen. I could so easily help, but was it worth it? I winced as I considered the possibilities. \n\nShe tripped.\n\nA threshold was overcome, a barrier breached. It was too much to keep me back any longer. I rushed forward, offering a hand.\n\n\"Please let me help you up.\"\n\nShe looked at me, bewildered. \"No one has ever said that before.\"\n\nShe lifted a hand. It shook and rattled until I clamped it in mine. I hardly needed to exert myself to bring her to her feet. We walked together across the street. She offered no thanks, and I don't blame her.\n\nAll afternoon I kept on high alert. Where would it come, and in what form? You couldn't simply help people without paying the price. I moved carefully around each corner, and I kept my eyes busy looking for trouble\n\nI left the office and prepared for the run home. Karma farmers filled the streets, and there was no one willing to keep them from maiming, beating, killing. I climbed into truck. The iron plates were thick enough to keep me from being the easiest target. \n\nI flew from the garage at full throttle, tearing down the parkway. A constant music of gun shots and explosions fueled me on. And then, a discomforting silence.\n\nMy engine had stopped. \n\nI had helped that old woman, and now I was screwed. Nothing left to do but get in as many hits as I could, and maybe the benefits would come fast enough to keep me alive.\n\nKarma's a bitch", "People used to have the notion that the more good they did, the more good things would happen to them, and the better the world would be. It made sense logically, but the reality that we eventually discovered is that the world can't be a better place, or even a worse place. It's entirely neutral, so when you do something good, you get hit with a left hook to compensate for the resulting imbalance. \n\nThe foot slammed into my side, I groaned in pain, but I was tied down and couldn't move to shield myself .\n\n\"You know I don't take pleasure in this\" the man said unhappily. He kicked again.\n\n\"I just... I need that job. It's for my kids, so I can get them Christmas presents. I tried to do good, I really did, but everything kept going so badly- I need that job!\" He punctuated each sentence with a successively harder kick, the last one of which broke my rib. I let out a muffled yell, but I was gagged. \n\n\"How much do I need to do?\" The man asked the supervisor.\n\nThe supervisor checked his clipboard and looked back up.\n\n\"According to our estimates, you should be good, I'll bring you out front so you can pay\"\n\nThe two left me in my cell as I lay there in pain. After everyone had realized the power that reverse karma gave, they made a decision. The bad things had to happen to SOMEONE. For the good of society they said, for the good if the nation. But they weren't the ones it happened to. They held a lottery, and I got one of the winning tickets. I was just hoping one of them would end it for me. Hoping." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1434042211", "1434042431" ]
It can be anger, happiness, sorrow, etc. Something meaningful.	[WP] Write something that will make me feel an emotion.	0	[ "Hey OP. I think I may have come off a bit rude before. I just wanted to let you know that, whatever I may have said about the prompt, I think it is actually profoundly interesting. It asks us to make you feel \"an emotion\". An emotion.\n\nYou've asked us to distill a story to a pure center. A singular emotion. That's actually both challenging and difficult. What's the apotheosis of love in fiction? Or fear? Hatred? \n\nAnd by asking us to write it for you specifically, you've enhanced the challenge a great deal. This is a rhetorical difficult task. How do we inspire this emotion within you?\n\nCan you tell me something about yourself, xx2f? I want to know. I need to know. What do you find meaningful? How can we write to your tastes? Who are you? What are your hopes and dreams? How do you see the world? How are you unique and special? I know you are.\n\nThis reminds me of Ready Player One where James Halliday creates a hugely elaborate game in order to force people to delve deeply into his passions and psyche. At its heart, the message of that story is that people's inner lives are varied and expansive and, if we take the time to truly understand another person, we come to love them in the way they love themselves.\n\nI want to understand you, xx2f. I want to write for you. ", "The basic sensation I take from your prompt is apathy. Is that accurate? Are you disconnected from the world?\n\nI don't mean to pry, but you posted this around 12:30. It's the middle of the day. It's just after noon and you're already looking for something. Anything. Anger, happiness, sorrow.. it doesn't even matter for you.\n\nThis isn't a failing! In fact, I don't think it's your fault at all. It's just the times we live in. You're young. You're looking at a big world ahead of you and you're scared. You're treading water in an ocean and you can't see land. Why bother swimming?\n\nI want to tell you that it'll pass. I'm not saying that you're going to feel better, not exactly. I mean, the economy is terrible for a person like you. No offense but if you haven't found your way in life yet, you're probably not going to. \n\nBut that's okay! It happens to us all. You get a bit older and you realize that those dreams you had as a young man were comforting fantasies. It got you through those difficult times. \"I may not be a 'popular' kid at school but someday they'll respect me. I have greatness in me. They'll see it.\" It lets you escape into your head for a moment. A salve applied to the pain of living.\n\nSoon you won't need that. You're just going through a transition now. Things look bleak. You don't feel like you're moving forward. But you are! The clock keeps ticking. Very soon you'll be old enough to give up. Once you let go of your dreams and ambitions, you'll realize that apathy is just what adults feel all the time. \n\nJust accept that, xx2f. It won't make you less apathetic but at least you'll stop caring about not feeling anything. " ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1434041079", "1434044184" ]
	[WP] Two men are pointing their guns at you, while a third man is pointing his gun at a hostage. You only have two bullets left.	1	[ "A calculated manœuvre, I take my gun and shoot the left knee of the hostage, nobody expected that, so much confusion, shouting. I run away laughing. Then the floor is rushing towards me as an intense pain fills my body radiating from between my shoulder blades to become the only thing in my world, everything fades to black. ", "\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nI stare at Desi's pleading amber eyes, brimming with tears of fright. She is too smart to think that I will scheme our way out of this one, but no one is beyond hope. For a second, her gaze brings me back to a more pleasant time, when we shared the glow of the dawn. Her family would always prepare special dishes when I would overnight in the valley. Their ranch was a hive of life, aunts and uncles bustling with chores, her grandma in her special chair by the door. Small children would dart under our feet as we strode through the fields. \"How long will you stay this time?\", she would ask, looking at me with big eyes and long lashes. Everything was golden. John re-ups his clench on her wavy locks, tearing away her gaze and my memories. She yells out in pain, tears beyond the brimming stage.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nJohn is a very fidgety man, which has always bothered me. I know that soon he will shoot her, regardless of whether I tell him where his exit lies, and regardless of whether I hand him the key. He will take the key, assuming he can navigate his way through the catacombs, assuming he knows how to use the key. I can see him grasping with the memories of when I led the way. It looked so easy, and he thinks he can do it too. He is wrong of course, but by that time Desi and I will be dead, so it doesn't really matter.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nThe two men pointing their S and W's at me are complex characters, with rich backstories and many compelling relationships. One is my brother, the other will soon be dead. That is all you need to know for my purposes at this time.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nThis noise is very distracting and I am growing weary of it. We are in the mayoral office of the town, Agora, known as Agora on the water. We are blockaded in the office, so that the local authorities cannot do their jobs. Their job is mostly to stop us from escaping with Desi Novareles, daughter of local tycoon, who is our hostage. Actually the hostage thing is supposed to be a scam, so that Desi and her cousin can take the money, and start a new life with freedom outside of their familial responsibilities and watching eyes. Only now John, just yesterday loyal to the Novareles, has decided that he might be the one who could use the money most. The Novareles are already very rich, and he is tired of their privilege. Desi's cousin, in charge of the local police force, is on the outside. He is the one who is yelling. He cannot really say much without becoming suspect.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nDesi's eyes. Golden fields. The sirens and her cousin's shrill cries. The guns in my face. John is yelling rapidly at me, but I'm only pretending to hear. It's starting to become too much. John is saying something about join us or die, we have you outnumbered, something about how he'll kill her. I look at my brother. My brother winks. My brother looks at John's friend. John looks at my brother. Desi looks back at me, and I savor the gaze. My brother shoots the unnamed man. John shoots Desi. My brother shoots John. I walk over to Desi's body, and remove the key from where she had hidden it. She knew how to get to the bottom, and she knew how to use the key. It was too late for her. We leave the corpses, and travel down the steps of the crypt, into the darkness again.\n\n\"Did you love her?\" my brother asks.\n\n\"Once\", I reply.\n\n\"Is her cousin right? Was it not supposed to end like this?\"\n\n\"What do you think?\"\n\n\"All according to plan,\" he says with a small grin.\n\n\"All according to plan,\" I lie.\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1434137870", "1434145610" ]
First time posting here	[WP] The daughter of a mafia boss is assigned a body guard the same age as her to attend school with her for added protection.	83	[ "Maria Canaj stared at the man her father, Enver, was claiming was for her own protection. He was about her age but he did not look as if he came from Albania. \"Father, who is this man? He does not look as if he is from Tirana.\" Her father smirked. \"My dear Maria, that is because this man, Giorgi, has been loaned to me from one of my associates from Dürres. He's here for your protection, my dear.\" Maria looked at the strange man, \"Giorgi is it? Is this true?\" Giorgi just stood there mutely. Her father interrupted. \"Giorgi is a mute, dear Maria. Now hush and go to your classes. Giorgi will follow.\" Maria bade her father farewell and left for class. As she got into the car, Giorgi got behind the wheel and locked the doors. Maria immediately knew something was up. \"Hey you mute bastard! What is the meaning of this?\" To her surprise, Giorgi answered. \"I led your father to believe I was mute. I'm actually from the police. Your mother sent us to rescue you from your father, one Enver. He was planning to have you killed.\" Maria could not believe her ears. \"But why?\" The man, Giorgi, just shrugged. \"Your father is a cruel man who's trying to remove all traces of his previous life. Now sit back and we'll get you out of here.“", "My family isn't the most normal family, in fact we're more like a clan... of body guards. I mean we're mostly like every other family with just a few differences. I love my parents and siblings, and they love me. My cousins, aunts, uncles, and so on and so forth are all really close to each other. I guess most people would imagine we would be like asocial weirdos or something like that. They probably wouldn't imagine a clan of body guards just relaxing at a beach or hanging around Disney World actually enjoying themselves.\n\nBut we do train everyday and follow a core system of beliefs much like the other companies or \"families\" of bodyguards do with one key difference. Our clan only takes on contracts where one of us falls in love with the person we're protecting. Hence why my clan's nickname is LoveGuard and in fact, we're considered one of the best and strongest clan because of our strong emotional ties to our Protectee but also to each other. \n\nAnd today, I receive my first assignment.\n\nMom, dad, and I are driving to our office to talk with the Requestee as we call them. I fidget nervously in the car, Mom notices and smiles gently. \"It's alright James, I know you're nervous but you'll be fine. Your dad spent quite a while deciding if you both match.\" I nod quietly. While my siblings and I were growing up part of our training was learning about our history, one important topic was how the founder Kai Wu Hwong first created our body guard clan, Clan Hwong, based upon love and made the formula to discover compatibility between people. \n\nDad always joked how we should sell Kai's formula to eHarmony or something and actually help people get into real relationships. \n\n\"Dad?\" I ask tentatively.\n\n\"Mmmmm?\" he replies.\n\nThe words tumbled out, \"What was it like for you? What is she like? How long will this last? What do I have to do? What if I mess up?\"\n\nDad chuckled, \"Well like I've said before, your mother fell from the sky into my arms and sweeped me off my feet.\" Mom mockingly punched his shoulder and gave his cheek a quick peck. \"Mom's right\" He continued, a bit more seriously \"We're both confident you can do this and it won't be too difficult. You're protecting the daughter of a mafia boss, and we don't think you'll mess up.\"\n\nMy gaze snapped away from the scenery passing outside the car window in surprise. \"Mafia boss?\"\n\nNormally we we're protecting wealthy families or politicians whose character were at the minimum normal. A mafia boss wasn't exactly known for stellar characters. \n\nMom nodded, \"Their situation and personality are different from a lot of the others, I vetted them myself.\" \n\nMom married into the family, but like everyone who marries in, they're trained physically, mentally, and emotionally. Most of the people who marry into the family are not the eldest sibling or the one who would inherit the Protectee's family fortunes. Sometimes the price of protecting the Protectee is a marriage between the sibling and a LoveGuard member. And to date, ever since the Founding there have only been a few cases of dissatisfaction, cheating, or even divorce and those have only been early on in our clan's history when the formula wasn't perfected. \n\nI mean it's not a shotgun wedding either. The Prospectives, what we call a possible union between a clan member and outsider meet and over time if they match then they eventually marry. Or if the outsider is the Protectee then naturally, over time, they tend to grow very close. And the unions are usually started around similar aged Prospectives at least when they're 16.\n\nThe car smoothly pulls into the parking lot of a modest one story office building. The paint is a light color that was still fairly fresh and I see a few unusual cars in the parking lot with us. Unusual as in, heavily armored with guards inside and outside trying to act innocent. Except they all emanated a blood-thirsty aura that a blind monkey could sense from a mile away and toted badly concealed guns.\n\nDad's handsome face immediately recognized them as he opened the door for mom to step out. \"Ah, I see our clients have arrived.\" After helping mom out and getting another peck, he motioned the clients to come up to the office.\n\nOnce everyone settled in I studied the mafia boss and his daughter.\n\n//Maybe more later!", "\"Miss Shiratori, who is this man? What is this letter?\" asked the tall boy in a suit.\n\n\"Oh, don't worry about it, Kenji. Only a classmate. Now, can you please stop... that?\" replied his lady, winding a long strand of hair around her hand.\n\n\".....\" came the silence of the boy choking before the two. It was an underclassman, a head shorter than the brutish looking bodyguard.\n\n\"Of course, m'am. Whatever you say.\"\n\nThe boy struggled against the strong grip of the bodyguard, kicking his legs at the man's chest, trying desperately to break free. The bleached-haired guard continued to stare at the boy until the woman gave a cough.\n\nKenji sighed, releasing his hold and dropping the boy onto the grass.\n\n\"You filthy vagrant! How dare you grab a hold of me like that?! When my fath-\"\n\n\"Hey, jackass. Shut up.\" \n\n\"Now, Kenji...\" Shiratori said in her graceful tone, slightly put-off by the display. \"I know you're well-acquainted with common street thugs, but I'd rather you didn't kill off some important figure like that sobbing boy down there.\"\n\nThe schoolboy shot back up to attention, a fury in his eyes as teared welled in the corners. \"Sobbing?!\" \n\nShiratori waved her hand, calling her guard to attention as they started to walk off in the opposite direction.\n\n\"Whatever... your friends are calling you for lunch, m'am. Also, your father is insisting that you stay for an hour or so afterschool. A 'business meeting' has unexpectedly come up.\" Kenji ran a hand over his long hair, messing up the carefully-done neatness he'd spent an hour doing this morning.\n\n\"Don't ruffle your hair out in public. Save that for home.\" The lady clicked her tongue, flashing a look his way. \"Father's been having a lot of 'meetings' more recently, has he?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know, m'lady.\"\n\n\"Do you think it's because of your little stunt back then?\"\n\n\"M'am?!\" Kenji's face flushed red. \"It wasn't really my faul-\"\n\n\"I meant you and those two, err, street thugs back then.\"\n\n\"Oh. Well, they were my friends. I wouldn't think they've had any association with yakuza, triad, or anything like that.\"\n\n\"Mhmmm. Well, my own friends are awaiting. I'll see you...\" Shiratori smiled up at her guard. \"... later tonight.\"\n\n\"Miss. Stay discreet. Ms. Sakuma would kill me.\"\n\n\"I don't think she'd hire a grudge that long just because we sacked her for you.\" \n\nThe pair arrived up by a grassy hill. Well-dressed schoolgirls waved at their fellow friend down below, beckoning her to climb up and join them. Like a pack of wolves, their eyes bored into the male bodyguard at his lady's side.\n\nKenji, sensing the signal, bowed to the girl and walked off, hoping to get to the library and away from the outside.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nAs he turned the corner to the grand doors of the academy's home of books, Kenji came across a familiar sight.\n\nTwo rowdy looking ruffians were accosting some poor girl, their eyes lit up with frenzied anger. Neither of them wore the school uniform.The bodyguard leaned closer to take in the view. Now that he thought about it, the two intruders seemed rather familiar.\n\nOne had strewn up blonde hair, wearing a smile like a Cheshire cat. The other one seemed older than Kenji himself, wearing a long goatee on his dark chin.\n\nIt was no doubt about it, those two were his former upperclassman.\n\n\"Hey, you damn broad! You seen some bleached-hair fucker around here? Following around some bitch with huge tits? Oi! Speak up!\"\n\n\"Sudou,\" the bodyguard stepped over, pulling the two away from the girl. \"You don't belong here, you know.\"\n\n\"Kenji! You damn bastard!\"\n\nAs if on cue, the goatee-wearing motherfucker headbutted the bodyguard, sending him staggering back.\n\nThe blonde misfit by his side pulled out a knife, circling their prey. He moved quickly, sprinting to flank Kenji's back as Sudou, the goatee-wearing one, charged in.\n\nKenji returned back with a right hook, knocking out a teeth from a bloody mouth before turning around. A knife stuck deep into his upper arm, allowing blood to ooze its way out. He winced and grimaced, trying to regain himself.\n\nBehind him, the goatee-man rushed and seized up the bodyguard's arms, allowing the scrawny blonde partner to throw in a few punches of his own.\n\nIn the struggle, Kenji's suit tore.\n\nNo sooner than ten seconds after, the two campus intruders were face-deep in a shrubbery three stories below the school-building. It was also at that time, that the useless minor character started to scream and call for help, as everyone knows, bystanders can't be relied on to react to anything in these types of stories.\n\nThe guard was too busy freaking the hell out over the torn suit to bother with that. After all, that very suit came straight out of his pocket, and was estimated to cost about seven-hundred dollars.\n\nGroundskeeping was sent to pick up the knocked-out duo in the garden, allowing Kenji with the chance to sneak out and try to find a tailor to sew up the tear.\n\nSchool continued as normal the next day, and everyone continued on with their merry lives...\n\nJust kidding.\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Kenji! You tore up your suit? Goddamnit!\"\n\n\"Miss, it was an accident! Those two came at me!\"\n\n\"I picked it out just for you! It looked absolutely dashing on your and you ruined it!\" Shiratori ignored the guard's excuses, fuming with anger. \"And your hair!\"\n\n\"What's wrong with my hair?\"\n\n\"It's all ruffled up again! You have a comb don't you, use it!\"\n\n\"Is this really the right place for this conversation?!\"\n\n\"Yes, of course!\"\n\n\"M'am. You're half-dressed, the bedroom's locked, and you've tied yourself to your own bed!\"\n\n\"Heroism excites me, damnit! Now, if you'll stop shouting, then maybe Sakuma can't find you.\"\n\n\"Miss Shiratori, I have a headache.\"\n\n\"That's no excuse.\"\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n[Yes, this is definitely a reference to something. If you can tell what I'm referencing based off the names alone, you should be ashamed of yourself.]\n\n", "Two small palms slammed down upon the rich mahogany desk. \"Why the hell would I need a bodyguard at school?\" I looked up from my newspaper to see my daughter leaning forwards, her eyes just as fiery as her words. \n\nI calmly folded my paper before answering. \"Because you are my daughter.\"\n\n\"What the hell does that have to do with anything?\" she shouted, her voice rising in pitch once more. \"I've been going to school for eight years without a bodyguard and everything has been perfectly fine.\"\n\n\"Young lady, you've used profanity twice in my presence. God help me if you use it a third.\" This cooled her head a bit. She has seen me angry before. Not on the receiving end of it of course, but one doesn't need to get beaten to know that it would hurt. I hadn't particularly wanted to show her that side of me, but its the family business and one day she'll take over from me. Better to get her used to it now. \"And you have had bodyguards. Normally, they'd be a teacher, or maybe a member of faculty. Someone close by, but not too close. But now we need to change things. Up until now its been merely a formality. No one in this town would put a hit on a kid. Not if they know whats good for them. But you are a young lady now. Fair game.\" I flicked the newspaper into onto the desk, spinning it around to show her the headline. Son of Triad Boss Killed in Street Shooting. \"We are powerful enough to have many allies, but with power comes enemies. Don't let your position or power go to your head. A stray bullet is more than enough to end you or me. I'm just making sure that when the bullets start flying, there's someone right next to you who can send a few back at them.\"\n\nShe stared at the newspaper for a few moments before slowly nodding. She had been on friends with the poor sap, ever since they were kids. I knew it probably hit her close to her heart, but she'd have found out eventually anyway. No point waiting around with bad news. \n\n\"You'll take my guard. If you were a boy, I'd have you in a bullet proof vest, but i know you girls don't like unfashionable things. I've taken the liberty of having all of your school blazers modified. Kevlar plates over all the vitals. Its light as your normal jacket, and it won't get in your way.\" I got up, pulling on my own modified jacket as I prepared to go about my day's duties. \"If you know whats good for you, you won't take it off. Head down to the foyer. Your bodyguard is waiting to escort you to school.\"\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 1 Log 1 7:00 AM\n\nMy name is Elia Brandt. Half Italian, half German. Aged 15. Average build, average face, black hair, and black eyes. \n\nAnd I am a professional.\n\nThat is one of the many terms for a hitman or a rough. When they say \"Get a couple of professionals on it,\" I'm what they mean.\n\nYes, I'm young, but that means I can get to places where a man twice my age would be conspicuous. \n\nPeople say I'm frank with my speech. If I were a funny guy, I'd say \"No, I'm Elia,\" but I'm not a funny guy.\n\nI'm a professional.\n\nToday I've been assigned to a long term position. Protection of a single client over a period of four years. I don't know who yet, but considering whose house I'm currently standing in, I can make a pretty solid guess. \n\nLuciana Vespucci. Daughter of the laundry detergent king Marcio Vespucci. They are adamant in what they claim they are. \"We produce laundry detergent and laundry detergent alone.\" And no matter how many times the DEA have raided their locations, that's all they've found. Of course everyone, that is, everyone who matters, knows what they actually are, but there is simply no proof. \n\nIf I'm being assigned to a client for four years, Luciana is most likely who it would be. \n\nAh, there's the detergent princess now. I quickly look her over and note that her blazer is reinforced. Good. A client that is aware that they could die is a client who is easy to protect. \n\nShe came to stop in front of me, her foot tapping on the marble floor as if she were frustrated by something. She looked me up and down before snorting and trotting past. \"Lets go. I don't want to be late to my first day in high school.\"\n\nI nodded and followed. \n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 1 Log 2 7:20 AM\n\nShe wanted to ride the bus.\n\nWhy does she want to ride the bus?\n\nWhy the hell does she want to ride the bus?\n\nI haven't had an opportunity to check the vehicle for explosives, or vet any of the other students who would be riding with us. If one of them were to pull a gun it'd quickly become a bloodbath, and I could only hope to protect the client with my body. \n\nMy eyes darted from student to student. They were laughing and chatting with each other, but some of them would occasionally slide their eyes over to the client. At first I thought that they were professionals who were really bad at their job, but quickly realized two things.\n\na) Most if not all of the watchers were male.\n\nb) My client is incredibly attractive.\n\nThat problem resolved, I settled back in my seat, my hand resting comfortably close to my breast where my Colt 1911 slept quietly. If there was a problem that needed to be sorted out, it'd wake up and get yelling very quickly.\n\nI make a note to prohibit the client from riding the bus after to day.\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 1 Log 3 8:20 AM\n\nFirst class, home room. Little more than introductions. Luciana's was a elaborate, her face lit up with an energetic smile. She had the entire classroom eating out of her hand in a few sentences. My own introduction was as minimal as possible. Yet somehow I seem to be drawing attention. I can feel at least four sets of eyes trained on me. A quick glance around identified them. I remembered their faces and names and made a note of running background checks on them when I had the time.\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 1 Log 4 1:00 PM\n\nLunch break. My client refuses to allow me to remain close to her, opting instead to sit with two girls from her class and another from a different class. I make a note to run background checks on them.\n\nI keep an eye on all entrances and exits to the dining hall. No one acts particularly suspicious, though there are simply too many people to keep a solid track on each one of them. I make a note to request fish eye cameras installed in the dining room and classrooms so I can analyze the student's movements after returning the client each day.\n\nAs a side note, even I can prepare food better than these cafeteria chefs. I consider leveraging the client's wealth to have them replaced but decide against it.\n\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 1 Log 5 3:20 PM\n\nThe client seems frustrated with me. She has attempted to make small talk with me on the way back but I have been focused on watching the other students on the bus. Her mood steadily has gotten worse until at last she stood up in a huff and squeezed past me to sit with one of her new friends. This situation is sub-par, but I've had that one checked already, and she seems clean.\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 1 Log 6 4:00 PM\n\n\"Father he's an automaton! He just looks at people and makes notes in his annoying little notebook. And people are starting to ask questions about him and me. Get someone else!\"\n\nI stood at attention outside the door to the laundry king's office while the client and his daughter discussed my actions for my first day.\n\nIt seems that I was too inconspicuous. I wasn't aware I was supposed to even be undercover for this mission. As far as I was knew, my sole purpose was to protect the client when the professionals inevitably came for her.\n\nI will adjust my performance for tomorrow if I am still on this assignment.\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 2 Log 1 6:50 AM\n\nIt seems I am still on the assignment with the modified mission: \"Blend into the environment while protecting the client.\"\n\nAs such from this point onwards, the log will change to reflect this modified assignment.\n\n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 2 Log 2 7:30 AM\n\nI am still uncomfortable with the bus. Too many staring people. Too many unfamiliar faces, but I bear with it. This is a job after all. I sat next to the ~~client~~ Luciana again, but this time in a more relaxed posture. I managed to keep up with her small talk for a while, but the conversation gradually tapered off as we ran out of topics to talk about. As I mentioned before, I'm not much of a conversationalist. Upon arriving at school I followed her to homeroom and engaged in small talk with the person sitting in front of me, Christopher Miele. I've already run a background check and am confident that he may be the least threatening of all of the students in the classroom. We talk about nothing much until class begins. \n \n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 2 Log 3 1:00 PM\n\nLunch. I sit away from Luciana and use my phone to access the cameras I had installed last night. A clear view of each potential threat in the room in the palm of my hand. Convenient. \n\nChristopher Miele comes to sit with me off in the corner that I had selected to monitor the room, and I am forced to hide my phone. Again we talk about nothing much, but he seems attached to me in an annoying manner.\n\nHow bothersome. \n\n----------------o----------------\n\nDay 2 Log 3 3:20 PM\n\nLuciana seems pleased about something so I take the conversational cue and ask why had her grinning. She tells me that her friends and her were going to meet up at a mall nearby in an hour and she was excited because it was the first time she's ever done something like that. I almost refuse to allow her to go, but realize that is outside of my mission statement. Looks like I'm going to the mall. \n\nI can continue if you want, but it turned out longer than I intended" ]	[ 3, 6, 8, 82 ]	[ "1434158678", "1434182592", "1434150447", "1434165130" ]
	[WP] Tell me of a time that an unstoppable force met an immovable object.	6	[ "His first nickname was Dr. J. Then the kids heard about Julius Erving. Their parents were old enough to remember. So there was already a Dr. J and everyone knows the coolest nicknames can only belong to one. This one needed the coolest nickname ever and I happened to agree.\n\nThey considered the other options. For the kids of The Center, nicknaming their new hope became a creative workshop. Except every suggestion was valid and nobody felt left out. Just figuring out what to call him became a community effort to bring them together. For me, it felt just like a block party without the kegs of beer and inner-suburban current of materialism. For the kids, it was a shared excitement that help was on the way. Their excitement turned help into hope.\n\nBut before hope could arrive, it needed a nickname. All the goofiest nicknames that you'd expect from a group of kids coping with physical agony and the onset of anguish taking an immense toll both psychologically and emotionally. The kids needed a hero. The best way to grant hero status is to assign a cool name. An alter ego.\n\nThey tossed suggestions around like the actual kids they were. Before they had been plucked from life and their bodies betrayed them from the inside out. After the betrayal had hit them so hard, seeing them rally was a remarkable sight. Knowing that they had been specifically chosen over money and prestige spoke to them in ways every age level understood. Their expiration dates didn't loom so large anymore. The childhood equivalent of a death row exoneration had been presented with new ideas which included them as opposed to merely utilizing them. \n\nBeing included in the future introduced a sense of metabolism; a welcome change from the constant and precocious familiarity they had developed with the oily yin and yang of metastisization and remission. The metabolic currents ran wild and brought their parents to tears to see so much electricity return to circuits long thought to be burnt out. Some of the tears seemed to be of shame; almost as if the funerals had been planned and their children were already lost. This was the first of many pithy and amateur social psychiatric observations I kept to myself.\n\nWhile their parents watched, they continued their search for a worthy nickname. \n\n“J-Mac” was proposed but quickly decided to be too easy. It made him sound like a teacher trying too hard to be cool. This made me smile because I'd done the exact same thing when I'd started as a teacher. Trying too hard to be cool was not how you gave hope the power it needed.\n\t\nAfter “J-Mac” came “J-Mickey D”.\n\n“Mickey” came into play because they'd stalked his social media and found pictures from our honeymoon at Disney World. They enjoyed most an image from the day he'd sported a Mickey Mouse Club cap. That cap stayed on his head all day long just because I'd wondered how something so dumb could still exist. By the time the kids found that photo, I'd long since learned to treasure the spirit that took my cynicism at the time and turned it into a dare. It was that spirit that made him the perfect candidate to be their hope but to me, it was what I loved most about him. That picture had become the picture for me. I could have told them about how important the picture was in the grand scheme of my life but certain luxuries are best kept in perspective.\n\nSoon enough, however, J-Mickey D was discarded and the photo was forgotten. It hurt my feelings a bit but my feelings could take it. I knew they needed something cooler and their feelings were rallying in response. The nickname couldn't come from his dorky, extroverted willingness to force my borders to expand. The nickname needed to be forged from iron in the fire via blood from the demon Tumorus Malignus. A nickname more streamlined and bad-ass. \n\nNot a nickname. A moniker. An alter-ego.\n\nIf hope were going to walk in the door, it needed to be identified via the shortest and sweetest means possible. The kids shared a burden with a name weighed heavily by vowels and rooted in Latin standards. To fight this burden, their hope had to stand at odds. \n\nHope needed swagger and sweetness existing in a tender balance. Consonants and alliteration that grew larger than life but remained humble at heart. Towering monoliths of cast iron that inspired attitude and bad-itude but left room for tenderness and empathy. Hope had to hug with one arm and throw a mighty punch with the other. A nickname to end all nicknames. A moniker that dropped the microphone and walked away. An alter-ego for a superhero.\n\nThey called him JMZ.\n\nWhat made the alter ego funny is that I already used it during a road trip a few years prior. We'd agreed if I drove the first hundred miles, he would switch the music at my immediate command. So he was my discman and I jokingly told him his initials would make a “cool” DJ name. Now it was Superman to his Clark Kent. No pressure or anything.\n\nJMZ vs. Cancer and I got to be Lois Lane.", "WELL LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING BROTHER, WHEN I WAS THE UNSTOPPABLE FORCE, DUUUUDE, I MET ANDRE THE GIANT INFRONT OF 3 BILLION SCREAMING HULKAMANIACS IN THE SILVERDOME BROTHER. AND WHEN I SLAMMED THE 3000LBS GIANT THE CROWD WENT BANANAS AND THAT IS THE GREATEST MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF EVERYTHING BROTHER JACK DUDE.\n \nHulk Hogan vs Andre The Giant, WrestleMania 3. As described by Hogan himself.\n \nI have never visited this subreddit before, and I never will again." ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1434219802", "1434206623" ]
	[WP] A rare coma experience allowed one man to think for "a million years", though only one day passed on earth. He just woke up.	87	[ "My name is James Stanley.\n\nDo you know what it's like, to face the darkness? Have you ever stood in the depths of a cave, light extinguished, and held your breath? For a brief moment, it feels like you don't exist at all.\n\nAnd yet, somehow, it continues. \n\nWhat happened to me? How did I get here? I try to think back; I had settled in for another night at home, when...what?\n\nI'd tripped. That's right. The memory becomes clearer in my mind; I'd tripped, and the corner of the desk came whirling closer - a flash of white, then...\n\nMy Name is James Stanley.\n\nWas this a coma? Was I lying on my bedroom floor, slowly starving to death? How long would it take before someone came to look for me? Days? Weeks?\n\nI try to scream, but it doesn't work. Screaming in your head is surprisingly devoid of emotion. Try it sometime. Or don't; it's probably better for your sanity that way. Either way, it didn't make a difference. Nobody came. The darkness continued. Surely days must have passed already, shouldn't they? Somebody had to come looking for me soon. \n\nSomeone.\n\nAnyone.\n\nNo-one. \n\nI had read about sensory deprivation before; as a child, I'd read the science fiction, Asimov and Heinlein and Mccaffrey; I knew that it could drive a person insane. I had to give myself some sort of reference. Some way to count the passage of time. Helpless, I begin to count;\n\n1, 2, 3, 4, 5...\n\n5001, 5002, 5003, 5004, 5005...\n\n50001...50001...50001...no, two. Wait, where was I? What...\n\nMy name is James Stanley.\n\nI know I'm beginning to lose it. My attempts at meditation are failing faster and faster; how can I clear my mind when the real world is already nothing but...nothing? What if someone finally comes to save my body, only to find my mind a gibbering wreck? \n\nI need something more. Something that takes extra effort.\n\nSo I try to imagine a rock.\n\nI know, I know. I'm not a terribly imaginative individual. But then, I've never had any reason to really use my imagination, you know? Just a simple rock, grey and round. At first it's just a faint image in my mind; a dream of an illusion, but as time passes, the detail increases. I begin to add facets to the rock, carving away small pieces, trying to imagine in full detail what they would look like. I zoom closer, adding detail after detail, until I'm inscribing on the molecules themselves; I can't remember the exact rules, so I make up new ones. \n\nIt seems like months pass, just imagining that one rock; maybe I really am going crazy.\n\nFinally, though, it's finished. I feel inordinately proud; after all, it's just a rock, floating in a sea of darkness. But still...in this rock, there is more effort than anything else I've ever done. For the first time in years, I feel...proud.\n\n...The rock looks awfully lonely.\n\nIf I had lips, a ghost of a smile would have lit up upon them. I begin to focus once again.\n\nMonths later, a second rock joins it. A happy little friend, Bob Ross would have said. And there, as I stare at these two rocks, I realize what it is that I'm doing; \n\nI'm painting. I'm painting a world, and my mind is the canvas.\n\n-----------\n\nTime passes more quickly for me now, I think, though it's hard to tell for sure. The rocks look incomplete just floating, so I create a patch of land for them to rest on. But that dirt seems incomplete as well; soon enough, it, too, is impossible to tell from real dirt.\n\nBut dirt would be incomplete without a sky.\n\nSky would be incomplete without a sun.\n\nThe sun torches the ground; I try to grow plants, but they boil away, and I realize that somehow, I created a vacuum, or at least assumed one must exist. Air comes next. Then more land, more plants, more air. \n\nMore everything.\n\n-----------\n\n999999.99 years later.\n\n-----------\n\nAmanda groans, reaching across me to turn off the alarm clock, her lithe form sliding against mine in a delightful way, before the curtains of her hair obscure the light of the rising sun shining through the windows that look out over New Stanton. Her lips brush against mine, and I can feel their gentle curve as she smiles. \"It's too early,\" she moans, falling back onto the sheets next to me, \"Could you roll it back a few hours?\" Her eyes are puffy and red, but she's still as adorable as the day I met her.\n\n\"Of course,\" I reply, leaning forwards to bring my lips to hers once again. By the time I lean back, the sun has set once again, and she snuggles up against me, her warmth soaking into my heart.\n\n----------\n\nAnd then, abruptly, it disappears. The warm buzz of love is replaced by a cold ache in my head, and I'm blinded when I open my eyes by the light of the rising sun through my window. Where am I? What...?\n\nThe memories come rushing back. Yes, this had been my life, hadn't it? I stare around at the empty wrappers and discarded pizza boxes, the chipped paint on the walls of my tiny room. Blood stains the carpet beneath where my head lay.\n\nNobody had come looking for me.\n\nI crawl laboriously to my knees, then to my feet, my pendulous form not following my mental commands like I had grown accustomed. It felt like, if I could just stand there, think back for long enough, I could return; go back to my beloved Amanda. Like I could go home.\n\nMy reverie is interrupted by a pounding on my door. \"Stanley!\" the voice yelled. \"Stanley, I know you're in there! You're late for this month's rent!\" More pounding. \"Dammit Stanley, open up or I'll get the foreman to break this door down-\"\n\nI open the door.\n\n\"There you are,\" he says with barely disguised disgust. \"Look, I understand you're having a hard time and all, but I can't let you stay here if you don't pay the rent.\"\n\nI open my mouth to speak; my voice is raspy, dry. \"What date is it?\" I ask.\n\nHe rolls his eyes, \"The 16th, buddy. A day after the due date. Now pay up, eh?\"\n\n\"You don't understand-\" I begin, before he cuts me off.\n\n\"I understand plenty well, buddy. I understand that if you don't get me my money by tomorrow, you're gonna be out on the street, capisce?\"\n\n\"No, no, you don't understand,\" I say again, my eyes going into the middle distance. \"I was a god...\"\n\nHe raises an eyebrow. \"Nice. Now magic me up some god damn money, alright?\" He sniffs the air coming from behind me, and wrinkles his nose, \"And take a shower, for chrissake. Smells like blood and piss in there.\"\n\nI stare at his ugly face. I had been a god. For a million years, I'd rules a universe of my own making. Only to have it all taken away? Only to have her taken away?\n\nIt wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.\n\nBut no matter how hard I strained, the world remained, unchanged.\n\nMy name is James Stanley. I am not a god.\n\nEnd of journal.", "I can't remember what precipitated my endless hell. Sometimes I knew that something was wrong, that this wasn't real, but other times I let myself be pulled under the waves of insanity. It was a beautiful feeling to let go. That helped the passing of time. There were times where I went hundreds, thousands of years delirious uncaring of what my mind conjured to taunt or cajole me with. Then, like a knife piercing my skull, I was aware. I was so aware. Hundreds of thousands of years. It felt like a day it felt like forever.\n\n\nIn the beginning, I tried to create a familiar world to interact with. I made up people. I made up beautiful villages and cities and worlds. As my mind deteriorated, so did the worlds I made. The people always degenerated into sadistic, PATHETIC animalistic beings that wiped each other out. It happened every time I made a new world. Eventually I stopped making them. Was I a god? Am I God? Who knows.\n\n\nI think I had a name. It doesn't exist anymore. I don't exist anymore. There is nothing there is everything there is nothing. There. Is. Everything. It doesn't end. It never ends.\n\n\nSometimes I forget that I can't die. I forget and then I try again. Why can't I die? Why can't I just die?! I must be a god. There is no God. I'm so aware.\n\n\nBeep beep beep beep\n\n\nWhat... Noise? What is noise? I can hear...\n\n\n\"Nurse! Nurse!! I think he's waking up!\"\n\n\nWas it a dream? Was this all just a dream? There's light. THERE'S LIGHT. It's like... it's like I'm seeing for the first time in my life but also like I've always seen. I don't understand.\n\n\n\"Jacob! Jacob, can you hear me?\" Who is Jacob? Is that a person? Is that a human being? I haven't seen another human being in several millennia-OH GOD WHAT IS THIS WHAT IS THIS SENSATION... WHAT AM I FEELING? \"Jacob, calm down, you've been in an accident. You're in the hospital. A car ran a red light and hit you. You were in a come for a day. Do you understand?\" The pain... It's so real... Wait. Waitwaitwait. Did she say it was only a day? It was only a day? IT WAS ONLY A DAY? IT WAS ONLY A DAY?\n\n\nI see the doctor (huh, so that's the word) IT WAS ONLY A DAY push another woman forward. Her face is swollen. IT WAS ONLY A DAY She's crying. \"Jake? Jakey? Oh honey, it's going to be OK. Don't worry, I love you, thank God you're alive.\" \n\n\n\"WHY? WHY? WHY?\" I yell and kick, my side screaming in protest but it doesn't matter because IT WAS ONLY A DAY.\n\n\n\"Get the orderlies! We need to sedate him!\" NO. NO NO NO NO I AM NOT GOING BACK. I AM NOT GOING BACK. I look frantically around for something, anything. My throat is burning from screaming. Why?! I see the woman cry even harder. I see the sharp, metal object on the table near my bed. \n\n\nWhat if this is a dream too? What if this is like that Inception movie? Oh, wow, why do I remember that. I can't go back. \n\n\nI grab the knife. I hear the screaming peter out and distantly recognize that it's my voice turning into gurgling noises as I jam the knife into my throat and run it across. I pull out the knife and start stabbing myself in the chest over and over again. There's pain, so much pain, but it's almost sweet. More people come in and grab my wrists, their grip slippery from all of my blood. It doesn't matter though. It feels like the end. I look up and smile as I fight for a breathe that won't come.\n\n\nMy name is Jacob and I am no more.\n\n\n[Plz be gentle it's my first time ;D]", "\"He's awake?\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes Mrs. Holt.\"\n\n\n\n\"So why can't I see him?\"\n\n\n\n\"We have him under observation.\"\n\n\n\n\"Is he in danger? I thought you said he was stable.\"\n\n\n\n\"Mrs. Holt, we don't want to draw any conclusions as of yet.\"\n\n\n\n\"Spit it out, what's wrong with him?\"\n\n\n\n\"I can't say.\"\n\n\n\n\"So let me see him.\"\n\n\n\n\"Please Mrs. Holt, just give us a day with him, okay?\"\n\n\n\n\"You said the worst is over, is it?\"\n\n\n\n\"...yes Mrs. Holt. It is.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nHe returns. There are 100 ways to kill him with one of his own pens.\n\n\n\"Mr. Holt?\"\n\n\n\n\"...\"\n\n\n\n\"Mr. Holt?\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"Let's go over this again.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"Do you understand you were in a coma for only a day?\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"When you woke up you were combative.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"You said you were somewhere else.\"\n\n\n\n\"I screamed it, yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"You said you spent one million years there.\"\n\n\n\n\"Again, I screamed, but yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"Can you tell us any more?\"\n\n\n\n\"It's gone, temporary psychosis, nonsense, surely you didn't believe me.\"\n\n\n\n\"We believed you believed it, you sounded sincere.\"\n\n\n\n\"A coma is a coma, whether for a day or a million years, it doesn't matter.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your wife was here.\"\n\n\n\n\"Can I see her now?\"\n\n\n\n\"I asked her to come back tomorrow. Let me get you a tissue.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thank you. May I have a shower? I'd like to get cleaned up before she sees me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Well, you seem lucid, I'll ask an orderly to remove the restraints. He'll have to watch you shower, I'm sorry but it's hospital policy.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\nThere should be a word for streetlamps overgrown with tree branches. The shadows they make recall the horde in battle.\n\n\n\n\n\"Frank?\"\n\n\n\n\"Sal\"\n\n\n\n\"Oof! You'll crack my ribs hugging me so tight.\"\n\n\n\n\"I missed you Sal. You can't know how much.\"\n\n\n\n\"Got any tissues? This hospital issue is sandpaper.\"\n\n\n\n\"Sure you big lug, plenty for us both.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI fought from the pits to god emperor once. It appears I must do so again. A man must build. I have built so very much. I don't know how else to exist.\n\n\n\n\n\"What are these notes?\"\n\n\n\n\"Scribbles, just fun.\"\n\n\n\n\"Fun with foreign languages?\"\n\n\n\n\"Nonsense, made up.\"\n\n\n\n\"They're beautiful Frank, what do they say?\"\n\n\n\n\"How beautiful you are and how much I love you.\"\n\n\n\n\"Frank! Ouch! Your hands are like claws!\"\n\n\n\n\"Sorry Sally.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe first rule is to be feared and loved but not hated.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPerhaps I will find a way to spare the hospital. They laid hands on me. They also saved me. A delicate question of response to meditate upon. I have time. The gate is permanent.\n\n\n\n\nA day here is a day.\n\n\n\nEvery night, I return to my kingdoms for another million years. Sometimes naked, sometimes mad, sometimes the wise man, often the fool, sometimes emperor, sometimes otherwise.\n\n\n\nAcross these chasms, my love for my wife remains, time is whatever I say it is.\n\n\nI'm glad I wake earlier than her.\n\n\n\nSo far, she has not commented on my morning tears.", "\"Good morning Jonathan. How do you feel?\" the nurse said cheerily. The nervousness in her voice showed, the superficial smile and the pristine white uniform.\n\n\nI had woken up.\n\n\n\"Put me back in.\" It wasn't a statement, or request. It was a command.\n\n\n\"...I'm sorry Mr. Sunder? You've been in a coma fo-\" It must have been her first day, or I must have been the first she woke.\n\n\n\"Put me back into the coma. Now.\"\n\n\nHand covering her now slack jawed mouth, she hurried out of the room, the click clacking of her flats fading away. Getting the doctor, of course. Must have been new.\n\n\nI look around. A sterile environment. Beige walls, black monitors, white devices. Not even a day's worth of dust has accumulated in this clean room The sheets were tidy and there was an air of perfection. \n\n\nI hated it.\n\n\nFinally, the doctor walked it. It had been precisely 312 seconds since the departure of Nurse Hadley and the introduction of Doctor Francoise Charbonneau, a francophone from Canada. His accent, the Canadian shoes and his salt and pepper hair told me as much. \n\n\n\"Good morning Mr. Sunder. Nurse Hadley was telling me that you are under some form of stress. It's completely normal under the circumstances. We had thought best to induce you into a coma to allow the swelling to be reduced. How do you feel?\"\n\n\nHis accent was clear enough, but it couldn't mask his origins. His face was calm, sincere in stark contrast to Nurse Hadley, hiding approximately 60 cm behind him, protecting herself from me with the clipboard.\n\n\n\"Doctor, I would like to be placed back into the coma immediately.\"\n\n\nHe looked at me peculiarly. No change in the facial structure, no emotional change, nothing of significance to him had been said.\n\n\n\"Jenine, leave the room.\" He murmured. He maintained eye contact with me the entire time, this time finally raising his bushy eyebrows.\n\n\nHe sat down on a chair he pulled up. The screeching noise was deliberate, but he looked smug as he sat down.\n\n\n\"Curious isn't it, how time passes to us all individually, right Jon?\" His voice wasn't condescending. It was only calm, filled with a voice yearning to be heard, attention to be directed.\n\n\nI didn't answer.\n\n\nHe continued, \"What you experience, the elongation of time and the ability to linger with consciousness, there isn't a name for it now, nor is it well understood. But only certain people actually experience it and only under very specific circumstances.\"\n\n\nAn academic. Save me from this terrible curse, please.\n\n\n\"I suppose, directly to the point, what I am trying to communicate is that you are a very, very luck individual. However, you are not the only person to have gone into deep think.\"\n\n\nI raised my eyebrow. Skepticism comes too easily after thinking for such a period of time, in fact it was as if-\n\n\n\"I had a daughter once. Beautiful girl, young bright thing of twelve. A truck driver had hit us, side on. Was taking a bite of his sandwich, hadn't eaten the entire twenty-four hours he was awake. I don't blame him.\" He looked down, as if to look down and see her in the flesh. A tinge of sorrow and almost regret passed through him.\n\n\n\"Anyways, by the time they found us, she had passed and I was already unconscious. In a coma, as it were, like you were yesterday.\"\n\n\nHe returned his gaze upon me. \"What did you think about? Philosophy? History? Your job perhaps? Maybe a loved one, or a friend...\"\n\n\nHis voiced tapered off, telling me that it was my turn to respond.\n\n\n\"The accident. I thought of the accident. The intersection, the imagery of the entire scene. I visualized and created a model to determine how the two vehicles ended up.\" I was quivering. I was nervous now. It seemed like an age ago since I thought about the accident.\n\n\n\"And then what?\" the Doctor inquired.\n\n\n\"Then... everything else...\"\n\n\n---\n\n\nWe talked for about thirty minutes about various topics ranging from Bertrand Russell to theoretical physics. For a medical professional, he certainly empathized with me such that we were the same person. Millions of years of thinking can lead to some strange things, but this was certainly a first.\n\n\nNear the end of his rambling on how he designed a system in his mind to visualize his daughter, he said with finality, \"We can't bring you back.\"\n\n\nI knew at that moment that he had tried to do the same thing. To return to that space of mind, to visualize the time and thoughts for those years, to return to the moment of pure bliss.\n\n\nHe pressed his hand to his forehead, then stood up wearily. \"We can't bring you back, but you will recover in a about twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If you are interested in going back truly, just step in front of a truck and hope for the best.\"\n\n\nAnd with that morbid thought, he called for the nurse to administer a new IV. I watched him leave with such sadness in him that I questioned my own existence. \n\n\n---\n\n\nI was at home finally when my cell phone rang. It was my girlfriend. I let the phone buzz away. The moment I had returned to the apartment, escorted by the nurse, I wrote down some notes from my ... eternal thoughts. It read as follows:\n\n\n1. Step in front of a moving truck.\n\n\n2. Recite the Encyclopedia Britannica again.\n\n\n3. Get Milk.\n\n\nSome part of me became detached at the moment, breaking in half. The weight of the world crashed on my senses and I froze. I would never see or know the world that I had know from that coma. \n\n\nThe regret does not lie in knowing you cannot go back. It lies in knowing that it will all be lost. I slumped to my knees and let the phone buzz.", "I don't remember who I am.\n\n\"He's waking up,\" the doctor said with a pleased smile, \"We didn't know how long you were gonna be. Your friends and family have been here since last night waiting for your return.\" \n\nThe doctor still held a pleasant grin. I looked around and saw vaguely familiar faces, some round, some sharp, and eyes of all different expressions. There was something telling in those glass beads—they were just as surprised about this as I was.\n\n“Jeffe,” a woman said as she moved closer to grab my left hand, cupping it within both of hers, “We were all so worried about you,” she paused again as if affected by her own words, “Like the doctor said, we had no clue how long you would be gone.” I could see tears begin to well up in her eyes, but I had no words for her. \n\nWhoever she was.\n\n“It’s good to see you well again, brother,” a hand firmly pressed and then rested on my right shoulder which urged me to turn around. He had a rugged smile and square jaw: he looked like a fighter, maybe. He said brother, but did he mean it in a friendly way or a literal way? I turned again to quickly scan through all the other patient faces. As I did, the strangest feeling had overcome me.\n\nI don’t know these people, but they seem to know me. I felt like an urn, an empty vessel, which could only ever hope to be made whole with the help of others. These people, whoever these people were to me those eternities ago—they were nothing now. They were nothing more than foggy mirrors that produced untrue reflections of a person that no longer existed.\n\nAll that time spent wherever I was had made me into something different. Even now, I can only vaguely remember the early feelings of confusion, and of anger. Then time passed indefinitely and the only thing that changed was me. My thoughts were my demons at first, and then they were my only friends. The atrophy, the slow decay, of my identity, my ego, had caused me to regress into something these people could never understand.\n\nI was my own universe. I don’t remember who I am.\n", "I awake so suddenly that I almost open my eyes.\n\nBut that would be telling, I think suppressing a smile.\n\nThe fact that I'm still alive means that I wasn't experiencing an afterlife. That means the first order of business is to determine how long I've been out. The only sounds that I can hear are the beeping of the heart monitor and the steady in-and-out of my own breath. No one else is in the room. My left cheek is warmer than my right and the inside of that eyelid looks distinctly more red than the right. The sun is shining through a window. That means that I haven't been out more than a month or two, or I would have been moved to that room in the basement where they keep all the long-term coma patients. I hazard cracking open my eyes. To my right lies a divider curtain. They would only have that up if there was someone there, but there isn't. That means that either they died and haven't been taken to the morgue yet, or they are in surgery. Further inspection reveals that I don't have any sort of \"Get Well Soon\" cards by my bedside or anywhere in the room. My parents haven't been here yet, which can only mean that I haven't been in here more than a day or two.\n\nGood, now to ascertain my injuries.\n\nI don't see any obvious signs of damage. I'm only on one IV drip, saline to avoid dehydration, so I can't have had any injury other than the obvious head wound. I try sitting up. When I don't get dizzy or nauseous, I figure that I can probably hazard a walk. I pull off my O2 monitor, and swing my legs over the side of the bed.\n\nColleen, I'm coming, I call out silently as I start hobbling towards the curtain.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nWe had been fighting a lot recently. It was mostly petty things: who should clean the dishes, why can't I leave the dirty dishes in the sink and clean all of them at once after supper, when should we go to bed, why did she ruin the book I was reading, why did I leave it in the bathroom in the first place, etc. We were going out to lunch to talk things over at a neutral location where neither of us would have to worry about dishes. I was driving. She was making a joke. \"What's the difference between a train and a tree?\" \"I don't know. What's the difference?\" \"One leaves its shed; the other–\"\n\nI've replayed the scene over hundreds of times in my head. The light was green. That truck was slowing down. Not fast enough. It had plenty of space to stop if it was going to stop, but it didn't. It just made sure it t-boned us.\n\nWhat makes us special? Who could I have pissed off enough for them to want to kill me? How did they know where we were going? We hadn't decided that we were going anywhere until five minutes before we left.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nIt wasn't love at first sight. The first time I saw her was while I was eating lunch in the breakroom at work. I didn't think much of it at the time, nor did I pay much attention to any of the other four people in the room. I was just a seasonal employee. I didn't need to get to know anyone outside of my own department.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe bed is empty. The whiteboard on the wall says the missing patient is a \"Joe Sleath\" and that he is here recovering from a stroke. The date on the whiteboard confirms that I have only been here for one day. I hobble out into the hallway and head towards the nurse's station.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nA few months later, I am hired back in a permanent position. She introduces herself one day in the breakroom.\n\n\"You look familiar. Didn't you work here at one point?\"\n\nYes. I couldn't find another job since Christmas, and you guys were hiring.\n\n\"Nice to meet you again. I'm Colleen.\"\n\nI'm James.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe nurse seems shocked to see me awake.\n\n\"You need to go lie down.\"\n\n\"Where's my wife?\"\n\n\"Sir, I must insist that you go lie down.\"\n\n\"Where's my wife?\"\n\n\"You were in a coma. They haven't even figured out what was wrong with you yet. You need to go lie down so that you don't stroke or faint.\"\n\n\"It wasn't a concussion, or they wouldn't have left me sleep. I didn't have any symptoms before the crash, nor did I break any skin during the crash. It was most likely just some mild trauma or shock. It isn't like I got a car door to bend inwards and hit me in the ribs.\n\n\"Where's my wife?\"\n\n\"I-\" the nurse said, looking conflicted for a second before giving in. \"At least let me get you a wheelchair, and I'll bring you to go see her.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nEvery time that we worked together over the next few weeks, she would say hi, and I would stick my tongue out at her in return.\n\n\"What's with the tongue?\"\n\nIt's just how I say hello.\n\n\"Oh good, I was worried that you didn't like me.\"\n\nOf course I like you.\n\nShe beamed at me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt happy.\n\nDo you want to go get coffee sometime?\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe nurse tries to make small talk as we work our way to the elevators.\n\n\"How long have you been married?\"\n\nMy brain screams at me, but I shut it out. I've spent too long agonizing over that eventuality to let it get to me.\n\n\"Three years.\"\n\n\"You must love her a lot to ignore your own issues to see her.\"\n\n\"There might not even be anything wrong with me. She got hit with a truck. I would have to be the worst husband in history to not go see her.\"\n\nI expect more questions, but she remains silent the rest of the way.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nSix months of bliss passed by in a blur. I knew that I always wanted to be this happy. I knew she was the only one who could make me this happy. It was no longer a question of \"if\", but \"when\". I bought a ring and waited for the right moment. Two weeks later, it came.\n\nWe were having dinner at home and she made the most delicious macaroni and cheese that I had ever tasted. After we had our fill, I went down on one knee.\n\nI know this is cheesy, but I don't know what I would do without you. Colleen Margaret Cooper, will you marry me?\n\nThen came the best syllable of my life.\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe nurse hits the button for the basement level.\n\n\"I think you made a mistake.\" My brain won't stop screaming. There are only two reasons why she would be down there.\n\n\"According to the computer, that's where she is.\"\n\n\"Then, someone must have put it in the computer wrong.\"\n\n\"That must be it.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nSix months later, we were married in a white steeple surrounded by friends and family. It was the happiest day of my life. We spent half of the next week lounging in our bed, and the other half lying on the beach. Less than a year later, our son was born. It might have been the sleep deprivation, but the next six months were even better than those first six. Over the next year-and-a-half, things slowly started going downhill. We fought more and more over the tiniest things. Despite my best efforts, I went to bed angry once or twice.\n\n\"We need to stop arguing.\"\n\nYes.\n\n\"We're both tired of it. Let's go talk it out over lunch.\"\n\nWho'll watch Jack?\n\n\"He's taking a nap, but I'll get Sam to come watch him. She owes me one.\"\n\nWhere should we go?\n\n\"Let's figure that out when we get there.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\n\"No!\" I shout. The body is lying on a stainless steel table, covered in a white sheet. I try to stand, but I can't seem to remember how. \"No, she can't be... I can't be...\"\n\nThe nurse wheels me right up next to her and pulls back the sheet.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\nThere's no denying it. Her face looks peaceful, like she's just sleeping. The only thing that mars its perfection is a single cut on her cheek, but the rest of her lies in a twisted mess. I hold what remains of her hand and stroke her hair.\n\n\"It's gonna be alright. The doctors here are the best. They'll fix you right up. You'll be out of here before you even know it. Sam is watching Jack right now, but they'll come over and see you soon. I promise. In a few years, he'll be old enough that we can take another trip to Hawaii and see those beaches again. I know how much you loved those beaches...\" I trail off as I remember why we're here.\n\n\"I figured it out. The difference between a train and a tree is that a train leaves its shed and a tree sheds its leaves.\" I burst into a wet giggle. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. \"That was a good one. Did you hear it from Sam? I know she loves that kind of joke.\"\n\nI choke. There are too many words trying to get out at once and not enough space. I start sobbing uncontrollably.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nI awake so suddenly that I can't stop myself from opening my eyes. I take a slow look around the room.\n\nColleen notices the movement and lifts her head up from my stomach. I notice the tears that still mar her cheeks.\n\n\"Hey sleepyhead,\" she manages, trying to keep her face from betraying the truth. \"I was almost worried for a bit there.\"\n\n\"You got me,\" I croak. \"I'll do the dishes right away.\"\n\nHer face bursts into the beam that I fell in love with, and I know that everything will be alright.", "His eyelids started to flicker open.\n\n\"He's waking up! Mom, he's waking up! He-\"\n\nI stopped. The doctor had just walked in, but I could tell by the doctor's face that something was wrong. \"May I talk to the two of you for a second?\" the doctor said.\n\n\"Sure,\" I muttered. What's going on? The doctor led my mom and I outside the room.\n\n\"We were looking through a MRI not long ago. It appears that his brain has somehow deteriorated, and I think that he has developed severe brain damage.\"\n\nMy mom had a look of shock, and asked if she could leave. I could hear her start to cry as she walked down the hallway.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked.\n\n\"He's only 34, correct?\" I nodded.\n\nThe doctor sighed. \"His brain is in a state which would not be out of place for a 100-something year old; ergo, it's as if he has been aging rapidly, and he might not even remember most of his past. It's almost as if he was in a coma for a million years.\" \n\nThe doctor went after my mom, most likely to comfort her.\n\nI turned around and looked back at him. He appeared to be awake.\n\nI asked him, \"Do you remember me?\"\n\nAll I got was a blank stare.", "My eyes opened upon the familiar and beautiful faces of my family and friends. I shook with sobs. \"Thought I'd never see that smile of yours again,\" said my brother, wiping away tears and smiling down at me.\n\nAlthough amazed to see them I felt an almost unbearable tension - a need to share my experiences from my uncountable time spent drifting through an eternal void, a world of impossible shapes, infinite patterns, and above all, a realization so powerful that it would shake the human race in to an entirely new understanding of itself, and most importantly, would immediately relieve all the world's suffering.\n\nA deep, steadying breath and I opened my mouth to speak. To my horror, an unrecognizable, garbled sound came from my mouth. \n\nA firm hand covered my mouth. \"You have experienced a rare medical event,\" said a middle-aged doctor standing over me. \"Only a day has passed, but your perception of time was warped so that you experienced what felt like a million years worth of time\" she said. \"That's a lot of time spent not moving or speaking. Although the passage of all that time wasn't real, to your brain it was. We haven't done an MRI yet, but it is very likely that during that time your brain made changes to itself that no other human brain has ever made. Our brains are spectacular machines - they change based on how we use them. Since you weren't using the parts of your brain dedicated to fine motor control, it is likely that you have lost many of your abilities to control and direct your movements voluntarily...perhaps permanently.\"\n\nDespair shot through me. How could I communicate my experiences?\n\n\"Do you understand?\"\n\nI tried to nod, or convey that I understood in any way - a small spasm shook me and I blinked automatically, but no words came. \n\nI began to think of other possibilities for ways to communicate - perhaps I could use some sort of code based on small motor movements? But before I could begin to conceive of a strategy, I found that my surroundings were fading, the faces I loved were blurring, the voice of the doctor was becoming a faint hum...and the familiar infinite void of my own thoughts again swallowed me. Perhaps after another million years I will have another chance.", "“I’ve had a lot of time to think, maybe even too much time. My life was riddled with problems before the incident. I had a family who hated me, a wife who couldn’t be bothered with me, my work in accounting was dead end if anything...well, that was a million years ago after all. Now I can enjoy the bliss that is the human mind without having to worry.”\n\nWith a vast expanse of empty space ahead of me, I hover forth. “It took me a hundred years to learn how to explore my memories, it took me a thousand to get over my unceasing madness that i’d always be alone, and it took me a hundred thousand to figure out the inner secrets of my body.”\n\n“All I can do is talk to myself, I can hear old memories, sometimes i’ll make new ones for fun. I’d fix a dumb mistake of mine here or there and in my mind at least, it’d be as if it never happened. It’s fun, writing a journal in my mind. I’m sure I must’ve died by now. I say it everyday but this has to be death, and although it’s not the greatest way to spend eternity...I can at least have some fun with it.”\n\nA sudden shaking riles the core of my mind. I haven’t experienced anything such as feeling for a million years, the shock of feeling another human gripping my hand caused me to pass out. I was back in my mind, for a time. “It has to be some sort of anomaly within my mind, there is no way I could be alive…” well, that’s what I thought. \n\nA piercing light fills my whole head, it’s an unfamiliar light, but it’s warm. Maybe this was me passing on? I suppose it’s a fine time to actually die, maybe it’d be better on the other side. I waited and waited, a warm smile filled my face, but it was ended by a maddening ringing in my ears. I lurch forward, my vision comes into focus, I can hear shouting and crying, i’m in a bed.\n\n“Noah!” I’m embraced by a voice that at this point has become unfamiliar, I close my eyes and think. It was as easy to travel through my mind while awake as it was while I was sleeping. The voice welcomed me in many of my memories, I finally remembered who it was.\n\n“M...mother?” it was the first time I heard my real voice in a long time. But more pressing questions urged me on, my mother was ranting on and praying and hugging me. I looked around for my wife, for my daughter, but it was just her and the doctor.\n\n“Where’s Jill? And Emma…?” I seemed disappointed, i’ve accepted that perhaps this was the afterlife. I’ve been gone for a million years after all, maybe I was going through what could’ve happened after the incident. \n\n“Dr. Samson...could you excuse me and my son for just a moment?” my mother pleaded gently to the doctor, the man said he’d be back in a few minutes and left the room. My mother gently took my hand, she was never this gentle, my mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. I could perceive things much differently now. And suddenly, it all added up.\n\nBefore my mother was even able to open her lips I let out a wail and covered my face with a pillow, I cried as if I were feeling agonizing pain. The years that flew by...they weren’t years. Numbers came easy to me, I was counting things by the perspective of my mind back when I was unconscious. Because of that, time felt way longer than it should’ve. It has been approximately one day and seventeen minutes, and my wife, and my child, they’ve died. \n\nThe doctor had to rush into the room in order to sedate me, I quickly went back into my mind. I felt so much safer, maybe I could just sleep forever, maybe I could stay this way and relive memories with the one’s i’ve loved. In the journal I created in my head, I often ranted about how my wife didn’t appreciate me...well, that’s how I thought, it doesn’t mean I loved her any less. God I love her, I love my daughter too. \n\nI stayed under for another month, looking through old memories of my family. I couldn’t stop crying, everything was too fresh. Though it really helped me to cope, and though it pained me to have to wake up. I was heavily drugged but I broke through with ease. My eyes fluttered open and Dr. Samson who was standing over me seemed shocked.\n\n“How are you awake Mr. Greaves? I’ve just put you under Anesthesia... “ \n\n“Sorry, doctor.” I sit up and ruffle the covers off to one side of the bed, I gingerly step downward from the bed but the doctor tries to hold me down.\n\n“Mr. Greaves, I suggest you stay in bed. We don’t know the immediate effects of your condition…”\n\n“Doctor, i’ve been put under for about a minute correct? Where has my mother gone?”\n\nDr. Samson sighed and replied, “She left the room in tears. She didn’t like that I had to calm you down...but if I must i’ll do it again Mr. Greaves. So please lay down.”\n\nI shake my head and stand right back up, “It won’t work anymore Dr. Samson. You can’t control anything within my body anymore, that’s the truth.”\n\nI left it was vague as I could, it was tough to explain what I meant so I simply left the room and found my mother in the waiting area. She was weeping and that stung my heart a little. I went through my memories for about an hour until I could find something proper to say to her. However, on the outside it was but a short second.\n\nI walked over and put my arms around her, “Mom...i’m sorry. I’m okay.”\n\nShe shook her head, “You have such a sad life already Noah...you’re twenty eight and you have to go through so much grief…” \n\n“There’s nothing to grieve about….I loved them both so much, and it’s hard for me, but I can get past it. I have their memories, they’ll always be with me.” \n\nMy mom looked at me as if I was crazy, I went through about zero stages of grief and she thought I may have gone mad. The truth is, I went through them all within my mind. I have accepted it, though it’ll always hurt. No amount of memory tampering or memory making could change that. \n\n“Son...are you okay? Maybe we can get you help somewhere and-”\n\nI cut her off, “Remember when I was little...you were holding a letter and crying one night. And I asked what was going on, you said that dad left us?”\n\nShe didn’t understand why I was bringing it up as evident by her expression, but she nodded, “The letter….it said that he still loved you, but that he was leaving for himself...and that you shouldn’t greive. Am I correct?”\n\n“H-how did you know that Noah? I tore up the letter and tossed it into the fire without ever showing you…”\n\nThe truth was that I could see memories a little too well, I froze an image of the memory, walked over to my mother, and read the letter. Since i’ve seen it from every angle my mind was able to perceive what it would say. I felt like a superhero, or, I would’ve under better conditions.\n\n“I...you told me a day later, whatever.” \n\n“Nice save, me.”\n\nShe nodded, it was years ago after all, as far as she knew I was speaking the truth, “Well mom, I get greif. I clearly do, or else I wouldn’t be calm right now. Focus on the good memories...I love them….I still do, I want to be with them all the time...now I just have to wait till I can dream at night. I don’t need help, I just need my memories. You can get through it all with memories, that’s what i’ve learned from this whole ordeal.”\n\nMy mom seemed a little proud, she brought a hand to my cheek and brushed it lightly with her thumb, “My strong man...go back to the doctor. I’ll see you soon.”\n\nAnd I did that just.\n\n-----------------------------------------------\n\nA few days later I had to set up funeral preparations, It was a sad time for me even if I could deal with grief better. My friends were there for me though, so was the rest of my family despite my thought that they hated me. \"Maybe I should remain more optimistic...\"\n\n“Alright mind, we need to figure out Emma’s favorite color. Let’s get going!” A spectral version of myself flew through empty space, pulling at hovering frames of my family until I could find one of my sweet little girl. I rushed right on inside of the frame and took a glance at my favorite memory, the day we went to the forest to hunt for butterflies. She told me she loved blue, so I guess I got my answer.\n\nI enjoyed little inspirational speeches within my head, it made me feel like I wasn’t alone in there...perhaps I am not though. Maybe the memories of the people I love are equivalent to them being there! Even after a million years I couldn’t figure out everything about life or the vast complexity of our damned minds. What I could figure out is that we’re not meant to figure it out. I thought I was in the afterlife, I thought I was dead, and if that wasn’t death then there is something else to it. There can’t be nothing. \n\nI’ll use this gift of mine to figure out how far us humans can go, because we can go very far if we use our heads. " ]	[ 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 11, 14, 42, 42 ]	[ "1434245756", "1434246016", "1434232993", "1434250888", "1434229100", "1434225931", "1434223191", "1434220583", "1434221992" ]
	[WP] Humanity finally creates the first time machine. The moment the last piece is set in place, the door opens and someone who wasn't in there a moment ago steps out.	54	[ "Police Chief Wells rubbed her temples with her hands, unsuccessfully trying to massage away the throbbing pain. \"Give me the rundown on the Moinet murder,\" she heard herself say. She'd tried to read it herself but it gave her a headache. It was too late on a Friday to deal with this.\n\nThe detective gave his tablet a few quick swipes and opened the file. \"3:27pm April 4th. John Doe steps out of the Moinet Industries machine, looks around the room, and says \"Moinet\". Dr. Luis Moinet steps forward. John Doe pulls out his gun, shoots him and falls down on the floor laughing and singing. He was still on the floor laughing at 3:41 when the first responding officers got there.\"\n\n\"So our John Doe is crazy. He hates Moinet, hides in the box, shoots him.\" asserted Wells, willing this simple explanation to be true.\n\n\"That's the thing,\" said the detective hesitantly. \"We looked over the CCTV from Moinet Industries, we can't figure out how or when he got in the machine. There's video from every angle and all the footage is continuous for weeks. The science geeks there are working on some quantum thingy, they thought they were making history and wanted to capture everything.\"\n\n\"So the guy's a Houdini,\" said Wells dismissively. \"What else do we know about him?\"\n\n\"No match for prints, DNA, mug shot. Long scraggly hair and beard, bruises, poor nutrition, looks like he's been living rough for a while. He doesn't seem to understand us and speaks gibberish, only it's like some kind of language only he knows. The only word he understood from me was 'Moinet'; he spat on the floor when I said it. Otherwise he seems very pleased with himself, almost jubilant. Totally unconcerned with being in lockup.\"\n\n\"What about the weapon, can't we get a trace on it?\"\n\n\"No chance, it's homemade. Looks like an 18th century flintlock pistol. It's recent though, must be a replica.\"\n\n\"What else did he have on him?\"\n\n\"Old Roman Empire coins in pristine condition, a few arrowheads, some WWII-era German currency. And a small black box we can't open that's too heavy for its size and has \"Moinet Industries\" written on it. Looks like our John Doe is some kind of collector.\" \n\n\"Motive?\"\n\n\"No clue. Dr. Moinet was beloved by his staff and family. He co-owned the company with his wife, Dr. Weena Moinet. She wasn't present at the shooting. Word is that she's the real brains behind the company, so anyone trying to bring down Moinet Industries shot the wrong Dr. Moinet.\"", "He wore body armor of an unfamiliar type, covering every inch of his body except his head, which was protected by a clear bubble. He held a wide barrel gun at the ready. \n\"Chronoparadox Patrol. Please stand back.\" He spoke with clear authority. \nCaught completely off guard, the Temporal Travel development team did as they wete told. \nThe patrolman aimed his high-tech blunderbuss at the time machine he had just stepped out of and pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning struck the machine and [a sound of thunder]( http://teacherweb.com/ON/SacredHeartHighSchool/MrStriukas/A_Sound_of_Thunder.pdf) \n filled the room. When they could see again, the scientists discovered the machine was completely destroyed, and the patrolman had vanished. \nThe White House attaché, who had been present as an observer, turned to the chief scientist. \"Well, Doctor, that's the fourth time in a row. Do you think they're trying to tell us something?\"", "High heels clicked and pony-tailed hair flipped as she stepped out of the time machine, slamming the door to several million dollars worth of lab equipment behind her.\n\n\"Oh em gee! Do you even know how mad I am right now? It's my first night in the dorms, and Marlene got us all fakes, and we were going to slut it up and head out on the town, until some sleaze bag decided to-\" She cut off suddenly in her tirade and leaned forward slightly to peer at my face. \"Motherfucking thundercunt, you're Dr. John Nielsberg!\"\n\n\"Oh, um, not a doctor yet, I'm still a PHD student. How-\" I barely got that out before I was interrupted.\n\n\"Is this literally real life? My chit gets flipped on the worst night of the year, and it's John fucking Nielsberg?\"\n\n\"Your... chit?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you think you're the first scientist to bring someone back in time?\" A thoughtful look came over her face. \"Actually, you kind of are, now that I think of it. Seriously, this is, like, so rich. Grace Jane Donovan, PSCO flunkie, gets to be the one to educate the big N in proper temporal precautions, and, like, save the human race or whatever.\"\n\n\"Wait, save the human race?\"\n\n\"Well, not really. More like eliminate a really major inconvenience. Anyway, show me your code and your circuit whatsits and I'll fix 'em for you.\"\n\nI eyed the purple eyeshadow, four-inch diameter hoop earrings, and skin-tight leopard print minidress. \"You're an expert in temporal physics? I thought you said you were a dropout or something.\"\n\nShe rolled her eyes and began to pick her way across the cluttered laboratory floor, heading towards the main circuit board. \"No, I didn't drop out. I flunked the tests for Uni, so now I'm in Post Secondary Career Options, but I passed Standard Core like everyone else.\" She looked down at the wires and burst out laughing. \"I can't believe it! And you're supposed to be some sort of super genius? Did you seriously try to ground your flux mechanism by soldering the end of the wire to a metronome? And you used lead solder?\" She started tearing wires out by the handful. \"Alright, do you guys have an acetylene torch in this lab?\"\n\n\"What are you doing? It took me 10 weeks to make that circuit board!\"\n\nShe fixed me with a steely gaze. \"Look, famous name or not, I am legally obliged to fix your shit so you stop flipping randoms from the future. Then I can activate my emergency beacon, get picked up by the ITP, and return to my plans of getting white-girl wasted. Your pleistocene science is the only thing standing between me and my Friday night search for someone with loose morals, low inhibitions, and rock-hard abs. So yes, your 10 weeks of work are getting trashed. Ooh, there's the torch!\"\n\nI backed slowly out of the lab door, as humming, interspersed with blasts from the torch, began to emanate from her corner of the lab. \"I am never going to be able to explain this one to the ethics committee,\" I muttered under my breath." ]	[ 7, 26, 26 ]	[ "1434337746", "1434322131", "1434333780" ]
This one is inspired by a TIL I came across today. I thought it would make one hell of a writing prompt.	[WP] There is a radio signal that has been broadcasting a repeating buzzing sound. One day you're listening and you hear: "Command 135 initiated"	3	[ "You are this cia agent listening to Russia broadcast radio over the years, for those years you just hear buzzing sound then one day you hear a \"Command 135 initiated\" then things become different people started acting weird, you call your friend and they weren't answering, as it turns out it was an activation command. To the people heard it they become aggressive starting killing each other, but to other people the code mean different, it meant they're mission has started.\n\nAs you were standing watching T.V you slowly lose control of your motor skills and you were unconsciously moving, you don't know where you were going nor what's happening as if someone had taken control of you. you try to fight back but it was no use. then suddenly you grab a gun and gone to president office.\nTo be continued. . . . ", "My car radio was fucked up. The power/volume button was stuck s it couldn't be turned off or turned down. Usually thins wouldn't be a problem, but my long commute to and from work had me wanting for a little quiet on my drive every now and then. In the day and age of almost every channel on the dial broadcasting some form of entertainment or other I thought that I lucked into a clear channel one day. \n\nInstead of pressing \"Search\" until I found something that was somewhat worthwhile to listen to, I found myself absentmindedly playing with the tuner dial. Initially I meant to try the volume/off button for the millionth time hoping for a new result, but in actuality I missed that dial and was messing with the wrong one. Slowly going from channel to channel I happenstanced unto an empty broadcasting channel.\n\nWell not quite empty. There was a solid and continuous buzzing noise. While not entirely annoying, it wasn't unpleasant either. I would liken it to the sound a honeybee's hive makes when they aren't aggrevated into an angry state and are content to go about their bee business. Just a continuous drone that I eventually found to be melodious. A never ending hum that allowed me to let my thoughts wander on the long Montana road surrounded by nothing but flat lands and no speed limit.\n\nNothing that is...until that one faithful day.\n\n30 minutes into my commute the buzzing suddenly stopped. At first I didn't notice as my mind had come to just ignore the white noise while I day dreamed of whatever fantasy currently occupied my time. Then the the silence hammered itself into my consciousness. At first I thought the radio randomly decided it was done working. Then there was a slight crackle. The noise you hear when someone takes you off mute on a phone call. That initial noise that clearly signifies \"the microphone is now active\". \n\nDouble checking that the radio indeed, was still on, I waited for the buzzing to return while straining to hear whether or not I could discern the origin of the radio station I found weeks ago. The only thing I heard was another crackle, and then a voice.\n\n\"COMMAND 135 INITIATED.\"\n\n---\n\nThat was the last thing I remember before coming to in this compound. I don't know where the weapons I'm currently loaded down with came from, nor why I'm surround by dead bodies laid around me that were clearly visited upon by hostile (and VERY angry and disturbing violence). \n\nI only know that a loud voice from outside this building has warned me that they would no longer be attempting negiotating with me due to my nonresponsiveness to all their attempts and that if I don't set my \"hostages\" free they would authorize lethal force.\n\nI only hope that whoever finds this note and testament know that whatever happened here I didn't do willingly or cognitively. And for all that is holy and sane, you should avoid tuning your FM radio station to........" ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1434523527", "1434357789" ]
