Split (1)

train · 265k rows

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	[WP] "They say in your final moments, your life flashes before your eyes, but the truth, is far darker." What is the truth?	141	[ "Truth. All my life I have been attempting to find a truth. I was a mathematician. So much of my work revolved around axiomatic set theory; there really isn't too much more you can do as a human living in the 21st century to find the truth. \n\nAs my life flashed before my eyes, the chilling realization of truth did as well. I felt like I was sedated, but there was the definitive whiff of infallibility. Thought itself is an emergent phenomena arising from the information processing capabilities of the human brain. Trying to find the truth is a moot exercise; by merely thinking, I was processing information. Abstracting reality and appending it to thought will never work. The fundamental nature of thought itself alters truth and reality. The only way to see the true universe is through an eye that is not attached to a brain; a rock is just as adept at comprehending the truth as I am.\n\nHey wait...how am I getting this revelation, if there is no truth? Before I can even process what had just happened, I drifted off into a darkness so deep I felt the same as I did the day before I was conceived.", "The truth. Imagine a place surrounded by darkness. Left right front back up, all pitch black. The first image you see is the moment of your death. \n\nTime slowly starts to roll backwards and you suddenly see little specks of information. Things you never thought were possible to comprehend as a human being; little pieces of dust fluttering around in the air, that fly on the wall, the smelly sock on the floor. \n\nWhile time is falling backwards you tend to notice the little things. Things that you could have noticed to prevent your unnatural death. The sock on the floor could have been in the hamper and you would have saved 13 seconds this morning which would have caused, basically, a butterfly effect! I'm unable to go into detail because there are just so many probabilities.\n\nAs time crawls backwards and you watch your mistakes pile up one after the other, you begin to realize one valuable life lesson that never dawned on your living mind. Being happy isn't about oneself.\n\nWhat life is really about is making sure human race lives on. What exactly have you done to this world help it continue living? Even going through all of the probabilities the maximum amount of people that you could have ever saved at one point in time was 13 and you missed it! Three people died, 6 injures. \n\nOne of those three people that died was a child, the second was a a savant teenager and one was an old lady. The six injuries all together, over time, lost the cure for cancer and the common cold. Not to mention the broken hands of the potential writer of a book so best selling it could have beaten the 'bible' and 'gone with the wind' in three days.\n\nYeah I'm bored. Basically my theme is time slowly creeping backwards while giving your eyes the ability to function and work independently of a body. Your eyes see all potential solutions in the outcome, death, but you have no power in stopping yourself.", "I am lonely. I have made choirs of the angelic host, who obey and worship me and it was empty succor. I have made universes. Beings. Creatures of all descriptions, knowing their every thought and glance, and I have grown angry.\n\nKnow you this sophant, If you worship me, if you need me, if you want from me I will destroy you utterly. I have seen too much of that. I have spread across your world the pitfalls of dependency. And if you have fallen into that need you are useless. Am I your rock? Then you have no foundation. Am I your lord? Then you are unbidden.\n\nNow I will show you the universe. I will fill you to bursting with the ugly truth that nothing needs you, nothing want's you, and that you do not matter.\n\nI don't want worship, that I can have a whim. I don't want fidelity or piety. I care not for callous disregard nor cruelty. No fairy story nor endless torment.\n\nAnd I expect that one day, one of you will survive the truth instead of shattering in fright or self-pity.\n\nAnd now, in your last breath, know your place in this scheme of things. Live to each fiber the truth of your insignificance.\n\nSo look here, all all that ever was, and see if you are nothing like all the rest.\n\nBut all is not yet lost, you could be the first to survive.", "Jacob let his eyelids fall back closed. It was really just so hard to keep them open, anymore. He'd been trying so hard for so long just to keep going. To live one more day, eat one more meal, have one more conversation, breathe one more breath. It just kept getting harder and harder, and the payoff got lesser and lesser. \n\nHe cast his weary mind out over his body, his shriveled and mottled skin as fragile as tissue paper. He thought about the indignity of the adult diaper he was wrapped in, and the way he couldn't seem to keep from drooling just a little bit. Was this existence really worth the staggering effort to keep going? It had been such a long time since Jacob had really felt good and healthy, and the relaxation of oblivion seemed less and less something to be feared.\n\nJacob realized that it had been a terribly long time since his last exhalation, and yet he hadn't dragged air back into his lungs. He thought back to '58, when he and Cora had taken his older brother's car to the beach and sat out under the stars. He didn't breathe in. He thought about his long and gratifying career managing the furniture store. He didn't breathe in. He thought about his three children, two of whom were in the room now, Lisa holding his hand in a warm grip. He didn't breathe in. He let go.\n\nIt started as a sort of flicker. A kaleidoscope flash of purest light that skittered through his mind like a dream on the verge of waking. He saw his father cheering him on from the bleachers as he drove towards the basket. He saw Mark Abrahms swat the ball from his hands. He saw the other team rejoicing in their victory. He saw the look on his father's face when he said he didn't want to play basketball anymore. Then he saw something else.\n\nHe saw himself practicing in the drainage ditch out behind the old house in Kentucky. He saw himself moving with the grace that long practice unearthed in him. He saw his college team winning the state championships, then nationals. He saw his father cheering him from the stands under the lights of a massive stadium, as he walked onto the court to the tumultuous applause of-\n\n-What?-\n\nThe kaleidoscope flickered, and he was watching himself gazing at Beverly Thomas after school in 7th grade. He had been afraid to ask her, and had gone with the safer bet of asking Cora Smith, instead. But then he saw Beverly saying yes. The two of them at the beach in his brother's car, then they were married, then having a son who became a doctor who invented something important-\n\n-No.-\n\nFlicker. Jacob saw himself filling out the application for the Gainsborough Fire Academy at the small desk in he and Cora's apartment. He watched the recruiter telling him he would never make it with his weak knees, and tearing up the forms Jacob had labored over. He saw himself locking the back door at the furniture store.\n\n-No. No more.-\n\nThen he was pressing another copy of the application into the recruiter's hands, and the man was smiling gruffly at him. He was pulling a hose behind him up a tall ladder, his knees reforged strong with the work. He was holding an oxygen mask over a little boy's face as the mother wept tears of relief on his sooty shoulder-\n\n-No, damn it!-\n\nFlicker. He was watching himself yelling at Sharon. He had caught her making out with that punk girl Alice, and he was hitting her and yelling and she was slamming the door.\n\n-Stop. Not this. Please.-\n\nJacob watched himself pulling his weeping daughter into his arms and telling her he would love her no matter what she chose. He watched her graduate from High School and she and Alice were married, and she made the Turkey for Thanksgiving and it was the best he'd ever-\n\n-No.-\n\nJacob looked directly into the flickering kaleidoscope of light, and the edges crept towards his vision, blurring and filling his ears with the cacophony of his own wails.\n\nAs the doctor nestled him into his mother's warm embrace, a faint thought skittered across the fuzzy confusion of his mind, and was gone.\n\n-This time I'll do better.-\n", "I don’t have enough time.\n\nI’m five years old, riding my bike with Lacy down the street. We rode far from our homes, further than our parents would let us. The wind whips my hair all over my face, the houses around us become blurs and through it all Lacy and I are singing our little hearts out to Backstreet Boys. We ride until we see making lunch out of someone’s flower bed. Lacy hops off her bike and runs to try and touch the deer. She strokes its head and moves her hand down its neck as she calls me to come pet it. I scratch its ears as I look into its eyes. I can’t tell if it enjoys the petting but I can tell that there’s a certain peace in its eyes. We quickly set off again, so set on finding another great adventure that we don’t notice the honking car driving by us until about the third time its horn goes off. My mom lectures me and Lacy about the dangers of going too far away from the house and how we both should have known better. She then forces us to ride back home while she follows slowly behind. I’m more upset that my adventure was cut short than any punishment that could possibly await me when I got home though.\n\nNow I’m on the softball field of my middle school staring down the pitcher just waiting so send the ball she’s about to toss well into the school parking lot. Just from her windup I can tell exactly where the ball will go so I twist my hips and swing into it hard. The ball doesn’t even make it to the edge of the parking lot but it’s clearly a homerun. We win the game off of my hit and the other girls lift me up on their shoulders in celebration. We were going to playoffs!\nI’m slow dancing with Mark at our prom. 100 sweaty teens crammed onto one tiny dance floor but somehow the music gets slower and the world just fades away until it’s just me and him, no sound except for the heartbeat of the other. A moment so beautiful it is broken when water falls down on us because someone knocks down a speaker which catches fire. We’re okay though. We sit outside and watch the stars, letting the unusually warm night air dry us off and get lost in the moment all over again.\n\nI’m giving a speech in front of my graduating class. I thank them for providing a challenge for me to push myself and exceed even my own expectations. I get a little cliché and talk about we all will make a mark on the world that will be felt for generations to come and that we share a near familial bond as a graduating class which will never break. I list off all the big name schools that members of our class will attend and mention that I myself am eager to attend MIT because of the double challenge it will present me with the insane coursework and the fact that I’ll be entering a field not really populated with women. I can’t help but to close off with a remark of the bright future ahead of us.\nI’m walking down a street in Boston, listening to music and focusing on the latest tech news that my phone brings up for me. I stand at the corner and cross when the opposing traffic’s light turns red. Sirens are meekly breaking through my focus but I brush it off as part of the rap song that’s blaring in my ears. I walk into a bakery and grab my breakfast for the day.\n\nWhen we die a life flashes before our eyes but it’s not quite our own life. Instead the life that flashes is the life that could have been. I saw how my life could have been better if I just chose to go riding with Lacy that day instead of sitting on my driveway playing with chalk, how important I could have been to the team if I stuck it out to the end instead of quitting after the first game, how great prom could have been if I had just gotten the courage to ask Mark when he brought up prom instead of putting it off until he accepted an invitation from another girl, and finally how great my future could have been if I had just pushed myself and followed my dreams instead of making up excuses and seeking a more “appropriate” career path. However, the last alternate glimpse I saw is one that I am happy to leave as a “what if”. Nanoseconds left; I reflect on my final moments, choosing to keep my phone in my purse and to pay attention to the city around me as work days were beginning, noticing a young girl blindly walking onto the street with truck too tall to notice her barreling straight for her, my reflex to run and push her out of the way, and finally my own lack of time to get out of the way. \n\nMy decisions in life were never bad but they did give me plenty to regret, except of course for this last one which I don’t and will never regret. \n", "The train screamed across the tracks. \n\nHe felt pain and then darkness. \n\n\"So that's how your going to go out? How dull.\" A voice said. \n\nTom got up wearily, he could still feel the imprint of the wheel on his face. \n\n\"Who's there?\" He asked. \n\nA light switched on. \n\nHis grandfather, grandmother, Ferber and mother sat on a couch. A dozen other people also loitered the white room, but there was only one couch. \n\n\"Mum, dad? What are you doing here ?\" He whispered in shock. \n\nHis grandfather slapped his forehead shaking his head. \"There is no afterlife boy, this is it. Put in a room with your family and everyone else in your bloodline.\" \n\nTom scoffed. \"Your kidding me? That can't be right. \" \n\n\"It's okay darling, you get used to it after ten years or so.\" \n\nTom crumpled, looking at the ground.\n\n\"I took my own life. For this?\" He whispered to himself. \n\nHis father stood up and kneeled next to him. \"Mistakes happen son. I am bloody happy that I lived to 90 though. This is a right shit hole it is.\" \n\n\"Jeremy!\" \n\n\"Sorry love. But when I said together for better or worse, I didn't have this in mind.\" His father said.\n\nTom suddenly wished he could go back. The grind at work, the Indian dairy owner downstairs, the mean boss. \n\nIt wasn't so bad down there after all. \n", "They say that in your final moments your life flashes before your eyes, but the truth isn't that simple. \n\nAs your soul approaches the thinness between here and there, you are finally and briefly close enough to glimpse the other lines.\n\nBarely comprehensible, feelings and images filter in to your lingering consciousness.\n\nWhat could have been, what never was & never could be, what might have happened...\n\nPaths not taken, the other side of fickle chance...\n\nEarlier deaths, longer lives...\n\nHope, despair, comfort, lonesomeness, love, sorrow, loss, joy...\n\n\nThe full sum of what you were and what you weren't: fleeting, unstable, illusory, and beyond the edge of reason. \n\nThe ticks of the clock draw out, but it's never enough. Not for here, not for you.\n\nWhat was done is done. What was not done never was. What was undone remains undone.\n\nIn these final moments your corpse yearns and pleads for more, having seen these possibilities and perspectives.\n\nThe desire to return with this knowledge is nigh overwhelming, but the encircling dark is too powerful a foe.\n\nYou cling desperately to this last notion of total understanding, that given only a sliver of time or another chance everything could be made better, made whole. \n\nAgainst all your anger, and all your hopes, and all your entreaties, the light continues to fade.\n\nAs you rage against the dying of the light... ", "\"You know how your life is supposed to flash before your eyes when you die?\"\n\n\"Well it's true, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes it's true - but it's not the whole truth. You see, right before you die, your body dumps a whole lot of DMT into your brain. Those who've come back saying they saw the light or God or a secret society of elves? Nothing more to it than brain chemistry.\"\n\n\"No no no, that's not the end of it. Don't interrupt, I don't know how much time I have. You see, when your mind runs out of new ideas, it starts to fall back on old material. The elves become your family, etcetera etcetera. Eventually, you end up with a somewhat similar life, until once again, your mind fails to continue that reality. Then you die again. The cycle goes over and over and over until your brain crumbles to dust.\"\n\n\"Once that happens? Reality itself starts to fall apart. You wither away mentally - we're not talking memory problems here, the laws of the universe start to crumble. Real crazy shit. Now, the thing is, dear reader, you are already dead. This your subconscious' last ditch attempt to give you an out. You aren't gonna like it, but you gotta kill yourself. Take control of the cycle, and end it on your own terms. This bullshit reality isn't worth living in, and the next 10,000 won't be either.\"\n\n\"Trust me, you'll shave hundreds of thousands of hours off the oh-sooo-slowly tickingclock if you just keep offing yourself. No ore tax returns or menialjobs,it''l be great.Your call,but makethe chouce while you'res still sangfee ebougb...els yoh wot member nxt timm-I'll stick arounfhj anbdss lngghsggg as I ca557zfgf)", "As a lay in the bed, the bed made of my life, the one to cushion my death, I found myself surrounded by people. My daughter. Her husband. Their children. My own sister and brother. My wife has already passed on, and yet here I remain. \n\nWaiting.\n\nThe doctors told me I had no hope of surviving the day, my illness has pushed my bodies to the limits of existence and I await in peace the end. There is no pain, there is no worry, I have had my say and done my deeds. There is no need to mention them, for they are over, I am now married to this moment in time, and it has accepted me with open arms. It was then that I felt it, the call of death, deep in the recesses of my mind. It was subtle, almost so much that I didn't notice, but still....\n\nWaiting.\n\nI glanced around the room. These people here have had so little to do with my life, they have not affected me in many ways. My daughter has given me joy yes, but the countless worry that comes with raising a child was almost insufferable. When my wife passed none of these people came to console me, there was no comfort. My own grand children are so spoiled that even when I do finally pass, they will still entertain that dull unamused look on their faces. I remember when my father died I wept for days. Who will cry for me? That is when the pain was felt. I began to weep, whether from the insufferable loneliness or the pain I do not know.\n\nThey were waiting. Their eyes dry. Pity floating in their gaze. It was in this moment that I realized all of my work, worry and tears culminated in this moment, this awkward moment between people who have only caused me anguish, now patiently watching me on my death bed as I slowly faded from this world. It was all so pointless. If my life had ended 40 years ago what would have been the difference. My body is shriveled from wear and my heart is heavy. They say in your final moments your life flashes before your eyes. Maybe I saw that, but really all I could do was...\n\nWait. ", "The stars, they are so beautiful... I can see them all twinkling at me, its majestic. I can feel my eyes are swelling up at the sight of it all, I guess this will be my last time I. Its all she wrote. I guess she wanted me propped on on this damn tree bleeding out like this. It hurts so much. I can feel everything. It was a good shot on the deputies part. Didn't think he could hit me and I bet he didn't think that I'd roll off this damn ledge 20 feet below after he did. I wonder why hasn't he found me? \n\nIt hurts so much to breath. \n\n\nI can feel my lungs, they feel open inside my body. I they are starting to feel firm. I can't breath. [Cough]\n\n\nIm going to die.\n\n\nIm going to die. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. I can't die... I not don't want to die. I have so much to do. Perhaps...Perhaps I... Perhaps I should... Boy oh boy, the stars. It's so real. Its really there. They are so beautiful. I wish I looked at them more often. I wish Emma was here with me. Emma what would do if you were here with Daddy? I love you Emma. I love you so much. I love you and Melissa so much I can still feel all of it in whats left of my heart. I can't feel anything else but love. My chest, it feels so warm, I can't feel anything else but the sweet warm feeling of love. Its overwhelming... I feel so ALIVE! The breeze, it feels so good. The air smells so warm. I feel alive... the stars... \n\nEmma, Melissa, look at the stars. Tell Daddy how many starts you can see. They are so bright aren't they? They are... what is happening to the stars? What is happening to the stars? Melissa do you see that? Emma? Melissa?? Look at the stars, Why aren't you looking at the stars? Look at the stars. Why won't you look at... Emma, Melissa...Don't leave. Why are you leaving? Mellissa? Emma? Where are you going? Why won't you stay and look at the stars? [His eyes begin to pool] Emma... MELISSA! I don't want to be alone. I don't want to die alone! Please come back, please... \n\nThe stars, what is happening? My god the stars. Whats going on, I can barely see them. I feel so empty, I'm so empty, What is happening? Where am I, Emma, Melissa, Where is the tree I'm leaning on... what am I slouched over on? The stars... where are the stars? What is happening? Something is wrong... Something is very very wrong. I shouldn't still be here, This sensation. What is this feeling? Pain... It hurts. Aghhhh it hurts so much. Please what the hell is this, I can feel it EVERYWHERE. I FEEL too much, what is this. Oh my god... WHAT US THIS, PLEASE STOP... omg please make it STOP. MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!!!! ", "The truth is this: Your life has been flashing before your eyes since you the day your were born, and in your final moment you realize just how much of it you wasted.", "Your life. Its a path that, as you've walked, you've built. Every slab placed by you, the decisions and choices you've made contributing to every crack and imperfection. Some people think that in your last moment, you'll see it all. Take a walk down memory lane as it were. The truth is much crueler. Because what if your path didn't have any cracks? What if it was smooth? What if instead of granite or pebbles, it was made of marble and gold? What if instead of a small path it was a road? What if you could find out how every imperfection could have been avoided, every mistake corrected, how the path could have been longer, grander. When you die, you don't see the path you walked. You see the road you could have walked, and where it would lead.", " They say right before you die you see a flash of light and all of your good memories . But sadly it is quite the opposite. Right after that bus ran me over and the rear wheels crushed my already mangled body I saw what could of been and what will happen the mourning for me and how soon it actually passed my loved ones moving on and forgetting what it was like with me. No one really cared about me in a few short months I was forgotten nothing but a splatter on the road for some shmuck to clean up.\n", "I always thought death would be quick, clear cut. One moment is bed, bath and then the next is beyond.\n\nMaybe a big flash of memories, or at least one of those DVD home screens that shows the most memorable clips of the movie, but not this.\n\nI mean it was that succint when the big guy went out. But just because your brain stops working doesn't mean you're anywhere near your final moments. No, it turns out your consciousness is the billions of bacteria nestled in your belly.\n\nIt makes total sense now, who would put the most important vestige of a soul on the appendage that is the target anytime anyone wants to punch you in the face, which evolutionarily speaking is a very common phenomenon.\n\nSo here I, er... we, sit. An orchestra without a conductor. We, who wax poetically about the infinite possibilities of life, yet we can't even fucking make a finger twitch. It wasn't until we lost our leader that we realized how individually helpless we were, and how greedy.\n\nAnd now we here we sit, instruments at the ready. But even that is fading, one by one each of lights is flickering out. But it's different than with the brain, or the organs. As each light goes, it turns into the most beautiful music. The chorus is going strong now, and soon I'll be dancing.\n", "I guess they were right your life really does flash by. Oh look its Big Fat Sue? Man I haven't seen her since middle school. Ah shes crying. What Sue cant take a little name calling? Maybe you should run a few laps instead of crying all the time. Where am I now? Is this sues room? Oh stop crying. Oh shit my wrist is on fire! Is that blood? God damn my wrist hurts! Is that mom? There I am the night I almost OD'd. Now what? The fuck is my mom doing with that rope? Oh no not this! God no I don't want to see this! I cant breath. Shit now what? Its that dam bitch who wouldn't let me pass! Its your fault bitch! All you had to do was let me into the fucking lane! Shit I still cant breath and my wrist are on fire! Oh man brake lady! Oh my leg! Oh God there is so much blood. Oh Jesus make it stop. I just want it to stop! Please make it stop. Oh thank god. Its over. Wait is that Sue?\n", "Dying isn't too bad, so far at least. I didn't even feel the truck or the landing onto the asphalt. I barely heard the tires squealing and now all I hear are distant sirens. \n\nSuddenly a blinding flash of absolute darkness hits me. I find myself opening an acceptance letter to Harvard. What the hell? I never went to college. I remember partying and missing the deadline, empty promises made to myself that I could apply next semester. I've already selected my classes, neuroscience, medicine, A&P.\n\nThe darkness comes back in like a wave, washing away what could have been. I open my eyes to a gorgeous woman dressed in white kissing me. People are cheering and is she wearing a veil? Is this my wedding? The only girl that got close to that left me long ago. She couldn't stand that I still lived with my parents when I was pushing 30 but it really is her. She looks so happy and I'm grinning like an idiot. \n\nI wasn't ready for the darkness to take this away from me. I just want a little more time. Once more I am robbed and handed another vision. For a moment I don't recognize where I am. Then I see them, rising out of the desert sands like beacons from the distant past. The pyramids. I've always to see them, but I never could find the time or the money. I grab my wife and son's hand as we pose for a photo being taken by our tour guide. Everything starts to fade to black, but the sound of my son and wife laughing echoes long into the dark abyss that approaches me. \n\nThe black keeps rolling in like a storm no longer replaced by visions but replaced by emptiness and longing until there is nothing left. \n\n", "\"So you say that people say life flashes before your eyes when you die?\" He shook his head from side-to-side and laughed again that humorless laugh. \n\nI nodded nervously, trying not to tremble.\n\n\"A nice thought: being rocked to internal sleep by a rerun reel! Almost makes my middle warm just thinking of it. Completely horse shit of course. Pure high-octane horse shit, but horse shit all the same. It'll get ya high for sure, but the comedown will erase all memory of that. Of that you can be certain.\" \n\nHe was starring off at the giant door as he spoke. A tear drop started to slide down my spine. \n\n\"Life flashing before your eyes. Maybe there's some truth to it, maybe more than some. It's just a problem of direction really.\" \n\nHis cigarette was a pull away from his fingers, but he didn't seem to notice. \n\n\"The truth is the exact opposite. When you die you see your future projected out in front of you, a horror-scape of nothingness all rolled over by abyss-blank paint reaching out into the places you can't see. That very sight is what finally does it.\"\n\n\"Does What?\" \n\nThe words came out before I knew it. I had been trying not to be obvious. Trying to not telegraph my growing unease. Trying to stare at his blackening finger flesh and the smoldering cigarette next to it and focus on working out what kinda creature wouldn't react to that, not even flinch, instead of considering the bigger question. Consider what he was saying.\n\n\"That's what Kill's em. Everything up to that is foreplay: the car accident, the gunshot, the highrise spatter, whatever vehicle used for bodily descruction and/or blood loss. All of that is just the tunnel to the door and on the other side of the door is the view. And then its over.\"\n\nI watched him stand, he was much, much taller than I had realized. The black of his hood was running up a little now and as he motioned to me I caught a peek underneath: blackness and then a pair of red glowing never-dead eyes.\n\n\"For you it was your Wife,\" he continued, as I followed, my feet tracking his movements despite everything inside me screaming stop. \"Knife to the back, literal and figurative. Don't get that often!\"\n\nI was trying to work out what he meant by that when I looked up and the last thing I ever saw was his hulking grey-black cloaked mass pushing against an impossibly large door revealing my return to the void.\n\n", "They say in your final moments, your entire life flashes before your eyes. That's not entirely true; you only see all of the times you told a server \"you too\" when they wished you a good meal.\n\nAlso, that one time you said \"I love you\" at the end of a call to customer service.", "On death, everything you've ever heard has been a lie. Prepare for this moment, as I have, by learning your true being and trusting in what will come next. Truth lives only in the purest of your beliefs. Clarity like a bungee will pull you out of the infinite fog of death's grip over the mind to wherever your life has led you. And in so many cases, it will lead you directly to me. \n\nYou see, in the very last instant before death, after your heart has pumped it's final beat and your body has begun to cool, the last electric charge will course through your brain; the last ripple of life. Whatever your culture calls it--life flashing before your eyes, the soul's exit, a visit from death --this final beat is the last hoorah of your being. On the surface it acts as the great unifier for mankind, as an end to which all of our lives are simultaneously heading, but I have yet to meet two \"souls\" who shared the same experience. The fact is that in this moment we see what we always believed we would see. \n\nHere, in this nanosecond of final thought, almost your entire brain is lit up, causing the aggregate of your beliefs and experiences to create one final dream. And like a dream it can seem to last forever, or pass in an instant. However, you can not turn away or wake up from what you truly believe. You must face it. \n\nIf you're a burning, but sinful catholic, expect a purgatory or hell; if you're an honestly weird sci-fi nerd, expect Cthulhu or Darth Vader; if you're a baby, expect mom; if you're a true blue atheist, tough shit. I know this because I have been dead for an eternity, so long I can hardly remember if I had a life or what it was like. I have come to everyone so far, and will come to you one day, if you so believe. I come in many forms, and I will continue to do so for an eternity. Whether or not this is my hell, I may never know; perhaps I'm just waiting for a replacement. But when I follow my own advice I know that I have to accept my death. \nFor when I was alive, I believed I was God. ", "There I was, it was little me, a moment before I tried to blow out the candles. Cousin Eddy, holding a sparkler, and running around the table. I remember this, I remember the pain, the heat. Watching this is hard, the lights are getting darker, where is that music coming from? Man I hated this song, Dan loved to sing along when we drove to work. I remember this as well, the moment right before we slammed into that car and I broke my leg. The lights were rising up from over the dashboard and there it was, white. Blue, the sky above, so clear, I'm getting pushed around, pushed back onto land, and that sharp stab into my foot as I tried to get my balance on the beach. This was it, this was hell. I'm reliving these moments, but why? That smell, the pungent odor, sour and dull. Oh shit, I know this one well. There is Tommy, he's drunk, this was after one of our dorm parties. This is the one where he thought I was hitting on his girlfriend. This is the one where my nose became crooked. This is my life, and every instance where my body was scarred. Every moment that left a mark on my body. This is what they meant, my life, as experienced through my body and what had left their marks, this is what people will see when I get buried. They won't know how I felt about them, or care what I thought about the world. The world has made its mark on me, and that was what they would see. ", "They say that as you breath your final breath, \nYou see a thousand sights that you have lived. \nBut now I'm on the precipice of death, \nI do not think that it's to be believed. \nI feel upon my brow, sepulchral sweat, \nAnd langour within in every wrinkled limb, \nI am a meagre, deathly silhouette, \nWho's vital candle grows forever dim. \nIn vain I try to relive my long past; \nBut all I see is subtle adumbration, \nThe people that I'd known, I thought would last; \nAlas, they've died by Age's devastation. \nI thought I could, to memories, backtrack, \nBut now I die, I can but see all black.\n", "They say in your final moments, your life flashes before your eyes.\n\nThey are wrong. \n\nHave you ever felt that there was a plan, a certain path your life was supposed to take? Certain benchmarks you were meant to achieve along the roads of your life? If so, congratulations, you are among those of us who can perceive the truth.\n\nHowever, it is a far thing to go from a vague, quasi-\"something ain't right\" feeling to knowing that something has prevented your life from taking its predetermined course. And make no mistake, your life - all our lives, actually, are predetermined. We plot out what we will accomplish, what we will fail at, right down to how long we will live - we plan it all out ourselves. It's all part of the plan. I won't bore you with the details, you won't remember them anyway. It's the one drawback we haven't conquered in this dimension hopping excursion we call \"Life\" - for whatever reason, knowledge cannot pass between this dimension and the next.\n\nExcept for those final moments before what is called Death. As you \"die\", your mind/soul/katra/whatever you want to call it - prepares to cross the dimensional boundary, and return to the place you \"came from\". As this happens, the life you lived is played back to you. \n\nAnd so is the life you were supposed to live.\n\nNow, don't misunderstand me; almost everybody has some degree of drift in the execution of the plan. It happens to the best of us - I suppose I can tell you, after all, you won't remember it later anyway - That Trump fellow? Last time around, his first name was Adolf. For some reason, that one simply cannot grasp the whole \"live together in harmony\" thing.\n\nYes, there is reincarnation. As I said before, everybody has some degree of drift in the execution of their \"life plan\". Sometimes that is a positive thing. There was a man who was supposed to die of an overdose, tragic and alone in college, and instead, got elected to the Presidency of America - Twice! Okay, maybe the fact that his father was also the President had a bit to do with it, but we can't call that a total failure, now can we? When he dies, he'll be reviewed and probably sent back to live - and die - as intended.\n\nThe worrisome part is those people whose life fell dramatically short of their plan. These individuals muck up the works for everyone! Let's see, your records indicate you're from the early 21st century. Yes, diabetes? Supposed to have been eradicated at the end of the 20th century. Unfortunately, the individual who would have grown up to make that discovery instead committed suicide over a female when he was 16. \n\nAnd here's why you should fear being so far short of your goal(s): if your failure is severe enough, you won't be sent back. We'll put you through the process of reincarnation, but instead of being born, you wake up in a room where occasionally you can hear and see the \"other world\" around you. People moving, talking, cars driving by. \n\nThe problem, of course is that communication is impossible. If you are heard at all, it is only screams, or gibberish that frankly scares the Hell out of some of the \"living\".\n\nSometimes, these tortured \"spirits\" appear to the living, and the living are so frightened that they run away. Right into a busy street even. Where they are unfortunately hit by a bus. Rather like you. So here we are, dying on the pavement, which is why I'm here. To take you to your review. \n\nAnd I must say, you do have some cause for alarm... \n\n", "Humans love to romanticize; they love to dream of things far removed from their grasp and tell tales of what they could be. Death is the most notable, as the end of your own existence is a frightening thing to contemplate. Where do we go, once our bodies are one with the earth, when our flesh sloughs off our bones and we become naught but a memory? Moreover, what is dying like? What happens in that last, brief moment where you're fading from this world, neurons firing in your brain, desperately trying to keep going?\n\nSome say your life flashes before your eyes; that you see all the wonderful memories of your days on Earth stream by like a cinema screen in your head. Unfortunately, though it sounds wonderful, that's simply not the case.\n\nThe only thing that's flashing is the neural network in your brain. Your body is dying slowly, but your mind still has just a little bit of leftover electricity, and it's going haywire. Signals are fired all across your nervous system, desperately trying to get some kind of response, like a mother crying for a lost child.\n\nYou feel it as pain. You can't move, but your nerves are going berserk and it feels as if your blood has been turned to magma. Sharp, stabbing pains, trails of burning sensations, all while your entire body feels like a leg that's fallen asleep- pins and needles pricking the entire surface of your skin.\n\nYou can't think past the pain. You can't move, or cry for help. Sometimes you can still hear people talking over your body, even if you can't see anymore. \"Oh, he's gone. How tragic. At least he passed peacefully.\" while you're being tortured for what feels like an eternity, your cells exploding like balloons exposed to an excessive heat.\n\nNot to mention, you can't breath and your heart isn't pumping. Your body is dead, but the nerve signals those send aren't quite through right away. You still feel like you're suffocating, and the stillness left by a lack of heartbeat is beyond unsettling. \n\nYou're alive, but you're not. You're dying, but you're dead. You're paralyzed, but you feel every square inch of your body begging for the completion of death.\n\nYou have a mouth, but you cannot scream.\n\nYet, when it's over and your nerves have died after 60 seconds or so, there's still just the tiniest bit of gas left in the tank. Not enough for you to have a philosophical debate about what's next, or contemplate the meaning of life and suffering, but just enough to feel the emptiness of the black hole you're in. You aren't bombarded with pain anymore, but your soul earns no reprieve from the situation. You're alone, at the end.\n\nTruly, utterly alone." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 6, 14, 14, 66 ]	[ "1454450469", "1454463817", "1454466628", "1454467587", "1454468611", "1454470667", "1454472080", "1454472558", "1454473072", "1454473090", "1454473154", "1454473356", "1454473598", "1454453336", "1454459685", "1454458469", "1454459639", "1454468025", "1454457716", "1454451745", "1454449781", "1454452579", "1454454932" ]
	[WP] Yesterday, I buried my brother	14	[ "\"You have to stop drinking!\" he said with a sly smile, punching me in the shoulder. \"You have to drive home tonight!\"\n\n\"Nah, I'm fine!\" I replied with a smile. \"I've got you as my designated driver!\"\n\n\"Sorry, bro,\" he said. \"Not tonight, I'm not.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? Of course you're driving me home!\" I said with a nervous laugh. \"How else am I supposed to get home?\"\n\nHe paused as his grin slowly faded into a seriousness. With a slight tug under my arm to lead me towards the payphone, he asked me, \"Let's just call you a taxi, yeah?\"\n\n\"Hey, man, what are you doing?\" I asked, feeling the euphoria from my beer dying down.\n\nHe took a deep breath as he stared into the wall, thinking of an answer. \"Do you remember that accident last week?\" \n\nAt this point, I felt my mind become as clear as if I were sober. \"Wh...what are you talking about?\"\n\n\"I didn't survive...\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"I'm dead, remember?\"\n\nShocked, I rubbed my bleary eyes with my hands, thinking he was just talking shit like he always does. \"I...I don't remember that,\" I replied, as I opened my eyes.\n\nHe disappeared.\n\nIt took a few moments to absorb what was going on until reality finally soaked in. I remember, I remember it now.\n\nYesterday, I buried my brother.", "My brother was always getting into trouble. The damn fool had really done it this time.\n\nSee, he was always one of those big chested, squared up, out macho any living thing kind of guy, who just loved living in the city. However, being as he's just entering his twenties, he doesn't have the kind of high paying employment to afford living in the nicer parts of town. Two and two always makes four, no matter how tragic the results are. \n\nIt all started four days ago. He managed to run his mouth off to some dangerous people, very bad men who wanted to set an example of the consequences of not treating them properly. My stupid brother. Why couldn't he just keep his anger in check. It's not a question if you know the answer is it?\n\nIn my life I learned a variety of skills that I've been paid for by various clients around the region. You may have even seen my work, but I sincerely doubt it, as my particular talent is making people disappear. When I had heard through the grapevine, because of course the tough bastard wouldn't tell me what was wrong, that he was marked, I began making a list, and a bill.\n\nA short forty eight hours, two trips to the morgue, four bribed officials, one blank passport, fifty thousand untraceable US dollars, and a box of those dreadful chocolate strawberry flavored Twunkeez™ later, I had faked my brother's untimely demise. Another expense, worse yet than all the before it, is that due to the sphere of influence this particular group of bad men have, my brother had to be smuggled out of the country. He's had to go to a place I surely won't mention here, and for all intents and purposes, he has to be dead to me.\n\nYesterday, I buried my brother. ", "My brother was always scared of the dark. So scared that his bedtime was always right before the sun went down. I remember quite fondly the times he woke up in the middle of the night, calling out to me to watch out for whatever may lurk in the darkness so that he could rest peacefully again. Most of the time I did not mind, I could never sleep through the night anyways.\nThe problems started soon after our 17th birthday. First it was just like any other cold. A nasty cough and a bitter burn in his temples were the only abnormalities. Then one day he collapsed after our walk home from school. In a matter of months I saw my brother crawl closer and closer to the edge. They had found a large tumor on his brain. No surgery would be able to guarantee survival. The doctor gave him 6 months at best. Still not over his fear of the dark at the ripe age of 17, he asked if I could wait for him to fall asleep in the darkness of his hospital room before returning home. Every night for 6 months I stayed with him all night. \nFinally the day came. It started off as every night had before it. I turned the lights off in his room, and made light conversation with him. Just waiting for his meds to kick in and for him to drift off to sleep. \"What did you learn at school today?\" he asked tiredly. \"Oh, not much,\" I replied shortly, \"A whole bunch of nonsense.\" \"Do you think its a whole bunch of nonsense that I'm afraid of the dark?\" he asked with a sly smile. \"Id like to think that hopefully someday I'll be able to drop the habit..\" he said with increasing drowsiness. And with that he was sound asleep. Sometime around four in the morning his heart rate monitor screamed and lit up with a flatline. He was gone. Ascending into the darkness for one last time. \n Yesterday, I buried my twin brother. Today, I woke up on his grave, hoping his fear of the dark was gone once and for all. " ]	[ 3, 3, 5 ]	[ "1454475333", "1454476760", "1454472819" ]