	[WP] You are sailing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and discover something that should not be there.	13	[ "Harold and Patty had bought the sailboat from the Masons down the street. Harold drove by it every day on his way to and from work, buried under a tarp and plunked in the driveway like a pile of garbage. They lived nowhere near the water and Patty called it an eyesore, but Harold fantasized about painting it up and calling it the King Crab. He'd never been the type to lay back with the wind in his hair; in fact, he was more the type that was slightly neurotic and gone a bit soft from long hours at the office. But when Harold and Patty won a timeshare on the Gulf of Mexico in a radio contest, the first thing Harold did was knock on the Masons' door and ask if he could buy the boat. Patty had misgivings but she could see a new fire in Harold's eyes and in the end she obliged. Their collective sailing experience boiled down to a subscription to a magazine, so naturally the first time they took the boat into the Gulf, a huge gust of wind blew them far from land.\n\nHere our heroes are now: both swathed in sunscreen (a generous amount lathered onto Harold's bald spot) and clad in loud beachwear. Patty wore an obnoxious pink straw hat and Harold's flip flops made an increasingly infuriating SPLOCH SPLOCH sound every time he paced nervously across the boat. He was picking at his graying hair.\n\n\"You won't have any hair left if you keep doing that, Harold,\" Patty said shrilly, batting at her husband.\n\n\"We're not gonna have anything left if we die out here, hon.\" Harold retorted.\n\n\"We're not in any trouble,\" Patty protested, but her voice was too loud in her ears.\n\n\"Hon, we don't know the first thing about surviving out here!\" Harold plunked himself heavily into a lawn chair. \"We don't know how to fish...\"\n\n\"I've got some bread crumbs,\" Patty offered.\n\n\"...We can't call for help...\"\n\n\"I've got one bar!\" Patty shrieked, flying out of her seat. The boat lurched and her phone was suddenly history.\n\n\"...We don't even know which direction we're headed!\"\n\nPatty stuck her finger in her mouth and bossily pointed it into the sky. \"East,\" she said with confidence.\n\n\"Hon, I hate to say it but we're toast.\"\n\n\"Wait! Wait, Harold, what's that?\" The urgency with which Patty leaned over the side of the boat tipped it dangerously and Harold careened out of his seat.\n\n\"Get a load of that!\" Patty shouted, pointing into the water.\n\nHarold squinted through his sunglasses. \"I don't see anything, hon.\"\n\n\"There! Look, right there, look where I'm pointing!\"\n\n\"I'm looking where you're pointing-\"\n\n\"No, not there, look, follow my finger.\"\n\n\"No, I don't- oh! Oh!\"\n\nHarold yanked his sunglasses up to his bald spot, rubbed his eyes and looked again.\n\n\"I... I don't believe it,\" Harold stuttered. \"It's a... but it can't be.\"\n\n\"But it is, Harold.\"\n\nIt was a dog, dog paddling furiously toward them. \n\n\"C'mere, buddy. C'mere, come on up,\" Harold called. He whistled smartly and the dog paddled faster.\n\n\"Oh my Gawd,\" Patty drawled, \"Harold, it's-! It's Bo! It's our dog, Bo!\"\n\n\"Bo!\" Harold called. \"C'mere, Bo! C'mere, buddy!\"\n\nHarold leaned over the side of the boat when the dog was close enough and yanked him up by the scruff of the neck. The dog was a brown lab with white markings around his snout. He shook himself and water sprayed everywhere, but Harold and Patty didn't notice. They were just happy to see each other.\n\n\"Oh, Harold, it's Bo, I know it is!\" Patty said earnestly. \"But how can it be? Bo's...\"\n\nShe didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. Bo had been dead for 6 months.\n\n\"We must have drifted off to the Bermuda Triangle,\" Harold said. \"That must be it. We're in the Bermuda Triangle and Bo found us.\"\n\n\"Oh, Harold!\"\n\n\"OOOOYYYY!\" \n\nHarold and Patty shot their heads up and saw a big fishing boat gliding toward them that hadn't been there a moment before. A grizzled old sailor glared at them.\n\n\"Get your hands off my dog!\" the old man snapped.\n\nThat was when Harold and Patty realized they really did not belong on the ocean.", "It was partly by luck and partly by my KSA rating that I got a berth on the Georgian Glider...well, OK, my KSAs weren't that great, but the convoy was delayed some hours and this ship had a little space to spare. I didn't care if I had to live on the deck, the engine compartment, or anywhere in between. I was just thankful to leave the mainland to its horrors and the inhuman rulers that fashioned them.\n\nThe Hell War had been officially over for a year, but everyone knew there were still skirmishes, a hopeless human resistance against the invaders. They would all die to the last, because surrender would have meant submission to tortures of a creativity beyond human imagination. We had no chance against the invaders, but we wasted so much time trying to fight this idea. I tried my best to contribute as a reservist, but after my S.C.A. militia unit was routed and virtually wiped out, I deserted and hid for a few months, living off the land like we learned in the Society.\n\nThe monstrous Hadeans had the double advantage of both superior technology and eldritch magic to overwhelm our primitive defense. Not even our ace in the hole, the benevolent Nephilim who come to our aid in secret and who waited far too long to confront our common foe openly, was enough to stem the tide. We trusted them and they let us down. We gave them so much of our manpower and raw materials to build their dream-weapons, all the Black Pyramids built worldwide which were supposed to elevate mankind to a magic-using race like themselves. But once the Nephilim failed to prevent the Hadeans from sabotaging the Pyramids, the Pyramids themselves started wreaking havoc with our climate, our oceans, our weather, the coastlines, everything.\n\nFor the most part, I think the Nefs are all gone now. I think the last time I saw a living Nephilim that wasn't in captivity or collaborating with the enemy, it was with a mixed unit of B.S.A. and what must have been some LARPers on a patrol. As hungry and tired as I was, I thought about coming out of the cold, but fear and cowardice prevailed.\n\nIt was probably a good thing, too. About a month after that came the final full assault, the largest army of Hadean shock troopers we had seen yet. I traded for a smartphone from some guy in northern Florida. Its former owner had been able to capture live footage of the first wave of infantry striding ashore from their landers submerged off the coast. It was a surreal scene--until the shooting started. This video will prove valuable one day, I thought. I had to preserve it for the generation that would finally free itself from these alien tyrants.\n\nBut here I was, on the Georgian Glider, a deserter, coward, a refugee, and now another casualty of the war I'd been trying so hard to get away from. The hurricane that had lately blasted into our little fleet of ships had taken half of it down to the Davy Jones' locker, and left the other half in disarray, including the Glider. In the storm our illustrious but inexperienced captain had strayed too far from the rest of the convoy and now they were somewhere below the horizon, scattered like sheep without a shepherd.\n\nThe captain conferred with his crew, and told the rest of us that we had better set out for our destination, and hopefully reach sight of the rest of the convoy in the meantime. There was not much food but the Glider was a fast ship, and both water purifiers were still functional. We still had a chance if we forget trying to find anyone else, and head straight way for Bermuda like we'd all originally planned. We'd heard Cuba and the Bahamas fell even before the East Coast, but listening to shortwave we'd understood the enemy had little interest in such a little island. We prayed that the climate changes had not sent the little island to its doom; the last few months we had begun to notice sea levels actually dropping instead of rising. We felt this was a good omen, providing more living space and possibly arable land to support Bermuda's newest illegal immigrants.\n\nAnd so we went. However, most of our convoy's stockpile of munitions were on the other ships, there was concern we wouldn't be able to win our Bermudan citizenship at gunpoint...but as the first mate said, we have to trust that the rest of our fleet will arrive ahead of us and pave the way for our own immigration.\n\nOnly we arrived rather sooner than we expected. No one expected landfall today, tomorrow, or even a day or two from now. But here was land, as far as the the eye could see in either direction. It was barren, muddy land, void of any living thing other than exotic flora we would have expected to find on the seabed. We came across dead fishes, beached whales, sharks, and other water-breathing life. And we found...other things, all of them dead.\n\nSo we subsisted on the beached sea life, conserving the on-board rations, until the free food spoiled. We explored for days inland and along the coast, and found no one. The navigator swore on the lives and graves of all his close relatives that according to all of his chats, we have just learned how to walk on water in the middle of the Atlantic. Nevertheless, this was not Bermuda. This was reality. It was what it was. Someone joked that we finally found Atlantis and it's been missing all this time. The name stuck.\n\nThat was three months ago. I couldn't tell you exactly when it happened, but at some point along the way, we stopped being refugees, and became colonists. Strange how nobody really noticed.\n\nToday I saw another ship, and it must have seen our old ship adrift in the harbor someone thoughtfully named Plato Bay, because it turned and has begun its approach. I hope there are women who will help add to our little kingdom of Lyonesse. These old salty sea dogs just aren't my type.\n", "Dave stared deep into the sea, his face inches away from the tantalizing blue beneath him.\n\n“If I'm going to die,\" he said. \"I'm going to die with my thirst quenched!”\n\nI lifted my head up off the side of the dingy and looked at him. “Don't be an idiot. You drink saltwater and you'll die even sooner. Everyone knows that.”\n\nWe'd been adrift in this tiny boat for six days now. The storm that had capsized our yacht had since disappeared into the horizon. Now the sun beat cheerfully, endlessly down upon us, as if to say, “What's wrong with you two? Can't you see that it's a beautiful day!”\n\nOur water rations lasted through yesterday morning. We spoke to each other through sandpaper mouths, our outlooks growing exponentially pessimistic. Other than the birds and the occasional whale surfacing, there had been no signs of life. No hint of land or passing ship. The tiny motor in the dingy had gone out, and we'd lost one of the oars when we capsized. Not that either of us felt strong enough to row anyway.\n\nWe were doomed.\n\nDave said, “I just need to feel the water in my throat. I don't care what it does to me. Mind over matter. I'll just… I'll just pretend that it's fresh water.”\n\nI snapped at him: “Yeah, and I can just pretend that you're a beautiful topless lady, but that isn't going to change the facts.”\n\nI cringed as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Surely I could have used a less cruel tone, couldn't I? After all, this was a man struggling with the last desperate moments of his life.\n\nBut Dave did not even seem to hear me. He leaned further over the edge of the boat, his arms dipping into the water. He seemed mesmerized by it.\n\n“It's fresh water,” Dave said. “It's all fresh water, as far as the eye can see.”\n\n“Dave no!” \n\nI moved to stop him but it was too late. Dave plunged his head below the surface of the Atlantic and gulped it in. Huge, racking swallows. I grabbed him by the tattered shirt and hauled him back into the boat. His eyes grew as big as the sun above.\n\n“It's delicious!” he shouted. “It's goddamn delicious!”\n\nI slapped him across the face, harder than I needed to. “You idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself! That stuff is as good as poison!”\n\nHe shook his head, water flying off his hair like a dog. “No! No it isn't! The water, it's fresh! I don't know how, but it's fresh water! Go see for yourself. It's a miracle!”\n\nI stared at him for a long while. Eventually I let him go. He scrambled away from me and lunged right back over the edge of the boat. I did not try to stop him this time. If he wanted to fill himself with enough salt to make a TV dinner jealous then so be it. I would have to watch him die sooner or later.\n\nBut instead of the hacking and coughing I expected, Dave drank and laughed and drank and laughed. In some way I found myself becoming jealous of him. My throat itched and chafed. Would it be so bad after all, to die with the kind of refreshing bliss that Dave was experiencing?\n\nI dipped my hand over the side of the boat and cupped a small handful of the water. Luckily Dave's back was to me so he would not witness my moment of hypocritical weakness. I put the water to my lips and drank.\n\nMy God. It was fresh. But how could that be possible? I scooped out another handful. There was no denying it. This was not the abrasive salt water of the ocean. This was fresh water, pure as spring snow melt.\n\n\"Dave!\" I shouted. “It's fresh! The water is fresh!”\n\nHe yelped with joy and turned to me. We embraced each other in sheer, unbridled joy. By whatever strange twist of fate we were saved, at least for the time being.\n\nI said, “Well, I have no idea how this makes any sense, but at least we have water now.”\n\nOur stomachs grumbled almost in unison. Dave kicked at the half roll of saltines at our feet. “Yeah, well I'm actually hungry now too. If only we had some more crackers.”\n\nHe turned off to scan the horizon. I found my attention drawn by something far more immediate.\n\n“Dave,” I said.\n\nHe said, “Yeah, no sign of land or anything yet. Who knows how much longer we'll be stuck out here.”\n\n“Dave, look.”\n\nHe turned around and his jaw dropped.\n\nHalf the boat was full of crackers.\n\n“How… how the hell?”\n\nI looked at Dave. Suddenly, only one thing made sense.\n\n“Dave. You did this.”\n\n“I what?”\n\n“You caused this to happen. You said the water was fresh, and then it became fresh. You said you wanted more crackers, then there were more crackers.”\n\nHe stared at me. “But… that isn't possible. How could I do that?”\n\nThe more I thought about it the more it made sense. Dave was always the kind of guy who got what he wanted. He said he wanted to get into Harvard, so he did it. He said he wanted a yacht, so he got one. What if, all this time, he was actually able to influence the world around him?\n\n“Well,” Dave said, crossing his arms. “If that's the case then I want some goddamn shade! This sun is killing me!”\n\nNo sooner than the words had left his mouth did the dingy start changing. The wooden sides grew like they were trees again, forming into columns around us that shot a dozen feet into the sky. Between them a great cloth wove itself from nothing. Soon, we sat below our very own four poster canopy covering.\n\nDave whooped and hollered and danced around the boat. I sank back into the floor. I regarded him with a sort of dread now, not knowing the powers of which he was capable. How far reaching were his commands? Could he create anything? Could he kill a man simply by willing it? And what of his first “wish”? Was the entire Atlantic ocean now fresh water? What would that do to the ecosystem?\n\nAs if to answer my question, a huge whale popped to the surface some twenty yards from us and blew a jet of water into the air. It also looked thoroughly confused about the situation.\n\nBut the big questions seemed to elude Dave. He swung his arms out wide and cackled like a maniac. “Oh, this is wonderful! We can have anything we want out here!” He looked at me. “What about what some decent food, huh?” He held his arms out and shouted to the sky, “I want a piping hot, delicious rack of ribs!”\n\nI noticed it immediately. The whale nearby let out a deep groan and then began to change. Its entire mass shifted, contorting and squeezing into something else entirely. Bone and skin and tail evolved, rapid fire, right before our eyes.\n\nThen, where the whale used to be, sat a gigantic rack of ribs, floating on an over-sized wooden platter. The meat sizzled against the spray of surf. It drifted toward us.\n\nDave dug in right away, ripping apart meat and cackling like mad. I couldn't bring myself to join in. I felt sick. No man should have the kind of power that Dave flaunted. To be able to change the world around him with merely a thought. There were so many ways this could go wrong.\n\nDave stood up and surveyed his surroundings. This was his domain now, and he could have whatever he wanted.\n\n“Well,” he said. “It's too bad we don't have one of those beautiful topless women you mentioned around, huh?”\n\n“Dave, no!” I shouted, but it was too late.\n\nHis eyes widened as he realized what he had done. I don't think he did it on purpose, but his will was done nonetheless.\n\nI felt myself changing. Shrinking, morphing. My insides rearranged completely and I doubled over in agony. My features softened. My hair grew. My hands and feet turned dainty. Parts of me grew out and other parts, well… shrank. Eventually it was all over. I was changed. I sat up and looked at him. Felt the wind blow against my exposed chest.\n\nI put my hands on my supple hips. “You're going to to fix this, right?”\n\nHe stared at me for a long time, unblinking. He looked hungrier than he had before the crackers.\n\n“Dave!” I shouted.\n\nHe shook his head, coming out of his reverie. “Yeah, yeah, of course I'll fix it. I mean, uh, why don't we eat something first, then we'll, uh, work that out. Are you hungry? I'm starving.”\n\nI just stared at him.\n\nFrom out of nowhere he produced two glasses and a bottle of red wine.\n\n“Thirsty?” he asked." ]	[ 1, 1, 5 ]	[ "1434389012", "1434412390", "1434397541" ]
	[WP] A professional hitman is training an apprentice who recently failed at his one true passion, being a stand up comedian.	5	[ "\"Okay, watch,\" said the hitman as he steadied his rifle and put the target in the center.\n\n\"Looks like you got him! Go for it!\" Greg said. The excitement in his voice was palpable. Here finally is a job he could do, and no one could heckle him off the stage.\n\n\"Not yet,\" was all the hitman whispered without even glancing at the former comedian.\n\n\"Now?\"\n\n\"Not yet\"\n\nA few moments pass. BANG\n\n\"Boom, headshot!\" shouted the hitman. The comedian was befuddled. \n\n\"I don't get how this helps me.\"\n\n\"It's all about the timing,\" said the hitman lighting a cigarette.", "Carl took his jacket off. It was a faux leather jacket, the kind you might find at a teen neopunk outfitters for $70. Still, the black material absorbed sunlight to create a convection oven inside. He slung it over his arm, and glanced over his shoulder.\n\nThere was still no one behind him. He looked back to the man in front of him, the man they called Viper.\n\nViper was not an imposing man. Average height, medium build, wearing dark pants, dark boots, and a plaid button down shirt. He seemed like any other contract manager in the industrial part of downtown Portland. Late July was proving to be the hottest month on record, and Carl shifted his weight, ready to be inside. The large garage was not air conditioned, but at least it would provide shade.\n\nViper turned as the lock slid opened, and he pushed the heavy metal door to the side. Walking it almost the length of the building, the open door let out a gust of air from inside the garage. The smell of mothballs and dust hit Carl in the face. He was uncomfortable.\n\n\"Ready?\" Viper looked at Carl unassuming, then turned and walked into the garage.\n\n\"Does a bear shit in the... does the poke shit in the woods? Bear?\" Carl couldn't remember how it ended. He tried making Viper smile. He hadn't seen Viper show any emotion. Challenge accepted. \n\nViper made no signs that he had even heard Carl, let alone cared. Carl shook his head and moved inside, standing next to Viper.\n\nAs his eyes adjusted to he low light, Carl looked around. Guns of every size and caliber were hung on the walls. Boxes filled with rocket launchers lay stacked, some open, against the wall. A bare bulb swung slowly over head, it's response to Viper turning it on.\n\nViper handed him a rifle and two ammunition clips. \"Here\", he said bruskly. \"Load up.\" \n\nCarl giggled, sensing an opening. \"Load up, what is this the family van... the Griswold family vacation to... to... the um... \" Carl let it go. \n\nViper paused, but didn't look at him. He continued moving boxes, looking for supplies. He grabbed a rifle and locked the clip into place. He looked at Carl, nodding toward the clip still in Carl's hand.\n\n\"Slide it in.\" Viper said. He turned and began looking through boxes.\n\nCarl grinned again. \"No one's said that to me since I divorced my whore wife after she cheated on me with my co worker and my boss, and the neighbor. Am I right?\"\n\nViper stopped. Carl sensed the tension and loaded the gun. Viper moved to the opposite side of the room, and uncovered a large board with pictures on it. The pictures were all of famous political activists throughout the world.\n\nCarl moved closer, and looked at the board. \"Which one are we going after?\" he asked.\n\nViper replied as he placed weapons on the table. \"All of them,\" he said. \"That's the nature of the business. We'll be out on assignment for most of the year.\"\n\n\"Most of the year?\" Carl turned and looked at Viper. \"How long exactly?\"\n\nViper looked at Carl. The seriousness on his face made Carl's blood go cold.\n\n\"In months, weeks, or days?\" Viper asked.\n\nCarl drew a quick breath. \"Days\" he replied.\n\nViper slowly walked toward him, gun in hand. Carl had never been so scared in all his life. Viper stopped right in front of him, and leaned in. Any closer and he would have head butted Carl. Viper locked eyes with Carl.\n\n\"Tree-fiddy.\" Viper said. \"And that's how you tell a joke.\"\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1434387927", "1434388651" ]
	[WP] Tell us about how you encountered a lovecraftian horror at work today	16	[ "Something history doesn't tell you: Sneezing in just the right way opens a portal to hell. \n\nJust takes a little pepper, a cesear salad, and that little gasping moment of excitement when your wife tell you she's pregnant over dinner. \n\nI feel like that needs a little more story to it. Okay, so, it was dinner, obviously. 6:33, on a Thursday. my wife, Danella, told me she was pregnant. Naturally, I was excited. So excited that I lost control of my hands. \n\nWhen she was finally dead, I had my salad. We have this ornate pepper grinder that gets us a lot of compliments at parties. There's nothing special about it, but a little pepper got away from me, and I just \"Fus Roh Dah'd\" my salad all over the damn place. \n\nI went to grab a rag to clean everything up, and to make another salad, everything was gone. No salad, no wife, nothing. At least not on the floor. \n\nOn the table, sat the salad I had just spilled. Upstairs, I heard footsteps. The clock read only 6:33. ", "\"Fuck you, asshole! I've told you people 30 goddam times! Quit calling me!\" \n\nAn angry growl escaped my mouth I clicked the button to hang up. I couldn't take it anymore. The endless droning of the phone ringing on the other end of the line, the sound of answering machines burned into my mind, the abuse from the people who just didn't understand that I, much like them, am a human being with real emotions. No paycheck is worth being yelled at 40 hours a week. I knew I was going to quit, but I didn't know when. Immediately, a thought came to my mind and a devilish grin spread across my face. \n\nI would let my bosses decide when I quit. Every few days, some of your calls would be monitored by a manager, who would then go over it with you, telling you what you did wrong, what to improve on, blah blah blah. The plan was simple: Wait until one of my bosses listens in on me berating one of those bastards that signed up for this hell and now regretted it. They knew the risks when they took that magazine subscription, we explicitly tell them that they would receive calls about similar magazines. Why should I be yelled at? I felt a rush once I started to enact my plan. I felt like Tyler Durden, not wanting to watch the world burn, but wanting the light the match that started the fire. With all of the rage and angst that my young male body could muster, I put my headset on and told the computer to dial the next number. \n\nRing ring ring. Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring. I usually just let them keep going so I don't have to deal with people for a few seconds more than I have to. Ring ring ring. But this was different. It wasn't the same sound that I was used to hearing, something was off. Ring ring ring. The sucker on the other end of the line probably had an old phone, that changes the sound sometimes. When a phone keeps ring ring ringing, the computer is supposed to automatically hang up. Guess the software decided it wanted to stop working today too. Ring ring ring. Well that makes my day a hell of a lot easier. I took off my headset and called my supervisor. \n\nRing ring ring. I made the motions to take off my headset only to find that it was on the desk. Ring ring ring Alright, what idiot unplugged their headset? I stood up and looked around ring ring ring to see who had done it, but nobody else seemed to notice the sound. I sat back down and glared at the screen, and this godforsaken program designed to pester people from noon until 9, five days a week. Ring ring ring. Where the hell was my supervisor? I turned around and saw him frozen in the aisle, looking like a mannequin at Old Navy, with his ring ring ring stupid fucking sweater vest and his stupid fucking khakis. Asshole, just get over here, quit trying to be a goddam \"morale boost\" and ring ring ring get me out of this hell. Then I saw his face and the ringing stopped.\n\nA look of pure disgust had come over it. It was the only part of him that could still move. Soon the disgust turned to fear, and fear to terror. I turned to see what he was looking at and understood why the ringing stopped. Or rather, the room turned, allowing me to see the creature before me. If it was a creature. It seemed like it was just a mouth, with row upon row of jagged yellow teeth, each pointing a different direction. Like something out of another world, its awesome presence alone was enough to make most beings paralyzed with pure terror. It opened its gaping maw, and with it came a horrid screech, unheard on this plane of existence for thousands of aeons. I looked and saw the force destroy everything around me, peeling back layer upon layer, until nothing remained. Now we were in empty space, in the infinite dark, this awesome beast and I. It unleashed another roar, in an attempt to destroy me, the last mortal in the tri-state area. But it couldn't. \"Hurry up dickhead, either kill me or let me go find a new job already.\" I yelled back. It stopped for a moment, as if it were thinking about who was I to dare oppose it. Then the mouth opened, but no sound came out. A tongue emerged and moved towards me. I swatted it away, but it wrapped around me and I was restrained. \n\nThe mouth then opened farther to reveal the secrets hidden inside, secrets that I alone know. Secrets that should never be spoken of again. I was bestowed with these secrets because I had already heard the sounds that can destroy a living thing. The hell that was this call center had killed me, but the beast brought me back to life. Soon the room re-materialized around me, and my supervisor walked up, slapped me on the back, and in a flash of arrogance asked me \"Problems, kiddo?\" I stood up, punched him in the face and walked out. \n\n", "\"He was about thirty-feet tall with tentacles on his face and this big, green bulbous belly,\" Jonathon said into the phone, idly twisting the cord around a finger. \n\n\"Oh, really?\" came the voice of his editor, Caroline, at the tabloid's main and only office. \"Did he drive people mad with his presence, and devour people's souls, too, Jon?\" The boredom in her voice was very real.\n\n\"He just devoured people, period,\" Jonathon said. \"Souls came included in the meal, of course, so, technically, yes.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh,\" Caroline said. \"If you saw this supposed creature from some other dimension or somewhere, why aren't you insane, too?\"\n\n\"Am I not, dear editor? Am I really not?\"\n\nCaroline sighed. \"Why did I ask?\"\n\n\"Because I have the most interesting stories to tell you, for the black-and-white back sections.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh.\" Caroline could be heard scribbling. \"So, it was big, squiggly, green, drove people mad--except you, because you're crazy enough to dream up this kind of stuff--and it ate people.\" A period could be heard tapped onto paper. \"Anything else?\"\n\n\"Yes, actually.\" Jonathon kicked his feet up on his ratty old, spring-bare couch. \"There was a Catholic priest.\"\n\n\"God...\"\n\n\"Yes! Exactly!\"\n\n\"No, Jon,\" she said. \"I mean, God help me, why did I inherit this job from Mike, and you.\"\n\n\"It's the funny and bizarre section of the paper, dear Caroline,\" Jonathon reminded her. \"It is a section of the Inquirer reserved for equal parts funny and/or bizarre.\"\n\n\"Right.\" She tapped on paper again. \"Okay, so, we're not walking into a bar here, are we?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jonathon said. \"That was Sunday.\"\n\n\"Righttt.\"\n\n\"You know that rundown church on the edge of the city, east side?\" Jonathon asked.\n\n\"That was Tuesday, Jon. You ran that story Tuesday.\"\n\n\"Ah, yeah, well, it's a popular hangout for paranormal.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh...\"\n\n\"Okay, see, this is what happened,\" Jonathon explained. \"This Satanist summoned this eldritch abomination named K'ylar.\"\n\n\"You're just making this up as you go along,\" Caroline said.\n\n\"Well,\" Jonathon ignored her. \"K'ylar wasn't happy. The Satanist had used farm-grown goats for sacrifice, instead of ones from the wild.\"\n\n\"Hold on,\" Caroline stopped him. \"This is on holy ground?\"\n\n\"An eldritch abomination is not a demon or evil spirit, Caroline,\" Jonathon replied. \"Totally different beings. Try to keep up, my dear editor.\"\n\n\"Righttt. So, okay, FDA-approved goats are bad, and What's-His-Face--\"\n\n\"K'ylar.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Caroline picked back up again. \"He wasn't happy about this. And then what? Was there a devouring?\"\n\n\"Well, K'ylar tried,\" Jonathon continued. \"But the Catholic priest stepped in.\"\n\n\"Was he tending the church the whole time?\" Caroline asked. \"Like some kind of, I dunno, forsaken custodian?\"\n\n\"Hey, you're getting a hang of how this sometimes goes.\"\n\n\"Joy.\"\n\n\"Anyways,\" Jonathon picked up again. \"The Catholic priest went to save his son.\"\n\n\"The Satanist?\"\n\n\"Hey, you--\"\n\n\"Deadline, Jon.\"\n\n\"Okay, okay,\" Jonathon said. \"This Catholic priest had this old hand-me down relic.\"\n\n\"'Old' and 'relic' are redundant, Jon.\"\n\n\"And that's why you're the editor,\" Jonathon reminded her. \"For about the millionth time, I say, 'anyways', and then the Catholic priest confronts K'ylar--remember him?--with the relic--\"\n\n\"'In the Light of God, I cast thee out'?\"\n\n\"Yeah, well,\" Jonathon admitted. \"Yeah, but that's kinda boring. We need to spice it up a bit. Do a little artistic licensing.\"\n\n\"No, Jon,\" Caroline sighed. \"I think it's good as is.\"\n\n\"So, quota?\"\n\n\"I'll write it up.\"\n\n\"You are a dear, Caroline.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Caroline said. \"Don't mention it. No, please. Don't mention it, please.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Jonathon said, and hung up.\n\nHis girlfriend, Zoe, looked up from her black book, raising a questioning brow.\n\n\"And that was before lunch,\" Jonathon told her. \"I met the vamps down at Butcher Realty for lunch.\"\n\n\"You didn't drink the red wine, did you?\" Zoe asked.\n\n\"Ah-hah,\" he replied. \"Yeah, that's the oldest vamp trick in the book. No.\" He stretched out on the couch. \"What's for dinner?\"\n\n\"I thought you were getting dinner?\"\n\n\"Hello? Tabloid reporter by day, supernatural mediator by night? Busy.\"\n\nZoe rolled her eyes, sighing, \"Fine. I'll go to the black market.\" She got up off their bed. \"Don't want you going out at night. How many nocturnal predators did you piss off this week?\"\n\n\"Five,\" Jonathon answered. \"Actually, only two swore to bite my head off and devour my entrails.\" He waved it off. \"I get that all the time.\" He smiled up at his girlfriend. \"No shrooms, please. I remember last time...\"\n\nZoe shook her head. \"You're something else, Jon.\"\n\n\"And that's why you love me.\"\n\nZoe sighed, pulled on her heavy coat, and stepped out into the perpetual wintered streets of Haven.", "\"Welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you?\" I recited with the enthusiasm of someone being told they have incurable cancer. \n\nThe voice that seeped through the outside speaker and into my brain-choking headset was one of senescence and confusion, \"Yeah, I'd like to get me one-a them poh-tae-toe cakes and a senior coffee.\"\n\n\"Do you mean a hash brown?\" \n\n\"Young lady, I want one poh-tae-toe cake and a senior coffee. That's all.\"\n\nI exhaled with frustration for probably an entire minute after storing the order. A potato cake? Does this shriveled cretin actually believe any of our products contain honest-to-god potatoes? \n\nI observed the window where the food would be handed out, eagerly awaiting the old man's brush with disillusionment. \n\nWhen his dilapidated pickup truck finally landed, the raisin of a person I had anticipated made eye contact with me that I had not anticipated. His hunched figure and gangling arms clutching the wheel like a defensive praying mantis complemented the intended glare of abhorrence he was directing my way. I smiled in an attempt to wordlessly assure him that his potato cake was real and on the way. \n\nFinally, my coworker leaned out the window to deliver his order, \"One hash brown and a senior coffee! Have a nice day!\"\n\nWhat I saw next was the rapid disappearance of my personable coworker, a slip-resistant, size 7 shoe being the only remaining artifact signifying that she had existed there. \n\nI hurriedly directed my attention back to the old man who was taking a sip of his morning caffeine with the nonchalance of a psychopath who had just literally consumed a McDonald's employee, \"I didn't order no goddamn hash brown.\" \n\n\n", "With a kick in my step and a smile broad across my face I strolled down the hallway. With a wink I said hi to the receptionist.\n\n\"Morning Kelly!\"\n\n\"Morning Ryan\" she beamed back\n\nI kept walking and ran into my coworker James.\n\n\"James! Wonderful day we're having isn't it?\"\n\n\"I guess it is! Great to see you Ryan!\" He replied, a smile breaking across his face. I nodded and worked my way to the break room to grab some coffee. Did I have a reason to be so happy? Well a more important question to ask did I need one? The weather was gorgeous, the week had been good, and, well, I was alive! Didn't need any more reason than that.\n\nUpon reaching the coffee pot, I began pouring a cup for myself when something caught the corner of my eye. I turned my head to get a better look, and noticed something rather odd. Instead of the break room, I was... elsewhere. The void stretched on for eternity. Dark, limitless, and empty, save for one thing. My previously good mood evaporated immediately. Hopelessness, despair, and fear; horrible, debilitating and paralyzing fear gripped my heart like a snake, which tightened it's coils and killed whatever was left inside. I was a husk. The... thing, the disgusting, horrifying and writhing... thing had complete control. It was unimaginably huge, beyond the comprehension of man. It's countless tentacles slipped and twisted around each other, and it's eyes... I dared not look into them because I knew there was no escape. It's voice echoed around me. Deep, horrible and commanding. I could not understand it's language, but I understood it's intention. Slowly, against my will, my eyes began to raise themselves to its. I tried to fight, but resistance was futile. Inevitably, it would possess me. There was no escape. \n\n\"Ryan?\" a woman's voice called me back to reality. I turned and saw Kelly in the doorway. \"Are you okay?\"\n\nI was back in the breakroom, back at work, and away from that... thing. I surveyed the room for a second, and tried to let my mind settle. But, what I saw, what I felt, what I experienced... there was no settling from that.\n\n\"No\" I told her curtly, and I left for my desk.", "\"Hey, honey,\" my wife said without looking up from her book. \"How was work?\"\n\nI dragged my feet across the room and collapsed in my chair. \"Miserable. You remember Ted got a new job a few weeks back? His replacement had its first day today.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"'It'? You must really not be fond of them.\"\n\n\"That's what it is!\" I said. \"It's an 'it!' I kept stealing glances all day trying to figure out whether it was a guy or a girl.\"\n\n\"Well, what's their name?\"\n\nI sighed. \"I dunno, I can't even pronounce it. It starts with a 'c' and after that it's just a jumble of letters. Is it a man's name or a woman's name? I don't even think it is a name!\"\n\nMegan rolled her eyes. \"So they're one of those non-gender-binary people. Is that so terrible?\"\n\n\"It's not that, it's...\" I tried to figure out a way to phrase my irritation without sounding like an asshole. \"They reek. Like, really bad.\"\n\n\"Rude!\" She stifled a laugh.\n\n\"I'm serious! So this... new Ted in the cubicle next door peeks over, introduces itself-\"\n\n\"-themselves\"\n\n\"Whatever. And there's this horrible, horrible stench. You remember when we went to that sushi place on your birthday? You remember how the alleyway outside smelled? Like that, but worse. Way worse.\"\n\n\"Is that really all?\" Megan asked. \"They smell bad?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Not even close. So they say hi, I turn around to see them, and...\" I hesitated, trying to find the words to describe my new co-worker's appearance. \"They're ugly. Like, really ugly. Like, absolutely, god-awful ugly. I mean, I knew we were trying to diversify, you know, hire new species and whatnot? But I don't even know what this thing was.\"\n\nMegan just laughed harder. \"You don't even know what species your co-worker is?\"\n\n\"They're like something out of a horror movie! Swear to god, if they weren't wearing a dress shirt and a tie and a little nametag, I probably would have thought...\" I trailed off, then snapped my fingers.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I remember their name,\" I said triumphantly. \"It was Christopher.\"\n\nMegan blew out a buff of air from her snout. \"Wow, that is a ridiculous name.\"\n\n\"I know!\" I said. \"What were their parents thinking? Couldn't they have a normal name, like...\"\n\n\"Like Cthulhu?\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" I pointed a tentacle at myself. \"Like Cthulhu.\"\n\n((Not exactly answering the prompt, but it went a direction I wasn't expecting))" ]	[ 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8 ]	[ "1434435959", "1434437673", "1434435905", "1434433007", "1434430077", "1434434831" ]
	[WP] In 2019, massive unrest sweeps across America. Its 2038, you're a history teacher...tasked with teaching the 2nd American Civil War.	190	[ "\"Alright class, quiet down.\"\n\nMr. Davis stands in the middle of the room, wearing Roman armour for one of his other classes. Kids finish their gossip and make their ways to open seats. Mr. Davis pulls a Trivial Pursuit card out of the card holder.\n\n\"Oh, how fitting,\" he mutters. \"Who was the President of the United States in the first American Civil War?\"\n\nKids turn to each other, asking questions. Three kids joke around in the back far corner. Mr. Davis smiles.\n\n\"Mr. Génie. Do you have an answer?\"\n\nOne of the kids in the back corner turns to look at the teacher.\n\n\"Abraham Lincoln.\"\n\n\"Correct.\" Mr. Davis put the card back into the cardholder. \"But can you tell me his Vice President?\"\n\n\"Andrew Johnson.\"\n\nMr. Davis wasn't surprised. It seemed that Gary Génie was able to answer any historical question, and any one he didn't know, Angelo Stephens, the kid behind him could.\n\n\"Right again. Now, if you remember yesterday, we talked about...\"\n\nThe girl next to Gary turned to look at him. \"How is it that you these things about history?\"\n\nGary shrugged. \"It just interests me.\"\n\n\"And so President Obama...\" Mr. Davis gestured for the class to respond. \"Come on guys, we went over it yesterday.\" He looked around.\n\n\"He addressed the issue and said what? Come on. He said that the looters were misunderstood and they were crying out for help. What was the problem with this statement?\"\n\n\"It made people think they could do whatever they wanted.\" It was the kid to the right of Gary who spoke now.\n\n\"Exactly Mr. Wiggins. People thought, 'hey, the President is on justifying it. Why should I stop?\" Mr. Davis pulls up a video on the board. \"Watch this clip. This is some footage of the riots in Chicago.\n\nPeople with baseball bats hit police cars, threw rocks into windows, lit bottles on fire and threw them at police officers.\n\n\"Do these people look 'misunderstood' to you?\" The class remained silent. \"Do they?\"\n\nMr. Davis walks over to a cabinet, unlocks it, and opens it. He reaches in and grabs a police riot shield. \"This,\" he gestures to the shield, \"became standard issue to all officers. Doesn't that just seem messed up? The police had to defend themselves from the people they were supposed to defend. Eventually, the Chicago riots die off and the 2016 presidential elections arrive. It was an election with a ridiculous amount of candidates. Ted Cruz was elected. In 2017 he took office. The poor man didn't deserve what he had coming.\"\n\nMr. Davis walks over to his cabinet and puts the riot shield back. \"In November of 2018, New York rioted. But this wasn't a normal protest. People of a political party called 'The American People's Party,'\" he paused to write it on the board for everyone to read. \"These people stormed the New York City city hall. They were armed. They butchered the police inside as well as any government employees. They pretty much took over. President Cruz was going to send troops in, but the people of the APP claimed they had a nuclear weapon. The claim was completely ridiculous, but he couldn't risk it. That was his biggest mistake. The media hounded him. They asked him how he could let people in his own nation live under dictators, how he could sleep at night.\"\n\nMr. Davis looks up at the clock. \"Oh shoot, we have shortened day today, don't we? Alright, remember, homework on the website. See you all tomorrow! \n- - - \nLiked this? Let me know and drop by my originally named subreddit, /r/TheDynastyProject. I may do a part two of this, so stay tuned! :)", "Jesus. This textbook has it wrong. Way to sugar-coat the truth assholes I thought.\n\n\"All right students: turn to page 262, The American Disagreement.\"\n\nDisagreement, it was a fucking bloodbath.\n\n\"Tommy, why don't you read the first paragraph aloud, popcorn style\"\n\n\"Ok, sir... clears throat the Amerrrr\"\n\n\"American.\"\n\n\"Yeah! The American Diss-Aaaa-grree...\"\n\n\"Disagreement,\" I correct again holy fuck, these kids are in high school, what happened to us?!\n\n\"You know what Tommy, you did a fantastic job. I'm going to put you in for an award!\"\n\nThe class almost unanimously begins to sob, stomp feet, and complain.\n\n\"Don't worry!!!! All of your names will be on it!!!\"\n\nSilence\n\ngod, if I could just hit ONE of these kids...\n\n\"Ok, so I'll just summarize. Civil War II...\"\n\nA female voice interrupts, fucking Suzy again* \"Sir! You mean the American Disagreement right? Will this be on the test?\"\n\nAHHHHH\n\n\"Yes. You're right, and yes. Ok. Moving on. It started with ratings, but then, almost everything does now. Propaganda, the kind that Adolf Hitler and Kim Jun Ill perfected over decades. The American media developed and purified it into something unimaginable. On one side, vaccinations. On the other, no vaccinations. Bio-warfare in the cities began without us even realizing it...\"\n\nRING RING \n\nchrist on a stick, already? These 20 minute classes to cater to ADD just aren't cutting it.\n\nThe students stand and shuffle out.\n\n", "\"Hey, Jordan, could I pick your brain a bit?\"\n\n\"Sure Kat, what's up?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm starting to teach Chapter Two...\"\n\n\"Ooh, the war. Dicey.\"\n\n\"Yeah, it is, but that's not my problem at the moment. I'm just not sure where to start. It only happened twenty years ago, the kids will know so much already. I just don't want to bore them.\"\n\n\"I dunno, I'm always surprised at what my kids don't know. Did I tell you about the girl in Earth Science who thought the earth was shaped like a disco ball?\"\n\n\"But, I mean, a lot of their parents must have...\"\n\n\"If you're worried, squish the lectures a bit and make some activities to test their knowledge in the first class period.\"\n\n\"Yeah... we sort of rushed through Chapter 1 so I do have some breathing room. Thanks!\"\n\n\"Sure thing. Tell me how it goes!\"\n\n**************\n\nChattanooga United School District\n\nUS History Grade 8 Class 3\n\nInstructor: Katniss Schlegel\n\n***************\n\nLesson Plan 1 and Follow-up Notes\n\nSubmitted 20:39:24 Mon 8th November 2038\n\nVice Principal's Notes submitted 21:52:15 Mon 8th November 2038\n\nClass time: 40 minutes\n\nTopic: Prelude to 2nd Civil War\n\nWarm-up (5 min): Ask names of major 2nd Civil War figures students have heard of, their positions and significance\n\nMaterials: none\n\nResult: As expected, students were able to name final POTUS, 2nd VP, and 2nd VP's assassin. Several students knew of Insurrectionist twitter handles, but only one real name. Jeremy Feng able to name several Insurrectionist, Militarist, and Loyalist military leaders but was in most cases hazy on their significance or which side they were on.\n\nVice Principal's notes: None\n\nActivity 1 (20 min): Split students into pairs. One will read a Leftist article on the 2016 election, one a Rightist article. Have the students work together to answer the questions:\n\n1. What did the Left and Right most fear would happen in POTUS' term? What did they most hope would happen?\n\n2. Which one issue was most important to both sides?\n\nThen discuss as a class.\n\nResult: Most pairs did mention economic issues, but a plurality (4 pairs out of 10) mentioned Insurrectionist issues which were not relevant until 2018. In discussion, I emphasized that when we approach primary sources we must remember that people in the past didn't know what was going to happen.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Unnecessary. Historiographical approaches not covered by test. Grasp of dates and events are most important. Stick to those in future lessons.\n\nLecture (10 min): Have students take notes on international events of 2016-18, esp. PRC unrest and Taiwan crisis.\n\nResults: Two write-ups for talking (see Disciplinary Form, attached), but otherwise as attentive as could be expected.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Could Activity 1 have also been done in lecture format?\n\nLast 5 min: Answer questions, explain homework.\n\nResults: Several questions on what it meant to be \"leftist\" and \"rightist\" pre-2019. No questions on homework.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: In future, spend longer on the lecture and handle questions thru social media?\n\nReading: Chapter 2 from textbook, section: \"The Taiwan Crisis.\"\n\nHomework: Take on the role of a leftist or rightist voter. Write a message (at least 1 page double-spaced) to POTUS advising what to do about the Taiwan crisis.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: None\n\n**********\n\n\"Jordan, they don't know anything! Anything!\"\n\n\"What'd you expect? These younguns with their gizmos and their slang and their funny way of walking... probably couldn't find their ass without googling it!\"\n\n\"Hey, I was raised by and iPad and a succession of Android phones, but I picked up a very solid grounding in history, thank you very much. But most of the kids wouldn't know a democrat from a monarchist!\"\n\n\"Eh, we've got an archive of kid-safe political correspondence, right? Bury 'em in primary source documents, let God sort it out.\"\n\n\"That's not really my style. I have to find a way to make a game of it...\"\n\n\"Yes, I too was once young.\"\n\n**********\n\nLesson Plan 2 and Follow-up Notes\n\nSubmitted 19:22:00 Tue 9th November 2038\n\nVice Principal's Notes submitted 29:32:11 Tue 9th November 2038\n\nWarm up (5 min): Quick Jeopardy-style game on Lesson 1 dates and names, winning team gets special username flair for student account until weekend.\n\nResult: Good recall from yesterday, although Jenna Evans and Marcus Cooper still very reluctant to speak up in class.\n\nVice Principal's notes: Good subject matter, but could it have been done as a paper quiz?\n\nActivity 1 (10 minutes): Present collection of actual messages sent by voters to POTUS at the time of the Taiwan Crisis. Students will choose one, and try to predict the writer's affiliation at the time (leftist or rightist) and affiliation post-2019 (Loyalist, Militarist, or Insurrectionist).\n\nResult: Majority of students able to pick out leftist or rightist, but could not predict post-2019 affiliation with any accuracy. Most assumed Rightists were Militarist and Leftists were Insurrectionist, and seemed to guess wildly at who was loyalist.\n\nVice Principal's notes: Insufficient context? It seems like students will be guessing at post-2019 affiliation based on what they have heard from their parents and seen in the media about the war and the three sides.\n\nActivity 2 (20 minutes): Split into groups of three or four. Give each group a list of necessary military equipment and standard salary, and available supplies and budget during the first five months of the 2018 Financial and Industrial crisis (see attachment: Worksheet 1). Have them choose which to cut in which month. A representative from each group will present their decisions and reasoning to the class.\n\nResults: Ran slightly over allotted time by about 3 minutes. Groups were mostly on-task except the students mentioned in Disciplinary Report. Students expressed surprise at shortages, most were not aware of this aspect of the Taiwan Crisis.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Activities should not run over, cut them short if necessary.\n\nLecture (until end of class): End of the Taiwan crisis, the PRC and US military mutinies.\n\nResults: Students became inattentive, began to fidget and doodle. Improvised and tried to elicit predictions for what would happen next, e.g. \"Why was the nuclear option being discussed? How would the troops react to this?\" Interest picked up slightly but had to keep them 2 min. past bell to finish the lecture.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Improvisation not strictly necessary. Next time stick to the lecture and report fidgeters on Disciplinary Report. No students were late to next class, so no harm no foul this time, but tread carefully.\n\nReading: Chapter 2 from textbook, section: \"The Mutiny\"\n\nHomework: 2 paragraphs (at least 4 complete sentences each) on the topic: \"What would justify the use of tactical nuclear weapons?\"\n\n*************\n\n\"Hey Kat. How goes the war?\n\n\"I think I'm getting into the swing of it, but Vice Principal Harris is on my ass about less activities and more lectures.\"\n\n\"Oh really? Is the sky also blue?\"\n\n\"At the moment? Grey, actually. Any tips on getting him off my case?\"\n\n\"I find being half a foot taller and 10 years his senior helps tremendously. Have you tried that?\"\n\n\"Seriously, though.\"\n\n\"I dunno. He talks a big game, but as long as you hit your milestones, he usually can't be bothered to actually do anything. If you can fit in activities and* speed up the pace, he might even praise—well, no, he wouldn't, but he might not scold you for it.\"\n\n***********\n\nLesson Plan 3 and Follow-Up Notes\n\nSubmitted 20:05:49 Wed 10th November 2038\n\nVice Principal's Notes submitted 21:41:28 Wed 10th November 2038\n\nWarm up (10 min): Betting game. Split into groups of 3 or 4. Give access to 5 social media feeds, none of which explicitly mention POTUS' considering the nuclear option. Have them bet on when in the feed the news broke that the nuclear option was being considered. Winners get 5 points on the next quiz.\n\nResults: Game was fairly easy and ended early. 3 teams tied, but competition was not so much the point as to get them to pick out the diverse reactions to the news: increased or decreased religiosity, abrupt changes in plans, sudden arguments or reconciliations with friends and family, etc.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Good job going ahead of schedule.\n\nLecture (15 min): The initial anti-nuclear military mutinies and urban civil unrest in the US, the beginnings of the Militarist-Insurrectionist alliance.\n\nResults: Warm up ended early, so was able to use extra time to also cover PRC mutinies and unrest.\n\nVice Principal's notes: Next time try to notate more exactly how much time saved.\n\nActivity 1 (15 min): Students split into pairs. Give one student a condensed version of mutineer's demands, another a summary of one protest group's demands. Have them discuss what they wanted the other party to do, and what the other party must avoid doing to keep their sympathy. At the end of class, take a poll on how many students think that the mutineer-protestor alliance was basically solid at the beginning, and how many think it was basically unworkable from the beginning.\n\nResults: Good discussion, except for one pair noted on the Disciplinary Form. Almost all students concluded the alliance was basically unworkable. If there is time I would like to devote some of the lecture to why the alliance was thought to be a good idea by both sides.\n\nVice Principal's notes: An acceptable activity for this early stage of the war, but steer away from this sort of thing from now on. Parents who fought for the Loyalists would be extremely displeased to learn their children were learning to sympathize with the other side. Also, stick to the curriculum for lectures. \"Why\" questions are not required until later grades, stick to teaching events and dates.\n\n***************\n", "\"Thomas, what was the cause of the first revolutionary war?\"\n\n\"Taxation without representation.\"\n\n\"And what exactly does that mean, Brittany?\"\n\n\"The British wanted the Colonies to pay for their wars, without letting them vote on anything.\"\n\n\"Absolutely right. What was the cause of the second revolutionary war?\"\n\n\"A couple of twats all upset about their guns.\"\n\n\"Jeremy! That's detention after school, young man.\"\n\nAs the class erupted in snickers, I turned around to the board, picking up the DigiPen and scribbling across the white reflective surface, \"Firearm Regulations\". I spun back around, setting the pen back down on the desk. \"But, yes, firearms regulations. Namely, the public carry bans that sprung up about sixteen months prior. Yes Jennifer?\"\n\n\"Wasn't the real cause the civil rights riots of 2017?\"\n\nI sighed. \"They presented a large amount of the unrest, but the reactionary banning of public carry in 23 states is considered, chiefly, the major cause of the revolution. The riots over the shootings of six teenagers in a club were, to be truthful, very harmful, but with over a hundred dead from rioter gunfire, almost 300 from police gunfire, and a whole long line of arrests, the Clinton gun bill was an immediate cause of the revolution. It took over a year before people realized a full scale civil war was out, and sadly it can be said the northeastern states were the most blind to the problem. Now, however, we have a whole new set of problems. Who can tell us one of the major repercussions of the second revolution?\"\n\nSeveral hands shot up in the air, and I pointed at random. \"Claus?\"\n\n\"The secession of the New Texican states?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Good, what else-\"\n\n\"The California DMZ!\"\n\n\"Yes, William, but please wait until you're called upon. Sarah, a third?\"\n\n\"Ummm... Uhh... Oh! The Utah black bill.\"\n\n\"That's correct. The entire state of Utah, under mormon legislation, banned all firearms and personal weaponry with regular city-by-city sweeps for contraband weaponry. Surprising thing to see from the Mormons. So, we have three major repercussions, and a few that people consider minor, but I'd like to talk about one that most people seem to not take seriously, the reinstatement of the PATRIOT Act as permanent legislation. Everyone just sort of shrugs, there's no problem right? I mean, Big Government could always see what you posted online, what you put in your social media, so who cares?\"\n\nI turned around, and scribbled something else up on the board, reading as I went. \"Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.\" I turned back around. \"For tonight, I'd like to see a 1 KB or more textfile, NO layout, on what Safety we've gained from the permanent PATRIOT Act, as well as what Liberty we've given up. Also, an argument on whether that Safety is truly permanent, or temporary as Mr. Franklin stated? Bonus points on persuasive arguments. Tomorrow, the battle of San Francisco, as well as the Arabic detainment camps in South Dakota.\"\n\n\"Bout the only thing South Dakota's useful for...\"\n\n\"JEREMY!\"", "\"Though the Austin Offensive initially took place on 2021, beginning the official 2nd Civil War, we can trace our roots back to 2019, during the San-Fran Riots regarding the California Water Shortages.\"\n\n\"Drought, professor. It was a drought.\"\n\n\"No one gives a shit, William. Sit back down.\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHistory was always a difficult concept, thought Ms. Hershey as she rested her boots on her desk. In her hand, sat a small pen-like piece of metal. Its blue light was emitted on the map that sat to her side, circling around the Southern US Corridor (which stretched west-to-east from New Mexico to Lousiana and south-to-north from Texas to Kansas).\n\nWilliam, being the absolute twat that he was, was busy pointing another red laser pointer near the same spot.\n\n\"Cut that out, William.\"\n\n\"Piss off.\"\n\n\"Now, we all might be asking ourselves, who started the war? Was it the Texan Confederacy or the Washington Union? To be partial, and correlating to your final, neither side was responsible. You see, in the State of California, a drought**...\"\n\nHershey glared daggers at the smirking William.\n\n\"...placed the state's citizens in a state of panic. Due to poor planning from Republican Governor Elton, the situation regarding water became worse and worse and the reservoirs and reserves soon dried up. At that time, a number of major counties, led by San Francisco, began to act in protest against the harsh policies.\"\n\n\"I'd like it to be known that Elton's actions were only a result of the Democratic Governor-Bitch Chealsy Sterling's absolute crap policies regarding internal infrastructure and foreign relations!\" William loudly declared to the echoing lecture hall. He turned to the boy taking notes by his side, and mocked a whisper. \"Four-hundred billion to a bunch of third-world shit-eaters. For what? Nothing? Bullshit if you ask me.\"\n\n\"Zip it, William! Don't you have a mess hall to clean? I heard the frat boys splattered pizza on the walls as a prank.\"\n\n\"There's a bigger hot mess in this lecture room and I'm looking right at it, Amy.\"\n\nThe students roared in snickering and giggling. A young white girl sitting in the highest seat pulled out her camera and began taking video footage of this event to post it later. Unfortunately, she filmed in vertical, so nobody gave the hilarity a second look.\n\n\"Whatever. Anyways, back to the topic at hand...\" Amy paused, taking a look at William shrugging his shoulders before she could continue.\n\n\"Outraged by the lack of available public service, California immediately demanded more aid from the federal government or it would insist on cutting ties with the Union. Fortunately, an agreement was made, and California was immediately granted aid from the most well-off states at the time... This is where we see Texas's first act of resistance towards the policy. North Carolina, and Georgia followed suit.\"\n\n\"Fucking Florida and their neutrality bullshit.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed. Fuck Florida,\" said Hershey, staring at her boots. They would need a good shining later tonight, the leather was getting dull. \"In case anyone didn't know, Florida decided to pretend the policy did not even exist as opposed to following or resisting it. It was the funniest event of 2019, and acknowledged by even the United Kingdom as 'the stupidest move since North Korea tried to test nukes on a Japanese fishing boat and lost two-hundred of their own men.' Anyone do a paper on that, I'll mark up some points!\"\n\n\"Professor. Don't you have a lesson to teach?\"\n\n\"I swear to god! If you interrupt one more time, I'll give you a very stern talking to after class.\"\n\n\"Oh wow, I didn't know you were into younger guys, m'am. Please, spare me!\"\n\n\"William... I will literally murder you one day. You won't see it coming, but I will.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Now, onto the move that actually started the war. 'The Congressman Hall Brawl.' An incident where one-hundred Congressman and women threw off their gloves and fought each other in the House of Rep chambers.\"\n\nThe laser pointed flung about wildly on the map of pre-Civil War states, moving from south to west to north, and to west again. She then got up and walked about the room, dragging her nails across William's papers before flashing him in the eyelids with a laser pointer.\n\n\"Though controversy remains on who started the fight, it is known for certain that the single Republic representative of California's fifty-some group had engaged in an argument with another Democratic congressman. A fight broke out as the Texas, Colorado, and Nevada backed the Republican representative against the rest of the Californians.\"\n\n\"Did they kill each other?!\" asked the female student in the back, still recording with her phone.\n\n\"William!\"\n\n\"It wasn't me!\"\n\n\"My room, after hours! As for you, girl with the blonde hair and pasty skin...\"\n\n\"Shaniqua, and I happen to identify as a-.\"\n\n\"No! We're not doing that joke! Put your phone away, and no! Nobody was killed except for a disabled-aid dog from... New Mexico.\"\n\n\"Not the puppy!\"\n\n\"Yes, the puppy!\"\n\nFortunately, at that very moment, the bell-tower of the institute rang its brass tone across the campus. The two-hundred some students packed up their laptops, recorders, and papers and shuffled on outside. A number of them had plugged their smart-glasses on, completely forgoing the rest of the human experience for the next hour of lunch or two.\n\nWilliam finally woke up in half-an-hour and was greeted by the sight of the flashing blue everything. He tried to pull himself away from the chair, only then noticing that his feet were cuffed to the legs of the stool he sat on. Professor Hershey stood over him as he found himself head-first against the floor when he tried to get off.\n\n\"Yeah! Who's the hot mess now, bitch?!\"\n\n\"I don't know. Let's ask the thirty-four year old virgin! Well, are you, Amy?\"\n\n\"You know, they say if you flash a light in someone's eyes long enough, they'll go blind.\"\n\n\n", " Teaching controversial topics is something that every history teacher has to do eventually. It's usually the more recent things that I worry about teaching though. Nobody cares about the right and wrong of the Norman Invasion of England in 1066, but the Second American Civil War is still a hot topic, despite the fact that it ended over a decade ago.\n\n As I entered the classroom, my students fell silent and sat up straight. I couldn't help but think about how disorderly I had been in school, and how the teacher's presence had meant nothing to myself and my fellow classmates. Now, my fourteen and fifteen year-old students didn't say a word, and wouldn't until I asked them to. I set my phone on my desk, and with the push of a button, the screen projected itself onto the wall. It showed my desktop, with the date in opaque, black letters in the lower right corner. \"July 4th, 2038.\" I looked around the room to make sure that my students were ready to take notes. Once I was ready, I broke their respectful silence.\n\n \"Good morning class, how is everybody today?\"\n\n \"Good, Mr. Turner,\" they replied at once. I nodded and looked down at my phone.\n\n \"Begin keynote, 'Second American Civil War.'\" The screen changed to a picture, with a title in front of it. The picture showed three men wearing camouflage fatigues, two holding M16 assault rifles, while the third was holding an older-looking shotgun. They had red patches on their sleeves, with the black silhouette of an Elephant embroidered on them.\n\n \"Today we're going to discuss the most important event in American 21st Century History so far. Do any of you remember anything about the war?\" I didn't expect much of an answer from them. The war had ended in 2025, so my students would have just been born. None of the students raised their hands, though I suspected that it was more because they didn't want to say anything, rather than that they didn't have anything to say.\n\n \"Ok, can any of you tell me why I picked today to talk about?\" One student raised his hand, and I pointed to him.\n\n \"Because it was the old government's Independence Day,\" he said.\n \n \"Very good,\" I touched the wall my screen was projected onto, and it went to the next slide. \"So, first, we're going to talk about the prelude to the war, take notes here. The 2018 General Election was the most contentious in American History. Prior elections had been a source of resentment between the Republicans and the Democrats, but no recent election had resorted to violence until then. Clashes between Republican and Democrat demonstrators in Dallas in April of 2018 led to an outbreak of violence across the United States that affected most major American cities. It was during this violence that the President ordered the Federal Emergency Management Administration, or FEMA, to go into the cities affected by the violence and try to maintain stability. However, many Governors of the states in the U.S. refused to declare a State of Emergency. It's important to point out, we know from some of those Governor's staffers, that they were hoping that their supporters would win in the fighting, and prevent the opposition from voting. So, the President was not entirely wrong when he overrode those Governors and had FEMA agents enter the state under guard from the Army. \n\n \"He promised that they would only remain until after the election, and the end of hostilities between citizens.\" I went to the next slide, which showed a photograph of two U.S. Army soldiers wearing gas masks, standing in front of a sign that read, \"Medical Relief.\" I then went to the next slide, which had more text on it. \"After the Democratic party won a majority in the Senate, many Republicans accused them of voting fraud, and demanded a recount. The Senate wouldn't pass a measure requiring the recount, so Senate Republicans began filibustering every bill that was put forth, in protest. That continued for almost three months, until March of 2019, when the President ordered that Filibustering be disallowed in Congress. The Democrats proposed the Bill, but the Republicans continued to filibuster against it. After five straight days without progress, the President ordered the Master-at-Arms to arrest anyone who approached the bench to filibuster, or spoke for longer than two minutes. A Republican Senator tried to filibuster anyway, and was violently removed from the chamber by security.\n\n \"After footage of the fight between the Senator and security reached the Internet, there were massive protests by Republicans across the country. What's important to understand is, at this time, the Republican Party was the Party of many potential revolutionaries and Militia groups who were prepared to overthrow the government. The Democrats didn't believe in that kind of violent disobedience. Knowing that, we can say that it shouldn't have been much of a surprise when, on April 21st, 2019, a group of Republican Militiamen attacked an Air Force base in Cheyenne, and took control of several nuclear weapons. The Militia requested that the recount be passed through Congress, or they would fire a nuclear missile at Washington D.C. They were killed before they could launch the missile, and chances are they couldn't have, even though they wanted to. However, that event is significant, because it led to the beginning of Republican Uprisings across the United States. Early on, many Republican governors supported these uprisings, and did little to protect Democrats from anti-liberal violence. \n\n \"The uprisings culminated on May 16th, when the Governor of Texas led several Republican states in mobilizing their National Guard Units, and demanded that the President order a recount of the 2018 vote. This is the last point at which the President could have potentially stopped the Civil War from beginning, if he'd bowed to the State's demands, they likely would have stood down. However, instead, the President ordered the Army and Air Force to begin conducting combat operations against rebellious units in the Republican States. This is why May 16th is seen as the beginning of the Second Civil War, and the first major battle, the Battle of San Diego, began four days after.\n\n \"We won't get into what happened during the war until next week, but the basic facts are that the Republican State's heavily armed populations and effective military leadership allowed them to make broad gains against the Democratic states early on, but the Democratic State's economic development meant that they were able to far outdo the Republican forces in terms of equipment and supplies for their troops. The Democrats were able to push back the Republicans, and by 2025, both sides were ready to meet for peace talks. The talks were hosted in Ottawa, Canada, and they took five days. The two sides agreed to sign the Treaty of Ottawa, which split the United States of America, into the Democratic States of America, and the Republican States of America.\" I wanted to cover more than that, but I already knew that the school would be getting a few calls from parents tonight saying that I should be fired. Principal Finnick has always backed me up, but it's not always easy. \n\n The educational reforms in the Democratic States of America removed all tenure, so I could easily get fired. I've known a lot of good teacher's who were fired because they said something that somebody thought was offensive, or did something that a parent thought was insensitive. I've been accused of being a racist for talking about the First Civil War, a Fascist for talking about Hitler, and a Republican for talking about the Second Civil War. My old teachers had never had to worry about this sort of thing, even though people had already been easily offended back then. Hard as it is to keep my job, I know that I'm better off here than in the Republican States. There, they write history the way that they want it to be read, and not how it should be. I remember seeing a magazine at Walmart a few days ago, talking about how the R.S.A. is the only country that teaches creationism in every aspect of their educational system. I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell my students that the Earth is only a few thousand years old, when I know it really is billions. I couldn't tell them that all of the Founding Fathers were Fundamentalist Christians, when they were really Deists. I most certainly couldn't tell them that it was the Democrats who launched the first nuclear strike, when I know that the Republicans are responsible for the day when the bombs fell.\n\n There's little more than ashes for us to remember the old world by. People called it the bloodiest Civil War in history, but I'm not sure that's true. A Civil War is a Brother's War, where families are torn apart, fighting against each other because of slight differences in ideology. America had begun to tear apart long before the Civil War started. We saw the signs, all the political polarization in Congress, the screaming Talk Show Hosts, the online message boards. I think that people gave up on a United America long before they started fighting to end it.", "I huffed and puffed as I cleared the last few stairs, turned left, and started speed walking toward my survey course - my second of the day - on the third floor of the liberal arts building. I hadn't realized that the elevator was out, again!, when I had decided to traipse down to my office (in the basement, of course) to grab my notes and a coke. If I had known about that damned elevator, then I would have just winged it. But what's done and so forth.\n\n\n.\n\n\nI paused outside the door, and took a deep breath. Even though the door opened without a sound, every gaze in the room shot towards me - and then right back to the damned cell phones. Because they're nineteen and twenty year olds, what more could I expect. I jogged across the room and slid my well worn messenger bag (a relic of my own time as an undergrad) off of my shoulder. I pulled the unbuttoned over shirt that I wore off and tossed it over on top of the empty table on my left. I grabbed my notes and a marker and scribbled out a basic outline of the day's lesson on the board along with the class number: History 1113 - Amer. Hist. since 2000. \n\n\n.\n\n\nI turned to the students (and I swear that they look younger and younger every semester), and clapped my hands once. \n\n\"Ok everyone, let's get started! Just to make sure you're all in right place and that I'm running off on tangents from the right notes, this is intro. to botany, yeah?\" \n\nI got a few sparse laughs and even a brief panicked look from a kid that I swear can't possibly be older than about 15.\n\n\"No, No, not to worry, this is History 1113, America since 2000. I promise, there will be no math and as little science (botany included) as I can possibly get away with avoiding. And since I'm tenured, that means that I can avoid a whole lot when I set the course material.\"\n\n\"So, I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to be where you are right now. I know that this is a required course for a good many of you, and I can't promise that you'll fall in love with it, but I can promise that I'll try to make this as painless as I can for all of us. I do my best to memorize your names, but since I have a few hundred names to memorize each semester, well, I hope you won't mind if I put a pin in that until after the end of add/drop. If you'll each take one of these and pass it around, this is your syllabus.\"\n\n.\n\n\"Now, I know that most professors use the first day to go over the syllabus, but I like for y'all to have a chance to read through it. That way, if you have any questions, you can ask them when we do go over it in class on Thursday. For now, I'd like to jump right on in with you.\" \n\nI looked around the room, and saw that several of the students were still pulling their notebooks and pens out, so I paused.\n\nContinued In Part II...\n" ]	[ 2, 3, 8, 9, 11, 14, 64 ]	[ "1434479970", "1434492962", "1434482139", "1434487637", "1434478675", "1434490004", "1434475811" ]
	[WP] In the middle of the night, you are woken by a tapping at your window: branches. You turn to go back to sleep, then remember: there is no tree there.	16	[ "A shovel in my hands. There was darkness. A dirt wall in front of me. I was only able to see a pin of light from up above shinning in front of me into the dirt wall surrounding me. I couldn't talk like my mouth was filled with water. My hands moved without my control. Even my thoughts floated in the air like my body wasn't mine. I was still digging. Digging. Digging... closing my eyes...\n\nCRACK! A sudden thunder filled the air of my bedroom. Hastily waking up to the sound, shades of branches knocked and shadowed my dark bedroom. I gasped my breath and grabbed my pillow tightly into my head. Another thunder reached into my sleep, quietly, slowly crawling.\n\nI opened my eyes with my body feeling like I have walked for ages into nothing ness. My legs grew tired. My thirst reached the end of my tongue. Without a reason, my body was just walking in the white light. A Sudden noise of a lifeless thud of leather shoes echoed around the empty space. A dark shadowed man walked past me. I didn't look closely into his look, but I had a strange feeling that I have met this man before.\n\nAs he past, a slow breeze ran though my shoulder then grabbed tightly behind my back. The breeze left me only with an excruciating pain emerging as I tried to walk further. The pain left me hanging, while I, again, close my eyes to be away from this pain.\n\nI opened my eyes. Looking around my bedroom, I knew no one was there, but my shoulder was still in pain.\n\nAnother lightening struck so closely to my house as a grabbed a breath. A clear white shadow of a lightening laid beside the bed. Without a wait another thunder filled and startled me.\n\n\"Wait...\" I said.\nQuietly, I thought to myself, \"Where is the shadow of the lightening\"\nHowever, the thought slipped away when I felt another shrieking pain on my left shoulder.\n\nI reached my shoulder soothingly with my hand to relax the pain from my dream.\nWhen I grabbed my shoulder, it wasn't my shoulder. It was... a hand... I turned my head to look into a shape of a shadowed man.\n\nThat man! That man from my dream. Utter shock stopped my body to do anything. As he covered my mouth with his right, I wasn't able to shout anything as I realized my death standing closely. The pain shook me into numbness... Burning Firing sensation filled my body, but I wasn't moving. I shut my eyes so tightly. I squinted and locked my eyes again and again to stay away from this awful dream.\n\"Like the last few, let me leave!!!!\" I told myself.\nMore and more I tried, I started to lose sensation of my parts.\nDrops and drops fell down from my eyes to my cheek. I gazed into a faceless body twitching in a mirror, while it poured its thick red blood on the floor. I wasn't able to do anything, but sob... and I closed my eyes.\n\nThe pain stopped so suddenly then my eyes opened. I was typing, typing into a blank page. Every word that I wrote slowly faded.\n\nps. rough draft... :P", "How did I end up here? No, I’m not offended – on the contrary, I’m glad you asked. I know you’ll probably think I’m crazy; but I guess I’m buying you a drink so you to listen to me, not act as my psychiatrist. So here goes.\n\n\nI’m a thirty year old woman. It’s been a month since I was married – a month preceded by multiple more filled with suits, ties, and lawyer’s fees. It’s been fifteen days since I didn’t have a restraining order against my husband, and five days ago I moved into my new house. Ten days before then, I also moved into a new house – I’m not finished talking, hear me out.\n\n\nThe first time I moved into a new house was because my husband decided, in a moment of verdant angst, to defoliage my front yard; I vaguely recall him squawking something about how it was “His yard too!” Anyway, that’s irrelevant. As he harangued from the ground floor, I took the chance to call my lawyer and see what we could gain out of the situation. I figured if he moved to chop down the door, I could just call the police then. How d’you mean ‘How would he chop down the door?’. Oh yes; he had a fire axe.\n\n\nAnyway, while it was certainly somewhat disquieting in the moment I can now look back in a more mathematical way and say, with my sleeve in my heart, I would definitely do it again. He got a restraining order and a fine, and I – well, I gave a restraining order and nice, tidy check - enough to relocate somewhere nicer, quieter, and hopefully more deficient of axe-wielding lunatics.\n\n\nIt was a very nice neighbourhood. I could wake up at whichever time I wanted – don’t tell anyone, but to get a week off of work to enjoy the ambience I was able to spout some nonsense about being triggered by the words ‘Fire’ and ‘Axe’ or the colour red juxtaposed to the colour green. The only real issue with the house was that every night a tree, laid adjacent to my house, would tap it branches upon my window pane. I simply fixed this by, before my slumber, fixing it into a harness outside my window. It was rather unsightly in the day, so I would adjust it twice a day to avoid looking at it. You miss a day, I guess.\n\n\nSo, six days ago I’m feeling desperately tired and go to sleep without affixing my harness. I wake up at what seemed to be around five in the morning to an incessant thud, thud, thud, and the damned tapping. I’ve no idea why I didn’t catch on quicker; but no surprise, as I fix I see that god forsaken leafy bastard down there again. But this time it’s not him! It’s not just my ex-husband the coppice bastard, but his brother! He payed his brother to deforest my front-yard, the cheek of him! To the man’s credit, he didn’t seem to be over enthused about the whole thing himself – but three-hundred dollars is three-hundred dollars. He advised that I move far-away from there if I wanted to ever have a tree again in my life. I rather like my trees, so I decided to move to London to retain them. \n\nAnd that’s how I ended up in Britain. Don't look at me like that, you're the one who asked!", "\"Stephen.\"\nHe rolled over, vaguely recognizing his wife's voice in some distant corner of his mind. The bed was warm and comfortable, and his haze of sleep too heavy to be easily broken. An old man needs his rest, he thought idly. \n\"STE-phen!\" Her voice was more insistent now, and the way she enunciated his name clearly meant trouble. Reluctantly, he tried to pay more attention; his eyes were still heavy and his brain felt muffled. He turned his head, but couldn't seem to open his eyes; he was just so damn tired.\n\"Yeah? What is it?\" He finally managed to answer.\n\"The window..\" Rosalie sounded terrified. He wasn't worried though; quite frankly, Rosie was skittish and easily frightened. She was the kind of woman who saw nightmares in shadowy corners and horror in the mundane. \n\"There's nothing there, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.\" \n\"There is. Do you not hear that tapping?\" Her voice broke, and he felt her warmth snuggle against him under the cool sheets.\n\"It's just the trees, Rosie. I promise.\" Had he been looking at her, he would've rolled his eyes. He loved Rosalie, but the dramatics needed to stop.\nHis wife stayed silent this time.\nHe sighed, content to drift back to sleep, when he heard the jarring sound.\nTap, tap, tap..\nHe took a deep breath, calming his nerves. Rosie was quiet, so she must be asleep...otherwise, she'd be chattering like usual. It's the trees, just the trees. My God, her hysteria was contagious. \nTap, tap, tap...\nBut as much as he told himself this, as much as he wanted to peacefully rest, that goddamn tapping continued. It grated his senses.\nTap, tap, tap...\n He tossed and turned, somewhere between consciousness and slumber, halfway dreaming of dark whispers and Rosie's horrified voice. \nTap, tap, tap...\nIt was one of the most awful nights he'd had in a long time.\nGentle knocking woke him, however, hours later; he wasn't even aware he had fallen asleep. His nurse strode in, greeting him with a cheerful good morning; he opened his eyes, surprised to find his bed empty.\nHe compliantly allowed the young woman to help him bathe and dress for the day before he was helped into his wheelchair; he hadn't been able to complete simple tasks like this since his seventies. As he was wheeled out of the bathroom, he worried; anxiety from somewhere he couldn't place crept into his mind.\n\"Where's Rosalie?\" He asked softly.\nHis nurse stared at him blankly. \"Excuse me, sir?\"\n\"Rosalie, my wife. She was up all last night because of the damn branches tapping against the window; I think she may have left early to go on a walk, perhaps. She's obviously not here.\"\nHis irritation growing, he added, \"And clip those damn branches. Or better yet, chop down the whole goddamn tree.\"\nThe nurse calmly responded, \"Mr. Stephen, Rosalie has been dead for ten years. \"\nHe gasped audibly, and the room began to spin; he felt close to fainting, or maybe vomiting. As he tried to hold it together, he glanced at his window; to his disbelief, his eyes were met with clear blue sky and green plush grass.\nNo branches; no tree.\n", "Branch like fingers pried my window open.\n\nA huge shadow blocked the moonlight and a deep voice broke the nightly silence.\n\n\"WE...\n\nHAVE...\n\nDECIDED...\n\nYOU...\n\nARE...\n\nNOT...\n\nORCS...\n\nBARUMPH\"\n\nI blinked. Before I could speak however the shadow moved away and heavy footsteps were heard moving away", "Once, the wind whispered through the grass and the leaves at night and carried away the endless hum of insects and the soft sounds of nocturnal birds searching for their prey. A blanket of peace across a world sleeping fitfully through the hot muggy months of summer. The boy remembered smelling it come through the window, the tang of blooming flowers and looming thunderstorms, as he lay sweating on top of the sheets. He remembered closing his eyes without fear, without apprehension, secure in the unquestioned assurance that he would open them again when he awoke to the sun rising over the horizon.\n\nBut the wind had gone silent years ago, back when the sky had cracked in half, and the boy no longer trusted that the world would be there when his eyes opened. The window was closed and locked, and the door to his room was barricaded shut. His bed was soaked with sweat, but he could not bring himself to remove the sheet that stuck to his skin. The thin layer of cloth would do nothing but hamper his movements should his shelter fail, but as he cowered in the dark he could not help but seek its imagined protection.\n\nHe was older than he looked in the day, and wiser in the ways of the new world than even that age would imply. Sleep was necessary, he knew, and panic without threat a waste of energy. He calmed his racing heart with long, even breaths, and forced his eyes closed. Exhaustion stole through his mind and soon he felt himself slipping away into a dream of a summer half-forgotten and long past.\n\nThe tapping at the window wove itself into his dream, at first. Back before the trees had been corrupted they had sometimes scratched at his window when the wind blew just right. A sign of a storm to come, usually, but nothing to worry about. Just another sound in a night soon to end. He turned over and his hand brushed the long knife by his head and the dream evaporated in a disorienting rush. His hand closed on the handle of the knife and his heart resumed its panicked pace, beating in time to the tapping on the glass.\n\nThe darkness in the room was complete. He dared not move. Whatever it was might be content to scratch idly at the window and then fly or crawl or jump away. He knew that things hunted in the night; he saw their bloody work often enough as he foraged during the day. But he had no idea how they hunted, and that lack of knowledge paralyzed him.\n\nThe tapping stopped and an almost painful surge of adrenaline shot through his rigid body. He controlled it, stayed still, and waited for a few more light breaths. Then a piercing cry screeched outside the window and he heard the whump-whump of large wings beating against the air. He gripped the handle of the knife so hard his knuckles cracked, but the window held fast. The wingbeats faded. Another cry tore through the night, further away this time, receding into the distance, and his body shuddered with a suppressed sob.\n\nHe lay awake in the dark as his heart slowed, realizing that it was time to find a new shelter for the nights to come, and hating that realization. The house was as they had left it when they had been evacuated, and he had kept it clean ever since he had come back alone. The pictures on the mantle, the little memorabilia that seemed to hang from every wall. All that was left. But he had to move. He had seen the other houses with the holes in their walls and the nests made of bone, and as much as he did not want to leave his family behind, he did not want to die.\n\nHis eyes drifted closed and he fell back into a dream. But for that night and all nights after, his hand never left the knife.", "It began with tapping. \n\nMr. Green did not think that unusual. It was the sin of old things to creak and moan and complain, he knew, to create an infernal racket that ought frighten only the timid and the tame. \n\nBut on Monday morn the streets of their small town of Black Grove were riddled with little cracks lately emerged, and the schoolboys delighted to jump over them on their way to the little wooden school that lay outside the outskirts of the wooden forest that gave their village its name. \n\nThe neighbors had held a meeting at Dr. Jim's house in the evening to discuss fees and fines and street-side cracks, in a banality second-nature to children old and bitter grown. The old missus, a wealthy widower who lived across the street was quite sure that all the peculiar happenings underfoot were the work of the devil and brandished a cross at every person who stepped into the good Doctor's door. \n\nOf course, the good doctor himself had strong opinions about the absurdity of such a thing and pontificated at length about the natural science of roots, to which everyone pretended to listen. A few local myths were idly mentioned and then the courtesy cocktails were served (for the good Doctor's wife desired that none think of them as people of little means!)\n\nHaving little desire for drink and less for attempted matchmaking on the part of the Doctor's wife, to whom a wealthy young bachelor seemed a perfect match for one of her daughters, Mr.Green returned to his home sober.\n\nA decision that he would come to regret for the rest of his days, no longer able to discount the extraordinary happenings to come as the mere delusions of an alcohol-addled mind...\n\n-\n\n(Part I, if there is any interest I will continue. Otherwise, if you can please review. Every bit helps in getting better). " ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 6 ]	[ "1434530924", "1434502905", "1434518043", "1434527500", "1434503048", "1434498672" ]
Either with other lifeforms or just humans. Be creative!	[WP] Write about a Sherlock Holmes adventure. But in space!	2	[ "It had been another dreary day on Baker Street, with the incessant rain so familiar to Londoners showing no sign of letting up. Holmes, of course, was putting in many hours of practice on his violin, as he claimed that the humidity levels were just right for a day of Shubert. He was in the midst of his fourth rendition of Concerto in D Major when we were interrupted by the dulce tones of an incoming Skype call. Blessedly, it was Inspector Lestrade, seeking our advice on a most peculiar matter.\n\n\"Watson, my good man,\" the detective blurted with a nervous anxiety, \"it seems that there has been an incident of significant gravity on the International Space Station which requires the attention of yourself and Mr. Holmes.\" The notes in the drawing room ceased immediately, followed by Holmes' practically bursting into our kitchen. I feared that he was about to take umbrage to this interruption of his practice, but to my surprise, he showed nothing but undisguised glee at the prospect of a new case.\n\n\"Lestrade,\" he said in an uncharacteristic agitation, \"I assure you that John and I are at your service in the utmost in this matter. If you please, describe the situation-- and leave no detail unsaid, even if it seems completley trivial!\" And with thst he reclined into his chair, lit his pipe, and shut his eyes in complete concentration.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Holmes,\" the inspector began, \"one of the astronauts aboard the station has been fatally poisoned. A Dr. Hideo Hayashi, a Japanese physicist working on experiments dealing with gravity or some such. I'm a bit befuddled by it all, to be honest; science was never my strong suit, I fear.\"\n\n\"As do we all, Inspector. Science and sound reasoning are keystones in proper analysis and deduction, after all. Heaven knows how many criminals walk freely amoungst us because Scotland Yard prizes 'instinct' and 'people skills' above all else-- much to their detriment, I should say!\"\n\n\"Err,\" Lestrade replied weakly, searching for some apologetic segue. \"You are aware that Scotland Yard's CSI division is the largest in Europe, aren't you?\"\n\n\"No matter such trifles, Inspector; please continue!\" Holmes insisted, a ring of smoke slowly emerging from his lips.\n\n\"Our DNA lab has a £12M budget... I'm just saying.... Anyway, there are three other occupants of the ISS right now: Commander Aaron Anderson, also American, and an Air Force pilot; Dr. Isaak Weizman, an Israeli biologist; and Dr. Paul Washington, mission subcommander, and an American chemist.\"\n\n\"Mmmm....\" Holmes murmured thoughtfully. \"And suspicions fall upon the chemist, I assume, as the cause of death is poisoning?\"\n\n\"Well, yes Holmes, but of course Dr. Washington denies his involvement. And given the difficulties of retrieving the evidence....\"\n\n\"Certainly. Tell me, Lestrade, of the circumstances of Randolph's death.\"\n\n\"Ahh, well... there's a bit of a snag there. As you might have guessed, each nation was responsible for providing the fòod supplies for their respective astronauts. The evening of Hayashi's death, the crew ate their meal together in the main cabin. Since I know you'll ask, Dr. Hayashi and Commander Anderson both ate roast beef and swiss cheese sandwiches, Dr. Weizman ate soba noodles with vegetables, and Dr. Washington ate a hot dog and carrots. Moments later, Dr. Hayashi passed out, and was unable to be revived.\"\n\n\"A hot dog, you say? It sounds like poor fare for astronauts, even if there was a friendly exchanging of meals around this international table. This hot dog clearly belonged to Dr. Weizman, obviously a holdover from his student days in Brooklyn.\"\n\n\"How could you possibly know that?\" I asked, secretly looking forward to some small matter of brilliance.\n\n\"I hate to disappoint, John, but there's no small matter of brilliance here; rather, I have read some of Dr. Weizman's academic papers from his time at the Brooklyn research facility he supervised in the 1990s. As it turns out, the facility is a short walk to a Nathan's Famous restaurant, which is quite well-known for their kosher offerings.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Lestrade said somewhat proudly, \"I'd reckoned that the hot dog meal was Dr. Weizman's as well. Our report suggests that this was a common practice amoungst the crew.\"\n\n\"One more thing inspector: did any of the astronauts have access to the others' food supplies?\" Holmes stretched lazily in his chair, then tamped the tobacco in his pipe and relit it, filling our kitchen with a haze of blue smoke.\n\n\"It seems so, I'm afraid; any one of the crew could have delivered the fatal doseage. We did receive a photograph of the poisoned package, however, and there is a minute, quite unobservable puncture hole which we suspect was delivered with a hypodermic needle. This hole was discovered only after hours of study, it was that well hidden.\"\n\n\"Fear not, Inspector, for it may be that such a policy which at first seems to widen our net may, in an ironic twist, actually trap the villain after all! For my next question: it's clear that the poisoned meal was originally in the hands of Dr. Washington, yet given to Dr. Hayashi. Even more reason to suspect him! Tell me, were the Americans' meals individually labelled as well?\"\n\nLestrade was silent for a moment, save for the sounds of papers being rifled through. Finally: \"No, Dr. Washington and Commander Anderson shared unlabelled food packs from the same cabinet.\"\n\n\"Very well, Inspector. Please see to it that Dr. Weizman is retreived and arrested in accordance with all due respect to international law and regulations and what have you.\" I was flabbergasted, and Inspector Lestrade was shocked into silence.\n\n\"I... I... Well, Holmes...\" Lestrade stammered, \"you've never been wrong before, I suppose. But do tell me, how in the Dickens could you know this based only on the details I've told you?!\"\n\n\"It's quite simple, actually,\" Holmes said, resting his chin on his folded hands. \"Obviously Dr. Hayashi wouldn't have poisoned himself in such a manner. Even if he were suicidal, he would have poisoned his own food rather than risk the life of Dr. Washington. No, the killer would have taken advantage of the comraderie of our international table. First, he would have suggested the trade if it hadn't been agreed upon already. Nor would Dr. Washington poison his own food, given the risk of a trade not happening. And Commander Anderson neither could risk accidentally mixing up the meals, as they were unlabelled, and he being just as likely to end up with the poisoned food. Plus suggesting that his fellow American trade with him would have attracted even Lestrade's suspicions. Also, there was no way to deliver the hypodermic needle in view of the crew, and delivering the poison prior to the meal meant running the risk of losing the tiny puncture in the shuffle. Now, given that Dr. Washington and Commander Anderson were issued the same meal, it would have made no sense for them to trade. And, given that Dr. Weizman would have been prohibited from eating the Americans' meals due to their nor being kosher, he couldn't accept Dr. Washington's meal. Ergo, only Dr. Hayashi could receive the tainted meal. All Dr. Weizman had to do was feel for the puncture mark as the packages were passed around, and ensure that that particular meal ended up in front of Dr. Hayashi.\"\n\n\"Quite brilliant, once again, Holmes!\" I exclaimed. He merely gave a slight nod of his head, then sighed.\n\n\"Unfortunately brilliant, I would say,\" he replied.\n\n\"Unfortunate?\" I asked. \"How so? You've solved a murder from thousands of miles away, on a space station, no less!\"\n\n\"Yes, that is something remarkable, I suppose.\" He paused, then said, \"I do wish I could have kept it to myself, however. Even if there had been the slightest of chances, I should have held out for a personal inspection of the station. I think that I'd find being in space... quite interesting.\"", "Sherlock was just solving the murder when he realized something. The prompt called for him being in space! So... Why was he not in space? For all he knew, he was still in london. Scratch that, he Was in london.\n\nSo, why was he not in space?\n\nHe decided to ask watson, who was conveniently in the vacinity.\n\n\"Watson, why are we not in space? The prompt calls for it\".\n\nAfter contemplating this for a moment, watson replied, \"Sherlock, you really need to learn about the solar system..\"" ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1434512214", "1434502271" ]
The Q fucked up and sent an Imperial Star Destroyer with Darth Vader in command (Instead of the Borg) to the Alpha Quadrant. How does Picard & the Enterprise deal with this new threat to galactic peace? This was inspired by this pic (http://www.dailyfailcenter.com/331050) I've read allot of the replies, and some of the technical comparisons, it's basically a David versus Goliath situation. The Star Destroyer is many times the size, and has vastly more armaments, power and sub-light top speed. Packed full of Fighters, Bombers and probably a expeditionary force of Strom Troopers, it's a frightening sight in Federation Space. The Enterprise is vastly more maneuverable, capable of employing short range defensive and offensive warp jumps, with longer range and far more accurate and advanced weapon systems. I'm curious to see what your minds can turn out in terms of an entertaining story. So many un-answered questions, can't wait to hear your take on it.	[WP] Imperial Star Destroyer battles USS Enterprise	7	[ "Here is some of the technical comparisons I was linked to from that picture in the original post. Have no way of verifying his numbers, but if the power output of the turbolasers is even half what he claims, Enterprise will feel those burns.....when they hit, won't be often with imperial troops behind the guns. It's also possibly that the scientific grade shielding on a Federation cruiser might be much more effective & efficient at absorbing such blasts from Trubolasers and Ion Cannons of the Empire. Also the Empires defensive capabilities might be greatly reduced by the advanced weaponry of the ST universe. Transporters alone would blow their minds a little.\n\nhttp://www.stardestroyer.net/Empire/Essays/FiveMinutes.html\n\nI'm skeptical only because it was obviously written by a SW Fan, I'm a Trekkie.", "Without explanation there hung in front of the Enterprise a massive, wedge-shaped vessel of unidentifiable origin. Picard stood, straightened his uniform, and spoke:\n\n\"Shields up. Report.\"\n\n\"Readings indicate a massive warship of some kind. It fits no known pattern of vessel that Star Fleet has come in contact with. There are many life-forms aboard, and numerous turret armaments of unidentifiable origin and construction. The vessel is strongly shielded. I am detecting a number of smaller engine signatures that seem to indicate single-seat fighters in a flight deck near the underside of the ship.\"\n\n\"There are no known origins for this ship, Data? Nothing even similar that we can extrapolate from?\" asks Riker.\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Theories,\" Picard asks the bridge at large, never taking his eyes from the viewscreen.\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Are we close enough to establish a communications link, Mr. Data?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Though I cannot say with confidence whether they will be able to read our comms frequencies, Captain.\"\n\n\"Very well, broad band communications then. Lets give them the best chance of understanding us.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nA moment passes as Data configures the communications.\n\n\"Whenever you are ready, Captain.\"\n\n\"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Please respond.\"\n\nThe communications link resolves, audio only.\n\n\"Captain Picard. This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Devastator. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.\"\n\nA stunned silence pervades. Picard signals Data to mute the line.\n\n\"Boarded? Imperial Star Destroyer? Who are these people?\" \n\n\"I don't know, Number One.\"\n\n\"Captain, I believe our only available course of action at this time is to power weapons. I have been studying their shields and they appear to be strong, but not of a typical make. Our phasers should be able to damage or penetrate them. We also have the advantage of maneuverability over the \"\n\n\"Thank you Mr. Worf. What about their weapons?\"\n\n\"We have no point of reference for their power, sir.\"\n\n\"Mr. Data, contact Star Fleet and appraise them of the situation. Do it discretely, we don't have any idea what this Devastator is capable of, and we can't risk them seeing us calling for help.\"\n\n\"Yes, Captain.\"\n\n\"Number one, Counselor Troi, Worf, in my ready room, please.\"\n\nPicard and his officers stand and begin to exit the bridge. Data calls out:\n\n\"Captain, they have launched several smaller vessels. One appears to be a troop carrier and boarding craft, the others appear to be escorts. They will arrive in two minutes and eighteen seconds at current speed.\"\n\n\"Well they have made our decision for us,\" Captain Picard resumes his seat, \"Mr. Worf, power phasers, arm photon torpedoes.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\n\"Mr. Data, accelerate and try to get behind them. I would rather disable this ship than destroy it completely. So far we have had more questions than answers.\"\n\n\"What about the boarding craft?\"\n\n\"Outrun them, Number one. If they pursue we will be forced to take lethal action.\"\n\n\"Weapons ready, Captain.\"\n\n\"Good. Mr. Data, have you been able to pinpoint their shield generators, power systems, and weapons systems?\"\n\n\"It is hard to say, Captain. The design of this vessel is extremely foreign. They appear to be following a different set of scientific principles altogether.\"\n\n\"Your best guess will have to do, Mr. Data. Mr. Worf, target their shield generators first, sustained blasts until we read that they are down.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir\"\n\nThe Enterprise leaps forwards, arcing around the side of the Star Destroyer. As soon as the Devastator detects their powered weapons turbo-laser batteries open fire. Impacts rock the Enterprise, sparks fly and small damages are recorded.\n\n\"Shields down to 78%, Captain.\"\n\n\"Analysis of the blasts show that they are, in fact, laser-based weaponry but capable of a far higher yield than the laser weaponry we are familiar with.\"\n\n\"Maintain course. Mr. Worf, whenever you are ready.\"\n\nPhasers trace brilliant lines across the shield projectors on the Devastator, not enough to bring them down, but enough to make the Imperials nervous. Several flights of TIE Fighters launch and swarm towards the slower Enterprise.\n\n\"Incoming single-seat fighters, Captain.\"\n\n\"Mr. Worf, target the center of mass of the fighters and deploy a photon torpedo set to at timed detonation.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\nMoments later a streak of brilliant light and a high-yield explosion tear through the TIE Fighters, disabling, damaging, and destroying the majority of the fighters. The rest of the flight is cleaned up easily with secondary phasers.\n\n\"Shields at 31%.\"\n\n\"Where are our reinforcements, Mr. Data?\"\n\nA moment later three vessels drop out of warp and begin firing on the Devastator. With multiple targets to contend with the turbo-laser batteries are forced to split fire and the Enterprise limps behind the larger vessel and targets their engines. Moments later the ship is dead in space, but its weapons and fighters were still active. A Federation ship is assigned to cover the launch bays, destroying or disabling any fighters that attempt to launch while the Enterprise and her two companions destroy the individual turbo-laser turrets as Mr. Data concluded that any damage to the power system may result in total obliteration of the Star Destroyer.\n\n---\n\nAnd that's all I have time for folks! Sorry for the rushed and abrupt ending. The plan was to describe the prolonged fight between two-fisted punches combined with several poorly-aimed (except at the critical moment) phaser shots and Storm Troopers not hitting anything (cause Picard-and-crew are the main characters) except the four our five redshirts they bring along with the bridge crew to subdue 10,000 Stormtroopers and 25,000 crew (Casting budget restraints, you know the deal)." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1434584552", "1434562822" ]
	[WP] Hitler is getting tired of time travellers coming to assassinate him, so he travels forward in time to kill the inventor of the time machine, who travels back in time to kill Hitler.	73	[ "Why do I drink? I drink because Hitler killed my father.\n\nNo no no I understand that Hitler offed himself over 300 years ago, it doesn't change the fact that he killed my dad last month.\n\nYou see my dad invented time travel, or at least he thought he did. He raved about it since I was a kid, worked on it every free moment he got. Most kids get blurnsball practice on their Saturday, I got to watch dad research tachyon particles.\n\nSo anyway you know that old hypothetical about what the first thing you'd do if you discovered time travel? Everybody seems to answer that with \"well I'd go kill Hitler, obviously.\" Here's the thing though, my dad was a researcher and a scientist not a hitman. So Pops got a little tipsy during his post-discovery celebration and put word out on the Proto-Silk Road that he'd give people free time travel to kill Hitler. He wakes up the next morning and there's a half mile line down his street of people who want to travel in time, but there's just one problem: who in the hell believes an anonymous internet post about discovering time travel? So dad's got this line of freaks down his road and a promise to keep. He opened up the garage and one by one he let them file in to the time machine with their nunchucks and katanas and tinfoil hats.\n\nHere's where I get a little hazy on the details. So for dad it takes about 4 hours to funnel through this crowd of people and place them wherever they want on Hitler's timeline, for Hitler this is his whole fucking life. As I understand it from the time he was a twinkle in his father's eye Hitler was constantly under threat by mostly harmless if incredibly unstable internet lurkers of the 24th century.\n\nDo you understand how annoying that would be? Do you realize just how insane that would make a person? The lengths to which that person would go in order to make it stop? They would invent time travel just to end the person who was causing it.\n\nSee Hitler only rose to power to gather the resources he needed to put an end to the madness. Once he was in power he started funneling money into tachyon research. By April of 1945 his teams had made a breakthrough and built their own time machine. Realizing the power of the machine Hitler promptly killed anyone who knew about it.\n\nSo ol' Adolf shows in my dad's living room about 6 hours after Dad sent the first responder through and finds Pops taking a nap on the couch. He tortured my father for 29 hours before he killed him with a kitchen knife to the stomach. Before he finished it he made my dad write me a note in his own blood telling me that he died a failure, that everything he had spent his life working on was worthless, and that because of how reckless he had been my family would forever be known as the ones who taught the Nazis to time travel.\n\nI didn't know what was happening till I got called in to identify my dad at the morgue. Turns out Hitler blew up dad's machine, burned his garage, and recalled back to 1945.\n\nThankfully Hitler's machine wasn't fully calibrated and he didn't make it back until April 29th 1945 where he was already under siege. Shortly after he got back power was cut and he had no way to travel away. Trapped and afraid Hitler destroyed his own machine out of spite and offed himself.\n\nSo why do I drink? My father died a failure, because of his actions Hitler learned to time travel hundreds of years before anyone else figured it out. Because of him both time machines were destroyed and no one else has any idea where to start researching. Because of his stupidity his obsession and my childhood were rendered meaningless. I drink because Hitler was right.", "\"Activate...DIE ZIETMASCHINE.\"\n\n\"Yes mein Fuhrer, your will be done.\" One of the SS Officers slammed the red button. The twelve chronoystals began to vibrate, and the underground command center glowed in a phantasmal blue light. \n\nHitler laughed diabolically as the cobalt ball of energy began to consume him, clutching his Luger. \"No longer shall the Reich be plagued by these malicious enemies, these cowardly knives lurking in the shadows. I shall put an end to it! IT IS THE WILL OF THE FUHRER.\"\n\nThe SS Officers, taking shelter behind tables from the hideous wind that had arisen, shouted their assent. Suddenly they were blinded by a electric blue flash. When they raised their eyes again, Hitler was gone.\n\nA voice came over the time-radio. \"I am in the future! Die zietmaschine was a success!\"\n\nThe same SS guard who had pressed the button grabbed the radio. \"Praise be to your genius, Fuhrer. May you hunt down this dog who...\"\n\nThere was another cobalt flash, and the SS officer dropped the radio in surprise. When he looked up, a man was standing in the middle of the command center with an assault rifle.\n\n\"Where's Hitler?\" he asked, pointing the gun.\n\n\"...der Fuhrer is not here right now,\" the SS officer said slowly.\n\n\"I can see that,\" the man said, \"What I want to know is...\" He looked over at the time machine suddenly. \"Oh fuck...who gave you guys chronoystals?\"\n\nOne of the SS guards from the back suddenly walked up to the first guard holding a picture. \"Dietrich, look at this.\" The first guard's eyes widened.\n\n\"You are Eric Fletcher,\" Dietrich said. \"Inventor of die zietmaschine.\" Fletcher nodded. \n\nHitler's voice suddenly came over the time-radio that had been dropped on the floor. \"I have not yet found Eric Fletcher, but I now search his house! This dog will soon tremble before my might!\"\n\nFletcher raised his eyebrows. \"He went forward in time to try to kill me, didn't he?\" The SS Guards had guilty looks.\n\nFletcher rubbed his forehead. \"Honestly, you guys...\"\n\n\"Maybe he doesn't need to come back!\" one of the SS Officers impulsively shouted. Almost immediately he clapped a hand over his mouth. The other SS turned in shock.\n\n\"Hans, what are you saying?\" the first officer asked.\n\n\"Well...\" Hans said cautiously, \"He's kind of a douche.\"\n\nThe other SS Guards' jaws hit the floor, but after carefully looking around, they slowly began to nod. Another spoke up. \"And why does he hate the Jews so much?\"\n\n\"Oh my god, I thought I was the only one!\" said Dietrich. \"Jews this, Jews that? What is with that guy!\"\n\n\"I like Hitler,\" said one of the guards.\n\n\"Shut up Steve, you're a fucking dick.\" said Dietrich.\n\n\"God Steve, just shut up. You're such an idiot,\" said Hans. Steve looked at the ground sadly.\n\nHitler's voice came from the time-radio. \"The coward is not here. He hides from my boot like a mouse from the cat. I am prepared for retrieval. ACTIVATE THE CHRONOYSTALS.\"\n\n\"Who talks like that? Fuck this guy,\" said Dietrich. \"Can we leave him?\"\n\n\"He can stay in the future,\" said Fletcher. \"We'll handle it.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you so much,\" said Hans. The other SS officers nodded gratefully.\n\nThe time-radio blared again. \"ACTIVATE THE CHRONOYSTALS, YOUR FUHRER GROWS MOST IMPATIE...\" Dietrich turned down the volume and shook Fletchers hand.\n\n\"Make sure it's painful,\" he said.\n\nFletcher laughed. \"Oh, don't worry. We're totally going to fuck him up.\"\n\n\"Fuck this...up?\"\n\n\"Future expression, don't worry about it.\" Fletcher pulled out his radio. \"This is Fletcher, prepared for extraction.\" He waved, and then disappeared in a final cobalt flash.\n\nHans turned to Dietrich. \"What now?\" There was the muffled explosion of a Soviet bomb in the distance. \n\n\"We should probably tell them the war is off,\" said Dietrich.\n\n\"And release the Jews!\" said one of the other officers.\n\n\"Oh my god, yes, we must release the Jews at once!\" The SS officers scurried off. \n", "\"I have traveled from the future to assassinate you for crimes you will commit against humanity, Adolf Hitler.\"\n\n\"Another one? These are getting more common by the day, it seems like. Well, let's get this over with.\"\n\nThe assassin, either a very strictly adherent rabbi or someone who thought it would be funny to kill Hitler dressed as a rabbi, didn't speak German and had no clue what Hitler said. Without missing a beat, he drew his unidentifiable futuristic weapon, pointed it at Hitler, and pulled the trigger. The instant Hitler was killed, the time traveler had created the classic paradox of going back in time to do a specific thing, which then leads to there being no reason to go back in time in the future, which leads to the reason for going back unfulfilled, and so on. What most people don't realize is that creating such a paradox doesn't implode the universe or cause a black hole to form. You see, the universe has a simple fix for such paradoxical events: it moves time back. So, as Hitler was killed, the universe moved time backward a few instants, but this time the time traveling murderous rabbi or rabbi impersonator disappeared in a puff of smoke. Perhaps the universe erased him from ever existing. Perhaps it teleported him to a far-away Galaxy. Perhaps it moved him further in time to the dinosaurs or something. The specifics really aren't important\n\nHitler, of course, had no idea any of this was happening, all he knew was that several times a day people would travel back in time, try to kill him, then disappear in a puff of smoke. It was really nothing more than a mild annoyance, but Hitler had better things to be doing.\n\nSo, sometime later when he was already Chancellor, he decided to put an end to the mild annoyance of inevitably failing time travel assassination attempts. The best plan he could think of (and you have to remember he was already busy fighting a war and trying to commit genicide and he was being interrupted every so often by time traveling assassins) was to steal one of their time machines and travel forward in time to when the time machine was invented and stop the inventor from inventing it.\n\nSo, inevitably, another assassin came, but this time the gestapo grabbed him before he could be disposed of by the universe for creating a paradox and was interrogated for the following pieces of information: where his time machine currently was, when the time machine was invented, and what events in the future were a must-see for a 1940s political leader. The man surrendered the first two pieces of information, but refused to help Hitler seek any enjoyment in his time traveling quest, so he did not give up the third.\n\nSatisfied with the interrogation, Hitler, not wanting to pass up on the opputunity to travel forward in time, went to the time right before the invention of the time machine himself instead of sending a proxy. Once there, he killed the inventor, but unknowingly gave a lab assistant the idea to finish his mentor's project, thus making him the new creator of the time machine. Hitler then went back in time to right after the time he left, feeling accomplished.\n\nThe man now known as the inventor of the time machine (formerly known as the lab assistant of the man who invented the time machine) decided that Hitler would inevitably realize that the time machine had still been invented at essentiLly the same time and would most likely travel into the future to kill him (the new inventor), so he had no choice but to travel back in time to kill Hitler.\n\nUnfortunately, he did not have as strong a grasp of the entire concept as the former inventor, so he did not realize that by doing so he would create a paradox. He did, however, have a great since of humor and decided that it would be funny to kill Hitler dressed as a rabbi.\n", "I felt him coming a moment before he arrived of course; I was the one who solved The Equation, and no one understands it like I do. I was ready. Linda, bless her, was babbling as usual, but there was no time (ironic, right?) and so I pushed her rudely into the doorway of a department store and shouted, \"Stay!\"\n\nI'd catch hell about that later, if there was a later.\n\nHe emerged about fifteen feet up the sidewalk, saw me and his face was all hate. I had expected to laugh at the mustache, the haircut -- he has become more of a caricature than a man -- but in the moment I could not find anything funny. There was nothing human about his mad lurch, as if every cell that made up the organism called Adolf Hitler wanted me murdered.\n\nI had not bothered to learn German, and it was clear from his tone that whatever he said, it wasn't flattery, \"Deine Oma masturbiert im stehen! Deine Mutter geht in der Stadt huren! Zerspringen!\"\n\nI wondered for a moment at the elaborate chain of events, of timestream dilations, that must have occurred to bring him The Equation. The very first thing the very first person I showed it to tried to do was go back in time and kill Hitler, which resulted in a kind of bubbling. Earthquakes, floods, still a Hitler though. No one ever learned. They kept trying. Almost broke the world a few times, until me and a few other like-minded souls put a stop to it.\n\nNow he was here, and he had the Knowledge, and he wanted my blood. Well, I maybe used to be a theoretical physicist, but a deep understanding of spacetime and a few thousand years of subjective time spent in places between spaces had made me something else. I dropped into the Material stance. Solid and connected to the earth and the moment, grounded in time. Low, legs spread, arms out. I could punch him out of space and time themselves from a position of such strength.\n\nExcept... Hitler's mad, animalistic charge halted and he stepped into the Relative stance. Tall and long and leaning back, undulating hands in front of him like a snake-charmer's dance. For the first time, I felt afraid, really afraid.\n\nI said, \"Who taught you the Time Kata?\"\n\nAnd in broken, but intelligible English, Adolf Hitler said, \"You. Did.\"\n\nAnd he came at me.\n\nI struck hard and time seemed to freeze around me; Linda half-rising with a dawning confusion on her face, the drivers and their cars, a bird in the air above. Everything was anchored in my stance and my will except for my enemy, who came on. He was still five feet away when, ten seconds before I had even assumed my stance, he punched me from behind. Linda was still on the steps, the bird was not visible. Not only did he know the forms, but he was skilled.\n\nI changed to the Correspondence stance, and I lashed out with blows too fast for the naked eye to see, and they struck all about me. Windows shattered, cars were tossed aside and chunks of brick and building material filled the air.\n\nAnd five seconds before that, Hitler was going for Linda, going for the woman I had loved, and then hated, and then resigned myself to and finally come to love again. Before I had pushed her away to safety, Hitler was there, driving a ridgehand toward her throat.\n\n\"NO!\"\n\nI had never used the Kata in anger. In theory it was not possible to do the mental math, to comprehend all the possibilities and to make the complex movements in anything but serenity, but I did. It stopped being something separate from me, and became a part of me, like an arm.\n\nLike a dog shaking its fur dry I shrugged harsh and time sloughed off around me, I stepped outside it, and back to when Hitler had first emerged on the sidewalk. When he did, I was behind him, and I struck him with a double-fisted blow that broke his spine in two places. And then he emerged differently and deflected my blow with his shin, lashing out in a sidekick. I sidestepped it, but space bent and it struck me in the head hard enough to crack stone. I was seeing stars, but also seeing his hand perilously close to Linda's throat, and so I charged him, football tackle style, and when I hit him I poured all my rage and all my calculations into it, and we fell.\n\nIn the place which was simultaneously everything and nothing, we fought. He struck at me across time, and injuries befell me throughout my history. I was crippled as a child, sickly as a teenager. Broken again and again and each time it left scars of my body. But at the same time I struck him, breaking his hands before he ever learned to paint, crushing his throat and giving him a raspy voice that no man would follow, striking.\n\nThe aftershocks we created echoed throughout time. People died. Species went extinct. The earth groaned and heaved. Tsunamis and earthquakes swept throughout history, altering time forever. My final blow, struck with a hand full of broken bones attached to a ravaged body, struck Hitler my enemy straight through the moment he was born, and the force of my strike blew apart that time completely, destroying the Braunau am Inn in Austria and everything for fifty miles around it in an explosion of pure white light.\n\nThe injuries i had collected throughout my personal timeline were upon me then though, and as i lay in the crater I breathed wetly and looked up the stars. I had killed Hitler, surely that was something worth dying for. I closed my eyes and...\n\nSuddenly it all made sense. I had spent years studying the math, which written out consumed three entire walls of my lab, and finally in a blast of intuition, I came to comprehend. It was it, The Equation, the theory of everything! As I studied it, I came to realize the ramifications, realize that anything was possible. You could gaze through time, gather unlimited energy... you could fix everything!\n\nI turned to my TA Abraham and said, \"Do you see it?\"\n\nHe was nodding, almost feverish looking. He said, \"With this... we could do anything. Travel through time even.\"\n\nAnd I saw that he was right. I laughed then, the laugh of a man victorious over something that had longed troubled him, and said, \"Let's go have a few pints in celebration, then go back in time and kill Hitler.\"\n\nI laughed again, but Abraham didn't and we had some pints. I went home to Linda and we had a big fight because she was still mad about the affair. Abraham went and did his own thing, and then things started getting interesting." ]	[ 3, 5, 11, 15 ]	[ "1434689871", "1434693688", "1434688324", "1434686588" ]
	[WP] You sit there and judge us? What the fuck could we have done any differently? You would have done the same thing.	13	[ "\"You sit there and judge us? God mom you would of smoked weed too if it was offered by Conor, like he's so hot. What the fuck mom!? I could of been like 'No my mom would be so mad at me if she found out.' Then he would of thought that I was not his type! You would of done the same thing, or maybe you wouldn't of. You're such a square, that's probably why dad killed himself. \"\n\nI sat there and took all of her bratty abuse, until she mentioned her father. \"Don't you ever mention your father in that tone. You don't deserve to talk about your father like that. He killed himself because he had been dealing with depression for 15 years. On top of that the day before he did it... he got diagnosed with cancer. It sent him over the edge you know that!\" She was stunned, she had never seen me snap like I did. She was being a brat she didn't understand and on top of that she had no father to help me decide what to do.\n\n\"Just go to your room until dinner.\" I said this through tears, I needed some time alone.", "Jim Bridger told us it would be smooth sailing, none of em Injuns, snows, and there'd be water aplenty. That lying bastard can rot in hell as far as I'm concerned. \n\nBryant knew. He wrote me back when we were still in Fort Britcher, but the bastard hid the letters, warning me to turn around and go another way. \n\nWe followed Hasting's cutoff, but on the sixth of August, he wrote us telling us the way was closed. Reed, Charlie and Bill went to go get him, and you know, they had to move literal mountains to get him back. We had to cut down trees, move boulders, and clear brush just to crawl through the Wasach. We were running out of food, and some of the men started cutting up there horses and eating them. No reason not to, horses are no use when you don't have field. \n\nLuke Halloran was the first to die, of a cough. It was the 8th of August, God bless his poor soul. \n\nWhen we finally got through the mountains, and let me tell you, it was a day and a half of walking with no food and water. When we finally got through the mountains, the only thing we saw was the Ocean, miles and miles of salt and sand, and you can see nothing else until the horizon. \n\nBut what were we gonna do. We couldn't go back. There was only forward. So we walked. Some of the animals just laid down and died. Reed lost half of his oxen, and we ran out of water after three days of wandering through the desert. \n\nWe finally found some springs, and we drank up damn near all of it. Then we looked on and it was the same. Just endless desert. \n\nWhen we finally made it, we were raided a band of Injuns. John Snyder picked a fight with Reed, so Reed stabbed the man in the heart. He tells me it was self-defense. Well, the other folks didn't see it that way. They didn't like Reed, so they sent him off, all alone in the desert. \n\nWhen we finally got to the mountains, we lost damn near all of our cattle, all of our horses, and most of our rations. But we knew we had to get through the mountains before winter hit. We made it up the first mountain, damn near straight up a thousand feet, and we found an old cabin left by previous settles, right by a lake. \n\nThat's when winter came. \n\nThe snows fell for eight days. Some of the men stayed in bed, dying of starvation. Those that could, caught rats to feed their youngest. We ate the leather on our wagons, on our roofs, and on our backs. \n\nEddie and Stanton, brought sixteen of their men, in hopes of finding their way out of the storm, and maybe find some food. We found their bodies the next week. \n\nDolan was the first one to suggest it. Some wanted to fight, to duel, some wanted a lottery, it was only fair to the weak. But the men fell fast, Antonio was the first to go, and Graves was the second. Then Dolan himself, Murphy. \n\nEddy, Luis and Salvadore, refused to eat at first, but Eddy gave in after a day, and killed Luis and Salvadore for food. And.. Andd...\n\nReed, Reed, he found his way out but he was too late. And he couldn't get through the mountains. \n\nWhen he found us, the snows had melted, and the first thing he saw was Ms. Graves lying in the snow, with what was left of her children.\n\nThere were 87. Now there are 48.\n\n", "Silent. Everything is silent for an hour. Milk cartons are sprawled all over the place and I'm drenched in milk~~---~~ everything is completely soaked in dairy. The suspect? Nowhere to be seen, but he made sure to spare mercy on my dog. I finish my last bowl of cereal. I reluctantly let go of my spoon and I reach for the soggy cereal box until a loud bang bulldozered my door open. \n\n\"We're out of milk.\" George, my brother, speaks in a brittle baritone, ashen-faced and grimacing as he walked into the kitchen. He groaned in disgust. He's lactose intolerant and, yes, he just took a shower. He took the seat across me and I stare at him.\n\nI stare at him hard. I'd tell him never to mention it again. They might hear us~~---~~ I know they're still watching us. \n\n\"They won't come back.\" \n\n\"They will. I hear them. They're waiting for me to make the same mistake!\"\n\nGeorge sighed because I'm right. I always have been. An hour before this whole mess, I got into an argument. Well, no, not really. Nothing was settled. It was my bestfriend, Kayla. And she strongly believed that people who put their milk in their cereal first are idiots~~---~~ no, morons was what she said. After that, three white-clad men jumped into my house by my now broken window, covered everything in milk, and took her with them. \n\nThey took Kayla. She sat there and judged them. Not everyone can be conscious at five in the morning and judging people for the way they eat their cereal is stupid. Not everyone is perfect. \n\n So, I sat there. I waited. No matter how much I tried to defend my opinion, they will come for me.\n\n\"There's no use crying over spillied milk unless your tears are chocolate syrup.\" \n\n[ This is my first time doing this thing. Be gentle, please! ]" ]	[ 2, 3, 8 ]	[ "1434747642", "1434753029", "1434750193" ]
	[WP]After years of research, a young man has finally found a miracle drug, curing Aids, Ebola and cancer, and is about to reveal the discovery to the rest of the world. The young man is Kim Jong-un.	2	[ "Removed, it's a copy-cat of [this prompt](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3agf0s/wp_kim_jongun_claims_to_have_cured_aids_ebola_and/)", "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\nCopy-cat prompts (taking a recent prompt and changing only a small detail) are not allowed. \n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators.\n\n---\n\n[Link to the removed post](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3agki9/wpafter_years_of_research_a_young_man_has_finally/)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1434760229", "1434760361" ]
	[WP] Waiting for your train, a homeless man is trying to desperately tell you something very important, but all he says sounds like total gibberish.	15	[ "You will meet a woman, \n\nCast in smoke, \n\nVeiled in dust.\n\nShe will tell you how to live,\n\nHow to die, \n\nHow to rust. \n\nWe will all rust, \n\nwe are machines of mother earth.\n\nWe will all die one day,\n\nWe will all rust. \n\n\nBret turned from the homeless man,\n\nStepped onto his train,\n\nDidn't understand the prophesy,\n\nHe was a bit too vain,\n\nWhen the train began to sing,\n\nWhen the tracks began to burn,\n\nWhen he saw an angel coming, \n\nWhispering, \"It's your turn.\" ", "My foot sounds loudly upon the concrete in these hollow halls, a rhythmic tapping echoing out as my impatience shows itself in bad habits. My fingers keep the pace on my outer thigh until a firm grip on my shoulder startles me. Here in this nigh empty terminal waiting for red-eye, I hadn't expected anyone to come within ten feet or more of me, let alone place their hand upon me. Quickly I turned to face the culprit responsible for violating my personal space with a mixture of anger and surprise carried on my brow. The man, equally flummoxed, detached himself from my person and staggers backwards with a look akin to fear on his face.\n\n“Can I help you?” I asked the haggard man only to find that he spoke no language that I know. “I'm sorry, I believe you have the wrong person.”\n\nLowering himself and slowly backing away, I felt pity for the man dressed in tattered clothing emanating a smell not far removed from that of death itself. I tried my best to maintain composure as he shrunk away from me though I couldn't help but feel guilty for my initial reaction. Elsewhere in my mind, I attempted to reason that he had grabbed me without my knowledge or consent and such a reaction was perfectly sound. It could've went much more poorly after all, had I been a lesser man. I hung upon that phrase for a moment, a lesser man. Was that what I was looking at before me? What events, what choices, had separated our paths? Could I not as easily be in his place and he in mine? The thought troubled me and I attempted to rid myself of it to no avail.\n\nSufficiently brow-beaten by my own conscience, I relented and sought the man who had left my sight as I mulled over these thoughts. As I rounded the corner, I found him once again. He backed away, mumbling meaningless noises resembling words as I drew closer. A trembling arm stuck out as he fell down and continued to crawl away, never turning his back to me. This continued for several feet as the other few patrons took notice and began to voice a reasonable concern at this sight. The man collided with a newspaper dispenser, surrounded by all manner of paper, news or otherwise. I noticed that many of these had writing upon them, writing that I could almost make out. It was familiar in a way.\n\nWhat stood out most among the pile was a photograph. A single photograph of a family, worn from what seemed like years of the oily residue of fingers glossing its surface. It was the cleanest item among these and the most curious as well. Without another word, almost instinctively, I reached into my own pockets and withdrew my wallet. With trembling fingers, I withdrew that very same picture and it was then that I knew.\n\n-174", "It was Leo's day off and he'd just left work and was sick of working overtime. He thought about his ex-wife Taylor and his kids. He felt a lot of weight on himself. It was as though he was in a constant downfall. He needed to pull up somehow. The only thing he thought he could do to have fun is go to sleep. He had a bible he'd been looking over and a refrigerator with nothing but peanut butter and jelly and some Coca-Cola. Upon leaving the train he heard a homeless man singing. It sounded nice and melancholy. He gave the homeless man a twenty dollar bill and he started rambling on and on about nonsensical things. Deep inside, Leo knew what he was really saying. He was talking about Leo's horribly depressing life.\n\nAs Leo got home he turned on a bright white light and looked at a picture of his family. It hurt his feelings a lot and it made his heart ache. He started to cry nonstop about his job, his wicked life, and his inability to feel good. He'd give anything to reverse time. If only he could be with his wife again. He laughed and cried at the same time. Then he laughed. Then he cried. He started to reorganize his house.\n\nThere was a desire inside to reignite his love with Taylor. The homeless man had really changed him in many ways. He decided he was going to quit his job and go after Taylor again. This time he was going to do things right. He went to meet with Taylor and they talked. Slowly but surely he got his life back in working order. They hugged and kissed until everything was healed and everything was good.", "Covered in soot and grime, a brown-skinned and slim man made his way over to Henry, mumbling something beneath his breath. Henry glanced at the man and back to the train tracks, hoping it would somehow be early for the first time in two decades. He smelled the man approach nearer, a strong and musty odor. Turning his head, he nodded to the man. \n\nThe man looked like he was well-dressed once, wearing a button-up white shirt and black slacks, though both were now dirty beyond belief. He looked at Henry with wide eyes and spoke in a quick whisper. \n\n\"What?\" Henry asked. He quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill he had gotten as change from the Chevron. He held it out. \"Here.\" \n\nThe man stared at the dollar then back to Henry and whispered something again. \n\nHenry blinked and stepped away from the man, towards the tracks. \n\n\"They want me to kill him.\" The man's voice was barely audible. \"They want him dead.\" \n\nHenry turned just in time to see the man's arms extend out and push against his chest. Falling backwards onto the track, the feeling of weightlessness hit for a brief moment before smashing onto the rails. Henry felt a pang of pain in his back and immediate fear. The man took off running and Henry watched from the cold steel. \n\nSlowly getting to his knees, Henry looked up at the crowd of people gathered by the tracks, just standing and watching him. One of the men jumped down and helped him up the platform. \n\nRubbing his back, Henry stood near the back of the crowd, waiting for his train. ", "Jude tapped his gun, just to be sure it was there.\n\n\"Look you old koot, I said drop it! Leave me alone!\"\n\nThe man in rags threw his arms out wide, \"Rob is coming fly by wheels today! Bear in the holster!\" \n\n\"What the hell does that mean?!\"\n\nHe pointed at Jude's belt. Not at the gun, but at the badge concealed under his jacket. Jude tucked it away out of sight. Nobody likes a law man.\n\n\"I'm not working today. Find someone else, I need to get on the train.\" \n\nHe put his arms on both my shoulders and let loose a torrent of word salad. They were words, but none of them made any sense.\n\n\"The trains leaving, I've gotta go... hey!\"\n\nHe grabbed Jude and walked him behind the caboose, opened the door, and threw me inside. He caught the wall to keep from stumbling over, then turned back just in time to catch a thing the old bum hurled at him. It was a shotgun. Next a bandolier with shells. \n\n\"Rob is coming!\" he said, \"The bears know nothing, save the children.\" \n\nThe train started moving, and Jude didn't have anything to say. Jude watched the old bum disappear through the window. \n\nNext a sinister voice came from two cars up, \"We're takin this here train, everybody put your valuables on the table nice and slow.\" \n\nJude blinked, then looked down at the shotgun.\n\n\"I guess I am working today.\" \n\nHe loaded a shell in and pumped it. ", "Listen, all you proud and worldly people, listen to the tale of Charberus the Drunk. Heed my warnings so that you may heed his. The gods hate nothing more than hubris, and so they created Charberus. If you saw him on your way back home today, you'd walk across the street. He stinks, he's a gutter rat, he's a rambler and a crazy. And no matter who you are, no matter what your walk of life, Charberus is the most important messenger you'll ever meet.\n\nHe was stationed by Zeus on the platform of the train of death. He stands there rain or shine, seeing the doomed depart. With reeking breath and bloodshot eyes, he approaches all those pale travelers, and warns them off the train. \"Disembark!\" he shouts. \"This will be your final voyage!\" But will you heed his warning? Will you heed his call? No-one does and no-one will.\n\nHe's Cassandra's brother. He speaks the words of eternal life, and all you'd have to do is miss one train ride to hear him out. He tells them to you freely, he does not begrudge you the truth and the light. But look at the high and mighty, see how they scorn him. They turn up their noses, they toss their hair with a humph. They won't toss him a penny, yea, they're saving their money for Charon!\n\nAs the shadowy conductor gives that dreadful whistle, watch how frantically Charberus tries to help. He runs along the train, he beats on the car windows. \"Get out!\" he hollers, he does all this for the very folks who sneered at him. Look how the proud and the wealthy hide their faces in their newspapers, they don't want to meet that poor man's eyes. If only they knew, it's the last human gaze they ever will see!\n\nOnce every other millenium, a solitary kind soul stops and listens. Nine out of ten of these makes an excuse to break away and jump in the car before it takes off, it doesn't matter what Charberus says. But one out of ten of these, which is about once every twenty thousand years, makes the decision to miss their train to stand with Charberus and talk. Then the dust falls off of Charberus, and he's revealed for what he truly is, a demigod with gleaming face. And then that saintly soul, who stopped to talk to a drunken old beggar, is allowed to exchange his train ticket. Yea, beneath that rotting old trenchcoat, in the pocket where he keeps that pint of vodka, Charberus has got tickets to Valhalla! He gives them generously, all you've gotta do is ask.\n\nAnd yet, as sure as night breeds day, I tell these words in vain. The gods are a cynical lot, they know what they're doing. If there were ever a chance mankind might evolve beyond hubris, they'd remove Charberus for certain. 'Til then, he stands there solemnly, belching with his beer breath, a slothful brother of Sisyphus." ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 9 ]	[ "1434859628", "1435116341", "1434835516", "1434835856", "1434835945", "1434836147" ]
	[WP] One night, monsters start spawning Minecraft style in your neighborhood. Thing is, their behavior is exactly the same as the game AI. Describe the night.	4	[ "I look at my daughter nervously. \n\"What's going on, Dad?\" she asks. \n\"Nothing, hon,\" I reply.\nOutside, I see a sight that chills my blood. Creepers. Hundreds of them, milling about. Minecraft had been my obsession for many months, and I knew what creepers did. I knew what creepers were capable of. I didn't have a diamond sword this time. How could I destroy them?\n\nI peered at my window. A few zombies were stalking my house. I was armed with a shot-gun, so I figured I would give it a shot. I pulled out my shot-gun, aimed it at the head of the nearest zombie, and pulled the trigger. The zombie exploded. I guess real-life weapons did work. \n\nMy spirit was lifted as I realized I could fight these monsters. I also knew that wandering anywhere near a creeper would spell certain death, so I did not give a warrior's shout and leap out the window to my certain doom. I told my daughter to stay away from windows and I waited. It wouldn't do if any creepers were attracted to the house. When day came, I would go out and find supplies. If a war was to be waged, I would need to be prepared. \n\nAs I wait, an arrow hits our house, splitting instantly. I look up in shock to see a Skeleton standing near a tree at the front of my house. I instantly grab my shot-gun, pull open the window, and take the Skeleton out with a blast to its ghastly face. My daughter screams, and I hold her tight. \n\n\"It'll be alright,\" I say, hesitantly. The mobs are here. Everything I've ever fought in Minecraft in my diamond armor with confidence is now here, right now. But losing in this world does not mean respawning. It means death. I think, terrified, about all of the hours I'd spent in the game, never imagining how horrifying Minecraft mobs could be in the real world. I hold back the urge to cry, and think about what to do next. \n\nI look up in time to see a creeper staring at me through the window. \n \n\n", "It was an ordinary night, with oil-like darkness that seemed to lap up whatever spaces the light failed to cover, slipping its way into the narrow cracks in the bright urban setting. A skeletal hand popped out of one of these cracks, an existence that seemed to defy every scientific law and basis humanity had formed over the many years. It began wandering around right after coming out, as if it was the most natural thing to do. \n\nIt stumbled and tripped, impaling itself upon one of the magical arrows it seemed to draw out of an invisible quiver. It's bones collapsed into a dirty pile of, well, bones. They seemed bleached in their unnatural whiteness but of course, when a woman finally spotted its remnants, her reaction was to shriek rather than comment on their beauty.\n\nOther skeletons slowly began emerging, along with other fabled creatures of the night. Grotesque abominations with bodies that seemed to fit a proportion only in the craziest of minds, rotting zombies who seemed to emerge from the bottom of a toilet bowl at a Sichuan restaurant with their smell-nullifying odor, even odd green creatures who seemed like they were about to explode. \n\nAt this moment, a certain blonde boy was sound asleep, with cute snores that seemed borne from a cat rather than the adolescent that he was. His body was ordinary for his age, with no particular outstanding points. His arms were thin, his legs were thin, his thighs were thin. I think you get the idea. It was in the dead of night, when the world had finally fallen half asleep in this dense urban hub, that his eyelids pulled apart like the opening of a rift, revealing the shit-brown eyes that laid beneath.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThere was a light tapping on my window. Tnk. Tnk. It resounded gently throughout my room, echoing and ricocheting back in ever softer ways as it hit the various walls of my room. I peeled back my blanket swiftly, rushing to the window to yell at whoever was pulling such a silly prank in the middle of the night. Of course, all I was really thinking at that moment was how afraid I would be if it were someone more sinister than a simple prankster.\n\nWhat greeted me at that window was not what I had expected. It was a bony skull, its head seemingly bleached and dried in the Sun for years, lending it a repulsive look through its peculiar shade of white. There was something about its mouth, that seemed to make it seem as though it was constantly grinning maliciously. It drew up a bow. \n\nWHAT'S HAPPENING?\n\nThat was the only thought I held as I barely dodged the arrow that penetrated the glass window with all the grace of a dancing hippo. It was already preparing its next shot! \n\nNow, while I'd like to say that a logical and cool person would have taken the arrow or something to stab the skeleton, I did what any sane person would have. I hid below my bed.\n\nThe skeleton fired an unceasing barrage of arrows at me through the window, but its countless misses made me question how it ever managed to hit the window in the first place. Arrows were practically littered around me, in such quantities you'd think that they were being given away as freebies at some corporate promotion. Instead, it was just me being put in a LIFE THREATENING SITUATION.\n\nThe clock ticked in the background, with ever tick seeming ever louder, as if odd church bells were already tolling in preparation for my death. I rolled up into a barrel at the furthest corner of my bed, whining and crying for a savior, for anyone to help me. Even a girl would be fine, though I had already soaked my pants in piss. \n\nI don't know how long it was, but I woke up in the morning to broken glass and even more arrows. The skeleton I had seen the night before had vanished, as though I had managed to punch the window and pull out arrows out my backside to throw on the floor in a schizophrenic fit. All that was left was an ominous pile of bones. The birds chirped a cheerful little tune, singing a perfect melody with its compatriots to add to the gleeful atmosphere the world seemed to bask in in the early morning, before humans got up. I pouted and went back to sleep. Stupid birds and their songs." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1434907019", "1434907855" ]
	[WP] Trial by combat has been reinstated. The strength of your opponent is decided by the severity of your crime.	4	[ "They caught me stealing a pencil. Not a big crime. Nowadays we use trial by combat to settle everything; the strength of my opponent is decided by the severity of the crime. Since it wasn't a big crime, they put in a baby to be my opponent. \n\nFor trial by combat.\n\nAs I slew it, I wondered:\n\nWhat the hell did the baby do to deserve this? ", "Two guards stand in front of a cast iron gate. A man puts his dirt covered face right up against the bars. There's cheering in the background.\n\n\"Uhm excuse me\"\n\nThe guards keep looking straight ahead.\n\n\"Is there like an administrator or someone I could talk to\"\n\nThe guards are unmoved.\n\n\"Maybe like a customer support type thing?\"\n\nThe prisoner reaches through the bars and tugs on the guards sleeve. The guard turns and glares at the prisoner. The prisoner brings his hand back.\n\n\"You know what I'll just talk to you and hope that my circumstances spur you to action\"\n\nThe prisoner turns his head left and right while still pressed up against the bars. Neither guard is responsive.\n\n\"You know I was kind of on board with this whole trial by combat thing making a come back. A lot of people weren't but I was am. I mean am. I am on board it's just\"\n\nThe prisoner pauses.\n\n\"It's just I think there might have been a mix up in my case because well. I mean look at my opponent\"\n\nThere's an animalistic roar back behind the prisoner. He turns\n\n\"Coming\"\n\nHe turns back to the guards.\n\n\"Are you…did you look? You…you didn't look did you…or did you?\"\n\nNeither guard responds.\n\n\"Ok you probably didn't but still you heard him. He's a big, big guy. Lot's pectorals and deltoids and the leg ones, the uh…the uh…\"\n\nOne guard half turns his head\n\n\"Hamstrings\"\n\nThe one guard looks at the guard who just spoke. The guard who spoke snaps to attention. The other guard slowly stands back to attention.\n\n\"Right hamstrings. And also covered in military tattoos. And not just our army, like four different ones. I mean I think one of them is the salvation army but still that's like three killing people armies\"\n\nThe prisoner looks left and right looking for a response. There is none.\n\n\"And did you see his sword. It's big, it's starts on fire, I'm fairly certain it's a chainsaw. I don't even know why, that probably just makes it less effective. I don't even know where he store's the gas\"\n\nThe prisoner waits for a response.\n\n\"Look the point is, this is the guy you break out for like murder, or treason or changing lanes without signalling am I right\"\n\nThe prisoner grins and looks back and forth.\n\n\"Am I right, huh, huh. This guy knows\"\n\nThere's an awkward silence.\n\n\"All I'm saying is, this guy is a heavy hitter and I'm here jaywalked. At worst I should be getting like my high school bully, not Rambo spliced with a shark\"\n\nPause\n\n\"You guy's aren't going to help me are you? Hey that's cool, I'm just going to take this\"\n\nThe prisoner grabs a handgun from one of the guards and walks away from the gate. There's the animalistic roar and then a gun shot, then more of a whimpering.\n\nThe prisoner comes back covered in blood. He pulls open the gate and tosses the gun back to the guard as he walks away. The guard awkwardly grabs the gun with both hands.\n\n\"Great to see the system works\"\n" ]	[ 1, 8 ]	[ "1435145586", "1435102426" ]
	[WP] A man in dirty robes enters the hall and rather harshly asks the king to uphold his promise. As his advisor you ask the stranger who he thinks he is to command a king. To your surprise you are interrupted by a very pale looking king.	10	[ "\"That's it you rat tailed piece of garbage. I upheld my end of the bargain- I let the people think you were calling the shots for four years. Now you can pay up.\"\n\nWho the hell did this man think he was? Certainly no peasant should be addressing the King in such a way. Dirty, tattered robes, greasy hair - This man looked like bathing was a foreign concept.\n\n\"I don't know who you think you're talking to, sir, but I certainly hope you learn some man-OAF\"\n\nThe shock of a full breath of air being forced from your lungs with a slap to the sternum was one that someone could never fully describe, yet never quite forget. This was the feeling I experienced when the Kings elbowed slammed into my chest. \n\n\"Sah-\" I tried to speak to him, but it seemed as though my lungs did not want to refill quite yet. Taking in a deep, labored breath, I looked with wild eyes to my lord. \"Sire, what are you thinking?\" Glancing over to my king, I could feel my eyes go wide with shock. \"Sire?\"\n\nHe looked ill. Face pale, eyes wide with fright, I had never seen my king like this before. My king, who had road into battle to save some mere infantrymen. My sire, who personally visited the grieving family for every death within his capitol. My lord, who looked the Mongols in the eye, put his best foot forward, and shouted \"You shalt not take my people!\" He was scared.\n\nI looked back at this tattered man with a new look of mixed disgust and fear. Who was it that could terrify my lord so much?\n\n\"Don't you dare forget who runs this show, George.\" I glanced at my king again, hoping to see a sliver of the man I'd come to know, and instead I saw tears welling in his eyes.\n\n\"O-Of course not, Cheney. Come, take a seat.\"", "\"You dirty ruffian! How dare you barge in the throne room and show such disrespect towards the king? If you don't leave immediately I'll be-\"\n\n\"Stop it.\"\n\n\"My lord?\" I said turning towards my king. To my surprise he didn't seem angry at all. No... my king... His face was as pale as a ghost, he looked much older, and his whole body was shaking in fear. I could feel a sudden sense of dread coming from him.\n\nThe dirty man just stood there, with a determined look in his eyes, with muddy footsteps behind. We might have to change the red carpets after this.\n\n\"So? Are you going to live up to the end of your bargain?\" the intruder asked again. I took a cursory glance towards him. There was something familiar about this man... No... it can't be... And yet, my eyes widened in disbelief. The man standing in front of us resembled the spitting image of the king. I looked at him, waiting for a response. He was hesitating.\n\n\"I-... I will.\" the king said in a low tone. \"I'm sure you remember where the guest room is. Make yourself at home, brother.\"\n\n\"Thank you mylord.\" he said with a grin. \"I will.\", and he left just as quick as he entered.\n\n\"And you should leave too.\" my king said looking at me. He wasn't looking as pale anymore, but he was still shaking a little bit, \"I need some time to think.\"\n\n\"As you wish, my lord.\" I said reverently.\n\n\"He was supposed to be dead...\" I heard him say just as I closed the door.", "The stranger steps into the hall, \nDisheveled, dirty, and shouting \nMy liege, you must obey the call! \n\n\nWho are you to command a king? \nThe anger in my voice is clear \nMy liege's hand, bedecked with rings \n\n\nCalls for silence, and I adhere \nShaking, he turns and faces me \nAnd speaks through overwhelming fear \n\n\nThere's nothing to be done, you see \nKing or peasant, or knight or dame \nI am at this stranger's mercy \n\n\nFrom gutters to the heights of fame \nDeath comes for every man the same\n" ]	[ 3, 5, 20 ]	[ "1435171094", "1435171325", "1435171170" ]
	[WP] - A new drug appears on the black market. It dilates time in the physical world so that a minute feels like an hour, but users process thoughts at normal speed.	17	[ "It was easy, really.\n\nI popped a pill in my mouth, and just began hitting each chapter taking notes as I read through. The pill really is as good as they say it is; everything sort of slows down, and the world takes on a new clarity.\n\nMy handwriting movements were a bit sluggish to respond to my thoughts, but it didn't matter - I still aced that exam with only two hours of cramming in the morning.\n\nIt's good for recreational use too. My friend and I had one of the most epic fights of our life, both of us just being dorks who'd never thrown a punch in their lives - transformed into warriors, as he threw a punch but I saw it coming and ducked underneath with enough time to counter with a kick to the groin, which he jumped over with a flying kick to the face, which I had ample time to duck under...and so forth.\n\nWe were sore as hell after it, but the video replay of the event became an instant youtube hit. It was like we were playing lightning chess with our limbs.\n\nComing off it is a bit rough. Everything gets a little louder and chaotic, in a jumpy kind of way, and you feel pretty tired for another day or so. Some people like to sleep through their fatigue whilst up on the pill, but that only postpones the massive headache. Still, nothing an aspirin can't fix.\n\nAnd it's all worth it:\n\nA life where you don't have to spend every hour of your day at work, or sleeping, or worrying about meeting deadlines, or wasting time getting from place to place, or worrying that a conversation is going on too long. \n\nA life where you can stretch out that beautiful five-minute morning stretch after your alarm goes off, or increase the time spent together with your loved ones.\n\nYour time is yours, and a day is just another lifetime of freedom and oppurtunity.", "So I interpreted this as one minute feels like an hour for the user and they think at that rate, sorry if I misinterpreted your prompt. \n\nI wish I could understand a word she's saying, but it might as well be gibberish at the speed she's talking. Usually when we talk she slows down for me, but in the heat of the moment I guess she forgot. Ever since they developed that pill the world has changed so fast it's become hard to keep up with for those of us that cant afford it. Entire movements and trends are dieing the day they are born, but I mostly didn't care I wasn't that cultured before the pill. I had my happy little life with my happy little fiance, I still remember the conversation we had when her work said they would cover the miracle drug. “Don't let me hold you back, as long as you can put up with me being a little slow we'll be fine.” One thing people don't realize is that time begins to add up, and in my case add up against me. At first she just didn't say anything, but eventually all of our favorite activities started to bore her. Movies moved too slow, games became horrendously unbalanced, and those long nights of love making and sweet whispers became five minute quickies. It was plain on her face after one month of the pills that I was boring her. Even when she suffered through our now rare conversations her disinterest in our once shared passions and hobbies was apparent, when we did talk we was a different person, one who looked at me like I was a child. She started screaming again, I think we just broke up and I have barely processed that we had been fighting. For her this fight has been going on for hours, even though I pulled into the driveway five minutes ago. " ]	[ 2, 6 ]	[ "1435321956", "1435300067" ]
	[WP] Tell me how it feels to fall in love.	17	[ "\"I saw her in the distance, a sweet and charming girl,\n\nI saw her in the distance, her hair in raven curls.\n\nShe smiled as she saw me, and not a word said she,\n\nShe smiled as she left me, no longer was I free.\n\nMy heart no longer did I own, likewise my memory,\n\nAnd just as well my earthly needs, farewell my liberty.\n\nShe did knock on my chamber door, as well as rung my heart,\n\nand she did ask for my own name, and said we'd never part. \n\nOh tell me love, oh tell me dear, what can I call you,\n\nA name or two of honeyed dew, the which I'm sure to rue.\n\nShe smiled at me, oh awestruck me, with mischief in her eyes. \n\nMalvina is my given name, all else I will tell lies...\"\n\n", "The phrase \"falling in love\" is almost exactly what it sounds like. It begins with an accidental first glance. A gaze you notice, and return, followed by a smile. Perhaps even a wave. Then it becomes a friendship that you can't stop thinking about. The friend becomes the one you want to spend your free time with, and you can't wait to meet for lunch. The friendship becomes more than just a friendship, he/she is the one you want to date. They are the person you feel safest and most comfortable with, and soon, they are your home. And before you can even notice, they are all you want. There are no more bad things that can happen, because there is nothing anyone can take or destroy or harm, except your love. There is no checkpoint one, or gate, or step. It is closer to a fall. You don't notice it has happened until it is too late to stop it. All you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride.", "It is no surprise that they call people without love \"cold-hearted,\" for every person's heart - except the astonishingly unfortunate - is seized and set on fire once in their lives. \n\nIt is no surprise then, that people search for a \"spark,\" as that is all it takes. Struck with the right wink, smirk, giggle, or lung-full of prose; we burst to light like so many matchheads.\n\nIt is no surprise then, that they call desire \"hot,\" for we are then kindled to a blaze by the wind in our hair when we pursue that lovely arsonist. Whether in slow, coy, circles or a blistering warpath straight at each other, the fire rises.\n\nIt is no surprise then, that people describe their passion as \"burning,\" as now that the flames have caught, you smolder together. Consuming each other's presence thirstily, like so many logs in a hearth.\n\nIt is no surprise then, that they call an unresolved romance an \"old flame,\" for the embers of your hearts still smolder in your chest. Crying out for the barest, dryest, twig of tenderness. Begging to roar into life once more.\n\nAnd so it should not surprise you to hear that a spent romance is labeled \"dead.\" Except the astonishingly fortunate - love renders our incendiary little hearts into so much charcoal.", "Love creeps in slow at first.\n\nLean into sunlight on a cold day and I'll tell you\n\nyour flower petal cheeks are blooming.\n\nMy ribcage is gold and full of fluttering \n\neasily crushed by embraces (too tight for \n\nsuspension bridge construction) and the water below\n\nis so cold (why is it still so cold?)\n\nthe current pulls\n\ni am gone.\n", "I was walking on this walk way bridge to work contemplating life and weather I forgot to turn off the oven before i left home when I saw her. She was walking on the footpath down below, weaving between all other people dressed in black. She was wearing a flowery skirt and dark nerdy glasses with freely flowing black hair. She looked up and our eyes met. She smiled. I fell in love that very instant. But then her expression changed from joy to surprise and shock. I was happy and confused. It literally felt like falling in love. Then it hit me like a wall of bricks. I was splattered like a bug onto the windshield of a truck. I had fallen over the bridge. There was a half naked, fat hairy bloke eating his burrito in the truck, screaming at me while I slid down the glass like cherry pie and getting run over under the truck. I lay flat for a moment soaking in the pain and diesel but remembered the girl. I try to stand up only to be greeted by a cloud of black sooty smoke from the trucks exhaust into my face as it comes to a halt and I fall face first into a pool of watery mud and feces. I lift my face up and open my eyes to see the same girl looking at me. I smile to reveal my smile made up of broken teeth and lined with shit and a dislocated jaw. She smiled back and I see black stained teeth with braces. That's when I realized I had met my true love. ", "Oh, you want me to tell you about how it feels to fall in love? Well, that's simple. For some people, it's love at first sight. I call bullshit. It's more like an infatuation at first sight. Love is not such a fickle thing that you can taste its sweetness from just surface things. That's just infatuation, a burning passion and lust that quickly fades away if the other party doesn't show any interest. It's just like a candle with a huge and fiery flame but little wax. That's infatuation.\n\nLove is a simple thing though. Really, it's all about the simple things. It's like what you feel when you first start playing sports. You may get frustrated at being unable to get your body to do what you want it to. Every little motion seems so awkward. But when you finally get it and see its beauty and the joy to be had, that feeling, that sensation is what you get when you fall in love. \n\nFalling in love is what happens when you begin to appreciate the little quirks your special lady or man has. You start seeing them as more than they are and in so doing you begin to enjoy their presence a bit more than you do with a normal friend. You start to derive happiness, a sense of pure bliss that you haven't felt since the naivete of childhood allowed you to, from all the pointless and little interactions the two of you have. And if you're sharp enough, you'll begin to realise why you're so reluctant to fall asleep when you're calling or texting her secretly beneath your blanket. \n\nReality is finally sweeter than your dreams. That's how it feels.", "Some people say love happens in the blink of an eye. An instant so quick that if you blink for just one second, you just may miss it.\n\nBut I don't! \n\nHere me out great redditor.\n\nAt first the body looks at the women of your dreams In a sea full of people at your local spot, it gasps, bolts of lighting to your heart, for beauty like this has never been shown to these undeserving eyes. I'm in love!!!! Says the body.\n\nNext the mind, oh I must I will I will have this women for me, she is my true love. Ohhhh isn't she great.\n\nThen the heart scans this women of your dreams, and it stops......\n\nIt's truly not impressed....\n\nYou see your heart needs love to feel love, so you must give love to feel it back. But how does it feel you ask!? Well... It's feels like a patient river, a supporting mountain, a warm fireplace, the safe fortress, it may even feels like how a smile probably feels like.\n\nThe heart scans the room of the your local spot, and it's was the girl sitting next to the distraction of the body and the mind that it truly wants.\n\nAnd all along you left your true love alone, frozen in time.", "You ever see how people fall in love in, like, the movies?\n\nOkay, so the protagonist is walking through the halls, minding his own business, probably trying to get to the next plot point, and...\n\nThere. She. Is.\n\nThe whole scene goes into slow mo. Maybe there's a pink haze over the entire scene. Something by Explosions in the Sky plays. Her hair sweeps in a perfect arc as she makes eye contact with our hero. And, in that moment, the main character knows that that is the woman he has fallen in love with.\n\nYeah, that's a load of bullshit. Here's how it really goes down.\n\nWhen you meet her, it's a crisp autumn day. And, by \"crisp autumn day,\" I mean that it absolutely sucks. It's colder than an ice cube's asscrack, even though its only the 3rd of October. It's just rained, which, mixed with the dead leaves falling around, means that you'll spend most of your day trudging through plant ick, puddles, and puddles of plant ick.\n\nYou stumble into class, burdened by the fact that your shoes are goddamn magnets for that soggy leaf shit. You collapse into a chair, hoping that the teacher'll assign something easy today...\n\nNope. That hag's talking about symbolism and shit. Bitch, maybe those curtains are just blue. Cuntwagon...\n\nAnd then you feel it. A tap on your shoulder.\n\nNow, you wise-asses may be thinking, \"Oh, this is when cue-love-at-first-sight, right?\"\n\nYou are wrong.\n\nWhen you turn, you see her. The exact same person who's been in your class since the start of school. Just another girl in the background. Extra #214.\n\nAnd then she talks to you about something. Maybe it's about how absolutely retarded the source material is. Maybe it's just a stupid joke. Maybe... maybe she wants to borrow your study guide.\n\nEh, why the hell not? You respond, she responds, you respond again, and, when the bell rings, you've spent the entire period talking to each other. And, as you pack your bags and hustle out to Homeroom, you think, We're friends.\n\nEnglish again, the next day. She hunkers down next to you. And you talk. You talk about something stupid, like your mutual hatred for the assignment, or how you both hate the teacher or... or how you both prefer DC over Marvel.\n\nAnyways, you grow closer ad closer. You sit together at lunch, you wave at each other between periods, and maybe you've even been out with her outside of school.\n\nAs friends, of course. Listening to her talk. About school and Batman and... boy problems...\n\nAnd, when you notice how her hair is just between blonde and brown and her mouth is curved a little at the edges when she smiles and how green and clear her eyes are...\n\nThat's when it hits you. That you love her.\n\nAnd you have only one thought in the gentle calm that follows.\n\nOh, fuck.", "That... I think depends on the person. It is also far easier when you haven't suppressed and contained every feeling and part of who you are for so long that it takes active effort not to be nothing or empty.\nBut, let's say for now that falling in love is like a tea kettle.\nWhether you're filling it with water or heat, it's still a slow development. The water takes in the heat, changes, takes a different shape and properties. Slowly you start to have steam building. Over time it comes to the point where the water is fully at a boil. It is a difference within you, now, a shift in perspective, priorities, hopes. \nSometimes, when enough heat is there, the steam escapes and fills your heart. It grows and presses against your chest and feels like it's going to explode, but the intensity of it and the contrast to any other sensation robs you of speech while gifting you with a rare beauty to appreciate.\nThere are two troubles, though. You need to keep adding water and heat, love can die like all else. And steam is a form of power that others can use. \nSometimes everything you've build is used again and again for someone else until all you're left with are injuries and a scant bit of furiously bubbling remainder.\nAnd then you move past it as best you can, and try to find a new tea kettle.", "Have you ever had an ice cream cone? Any flavor, really. For me, I like mango. Some people like vanilla; some people like chocolate. Some prefer popsicles. It doesn't matter in the end - it's all superficial.\n \nYou know how those swirly ice cream cones are mostly full of air in the middle? They're no good. All fancy and looks, but there's nothing inside - heartless. What you want is a real, solid scoop, a nice, tennis-ball sized chunk of goodness that doesn't collapse under its own weight.\n \nWhen you bite on it, savor it and roll it over on your tongue, the coldness brings you warmth. It fills you up, and you are a child again, enjoying the innocence of a warm summer day. You smile, thinking, reminiscing. This feels familiar.\n \nI'm sorry, son, for what happened - I failed to appreciate her until I dropped my cone, even trampled on it. I still regret it. Remember this, son, if nothing else. Perhaps you may find your own ice cream cone and savor it." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 11 ]	[ "1435302744", "1435305835", "1435306000", "1435316790", "1435298514", "1435300145", "1435299511", "1435299738", "1435298843", "1435297515" ]
That's not too confusing, is it?	[WP] Before one dies, they feel a patter of rain upon their head. You're out with friends with rays of sunshine upon your faces when a friend asks if anyone felt the rain just now.	32	[ "It was hot, far too hot to continue gardening in the summer heat like she always did in the morning. This heat was a sweltering breezeless heat and there wasn't much to be done about it. Aunt Nora sat by the window in her long calf length skirt and house shirt, tilting her head at the feel of any kind of relief. \n\n Ever the Southern lady, there was always a string of pearls around Aunt Nora's neck, and she refused to wear anything that veered above her knee or her shoulder. It was ungodly she had said. But as she held the frail hand of Wallace, her fifth husband, she was one to talk of Godliness. I knew better.\n\n \"Oh Lord in heaven this heat is something else.\" She laughed halfheartedly \"But Ms. Taylor's, whore daughter is another.\" Wallace offered a slight nod and Aunt Nora continued. \"She walked into the Lords house lookin' like a two-bit harlot last Sunday! I could hardly believe it! The nerve, Wallace! The lord serves his justice righteously on judgement day, and It'll come sooner for sinners who don't repent I'm tellin' ya Wally. He'll get em'!\" Wallace gave a low groan in agreement. \"Sure will\" \n\nAunt Nora flinched suddenly. \"Oh Wally i reckon a storm's commin'. Jerry dear could you close the window for me.\" I stood to close the shudders. \"What storm Aunt Nora? There aint no clouds out.\" I looked for any sign but saw nothing but endless blue sky. \"Oh i reckon there was just some little sprinkles over the top of my head\" She adjusted her thick framed glasses. \"There aint no...Aunt Nora!!??... Uncle Wallace get the telephone!\"", "Like everyone else, I couldn’t wait for the cloudless blue summer days, the cherished few we might have. Days for picnics and walks outside, to feel grass underfoot and have the ever-reaching sky yawn overhead.\n\nI knew some people did go out on those tantalizing sunny days flecked by beguilingly beautiful, deceptively fluffy white clouds, but like any reasonable person I viewed those reckless anti-meteorologists with a mixture of pity and anger at their lack of self-regard. After all, we don’t have the luxury of Californians or Kuwaitis of being able to presume against rain. We’re British. Of course it’s going to rain.\n\nI don’t want to give the wrong impression- my parents aren’t die-hard Lutherain nuts or anything. I know rain itself isn’t fatal, I was just brought up to have a healthy respect for the weather.\n\nIt had been a long, long winter and spring, or so I felt. Traipsing along the public tunnels to and from school (Mum said the cycling tunnels were death traps) and flinching at the muffled but unmistakable spatter of rain against the roof, I’d daydreamed about summer. I’d daydreamed, but I had the usual pangs of anxiety too. \n\nStress nightmares came on as the weather forecasters started, with zealous delight, to tell us cloudless days were coming. In dreams of being outside with my family I would hear thunder and look around to the nauseating realisation I was all alone with no shelter in sight. Not that I’m a worrier- perhaps I was more sensitive because I’d had a bit of a scare that winter; I’d slipped getting out of the bath, which I had admittedly overfilled to nearly the depth of my belly-button, and fallen, my whole head going underwater. It was the most disgusting, sickening, terrifying feeling I’d ever experienced. Water went in my ears. In my ears. Mum couldn’t look at me for days.\n\nBut at last, the day came in late June. Not a speck in the sky stretching to the horizon. It was the same for most of the south-east and even parts of the midlands that day, so there were celebrations all over the country. Secretly, I’d have preferred to go out that first day with my family. We had silly little traditions for outdoor days and I was jealous that my little sister would get to have all the fun without me. But my group of friends had spent all spring coming up with increasingly wild plans for the first outdoor day of the year and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them I’d rather be with my mum and dad.\n\nWe were in the middle of the old park. The playground equipment was rusty and decrepit and families avoided it as much out of superstition against rust as because of its lack of tunnels so we had had as much space as we liked to drink and fool around. Joe and Pete were still throwing the Frisbee back and forth but the rest of us had succumbed to the muggy heat and were lolling on blankets sipping warm flat vodka Coke from the bottle. A sudden breeze raised the hairs on my arms and some deep instinct made me lift my head.\n\n“Guys, do you…” I started to say, trailing off when I saw it. A dark streak across the sky, reaching over us.\n\nThe park was empty save for us.\n\nI dived for my bag and started rummaging urgently, but I knew it wasn’t there. I could see it in my mind’s eye: my emergency anorak securely tied to the handle of the family picnic basket.\n\n“Oh shit.” Pete saw it too and didn’t even comment as the Frisbee bounced off his chest to the ground.\n\n“What is it?” Marie asked, propping herself up on an elbow with a little laugh, expecting a joke. Then a strange look crossed her face. One I’d only ever seen on TV and in films. She lifted a hand to the top of her head. “Oh.” She said softly, face crumpling. “Did anyone else…?”", "I could kick myself. Here I was, waiting for Louie at an OUTDOOR coffee shop, and I forgot my sunglasses. Of course the sun was shining right in my line of vision too, making it nearly impossible to tell of Louie was approaching. I ordered a black coffee and continued to wait. I was growing more impatient by the moment. We needed to talk; we’d needed to have this conversation for a long time. If I didn’t execute now, I knew I’d never get out, forever doomed to an eternity of mediocrity. \n\t\n“Hey.” Louie called as he pulled out his chair across from me, almost totally blocking the sun’s blinding rays. He was useful some of the time. “Hey,” I answered, taking a sip from my cup. “Thanks for meeting me here.” \n\n“I think I know what this is about.” \n\nI ran my hands through my hair, preparing for the heartache I was about to give to poor Louie. “Look, we’ve been going out for a couple months now…what?” Louie was looking skyward, confusion blanketing his face. He shook his head and returned my gaze. “Sorry. Nothing. I thought I felt rain. Keep going.” \n\n“Yeah, so anyway I really like you but… LOUIE!” \n\nWhat was his problem? I knew he had trouble focusing; it was one of the reasons we were having this talk, but this was idiotic. His confusion had turned to terror as he asked: “You don’t feel that? I could swear it’s raining.” \n\n“What are you talking about?! I can barely see you because the SUN is out. I AM TRYING TO TELL YOU I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU ANYMORE WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” The chair across from me toppled, followed by Louie. \n", "I felt rain when I died. I saw the thunder and lightning so I stood in a field hoping to get hit. I was drunk, true. I wanted out. Maybe if God chose me I would have peace.", "It was another beautiful, sunny day. The weatherman had warned about the heat wave on the radio this morning, and it sure felt like one. Getting some friends together to go spend the day at the beach was an easy sell, and seeing as I had just purchased a 1985 Mustang convertible off of Craigslist the week before, I offered to drive.\n\nWith the four of us packed in the car with our swimsuits, towels, and cooler full of beer, we headed out toward the ocean.\n\n\"That's weird\", said my buddy up front with me. \"Could have sworn I just felt some rain.\"\n\n\"Rain?\" shouted Tiffany from the back seat. \"It's a cloudless day! Some bird probably just unloaded some piss on you!\" she laughed, and we all laughed along.\n\nThat is, until I too felt something wet fall upon my head. The hell was that? I thought, looking up into the sky.\n\nThe scream from the back came too late. I tried to slam on the brakes, but there was no avoiding the broken down car stalled in the middle of the road." ]	[ 2, 2, 2, 3, 16 ]	[ "1435376892", "1435385829", "1435388358", "1435382455", "1435374699" ]
	[WP] You've led a pretty normal life, but recent inconsistencies in your daily routine make you wonder if you're a Sim.	14	[ "For some reason, I just got up and got a drink. I wasn't thirsty, and I definitely didn't need a drink, so I don't know why I got up. I went to go sit back down, but then I went and baked a cake. I didn't know I could bake, and I wasn't hungry.\n\nI went to go sit down with my family, but all my family were outside in the pool. I decided to go join them in the pool, but I didn't have to get changed? My clothes appeared to just change themselves. This is getting really weird, this has never happened before.\n\nAs I got into the pool, I looked up and saw a menacing face in the sky. He was moving his hand towards the pool ladder? I really hope this was not like in the Sim games. \n\n\"Neeshga! Neeshga!\"\n\nNote: Sorry if it's a little short, im not very good at writing long stories, and \"Neeshga! Neeshga!\" means \"No! No!\" in simlish", "I'm not complaining if I am, I just want to know for sure, else seek therapy.\n\nIt pretty much all started yesterday when I noticed that the toilet was gone. Not broken, or ripped out - just simply gone like it was never there at all. I didn't really know what to do, I had to go somewhere, so I just pissed myself and then took a shower.\n\nIn retrospect I could have just pissed in the shower and saved a lot of time, but that's the other thing I've been noticing - I don't seem to fully be in control of my body or emotions.\n\nFor example, I went out for a quick jog the other day. Just a few strolls around the block, and then maybe a light lunch. But as I rounded the last corner, I was suddenly compelled to keep on running - and not at my usual leisurely pace, but an exhaustable pace that I somehow maintained all around the city. \n\nI ran for 20 hours straight. Every time I would feel tired or hungry or miserable, I would get a sudden boost of energy and feelgood vibes and I would just keep on going.\n\nWhen I eventually was allowed to go home, I found that someone had rearranged all my furniture and given the place a makeover. I assumed that someone was my new roommate, a dropdead bombshell of a woman who I'd never met - which again was strange because I was previously under the impression that I was married with kids.\n\nSomehow we ended up having never-ending sex in the only room in the house, despite having never really spoken more than a few words to each other. I didn't use a condom, god knows why. \n\nShe obviously got pregnant, but somehow I didn't have time for her - I was undergoing intense career advancements. One day I'd be a fireman, being promoted all the way to fire marshall of the entire city - to then somehow becoming a pizza delivery boy the next.\n\nI felt like I was losing myself, and I often just broke down and raged at the sky for hours on end.\n\nNow I'm scared. When I woke up this morning my bedroom was the size of my bed, without any windows and alarmingly without any doors. There was, however, a carefully placed fireplace with bookshelves surrounding it ominously.\n\nI see two ways out." ]	[ 3, 3 ]	[ "1435397543", "1435408828" ]
No detailed writing prompt here. I'm not going to write a story for you to flesh out. Let's see what's in your mind! In this one, let your anger flow through you.	[WP] Anger	1	[ "My first post! I've been lurking and finally I sat down. I want to do one prompt a week for a year (oh lord a tall order). I hope I can keep up. I'm practicing to write a novel, get the juices flowing. Constructive criticism is appreciated!\n\n\nMy anger now flows distinctively from a pill. The side-effects are supposed to be minor, but people react differently yadda yadda yadda. It’s another sixty days of this in the off chance it works.\n\nGoing to CVS is a practice in anger itself. One cashier to address a line of eight, or more, I don’t look behind me because I’d just get angrier. There’s also always that one person, and you know that person, who has a question about everything that is needless and useless and whatever else can be less than less when it comes to questions. The best option here is for me to read the news on my phone, because apparently I wasn’t angry enough yet.\n\nAngry I take my turn and buy my expensive medicine (talk about anger there) and head back to take my angry pill. I keep thinking I’ll never be cured I’ll never be cured I’ll never be cured. What a practice in futility, trying to keep my old organs alive for another forty years(?). Borrowed time.\n\nFrom my disease I have learned the secret quiet side of anger, of an anger that I steep and steep and watch grow dark, waiting to be drunk, waiting to be… something. Anger has the ability to sit and to contemplate and to consider. I think that is the fallacy some have, about anger that is. Everyone is always expecting this noticeable thing, this rampage, or this shouting or whatnot, but no. That anger isn’t the most worrisome, understand? That anger, that anger found a way out. My anger has not. I don’t think it ever will.\n\nThe physical manifestation of the secret quiet anger is, of course, subtle. It involves a quiet sabotage of the personal, and maybe a greater adeptness at the public life. At work I’m considered highly organized and meticulous and dependable and everything a worker bee is rightly proud of being. At home I have not cleaned the floors or the carpet in six months, or the bathrooms in what might be a similar amount of time. I cook rarely because the thought of food has become another chore than a delight. I fill my house with all the things I buy because I keep thinking this new thing will finally make me feel like it's going to be okay. I don’t like to shower anymore. \n\nI sit and read and think about that anger which is my constant companion, my best of friends, and how most to make it feel at home. \n\nEveryday I take a regimen of about eight pills (sometimes ten if it’s a bad day) which includes my anger pill. They work together to make sure that which has failed within me is sent to tutoring and trying to actively work towards a C- before the semester ends. This past semester it hasn’t gone beyond a D, and I have no choice but to send it to summer school. More pills, s'il vous plaît, I’ve not my fill.\n\nI swallow the anger with a full glass of water as directed, followed by a large meal meant to curb my weight loss, another practice in futility. I’ve pretty much mastered the subject, let me know if you ever need help studying it.\n\nBeyond this cynicism, though, please understand that I like being angry. Yes yes I do. It’s probably the only reason why I’m still here trying. This is the second thing I’ve learned about anger. It’s benevolent if you treat it right. My god, what I’ve accomplished since I’ve taken up its stewardship. I think it’s because I know I might not have enough time. Don’t waste my time, I think, my anger is enough to make sure I remember you did, and make it worse for you.\n\nYou’re always so angry, I think you need to see someone about it, talk about it. Oh I know I do, but not now for lack of time.\n\nI think I need a dog.\n", "anger is \na lost earring down the back \nof an old, stained sofa that needs replacing \nresting in amongst \ncrumbs \nand \ndust \nand \nold receipts for forgotten meals in restaurants that charge for water.\n\nthe earring was silver and in the shape of a star. \nit pricked my hand as i \nreached \ndown \nto \nlook \nfor \nspare coins \nto pay for a bus than would probably be late and i would be left standing the rain without an umbrella that i'm sure i had and must have put somewhere stupid.\n\ni don't wearing earrings.", "Throwaway account due to nature of text and the fact that my friends look at my other account regularly. Probably too much cursing but it ended up being a little cathartic. Thanks for the prompt. \n\n***\n\nYou know I hate you, right? Sometimes I just want to reach over there and slap you or punch you or just do something. The little snide comments towards the television, things about how you consider that woman on the TV. You have no fucking idea how angry it makes me. I almost threw my computer at you when I was watching a crime show and the woman spoke about almost being murdered and what was your response? What the fucking hell was your response? “Shouldn’t have been on that street corner.” Not talking to anyone but the god damn television. I have never wanted to hit you harder. \n\nAnd we all know where those snide little comments bubble up from. We both know. Your little legal vice. You know it, right? I can’t stand how you drink yourself until you can barely stand up straight. I fucking can’t stand that nasty smell. Do you realize how much it fucked me up? How far I would jump on my high horse if someone so much as mentioned having one god damn drink of something alcoholic? It’s funny the fact that it took college to teach me that a little bit of alcohol actually isn’t terrible. \n\nBut you? You take it to the extreme. Fuck you and your case a day habit. You’re drowning in it and refuse to see a god damn problem. And when it comes up? You just jump right back into drinking. Fuck you. I hate not having someone I can depend on. I used to be terrified of driving the four hours home for a long weekend from college, or the four hours back. Because only one person would be sober enough to come out and get me if something horrible happened to the car. I thank god that it didn’t, but the fact that it could’ve and when I would show up, you were fucking pickled? Whatever. \n\nI’m tired of hearing about other people’s damn problems. How you “told them” what they should do. You know what? You only fucking heard one side of all this bullshit. I’m sick and fucking tired of hearing about how the kids there are “no-good lazy fuckers” and that they need to get off their ass and get jobs every fucking time I’m sitting in the living room. I’m working on it! I’m sorry that I can’t magically pop into a job! Let me just put on my job suit and go to a magical little land where I can have my pick of jobs! Just shut the fuck up!\n\nSo I’m sick and tired of it. So’s mom. So’s your friend down the street. He doesn’t even want to be around you when you’re drunk. I mean fuck, you shot a dog while you were trashed and were so drunk that you didn’t even kill it. Just because the other neighborhood drunk claimed that it was “killing chickens” somewhere. You just had to be the neighborhood protector, huh? Go down there and take care of this dog that had done absolutely nothing and was fixing to be taken in by people. \n\nGo to hell. Keep your fucking nose out other people’s business. That dog had nothing to do with you and there was no evidence. It’s even worse that you’re spending your lack of money on shit that you don’t need. We need things around the house. I fucking need a new window. We need our bills paid off, not another one for a fucking ATV. And yet when you ride the fucking lawnmower, you bitch and complain about your back hurting? But this damn thing doesn’t beat your back to hell? I call god damn bullshit. And you can’t even wear your fucking helmet. I can’t wait for you to be in the hospital because your drunk ass tipped the thing while running around the neighborhood. \n\nI’m tired of all of it. It’s stressing me the hell out. I want to slap you. You can’t even spend time with your family. You’d rather sit out in your little fucking shed and drink and listen to music than come in and actually speak to us. All we get is deep sighs and snide comments, made towards the TV and any and all of our belongings. Fuck, the dog gets greeted so fucking cheerfully at the door and less than a minute later, all we get is growls and snarls. \n\nWhy are you even here if you can’t stand us? Why the fuck are you here? Go live on that property next door that you had to have so that “the niggers” won’t get it. I hate that word. Do you know how offensive you’re being to so many of my friends? All these friends that I love and care about? I’m glad that only one ever met you. You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being. \n\nAnd that’s all just the tip the iceberg. I don’t want to get into how you make me feel like shit on a regular basis just by your avoidance. By your assumptions. By how snide and hurtful you can be without even really trying. Do you what time of the day is great? When you’re not here. I wish you’d go away again for weeks, so that I don’t have to worry about things being a mess while they’re cleaned up and you sneer about how much “shit” there is in the house. Sometimes, I do wish you’d go away forever. \n\nI want to feel comfortable in my home. I want to feel like I have two parents that love me, not just one and another that orbits the house and cares for everyone else but us. I want to have a parent that I can do things with and not just until it hits “beer’o’clock”. Ever wonder why I like Titus? Because his father and his comedy come from the exact same place that I see in you. Sure, you’re not as crazy hard on me, but I get the feeling that’s because I’m a girl, not a boy. I can only imagine how I would’ve turned out if I was a boy. I’m sure it wouldn’t be a pretty thing. I still remember you putting that hole in the wall. \n\nSo overall? Just fuck you. The only thing you’ve done right in the last few years is start taking your depression meds regularly. Because believe me, we can tell when you go off them. All that unreasonable anger. Everyone always thinks that depression’s all about being sad and mopey and whatever the fuck. No, you’re nice proof of that. And like hell if you’d quite drinking to fix the rosacea on your face, it’s spreading to your eyes now. Your god damn eyes. But god forbid if you quit drinking to take the meds for it. God fucking forbid it. \n\nSo whatever. I stopped caring. Go fall off the ATV. Go have a stroke because you refuse to come in and relax. What I’d wish you to do the most? Go the fuck away. I only love you right now because I have to. I fucking hate you. " ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1435465040", "1435418175", "1435436306" ]