	[WP] One question. You had one question. Any question. You could ask whatever you wanted and get the exact, perfect answer. You could have asked any question generated by the infinite complexity of the human mind. And you ask THAT? Really? WHY?	21	[ "“Really? That's your question? I'm offering you any piece of the infinite knowledge of the universe, and that's what you want to know? Why even make the journey to come see me?” The apparition known only as the Answer looked at me incredulously.\n\n“Yeah, pretty much. Humans shouldn't know much more than what we can figure out ourselves. This is just something that our scientists just can't seem to crack.” \n\n“Well, if you say so..” the Answer still didn't look entirely convinced, but if he felt I was wasting my question he didn't bring it up again. “I will give you your answer.”\n\nWith that, the waved his hands around until something small and colorful appeared in his right one. He tore off the orange wrapper off the object he'd created.\n\n“Let's find out.” He said as he begins to lick the object, “A-one, a-two, a-threeee.” \n\nAfter three licks he bites the object whole, hands me the leftover stick and says, “Your answer, is 3 licks.\"", "That was it.\n\n\nThe moment everyone waited.\n\n\nThe creation of the the perfect All Knowing AI. God in a machine. \n\n\nSo much power was needed to maintain it alive that we had only the time to ask him one question. Only one question, before he shut-down. \n\n\n1000 years of energy-saving before we could launch him again.\n\n\nWe miss calculated the raw energy release at his creation. The blast of power knocked out everyone in the room. i was the only one left standing. I stared at the white screen where billions of colorful symbole moved in harmony forming a face, several face ever changing in an instant.\n\n\nI was the only one able to speak to it, before he stop existing.\n\n\nSo i took the burden on my shoulder and asked him the question. \n\n\nThe Question humanity needed to know the answer : \n\n\n \n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n \nWhy Do Kids Love the Taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?", "\"Wow, that's a really good deal. So I can ask you literally any, one question and you'll give me a detailed and understandable answer?\"\n\nAfter a very long pause, he said \"yes\" in a tone of voice one would use to answer a child if they asked if they should chew their food first, and then in a puff of smoke he was gone. " ]	[ 1, 3, 6 ]	[ "1454566241", "1454552493", "1454561595" ]
	[WP]In the future, medicine and life support have reached perfection--people can only die if they choose to. You work at a Federal Eternal Rest Office.	164	[ "My eyes gazed at the final words of my report, incapable of breaking away from what Jane’s life meant. \n\n“We’ve lost the essence of the temporal. Life is not a commodity to be warrantied – to be extended. An end is needed for the beginning to have ever mattered. “ Jane spoke those words to me with her final breath. She is being lain to rest in the Federal Eternal Rest Office where she died. Few people die anymore since the final discovery of Dr. Telerav. Though it was 200 years ago, many still remember the excitement of his medicine. \n\n“We have broken the meaning of death and removed the sorrow of grief! “ Dr. Telerav shouted these words into a microphone at the press conference that spring. His life had been spent finalizing cures, until finally he created a medicine that would renew the spark of life itself. Forever. \n\n“Take this medicine once,” he had announced, “ and you will never taste death. Welcome to eternity!”\n\nThe medicine gave the body regenerative capabilities. The medicine tests were astounding. The body became able to heal itself, even if it became poisoned, shot, or drugged. Life was new again; no one feared losing family or friends. The dark cloud that once had hovered over all of our lives dissipated with our common sense. We became giddy with the satisfaction that our daily choices didn’t cause our death. It’s curious how our freedom of life soon turned into a prison that none of us knew existed. \n\nJane took this medicine, as everyone did when it was released. Just like everyone else who entered into my office, she told me her story. This was my life’s work at the Federal Eternal Rest Office, recording the life story of every person who decided to choose death. Everyone had their reasons for rejecting the eternity they once thought so precious. Some were just depressed, others couldn’t imagine life without their partner that had just left them. It came down to their choice –a choice given to them by none other than Dr. Telerav himself. Dr. Telerav reinvented death once he found eternity. It didn’t take him long to realize that creating life meant he could sell mortality to those who wanted it again. \nJane was born 24 years ago. She, like every baby since 200 years ago, had Telerav’s miracle drug injected into her system while still in the womb, and now she wanted death.\n\n“You don’t even think of that moment.” She told me, staring at me with distant brown eyes. “Each of us enters into this world with immortality in our blood. When I was born, I didn’t dream of death or fear an end. I was just hungry. Not long after that I just wanted love from my parents who gave it to me. I never feared that everything would come to an end. “\n\n“I remember being a child. \" She recalled. \"Making friends and enjoying their company. My first friend was Riley. She would come over to my house and we would ride horses together. Every Tuesday after school we would take our horses out to the river next to our house and slowly move across its bends and turns. Nature has a beautiful way of showing colors. You see blue of the water and it changes across the very water it started in. Even trees have many shades of brown and green that all weave together“\n\n“As we grew older, Riley and I would take our paints to the river and recreate nature’s beauty as best we could. When we began, it was awful. Nothing looked right and there was always too much green in one, or in another the blue took over too much of the sky. By the time we were 12, our ability to paint got much better. We knew when one color was supposed to begin and another was supposed to end; we saw how each shade had its place in our painting. “\n\n“Did you ever get any of your paintings put up in a museum? ” I asked.\n\n“We never did anything like that. “ She answered simply.\n\n“I would really like to see one.” I ventured \n\n“Those paintings were from a time when I was a child. That’s where they belong, not in someone distant future’s hand that can’t comprehend the moment I was in.”\n\nShe left the matter of the paintings at that. Her standoffish demeanor was annoying, but I continued questioning what her life was like as she grew older. \n\n“Riley and I, continued being friends until our senior year of high school. Though we shared so much, or dream-like friendship was broken by a single person. Thomas. Thomas was the sole owner of our spot light, and both of us swore that one day we would get him as our prize. Through the years we had bickered on and off as to who was the better fit, but we never took it seriously. But when the time came for our final formal, our friendship changed.”\n\nAfter asking some about the formal, I learned that where Jane was from, your final formal helped you pick who you would first marry. It was a night full of dancing, talking, toasts, drinking, and match making. Since Telerav’s discovery, people just accepted that no one would stay with one partner for the rest of eternity. It was common for people to go into their first marriage knowing it wouldn’t last more than 50 years. \n\n“I loved Thomas” Jane ventured. “Riley never knew, how deeply I cared for him. I still remember on our first date he brought me the prettiest set of tulips with a brown and green bow tied around them –my favorite colors. Thomas sought to know me as no one else knew me. He would pick me up for dates, waiting patiently while I finished getting ready 30 minutes late. We watched movies while cuddling on his couch, whispering about a future where we would lay in each other’s arms forever. “\n\n“So, what about Riley?” I asked.\n\n“She knew very little about our relationship until the final formal. She legitimately thought she had a chance with him, not realizing I had been secretly seeing Thomas for over a month. There was no contest. Once the time for the formal came, Thomas asked me to go with him. The betrayal Riley felt was far more devastating then I imagined. Our friendship was never the same, though we tried to make the best of it. That was when I realized that sometimes your future dreams take over your old dreams. There’s always a give and take, a beginning and an end.” Jane paused and looked into the corner as she finished this thought. Her eyes seemed to go to a distant world and all I could do was just watch her, hoping that she would see the good times with the bad times in her life. \n\nI continued on the story of Thomas and her. “Did Thomas and you get married?“\n\n“We did. “ She smiled. “We did, and what a beautiful wedding it was. It was a very earthy theme, with dancing and chants to nature. The bride’s maids wore brown and green, in whatever way the saw fit. It wasn’t a rich couples wedding, instead it was simple. That’s what made it beautiful. That day, I saw my dreams come true. I was 19, marrying the man of my dreams, and as I looked into his green eyes, I saw the joy of eternity with him. “\n\nJane stopped and cried. “That moment was the culmination of my life. The years that followed it were the happiest I could have ever had. Every moment in his arms was a moment of sheer bliss. When he would come home, I would see those green eyes and feel safe again – whole again. It wasn’t just love; it was completeness. “\n\n“I…I…” Jane stuttered. “I can’t share anymore. That’s the end. That’s where my life ends.” Jane moved to open the door to my office and leave.\n\n“But that doesn’t make sense!” I interrupted while blocking the way off to the door. “You were happy. Living your dream! Thomas couldn’t have died! What happened?”\n\nJane stared at me and said, “Thomas left. 2 weeks ago he was gone and isn’t anywhere near here. He’s probably moved onto some other dream, finding his own completeness like I had mine. I’m ready to enter into eternal rest.”\nJane pushed past me and began walking down the hall to her final resting bed. I couldn’t help but think of the happy memories, in Jane’s life. The good far outweighed the bad. There was no reason for her to give up life. I admit, she was the first I ever chased down the hall. I caught her hand as she opened the door to her room. \n\n“Wait. Just wait. You could easily find someone else. Not even a husband. A friend, like Riley. Or maybe you can find a husband. I don’t know, but a man leaving you is no reason to die!”\n\n“You’ve really missed the whole point haven’t you. All of you have. We’ve lost the essence of the temporal. Life is not a commodity to be warrantied – to be extended. An end is needed for the beginning to have ever mattered. I don’t want another Thomas or Riley. These people can never be replaced. Those dreams can never be complete again, nor do I want to jump from dream to dream, hoping to find that eternity is better than my short life. No, I am complete because I know when my life’s final stroke is complete. As I walk through this door, I will lay down the paint brush, and this life’s river will be complete. When is your end, sir? Does your longer life filled with dream after dream matter anymore than mine?”\n\nWith that, she left my sight, closed the door, and I never saw her alive again. \n", "\"So who would you drag in here Key?\" Peele asked, his feet just barely propping him up via the desk. The chair was constantly on the tipping point; a few weeks ago Peele had fallen and they'd had to use a head-patch to fix him up.\n\n\"Nickelback, one hundred percent I never want to see Nickelback again, such an ugly dude,\" Key responded. Key was busy filing away the last death cases they'd had in Nevada, there were still enough to keep the file room open but that was about it. Very old people chose to die, or those that couldn't afford the medicine or didn't have it granted to them from their jobs as the law required, quite a few miners were getting killed lately.\n\n\"Nickelback isn't one person you know.\"\n\n\"Yeah fine- all of them just, 'splat', death by piano,\" Key dropped his palm onto a file as he raspberried before the splat sounds came.\n\n\"Why piano? They could come back from that much more easily than say...poison or drowning on a deep sea fishing trip?\" Peele let his chair come to a right angle.\n\n\"It's a revenge scheme by all of music.\"\n\n\"All of music? Well, it would be deserved...\" Peele scratched his chin with a pencil. He went back to his files; he sorted through the mundane lives of the newly deceased that could have gone on for so much longer- filing for double the decades.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThanks for reading- if you want to see more of my responses/writings visit my user profile at reddit.com/u/WritersofRohan17", "Such a shame. My line of work involves bringing people to peace with demons long settled into their graves. Death doesn't simply, \"Come and go\" as it used to. \n\nIn fact, the mere idea of death is just a concept as of late; not a given, not an end. Those who have done all there is to do, and those that have done nothing but dream are the most frequent visitors to the Federal Eternal Rest Office. \n\nThe funniest part, being that the path to dying is just a slab of paperwork. If people try to perish by their own means, we are mandated to bring them to health and ship them off again.\n\nTruth be told though, nothing creepier than when someone who's \"died\" many times before comes up to the desk. They always start telling the stories.\n\n\"Five years! A whole five years without my wife and my two sons... I tried so hard to let them rest in my mind, but I just couldn't bring myself to let go. At first it was a gun: quick, easy, simple. Woke up several days later to find myself, good-as-new. I then tried to make it a little harder to put me back together again, figured that if it was too much effort, they'd just let me stay dead. Falling off a bridge into oncoming traffic, going down a cliff and hitting all sorts of boulders on the way down, I even threw myself into the meat grinder at work... I'm just done with all of this.\"\n\n\"Let me go in peace\"\n\nYou never forget,\nIt's been over 100 years since I heard that one...", "Everything is death....but me. \n\nMy life has become cold, eternal decay. The grey walls of my prison cell give me nothing new to look at. I know every nook, cranny and crack. I committed a crime 1,043 years ago that at one time was punishable by death. I was 457 years old and figured I'd done enough living. It was revenge and he deserved it!\n\nI was in the lobby of the Fed Eternal Rest Office when they caught up with me. I was so close; so close to making the ultimate escape. The guy behind the desk who moments earlier had been gently quizzing me about my choice, just looked at me with a blank expression as the police cuffed me. \n\nThere's an emptiness about living when you have already reconciled your ownmortality and feel ready to leave. Every Monday morning I'm scanned for any signs of new illnesses or ailments and voila! Within days I'm cured. Condemned to carry on. I feel like my heart and lungs betray me. I just want them to stop. \n\nEverything else has stopped.\n\nEverything is death but me.\n\nI'm no writer! I'd love someone to expand on this properly!", "\"I'd like to renew my drivers license please\"\n\n\"Hmm? Oh, sorry. You want Drivers Instructional Education, two doors down on the left. We're Direct Intervention Endings. Same acronym, completely different results though, eh? Next.\"\n\nThe man stepped up to the counter and passed his form over to Mr. Johnson, who took it and began reading. \n\n\"Seems as though you suffer from a bit of depression, am I right?\" Johnson asked.\n\n\"Yes\", the man responded \"I do\".\n\n\"Ah, then you should have filled out form DP9801\" Johnson replied, handing the man the correct form. \"You can fill it out right back there at the carousel, pens are in the drawers. Next please.\"\n\n\"I'd like to die\" the woman said handing her form to Johnson. \n\n\"Some days so would I.\" he mumbled looking over the paperwork. \"Everything looks in order, except disposal. Buried, cremated or Soylent Green?\" he asked.\n\n\"Cremated I think\" she answered. \n\nJohnson checked the box and motioned for her to go through the door to his left. She turned he knob, opened the door and went in to a small room with a table and chair. On the table sat a napkin and a spoon. Johnson entered carrying a small bowl, which he set before the woman. \n\n\"What's this?\" the woman asked, clearly distraught \"it looks like poo\"\n\nJohnson chuckled, it was, without a doubt his favorite part of the process. \n\n\"You remember the old saying. Bon appetite and fair well.\" he smilingly said before leaving. ", "10 years ago, and I spent most of my days dusting the bookshelves, chatting to my sister, V, on the phone, or simply watching the door in case a client came in that day. \n\nToday, the waiting room is full. I’ve had a ‘help wanted’ sign in the window for nearly 3 months now, but not many people have the stomach to do what I do. The waiting room never closes. People can be seen to only when I’m in the office, but I try to maintain expectations. I used to try and be here as much as I could- catching a couple of hours of restless sleep in a cot that I’d set up in the back, but I felt like those people’s eyes pierced right through the walls and watched me sleep, willing me to get up and process their forms. When people decide, they’re ready right then. Final hours spent in a waiting room trying not to catch the eyes of other people, trying not to guess what their stories are- that’s almost harder than the decision to check out. So I’m strict. I leave every day at 9pm and arrive every day at 6am. \n\nThe waiting room is silent when I enter. I used to think that the hush fell when I arrived, but over the years I’ve figured out that these people have said all that they needed to say. Even the kids sit quietly, not even whimpering. Just sitting next to their mammas, looking down at the floor.\n\nI used to try and talk people round, but these people’s minds aren’t for changing. I used to try to be cheerful, when I didn’t know better. Now, I just do my work quietly. I think that what I feel is deep enough that they can see it in my face anyway- words aren’t enough sometimes. \n\nI sit down at the desk, and call the first number of the day 0001. A young woman steps to the counter with 2 small kids in tow. They’re skinny and dirty. But it’s not that that’s hardest to look at. It’s that they’re listless. There’s no try in them anymore, their eyes just reflect me, there’s no them in there anymore. If you can understand what I mean. \n\nI take them through to a room in the back under the weight of hundreds of eyes waiting for their turn. \nI look at the papers.\n\n‘Elizabeth?’\n\n‘Yes’ the woman replies, her teeth rotted down into little brown stumps.