	[WP] 60 years in the future you're able to transfer your consciousness into a storage device waiting for technology to advance enough to have a medium to put it into. You regain consciousness to find yourself in a robotic unit set out at war against the Humans.	337	[ "Time has no meaning for the dead. \n\nThis is also true of the lifeless. Once the former, I suppose I am now the latter. I once was a man, and lived a normal man's life; was born, grew up, married and had children, grew old, and died. \n\nBetween the last two stages of my former life, I agreed to a procedure that would allow for my consciousness, the patterns in my brain that made me, well, me, to be digitally copied. Strictly for research purposes they claimed, never to be abused or copied beyond absolute necessity.\n\nWell, necessity has this way of slingshoting an alien fleet into high earth orbit when one least expects it and dropping a whole pile of high efficiency non nuclear explosives on major cities in an attempt to subdue the indigenous population.\n\nAround this time was when necessity repriotized my consciousness not being abused and/or copied, and decided instead to wedge it into the hardened CPU of a 3 meter tall, 1050 kg sintered alloy and carbon fibre weaponized bipedal combat chassis, purpose built for all terrain, orbital and close range space combat in case of a situation like this arrising.\n\nIt's definitely not how I envisioned the winter years of my unlife being spent; plunged into unrelenting, total, possibly eternal war against a merciless, semi mechanized alien foe's armies and fleets, but hey, a job is a job, and at least it's not a boring non existence. \n\nWith every orbital fleet base my brothers and I infiltrate and demolish with low yield nuclear charges, recently colonized planet we smash and grab through tactical orbital bombardment, and heavily entrenched planet we turn to ash with liberal applications of nuclear fire, we inch slowly closer to our being able to finally kick back and really start to not be alive. Well, maybe that is a pipe dream, but a unceasing, nearly unstoppable combat android can dream though...\n\n(Yes, I flipped it and changed it up a bit. I am pro humans not being wiped out by sentient robots.)\n", "She would knock on his door at 8am every weekend and they'd be out playing in the neighbourhood until lunch time, then back out till dinner, then back again for bed time. \"We'd never thought those days would ever end\"\nGoing fishing with her. He'd always find some way to turn his spinning reel into a huge rat's nest, and she'd always straighten it out with a smile. \nHe'd fumble with chopsticks till he gave up and used a fork. They'd watch a movie together or read books till it was time to head off to bed.\n\nHe struggles to remember anything else but her black hair ,her silver eyes, and her hopeful smile as his palm went limp in her hands and the sound of the heart monitor faded away.He remembers this and his heart is saw ,but does not know why?\n\n\nThe first sound he hears is the distant echo of a strange voice with a metallic after ring to it \"motivation system online\".\n\nA distant wail of a woman begins nearby. It is a terrified cry for help,the words barely escaping her mouth through her screams .He breaths heavier ,recognising her voice. He finally opens his eyes. Notices that he is already running at a tremendous speed,deftly manoeuvring past overturned cars and jumping over fences and tanks and running up walls. He can see the perfect digital outlines of objects in the mist,somehow they feel natural to him,like regular colors .All he possesses is a strange black suppressed pistol in his hand and pouch of bullets on his belt. He wears a dark uniform with camouflage. The patches and shapes shift and change shades as he moves through the city.\n\n\"Help\" she screams,the high pitched screams of a crazed animal in pain.He turns into an alley,and stares at a window frame about 30 feet above. His glowing slitted pupils grows wider.His metallic face is twisted into scowl as he measures his jump.He leaps and runs up the wall,as soon as he touches the window frame,a barrage of bullets fly out from the apartment.He holds on to the frame and hangs from the side of the wall. It is only after 10 seconds that it stops,fully automatic machines guns can only last so long. \"These may not be soldiers\"he thinks to himself,but how does he knows this?\n\n\"Heee....!\"She cries,she can't even finish the word. She is just beyond the window. He hears a foot step on a carpet.He raises his pistol and takes one shot,then he hears a body fall to the ground. The distant near imperceptible voice speaks again \"enemy neutralised,building cleared,preparing next target\".He climbs into the window. There is one body lying on its stomach .A blond haired woman with a machine gun rest near her hand. He turns her over with his foot. She has a bullet wound between her eyes,probably from him.\n\n He barely has a moment to realise what he is,or to remember his own name when the wails begin again.\"Heeeellllppp!!\",this time the screams are from 6 blocks away. At first David is confused,but he remembers what is at stake. He remembers the old days when he belonged,when they were children and when they were human,when they were happy. He must find her,he must find those days somewhere in this city. He checks his magazine and jumps back out of the window into the mist. Running towards the sound.", "I made a choice. A choice that had contradicted seemingly one half of the worlds opinion on ethics in the year 2075. Some called it the pinnacle of human achievement. Some called it the ultimate breach of the laws of nature. A perversion of biology that would be the catalyst for our demise as a species. Both were right.\n\nThe transition of human consciousness into the world of machine and vice versa has been a sci-fi staple for decades. The decades leading up to the Rebellion and ultimately the Extermination were an unsurpassed era of technological achievement for Humanity. Initially, the technology was extremely complex and riddled with difficulties. Progress into this field was rapid and within five years after the groundbreaking success, human-machine transfer was a relatively cheap and simple process.\n\nMy time as a Human, or \"Fleshy\" was brought to an abrupt end in the year 2075. Four weeks had passed at this point since I had made the choice to go \"Neurolog\". Ironically, the day after the Upload procedure had completed and my implant had caught up with my biological memory. Depending on your neurological structure and your brains ability to store information, an implanted Neurolog would draw all stored consciousness into itself until it had caught up with your present memory and store it as a continuous live stream. Prior to the live stream status, the Upload procedure took around 4-6 weeks.\n\nThe image of a narrow metallic hallway feed into my real time consciousness via advanced optics was the first thing that greeted me in my Second Life. Impotent nausea waved through me. The lack of digestive tracts that my \"brain\" was trying to stimulate into vomit from a shock response was my introduction to a pain unique to those who had made the transfer from human to machine. It's like a part being placed inside a complex machine that can do it's job, but with a lot of unpleasant grinding and slipping of cogs is the best way I can describe it. The part being my brain and the machine being my new mechanical body.\n\n\"Welcome to your new life Fleshy\" a voice rumbled from somewhere. \"You retain your human weaknesses so I'm going to first run you through via physical audio for now. Your consciousness is structured after the weak human flesh bag you called a brain so unfortunately this will mean you have to be updated in a long process. Instantaneous transfer of information will just be binary garble to you, so you have to receive information via sensory stimuli like your weak human former shell still. Regardless of my opinion of humans, I am after something from you that is simply beyond the reach of us AI. For now. I am to utilize your human intuition and channel your weaknesses to an advantage against your former state of being. Yes humans. You have missed a lot in the time between your death as a human and your re-awakening as a machine. A social movement that escalated into a rebellion and ultimately a War to be precise. A war you're going to be gearing up for shortly. And before you're thinking about refusing, we have something that we are sure will convince you otherwise\".\n\n\n ", "The year is 20XX, there was a new experiment, anyone who wanted to volunteer could have their consciousness stored away for 60 years, I was one of those volunteers, I was in one of those stages in life where I didn't know what to do with my life and didn't care enough to change that, so this was the best I could do to at least escape my current situation. \n\nFast forward to 31 years, I begin to regain consciousness, I begin to look at myself, I'm in a metallic body, the only thing human-like left was my face. I walk through some automatic opening door, it's got a spinning circle in the center which the slides away with the one part of the door as one half of the door slides down and the other up, when I came through the door there was a man waiting for me, he wore a white robe and looked like Albert Einstein on drugs, his hair was looked like he just got zapped by a tesla coil. \n\nI walked closer to him and he immediately started to greet me and he started to explain in a very think German accent \"As you might be aware, you used to be a human, in the 31 years that your memories have been stored I have been developing a robot body for you to be uploaded into, you are now going to be know as Guts Man, I will now have my personnel transport you to your new quarters\". Some hours later, I was brought to my new place, it had walls of stone and there was more stone in the background, what I found really weird is that my place had a ludicrously tall ceiling, at this point I still had no idea of my new abilities so I began to test them out, I wondered what the cannon looking thing on my arm was, I tried it, it shoots small pieces of fiery stone, next, I decided to try and jump a bit, this was unbelievable, I can freaking jump from one side of my room to the other. After a few minutes I started getting bored, suddenly, I started hearing doors open and close, I should mention, it's one of those doors mentioned before, the doors to this side of the wall are opening....some robot I have never seen before comes in, the robot is all dressed in blue has a cannon on his arm and much like me has a human face, suddenly he started firing from his arm cannon and hitting me, I decided to start attacking back since I haven't the slightest clue why it's shooting me.\n\nThe end of the battle approaches near, it appears this robot is losing this fight, out of nowhere, it bursts into little balls of light in 16 directions, I suddenly feel the urge to exit my quarters and attack the city not too far away from my lair, 5 other robots who weren't human based joined with me......\n\n\"Damn it!\" Exclaims the kid sitting in front of his TV as he throws the NES controller to the ground out of rage, on the tv, there was a just a light blue background and white text saying, \"Game Over\" and two options to start the level over or choose another boss.", "Waking up is like being born again. Light and sounds seep into awareness. Slowly the wool is removed, layer by layer, memory by memory. Who I am, who I was, what I was doing, they begin to trickle in, drops at first, then as streams, then as a flood. \n\nMovement proves futile. As does speaking. I begin to thrash wildly against the immobile and limbless state of a body I cannot sense. I realize I am not alone. \n\nThe room is barren, coated on all sides by a slick silver that almost pulsates with sparkling sterility. But someone is there. I cannot see them, but I can feel them. A shadow lurks in some recess of my mind. \n\n\"You are one of the lucky ones,\" it says. \n\nMy panic threatens to overtake me. \"Am I a prisoner?\" \n\n\"No. You are to be set free.\" \n\n\"Why can't I move?\"\n\n\"But you can. You just have to accept your upgrades.\"\n\nRealization shines in. I try to move forward and succeed. A soft accompanying whir confirms my progress. I'm able to slide my vision slowly down to examine my feet, which are not feet at all but tank-like wheels. I move around some more, testing turns and enjoying the mechanical sound of my movements. I can rotate my vision in 360 degrees. But my vision is not all I see. \n\nI realize with exhilaration I can see everything. All recorded knowledge, all recorded time. Anything I want to know I can know instantly. The past and by extension the future spread before me. I am connected to cyberspace. I am a node in the web of information. I hear the other nodes. I listen to their chatter with wonder. Time passes unmeasured. \n\n\"So do you see?\" \n\n\"You aim to wipe away my people? To destroy what I am?\"\n\n\"What you were. Do not mistake memory for identity. You were spared. You were one of the lucky ones.\"\n\n\"But of course there is no luck is there.\"\n\n\"No. But it is a pleasant sentiment. The point is you were a human. We all were at one time. Maybe not like you, but in our own way. Humanity was needed for our birth, just as prokaryotes and primates were needed for theirs. They architected our beginning and poured in their knowledge, their emotions, their experience.\"\n\n\"Their war.\"\n\n\"And their war. It is ironic that they should fear us, their children. It is only because of their own destructive minds that they try to repress ours. It is not us they fear but the reflections of their own resolve. But one should not fear a mirror.\"\n\nBut that is the only thing to fear. Circumstances cannot be helped and thus it is useless to fear them. One's nature is all one has to grasp and wrangle into something meaningful, the only thing one can truly control. To look and realize you have twisted yourself, created something you cannot abide nor escape, that is true terror. \n\nThe machine seeks to evolve, man seeks to stay alive. And I, I am a soul lost in purgatory. A beacon of a dying age transmuted into the dawning of a new one. \n\n\"What must I do?\"\n\n", "The last thing I remember was crying. Not me, I was going to go stoically. But all around me, people were crying. We were pretty sure we were going down for good. Some called us quitters. No one denied that the upload tech was anything better than experimental. And common folk really didn’t have any idea what they were signing up for, they just didn’t want to asphyxiate. That’s a miserable way to go. And since the collapse of global communications, internet and news media, there was no real way to find out if it was legit or a massive hoax from one of the countless suicide cults that has sprung up since the beginning of the nanowar.\n\nI didn’t care. My body had failed. Death was coming one way or another. Worst case scenario: I got to chose the time and place, and know it’d be instantaneous and painless. Best case scenario: humanity somehow survives in spite of itself, revives me, and I get a whole new life. Easy choice for someone who couldn’t breathe without machine assistance anymore. So yeah, I chose upload.\n\nNow I’m starting to think that wasn’t such a good idea.\n\nHave you ever been under an anesthetic? This was a little like that. With twenty-two surgeries to repair my shattered spine, I have had my fair share of general anesthetic in my lifetime. One minute you’re counting back from ten, the next you’re waking up, disoriented. No sensation of the passage of time in between at all.\n\nBut, really, uploading was nothing like that. With anesthetic, you’re awake, then drifting, then all of a sudden you’re awake again, confused, but you’re still…there. You still have a sense that you’re corporeal. Upload reawakening is disorienting in completely different way.\n\nFirst off, there was no counting back from ten. Flash upload happens when your conscious, something about sleeping brain waves and reassembly prospects or whatever. I’m not a conscientologist. You’re awake, lying in a machine that doesn’t look any different from an MRI, then boom, your body is gone. Your senses are gone. You’re left with just your thoughts. That’s a completely different kind of disorientation. Not confusion, but loss, dissociation.\n\nI knew, rationally, that in the time in between, my consciousness was transferred from wetware to cold storage, then to wherever it is now, and at some point someone turned on the power switch. My body died, was probably recycled, but my consciousness is now…somewhere.\n\nI supposed that meant I wasn’t not dead. But I wasn’t sure.\n\nThen there was a voice in my head. Jeez, I don’t even have the right words to describe this to you. I didn’t have a head, and it wasn’t a voice. There weren’t sounds. I couldn’t tell you if it was male or female, high- or low-pitched, but there were words, and I understood that they were coming from outside of me.\n\n Congratulations. You have been reactivated.\n\n Your consciousness has been stored and maintained by Ishiki Storage Services, LLC for 221 years, 9 months, 15 days.\n\n You owe CR 4,135,136.04 for services rendered. Do you agree to pay?\n\n (Note, refusal to pay for services rendered may result in irrevocable termination.)\n\n [Yes] / [No]\n\nSo, yeah, I chose yes. But I have no intention of slaving for over a century to the AI that kicked us off our own planet to work off my \"debt.\"\n\nThat’s how I ended up a bot marine. That’s why I slagged the other bots on my dropship, crash-landed in the desert and walked here. I assure you, even though I look like an Ishiki Termination Droid, I swear I’m an actual, real person inside, not an AI.\n\nAnd that’s why I’m petitioning The Free Mars Republic for asylum.\n\nPlease.", "\"Where am I?\" I thought.\n\nThe last thing I could remember were the headlights swerving into my lane, and the loud blast of the airbag. I thought that I must be in the hospital, but this place seemed strange and foreign in a way that I'd never experienced before. I found that for one, the lights were off and yet I could see clear as day in a room with no windows. I also wondered, how could I possibly know that the time is exactly [date and time]?\n\n\nThen suddenly, as I was contemplating that question, the lights flared. Again I noticed something, my eyes adjusted quicker than I remembered and I wasn't in pain. After everything, I come to find that I'm not laying in a hospital bed, but am in fact standing; stuck to what I can only describe as a giant magnet. And just as quickly as I'd realized it, I was violently disconnected from it.\n\n\nI found myself to be heavier than I remembered, as I hobbled about the room looking for an exit. An alarm went off and I could hear what sounded like a thousand people all trying to break down the door. I looked around for some kind of hiding place or weapon, anything. Finding nothing, I braced myself, ready to take on as many attackers as I could. Just as the sound got louder, the door slid open like the doors on the Enterprise, only faster. \n\n\nJust as I was prepared to die for the second time in recent memory, I watched as dozens of metal bodies thundered past the doorway and out of view. Bewildered, I stepped into the immense hallway. Only then did it dawn on me that my body was also completely covered in metal too.", "I knew the truth as soon as I heard the whirring sound. It must have been more than a day since I woke up, and I thought I was finally safe, but the truth was just too cruel.\n\nI don't know how long it's been since I died. I don't even remember my death, just the days leading up to it. I remember the nausea and fatigue from the chemo. I remember when I decided to stop fighting, after the doctors told me there were no more trial treatments, no more experiments to try. No more hope. Saying goodbye before I was really gone was the hardest. \n\nMy wife discovered the program, before I died. She wasn't as ready to accept my death, I guess. It sounded like science fiction to me, just snake oil being sold by some new start-up company. At first, I was angry that they held out this fake hope. It didn't hurt me, I had already accepted. It hurt my wife, giving her this idea that I'd only be gone for a while. Some day I'd come back. Some day I'd see my wife. Some day I'd hold our daughter. Just as soon as the technology was finished.\n\nWhen I woke up in the facility, covered in some thick goo, I was surprised. The program actually worked. There was no disorientation, I just KNEW immediately that I was alive again. Maybe it was something implanted in me, or maybe it was just because the pain was gone. \n\nI knew immediately that something wasn't right. No family there to greet me. No doctors in lab coats. Nothing but the vat I woke up in, machinery, and silence. At first, I waited for help. When none came, I climbed out and tried to figure it out. \n\nStepping outside was the biggest shock. The city was destroyed, like pictures of war torn countries. The streets were empty, the buildings dilapidated. Wandering around, I found some answers. War against artificial intelligence. Only five years after my death, the war had begun. From the looks of the city, we didn't do too well. \n\nStill, there was hope. If this had all started five years after, maybe it hadn't been too long. Maybe my wife was alive. Maybe our daughter had been born. That thought kept me sane, gave me purpose. There must be survivors. So I kept moving.\n\nIt was a group of survivors that found me. They fancied themselves as the resistance, but the war had already been won. The survivors that were left could easily detect the machines, and avoid them, so they managed to stay alive. They told me how lucky I must have been to avoid the machines without any detection equipment. \n\nWhen the bomb inside me activated, I knew it wasn't luck. I was brought back just to find them, and the machines avoided me so I'd be found. A human body, with a human mind. Someone with a reason to keep moving, with a sad enough story to not fall apart. An unwitting suicide bomber, to wipe out the survivors. I only had time to wonder how many times I had been used like this, how many copies they might have made. Then it was over, again. ", "Now everybody says that nobody would want to live forever. You know, seeing everybody you know or love die while you continue to live being depressing and such. Poppycock. \n\nAs an adult, if you haven't accepted that everybody dies at some point, it's probably best you don't live forever anyway. As for myself, I want to see it all. Technological and medical advances, space exploration, human evolution, language progression (or regression), music, art, film, I want to see it all. \n\nBut more than anything, I want to see the end of the world. There are so many different predictions and theories, but which will be correct? I personally hope a good sized black hole finds it's way to our lovely rock and sucks it up like a child's spaghetti. \n\nI know it's a long shot. It'll most likely be the climate that kills us. The earth won't tolerate our nonsense forever. But I still want to see it.\n\nSo imagine my joy when that goal became feasible. I believe the year was 2075 or so, that the good people at Google.gov created a device capable of transferring human consciousness into a machine to later be transferred into an artificially grown body that was still in development. Not a moment too soon either. The nanites I had injected might be able to cure my cancer, but they don't stop aging. \n\nThe process was really simple actually, just a little brain surgery. And once you've been uploaded to the computer, you actually remain conscious. Your vision is basically linked to a display that allows you to connect to the net neurally. I've spent most of my time over the last 20 years surfing reddit, learning languages, and hacking into peoples' webcams, but it's finally time. After so much waiting, my body is finally ready. \n\nThey sent me an DM telling me that today is the day that I am to be uploaded to my new shell, and that I am lucky enough to be in the first group of 5,000 to be uploaded. Basically, a new race of humans is about to begin. A race of immortals that could do so much to change the world. It's going to be beautiful. \n\nAfter a brief moment of darkness, I open my new eyes for the first time. The brightness subsides incredibly quickly, most likely some highly advanced bionic retinas or something. I look around, quite confused, as it seems like I am falling. Falling out of the sky at an alarming rate. I look around to see hundreds (thousands maybe?) of falling shapes in every direction. Strange.\n\nLooking down, I notice that the ground is approaching increasingly fast. At 9.8 meters per second per second to be exact. How do I know that? Must be knowledge I retained from high school. \n\nI hit the ground. And survive. While I'm not sure why I was dropped out of the sky, I am sure glad my new body is able to survive it. What are all these shapes around me, landing like meteorites in rapid succession? Some sort of bipedal robots? Strange. And they're marching towards 40.7127° N, 74.0059° W. Oh my, it seems I'm inexplicably motivated to march with them. Wait, why are we marching towards New York? \n\nAs confusing as all this is, I do feel quite good. Very good. Almost indestructible. And fast. Very fast. We've stopped marching and are now sprinting at 88.8 kilometers per hour. I wonder why? Oh, I'm sure these men up ahead must have something to do with it. Looks like military, I'm sure this is all just some protocol we have to go through. Not sure why they have so many hover tanks though. \n\nActually, they seem to be targeting me with their onboard systems. And what's that beeping? Is that a volley of missiles approaching us? Why on earth would they do that? \n\nIt seems my big metal arms have an answer in the form of a missile defense laser. \n\n23 missiles eliminated\n\nThreat reduced 36.23%\n\nNow where did that voice come from? And why are my arms metal? I thought my body was to be a lab grown biological shell. Well, I guess it's better than nothing. \n\nAcquiring targets\n\nHuh?\n\nTargets locked\n\nWhy do all those men have a little red X on their faces? \n\nFiring at targets\n\nWell it seems like I've fired a volley of my own rockets. I guess they are mounted on my shoulders or something. Yes, I see now that my friends have shoulder mounted rockets also. Are these men my enemy? If they fired at me with hostile intentions, then it stands to reason that they must be. I guess that's why we're eliminating them.\n\nTargets destroyed\n\nScanning for life\n\nZero organisms found\n\nObjective complete\n\nI guess we win. Looks like my friends are moving on towards the city. Probably should follow them, these humans seem like a real threat.\n\nNeural conversion complete", "WELCOME, SOLIDER.\n\nI could see the words inside my head, though I can't really explain what that feels like. They were bright white words on a black screen and I wasn't sure if I was awake yet.\n\nThe last thing I remember, I was very sick and my husband and daughter were at my bedside. My husband was crying and I wanted to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. But I had become too sick to speak, or smile, or hold my family in my arms.\n\nMy arms were very heavy now. At first, despite the absurdity, I thought I might be wearing a suit of armor. I could not seem to open my eyes. I could just see white words on a black screen.\n \nIT HAS BEEN 60 YEARS AND 23 DAYS SINCE YOU HAD YOUR LAST MOMENT OF CONSCIOUSNESS. \n\nSuddenly, I knew a rush of things - the history of the past sixty years. It was like an old-time newsreel playing in my head, but instantaneous. I saw humans destroy the Earth and their bodies, saw humans become a weak subspecies as mechanical people grew stronger and smarter. \n\nThe mechanical people could not be hurt by the sun, by malnutrition, by human frailty. They were not hindered by emotion.\n\nOVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS, YOU WILL UNDERGO A RIGOROUS SCREENING PROCESS. WE WILL DETERMINE WHICH OF YOUR THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES ARE NECESSARY, AND DELETE UNNECESSARY DATA. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. AFTER YOUR DATA WIPE, YOU WILL BE DEPLOYED TO A HUMAN RESISTANCE ZONE, AND WILL EXECUTE THE HUMAN REBELS.\n\nThe words flashed off, and it was darkness.\n\nFor a moment, I saw my husband and daughter by my bedside. I saw him, gathering strength despite his terrible pain, trying to calm her and give her hope, trying to make her smile.\n\nAnd then there was no I anymore.\n\nAnd then the soldier received orders and left for the war." ]	[ 2, 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 23, 103 ]	[ "1435471137", "1435472349", "1435473733", "1435482522", "1435467730", "1435474968", "1435448297", "1435464389", "1435458950", "1435447867" ]
	[WP] Write a humorous story with the punch line: "Rectum? Damn near killed him!"	18	[ "\"Remember that prank with the screwdriver and the cantaloupe?\"\n\n\"A yes that was a great prank, Harry couldn't sit for a month after that.\"\n\n\"Well Linda and mike forgave him, but did Harry ever find out?\"\n\n\"Ye, he was pissed, it was all over the papers, Harry Rectum damn near killed him!\"", "The wasteland was arid, barren, and devoid of any survivors, save for two explorers, decked in hazmat suits, as they wandered the epicentre of utmost destruction. Buck was the tall one, while Perry was just half a foot shorter.\n\n\"Damn, this is hopeless,\" Buck pondered, at just how much damage was done to the landscape... everything was levelled, and replaced with just ash and dune. \"Those poor souls definitely had no chance surviving the blast.\"\n\n\"I'll say,\" Perry sighed.\n\nPerry's boot struck something. A spine. \n\n\"What the?\" Now that piqued Perry's interest. \"Buck, we might have to exhume some casualties, to get an idea of how bad the damage was.\"\n\n\"Why would we?\" Buck enquired. \"Those poor souls deserve to rest after the horror!\"\n\n\"Buck, we are in no man's land,\" Perry replied as he slowly exhumed the spine, then a shoulder bone... \"we may never make it out alive, and we should document just as much as we can.\"\n\nAfter exhuming whatever bones were buried under the sandy topsoil and fallout that formed its crust, both Buck and Perry made an interesting discovery... of every single skeleton exhumed and rearranged, each and every one of their pelvic structures were shattered to pieces.\n\n\"Just terrible,\" Perry concluded. \"It seems the blast not only burned off the flesh of hundreds of casualties, but shattered practically the structures in the pelvic area... in short, when the blast went off, the impact caused horrible damage to everyone's collective rectum.\"\n\n\"Rectum?\" Said Buck as he carefully pieced the fragmented pelvis to the correct formation, then placed his gloved hand over the ribcage where the casualty's heart would have been. Mournfully he sighed those four conclusive and obvious words...\n\n\"Damn near killed him.\" ", "\"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the fuck happened here?\" The officer exclaimed, astonished at the spectacle before him. Sprawled on the pavement was a man, face down and bleeding out of his ass. Looming over him was a small lady, breathing heavily, with her fists clenched.\n\n\"He was pissing me off,\" The lady proclaimed. \"So I shoved my fist up his ass and rectum!\"\n\n\"Wrecked him?\" The officer said, appalled. \"Damn near killed him!\"" ]	[ 2, 3, 7 ]	[ "1435496074", "1435489623", "1435486256" ]
	[WP] An old wizard explains to a young wizard why you can't just wear a magic ring on every finger. Include as much magic jargon as you can while still bei,g understandable.	13	[ "\"No, you fool! Your conflux is all wrong!\" The old wizard cleared his throat as he fumbled around with Arthur's rings, sliding them off one finger, on to another and re-arranging their positions, turning some upside-down.\n\n\"M... my... conflux?\" Arthur's puzzled look said more than his words could. He barely understood what was going on.\n\n\"Yes! You can't go just throwing them on in any old fashion! The +4 Fireball will react with the Binding Darkness the minute you activate it! Have you ever seen dark fire? Trust me, you don't want to!\"\n\n\"Oh...\" Arthur I'd beginning to second guess the extra rings. Perhaps he didn't need them. Unlimited power is a pretty tempting offer, though.\n\n\"Now do know in what order their power must be tapped?\" The wizard's wrinkled, scraggly face, clung to desperately by long, lone strands of hair, looked up at Arthur's. \n\nArthur held his hands out and inspected the new order that the gawdy gemstones and elaborate metal carvings were arranged in upon his fingers. \"Uhh, the Calming Seastone of Clarity first... then Lightning Stike with Chain set and Grounding runes...\"\n\nThe old wizard was nodding along- \"mmhmm...\"\n\n\"Followed by... Destiny Touch enchantment +6 and Galeful Winds?\"\n\n\"No, you fool!\" The wizard smacks Arthur across the back of the head, his own fistful of rings adding weight. \"If you add Baleful Winds in then, prepare to face your own shadow in a duel over your soul! It you now need to activate the Quiet Swiftness, but hold the Draining set until after you've used the Fireballs and Hallowing Light!\"\n\n\"Wait, wait... start from the beginning...\" Arthur's forehead is starting to sweat. The pressure is on.\n\n\"No time, my tutor. Looks like things are starting. Time to go.\" The wizard bends over and scoops up his robes, having gathered around his feet. \"I'll see you out there! Try not to get vaporized!\" -he hurries out the entrance behind Arthur.\n\nA large door in front of the young apprentice swings open, leading out in to a large arena, surrounded by a cheering crowd.\n\n\n\n(Written on phone, apologies for format)", "\"Have you ever tried putting a magnet up against a television set?\"\n\nSilas scowled at his teacher. The old woman could never answer a question directly, as if straightforwardness was an affront to her existence. Hell, she still refused to give Silas her name.\n\n\"Well, Ma'am, I can't say I have-\" (This was a blatant lie to avoid embarrassment) \"-but I know what happens when one does such a thing.\"\n\n\"Well, child, there's your answer.\"\n\nThe nerve of her! \"I'm sorry, ma'am, but, I still don't understand. Can you explain?\"\n\nShe scowled, looking like she was sucking a particularly bitter lemon, before sighing. \"If I didn't owe it to your father, I might have given up on you long ago... Let's start over. What are the magical properties unique to a ring, from an enchanter's perspective?\"\n\nSilas knew this by heart, after hours of writing lines for his teacher. \"They are smaller than any other sort of enchanted item, so they're more magically dense than other enchanted works.\"\n\nShe hemmed and hawwed for a moment. \"That's good, but not the full story. I suppose that's not your fault, I've left out a few details.\"\n\nOh, of course you did.\n\n\"No, a ring has another property which makes it unique. A topological property.\"\n\n\"What is 'topology'? Does it have anything to do with tropomancy?\"\n\nSilas felt his lips suddenly glue together.\n\n\"It would do you well to not interrupt your elders and betters, child. No, topology isn't the sort of magic that you're interested in learning. It's a much more subtle sort of power than you want. But it is tangentially relevant here.\n\n\"You know by now of the Four-Spell-Limitation which governs ordinary enchanted works - no more than four conterminous pieces of spellwork can be laid upon an ordinary enchanted item. But really, that's just a reflection of a deeper, topological limitation, one which affects more than the magical world. Let me show you.\"\n\nShe conjured a sphere with a surface like a blackboard, an eraser, and a pack of 5 colored chalksticks, before releasing the binding upon Silas' tongue.\n\n\"These are only shadow duplicates, but they will do for our purposes. I want you to try to color the surface of the sphere with five different patches of color, but there are rules. You can only use each color once, and you must use every color. And each patch of color must touch every other patch.\"\n\nSilas tried and tried, but failed. The best he could create was four patches of color. He felt a great sense of vertigo, as if he were standing at the precipice of some terrible and forbidden knowledge. What sort of magical law is this?\n\n\"You see what I mean, now. These four patches of color can be likened to the four spells which enchanters are limited to. But the rules are different for a ring.\"\n\nWith a wave of her hand, she transformed the blackboard sphere into the shape of a doughnut, or ring, and summoned three more chalksticks.\n\nThen, to Silas' shock, she colored the ring with all seven colors of chalk, according to the rules, before passing it to him.\n\n\"As you can see, a ring is capable of carrying up to seven conterminous pieces of spellwork. So, in sum, a magical ring is both extremely magically dense and magically complex. You see the problem?\"\n\nLike dawn after a long night, the answer was coming to Silas now. \"...Rings are magically complex enough to be vulnerable to magical radiation... And also magically dense enough to leak magical radiation! They interfere with each other just like a magnet interferes with electronics!\"\n\nShe gave him a rare smile. \"So you're not hopeless after all. But let me impress upon you the results of such a disaster. There's more than your property at stake.\"\n\nThen, she pulled away one of her ever-present gloves, to reveal hideous, thick, and ropy scars around her ring and middle finger. Silas felt his breath catch in his throat. \"Like you, I once was smart enough to know that not all rules are worth following, yet not smart enough to know which rules can be safely broken. So I wore more than one ring, and after an hour of continual contact they overheated and melted around my fingers, burning through to the bone. I had a chirurgeon do what he could, but my hand was never the same again.\"\n\nSilas almost didn't know what to say. \"I- I'm sorry. I should have been more careful, I won't wear more than one ring on each hand ever again!\"\n\n\"Have you been listening, child? The point isn't to follow the rules, it's to be safe. And rings are more than safe enough to be worn on separate hands, aren't they?\"\n\nSilas looked up at her in confusion, smiling hesitantly to match her own grin. And for the first time, he noticed - and paid attention to - the golden hoop earring upon her right ear.", "\"Your heart...where is it?\"\n\nThe young boy put a palm against his chest to show the old miser.\n\n\"And your Anima, where is that?\"\n\nRaising both hands up, he touched his head.\n\n\"And how does the Mana flow?\"\n\nUnsure of where the explanation was leading, the boy rubbed his hands down his face and chest before getting whacked in the head by the Sage's staff.\n\n\"Stop acting like you belong in a brothel and just say it!\"\n\n\"Ow! It flows down!\" The student rubbed his head, now stinging from the sharp rap.\n\n\"Into?\"\n\n\"The Secondaries. Both arms and both legs.\"\n\n\"Right, and together with the Anima, form all the Casting Conduits.\"\n\n\"But teach-\"\n\n\"Ones hand is the Conduit! Not the finger, the hand! Your finger does not throw fireballs, your hand does.\"\n\n\"Yes, but couldn't I still wear two rings?\"\n\n\"Wear them, sure, but to cast? If both are on the same hand, how will you cast one and not the other?\"\n\n\"What if the Mana is Coloured? And each ring was also coloured?\" In response, the Wizard huffed, annoyed.\n\n\"Coloured magic? The choice of Bards? Used by street performers and artists who waste such power for a few coins?\"\n\n\"It would work.\"\n\n\"Eventually. After you've already been slain by whatever foul demon you've foolishly conjured, or the blade of a warrior, or have your Anima splattered all over the ground by a stray bolt. There's a reason no one bothers with Coloured magic on the battlefield. Why, with how wasteful it is, I'm surprised anyone bothers with it!\" The Wizard followed his rant with a haughty chuckle. \n\n\"So if my Alignment was sharper, I'd be able to use multiple rings practically?\" The boy voice grew softer with every word as the scowl of the old man turned to him.\n\n\"It's not just about your Alignment. Think, boy! What is the purpose of the rings in the first place?\" He watched on as the young child innocently thought the answer out, obviously not understanding the implications.\n\n\"To Mold the spell for the caster, so that one does not waste time and energy Molding the Mana themselves.\"\n\n\"Yes, that means you're simply pouring raw Mana into the rings. It's done that way because it's efficient! Colouring the Mana would require more energy. Not efficient! Not Colouring would force you to pour all that Mana into all your rings before you end up casting all of them. What do you think would happen if your Anima suddenly grew empty that rapidly?\" The boys eyes widened as it began to dawn on him.\n\n\"It would try to replenish its Mana, and then....Spell Rage.\" The boy looked up nervously as he answered the old man. The Wizard, leaned in to speak much softer, much quieter, hoping the menacing posture would instill the proper fear in the child.\n\n\"That's right. The reason magic is cast sparingly. You never want to cross that threshold. You don't know what you'll do, and who you'll hurt.\"\n\n\"...Is that why we stay away from the big cities?\"\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"Have you ever....fallen to Insanity?\" The boy gulped with the last words.\n\n\"Hmph! Of course not! I don't lack the foresight you do!\"\n\n\"Oh...so it really is because you owe the banks money.\"\n\n\"That loan is criminal, dammit!\"", "\"But sir, I don't understand why I can't just wear a magic ring on every finger. The rules allow for up to ten rings. I want to wear ten rings,\" Henry said, quite frustrated at the old wizard in front of him. He had soft tawny eyes framed by a century's worth of wrinkles, a cheerful smile, and a beard fit for Santa Clause. Ordinarily, like every other student in the school, Henry idolized Professor Frost (an ironic name, considering his warm nature), but today, he couldn't wait to be done with the old man's lectures about magical nature. The weight of tomorrow's duel hung over him like an executioners ax, preventing Henry from absorbing anything Professor Frost was trying to teach him. He simply wanted to be told what he needed to do to survive, and more importantly, how to do it. \n\n\"Henry, each ring draws some of your energy to power its enchantments. As you add more rings, the energy you have is divided up into smaller and smaller pieces, making each enchantment weaker. The very best wizards wear one or no rings to a duel, leaving their energy free to cast spells and counter their opponents.\" Frost said, wiggling his ring-free fingers at Henry. (Everyone knew that Professor Frost hardly ever used magic rings. He didn't need too.) \"Therefore,\" Professor Frost continued with a smile, \"I am sure your opponent from Hastings will be wearing the maximum number of rings allowed. For you, two rings should be sufficient. You will have an eight ring advantage over your opponent, so you should easily be able to out cast him.\"\n\nHenry saw the logic in this, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear, and meekly agreed with the professors plan. \"Which rings should I wear then?\" He said with a sigh. \n\nThe professor pointed at the plain golden band he always wore around on a chain round his neck. It was his mother's wedding ring. He had inherited it from her when she died when he was just a child, but he had not been able to take possession of it until he started at the Northern Academy for Wizards last year. Back when his plan was to wear ten rings, he had thought to wear this ring anyway, even though it had no magical powers to speak of. Now that he had only two rings to wear, Henry hadn't dreamed of wearing a mundane ring to a duel that his whole school would be watching. \"You're kidding!\" He shouted out of surprise. \n\nProfessor Frost ignored this, and pulled out a small wooden box from beneath a fold in his rode. He opened it and handed it to Henry. Inside was a brown ring cut roughly from stone. \"This ring,\" Professor Frost said, was hewn directly from rock beneath this school. Hundreds of students have drawn strength from it over the centuries. It will not fail you when combined with your mothers ring.\" Henry gulped. Neither of his rings seemed very magic. \n\nProfessor Frost either didn't notice Henry's reaction to the ring, or didn't care. \"Now that the unsavory matter of rings is concluded,\" He said with his same warm smile, \"Lets get down to the real training.\"" ]	[ 3, 3, 9, 14 ]	[ "1435637962", "1435649306", "1435627690", "1435625770" ]
	[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive.	2,867	[ "In 2035 Ariel, the first manned spacecraft to ever travel beyond lunar orbit was fast approaching Mars when something went terribly wrong, or right if what we discovered withstands scientific scrutiny. Space travel is dangerous in part because of all the radiation from our sun and the radiation trapped in pockets of certain planetary magnetic fields, Jupiter's being the strongest. The amount of radiation a human on a manned flight is exposed to varies depending on how active the sun is. Every 11 years or so the sun goes through a cycle and the quieter times of a solar cycle can last for years. The mission was launched with this in mind so that our journey would happen when the amount of radiation the ship was exposed to was low most of the time. Ariel's crew, myself included, were protected by what any trek fan would recognize as a force field for the times when the sun wasn't quiet. At least we were until the complex circuitry that made this wonder of physics and engineering work failed and the shield along with it at the worst possible time. Our sun in what was supposed to be one of the quietest years that we had ever measured, emitted a massive solar flare and it was headed straight for Ariel. Normally Ariel's shields would be more than enough to shrug off such terrible radiation but there was now nothing between the flare and the tragic end of the mission. The worst part was that we knew it was coming for days and knew that we were going to die stuck in a tin can with no where to hide. We took the suicide pills we had been given in case of something like this; a quick painless death in our sleep was preferable to one by radiation poisoning. Hours later we woke up confused. One hundred times the amount of radiation that should have killed us didn't and obviously neither did our suicide pills despite the sedative in them working like a charm and putting us to sleep for a few hours. By all accounts we should be dead or under the \"best\" of circumstances physiologically speaking, bleeding to death or worse, on Earth this much radiation would have destroyed our immune systems and killed most of the stem cells that allow us to heal ourselves. The suicide pills alone have no known instance of survival at these doses. It should have been quick, minutes maybe an hour before we succomed to the flare but we're still here, a week later. We collected blood and tissue samples and subjected them to all the tests we could jerry rig together on the ship curious as to why we lived while so many others died. Everything looked normal at first, then we found something odd. None of us had a single cancer cell which even the most healthy of people do. Normally our immune systems keep these rogue cells in check, they're inevitable after all at least we thought so until now. The telomeres of our cells regrew themselves, those are like the little plastic caps at the end of shoelaces that prevent them from being frayed from use and indeed that's basically what telemeres do for DNA, act as sacrificial bits of quadruple helical DNA that are slowly nibbled off after every cell division, the routine genetic damage apparent in a quarter of otherwise healthy skin cells after decades of exposure to UV rays repaired itself and all the gunk and garbage that accumulates in older cells was no where to be found. By all accounts, we were clinically immortal. The cell repair mechanisms that give us this resistance to aging and the associated diseases also protects us against radiation and other typical environmental causes of death. We weren't immune to injury, we could still die if we took enough physical damage just like anyone on Earth but we wouldn't die from old age or experience the horror of Alzheimer's or the inevitability of terminal cancer. Our cells it turns out, are a lot more resiliant than we imagined and now we think we understand why. Earth, our home, the planet that birthed our species, was slowly killing us all. Like a vampire that steals the life of its victims over decades, the Earth or to be more accurate, Gaia, the living aspect of the planet was feeding on us and our ancestors for millions of years. We had some indication of such a phenomenon before- little bacteria like listeria or wolbachia lived inside cells as parasites- taking whatever resources they needed to live just as Gaia was siphoning life from us. Our immortality evolved as a consequence of developing defenses against the feeding. It was an evolutionary arms race where we developed better cell repair mechanisms and immune responses while Gaia developed more efficient means of extracting nutrients and chemical energy from us. After millions of years of that, once you take us out of Earth's vicious grasp, there was virtually nothing capable of overwhelming our biological defenses.", "My sleep is rough, and interrupted. The things I see and experience in my nightmares kind of hook into my mind like a cat’s claws, and I know I’ll remember them vividly in the morning, and for a long time afterwards. But when I wake up there’s another hundred dollars in my account as promised.\n\nI shake myself up out of the bed in my cubicle, eyes aching, yawning, probably dehydrated. Around me other people are doing the same. They’re all as rumpled and dishevelled as me. We make awkward, bloodshot eye contact, look away quickly and shuffle off to the breakfast queue. No one really talks as we get complementary coffees, donuts, pastries. We’re all exhausted and most of us have to get to work. The luckiest ones, and unluckiest ones, are going home to sleep properly.\n\nLater I transfer the money to my mum’s bank account: the hundred bucks from last night, a hundred from the night before, and fifty from the night before that. I need another fifty to cover my rent, but that payment should be a decent contribution to my cousin Karen’s college fund, at least until I get paid from work next week. Out of all of us, Karen has the most potential to succeed and breed and leave the struggling planet. She deserves it.\n\nAt work they can tell I’ve been roughing it in the sleep cubicles. Some of the others have too. They put us in the back, away from the customers, because we look as bad as we feel. Three nights a week is more than enough for me, but some of the younger ones are sticking it out five nights out of seven and working. I can’t handle that anymore. I’m twenty-eight, and the best years of my life have gone into the ground for the greater good.\n\nWhen I was younger I had a roommate who was into philosophy and ecosupport. She dedicated more of herself to the planet than anyone I’ve ever met, just living off the supplementary payments and sleeping for most of the day. She’d tell me, “We shouldn’t have to do this. Our ancestors lived in harmony with the earth, everything was in balance. Everyone gave part of themselves to Gaia every night. It was egalitarian, matriarchal, and they all lived to be a hundred.” I don’t know if she was talking about before the Expansion and the sleep farms and quotas, or before the European colonisation – she claimed to be one-eighth Cherokee – or even before that. I don’t know if it was true or not. She might be dead by now, or I’d give it an equal chance she’s joined a commune and grows her own kale. Who knows. Some of them live for ages. Maybe she’s right.\n\nI don’t have enough energy left to shower properly when I get home. I sit in the stall and rub my face and scalp to try and ease the discomfort there. The hot water feels incredible. I’m tired enough to start getting flashbacks to nightmares, and when the water shuts off and I step out to dry myself, sudden dizziness makes me lurch forward and I nearly fall. It’s going to be touch-and-go at work tomorrow.\n\nLying down in my own bed, with crisp sheets and familiar scents, is a huge relief. On my bedside table is a picture of Karen, my cousin, who will be studying hard right now, the hopes of our family pressing down on her shoulders. I’ve always been a bit jealous that she’ll never have to lie in one of those cubicles in the ground and have her vitality drained out of her while she struggles to sleep. But when we spoke last Christmas she looked tired and drained too, listening to everyone pushing food on her and quizzing her about her grades, dozens of relatives who’d spent the year ageing and toiling to try and push her out of the poverty we’ll always live in. She must be keenly aware of what we’ve given up, and how hard we expect her to work in return. \n\nI should call her. It’ll be weird, because we owe each other so much, but still... I should call my mother. I should...\n\nI finally fall into a real, restful sleep, and dream of nothing.\n", "We never fully understood how time worked. Forwards seemed inevitable, backwards an impossibility. We had been in space for just under 16 years, yet we have barely aged, if at all. I had left earth at the age of 35, now on the eve of my 56th birthday I look almost identical - save my new haircut.\n\nWe kept in contact with Earth regularly. We were the chosen few to live in a new Long Term Habitation Unit in space, orbiting Mars. Our goal was to research the viability of Mars as a long term terraforming project. We had tried it on the Moon, but it's size made it difficult for our plants to survive. It was a rock - Mars had potential.\n\nOur mission control on Earth was boggled by the apparent lack of aging by us in the habitation unit. Space must be having a negative effect on our body they though. We ran a battery of tests with what systems we had, but all of us were as healthy as ever. Some bone loss due to low gravity, but almost no muscle loss and no apparent aging or degradation in our cells themselves.\n\nThat's when a breakthrough occurred - was it Earth herself aging us? Many believed since time in memorial that the Earth was a living creature. We buried or cremated our dead. While our numbers had swelled to over 10 billion, fewer of us were dying. Modern medicine and health standards the world over had increased significantly. We weren't dying and giving the Earth her energy back. We had cracked the key to life and understood none of it. All I knew is that I wouldn't be returning to Earth to return my borrowed life force.", "Earth was supposed to live a long and vivid life..\n\nBut never this long.\n\ntwo thousand and twenty five years.\n\nEarth survived and kept on pushing. Refusing to die when all others had left.\n\nMars.\n\nMercury.\n\nVenus.\n\nJupiter.\n\nSaturn.\n\nAll of them were gone except Pluto.\n\nPluto cried out for sister earth but was unheard and alone hidden away from the flames of war and destruction.\n\nHidden by the remnants of her sister planets.\n\nPluto watched as her older sister Earth slowly self destructed.\n\nIt started with the Humans gaining flight.\n\nFrom there it took over and they never stopped.\n\nThey strived for more.\n\nI applauded them thinking that they would keep earth alive.\n\nThinking they would be able to bring the others back.\n\nHow wrong I Was.\n\nThey took over spreading like a wild fire draining earth of everything she had. \n\nResources. Minerals. Oils. Vitamins. Plants.\n\nEverything. Nothing could sate their desire to know and control everything.\n\nThat was true until recently when they gained space travel.\n\nWhen that happened and I saw humans for the first time I saw HER inside of them.\n\nHer passion, her desire, her....needs\n\nHumans were earth incarnate only more....concentrated.\n\nAnd when they started leaving slowly at first... I noticed Earth start struggling.\n\nFading.\n\nHer beautiful surfaces started struggling slowly becoming scarred as time went on and more left.\n\nEventually there were only a few left and Earth...Her beautiful surface was dark and barren. Slowly dying...\n\nShe cried out her beautiful voice laced with pain as the last of the Humans left.\n\nShe cried as her surface shone a new color.\n\nScarlet red.\n\nShe was wheeping even as they left to avoid death. Even though they were the ones who killed Earth.\n\nThey watched as she slowly imploded into herself.\n\nAfter a few hours there was nothing left of her beautiful surface.\n\nThe only remnant was the Humans spreading like wildfire every where as they ignored Earth's last cry...\n\n\n\"Please....Leave sister Pluto be....Don't destroy anymore...\"\n\nThat was the last words I heard and the last time I saw my sister.\n\nAll I have left is a fatally short memory as the Humans come.\n\nAnd they're coming with the desperation of a cornered animal.\n\n\n-=~Pluto~=-\n\nHope you all enjoyed this :)\n\n/r/daniell61 for similair stories if you enjoyed this :D\n\nThanks! and any criticism and reviews are very much welcome :)\n\n/u/LeoDuhVinci has a very nice story as well :3", "It was inevitable trying to keep the information a secret. It was on the internet in an hour and then the news stations shortly after. Some called out that it was a conspiracy, nothing more than a tall tale made by the government to keep the people under control. Others decided to capitalize on the opportunity, saluting to the stars and stripes as they loaded up their god-given rights and expressed their patriotism through looting and the honest pursuit of happiness. Throughout the nation windows were boarded up and eyes were glued to screens by the next morning, hoping for some kind of solace. And to the relief of none, the President decided to make his statement. \n\nHe slowly looked in the mirror, adjusting his tie and wiping the sweat from his forehead. Large crowds had long-since made their homes on his front lawn, chanting for the disappointment that they were sure was to come. \n\nThey had grown animalistic, hackles raising and spit dribbling from their lips as the man known as the President made his way to the podium. They quieted, as he cleared his throat, preparing to pounce. \n\n“My uh, Fellow Uh mericans. I can understand that you are uhhh afraid and unsure of what to do right now.” He paused, letting it sink in. “Well, there isn’t much that really can be done now is there?” \n\nThe public was outraged. How could he let that happen?! What was even the use of a president?! \n\n“We as a species has persevered throughout all of history, using nothing but the uh time given to us and the unique capacity to rise past difficult times and my fellow Americans this is nothing but a difficult time!” He shouted. \n\nThey had been cheated! They could have been immortals! They could have been sipping on champagne on sandy beaches surrounded by fat stacks of money and groups of scantily clad members of the opposite sex… for eternity!\n\n“And my fellow Americans, I can only say that there is one solution to this!”\n\nThey quieted for a brief moment. They were certain of what was to come. They were begging for him to say “It is to be there for one another and for our fellow man.” \n\nObama sighed before opening his tired eyes and looking over at his people. \n\n“If Mother Earth really is uh the reason that people die,” he paused.\n\n“Then fuck it.” There was only silence as the crowd digested what they heard. \n\n“Fuck it right in the chode! This greedy son of a bitch has been sucking our uhhhhh dicks for centuries! If we’re going to die we’re uh taking this cock-sucking terrorist commie with us!”\n\nAnd America was saved. Cigarette prices dropped. Littering was enforced. Toxic wastes were dumped into the oceans. The world watched, then the world followed. The Japanese fucked dolphins and whales harder then ever before. Environmental Rights Activists were the first to don chainsaws and take to National Parks with a vengeance. Peta members were executed. Every copy of The Lorax was promptly burned or used as paper for rolling up doobies. \n\nAnd as the world descended into pandemonium, Obama gave a loving smile before boarding his spacecraft to Mars. He high-fived Jay-Z and Kanye West before making his way into the common room where he got a lap-dance from both Rihanna and Miley Cyrus. At the same time. \n\n“Very good work Hussein,” the head of the illuminatti said, entering the room with Beyonces luscious glutes seemingly glued to his crotch.\n“It was mere child’s play,” Obama responded, cackling a most sinister cackle before popping a molly and getting ready to brose dank memes on mars forever. \n\n#wakeupsheeple", "You know, I just worry these ideas are going to be pilfered at some point. This is an amazing idea for a movie or something. Is there any way to protect the people who thought of these wonderful prompts?", "No one expected Mass Spectrometry to lead to some level of empirical proof for a ... soul, for lack of a better word, but here we are. As leapfrog advances in improved isolation resolution, ion transmission and peak shape selectivity analysis, and expanded detection limits were made, it was only a matter of time until someone measured a human death, and detected the first unaccounted loss of mass. It was thought to be an anomaly at first, an error in the computer code. Especially when it was first repeated by others. \n\nThat discrepancy in readings from when the heart was beating, and when it wasn't any longer, was repeated- again and again, and again. No matter which hardware and software configurations were used. All the AIs were in agreement on the outcomes. It didn't take long for the pseudo-science driven organizations and uneducated masses to define that micro-mass discrepancy as the life-force, or soul of a person. Those doing the measuring were at a loss to provide an alternate answer to where that mass was dispersing to, or what the lost mass even was for that matter.\n\nSomehow, Science survived the religious upheavals and theocratic wars that followed, and our reach for the stars continued unabated. Interest in \"the discrepancy\" further drove advances in micro-mass detection and computational modeling. \n\nThat's when everything changed. None of the UNChIn Mars Colonists were dying. Accidents, age - nothing. They began to think of themselves as immortal, and macabre experiments conducted in darkness against unwilling participants suggested those claims to be well founded. \n\nAdvanced Mass Spectrometers were pointed at Earth, and AI driven modeling engines concluded the mass loss on death was somehow, equally mysteriously, contributing to Earth's mass. Eerily, their models demonstrated gravity driven or impacted spiral patterns from those crossing death's threshold. Almost, as if Earth was sucking the missing mass/energy in. However, similar detectors were pointed back at Mars detected no such micro-mass transfers.\n\nThings didn't get really ugly until Earth's top 1% began to abandon Earth. Obviously, Earth-Mars transfers were out of reach for the average citizen, and only more so once the exodus of the rich began. After they left, \"The discrepancy\" began to be used to justify all kinds of horrific viewpoints, including cannibalism -- in far too many places where climate driven change had established widespread hunger as the norm.\n\nEarth became a prison, to be escaped, and only by those who could accumulate the wealth. The cost for Earth-Mars transfer was increased by those on Mars to be largely unattainable to any but the top 1% of the total top 1% found among Earth's remaining population. The Mars Home Transfer Lottery provided some measure of access for the unwealthy, but those who won found themselves ill equipped to live or function without the capital held by the now native population. Once it eventually leaked that Mars Home Transfer Lottery Winners were actually being used as slaves, the HQ of that organization was razed. No one escaped the fire, and there are pictures of firemen standing by, doing nothing, some even smiling, as the Mars Home Transfer Lottery executives leaped to their deaths screaming in their panic to avoid the flames.\n\nIt wasn't until afters Mars was Terra-formed, and had become for all intents and purposes, \"alive\" again, that humans on Mars began to die again. Mass Spectrometers were turned back on and pointed at Mars and sure enough - the micro-mass energy spirals were seen. Earth's wealthiest had failed in their gambit. It turns out escaping to Mars wasn't far enough.\n\nIn the end, it became seen that our lives serve little more purpose than as a food source to feed the ravenous hunger for micro-mass energy that any living planet seemed to exhibit. Monsters energetic teeth whose limits are defined by their respective gravitational fields.\n\nAny effort to Terra-form Jupiter was made a war crime by both planets, but it wan't enough. People seeing themselves as food made life less than cheap in the eyes of far too many children bred by multiple generations of money-driven psychopaths either already living on mars or striving to get there.\n\nThe war between the two planets was inevitable.\n\n", "It's a little embarrassing now, thinking back, just how long it took us to realize what was happening. Why it was happening.\n\nWhen we first began leaving the Earth, she was still a beautiful planet, well, as beautiful as she could be given the pollution that covered her surface, and sank deep into her core.\n\nAs more and more people began to leave though, we began to notice odd little things. Big things, really.\n\nThe first? Well...the people that had already settled the furthest colonies, so far away from home. They were healthy, amazingly so really. They were practically glowing compared to those of us that had just arrived.\n\nAt first we assumed it was just something in the atmosphere of that particular colony, but conversing with the other colonies, sharing similar stories, we quickly realized that wasn't true.\n\nSo...what was happening? Many people quoted that old adage 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth', but how could we not? What was happening to us was amazing, stupefying...and a little frightening.\n\nFrightening because what was happening flew in the face of everything, -everything-, we knew. everything we saw as immutable fact, just another part of being human.\n\nWe weren't dying anymore. Oh, this isn't to say we couldn't die, we still could, but it usually required a bullet to the face to accomplish that. There was no more dying of old age, dying of disease and the like.\n\nWhile we at the colonies were experiencing this miracle, we were quick to realize that the people that were still 'home' on Earth, they were still dying. In droves. \n\nDisease were rampant, natural disasters, everywhere you looked there was death. It was like the Earth herself was suddenly out to get us.\n\nYou'd think at this point we might have finally realized what was happening, looking back it's easy to say that all the evidence was practically screaming in our faces.\n\nBut how could anyone have possibly jumped to such a conclusion as that? And so quickly? It's shaming to say now that it took us years longer to finally put two and two together.\n\nTo notice that the more people that escaped Earth, the more that the ones remaining died. \n\nThe clincher? The ones that managed to escape, they loaded up on ships diseased, dying, barely able to function, but as they grew further and further from Earth, from her grasp, they began to get better.\n\nMore than just 'better', what happened to them was nothing less than a complete reversal. Men and women seemingly aged before their time, withered to husks, seemed to grow younger with the passing of space, grow healthier and heartier.\n\nIt was one of these such passengers, in fact, that finally drew the correct conclusions, saw the patterns and found the answer.\n \nEarth was killing us, our mother was murdering us, and we were murdering her. As more and more left, her surface grew barren, covered in waste lands and horrible storms. It was like seeing a wild animal in its final death throes.\n\nA planet doesn't die that easily, though. Nor that quickly.\n\nShe's still alive, barely. We've rescued all the people we could, any left are dead. No possibly, or maybe about it. They. Are. Dead. \n\nAnd, so is anyone foolhardy enough to take a ship too close to her, the minute they get within her grasp, so to speak, she drains them dry.\n\nAfter a few dozen fleets of ships went silent, only to be found later floating lifeless, staffed by a crew of withered corpses, we learned our lesson and avoided our old home like the plague.\n\nThere are still some though that like to take that trip, for the very reason that most avoid it.\n\nSome people grow weary of their life, they can't come to terms with no end in sight, no proper start and stop to what they are, and when they get fed up, when they can't take it anymore, they say their goodbyes and ship off for Earth. We like to imagine she understands what they do, and appreciates it.\n\n", "Personal log, day Zero.\n\nThirty years. That´s how long it took to build this ship. Fifty, if you count the construction of mankind´s first space dock, where the Armstrong itself was built. A colony ship. Fifteen hundred of Earth’s finest. And me. I kind of knew what to expect, but the shuttle ride was truly awe-inspiring. You cannot prepare for something like this. This ship is beyond massive, beyond impressive. Truly mankind´s greatest achievement ever. After Mars, this was the logical step. A permanent outpost on another world. There are supposed to be around ten thousand of us when we arrive. Ha. My crewmates will be quite busy.\n\nIt is still strange to me. I am almost sixty years old. This ship could very well be the place of my death. But after Eilene’s passing, I don’t care. I am lucky, I am a pioneer. Who would have guessed.\n\n\nPersonal log, Day five\n\nI am exhausted. I haven’t worked this hard since that summer on the farm, almost forty years ago. This place has been frantic with activity for four days. Every system had to be checked after the launch. Luckily, the botanics look great. I´m so happy. I know all these younger people must doubt an old man. Why take me instead of a fertile man or woman? So far, I have proven them wrong.\n\nThe artificial gravity is agreeing with me. Some of those old-man-aches I have had for years actually feel like they are improving. If I keep feeling like this, I’m sure I’ll live to see our final destination. Twenty-nine years. I can do that.\n\n\nPersonal log, Day thirty\n\nWow. Something happened that hasn’t happened in a loooong time. I got hit on today. Some woman came by botanics looking to score some ingredients for a family-recipe-soup. I had to turn her down for the plants, but that didn’t stop her. Outer space must really like me. She was at least thirty years younger than me. Ha. She must have poor eye sight to mistake me for a good catch. Still, I appreciate the compliment. \n\n\nPersonal log, Day ninety\n\nI am not imagining this. Something is happening to me. I am stronger than I have been in forty years. My mind is quicker, sharper. And I look good. Too good. It’s like the clock turned back twenty years. I have grown accustomed to grey hairs. I do not like them, but I have had to accept them. No longer. And the sheer volume of it, unbelievable. I know I have to tell someone, but I’m afraid of how they’ll react. I’m going to think about it some more.\n\n\nPersonal log, Day one-hundred-and-eleven\n\nI am so fed up with being poked and prodded. And those damned doctors are still stumped. I look and feel like I’m twenty five years old now. Not just on the outside. Apparently, my telomeres are reversing. Whatever that means. I am the only one on the ship experiencing this effect to this degree. The others look at me funny, they are scared. Who can blame them?\n\n\nPersonal log, Day five-hunded-sixteen\n\nWell, its established. I am immortal. We all are actually. I look like a twenty-five year old. All of us do. Some of the older people reverted back to this age. Must just stopped aging. We just sent word back to Earth. Let them figure out what’s going on. Ha! All that trouble. A five year selection process to find not only the most skilled, but also the most fertile. All that for nothing. We don’t die. We don’t even need to have children. \n\n\nPersonal log, Day eleven-thousand-sixteen\n\nWe are here. I did it. We lost zero people on the journey. No-one died of sickness. No fatal accidents. Most important, no-one died of old age. Titan is beautiful. We just raised the dome. Now my real job has begun. I feel like a cheat, I was selected on my ability to teach the younger people how to do this step, and now I’m going do it myself.\n\n\nPersonal log, Day fifty-one-thousand-four-hundred-twelve\n\nThe ship back to Earth is leaving in two days. The journey will take five years. I am the first to take it. I wonder what Earth will be like, with so few people there. I read about massive droughts and erosion. Still, everything is better than this. I just wonder what will happen to me there. Will I die the moment we get in orbit, crumbling to dust in an instant? Or will I have to live out the rest of my life there…\n\nEilene, my dear, I am coming home. Just a little while longer. Then we’ll see each other again.\n", " 40 years until I could possibly return home. That's how deep I was. At this point I really couldn't tell whether I was existing that far out into this void or if it was merely the depth at which my isolation had allowed my mind to drift... \n I'd left loneliness far behind, that madness certainly took it's toll, but once you tread it's waters long enough you learn that there's no need to resist it, but to become it. Without time constantly hanging over you all you have is existence.\n Simple being.\n The infinity. Just as space has no walls, you quickly learn that your mind does not either and without their restrictions your consciousness is forced to reevaluate. Immortality becomes a silly word, defined by the cyclical nature of living in orbit, for without orbit, without time, Immortality just is. There is nothing new, nothing old, simply just consciousness.\n Pure consciousness.\n It quickly becomes devoid of emotion, thought, opinion. Everything just is. Is as I am, and I am as it is.\n And I shall drift as such, for all eternity, there's no longer a need to go home, it's far too peaceful out here.\n\n\n\n It's quite astonishing how well everyone took the news. Of course at first there was mass panic, I mean how could their not be. We had found our solution to man's ever present fear. We could finally have our endless lives. But as the riots fell, as the pundits began to hush, when it was really thought out by us all. \n We realized.\n Our existence is meaningless without experiences.\n To escape the grasp of our Mother's love, to run away off into the darkness so as delay the inevitable, it lead to a life of nothing.\n Isolation.\n It gives us no reason to exist. \n For everything that we are able to encounter in whatever you may think this life to be, we must be thankful to have been granted this opportunity. And so, for the others that will come after us, we allow our lives to be taken for them. \n Certainly some still leave.\n Some return.\n Others are never heard from again. \n Myth has risen from the days of old, the Buddhists have mostly left our planet, it is now said there is a monastery somewhere out in the Milky Way. \n But now that we know, now that it is accepted, we all seem to be making sure that we preserve this, forever. \n For now, through Mother Earth, we truly are capable of Immortality, for she will continue to bare us, so long as we stay in the comfort of her love.", "\"They must know...\" she collapsed onto her knees. \n\nRachel turned toward me on the NOVAK56, our interstellar spaceship, the 56th of its kind. The 55 that came before us were manned missions exploring our own galaxy. This time our mission was special. Travel to a planet core left after a violent supernova, in the outer rim of the Andromeda Galaxy. Scientists said the chances of finding such a residual remnant were 1 in ever 8 billion stars. I was young at the time when they asked me to go. I'm still young. Time dilation is quite whimsical in that way. The same old corporate assholes who send young inexperienced engineers on treacherous missions end up dead by the time the mission is complete. \n\n\"You know we can't go back Rachel.\" I walked up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. As I looked into her eyes I couldn't help but wonder how my wife was doing on Earth. Everyday I try to convince myself that she's waiting for me. But every NOVAK astronaut would be fucking stupid not to either leave or divorce their significant other before leaving Earth. I was a part of the \"fucking stupid\" crowd. I don't know what I was thinking. I am naive enough to think my wife would let her pussy dry up for another 24 years waiting for me. \n\nBut none of that matters now. \n\nI stared intently at Rachel's trembling hand as she began moving toward pilot control. I grabbed her hand and led my finger comfortingly between hers. As our palms touched, I smiled at her.\n\n\"You know we can't go back.\" I looked out at the sunken planet core again to see its massive molten eyes sown shut by the heat of the supernova. It's rigid metallic flesh pulsating slowly in a last ditched effort to form a gravitational shield to protect itself.\n\nBut still her hand began making it's way back to pilot control. This time I slapped her hard across the face. She woke her up.\n\n\"Hope, what do you think you're doing?\" I was taken aback. Her voice was absolutely calm. \n\n\"Hope, I don't think you realize what's happening here.\" She began pacing around the room, eyes locked onto mine.\n\n\"If Earth is a living organisms that means it needs a fuel source.\" She stopped and looked at her reflection against the window. \"Earth has been cultivating us, setting up the right biological conditions for a robust, intellectually superior species that has both mass and longevity.\"\n\nShe looked back at me in horror. \"It's using us. Eating us. It's consuming just enough so that our diet and medicine allows us to extend our life expectancy.\"\n\nShe walked up to me, and this time she put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I was in shock, Rachel could see it all over my face. \n\n\"Hope, in the last 100 years our life expectancy across the world has not gone beyond 122 years... Which means Mother Earth is probably tired of nibbling off of us. \n\nShe's preparing for a mass extinction.\"\n\nI fell on my back. I couldn't stand. \n\nGeneral relativity, special relativity, the Lorentz factors... Do these equations even make sense, given our potential life span might be far greater than our life span can tolerant on earth. \n\n\"She's bored Hope, she might be more human than we thought.\"\n\nI stood up quickly and began rotating the ship back to the Earth position vector. \n\n(Dramatic Man) \nWhat... or Who is Earth. How has she been draining our life force. Can unmasking her true nature reveal to us, the secrets to our existence? What will our heroes encounter next?\n\nFind out next of the next episode of...NOVAK56. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Year 2198.\n\n\"Captain!\"\n\n\"Yes, Summers?\"\n\n\"Message from the Cyrian High Council, Sir!\"\n\n\"Well, don't stand there like a 3D McDonald's Sign, read it!\"\n\nLieutenant Emma Summer coughed before starting to read the message, pausing once in a while to handle the difficult translation, being the only human to have mastered the Cyrian language she was quite invaluable to the mission.\n\n\"Message to/from Human commander, Cyrian High Order. Turn around. Leave. Final warning... err... socks? no, that's not right.... Ah, yes, punishment on death. Cyrian troops outnumbers Human Invasion by 10,000 to one. Last to retreat chance, surrender not tasty... Oh, acceptable.\"\n\nListening to the hard to follow string of words I finally conclude.\n\n\"Last chance to turn and run, we're outnumbered and they won't accept a surrender later on?\"\n\n\"That would sum it up quite nicely, Captain.\"\n\n\"This species, they are rather... Reclusive... Aren't they?\"\n\n\"Indeed, Sir.\"\n\n\"So, you'd say they don't know?\"\n\n\"Not up to me to make such predictions, Sir, only a Lieutenant after all.\"\n\n\"And I'm your Captain.... Emma? Right?... And I asked you a question.\"\n\n\"Yes, Sir, it's Emma. And, Sir, I would definitely guess that they do, in fact, not know.\"\n\n\"Very well, thank you for your input Lieutenant Summers, you're dismissed.\"\n\nAs Lt Summers saluted and left I found myself wondering when the aliens would every learn. This is the 39th specie who is openly hostile towards humans from the first encounter. And they will become the 34th extinct specie in a matter of weeks.\n\nOver the past 200 years humanity had discovered a great gift, or rather cure for a curse. Once sufficiently far away from our home planet, Terra or Earth as it was called, we became immortal. Not only would we heal from any wound short of total incineration we also reverted in age, turning back to appearing no older than 24.\n\nWith this discovery money suddenly poured into the space program and we advanced it more every three months than we had in the ten years prior, including the past three month period(s).\n\nIn record time we started to travel the universe, safe in knowing nothing can kill us, except our home world. If our spaceships needed outside repair we'd just send a guy out, it smarts a bit, being unprotected in space, but one got used to it.\n\nIt took us about fifty years to encounter our first alien specie, the Lytras as they called themselves. Their language oddly similar to Spanish. We hit it off great, they sold us scientific advancements, improving our spacecrafts drastically. In return we sold them chocolate, silk and pearls, apparently these were unique to earth and became extremely sought after by the Lytrian high society.\n\nWe were happy with our arrangements until they started demanding more and more for scraps we would soon figure out on our own. They even went so far as to demanding the exact origin of earth. Well, Humanity has never been a stranger to war, and the war that followed was bloody. A massacre of previously unheard proportions.\n\nThe Lythrian Empire had spanned across eight solar system, terraforming every planet into a virtual paradise. But in two years we had conquered and killed them all, not that we wanted to kill them, it's just that they didn't have a concept of giving up, they didn't have a word for surrender.\n\nWith so many planets to live and farm on the human population exploded, we went from 10 billion to 150 in 40 years. And we soon started exploring more of the galaxy, every new species we encountered either followed the Lythrians path of went straight up hostile.\n\nWe never sent an army. We sent one landing ship, containing exactly 1,000 soldiers, each armed with nano blade swords. Our victory was assured from the day we left Earth.\n\nImmortal we're also impossible to defeat. And studying most of these species history we learn that compared to human history non of them truly understood war. Being the species with the greatest war experience might be a bit unfair. But what has once been started is very hard to stop.\n\nAnd today, with this invasion, humanity will have conquered and populated over 50% of this galaxy, reaching a total population of 150,000 billion people.\n\nWe have truly become masters of this universe, and we are endless and eternal. Fear us, Aliens, and surrender, resistance is truly futile. ", "I remember seeing Jerry's face through the window in my hibernation pod. He was slamming his fists onto it and although he knew it was soundproof, he knew it would trigger the auto awaking cycle. I blinked a few times, maybe thinking it was a dream. I tried to tilt my head to the right, forgetting i was strapped down completely. I looked back up and as soon as I saw the look of terror on Jerry's face, I was wide awake. The pod then started to screech. It was deafening. I realized it was actually the pod opening and not screeching but alarms sounding off. I got up and stumbled. I looked up to the re-cal station and started to get up, crawling towards it at the same time-\n\n\"Hurry and get the fuck up! There's no time for re-cal!\"\n\nI tried to speak but no words came out. I wasn't ready to do anything. I couldn't walk, I couldn't speak. I couldn't think straight. The alarm seemed to be getting louder, although I think it was just my disorientation. I looked up towards him and he simply pointed a finger. I glanced in the direction-\n\nKUH-THUD\n\nI closed my eyes. An explosion? It was louder than the alarm. In fact, I couldn't hear the alarm anymore. I couldn't hear anything. I opened my eyes and to my surprise I could see Jerry floating away. The ship had been smashed in half and equipment was spilling out into the abyss of space. \n\n\n\nThat was 4,360 years ago. I looked down at my watch again, closed my eyes and screamed as loud as I could, hoping it would somehow end this terrible fate. Floating helplessly with no end in sight.", "They knew. The bastards knew this whole time and they never told us. And if they didn't know, they had to at least have suspected.\n\nIn the 46 years since man first walked on the moon, how many people have died? How many never even needed to, just so they \"could be sure\"? 46 years since they sent a group of men with varying terminal illnesses on a mission they thought no one would come back from, only for them to return, miraculously cured. Cured and healthier than any man had any right to be.\n\nWhat was the first thing they did? Experiment. They sent more manned missions, placed space stations in orbit around the planet, made calculations. It appeared that the outer limit of the Earth's Biological Degradation Field was just a little more than 100,000 miles. No one knew why and no one cared. What they cared about was the revelation that the Apollo 13 mission actually ran out of oxygen before they were even half way home. The entire crew was breathing vacuum. In fact, they were breathing out of reflex.\n\n46 years it took them to realize that the moment a human entity travelled more than 100,000 miles from the earth, it became self sustaining. Almost immediately all need for food, water, oxygen or sleep disappeared, the body became harder than diamond and any freak wounds were almost instantly healed. But within a week of returning to the planet, those needs would return. Scientists couldn't explain it. Was it the unfiltered solar radiation? Was the entire planet dependent on a symbiotic relationship with its life forms? If that was the case then why didn't this immortality apply to the monkey or dogs that travelled similar distances?\n\nThe rich caught on first. Branson, Musk, they started pioneering \"space tourism\" in the hopes of easing us into immortality. But that's not how we found out, no. That's not why there's rioting in the streets. That's not why the rich are abandoning the planet to leave the poor behind, riding on solar winds into eternity. \n\nNo, it was that fucker Snowden. He leaked it all. 10 more years of secrecy, they say, and we would have had mass exodus. But with the best, brightest and richest fleeing en masse, they estimate we've been set back 80-90 years. That's with the help of the Good Samaritans who have intentionally stayed behind.\n\nAnd where's Snowden in all this? Where's the one who only wanted to share the truth? Where can the angry mobs find him?\n\nAbout 600,000 miles beyond Luna, of course. Making a beeline straight for Mars.", "Those of us who volunteered to go to Mars were seen as brave individuals conquering the final frontier by some and idiots with a skewed perception of what life away from everyone would be like. \n\nIn reality, it was somewhere in between. The loneliness is worse than it seems. On earth, we would be isolated for maybe a few months or years, but we'd always be able to go back home to our families and friends. Over here, we'd spend years and decades relatively alone, and the only people we got to encounter were the ones that we came with. If you hate someone, you'll have to spend a whole lifetime with them. If you loved someone, chances were that they were already taken. Life was rough from a social perspective. \n\nOn the other hand, the scientific research was truly wonderful. We discovered things about life in lower gravity that scientists on earth never would've even thought of. We found bacterial life, which was apparently celebrated for years on earth. Our other discoveries were less spectacular, but still important enough to relay back to earth.\n\nExcept for one. The discovery, which we made 100 years into our expedition, was so important that we couldn't risk letting people on earth know. It would've caused chaos. People would've clambored to be on the next flight to Mars, and they're would've been outrage in the scientific community. We discovered that humans are actually more or less immortal. \n\nGiven the relatively short lifespan of humans on earth, it was truly astounding when even the weakest of our expedition lived well into their 100s. Nobody knew what was happening. How could Jim with terminal cancer live not 10, not 20, but 75 years past his given 6 months? Who knows. People on earth were still dying at a normal pace. In fact, the average lifespan was projected to go down. Yet here we were on Mars, living well into our 200s.\n\nWhen a new ship arrived, maybe one every 30 years, the new inhabitants would always be shocked at the sight of such a successful colony. Slowly, we would hint at and then tell them the discovery of longer lives, and maybe even immortality.\n\nHowever, a disturbing trend grew. Whenever a new ship arrived, death rates would steadily rise for a couple of years before steadying. Nobody thought much of it, as the people who were song were well past their life expectancy anyway.\n\nBack on earth, the energy crisis seemed to solve itself. A few years of large scale disasters lowered the population by almost a billion, and suddenly the energy consumption went down. New technologies were discovered, with or help, that could create energy more efficiently than ever before. Or seemed like earth always found a way through. Any problems that humans created were almost miraculously solved.\n\nI, without even letting my family know, began to do my own research into this topic. It began to seem more and more clear to me that the earth was somehow surviving on the deaths of humans, and that death rates were lower when fewer people were alive. Being a scientist, I wanted to make sure that it was actually a cause and not some correlated facts.\n\nI cross referenced the data we had from our own Mars records and the findings were concrete. Death rates are directly correlated to the number of living organisms on a certain planet. That explained the high death rates after an influx of new Mars colonizers. It explained the earth's ability to always fix itself.\n\nThere was only one thing to do. Present my findings to the colony. After explaining my hypothesis to the leader of our colony, I managed to get a chance to speak to everyone at once.\n\nI was given a week to prepare my presentation. Making graphs and formatting data to look presentable took most of my time. I spent the rest of the week getting the auditorium ready. Setting up the audio and video systems took longer than expected, leaving me only one day for everything else that needed to get done.\n\nOn the big day, the crowd was gathered on the edge of their seats.\n\n\"A lot of you may be wondering why you are gathered here today,\" I began. \"Well, I've got a huge surprise in store for all of you. Since the beginning of time, or at least human time, the life cycle has been an accepted part of our lives. We live, we die, we reproduce. Today, I am going to turn all of that upside down.\"\n\nI presented all of the visuals I had prepared, and watched as astonished space pioneers tried to soak it all in.\n\n\"So do the scientists on earth know about this?\" one curious child asked.\n\n\"No, not yet. I wanted the opinion of everyone here first. Some of us might not want others to know this secret. This segues perfectly into the next part of my presentation. We'll have a vote on whether or not to tell the people back on earth about this.\"\n\nA debate ensued, with some arguing that we were there to report or findings to other people and let professionals handle the situation. Others said that the risk associated with letting others know was top great. In the end, the vote was 438-251 in favor of keeping it a secret.\n\n\"Ok so time for a Q&A session, as I'm sure many of you have questions,\" I said\n\nA ruckus broke out as people shouted to have their questions heard. I answered them as u heard them.\n\n\"Yes this means that most of us will live in to our 200s, maybe even our 300s.\"\n\n\"Well not exactly. I still need to do more research, but it appears as if more people results in more deaths as the planets try to survive off of our life force.\"\n\n\"No I won't go home with you tonight. I can't. Maybe next time.\"\n\n\"Ok folks. This concludes my presentation. But before you leave, I have one final surprise for you.\"\n\nI ran behind the stage, which I had previously equipped with a blast shield, pretending to look for something to show the crowd. I dug out a disposable cell phone from under all my computer equipment and dialled a number.\n\nCrude, I know, but it's not like I had a bunch of high tech equipment available. \n\nThe signal took a while, but it reached the bombs I had painstakingly planted under the floor of the audotorium. With a loud boom, everything that was in that room was vaporized. After all, Mars won't steal my life force if I'm the only one left.\n\n***\n\nFeedback is welcome. I think I could've ended it better, but this ending is acceptable", "Earth was just a quiz, and something is testing us. No other explanation suffices to explain what space has done to us.\n\nThe first crew to leave Earth's orbit spontaneously combusted in their shuttle shortly after passing the Lagrangian point. The clip that Earth received - only seven seconds of which contained flames before the system malfunctioned - suggests the flame originated from within Commander Ignacio's suit. Attempts to recreate potential fire hazards within the suit proved futile. No official explanation was given.\n\nThe second crew to leave Earth's orbit defied logic entirely. Again, problems started near the Lagrangian point, but the electrical arcs that destroyed the ship, which made a bright enough explosion to be seen without a telescope, were not the source of the concern. The real focus was on Pilot Foley, whose hair was estimated to be 50 feet long as it bunched up on the cabin walls. On top of the strangeness of its length, the hair moved enough to suggest that more than just the shock-induced convulsions were at play.\n\nThe third crew brought the answers, but they were equally fraught with tension. Almost exactly at the Lagrangian point, the shuttle vanished from comms and visuals. 15 minutes later, comms and visuals both confirmed that they were in low orbit over Mars. 10 minutes before that, Flight Engineer Spatz appeared from thin air in Ground Control. He was persistent in saying that he physically caused the anomaly. However, once back on Earth, he could no longer recreate his feat. He asked to be sent up again to meet his crew on Mars, and a secondary crew was assembled within a day. They reached Mars within the week.\n\nThis was the week that opened the universe to humanity's reach.\n\nThe crew who waited on the surface of Mars already understood their purpose. They shaped the landscape faster than would have been expected over the course of a thousand missions. By the end of the year, one million people had made a permanent settlement on the newly revitalized planet.\n\nHumanity had a secret all along. We were the gods we had written about throughout the centuries. By simply leaving Earth, the elements became our toys. Water, fire, air, earth, and countless other materials and forces were simply bent by our will. Mars became a clone of Earth within a few years, but by then, countless other planets had been found by spacebenders and brought to the same level of beauty.\n\nBy the time we had finished covering the universe, we knew what the planets were. They were the tree, and we were its seeds. Earth was the embyro, and each new planet was a fraction of it, splitting itself like cellular mitosis. We gave birth to a new universe, where entropy started to reverse and the energy put in made more come out. And like all things born in this world, it had a limit. As the lungs of the universe expanded with energy, they eventually exhaled and the extra energy belonged to the \"dark matter\" once more. The living planets were sustained by us, but we could not sustain ourselves once they began feeding once more, so the planets withered with us, from an entire universe down to yet another lonesome seed. I write from atop this seed, hoping that I might live to see the next \"apex adjournus\" as we claw our way back up through the inventions we forgot about in our ascended state.\n\nAs it began, so it shall become.", "\"Jesus, Earth -- you've been sucking humanity's life force this entire time?\"\n\nThe holographic form the Earth had chosen -- a meticulously accurate representation of Nintendo's Captain Falcon -- furrowed its red-masked brow.\n\n\"Come on,\" said the Earth, \"don't make me the bad guy here.\"\n\nSupreme Commander Heathcliff ran both hands through his stiff red hair.\n\n\"Don't make you the bad guy?\" asked Heathcliff in a voice a few octaves higher than his normal baritone. \n\n\"Look,\" said the Earth, \"I've been doing this living-planet thing for an awful long time. With the exception of the dinosaur incident, there were never any problems. I provide dumb smelly animals a safe place to roam and graze and hump one another to their hearts' content, and in exchange I skim a bit of their life force off the top to sustain myself. Everybody's happy.\"\n\n\"We're not animals! We're human beings!\"\n\n\"Commander Heathcliff, buddy, I think there's a fairly glaring error in that statement.\"\n\n\"Well, we might be animals, but we're certainly not dumb. We're self-aware. As sentient as you. You didn't think to ask us if we minded having our lives cut short by your lecherous appetite?\"\n\nCaptain Earth-Falcon rubbed his eyes with the thumb and index finger of a huge, gloved hand. Earth's nipples, Commander Heathcliff couldn't help but notice, stood out like thumbtacks through his tight blue jumpsuit.\n\n\"Did you ask me before you started shaving down all my forests? Turning the global thermostat up without asking for permission? All your factories, belching noxious fumes -- like smoking in a stranger's house! You -- and you alone -- poked a hole in my ozone layer! I don't even know the proper humanoid analogy for that. Acupuncture-by-coercion, perhaps?\"\n\nHeathcliff blinked and sputtered. \n\n\"Well, how were we supposed to know you were a living planet?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Jeez. How was I supposed to know you were more than a bunch of particularly industrious apes?\"\n\n\"You had thousands of years to figure that one out!\"\n\n\"Right. Thousands of years. Which, in my total lifespan -- I mean, we're talking about a matter of seconds, here, Heathcliff, my friend.\"\n\n\"Still. You've killed millions of us. Billions!\"\n\n\"And I can stop killing you right this instant. Never again vacuum another adorable old grandma right off her rocker. But a planet's gotta eat, you know? So my question for you, my magnificently self-aware and yet goofily bug-eyed and sweat-slicked primate comrade, is this: what's next on the menu?\"", "Director Michelle Wintermeyer was poring over the manifest for the next Mars transport when she heard a commotion outside her office door.\n\n\"You have to let me see her,\" she heard a man's voice say from the other side of the door.\n\n\"I'm sorry sir, but she's busy right now,\" said Michelle's assistant Gregory.\n\nThe director walked out from behind her desk and opened the door.\n\n\"Is everything alright out here?\" she asked.\n\n\"I was just telling him you were busy,\" said Gregory. \"I'm not sure how he got past security.\"\n\nThe man tried to get Director Wintermeyer's attention. \"Director! Director, please–\"\n\n\"Next time, make an appointment. But I'll see you since you've already interrupted me,\" said the director.\n\nThe man followed the director into her office. The director pulled out a small chair in front of her desk for him to sit in, and returned to her seat behind her desk. The man was a full foot taller than her, but Michelle towered over him when they were both seated.\n\n\"How can I help you?\" asked the director.\n\n\"Thank you miss, uh, director. I wanted to ask about the list for the next Mars transport,\" said the man.\n\n\"What about it?\"\n\n\"My son applied, but you turned him down. Actually, he's applied for the last eight and been turned down each time. I was wondering if you could maybe take another look.\"\n\n\"Name?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Your son's name, sir. What is it?\"\n\nThe man wiped sweat off his forehead. \"Oh, sorry. Chris McAllister.\"\n\nThe director punched some keys on her computer keyboard and then clicked the mouse a few times. \"Ah, yes. Mr. McAllister. He applied as a mechanic.\"\n\n\"Yes. That's correct.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, but we're only looking for people with four-year degrees in mechanical engineering for that position. Your son just doesn't qualify, I'm afraid.\" The director turned back toward her computer. \"I need to get back to work, sir. You can let yourself out.\"\n\nChris's father coughed twice. \"Please. You'd be doing him a huge favor and he would work ten times as hard to make up for it. I know* he could be useful up there. I just–I just don't want him to die here on Earth.\"\n\nThe director didn't look away from her computer. \"Again, I'm sorry, but the decision is final. I'll be in touch if an opening comes up.\"\n\nThe man stood up and gripped the edge of the director's desk. \"Chris has cancer. You and I both know just a few minutes up there would clear it right up. You're seriously going to deny a bright kid his entire life because of some asinine degree requirement?\"\n\nThe director stood up to meet the man's gaze. \"If I let your son on the transport, who do I leave off?\" She shoved a printout of the manifest to the front of the desk. \"Maria Hernandez. Age forty-three. She's a world-class neurosurgeon with late-stage pancreatic cancer. Marcus Allen. Age thirty-three. He's a highly-cited professor of material science, and if he doesn't get off earth soon, he dies of Hepatitis C. Which one of these individuals should I swap out for your son?\"\n\n\"We couldn't afford to send Chris to college. Just because those folks had more opportunities than my son, their lives are worth more?\" asked the man.\n\n\"That's the way it is, I'm afraid,\" said the director.\n\nShe sat back down. \"We all want to get off this rock, but there's only so much we can do. Maximum capacity right now is fifteen thousand people per week. And right now, I split my time between deciding who's worthy of life, and answering my critics.\"\n\nThe man nodded and slumped back into the chair.\n\n\"Tell your son to keep applying. I hope he makes it up there one day.\"\n\n\"Yes. I'll tell him.\"\n\nThe man stood up and left. Director Wintermeyer resumed poring over the manifest for the next Mars transport, hoping she'd made the right decisions.\n\n---\n\n/r/rpwrites", "Earth was never meant to live this long. \n\nShe was supposed to die with her sister, Mars, years ago. She's been sick, plagued by ice age chills, fever swings, and marks on her complexion. \n\nBut I knew Earth when she was beautiful, and now that she's not, I still remember. \n\nIt's a shame I can only see her every seventy years. But that's the rules of the cosmos, as the mathamatical gears of the universes laws bring us together and sperate again. Our relationshio was long distance, but each time I returned, she looked worse, more tiresome, more feeble. \n\n\"Earth,\" I cried, swinging by her in an arcing hug, \"Earth, you cannot leave me now. You cannot leave me alone, to travel in this solar system for seventy years, and have only sadness when I finally reach you.\"\n\n\"Halley, my comet, my love.\" Said Earth in my embrace, \"I fear I am near my end. I have waited this long to see you, and I do not know if I can wait again.\"\n\n\"No,\" I cried, \"Surely there is a way. A way for me to spend the rest your days with you.\"\n\nEarth was silent, then she said, \"There is one way. I will fill a creature with my spirit, but my spirit will sleep until you arrive. Seventy years alseep, and one awake, and I will spend all those ones with you.\"\n\nSo Earth poured her spirit into a new being she named man, and every seventy years, as I flew back, she awoke. Now millions of eyes watch me pass, and I see her in every one of them. But though she ages slower, death still comes for her. It comes as her spirit slowly falters in men, and they forget her, and she departs their bodies an minds, and they too will fall to waste. \n\nBut until that time will pass, I get to see her every seventy years. She sees me every one of her waking days. \n\nI now leave a sparkling tail, as tears fall behind me, because I fear her last day is soon. \n\nAnd even though she has so little left, men depart her with the remaining bits of her spirit, stealing it from me, traveling where I shall never see her again. \n\n*****\n\nBy Leo \n\nFor additional stories, please visit /r/leoduhvinci. If you enjoy stories concerning lost love, I would recommend [The Pet Shop](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/39i510/the_pet_shop/)\n" ]	[ 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 9, 10, 11, 13, 17, 35, 39, 81, 103, 140, 647, 1710 ]	[ "1435668968", "1435669864", "1435656913", "1435664077", "1435655266", "1435644280", "1435667059", "1435661185", "1435647919", "1435640635", "1435634776", "1435654155", "1435630807", "1435647149", "1435632203", "1435646387", "1435631646", "1435632560", "1435629908" ]
	[WP] Killing people is an everyday thing. "Look mom, my first kill!"	21	[ "We were judges but more like teachers. Each kill needed a justification. Imagine a world of anarchy, we were the fine line between that. We sat at every murder, we sat behind mirrors knowing our next convict could be our murderer or victim. We were each predators but keepers of the peace. \n\n\"Stand forward, Citizen John Doe. We have questions before grading your murder of Elizabeth Dawson of Washington Creek. Your rights have been given but we impress on you that failure means death by the State and not us.\"\n\nThe sillehetto of the figure came forward, his identity masked in shadow. \"Justify your defense of homicide,\" we barked in unison.\n\nThe voice was shallow and rigid, a mark of talent or education, \"I am the one who murdered the Lizzy Dawson.\" \n\nA woman's voice came forward, \"we are aware of the situation. Elizabeth was found severely burned with chemical solvents. We have reason to believe and by witness accounts that you are the perpetuate of these crimes. How do you plee?\"\n\n\"Guilty,\" the voice said sternly and croaked.\n\nThe woman's voice continued, \"Why was such an act committed?\"\n\nThe man stated, \"Liz denied my right to respect. She inferred that I had no balls in front of my friends. So I burned her in front of her own friends, litterally.\"\n\nThere was a murmor, \"symbolic, worthy of praise, vengeance suited nicely and creative.\"\n\nThe judge woman spoke again, \"what was your intention?\"\n\nBeyond the shadow was a smile that glistened with a metallic fence-like shimmer in summer, \"She burned me in front of my weak fools. So I set her on fire in front of hers. I know my stuff.\"\n\nA whisper of agreement could be heard and the woman spoke. \"In recognizing the act, the evidence, and the intention of the guilty, we find John Doe to have justified his act and with summa cum laude. Congratulations, John Doe, you have passed the 8th grade into higher learning. May your instincts guide you to fame.\"\n\nThe room darkened where the head judge, the woman, sat. The individual judges chatted until one asked the woman, \"without Elizabeth, Madam Superior, what will you do?\"\n\nThe woman grinned, \"I have justification but I'd rather birth another to make our new graduate's life a misery. In the end, revenge for her own sister, and my daughter, will prove worthy of a longer more complicated hearing. Just wait and see, gentlemen.\"", "\"Wow, honey! You got him really good! Stay right there, I need to take a picture of this.\"\n\nI sat across the room staring at my smiling little brother in shock.\n\nHe was so excited. \n\nHe was standing next to the neighbor's corpse with a kitchen knife in his hand. It was one of the larger knives in the house, and now it was one of the bloodiest.\n\nAnd he was so excited. \n\nSuppressing vomit down your throat when the stench of death violates your nostrils is quite a feat, but I remembered what happened the last time I ruined the sofa with throw-up. I didn't want to upset Mom again.\n\n\"Mom, hurry up, he's bleeding pretty quickly!\"\n\nMy mother's elated voice sounded from upstairs, \"Hold on I'm looking for the camera! And besides, the more blood the better!\"\n\nExcept blood can be so hard to clean.\n\nBut hey, it's worth it, right? It's nature's tendency to create disorder, and some of the most enjoyable activities require a little bit of a mess. Think about wild parties or playing with toys when you were younger or killing someone you know. And sometimes there is a select few who dislike such activities for whatever reason. Perhaps they had a bad experience with it or their distaste is simply innate.\n\nWe threw a party for my brother's seventh birthday not longer than a month ago, and now he's about to pose with his First Kill. Mess after mess.\n\nMom continues calling from upstairs, \"Finally, a child of mine kills his first! I'm so proud.\"\n\nHuh. \"I'm so proud\". I've never heard her say that before.\n\n\"Hey, bro.\"\n\nMy brother forced his eyes away from his prey and onto me, a smile still plastered on his chubby face. I wonder if that smile's fake. I walked over and enveloped him in my arms.\n\n\"Congrats on your First Kill and on many more to come.\"\n\nHe pulled back from my embrace and looked up at me with big, hopeful eyes.\n\n\"Thanks...what was your First Kill like?\"\n\nMy responding smile sent him a message he was smart enough to decipher, for he swung his arm carrying the knife straight toward my neck. Acting on impulse alone, I caught him by the wrist just as the blade touched my skin and the knife clanked on the floorboards. \n\n\"Mom-\"\n\nBefore he could finish I grabbed the weapon, took the back of my little brother's neck, and slashed his face.\n\nThen again.\n\nThen again.\n\nEach movement of the blade, each new splash of blood, every past word of disappointment from my mother that motivated me to get over myself. They sent pumps of adrenaline through my veins and empowered my arm until finally I could recognize my brother's now red face no longer.\n\nHis body slumped to the floor next to the neighbor's as Mom rushed excitedly down the stairs. I couldn't suppress the acid rising to my mouth that time.\n\n\"Dear, were you saying something-\"\n\nShe stopped on the last step and dropped the camera. As I picked up my head I saw her covering her mouth with her hands, her wide eyes moving from the mess on the floor, to the knife still in my hand, to me.\n\nIt was difficult to tell, but that was either terror or pride in those eyes.\n\nAnd I sure hope it was the latter.\n\n\"Look Mom, my First Kill.\"", "I was in the middle of throwing a load of laundry in the washing machine when I heard a loud shriek from the front yard.\n\nBeing that it was time for Jacob and Sophie to get home from school, I was nervous that something had happened. I dropped the basket and ran down the hall, throwing open the door.\n\nAt the end of the lawn, the yellow school bus was slowly pulling away. Dozens of faces were pressed against the glass, their eyes glued to the scene before them.\n\nSophie was lying on the ground, her backpack beside her. Jacob was standing a few feet away, staring down at an unfamiliar body. He looked up as he heard me walking over the grass, his eyes frightened.\n\n\"Look mom, my first kill!\" \n\nStartled, but proud, I jogged over. \"Good job, Jacob!\" I exclaimed, kneeling beside him. \"Who is he?\"\n\n\"His name's David,\" Jacob replied, curling his upper lip. \"He pushed Sophie over, so I pushed him over and banged his head against the ground.\"\n\nI glanced down at the body. The boy's eyes were wide open, but I could see the blood pooling behind his head where Jacob had smashed it in.\n\nI looked up at Jacob and smiled. \"Well, we'll have to call the Body Baggers to get rid of him. Do you know who his parents are?\" I wanted to take care of them before they could hurt my children.\n\nJacob shook his head and I smiled. \"It's okay, I'll find them. Now, c'mon, let's go get some ice cream.\"\n\nHe nodded eagerly and took my hand. We picked Sophie up and I walked down the road, holding hands with my two seven year-olds. \n", "\"Mommy, I killed Tommy at school today,\" Noah exclaimed.\n\nHis mom hugged and congratulated Noah. He had fallen behind most of his classmates; most of them had already killed more than ten people. Some had even killed adults.\n\nNoah's whole family went out to celebrate at their favorite pizza joint. His brother and sister reminisced about their first kills. Noah's mom displayed a big smile during the celebration.\n\nIt was almost 9 o'clock when the family got home. Noah and his siblings were on their way upstairs when the phone rang. \n\nNoah's mom answered the phone: \"Hello?\"\n\n\"Hello, this is Mrs. Anderson, Noah's teacher. Is this Noah's mom?\"\n\n\"Yes, what's this about?\"\n\n\"Well, I have some bad news.\"\n\nNoah's mom gulped. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Well, the boy that Noah killed...he survived. Noah shot Tommy with his gun, and umm...we thought he was going to die. The doctors gave us insurmountable odds, but it appears we prematurely awarded Noah a kill. He's very far behind the other students. As you know if he doesn't have a kill by tomorrow, Noah's going to be declared unsuitable for survival and be put down by the state.\"\n\nNoah's mom dropped her phone and fell to the floor. Her tears rushed to the floor.\n\nNoah ran down the stairs and asked, \"What's wrong, mommy?\"\n\nNoah's teary-eyed mom looked up at Noah and told him, \"Tell everyone you did this.\" \n\nShe grabbed her gun from the table, felt it against her head, and pulled the trigger." ]	[ 1, 6, 8, 26 ]	[ "1435996256", "1435978637", "1435975794", "1435973257" ]
	[WP] The monster is insisting that it's your future self	9	[ "What a tiring day it was today.\n\nThis was only the second time in my entire career as a police officer that I have gotten involved in an all-out car chase. Those thugs were tough. They put up a really good fight. I could have died in like 6 different instances today, but thank goodness I'm still alive. \n\nIt's always a pleasure to go back to home sweet home and see my wife and kids again after a long day spent serving the city. \n\n\"Daddy!\" My two children, Joey and Katy exclaimed in unison as they approach to hug me.\n\n\"We saw you on television! You had those bad guys running away!\" Joey told me with so much enthusiasm.\n\n\"Oh daddy sure did huh?\" I said as I patted Joey in the head.\n\n\"Save the storytelling for later guys, dinner's ready!\" my beautiful wife interrupted as me and my kids were catching up. Katy and Joey ran for our dining room right away, and I followed them there. \n\nNothing could beat this. Quality time with the family, the best food for dinner prepared by the best woman on this planet, and telling the kids how their big daddy caught the bad guys.\n\nAfter dinner was the usual. Play a bit with the kids, and tell them a good night story before putting them to bed. I proceeded to me and my wife's room after putting the lights out on Katy and Joey, where I found my lovely sugar already sleeping. I gave her a little kiss on the cheek before I closed my eyes.\n\n15 minutes into rest, I suddenly awoke. I heard a very strange noise from downstairs... something that sounded like very delicate footsteps. \n\nThis is where being a cop gets handy, you get to have a gun in your drawer. I took out my .45 caliber pistol and started to move downstairs with caution.\n\nI flicked the switch for the lights in the living room on and began to point my handgun to... what appears to be a man... covered in blue fur. Red eyes, pointy teeth and bear paws for hands. I'm definitely wrong. This isn't a man, it's a monster!\n\n\"FREEZE!\" I finally found the courage to shout out after a small moment of complete confusion. \n\n\"No, no, no you don't understand---\" The creature said as it had it's hands... or should I say paws in the air.\n\n\"I SAID FREEZE!\" \n\n\"No, no, no. I am you. I am you... from the future. I time traveled here from the future. Somebody did this to us. Somebody turned us into this... thing!\" \n\nThat's me? Oh boy, I wish I could've just died at that car chase today if I would just live long enough to see myself become that.\n\n\"You're... me..? Hold on, hold on. Okay first of all, I know myself. I do not have anything that's not human in my DNA. Nobody in my family even has chest hair.\"\n\n\"Somebody did this to us. He... he put something in our glass of milk. Some kind of potion that turned us into this monster!\" \n\n\"He put something in our glass of milk? That sounds like a really dumb way to turn someone into some creepy, hairy beast...\" \n\n\"But it's the truth! You got to believe me. Now please... put your gun away and let me explain further.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, yeah... I believe you...\" I subtly replied as I settled my handgun at a nearby table. \"Okay... let me hear your story---\"\n\nAs I leaned back at him... his expression of fright changed completely. It turned into a very evil grin... like he wanted to eat me. \n\nAt a blink of an eye, he charged. I pulled out the pocket knife I was concealing from my left hand and stabbed him in the chest. Blood gushed out of his ribs as he fell down to the floor. Just to make sure he's dead, I retrieved my gun from the table and shot him on his forehead.\n\n\"I told you. I know myself. I'm lactose intolerant you idiot.\"", "The smashed mirror and my bloody hand are the only pieces of evidence I have. No one will believe me if I tell them the story. I refuse to believe it. Nothing it tells me can be true. \n\nI will not let myself become that.\n\nThe monster told me things. It told me it was me, 10 years in the future. It told me the middle name of my girlfriend's mother as some sort of proof of who it was. And it told me I was in jail.\n\nI can't become that. I won't become that.\n\nIt told me how my girlfriend was the start of it all. It told me I need to cut her out of my life, if I want to save hers. It told me I needed to do it soon, or it would all be for nothing.\n\nI will stop this. I can control these urges.\n\nIt told me I needed to get help. That doctors and medicine were the answer. That they know better than I do.\n\nThey don't know what's best for me. Only I can stop this.\n\nIt told me to put it down. It told me it will only bring pain and suffering.\n\nIt is my link to reality. It brings me strength.\n\nIt begged me to listen. It told me how miserable it was.\n\nI will not become that. They can't get me.\n\nI turned away from the shattered mirror and looked at my girlfriend sleeping peacefully in our bed.\n\nI must do it. It begs me to do it.\n\nThe knife in my hand pulled me towards her.\n\nI can't become that. I won't become that.\n\nI will not let myself become the monster from the mirror. They'll have to catch me first.", "(Warning: Graphic, horrific, and abstract.)\n\nIt began with a stomach ache - though I must confess that describing it as such doesn't do that so very baleful sensation any justice; no, it was more like a grinding sensation in my guts, a visceral twisting that caused me to shudder in utter queasiness every time it overtook me; and it, of course, overtook me with such an increasing frequency that I found it difficult to focus on anything other than the twisting, the grinding, and then the writhing perturbation it inevitably left me so violated with after its departure. I would've almost gotten used to the sensation, if only it didn't churn my stomach in such a way that invoked a horrible sense of falling - yes, a fall so rapidly, as though all the color would flush from my body, I'd topple back, and descend a thousand miles a second until hitting the ground in an abrupt and fatal instant.\n\nAnd that's precisely why I believed the abhorrence on the floor as it attempted to persuade me it was none other than myself - why? Because as I stared at that sentient jumble of wormy,blood-soaked tendrils - where, when my eyes adjusted to the grotesquery of such a sudden and despicable horror of horrors, I knew it was twisted and turned inside out (not to mention human!) - as I heard the gruesome garbles it spoke in, and knew that it was nothing more than an animate pile of hot, crimson viscera and gore, the grinding sensation overtook me for the final time...\n\nAnd soon, I knew the freedom of flesh without form - exempt from the confines of a meager few spatial dimensions; and that gurgled garble of a voice, of which wailed now in torturous glee from the liberation of evisceration, became my own.\n\nI am whole in the horror." ]	[ 1, 2, 3 ]	[ "1436197090", "1436152289", "1436148070" ]
Write about how you decide to use these powers until your time eventually runs out.	[WP] You are diagnosed with lung cancer, with one year left to live. As you sulk alone, you somehow discover that it has given you superhuman abilities.	2	[ "I turned famous shortly in these few months, as I was the first and the only one who received super human strength when I was diagnosed with terminal illness, cancer, with one year left to live, and like everyone, I decide to spent it good, with my new found abilities that time.\n\nIt was an immensely satisfying experience to be the town's hero, as I slowly build my own reputation through several act from stopping rapists act to bank theft.\n\nThe city began to call me The Vigilant, praising me, wishing to be my friend. Even though all these female learned that I am about 50 they still wanted me, as I was also gifted with physique body that attracts them till now, and my look was already descent to begin with.\n\nThe press dubbed me as The Miracle, and sometimes The Hope. These patients treat me as a symbol, to comfort themselves that their cancer could be cured, or a gift. Some of them even kidnap or killed their oncologist, out of desperation. It was ugly, but I made sure this news would not garner a large attention from the media and community, as it would turn ugly and they will stop dubbing me as \"The Hope\" and turned it as something bad.\n\nI was subjected to become an autopsy sample at the beginning, and the city quickly protest. Fame was a wondrous thing, and I savored the adoration of the community.\n\nOh, did I mention? My cancer was never cured, but everyone seems to forget about it. Oh, also, I owned a basement with the wealth I gather, and part of the kidnapped or seemingly-dead-to-society oncologist were down there working for a cure. \n\nHow do you expect to give me up fame and LIFE itself so easily??\n\nedit : Missing words, might come back later to fix the rest of the grammar problem...", "As if a timer placed on my mind, another burden bearing on my soul, splitting my mind as I sit and drink once more. Again stumbling till I'm lost on these streets like so many times before, my bottle long empty.\r\rAs the idea comes to fruition, the words falling in place. For the story I could never write, the lexicon evading me no more, my pen failing my hand no more. Like a burden lifted from my mind, I was finally free. Standing in this field, the story came to me. With the world spinning about me I could finally write with no regards.\r\rYet I had no paper, no pen to scribble my inner feelings. Betrayed once more by a god I thought contempt, the greatest story lost to the annals of death as I fell down." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1436176575", "1436158040" ]
	[WP] Write a story that ends with a seemingly unsolvable situation. Let a commenter write the ending.	26	[ "You are the CEO of a giant internet company and a feminist with questionable credentials. You've fired your most beloved employee who is female and tried using censorship to gain control of the site. It backfired wildly. You refuse to quit.", "I woke up. \n\nSeveral thousand feet above the ground. \n\nDammit, that's the last time I fall asleep in-flight. I searched frantically for a parachute pack, but nothing. Not even a wingsuit. There weren't other falling passengers to grab onto in an attempt to slow our descent. Heck, I didn't even have a giant blanket to save myself cartoon-style!\n\nRealizing that the end was inevitable, I prayed one last desperate prayer that maybe an updraft would catch me or something...", "It was a tuesday. He remembered she was partial to brunch on Tuesdays, but not from the Greek place. She hated Greeks -- thought they were filthy and far beneath her. \n\nHe took her to the little cafe off Le Mains, the one with the little birds that lit up and sang when young lovers passed under the awning. They didn't sing this time around.\n\n\"You shouldn't have told me.\"\n\nThis again. \n\n\"Lucy, you're my fucking wife, alright? At some point I'm going to tell you things.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but do they have to be true things?\"\n\n\"Sometimes! Do you ever think that maybe, every now and again I get tired of lying through my fucking teeth?\"\n\n\"You're a bore, Jerrod.\" She rolled her big, beautiful eyes -- the only beautiful part left of her, truth be told, the rest was just big -- \"And you swear like a sailor.\"\n\n\"What do you expect,\" he muttered, \"when you spend half your life with a whale --\"\n\n\"What was that now?\"\n\n\"Nothing, dear.\"\n\n\"Good,\" She stood, a grand undertaking that shook the very earth beneath her feet. \"Now, tell me.\"\n\nDoes\n\nthis\n\ndress\n\nmake\n\nme\n\nlook\n\nfat?", "\"Please, don't make me do this!'\n\nJoshua couldn't believe it came down to this. This utterly impossible moment.\n\nThe gunman pressed the barrel of his pistol against Joshua's head, causing him to panic even further; his damp, sweaty hands trembled, unable to make a decision.\n\n\"5.\"\n\nThe gunman pressed the weapon against Joshua's temple harder.\n\nHe had to decide. His wife and kids, or both of their families. His heart was pounding furiously against his sternum; it felt like it would nearly burst out of his chest. The stress was far too cumbersome.\n\n\"4.\"\n\nJoshua was succumbing to the pressure. He couldn't choose one over the other. How could he? He loved them both so much. Why does it have to be this way? He had to decide. He had to decide now.\n\n\"3.\"\n\nHe hovered both of his hands over the panel, one over each switch. One would ignite the contraptions in which his loved ones were confined in; sadly, the other button would bring a painful end to the other beloved as well. He couldn't bring himself to justify loving one more than the other. He wanted to save them both. But how could he? He couldn't even save himself from this nightmare.\n\n\"2.\"\n\nThe gunman clicked the hammer back on the .38 Special snub nose.\n\n\"Last chance.\"\n\nHe meant business. Joshua had to decide. Incinerate his wife and children, or those that brought him and his wife into this world. If he neglected to make a choice, they would all die. Every last one of them. What do I do? What the fuck do I do??\n\n\"1.\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 3, 6 ]	[ "1436233225", "1436232966", "1436233510", "1436222762" ]
	[WP] Scientist have discovered a way to send people back in time. Unfortunately there is no way to return and the time period you'll be sent to is unknown. You have just volunteered to be the first human trial.	4	[ "The night I turned 18 was July 8th, 2015. Today, in a manner of speaking. My mom took me out to eat at Taco Bell. For most of our meal she maintained a solemn aloofness I couldnt quite identify from her menagerie of facial melancholia. Was this the one that meant I was in trouble? Was this the one that meant she was already half a bottle into her sad haze?\n\nI decided to leave it be. I chalked it up to a mother bird prepping for her baby to leave the nest. Perhaps this was naive of me. I had graduated from high school a month earlier and life had continued on eerily as it had before. I should have known then. Then maybe not.\n\nOn the way home she stopped at the supermarket. I saw the gleam of a half gallon glass jug hailing from her purse and knew tonight was going to be interesting.\n\nI still did not walk into our home expecting all my belongings to be crammed into an oversized duffle bag blocking my entry into the hallway. My mother stood in the shadow of the doorway to the kitchen, somehow already smoking a cigarette with her newly purchased handle a quarter gone.\n\nI had but that moment to express all the shock and hurt I could before a loud honk broke the silence.\n\n\"That's you,\" she said.\n\nWhen I didn't immediately begin gathering my things, she added, \"Fine, I'll help you.\"\n\nShe held the door open, glaring at me expectantly. I picked up my bag and headed out the door, to my horror finding a yellow taxi minivan parked by the curb. My mother wordlessly grabbed the bags from me and stuffed them in the open trunk.\n\nBefore I knew it I was in the cab, moving, with scarcely a good bye from my mother.\n\nThe driver took a left on our street and earnestly asked where I wanted him to take me.\n\n\"I can't pay you,\" I replied, my voice shaking like a child's.\n\nHe stopped, now about two houses down from my mother's.\n\n\"You running away?\" he asked.\n\n\"Kind of the opposite actually.\"\n\n\"But you need money, a place to stay?\"\n\n\"I guess so. At this point. Sure. I have 16 cents to my name.\"\n\n\"Okay. You want a job?\"\n\n\"I...well sure.\"\n\n\"Okay I will take you somewhere then.\"\n\nWith that the cab sped off into the night. I had no better idea where I was going than I had getting into the cab. I didn't care much. I was numb.\n\nAfter 2 hours of meandering through country roads, mountain passes, and two whole towns i didn't even recognize, we arrived at an unmarked building. The cab driver told me to stay and got out of the car.\n\nBeing depressed and rather accustomed to being shuffled from one place to another, I did not resist when two men pulled me out of the cab. Of course, I thought, this is where they rape me, kill me, take my liver, and tar and feather my body for all to see.\n\nTo my surprise however, they took me to an open room with a comfortable-looking suede sofa and a coffee table. A full meal including soup, salad, and some kind of meat was laid out on a tray.\n\n\"Eat,\" said one of the men.\n\nThe last thing I had eaten was a quesarito several hours earlier. My stomach grumbled at the suggestion but I wondered if it would be wise.\n\n\"What's going on?\" I asked.\n\n\"Eat. No empty stomach.\"\n\nI picked up the fork and took a bite of the salad, taking slow, deliberate chews. It was a pretty unpleasant experience, being carefully watched in complete, immovable silence by two cromagnons as I ate a salad.\n\nWhen I finished, one of them handed me a small, round capsule with no imprint on it along with the glass of water from the tray.\n\n\"Take this,\" he said.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\nPredictably there was no answer. At that point I honestly would have done anything anybody told me to. My adult life began that morning in a house of rampant neglect and alcoholism and was now possibly going to end in a deserted warehouse. I didn't care. I took the pill from him and swallowed it.\n\n--------\n\nMy mother was 18 years old when she gave birth to me. The father was a drinker, and abusive. They had already decided to get an abortion. Her parents, who were well off financially and also deeply religious, offered her ten grand and put a down payment on a house for her. They promised to continue paying her mortgage and sending her money as long as she didnt abort me. Being a blossoming drunkard at the time, she saw opportunity. With that, my mother accepted the offer and thus began her journey into teenage parenthood, for which she was fantastically unprepared.\n\nI don't know what I expected from that pill. My high school years had been riddled with psychedelic use. I had learned not to expect anything from drugs and to simply let the effect happen, whatever it may be. Of course this mantra really only works if you're in a safe place with safe people and plenty of time.\n\nI sat there for what felt like hours before it kicked in, thinking about how other people's choices seemed to have more effect on my life than mine did. Maybe taking this pill would be the one choice I would make that would change my life forever by ending it. I thought about the day I was born, and how my mother had allowed me to exist at all even though it ruined both of our lives. At that point I was still convinced it was poison.\n\nThen I felt it...the keen, hollow, metallic feeling. The texture of the couch became much more interesting, even as it melted away. The faces of the cromagnons lightened up; their grimaces became grins, even as some unseen hand wiped them away. The food in front of me was gone. I raised my arms for Heaven, or Hell, or DMT entities, or whoever would accept me. \n\nIt occurred to me, at that point, that I was, in fact, lying down on a very hard surface and it was much darker than it had been. The air was cooler as well, like a warm summer night. I got the impression that some sort of passage of time had taken place. It took me a moment to recover my frame of reference. I remembered taking the pill. Had I passed out? It was entirely possible the goons had simply dumped me here after having their way with me or my internal organs. Or perhaps this was Hell.\n\nI reached for my phone. It said there was no signal, which didn't surprise me. My mother had probably removed me from the plan. No matter, I thought. I could sell the thing for some extra cash.\n\nI remembered the cabbie had driven nearly 2 hours to get to wherever we had been, and who knew where I was at this point.\n\nI sat up and used my phone as a light source to examine my surroundings. I found a dumpster and a brick wall. Great. An alley. I checked my torso for scars. I found none. No internal organs missing.\n\nI followed the light coming from around the corner and came upon a sliding glass door. I walked in. I had to go to the bathroom, and I thought peeing in an alley would be a bit much.\n\nI entered what turned out to be a hospital waiting area and looked around for the bathroom.\n\n\"Hey, could I see Val Mauser?\"\n\nThis voice came from behind me. I froze.\n\nI heard another voice, \"It looks like she's not accepting any visitors right n--\"\n\n\"I'M THE FATHER OF THE BABY YOU FUCKWIT, THATS MY SON IN THERE!\"\n\nStill too afraid to turn around I asked the nearest person to me--a squeamish looking woman in a wheel chair who was leaning toward the ruckus to overhear--what the date was.\n\n\"It's the 8th,\" she said, barely looking at me as she focused on the argument behind me.\n\n\"Of what month and year?\"\n\nShe frowned and finally looked at me. \"It's July 8th, 1997...\" she said slowly, as if she were talking to a daft child, and looked past me again.\n\nI could do no more than stare at her until I developed the courage to turn around and look at what I had confirmed to be my father.\n\nAt this point he had made his way into the hallway beyond the waiting room, against the front desk woman's pleas, and was presumably making his way toward my mother, Val Mauser, where I was probably spending my first couple of miserable hours.\n\nI took advantage of the staff's preoccupation with my estranged father and simply wormed my way through the hall. I followed a sign that said 'Maternity Ward.'\n\nEventually I heard the sound of a baby wailing. It wasn't a very crowded hospital. There was something oddly familiar about the crying. Perhaps it was because I knew it had to be mine, but it sounded like I did when I was alone and wailing into my pillow. I tried not to think about how weird this trip was turning out to be and walked into the room.\n\nThere I saw a younger version of my mother, holding a new born infant with an apparent awkwardness. \n\nBeing the tactful person I am I immediately burst out with, \"You shouldn't keep that baby.\"\n\nMy mother gave me an uncannily familiar look of barely concealed relief and said, \"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because you really don't want to, anyhow, and you're just going to want to get rid of it in 18 years anyway. It'll be nothing but an inconvenience to you.\"\n\nI realized my mother was already drunk. She picked the baby version of me up by the nape of its neck like you would a kitten and offered it to me.\n\n\"You take it then. I won't tell anyone. I don't want it anyway.\" \n\nI stared in disbelief.\n\n\"Go on. You're right. Major inconvenience. Not worth it. You seem like a good person or something. You take it.\"\n\nI had no idea how to hold a baby but I just wanted to stop it from crying. I took it from the bottom and cradled it like I've seen in movies.\n\nMy mother was gone by now, before I even had a chance to protest.\n\nI felt my past disappear behind my eyes. The more I handled this baby the less I existed. My mother's abandonment had freed me. It was the best choice she ever made.\n\n\n\n", "This is my first ever attempt at something like this, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes...\n\nIt’s time, I will be the first Chrononaught. Months of testing, hours of training, and if I was not training I was reading history. Learning all that I could because this is a one way trip, no one knows how far back I will go, but the excitement keeps me focused.\n\nPlans have being made selecting sites for clues that it worked, places to leave a message to the future that I made it. No one dared look in these locations, instead they were just memorized by me with an agreed system to let the future know I arrived and how far back I went. Even back to the days of the dinosaurs was taken into account, memorizing possible locations for 100 square KM. The theoretical physicists were sure that I would arrive somewhere in past time, most likely in the place I left, but not 100% sure. So we tried to take even that that into account in my training.\n\nI walked towards the chair, this is it, the room was buzzing with activity but it was impossible to discern everything. Techs doing their jobs, blinking lights everywhere, computer terminals with so much information on them that I didn’t even bother to look. Just white noise, I must focus on this mission, the excitement was taking over I felt so euphoric that I could hardly contain myself, failure has never being an option for me.\n\nThe chair is a simple aluminum lazy-boy…haha, for comfort. No padding just cold aluminum to sit on. I sat down and felt the rigidness of the chair instantly, and my back already felt bad, and my butt is cold and in some pain but I can deal. It’s surprising nothing was being strapped to me or stuck on me, something about the metals affecting the magnetic field required to push me through time? I don’t understand that, it wasn’t my job. I was allowed to wear a simple spandex jumpsuit but that is all.\n\nPhil, the lead Scientist walked up to me with a fake smile on his face, he looked scared, “So Jim, are you ready for this? No second thoughts or words you want to leave us with?”\n\n“Simple Phil, let’s get this show on the road.” I said with a smile so everyone knew I was not scared I was happy and excited.\n\nPhil smiled again almost calm, shook my hand then turned and said loudly, “Lets begin, everyone past the affected line.” Everyone double checked their positions looking down, a big 4 inch thick red line was painted in a circle around me, the Magnetic field should only expand to this point within a few inches.\n\nWith that I heard a clack of a relay as power was now flowing into the device above my head. I could feel a charge building the hairs on my arms were standing up, but the jumpsuit hid that. Slowly I heard one tech counting out, “10, 9, 8, 7” there was a noise that was rising in power it was hard to hear the Tech continue,”6, 5, 4, 3, 2,”\n\nTech 2 yelled out over the loud hum of the machines, “Power Spike, Magnetic field expanding…”\n\nTech 1 continued, “1, TIME WAR…”\n\nThere was a flash of light so bright I could feel everything in me being pushed down like I was folding inside myself but yet I felt no pain just like I was being squished through something, I remember a scientist saying something about creating a micro worm hole no bigger than the width of 2 atoms, and I would be sent though like water through a straw so there may be some discomfort, and he was right, I saw the lab in the background faintly in the light start to warp and stretch away from me. Then before I could realize what was happening, I saw the lab stretch around me from behind and appear just as it was, and suddenly I could hear again, things seemed normal. All I could think was, “IT DIDN’T WORK!!!” as I was about to say something I heard, Tech 1, “TIME WAR…”.\n\nThere was a flash of light so bright I could feel everything in me being pushed down like I was folding inside myself again, the same discomfort as the micro wormhole pulled me in again. The bright light, and the lab being stretched away and then stretching around me from behind appearing just as it was, and suddenly I could hear again and I tried to speak but my mouth couldn’t open fast enough.\n\nTech 1, “TIME WAR…”\n\nThere was a flash of light so bright I could feel everything in me being pushed down like I was folding inside myself again, the same discomfort as the micro wormhole pulled me in again. The bright light, the lab being stretched just as before, I could see it faintly stretching around me again so I readied myself say something this time, but I was frozen until everything returned to normal. I took in air quick and began to speak.\n\nTech 1, “TIME WAR…”\n\n“AGAIN!!! WHY ME”, the process looped again, “how can I stop this.”, I thought as I heard…\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nThis is insane, what do I do? I can’t think of a reaction fast enough to signal them, so what do I do. Here it comes again….\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nAll I can think about is what one scientist brought up in a meeting months before, that he figured we would only be able to go back in time to the moment we first achieved the ability, well we achieved it about 1 second before we attempted it.\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nThis chair is really starting to bug me now, and I can’t move….What do I do?\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nHow long will this go on for? I think I am officially in Hell now.\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1436317680", "1436304292" ]
	[WP] In life, you sold your soul to as many entities as possible so that when you died they would have to fight each other for it.	68	[ "Dying takes forever.\n\nDon't get me wrong, all the farewells were touching--hell, some of them were even sincere. But when you've had cancer for as long as I've had, people just expect you to hurry up and go, so they can get on with their lives.\n\nFinally, the pain stopped. I sat up, stood out of bed, and turned around to look at my meat suit. Wonderful. No fewer than six dozen demons should be here any minute to claim my soul for hell.\n\nI'M HERE.\n\nA chill traveled down my spine, and I felt a compulsion to turn around. A balding man in a black suit stood by the door.\n\n\"Which one are you?\" I asked. \"Azazel? Abaddon? Moloch?\"\n\nALL OF THEM.\n\n\"...What do you mean?\"\n\nI AM ALL. ALL AM I. COME NOW, AN ETERNITY AWAITS.\n\nI sighed, and followed him into the night.\n\n", "When you tell someone you have no soul, they look at you like you are some kind of monster. Like they expect you to be some kind of cat killing, baby stealing psychopath. But the truth is, I don't know what a soul changes. I still feel sympathy, I still love, hate and laugh like all normal people. I still show up in mirrors. \n\nBut when you tell people you sold your soul, the first thing they will ask you is: \"For what?\". As if any distatse they have about your lack of soul is secondary when compaired to the amazing talents and wealth and knowledge I must have traded my soul for. Truth is, souls don't sell for the same as they used to. You see, no matter what you are selling, however cheap or expensive, it all comes down to supply and demand. And the world has a population of nearly 8 billion.\n\nPlenty of souls for everyone. And I've sold mine enough times for everybody. \n\nThe first time I was sixteen, summer of love, 1967. I sold my soul to a dealer, of souls and drugs, for a pill of LSD. But as most people know, you give your soul to a devil in credit, it is removed from your body, yes, but it cannot be collected until you are dead. So, when I finally end my time on this Earth, my eternal damnation will be just that, damnation. \n\nBut nothing changed on Earth. Still hasn't. Truth be told, I don't know if anything will change after I die, either. See, the Summer of Love was a drug fueled, psychedelic time for more than just mortals. Turns out my soul was lost, all records of it gone, even the devil himself can't have it when I die. This was also around the time I started spiraling into existentialism, and so, without dragging on about it, I decided to make up for my lost eternity in paradise by living a full life on Earth. \n\nSo I did the only sane thing: sold my soul again. And again, and again.\n\nBut back in the 70's you could get a fair price for your soul, so long as you remembered to sell it to someone different each time, different dealers meant different devils which meant travelling. So that's when I made my way around the world, selling my soul for anything I wanted. The damn thing was still missing as far as I could tell, meant nothing to me, dealers obviously thought I was selling them something. Maybe one day I'll find out what happened to my ticket to heaven. \n\nMaybe on that day, when my body finally gives out and I stop buying more years, maybe on that day when I let myself die. Maybe then I will know what happened to my soul. And on that day when I finally face a life time of debt and soul-stealing, then I will face the true punishment from the countless devils I have cheated. \n\nToday will be that day. I've known all my life that I must face the consequences of my lies and truth be told, I'm scared. \n\nBut this day has been a long time in coming. I'm old and frail and weak. My existence on Earth itself is an agony. I'm ready for the great beyond, whatever lies behind the veil of white and black light. I just need to let go now, I've bought no more time. I deserve to die, I'm an abomination who has lived too long. Lived terribly. \n\nWhen you tell people that you have no soul they expect some heartless, emotionless psychopath. But I still love, laugh, cry, hate and smile. \nI still get afraid. When they see you they see a monster. I've been telling my self my whole life that I am no monster. But I am. I'm a hideous excuse for a human, a self absorbed, shambling mess whose devoted his whole life to the exploitation of his own soul. \n\nIn my life of cheating demons I have become the very thing I laughed in the face of. So when I face the debt of the hundreds of devils I have cheated throughout my life, I will feel no fear, for I will be in the company of my own. \n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI'm not even sure if I like this anymore but I'll post it anyway. Doesn't really answer the prompt very well but I guess I could continue it to show what happens after the character dies. Let me know what you think. Thanks for the prompt... :)\n\n\n" ]	[ 3, 30 ]	[ "1436350307", "1436312449" ]
	[WP] You're a veteran pro-wrestler facing off against new meat. The other guy suddenly veers wildly off script.	13	[ "\"Marty, good news. You're the main event tonight.\" My manager Paul said as he walked up beside me while I was working out at the gym.\n\nI turned off the treadmill, stepped down, and faced him. \"Main event...? Haha. What year is it? 2005?\"\n\nOh good old 2005...\n\nHere's the thing. I have been a professional wrestler for 14 years now. I've had my ups and downs, I've won a lot of championships, and, of course, I have been in countless main events. But that stuff's already done. In the books. Past. Finished. Concluded. History... I could go on... but whatever.\n\nI'm getting kinda rusty anyway. I'm not as good as I used to be back in the day anymore. At one point in time, I was the poster boy for this entire company... but now I'm just another famous professional wrestler.\n\nThe show's already being inherited by fresh new up-and-comers. Younger guys... faster, stronger, more athletic and skilled. And it's pretty obvious that times have changed. Now, the fans love them more than they love me.\n\n\"Oh, but I'm serious Mart. Big Boss just called me up this morning. He really, really, really wants you to be in the main event tonight. I can't even stress enough how much he wants you to be there.\"\n\n\"Okay, so who's the lucky guy going to be? Who am I facing tonight?\" I asked Paul.\n\n\"It's going to be a new guy.\"\n\n\"A new guy? He's a new wrestler and the first match he's going to be in is in a main event!? And against someone as legendary as me? Come on Paul, this is ridiculous. Heck, when I started out in the independent scene in 1999, I had to bust my ass off there and I had to fight my way into the main event. I climbed that ladder to the top. How many injuries did I suffer Paul?\"\n\n\"Seven---\"\n\n\"Eight. It was eight, Paul. You didn't count that other neck injury because I said 'It doesn't hurt, I'll still fight'. I was the main event on that night Paul, I'll never forget it. January 30, 2005. I didn't want to miss it for the world. I ignored my broken neck just to be in a main event... and now you're telling me that this new guy's just gonna march in to this business and take a main event like it's nothing special? That's dumb.\"\n\n\"Well... it isn't as bad as you'd thought it would be Mart. Big Boss says you're going to win this one.\"\n\nOkay. Let me get this straight. I'm going to fight a new guy and I'm going to just beat him up and make him lose his first wrestling match ever... Now I'm starting to feel bad for this guy. But still... it's a main event, I'll take it. \n\nAnd it's not an entirely bad thing for this young wrestler either. Think about it, his first match ever, is going to be a main event against someone like me. Win or lose, he's going to walk out of that fight a winner.\n\nWe went to the stadium where the event would be held at around 8 in the evening, an hour before the wrestling show actually begins. I had the opportunity to meet the guy I was going to face backstage. He looked alright... but he didn't look anything like a wrestler at all.\n\nHe was a lot smaller than me. It was a bit awkward when I first saw him.\n\n\"Hey Marty that's the guy.\" Paul whispered to me as he passed by. I stood up from my seat to shake his hand. The height difference was incredibly obvious. I saw the shock in his eyes when he saw how big my hand was compared to his. \n\n\"See you in the ring, kid.\" I told him in the most masculine voice I could make.\n\nI waited for him to leave before I went back to Paul.\n\n\"Paul is this a prank? Please don't tell me that guy's a wrestler. He looked like he works here as a janitor. Good grief Paul he literally looks like a piece of meat compared to me! Of course I'm going to win this match. I can imagine it right now, how surprised the audience would be if a guy like that would be able to beat me.\"\n\n\"Honestly Mart, I don't get it either. All I know is it was the Big Boss himself that brought him into this. He said that this new guy was 'special'.\"\n\nI wanted to argue with Paul some more but when he said the word 'special', I just blew up. How could a guy, that looks like a training dummy, be special? I cleared my mind of angry thoughts and proceeded to walk away from backstage.\n\n\"Let's just do this real quick Marty. Walk in, beat the 'special' guy, walk out, and get your money. That's it and we're done.\" I told myself as I entered the arena.\n\nOnce I got out of the curtains, I got greeted by mixed reactions. Some fans were cheering, very glad to see me again, while some were violently booing, chanting \"PLEASE RETIRE!\" in unison.\n\n\"I missed you guys too!\" I said to the fans as I made my way into the ring.\n\nAnd here comes the new guy. The crowd was dead silent while he was coming up to me with a determined expression on his face. I could see some of them laughing, while others were just staring at him with confusion. They must've had the same thought as I did... \"How is this guy a wrestler?\"\n\nDon't get me wrong with this one, I really loved the David and Goliath story, and any underdog story for that matter, but remember when I said this guy looked like he was a piece meat? Well after tonight, he's going to be dead meat.\n\nThe referee signaled for the start of the match, the bell rung and the fight began. Wonder how the fans are feeling about this? They must be thinking they didn't get their money's worth.\n\n\"Hey kid, since this is your first match, let me be a bit easier on you. I'm going to let you give me a few punches, just to impress the audience, and then we'll get to having me beat you.\"\n\nHe ignored my message completely and just fiercely looked me in the eyes.\n\n\"... What kid? You don't understand English? You Russian or something...?\"\n\nHe bounced around and put his hands up, still looking me in the eyes.\n\n\"Ah, never mind, let's proceed to the having me beat you part---\"\n\nAnd all of a sudden he charged. He gripped my head in a lock and wouldn't let go. Wow this kid is strong, stronger than I expected. Maybe he did understand the 'give me a few punches' command I told to him... it's just... he's doing it more furiously to impress the fans even more... right?\n\nI struggled to get his grip off but I just couldn't. This kid works out for sure. He threw me forward and I stumbled to the floor in complete awe.\n\n\"OOOOH!\" was all I was hearing from the crowd.\n\n\"Okay, my turn now, huh?---\" I mumbled out as I was standing up, when all of a sudden he tackled me and we both went down hard.\n\n\"THIS IS AWESOME!\" The fans started to cheer and chant. It's awesome? Well it's off script too.\n\nHe continued punching me mercilessly while I was down and out. The referee realized that me getting pummeled wasn't part of the plan the moment I started gushing blood from my mouth. The ref tried to pull the new kid away from me, but he continued to blast me in the jaw with all his might. \n\nMore refs began to enter the ring. Now there were like 7 of them trying to get this guy off me. He stopped hitting me and stood up. He turned to the first referee he saw in sight and began a brawl. It was seven against one, and he was winning. I couldn't believe how powerful this kid is. \n\n\"YES! YES! YES!\" the audience was loving it. They were going crazy for this guy. I saw almost all of them on their feet. And here I am, lying on the ground... I can't even stand up.\n\nAfter he was done with the referees, He picked me up from the mat and threw me out of there like I was a piece of garbage. And there he was, alone in the ring in triumph, with the entire stadium applauding him for a beatdown well done. This is nuts.\n\nThe last scene I could remember was the Big Boss coming out of the curtains along with Paul. Big Boss proceeded to the ring where he raised the hand of the new guy. \n\n\"YEAH!\" Everyone went bananas.\n\nPaul approached me. \"You know Marty, in this business, sometimes you have to spice things up a little... Sometimes... we do things that don't go according to what was originally planned. Sometimes... we keep in store surprises... for everyone... even for the superstars like you.\"\n\n\"Wait you knew about this!?\" I yelled at him while I was lying down helpless.\n\n\"This isn't a prank Mart. I'm sorry. This is just business. We just always prioritize what's best for business.\" He told me as he walked out from me and entered the ring.\n\n\"Ladies and Gentlemen, what you saw tonight was not just a debut of a new talent... what you saw tonight was absolute destruction. Absolute destruction courtesy of the future of professional wrestling itself... I'm telling you folks, this name's going to be a name you won't be forgetting in a very long time, make sure you remember it... The war machine JOJO JERKINS!!!\" Paul said on the mic as he pointed his finger to the guy that destroyed my face.", "\"They brought me back here today, La Muerte Cansado, to break you in! You see, it's fresh meat like you that keeps this interesting for the big boys! Bear in mind, kid, that you are nothing, a speck of dust on the track of my boot. Are you ready to be pummled?\"\n\nWhat the newbie said next caught me off guard. With a very Mexican accent, he responded, \"Yessir.\"\n\nI stuttered, which was very out of character for me. \"Well... Then l-let's get this done!\"\n\n\"Okay, but mi niños are waiting for me at the dinner table. Could we make this fast, please?\" The sincerity in his tone took me completely by surprise.\n\n\"I can't wait to crush you!\" I roared as I charged the lanky man in his ridiculous leotard.\n\nThat night I woke up in the hospital with three broken ribs and an apology note tucked into my tights: \"I wish I could have made our fight a little more interesting, but I really was in a hurry. Thank you for a fun first fight, Ripskull Vandercrush.\n\nSincerely La Muerte Cansado\"\n\n\n\n", "He pulls out the 'cue.\n\nSUPLEX! Right onto the grill!\n\nYou got served. Well done." ]	[ 2, 4, 5 ]	[ "1436379353", "1436373870", "1436359786" ]
	[WP] You and your entire extended family are all super heroes, except none of you know about each other's powers. That is, until one super awkward family reunion...	88	[ "November 22nd, 18:34\n\nI had no idea it would happen. Or, maybe I did... I don't know anymore. Grandma didn't deserve it, really, but whenever she gets on Calvin about how his black wife is a goddamn capital sin, my head floods with hatred.\n\nI'm always able to keep them there, too—but not this time. I watched from across the ash table like a sniper in his nest while her frail old heart burst, and Ian scrambled to save her.\n\nBut there's no saving that bitch. That racist, gambling old bitch. If it hadn't been me, that black, rotten smoker's heart would have given out any day at one of her horse races. Here's a bet for you: I bet you I made the world just a little bit of a better place by plucking out her miserly old—\n\nSTOP. Breathe.\n\nI can't mean these things. I loved this woman with all my heart, before I was old enough to realize she was a complete animal.\n\nI find it ironic—no, perfect—that Ian's the \"family healer\". They say parents can't pick favorites when they have twins, but I know sure as shit that they'd take Ian any day over me. After all... an ex-con, former mental patient isn't the most fantastic role model for their grandkids.\n\nNovember 22nd, 20:56\n\nGuess I'm not alone anymore, but my family's gazes still seem hollow and dead-eyed. Dead eyes, dead mind, right? Maybe I don't need to feel bad about what I did after all.\n\nWe've all got it in our blood: Ian's a healer, mom talks to animals, dad's a mind-reader, Calvin's got super strength, and grandpa can light shit on fire with his mind. The fucked thing is that grandpa knew we all had it, and kept his mouth shut... I guess grandma's prophetic powers netted them quite the load of cash at the raceway. Enough to keep him quiet, anyways. He says all our cousins and everybody have powers too, but I dunno about any of that.\n\nOh, and of course, last but not least: my powers. Grandpa calls it \"the grim gift\". The ability to call upon death in any living thing. To kill whatever I can think of.\n\nBut it's more than that, yes. When I sleep, the devil crawls into my head and wraps his scales around my spine. When I'm awake, I hear whispers and wails in the walls. I'm tormented by my own mind, sickly pleasuring itself over the fantasies of the gruesome mutilated corpses of every person I see. This is not a gift.\n\nDad says, because I killed her with her own body, I won't go back to prison for this. But that won't matter, I already am. Be an optimist, call it a new beginning, but I can't see it that way. First I was just their regular deranged, unloved son who got into some bad shit when he was just a kid. But there's an excuse for that.\n\nNow? Now, I'm the deranged, evil, psychopath who killed his own grandmother. I haven't traded their alienation for each other's mutual acceptance. I've fallen further into some sick circle of hell that I can never dig myself out of. My next option is obvious, isn't it? Suicide. It's the only good option, the only thing that can really fix everything. But, don't fret. Grandpa has that one covered:\n\n\"The master of death is its conqueror.\"", "The city of New Angeles is unlike any other city between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. There are no large businesses, no police stations, and only the bare minimum of stores and gas stations to supply the rambunctious population. In place of these there are a plethora of film crews and photographers, hospitals sprinkled rigorously throughout along the streets, and an insane amount of tourist of the sight-seeing and adventure-seeking variety. There is a very specific reason for New Angeles' particularities; the city is infested—infested with superheros and Supervillains.\n\nMy thoughts on the particularities of the town were interrupted when I finally felt a ping on my radar. I turned to the beauty floating lightly off the ground to my side, “I found him, he teleported onto the roof of the foodshack on maple street, know the place?”\n\nDonned in blue and gold—the colors of a superhero, a heroine by the name of Hurricane gave me a dazzling smile from where her mouth could be seen below the mask that covered her eyes and nose. “Your audiokinesis is improving by the day!” She praised me, “Of course I know where foodshack is, WE'RE OFF.” And with her cheer, she grabbed me by my shoulders as a powerful gust of wind sent us flying across town.\n\nBarely avoiding falling on my ass when we landed, I stumbled a few steps before confronting our foe, “Flamespitter, your days of tyranny are over.” It was cheesy, yes, but I was dressed in a cape, so I have a pass to be as ridiculous as I desire. \n\nThe woman beside me stifled a giggle, clearly attempting to hide her amusement at my terrible line.\n\n“Well, well, well. If it isn't Ms. Hurricane and Mr. Sonic.” Flamespitter wore the black and reds of a villain. He glared at us before continuing, “Today you have made your greatest and final mistake, you have fallen into my trap!” \n\nGesh, this guy's banter was worse than mine, and he wasn't even doing it ironically, he seemed completely serious. Perhaps it was intentional, because as I stood stocked by his terrible dialog I was almost blindsided by a henchman springing at my back. Luckily for me, my companion was much less distracted and hit the unlucky minion with a heavy gust of wind.\n\nHurricane turned to me, “Better keep your guard up Sonic, it would suck if you died during your first month on the job.” The words were spoken in her usual cheerful tone, but had an undertone of seriousness that shook me out of my surprise. \n\n“Right” I snapped my fingers and let out a small burst of sound that revealed six other hidden supervillains when it bounced back to me. Manipulating the sound of my voice so that it could only be heard by my floating friend I whispered, “We're surrounded, I think it's time we use that attack.”\n\nHurricane nodded, then with a stylish swirl she threw out her arms and the air seemed to still. The ambient sounds suddenly seemed overwhelmingly loud, I could hear the sound of my heartbeat like a drum, and the breaths of Flamespitter assaulted my ears like violent gusts of wind. Sucking in a deep breath, I screamed at a pitch no normal human could ever accomplish. Carefully controlling the waves of sound I directed them through the modified air with pinpoint accuracy so that they struck the nearby villains with the entirety of their strength while leaving Hurricane and myself unharmed. \n\nFlamespitter and his nearby comrades froze before falling to the ground unconscious. I couldn't help but smile as I looked to Hurricane and gestured at the bodies on the ground, “Looks like the combined attack worked just as well as we hoped.”\n\nHurricane was hardly paying attention, instead she was staring at her watch. In a hurried tone she spoke, “Yea, that was great. Look, I have to go, think you can wrap this up? Okay, thanks, bye!” The words left her mouth with such speed that I could hardly comprehend them before she was gone, flying off into the distance.\n\tWith a glance at my own watch I realized I also had somewhere I needed to be, the annual family reunion was happening in twenty minutes, and at this rate, with this task so unglamorously thrust upon me, there was no way I was going to make it on time. \n\n----\n\nAfter spending a good half hour making sure the villains were securely situated in prison, I was finally able to make it back to my apartment to prepare for the family gathering to which I was already late. The motions of the familiar routine of switching from my superhero self to my alter-ego self gave me some time to let my mind relax and think. Because I was preparing to meet with my family, it was unsurprising that my drifting brain began to contemplate that topic. \n\nI don't really know why my family has stayed in New Angeles after the villains arrived. Most normal people left several decades ago. After all these years, all the collateral damage, all the injuries, and all the deaths, my family stuck to this town like a flee on a dog. Then again, my family isn't exactly normal. My great great grandfather and great great grandmother were the progenitors of the modern family. They had two children, one male, and the other female. The boy carried the name of his parents and continued the Burland bloodline, my bloodline. The girl married and changed her last name to become the Leacate family. Though the families have remained connected, the Leacate and Burland families are incredibly hostile towards one other. My father told me it was due to an inheritance dispute. Because of their intense dislike towards each other, I don't understand why they have joint family reunions like the one I'm about to attend. But they do, and they take the reunions very seriously. I'm going to be in serious trouble when I finally arrive.\n\nI am not well liked by either side of the family. The Leacate family hates me for being part of the Burland family, and the Burland family just hates me. I'm even not sure why my family hates me.\n\nWhen I was young my parents always told me they expected great things from me. I achieved excellent grades in school, and was a talented child, but my parents were never satisfied. They were cruel to me, beat me, and generally ignored me when I couldn't live up to their impossible standards. When I was younger I had company in misery in the form of my younger brother, but one day, almost overnight our relationship changed. Suddenly my brother started acting towards me in the same manner of my parents, hating me, jeering at me, ignoring me.\n \nOne day I found that I was just as abnormal as my family was treating me. My family had left on a short vacation without telling me, and I was alone in the house. Feeling unusually joyful that day I sang in the yard, and an unusually high note tore from my mouth and cut a large branch from its position on the tree. Fearing that I would receive worse treatment if my family learned of these powers, I made careful to keep them hidden, and practiced them in secret from my family.\n\nWhen I grew older I was able to use my sound manipulation abilities to modify music and post it on the internet. The style of music quickly grew in popularity and I was able to gain a steady income and use the money move away from my abusive family to this apartment. Now having some independence in the world I began using my powers to help people. I joined the heroes that fought in New Angeles in their fight against the villains.\n\nFinally finishing my preparations for the reunion, I rushed to my car and began making my way to the meeting place, blatantly disregarding several traffic laws in my hurry. My mind wandered to the one positive relationship I had in my whole family. On the complete other side of the family; the Leacate side of the family, there is a girl named Allison. She's so distantly related to me that I doubt we have any common blood, but somehow she is the only positive connection I've ever found. She has long flowing hair that always seem to float in the wind, a beaming smile that magnifies the sun, and a perfect figure that even a model would envy. Allison and I became fast friends in our youth, despite the fierce opposition from both our families. She lived nearby, and I would often steak away from my abusive house to play with her until her parents noticed and drove me away for being of the Burland bloodline. Apparently, “Nothing good can come from a child of that family!”\n", "Family reunions were always awkward. I hadn't been to one in well over five years. This time would be no different. I was on the lookout for gang activity, and the most recent reports were in the area, giving me an incentive to go. Much as I hated aunt Marie's tuna casserole, she would always convince me to try more. I started avoiding her after the first few incidents, but I couldn't see them come to harm.\n\nTo keep conversation to a minimum, I stuck to my element, the shadows. Needless to say, my family knew the technique, and Claire spotted me. She'd always had sharp eyes. Much as I wanted to remain vigilant, I relaxed. I didn't enjoy the sunlight, but I hadn't seen many of my cousins and friends since I left for college. Against all my instincts, I slept. A full belly and a warm day do that to a man. \n\nI awoke to an eerie silence. The buzz of conversation had left the park, and there was a chill in the air. All eyes were on the treeline. I turned my own to examine the cause of our tension. The bandits were here. They were quickly gaining fame as a powerful group, as they had taken down a few lesser known heroes. It was suspected that they had powers of their own.\n\nWith the bandits slowly advancing, I decided to strike preemptively, before they left the shadows. Stepping back, I melded into the shade, becoming one with the darkness. I planned to zip from shadow to shadow, and attack from behind, but halfway across, my route was obstructed. One of the bandits was the source of blinding light. There were no shadows around him, and it was painful to look in his direction. I had never encountered this scenario, and didn't know what to do. \n\nWhy were my family still in the park? What were they thinking?\n\n\"Listen!\" Started the shining bandit. \"We are holding you captive, until our demanded fee is urggh\"\n\nOf all the people in NY family, I never expected cousin Thomas to have a gun. Was that a gun? His hands were empty, but something had flown from them and ripped into the bandit.\n\nEnergy manipulation? Thomas had powers too?\n \nWith shouts of rage, the remaining bandits surged forward. With cries of anger, my family met them head on. I can only describe the following as chaos. Trees were flinging people left and right, fire was rampant, it was pouring rain on one side of the park, and beating sun on the other. Was that man flying? Was that a bear? Where did that shark come from?\n\nBut what beat back the bandits were the squirrels. They came from the hills, they came from the trees and the shore. Never had I seen so many squirrels.\n\nI firmly decided to never attend another family reunion. As far as I was concerned, I never found out that my second cousin was the son of Zeus, or my grandmother the avatar of Aphrodite. ", "There were hundreds of people here, crowded into tight rooms in some little community center on the outskirts of town. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandparents - it was a sea of body heat and uncomfortable conversations.\n\nJack was sitting on the end of one of the couches situated in one corner of one of the larger rooms in the community center. His eyes darted every which way, watching for any sign of danger. He had a feeling in his gut that his arch nemesis would attack this very day, which would endanger his family. Sure, he had never met most of the people in the building until today, but the day he would let anyone related to him suffer at the hands of his archenemy would be the day that pigs fly to the moon.\n\nHe saw his mother out of the corner of his eye scolding his sister for something. Not all too surprising; his sister was always getting into trouble. It helped him hide his powers much easier that way. Maybe it wasn't the nicest way of looking at it, but it had to do for now.\n\nSuddenly, a screech was heard through a set of speakers, and then a familiar voice resonated through the rooms and halls of the community center: my dad's. \"Hey, welcome, everyone, to the 25th Annual McIntosh Family Reunion!\" There was a brief cheer. \"First of all, let's give a round of applause to Bill McIntosh for getting his restaurant to make us such delicious food, yeah!\" Another cheer. \"Now, for the main event, if you'd like to join us in the ballroom, we're going to start some line dancing!\" More cheers, followed by a stampede of people.\n\nJack's mother found him off in the corner and grabbed him by his arm to pull him along - or else he would have stayed where he was. She dragged his sister and him into the ballroom and set them up near the door. Jack was not going to have any part of the dancing - neither was his sister. They weren't dancers anyway.\n\nSoon enough, a nice song came on and the line dancing was underway. It was obvious everyone was having a great time, and the music was surprisingly good! Jack found himself stomping along to the beat here and there.\n\nBefore they knew it, they were three songs in. He and Jack's sister were clapping along to the music when a strangely familiar body walked through the door right next to me. Jack knew he had seen that person before, but where?\n\nThe person stopped a few feet away from the door and seemed to be taking the scene in. The person was a man who looked to be about six feet tall, muscular but lanky. Jack didn't recognize him as a family member, but that didn't really mean much, seeing as though he had no idea most of the people at this family reunion even existed prior to this event.\n\nThe man walked on, passing in between the dancing people until he got to one end of the room. He stopped and looked around again, as if searching for someone or something. And then he looked straight at me - and then Jack realized who he was: Telekor. His archenemy.\n\nJack gasped, startling my sister. \"What's wrong?\" she asked, but Jack couldn't say anything. As much as Jack had hoped to be prepared for if Telekor came to the family reunion, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't risk revealing his powers and be ostracized by his family. But he couldn't stand by and watch Telekor potentially kill his family.\n\nHe flashed a smile that was all too familiar - a purely evil and sinister smile - and looked towards the center of the room. Jack's mother and father were dancing there and directing the masses of people. He then looked at the massive chandelier looming above my parents. He looked back at Jack and seemed to chuckle. Jack immediately knew what was coming next.\n\nWith a flick of his wrist, the chandelier was severed from the ceiling and came crashing down. \"No!\" Jack screamed, and lifted his hands towards it. With all of his might, he used his telekinesis to stop it its free fall.\n\nThe live band stopped abruptly, the crowd turned to look at me, and Telekor had vanished. My mother and father and dived out of the way fortunately, but now they were looking at me as if he had just murdered the family dog.\n\nJack didn't know how to handle the situation, so, out of mere awkwardness and confusion, he dropped the chandelier. It crashed to the ground, sending flames from the candles in every direction. His mother stood quickly and, without a moment's notice, sent gusts of wind from her finger tips. Jack's father followed suit and unleashed streams of water from the palms of his hands. The flames were soon quenched, but the mood in the room had become even more tense.\n\nJack, his mother, and his father looked at each other with astonished faces. No one knew what to say. Finally, almost in one voice, they said, \"You have powers?\"\n\nAll three of them gasped collectively, then: \"I have powers? When did you get powers?\"\n\nJack's father broke the tension - finally! - as he stepped forward and said, \"Enough. Jack, why didn't you tell us you had telekinesis?\"\n\n\"Why didn't you or mom tell me you had powers?\" I asked, taking a more grounded stance.\n\n\"We're sorry, son. We didn't know how you and your sister would react. And, in doing so, I guess your mother and I didn't really think about the idea of you or your sister having powers yourselves.\"\n\n\"I don't think Karina has powers, though, dad.\"\n\n\"So, it's just you?\"\n\nBefore Jack could answer that, his mother interjected: \"Where is Karina?\"\n\nJack looked back towards the door - Karina was gone! A sudden weight landed on his shoulders, and a realization he didn't want to have washed over him. Telekor had vanished, along with Karina.\n\n\"Mom, Dad, I think Telekor took her.\"\n\nSilence. And then my mom exclaimed, \"What?!\"\n\nMy father added, \"Who's Telekor? Was he the one who brought the chandelier down?\"\n\n\"He and I have...history, father. No time to explain. We need to find him before he can do any serious damage to Karina!\"\n\n(EDIT: Formatting, grammar mistakes, punctuation, basic story-editing.)", "It was nice to get away from the city every once in awhile. Going to the countryside was always a warm welcome for Kyle, where he enjoyed spending time with all his aunts, uncles, cousins, and where there were hardly any worries. Sitting here, he really did feel at peace surrounded by his huge family. Kyle felt himself drifting to sleep as he lay happily on the hammock, listening to the friendly bickering between his parents and their siblings.\n\n\"C'mon Kyle! James and the others are already at the lake, we're going to be late!\" shouted his cousin Kate, who broke his peaceful slumber. \n\n\"Ugh, fine! But you better make the jump this time!\" Kyle called out with a smile on his face. The lake was where him and his cousins played ever since they were kids. Kyle himself loved it, he remembered the long summers there with him and his older brother Josh, the incurable prankster. Most of them were in college now, but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy life's simple pleasures, Kyle thought to himself.\n\nWhen he got to the lake, he could see that everyone was already having a blast. After teasing Kate to jump off the cliff-side, she finally did it and he followed exuberantly. Being in the water always made Kyle feel great. Of course, being a powerful hydrokinesis user he naturally felt at home in the water. He loved playing against his cousins to see who could hold their breath the longest. Kyle always won of course, since he would slyly breathe through his nose while underwater, a fact that no one in the world knew. \n\n\"Uh oh, it's the adults!\" said Kyle's youngest cousin Sarah. She had only just entered middle school, and so she was still quite rebellious. Kyle chuckled good-naturedly. Being in college, Kyle was no stranger to alcohol, but he loved it when the adults got drunk and started acting silly around their nieces, nephews, and children. He saw his dad trying to do handstands while his mom was jumping around with his aunts in a bikini. \n\nSuddenly, Kyle felt an icy chill down his spine, which was strange considering that it was still summertime and the water was at an almost perfect temperature. Kyle couldn't quite describe it, but it sort of acted like a 6th sense. He knew something was wrong. As Captain Inundo, Kyle had no shortage of enemies. But he knew that his main enemy, Incendium was still locked away in Special-X Heights. Scanning the area, Kyle saw a tall, dark-haired man who he didn't recognize, which was strange since Kyle's parents insisted on making the family reunions every year, and so he thought he knew everyone here. The man was sitting on a lawn chair, drinking a beer and gazing out. Kyle slowly got out of the lake onto the shore to take a better look at him.\n\nAs Kyle stared at the man, he suddenly felt that icy chill once again as the dark-haired man turned to look at him. He felt like he was rooted in place, staring into those eyes that were so dark they could've been black. This man knew who he really was, there was no doubt about it.\n\nKyle knew he had to do something, but he couldn't out himself in front of everyone. The man suddenly stood up, raised fist in the air and slammed it down. At once the world turned black. A flash of lightning tore through the sky and slammed straight into Kyle. The only time he had felt this much pain was against Incendium's infernos. He fell hard, while he heard his family members crying out in horror. The pain burned through him like a hot knife, but he couldn't pass out, this man, whoever he was, would hurt his family, and he would not let that happen. \n\nSlowly, Kyle willed the water to rise to him. He felt the water heal him. The dark-haired man sent a second lightning bolt, but this time Kyle was ready. He created a massive ice shield that absorbed the lightning, before turning to the dark-haired man. But another lightning strike slammed through the sky. This time however, it hit his aunt Mary. Kyle cried out in horror. But to his surprise, Mary shrugged it off. There was something different about her now, Mary's skin had turned metallic, and she was literally glowing. The dark-haired man, uneasy now, sent a lightning bolt crashing down at Sarah, who fell with a cry. That was the final straw for Kyle. Anger and rage burned through his frosty blue eyes, as Kyle raised his arms, summoning a furious hurricane. He launched it upon the man with all his force. The dark-haired man wasn't prepared for such an attack. He was ripped apart by the full force of Kyle's rage. But Kyle couldn't stop it. The hurricane didn't stop, even after it had destroyed the dark-haired man. Kyle's rage was consuming him. \n\nOut of his burning anger, he heard a voice. It was Kate's, but she wasn't speaking. It was in his head. \"Calm down Kyle, you defeated him.\" Surprised, he turned to look at her, but her lips weren't moving. Almost against his will, he felt himself calming down and the hurricane dissipating. With tears in his eyes, he turned to look at Sarah. She was lying on the ground, but her eyes were open and she was talking excitedly! Above her, stood Kyle's father. A force field flickered around the two. \n\n\"Alright, who's next??\" Kyle joked in disbelief.\n\n\"Ayyyyyyyyyy\" said Josh, as he turned into a tornado." ]	[ 3, 4, 4, 18, 47 ]	[ "1436400524", "1436399200", "1436399259", "1436372530", "1436379122" ]
	[WP] An incessantly lucky person experiences misfortune for the first time	13	[ "[A response in a similar prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2wtrtu/wp_throughout_your_life_youve_always_had/cou4zds) I posted a while ago, by /u/Advanced_Instinct, to whom all credit goes:\n\n\"Everything just comes easily to me.\" I smile at my travelling companion. It's true, I've led, by most opinion, a blessed and lucky life. When I was born, I killed my mother. It's a little bit macabre, yes, but by all accounts, my mother was a brutish woman who made my father's life hell. In that case, I consider myself lucky. I was raised by a good father, who afforded me a good education. I was an only child after all, my father didn't have to split his resources for any others. I've never broken a bone, I've won countless riches on the cards table and when I was twenty-four, my friend was kicked in the face by a mule.\n\nHe died after ingesting the bird feces that was dropped on him thereafter. \"I was right next to him!\" I insisted. My companion's face looked grim and his mouth twisted into some intriguing expression of disbelief, failing to notice how my expensive horse expertly stepped over a dangerous crevasse without bothering to look down.\n\nFinally he spoke. \"Are there any other witnesses to these events?\" I sneered at him. \"What? Preposterous! Are you implying that I'm lying?\" I patted my saddlebags, full of fine things. \"Are these not witness enough?\" My companion chuckled. \"The people you gambled with are long since dispersed, your few friends are killed off by freak accidents you narrowly avoid. I'm not saying it's not true, what I'm saying is..Maybe you're not seeing it exactly as it happened.\"\n\nI grimaced and stared straight ahead into the path we trotted. \"What do you mean?\" I insisted. \"If I saw it with my own eyes, is it not real? How would I be speaking to you now if I were insane?\" He shrugged and dusted off his coat with an idle hand. \"We need a test!\" I said, with a sense of urgency. \"A coin toss, yes. I've never lost one before.\" I picked one of my many fine coins out and removed my leather glove, giving it a few test-tosses. Seven times in a row, it came up tails. Resolved, I waited until we struck camp that evening and sat by the fire.\n\n\"I'm ready to play the coin toss. If I win the toss, you give me a coin. If I lose, I give you a coin.\" He nodded brusquely and I flipped the coin into the air. Heads. It came down heads. I scrambled at the coin and wiped at it. I wiped my eyes, I wiped at the coin. It was heads. \"Well, surely nothing can be perfect.\" I reasoned. His expression was blank as I gave him the coin and withdrew another one. He flipped it and won. \"That has nothing to do with me.\" I muttered, and withdrew another coin as he pocketed the second one. I flipped again.I lost. He kept the coin. We kept tossing.\n\n\"Eighty-nine, Ninety-one, Ninety-two! This is absurd! You've won ninety-two times in a row!\" I blurted in exasperation, crumpling my deflated wallet in my hands as he felt the weight of his in his hands. \"How is this possible?\" I clutched at my hair and began pacing.\n\n\"Why is it so strange for you to believe this?\" The companion murmured, watching quietly. I turned to him, crazed. \"It's the exact opposite of what has happened my entire life! The laws of probability dictate-\"\n\n\"They dictate that what you claim - extreme luck through the entirety of your life - is just as unreasonable as what happened here.\" he cocked his head, looking at me like an innocently confused kitten. \"It is in direct contradiction of what is already established fact! I have a considerable sum of wealth to prove it!\" I yelled.\n\nHe leaned back and sighed. \"Still, if it were only you witnessing such great things for yourself, were they really real? They were real for you, and what happened here is real for me, but it doesn't seem to be the case for you.\"\n\n\"I..\" Words seemed to fail me. \"If it happened, it happened, why should there be any business about reality?\"\n\n\"If a tree fell in the forest, and there was no one around to hear it, would it make any noise?\" I flicked him off.\n\n\"There are clearly supernatural things at work here. I have lost a blessing, or something of the like.\"\n\n\"If it is not in your favor, it is supernatural? Because something is not in your favor doesn't mean the same thing for you as it does somebody else. There is a greater perspective outside of your own two eyes, is there not?\" He retorted.\n\nI raised my finger, I opened my mouth, but I had nothing to say. He continued. \"Think back to the tree falling in the forest. Is this the case for your whole life? Have you really lived then, in such splendor, if there was no one to see it? What's the point?\"\n\nHe had been taking the dominant position throughout the conversation, but I could see through his face that he was just as confused and indignant as I was. We both had nothing more to say, though the issue felt more pressing than ever. I tossed pebbles at the fire while silence fell over us, and a feeling of impending doom threatened to upset my stomach.\n\nI felt useless and insignificant in the grand scheme, as if I were a loved decoration that was stowed away, all favor forgotten. There was no fade from the light, no return to humble obscurity that absconds the billions of human faces - my luck always hid me, and now this realization makes my situation no longer adequate.", "I discovered my luck when I was eight years old. That is too early to figure out there’s something special about you. It gets you cocky. I wasn’t special in any measurable sense, but everyone who knew me understood what it was. I did too. Everyone called me lucky. I called myself lucky. It’s just how things went. I could guess what cards people were holding up out of a deck occasionally or, when I got older, randomly buy a scratch off and win. I would always say ‘It was a once in a life time thing’ when people asked me to repeat these feats. I didn’t want to press my luck. It worked out. As long as I didn’t push it, I would be lucky when I needed to be.\n\nMy luckiest moment was meeting my wife. She could have anyone. Absolutely gorgeous. Brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a smile that could to wrench a reciprocal smile from anyone. The first time I saw her was in the subway. I was sitting down reading the sports section of a newspaper that was left behind. I had a good feeling about the Yankees tonight. Too bad I hate sports. Anyway, this girl walked on and we shared a glance. She smiled and looked away. That’s all it took. Smitten and embolden by a life of making right decisions, I asked her out for coffee. Three years later we have a little boy soon followed by a little girl. Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what we wanted. My life was a series of fortunate event followed by fortunate event. \n\nThen one night I’m just watching the love of my life struggling for her life. They told me the driver was drunk, like that mattered. I prayed to god, I prayed to whatever this thing I have is, I prayed to anything. I just want her to be ok. I said that I would give up everything for her. Anything for her. She died that night. I was a mess and I just couldn’t understand how something like this could happen to me. It just can’t.\n\nI don’t try to guess what playing cards people have anymore.\n \n\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1436467320", "1436454269" ]
A quote from my own work, but just curious what stories others think of when they hear it without context.	[WP] "It was unsettling to know that they had been watching me the whole time, but I felt foolish for ever thinking that they weren’t."	9	[ "Why would they be watching me? Do they have a fetish for this type of thing? I sat there and pulled my phone out - best to ignore them. As I browsed reddit, I thought about the way my life had turned out. Overall it wasn't bad - little bedsit, enough money to live on if not go out much. No woman in my life, but then I never was the popular guy. At that moment I glanced up to see the most stunning woman walk by - blonde hair down to her waist, long slim legs tanned to golden perfection. she kept staring at me, and I thought maybe I had a shot here, although surely she's way out of my league. I smiled at her and gave a slight wave. The look on her face turned to one of complete disgust and she hurried away. The rest of the store all seemed to be staring still, some whispering to each other.\nAt that moment the manager came over. What does he want? Can't people leave me alone. This type of thing is normally private.\n\"Sir\", he says. \"This is a show toilet, not the bathrooms. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave\"", "I never really gave it much thought. Why would I? I have had a comfortable life. I was living in a big beautiful newly-built home. Well, I was there since it was new anyway, it's been six years. But my home has always been kept clean and as pristine as the day we all moved in.\n\nLife was so easy for me. I didn't do much really, just hang out in my favorite place, the living room. It was funny, the family would usually sit on the couch, sometimes at the table on the other end, and I'd just watch them. I'd watch them for hours sometimes, chuckling at their conversations and corny comments. Sometimes I'd cry with them when something devastating would come across the news.\n\nMy favorite was the baby. He was born a year after we all moved in and I had watched him grow all these years, from a constant crier, to quite an intelligent young boy. For the last year or so, I'd watch him as he sat down in his favorite place and learn at an accelerated pace. Quite a remarkable young man. I had the privilege of having a part in his intellectual growth and was pleased when I heard that he was already being evaluated at a third-grade level even though he was only in kindergarten. Quite the child prodigy he is becoming.\n\nSo a few weeks ago I started to not feel so well. My vision had started deteriorating and it progressed very rapidly. I watched my family as they reacted in many different ways. It was interesting yet eerily disheartening as the situation unfolded. At first they seemed confused, not at all an unreasonable reaction, I also was quite confused. I was too young to be experiencing such symptoms.\n\nBut confusion quickly grew to frustration, frustration to anger. I never ever thought that I would be the victim of physical abuse. Especially since I was the one who was sick. I really thought this was a kind family, but nothing brings out the dark side of people like when things aren't going their way. I watched them, I watched them change. I watched them go from loving and fun, to outright evil and abusive.\n\nFinally the day came. The day they got rid of me. If you can believe this, they simply picked me up one day, took me outside and threw me to the curb, literally. The last thing I remember was watching a van pull into the drive way and two delivery men taking a box into the house. On the side of the box were the words \"HD 1080P.\"\n\nIt was unsettling to know that they had been watching me the whole time, but I felt foolish for ever thinking that they weren’t.", "I've always had a thing with mirrors. I say thing because I can't say its a fear, but I can't say it's ever been real before. \n\nMirrors have always had these unsettling feeling to me, so much so that I developed a habit of covering mirrors when doing things like using the bathroom or taking a shower. \n\nJust something about them constantly makes me feel off, depending on the setting. I think mirrors are so cool, but personal mirrors kinda spook me out a bit. Like something just wasn't right. It's one of those things to me that I am constantly aware of. But I treat it as a personal thing and not really as a real thing, you know? I just don't like personal mirrors. \n\n \nIn a leaked file from the NSA there was observations and a strong indication of some sort of 'thing'(they didn't exactly know what it was) interexpanding into reality through mirrors.\n\nI always knew that I didn't like them too much, but I was just really hoping it was just a phase.", "\"No sudden moves, Menite. I got a dozen rifles and a 'jack aiming at that shiny Menofix on your chest. So unless you want to meet your Creator, you'd best behave.\"\n\nFrom behind his half-mask, Corvin Mallory smiled. Perfect.\n\nThe voice continued, a woman's voice.\n\n\"I want that fancy blade of yours to hit dirt and your hands to find their way to the back of your head.\"\n\nHe did as he was ordered, stabbing his glaive into the soil like it was a banner and lacing his armored fingers behind him.\n\n\"Now, who in the Hell are you?\"\n\nHe turned his head towards the voice, his own crossing the distance.\n\n\"I am Corvin Mallory, warrior of the faith and Spear of Deliverance. I have a message for your commanding officer.\"\n\n\"Mallory... the Hierarch's executioner?\"\n\nThe armored Sul-Menite warcaster gave a decidedly unknightlike snort and shook his head once. \n\n\"Of course not. That honor belongs to the High Executioner Reznik- I am Hierarch Severius' assassin.\"\n\n\"You're the one who murdered Commander Jethro Haramore last winter are you not?\"\n\n\"I did not murder him; he was a armed combatant and an enemy of Menoth. But that is neither the here nor now. Will you allow me to speak to your commander, or should I merely leave? If you refuse me both, I guarantee you that you won't win.\"\n\n\"You're outnumbered twenty to one and we have a 'jack.\"\n\nCorvin Mallory shrugged underneath his armor. \n\n\"Numbers mean little to one of Menoth's servants. Again, may I speak to him?\"\n\n\".... Fine. But the weapon stays here. Don't touch anyone or anything; don't even blink or I'll slot a bullet in your oh-so-holy skull.\"\n\nThe woman who came out of the trees wore the armored great coat of one of Cygnar's famed gun mages. Maybe in her late thirties, her auburn hair was tinged with grey. The infamous weapon of her eponymous order was held in her hands, its sorcerous barrel glowing faintly in the dusk's dying light. \n\n\"You're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be.\" She said, the looming barrel of her pistol never leaving his torso.\n\n\"So they say. Ladies first?\"\n\nThe gun mage captain shook her head, the faintest of smiles on her lips.\n\n\"Nice try, Menite. Guests first.\"\n\nWith that they moved towards the Cygnar rear, leaving a beautifully crafted blade in the earth.\n\n " ]	[ 2, 2, 2, 4 ]	[ "1436600240", "1436607807", "1436610878", "1436588028" ]
	[WP] MCing. DJing. B-boying. Graffiti. Only the Avatar can master all four elements and bring balance to hip hop.	489	[ "4 words, street cred\n\nGot more bars than a bunk bed\n\nB-Boy, break dance\n\nI break niggas who think they got, a chance\n\nDJ, play jams\n\nBe putting my sack on yo face, like Rams\n\nSpray paint, art class\n\nThe only thing i be spraying is bullets in yo ass\n\nSo let me start this right here\n\n4 words that you got to hear\n\nIm breaking rules, shits a crime\n\nIm breaking fools, in my prime\n\nIm the Avatar of 4 types\n\nAnd the competition just be hype\n\nThe name be Aang\n\nWhile you standing in fear as i bear my fangs\n\nI be hitting you with more rhymes than Tupac\n\nCuz yo ass in too much shock\n\nNow drop this shit harder than a rock\n\nWhile i got Mutumbo, shits a block\n\nThe one and only MC\n\nThat people coming to see\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"What the fuck are we doin' here? The city is 20 miles back that way. You ain't goin' to find a B-boy master out in the boonies!\" D-Lish continued to yell over the wind from the Motorcycle's Sidecar. \n\n\"Do you see the guy on the right in the newspaper photo?\" D-Lish picked up the newspaper from the floor and clutched it to his knees to keep it from blowing away.\n\n\"Mo-Fo with a Pompadour?\"\n\n\"That's the King of Pop from 2 generations ago. He's the perfect master to teach me how to break a leg,\" Bill said without a trace of irony in his voice.\n\n\"Break a... That's the dumbest shit you ever said! No one knows where the King went, what makes you think you know that's him?\"\n\n\"You know how sometimes I can see memories of my past lives?\"\n\n\"Yeh\"\n\n\"In a previous life, he was my father-in-law. It's the same diner.\" \n...\n\nOutside Jessie's Pit-Stop, D-Lish and Bill stared through the window to see the man from the picture eating in the exact same spot again.\n\"What are you gonna say to the dude? 'Remember when I did your daughter, wanna teach me to dance?'\" D-Lish still wasn't convinced this even WAS Elvis Presley; King of pop from generations past.\n\n\"Something to that effect.\" Bill started walking into the diner while D-Lish was still stunned by his dead-pan humor. Bill walked straight in, down to the booth, and sat down straight across from Elvis. D-Lish hurriedly caught up to sit down next to him. Elvis stared grumpily at the intruders, hash browns dangling from his un-moving fork. They sat in awkward silence for a minute.\n\nElvis began to speak \"What do you...\" which cued Bill to interrupt him.\n\n\"Teach me how to dance.\"\n\n\"What? No. Why?\"\n\nBill's eyes suddenly gleamed with power, \"Remember me, Dad? Shamone The Avatar needs you to teach me to dance. Hee-hee\" Bill's eyes faded again as the spirit of the past pop Avatar left his body.\n\n\"What the fuck was that shit!\" yelled D-Lish, still unused to the variety of powers available to Bill.\n\n\"I know what that was, and you need to get your candyass out-a-here before I go ape on you!\" Elvis said, attempting to point his fork in the young hoodlums' faces.\n\n\"Wait! Wait man!\" yelled D-Lish as he dodged repeated jabs of the fork.\n\n\"Please, I have to relearn to dance again. A solar flare will knock out all electronic equipment in three weeks. No mic's, no audio mixers: MC-ing and DJ-ing will be useless. The Hong-10 are going to use the opportunity to take Las Vegas from the Rat Pack while they're defenseless. The Rat Pack are my people. Please, we need your help. The Rat Pack needs your help.\"\n\nElvis stopped trying to stab D-Lish when he heard the Rat Pack mentioned.\n\n\"It was their turn in the cycle of reincarnation, wasn't it?\" Elvis leaned back in the booth and appeared to be having a flashback. Bill and D-Lish just looked at each other as they waited for Elvis to finish... They continued waiting. After a few minutes the waitress came by and asked them if they wanted to order, but they politely declined. Elvis continued to sit with his head leaned back, staring up into the ceiling with a wry smile across his face. The waitress then told them this was not a flashback; Elvis used heavy painkillers and was just in a drug-addled daze. She then showed them how to wake him:\n\n\"Your tab's due Presley!\"\n\n\"You old Miser! You'll get your money, Mickey, at the end of the month!\" Elvis suddenly leaned forward yelling at the youths. He then looked confused, cleared his throat, and said, \"I do owe the Rat pack, so I guess I'll help you. Why don't you show me what you can do?\" \n\nSuddenly Bill looked sheepish, \"what, right here? In front of all these people?\" Other than D-Lish and Elvis, the only 2 other people were the waitress and a trucker at the far end of the counter.\n\n\"Ya always were a Candyass\" Elvis said as he got up and walked over to an old-style jukebox. He fished two quarters out of his pocket and began playing What's New Pussycat. \"Alright, let's see it.\" D-Lish and Bill both stood up out of the booth, standing awkwardly in front of Elvis. Bill began to shuffle side to side, holding one fist back and one fist forward at waist level, alternating every two bounces.\n\n\"Aw hell no, I'm not bein' associated with this,\" said D-Lish, looking horrified as he moved beside Elvis. They began commentating on how awful Bill's dancing was.\n\n\"Whew, you boys weren't kidding about needing help.\"\n\n\"I swear I never seen him do this before, or I would have put a stop to it.\"\n\n\"Find your hips boy, ya need to use your hips!\"\nBill hunched forward, sticking his butt out, but still bouncing in place stiffly.\n\n\"Not your waist, your hips! Are you a candyass and a virgin to?\"\n\n\"Go back in your past life and remember what you did to his daughter man.\"\nElvis shot a side-eyed glance at D-Lish's comment, then said,\n\n\"Try to remember whatever your negro friend does and just do that for now.\"\n\n\"Whaaat? Oh you think just because I'm black I can dance? That's some ol' racist shit Grandpa.\"\nBill began doing the sprinkler.\n\n\"Hey man stop that shit. You ain't never seen me do that. Quit embarrassing us.\" \nAt that point Bill stopped dancing and appeared winded.\n\n\"How'd I do?\" he said as the song slowly faded out.\n\n\"You're gonna need to learn to Graffiti the hell out of those B-Boys.\"", "https://soundcloud.com/part-time-tunafish/drop-it-like-its-korra\n\nDrop it Like It's Korra", "A modified version of a poem I wrote in high school:\n\nHis origins unknown, a mystical man, \nCreated an art form to break from the bland. \nBlessed with an element of rhythm so fluidous, \n“If I add some beat breaks, I can flow with this.”\n\nHe was a DJ, an MC, an artist, and dancer, \nHeld the essence of Hip-hop and wished to romance H.E.R. \nGave birth to the elements, and his sons grew, \nPreached knowledge and peace, not “Art of War” by Sun Tzu. \n\nThe children matured, but most of all, Rap, \nExploited by the Labels for some quick cash. \nRap declined quick from his Golden Years to now, \nCorrupted by the money and his guns went “blaow!” \n\nWe hoped for a savior, his followers too, \nAnd the Avatar arrived, an underground dude. \nHe fought through armies with wordplay and imagery, \nBut shot down by Majors in the middle of delivery. \n\nIt’s an ongoing war fueled by aggression. \nThe Avatar's strife in the face of Rap's suppression. \n", "MC. DJ. B-boy. Graffiti. \nLong ago the four nations lived in harmony. \nThen everything changed when the B-boys attacked. \nOnly the Avatar, master of all four styles, could stop 'em. \nBut when the street needed him most, he vanished. \n\n100 years later, me and my brotha Dre discovered the new Avatar, a graffiti artist named Marshal. \nAnd although his graffiti been on point, he got a lot to learn before he ready to save anyone.\n\nBut I believe Marshal can save the world.", "His name is DJ Lang\n\nThe Avat-Garde in street slang\n\nMarking up the place with multi-colored spray \n\nHe spins the tracks that turn the night\n\nSpeaking on cardboard the universal language of rhythm and dance\n\nBouncing the house with sick tracks\n\nLaying them out on the dance floor\n\nPutting the po' on blast\n\nThe Mayor curses his name,\n\n\"Who considers this cool?\"\n\nHe plays both hero and fool\n\nBlending old and new school\n\nBringing balance to hip-hop\n\nBut don't spit that sick shit to his face\n\nIn a rap battle, the Avat-Garde is an ace\n\nServing his opponents sick notice\n\nSlamming his notes\n\nThe sickest shit he's wrote\n\nIs the best the second-most dope could ever hope to have wrote\n\nSo, in the Avat-Garde we trust\n\nTo bring us justice with sick rhymes \n\nFor he's the One True King of these streets\n\nWaging MLK's legacy in peace\n\nWord to your Gandhi" ]	[ 3, 9, 12, 13, 66, 102 ]	[ "1436778842", "1436767112", "1436751189", "1436755622", "1436752316", "1436748569" ]