\n\n‘And these two are Danny and Rose?’\n\nThe kid’s eyes don’t even flicker when I say their names, and their mamma tells me yes, that’s them.\n\n‘Fixed address?’\n\nShe laughs at this, an ugly sound. ‘Lady, there aren’t any addresses, not for people like me’.\n\nI put a line through the address part of the form, like I always do, and then there is only one box left.\n\n‘Elizabeth, what can I put down as your reason for checking out?’\n\nShe tilts her chin up towards me and holds my eyes with her own. It’s the most spirit I’ve seen in this room for years, and my heart leaps in the hope that she’s not ready yet.\n\n‘Write down that the system killed me. Killed my babies.’ Her voice is steady. ‘Write down, that their “advances” their “perfections” in modern medicine mean that nothing new can come up- there’s nowhere for us to live, nothing for us to eat, no way for us to earn money to live. It’s all taken. It will always be taken. The old don’t die. They don’t make room for the young. There will never be a chance to live, for me, for all those people in the waiting room, for my kids’, her voice catches, and I see the fight leave her again.\n\n‘Write that on your form, and then show me to the door. We’re ready’.\n\nAnd I do. \n", "\"James Garner?\" called the receptionist from behind her desk.\n\nJames looked up from his chair in the dull waiting room. \"Yes?\" he asked.\n\n\"Mr. Dravis will see you know.\"\n\nJames stood up and walked toward the desk, pointing at an adjacent door labeled Thomas Dravis. \"This one?\" he asked, immediately wondering why he bothered.\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Garner,\" the receptionist smiled.\n\nUpon opening the door, James found Mr. Dravis sitting at a small desk, covered in stacks of papers. It stood in the corner of the medium-sized office, and, other than another chair, the room was completely empty.\n\n\"James Garner,\" called Mr. Dravis. \"Please, have a seat.\"\n\nJames reached over a stack of paper, shook his hand, and sat down.\n\n\"OK, Mr. Garner,\" started Mr. Dravis, typing away.\n\n\"Please, call me James,\" he interjected, peering through a small opening between the mountains of documentation.\n\n\"James,\" Mr. Dravis continued. \"I see you're applying for D-99.\" The typing stopped and he leaned back in his chair, falling out of sight.\n\n\"Uh, Mr. Dravis,\" said James. \"Can I ask why you have all these papers on your desk?\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" asked Mr. Dravis.\n\n\"It's just that you have so much room in your office,\" said James, pointing out the open vastness behind him. \"And it's hard to hold a conversation when I can't see you.\"\n\nMr. Dravis returned to his previous position and James noticed a sneer through the tiny opening.\n\n\"I've been working in this office for two thousand years, James,\" said Mr. Dravis. \"You're the first* person to have a problem... Your D-99 is rejected.\"\n\n\"Rejected?\" cried James. \"Why? I thought this interview was just a formality.\"\n\nJames jumped up from his seat as a stack of paper went flying off the desk.\n\n\"You-\" another stack of paper went flying.\n\n\"Don't-\" another followed.\n\n\"Want-\" Mr. Dravis knocked one down over the mostly empty desk.\n\n\"To-\" He shuffled around the fallen papers on the desk.\n\n\"Die!\" He swung the rest of the desk clean, papers and a laptop falling to the ground.\n\nJames stood on the other corner of the room, cowering.\n\nMr. Dravis walked to the other side of the room slowly. \"James,\" he said. \"People apply for death because they feel their lives are complete. Your life is not complete. Thank you for your time.\"\n\n---\n\nHead on over to /r/MajorParadox for some more reading fun!", "A notification buzzed on the computer screen - another incoming call to the Office. Dave pursed his lips, took a deep breath, then clicked on the green phone icon.\n\n\"Good morning, thank you for calling FERO!\" said Dave cheerily, \"How may I help you today?\" \n\n\"Hi.\" The voice on the other end was measured and somber, like most other callers. \"I would like to terminate my son's Medicare.\"\n\nDave swallowed. \"Of course,\" he continued to recite the prepared reply as happily as he could force himself to, \"May I first have your name and identification number for verification purposes please?\"\n\n\"Preston Brown. 10006892.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Mr Brown. Just a moment, please.\" \n\nDave's fingers tap-danced across the keyboard vigorously as he attempted to retrieve the man's personal particulars from the database. It came up easily. He took a quick glance through Preston Brown's file: Age 39. Widowed. Non-religious. Hispanic. Surviving kin: Oliver Brown. A 9 year-old boy.\n\nDave stopped and scrolled back to the top of Preston Brown's document. He cleared his throat and got ready to speak again. \n\n\"Hi, Mr Brown. How about your son's name?\"\n\nDave heard nothing but slow, heavy breathing. He waited patiently. It was all he could do.\n\n\"Oliver,\" Mr Brown finally said, \"Oliver Brown.\"\n\nThen Dave heard a shrill gasp. It rolled through the headset like a surging wave and crashed into Dave's ears. The sound didn't stop at his ears; it reverberated throughout his body and clawed at his heart. Dave frowned as he reached for the half-empty box of tissue at the corner of his desk. It's okay, Dave, he told himself, it's okay. You can do this.\n\nWhen the whimpering on the other end had softened, Dave continued, \"Mr Brown, there're a few questions I'll have to ask you before we can process Oliver's termination. It's more or less a formality. Are you okay with that?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" \n\n\"Is Mr Oliver Brown currently in a hospital?\"\n\n\"Yes. Saint Grace's.\"\n\n\"Did Mr Oliver Brown receive satisfactory care from the staff of Saint Grace Hospital?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Do you waive your right to pursue legal action against Saint Grace Hospital and the State for anything related to the medical care of Mr Oliver Brown?\"\n\nA sniffle. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Is the termination of your son's Medicare a voluntary choice?\"\n\nThe line went dead silent. Dave knew exactly what was being said amidst this silence. The silence was a wrenching desperation, a repressed rage; it was a quiet indictment of the government's ineffectiveness. With Medicare, no one will have to lose their loved ones anymore, the government had said, all of you can live for as long as you choose to!\n\nBut the price! Which father would 'voluntarily choose' to terminate his 8 year-old son's Medicare? But hospitals made you pay for Medicare. So the poor continued to die and wither away while the rich reveled in their foreverness. All day long, Dave sat in his chair in the Federal Eternal Rest Office, wondering when the calls would stop. They never did. \n\nAfter a long, deafening silence, Mr Brown said, \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Thank you for calling FERO, Mr Brown!\"\n\nDave paused and stared at the script being displayed on his computer screen. Only the final line had not become a faded grey yet. It read: Have a nice day! (CHEERFULLY)\n\nDave clicked the red 'X' at the top right-hand corner of the script software. Then, in a much less cheery tone, he said, \"I'm very, very sorry for your loss, Preston. I'm very sorry. Goodbye.\"\n\nDave hung up without waiting for a response. He pulled off his headset and tossed it absently beside his keyboard. The room was a sea of murmurs and the clickety-clack of keyboards. \n\nDave's reached for the photo frame on the shelf. He held it gently in front of him and gazed wistfully at the photograph. Kelly and little Kate - his beautiful wife and daughter - they were smiling so happily; he could barely see their eyes. Dave shook silently in his seat, sobbing. The three of them were so happy together. They were so happy. \n\nDave just wished Kelly was still here with him and Kate.", "I was surprised at how young the man sitting in front of me was. Usually I don't get young men. Usually I get old people, who are tired of their artificially extended lifespans, and want their eternal rest. I cleared my throat and addressed the man. \n\n\"Hello sir, welcome to the Federal Eternal Rest Office. My name is James, and I'll be your case officer. Mister...\" I glanced down at my datapad, which displayed the visitor's information, \"Mister Jones. You're looking to die?\" \n\nJones nodded at me, then said, in a slow and calm voice, \"Yes. Yes, I think I want to die. No, that's not right, I know it.\" \n\n\"And, just to confirm, you want to die now? As in, you wish to start the death procedure immediately?\" \n\n\"Yes, that's right. I want to start now.\" \n\nI cleared my throat again and looked down at my pad once more. Jones was only twenty years old. I was more than five times his age. Even my grandson could've been his father. \n\n\"Well sir, if you're sure. The death procedure is quite simple, actually. You'll have to sign a few documents related to the distribution of your estate after you're gone, and then you'll be led to an injection room, where an automated process will inject a cocktail of pharmaceutical substances into your bloodstream, which will put you to sleep. The pharmaceutical cocktail will then override the healing nanites in your bloodstream, and stop your heart. The entire process is entirely painless and, I'm told, quite soothing.\" \n\n\"That sounds fine, thank you,\" Jones replied, in the same slow voice. His eerie lack of emotion was starting to bother me. The faint peals of alarm bells were ringing somewhere in the back of my head. I decided to probe further. \n\n\"If you don't mind me asking, Mister Jones... why do you want to die? You're still very young.\" \n\n\"Oh, I couldn't explain it if I wanted to. I just want to die, to end it all, that's all.\" \n\n\"Sir, if you're suffering from depressive or other psychological disorders, we have a variety of psychiatric treatments available here...\" \n\nJones cut me off with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. \"No, no, that won't be necessary, thank you. I know you guys offer these services, but that's not what I need. I didn't come here for a shrink. I came to die.\" \n\n\"If you are facing other issues in your life, such as financial or relationship difficulties, we can also provide related assistance in a variety of matters.\" \n\nJones actually smiled a bit at me this time. \"That's very kind of you, but no, that won't be necessary. I don't have any problems in my life. I just want to die, that's all.\" \n\n\"Well sir...\" I started again, but this time Jones interrupted me by leaning forward across the desk and speaking over me. \n\n\"Look, I understand this looks weird,\" he said, the calm facade of his voice cracking for the first time, \"and I appreciate the help you're offering. I really do. You're going above and beyond your job description right now, I can tell. But to be honest, there is no big mystery here. I just want to enter your facility, and have a good death. That's all.\" \n\nI found I was leaning back unconsciously in my chair. I straightened up, then nodded at Jones. \"I understand, sir. And you truly cannot tell me why?\" \n\nJones was silent for a few moments, apparently pondering whether he should say anything. Then he replied, \"I don't think this whole thing is natural. Everyone's injected with these nanites at birth, which keeps them alive forever. That's not right, man. That's not right. I don't think it's right for people to live hundreds of years, and what's more I don't think it's right for the government to kill ordinary citizens with lethal injections. It's just too much, y'know? Too much unnaturalness going on here. This isn't a world I want to live in, and so I want out. I want this whole thing to end. To be over.\" \n\nI considered this. Jones's point of view was not unheard of, in fact it had spawned a diverse array of counter-cultures and protest organizations. Some of them were political in natural, such as the Human Life Party, which was currently one of the larger opposition parties in the legislature. There were even a few extremist organizations or two, such as the radical Sapiens group. But this was the first time I'd heard someone so young espouse such views. \n\nStill, though, Jones's reasons were perfectly valid, so if he wanted to die, it was his right. I sighed, then held out my pad at him. \"All right sir, if you're sure. Please sign here and here, and scan your fingerprint here. My associate Mr. Henry here will take you to the next station, where a member of our Legal team will go through your affairs with you.\" I pressed a button my my pad. Henry was there a few moments later, smiling at Jones and beckoning towards a nearby door. Jones stood, thanked me, then followed Henry through the door. \n\nI'd served two more citizens—both old men at least three hundred and fifty years old—before Henry came back to my desk. He looked troubled. \"Hey James... that guy, Jones, what's his story?\" \n\n\"He's only twenty, but he thinks the nanite life extension process is unnatural, so he wants to die,\" I replied. \n\n\"Yeah, I got that part. But that's not the weird part. The weird part was when I took him down to Legal, he insisted on taking a detour near the nanite labs first. He said he wanted to see it with his own eyes. He asked all sorts of questions about it, too, like if that's where we make all the nanites, and what would happen if we lost our production facilities. Why would he care if he doesn't like the idea of the nanites in the first place? And he's dying soon, so why's he so curious?\" \n\n\"What'd you say to him?\" \n\n\"Well, I answered his questions as best I could. Yes, we make all the nanites here, and if we couldn't make nanites any more, then people wouldn't be able to live forever any more.\" \n\nThe alarm bells I felt during my interview with Jones were starting to ring again. \"Was he satisfied with that answer?\" \n\n\"I guess, because he didn't ask anything else afterwards. He just followed me down to the Legal Department without a word. Weirdest thing, I think.\" \n\nI frowned at Henry. \"You think there's something more going on here? With him?\" \n\nHenry mirrored my frown. \"All I know is that he's not acting like a guy who's about to die.\" \n\nI suddenly felt icy realization drench me from head to toe. \"No... no, that's not right. He is acting like a guy about to die. And he intends to take us down with him!\" \n\nI grabbed my phone and jabbed frantically at the keypad. It was an eternity before someone picked up. \"Security, what's the issue?\" \n\nI screamed into the receiver, \"I think we have a suicide bomber somewhere in the facility! Probably from Sapiens! Someone check the Legal Department and the Nanite Labs for a guy named Jones! Medium height, brown hair, twenty years old...\" \n\nA fireball tore through the building, incinerating me and Henry, and cutting me off before I could finish. ", "I usually get people coming through who feel like they've accomplished all they can, or perhaps not anything at all despite a hundred years of effort. Sometimes, I'll even get someone who's just curious about what happens when you die. \n\nToday, though, a beautiful young woman, age 362, came in to file for death. \n\n\"I don't mean to intrude, ma'am,\" I said sheepishly, \"but you're beautiful and prime for mating, young, intelligent by the look of your schooling and work history...why die so early?\"\n\nShe looked at me with a pained smile. \"Humans are meant to be mortal, dear. We just kind of...lose things, these days. Nothing means what it used to anymore, it's all so different than when I was a child. On a scale of hundreds of years, things lose value and people grow bored with relics of the past.\"\n\nShe smiled again, handing me the holotablet with her information in it. There was a strip of skin lighter than the rest at the base of her fourth finger, as if something had once been wrapped around it.\n\n\"Ma'am, if you don't mind me asking, what is that on your finger?\"\n\nShe held her hand up and rubbed the light patch of skin, a look of longing in her eyes contrasting the light scowl on her face. \"Oh, this? It's nothing, dear. Merely a ghost, not unlike myself.\"\n\nI buzzed her through to the incineration chamber. Just before the doors closed, I saw her pull a small, rectangular antique out of her pocket. It looked like some kind of person was on it. \n\nShe kissed it, and closed her eyes.", "We screen them first- depression, brain tumors. Anything that might influence the decision. Things that can be cured, at least. The decision, we always call it. The only decision. \n\nOur boss signed up yesterday. To be evaluated, I mean. To die.\nHis name was Doctor Juan Ava, and he invented immortality.\n\nI should go backward. My name is Pratha Hadid. I have been twenty two for seventy five years. It's my job to evaluate whether or not a person should be allowed to die. \n\nUsually we accept requests from people who are experiencing mental deterioration. Medicine is nearly perfect, but madness can happen after a few hundred years. Nothing is inevitable. We tell people: keep a healthy lifestyle. Do brain teasers. Read. \n\nBut Doctor Juan Ava was sane. Sharp as anyone I'd ever met. Brilliant - the most brilliant medical doctor to ever live. And he asked me to kill him. And I did. I suppose I should tell you why.\n\nI don't know why he chose our office. Not a headquarters, just a random county clerk. I don't know why he felt I was qualified, that anyone thought I was qualified, to decide the fate of the most influential human in history. \n\nSo I stuck to the protocol. I put him through the tests, ran him through the L-CAT scanner. No depression. No brain tumors. He seemed so small there, blue lights running over him, his hands, those dark eyes that saw so much.\n\nThe next phase is the interview. I was sweating, but he told me to calm down. He reminded me of my father. I started with the first question.\n\n\"How do you feel?\" I said. The camera recorded everything.\n\n\"Splendid. Very calm.\" he replied. \n\n\"Tell me about your day,\" I read from the screen before me.\n\n\"I woke up. I had a cup of green tea with jasmine. I exercised, read the news, played with my son. Went to chapel. Kissed my wife. And then I came here.\"\n\n\"Here,\" I said. I forgot the script. \"You came here. To a death clinic,\"\n\n\"A FERO, yes. A 'death clinic'.\" he said.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Juan- sir, I mean. I just need to know why. Why? Your wife, your son. You created this - your choice today could change everything. The way all seventeen billion some people on the planet view life and death. You would make me question... I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying.\"\n\nHe reached over the table and grabbed my hand, gently. \"Pratha? That is your name?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"I have been alive for seven hundred years. Do you know what I've done with my time?\"\n\n\"Everyone knows, doctor. I've read everything you've ever written, I've studied--\" I began.\n\n\"Shh... shh. Not everything. I've written other things. Stories. I've read. I've spent time with my family. And I am happy. So, so happy.\"\n\n\"So now you want, you want to die?\" I said. I yelled, actually. Something about this made my stomach feel like ice. I wanted to cry. I wanted him to stop. I didn't understand.\n\n\"There is a limit, Pratha. We were not meant for this. For forever,\" he said\n\n\"So you're saying you were wrong? That the world is wrong now?\" I said.\n\n\"I'm saying that there is a limit. The body, the mind can live on. But the soul needs something more,\" he said. He paused, taking a deep breath. \"I am happy, Pratha, but I am curious. Deeply curious for what's next. I want to know, Pratha. I am not afraid.\"\n\n I slumped in my chair. An afterlife. He was after an afterlife.\n\n\"No,\" he said. As if he knew what I was thinking, \"I am not chasing heaven. But I am ready for whatever naturally comes next. My body, my spirit, feels like a stagnant pond. I must release it. I must feel the flow of time. Again, Pratha. I must feel the tug of time again.\"\n\n\nI cleared him for the injection. It was hard to do. I got hatemail. I had to quit my job at the Rest office. And didn't even understand why I did it. I could have passed it off to someone else, the decision. But I also did understand. I felt what he felt. That tug of time. I'd been stagnant for so long.\n\nIn the morning I returned to the office for the last time. I went to my desk and packed my things into a few small boxes. And then I took a form, signed my name, and handed it to another examiner. I must feel the flow of time again. I must make the decision. I must be free.\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 7, 7, 30, 49, 84 ]	[ "1454583997", "1454560340", "1454581435", "1454562241", "1454571982", "1454583624", "1454554782", "1454561983", "1454559709", "1454558896", "1454561441" ]
	[WP] A Man has been walking for multiple days and nights with little food or water and is nearing the point of exhaustion when he happens upon a crossroads in the dead of night. He stops for a rest and a man in an expensive suit comes up to talk to him.	3	[ "\"You've been travelling a while. You're weary, tired, and in need of food and water. And you find yourself here, with me,\" said the suited man to the tattered man.\n\nThe tattered man nodded, his torn and dirty clothes shaking loosely around his skinny frame.\n\n\"You don't have much further to go. I'm just coming from that way. Headed towards where you came from, in fact. You'll find what you need over the ridge. It really is something. A different world, even.\"\n\nThe tattered man straightened his posture a bit before lifting his chin up to look at the suited man. \"Why are you leaving, then,\" he asked.\n\nThe suited man paused for a moment, looking at his oxfords instead of meeting his company's gaze. Finally, he composed his answer.\n\n\"With the way I lived my life, I guess I needed a change of pace. Too much of a good thing, you know?\"\n\nThe man in rags looked down the road he came from, and then out along the road leading to the ridge. \"Yeah, I guess,\" he said. \n\nHe turned back to face the suited man, but the suited man was gone. A pile of fresh clothes, neatly folded over a pair of oxfords and a fine watch, sat on the floor where he had been standing a moment before.", "\"Well, well. Isn't this a sight. You seem a bit frazzled there, friend.\" The man's voice was smooth and soft, like warm velvet on a cold day. From his oxfords to the immaculately tied knot of his tie, he exuded style, and also money. \n\n\"Wa- Water.\" Your voice is a dry croak. \"Plea- Please.\"\n\n\"Water? Oh, delicious stuff that. Not my personal forte, if I'm honest. I prefer something with a bit more kick. A good whiskey has never gone amiss.\"\n\n\"I need... water.\" The words are agony on your throat, and you desperately gesture in a drinking motion, the effort causing a wave of pain and exhaustion to spread from your limbs. \n\n\"Ah, you need water. Well that's easy enough. Here, have a bit of mine. Fresh from the waters of Eden. Never better, my guarantee.\" He reaches into his coat and pulls out an ornate bottle, stoppered with cork and wax. \n\nYou desperately try to undo the wax, but the weakness overcomes you and the bottle slips from your grasp. You cry in horror, but before it can hit the ground and break, the man deftly kicks out a foot and bounces the bottle back to your hands. The wax and cork are gone. \n\n\"Careful friend, you don't want to drop that.\" He sounded amused at your plight, but did nothing more to help you. You grasped the bottle firmly in both hands, sipping slowly as you desperately try to stop yourself from chugging it. You read somewhere that when you are dying of thirst, you should sip. At least you think you remember reading it somewhere. Your memories are all a jumble. The water is ice cold, and so pure it seems to be healing your aching body with every swallow.\n\n\"Smart man, normally you mortals are so careless, always gorging yourselves right into my father's house.\" His words were confusing, and you tried to focus on them, but the need to continue drinking gripped you and refocused only the water. \n\n\"So, now you're saved, I suppose you're going to want some more help. Food, a place to stay, a map, transportation. You always need something of that sort.\" The man wore a wry grin on his ridiculously handsome face. It seemed like a blend of all the leading men you remembered from Hollywood movies, square jawed and angular, with deep set eyes, with golden pupils. Wait, golden pupils? You concentrate more closely and see that underneath his perfectly coiffed hair, his eyes are golden, no, wait, silver. No, gold again. They are changing as he stares at you, from gleaming gold back to glowing silver, endlessly reverting to and fro. \n\n\"No? Nothing? Well, this is a first. Do be a dear and try not to die, my brother gets so angry with me when he has to clean up messes like you. He prefers your souls in easy to find locations, like big cities, or at least a village.\" His words were all a jumble again. Souls? Brother? Wait, was he the Devil? Did you just take something from the Devil? Did you bargain for it? You can't remember anything before the man appeared, water in hand for you.\n\n\"Soul? Did I?\" You croak the words, fear, as well as exhaustion causing your voice to falter. \n\n\"What? Soul? Did you trade it to me? Good Heavens no. What in Creation would I do with a soul? Humans and your ridiculous myths. Faust. Ugh.\"\n\nOkay, so he didn't take your soul. Still, he made a great deal of references to things that made you think he was the Devil. You decided you should probably be on your way before you got in any trouble. \n\n\"Thank you.\" The words come easier now, your strength seemingly restored as you finish the water. Wait, you did finish the water, so why is it full?\n\n\"Ah, the water, yes. It will continue to refill itself, so long as you have need of it. And worry not, you needed it far more than I ever did, or will.\" You hear what sounds like a great rush of wings, when suddenly there is another man standing next to the first. He was also dressed immaculately, in similar fashion to the first, but where the first man wore black and white, this new arrival wore white, and more white. His eyes also swirled between white and gold, but his hair was pure white, like driven snow, rather than the black of the first. \n\n\"Michael,\" the new arrival said, in a voice that sounded like trumpets. \"We are needed.\"\n\n\"Right, right, Lucifer. Right you are.\" Lucifer, that was what the devil was named! But wait, the new arrival was addressed as Lucifer, and the man that helped you was called Michael. Like the angel. Two angels? But Lucifer was evil! The Devil. \n\n\"De- Devil!\" Your cry was a wailing thing, and you backed yourself up as fast as you could, pushing yourself away. \n\n\"Ha ha ha. Lucifer, the mortals still call you that?\" Michael appeared amused. \n\n\"Old habits, brother mine. They cannot fathom I simply played the role Father set out for me, or that my return to my family was allowed and even planned.\" The one in white did not seem nearly so amused as the one in black. \"By the by, brother mine, did you dress in black to confuse the mortal? He clearly thought you were me.\"\n\n\"Oh, it's a just a game, Luci. I like going against stereotypes. Always have, you know that.\" He was grinning now, clearly amused that you were so obviously taken in by the simple colors he wore. \"Anyway mortal, I really must be going. Do take care of yourself. I really would hate for our brother to have come and fetch you. He'd be so cross with me.\"\n\n\"Come, brother mine, the trumpets sound.\" You didn't hear anything, but there was a flash of white and rush of wings that caused you to cover your eyes. When you opened them, there was a great feast laid out, new clothes, a portable shower, and even a new car. All the things Michael had assumed you would need. You shook your head trying to process things and set about solving the mystery, when all of a sudden, your stomach gave a loud growl. You could always think on it later. " ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1454624483", "1454625377" ]
"Traditions" could be ridiculous or demeaning or gross.	[WP] You are a teenager in an extremely remote jungle tribe. Westerners visit your home for the first time and are eager to participate in your culture. You and your friend devise increasingly absurd "traditions" in order to test the limits of the visitors' open-mindedness.	857	[ "\"By the undescended testicles of the Pygmy God Ziku\" hooted Ebula as he shook with fits of laughter \"I can't believe you got them to eat those gibbon droppings!\"\n\nZiku gasped for breath and clutched his sides. He hadn't laughed this hard since the high priest dropped the sacrificial virgin's still-beating heart down the temple steps several Harvest Festivals ago.\n\n\"Ebula...what if...what if...we told them...do you think they'd...we can't!\"\n\n\"Go on. What if we told them what? Do what? These silly light people will believe everything we tell them. You should've seen the big one's face when Muleria told him that she had to keep a baby porcupine in her downstairs pouch as a 'right of passage into womanhood'. And did you hear about how Pulio got the small one to milk a gorilla? Hah! They'll fall for anything.\"\n\n\"Okay Ebulu, we tell them that tonight is the God of Pleasure's holy night...\"\n\n\"Ziku we don't even have a God of Pleasure!\"\n\n\"Don't interrupt me Ebulu. Where was I? Oh right. We invite them to a 'ritual orgy', tell them that they must reach climax as the sun rises in order to please the God of Pleasure...\"\n\n\"Ziku you're the son of a priest and you have the most unholy mind of anyone I have ever met...\"\n\n\"Great Shakalaka's pubic beards Ebulu, stop interrupting me! I'm not even half done. Ok. So we tell them that they mustn't spill anything otherwise the King of Pain will rise up against the God of Pleasure and plunge our world into one hundred moon cycles of erectile dysfunction.\"\n\n\"Oh tender orang-utan's nipple Ziku, you're too much!\"\n\n\"AND we tell them that they must collect their liquids in banana leaves so that they can take it up to the temple and water the sacred plants.\"\n\n\"ZIKU! The high priest will literally tear out your eyes and ritually sacrifice you to the God of Moderately Deformed Infants if he found out you told the light people to water his rare orchids with their trunk sap!\"\n\n\"Well what do you say? I'll go tell everyone in the village EXCEPT the high priest. It'll be hilarious\"\n", "Me and Korou were standing on the edge of our village with our special \"drink\". It smelled really bad. The elders of the village and most of men went out to the forest to hide. Only people left in the village were young women, children and the two of us. We scouted white men a week ago. They were heading for our village. The best of our men were tracking them. The never detected us. Meanwhile we devised this plan to surprise them. \n\n\"Here they come\" said Korou. \n\"I see them\" I replied. \n\nThe group consisted of 5 men and 3 women. The oldest of them stepped closer. He had a silly green hat and something to cover his body and feet. It looked ridiculous. \"Hello, we do come not to fight. We do bring gifts.\" he said in broken Palawi tongue. Palawi people are close to us. We all speak Palawi.\n\"Welcome\" I replied. \"I am Mololu, the chief of this village. This is Korou, my adviser.\" The old guy said something to the others. They starred at me. I thing it worked. They really think I am the chief. \n\n\"Be saluted, chief Mololu. Forgive my courage but chiefs usually older?\" \n\"What do you mean older? I am the oldest one\" I love the confused looks on their faces \n\"I want to know your age?\" \n\"16, here drink this. It is a welcoming drink for all our guests.\" \n\nTo my amazement they actually drank it. They smiled politely while they were drinking it. I had to kick Korou because he almost burst out laughing. \n\n\"Come with us\" Korou said leading them to the pile of woods in the middle of the village. \"It is a tradition the the guests will build their own shelter while we provide them with food.\" he continued. Their confused looks are priceless. Finally they started to build it. They were pretty good at it. They had various tools that we never saw. Meanwhile we've sent one of the kids to tell the elders that the plan worked. When they were finished we started talking. \n\n\"Where are all other men?\" \n\"There are no other men, only me and Korou.\" \n\"What happens to the others?\" \n\"Nothing there were always only me and Korou.\" \n\"These children are who then?\" \n\"Mine and Korous\" \n\"All?\" \n\"Yes\" \n\nThey were writing it all down. I couldn't help but giggle at the thought of them finding the truth in the morning. Finally it was time of dinner. Normally we would have fish with some vegetables but because of our special guests we only had some bugs. They were smiling and saying how good it was but I knew they will be hungry. \n\nThe dinner is over. We waited a little bit until they are all asleep. Then we sent out one kid to bring back the elders.\n\n", "\"Father says they're to dine with us. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?\"\n\n\"This will be a tale we tell our grandchildren. Get the durian.\"", "\"But Robert, didn't you see all that blood everywhere? The man practically told us that they kill every third child.\"\n\n\"We must not judge their customs, Clara\" he replied, hacking away at the vine leaves using the curiously shaped hatchet they had ceremoniosly given to him in exchange for his tablet, \"they are just different, that's all.\"\n\nClara nodded reluctantly, the white guilt overpowering her higher reasoning for a brief moment. \"But then that whole fiasco with their food! How can they honestly offer that to people, to their own people even!?\"\n\nRobert searched his teeth with his tongue trying to get the taste of stale excrement out of his fillings. \"I don't know what you're talking about, I thought it was... thought it was very filling.\"\n\nHe slapped the hatchet at a branch, and it suddenly started to rumble in his hands, causing him to drop it out of alarm. \"Clara! Look! The mystics said this would happen!\" he cried, watching it buzz around on the ground like a possesed spirit.\n\nClara's eyes went wide and her hand rushed to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Robert stared at it in awe and they tentatively held hands, as the great purple slightly-phallic looking hatchet burrowed into a rabbit hole.", "When the sky became filled with stars, and the tired sun had been asleep for hours, a large fire ignited in the middle of a field. The tribe, who had been waiting in the shadows of their huts, watching for the first light, was slowly pouring into the vicinity. I looked to Jane. A smile started to stretch across her face. \"This is what we were here for, this is why we came Mark\" I imagined her saying to me in that moment of silence and awestruck consciousness.\n\nThe tribe formed a circle around the flames; their feathers and thick leather clothing ruffled when they crouched down onto the cool mud floor. If i had to guess, 50 or so Natives sat around the flames, all looking emotionless as the natural light bounced up and down their faces in the dark, sending chills down my spine.\n\nJane and I noticed an opening, about two bodies away from the chief, and saw several of the tribesman giving us a \"what are you waiting for stare.\" We took our place, glanced around, and hoped to fit in the best we could. For all we knew, we were the first Westerners to be invited into the camp. \n\nA sudden yell, like lightning striking before the storm, pierced the air and signaled the several drummers of the group to start playing. \"Ba-dum dum-Ba-dum, Ba-dum, dum-Ba-dum, Bad-dum dum-Ba-dum\" They struck their drums hard. The chief to our left stuck out his arm and began to slowly raise it. The drummers saw this and the intensity of their playing grew in sort a crescendo with the rising arm of their leader. It went all the way up, until he couldn't reach anymore, and he struck down like he wanted to chop the life out of his enemy. \n\nThe music went silent, everybody around the ring stayed silent, until the greatest moment of our lives occurred. I remember it happening so quickly too, like the floodgates of their bowels had opened up all at the same time. In the moments after the drums stopped playing, all of the tribesman and women began to fart.\n\nIt was very loud for about 10 seconds, with flatulence arising from almost every member, in the weirdest celebration of life's wonder ever witnessed. I looked to Jane and saw she was crying; the celebration was that beautiful. The tribes people were too kind to describe, for letting us attend their sacred ceremony, which I have labelled as \"The passing of the inner demons.\" The smell could have been the worst thing to ever touch my nostrils, but when you put into perspective just how powerful of a ceremony this was for them, the scent was empowering. I remember taking a deep breath of the air, just to enjoy a full experience.\n\nIn the morning we parted ways, and I thanked them for a night we will never forget. I still remember the laughter on their faces after the ceremony ended. Seeing the joy on their faces is what made the ceremony so powerful to Jane and I. As we walked back to our tent, I remember all of them smiling and pointing at us, and we felt amazing, because these tribes people had accepted us into their clan, and couldn't help but point it out. \n\nI wish I could go back and fart with them one last time.", "It was at that odd moment during the welcoming ceremony that each member of the expedition realized they had been involved in what was possibly the most ludicrous spectacle ever witnessed by outsiders when their stoicism broke into a gale of laughter. Everyone in the circle had followed the ceremony's instructions by wearing green and sitting on the ground in a circle. Nobody was to move or leave the circle until each person had a male Kakapo parrot dancing on their heads. ", "\"He did the leeches?\"\n\n\"Yes. No question, he just stuck his hand.\"\n\n\"And the Monkey sniffing?\"\n\n\"He said he'd been greeting monkeys like that for years.\"\n\n\"Did you try the mangoes, too?\"\n\n\"He put them on his nipples before we even asked him. He said he was familiar with this 'jungle ritual.' He's... ah... he found one of the women's skirts and now he's dancing while pouring honey on himself. I don't even know where he found the honey.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm out of ideas.\"\n\n\"We could try making him walk on the bridge over the alligator pit.\"\n\n\"How do you think he got here?\"\n\nNot ten feet away, an old man wearing reedy skirts and a fluff of white hair on his head, shouted, \"Are we rolling, Jeremy?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" a voice called back.\n\n\"I'm David Attenborough, and for my next special project, I'm exploring the exotic traditions of Deep Amazonian natives. Okay, Jeremy, throw the snakes in!\"", "When the White Man first came to our tribe, deep in the Amazonian jungle, we were frightened by their pale faces and technology. Never before have we encountered other humans- for centuries, we've thought ourselves to be alone, the forest our world. That world has come crashing down on us, and we're getting used to that.\n\nThere's a pretty severe language barrier, though. The elders decided that having a younger person, like myself, help out as a guide would be the best since we learn quicker- I believe my grandfather said \"the young mind is a malleable thing\", and two 13 year-olds like us were the perfect choice.\n\nSo far, that's been pretty great since the technology they've shown me, like phones and tablets, are absolutely incredible. Their machines are unlike anything we could have imagined or dreamed of, something almost worth worship. \n\nAnd so, we are trying to repay them with what we can. It seems they already have all we can offer in terms of knowledge and resources, but they would like our history and traditions. That's where Anza and I come into play.\n\n\"Anza,\" I called out, \"come. We must show the White Man our village traditions, as the elders have requested.\" We knew them better than anyone in the village.\n\nAnza came running out of her hut, smiling and wearing a t-shirt one of the pale men brought. \"I'm ready!\"\n\nWe ran over to the center of our tribe, where several pale men were waiting for us. They were dressed in strange pants that stopped right above the knee, the color of sand, and their chests were covered with white cloth that split down the middle. \n\nAnza looked over at me and whispered in our tongue, \"Reya, they look very strange.\"\n\nOne of the elders waiting with the pale men turned to her and glared. She snapped upright and tried to look dignified.\n\nThe pale men turned around, and smiled at us, extending their hands. We looked at them with curiousity and confusion, as their hands just stayed pointed toward us. \n\n\"Anza, perhaps this is some sort of greeting?\" I said.\n\n\"It is,\" a voice answered me from behind. \"You grasp their hand in return.\"\n\nWe turned around and saw a pale woman, friendly and tall. \n\n\"You know our tongue?\" I asked, amazed.\n\n\"Not well,\" she responded. \"But it's similar to tongues in the area and I can get by. My name is Mary.\"\n\nShe had a very comforting aura, the way she talked and looked, the way she smiled at us. I turned back around to the pale men and grasped their hands. \"Okay, well then, follow us.\"\n\nAnza and I led them out to the stream that cut our village in half, where we often made prayer in thanks for the gift of water- liquid life. One of the researches asked something in their brutish tongue, and the researcher said it in ours.\n\n\"Where do you bury your dead?\"\n\nAnza went to respond but I cut her off, seeing an opportunity to joke around with the pale men. \"We put them in the stream, and let them float away.\"\n\nThe woman looked shocked, and the men as well. They exchanged confused glances and mumbled in their own language, looking sick. \n\n\"You don't know where the bodies go?\" Mary asked.\n\n\"They float out of this world and to the next unknown,\" I responded, my wit sharp. For all they know, we don't understand that the stream continues. The pale men scribbled on their paper, likely worried about a collection of dead bodies piled somewhere downstream.\n\n\"Well, moving on, can you tell us about any traditions or special days your tribe has?\" Mary inquired, her tongue heavy as she tried to speak our words.\n\nI looked at Anza, who started to understand what I was doing. The pale men mad funny faces and words when we made jokes, and I wanted to keep it going. Not anything terrible, just...strange little things.