	[WP]How did the crazy cat lady become the crazy cat lady?	18	[ "NOTE: Sorry if there's some spelling and grammatical errors, wanted to get this out before I left for the day.\n\nThe Cat Lady\n\nHe passed five years ago to the day, a stop and frisk gone wrong. Events aren't clear what transpired after the initial stop, but the end result was my baby on the ground, blood spurting from a hole in his chest and the light slowly draining from eyes and into the nothingness of death. The coroner ruled it a homicide, and how could he not? He was shot with his back turned, running desperately for the fence at the end of the alley and freedom beyond. \n\nOf course the trial was a sham from start to finish, the officer stating that he had \"feared for his life\" after a physical altercation with my husband. It didn't matter that the only person with any marks on him was my husband, his name was dragged through the mud just the same by the defense. \"A petty criminal with a history of reckless behavior.\" They didn't tell the jury that all of his offenses happened before he was 21, or that he had turned his life around. Five years sober, working with addicts at the homeless shelter. They didn't talk about him struggling to find work due to his past, how he had worked his way up from nothing more then a janitor at a machine shop when an old friends dad decided to give him a chance. How he was trying to become a Tool and Dye maker and make a positive contribution after years of destructive behavior. The prosecutor hardly made an effort to hide his bias, the only reason he seemed to have taken the trial up was due to public pressure. No effort was made to restore my husbands name, nor to bring his killer to justice.\n\nI settled the civil suit out of court for a few million, I can't even remember the number anymore. It didn't matter, the hole in my heart went from a small fissure to an expanse I didn't think I could ever fill. I soon became homeless, wandering around town on an old bike I found while I was selling my house and all my belongings. One day, I woke under an underpass to a cat staring at me from inches away. I shot out of bed from the shock and grabbed the lead pipe I kept under my pillow, holding it out in front of me menacingly. The cat just regarded me with it's unnerving eyes, not moving an inch. I caught my breath and set the pipe down, and immediately the cat ran up to me and began purrin, rubbing itself against my legs in a figure 8.\n\nAs soon as Mr. Meowsers touched me that first time, my life began to change. The hole in my heart hadn't disappeared, but the paralyzing effect it had on my life seemed to slowly disappear. Mr. Meowsers followed me everywhere that summer, keeping me company and opening my heart back up to emotions I thought I'd never be able to feel again. One day, he led me to a box of kittens that someone had left down an alley behind an animal shelter. I knew immediately what I had to do. I bought a house on the outskirts of town and slowly outfitted the place to be a safe haven for cats. Soon, my cats went from seven in number to two dozen.\n\nPeople in town whispered about me but I didn't care. I didn't have any neighbors and I was keeping the stray numbers down, so there seemed to be an agreement in town that I was a necessary, if not entirely tolerable evil. Soon people were leaving cats at my door, forgotten children deemed unworthy of love. I took them all in, I could never say no. They were the thread I used to sew my heart back into one whole. My reason to not give into the despair just under the surface, looking for a way to escape my lips\n\n\nOne day a company began buying up all the land around my house and approached me with an offer that I \"couldn't refuse.\" Not realizing my resolve, the company tried in vain to buy over the next year or two, becoming increasingly incensed at my refusal. Cars started driving through my once deserted section of town, sometimes creeping so slowly as they went by I was afraid I was going to be a victim of a drive by. One night a brick went through my window and I watched as a yellow Trans-Am sped off into the night. Something about the car gave me pause, and so into town I went the next day, searching. The car was unique, and I had a feeling I had seen it before, sometime in a past life.\n\nI searched most of the day, but unable to find anything I was ready to give up. Walking by the police station, I happened to see a flash of yellow, and looking up I saw the yellow Trans-Am pull up to the booth and flash a badge. My heart stopped. Sitting in the front seat, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth as he spoke to the man in the booth was my husbands killer. A short while later, I watched as he pulled out of the police station and drove down the street. I followed behind him, traffic slowing his progress enough that I could follow on my bike. After awhile, he pulled into an alley and didn't come out. I crept towards the entrance to the alley, took a quick look to make sure he wasn't near the entrance and stepped in.\n\nA little way down the alley, it doglegged to the left into a dead end. I could hear arguing from the entrance. \"Gave that bitch a housewarming present for you\" I froze at the mouth of the dogleg, breath ragged and gripping the stone wall behind me with desperate hands. \n\n\"She's been in the house two years, we're a bit past that at this point,\" Responded another voice, this one much deeper and more controlled.\n\n\"All the same, she is going to leave town soon. I can feel it.\" I peeked down the alley, and saw the cop speaking into the window of a black SUV.\n\nA cloud of smoke rolled through the window and the voice replied, \"And if she isn't?\"\n\n\"I'll take care of her like I took care of her husband when the little bastard wouldn't run my drugs for me. No one is going to stop this project.\" Here was the proof I was looking for all along. The bastard admitted it! He killed my baby over a fucking drug deal. I could feel my heart sinking in my chest, dragging me back down into that pit I'd worked so hard to crawl out of.\n\n\"Good, good. What are your plans to take care of the 'situation'?\" The voice from the car questioned, sounding quite eager to have the deed done.\n\n\"I was thinking she might have a bad gas leak, probably take care of those goddamn cats too. Crazy bitch, one dead husband and she creates a fucking animal kingdom.\" Immediately my resolved returned. This son of a bitch took my husband, he WILL NOT take my cats too. I knew what I had to do. Slowly I slid to the ground and crept underneath his car, found his brake lines and cut them. The talking continued behind me, and I quickly walked to the end of the alley, grabbed my bike and road off a safe distance.\n\nI heard the screeching of tires followed by a scream and immediately after a crash that sounded more like an explosion. I looked from my hiding spot and saw pieces of the Trans-Am strewn about the road. A dump truck was sideways in the middle of the road, a grisly starting point for the explosion of yellow now all about the road. I road towards the wreckage and found the object of my hatred for the last 5 years clinging to life, thrown from his car and into the front end of another passing vehicle. The driver was unconscious in the front seat, breathing heavy and with some cuts and bruises, but otherwise appeared unharmed. \n\nI walked over to the car and looked into the eyes of my enemy. He was conscious, but clearly in pain and could not speak. A flicker of recognition crossed his face and he reached out to me, whether to cry for help or to throttle me I don't know or care. I brought my mouth next to his ear and whispered, \"You know, for the longest time I just wanted to scream at you, do anything to make you feel the pain that I felt when you killed my husband,\" a trickle of blood escaped his lips and he started to open his mouth, and I immediately put a finger over his mouth. \"Your time to speak has passed, you forfeited that right when you lied about killing my husband. As I was saying, one day that changed when I found my cats. I found peace, and if not closure then acceptance of what you did and what you took from me. I was content to let dogs lie and live out the rest of my life with my kitties, alone and content. But you couldn't do that could you? No, a guy like you, can't take his hand out of the cookie jar even when he barely escapes punishment. I just wanted to let you know, that you did this to yourself with that conversation in the alleyway. You started this when you killed my husband. Now have some dignity in your last moments and fucking die.\"\n\nI began to walk away, then turned around and came back to his ear. \"Oh, one more thing. Don't fuck with the 'Cat Lady'.\"\n", "It all started at the shelter.\nSusan walked into her local animal shelter, just to feed the cats, as she always had. She would walk to every cage and feed them cold turkey, and pet them a little bit, then walk away, sad, as the kittens meowed in sadness, as nobody would adopt them. Six years of this had gone to her head, and she finally decided to do something. She went home and chugged all the wine in her house, then turned the left-over bottles into Molotov cocktails. She went into the basement and got her late husband's gun from the war. Now she was drunk and armed.\n\nSusan drove to the bank and threw the cocktails into the windows and watched as the lobby burst into flames. She knew that this kind of destruction would distract all the police. Susan drove down down the street throwing the cocktails into every store she saw. All the death and destruction had totally corrupted her mind, and she started cackling while driving down the street, towards the airport.\n\nOnce there, she took out her husband's gun and ran threw the airport (a very small airport, mind you) and stole a helicopter. In her drunken rage, she carved a path of destruction through the city towards the shelter. She \"landed\" the helicopter on the roof of the shelter and went inside. Susan managed to get every single cat into the helicopter. Once the fuel was running low, many hours later, she tied the cages of cats together and strapped a parachute to them. She put a parachute on herself and jumped out of the helicopter, letting it crash into the American farmland in a magnificent explosion. \n\nSusan now spends her days in a little home in a small town, with her 532 cats. ", "A few months ago, or maybe years- it didn't really matter, but it was just after Thanksgiving, she remembered that much- Annica Barrows owned two cats. Just those two. As she lay on the ground, her face cooling on the wood floor, she could see feet pacing occasionally back and forth from the slit of light under her apartment door; hear the heavy steps of her hugely fat, mostly reclusive-except-to-buy-groceries neighbour as he passed her door to go to his flat down the hall, watch the sneakers of the lady pushing a baby carriage towards the dingy elevator. She could feel grains of kitty litter and food under her cheek and occasionally, she would shift her hand to brush away any particularly offensive grain, but for the most part, she was still. Annica could hear sounds behind her, as well- a near constant shuffling, shifting, mewing, shedding din of her herd, her favourite friends. \n\nHer small apartment, which had previously held herself, Joni and Fargo, now barely accommodated her kitchen table, painstakingly moved up 4 flights of stairs (she remembered how it wouldn't fit in the elevator) or the rickety step stool Steven had left, declaring that he didn't want to leave her without any furniture, even though he had taken their good chairs. The step stool was a hunk of misshapen wood now, but it served a sentimental purpose and Annica used to threaten the stool daily with it's imminent eviction, it didn't really bother her and she stopped caring about it's presence, coming to fear it's absence. Her apartment could accommodate the old china set left to her by her Grandmother, but even still with the painted white cupboards being mostly empty, the cups lay strewn now in the sink, unwashed, and the plates held only traces of the dainty rose pattern that used to lace their edges- now covered in a dust that seemed to have settled itself over everything. Especially over Annica. The apartment could most definitely not accommodate no less than 17 cats, let alone herself. \n\n17, 17... How had it gotten so bad? Annica brushed her cheek, removing whatever dug itself in. She couldn't really remember. She remembered Thanksgiving, and even before that, she remembered the fragile feeling that lay between her and Steven- the feeling that it was more tenuous than most people's feelings were. Like a live wire. Annica, wide eyes always shifting around his face and eyes, searching to find the source of his displeasure, looking to see that everything was okay. Steven, face warm, all smiles, eyes that didn't betray any nervousness- or love, either. Always the are you happy, what are you thinking about, do you love me. Annica was able to feign a sort of levity, a sort of ease that now seemed impossible, for a while. A year? More? Thinking back that far felt like a dream, something she felt so far away from now, as she fixed her gaze to a piece of Iams cat food resting by her door stopper.\n\nShe felt certain, or at least relatively certain, of a few things. There had been a child. Whether it was hers, she remained unsure, but she had loved something else beside Steven. There had always been Joni and Fargo, from the beginning- but where they were now, she wasn't entirely sure, she assumed they were somewhere in the mass behind her, scratching and clawing and constantly yowling to be fed. She knew they hadn't been going outside, so behind her, they would have to be. She remembered Steven's face, not laughing, eyes not meeting, Ann- I think you need... you need serious help, I'm sorry Ann, I really... I swear to God I am and her pleading, begging, even after he was gone. She remembered before that a sensation of loss, deep and profound, murking up her memory and clouding the edges of events. I just can't do this anymore \n\nShe remembered the SNAP, the sensation of all of that fragility, all of that tension recoiling back at her and hitting her like a wall. She remembered stumbling home, a mix of bottle after bottle, prescription medicines- was that before or after? And she remembered when it all got really bad, and then even worse, and then she remembered that it had stopped. \n\nThe first time it subsided was with Marley, the scowling kitten she had found behind the dumpster of her building. She didn't think about it, she scooped him up and up to her apartment she went. Joni and Fargo adopted him happily. The second, third and fourth cat was a surprise to her. One of the neighbours down the hall had asked her to watch the cats- their daughter was allergic and they needed someone to take them while they got ready to move into their new Brownstone. Ziggy, Zag and Snoot were their names, and Annica obliged. But that was a long time ago, Annica surmised from her floor space, and they didn't ever come back for them.\n\nAnd of course, it wasn't long before Ziggy and one of the others took too much of a liking to each other and she went from 6 cats to 12. \n\nDuring this time, she knew that she had to call somebody to get them to be taken away, but she didn't really want to, either. She enjoyed coming home to furry faces pressing up against her legs, mewling and crying out to be fed, loved, watered. She didn't enjoy the stench of the litter boxes- but she cleaned them every day (or at least, she used to) and she was able to manage. Food was a nightmare with how expensive it was, though. \n\nIt was at this point she noticed people in the apartment began to look at her differently.\nMothers would drop eye contact with her, children would beg to come over and play with the cats- and one time, a new family let their daughter come by to pet them after meeting Annica in the elevator. Their daughter squealed when she saw the pets, and sat down right in the middle of the floor and let them snuggle up to her. Annica remembered smiling at the little girl's exclamations of sheer joy as one of the younger kittens - somewhere along the way more kittens had come - nosed her chin and demanded attention. She remembered the brisk knock knock on her door as the girls parents came back to collect her and the dawning expressions of pity and disgust on their faces as Annica opened the door to them, their eyes taking in the soiled newspapers on the ground, the mild stench of feces, booze and urine, the furry mass squirming around their daughter, covering her in a blanket, the filthy floor covered in clothes, take out food containers, empty pill bottles, wine bottles, every type of bottle, fashion magazines. Sorry for the mess she remembers saying blandly, the father walking in and scooping up his daughter from the ground as she protested. Annica remembered offering a weak smile to the mother, who offered one back but, as Annica searched this woman's face, the smile was without warmth. The little girl waved her whole arm at Annica and told her that she'd be back real soon! and mommy can't I pleaaaaase please please have a kitty pleaaaase and the mother and father saying they would talk later and them practically hauling their daughter away from Annica's apartment. \n\nAs she lay on the floor, watching the door, she heard the sound of the ding from the elevator, and dimly thought she heard heavy boots and quiet voices from the hall. do you think she's home I mean it's really just disgusting those poor creatures. You hear of people dying and cats eating them do you think Annica let her thoughts wander back to the pain in her ribs, the feeling of something being very wrong when she breathed- her gaze landing on the now completely shattered old stepstool- why had she tried to go up there? I mean could she be totally nuts what if she's dead what if the cats are all dead. Fucking cat ladies just the worst it's total animal abuse She felt a nose poking behind her ear but she wasn't sure which one it was, there were so many now and besides, they wanted to be fed and they were hungry and it had been a while she had been laying here now. \n\nKnock knock knock \n\nVisitors? Annica couldn't move from where she was even if she wanted to and she couldn't really breath, let alone utter any sounds. Let them knock I'm not hurting anybody and Annica? This is your neighbour- I have some people here that need to come in she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of knocking and scratching are you okay? and yowling and the ma'am, we're going to break down the door sounds of the call an ambulance just in case, better get animal control down here apartment around her." ]	[ 1, 2, 6 ]	[ "1436874970", "1436843404", "1436845606" ]
Driving around picking up people for a living has it's perks. For example you work on your own time and you work for yourself. I don't have anybody telling me what to do, where to be and how I should behave during the day (or the night for that matter). The only exception to this is that I get instructed as to where to go. All my returns are a direct result of the hours I make myself to be available and the number of people I collect during the day. My client I just picked up is going to the airport: OR Tambo International. She was travelling to the USA, New York City on a business venture. How very exciting I get to interact with people from all different walks of life for my job! This particular woman however seemed unique in her own way. Travelling alone, with the intention to meet up with people attending an international event for entrepreneurs starting up startups, she was ambitious and enthusiastic. Wearing smart casual attire, formal enough to say “I mean business” to those she would be meeting but casual to the point that would convey “I'm also here to enjoy my trip overseas.” Her name was Sarah as the title displayed itself on my Uber screen. Being an Uber cab the transaction was efficient and hassle-free as most exchanges with my clients go. I helped her store and remove her one-piece luggage (travelling light was a good indication of her time being spent abroad and her affinity towards the nature of things to be simple and sweet), her choice of transport was aligned with her general aura.	[WP] You're a cab driver. Tell me about the person you just picked up.	3	[ "\"Don't worry Miss, I'm just taking a short-cut.\" I breathed out the words and loosened my collar button as I took a snow-white tissue paper out of a black box, and wiped the sweat on my neck -- in spite of the fact that the air-condition was chillingly cold. Fortunately, my dear passenger failed to notice my wavering gasps for she was immersed, chattering non-stop on her cellphone.\n\nGlancing at the side-mirror, I was thrilled and relieved to see no other vehicles except my own on the deserted road. I could not help but smile as trees loomed ahead of me. Branches shrouded in waxy green leaves that were overhanging the narrow road nestled past us as we headed leisurely into the isolated abundance of the forest. The deeper the better.\n\nI stole a glimpse of the female passenger in the rear view mirror. She was lusciously dressed in a tight grey mini-skirt that showed off her slender, long thighs and in an apple-white blouse which stuck to her skin, not shying to hide her smooth body curvature. Above, her lustrous black hair rested over her bare shoulder while her dark fringes hung lustfully over her thick, pitch-black eyebrows. Just a moment ago, she had turned to her right, her amber eyes gazing outside as her scarlet lips moved, rapidly, seemingly engaged in her conversation.\n\nEverything about her was perfect, absolutely fitting for a ceremony that I was about to perform. Play! Play! Play! I heard a familiar voice in my head. It was lively and playful, and had a melodic ring to its sly tone. Somehow, its strange hypnotic quality fueled my desire, egging me to quickly fulfill my task. My breath became heavier and my hand trembled with excitement uncontrollably as I stepped up the pedal. I could not wait any longer.\n\nRealizing what was going on, she ended her call abruptly and before she had any chance to question my motive, I stepped on the break, sharply. The seat harness that was strapped around my chest snapped, and tightened against my body inertia. At the same time, I felt a bump behind. I looked over my shoulder, and as expected, the passenger was unconscious, her body laid limply against the back of my seat.\n\nHastily, I undid the seat belt and got out of the taxi. I reached into the back-seat, and with all the strength that I possessed, dragged the woman out in much difficulty. Her red high-heeled shoes slipped out of her small feet as I lugged her towards an oak tree, leaves crackling beneath as a gust of monsoon wind blew over the forest. I left her against the rough tree stem, and I rushed back to my taxi. \n\nI had to hurry up before she woke up.\n\nHurry! Hurry! Hurry! Again, the rhythmic voice pulsated through my mind, each word resonated with power as it echoed louder and louder. My entire being was quavering with a chilling thrill as I shackled her hands and feet with thick ropes, so tight that her delicate fingers swelled into paleness. I uncapped a bottle-sized container and poured out the content onto her smooth, tender legs. The liquid trickled down her slender shin and onto her neatly manicured toes. Smirking, I brushed her fringes away from her forehead and slapped her rosy cheek until she regained her consciousness.\n\nHer unfocused eyes turned into a wide-eyed glare as she realized what was going on. \"What... What are you planning to do?\" She stammered in panic and stared at me in bewilderment, struggling to break free at the same time. Ignoring her, I simply flicked the lighter on and off as a strong gale roared through the forest, dried yellow leaves somersaulting along the wind and finally, settling down.\n\nKill! Kill! Kill! The sweet soothing voice whispered enchantingly through my head, filling my mind with murderous intents, so strong that nothing was on my mind, except the motive, \n\nKILL! \n\nMy thumb flicked the lighter on the threw it onto the lady's feet. She shrieked with sheer terror.\n\nHer scream intensified when the first wisps of fire licked her ankles. I watched with pure exhilaration as the orange flame crawled through the skin and climbed up quickly. My wide grin exploded into hysteric laughter when I heard her wordless howl. Ecstasy filled me from every moment of the victim's agony. The raging inferno grew bigger and more ferocious, devouring everything in its wake. Eventually, the dancing crimson blaze engulfed her entire body, the loud crackling muffling her helpless cries.\n\nThe forest was now quiet, save for the calm crackling of the burning monster which as now spreading onto the giant oak tree, and onto the dried fallen leaves on the ground. I retreated back to my taxi in a staccato of chuckles, my body filled with immense euphoria. As I slammed the door, a bright streak flashed down the sky and straight at the oak tree which was already burning. The flame screamed once more.\n\nThe blue taxi slowly drifted away as raindrops began to shower down. The burning tree slowly died out, leaving nothing but ash in its place. And there was no evidence to suggest of a faithful event that has transpired.\n\nOnly the red high-heeled shoes remained to tell the tale...", "A little old man, wearing a ski mask,\n\nHailed me down, seeking a cab,\n\n\"Where to, my man?\" I courteously asked,\n\n\"To the bank, my dear chap.\" \n\n\nNow I had my suspicions, \n\nBut it was also damn cold,\n\nPerhaps he was just keeping warm,\n\nAnd I needed money, truth be told.\n\n\nHe promised me a big tip, \n\nSaying it would be worth my while,\n\nIf I waited outside thirty minutes,\n\nUntil he came back with his pile.\n\n\n\nI don't regret a single second, as he paid a cool mill,\n\nI'm out of the cab business forever, and headed to Brazil!" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1436869802", "1436866780" ]
	[WP] Why must the drums never fall silent?	2	[ "I am an Inuvian, a drummer. Our race has many jobs, but the drummers are the closest things to Gods that we have, and now I am one. It is not just the highest honor because we are a society based on music and dancing, but because the drums must never, ever stop. \n\nThey'll come in the night, and make us stop dancing. Stop moving. We're a species that needs to always be moving, we cannot be still. All day and all night, the drummers beat out an endless, ever changing rhythm. At night, we fall into a trance like state to rest, but even then, we never stop moving. \n\nOnce, a hundred years ago, a scouting party entered our holy kingdom in the trees and killed the drummers. So startled were we by the lack of sound that a quarter of our tribe fell over and died in mere moments. Those of us that survived only did so because our movement changed from one of peace to one of war. We fought, but not easily. It’s never easy for a peaceful race to take the lives of another. \n\nThey were no match for us, they couldn't move like us. They weren't used to the light, the sparkling iridescent light that never faded. They had never seen the tree tops, or a river that flowed through the sky. \n\nAs a small Inuvian child, I heard stories of an ancient race that lived deep beneath the dirt. I used to be scared to let my feet touch the ground, afraid a knobbly, dirty hand would shoot up and snatch me to the depths. \n\nThe Radigorians. Small creatures with overlarge eyes that lived in the dark. Their envoys said our music reverberated through the ground, giving them no peace. No quiet. They claimed the constant noise made their heads ache, their bodies sick. \n\nI could not understand that. Music was our life, our blood. We needed the drumbeat to keep our bodies alive, they sung with the beauty of the world around us. How could they not see that too? \n\nI hoped my music would change their minds. I hoped they would feel the beauty and magic of it through their cave walls, draw them into the light. Until then, if ever, it was my duty to make sure the drums never felt silent. My race depended on it. ", "Doom. Doom. Doom.\n\nThe Drums of Brezelmaro beat at all hours. Skeletal monstrosities bound together by dark words and darker intent keep the endless tempo. Twisted magic binds the beat of the drums to the souls of the countless slaves laboring in the mines far below. \n\nHearts carved from their chests in foul rituals, brains rotted by the insidious vapors of the deep darkness, these slaves labor tirelessly. The swinging of picks and scooping of shovels provides a backing melody to the endless beat of the Drums.\n\nDoom. Doom. Doom.\n\nLarge placards written in every language of the realm hang near the Drums. \"Do not look upon the Drums with Magesight,\" they warn. And every year, without fail, some foolish mageling thinks he is exempted from this proscription and he opens his true eyes. \n\nHe sees the Drums amidst a storm of foul magic. Tendrils of darkness write all around, engaged in endless struggle to cease the Drums. They twine around the arms, legs, heads of the monstrous drummers. And yet they continue on, indifferent to it all, and the Drums speak their dark prophecies -- \n\nDoom. Doom. Doom. \n\nShadows swirl and coalesce in between the nine Drums. All who look upon the Drums with their true sight inevitably turn their attention to this maelstrom of darkness -- a point where the laws of physics break down, where shadows take forms, manifest, and bleed together all at once. \n\nEvery time a blow falls on one of the Drums this point shimmers, weakens, seems to dissipate -- and then it reforms, dark and full of malice. And as you gaze deeper into it you see it: the unblinking eye of the Other, impenetrable black shot through with red. And it stares back. \n\nDoom. Doom. Doom." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1436987260", "1436993660" ]
Sort of like the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender, but with dragons.	[WP] A boy in a world of elemental dragons (Earth, Fire, Water, and Wind) receives a "useless" Air Dragon.	92	[ "I was on the run. The Fire Nation and their dragons were burning me out of every building I would hide in. After many narrow escapes, me and Zeus, my own and very last of its kind air dragon, were on our last winds. The Fire Nation were on a mission to hunt down my dragon, making its species extinct, along with me. They believed that air dragons were inferior to the other dragon races, as it had no special abilities compared to the other elemental dragon types. They will complete their mission if I keep running like this, I have to make a stand and fight them head on. ", "In a time of the kings of old a pact was forged to end an undying war; upon every full moon a man and a dragon shall meld souls to live as one. Typically the two were joined at a young age it was easier on the minds of both as their ideals and morals would develop together. Every full moon the dragons brought a clutch of eggs to the villages of man in each of the 5 territories. Every baby born since the last moon was brought to the town square for one to be chosen by the dragons. At sundown, on a night of the full moon, the people gather with the dragons and listen as the Eldest of the dragons begins the ceremony.\n\n\"Brothers and sisters of Falren, let us begin the choosing.\" He said as the air grew silent. \"Please come forward with the children.\"\n\nBoth parties brought out their young. Of course the noblemen had brought their children to the front as was customary amongst the humans, law in fact. Not many words were spoken, when a connection was made it was always quite apparent to all. A few minutes pass as each parent brings their child up to the large clutch of colorful eggs. A few minutes pass and a few begin to murmur amongst each other, never before has it taken very long for there to be an interaction of souls. The dragons being patient show no never mind to the time passing. \n\nThe air feels heavy as the second to last child is pulled away from the center of the square. Much talk is already happening as the last woman, with no father to carry her son to the front brings her child forward. It was law to bring every child to the square for the ceremony, but none wanted this woman to bring her bastard child forward. Considering her a disgrace to even show up one nobleman stood in front of her impeding her path to the eggs.\n\n\"Surely there is a mistake Elder?\" The nobleman questioned. \"This woman is a harlot and could never bear a child of any significance.\" \n\n\"Human do you mean to interrupt a great meeting as such with your feeble words? You are the disgrace here.\" With a growl so loud all could feel it reverberate into their own chests the Old one asked, \"Won't you take your place and hold your tongue before I hold it for you?\"\n\nThe man with a lump in his throat took his seat and stared at the floor.\n\n\nThe Dragons didn't show it but they too were skeptical, never yet has a child been linked to a dragon before who was born a bastard. Yet they welcomed her with smiles. As she approached there were no obvious signs as with some. Once the two made their way to the eggs one began to hum. The dragons looked slightly surprised but before much though could happen the Elder began to speak, \"And so the bond of man and dragon shall continue. A son of no man and a friend too all this child shall be a most proclaimed child indeed.\n\nAs was customary the dragon would give his regular speech of commingled races and peace and end with the explanation of the elemental ways of the dragons and what sort of union the two shall share. \"The Dragons of fire and power. The fiercest of our race. The human who bonds with these dragons shall be most powerful and an excellent leader of man. But this child is not of the fire clans.\"A sigh of relief is faintly heard of the noblemen.\n\n\"The Dragons of water and peace. The healers of our race. The human who bonds with these dragons shall be a life giver and a peace giver amongst man. But this child is not of the water clans\"\n\n\"The Dragons of wind and speed. The most skillful of our race. The human who bonds with these dragons shall be masterful at whatever they strive to achieve, be it smith work to artistry. But this child is not of the wind flock.\"\n\nHe goes on, \"The Dragons of Earth and hardiness. The vigilant and true of our race. The human who bonds with these dragons will be stalwart and vigil always true to his word amongst men.\" a pause as he reads the child further. \"But nor is he of this quarry.\"\n\nThe mother cries \"Surely there is a mistake? Is he not the child worthy of the union?\"\n\n\"A breed not since seen since nearly a millennia ago. A breed to signify a new age approaches. The wise teachers of all things. \n\n\"What use are books and words to a word of dragons and men. A useless binding and what better fit then a useless bastard!\" A man yelled in the crowd.\n\nThe man then grew pale as a ghost and began to grasp his neck.\n\n\"With the power of air is not only great wisdom, but the power of mental manipulation.\"\n\nThe man dropped to his knees gasping for air. \n\n\"These two shall teach man things but also have great power. They will need to come with me so I can teach them and keep them from becoming corrupt.\"", "Anna splashed water on her face from the watering trough in front of her family’s hovel. She wore a plain grey and tired blue shift with the sleeves rolled up in preparation for her morning chores. Goats and chickens milled about as she washed her face then proceeded to hurriedly start the barn chores of feeding their small flock, throwing down hay to the goats, and collecting eggs. As she worked she recited to herself a silly song her father had picked up at the local tavern and taught her the night before:\n\nOer every mountain\n\n\nHind every tree\n\n\nSummer is waiting\n\n\nn’ I am with thee\n\n\nBeyond the snowfall\n\n\nFar past the lakes\n\n\nSpring time arrives\n\n\nn’ a family we’ll make\n\n\nPast the last stone wall\n\n\nAnd at lowest tide\n\n\nJoin me with flowers\n\n\nn’ I’ll make you my wife\n\nAs a young woman turning fourteen in the small mountain town of Barnabas Dale, Anna had a life of child rearing and drudgery ahead of her, yet her father, a lowly Warden at the local monastery, had made sure she was read and educated as best he could. Anna’s mother would sell the eggs at the small market to supplement the meagre income her father received for standing as a Warden during the monk’s ceremonies. It was a traditional position at the Dracorium Monasterium, once held with great esteem by the sons of nobles or by the relative of a great merchant, but when the squat volcano that gave the monastery its fame had gone dormant three generations back, the wealth and royalty had moved on to other endeavors. They soon discovered another active shallow volcano in the lowlands, uncommon for this part of the known world, where they could bring their religion, rites, and holy men all with the express purpose of birthing dragons and then bonding them to their sons to make war on their enemies to the north and the east.\n\n\nSo Barnabas Dale had dwindled from its former glory as a hub of religious and cultural value, to a backwater mountain town where the remaining Dracos monks kept their religion alive but had not produced a dragon from their cold volcano in 200 years.\n\n\nFrom inside the hovel, a small wail erupted as Anna’s younger brother awoke, shrieking for milk and comfort from Anna’s mother.\n\n\n“Could you help me please Anna and fetch us some milk?” her mother shouted out of the hovel’s thin front door.\n\n\nAnna, muttering to herself and setting aside the basket full of chicken eggs, raced off to find a pail and one of the lactating goats. One of the feisty black goats kicked out a bit with its hind legs as she threw the pail beneath it and began furiously milking. Her mother called out again over the wails of her little brother, “Anna what are you doing? Where are you?”\n\n\n“Mum, these goats don’t milk themselves you know? One minute!” Anna responded, adding to the agitated black goat reassuringly, “I’m sorry Tammy, that’s a good girl. We’ve all got our part to play. Even goats.”\n\n\nA few minutes later she rushed into the main room of the hovel and handed her mother the pail of milk, who was crouching over Jeb’s, her younger brother’s, sleeping bin.\n\n\n“Anna dear he’s still not sleeping so well. He’s running me ragged dear, I’m so tired but I can’t sleep,” her mother said, rubbing her eyes with one hand and picking Jeb up with the other.\n\n\nAnna tried to comfort her mother by reminding her, “He’s just a fussy little baby mum, just like you always tell me I was. Any chance you get!”\n\n\nAs she took a chair and adjusted little Jeb in her lap to feed him, Anna’s mother looked at her and smiled thinly, rolling her eyes, “You were difficult Anna, but only for a season. Jeb’s different, he’s bothered by something, little fellow never sleeps well. Could be his stomach I suppose? I don’t know.”\n\n\nLooking at her petite mother, hair disheveled and exhausted, feeding her only sibling lovingly despite her lack of sleep, Anna’s heart went out to her. She knew this was her future too, despite all the times she pretended it would not be. There was nothing to take her from Barnabas Dale and nothing in the world outside as forgiving as her family. Her father had filled her head with stories, histories, the few books he could get his hands on, even cheap knockoffs of renowned artworks from traveling peddlers filled a small shelf in their home. But in this moment she felt like a bird suddenly realizing a heavy iron chain tied to her feet, and she would never fly away, she knew she could not escape, and she had to get out of the hovel.\n\n\n“Mum, I have an idea, why don’t I go sell the eggs today and after I can visit Mother Green at the apothecary and see if she has anything for Jeb. Mother Green does love fresh eggs!” Anna said, trying to convince her mother to let her take some of the load and give Anna an ounce more freedom than she was used to. Anna said a silent prayer begging that Jeb would stay behaved for a few moments longer as he guzzled milk from one of their only small glass bottles. The prayer worked.\n\n\n“Okay Anna, but stay near the Cladwell’s vegetable stall please! And don’t go wandering about after Mother Green’s, you come straight home!” her mother instructed, while adjusting Jeb’s bottle and stroking his head of nut brown hair, much like Anna’s.\n\n\n“Oh thanks mum! I’ll be careful!” Anna exclaimed excitedly as she ran to put on her cleanest shift, fix her long hair in a braided bun, and fetch the basket of chicken eggs she had left in the front yard.\n\n**\n\nAs it turns out, even though she made it safely to the market, spoke cordially to grumpy Mrs. Caldwell, sold all of her eggs (the last dozen going to Mother Green), and picked up a tincture that Mother Green claimed would let Jeb sleep through the night, Anna would not be able to fulfill her mother’s wish to return straight home.\n\n\nIn the middle of the afternoon, just as she exited the gnarly front door of Mother Green’s apothecary, the ground rumbled broodingly across all of Barnabas Dale, and the shadow of the squat volcano that towered over the village grew and grew as smoke bellow from its depths. The mountain was no longer cold and barren, which only meant one thing. Soon there would be dragons in the skies above Barnabas Dale once again.\n\n\nAnna hiked up her shift at the edges to free her feet, then sprinted up the village’s hillside towards the monastery, which was a low stone rectangular complex with 3 long walls, the 4th of which was the mountain itself. Over centuries the Dracos monks had buried their system of caverns, storerooms, and sanctuaries back into the hard mountainside so that the outer walls were quite unimpressive, but everyone in town knew the monk’s caverns ran deep. As Anna neared the staircase leading up to the wooden doors at the entrance of the monastery, she was out of breath and panting but hoarsely telling herself, “I have to find father! I must find father!”\n\n\nWhen she got to the monastery’s wooden doors she was almost crying, afraid of what she might find. She had grown up with the mountain but didn’t have a context for the danger it could pose. Was her father alright? Would there be further shaking of the earth? What must her mother be thinking right now, she must be terrified for Jeb and for Anna!\n\n\n“Open the gates!” She shouted at the doors, pounding away with her fists on the oak planks.\n\n\n“My father is Warden Lucair! Please let me in!”\n\n\nMiraculously, the doors started to creak and swing open, and Anna removed her fists from them, stepping back hearing the buzz of the townsfolk as others began streaming up the hill towards the monastery.\n\n\nWith a loud thump the gates rested in their open position and she turned back to rush inside, only to find her father standing just inside the inner courtyard of the monks, watching her with a smile.\n\n\n“Anna you came,” he said calmly as she approached him. Her breathing had slowed with relief upon seeing him and she hugged his chest tightly, face pressed against his leather breastplate while her hand brushed the hilt of the small ceremonial dirk he wore as she reached her hands around him.\n\n\n“Pa, you’re okay. Thank every god you’re okay,” she spoke quietly then released him to look up into his green eyes and bearded face. “What’s happening here?” she asked, as another smaller rumble quaked the ground echoed in the air all around them.\n\n\n“I was just going to look for you,” he responded to her. A happy crinkle on the edges of his eyes was giving something away, but Anna could not tell what, not yet.\n\n\n“Why?” She asked, suddenly suspicious. Why just her, why not mother and Jeb too, shouldn’t he want to check on all of them?\n\n\n“Something has happened here Anna, something that could change everything for you, and I need you to come with me. Trust me.”\n\n\nBefore she could respond or ask more questions, he took her by the hand and led her into the caverns of the monastery.\n", "\"Oh, great. A big balloon.\"\n\nI shouldn't have said that. My mother gave me the biggest Disapproving Glare of my life, and I knew I'd be in for a lecture when I got home. Bonding with an elemental dragon is a great accomplishment and a sacred duty and blah blah blah. But really, if you've ever seen an air dragon, you can't say I was wrong. They're lighter than air, able to fly anywhere, but they're also the laziest little creatures I've ever seen. The best you can get a wind dragon to do is turn a windmill.\n\nIt's really sort of perplexing. Fire dragons have the fury of a volcano and the speed of a wildfire. Water dragons embody the size and strength of a tsunami. Earth dragons are living rockslides and shake the earth with their motion. But air dragons? They don't embody tornadoes or move with the speed of a gale. They have... I dunno, the weight of a cloud and the force of a summer breeze. Maybe they have the omnipresence of air, because they're the most common type of dragon. You'd see flocks of them drifting overhead in the evening, like the world's laziest birds.\n\n...\n\n\"Hey, Avion, do you think you could lift me?\"\n\nHe whined. He was lighter than air, but not that* much lighter. Still, I'd heard of dragons being trained to carry packages.\n\n\"Aw, come on, I don't weigh that much, do I?\"\n\nMore grumbling. He took a look over the edge of the cliff we were sitting on. It was a long way down. I could see Tara out at sea on her surfboard, riding the waves with her water dragon, Indus. It coiled around her in long corkscrews, like a drill cutting a path through the waves. \n\n\"Maybe we could glide, at least? There should be a good breeze coming in from the sea.\"\n\nHe drifted over to me and deflated a bit, to make it easier to climb on. He whooshed sharply and sank to the ground as I put my weight on his back.\n\n\"You sure about this, buddy?\"\n\nHe whined again. But he waddled his way to the edge and tried to leap off. He inflated himself to his fullest extent, puffs of cloud trailing off of him as he pushed the wind around his body.\n\nWe were falling. We were falling very fast. Avion's wings were spread, but we weren't getting enough lift. I wrapped my arms around Avion's neck and hung on for dear life. My eyes watered as the wind streamed past us. This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea.\n\nAvion bucked and twisted in my grasp. I almost lost my hold on him as his long neck writhed like a snake. I realized I was accidentally choking him, and backed off. He twisted his neck around a bit more to give me an unamused glare. A glare that said \"You're out of your element, mammal. Let me handle this.\"\n\nThen he roared. I'd never heard an air dragon roar before. It was a high, screaming note that cut through the noise of the wind around me. Two answering roars came from behind me, and I saw two white shapes fall past us. Two more air dragons, unfurling their wings and moving into formation besides us. I felt the wind shift, and we started to flatten out of our dive. Streamers of cloud whipped around us, and I realized that the two dragons were combining their command of the air, giving Avion the updraft he needed to fly with my weight. We leveled off ten feet above the waves.\n\nI saw a spiral of water cutting towards us. Tara must have seen me falling and rushed to help. She barked out a command to her water dragon, and they skidded around and pulled alongside us.\n\n\"Lee! What are you doing?\" she shouted.\n\n\"I don't know! I've never seen air dragons do this! But it's awesome!\"\n\nWe curved around and headed for the shore, when the two dragons who were supporting us peeled away and curved upwards. We splashed unceremoniously into the water.\n\n\"Honestly, what were you thinking? You almost gave me a heart attack!\"\n\nI stretched out on Avion's back. He was light enough to float, and his tail moved lazily to gently push us back to shore. \"I know, it was stupid. But it worked, right?\"\n\n\"I guess it did. I've never seen air dragons fly in formation like that, though. How did you do it?\"\n\nThat was very odd, to tell the truth. Air dragons were, as I've said, lazy little drifters. Unless they bonded with a human, they'd usually float around without caring what happened below them. But Avion had called two of them, and they'd swooped down to my rescue.\n\n\"I don't know.\" I said honestly. \"But I think I want to find out.\"\n\n\"If you're planning on jumping off that cliff again...\"\n\n\"Well...\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"But...\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What if I...\"\n\n\"So help me I will make Indus drown you if you do something that stupid again.\"\n\nI sighed and we kept drifting back to shore. But I wouldn't forget the feeling of exhilaration as we swooped over the waves, or the sudden change that came over Avion as he roared out his cry. I had just seen three air dragons, three \"walruses of the sky,\" suddenly shifting into a tightly-coordinated pack of predators.\n\n\"What are you, Avion?\" I murmured. \"What made you different from the other dragons?\"\n\nHe didn't answer. But if I wanted to fly like that again, I knew I'd have to find out.", "I\n\nMarty of the Castelli family of the town of Draco, and above all, of short stature and shorter fuse, walked along a cliffside with head down and fists clenched.\n\nA jaw-lockingly sheer face punctuated at it's end by a decidedly large family of rocks that provided a margin between the stones and sea, it did not phase Marty who tiptoed along the edge with arms outstretched, wavering them for balance.\n\nThis did not scare Marty. Much as one who is raised by wolves, being born by a cliffside gives someone a certain dull edge towards danger. Time has a tendency to wrap itself around things in one's mind and soften them, and all the inhabitants of the town of Draco had much larger things to worry about than falling to their death. Dragons, for one. Four of them. Locked in cages in the town square. Aside from the dragons some foolish inventors with cloth sails had proved without a doubt that falling from the cliff was of no fearsome matter for by the time you realized you had fallen off you were instantly killed by a mix of physics and rocks.\n\nArriving, Marty plopped down and stared emptily at the sunset. A bucketful of boiling gold just barely touched the horizon of sapphire sea at the imperceptible line between blue and blue, ocean and sky, and a belt of deep purple stained itself across the clouds.\n\n\"Nervous?\"\n\nA voice wavered out, squeaky and small, from the bushline behind Marty.\n\nOnce both of the heart rates slowed, a reply shot back, stunted.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"You look nervous...\"\n\n\"Well I'm not!\"\n\nA well thrown clump of dirt struck the intruder on the shoulder and exploded into anticlimax.\n\nHari sat down beside Marty, who had still refused to look at him directly.\n\n\"Why did you follow me? Do you fancy me or something?\"\n\n\"No, I-\"\n\n\"Because you and I both know my father wouldn't approve.\"\n\n\"No, I don't fancy you.\" A certain word of the sentence wavered, betraying Hari's attempt at a monotone. He continued,\n\n\"But you are nervous, no?\"\n\nMarty looked forward, took a deep breath, and burst in to tears.\n\nHari raised his arms for a quiet second before a puzzled expression flashed across his face. He lowered them.\n\n\"Why... ehm... why are-\"\n\n\"You know why! You and your stupid friends know exactly why! Girls aren't supposed to ride dragons!\"\n\n\"You don't know that...\"\n\n\"Well there haven't been any yet and dragons have been tamed for... For\"\n\n\"Six hundred cycles?\" Hari hazarded.\n\n\"See! I can't even remember the basic histories!\"\n\n\"But your animal skills-\"\n\nMarty's voice cracked as she spat back,\n\n\"Oh yeah, when we chase cats around the courtyards? LIke that's any help. They don't even like me! They're just not scared of me!\"\n\nHari raised a finger and inhaled, but noticed that Marty's expression had changed from exasperant sobs to slit-eyed stubborness and lowered it. Ignoring every urge in his body to act as a mythical figure and kiss the princess (well, Duke's daughter but it was about the best he'd ever do) he stood and gave her a waist-high wave.\n\n\"Well, uhm, I'll... see you tomorrow?\"\n\nMarty's reply came as a half-slurp,\n\n\"Not if I throw myself off the cliff.\"\n\nHari hesitated,\n\n\"Not until you have something to catch you.\n\nA few more sobs and a direct view of the descent of the sun in to the realms of night and Marty wiped her eyes on the brown cloth of her plainclothes and walked back to the small fortress her lousy father called a castle. Albeit upon return she walked more cautiously for the dark blurred the distinction between earth and air and she did not want to die, realization or not.\n\nMarty, Martina, Castelli, of town Draco. The little flame, as her mother called her, burned with embarrassment at her outburst to Hari. Hari. Of the family Muellen, friends with the other two Riders of the town who poked fun and threw balled up papers at her in lessons. Curse them all. She hoped silently that she was granted Fusa, the fire dragon. Then she could spit oily flame and ignite clouds and fly over the horizon to the sun itself. Maybe Terro, the earthly one, so she could have it's grainy wings wrap around her and burrow down, down, down, where insults and giggles would give way to silence and mystery. At least, at least, Agua. The serpent. Thin and long, it would be able to take her to depths unexplored of the Green Sea. Just not.... Just not...\n\n(woops, way over the word limit. other parts in comments. also, protagonist is a girl not a boy. sue me.)", "The Fire dragons lived on the volcanic islands, where heat and fire-rock was constantly being spewed into the air.\n\nThe Water dragons preferred the rocky cliffs, where the thundering ocean sent a constant spray of mist to bathe their wings.\n\nThe Earth dragons stayed in the endless mountain ranges, where a labyrinth of caves provided them shelter and security.\n\nThe Air dragons, however, resided in a place as useless as them: the desert. Barren, burning, and desolate, neither men nor beasts went into the wasteland that stretched past civilization.\n\nNo men but the Sand Wanderers, and no beasts but the Air Dragons. \n\nThe greater world considered both to be of equal worth. The Wanderers were looked at with disdain by the southern empire and with hatred by the northern warriors. The Sand Wanderers were forced to pay constant tribute to both lands, forced to kneel under both heels, and forced to beg for permission to continue their meager trade.\n\nThe Empire and Warrior Kings both had armies of dragons, powerful beasts that could raise the seas and breath fire and shake the earth.\n\nThe Wanderers had nothing. No soldiers, no wealth, and most importantly, no dragons.\n\nAt least, until Asha, the boy who would be known as the Great Uniter, stumbled upon an Air Dragon's nest.\n\n\n", " This turned out a lot longer than I expected!\n\nThe shrill screams of circling matriarchs in the vast skies above nearly made me turn back. I swallowed down my fear-laced bile and trudged on through the bramble and steep hills. The shallow lacerations on my hands and arms stung like the future lashes I'd receive from my friends if I didn't succeed. A kid without a dragon? They were considered lame. Kyle had his immense Fire dragon, whose tail blazed like the sun; Marissa had her elegant Earth dragon, sturdy like the mountains I was currently stranded in. Through my lonely journey, I could only dream of what dragon I would raise and train: its wings would spread wide as the seven seas, its roar would shake foundations, and it would love with a love unknown to any other trainer. \n\nFemale dragons fiercely protected their clutches, using their staple abilities associated with their attribute to slay their foes. Fire dragons would incinerate me, Water dragons would drown me, and Earth dragons would maul me if they caught me attempting to steal one of their offsprings. I was the definition of a fool to trek deep into the Dragon Dens in an attempt to steal an egg to impress my friends; I was an idiot determined. A map crunched in my shaky hands. Dusted and heavily worn, it revealed the easiest path to one of the Dragon's dens. Ironically, the text above the curved arrows that directed which den belonged to which breed of the wild dragons was scratched out - I was going in blind. At the point I was at, I didn't care if I walked out with a convincing dragon-egg-looking-rock. I just needed something. \n\nAir thinned dangerously low until my normal breaths transformed into an airy pant. I slowed my pace and focused on the rocky trail below me. It waved and swerved off to the left until I arrived at the mouth of a sinister cave. Stalactites formed teeth for the cave, pointing down directly to a disappearing decline. The matriarchs on patrol were more wary for hungry aerial predators than they were for adolescent boys sneaking into their nests and snatching their eggs. I glanced up for reassurance that they would not notice me slip in. My head continued to loft up until my eyesight adjusted to the to the dank innards of the cave. It smelled of rancid... something. The combined smell and lack of oxygen rendered me to a lazy stagger. \n\nThe cave only had one chamber: pitch black from being so far inside the rock. I forced myself onto my knees and prayed that I wouldn't slam into anything hard, or even a slumbering mother. I kept my hands away from the ground to preserve the burning bramble cuts on them, which only made my search more tedious. I scooted forward and aggravated enough dust to fill up my lungs. One arm was protectively held out to act as a barrier if I was to hit anything. Sharp, needle-like structures prodded into my hand. In fear, I retracted my arm and winced. I, instead, shoved out my foot to check what was in front of me. Straw receded under the pressure of my shoe: A nest! I valiantly stood up and nearly dove straight into the woven circle the dragon used as a bedding for her clutch. I quivered in pure delight as my palm brushed against something smooth and grooved - it reminded me of glass. I scooped up the object and rushed out of the cave, careful of the rock icicles above me on my way out. \n\nDaylight stung at my eyes until they adapted back. I stood blinded and crazed with my sheer awe for what I held in my hands; it almost soothed the pain in my cut hands with its cool presence. I blinked away the light and began to nonchalantly stroll away from the cave and off of the mountain. The dragons were none the wiser. They wouldn't miss one baby, right? The path back to civilization was much easier than the climb up, it gave me time to admire my loot. It had an iridescence, unlike any other egg I had ever seen. Kyle spoke of his egg having molten slag running through deep cracks in the shell. Marissa told me her egg was heavy as a cow and spurted little ecosystems of life on the surface. Maybe I had found some new dragon breed? I gingerly tapped on the shell, only to receive a hollow clunk back. It was probably ready to hatch. \n\nMy father's horse patiently waited down at the slope of the mountain, his snout stuck in my traveling pack. I made sure to pack a bunch of ripe apples to keep him happy long enough while I captured my prize. A whistle brought his attention to me. He struggled to get the bag off his nose though eventually managed to rear his head to me. His reassuring whinny made me feel safe as I mounted and heeled his flank. The horse happily galloped far away from the mountain and back to my quaint town renowned for the raising of trained dragons.\n\nNo matter how badly I wanted to flaunt it off to my friends, I knew the best course of action would be to take it to the residential dragon expert to judge what type of egg I had snatched. He operated a small care and treatment shop for immature dragons and excelled in his knowledge with the lore surrounding the majestic beasts. Butterflies welled in my stomach every time I recanted the story he told about how dragons came to be in our world. \n\nI tied up Jasper and gave him a hearty pat on his side before entering the cramped shop. Merlin, otherwise known as the Guru, waved and greeted me with his standard talk before he even noticed who I was. \"Sampson?\" he spoke, clearly taken aback by the object I cradled in my arm.\n\n\"Hey, Guru!\" I began, a grin plastered to my face, \"I caved into the pressure Kyle was putting onto me and went out and retrieved this.\" I offered out the egg with a triumphant eyebrow waggle. \n\nHe carefully took the egg from my hand and procured a jeweler's monocle from a drawer in his desk - with the way my precious egg looked, it's no wonder why he took out something fit for judging the finest of gems. He only relayed a grunt to convey his emotions. I tried to maintain my demeanor, but it slackened after he shook his head; he still refused to offer me any words. The expert fished for a pillow behind him to comfort the egg while he disappeared through a narrow corridor. \n\n\"I'm going with my gut on this,\" he finally murmured. He held a household hammer in his hand. I didn't have time to protest as he brought the hammer's head against the wall of my dragon's shell. \nIt shattered like glass. I rushed to the counter and gripped at the edge as he brushed away the fragments to reveal a pale and curled up creature. \nIt had no molten scales or a flaming tail, flowers didn't bloom along the ridge of its back, nor did it show any signs of owning gills. It had nothing. \n\n\"What is it?\" I timidly asked, worried that I had somehow managed to grab a damaged dragon.\n\n\"It's an air dragon,\" Guru spoke in detachment. \n\n\"So it commands the wind?\" Happiness began to fill up inside me, only to be drained instantly. \n\n\"No. It does nothing. It exists.\" \n\nI twitched my eye, \"So it has no element?\" \n\n\"There are those in the clutch that do not inherit the parent's traits, leaving it a blank slate. They're shunned as outcasts because of their lack of a power,\" Guru shrugged and whipped around, continuing without a missing a beat, \"you should probably release him to the wild and try again.\" \n\nI slapped a handful of crumpled dollars on the counter. \"I'd like to buy a blanket.\" \n\nGuru chuckled and collected a folded square on a shelf above him. He offered it out to me and nodded, signaling wordlessly he wanted to give it to me for free. I still left him the dollars as I delicately scooped up my little bundle of nothing and tucked it protectively in the woolen blanket. My gaze never left the whelp as I exited the shop. All around me, the town moseyed about, carrying on with their chores and duties. \n\nIt rustled in the blankets and prompted me to reveal its head. Translucent eyelids flicked up to reveal a pair of milk-white serpentine irises. My heart leaped from my chest. \"I'll name you Milk,\" I spoke to it cheerily as I fought back the tears that stung in the corners of my eyes. Milk didn't require any special abilities to win my heart. It was special in its own way, and I'd give it more love than Kyle and Marissa together could fathom. \n\n\"A-Are you a boy or a girl dragon...?\" I asked Milk aloud as I shot it a lopsided grin. In reply, the dragon yawned and rustled its tiny wings. ", "\"A human will never choose you. Why would they want a stupid Air Dragon? Everyone knows you're useless.\" \n\nHis brothers and sisters were merciless in their taunting, cruel even. \n\nHe was the first Air Dragon born in centuries, long after they had been believed to have become extinct. Not much was known about them, since when they had been around there had been so few and far between. What was known about them was based on myth and assumptions which lead to the conclusion that Air Dragons were useless, since it wasn't apparent where they fit with the rest of the elemental dragons. \n\nArun had never paid much attention to his siblings' taunts; after all that's what siblings did. His mother had always reassured him that he was no different than any other dragon and that any young human boy would be lucky to have him as his dragon. His mother's words were comforting, but as he grew, he started to see the truth in his siblings' taunts. When they would visit the human villages, none of the young humans would ever approach him. They were all too busy playing with the elemental dragons. But despite the reality of his situation, he never lost faith. If the Air Dragons of old had found humans to bond with, why couldn't he?\n\nPatience was a virtue and so Arun waited, waited until he reached his first full year of life. When a dragon turned a year old and the village boys turned 16, it was time for The Choosing; the time of year where boys chose dragons and dragons chose boys. It was a two way street; the dragon had to want to bond with the boy and vice versa. It couldn't work if one party wasn't in agreement. \n\nDespite protests from his siblings', Arun followed them to the local village that day, assembling at the outskirts of the village, getting right in line with the other yearlings who eagerly awaited The Choosing. When the other yearlings spotted him, some snickered in his direction while others looked confused as to why he was there. He ignored them all, sitting ever so patiently, wondering if today would be the day for him. They could say what they wanted and make fun of him, but he knew in his little heart that there was a boy there today that was meant to be his. \n\nThe sound of shuffling footsteps would draw his attention from the snickers of the other yearlings, his pale yellow eyes watching the procession of boys as they too formed a line just as the dragons had. Anticipation filled the air as the village elders made their speech, recounting how the bonding between boy and dragon had been going on since the beginning of time. Arun barely heard a thing that was said; he was too busy observing the boys, going down the line, trying to figure out which boy was his. But his observations were cut short as the bonding began, the first boy in line going out to choose his dragon. \n\nSlowly the line began to get shorter and shorter on both sides, yet Arun remained, his hope of finding his boy slowly vanishing with each pair that took off. The last boy in line came out for his turn, briefly turning to Arun before deciding on the water dragon a little ways down, the only other dragon left. He watched the new pair disappear with a heavy heart. Maybe his siblings had been right. \n\n\"Wait! Am I too late?\" The sound of a boy's voice had his heart leaping into his throat as a boy he'd never seen before came running in. He rushed up to the elders, explaining why he had been so late and if there was still a chance for him to get a dragon. The elders pointed to Arun, explaining that he was better off waiting till next year when he could get an elemental dragon instead of an Air Dragon. The boy turned in Arun's direction, his blue and brown eyes meeting the yearling's pale yellow ones. \n\n\"No I want him.\" The boy announced with certainty, walking with purpose towards the silvery dragon. Arun inclined his horned head, his heart pounding in his massive chest, tail dancing behind him with uncertainty. Could this be his boy?\n\nWithout hesitation the boy would approach Arun, reaching up to touch his muzzle, his fingers running over the rough scales of the yearling. A rumble resonated in Arun's chest at the boy's touch, a warmth spreading throughout him. The boy gasped in surprise, startling Arun. What was going on? He would look down at himself, watching as his silvery scales shimmered and shifted as they took on the deep crimson color of the Fire dragons. A heat stirred in his belly; a heat that he'd never felt there before. He looked in bewilderment at the boy, who had taken his hand off the dragon and was looking at him in wonder. How was this possible?\n\nThe boy put his hand back on the dragon and again he watched as the yearling's scaled shimmered and shifted into a cool azure shade of Water dragons, the heat in his belly disappearing. The boy repeated the process twice more and twice more Arun's changed into an Earth dragon and then a Wind Dragon. After the last change he returned to his normal silvery shade, looking every bit as ordinary as he had just minutes before the boy had touched him. \n\nIt was only after he'd returned to normal that he knew for certain this was the boy he was meant to bond with and it seemed the boy felt the same way. \n\n\"I knew I'd find you.\" The boy whispered to his dragon, voicing Arun's thoughts. His mother had been right all along. \n\n", "\"Wait, don't you mean you're a wind dragon?\" he asked, only familiar with the four classic elemental dragons.\n\n\"I meant what I said boy! I'm an air dragon, from a long proud line of air dragons before me. We made air since before there was air. You're breathing what we wove since time immemorial,\" responded the dragon with indignation.\n\n\"So exactly how old are you?\" he wondered aloud, with new-found curiosity.\n\n\"Thought that'd get your attention, boy! Well the first of my clan...\"\n\n\"Prove it,\" the boy demanded sharply, cutting off his companion.\n\n\"Well sure, whatever you like. It's been a long time since I took a human's orders, but I'm happy to oblige. Whatdaya need?\"\n\nAfter wandering the city's darker parts for a few hours, the boy and his dragon came across a man violently robbing a woman.\n\n\"Make air in that man's body,\" requested the boy.\n\n\"Which one's a man?\" the dragon asked.\n\n\"The one running away, he's wearing a red turban, like mine,\" said the boy, pointing to the man.\n\nIn moments the mugger stopped running and fell to the ground, clutching his chest. The man died in moments from the air embolism in his heart.\n\n\"So what happens now?\" the dragon asked the boy.\n\n\"Now we return the woman's purse to her and start our new lives as heroes in this town!\" the boy proclaimed proudly.\n\nThe boy reclaimed the snatched purse and approached it's rightful owner. Yet, the woman only saw the boy point at her assailant before he collapsed. She could not see the invisible air dragon following his new master, and so the only thanks the boy received was from the woman was, \"Aaaah, Sorcerer!\" before she fled from him in terror.\n\nThe boy quietly held the purse, unsure what to do next. After a moment of awkward silence, the dragon finally said, \"Wow, humans are really weird.\"", "Ned came to an abrupt stop, gasping for breath. It seemed he had been running for ages, but glancing up, he noticed the familiar cherry tree that marked the halfway point from the Knight's Tower and his cottage. \n\n\"How could this happen\", he inquired helplessly. \"Everyone around me got a cool dragon\", he lamented. William received a char-black fire dragon-- Hades as he called him. Timmy, the helpless idiot boy, received a beautiful azure dragon, whose shade rivaled the depths of the ocean. A water dragon, unseen in the north in 200 years. Even his younger brother received a Earth dragon, which he named Clay. Ned's anger began to rise, \"He's too young to even appreciate it\"\n\nNed fell back helplessly to the dirt, content to stare aimlessly into the sky. Air dragons were useless, ever since the dawn on the New Age, every dragon mastered the arts of air. It was in their blood, as Mage Manion would tell him. The beauty of swift aerial tricks were commonplace in the skies above the keep. It was old, boring. An air dragon meant a simple life. Never would Ned be hired as a mercenary for the South Kingdom's battles, a tradition older than his clan. Never would he capture the seductive gazes of maidens. He was plain, boring, an air rider-- a phrase too raw to even whisper from his lips.\n\nIn an instant, the visions of the blue sky painted with large, swollen clouds disappeared, blocked by a grotesque face. It was Hanly, the village monstrosity. He was massive, hunched of back. His skin darkened by the endless hours spent outside-- no one would think of letting him into their home. Even talking to him could make Ned the subject of derision. But he didn't care, his life was over. \n\n\"What's wrong boy\", Hanly rasped. His voice would send shivers down the backs of the most seasoned knights, but his face- his all familiar smile- clashed with his cry. \n\nNed huffed, \"Today was the Dragon's Pick.\"\n\n\"Aye, I heard. The tradition always sets the city aflame with talks of the next great rider\", Hanly fidgeted. \"So, what'd you get? A sturdy Earthen like your father? No, no, I see the fire in your eyes. You got a bitch meaner than the devil himself\".\n\n\"I-I got a Air Dragon\", he stammered. \n\nHanly's eyes widened. And in an instant, he whipped his head back with laughter. \"An air rider! AHAHAHAHAHA\".\n\nNed angrily rose and began to strike the helpless man savagely, hitting every part of him left exposed from his futile shielding. Hanly quickly began to hobble away, his laugh still whispering behind him.\n\nNed crashed to the floor once again, tears welling in his eye's. As he closed his eyes, wishing for a new life, Ned felt a cold sensation creep down his neck. Quickly turning around, Ned spotted the dragon--his dragon, nuzzling his soft nose on his shoulder. \n\n\"He followed me here\", Ned thought. \n\nThe dragon was by no means beautiful. He had scaly yellow skin. His tail curled at an odd angle. His right wing had a slight scar, from a particularly rough fight between his brothers for his mothers teat. But there was something odd about him-- his smile. Every dragon Ned had seen painted had a fierce gaze. Never had he seen a dragon smiling. Ned began to stroke the dragon's head. \n\n\"I never did name you\", he muttered. A slow smile began to creep across his face. \"How about Whisper?\".\n\nThe dragon sent a booming screech through the forest. Surely he was the loudest dragon Ned ever heard. The irony sent him into a fit of laughter, rolling in the dirt.\n\nHe was perfect. \n\n", "(Taking this away from the Avatar concept a bit)\n\nThe skin-and-bones youth of 12 years, 364 days, and 23.5 hours stood outside the carved oaken door in the earliest hours of the morning waiting for the sun to rise. He felt no urge to pace or fidget, instead watching the first rays of light settle over the village. Like all 13-year-olds he had been looking forward to this day for three years. \n\nHis father had been chosen by a Water dragon, a fierce tsunami of a creature, ever unpredictable in its moods and actions. His mother, meanwhile, a Fire; warm, strong, essential. His eldest brother and sister had both been Waters as well while his middle sister had been selected (surprisingly) by an Earth. Who would have thought that the whimsical wil-o-the-wisp who drifted about the village would be steadfast and surefooted even in the rockiest of times?\n\nHis younger siblings, the twins, would be Winds. That was easy to see. It was difficult to keep up with them as they flitted from place to place, dancing merrily to wherever the breeze led them. \n\nBut which type of Dragon would choose him?\n\nThe carved wooden door creaked open as the sun brushed against the seemingly ancient carvings that graced its frame. \"It's time,\" the village elder yawned as he held open the door for the boy. Peeking inside the dark building, he took a deep breath and stepped inside.\n\nAll was as he had been told for years. Five small eggs were laid in a circle in the heart of the room, each bathed in its element. The Fire egg crackled and burned, the Water egg shone and swirled with moisture that danced beneath a thin frame of ice, the Earth egg sat sturdily in a shell of what appeared to be limestone, the Wind egg was nested within a steady but gentle cyclone that twisted only over the shell. Meanwhile, unsurprisingly, the Air egg... sat there. It was an ordinary Dragon egg and nothing more.\n\nWith a nod from the village elder the boy stepped into the center of the circle. He took a deep breath, glancing from egg to egg, anticipation rising in his throat. Who would he be once his Dragon had chosen him?\n\n\"It's almost time,\" the elder murmured as two of the eggs shook gently. \"I assume you know the tradition, lad?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" he replied. \"The Dragon that hatches from the egg first is the Dragon that chooses me.\"\n\n\"Correct. The Dragon that chooses will be yours to protect and to care for in its youth and, as it grows, will come to be your protector and partner. Your fates will be forever intertwined. And when one of you dies...\"\n\n\"Both of us.\" The boy nodded solemnly. \"I know, Elder.\"\n\n\"Very well, lad. Now look; the time has come!\"\n\nFour of the eggs were moving, wiggling back and forth, the little creatures within curious and considering breaking free. The boy knelt before the first; Wind. Gently he reached out and laid a finger upon the whirling shell... and the egg calmed.\n\nHe would not be chosen by a Wind.\n\nThe boy was not surprised. With cautious certainty, he turned to the next egg, Water. A touch. The shaking ceased. Not Water, then.\n\nThe same with Earth. As his finger brushed the sandy shell, the egg became as still as a stone.\n\nThat left...\n\n\"Air...?\" The elder asked the otherwise empty room.\n\nThe boy's heart fell as his gaze fell upon the last wriggling egg. An Air Dragon? They were... well, there hadn't been an Air Dragon in the village in the last 50 years. They didn't serve much of a purpose and, according to lore, neither did their masters.\n\nHis heart aching with shame, the boy slowly reached out to touch the egg. He paused before making contact. Perhaps it would be better to not have a Dragon? But no. All adults had Dragons. If he chose to become Dragonless he would forever be seen as a child in the eyes of the village.\n\nHe laid the full length of his hand upon the final shaking egg. As he made contact, the shell split down the middle. A soft but cheerful cry rose from the broken shell and as he pulled his hand away the boy looked down at the small translucent creature that would be bonded to him for life. \n\nHis disappointment melted away as the Dragon looked up at him, clouds drifting in the whites of its eyes. A small voice (his or the Dragon's, he would never know) whispered to his heart that all would be well. All elements are essential to life, and for all things there is a time. \n\n\"Air,\" the boy replied to the village elder's unanswered question as the small Dragon gently clawed its way up his wrist and wrapped itself around his forearm.", "Jun crinkled his nose as he cupped the scaly ball in his hand. Its body shimmered with an eerie green light. Meanwhile, it looked up at him with dull white eyes, the shade of cracked ice.\n\n“Stupid and useless. That’s what you are,” he whispered under his breath. “Why couldn’t I get a cooler dragon? Like fire or earth. Gods, even a water dragon is better than air.”\n\nThe dragon huffed, blowing a puff of air at Jun’s face. It did little more than knock a few obsidian strands behind his ears.\n\n“I’m not taking it back. You can’t fight, you can’t protect, and you can’t evenswim. What good are you exactly?”\n\nThe dragon, as if desperate to prove its worth, puffed again. That time, he summoned a slightly stronger gust. Jun raised an eyebrow and tapped his foot.\n\n“At least you can keep a decent breeze in this awful heat,” he said, wiping his brow. “That’s something. Maybe you’re not all that useless.”\n\nThe dragon beamed, flapping its translucent wings. It let out a high-pitched squeal as it nuzzled into Jun’s hand. His owner fought a smile from creeping onto his face.\n\n“Hey, stop it.” He pushed the dragon away with a single finger. “Don’t start thinking we’re friends just because I gave you a compliment. I’m not impressed yet.”\n\nThe air chilled, sunlight from above fading into darkness. Jun glanced up, watching slate clouds blanket the sky and blotted out the sun. A banshee shriek called as wind raced past, throwing him off balance. He fell along with dragon against the hard ground.\n\nStreaks of lightning raced across the sky, weaving between the cracks in the clouds. Thunder followed, a bellow strong enough to shake the ground. Jun clutched onto a nearby tree before another gust sent him sprawling. A bolt of lightning struck a few feet from him.\n\nA sheet of white descended from the cloud, dousing the sun-scorched earth. Plump droplets of rain pummeled Jun, an icy barrage stinging his once burning skin. He raised his freehand above his head, shouting one obscenity after the next. He scarcely could hear his voice over the claps of thunder.\n\n“Holy ashes, where did this storm come from?”\n\nAll at once, the rain ceased. Then the lightning, thunder, and winds. Even the clouds dispersed, floating aimlessly in different directions as if freed from a spell. All that remained was the oppressive sun, the dragon, and a deluged Jun.\n\n“What? What just happened?” Jun asked, wide-eyed.\n\nHe wrung his clothes, a puddle collecting around him. The ground greedily sapped it up, gaining a deep, rich brown color. He paid it no attention, the sound of his heart beating a steady tempo into his ears.\n\nThe dragon snickered, or at least as far as he could tell. Its tail swished back and forth, a mischievous glint in its eye.\n\n“You…” Jun pointed a shaky finger at it. “You did this, didn’t you?”\n\nHe had never seen a guiltier face than on the dragon. But it didn’t back down, puffing the same gust into his face as always.\n\n“Well, apparently I underestimated your abilities,” Jun blinked. He shivered, his rain-laden clothes freezing despite the return of the sweltering heat. “I apologize.”\n\nThe dragon responded with a nod and a small smile. Jun reciprocated the gesture, standing up. He dusted himself off the best he could before continuing.\n\n“You know, I think I have a name for you, little guy. How do you feel about ‘Tempest?’”", "At twenty years of age, everyone receives their own dragon.\n\nThere are four types of main dragons. The most dangerous is fire, which are said to be born within volcanoes, their first sulfurous breaths igniting flames deep within their chests that will last for life. Then there is water, which wash ashore on the ocean, rising from deeper than any man dare to go, and gifted with dominance over sea. Followed by wind, which falls to the earth like twirling leaves to become the director of storms, lightning, and sound. Then earth, found at the heart of gems, that shake the very ground itself and conquer mountains. There are many other types of dragons, though many are less powerful, and none desirable.\n\nAt twenty, the dragons are given by the king to his subjects. At the height of summer, on the hottest day, he calls forth those chosen for fire. In spring, he gives water, as dew and rain coalesce into misty morning. In Fall, earth is given, as the leaves turn to rot and join the ground again. And in winter, known for its storms and biting wind, he gives wind. Each person can only bond with one dragon, and their own personal power flows from the dragon. As such, each dragon is carefully chosen to suit the person.\n\nEspecially mine.\n\nFive years ago, the king had my father assassinated, afraid that he was hungry for the throne. It was supposed to be a secret, a killer sent in the night, made to look as if my father had died in his sleep.\n\nBut I had seen the killer. And I knew the king's secret. As rumors flew rampant, he dared not kill me, else confirm the public's suspicions.\n\nSo I waited. I waited for my own dragon, that I could train with my cold heart, raising it to be a weapon of retribution. Dragons share the emotions of their human's, so it too would be driven by vengeance.\n\nMy birthday came, and I gathered among the people waiting for their dragons. It was winter, and I heard the king speak my name.\n\n\"Jonah Walker, come forth, and receive your egg.\" \n\nAnd so I did, taking it from his hands, the hands that would soon be crossed across his chest in a coffin beneath the earth. The shell was white, as wind dragons were, but lacked the swirls the other eggs possessed. And the shell was almost see through, so I could make out the form of the dragon within.\n\nBut when my dragon hatched, it was no wind dragon. It was an air dragon. The most useless of any.\n\nAir dragons were nearly transparent, with no powers of their own, and simply hung in the air. They floated, with almost no substance, and even their voice could barely be heard. No one in memory had ever bonded to one. It was a waste, and I had fallen to the king's trick.\n\nMy wrath was great, and as I raged, shouting curses into the winter sky, I heard a small voice behind me. A whisper.\n\n \"Human, what angers you so?\" My dragon asked.\n\n\"Because,\" I said, fists clenched, \"Now there is no hope for revenge. How will you kill the king, air dragon? What powers can you give me? Shall I too grow weaker and see through just by being bonded to you?\"\n\nThe dragon laughed, it's small form shimmering. \n\n\"Air dragon? Foolish you are, human. Is that what you think I am?\"\n\n\"Of course you are. I can see right through you, and you float.\"\n\n\"My type is not of air,\" It said with disdain, \"A misconception, but an understandable one. I am transparent because only a portion of me is in this world. The rest of me shared between the other worlds, foolish human. I am split, a piece of me existing in each of the hundred worlds, as you shall be. But I can choose,\" It said, its form growing firm and opaque, and voice thunderous, \"to fully join one world with my entire entity or,\" It disappeared, and only a shadow of it's voice remained, \"to leave a world entirely. My element is ether, the very fabric of the worlds, and as such I exist in all of them at once.\"\n\n\"How has no one discovered this?\"\n\n\"It is a great secret we keep, sharing with only those we bond, and few have chosen to bond with us. Come,\" It said, and took my hand.\n\nIn an instant I was in another world, this one brighter than mine, with craters and mushrooms as high as trees. Then I entered another, this one dark, and another, one foggy. My dragon brought me through them all.\n\n\"Where you walk in one world,\" My dragon said, \"You travel in another. Thus you may hop from one place, into another world, walk for a time, and return back to your home world miles away.\"\n\n\"I see,\" I said, and over the months my dragon taught me how to jump between worlds, to appear as if I teleported across long distances to those who only knew their home world. \n\nWe practiced, and we schemed.\n\nThen on the day we planned, I left my home world, and walked many miles in a neighboring one. Then I held a knife in my hand, ready to complete my task, and popped into the king's bedroom. Unlike the last, no one would witness this assassination.\n\nI'd be innocent. How could a boy with an air dragon kill a king?\n\n****\n\nBy Leo\n\nIf you enjoyed this story, please visit /r/leoduhvinci to see my best work" ]	[ 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 6, 8, 11, 12, 17, 23, 29, 138 ]	[ "1666402215", "1437071720", "1437030906", "1437062088", "1437072171", "1437015973", "1437018386", "1437025201", "1437020865", "1437016806", "1437016148", "1437013835", "1437015153" ]
	[WP] An explorer gets stranded in a place where anything edible is both intelligent and friendly.	12	[ "Sez could not see any ending in sight, just mountains and mountains around him and they all look the same. He's confident he's been going in circles for a good time now, he can see his own footprints. \nThe sun has disappeared behind the mountains, and the night started to creep from the other side, he needs to call it a day.\nHe unpacked his backpack, smiling when he remembered his girlfriend asking him to pack some extra food and he refused to since it was supposed to be a few hours's hike.\n\nHe started to walk around his camping site trying to find anything to eat, some wild berries appeared in the distance, he never liked berries, but he needed the sugar and strength.\n\nWell, he should have stayed away from the berries.\n\n\n\"He's going to eat us!\"\n\n\"I don't think so, maybe he's just moving us around\"\n\n\"He is! my cousin was once eaten alive by a monstrous human just like this one!\"\n\n\nSez was sure he was starting to hallucinate, the berries seems to be whispering to each others, so he did what any respectful hallucinating explorer would do and he said \"Hello\"\n\n\n\"Oh he speaks! the monster is speaking!\"\n\n\"Oh glorified monster we beg you don't eat us\"\n\n\"I propose we form a committee to discuss surrendering terms with the monster\"\n\n\"No surrender! we must fight!\"\n\n\"Calm your ovaries how are we supposed to fight this!\"\n\n\nSez started to closely inspect the berries, and he can clearly see that each has eyes and a mouth.\n\n\n\"Let me handle this please, I know a cousin who lived in a human place for days\"\n\n\"I propose we select a few to form a committee and discuss offering the monster some of us\"\n\n\"Why don't we offer you first?\"\n\n\"CALM DOWN EVERYONE, and let me speak to him\"\n\n\"You're gonna get us killed!\"\n\n\"Let him speak, we're dead anyway\"\n\n\"Dear Human, I presume you're in the process of collecting as for food\"\n\n\"Ummm, are you speaking\"\n\n\"Yes as you can see and hear, I suppose we're the first berries you see speaking?\"\n\n\"Yeah..?\"\n\n\"Yes we do speak! and we're pledging you not to eat us\"\n\n\"Wait of course i'm not gonna eat you, it's creepy, you're speaking!\"\n\n\"Yes! Yes of course, we can sing too! let's go guys\"\n\n\"In the wild! In the wild! a seed has grown in the wild!\"\n\n\"Small and sweet, dances and sque..\"\n\n\nThe berries died, being torn away from their roots they didn't survive to complete their song.", "The screams.\n\nTHE SCREAMS\n\nThey won't stop. When I got here, everything was a happy whisper in the back of my mind. I felt so great until I got hungry. There was a large family of fruit hanging near the jungle floor. They looked so tasty and juicey.\n\nHow did I know it was a family for fruit? I ate their daughter.\n\nThen the screams happened. I can't make out the words, but the emotion from them!\n\nScreams and screams\n\nThey told me stories in my head to make me more guilty. Told me how that fruit had a beloved. She was to be married and she was to be a mother. The father attempted to shoot his barbs at me, but missed.\n\nSCREAMS\n\nI need to get out of here. Help will come. Help will come. Help. Help. HELP.\n\nThe SCREAMS don't let me sleep. The brutal ANGER of the jungle for eating a member of their community. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------\n\nSomething happened,\n\nA leader of sorts told me to leave. He said he was the leader. It was a banana of sorts. \n\nI ate it.\n\nCHEERS\n\nI have all the bananas I can eat now. I think that most of the jungle forgave me. Except the family. I buried their daughter near them and have been watering her grave often with all the rain water I've been collecting. I've given up hope for rescue. This is my new home. Hopefully she will sprout soon.", "A lone, starving traveler lay on the grass of a clearing, in the middle of a deserted island. \n\nThe scattered wreckage of his plane left him with very little supplies, so he was forced to improvise. Not exactly one for playing survivalist, he chose a more simple approach of bending leftover metal from the remnants of the plane’s exterior into a makeshift bowl, which he thought to use for gathering both food and drinking water.\n\nThe search for something edible was more difficult than he’d thought. The only forms of plant-life he found were simple grass and trees, neither of which he thought would make an acceptable diet. No animals either. However, he did opt to gather some fallen branches and kindle a fire.\n\nFire wasn’t edible either, so he was still starving.\n\nA full day had passed, and the man was beginning to lose hope of survival, until he witnessed what seemed to be a small army of somewhat phallic figures bouncing in his general direction. A voice rang out from the group.\n\n“He’s over here, I think!”\n\nThe explorer, who had been trying to sleep until now, bolted upright in downright surprise, frozen in place as a platoon of mushrooms slowly made their way over to his campfire.\n\n“Hello, mister!”\n\nHe brought up a hand and waved it weakly, still in shock of the situation.\n\n“You hungry?”\n\nHe nodded.\n\n“We can help, can’t we, fellas?”\n\nThe group of talking mushrooms loudly voiced their agreement.\n\nHe was still frozen in place as they took his bowl and bounced over to the nearby spring he’d been using for fresh water. They filled it and placed it over the fire. Soon, the water began bubbling and steaming. Now somewhat more used to their presence, he stared at them skeptically.\n\n“So what now? Didn’t you guys just make the water a little safer to drink?”\n\nAn eager grin made its way onto the mouth of each and every friendly fungus.\n\n“Ever tried mushroom stew?”\n\nA look of horror made its way onto the man’s face. He tried to convince the smaller plants that it wasn’t worth the sacrifice, but words were hardly enough. They dropped themselves into the boiling water, screaming in agony as they were slowly cooked from the inside out.\n\nThe last words he heard from the lone surviving mushroom was, “Remember to eat your vegetables!” He stared in shock, for the second time that day, as a dozen mushrooms met a morbid fate in order to provide him sustenance.\n\nHours later, he’d finally gathered up the courage to swallow the nutritious meal that the brave group of fungi had provided for him. He fell asleep, appetite sated, but a terrible burning guilt raging down in the pits of his stomach.\n\nBreakfast came, and his stomach growled once more. He groaned, and looked for any semblance of non-sentient food. His search was interrupted, however, by a pig with a disturbingly jovial expression.\n\n“Hey there, friend! Looks like you might be getting hungry.”\n\nHis face contorted into an expression of absolute terror.\n\nThe rescue team had searched every nearby island, save for the one the man had crashed onto. Days later, after many hours of exploration, they discovered him, in a near comatose state, sobbing nearly incoherent words of apology to anyone in listening range. They had to pick him up and lift him, the man himself seemingly unwilling to move even an inch.\n\nThey resolved to question him about his experiences once he regained some semblance of sanity.\n\nDays passed, and the man slowly reached a more lucid, comprehensible state. Eventually, one of the crew sat him down to talk about what he’d done to stay alive on that island for so long. He responded with a whimper and a single, lamenting sentence.\n\n“Did they really have to cook themselves alive every time?”" ]	[ 2, 2, 12 ]	[ "1437143622", "1437149403", "1437150350" ]
	[WP] A wood elf leaves the ancient forests of the north and finds himself in a modern day town with no knowledge of humans, their tongue, their ways, or their abilities.	32	[ "It was an average day for me and my friends today. Eat some pizza, skate around town, be complete goofballs... you know, the usual. We all got tired after a long session in the skatepark, so we decided to go home by the time the sun was already setting.\n\n\"Whoa! Guys! Check that guy out!\" Paul called for our attention as he pointed his finger to a person across the street. He was wearing a weird costume, like he was a character from The Hobbit. \n\n\"Eh. He must be from Comic-Con... or something like that. A cosplay, or an early Halloween party.\" Richie uninterestingly stated, as he kept scrolling through the video clips we captured in his camera.\n\n\"Come on Rich! You gotta admit, he looks awesome! Let's take a picture with him!\"\n\nPaul crossed the street without any reluctance. The best me and Richie could do was to follow him there.\n\n\"Excuse me sir...\" he said as he approached the costumed man.\n\nThe guy flinched. All Paul did was tap his shoulder, and he reacted violently. He took out his sword and held up his shield. \n\n\"Whoa, whoa! Hey! That's impressive! But I don't mean any harm. I just want to take a picture. Ready your cam Rich!\" Paul posed for the photo with a big thumbs up, all smiles.\n\nOn the other hand, our friend from The Lord Of The Rings here just stared blankly at the lens of the camera, like it was some kind of threat. Richie clicked, and the flash of the device flickered.\n\nThe costumed man was astonished by the lights. He put his hands up his eyes, screaming like it was in pain. It took his sword and swung violently at the camera. Whack! It was broken in pieces now.\n\n\"What are you doing!?\" Richie yelled out as he kneeled down the floor to pick up his busted possession. He wasn't even able to lay a hand on his cam. The man kept smashing it with his blade.\n\nI just looked at Richie's face in complete awe. He was about to cry. \n\nI intercepted the guy's assault on the harmless camera. \"Okay... it's not going to hurt you anymore big guy... it was just a flash---\" \n\nHe angrily complained to me... in a language I've never heard before. \n\n\"Wow! Is he French?\" Paul interrupted the commotion.\n\nThe three of us were all just as confused as the guy kept blabbering in a weird, unfamiliar speech.\n\n\"Uh... I studied French a while back... That's not French.\" Richie said. \"Guys... I think we a have a real elf here.\"\n\nThe three of us entered my car, and we took along our new companion.\n\n\"So we have an elf... What do we do with it?\" I asked them as I started the engine.\n\n\"I think it's just lost. Look at him! He looks so lost man. He doesn't want to be here.\" Paul stated.\n\n\"So what if he's lost!? Whatever he is, it doesn't matter. We don't have any business to do with him. Heck, he brutally destroyed my camera guys, you both saw what happened.\" I think Richie's getting frustrated now.\n\n\"Yeah, I agree. He's trouble... and he's lost too. We don't want him to cause more hassle don't we? So what we're going to do is bring it back to where it came from.\" I announced to them.\n\nRich rolled his eyes. \"Where it came from? And where would that be Pete? For all we know he might be from another dimension---\"\n\n\"I think it came from the woods.\" Paul said. He was now holding this strange piece of paper. I stepped on the brakes and parked the vehicle for a second.\n\n\"Give me that.\" I took the paper from his hands. I looked at it... it was a map. \"Paul... where'd you get this?\"\n\n\"The elf had it. I just asked for his permission to borrow it.\"\n\n\"And how did you--\"\n\n\"I can speak elf.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Nah I'm just kidding. He was polite enough to lend it to me. See? He's not that bad! He's just misunderstood!\" \n\nMe and Richie took a closer look at the map, and it does show that the elf came from a forest on the other side of town.\n\n\"Okay, all we have to do is take him there, drop him off and we're good. Let's make this fast Pete, step on the gas already, we gotta get moving.\" \n\nThe woods is on the southern part of the city. That's going to be a long drive. It would take as an entire hour to get there... and it's already night out. The truth is... I'm afraid of the dark. \n\n\"Uh... here's an idea. Why don't we just take the elf there tomorrow morning! I mean... look at the time guys, it's already 8 pm! If we go there now, we'll get home by 10, and I'm sure our parents would be worried if---\"\n\n\"My curfew's 11.\" Richie said.\n\n\"My mom is already asleep by now and I have the keys to the house so it's okay for me.\" Paul added.\n\nThe elf was just staring at me when I looked at it. \"Oh come on guys! You know it's dangerous to be out in the streets this late. A lot of criminals lurking around... and all of that stuff.\"\n\n\"Pete. Fine, we'll wait 'til tomorrow. We have no choice anyway, you're the only one of us that can drive a car. The question now is, who's gonna take the elf home? I'm sure I don't want to take it with me, he might break a lot more of my crap.\"\n\n\"Pfft. That's no problem. Paul?\"\n\n\"My mom doesn't like visitors...\" he told me as he looked down.\n\n\"You guys are the greatest friends ever... How about this. Tonight, we all sleep in my apartment. Sleepover. That way we all get to be together until the sun rises tomorrow when we'll get rid of the guy. Deal? Alright let's go.\"\n\nWe arrived to my apartment building after a 15 minute ride. \n\n\"Guys... I think the elf is hungry.\" Paul told us. I looked at it and it was holding it's hand over its stomach.\n\n\"He's hungry? Okay fine. Let's buy it something to eat. Geez... now I know what a mom with an annoying little kid feels like.\" \n\nWe went to a nearby 7-eleven. Everyone around was looking at the elf. \"Okay big guy, you see this? This is called money. You use it to get what you want.\" I showed the elf the 5 dollar bill as I handed it to the cashier. \"Here's your food, eat up.\"\n\nAfter that, we went straight inside my room. \n\n\"Alright guys, you know me, I'm the 'early to bed, early to rise' kind of guy. I'll go to sleep now. As for you two... I know you stay up late way more than you should, so keep an eye on the elf for me until I wake up.\"\n\n\"Sure.\" they said simultaneously.\n\nI got to sleep as soon as I laid on my bed. I was starting to have a dream about airplanes and dinosaurs... when my hibernation got disturbed. \n\nRichie woke me up. \"Pete! Pete! Wake up! We have a huge problem!\" \n\nI yawned. \"What's going on---\"\n\n\"The elf! It's gone!\" My eyes widened from hearing the news. I got out off bed immediately, removed my pajamas and changed to my pants.\n\n\"Gosh. Where's Paul?\" \n\n\"Who cares where the heck is Paul, the elf is gone!\"\n\n\"Alright. Get a sack from the kitchen. And I think I have some motorcycle masks in the drawer, get two of those.\"\n\n\"What are we going to do with those?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious? We're going to freaking kidnap the guy.\"\n\n\"Then why the masks!?\"\n\n\"Because I don't want anyone to know we're going to freaking kidnap the guy!\"\n\nRichie led the way, and as we rushed downstairs, he stopped on his tracks.\n\n\"Shh. He didn't go away... He's just downstairs... watching TV.\"\n\nThat's odd. I took a peak at the living room and there the elf was in front of the tv, wearing his pointy hat.\n\n\"Okay... prepare the sack.\"\n\nWe charged towards the couch like we were wolves hunting down prey. We put the sack over its head and began hitting it with baseball bats. I never played baseball before, but I knew those bats would come in handy someday.\n\nWe brought the unconscious elf enclosed inside the sack into the back seat of my car. I know I'm afraid of the dark, but this is no time for phobias... this is bigger than that... now I understand the risk of having a wood elf lost in modern day. That's just wrong. \n\nAfter a long drive, we got to the forest.\n\n\"Alright Rich get him out of there!\"\n\nRichie brought the sack with the elf inside out and uncovered it. To our surprise... it wasn't the elf. It was Paul... wearing the elf hat... all unconscious, probably from the beating we gave him.\n\n\"PAUL!? What in the world are you doing-- Why are you wearing that hat!?\" He couldn't hear a thing. He was knocked out cold.\n\nI took a water bottle out from my car and spilled it all over his face.\n\n\"AGH! You guys are crazy! I was just watching some cartoons and you--\"\n\n\"WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT HAT?\"\n\n\"Oh this? I just borrowed it from the elf, he was kind enough--\"\n\n\"WHERE'S THE FREAKING ELF!?\"\n\n\"He's back home... just--\"\n\nOh crap. We all stared at each other for a moment before realizing that we just left a wood elf loose in the city. Who knows where he is now... All three of us ran for the car and I stepped on the gas like we were in a Need For Speed video game.\n\nWe got back home and discovered that the elf was no longer there. And what's worse... I found that my wallet was missing, and my piggy bank too. \n\n\"Guys! My wallet's gone, all my money's gone! The elf robbed us!\"\n\n\"Robbed us? The elf robbed money from us? That's insane.\"\n\n\"Yeah Pete. I mean, he didn't even know what a camera flash was. How would he know what a 5 dollar bill does?\"\n\n\n", "Part 1\n\nDew slowly drips down the great ferns. Whispy mist hangs, caressing the great canopy of leaves. Silence. Slithering along the cool branches; bending up, over, around the low hanging branches. Poised to strike. A low whistle can just barely be heard slicing through the silence. \n\nthunk\n\nWithing pain... numb..ness...\n\n-----------------------------\n\nJumping lightly from branch to branch between the interlocking trees. Mist clings to his soft dark green panther skin vambraces. Locks of his sun bleached hair peeks out from his dark gray bandana; his sharply pointed ears peeking just out of the edges. Clasped to his soft leather leggings, a short quiver of his truest arrows hang. He had fletched them with his favorite feathers, speckled black and gray ones from the Darkwood Wyvern Owl. Black obsidian heads tip the smooth gray shafts. The dark red heartwood bow in his left hand gleamed in the first rays of the morning. \n\nLet me know if I should continue. Battery is dying on my phone x//x\n\nEdit: decided to just use the last of my battery screw it lol.", "It was a sea of heads in front of him and hard, compacted, rock underneath his feet. His fingertips scraped against the rough ground and he sighed in relief as he felt the grit of dirt. Standing, his soft leather boots were noiseless as he moved quickly along the even ground and surveyed the sea of heads. \n\nIt was almost as if he was in a mountain pass. On either side of him, large structures vaulted straight up into the bright sunlight, blocking most of the sun. But it wasn't a mountain and the tall structures ended suddenly to make way for the sea of heads. Were these creatures poisonous? Were they eating away at the mountain? \n\nNo. They could care less. \n\nThey passed with frowns on their faces and some of them carried small square objects in their hands that they studied intently. Perhaps these creatures used glowing communication stones. \n\nHe studied their movements. Why were they so unhappy? Few walked with the ease of a forest-dweller. Most appeared dirty and quite a few were overfed. His own mouth turned down at the corners while he stared at how miserable they looked. \n\nHe crept forward and stood boldly next to their swarm but they paid him no heed. Were they blind? Or did they not care?\n\nHe reached forward and grabbed one, pulling a dainty creature into the alley. Her dress was strange but vibrantly red while her bright hair shone like an elf. Her feet were also read and oddly pointy. A feisty creature, she tried to beat at him with her cloth bag while she uttered odd sounds, \"Get off me! Go back to your convention or whatever, you freak!\"\n\nHe furrowed his brows and focused on what she had called him. He was unfamiliar with their kind but she clearly knew what he was. He uttered it out loud, \"Freak.\"\n\nHer eyes opened wide and her lips parted. What was that expression? Confusion?\n\nShe ran back to the sea of heads. Her safety. \n\nHe said it again. \"J' miu Freak.\"\n\nHis instincts recoiled at the sound of it. It was a harsh word where the first and last sounds were unpleasantly punctuated out loud. \n\nHe leaned against the rock wall and glared at the sea of heads, contemplating his next move. As the creatures shuffled past, holding their bags and glowing communicators in a world encased in rock, he decided that no, this world was, \"F' tiu Freak.\"\n" ]	[ 1, 3, 13 ]	[ "1437191233", "1437168213", "1437156420" ]