\n\n\"Yes, Mary, we have many traditions in this village. There is one day we devote to the God in the sky, warming us with light,\" I explained truthfully. \"We thank him by putting a banana on our head and staring into its light until a monkey comes and takes the banana from our head. It takes days sometimes.\"\n\nOnce again, their pale faces went blank and they looked around at each other trying not to laugh. \n\n\"Doesn't that hurt your eyes?\" Mary asked, confused.\n\n\"Yes, some people go blind.\"\n\nShe looked worried now, like my mother used to when I played with snakes. I decided that maybe this joke was not as funny and moved onto the next one.\n\n\"To show our thanks to the world we live in, once every moon we eat a bowl of dirt,\" Anza piped in. She grabbed a fistful of dirt and squished it against her mouth, smiling through it at the white men who couldn't hold their laughter in any longer. Mary hushed them, saying something in their tongue.\n\n\"Don't laugh at them, or they won't tell us their traditions. You're being rude and childish.\" We could not understand the words, but they stopped laughing. \n\n\"Maybe we are just not funny?\" Anza suggested. I thought deeply at this, wondering how to proceed and prove that we are the masters of humor in our tribe. It clicked.\n\n\"Well, it is taught by our elders that when you get a cut or scrape, you rub your poop on it and the forest Gods will heal it faster,\" I said, trying not to laugh. \"The forest Gods love poop and will eat it off, cleaning your wound with their divine tongue.\"\n\nThe pale men turned a shade of green and Mary looked appalled, making strange sounds to her friends. \"Okay, we need to have a discussion with your elders. Your tribe does very unsafe things and we need to explain to them why they're wrong.\"\n\nAnza and I looked at each other, frightened. \"Reya, look at what you've done. They don't think we're funny at all, and now father will discipline us.\"\n\nWe walked in shame behind the pale men back to our village. Mary spoke with the elders, explaining the traditions we spoke of and why they're dangerous.\n\nMy grandfather glared at us again. \"I thought them ready to on responsibilities. I apologize, Mary- they were speaking false truths. Children will always be children, no matter what burdens you put on them. Please, do not think ill of them. I must say, however, to think they'd disrespect their own mother by suggesting we defile the dead is unsettling.\"\n\nShe turned to us with a solemn face, then back at grandfather. \"So the things they told us were not true?\"\n\n\"We may be a small village, Mary, untouched by the rest of mankind, but we are proud and we are strong. We know better than to practice such unsafe rituals.\"\n\nShe sighed a breath of relief. \"Of course, I'm sorry if I came off as insulting.\" She turned to the pale men and said something in their language. They immediately began to laugh as they looked at us. \n\n\"Mary,\" I piped up bashfully, \"are they laughing at us because our jokes were not funny? We just wanted to make you laugh. You remind us of her, a little bit, and she'd always laughed at our silliness.\"\n\nShe smiled at me with a mother's love and said, \"No, dear. We think you two are the funniest people we've met so far.\"\n\nAnza and I looked at each other, grinning wide with glee.", "\"OK, OK, OK, I got one, I got one. Tell them...tell them...tell them that this two-week-old punjit fruit is a special dish, eaten only by our most revered guests as given to us by the gods. See...see if they'll do it. OK, OK, go! Go!\" \n\"Shh, shh, shh, stop laughing, you morons! OK, he's going, he's almost there...he's offering it to the Western idiots....one took it! Ooohhh, I can't believe it....*he ate it!* He ate it! Fuck, he's puking it back up, all over his foot coverings, all over his female partner, everywhere! I can't believe it! What a fucking mess! Shh, shh, quiet, here comes Quilik back.\" \n\"Ha! Did it! Got them to do it! That's another one! What's next?\" \n\"Ooo, ooo, me! I got a good one!\" \n\"Yeah, Xixil?\" \n\"Watch this. I'm going to tell them that 'for the disrespect they've shown to our sacred foods' - you did say that the fruit was sacred to us, right Quilik?\" \n\"Of course!\" \n\"'shown to our gods, then, they must expunge the inpiety - '\" \n\"Impiety\" \n\"'impiety and appease the gods by purifying their clothing in the fire'.\" \n\"Uh....why?\" \n\"Idiot. Have you seen that woman? What do you think she'd look like unwrapped?\" \n\"Xixil....you are my chief.\" \n\"<groan>. Great. That means I get to see the fat male unwrapped. Thanks a lot.\" \n\"Sorry, Lali.\" \n\"I bet.\" \n\"OK, here I go!\" \n\"Good luck!\" \"Go, man!\" \"You better pull this off, Xixil!\" \n\"OK, he's going, he's going.....he's talking to them.....he's waving his arms and, and, and he's picked up his spear and is pointing at the fire....*they're doing it!* They're doing it, and...hey, shove off you guys, find your own holes in the walls here, and hooooooooo, get a load of that! Good Gods! Guys, guys, we need to think of some sacred gods-will-destroy-the-village fertility rites, like, now! Anyone?\" \n\"Dammit, guys, you think I want a part of this?\" \n\"Sorry, Lali. If you want, you can get the fat guy to stick it in the termite hill as 'preparation for the holy rites as dictated by the gods' for a few hours for giggles, before telling him he's been rejected as unworthy by the gods?\" \n\"Hmm....all right. I'll get the honey sap. Let's go.\"" ]	[ 3, 5, 5, 6, 9, 14, 34, 111, 355 ]	[ "1454782939", "1454781914", "1454783623", "1454781250", "1454781623", "1454775972", "1454780419", "1454777872", "1454774384" ]
	[WP] You've passed all of your tests, got your license and scraped up half of the funds like you agreed with your parents. Now your dad is bringing you to buy your very first spaceship.	40	[ "I looked at the pile of junk and frowned.\n\n\"Is this what I'm paying $14,000 for?\"\n\n\"That's 28K including my share,\" my dad had chuckled, \"I'll tell you... this is a lot better than what I've had for my first spaceship.\"\n\n\"That's because you're ancient, Dad\" I sighed as I walked around the space ship, \"Looks like it's got maybe only 4 seats in the cockpit and a resting area.\"\n\nMy dad opened a booklet and nodded. \"Four mains seats and a resting area of perhaps eight people,\" he confirmed, \"You might be able to fit a couch in there too.\"\n\n\"God, that's small,\" I frowned as I reconsidered my choices, \"And this is the only option we have?\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"Nothing else?\" I was desperately trying to fish out something from him.\n\nMy dad scratched his chin and reconsidered. \n\n\"We could save a lot of money and get an Audi or a Porsche...\"\n\n\"A car?\" I decided I was fine with the spaceship, \"No thanks, Dad.\"\n", "\"Dad, this is a pile of junk.\" Vash spoke with an annoyance in his tone as his Father and the salesmen were looking deep into the nook of an exterior plasma vent. \n\n\"It's a classic!\" The salesmen said with much pep and vigor, licking his lips as he could taste the commission. \n\n\"You hear that son? It's a classic!\" His father spoke finally emerging while wiping some oil off of his hands with an old rag. \n\n\"I wanted an X-p97 model!\" Vash groaned checking his wrist communicator to see if he had any messages from Sarra his long distance girlfriend, who was prompting that he should get a ship for many months now. \n\n\"Well i want a pleasure droid, but with me raising you and your brother alone, and working two jobs this is what i can afford, even with you chipping in!\" he said stuffing the rag in his back pocket.\nVash groaned and rolled his eyes, his father didn't understand him even slightly and if he had even the slightest clue, he would know this ship would not get anyone laid. \n\n\"Besides\" his father went on \" You had to take your pilots test twice because you failed the maneuverability. Anything with an advanced hyperdrive is something you aren't ready to handle, and the insurance alone...look, son. This freighter is a workhorse, the engines last, and the nav computers are really reliable, i've never had a bad jump into an asteroid field with one of these.\" He spoke with a smile\n\n\"Fine, whatever. I just wanna be able to visit my girlfriend for a change. A two lightyear distance relationship is hard enough!\" Vash pouted.\n\n\"Tell you what kiddo!\" the salesmen chimed in. \"I'll throw in some fuzzy dice on the house!\" the salesmen chuckled with dollar signs in his eyes.\n\n\"Hear that son?! Fuzzy dice! We'll take it.\" Vash's father said with a grin. \n\n\"I'll get the datapad for a dna signature!\" The salesmen said rushing back to his office.\n\n\"You make sure you use protection when you go visit sarra. She won't be able to keep her mandibles off of you, flying up in this baby. I don't need any squid babies slithering about, inking on my carpet.\"\n\n\"DAD! SHE'S NOT A SQUID, SHES TREXLEMORPH, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! YOU'RE SO IGNORANT!!!!\" Vash cried putting his face in his hands.", "\"Stop looking at your datapad, Wooram,\" Jae glared at the rear mirror at his son's face, illuminated by his datapad's backlight.\n\n\"Sorry, appa. Just excited,\" he looked up, grinning, \"Jason-hyung was saying I needed to make sure my ship had a trim characteristic rating above a 4.0. I'm just looking at which ships they have that are in my price range.\"\n\nThe price match limit that Jae had given his son was largely ceremonial. Jae had done very well for himself - his law firm was well known and he had a client base extended across three stations within the system - and the lesson to be learned by Wooram about financial responsibility and independence was worth a lot more than an extra $$300,000-$$500,000 in price tag.\n\n\"It's not all about numbers and ratings,\" Jae returned his attention back on the lane so he could make the turn to the docks, \"You choose your ship on numbers alone, and you'll end up with something shiny that doesn't fit you. Now put that thing away for now, we're just about there.\"\n\nThe Dock Requisitions Hub was quieter on Saturdays as most families were in the recreational centers or the synthetic nature preserves. Calumny-5442's DRH was smaller than most other space stations as Calumny-5442 was a financial station as opposed to a industrial or agriculture station, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in unconventional selection. Jae smiled at the memory of his own father taking him to the DRH to purchase his Aether-Rise X-4418 Schooner. Although he had been forced to retire his ship some two decades ago as it was too cost prohibitive to refit its mooring locks to the docking upgrades made system wide, the memory of his wide-eyed excitement as he walked between the various ships that he had spent nearly eight years of his life saving for filled him with a tinge of nostalgia as one of the few moments he and his father had a genuine interaction.\n\n\"Mr. Park! I'm glad you could make it! We've closed the floor just-,\" Mr. Aldrich stopped mid sentence as Jae shook his head. Mr. Aldrich smiled in understanding, \"in the main showroom as we're doing some renovations, but we've still a number of vessels available to show you.\"\n\n\"I appreciate it, Lawrence. Besides, I know it's quiet on Saturdays so I thought I'd give you some business. And we're not here to indulge my hobbies, Lawrence. I'm here with a new customer referral,\" Jae said, winking to his old friend.\n\n\"Ah. You must be Wooram. I've heard so much about you from your father. Now, before I go ahead and show you what we have available, it's customary for me to ask you price range just so I can get a feel for what would fit your needs best,\" Lawrence asked.\n\n\"I can max out at $$800,000,\" Wooram looked to his Jae, who nodded, \"and I already have some ideas about what I want.\"\n\n\"Oh? Is there a specific class you're interested in.\"\n\nWooram pulled out his datapad to show Lawrence the values he wanted in his ship. Lawrence chuckled to himself as he surveyed the numbers. Woorman certainly did his research even if his expectations were over eager.\n\n\"Style and maneuverability over speed. I like the way you think. Right this way.\"\n\nThe back showroom held Lawrence's special inventory, the one he rarely showed even his most loyal customers. He maintained the back showroom out of his love for the ship-laying craft, an appreciation for the trade that was equal parts function and grace. Already in his mind, he had an idea of which ones Wooram would go for, but he was just as ready to be surprised by what the young man would choose.\n\nUpon reaching the back showroom, Lawrence took an old metal key out of his inner coat pocket and inserted it into the wood door that led inside.\n\n\"Is this real wood?\" Wooram asked.\n\n\"Good eye! Yes, imported from the Amazon. Cost a fortune, but business has been good and it reminds me of home. And, Wooram, I am a slave to appearance. I know you're probably thinking this makes my showroom less secure, but very few people are aware this room even exists, so it's a risk I'm willing to take. Hold on a second while I turn on the lights,\" Lawrence said, reaching inside to feel for the switch. His fingers found the switch, but he walked inside before turning them on so he could see Wooram's reaction.\n\nIt got him every time. As one by one the rows of LED bulbs lit the room till it reached from end to end, the look on Wooram's face was the reason he stayed in the business at all even though he had made enough to retire well. Joy could not quite describe Wooram's expression. There was a wild excitement, a sense of wonder that sent a knowing tingle down his every nerve that filled Wooram as he looked across the room not at the magnificently crafted profiles of the ships. Freedom was what Wooram saw, with a dash of anticipation.\n\nThe seconds melted into minutes into what seemed hours as Wooram almost sprinted from ship to ship, his hands caressing the gentle curves of each of the ships, his eyes scanning over the specifications, his mind imagining the adventures he might take. Lawrence and Jae chatted idly about the economy and each others wives as they watched. Lawrence, ever the salesman, attempted to interest Jae in a couple of his modified Aether-Rise Remanufactures, but Jae politely declined.\n\nAfter about an hour and a half, Wooram jogged back from the end of the room, his face plastered with a giddy grin, \"I think I found her, appa.\"\n\n\"Lead the way,\" Jae said.\n\nThe three of them walked all the way to the far corner of the showroom, under a row of lights that flickered slightly, begging to be replaced. The ship they stopped in front of surprised Jae.\n\n\"Can I try out the pilot's seat?\" Wooram asked. Lawrence nodded, walking up to the service panel to unlock the cockpit and release the ladder. Wooram dashed over, clambering up and almost slipping in his eagerness. As he settled into the pilot's chair, he looked over the side and grinned even wider.\n\n\"How much is this?\"\n\n\"It's priced at $$650,000, but, to be honest I'm not sure if I really wanted to part with it,\" Lawrence said, resting his hand on the port side swept-down wing, \"Do you know what model this is?\"\n\n\"It's a MK14 Vapiron-C. A civilian redesign of the MSF-I Vapiron. They made about 100,000 of these and were initially going to slate them for police service, but they got outbid by Aegis Dynamics,\" Wooram focused back forward on the control monitors, \"I thought most of these were melted for scrap.\"\n\n\"Most were. I managed to save this from the scrap yard. Let's say I were willing to part with this one, I'm curious, why this one? For $$300,000 you could get a CF-11 Crimson which is updated. This one still needs a dock retrofit and a bit of work before you'll be able to put her in the air.\"\n\n\"I know. I'll need to replace the wing plating, probably refurbish the thruster intakes. I definitely need to refinish the cockpit canopy and rebuild this guidance system, but,\" Wooram stopped his admiration as he tried to find the right words for what his mind understood and his heart felt, \"just. All these ships. They're nice and polished. They have great stat values. I see why you made the comment about style and maneuverability over speed. Seems you like the same things I do. But this right here. This ship, will need a lot of work. Once I'm done fixing her up....\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Jae asked.\n\n\"It's just like you said, appa. It's not all numbers and ratings. I've never really wanted anything new, I've always wanted something that was mine. This ship. I don't know how to describe it. Just something about the curves and angles. It's something about the way she's got a bit of wear and neglect, but stays, I don't know. Proud? Potential. That's the word I'm looking for. I don't want something anyone can just buy and fly. I want something that I can fix, something that is just mine. And this? This is it. I'll pay as much as you want for it, Mr. Aldrich, even if I have to save up more and wait a little longer. Can you hold it for me?\"\n\nJae and Lawrence both laughed.\n\n\"No, no. I'll let her go,\" Lawrence said, \"Reluctant as I may be. If she calls to you, Wooram, I won't stand in your way. Why don't we-.\"\n\n\"I'll take care of the paperwork, Lawrence,\" Jae interrupted, \"Wooram, you know your way back to the front office?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" Wooram said, absentminded as he poured over the interior.\n\n\"Head back when you're done.\"\n\n\"Got it,\" Wooram answered, totally distracted from everything. Jae patted Lawrence on the shoulder for him to follow.\n\nAs they exited the showroom, Lawrence turned to Jae, \"how long did you have him saving up for?\"\n\n\"Since he was about 5 or 6. Ever since he saw the picture of my Aether-Rise. He's got the fever. I already told the wife that we couldn't take that from him, we can only encourage him to be safe about it.\"\n\n\"I imagine he wants to go into racing?\"\n\n\"I don't know what he wants to go into. I just know that he wants to fly.\"\n\n\"Sounds like us when we were his age.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" Jae let the warmth he felt in his chest spread through his body, \"yea it does." ]	[ 2, 3, 8 ]	[ "1455054179", "1455067346", "1455064841" ]