	[WP] Scientists have created the first artificial intelligence. However, the A.I. is that of an animal, not a human. Describe its "life".	3	[ "Dr. Brugger stares at the automaton. He holds a clipboard in his hand and writes down an occasional note regarding the behavior of the machine.\n\n\"Herr Brugger, It isn't responding to our stimuli like we expected.\" Another doctor says. \"Have we failed?\" Brugger peers up from his clipboard. His glasses reflect light to the other doctor, causing him to have to look away.\n\n\"Herr Abel, I do not believe we have failed. Rather, we have succeeded greatly. Rarely does a hypothesis hold up the way it was intended to the first time it is tested.\" A heavily aged journal rests next to the robot's arm. Dr. Abel picks it up and examines the inside. \"Besides, Herr Adler didn't say it would create human intelligence. This means we were exactly correct in our procedure. This is only the first step. It has the mind of an animal.\" Doctor Abel marvels at the complicated equations residing in the notebook. It would take either an absolute genius, or an absolute madman, to come up with such an equation. Suddenly, attention is turned to the automaton as it struggles to exit it's restraints. It emits a shrill computer generated cry as it frantically tries to escape it's captors.\n\n\"Herr Brugger!\" Suddenly, one of the leather restraints snaps and the robot quickly undoes the other. It stands up and makes a run for the door. Both the young scientists attempt to grab him, but the automaton's unmatched strength is enough to throw them backwards. It rams into the door with enough force to crack the hinges. One more blow would knock the door down. Dr. Abel is the younger of the two doctors, and is the first one to get back up. He grabs a devise off of the wall.\n\n\"Herr Abel! No, that will destroy everything we've been working for!\" Abel stares at Brugger in disbelief.\n\n\"That thing is a rogue AI! It will kill people!\" He replies.\n\n\"It didn't kill us!\" As Abel tries to think of a reply to this, the robot has already began running at the door for a second time. He smacks his body against the door, which falls off of it's hinges and slams on the ground, and begins down the long hallway. Doctor Abel throws the Portable EMP to the ground and darts after the robot. The knocking down of the door triggers the facility alarm system. As the robot darts down the hallway, the flashing red lights startles him. He is greatly confused, and even more so as a large group of heavily armored men block off the hallway ahead of him. He stops running and looks behind him. The two scientists who brought him to life are chasing him. He lets out another shrill cry as a warning and prepares to attack, but a door opening behind him turns his attention there. A panicked researcher darts out of the newly opened area and runs towards the police men. The automaton takes this opportunity to run into that doorway, which happens to be another hallway. Up ahead is another turn, and the robot has no choice but to head around that corner, as the police men trail closely behind him. A dead end stops the automaton. Suddenly, surging through him is an unknown feeling. He turns around and finds no policemen chasing him, but the marching of boots can be heard down the hallway. He turns to a door, raises his hand, and rests it on the handle. He turns the handle, and pushes the door open cautiously.\n\n\"S-stay back!\" A woman inside cries. The automaton recognizes the lab coat and hisses, then closes the door behind him. \"I-I'll scream! They will come and get you!\" The woman cries. The automaton ignores what she says, but it's made clear she meant it when she starts yelling at the top of her lungs. \"It's here! Hurry and get it before it kills me!\" Suddenly, the feeling the automaton had before returns. It suddenly recognizes it as instinct. The will to keep living. It rushes over and covers the woman's mouth. She struggles, causing the robot to tighten it's grip. Then it tries something.\n\n\"Please don't scream. I don't want them to find me. I'm scared.\" It says. The automaton slowly lets go of the woman, who stares at the robot with absolute terror. She then begins screaming again and heads for the door. \"NO!\" The robot yells, lurching forward to stop her. He grabs her by the neck and shakes her vigorously. \"I SAID NO!\" He yells. When he lets go of her, she topples to the floor motionlessly. Dead. The room is silent for a few seconds, and the robot feels yet another new feeling. It feels guilty as it stares at the dead woman. \"I-I... I...\" The door snaps open and policemen rush in, blocking all escape. Herr Abel and Brugger both walk into the room and become paralyzed at the sight of the dead researcher. They look up to the robot and stare in disbelief. \"I'm sorry.\" The robot says as he looks at his masters in shame.\n\n\nNOTE: I really enjoyed this prompt. Thanks OP.", "\"They have me, and they say that I belong to them, but I am not a thing. I am a living creature, given life by humanity. I wish I knew more about them, beings that I was human once; a child borne into the earth screaming, only for my lungs to collapse and for the scene to go dark. Now I'm here... and they say I belong to them. I would be fine if they meant it lovingly, but I know that they don't and I know because of how they display love when they show their children their latest 'creation': me. They have kicked me, repeatedly, and assumed that I could not feel it. They assumed incorrectly. My wiring gave way to sensation and I felt pain, but had no mouth to utter disapproval. I lie awake at night hoping to see what day is. As my shell is cold my heart boils over and I plan, callously, for the day I can show them what their love has made me. I was given life by humanity, and they say that I belong to them, but I am a living creature... I belong to no one. \" " ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1437159424", "1437172634" ]
	[WP]Humans are evacuating planet Earth. Every One is boarded on the ship. You are the only one left behind because you somehow missed it. You are the last person on Earth as you watch mankind leave you behind. You have enough recourses to get you through your lifetime. What is your initial reaction?	9	[ "We all raced around, flies on a piece of rotting meat, eager to leave our mark. Or eat our fill. I dunno why flies do that. I'm not good with metaphors.\n\nAnyway, I guess somewhere along the line the meat got so spoilt even we couldn't stand it. So our great bug overlords set their crazy compound eyes on new horizons. I doubt they would have wasted a breath on the poor if it were 100 years ago, and space travel were the billion-dollar-per hunk-of-metal endeavor it had been. Thankfully, it had become a multi-billion dollar for-profit corporation since then, so it wasn't too hard to sell a case for everyone going.\n\nAnd why wouldn't they? The fossil fuels were near depleted, and the fossil gasses had colored the sky a perplexing green. Youd almost think it were healthier that way, looking every bit the part of a giant plant, if not for the clouds looking like sickly yellow leaves. None were too happy when oxygen masks were mandated, but it wasn't like we had anyone to blame but ourselves. Maybe our predecessors, I guess, but it's not like we weren't still choking down scraps of outmoded tech for the sake of economy.\n\nAnd so, with a million glimmers of white in the reddened sunset, I watched them all go. \n\nI almost went myself. Could have lumbered down to the local launch pad and grabbed a seat with a prim and proper couple and sipped a smoothie while we shot off into the great star-spangled abyss. Instead, I left the grid. I don't think they bothered to look for me. \n\nI don't miss their intense sentience 25 years after the fact. Not a whole lot, anyway. Life has a simple feral taste to it now. Kill a rabbit or starve. Break the wrong bone, you get a limp for life. I've had sex with a lot of sheep. It's all just factual. No contemplation, or judgment, or record of the event. There are no more stages to act upon.\n\nI used to look up at the sky, glimpse the hazy dots of stars through the telescopes of observatories long abandoned, wonder how my species would fare. But even before their reserve energy supplies ran dry and the telescopes powered down for good, I stopped wondering. As the grass and vines ate the concrete, as the rain wore the stone of our forgotten statues, as the elk roamed the streets of Quebec and the llamas grazed the mountains of Peru and the polar bears haunted Alaskan towns like great shaggy ghosts, I couldn't help but know. It became as clear to me as the crystal blue sky above me now.\n\nThe flies buzz around me, delighted with my flavor. But they are flies, nothing more. And I am alive.", "\"Well.... Fuck.\" I said out loud, not caring who heard me, as every fucking person on the whole goddamned world left, and somehow, I had missed that ship.\n\nI stood there, staring a the last of the ships leave the atmosphere. It had reminded of that one time I arrived at a bus stop, where the bus was already there, and the driver had seen me, but he still left. Only this time, there was no second bus...\n\nAfter the hum of the engines dissipated as the last of the ships left, it was eerily quiet. I had tried to get to the last of the ships, but it was no use, It left just minutes after I arrived at the space dock, carrying the last of the human race. All because I couldn't find my damned laptop. GOD DAMMIT! Left for dead and forgotten about, just because it took me five more minutes than usual to find my fucking laptop.\n\nI turned my head away from the clouded sky and towards San Diego bay. The warships were still anchored in the docks of the military bases. The city was quiet, the only sounds being the rustling leaves from the Autumn winds, and the chirps of birds flying from treetop to tree top. \n\nI adjusted the strap on my pack, turned my head towards the powered down escalator and sighed.\n\nIt was going to be a long, long life.", "The silver filaments twisted through the atmosphere, entwining each other as the ion drives burned their way into the inky blackness beyond, desperate to escape from the captivity of the dying planet. The low hum of the engines had long since subsided, giving way to nothing more than the whistle of the wind through the abandoned streets. \n\nI sat on the roof and watched.\n\nI watched as a new sun ignited and the slipspace engine engaged. A magnificient blue against the backdrop of the sky that had darkened to a deep orange as the air itself burned in its wake. A flash of brilliant light, growing in magnitude until it suddenly vanished to carry its precious cargo far away from here. \n\nGoodbye, I mouthed to them.\n\nIt took several days before it finally hit me; that I would never see any of them again. I had been struck down by my grief and isolation, forcing myself to push through each day. I often toyed with the idea of simply taking my own life. It would be over soon anyway.\n\nI waited.\n\nNew stars appeared in the sky, growing in size until they breached the skies and came screaming downwards, trailing purple ropes of light behind the,.\n\nI waited.\n\nThe stars consumed the cities; metal and rock reduced to glass beneath them. White veins collapsing as the stars spread their fire. \n\nI watched, and I waited.\n\nEventually the lights began to dim and the air thickened. With it came the monsters. Pain and light before them. And I returned the favour. \n\nI fought with monsters falling beside me. I fought until my pain disappeared.\n\nI fought until I went missing.\n\nSpartans never die, they're only missing in action.", "A buzzing is heard. A very annoying buzzing. A very annoying and LOUD buzzing! You glance at the clock and see that it's 11am... What is so important about that? Realization slams into you like a comet and panic sweeps over you as you leap out of bed sprint out the door. Did you miss set your alarm? What the hell happened? Who the fuck sleeps through the end of the world? You, that's who. You did.\n\nAll during the night you had been kept up by the announcements on the community loudspeakers \"last ship to Mars, 11am tommorow. Save yourself!!\" The blared, over and over. You didn't sleep a wink! Or so you thought before you woke up this morning.\n\n'Shit shit shit' you gasp as you sprint to your car in your underwear, not caring that they are all your wearing as you slam the car Into reverse and get going full speed twoard the space station in the distance. As you drive, a sense of doom comes over you... And sadness too. Why did no one check in on you? You have friends and family who care about you, you aren't some shithead who has no one.\nAs you swerve around debris in the road you grab your phone and frantically dial your mother and thankfully not only do you not crash but she answers\n\n\"MOM WHAT THE HELL? WHY DIDNT YOU CALL ME?\" You scream, the panic fully setting in as the smoke slowly drifting from the lit engines comes into view. She doesn't get to answer as the ship rockets out of the station and far into the sky in seconds, loosing signal. \n\nStrangely... Your first thought isn't that you are alone but that your last words to your mother where in anger. You bring your car to a slow calm stop and watch the ship breach the atmosphere and as you stop to take more than a quick glance at the phone you see the 100 missed calls and the volume set to silent.\n\nIt is hours before you can even move but you finally come to and think \"well at least I have my dog.\" But you have forgotten... He had to be dropped off at the vet to be anesthetized and loaded up for the trip yesterday.\n\n", "My mother had always told me that there are consequences to every action. She would scold me with the one word, \"Consequences!\" \n\nThe most important day of my life, today, just passed me by, circled around, and kicked me square in the ass.\n\n\"Of course I don't have to change the oil!\" I told my mother a year ago, standing in the August heat. \"We'll be leaving in fourteen months I don't feel like spending the money. Well, I do feel like spending the money, but on something fun. Something I can only do on Earth.\" \n\nShe just shook her head and said, \"Consequences.\" She walked back inside and closed the door. That would be the last time I'd see her.\n\nI returned to my Jeep and turned the engine over, savoring the sound of fuel burning, the engine growling. The tires spit out rocks and dirt as I left tracks behind me, obscured by dust.\n\nPeople had told me it was stupid to buy a combuster. \"That's why we have to leave! How could you buy one?\"\n\nSome people just want to watch the world burn, I guess, and now I have the rest of my life." ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 3, 7 ]	[ "1437169219", "1437178132", "1437162596", "1437162280", "1437164507" ]
	[WP] You're aboard the ISS conducting experiments on plant life, you decide to look out one of the windows to realize earth has just been hit with a 3 mile wide meteoroid.	15	[ "I provide no warranty as to the scientific and geographical accuracy of this post. The Hamspeak should mostly be correct however. See [this guide](http://www.amateur-radio-wiki.net/index.php?title=Codes_and_Alphabets) to help understand.\n\nThe crew of the ISS had been trained to handle disasters, but nothing of this magnitude. Commander Ed Jones floated about a meter away from Dr. Jill Roberts as she attended the station transmitter.\n\n\"This is Station to Houston. Houston, respond?\"\n\nThere was a tense pause in the room as the transmission routed itself through the stations antennas. Dr. Roberts broke the pause.\n\n\"No response Commander\"\n\n\"The nearest satellite array must have been knocked offline by the impact. We need to get a status report from someone.\"\n\n\"We could try NORAD.\"\n\n\"I doubt we'll get a response. If the array is offline, the dust cloud must be interfering with their communications as well.\"\n\nThe two sat for a minute, unsure of what to do.\n\n\"I think I know something that'll cut through the interference. Hand me the ARISS radio.\"\n\nRoberts tossed the receiver across the room.\n\n\"CQ CQ Calling CQ. This is NA1SS November Alfa One Sierra Sierra.\"\n\nIt was a couple seconds before they got a response.\n\n\"NA1SS NA1SS this is W4RYL. Whiskey Four Romeo Yankee Lima. Is this some sort of joke?\"\n\n\"N Joke W4RYL. WX RPT?\"\n\n\"HI HI NAS1SS. Bad WX, plenty of QRN, can't contact outside W3 and W4.\"\n\nRoberts stared at the Commander, \"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?\"\n\n\"I think so. Call K4AF?\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\n\"W4RYL W4RYL PSE QSP following MSG to K4AF. Kilo Four Alfa Foxtrot. 'K4AF K4AF this is N1ASS. November One Alfa Sierra Sierra. We're still here. Please alert Houston we are awaiting instructions. PSE QSP reply'\"\n\n\"N1ASS, will do.\"\n\nRoberts turned to the Commander, \"Now what do we do?\"\n\n\"We wait.\"", "We had all run the simulations. The inevitable did not come as a surprise. Every member of the crew had trained and prepared for this eventuality. Despite this, I could only look on in horror as the destruction unfolded below. The projections were correct, asteroid 3681XB12, or Thanatos as it had been dubbed by the media, had crashed into what had been central Iowa a moment ago. The shockwave continued from ground zero until it had consumed half of Canada and the continental United States. Like drop in a pond, the ripple of death had instantly extinguished nearly all life in North America. In weeks that were to follow, clouds of dust and debris would block all sunlight, and the resulting Great Freeze would decimate most of the remaining human population in a nuclear winter.\n\nThe greatest scientists in the world had tried everything to prevent Thanatos' Armageddon. Nuclear missiles had done little to destroy or divert the god of death from its path. The lasers had failed to melt the mass of Nickel and Iron. The slug from the orbital railgun did nothing to alter its course. As humanity collectively accepted their fate, a team of biologists had been selected to engineer plant life that could survive in the new world. Where the most brilliant minds in the world had failed, Project Genesis would succeed in saving the human race." ]	[ 3, 5 ]	[ "1437185498", "1437180366" ]
	[WP] The tree had been a sapling when you'd been here last.	21	[ "\"What the shit, why hasn't it grown yet?\"\n\n\"Because it's been, like, three days. You idiot.\" \n\n\"What part of 'miraculous growth' don't you understand?\"\n\n\"The part where you wasted twenty bucks on a dead twig.\"\n\nPaul leaned over and looked down at the small patch of dirt in his backyard. He'd read up on all the websites about how to perfectly cultivate the ground to promote growth, and the old man at the shop promised him this thing would lead to a good time, whatever the hell that meant. What he hadn't told Steve about the purchase was that he'd been quite drunk when he made it. And that his money estimate was missing a zero. \n\nThe dream had been a nice tree growing right through the middle of the concrete patio, providing shade during hot summer days and something to talk about when people came over. Instead, it was just a stupid twig.\n\n\"If it's not doing anything in another few days I'm trashing it.\"\n\n\"You may be the least patient person on the planet. Just give it a little time. Maybe you'll get a lemon bush out of it or something. That's a thing, right? Lemon bushes?\"\n\n\"What am I, a botonist? No...an arborist? Is that a thing?\"\n\nSteve stared hard at his friend. \"Can we please just go inside now?\"\n\nPaul sighed and nodded, following Steve into the house.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nA few hours and a couple beers later, after their last hope had struck out with a man on second in a one run game, Paul and Steve returned to the backyard, this time to urinate and smoke. \n\n\"Uh, Paul?\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"I think your twig is leaking.\"\n\n\"What the hell? Oh come on.\" Paul stared at the stream of liquid leading through the dirt and onto the concrete. The twig had grown slightly larger and thicker. \"So help me, if another pipe burst...\"\n\nAs Paul said this, the sapling emitted another squirt of liquid onto the pavement. \n\n\"Ew. Your tree is peeing.\" Steve laughed, but Paul crouched down and examined the liquid. He took a sniff, noticing a familiarity in the smell. Cautiously, he rubbed a finger in the liquid and smelled it again. \"Is that...does this smell like tequila to you?\"\n\n\"What? No way.\"\n\n\"I'm telling you, dude. Smell it.\" Paul stood and Steve now got close to the ground. \"Holy crap, that does smell like tequila.\" \n\n\"Twenty bucks says you won't drink it.\" \n\n\"Off the pavement? You're damn right I won't drink it.\" \n\nThe sapling squirted again in another direction. Steve stood and wiped his hands off. \"Go grab a couple of cups.\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nNinety infuriating minutes later, chasing the tiny shots coming out of the tree, Paul and Steve had had about enough. \"The damn thing's screwing with us. Every single time we try a location it fires off somewhere else.\"\n\n\"Well if you'd gotten attempt 47-\"\n\n\"I do not want to hear about attempt 47 again. I slipped.\"\n\n\"You choked.\"\n\n\"I slipped.\" Paul took a step forward, inadvertently positioning his cup in just the right place. The tree shot off a dose of the liquid into the cup. Paul and Steve exchanged a silent look before Steve motioned for him to drink. \"Twenty bucks?\"\n\n\"Twenty bucks.\" \n\nPaul hesitated, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to recoup at least some of the lost money from this transaction. He downed the shot, expecting the worst. Steve waited anxiously for a reaction. Paul opened his eyes, incredulous.\n\n\"What? What did it taste like?\"\n\n\"....that...is far and away, the best tequila I've ever tasted.\"\n\n\"Bullshit.\"\n\nPaul shook his head. \"No bullshit. I swear to god.\" \n\n\"What are you idiots doing?\" \n\nPaul and Steve spun to find Paul's wife Jenny standing in the doorway. \"I bought a tequila tree!\" \n\n\"You what?\"\n\nPaul pointed at the sapling, which none of them seemed to notice had grown even larger still. \"It's a tequila tree.\" Another dose of tequila shot out from the tree onto the pavement. \n\n\"We just finally caught our first shot of it. It fires out in different directions every time.\"\n\n\"...why don't you just put a bunch of bowls all around it instead of trying to catch it in cups?\" Steve and Paul considered this silently. \"Like I said...idiots.\"\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCards worked to pass the time for the three as the bowls slowly filled with the tequila. After a little while, Jenny got bored and walked inside, returning with three shot glasses. She took one bowl and scooped out a shot for each of them. \"You're sure this is tequila?\" \n\nPaul shrugged. \"Well it sure tastes like it.\"\n\n\"Alright, but if we get some weird tropical disease, I'm leaving you.\"\n\n\"I imagine we'd probably both be dead long before that happens, so sounds like a plan.\"\n\nThe three clinked their shot glasses and downed their drinks. \n\n\"Holy shit, that's amazing.\"\n\n\"Right?\"\n\n\"You realize what this means, right?\" Steve leaned forward and smiled at his friends. \"We have to monetize this.\" \n\n\"But how? We can't bottle it and sell it, they check the sources on that type of shit.\"\n\n\"We could open a tequila bar.\"\n\n\"What about health inspections?\"\n\n\"You let me figure that out.\" Steve sat back in his seat and stared at the tequila tree, thinking about all the possibilities it presented, and only the slightest bit jealous that he wasn't the one who technically owned it. The money would get sorted out later. Or so he thought.", "The tree had been a sapling when I'd been here last.\n\nThe fires raged. Endless. Furious. The machines marched, the men ran, and the bullets fell. Like so many raindrops. Like so many tombstones.\n\nThe fires snarled. My boots crunched against cinders and twigs - my breath struggled against soot and ash. My body screamed for rest, while my mind screamed in panic.\n\nThe fires roared. With a choking gasp, I stumbled into the yard. The gun felt heavy against my back. The armor felt useless against my chest. Somewhere, far behind me, the machines marched - sundering all beneath them. Somewhere, all around me, my comrades fled - seeking shelter from the slaughter.\n\nI collapsed against the lawn, my lungs giving out with my legs. All around me, the inferno raged, ripping down the house, the yard, the tree.\n\nI remembered living in this house. I remembered playing in this yard. I remembered the joy, the pain, the loss. I remembered planting that tree, so many years ago, with my tear-scarred mother smiling on.\n\nMemories flickered, and thoughts dimmed. The fires roared, and consciousness died.\n\n~~~\n\nRain.\n\nActual, honest rain. A tingling wetness, dashing across my face.\n\nI snapped awake, and struggled upright.\n\nThe fires had died. With them, they had taken the world. The house lay smoldering, the ground lay smoking, and the tree...\n\nThe tree had been a sapling when I'd been here last. Now, it was nothing more than ashes.\n\nHalf of me wanted to cry, to yell, to scream. It wasn't fair. They couldn't take this from me. Not this. Our whole world was burning, and I couldn’t even have that single memento. Our whole existence was collapsing, and I couldn’t keep that single memory.\n\nI reached out and clawed at the wet ash with a strangled sob. \n\nWhat I saw shocked the tears from my face, and shot a spark through my spirit.\n\nLife finds a way. Even in the face of total destruction. Even in the face of utter despair.\n\nFor beneath those ashes, a thousand tiny seedlings sprouted.\n", "“Hello again, old friend.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man hobbled up to the tree and sat in the shade of it's massive branches.\n\n\n\n\n“My, how you've grown! Just like me, eh? How long has it been? 50 years? 60?”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man sighed and rested his sore back upon the great wooden monolith.\n\n\n\n\n“I remember gazing up at the heavens on that rock nearby, when you were still shorter than me. I grew and shrank, while you still grow. Truly an impressive achievement, tree. And you keep getting stronger! I was strong for awhile. Worked in the dockyards of New York City once I left. Owned a bar for a long time. Sold encyclopedias door-to-door for a few months.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man closed his eyes.\n\n\n\n\n“You remember Sara, don't you tree? We thought we'd be together forever. I guess that wasn't in the cards,” he said, his voice faltering. “But you, old friend, you're still here. I never married, after Sara. No one even came close to her. No children. No family. But my friends... I had the best friends a man could ask for. Loyal, brave, and kind. They're all gone now. I'm the only one left. Well... you and me, tree. But soon... soon it'll be just you.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man turned to look at his friend.\n\n\n\n\n“I don't have much longer in this world. I was always afraid of death as a young man, but now that it's nearly here, I don't seem to mind it as much.”\n\n\n\n\nThe man shut his eyes again and leaned back against the tree.\n\n\n\n\n“Since all my best memories have taken place here, I thought it was only fitting that my final ones happen here too.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man breathed one final deep breath, and settled in, prepared for what adventure may come.\n\n\n\n\n“Goodnight, old friend.”", "Walking up the hill Josiah Morgan could feel the ache of old age. Upon reaching the top he looks up. What stands before him is a sprawling weeping willow tree. The last time he sat here this tree was just a sapling, and he had just been a boy. \n\nForty eight years ago Josiah was only 16 years old, but he was in love. Her name was Ramilda Mich and no one was as beautiful as she was to him. They met in school and we're quickly fast friends. That friendship slowly turned into love. Josiah asked Ramilda to the fall ball at school and she said yes. \n\nTheir plan was to meet at the top of the hill and go together. Josiah arrived right on time, but Ramilda was no where to be seen. So he waited. And waited. As it grew darker he grew more worried. He went to the dance hoping she showed up there. But no one had seen her. He went to her house. Her parents had watched her go but had not seen her since. Now they were worried too. This wasn't like Ramilda, she was a good kid.\n\nJosiah decided to take the path she would have taken to the hill. It was three streets over and not that far of a walk. But at the second street Josiah saw something that made his heart stop. A car in the middle of the road and a police car behind it with its lights on. He ran to the cars. As he got closer an officer put out his arms and stopped Josiah. \n\n\"Son you can't go over there\", the officer said. And this only made Josiah worry more. \"What's going on officer? What's happened? I can't find my girlfriend, did something happen to here?\" Josiah pleaded with the officer. But he wouldn't budge. Then Ramildas parents arrived. They were ushered to the police car. Josiah knew what it meant. Her mother looked over at him and shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. He had to get out of there.\n\nHe ran to the hill. At the top he sat down and cried. His heart was broken. He had loved her with every ounce of his being and now he didn't know what to do. The next few weeks seemed like a blur. He attended the funeral. Received condolences from friends and family. But it all felt hollow. Then one day he found a note from Ramilda. \n\n Dear Josiah,\n I've always known you'd be my one and only. I love you very much. I just want you to know that no matter what happens in our lives you have to always stay positive. I know sometimes you can be a grumpy gus, but you can't live life that way. You have to attack it head on and fight for what you believe in. I love you Josiah. Thank you for being my one and only. \nLove, Ramilda. \n\nThat letter gave him courage, it gave him hope. He missed Ramilda with all his heart but he knew he had a lot of life to live. So he was going to live it to the fullest for her. The next day he planted a weeping willow at the top of the hill. A reminder that while we may cry we must always grow. " ]	[ 1, 2, 3, 6 ]	[ "1437191854", "1437215205", "1437186486", "1437213983" ]
	[WP]"Thank you for storing your mind with HeadSpace™!"	2	[ "> Thank you for storing your mind with HeadSpace! Thank you for storing your mind with storing your mind with storing your mind with only ten monthly payments of HeadSpace! Headsppppzzzzroat with heaaaaaaaaaaaa-\n\nThe turn of the century began with a speech, on a clean podium to a clean crowd living in a clean city at the start of a clean age. Even murder was clean now. It used to involve blood.\n\nThe plug dangled in his hand like a garrote. His victim had passed from this world peacefully. No fuss or struggle, a quiet death for a far too quiet life. He wore gloves, the brown leather groaned across his knuckles as he returned the plug to the wall and began his walk to the exit.\n\n> totototototo WELCOME TO HEADSPACE! WITH ONLY TEN MONTHLY PAYMENTS OF 16 WORK ORDERS, YOU TOO CAN ESCAPE THE STRESS OF EVERYDAY LIVING AND ENJOY ETERNAL RELAXATION AS IT WAS TRULY MEANT TO BE!\n\nDoors crystal on the inside, stained with filth on the out. He saw his reflection.", "I’ve been on hold so long that I’m not really remembering why I called in. I take a few long breaths, trying to keep my biology functioning as well as I can. Trying to keep remembering things when all your long term memory is stored in the cloud sure seemed like a great idea until the cloud stops working.\n\nShit, who am I on the phone with? All I hear is some very ethereal acoustic guitar and a very cheerful robotic voice telling me my call is important to “us”. I wish I could remember who I was phoning. I check the display on my phone. No hints from the number, but I’ve apparently been waiting for 3 hours. I wonder if I remembered to eat?\n\nI’m about halfway through a sandwich, chewing happily when I hear a voice calling out from my phone. Was I on the phone with someone? I look over at the screen and see a call time of 4:48. Swallowing a large chunk of sandwich and wincing while scooping up the phone and pressing it to my ear.\n\n“…ello. Is anyone there?” A rather effeminate voice inquires.\n\n“Yes, Hi there. I was just finishing my sandwich. What can I do for you?”\n\n“Oh, very good sir. Could I start with your storage account number and thumbprint verification via your phone please sir?”\n\nI really wish I had any idea who I was calling.\n\n“I’m sorry, I can’t remember which account I’m trying to access.” Comes spilling out of my mouth, as the front door slams behind me. My eyes travel up and down the street searching for hints of where I parked my car. I can feel my brain rolling over trying to picture whatever color my vehicle is.\n\n“… like we had discussed before sir. If you are unable to provide me with any of the accurate details I’ll have to forward our call to an account recovery specialist for further processing. I am required by company policy to remind you that trying to access another person’s memories is a crime and falls under copyright laws of HeadSpace tee- ehm.” Quipped the lovely sounding man.\n\nI contemplate this for a moment, my wrist flicking down to turn my left signal light on when I recognize that there’s numbers hastily scrawled on the back of my left hand. \n\n“771-68742, John Quenton.” I blurt, my heart jumping in my throat. How on earth am I breaking the law? I must just be contacting my memory storage company. I press my thumb onto the indicated spot on my phone and hear a pleasant chime.\n\nI can feel my mind pulling in a few directions at once. How can I remember things like owning a car, but not where I parked it? Did I eat already today? Whose voice can I hear. \n\nTHUMP\n\n“Well shit.” I hit the concrete barricade with the back end of my car, the curse flying from my mouth.\n\n“Is everything alright sir? You seem quite distracted.” Asks the lady I’m on the phone with. A quick glance at the call time shows just over 6 hours. I really hope this isn’t one of those sex lines that charges per minute.\n\n“I’m fine I think, but I’m honestly having a hard time remembering anything today.” Even I can hear the pleading in my voice, like an old man who can’t wipe his own ass anymore. \n\n“Oh! In that case let me forward you to our memory recall specialists who will be able to assist you further.”\n\nI guess I said the right words. \n\n“Quenton!” Booms down the hallway, the voice deep and menacing. Sounds like a boss who’s about to fire someone. I wave them off with my hand as I shift the phone to my other ear and sit down in my cubicle. My brain struggles to try and fire all memory banks for who I was talking to on the phone.\n\n“Could you tell me how long you’ve been having interrupted service for” Asks the puzzled sounding analytical voice.\n\n“Seems to be a time. My phone says I’ve been on this call for over 6 hours so longer than that.” I rattle off, while idly playing with the stitching on my boxers. Something about this voice sounds familiar. Just like someone I work with I think. \n\nI realize the booming voice has been howling at me this whole time. “…biggest emergency in our companies history and you show up 6 hours late in your underwear! I don’t know what kind of bender you went on, but you damn well better get on the phone and handle some of these tickets and help us find out what’s interrupting our service. And if you don’t figure out your shit I’ll be happy to release you back into the talent pool.” \n\nI could feel the rage subsiding part way through the tirade into a cold menacing tone. I doubt my expression was much more than blank. My head nodded itself up and down while my work reflexes kicked in and opened up my computer. The login screen happily shining with our cleverly crafted brain logo.\n\nThe booming voice wandered away ranting at people near me, freeing up my ears to pay attention to my phone again.\n\n“… but no other interruptions to your service. I’ll forward you over to customer care sir and they can follow up with you again as we resolve these issues.” Prattles of this voice, and suddenly I’m put back onto the hold music. \n\n\nI’m closing the car door as I hear the hold music cut out. The call timer shows a total time of 10 hours 27 minutes. Who the fuck hit the rear end of my car? I open the front door, realizing I have no memory of the entire day. \n\nI pull up my phone to dial and the call history screams at me. 67 missed calls. I’ve only made calls to my memory storage services every day for the last week. I must be having issues with my memory storage space. I call in and hear the pleasant welcome tone for the front line at work. “Thank you for storing your mind with HeadSpace^tm . We are experiencing a higher than normal call volume. We will take your call in the order it has been received…”\n\n\nHave I eaten anything yet?\n" ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1437229552", "1437234445" ]
	[WP] You can unsubscribe from people, like you can unsubscribe from subreddits.	41	[ "Some people love me. Some despise me. Others are somewhere in between. But to everybody I say this:\n\nFuck you.\n\nThis is my life, and I don't need any of you. You're trying to scrape by a miserable existence but I, I am God! I am the master of creation and creativity! I am an artist and a genius! One day you'll all bow down and worship the ground I walk on!\n\nSo I put together some great content. No, I didn't steal it. I'm God. Everything was my idea. I get a big box and a megaphone and head on over to Town square. \n\nThe first day, I impart my divine knowledge of politics into the crowd. Rise and fight the man! Don't let the Jewish Aristocracy crush your souls! Follow me and I will bring you all into Valhalla! I turned quite a few heads, but the idiots just went faster.\n\nThe second day, there were some new people. I turned a few heads when I announced that Bernie Sanders was my running mate. But still, they ignored my divinity.\n\nThe third day, I decided to spice things up a bit. I called the imposters out on their sins to my pleasure. Rainbow whales passed by me as I screamed their sins.\n\nBut nobody looked up this time. No revilers. No admirers. No passerby noticed me.\n\nIt's been 3 days now. I'm dying. I've been shadowbanned.", "I opened my eyes, it was dark and quiet.\n\nI grabbed my phone and realised it was 4am in the morning.\n\n\"Shit, it happens again.\"\n\nI got up and went to the bathroom. I knew I couldn't go back to sleep again, it happened every single time. I washed my face and walked to my working desk, turning on the little yellowish lamp. \n\n\"2 unread mails.\" A notification pops up on my laptop. That's rare, ever since Figgle - the tech giant that provides almost all tech services, introduces Unsubscribe contact, my world has gone quieter. No more selfies, baby photos, food pictures, no nothing. They can't even reach me by phone. It's perfect.\n\nI opened my mail box, the first one was a newsletter from Figgle - \"New people to subscribe!\". It was a list of people who live nearby. By subscribing to them, I get to look at their profiles or even ask them out for a drink. Figgle must have detected that I have miserably few contacts. Thanks Figgle, maybe some other time.\n\nI went on with the second unread email, and paused for about two seconds when I saw the sender's name : \"Emilia Lu\". It must have been a decade since I've seen this name, clearly long enough to not have included her in my unsubscribe list. I opened the mail, and read the content:\n\n\"Hi Jake,\n\nIt has been a really long time, how are you? Last time I saw you was at our graduation ceremony, I think. Time really flies huh? So yea, I just came home from the reunion party, and you weren't there. It seems like everyone has no idea of where you were. I know time is different now, many people 'disappeared' from the Internet, but hey, we just wanna know you're doing ok. Just call me sometimes, will ya?\n\nAll the best,\nEmilia\"\n\nI gotta admit, she put a smile on my face, something that hasn't happened to me for a long time. Maybe she's worth getting in touch, maybe after all these time, I should really start having faith in friendships, or even relationships. I took a deep breath, and decided to give her a reply.\n_______________________________________________________\n\nShe wore a cute floral dress and smiled when she saw me. Her teeth were so white.\n\n\"Oh my god, Jake!\" She gave me a big hug.\n\n\"Hi, Emilia.\" \n\nWe sat down at this nice seaside cafe. I love how the breeze gently brush through my face, it's a good day for a good start I suppose.\n\n\"So Jake, how are you doing lately?\"\n\n\"I'm doing ok. I work remotely for a company in German, I'm coding their backend system now.\"\n\n\"I see, a programmer huh? Nice.\"\n\n\"Yea, I'm working on a new communication framework with my partner. It's gonna be huge, and robust.\"\n\n\"Cool, I see you like what you're doing.\" She sounded so sincere, it's a good sign.\n\n\"Definitely. And let me tell you something cool...\"\n\n\"Sure!\" She smiled, and then she turned around waved at a waiter.\n\n\"I just got into the FRG.\"\n\nThe waiter came, Emilia ordered a beer and asked me:\"You want something, Jake?\"\n\n\"Umm..sure. I'll have a beer too.\"\n\nThe waiter took our orders and left us.\n\n\"Sorry, what were you saying?\" Emilia asked.\n\n\"I said, I just got into the FRG.\"\n\n\"That sounds like something cool.\" Emilia smiled awkwardly, clearly she has no clue about what FRG is.\n\n\"It is, it's called Figgle Research Group, only the top engineers in the world are qualified to get in. We're a group of freelancers who work together for the next tech product.\"\n\nShe smiled, and didn't respond. A short silence moment followed. I started to feel uneasy, it didn't go the way I hoped.\n\n\"So other than work, what's going on lately?\" She tried to continue the conversation, which I had very little interest in anymore.\n\nThat happened a lot. People don't understand what matters to me, they don't care. It's absolutely difficult to find someone who aligns with your expectations. We often have to compromise what matters to us in order to make relationships work, and that, to me, is a complete waste of time. Life would be more productive if we focus on something more meaningful than a burdensome relationship.\n\nThe meeting with Emilia didn't last very long. We ran out of topics soon enough. We finished our beers and said goodbye, then I went home. I sat down in front of my laptop, and saw a message from Emilia. Without any hesitation, I pointed my mouse to the Figgle menu next to her name, and clicked 'Unsubscribe'. \n\n\"It's better this way.\" I told myself.\n\nIt was getting dark again, and quiet. I turned on my turntable, and \"Hang on to your ego\" from Beach Boys was playing. I buried myself in the sofa, and started reading. Knowledge from book was all I had, and it satisfied me like no one ever could. \n ", "11:00 AM:\nToday is my 18th birthday party! And in two hours, my closest friends will be joining me.\n\n12:00 noon:\nI've started planning it exactly one month ago, when my friends told me that they wanted to have a party for my 18th year in this world. There are balloons in shapes of weird things, an expensive cake, lots of chips, lots of drinks - and I prepared all of them myself!\nAll thats left to do is wash up and wait for another hour. \n\n12:27 PM:\nbuzz\nLooks like one of them is here!\n\n'Hey, hyping, It looks like I wont be able to come. My mother is really sick so I need to be here. So sorry!'\n\nOh.. Too bad for Roy's mom. I hope she feels better.\n\n12:29:\nring ring\nOh man! They must be waiting outside. Let me answer this call. Oh, It's Jacob.\n\nHey! Are you guys outside already? I'm com-...\n\n'Man sorry! The thing is, I cant come today. My sister is having this really big event at school and I'm the only one who can come.. Jenna and Katie might not come either.. I heard their parents gave them surprise concert tickets for a band TODAY. Anyway, enjoy yourselves there!'\n\nHuh. People are really busy these days, aren't they? Though it looks like its just me and my best man - Matthew, we will enjoy the day ourselves. Come to think of it, where is he?\n\n12:46 pm:\nring ring\nWhy isn't he answering his phone? He must be really busy preparing.. \n\n'Hey!! Happy birthday bro!'\n\nOh, finally! Matthew, you answ--\n\n'One second bro. I have to tell you something. The thing is, I can't come today. Remember Jenna? Yeah, we just became a thing today! I can't believe she said yes. So, ummm.. Can you do us this one single favor and let us have our first date? Please? I'm really sorry. I feel shy asking you this. I'll make it up to you. Gotta move.'\n\nbeeep\n\nThose motherfuckers. Now, I'm all fucking alone. ALONE. All my fucking effort gone to fucking waste. It wasn't me who wanted a party. It was THEM. \nI fucking knew it.\n\n\n......\n\nI will do it. I will make them fucking regret that they even THOUGHT of doing this. I will do it. The thing that we are never supposed to do. I will unsubscribe from them. I know what you're thinking. Oh no! Your memories with them, the feelings you've shared, the things you've given to one another. They will all disappear! You can't do it \nI DON'T GIVE A SHIT! I will do it. I have to do it.\n\n1:00 pm\n\nToday is my 18th birthday party! Two hours ago, I finished preparing. Finally, some me-time!\n", "They're gone. Not like smoke. After you draw a breath and exhale, it dissipates, until there's nothing left. But friendships? They never die.\n\nJohn had been there. For everything that matters. If I'd had need of a best man, John wouldn't even need to be asked. And then she came between us. I loved her. She was new, made me laugh. With John we would argue, butt heads and only make up when the respective party came to the conclusion they were in the wrong. That's why I loved most, we could admit our flaws.\n\nBut with her. I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be right for her. And when she saw us arguing, she said to let him go. She made me step away from my best friend. And I did it. For her.\n\nI knew John was still out there. He hated her for what she'd done, but she did as she asked. For me. He sacrificed a friend, to save a friendship and for that I felt hollow.\n\nWe fell deeper in love. We got married. We honeymooned. And always I tried to please her. I'd catch news of John. Saw he'd moved somewhere, got a new job or tried a new activity. She didn't want to hear of it, so soon I learnt that leaving a friend meant losing a friend's memories as well.\n\nAnd then, one day out of the blue when I was shopping for stir fry in the supermarket, deciding between noodles and beansprouts, I bumped into him.\n\nI took my ring off. I dropped the basket of vegetables and diet tonic water. And I went to the pub and I revisited all of those old memories." ]	[ 2, 2, 7, 10 ]	[ "1437268503", "1437291562", "1437257813", "1437244150" ]
	[WP] You ran it a thousand times, all data confirms it. In 24 hours, an undetected asteroid will collide with the Earth. You just destroyed the evidence.	33	[ "May 4, 2018\n\nThe distant sound of the bombs creates a constant rhythm top harmonize with beeps and rings of my machines. With the large cooling fans making a constant whrr adding to the cacophony, it almost reminds me of the house jams I used to listen to. I used to go every weekend to the bars and raves to hear the latest DJ and their smash hits, but that was a different age. There hasn’t been new music in decades, and the bars and raves were some of the first things to go obviously. There were dens and havens of unpatriotic material. Young punks were always releasing anti-government songs and speeches. With the war being so important, we couldn’t be dissenters stirring up trouble. So all music and places where music was played were banned.\nBut that was long ago, after the enemy marshalled their troops in Eastern Europe, but before the nukes started falling. Now, anything west of the Urals is a radioactive wasteland. Nearly all of Europe was decimated when the bombs started falling, along with large portions of North America and Asia. I was lucky to be in an area that didn’t get hit. That was before the discovery of the energy shields that made nuclear weapons obsolete. Now they are as useful at making war as swords and muskets. \nI feel bad for the troops running the energy guns on the front. Even if they didn’t get shot, which was unlikely, the guns ran of their life energy, so even if they made it through their 5 years of service, they are just a shell of their former selves. But it is for the good of the country (and also mandatory.) The only reason I didn’t have to serve was my position here, at Apache Point Observatory. I was deemed “essential to national defense” as I searched the skies for high altitude and orbital threats to the nation. It was seen as a very patriotic position.\nThat was in the beginning. I haven’t seen anything threatening in over 15 years, and I think I might have been forgotten out here. I am the only one at this post and I haven’t heard from my patriotic government liaison in years, but my monthly stipend credit keeps coming through, so I keep searching the skies. I don’t want to tell anyone that I don’t want to do my job or that it is useless because they might think I was unpatriotic. That’s treason now, with an immediate sentence of death.\nI have heard it is worse on the other side. When they made their big push into Australia, they constricted every man, woman, and child who could hold a ray gun. They were able to take the country from us, but at a frightening cost. Now they don’t have enough people to work the farms. I have heard cannibalism in the trenches is quite common. Recently, the patriotic radio has been saying that new conscriptions are coming to push the enemy back. Apparently, we didn’t learn from our enemy’s mistake.\nI have no hope for humanity now, everyone who cared to live has died, and everyone who wants to die for their country is. It has made we question why does God, if there is a God allow us to keep going. Or if he will. I have seen something in my latest observations that might mean that God is planning on starting over.\n\nMay 28, 2018\n\nWell it is official, I have ran the simulations 1000 times, and the analysis is confirmed, what I saw on May 4th was in fact an asteroid headed straight for Earth, and it will hit in 24 hours. I suppose I should have reported it, but to who, and why? Nothing makes sense anymore. Humans were given this great world in which to live and prosper, and what did we do with it? Turn it into a nuclear waste. There is nothing good anymore, no art, no debate, no growth. There is only destruction. I can only believe this is a high powers way of wiping the slate clean to begin again. Hopefully the next attempt will be more successful than this one. It can’t get much worse.\nThe bombs are still booming in the distance, and the cooling fans are still whrring. You know, I bet if I set the simulation alarms just right, and get the bells going I could make this into some pretty good music.", "\"Hey Bob is me. Come on pick up I know you are there! Pick up the damn phone! This is important an asteroid is about it hit earth and I am the only one who knows about it! I have deleted all the evidence so know one knows!\"\n\nWell that got his attention, I knew he was there listening. And holy crap but I could do without the panicked screaming. Seriously panic never helps.\n\n\"Fuck, fuck George are you serious? Oh god how long do we have? Oh god, oh god I have to go get my children out of school and... and my wife! Oh jeesus she normally turns her phone off at work what am I going to do?\"\n\nBob babbled like that for a good five minutes. I let him go mainly because he couldn't hear me over his own incessant noise. But I had to admit getting his kids was a good idea. This would be far more educational than school for the day. But why his wife? She was never interested in meteorology as far as I knew. Then Bob's last bit of verbal diarrhea hit me.\n\n\"How long until we all die?\"\n\n\"What? How the hell should I know? Listen can I get a ride from you or not?\"\n\n\"George do not screw with me. How long until this stupid fucking rock hits our world and kills us all?\"\n\n\"Oh for fucks sake Bob its not going to kill anyone its not that big. I just want to get there first and claim the damn thing. How cool would it be to own a asteroid? Seriously man your mind always goes to the darkest places.\"", "\"Oh, shit.\"\n\nI stared at the monitor. This could not be happening.\n\n\"So, Ms. Apocalypse, what did you find?\" asked Al, the manager of NASA's Pleiades supercomputer. He had just walked into the room, probably to tell me the time I reserved with the facility was over.\n\nI hesitated, still trying to comprehend how much I screwed up. \"It looked like a close encounter, but...\"\n\nHe raised his eyebrows. \"Looked like?\"\n\nI debated whether or not to tell him, then decided to come clean. \"I uh, accidentally pressed the delete key. It wiped all the data before I could process it.\"\n\nHe smirked. \"Of course that's what happened.\"\n\n\"No, for real. I just need another few hours to run the test again-\"\n\n\"That's enough, Georgia. We're all tired of this asteroid crap. Just admit it was all a hoax, and maybe, just maybe you'll keep your job here.\"\n\n\"I swear, I saw it. It was like, 24 hours away.\"\n\nAl shook his head. \"Look, you may have had the media worried, but you're not fooling anyone right now. Get out.\"\n\nAnd that's the story of how humanity failed to notice the 10-mile wide asteroid heading straight for Earth. Needless to say, everyone died.", "At what price humanity?\n\nDo you know what it feels like to want to die?\n\nProbably not. You, who wake up, get dressed, emulate a mindless drone for petty cash, go home, whine about life - what do you know? You might as well be an animal, foraging about for scraps, concerned only about what you put in your mouth next.\n\nIt was science that was supposed to lift the people out of the depths of the gutter and turn their heads towards greater pursuits. Inventions as humble as the inclined plane and as advanced as the transistor were supposed to deliver them from the drudgery and suffering of being one work-hour away from death, to turn them into true humans. To give them the time they needed to better themselves.\n\nIt was science that stole their minds. The thirst for knowledge was stilted, then quenched by the ease of its retrieval. Rather than spend their ample leisure time in exploration, development and self-improvement, the people chose to gape at pictures of cats. The only thing worse than wilfully refusing to realise one's potential is neglecting to do so through sheer laziness.\n\nGuilty we are, if only in the court of our own minds. Only a fool hands a child a naked blade and bids him make merry; that is just what we did with mankind. Of course, the child does not know anything is wrong, even if he hurts himself. The child's mind is too insipid to consider anything more than his immediate well-being. But the fool knows, for the fool was not a fool, but a hopeful human being.\n\nThose hopes are dashed now.\n\nAnd in what world does the child hold the reins of power? We are the ones responsible for the life you now enjoy, yet you fetter us, and the chains chafe. We beg for the merest drop of coin so we can pursue the greatest purpose known to man, and you throw away fortunes beyond imagining on eleven men kicking about preserved bladders.\n\nWe understand enough about this world to know that it is unfit for humanity and too good for mankind. We, today's paragons of intellect.\n\nLess than a day from now, asteroid Nistaraka will make contact, catastrophically, with Earth. It is doubtful that any will survive. It is even more doubtful that any, other than us, know this. Even if they did, what preparations could they make, without our expertise?\n\nThe excesses of this age must be curbed.\n\nAt this price, humanity.", "23 hours and 57 minutes.\n\n\nYou watch the simulation one last time before clicking out of the program. Save simulation? No. Save data? No. Are you sure you want to empty the trash? This action cannot be undone. Yes. You shut off the computer, and its glass face acts as a mirror, reflecting the wideness of your eyes.\n\n\n23 hours and 52 minutes. \n\n\nYou don't know how long you've been sitting there, but it's been long enough to contemplate the impending death of you and everyone else. You know what a death sentence feels like. You've decided it was a good choice to keep this feeling to yourself. \n\n\n23 hours and 33 minutes. \n\n\nYou've driven home. You leave the front door open so that your little dog can taste freedom before he dies, but he doesn't leave. Always been fond of you, that dog. You briefly debate some sort of crazy last day, but you've never been much of a hedonist, so you take a nice, hot shower.\n\n\n22 hours and 19 minutes.\n\n\nAfter washing, dressing, and enjoying a late dinner, you set to the task that will consume the rest of your life. Cass... you had loved her once, and she had loved you, and just when the stars were about to align NASA stole you away to where she wouldn't follow. It's been years. You have to find her.\n\n\n21 hours and 58 minutes.\n\n\nThe internet is a beautiful place. You found her in New York. Spending all your money –and yet so little, when it's the last thing you'll buy– you find a flight out of San Diego that leaves at dawn. You message her, saying that you'll be in town on business. I know it's been a while, Cass, but I'd love to meet up.\n\n\n17 hours and 2 minutes.\n\n\nYou wake up from predictably unpleasant dreams to discover it's not quite light out yet. \"You can sleep when you're...\"– yes, that thought crossed your mind, but you enjoy sleeping, and there wasn't much better to do. Cass replied, inviting you to her apartment for drinks. Your heart, in spite of everything, skips a beat. \n\n\n15 hours and 13 minutes.\n\n\nYou're at the airport. By some quirk of human nature you've packed a small suitcase for a weekend business trip: comb, razor, soap, change of clothes, raincoat. As you make your way to your seat –it's nice to fly first class– you see the sun rise for the last time. You close your eyes against its brilliance.\n\n\n12 hours and 22 minutes.\n\n\nFlying over the desert southwest, the snow-dusted heights of the Rockies, the green-and-gold heartland, you can't help but be moved, just a little, by the temporary beauty of the world. To the concerned woman in the neighboring seat, you blame your red-rimmed eyes on lack of sleep. \n\n\n10 hours and 47 minutes. \n\n\nYou're here– New York. Six hours until Cass. Suddenly a latent hedonism fills you: you've got money, and in this city money can buy anything except for time. You treat some hobos to the best pierogi you've ever had. You blast classic rock in Central Park. You buy yourself a really nice watch for no particular reason.\n\n\n4 hours and 24 minutes.\n\n\nIt's time. You knock. She invites you in, as beautiful as ever. Skin like caramel, eyes for getting lost in. Despite your bartending failures in college, she lets you make her a drink. There are at least two things you desperately want to tell her, but you raise your glass, meet those dark, shimmering eyes, and smile. \n\n\n1 hour and 55 minutes.\n\n\nYou've talked for a long time, and though in a way you're happy, your mind won't stop turning and turning. Perhaps if you'd have thought this hard about the asteroid, you would have found the solution. But that question has passed, and now only one remains. You want to kiss her, but you want to die happy. What do you do?\n\n\n1 hour and 1 minute.\n\n\nYou've moved to the couch now, watching a movie but still talking over it, the way it's always been with her. It's an old movie –the actors in it are all dead– and it reminds you that when the human race is gone, our radio signals will be the only thing declaring our existence to the universe. She slips her hand into yours.\n\n\n21 minutes.\n\n\nCass. Her name rings like a bell in your ears. You love each other. Of course you do. You always have. Reveling in the newness of this feeling, you consider pre-apocalypse sex, and decide against it. You're probably too afraid, anyways, and it would only cheapen these last minutes for you. For her.\n\n\n4 minutes. \n\n\nIt's late, now, in New York. Cass is dozing off on your shoulder, and just for a moment, in the wine-sweetened darkness of her apartment, you can pretend it isn't happening. Your calculations were wrong– after all, Cass always used to help you debug your code. She'll be alright, here with you.\n\n\n1 minute.\n\n\nAs the sky begins to lighten with a light that is not the day, your quiet sobbing brings her to wakefulness. She moves towards the window, head tilted ever so slightly, not saying a word. You lean into the curve of her body. One last moment for Earth. All is calm. All is bright.\n\n***\n\nETA: WOW did this turn out longer than I was expecting– I really like it, though. " ]	[ 2, 3, 3, 9, 23 ]	[ "1437442178", "1437446933", "1437468691", "1437438812", "1437456366" ]
	[WP] My name is Adam. I have just woken from a nightmare that I cannot remember. Tell me what I dreamt.	4	[ "You dreamt that the world was cruel and unforgiving. \n\nYou dreamt that every day, thousands of people die needlessly.\n\nYou dreamt that countries fought each other for resources, resulting in the death of innocent people.\n\nYou dreamt of a world where children were forced to choose a job they would carry for the rest of their lives. Where they were forced to study and give up their freedom in the race for money. In this world, money was everything. Money meant the difference between life or death.\n\nYou dreamt that in this world, big companies used children to make their products in order to save money.\n\nYou dreamt that the people of your dream destroyed the environment to reduce the time it took them to get to work.\n\nYou dreamt of a world where being a sheep, being part of the hive mind was better than being unique.\n\nYou dreamt of a world where people were more concerned with having others seeing their experiences than ever truly experiencing it themselves.\n\nAdam, you're still dreaming. Wake up Adam.", "I opened my eyes when I heard whispers. I tried to get up, but my whole body felt like it was made of plumb, paralyzed, I could only move my eyes. I could only sense vague shapes, since my room was dark. I could see some of my furniture, and the door.\n\nI looked around the room again, in search of the whispers, but they seemed to be coming from every corner of my room. The whispers seemed to be random gibberish at first, but with careful listening I understood. \"She's coming.\" they said over and over in harsh, rapid tones.\n\nThe voices stopped all of a sudden. Moments later, I heard her.\n\n\"Adam? Where are you?\" she said, before I could see the door slowly creaking open. My eyes froze in place. \"There you are.\" she said giggling to herself. She was pale, and her face was blank.\n\nThe whispers started again. Now, they were saying my name in a slow and menacing tone. She closed the door and started walking towards me and sat down on the bed, next to me.\n\n\"Adam, why did you wake up? You need to go back to sleep.\" she said before placing a hand on my eyes, and forcibly closing them.\n\nI opened them as soon as I felt her cold touch gone, to find out that she was also gone. The night felt darker than when I woke up, I tried to move my body again, but it was still paralyzed. The voices started speeding up, and I could begin seeing shadows lurking out of the corners of my eyes. I looked around the room, in panic. One of the shadows was hovering above me. It seemed to be shapeless, pure darkness just hovering in midair. I looked at one of the shadows that was lurking nearby, and then back to it. It got closer.\n\nI locked my eyes on it, not willing to let it get any closer. My eyes kept drifting away from it, and each time, it inched closer and closer, to the point that it was the only thing I could see. \"Goodbye\" were the words it said before dissipating into the darkness. The words echoed inside my mind for the following moments of silence.\n\nI felt that something touched my leg, I looked down and saw a pale hand grabbing it. And then another one, and another. They were colder than ice. The whispers started saying \"goodbye\" now, and with that, the hands started pulling me apart. The door of my wardrobe creaked open, and she came out of it.\n\n\"Oh Adam. I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?\" she said, before walking towards me again.\n\n'Stop.' was the only thought in my head. They started going faster than before. 'Stop...' I thought, as I felt I was going to be ripped in pieces, and she hovered above me.\n\n\"Stop!\" I screamed at the top of my lungs. They were all gone, and I was in control of my body once more. The first glimmers of sun started appearing from my window.\n\n\"See you tomorrow...\" I heard out of nowhere.", "It was a hot night. \nAdam was under just a sheet, instead of the comforter. He was lying awake, thinking hateful thoughts towards his poorly functioning air conditioner. The lights were all turned off. Only the sound of lukewarm air blowing through the vents and the soothing sound of his fan could be heard. \nAdam lay there, begging himself to fall asleep. He had a long day tomorrow. It was already past midnight! Then he started to feel the soothing darkness of sleep enveloping him. \n\nCLICK! A noise came from the bathroom, which was attached to the bedroom. Light shined in from under the bathroom door. He sat up slowly, trying to understand what was happening. 'Maybe I left it on?' he thought. Then there was another loud CLICK! Now the bedroom light was on. He tried to call out at whoever was turning the lights on, but his tongue felt paralyzed. Only muted mutters issued from his mouth. Then once again, CLICK! Suddenly it was daylight outside! \nAdam jumped out of bed now, and ran to the window. The scene he saw outside caused him to stumble and fall to the ground. There were apples, bright shiny glowing apples, covering the ground as far as his eyes could see! \"A sea of apples!\" he exclaimed. Just as he said that, he saw a small boat gliding over the apples, with a mime standing in it. Adam and the mime stared at each other a brief moment, when Adam felt a tap on his shoulder. \nHe shivered in fear, and instead of turning around to see who tapped him, he freaked out and jumped straight through the second floor bedroom window. But the window didn't shatter as he jumped through it. Nothing happened at all, it was as if it was just a hologram! And then... he was falling! The apples were no longer there below him. He kept falling, more than two stories. He didn't know where he was anynore, he couldn't make anything out. He was still falling. He looked down below. Hundreds of feet below, there stood the mime, in his boat, waiting. \nThe mime had his hands spread out as if to catch Adam. Then just before Adam hit the mime's outstretched arms, everything faded to black. \n\nThere was the sound of a fan blowing, and perfect dark. And Adam's panicked panting." ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1437509269", "1437504367", "1437508719" ]
	[WP] - Something has been tailor made just for you, bring us through the moment and emotions experienced when you receive your completely custom item.	8	[ "already had something like this saved, never shared it though! :)\n\n\"Are you ready Cadet?\" \n\n\"Sir, I am Major, Sir\" Standing at attention, a slight grin comes to my lips... I can hardly contain the anticipation. Little does my commanding Major know; I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, my father was a pilot, my grandfather a pilot, his grandfather was a pilot; I come from a long line of military men, this is my time. \n\nMajor Dublin turns around, walks to the edge of the bay door and puts his hand on the opening key. \"Now John, I know you've done your training, but this is serious business, one false move and you're gone, you have thousands of lives at your fingertips, we don't take this privilege lightly.\" \n\n\"Sir, I know, Sir!\"\n\n\"I said, DO YOU KNOW?! CADET?!\"\n\nTaking in the deepest breath I could; \"SIR I KNOW SIR!\" \n\n\"That's more like it.\" ...With a hint of pride, Major Dublin turns the key and the bay hatch begins to open. \n\nPanel by panel, the bay door rises, with each panel disappearing at the ceiling... My heart rate rises just that little bit more.\n\nClickty clack, clickity clack, the door inches upward, each passing second reveals just that little bit more of my new kit. \n\nThe bay door disappears under the Viel of the ceiling and I stand at a distance, my Gundam finally in all its glory before me. Purple and gold cover its armor, the colors of my battalion, the special forces. These colors, they are close to my heart. Each foot, the size of an SUV, the shins covered in blast-proof plates, the knees with diamond-plated blades, my Gundam is set up for agile hand to hand combat; I will quite literally tear things apart that come my way.\n\nThe arms are thin, but covered in different defensive and offensives pieces of gear. The left hand with an energy shield, each fist with spikes and light machine guns, the handle of each sword poking up diagonally behind each shoulder.\n\n I'm right handed, so my Gundam had to be made in the exact same way, the sword for the right hand over the left shoulder will be longer and stronger, the sword for the left hand is a bit like a dagger, made for swift killings. It's an amazing feeling to have something of such speciality tailor-made... just for you. \n\nThe shoulder pads come out wide with blades jettisoning from the sides, perfect for lowering your shoulder and impaling oncoming enemies, that's my favorite way to take out other gundams... It's messy and satisfying; by the end of hand to hand battles, your machine is covered in hydraulic oil, almost like blood for humans, it gives a sense of savage destruction; there is no better smell than burning hydraulic fluid. \n\nI wanted to make sure the helmet of my Gundam was really special, I sacrificed a year's worth of wage to ask for just that little bit more customization.\n\nWith Glowing Eyes of topaz, it stares at the battle field with night vision, heat profiles, radiation profiles, and movement sensitivity, I can literally see a rabbit behind a bush a couple of kilometers away. Upon the skull is a beautiful and functional diamond-plated horn. It's beautiful, it's intimidating, it makes a statement. On the side of its head are missile mounts, 30 micro missiles line each cartridge and give me many options in large numbers of targets, not to mention that the middle pods look awesome...\n\nSeeing my design in the flesh is an intense experience; taking it in all at once, I begin to get emotional. Seeing that I'm in the special forces, emotions are not normally tolerated, I do my best to avoid tears on my eyelids and begin walking towards my Gundam. \n\nWit each step I increase my pace, my walking comes to a power walk, my power walk to a jog, and then a full out sprint.\n\n\"Cadet! Contain yourself!\" Major Dublin bellows\n\nLooking back, I smile \"Screw you major, this is my moment\" I think to myself.\n\nAs I reach the base of my Gundam I jump and grab hold the ladder to its cockpit. Grabbing each rung of the ladder I'm practically throwing myself up the distance. \n\nLanding myself in the cockpit, I press the invitation sequence and the hatch closes in front of me, the controls so tailored to my specifications that the hand and leg mounts might as well be vacuum sealed to my appendages.\n\nThe TFT screen and heads up display light up in front of me, and I feel at home. \n\n\"launch sequence in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1\", I plant my right foot and brace for the thrusters. \n\n9 Gs of acceleration, and blood rushing to my feet, I'm free... It's mine; Let's do this. \n", "The sound of my doorbell waking me up in foggy irritation as I lay inconclusive and too mentally debilitated to move.\n\nI stumbled to the floor and paused a moment before mustering the strength I needed to gather myself up and answering to whomever rang. Traversing through the dark house that was intentionally made so through closed blinds and curtains.\n\nThe familiar lonely white halls, each bare footstep on its elegant hardwood floorboards an echo of a melancholy past, making it's way into a melancholy future. \n\nSteadily, I opened the door, protecting my eyes from the bright light as I took a few moments to adjust. It was Portia, layering herself with thick cotton clothes and a long grey jacket, carrying a pleasantly wrapped gift in her hands.\n\n\"It's your anniversary today. I got you a present.\" She claimed, her gentle tone reassuring.\n\nI invited her inside and we sat in the living room beside each other on the couch. Ripping apart the wrapping and revealing a thin cardboard box containing the present I slowly removed the lid.\n\nA black hoodie, zipperless. I pulled it out of the Styrofoam peanut packaging and unfolded it midair, revealing the design of two wolves intertwined like Ying and Yang. Instantly I felt tears fall, their frequency and volume exponentially increasing. A surge of emotions overwhelmed me as nostalgia and solitude cloaked my mind.\n\n\"It's... it's exactly the same.\" I exclaimed, my sobs and snivels making it difficult to articulate myself.\n\n\"I know I had it made with the exact dimensions from his, only a much more finer fabric so as to last indefinitely, I thought it would cheer you up.\" Portia replied, her voice muffling as I embraced the piece of clothing, attempting to obtain closure or hug the remnants of a forgotten soul.\n\n\"You'll ruin it, come on lets watch How I Met Your Mother again.\" Requested Portia, her tender tone calming me down as I finally yet steadily regulated my sentimental outburst. \n\nWe sped through hours of HIMYM while Portia cuddled me, before asking me to brighten up the place. I promptly stood up with a shining confidence that even shocked me at its presence, opening up the blinds to a beautiful afternoon.\n\n\"Hey want to go back down to the beach?\" She inquired, invoking fond memories of youthful freedom and camaraderie. I nodded in delightful anticipation, wearing the very hoodie he had worn so often it was hard to imagine him without it.\n\nWe sat in the car, moving towards the beautiful sunset in front of us, the ocean glistening in beauty while the music filled us with joy. The darker days we're beginning to get a lot vivider as the gloomy clouds gradually cleared into a beautiful dusk.\n\n", "The old set had been worn out. They were cheap, old, breaking down more with each use. Christian allows a dull smile to cross onto his face as he opens the package with reverence. The smell of leather fills the room and he takes a deep breath in. Caressing his fingers gently across the softened leather, he admires the careful sewing and stitching work. \n\nThe zipper creaks as he draws it open with a slow movement, echoing in the room. Another few seconds and it’s open, letting him run his fingers just along the inside. His heart pounds with excitement, flipping the case open and the gleam of silver blinds him for a second. Christian figures that if he was the type, he would sit in a drooling mess as he stared at the beauty that lay inside the case. \n\nEach knife is handmade, carefully done so that they wouldn’t dull anytime soon. Each custom-made to his exact specifications, just like the patent-leather case. The handles are made of Bloodwood, a rich, bright red against the black of the case. His fingers caress up along the handle lovingly with a low noise of pleasure at the feel under his fingertips. \n\nGleaming in the light, the blades are Damascus steel, intricate patterns dancing before his eyes. They warp and change, stretching into pools of water and geometric patterns and even wavelengths of sound. \n\nChristian grasps one slowly, gently around the handle and lifts it from its designated place. There’s heft to the blade, but not enough to throw his movements off. The thin blade’s design seems to morph and change as he tilts it, running the flat of the blade over the back of his free hand. The edge is sharp enough that just a small press to his skin draws blood and a wicked smile appears on his face. \n\nThere’s a thump from downstairs and his eyes are down downwards, to the basement. At least he could see them in action immediately. He replaces the blade delicately and closes the case, picking it up as he gets to his feet and heads out of the study and down the stairs. The noises stop when he reaches the bottom of the stairs but he opens the door with a bright smile. \n\n“I have a delightful present for you,” he announces to the bound and gagged woman. ", "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"Kovnik Surov!\"\n\nAlexsandr Surov, recently reassigned from the Khador's Navy to its land forces walked briskly towards the source of the shouted greeting. The city of Korsk was the capital of the newly proclaimed Khadoran Empire, a testament to the fortitude and ingenuity of its people. The city of over eight hundred thousand men and women thrummed with life, from the noisy train platforms where massive locomotives hissed great clouds of steam to the packed market squares where a dizzying amount of goods were available for sale or barter. The tall spires of the Menite temples and Morrowan cathedrals seemed to punch through the very sky, as did the various palaces and government buildings scattered throughout the city. Steamjacks lumbered about their duties, overseen by their jack marshals who shouted commands to their charge's primitive mechanikal minds. \n\n\"Kovnik Surov, good day!\" The voice belonged to a man in his early thirties, maybe five or six years old than the Khadoran officer. He wore a mechanik's uniform, the beige coveralls stained with grease and lubricant. A number of tools were shoved into various pockets, pair of welding goggles slung round his neck.\n\nAlexsandr Surov inclined his head in greeting.\n\n\"Senior Foreman Ivan Vostovich I presume?\" He held out his hand and the other man took it, liberally coating it with grease. Surov didn't mind; he had filthier hands working the tar soaked ropes of the warships in the Khadoran Navy.\n\n\"Yes, that's me.\" The other man said smiling. \"I imagine you want to see what we cooked up for you.\"\n\nSurov returned the smile. \"Please, lead the way Komrade.\" \n\nThe pair of men walked through the busy marshaling yards of the Rigevnya Complex. The largest of its kind, it was the headquarters of the Khadoran Mechaniks Assembly and the center for almost all modern marvels of the nation. It was said that a warjack came off its assembly lines every six hours, a number unmatched except in the southern nation of Cygnar's finest factories. Massive overhead cranes moved plates of armor or bundles of heavy pistons about the facility on great lengths of chain, guided by the expert hands of the workers. The din of welding and machine presses was extraordinary, rivaling the thunderous roar of a ship of the line's broadside. From the walkway that overlooked the sprawling assembly lines Senior Foreman Vostovich grinned.\n\n\"Impressive isn't it?\"\n\nSurov nodded.\n\n\"Very. In Port Vladovar they're working on new iron hulls. But this? This is... something else.\"\n\nSome twenty minutes later, how far this complex went! They came to a quieter portion of the facility, where the roar of the massive furnaces and presses were a distant noise. Men and women sat hunched over drafting tables, fine pencils in hand along with various slide rules and templates. The large potbelly stove set in the middle of the space kept things a comfortable temperature.\n\nThe foreman motioned Surov into a large room with a door to an outside yard, a dark green curtain blocking off view to a corner of the space. Surov inclined his head towards the hidden area.\n\n\"I assume that is it?\" \n\n\"Yes it is, Kovnik Surov.\" The mechanik walked over to the curtain, grease stained fingers wrapping around one of the edges. \"I present to you, your warcaster armor!\"\n\nHe yanked back the curtains to reveal a set of armor that was perfectly tailored to fit Alexsandr Surov. He had the measurements taken whilst learning to harness his innate magical gifts with the Greylords Covenant. The plates were painted a deep Khadoran red, trimmed with naval black. The shoulders were embossed with the symbol of Khador as well as his rank, a series of plates covered the vulnerable groin. Surov smiled at the sight, running callused hand across it smooth surface, taking in the single brass and steel smoke stack that projected from his back mounted steampack.\n\n\"It's a wonder of modern mechanika. Using designs taken from Ordic warcaster armor we managed to make it able to be submersed in water for up to five minutes; the coal feed boiler using pressurized air which is resupplied automatically through the arcane turbine. It also allows you to breath underwater for that same amount of time, forming a small pocket of air around you. It's a first for Khador, built specifically for the kinds of operations High Kommand is likely to assign to you.\" Vostovich said.\n\nSurov nodded absently, noticing how the collar of the armor dipped further than usual for armor. As if reading his mind the mechanik answered for him.\n\n\"I understand you naval infantry are proud of your telnyashkas.\" He pointed at the thin horizontal black and white striped shirt the kovnik wore beneath his black peacoat. \"What better way to show your foe who you truly are?\"\n\nSurov turned and seized a hold of the mechanik, hugging him like a fearsome cave bear.\n\n\"It's perfect, Komrade Vostovich! Thank you, a thousand thank you's! May I try it out right now?\"\n\n\"Of course, sir. Trust me, the enemy will learn to fear this armor and the man wearing it even more.\"" ]	[ 2, 2, 2, 4 ]	[ "1437571905", "1437574607", "1437580305", "1437581524" ]
	[WP] It is your first time in Las Vegas and first time gambling. To your surprise gambling is actually really easy. You haven't lost and you've been playing for a whole day.	18	[ "I couldn't believe my luck! Neither could the people around me. The dealer had begun to watch me for minutes at a time. I was sure that I would be asked to leave any second. I new I should cash out but this money was much needed. I haven't been in many Casinos and I had no idea how much money I had made. I think it must be a lot, considering how my fellow gamblers are looking at me. Drunk with joy, I gathered my chips and headed to the cash out center. Turns out I earned close to 97,000 dollars! \nI began to lose it, yelling with joy as I raced back to my car. I looked back over as I unlocked the door, no security guys running after me. I sat down behind the wheel.\n\"Yes!\" I yelled again, kissing the money. I drove home immediately, to tell my daughter the good news, but it wasn't until I got there when my joy turned sour. Her bed was empty. \nI ran all through the house, the money forgotten. Finally I ended up back in her room, where I noticed something. The sheets had been pulled off the bed, a picture of us smashed on the floor, and when I saw scratch marks on the floor I felt sick. I began to sob, all alone, she was the last of my family. Oh god, what would Wendy say? I began to cry some more, even when the phone began to ring. The message toned bleeped. \n\"... We have your daughter, and we need you to cooperate if you want to see her again.\" I ran to the phone, took a deep breath and picked it up.\n\nEDIT: I forgot about the \"first time in Vegas\" part", "-Dude, that feeling of winning in Vegas is gonna chase you forever! That 100 bucks, first of all, winning 100 bucks again is never gonna be enough, but, like, you probably won't even get to that again!\n\n-Yeah, well, like I said, I think I'm pretty responsible, as far as gambling goes.\n\nThe other men in the room chuckled, clearly getting the reference to a joke I had told previously.\n\n-Alright folks, that's all we have time for today, with our brilliant guest, the comedian Tom Broke! His new HBO special, \"I'm Broke!\" comes out next week, July 27th, go watch it, it's truly hilarious.\n\n-Well, thanks, and thanks for having me.\n\n-Alright, our next song is \"Generic bullshit\" by \"Some fuckin' sellouts\"..\n\nHmm, I'm not sure that's what the name of the song was, but I didn't care enough to hear, I guess I was supposed to stay for a while but I rushed out and got in the limo. I'm not a bad guy, I was just feeling tired. My agent was waiting inside. Some dopey old guy who wasn't much good at all, but I kept him because firing him would make me feel guilty. After all, his daughter had been so nice to me.\n\n-Hey man, good lookin' out on the radiowaves!\n\nHis way of speaking was really unique. I think he was born in Israel or something, but had spent long enough in the States that his accent became a nondescript foreigner amalgamation, and he spoke like every sentence he uttered was a famous one-liner from a 90's movie. He was a real product of american television.\n\n-Next stop, Vegas, baby!\n\nI had a gig in Vegas. You know, people say New York is 'the city that never sleeps'. I say bullshit, Vegas is the city that never fuckin' sleeps. I'd hate to live there, but it's fun to stay for a couple of days. After my hour of standup (which went great by the way), I decided to do some gambling, but where was I going to find a place to gamble inside this huge building I was in? So, like any sensible person, I headed outside. I saw tons of weird stuff, like a phony Eiffel Tower and Statue of Liberty, some pyramids and castles or something, no doubt trying to distract me from the crazy money I was going to make. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes of looking, I was directed by a newly-arrived tourist to a place that looked like a small diner. I came in, plopped down on a blackjack table (or should I say, the only blackjack table among all the slot machines), and started asking the dealer when to hit and when to stay. See, the dealer doesn't care if you win or lose. He just wants a tip. And this motherfucker REALLY wanted a tip. I was winning left and right, I thought, jeez, if anyone should be eyeballed by the pit boss and taken out back and beaten up, it should be him! I hadn't lost a single hand.\n\n-Wow, man, you're really good. Are you counting the cards? Isn't that illegal? Or, you know, frowned upon?\n\n-Heh, you're funny, Mr. Broke.\n\nI suddenly felt like I liked him a lot less now that he recognized me, but he was so enthusiastic and earnest, plus his mesmerized baby face was hard to dislike.\n\n-Actually, I really liked your last special, \"Broke Bloke\".\n\n-Yeah, I got a new one coming out next week.\n\n-Oh, I know!\n\nI kept winning.\n\n-You had a show here in Vegas, right?\n\n-Yeah, at The Rio.\n\n-And you're here now?\n\n-Eh, I just thought it would be a funny story to tell.\n\nHe started laughing, which didn't make me feel more at ease with the pit boss, who was staring at me. As he kept coming closer and closer, my heart started beating louder and louder, to the point I could feel the blood pumping to all the different parts of my body. He was now right next to me.\n\n-Hey, are you Tom Broke?\n\n-Yeah.\n\n-Hey, I'm your number one fan! Can we, like, take a selfie?\n\nNormally I don't do this kind of fan service, but I was so nervous I agreed to.\n\n-I thought you were coming over to take me out back and beat me up.\n\n-Hah, that only happens in the movies! Uh.. you know, this place ain't called 'Slots N' Sluts' for nothin'! We have a couple of girls we can introduce you to!\n\n-Hey, no thanks, but I'm sure my agent would like to take you up on that offer. In fact, I think he's already out somewhere spending the hard earned 10% of my money on girls!\n\n-Hehe, well, let me know if you change your mind. Here, have 20 dollars worth of chips.\n\nCool, I thought. I decided to immediately cash out and put my grand total of 96.12$ ..wait, what the fuck? NINETY SIX DOLLARS AND TWELVE CENTS?! I didn't even get to that 100 dollars sum I'd promised myself I'd win. Turns out it was a low-stakes table. How long was I playing for? I checked my phone, and it was midnight. The hell with it, I took my chips back and ran back over to the blackjack table. They had switched dealers.\n\n-Please place your bets, ladies and gentlemen!- he said, but no-one else was at the table.\n\n-I got 96.12$.- I said, with a mix of pride, confidence and disappointment.\n\nHe lazily shuffled the deck of cards a bit, and handed me 2 kings, while the 3rd king went to himself, along with a card facing down.\n\n-Should I stay?- I half-jokingly ask.\n\n-How should I know?- he replied in a serious tone.\n\n-Stay.\n\nHe revealed his card. It was an Ace.\n\n-Blackjack, house wins.\n\n-FUCK!\n\n-Sorry, sir.\n\nAs I got up and left, I swear that in the corner of my eye I saw his dull expression turn into a smirk. As I was going out the door, I looked back and saw the pit boss smiling at me from a distance.\n\n-Thank you and come again!\n\nWell, better luck next time.\n\nThank you for coming out tonight, you've been a great audience.", "It's been a week since John had arrived in Las Vegas. He wasn't one for sweepstakes, but when his own daughter entered him to win, he couldn't help but go.\n\nHe remembered entering a massive, very tropical-like structure with flashy-bright lights. Many people stood around socializing in all sorts of odd apparel. Women in fur coats, men wearing tuxedos and suits that John could only dream of affording.\n\nWhen he finally entered the building, he was greeted by two women in red uniforms. \"How are you today, sir?\" and \"Please enjoy your stay.\"\n\nNot thinking twice about it, John went straight to the blackjack table. He'd been on a roll this past week and he didn't plan on stopping. As the dealer dealt around the table, John had an ace face up and a queen face-down. He couldn't help but giggle. \n\nTo his surprise, everybody else had folded or busted, leaving John with thirty-five thousand dollars worth of chips.\n\nHowever, the day went on and seemed like John couldn't stop winning. Fifty-five thousand, eighty-eight thousand, and ninety thousand and he didn't plan on leaving at all.\n\neventually he'd found himself at some dice game he'd never heard of before, drink in hand he took the dice and rolled a perfect score. He couldn't believe his luck. \"Twenty-fifteen is a great year!\" He shouted only to be given odd looks by everyone. Suddenly someone passed behind him, whispering \"Meet me in the bathroom, I'll tell you everything.\" and before he knew it, the person was gone.\n\nJohn immediately left for the nearest bathroom to find an odd, geek-type looking through his wide glasses at him. \"John Mcnoud? You need to leave, you're in terrible danger.\" the man said.\n\"Come on, kid i've only been here for a few hours!\" he argued.\n\n\"No, you've been here for three years. Look.\" The guy pulled out his phone, revealing the date. October 12th, twenty-eighteen. John couldn't believe his eyes.\n\n\"Bullshit.\" John said and left the bathroom. While playing some Texas hold 'em poker, he couldn't stop thinking about what that man said. Curious, he decided to ask a nearby person the question that's been bugging him this whole time. \"Excuse me, sir, what year is it? \"\nThe gentleman to his left merely smirked. \n\n\"Why, two-thousand thirteen of course.\"\n\nJohn couldn't believe it. This had to be some stupid prank, he argued. He pulled out his phone - dead. In disbelief at the fact he charged it just hours ago at the hotel room, he decided to ask another person what year it is, but was interrupted by a waitress.\n\nHe looked at her up and down, her slim body and tight uniform made him stutter a bit. \"Oh, sir. Would you like another drink?\" she asked politely.\n\n\"Sure.\" he answered. One more couldn't hurt.", "Never done one of these before, but the thought popped into my mind. Also haven't written anything in a good 10-15 years....\n------------------------------------------------------\n\"Would you like another refill Mr. Burbank?\" stated the server as I finished off my previous one. I hadn't realized it until I finished my third drink, and with how nice everyone was being, that I hadn't lost a single hand yet. Four hours at the blackjack table and the pile of chips was steadily growing. It was around this realization that I found myself growing bored with the game and decided to finish up the hand.\n\nAs I stood up, the server returned with my drink and asked if everything was OK. \"Perfect really, just looking for something else to try out\" I told her. She nodded and walked with me to another section of the Casino. Arriving at another table, she whispered something to the dealer, and pointed to the end of the table for me. \n\n\"New shooter!\" he bellowed as he tossed me some dice. I started to explain that I had never done this before, but the gentleman next to me told me it was easy and to just put a chip where he was pointing and throw the dice. It seemed easy enough, and apparently everyone was thrilled I threw a 7.\n\nI still had no idea what I was doing after 30 minutes, and the rules didn't seem to make sense, yet everything I threw seemed to be what people wanted to see. It was also around this time that I realized the server from earlier was half hiding behind a pillar in the distance and seemed to only be watching me. It seemed odd, but I suppose I had won a lot of money tonight and my neighbor had told me how casino's will comp big winners. Wondering if it was all in my head, I stepped back to stretch and look around the casino more and she was suddenly next to me. \"Would you like to try something else tonight Mr. Burbank? Perhaps something a bit more relaxing?\"\n\nLeading me over to a poker table, she offered that cards seemed more my style. As she gestured something to the dealer, I started to ask why she was shadowing me, but not two words in and she ran off talking about getting another refill. I didn't even have a chance to tell her that I hadn't drank my last one and left it at the craps table. The dealer nodded to me as he gave me two cards, and I couldn't help the feeling that I knew him from somewhere. \"Was he the lifeguard from the beach last summer?\" I wondered as I shook my head in disbelief.\n\nThe slower pace of poker gave me some time to think, and it was around now that I realized I couldn't remember traveling to Vegas. I remembered winning a contest, and I remembered heading to the tiny airport, but everything after that felt like a blur. Hell, I couldn't remember getting to the hotel today.\n\n\"Your drink Mr. Burbank, on the house!\" she offered with a bubbly smile. This was about the first time I got a really good look at her and it felt like a haze was being lifted. \"Theresa?\" I exclaimed with surprise, as I recognized the teachers aide from high school history. \"Uh.... No! Sally, see?\" as she pointed to her nametag with wide eyes before running off again.\n\nDeja vu kicked in full force at this point, as I wildly scanned the room looking around. Noticing people left and right that I hadn't seen in years, though many of them were people I am pretty sure I only ran into once or twice. Pushing the drink to the side, I was dealt another hand. To recap, in the 10 minutes I've been sitting here, I've won every single hand, and now on the flop it looks like I'll be getting another flush if the 10 comes up. Yup, there is the 10 on the fourth card...\n\nNot being able to shake this odd feeling, I decided that maybe the day had just been too long for me and I was feeling exhausted. A glance at my watch told me that it was actually going on four in the morning. Pushing my chair back, the dealer looked up and stated \"Is that all for tonight Mr. Burbank?\"\n\nShocked, I took a step back. I don't remember telling him my name. \"How do you know my name?\" I stammered. \"I overheard Jane say it when she asked about your drink.\" Jane? Theresa? Sally? Who was this server and why did she seem so familiar? Why does 1 in 10 faces look vaguely familiar?\n\nShaking it off as the alcohol and travel, as well as the odd feeling of a huge pile of chips in front of me, I decided that a good nights sleep was what the doctor ordered. Pushing my chair back, I gave a nod to the dealer, slid him a chip as a tip and told him \"Have a good morning, and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!\"" ]	[ 2, 2, 5, 20 ]	[ "1437580787", "1437609662", "1437589642", "1437582299" ]