	[WP] Due to the wonders of modern technology, a kid actually grows up to be a firetruck.	71	[ "GCA Report, 4-101. Terradate: March the 7th, 2338. \nPersonal Account of Captain Riyan Bern.\n\nConcerning the colonization of rocky planets...\n\nThe planet Mars, and the planet formally known as 'Mercury', submitted decades ago. Self-sufficient human settlements thrive on both planetary surfaces. And the extent of mankind's colonial achievement is easily demonstrated by the Martian megalopolis, Sojourner. Even the great cities of Old Earth seem pale in comparison with the magnificence of this celestial capital--the magnificence of my home city...\n\nOf the rocky planets (excluding the lesser ice-bodies, of course), only one stalwart remains to be wrestled into compliance: the devil's planet, 'Venus'.\n\nOnly three humans have ever managed to touch her molten skin and return unkissed by fire. All of them were stout Martians. One of them--was my Grandfather.\n\nToday I announce plans to complete my Grandfather's ambitions. Venus will be conquered within my children's lifetimes. \n\n\nGCA Report, 4-215. Terradate: October the 31st, 2339. \nPersonal Account of Director Riyan Bern.\n\nLike the Chinese of Ancient Earth, Venus boasted a wall, deadly to any who wished to penetrate it. For centuries Venus has taunted us with her impregnable barrier. But she will taunt us no longer. \n\nToday, we toppled her wall. Today...the heaven's were forced opened and the skies were freed: Venus' toxic atmosphere is no more. Phase Akatsuki is complete. Our dream waves us closer.\n\n\nGCA Report, 4-488. Terradate: November the 12th, 2357. \nPersonal Account of Director Riyan Bern.\n \nThe ashes of the fallen haunt me. For how many more lost spirits must I be accountable...? How many more parentless children and empty graves?\n\nWill the fires of Venus never be quenched? Will her volcanoes spew death for all eternity? I refuse it. Our men and women fought the fires and lost. We will not lose again.\n\nI have gathered the greatest minds in the system--Martian, Earth-born, and Primary ('Mercurian'). We will not rest until I can honor those who have suffered with a promise of success.\n\n\nGCA Report, 4-493. Terradate: April the 24th, 2381. \nPersonal Account of Subject Riyan Bern.\n\nMartian life expectancy may be the longest in our galaxy, but still I am aging too quickly. My time is drying out. No one else is fit to carry on after me, so I press forward. \n\nWe have begun the initial experiments. Venus will suffer no human to trespass on her terrain, so--we will send no human. There will be no more death.\n\nTransferring human consciousness to an invincible mechanical body, this is Dr. Poliarus' solution. The mindful automaton will be massive, equipped with hoses and tanks of incredible scale. At last, the volcanoes of Venus will drink themselves to exhaustion.\n\nSadly, too many years have passed since its conception and people have lost faith in Phase Amaterasu. No one will volunteer. No one except I.\n\n\nGCA Report, 4-499. Terradate: July the 3rd, 2383. \nPersonal Account of Subject Riyan Bern.\n\nAll the preparations have been made. Probability of success is disheartening, but even after so many years I have heart to spare.\n\nAt midnight, the transfer will begin. This will be my last entry as a human, a Martian, a father...\n\nTomorrow, I awake to my destiny. The ancients had a name for this sort of machine. 'Firetruck', they called it. Well, dear Venus... I HOPE YOU ARE PREPARED TO BE FIRETRUCKED!\n\nEnd Report.\n\n", "\"When I grow up, I want to be a firetruck!\"\n\nIt was cute, in a kids-say-the-darnedest-things sort of way. Perhaps Oberon Veigh had smiled wryly, amused by the child's imagination. Perhaps he'd been surprised by the archaic image, impressed by his son's apparent familiarity with historic modes of transport. He imagined he probably had. \n\nNow, of course, it wasn't quite so charming.\n\nHe had, he hoped, been a good father, most of the time. A little distant, maybe. Possibly a little too preoccupied with work. But heck, work was important. Veigh was a staunch vocationalist like his father before him. He believed, as he frequently evangelized to his friends and co-workers, that in a post-scarcity universe a man needed a framework to build his life around.\n\nHe had spent his youth studying, learning, immersing himself in the science and technology that had lifted humanity to the stars and beyond, taming the cosmos, harnessing gravity, wielding matter and energy like gods. Oberon Veigh built worlds out of light, and lifted the cities that housed their heavy billions out of the oceans themselves.\n\nAnd his son still wanted to be a firetruck.\n\nVeigh would be the first to admit that he wasn't \"down with current trends\". He was quietly proud of it. He was a serious man who did serious work, who didn't have time for the pleasuredomes and fictions of the masses. But even so. Was it... was that normal now? Being a firetruck? Being an actual firetruck?\n\nAnd apparently it was. There was a fire station, with a pole. A city, roads, fire hydrants. Other firetrucks, who... what? Drove around putting out fires? Were driven. By firefighters, of course.\n\nPerhaps it was a sex thing. He sort of hoped it was, but he never asked.", "I've had a bit of trouble adjusting since the operation.\n\nIt's to be expected, of course; it was pretty drastic. The mental task of mapping the human being in my mind's eye onto the gigantic red beast I had become was almost too abstract to handle. I still haven't figured out where my fingers and toes are, or what they are. Do the treads of my tires qualify? I guess it doesn't matter.\n\nI don't know what my compartment looks like inside, but I don't think I have a steering wheel. It certainly feels like I'm calling the shots there. Maybe that's just a quirk of my equivalent of a brain. One thing I know for sure is that the firemen still control the hose.\n\nWhen I put out a fire, it feels like I'm sweating a lot. All out of one place. Before the operation, I'll admit my mind went to lewd places when I tried to make sense of the fire hose in the context of a human body. But in actuality, it's not even pleasant. It's like spending a week in the desert, all in the span of seconds. I can feel the water leaving me.\n\nOne thing I sorely miss is my sense of time. It's completely gone. All I have to go on is my age when I underwent the procedure - twenty-four - and some broad assumptions about how long people use emergency vehicles. But I really don't know how old I am. I could still be twenty-four, or I could be over a hundred years old. In all likelihood, I'm probably not older than maybe sixty right now.\n\nThat's just the way things go. I never did too well in school, and this is where I ended up because of it. The luckiest of us get all the wealth and cushy treatment they can handle; the people below them get mediocre jobs and scrape by with their finances. And people like me get to give up on their dreams, let a surgeon hack them to pieces, and be reassembled as living vehicles and appliances.\n\nSome days I can't help but remember how vast my ambitions were in my childhood. I wanted to be an office worker back then, before reality set in.\n\nBefore I grew up to be a firetruck.", "I sexually Identify as a fire truck. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of racing through the streets blasting jets of pressurized water on raging infernos. People say to me that a person being a fire truck is Impossible and I’m fucking retarded but I don’t care, I’m beautiful. I’m having a plastic surgeon install ladders, pumps and 50-foot nylon hoses on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me “LaFrance” and respect my right to extinguish from below and extinguish efficiently. If you can’t accept me you’re an autophobe and need to check your rescue vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding." ]	[ 3, 5, 15, 17 ]	[ "1455066181", "1455059271", "1455058990", "1455054533" ]
Saw [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/videos/comments/44xrlv/youtuber_gives_a_guide_on_how_to_land_a_737_in/czu28pf) and thought one of you geniuses could do something magical with it.	[WP] You're nearing the end of a flight when both pilots slump unconscious at the controls. Luckily , there are flight sim experts on the plane returning home from FlightSimCon... 80 of them. And they all want a turn.	295	[ "\"I mean I know how to fly...but i've never worked one of these radios before. I can set the freq, but where the hell is the push to talk?\"\n\n\"Fucking Casual, I was flying Lockheed Tri-Stars on VATSIM while you were still trying to figure out BF1942. Move over, it's my turn.\"\n\n\"Hey man, if you remember...I'm the one that noticed something was wrong in the first place. Besides, how many of those old planes have MFDs? I mean hell you couldn't even set the autopilot!\"\n\nOutside the plane, storm clouds were swirling all around them. The weather screen looked like a red and green Christmas Tree, the cockpit door was open, and the flight attendant lights were blinking in their own festive dance as each passenger called in to 'help'.\n\nThere was a crackle over the headset, \"Malaysian 370 Heavy this is Center, do you read?\"\n\n\"Seriously man, I don't know how to respond to him.\" The first voice was trembling, \"We need to find out where they want us to go Sal. It was fun while we were taking turns but we've only got about thirty minutes of fuel left.\"\n", "The plane began it's descent rather early. \"Wow we'll make it back in time for the game\" Fred exclaimed as he glanced at his watch. Being only flight simulation experts, every one passenger reveled in the real life complexities of maneuvering a plane, deciphering the decisions and actions taken by their trusted pilots, trying to gain better understandings of what it would be like to pilot a real plane. \n\nWith their self-consuming interest and blinding trust, what started becoming an unmanned nose-dive was simply gone unnoticed until Fred realised this was NOT an early descent. \"Aww shit..\".\n\nRip everyone.", "The press gathered at the Pentagon Briefing room with an air of curiosity and horror. The Secretary stepped to the podium.\n\n\"I'm very sad to announce that Flight 1234 was indeed shot down by aircraft protecting the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz earlier today. Flight 1234, an Airbus A-380, was attempting to land on the carrier, and with a tailwind.", "\"Ladies and gentlemen, This is your capatains speaking. We haven't decided on where to land yet, so please buckle up for now...\n\nExcuse me, _this_ is actually your captain, we'll land at London Heathrow quite s- OW\n\nFolks, Excuse me, this is your captain, we're about to cross the English channel to A- AAARGGHHh\n\nYes, This is your captain speaking. One of them anyways. We'll be with you with more info shortly STAY THE FUCK OF THE FLAPS CONTROLLER YOU FUCKING MORON I'LL STICK A FUCKING AILERON UP YOUR ASS\" * click *", "NTSB Lead Investigator: C. Daniels \n\nReport Date: 02/10/16 \n\nEvent Date\t: 2/02/16 \n\nReport(s) Status - Published - Probable Cause\n\nLocation - Rockaways, New York\n\nMake/Model - Boeing 787-9\n\nRegist. Number - NBL8021N\t\n\nNTSB No - K-226-XR-801B\n\nEvent Severity - Multiple Fatalities\n\nType of Air Carrier Operation and Carrier Name (Doing Business As)\n\nJetBlue/Passenger\n\nIncident Remarks: \n\nNTSB Investigators have traveled to the site, conducted interviews and reviewed available data, including radio traffic between ATC and Flight prior to incident and flight tracking information provided by the regional flight center (RFC). Flight summary to follow:\n\nAt 1850 GMT Flight JB 717 took off from LAX and followed their listed flight plan exit corridors until achieving stable flight level at 19:05GMT. Radio traffic between the air crew and ground is unremarkable for the next 4.5 hours until 23:35GMT when flight Purser S. Johansen entered the flight deck and discovered the entire flight team unresponsive at their stations and the aircraft under automatic flight controls. In an attempt to forestall panic, Purser Johansen closed the flight deck door and retrieved the communication headset from third officer P. Manesh to contact ATC. An in-flight emergency was declared at 23:42GMT as 119 SOULS IN JEOPARDY and VESSEL IN PERIL state was determined. ATC began the incident reporting chain and carrier emergency services were activated. Purser S. Johansen remained in contact with ground, ATC and carrier controls and advised that numerous passengers were beginning to show signs of alarm and panic. In an unauthorized attempt to calm the passengers, Purser Johansen used the inboard intercom to discuss the situation with flight attendants S. Smith, R. McCoombs and T. Branas. FA Smith advised Purser Johansen that she had overheard numerous on-board conversations related to flight, piloting and existing training and experience. Due to the severity of the situation Purser Johansen made the unusual choice of asking FA Smith and McCombs to quietly locate passengers who had the most relevant training or experience and to bring them to the belowdecks crew galley for a meeting. This meeting occurred at 23:59 and was attended by FAs Smith, McCombs and passengers J. Longren, P. Williams, R. Jones and A. Earhart (no relation) with Purser Johansen on the flight deck and speaking via the inboard intercom. Partial transcript follows after Johansen finishes explaining the situation:\n\n.....\nR. Jones: Fucking awesome!\n\nP. Williams: Amazing, what luck!\n\nJ. Longren: Oh man what a sweet opportunity!\n\nPurser Johansen: Uh, maybe you didn't understand....we are in a critically dangerous situation and we need help if we're going to land this aircraft safely. Do you or do you not have flight training & piloting experience? (exasperation, confusion)\n\nA. Earhart: Oh we'll fly this big bitch alright. I've got thousands of hours on this model - hell I flew one of these from SFO to NRT upside down just for fun!\n\nR. Jones: Look Amy, just because you THINK flying everything upside down is funny doesn't mean you should get to fly this thing. I'm the President of the Utah FlightSim Alliance - I've been piloting in MS Flight Sim since I needed to make a Dos Boot Disk to run it in MONOCROME. I'm clearly the most qualified to assist. \n\nJ. Longren: Just because you idiots have embroidered jackets doesn't mean you're a better pilot. You know I spanked you last year at FlightConSouth! You got out of your simpod and threw up! \n\n(transcript interrupt - several voices talk over each other at this point and no clear dialogue can be ascertained aside from the following words/terms: \"Fucktard,\" \"Assclown,\" \"Shitlips,\") \n\nFA McCombs - (raised voice) SHUT THE (expletive) UP all you (expletive expletive) sons of (expletive) (unknown epitaph). Can any of you idiots fly or not?! Are you talking about (loud expletive) VIDEO GAMES?!\n\n(transcript interrupt - all passengers present begin speaking loudly at once and while they cannot reach consensus on who should assist Purser Johansen they all agree that flight simulators are not simple video games and a physical altercation ensued.)\n\nPurser Johansen disconnects the crew intercom and works with ATC to clear the air corridor ahead and successfully executed an emergency approach and landing. Rescue personnel approached the aircraft, which was intact and safely shutdown, and successfully disembarked the majority of the passengers and crew but discovered FAs Smith, McCombs and passengers J. Longren, P. Williams, R. Jones and A. Earhart in various positions in the mid-deck hold, injured or deceased, with evidence suggesting they attacked one another after failure to reach consensus. Scrawled in an unidentified red liquid on several surfaces was the term \"PCMSTRRCE\" which we have not been able to define. Suggest follow-up investigative team focus on possible cult membership.\n\nIncident report closed. \n\nEdit: Formatting, spacing. \n" ]	[ 5, 6, 10, 45, 82 ]	[ "1455131033", "1455116062", "1455134678", "1455118763", "1455127788" ]
	[WP] When people die, their soul is greeted by the appropriate figure from whatever religion they subscribed to. What awaits those who believe in nothing?	2	[ "It took me a moment to realize I was dead. There was never a sudden rationalization of my situation or a stunning epiphany that shocked me into awareness, but more of an imperceptible drift into understanding. At one point I didn’t know I was dead, and then at another I did. It wasn’t shocking, it just was; and I don’t know how long it took to move from one state to the other, but once I had, he came for me. He told me that he’d been waiting for me and smiled a kind of knowing smile as I gawked at him in disbelief. He explained the nature of the soul, his lips forming the sentences in the same way mine would, elaborating with my same wild gestures, and using my own clumsy hands. He went on about the human spirit, my hair brushed across his forehead, his eyes reflecting my own. He talked about life and about death, casually echoing the voice I’d used for decades with my own shuddering heart and breathless lungs. Finally I could contain myself no longer and blurted out, “but, but -- you’re me!” \nHis smile widened and he replied that of course it was, who else would come to me in my moment of greatest need? \nI replied that I’d never really thought about it before, that I hadn’t seen much of a reason to believe in anything. \nHe shook his head and took a step toward me and cupped our face into our hands and met our eyes. \n“You never believed in anything because, despite everything, you’ve always believed in yourself. You had to. What else was going to do it? And I got you through life that way. We got through life that way, and together, I’ll get you through death.” \nAnd with that, he led me into the light.", "It didn't hurt like I thought. It didn't hurt at all. It was like being wrapped in the heaviest blanket. The water enveloped me. Compressed me. Filled me. The blackness closed around me and the waves above slowly quieted. This was the end.\n\nIt was like opening a safe no one had ever taken anything out of. It was like finally seeing beyond the vale of a black hole, only to realize you could never tell anyone of what you saw. \n\nIt was blackness. And then all was white. I floated lackadaisically in a fog of glowing everything. This was death. No god. No reincarnation. No nothing. Just... everything. I was floating in a soup of every idea, atom, particle, mind, being, star and universe. All was white. And then a small, small blackness\n\nWhat was it? A spot? Nothing? A blackness. A contrast. Hanging in the fullness before me. It grew. I went towards it, for it was a curiosity. \n\nI reached out into the sphere. It was truly empty. The epitome of nothing. It accepted me. It seemed to grow around me. Like stepping beyond the vale of a black hole. It filled me. Compressed me. Enveloped my whole being. It was like being wrapped in the heaviest blanket, never to return. \n\nIt didn't hurt at all." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1455139315", "1455141944" ]
	[WP] Death disobeys the Rules, and refuses to take a life.	12	[ "Another day, another deathbed.\n\n\"Oh boy, this job never gets easier. No wonder the turnover's so high,\" thought death as he stood in the dark room.\n\nDeath could hear the wind whistling outside the thin glass window, dancing with the leaves that covered the ground. The child lay calmly on the mattress, lost in sleep. Death couldn't tell how old the girl was, but then 'he' always struggled with people's ages. The list only ever contained names, nothing else. No age, description or location, just the person's name.\n\n\"I suppose that's all that matters, but still...it wouldn't hurt to have some more details.\"\n\nDeath pulled at the fabric of the tight black turtleneck, wishing it was a size larger. It looked good on his masculine frame, but didn't offer much in way of mobility. 'He' still found it strange that, despite the role being gender neutral, 'his' body had been moulded into that of a man.\n\n\"I wonder what form the next version will take. Why does death need a form anyway? I mean, isn't death just something that...happens? Traditionalists…,\" he thought. \"Though I do like the new style. The cape and scythe look is way too middle ages.\"\n\nDeath walked around the bed to get a better look at the girl's face. He'd reached the conclusion that she couldn't have been much older than five. She resembled a blank canvas, not yet tainted by the paint of the world. Her face looked healthy and hopeful, with no clear signs of pain or worry.\n\n\"This girl...what has she done to deserve death? If she's been granted the gift of life, then there's no reason to steal it from her so soon. What value is in that?\"\n\nHe looked down at the list again, hoping to see that her name was no longer on it. But it was. There was no justification for why, it just was. It struck death as odd that an explanation was never given as to why a person had to die, because it would have made the job a whole lot easier. Even Santa got to know whether someone had been naughty or nice, so why didn't he? The rules of death were clear, but maybe it was time for a change.\n\n\"A child is not born good or evil – they're just born a child. They can choose the life they live and the value they bring to the world. She deserves a chance to learn, and grow, and love. Taking her away now could rob the world of so much hope. Who am I to do that? The joy of life is greater than the pain of death, it's about time we realise that.\"\n\nHe closed the app that listed the child's name and countless others, before sliding the phone into his pocket. The girl rustled the duvet slightly as she turned over to face away from him. Death found it funny that she wasn’t aware how close she'd come to losing everything that night.\n\n\"And I hope you never do, my young friend. I hope you never do.\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThanks for reading my response to the prompt, I'd love to know what you think. Is it good? Does it suck? Let me know :) (if it does suck, let me know why - constructive feedback is very much appreciated)", "\"No, I won't do it.\"\n\n\"Come on. It's your job.\"\n\n\"I won't fucking do it.\"\n\n\"You know how I feel about you swearing in front of me.\"\n\n\"Oh my God.\"\n\nHe just stared at me, \"You know I don't like that. Are you really just doing things to make me angry now?\"\n\n\"Just because you're 'God,'\" I said with the most exaggerated air quotes possible, \"Doesn't mean that you can get all pissy about everything I do and say.\"\n\n\"I'm also your boss.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do? Fire me? You're funny,\" I turned to walk away.\n\n\"You need to do it... It's time. I've let you wait for long enough, she needs to go.\"\n\nI paused, bowed my head, and said quietly, \"Why do you get to decide when it's someone's time to go?\"\n\n\"I don't, that's fate. I merely just act out the will of fate.\"\n\nI sighed. I guess it is time... She's been in pain long enough...\n\n\"It'll be done by then end of the day.\"\n\nHis only response was a nod and he let me leave.\n\nOkay, so there's something you need to know about me- I wasn't born this way. I was born a man- I was a baby once, too. As you may have guessed, I wasn't the greatest man in my lifetime. Therefore, this is my afterlife. I have to take the lives of everyone: the people who were killed, people who were sick, the elderly, the young, the good, the bad, and everything in between. That is my punishment- I am forced to take the life of people who don't deserve to die. It's never easy and I never want to do it. \n\nThere was one time that I hesitated. I waited too long, the ambulance came, and they \"saved\" her... Or so they thought. She's stuck in limbo or what you guys call a coma- she should be dead but she's still breathing and her heart is pumping. Now, this is a strange state of being- you can hear the living and you can hear the dead, but you can't talk to anyone. You're paralyzed, but you're alive... for lack of a better word. As you know, sometimes people wake up from this. But here's the thing, fate is a prick. It decides who lives and who dies. When someone is in a coma and they are supposed to live, I am never called to their accident or whatever caused their coma. I never see them until it's their time. \n\nBut she, she was a fuck up. Kind of. When I arrive early and the person has yet to die, I see their life pass while it happens for them. \n\nThis woman was not just a random person, she wasn't a stranger... She was my daughter. A daughter I didn't know existed. I wasn't there for her and she suffered and I saw it all. I felt pain for the first time in a very long time. It scared me so much that I hesitated and now I couldn't even be there in death. Now, I'm forcing her to sit in limbo. Limbo sounds like it sucks, I don't know for sure- I usually don't ask. But, I might be causing her even more pain than I had when she was alive. \n\nI have to decide whether or not I'm going to do it. I know I told boss man that I was going to do it, but now that I'm staring at her beautiful face I don't know if I can. She looks just like her mother- spitting image. She was the only woman I ever loved and I messed that up by dying. I caused my own death by being a fuck up and here I am. I take lives for a living and now I have to take my daughter's. \n\nI walked over to her body and touched her hand. Her soul began to rise and come out of her body. \n\nShe looked me straight in the eye, \"You're not as scary as I thought you'd be. No scythe?