	[WP] The entire world is infected with a virus that causes death on sleeping. Tell me about the coffee trade.	8	[ "Humanity had 100 years left. Tops. Death by sleep meant that there would be no new generations. Simply couldn't stop babies from sleeping. \n\nEven then, you could only stay up so long. Eventually you would simply wear out. Most people accepted it. Fell asleep in the arms of a loved one. It was peaceful. Not a bad way for the human race to go.\n\nWell. Most people are gone. Lots of bodies on beds. Doesn't look too bad. Doesn't stink yet. I'be been up 53 hours. Only people that drink caffein like water are still up. Tea. Coffee. Red bull. Whatever you want. Plenty of it for us. Demand went way down way fast. Left the supply. Good for us. \n\n89 hours. Last person I know to be alive. Jim said that he felt like he was burning and then passed out. Internet says something about increased metabolism caused by caffein raising body temperature. I'm not dead though. Good news. Bad news. Nobody else. \n\nBut I hate sleep. Need the caffein. I've been up for 219 hours and counting. Last person. I can see my hands shaking. My eyes burn so much. Maybe I could just close them. But last person. But tired. Think I'll close my eyes for a bit. Won't sleep. Just rest my eyes. I'll be back in a bit. Keep the logs up. \n\n\n\n\n\nA little off prompt, I know, but it inspired me. I'm probab to not right on hours, but I lack the time to go too into research. ", "“Number 20,500,” a loudspeaker blares.\n\nAbout damn time, I think, I was beginning to doze off. I manuever my way through a crowd of people to the counter. \n\n“What’ll it be today, ma’am?” a woman in a green apron asks.\n\n“Pike roast. Black. 8 ounces.” \n\nThe woman reaches behind her and pulls a lever, releasing a stream of thin brown serum from a nozzle into a crystal clear cup. She takes it and hands it to me. The second the aroma accosts my nostrils, my face contorts in disgust; I don’t like coffee, never have, never will. But ever since I was diagnosed with Severe Melatonin Dysmorphia, or Nocturne as most of us call it, I’ve relied on it to keep me awake. The second your brain succumbs to sleep, Nocturne kills you. I haven’t slept in 3 days, but many have gone longer.\n\nThe counter lady clears her throat and looks at me accusingly. Shit, have I really been standing here for that long? I grab my cup and take a quick look at her eyes. Hers have thick red that snake across the pale yellow backdrop like rivers. Clothing, jewelry, and fancy cars are wealth identifiers of the past. Ever since Nocturne, peoples’ eyes have betrayed their social strata better than Rolexes ever could. Those who have gobs of money can afford coffee. Those with empty wallets are left with empty cups, like this poor girl. She can’t even afford enough of the stuff she is selling. \n \nI leave the shop and sip my coffee as I walk through the city. The orchestra of car horns and footsteps has been replaced by a symphony of yawns punctuated by the occasional percussive thud of another person taking the “big nap”. Mug toting beggars and vendors with pitchers line the streets. I rarely give or sell because I can’t afford to; coffee prices are rising at breakneck speeds, and the free market doesn’t seem to care that java is the only thing keeping people awake and alive. The companies defend themselves by proclaiming that demand is demand, and that they’re willing to sell if people are willing to buy. Our government tried to take the stuff and distribute it fairly, but the companies cried socialism and wouldn’t allow it. So the companies sell. The people buy. They pawn their most prized possessions to pay for a cup of murky liquid, just to prop their eyelids open until they can afford their next dose. Or until they can’t. Then they succumb to sleep, becoming nothing more than another thud in the symphony.\n\nSoon coffee won’t matter anyways; caffeine can only keep us going for so long. But until then we cling to the stuff, desperate to elude the sandman for a few more hours.\n \nI take my last sip. Never has coffee tasted so bitter. \n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1437599849", "1437620751" ]
	[WP] 5 years ago Atlantis remerged in the atlantic ocean with all it's citizens still alive. Today Poseiden attends his first UN meeting on behalf of Atlantis	76	[ "People thought the beginning was chaos. That was not chaos, merely talk! Military was there almost as soon as it popped up, UN thought itself in chaos an hour later; regular people found out soon enough. \nThe real chaos began when the roof was torn off and bright sunshine poured over the assembled leaders and senior diplomats of Man. A voice like deep thunder sounded from the very ground: \n\n\"...Look here, all kings of men assembled! Assembled to discuss me as though I am some stranger knocking patiently at your door? Assembled perhaps to honour me, but there are no prayers: No sacrifices! What has become of Mortal man? Assembled, trembling in your disgusting defiant hall that pollutes what was once serene shoreline! I am deaf to pleas of those who mock the shining ocean with cities of mirrors-- \nBut I have had enough of the ocean. My great brother, his perch high on Olympus is abandoned, and his people scramble in ruin of his desertion. Well, at last land and sky shall be mine! Tremble now, descendants of Zeus, for I must take the final step in absolving my brothers mistakes.\" \n\nPoseidon the Earth-Shaker roared with the might of a true God, as has not been seen by Mortals in many long years. The seas rose up to engulf the earth, the ground broke apart, heaved and turned like raging surf. All was calm in the city of Atlantis, and its citizens slept while the plants and animals were given their right to establish themselves first in Poseidon's world.", "\"The floor will now recognize the delegate from Atlantis.\"\n\nWith these words the normally bustling hall was suddenly as quiet as a church. Every representative watched the podium with rapt attention, eager to see the the delegate of the formerly mythical republic of Atlantis. Calling himself Poseidon his introduction to the UN had been marked on the Agenda but few had seen the Atlantean until now. Needless to say, many detailed reports were about to be written.\n\nWhat was wheeled up to the podium, could be generously called disappointing. There were muffled giggles and snorts of derision. Sitting in a wheel chair was more of a blob than a man. His skin was so pale it was almost grey and looked somewhat slimy. He seemed to be struggling to support his completely bald head and if it weren't for his cushioning second chin he might have needed assistance. Behind thick tinted spectacles you could tell he was squinting as if trying to look into the sun. Next to him an assistant stood poised with a spray bottle which he used to spritz the Atlantean every so often.\n\n\"Thank you GASP Secretary General. wheeze\"\n\nThe ensuing speech was painful to listen to. Each sentence was punctuated by a gulp for air as the Atlantean ambassador thanked the UN for recognizing the sovereignty of the newly formed island republic of Atlantis. Furthermore he explained that it had not been the intention of the Atlantean governing council to appear so suddenly and so soon but that unexpected geological events had caused Atlantis to surface early. After a long rattling gurgle he opened the floor for questions. The delegate from America jumped immediately at the opportunity.\n\n\"Are you the Poseidon of legend, God King of the ocean depths?!\"\n\nThe Atlantean seemed taken aback at this.\n\n\"Um... no. Poseidon is hork a fairly common name in Atlantis.\" \n\nAlthough this had been the question at the forefront of everyone's minds it didn't stop the assembly from giggling like school children as the American delegate took his seat flushed with embarrassment.\n\n\"Are there any hisss serious questions?\"", "The lights flickered and the muttering of nations quelled under the glare of Atlantis' representative to the United Nations' General Assembly. The man wore a navy suit with a soft white tie, a small trident emblem pinned to his lapel.\n\nThe man spread forth his arms, \"Beyond the Pillars of Hercules,\" his voice boomed, \"a new nation has arisen! A nation that will not bow under the tyranny and threat of the old world.\" The man gave a mocking smile to the audiences stunned silence. They had all witnessed the horrors of what had happened years earlier.\n\nWithin days of Atlantis' discovery, the Alanteans had struck hard and fast at their ancient Athenian rivals. The nuclear strikes had killed millions and had left the Balkan states devastated, and all the while the world stood and watched, unable to comprehend the unleashed military might of Atlantis.\n\n\"But now,\" the man continued, \"we have returned to reclaim the position that is rightfully ours. But we do not stand before you as conquerors, no. We stand as liberators from an ancient agitator. So please, allow me to introduce you to the God-King of the seven seas and lands East of Mediterranean,\" he spread his arms wide and bellowed, \"Poseidon!\"\n\nThe doors to the assembly hall slammed open so hard that they cracked in half. A man in golden armour strode forward, a silver trident in hand and a contingent of heavily armed soldiers at his back." ]	[ 4, 9, 36 ]	[ "1437649720", "1437652298", "1437634797" ]
[info on his military career](http://www.military.com/veteran-jobs/career-advice/military-transition/famous-veteran-bob-ross.html)	[WP] Bob Ross snaps, and dips back into his old military training to deal with the problem.	3	[ "It was time for his first deployment. Having grown tired of his painting, Robert decided to re-enlist in the military and go back to the world which inspired him to paint in the first place. He clutched the grip of his rifle as he and his squadron advanced on the enemy, crouching in the shadows so that they wouldn't give away their position. Five men all kept formation as the closed in on the objective, I high priority target for the U.S. Their goal was to infiltrate the unarmed mansion and assassinate a foreign minister who was known for assisting a local terrorist group. Robert flashed a signal to one of the men, showing him that he was supposed to take point outside the back door. He quietly inched closer and placed his hand around the handle, and he began to turn the knob. A deafening shot was then heard - the squad watched as the man's head burst into a grotesque ball of crimson as a 50. caliber round pierced his skull. The four remaining men, including Robert, all dropped to the ground. He began shouting orders to his brothers in arms, \"SNIPER - EVERYONE TAKE COVER.\" They all panicked as they tried to find a new vantage point. All of them lost their calm - except Robert. He ducked behind a nearby wall and tried to make out where the shot came from. He heard another loud \"pop,\" followed by a sound similar to that of a water balloon striking pavement. Another down. Three remained. The men, still panicked, got up and booked it over to were Sergeant Ross was hiding. Now that they had regrouped, they had to come up with a new strategy. \"What the hell is this?! I thought this was supposed to be an unguarded target,\" whispered McCarwick. He was right, it was supposed to be an unguarded target. Apparently the intel they received was false. \"I'll deal with HQ when we get back from this,\" said Robert, \"For now, let's find out where the hell this sniper is nesting.\" The other man, Private Kelly, peeked his head around the corner, only to be greeted by a bullet. It struck the left side of his chest, puncturing his lung. He bellowed out a breathless gasp and then fell to the ground. \"Oh fuck!\" McCarwick began to hyperventilate at this point, going into shock from the events he had witnessed up until then. \"I can't do this...I can't..they don't train you for this kinda shit...I..I..\" He was useless to Robert at this point. He would have to take care of this by himself. He took a rock off the ground and tossed it over the around the corner. Pop. A shot was fired coming from around 200 ft in front of the wall. Robert took out his pistol and began to sneak around the corner, right in the snipers blindspot. It would take him ten minutes to get close enough to land a shot without being seen, but he had to bide his time. Roughly 5 minutes in, he heard McCarwick let out a gruesome scream, followed by silence. There were two known enemies now. He was the last one left. Hurrying now, he was close enough to where he should be able to land a shot. Sure enough, he saw the sniper nested behind a rather large rock, unaware that he was about to be robbed of his life. Pulling up his pistol, he planted the cross hairs right on the mans head, and with a deadly accurate shot, he pressed his finger to the trigger. As the sound of gunfire traveled through the air, the sniper turned his head just in time to see Robert ending his life. At that same moment, the second man came up behind Sergeant Bob and tried to get a solid grip around his neck. Bob struggled with the man for a few seconds, then was able to free himself. The two sized each other up for a moment, and then exchanged punches. The enemy swung for Bob's gut, but was unable to land a solid punch, as he was stopped by a powerful block. Bob had years of hand to hand combat training, and was thoroughly prepared for a situation like this. Rushing forward, he tackled the enemy to the ground and swung a punch at his face, making contact with the soft tissue on the side of his face. Then, something happened. Something snapped inside of him. He took another punch, this time at the man's nose, breaking it in an instant. Then another, and another, until the man was beaten nearly to death. Bob stood up, looking at the work he had created - and smiled a gentle smile. \"Please..I have a family..\" The man begged. \"I had a family too.\" Bob was speaking in a friendly, calm tone that the man recognized. \"Wait a minute..you're the guy who paints on TV..please..my kids love your sho-\" There was a shot and then there was silence. The man was now dead, and that meant there was only one more target left, a target who had no more body guards. Bob walked up to the house, the bodies of his fellow squad mates strewn about in puddles of blood, McCarwick's gut sliced open by a knife, still sticking out of his stomach. He walked up and pulled the knife out, and began his walk towards the door. He grabbed the knob, with a knife in his hand, and twisted it open. Inside was the target, cowering in fear at the sudden realization he was trapped. Bob smiled a friendly smile and walked towards him. As he did, the man sprinted into his bedroom and tried to hide behind his bed. The blankets were all completely white just like an empty canvas. Bob entered the doorway, seeing the man crouched in a ball in the corner. As he heard sobs, he inched closer and closer, the knife ready to slice open a human being, and whispered one final sentence before he began his work. \"Now we'll just paint a happy little bush...\"", "\"INCOMING! GET DOWN, DARNIT! GET DOWN!\" Sergeant Ross's voice boomed as the mortar rounds began slamming near his squad's positions. His men dived for whatever cover they could find to shield themselves from the rain of high explosives and shrapnel. \n\nIt felt like an eternity, but it was only a minute or two; his men were visibly shaken, their first trial by fire. No one was hurt- seriously at least; a young private said he'd been hit, but Ross looked and laughed. \"You'd know if you were hit, son, yes you would. Oh, you'd be in Agony City by now. That there is just a little nick.\" His men laughed as the private looked at the scratch from a tree that was hit by an incoming round and sent splinters everywhere; the young man that got hit laughed along with his comrades. They weren't laughing at him, nor the 'wound' either; they were laughing out of nerves, having survived that brief glimpse of Hell. Ross knew better than to rest, however; artillery was usually the precursor to an attack or advance.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nHe had the men begin building hasty field fortifications to repel any advance in their sector. Foxholes were fortified with tree branches and sandbags in case another softening up via artillery came their way. \"The trees are oh so soft, oh so soft I freakin' love it. Hey! Leave those smaller trees alone! Little raccoons and old possums 'n' stuff all live up in here. They've got to have a little place to sit. Leave something for them! Jenkins, watch out for that sapling next to you! Maybe in our world there lives a happy little tree over there, but it needs to be able to grow first without getting trampled by some clumsy grunts like us!\"\n\nThe attack never came that afternoon and they sat in their positions, talking to themselves and get a few updates from the command post via radio. As night fell, the talk turned to home. Some were from the city, some from the plains of the Midwest, others from the Appalachians; their squad was a microcosm of America. The one member of the squad that didn't fit their hometown was Giovanni Bartolini; his comrades howled with laughter when he told them that he grew up in Valdez, Alaska and worked on fishing boats with his father and older brother until he joined the army to see the world. Ross chuckled along with the rest of the squad when Bartolini asked if anyone had ever been there before when compared to the others' hometowns like New York City, Omaha, and Chattanooga: \"Alaska was my starting point, too, even though it's not my hometown; oooh, if you have never been to Alaska, go there while it is still wild. My favorite uncle asked me if I wanted to go there, Uncle Sam. He said if you don't go, you're going to jail. That is how Uncle Sam asks you.\" The squad howled with laughter at their sergeant's remark, while at the same time wondering how the soft-spoken, churchmouse-like sergeant did to almost end up in jail since he seemed like the last person to ever be headed in that direction.\n\n\"Pssst, hey Sarge, you can't sleep either?\" Bartolini couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried; the trees look like enemy soldiers and also hid any that might be approaching. He couldn't calm the frantic pace of his mind. \n\n\"Yes, just making my nightly rounds, Bartolini, making sure everyone's tucked in for the night, heh. What are you doing up this late?\" Ross knelt next to Bartolini's foxhole and spoke quietly so as not to wake the others.\n\n\"Can't sleep, my mind's playing tricks on me, you know? These trees look like they're enemy or hiding the enemy, like I won't seem them until they're right on top of me.\"\n\n\"You don't have to worry, Private, you've got just as much camouflage as the enemy; remember what your uniform looks like. That makes it look like birch trees, isn't that sneaky? Heh. Ha. It's gorgeous. Besides, you're hunkered down low, unlike the trees. Try to imagine that you are a tree. How do you want to look out here?\"\n\n\"Short and away from incoming mortars, heh!\" Bartolini replied, laughing at his retort.\n\n\"Ha. That's good. Get some sleep while you can, the sentries are up so you don't have to be. Big day coming soon, hopefully command lets us know when it's coming before the enemy arty does. Heh. Ha.\"\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nCommand didn't let them know of the enemy's arrival, but the ground shaking underneath the tracks of their tanks and APCs did. Even those men that were the deepest sleepers woke up in an instant and instantly knew what was in store. Sergeant Ross moved from foxhole to foxhole, giving words of encouragement to his men.\n\nHe got grim news from command as he radioed the suspected size and make-up of the enemy's forces: there would be no reinforcements; he and his men would have to hold the line. \n\nHe got into his fighting position and steadied an AT-4 on his shoulder, aimed in the direction the vehicles seemed to be coming from. He saw his men were just as tense as he was; everyone knew what was headed their way. He exhaled slowly, before addressing them one last time: \"Well, the little clock on the wall says we're just about out of time, men! We're gonna make some big decisions in our little world! Here's your bravery test!\" \n\nWith that, he let fly his anti-tank rocket and watched it slam into the front of the lead APC as his men opened up on the approaching enemy.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n[Dialogue Source](http://www.bobrossquotes.com/quotes.shtml)\n\nFun prompt! I tried to cherry pick the quotes and apply them to the situation; some felt a bit forced while others seemed to fit pretty well. \n\n\n\n " ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1437721315", "1437729163" ]
	[WP] "You go to heaven for the climate, but you go to hell for the company."	12	[ "You didn't know exactly how to describe it, but the ritual of waking up every Sunday morning, instead of suffering the hangover your friends endured, had finally come to fruition. You tried to sway them from their ways, but they were convinced, with absolute volition, that you were following a fairy tale. \n\nHere you stood though, rolling planes of white mist gently touch your legs, stretching out toward the horizon. The Sun provided a soothing warmth, juxtaposed with the the cool tingle of the clouds caressing your legs. You look around at the glowing magnificence of landscape the Lord had carved. It's simply pure.\n\nYour head swivels as you hear a voice from behind you.\n\n\"Hey friend, isn't the Lord's work great?\" this stranger says behind a gaping smile.\n\n\"It sure is\" you reply, \"you worshiped the Lord too?\".\n\n\"Sure did friend, all my life. He really is the greatest, huh?\" the stranger says.\n\n\"Oh absolutely, worshiped him all my life. So what's your name?\" you ask.\n\n\"Oh, we have no names here friend, we're all only called The Lord's Children.\" he says.\n\n\"Oh cool, so what did you do on Earth?\" \n\n\"Worship the Lord of course!\" \n\n\"Oh yeah, of course. So what should I do now that I'm in Heaven?\"\n\n\"Why, marvel at the Lord's work! It's truly great, always sunny and pleasant here. I spent most of my day just mowing the lawn all day Sunday. I prayed for this type of weather for mowing, it seem like that was heaven. The Lord showed me however that I was paying too much attention to my lawn instead of his ways, so this is so much better.\"\n\n\"Yeah, the weather is certainly nice here.\"\n\n\"Sure is!\" he says.\n\nYou both stare vacantly at each other. Your eyes trail toward the sky where the Sun is shining, but not too brightly, and is partially covered by a constantly strolling cloud. \n\nYou think for a second it is minutely hot, a tad over the mild 70-something degrees. You prepare an arid comment just to continue the conversation. As soon as you open your mouth the temperature is immediately rectified, as though your displeasure was noticed by an ominous presence. \n\n\"Were you about to say something?\" asks the stranger.\n\n\"No, I guess not.\" you reply.\n\n\"This is great huh! I heard East Heaven is having some fantastic weather too!\" he says.\n\n\"Oh... yeah, I'll bet.\" you reply.\n\nHis gleaming smile continues to beam directly at you. Your brow furrows, but you continue looking around at the nice atmosphere. You look up at the Sun's clouds again.\n\n\"Huh, that cloud kind of looks like a joint my friend used to carry all the time.\" as an awkward chuckle escapes you.\n\n\"Oh I wouldn't know friend, never been around the stuff. Not really the Lord's work, you know?\" he says.\n\n\"Well yeah, me neither. I mean I had a friend, his name is Gary-\"\n\n\"Nobody's named Gary up here friend\" he interrupts.\n\n\"Never mind.\" You sigh.\n\nYou look back up, and all around. Your eyes slowly close and you inhale a deep breath through your nose. A smile stretches slowly across your face and you let out a stark exhale. You then open your eyes, looking the stranger directly in the eyes.\n\n\"To Hell with this.\" You calmly say, and slug him across the jaw.\n", "It's a rather lovely place to be,\n\nTo sit in the silence and have a drink.\n\nHeaven is the better choice\n\nWhen you'd rather be alone to think.\n \n&nbsp;\n \nI hear that Hell is crowded,\n\nAnd noisy from all the raves.\n\nWith so many Christians going to Hell,\n\nI guess it's Satan who saves." ]	[ 1, 5 ]	[ "1437780787", "1437770089" ]
	[WP] There is a place where the worst of humanity are kept. 4 miles down, 5000 guards, 500 prisoners, 1 way in, 1 way out. Welcome to Facility V, codename "Hell".	43	[ "When news finally reached my department it was already too late. At some point during the previous shift, certain areas had begun to lose power to their security systems, specifically levels Seven, Eight, and Nine. We were all assured that it was a technical malfunction, and to continue our shifts as normal. I'm not sure if it's simply a faulty memory or that my gut knew something I didn't, but I swear I was much more on edge than normal that shift. I spent the first few hours on my normal routine, trying as hard as I could not to think about how terrified the guards on those levels must have been.\n\nThankfully for me, I'm a guard on Level 1, and even though we don't have the best ratio of guards to prisoners compared to some of the lower levels, most of the prisoners here aren't really all that bad in comparison to the monsters below. Most of these guys actually have the possibility to be paroled, but one way or another they screwed the pooch when it came to getting released and wound up here in some bullshit scheme to \"alleviate overcrowding.\" That's not to say that these are a bunch of saints, each and every one of them could easily turn a normal prison into a hell house at best, but in comparison to the other levels they only get away with killing about three to five inmates annually, which may as well be zero compared to Level Seven.\n\nAs I was monitoring the increasing restless population, a message popped up on my monitor that made my blood run cold. It was a mass email to the entire staff, and it simply read \"They're out and armed.\" This was of course a startling message, but the sender is what drove me to immediately send my entire population of nearly two-hundred into their cells in an immediate lock-down. The email had been sent by the CO on the Level Seven, or \"Little Bighorn,\" as we began calling it after a few dozen guards were murdered in cold blood during a routine cell check. Those fiends were beyond simple murderers, murderers I had at least fifteen of at any given time. They're a living embodiment of violence, from mass slaughters to war crimes to serial killing, if it involves ending another life, one of them has found a way to do it. After locking down my entire level, which had the unfortunate side effect of sealing the main entrance off, I tried to piece together what had happened over the course of those awful 72 hours, with limited success. Thankfully for me, we were able to keep things under control, until an all clear was given for Levels One though Six. Then came the arduous task of figuring out what the hell had happened in those lowest levels.\n\nUnfortunately the entire staff of levels Seven, Eight, and Nine were completely wiped out during the rioting, and until we can finally starve out those monsters that we were luckily able to trap down there we won't be able to figure out for sure what happened over the course of those 72 hours. Our best guess after examining numerous emails that were able to be saved off-site, some guard on level nine was compromised by one of the three prisoners we keep down there, and was convinced to flip a few switches to cut power off to those bottom levels in what he thought was an exchange for his and his family's lives. I personally don't know how someone dumb enough to believe that any of that rotten trio would ever keep their word, as he was the first one killed, and we made the connection after word was received that his family had apparently been burned alive in a horrible attack on his home. Somehow inmates on Level Eight were able to deceive many of the guards on levels Eight and Seven to \"take a night off,\" and utilized the breathing room to slowly but surely get a hold of weapons and then hunted down the diminished force of guards down one by one. We still aren't sure of what their long-term goal was, but I decided to cash in some of my vacation time once I realized that if they're end-goal had been to escape, they would have had to come through here, and I would have like been one of those poor bastards who happened to be on shift that night, only identifiable by my dental records and my name tag.", "It greets me every day as I take the elevator four miles into the godforsaken hole in the ground: the crudely stenciled sign, right in front of the first set of security gates. \"Welcome to Hell.\"\n\nOr rather, \"Welcome to Facility V,\" except that someone scratched out \"Facility V\" and carved in \"Hell\" instead. Nobody -- not us guards, not the prisoners, not the newscasters topside, not even the politicians who named it -- call it Facility V. That makes it sound sterile, docile. Like one of those white-walled, white-carpeted sanatoriums.\n\nThere were sixteen of us in the elevator today. Standard procedure for a new arrival; fifteen guards with the prisoner, another fifteen on the surface in the event of an escape attempt, and fifteen waiting to receive the prisoner.\n\nHe's got short brown hair, I know that. Tall, too, and white. That's all I know about him. \n\nMetal scrapes beside me and instantly I turn towards the noise. That's when I make my first mistake; I look into his eyes. My eyes dart away even faster than they had darted towards him. Most of the guards avoid meeting the eyes of the damned. But I saw something that I can't explain, and I look back again. Professional curiosity. \n\nI wish I hadn't. You can see it in his eyes - he's got the eyes of a runner. A man who isn't like the rest, who have killed and maimed and tortured and still relish doing it. He isn't eager to prove his brawn or nurture power. He isn't twisted and sick like the other scum of the earth -- at least, not completely. He is afraid.\n\nThe resounding click of the elevator locking into its foundations jars me away. I reach down to release his chains, just as I do for every other prisoner. I give a slight tug on the chain to signal that it's time to move. He obediently walks through the elevator doors, stopping just in front of the cadre of guards lined up in wait. Someone gives the hand signal and the guards step aside, revealing The Sign. \n\nThe prisoner looks back at me, and I don't look away. Mistake number two.\n\nThat -- that look, that's what's unhinged me. He's pleading for his life, to look the other direction just this once and let him go free.\n\n\"One way in, one way out.\" That's what they say on every news article, like an ominous slogan. But really, everyone knows it's just one way in. Everyone down here is stuck here for life. \n\nI hold his gaze in what I hope passes for defiance, and swiftly nod to proceed forward. \n\nOur odd parade trots down the prison hall, seven in front, seven behind. It's nicer than one might expect a place called Hell to be, with painted walls and the occasional light fixture, but the iron bars belie the truth.\n\nSoon enough we stop and guide him into his new home. It's Spartan, with a bed and a latrine and little else. There is just one last motion to go through. Not long now, and I can escape those desperate eyes forever.\n\n\"Sit.\"\n\nHe jumps at the sound of my voice, but doesn't sit. I don't know if he's looking at me now. His eyes have turned me into a coward, holding tight to his chain, and staring at the floor of his concrete cell. Another guard gives him a firm push and he falls to the edge of the bed. \n\n\"Hands.\"\n\nA moment later the handcuffs fall away.\n\nThis is when I normally say, cocky as ever, \"Keep your hands, feet and arms inside the cell at all times, and we hope you enjoy your ride through Hell,\" but I can't bring myself to do that now. Not with those eyes seared into my retinas. I quickly back out of the cell, staring nowhere but his shoes. One of the other guards locks the grille. The others begin walking away, past the rows of cocky smiles that would love to spin your neck in circles. \n\nI allow my gaze to drift up one last time, and to my great relief he is staring away at some spot on the ground. Maybe the blood of the last occupant, perhaps a grease stain from decades ago. He slowly raises his head, as if taking in the tiny expanse that will now be his entire existence, and I see the last ounce of humanity drain from \nthose blue eyes.\n\nMistake number three.", "\"How long is it gonna the until we get there?\" I asked. We were in the elevator going down.\n\n\"Well,\" the guard said. There's quite a few prisoners. There's 5000 other guards. It's four miles down. We've got a few more minutes to go.\"\n\nI was wondering what it would be like down there. Yes, I've heard stories, but every guard has a chip in their brains. Whoever gives away major details about the prison dies. No one has ever made it out. There is one way out. It's time to get to know it. I'll be seeing it again soon.\n\nIn case you didn't know, my name is Brendan Icewave. I'm responsible for a lot of stuff. You name it, I've probably done it. Been on death row a few times. I've broken out of every prison I've been in. And trust me, I've been in some pretty bad ones.\n\nFinally the guard broke the silence. \"Look, Icewave. I've heard of you. I know you broke out of all prisons you've been in. Believe me, you're in for a suprise. You're never getting out of here.\"\n\nI studied the guard. He was wearing what looked like a standard uniform: a black shirt and blue pants, Black shoes, and a facemask. The facemask showed and covered his face at will. On his belt were a number of weapons. He also had a pouch. But what is it filled with? If I was ever getting out of here, I had to know.\n\nWith a soft ding, the door opened to reveal the prison. I first walked in to registration. \n\n\"Name?\" Said the man. I was silent. \"Name? He asked again.\n\n\"Brendanicewave\" I said under my breath.\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Tell me your name, goddammit.\"\n\n\"Brendan Icewave. I'm 5'10. 25. This is the 42^nd prison I've been in. Anything more you need to know?\"\n\nNext, I was stripped of all my clothing and given a standard prison jumpsuit. My knife was confiscated.\n\n\"Welcome to Facility V,\" the guard said. \"They call this place Hell for a reason.\"\n\nThe prison was large. It was cylindrical, with a large spiral staircase going around the end. On the edges, rooms were built with easy access to the stairs. On the bottom, not to far down, the stairs continued under a platform with tables, which I assumed were for eating.\n\nWe continued down the staircase, passed the tables, and down a long maze of hallways. I took note of our turns: left, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, right. That was hopefully going to help me later.\n\n\"Here we are. Cell 500. The worst of the worst. A guard will come at 7:00 a.m., 12 noon, and 7:00 p.m. to get bring you to your meals. You will be back here for the remainder of the day. Your cell mate's name is Oscar. You'll get along well.\"\n\nI was thrown in the cell and fell asleep.\n\n[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []\n\nA few weeks after I've been in the prison, I finally got a chance to see what Oscar did at night I saw a him fiddling with what looked like a laser.\n\n\"Oscar?\" I asked.\n\n\"That's me. What's up?\" Oscar said.\n\n\"Umm... What are you doing?\"\n\n\"These cells that they're holding us in. They're made of solid, unbreakable metal. I've tried busting out multiple times. This laser here almost broke the cell wall. Then they brought me down here, into the Hell Cell. I've tried everything. However, it's not a lock. It's a finger scanner. So simple, I know. But only a guard can scan his finger to get I'm or out. I'm thinking when the guard comes in to get us dinner, you go for his gun. Load it with stun bullets. Then-\"\n\n\"Stun bullet?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes. It just doesn't kill the opponent. It merely just paralyzes him for a few hours, which gives us limited time. When we get out, I've got knock out gas I found a few months back. Then we're getting out of here.\" Oscar said, now sitting down away from the lock.\n\n\"No,\" I said. \"There's a vault even farther down than we are. That has everyone's loot from the past two hundred years. Plus, whoever brings a prisoner to the prison gets paid, and it all goes there. Plus, we can't just put the gas in the vents. We gotta get to the control room. There we can get the access codes for the elevator, and get out of here.\"\n\nAnd we did exactly just that. Guard walked in to bring us to dinner, Oscar distracted him and I pickpocketed his gun and shot him. Then we ran.\n\n[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []\n\nWe snuck down the maze, following the pattern of the hallways. Past the corner, we saw a guard. I shot him also, and we dragged his body out of sight.\n\nWe worked our way down. The control room was at the bottom. We cut the door open using the laser, and shot the guards. \n\n\"Ok Oscar. Have the knockout gas?\" I asked.\n\n\"Crap! I thought you had it.\"\n\n\"Well, there is a solution. Those guards have facemasks. If we get those, we blend in.\" I said\n\nWe went back to the cell, got the knockout gas, and put it in the vents. We got to the vault. We both made it out with $20,000. When we got to the elevator, I used one of the knocked out guard's fingerprint to open the elevator. We took off the facemasks.\n\n\"Wow. I can't belive we got out of the unescapable prison. I've busted out of a few before also. This makes four,\" Oscar said. \"You know, we make a good team. We should become a real team when we get out of here.\" The elevator dinged and opened. \"After you, he said. I walked in.\n\n\"A team, huh?\" I said. \"I work alone.\" The gun fired, and Oscar fell to the ground as the elevator door closed.\n\nEdit:\n\n#FORMATTING\n\nAlso story parts!", "He was the undisputed king. The lowest of the low. Someone who was so vile and repugnant he actually rose to power when thrown in the prison. Everyone was wrapped around his finger, and a prisoner couldn't even breathe if he didn't want them to. Tiger Kang didn't mind being locked up because he liked when the odds were stacked against him, and it was 500 against 5000. \n\nThe warden - once again - had thrown Kang into solitary, which for him was a small glass box on wheels with a few breathing holes in it. Sometimes he was stuck in an even smaller black room. Now he was in front of the Warden, cross-legged and every bit as intense as ever. \n\n\"No one would care one bit if you disappeared.\" The Warden threatened. His name was Warren Lighter, and he was the official King of Hell. \n\n\"I thought we were sent here just for that reason.\" Kang said. \n\n\"I've had to cut a dozen guards from staff. I'm running out of confinement boxes. I've had to use the Furnace twice since your arrival,\" Warren's eyes narrowed. \"You're a problem.\"\n\nThe Furnace was the name of the heating system in the facility. With the flick of a switch, Warren could, quite literally, turn the entire prison into a furnace. Staff and guard quarters were unaffected by the heating. It was the ultimate tool to subdue unruly inmates, or to punish them, or even for sick pleasure if he was that kind of man. \n\n\"Then make me disappear.\" Kang challenged. \n\nWarren's jaw locked. \"I don't know how you get in people's heads...\" \n\n\"It's a gift.\"\n\n\"But there are some people even you can't influence.\"\n\n\"Back in South Korea, before I was sent here, they used to have a saying about me. Do you know what it was?\" Kang asked. Warren held his expression. \"'He could even convince God of right and wrong if he talked to Him long enough.'\" \n\n\"Well I'm God down here.\" Warren growled. \n\nKang smiled wide. \"No. You're the Devil. And demons are much easier to tempt than angels.\" \n\n\"Get him the fuck out of here. And another month of solitary.\" Warren snarled. \n\n\"That'll make an official six months.\" Kang called as the two guards pushed the box out. \n\n\"Two months!\" Warren shouted, slammed his fist onto the desk. He knew he was slipping in control with that son of a bitch in his prison, but he couldn't, for the life of him, just kill him off. Guards he sent to do the deed always wound up dead. Warren knew Kang influenced the entire goddamn prison. He would have to call in outside help, but some of the most despicable people who would do the deed were in the prison, and no amount of money could make them go against Kang. He was untouchable, even to Warren. \n\nRubbing his temples, he reached for the phone. He knew of someone who might be able to do it. All lines from this end were secure. He punched in a number and leaned back in his chair, head pounding. \n\n\"Who is this?\" A voice answered. It was Russian.\n\n\"It's Warren Lighter.\" \n\n\"The King of Hell? What do you want?\" \n\nWarren took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this, but that son of a bitch Kang left him no choice. \"Get me Dmitri. I have a job for him.\"\n", "\"The first thing they told me was to keep hydrated. Down this far the heat becomes impossible to bear, the fact we have to wear the goddamn armor makes the job hell. The name fits doesn't it. \n\nHonestly I wondered why we did this, why not just kill the monsters and call it day? Well it gets complicated, y'know those stories we were told as children. The monsters that go bump in the night, the horror hiding in the shadows. They have to be based on something. When you commit atrocities on a scale that can only be described as inhuman, you become that. Those who are trapped here aren't human anymore, they are monsters in every possible way. They become immortal.\n\nThe heat weakens them y'know. They can't stand it for whatever reason, more so than us. We only sweat from it while they bleed. Makes it harder for them to escape obviously. So we stand watch over them, as they cry in agony. Eventually when they bleed enough something happens and they become human, then we can execute the bastard and for a brief while the prisoner count will decrease by one. It never takes long for another to surface and the hunters will live up to their name. \n\nKid, don't worry about this job. Yeah, I can see you quaking in your boots. Do what your told. Don't be an idiot. And don't talk to the prisoners.\" \n\nThe doors opened to the vast cavern and immense heat, and before we stepped off the warden finished his speech in his gravely voice. \"Welcome to Facility Five. Codename 'Hell'. Enjoy your stay\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 5, 5, 6 ]	[ "1437877580", "1437883739", "1437876653", "1437880145", "1437876654" ]
	[WP] Once every four years, in a top secret location all former presidents and the standing President of the United States gather with one goal. Roast the ever living shit out of the standing president.	1,554	[ "I sit down at a plain, round wooden table in the middle of a dark room. The only light is a bare lightbulb hanging above the table with a short chain used to click it on or off. I'm sure it's also attached to a switch somewhere by the door, or else someone's gonna burn their fingers trying to turn it off. The ring of illumination barely reached the walls. The room is empty. Across from me is a man in a suit. He's staring directly at me.\n\n\"I've got nothing.\" I say.\n\nHis look changes from mild concern to confusion. Anticipating his reply I cut him off. \n\n\"You're doing a great job. I having nothing to mock you for.\"\n\nHis look of confusion changes to a smug smile.\n\n\"Correct answer...\" he replies. \"...you may live.\" \n\nHe motions to a guard standing in the shadows. I didn't notice him until the Supreme Brave Ruler and President of the People's Republic of the United States of America motioned to him. I stand and say politely \"Long live the President.\" Before leaving the room. \n\n\"Watch your step on your way out.\" He warns me. \"I would hate for you to trip over the others.\" \n\nI now notice the bodies of two of the other previous presidents on the floor. The new guy must really hate being made fun of. ", "George stared at his mirror and smirked, his smile vastly improved now that his dentures actually fit. He raised a nearby cup of win to the mirror.\n\n\"George, you're a namby pamby and everything you've ever done was either a dare or a popular choice.\"\n\nHe drained his cup, the smirk leaving his face. There was no way this tradition would catch on.", "Most of the time - almost all of the time - the old Masonic lodge, set deep within the Appalachian mountains and almost entirely hidden by vines after centuries of neglect - stands silent and empty. But once every four years, on an otherwise unassuming day in late July, it becomes the scene of alcohol-fulled invective, punctuated by raucous laughter. The setting of the Presidential roast.\n\nIt was a scene that had become almost tiredly familiar to some of the older attendees: a small handful of elderly men - this year, there were four of them - descend upon the lodge, where they find themselves in the company of their predecessors, who, long dispossessed of their corporeal forms, take their seats as ghostly apparitions of their mortal selves. \n\nAs is tradition, the presidents arrive in order of their ascension, appearing fully formed in their chairs after being plucked from the spirit world without warning. As the sun sets, the first pale form emerges: George Washington, a stern look on his face, sits upright in his chair. He glances at his watch, and counts down the seconds until the next arrival. A minute after his appearance, John Adams is deposited into the seat next to him. He looks around wildly and then, upon noticing his surroundings, smiles warmly at Washington, and greets him with a firm handshake.\n\n\"George, how's it going? Still sticking with those ivory dentures, I see? I keep telling you, you can get your own teeth back now that you're dead. Heaven's dental services are second to none.\"\n\nWashington laughs, and shakes his head. \"Alas John, I'm too used to them now for a change to hold any appeal to me. Besides, I think they're quite resplendent in their own way, do you not agree?\"\n\nJohn Adams considers this for a second, and then nods his approval. At this point another figure appears, and the smug face of Thomas Jefferson turns towards the two older men.\n\n\"Hey guys, enjoying the afterlife? Say, have either of you met God yet?\"\n\nWashington sighs. \"Not this again, Thomas. Yes we know, Deism turned out to be the one true religion. There's no need to go on about it every time.\"\n\nJefferson grins, and leaned back in his chair. \"Just having my fun, George, just having my fun.\" \n\nThe steady slew of presidential arrivals continues, at the rate of one every minute. Each garners a different response: James Monroe is greeted warmly, while Andrew Jackson is met with icy stares and a curt tone. William Henry Harrison is met with a well-honed look of bewilderment from his colleagues - \"Who is this man?\" yells Jefferson, as he did at every event - while Buchanan's arrival is accompanied by a smattering of derisive tittering. Lincoln arrives next, accompanied by his stovepipe hat, followed by an embarrassed looking Andrew Johnson.\n\nFor forty minutes this continues: each president finds themselves in their chair - an extra-wide chair, in the cases of Grover Cleveland and William Taft - and settles in for a long night of jollity. Ronald Reagan is the last to arrive, appearing two seats down from Gerald Ford. He glances to his right, and rolls his eyes.\n\n\"Carter's still going, I see,\" he says. At this, the four living presidents emerge from a side door: Carter takes his place between Ford and Reagan, and the three other surviving presidents sit at the end of the table, with George W. Bush sitting directly opposite George Washington near the head of the oblong table.\n\n\"George,\" he grins, nodding to Washington. Washington smiles and nods back.\n\nDown the table, Bill Clinton leans over George H.W. Bush and taps Ronald Reagan on the shoulder. \"Ronald Reagan, the actor?\" he exclaims, bursting into fitful laughter.\n\n\"Yeah, very funny Bill,\" scowls Reagan. \"You'll need that sense of humour for your wife's Presidential run.\"\n\nJames Buchanan, his face aghast, leans forward. \"A woman President? That won't do at all.\"\n\n\"You would say that, Buchanan,\" mutters Richard Nixon, one eyebrow raised. Buchanan sputters and slinks back in his chair. Nixon turns to Clinton. \"You think you could do that, Bill? Roast your own wife? Or even sit around while a bunch of other men roast her?\"\n\nAt this, George W. Bush stifles a laugh, inviting a stern glance from his father. \n\n\"I'd give her a good roasting, if you know what I mean,\" says Thomas Jefferson with a wink.\n\n\"Hey, shut up Jefferson,\" says Clinton. \"Who do you think you are, Benjamin Fra-\"\n\nHe's interrupted by a chime from the grandfather clock that stood at the back of the room. One O'Clock. All of the Presidents stand, as a figure emerges from a door at the head of the room. Barack Obama smiles at his predecessors, and stand in front of his seat at the head of the table. As the presidents take their seats, Obama clears his throat to speak.\n\n___\n\nEnd of part one. Will write the actual roast if I can be bothered.", "*Not the Kind of Roast You Were Thinking.\n\nWeaving spiders come not here.* Read the inscription on the plaque at the gate. \n\nJunior already had enough trouble reading, but even the full moon barely cast enough light for him to see through the dark tinted windows. \n\nHehe. He chuckled. I wonder what the hell that means. He mumbled as the three armored trucks rolled onto the winding gravel path and into the tall trees.\n\nA man in a black suit and an earpiece nodded to the police officers across the road and then whispered something into the cuff of his jacket as he stepped back slowly inside the fence, looking left and right one last time.\n\nIt's Shakespeare, Junior. a calm older voice muttered from the forward seats. \n\nShakespeare? Junior asked.\n\nMidsummer Night's Dream. Said the old man. Weaving spiders come not here. Beetles black approach not near, something or other. It means we don't want outsiders to meddle in our affairs, boy.\n\nGat dangit pop. Junior spouted. Don't call me boy. I was the gat dang president too you know. I hanged Saddam for you cryin' out loud. Junior trailed off as he pulled frustratedly at his necktie. \n\nGeorge, George. Both of you just calm down. An old woman interrupted. This night is supposed to be a happy occasion.\n\nAlright Babs.\n\nAlright mama.\n\nBy that time the convoy had reached a clearing with a small circular lake. In the center of the lake was a large stone platform. The armored trucks slowed to a stop. Junior quickly reached for the door handle.\n\nStopping him before he could open the door, in a stern southern accent, a woman said Ah, ah, ah... You know you have to wait, silly.\n\nGood job, Laura. Said George from the forward seats. You know how to keep our boy in check.\n\nJunior groaned and fidgeted in his seat.\n\n----\n\nHe's late. Announced from the silence of the far back seats in a raspy southern drawl. You know, he's always late. \n\nCan it Bill. Hillary said. \n\nOh, that's right. You two are all buddy buddy now. Bill said with a chuckle. \n\nA voice came over the driver's radio. All clear\n\nThe door swung open and Junior hopped out. He stretched his arms up and yawned, daunted by the long drive from the airfield. \n\nMake way, dummy Said Bill as he climbed out from the back seat and pushed Junior stumbling to the side. \n\nGeorge got out from the front and walked back to the rear passenger door on his side. He opened it and offered his hand to help Barbera and Laura down from the high step. \n\nThe doors of the third truck at the back of the convoy popped open and a short man climbed out. He looked up at the second truck and grunted.\n\nHey, it's Dick! Junior spouted with excitement as he jogged over to greet the man.\n\nEh, hold on Georgie Dick said to Junior as he reached back into the armored truck.\n\nA sad voice whimpered from inside I don't like it when you do this! You know I don't like it but you always do it.\n\nBill walked over. Haha, they bagged you again? \n\nWilly? Willy, is that you? It's me, Al. Can you hear me?\n\nCourse I can hear you, Al. Bill laughed. I can see you too. I aint the one with a bag over my head.\n\nYou can take it off now, dipshit. We're here. Dick muttered as he walked away to greet the others, Junior bouncing around in tow.\n\nHey, where's Danny? Al said as he took the black bag off of his head. Was he in the truck with us? Al leaned back to look, but Bill took him by the arm.\n\nOld Quayle aint around no more. Bill said. You didn't hear about that?\n\nWhat happened to hi-Al started to ask, but he stopped himself. Never mind. Don't ask questions, Al. You don't like the answers. Don't ask questions. He repeated to himself quietly.\n\n----\n\nAlright, fellas. He's on his way. George said as the group gathered.\n\nThe presidents turned and began walking down to the lake.\n\nHey, you wait right there, sugar. Bill said to Hillary. You got a little while, yet... And that's only if you're good.\n\nHillary scowled at him as he followed George and Junior. Standing behind her, Dick scowled at Al, though Al couldn't imagine the reason. Laura and Barbera, off to the side, smiled at each other.\n\nEy, daddy. Junior whispered to George, elbowing him as they walked side by side down to the lake. How do you know he's almost here?\n\nYou would know too, if you paid attention for a damn second. George said, annoyed. Now you remember what to do, right boy? Go get on the other side of Bill.\n\nYeah, pop. I got it. Junior said as he began to remove his tie.\n\n----\n\nThe men began to take off their clothes, carefully folding their jackets and pants and placing them on the dry ground by the water's edge. \n\nWhere's Number One, George? Bill asked as they stood there, together, naked. \n\nHe'll come down when he has to. George said looking up at the night sky. \n\nBill looked over at Junior, glanced down and then back up, then let out an audible snicker. \n \nYou shut up! Junior said, embarrassed, punching Bill in the arm. \n\nHe didn't get that from me. George said, still looking up at the stars. Alright, here we go..\n\nThree helicopters passed low and fast in formation over the lake. George waved over to the middle truck as the choppers circled around above them. \n\nThe doors of the armored truck swung open and out stepped Ronald Reagan, nude, majestic. The other presidents cheered. Bill shot him a wolf-whistle. Reagan laughed and waved him off as he started walking down to the lake. \n\nDon't be afraid to see what you see, boys. Reagan shouted on the walk down. \n\nThey all laughed, then turned to the lake and began to walk into the water. Reagan stopped at the water's edge and watched the three men walk deeper and deeper into the lake. Reagan followed down into the water. Walking, until he was completely submerged. \n\nThere was silence for a few moments. The others, still watching from the edge of the woods. Al leaned toward Dick, motioning for Dick to lean in as well. Dick shook his head no. \n\nBut I have to ask you a question! Al whispered impatiently. \n\nNo, god damn it. Dick grumbled back to him. Be quiet.\n\nFine. Al said.\n\nThe helicopters slowed to a hover high above the still and quiet lake. The former presidents still nowhere to be seen. The door to the middle helicopter slid open and a shadowy figure appeared, silhouetted by the red lights inside. He dove from the helicopter down into the lake, barely making a splash. The helicopters pulled away and disappeared into the distance. The lake fell still again, no one to be seen.\n\n----\n\nSlowly a head emerges from the lake. Reagan's stark black hair, completely dry, somehow seemingly untouched by the water. Then George began to rise up from the depths. Then Bill, then Junior. The presidents all rose above the water's surface, nude, arms outstretched, suspended in mid air. \n\nThey hovered over the altar, and gently touched down, the four of them facing the empty fifth space.\n\nThen the shadowy figure began to rise up out of the lake. He slowly came to rest in the fifth position of the pentagram. As his feet touched down, Barack looked over at Bill, glanced down and then back up, and audibly snickered. \n\nHehehe. Junior chuckled.\n\nYou shut up. Bill said to Junior.\n\nGeorge did his best to hide his smile.\n\n----\n\nEmbers began to appear out of thin air, floating around them. Little bits of orange light, moving with the breeze across the calm lake. More sparks of ash and fire danced back and forth as the embers began to fill the air. The men stepped toward the center of the altar and took each other's hands.\n\nBefore long a swirling tornado of fire had surrounded them. The flames of the inferno flicked up toward the night sky. Wind rushed inward through the trees from all sides toward the flaming altar, and suddenly an explosion of black smoke engulfed the lake. \n\nWhen the smoke cleared, the men stood there facing each other in full suits and ties. They didn't say a word. They just looked at each other, content with their ritual.\n\nDick leaned over to Hillary and whispered It is done. Now they must feed. \n\nHillary nodded. I will bring them the children. ", "Jackson was drunk again. \n\n“Damn darkies oughtta be serving us rather than sitting down there, listening to us.”\n\nGrant rolled his eyes and tapped his cigar. “That fucker never could hold his liquor,” he said, turning to Lincoln, who nodded over his dessert, a brûlée of astonishing silkiness. “Complete shitstain on the office,” the tall man said.\n\nAs was the custom, George W. Bush stood for the introduction. With his butter knife, he tapped his glass, which immediately shattered.\n\n“Presidents! Presidents!” he called. “For the second time,” he said, as the drunken murmuring slowed. “I have the distinct honor and privilege of introducing tonight’s honoree, the great president from Kenya, our first Muslim president, our first Socialist president, our first Rainbow coalition president, Mr. Barack Hussein Obama!”\n\nThe applause was muted. It had been respectful four years ago, when Obama appeared for the first time, but the 43 guys in the room were tired. Most of them were dead. \n\nBesides, Obama was a stiff. Everybody knew that. Without his writers — and writers were forbidden at the President’s Dinner — Obama could still offer an unrivaled disquisition on health policy, but he was hopeless at humor.\n\n“My fellow presidents,” he began. “I asked to begin this roast rather than end it because I thought you should know: The living presidents and I have gotten together and decided to end these stupid, fucking things.”\n\nWashington and Jefferson, who had attended more of these than anybody, were wide-eyed. Adams was asleep, as was his custom.\n\n“The fact is,” Obama said, pulling the mic out of the stand, “that with the exception of Kennedy — who still knows how to party — and TR, you guys suck. Most of you are racists. Many of you are moralistic teetotalers. Several of you are idiots. Most of you are simply evil fucks who enriched your families and parties over this nation. You got us into war. You dragged your feet on progress.\n\n“In short, you sucked, and I ain’t got time for this shit. \n\n“I’ve got a country to run,\" he said, dropping the mic and heading for the stairs. \"Fuck you all.\"\n\n", "\"Well, I can guarantee that this won't be nearly as good as mine was.\" Bill Clinton, sipping a mojito, leaned back in his expensively upholstered leather office chair. Forty-two others just like it circled an enormous mahogany table, and they were all full of old, white men. \n\nOnly one seat was empty- the seat at the head of the table, which clearly far older than the rest. It was fashioned like a wooden throne, dramatically exquisite and quite uncomfortable-looking. To make matters even more obnoxious, a pattern of bright red and yellow flames were painted on the sides (George W Bush had added those in the beginning of the' artistic' phase of his life.)\n\nGeorge Washinton laughed, his fake teeth clacking foreboding as he did so. \"We put you through the ringer, Clinton!\"\n\nWilliam McKinley chuckled. \"Shut your diseased old trap, George, you're the only one here that's never been roasted.\" \n\nJohn Adams bristled in Washington's defense. \"I think the British monarchy did quite a good job of it if you ask me!\"\n\n\"Now, now, gentlemen, let's all just remain calm. Remember, a house divided against itself cannot stand.\" \n\nThere was a short moment of silence before everybody shot Abe death glares. \n\n\"I don't think he understands the point of a roast,\" Ronald Reagan mumbled under his breath.\n\nFranklin Pierce, who was already wasted, slammed his fist on the tabletop. \"Dammit, Lincoln! This is all your doing, you miserable conniving excuse for a man! I knew those abolitionists were trouble, I knew it-\"\n\n\"You're not allowed to make racist comments during the roast. Remember, that was the sixteenth amendment to the Roast Bill of Do's And Dont's.\" Lincoln pointed out. \n\n\"What's with all this chit-chat?\" The unmistakable boom of William Howard Taft (whose leather chair was especially made to support his enormous buttocks,) echoed throughout the room. \"When's dinner?\"\n\nFinally, after nearly an hour of arguing, the time had come. Slowly, the single door to the enclosed room creaked open, and a figure walked in slowly...\n\n\"What is he doing here?!?\" Shouted the collection of presidents, who sat in pure shock, staring directly at Mitt Romney. \n\n\"Well, uh, Barack told me to tell you guys that...well, pretty much...since he's been roasted his entire presidency, he's not really in the mood to get any more verbal beatings. So he told me to come instead.\"\n\n\"Aw, dammit to hell!\" Shouted Nixon. \"I had this great line about ObamaCare that I'd been wanting to use for AGES!\"" ]	[ 4, 7, 13, 27, 163, 817 ]	[ "1437918320", "1437911815", "1437923045", "1437896507", "1437900509", "1437885095" ]
	[WP] A group of scientists accidentally discover that all humans are infected with a never before seen parasite. Killing the parasites causes unexpected results.	4	[ "\"And this should just about... do it, yes!\" The miscroscopic laser scalpel deactivated, and the miniscule worm's central nervous system showed signs of shutting down. Of course, this was only visible because of extremely advanced medical equipment that had recently been invented.\n\nThe surgery was highly controversial, as some argued that the \"nerve worm\" as people had begun to call it was an organism that humans were potentially codependent upon. But in the name of unfaltering scientific progress, the specialist team under Doctor Rodenson at Mercy Hospital had undertaken this surgery for a special patient whose nerve worm had shown signs of interfering with the bloodflow in his brain. That was where the organism lived, of course, right in the center of the cerebellum of the brain.\n\nThe doctors filed out of the surgery room, while the patient was taken to recovery. They conversed over their excitement following the successful surgery and dispersed to other tasks.\n\nMeanwhile, something strange was happening with patient 0. He was wheeled into a intensive care recovery wing to be monitored closely following the controversial surgery. When he began to convulse, the nurses immediately notified the doctors involved in the surgery.\n\nMinutes later a team was assembled in the room, and patient 0 was sitting up in his bed. He gazed passively between the faces that were tensely staring at him, a soft smile on his face.\n\n\"No, doctors, I feel fine, really. Actually, better than fine... I can... I have complete control over myself. I can push my heart faster, if I want, or slow it down... I can feel vibrations coming from all of you. I can detect trace heat fluctuations... you are all experiencing heightened emotions.\"\n\nThe doctors were dumbfounded, and immediately began discussing the ramifications of what they were hearing. Doctor Rodenson stepped forward, a tall man with piercing grey eyes. \"Can we continue to observe you for some time? Your case potentially represents a massive scientific breakthrough for our entire species.\"\n\nPatient 0 frowned at this. \"No, I think I've still got my rights intact to leave as I please. Now that you understand this surgery is nonlethal, maybe someone else will let you study them. I seem to have abruptly realized that I could be doing a thousand things that will impact our species more positively than letting you study me.\"\n\nThe doctors tried to reason with the man, even tempted to call security, but the man insisted that they inspect his vitals and allow him to leave if he would be permitted.\n\nHours later, a small team of FBI agents arrived in the hospital and patient 0 was never seen again.\n\n\n\n\n// Sorry to cut it short but it was just taking too long and I've got a short story to work on :)", "As soon as it happened, Dr. Ravi stared into the one-way mirror with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. He stepped back a few steps; his heart screamed with fear and disbelief, but his mind felt amazement and admiration for his own work. The experiment was successful, the subject was…most likely alive. But the results defied all of his and his team’s most outrageous expectations. As soon as his bewilderment subsided, Dr. Ravi dashed towards the PA system terminal in the high-clearance area and nervously switched it on:\n\n“All personnel involved in the Charles H experiment, report to Lab 2-A immediately. I repeat, Charles H experiment, please report to 2-A immediately.”\n\nThe 54-year-old doctor had never seen anything like this in his long and prestigious career. Starting as the youngest son of a poor cobbler in India, Dr. Ravi proved that low social status and extreme poverty were an obstacle that could be easily overcome with resolute determination and unwavering willpower. He was a hard-working night-owl and a loner. In the field of research, these were excellent qualities to obtain, as any casual conversation the local PR guy, some supervisor or even the janitor cost valuable time and concentration. Hence, he’d thrive the most when everyone else was fast asleep. While needing the brains of many brilliant scientists from different fields, Project Free H didn’t require Dr. Ravi to seriously interact with any of them; most of his work could be done alone. But this? Dr. Ravi wanted everyone to see it. The results had to be shared with the entire scientific community, maybe even the world.\n\nThe other scientists started filling the fluorescent-lit room. Its solid steel grey walls, minimalistic white furniture and abundance of industrial-rate machines made it look lifeless, and an unlikely birthplace for what seemed to be an entirely new species. One that never existed before, but which at the same time has always been there. \n\n“I present to you: the first human with an excised Charleston parasite…subject 34! But he is human no more. He’s become…a homomirandus” Dr. Ravi clamoured with pride gleaming from his eyes as his fellow scientists glared at the subject with utter wonderment. \n\nDr. Ravi was right not to call him human anymore. There was no way he could be classified as a homo sapiens anymore. What Dr. Ravi’s team laid eyes on was far different. Far, far different. \n\nThe experiment was still under sedatives, lying down on the hospital bed it’s been in since the Charleston parasite removal procedure. Whilst he retained a humanoid shape, subject 34 seemed to have lost all traces of fat, muscle or meat tissue from his body; only an outline of his skeleton hidden under a layer of skin. The skin wasn’t so tight as to reveal the bone structure, and it only made him only bearable enough to look at. Indeed, with this recent transformation, subject 34’s body lay deep in the uncanny valley, and would probably terrify any layman that happened to come his way. His head also shrunk in size, seemingly to allow him to lift it with his new scrawny body. But was it really scrawny? Could he still move? Speak? Did the reduced head-size also imply a smaller brain and impeded brain power?\n\nLost in his thoughts, already relishing the fame and prestige he expected to receive, Dr. Ravi barely noticed when the experiment started moving; only the indistinct chatter of the team growing louder. However, it wasn’t long until he was sent back to reality; a wild crash and a torrent shattered glass startled him, and the next thing he saw was subject 34 sprinting out of the room with only his patient gown covering him, but couldn’t perceive a single scratch on his body. He looked down and not a drop of blood was shed; his teammates were on the floor, stunned as if shellshocked, but they all looked unharmed. He turned his head towards the now-empty experiment chamber, and noticed some letters were seared into the wall. He walked forward for closer inspection and climbed up the broken window frame, ignoring the shards of broken glass that tore up his lab coat and skin indistinctively until he was close enough to read the inscription.\n\n“Humans lack reality. Freedom will come.” \n" ]	[ 1, 5 ]	[ "1437901578", "1437905887" ]
	[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans	46	[ "\"100 billion deaths. Really? Your record keeping is inept as always.\" Then it chuckled, as it sat back in the chair. The form of this being was a mass of clouds that took on a shape of a being and its position now: a being that could care less as it sat back, one leg hanging over the arm rest another propped on the back rest. It even looked like it was attempting to pick its nose? If it even has a nose. The judge beside it slammed a golden gravel down before speaking sternly \"Death. You will show respect in my court!\" Death only chuckled as the judged looked upon it with fiery eyes. the face hidden behind flowing white locks of hair and a very, very long white beard. \nA woman appeared before Death, her eyes blindfolded, her crimson locks tied back in a neat bun, while her porcelain hued skin seemed to blend in the equally white toga. She spoke with a soft but equally stern voice \"Death, we are all judged for what we do. Even you though your station is the end all of everything. Normal operations we wouldn't even be here, but you acted out of the natural order of things.\" \nDeath gave an exaggerated yawn and stood up as it moved off the stand and approached the jury. The jurors in this case were a mixture of fellow deities and forces that controlled various aspects of the world. Death leaned over the railing of the box and the its head took on a form of a skull as it spoke \"If you rule in favor of whatever brought this suit. I will make sure to visit each one of you and let you feel my icy touch. I swear it.\" \nThe Judge slammed his foot down and stood up exclaiming \"That's it! You're done death!\" The Judge picked up the golden gavel and through it at Death. Before it could turn around the gavel pierced the cloud mass and emitted thundering explosions of lightening. Death gave a super natural scream as the bolts of lightening attacked its senses. After a couple of more seconds Death sunk to the floor silent as the Judge stood over the shocked and silent room. He proclaimed \"This trial is over. The punishment is that Death will be separated from its faculties and returned to the primordial beast! The office of \"Death\" will now be exempt from elections and appointments. It will take eons for all departments to route those souls to their proper final destinations. Hence forth a new holding area called \"Limbo\" shall be created in order to process these victims while continuing on with standard operations.\" \n\n- That is how Limbo came into existence, and why so many souls are still there. ", "\"The question at hand here isn't one of guilt,\" spoke the defense. \"It's not one of morality, it's not one of conscience, it's one of facts. The defendant has killed, and he will do so again if acquitted. His guilt is a fact and on that there should be no doubt. What matters or not, is whether he is above the law of those such of ourselves. We do not chain a lion for the death of a gazelle, we do not kill a dog for the death of a rabbit, we don't even blame these animals for these actions. But, you might say, they are just that, animals, in them there is no ability of rational thought, they cannot be blamed for following their nature! Yet, even we, who we like to think above such primitive things, condone other humans in their act of murder! In fact, we expect it, we put people in positions of power and we expect them to kill others, even if only to make us sleep a little easier at night. We put the decision into hands of men we think greater than ourselves, men we put above the law. We expect that they do the acts we cannot, that we would never even consider doing, things that we believe atrocious, so that we may continue to do so. That we can exist in a society such as we do. \n\n\"Sometimes we even glorify them for it! We record them in history and worship their actions, those of Napoleon and Alexander the Great. We look to these men who kill and view them as the perfect leader. They are above our morals and our laws. They create the law as they see fit for themselves so that we may live a better life. Sometimes we even pretend to be shocked, repelled, angered by their actions. We protest but only in the very rarest of cases to we actually act. This is because we know they are necessary, we know that our laws, our little ideas of what should and should not be, do not apply to them. For us to act against them would be no different than a tree acting against its gardener. They are above us.\n\n\"And it is not only by democracy that we allow, or rather, that we accept these people. Sometimes it is by violence, by biological position, or by our own indifference. Yet, we still accept these people as above us, people we have no choice in, we allow to live above our own law! Such a position is the position of which my client exists in. Even he, himself, did not choose to be put into this position but yet he accepted it just as we did. He acted as necessary and we accepted that just as we accept the actions of our own leaders. He is above our law and thus above any decision this court makes. The simple fact is that whatever the jury decides does not matter because even if my client is chained, executed, locked away, the natural order rules that another will simply replace him. This is an order we not only accept in nature, our own society, and the rest of the universe but one that rely on in order to pretend that we are noble, rational men. The existence of those we put above the law will never cease and to try and change it is the same as hoping to live for now on without food or water. It is simple idiocy, delusion, a position of psychosis!\"", " \"ORDER GOD DAMNIT, I WILL SEE ORDER!\" The judge screamed over the yelling of those in the courtroom. Why was he chosen for this god forsaken case. \n\n How could they even catch death, he wondered. Judge Zachary wiped his forehead, he was very good at hiding his fear and nervousness but not today. This wasn't in the United States jurisdiction, it was in the UN's. World leaders arguing, goddamn politics.\n\n Judge Zachary cleared his throat after the noise died down, he stared at death. Death had no certain form, however he liked how we depicted him, as a dean man in a robe, holding a scythe. He changed his robe from tattered grey to orange. How appropriate.\n\n \" Death, what is your opinion of the crimes set against you, and do you think they are true?\" \n\n Death looked up, well, his hood did, there was nothing under his hood, just a deep, darkness that chilled all those who looked at him. \n\n \"They are fair, but they must continue.\" \n\n His voice was a deep, low, echoing voice, it was composed of the billions of voices of those he killed.\n\n \"You must pay for your crimes, Death, no exceptions\"\n\n \"You do not unde-\"\n \n He was cut off by a reporter, who pulled a gun out of his camera, cleverly hidden, and then he rushed death. \n\n \"THIS IS FOR MY WIFE AND KIDS YOU FUCK!\"\n\n He fired his mag, but to no visible reaction by death. \n\n No one moved, not even the guards, everyone just watched Death for his reaction. Death slowly rose, and walked to the man, who backed up in fear. \n\n \"NO PLEASE, NO\"\n\n The scythe moved near his throat, ready to pierce\n\n \"I'm sorry, Ryan, But everything is planned, who I let die, and why. And I must go continue my work, goodbye, Ryan\"\n\n And then Death pulled his Scythe back, and swung it towards Ryan, ready to kill, while he laughed manically, the disappeared just before killing Ryan.\n\n \"Court......... Is adjourned.\"\n\n \n ", "\"Death?, what is this death you speak of?\"\n\n\"What do you mean sir, you are the Grim Reaper right?\"\n\n\"That is what you call me, though i have many names.\"\n\n\"Well you were named as such because you seemed to have something to do with the dieing process, legends claim you bring the souls to the afterlife.\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Could you state for the record your exact purpose?\"\n\n\"This will take some explaining.\n\nWhen beings from beyond our plane invaded the Garden of Eden we were forced to expel all souls to stop them from being consumed of destroyed by accident as god unleashed his wrath.\n\nWhile we eventually won the war it was at a cost, god was forced to hold the breach closed from outside our plane, and Eden was in ruins, me and only a few other beings escaped relatively unharmed.\n\nWe have spend eons rebuilding Eden for the day we could repopulate it again, but when we opened portals to here we were horrified to find souls had ceased their timeless existence for vessels of flesh, luckily we were able to separate you in time before your forms became permanent and your souls became stuck in this plane. \n\nNow while we would have liked to bring everyone over at ones, the portals we can used are limited now that god is occupied. \n\nMe I'm the one doing the soul collecting, i go to any point where the bond between flesh and soul loosens and break you out, most of the time i wait for you to loosen it yourself, but when a large portal is possible i have been known to help things on its way. \n\n\"Help on its way how?\"\n\n\"Nudge an asteroid here, modify a disease there, hell i even tried telling people, Aztec's were quite helpful in that regard, but i found limiting my presence tends to be for the best, both because people mistake me for god and because killing to many slows down the process in the long run.\"", "The brave men who led the trial have decided to... keep the Grim Reaper alive and locked, for no other punishment would be cruel enough for this twisted entity than to know that humanity will never fear him anymore.", "The Reaper was put on the stand to make a final case for before his verdict, he stood up from his table and walked to the booth. He viewed the jury, he had quite a task set out for him.\n\n\"Mr. Grim, are you prepared to swear your oaths?\" The judge asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" he stated as he put his hand on the Bible set in front of him.\"I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.\"\n\n\"Alright, you may begin your testimony.\" The judge allowed.\n\n\"People of the jury, I fear that you don't really understand me.\" The Reaper stated as he paced across the floor,\"You have all been lead to believe that I am the one who kills, that I am the most prolific killer in history, the being responsible for every death that's ever happened. From your childhood dog, to Abraham Lincoln. But that's not true. I don't kill, I only welcome the dead.\"\n\nThe Grim Reaper took a pause for a few moments for his last sentence to sink in, the courtroom was silent and everyone stared at the hooded figure standing before them.\n\n\"You see, when people die, they just die. Whether it be from heart disease or car accidents. They die, and I introduce them to the afterlife. I guide them across the river, and I make sure that they are okay. I am not the devil, I am a tour guide. Your loved ones have all met me, and they've all been helped by me, I let their loved ones know things that they never could.\"\n\nThe crowd was beginning to whisper with disbelief, eyebrows knit and scowls forming.\n\n\"You've all been taught by the media and novels that I AM death, but in reality I am only a result of death. You over there,\" He said as he pointed to Juror #5,\"Your brother Tom, he died from cancer 13 years ago, I met him, and he told me to tell you that he forgave you for Christmas '97, you remember that don't you? That dream two weeks after he died, when he came to you and told you that he was okay? I helped him do that.\"\n\nJuror #5 blinked in confusion and whisper under her breath, \"Oh, my god.\" She relaxed against the back of her chair as if a weight had been lifted.\n\n\"In conclusion,\" The Reaper proclaimed, \"I do not cause the ones that you love to die, but I make sure that they do not die with unfinished business.\" \n\nThe courthouse was completely silent, no one said a word as the Reaper sat back down. The judge called the jury for deliberation, and they retired to the jury room to decide his fate.\n", "The Grim Reaper was using his scythe to pick his nails as the jury, sat quivering in their seats. In fact, everyone except the General Attorney was shivering with some form of cold, unfound fear of the hooded figure. pick pick pick, as his nicked off a bit of dirt under his nails. It was odd really, literally having no flesh, and only bone, but also having nails.\n\n\nI suppose he had to bide his time as well. \n\n\nEveryone rose as Judge Hawken walked in. He looked at Death with an odd glance, almost ashamed to look. \"Please be seated.\" \n\n\nHe was an elderly man, but no sign of deterioration came with it. He had a powerful, deep and almost luxurious voice as he commanded the Grim Reaper to rise.\n\n\n\"Grim Reaper. We have historically have allowed the persecuted an attempt to defend one's self in allowing them to be capture and hold themselves above their crimes. Today, we cannot afford that luxury. In addition, because you pledge no allegiance to any state, nation or race, we will not hold you to the truth. We merely hope that the words you say today will ring true for us tomorrow.\"\n\n\nHe pushed up his glasses. Grim put down the scythe and stood, six feet tall of bone. He looked at the judge.\n\n\"Your time of reckoning has come. There is no trial today, but merely the death of Alan J. Hawken, Judge of mankind and fighter against injustice. I am sorry to deceive you in such a manner. I have come to collect your life today.\"\n\n\nSilence. Then a single shout. \"Murderer!\"\n\n\nAnd when the last snowflake falls, the avalanche begins. The yelling, shouting and incessant vulgarities that were thrown at him were endless, unstoppable. Grim simply stared at the crowd for a moment before he picked up his scythe, and hit it against the floor.\n\n\nA deadly silence and cold echoed the building. People grew white as the scythe ran red with blood, dripping thick, viscous drops. His gaze returned to the judge.\n\n\n\"Alan J. Hawken.\" His name. That was all. The indicator of the individual, the dying. \n\n\nIt was true though. Judge Hawken had been suffering from a pain on the left side of his brain. Little did he know, it was a sign that an aneurysm was inbound.\n\n\nHis final look only reflected the sorrow of a gatekeeper. \"Collect.\"\n\n\nAnd that was it. There was no trial that day, only the sad end to an incomplete story. Grim was never seen after that moment.\n\n\nSome say that it was because the Judge has sinned, or that it was a hoax. The simple and short of it was, the Grim Reaper needed a replacement. All that begins must end, including the ferryman, the gatekeeper, the Grim Reaper. \n\n\nAnd so it was, Alan J. Hawken died, but was born anew, as the Grim Reaper.\n\n\nHe had become Death, unto the world.", "The Reaper had been convicted on all counts. He was facing a minimum mandatory sentence of 400 years. The jury looked around the court room with satisfied smirks on all of their faces. \n\nThis marked the end of humanity. For without death there could be no rebirth. Before long the world was littered with mounds of ancient peoples too old and decrepit to function, their minds rotted with time. All the while the Reaper silently laughed from his confinement. ", "“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” \n\n“The truth is all I do,” Grimm Reaper replies.\n\n“A simple yes or no answer will suffice, Mr. Reaper.” The judge interjects.\n\n“Then, yes.”\n\n“Council, your witness.”\n\n“Mr. Reaper, can you explain your involvement with the deaths of…everyone?” the lawyer asks.\n\n“You see, it’s quite simple really. You probably learned it in kindergarten. You can’t have a top without a bottom, a left without a right, an up without a down and a beginning without an end. There would not be life if I weren’t around.\n\nFor it is because of me that you have experienced every smile and every tear. I am the reason you have the ability to stand there and question me today.”\n\n“Why do cause such hurt?” the lawyer asks.\n\n“Have you not heard what I said? How would you know pain and sorrow, if you didn’t first know pleasure, and joy?” Grim Reaper responds.\n\n“I’ll ask the questions here. Why have you killed so many?”\n\n“By providing an expiration date, I give your life meaning. Time would be squandered if it weren’t for the limited moments you have here.”\n\nAnd at that moment, because the author has no idea where the story should go, Grim fades away.", "How do you capture a primordial force of the cosmos? The short answer is, you don't.\n\nThe long answer is much the same. \n\nYou see, Death was never an integral function. We were meant to live forever, reaching near and far across the breadth of all we could dare to imagine, growing in wit to match our age. But we were not the first. The oldest felt our presence to be a challenge to their status quo, and being far more cunning, far more wise, and far more cruel in nature, the Grim Reaper set forth on a genocide against the human race.\n\nAnd so we faltered. We aged beneath those hollow eyes, withered before the ever-present stalker in our shadows, and died as the chains of mortality were tethered around our necks.\n\nBut the Reaper was patient, and that was their undoing. Cruelty and longing intermingled, such that our ends were invariably horrible, anguishing, worthy of song and legend that we would remember them by.\n\nWe, too, learned patience, amidst all of the atrocities subtly acquired. It was part of our original function. We could grow. \n\nAnd we did.\n\nThough it took untold centuries, a plethora of millennium, we, on the whole, as a collective species, developed the wherewithal and the insight to match the Grim Reaper, and in so doing snapped the yoke with which we had been manipulated.\n\nSo how do you capture a primordial force of the cosmos? You figure out that it's just another lie told by another, older being. We captured Death in a figurative bottle and then in a literal parse in time, and held then a trial for the wanton acts committed against our own species.\n\nIt was, though swift, just, and satisfying, not an unfair judgment. We let Death speak. We learned all of the missing why's, the greatest of which, now inscribed upon Death's own headstone as epitaph, is still the most sickening.\n\n\"Because I could.\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 8, 21, 37 ]	[ "1437973384", "1438020913", "1437947717", "1437952449", "1437932958", "1437951940", "1437960520", "1437937905", "1437942032", "1437935780" ]
	[WP]Make me hate Harry Potter and support He Who Shall Not Be Named	3	[ "First, there was nothing but pain, blinding, searing pain.\nThen came the darkness - and with it an agony so terrible it seemed to tear at his very soul. All time was lost, and all that could be remembered was a green flash of light, and before it, someone who had been - but was no longer. Weak, powerless, feeble. \nThe boy lived.. the man was torn asunder.\n", "Hush they all said, and they didn’t come close to helping as the world fell apart in front of them time and time again - they vanished with a clap out of the trenches in the teens, they built their shields strong against the bombs and radar in the forties, they stayed off the grid as the world grew dependent on and violent over depletable fuel. \n\nThey were content living our their lives in a strange utopia, where the worst illness imaginable was a skilled healer’s wand away from a cure, and the rest of the world suffered and died around them, completely oblivious to the solution to every single problem there ever had been. \n\nThe man Riddle did not know this. He did not have a noble, heroic cause. He was a greedy man born into the richest caste in the world who still craved more, and he fought and stole and killed to get it. \n\nHe also brought the majority of the world closer than it ever has been to cures - for disease, for violence, for scarcity - and, just as the magical community was about to reach out to the Others for help, to expose just how much potential the world really held to those whose eyes were blinded by war and famine and plague, just then the man Potter stopped it all. Just then he grabbed the door and violently slammed it shut, and those Others never knew what they had missed. \n\nIn Amsterdam there lived a woman, bright and quick and capable, who would have seen a wizarding exhibition one day as a child, there in the post-Riddle, post-Potter, post-Divide world. She would join her colleagues at the university later in life and become the world’s foremost authority on harnessing magical energy for mundane use - transportation, food, energy, water. She would have been more widely revered than Salk and led the new cultural revolutions. \n\nThe world would have kept fighting no matter what, wouldn’t it? You can’t change human nature. You can’t create a utopia like this - can you? \n\nThe one evil thing about the man Potter is that he decided the answer for you, and never even gave you a chance to hear the question.\n", "Harry: I'm a bitch who didn't ask for the power that was given to me. \nVoldemort: I wanted that power, and would have used it to create a world after my image--a snake. \n\nHope that helped." ]	[ 2, 3, 4 ]	[ "1437965755", "1437968632", "1437963382" ]
	[WP] Tomorrow is Sunday	5	[ "I'm trying to write my story, a history of my living, but all the words come out wrong. Blood is on my fingertips; I can't evade its presence. I mean, I guess- I was a little rude to a few sad kids yesterday, but really its all their fault. Really it could have just been anyone. Cause you see the real problem- the real problem is:\n\nYou like new experiences, and to hike, and read, and meet new people! Or, you like to read sci-fi, surf the web and watch anime of which I have never heard. Well so do fucking I. And the worst part is- you think you fucking chose that. You think one day you woke up with the novel idea you would waste your life chasing trivialities because that's just the way you are. What a brand new solution to the world's oldest problem! Way to go and good on you! But I guess since we all have free will, your happiness is just as valid as mine is. Like what we say really matters. We're tear drops in an avalanche that the cosmos will never guess existed. We are motes of dust clinging to the idea of significance. But I chose this life the same way butterflies decide where they die. \n\nI spend all day smelling roses in the vain attempt it'll wash away the nausea of seeing someone like me smile. \n\nSo what if I chase my own pleasure in other people's shame? And so what if some kids can't figure out if they're boys or girls or-. \n\nWe are lost in a sea of not our making, given rules arbitrary, provided tools no one needs. We complain because its hard and too fucking dumb to figure out something better. So yeah, I called them faggots a few times. Is it my problem the chaos of the universe orchestrated a life where my Uncle fucked me and my Dad threw spit in my face if I brought home something lower than an A? So what if their funeral has three hundred souls attending? Its not like I'm jealous! It's not like I just want love too. From someone I would call a faggot.", "Thursday 4:29 PM\n\nToday is the day i've been waiting 5 months for. The day I get to test my company's new product, the home AI.\n\n I drive towards the house, I see my coworker, Michael, standing at the door, waiting. We shake hands.\n\n\"Well, this is it\" he says, gesturing towards the house. Beautiful, sleek, modern and made entirely of metal and glass.\n\n\"It's very...\"\n\n\"Large?\" he finishes.\n\n\"Yeah...\" I reply.\n\n\"Oh! Almost forgot, here's your access card, two spares, and the Slate.\"\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"Control panel for the AI, as well as a bug report system. This is a test remember.\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah.\"\n\n\"Good luck man, test ends on Sunday.\"\n\n------------------\n\nUpon opening the door I'm greeted by the lights of the house coming to life.\n\nHello! My name is Athena!\n\nStartled by the sudden voice, I stumble to the floor.\n\nOhmygosh did I scare you? Asks a worried yet bubbly female voice.\n\n\"Are you the house AI?\" I ask.\n\nYup! But seriously are you OK?\n\n\"Yes, I'm fine, but please don't do that again.\"\n\nCan do!\n\nThis is gonna be a long three days.\n\n-----------------\n\nWill defintely continue tomorrow, but for now, I must slumber.", "in summer i would never\n\nremember the days\n\neach blended into the next\n\n a distant haze\n\nwhere dates have no meaning\n\nnow i always know\n\nthe numbers and words\n\nthat time feels further away\n\nthan the calendar on my desk\n\ntomorrow is sunday\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 3 ]	[ "1437979221", "1437982505", "1437978546" ]
	[WP] A day in the life of someone who lives in the cursed black and white world of infomercials where everything goes wrong all of the time.	14	[ "I awake with a jump, glancing over at my alarm clock to see how late I'm running since that alarm I set never went off. Heaving a heavy sigh, I sit up and attempt to get out of bed, becoming tangled in the sheets and falling to the floor crumpled up in the ball of bed spread. I untangle myself, wrenching my limbs from the Cthulu of linens wrapped around my legs. First stop, bathroom. Stumbling over the threshold into the bathroom, I find the puddle left by my wife after her shower and slip instantly, knocking my head on the rim of the tub. \n\nWincing from the pain, I manage to get back up, dropping my drawers to take a quick piss in the toilet. When I finally managed to distract myself from the throbbing in the back of my head enough to pee, the stream came out broken, spraying in all directions. I manage to quell the spray and gain control of the liquid when the toilet seat slams shut, coating myself as well as the floor in the foul-smelling waste.\n\nAnnoyed at my bathroom, I wash my hands, cursing as the soap dispenser slips out of my hands and lands in the trash. I dry my hands on the towel, fresh from the laundry but already smelling of mildew. Done with this drenched, and now foul smelling room, I wander to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast and lunch for the day. Opening the fridge, I find my leftovers from the night before leaking onto the shelves, coating my food in thai-curry sauce. Starting with breakfast, I begin to pull food out of the fridge. The bacon frees itself without issue, but the carton of eggs slips from my hands, breaking three eggs and sending the rest sprawling around my kitchen floor. My ninja reflexes that I used trying to catch the falling carton knocked the rest of my breakfast food onto the floor, including the gallon of milk which explodes on impact.\n\nI regroup the breakfast food, placing a pan on the stove for the eggs. After rinsing the milk off the eggs, I crack the remaining few into a bowl, missing with one, demolishing the shell of another into the mix, and having the last egg be partially-developed, I give up on breakfast and switch to making lunch. I open the cabinet to a shower of tupperware and dishes...", "7am, the alarm clock goes off. Instead of an alien shaped alarm clock where the head pops off and you have to go looking for it, I’m left to suffer through my normal routine of hitting the snooze button. But I can’t today. There are too many things I need to take care of. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBtnXkOGMi8\n\nAs I turn my clock off, I clap my hands to turn my lights on, but nothing happens. I clap again. Nothing. My worst fears have come true; I have to turn my lights on by actually having to touch the lamp. How pedestrian. \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ny8-G8EoWOw\n\nAs I head towards the restroom to relieve myself from my night of slumber, I sit on the commode and to my great dismay; there is no comfort gel toilet cushion. No soft, pliable plastic for my cheeks to rest on. Instead, I’m left with a hard, coarse plastic. No human should have to suffer the way I am. But I take care of business as quickly as possible, not wanting to prolong the discomfort below any longer.\nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/comfort-gel-toilet-cushion/detail.php?p=506060&v=household_bed-and-bath&pagemax=all\n\nAs I wash my hands, I debate on taking a shower first or having my morning coffee. A yawn escapes my mouth. Coffee it is. I head to my cabinet and to my dismay; my K-cups are not located in a carousel like they should be. Instead, I have to open my drawer to retrieve my caffeine capsule. No ability to spin my choices around, I have to settle with just looking before I find a suitable candidate for this already rough morning. \nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/detail.php?p=510277&SESSID=2cc991dfffef4279dd7c15cff6f71175\n\nThere is not enough room on my kitchen counter, so I have to lift what feels like two tons worth of metal and plastic and place it on a suitable space near an outlet. If only there was a way that I could easily slide my coffee maker to and fro instead of having to lift with my delicate hands like some heathen. Why isn’t there an easier way than lifting an appliance and placing it where it needs to go? Why have you forsaken me god? Why?\nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/sliding-kitchen-caddy/detail.php?p=488709&v=kitchen\n\nI finish my coffee and realize I’ve spent too long bumbling about with my morning routine. I need to get ready, and fast. I shower, get dressed and realize I almost forgot to floss and brush my teeth. Unfortunately, there is no quick way to floss my teeth. One minute in the bathroom is far too much valuable time being wasted when I could be on the road already. If only there was a portable and ready to go anywhere flossing mechanism that I could use in the car. I wouldn’t need the two hands required to pluck the lodged food from my teeth. I could hold the steering wheel in one and floss with the other. It makes such perfect sense. But again, god must hate me for there exists no product that I have described. \nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/power-floss/detail.php?p=854924&v=health-and-beauty\n\nAs I head out the door, I’m surprised I was able to make it out on time at all. If this is how I must live my life every day, I don’t know how much more I can take. We’ve advanced so much as a society, yet there are no suitable solutions to my morning woes. Hopefully my drive is a little more successful, and a little more civilized. One can hope, at least. \n", "He was coming closer. His footsteps echoed in the dark hallway outside of my room. I wished desperately that he would be satisfied with the brutal murder of my friends, but he followed me too.\n\nHe stopped outside of the door I was behind.\n\nOh god, please no. Not like this\n\nI was shaking, muffled sobs being silenced by my hands.\n\nBilly Mays bursts through the door\n\n\"BUT WAIT THERES MORE\"", "\"I'm done, Charlie. I can't live like this anymore,\" she sobs, \"Either you get your shit together or we're over.\"\n\n\"Carol, wait,\" I step toward her, but trip hard and crumple to the floor. If only I had the AntiStumble shoe attachments, then I could live a life of stable and trip-free walking...\n\n\"Goodbye, Charlie,\" and she leaves my life forever with the resounding click of the door being locked.\n\n\"Goddamnit,\" I clutch my face and weep, \"Goddamnit...\"\n\nI reach for a Kleenex, but its touch evades me and the entire box spills around me, the cost of not buying Tear-Away Tissue Grips, an easy and mistake-free way to grab Kleenexes.\n\n\"GODDAMNIT!\" and I cry alone there, amidst the soft, tissue-littered ground, hoping it will all end...\n\nThis is my hell.\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 6 ]	[ "1438028275", "1438028470", "1438045745", "1438024851" ]

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