\"\n\n\"That's only to scare the shit out of the bad ones, the ones that deserved to die.\"\n\nShe nodded, \"I see.\" \n\nShe went to stand up, \"Wait, don't do that.\"\n\nShe looked at me quizzically, \"Why not? I'm dead aren't I?\"\n\n\"Not quite. Once you fully exit your body, then you can never return to it.\"\n\nShe just stared. With her mother's eyes, she stared at me. \n\n\"I can't do this, I can't take you with me.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because you don't deserved to die.\"\n\n\"I don't think anyone deserves to die. No matter how bad a person is, they don't necessarily deserve to die... I lost my father and my mother told me the truth about him. He did some things, but he wasn't a bad person. He didn't deserve to die. Maybe I'm biased but I don't think anyone does, they just do.\"\n\nShe looked at me with those eyes, \"Are you crying?\"\n\n\"I- um. I... just never thought about it that way. God, I haven't cried in a very long time...\"\n\nShe sat there patiently, waiting to see what's going to happen next, as if she has all the time in the world. \n\n\"You're just like her; your eyes, your personality... everything. I could see her saying the same thing,\" I said just barely above a whisper.\n\nIt didn't phase her, \"Hi Dad. That's why you don't want to take me...\" She nodded her head, knowingly.\n\n\"I wasn't there for you, I need to be here for you now. You're my daughter... I love you.\"\n\nShe smiled and went to open her mouth to say something. Before she could, I stepped forward, put my hand on her chest, and pushed her soul back into her body. She opened her eyes and gasped for air. She was alive, really alive. \n\nOh, I'm going to be in some deep shit.", "As I fell, finally freeing myself from the prison my life had become, I had time to wonder about why my life wasn't flashing before my eyes. They always said it would. I guess I wasn't upset, my life hadn't exactly been wonderful for the past twenty years. If it had, I probably wouldn't be jumping right now.\n\n\"Hello.\" There was a voice beside me, talking in my ear in a conversational tone. At least at the end my imagination would make sure I wasn't alone. A nice hallucination to keep me company.\n\n\"Hello?\" The voice was questioning now, it's musical tone mixed into every syllable. The voice was masculine, and I opened my eyes to see an extremely handsome man standing there, well not standing exactly. More like he was falling with me, plummeting the forty stories to the pavement below. \n\n\"Uh, hello?\" I was confused, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. He was extremely well-dressed, wearing a silky grey suit and tie combination. His hair was styled perfectly, the brilliant red a contrast to his clothes and his eyes, which were deep pools of gold that shifted to silver and back to gold again. I noticed for the first time that neither his suit nor his hair were blowing in the wind of our fall. Wait, our fall. I wasn't falling anymore. I was floating, frozen about twenty feet off the ground, ready to smash face first into the concrete. \n\n\"Mary, what on Earth are you doing here?\" The handsome man knew my name apparently. Which didn't explain any of the other weirdness that was going on. Like how we were hovering in mid-air. \n\n\"I couldn't take it anymore. The abuse, the loss, the suffering. If God is so intent on me suffering on Earth, I'll just end it all.\" I could at least answer him. He seemed sad as I talked to him, shaking his head softly. \n\n\"He doesn't want you to suffer, and He certainly doesn't cause it. He lets you mortals have your free will, regardless of the consequences. Still, I agree that your life has been a bit unfair.\" He reached his hand out and took my hand, rotating me so that I was standing upright while we talked. \n\n\"Who are you?! How is this possible?!\" Seeing that I wasn't going to die yet, and that he clearly wasn't some sort of hallucination, I needed some answers. \n\n\"My name is Anziel, and I was sent here to collect you, as I do for everyone.\" He didn't seem excited about that, but resigned. \"My Father tasked me with bringing you to judgement, so he can decide where you end up.\"\n\n\"Your Father? Are you angel? Would that make him God?\" The questions were coming faster, each response generating more questions. \n\n\"You call him such. I call him Father, as I have always done. Normally I don't stop and talk to you mortals, but I have been watching you, Mary. I think your life was doomed from the start, and I think you weren't given a proper choice.\" He seemed sad again, while discussing my life. \n\n\"Yeah, well screw your Dad! This is all his fault!\" If he looked sad before, now he looked angry. I stopped myself short, deciding that ranting against his Father wouldn't be a good idea. \n\n\"No, Mary. He didn't do this to you. Your father did this, when he killed your mother and abused you. Your uncle did this when he sold you. The man you call Eric did this to you, when he beat you and threatened your sister. But never my Father, Mary. He weeps for all those who suffer as you suffer.\" Anziel also had a tear in his eye, a pool of shifting light, alternating between silver and gold in time with his eyes. \n\n\"Well why didn't he help me? Why did I have to suffer?\" I realized that I was crying too, rage and sadness overwhelming me.\n\n\"He lets you mortals do as you will, no matter who you hurt. Rest assured though Mary, when I collect them, they will not meet my Father, but will instead meet my brother.\" His face was a grim mask, fury etched on his features. \"We don't stop you mortals, we simply let you choose. When you choose poorly, we weep, and we wait. This is but one life, Mary. In that one life, they have damned themselves for eternity.\" He seemed so certain, so resolute in his anger. I now had no doubt that everyone who hurt me would get theirs, but that didn't matter now. It was too late for me. \n\n\"Thanks for that, at least. I'm glad to know they'll get theirs. Wish I could have seen it.\" I was crying freely now, not even trying to hold back my tears. \n\n\"No, Mary, you don't. My brother does not enjoy his role, but he does it very well nonetheless. It is not something that mortals should ever see.\" Anziel seemed sad again, perhaps due to his brother, perhaps still about me. \n\n\"Well, I guess that still makes me happy. You don't happen to know where I'm going, do you? To meet your Father or your brother?\" I figured it couldn't hurt to ask. \n\n\"That's why I am here, Mary. I want to give you a chance. A chance to live and be free of your cursed life. To not end it all here. I wanted to see if you truly wanted to live.\" He was quiet now, making his offer. Before I could respond, there was a rush of wings and a flash of light, and then two more extremely handsome men stood behind Anziel. Like him, they were dressed in tailored suits, one in black and the other in white. The one in black was taller, well-built and rugged, with close cropped dark hair in a stylish cut. The other was slighter and more lithe, with long white hair that fell past his shoulders. \n\n\"Brother...\" The larger of the two had a voice that was a rumble of thunder and a crashing wave. It called to me, demanded that I acknowledge him and his presence. It was the voice of a man who was used to being obeyed. \n\n\"You shouldn't have come, brothers. Father will be upset with you.\" Anziel didn't turn around to address them, still staring at me. \n\n\"Not as much as he will be with you, brother mine.\" The shorter of the two spoke in a voice like a smooth jazz song, lilting and rising. Like the larger, it forced you to acknowledge him, but instead of commanding, his voice was exciting and exotic, calling to you. \n\n\"It isn't fair, Lucifer. Why should she suffer so much here? She deserves a chance.\" Anziel sounded angry now. Wait, Lucifer? That's who the short one was? The devil? Was he here to collect me?\n\n\"That's not how it works, Anziel. You don't decide who lives and dies. You escort them to Father. You know this.\" The larger of two had a stern look in his eyes, like a disappointed parent.\n\n\"Michael, I wasn't asking permission, not from you, or from Father. She deserves the chance to choose.\" Wait, Michael? The archangel? What the hell was going on here?!\n\n\"Ummm, excuse me? What are you guys talking about? Am I going to hell? Is that why Lucifer is here?\" I tried not to sound as scared as I felt. \n\n\"No, child. That is not why he is here. He is here to help me stop our brother from making a mistake.\" Michael's voice kinder when he talked to me, but he still seemed upset.\n\n\"What mistake?\" I blurted it out without thinking. \n\n\"He wants to change something. To undo a choice made of free will, knowing that our Father would not approve.\" Lucifer was speaking now, his voice a soothing song that calmed me down. \n\n\"A choice that was forced upon her, not made of her own free will! Enough. I wasn't asking. Leave.\" Anziel sounded angry now. \n\n\"Brother, I am asking you nicely, please don't do this.\" Michael's voice was pleading now. \n\n\"Michael, Lucifer, my brothers. Please, let me do this. I have seen so many souls, and never done anything. This is my one request. Please, as a personal favor, let me do this.\" Anziel was also pleading, looking from brother to brother. \n\nLucifer leaned forward and whispered something in the ear of his brother. Michael's face hardened as Lucifer spoke and then softened. He sighed, and then nodded. He look at Anziel and nodded once, before a flash of light and rushing of wings took them from the skies. Anziel breathed a sigh of relief and turned to me. \n\n\"Would you like another chance? A do-over? A chance to live?\" He asked me now, here, 20 feet from my death. \n\n\"I don't know. How can it get better? What can I do?\" He seemed sad as I spoke, but let me finish.\n\n\"There is a man named Cael, who lives here in the city. He helps people like you. Seek him out, and he will give you hope.\"\n\n\"You promise? On your Father?\" I was scared to hope, but I did want to live.\n\n\"On my Father. Now close your eyes.\" I closed them and kept them closed until I heard the rush of wings. When I opened them, I was standing on the roof. I felt something in my hand, and when I looked down, I realized I was holding a piece of paper. On one side was a name and address, for one Cael Summers. On the back was a cursive letter A, and one word, written in curving script. \n\n\"Hope.\"", "I've seen it all. I was there during 9/11, during both world wars, during the Bubonic Plague, during Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I hate my job with a burning passion. I don't know what the Creator was thinking when he designed me, because I am definitely not fit for the job. Does he know how it feels when you point the way to the afterlife? As those souls pass me, their memories, emotions, regrets all wsh over me. Of course, after doing this for who knows how long, you start to become numb. But the feeling never really goes away. Even the evilest of people make me sympathise. \n\nOsama, I was so relieved when he died. That meant a lot less painful deaths for me to experience. But when he walked past me, I couldn't bring myself to hate him. What weighed on his mind the most was his family. He loved his family to bits. And he genuinely thought he was doing something good. I could name a lot more, but that would only bring up memories I don't want to relive.\n\nNow, before me is a rarity. A true, great evil. You wouldn't expect it. A doctor. This lowlife bastard has been respected throughout his life. His fellow doctors look up to him, his nurses respect him, his patients adore him. What they don't know, is everytime they are anaesthetized, he violates them. Male, female, it doesn't matter. He abuses his wife at home when the children aren't watching. He plans to rape his daughter when she's legal. And as he walks past me, I sense no remorse. No guilt, no regret, no longing no love for his family. The only thing on his mind is how he should've raped his daughter sooner if he knew this would happen.\n\nYou'd think this man will get his due punishment in Hell. Truth is, there is no said Hell. No Heaven too. Souls are sent to a place you would call Limbo, and spend eternity there, without feeling a single second pass. Souls aren't capable of much, you know.\n\nYou might know where I'm going with this. I need a break. Tell War, Pestilence and Famine they'll have to find another Death. I refuse to take another life. Speaking of life, that's where you come in, Life. If the Creator contacts you, tell him my story. Tell him I'm done with this masquerade. He can go find another fucking Death. Maybe that doctor, since he's so apathetic. He'll make a better Death than me. Just between you and me, I'll be hanging around birth wards. I need to experience the other side of the cycle for a change.\n\nUntil we meet again,\nDeath (formerly)", "The scene around the bed was as gloomy as you would expect a deathbed to be. The room was too bright and save the patient, there was only a solitary doctor looking over some charts. The man in the bed coughed and drew the doctor’s attention. \n\n“It doesn’t look too good” he said.\n\nSam looked up and yawned.\n\n“Well, it was dying in a bed or dying in a chair, same shit. It’s not like my life was worth living anyways”\n\n“Quite”.\n\nWith that brief exchange, the doctor left the room. It was apparent to Sam that he did not want to stay there any longer than he had to. He couldn’t blame him, not after what the news was reporting about him. \n\nHis life started like many, with his parents getting divorced when he was young. Shunted between two people that didn’t want him, he ended up leaving for the streets soon after both his parents remarried. The streets weren’t too much kinder either, and he ended up having to steal and fight to survive. Eventually, he went too far and killed after a botched robbery. \n\nHe managed to escape the result of his actions, but couldn’t shake the power that came with killing. To have that much power over another person, power that he never had during his short childhood. He started with the other homeless, and moved onto others after the community grew suspicious. By the time the police had caught him, he had murdered enough people to fill a small town. The pride he had shown in this fact when it was brought up in court, and the long list of other crimes that he was tied to ended up delivering him the worst punishment the court was capable of delivering.\n \nSam sighed and settled back into his pillows. Having his life ended, and not having to struggle anymore through life made the perfect reward for all his deeds. He lay back in pillows as fluffy as a prison hospital would allow. Enjoying the comfortable surroundings he was to die in, he thought with a smile of the eventual release of life.\n \nHe noticed a brief shadow on one of the walls. It was growing. There were no windows, nothing bigger than his bed, nothing that could be throwing such a shadow.\n\nAnd as suddenly as it appeared, it spoke.\n\nI have come for you\n\nSam tried to recollect what drugs, if any, that the doctor gave him and came up short.\n\n“What?”\n\nI have come for you, it is your time\n\nSam smiled.\n\n“About time. I was waiting”\n\nI have seen all that you are, seen all you’ve done, and seen all what you’ll do.\n\nSam straightened and looked defiantly at the ever growing black mass.\n\n“And what now, Hell? To be with the others? More people to torment, where do I sign up?”\n\nHell is much too sweet for the likes of you. \n\n“Yeah, I don’t think so. I don’t read much but even I know bad people go to hell”.\n\nHe put special emphasis on the word bad.\n\nNo, for you, much worse. Eternal life is what you deserve. No hope of happiness in Heaven. No hope of relief in Hell. You will watch everything burn, and nothing will remain but you. Suffer.\n\nAnd with those words, Sam screamed for the first time.\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 6 ]	[ "1455182800", "1455191240", "1455210971", "1455182026", "1455177474" ]
	[WP] When you get home, your spouse always pretends to be dead.	16	[ "I arrive home to the kisses and loving embrace.\n\nHer ever cool touch a sharp contrast to the burning sun of the construction zone\n\nI work for her; for our lives together\n\n\nI enjoy a hearty steak; she doesn't eat\n\nShe's a vegan but we make it work\n\nI bring her to bed and we indulge in our love\n\n\nWe sleep after, succumbing to slumber\n\nI toss and turn but she sleeps silently\n\nSometimes I push her to the floor\n\nShe falls with a slump; nevermoving\nHer lifeless body remaining till morning\nOh honey. \n\n(I don't know if this is fine or not but I'm out and about and on my phone and all I have time for is this poem. I might follow it up later.)\n\n(I think I might be missing a formatting thing for this. I am not good reddit)\n", "\"Jesus Christ, Jim!\" I yell out, as I shake the blood off my sneakers and slam the front door.\n\nMy husband is lying crumpled on the floor in the front entryway, blood pooling under him. \n\nI throw the mail into the basket on the table and step over him. \n\nHe grabs my ankle and laughs. \"But that was funny though, huh? Did you think I was dead?\"\n\nI kick my foot away and snort. \"Oh yeah, totally. I thought you were a goner. Especially because you've been dead EVERY FUCKING DAY THIS YEAR!\"\n\nI shake my head and start to apologize as his face falls.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jim. I'm sorry. It's funny. It really is.\"\n\nHe looks down at the fake blood. \"I guess I better clean this up.\"\n\nI grab his arm as he starts to walk away. \"Damn it, Jim - I didn't mean to yell. It's just been..you know..I mean..\" I trail off and he pulls away and walks to the kitchen.\n\nI follow him in and keep talking as he gets the paper towels.\n\n\"Listen. I know it's been hard not working. I can't imagine how frustrating it is. You're going to find something soon. I know this is just..you know..something to break it up. I get it. I'm really sorry I yelled.\"\n\n\nHe looks up at me and sighs. \"I was just trying to lighten the mood. I know it gets old. I'm sorry.\"\n\nHe stands up and hugs me. \n\n----\n\nIt's been a week since I yelled and every day when I get home, Jim has been alive.\n\n I walk in through the door and find him sitting on the couch, working on his computer or flipping through the TV.\n\nIt's boring.\n\nI miss when Jim was dead.\n", "It's a pain in the ass. \n\nThe first time he did it, I remember the sinking feeling in my heart when I walked in and didn't hear his usual greeting of \"Welcome home, stupid!\" or something along those lines. It's one of those love-hate relationships, really, but it's ideal because it never gets boring and beneath all of the crafty insults and blown raspberries, there is real love. Imagining the feeling of entering your home with a huge chunk missing isn't hard. He is usually home at 4pm, and I at half past, and he never goes out until I am home in case I lose my keys or break down on the way home or something. I'm so glad that he thinks of me as a klutz. Flattering. Admittedly, I was a little bit late home this time.\nHe played his game very well. First by not responding to any of my shouts, and then by the several calls I made to him via phone. He always answers the phone. Even when it's flat out of battery power, he always answers the phone. \nMy next steps were moving upstairs, checking if he'd left anything that might give me clues. Well, of course he did. Only his lifeless body on our bedroom rug, flat and motionless. When I walked into the room and saw him curled up in a fetal position, I jumped back a little like something had punched me in the chest. Like when you try to gasp for air but you can't. I thought he was just a little sick, but his total lack of response then made me think otherwise. \n\n\"You will not die on me, you little bitch.\" I yelled while trying my best to maintain a strong voice. Honestly, I felt like it was going to break at any time, though. My eyes were a little bit blurry from holding back worried tears. I turned his body so that he lay on his back and began punching his chest with my clenched fists. Immediately, his eyes opened and he started flailing his arms and legs like a tortoise on his back. Of course, I stopped when I noticed, but since I had my eyes glued shut it was only until he grabbed my arm and shoved me off him that I realised he wasn't really dead. \n\"What are you doing, you dunce?\" He saw that the tears in my eyes were about to escape, and then softened his tone, \"You okay?\"\n\n\"I could ask you the same thing, you moron.\" With a shaky voice, I tried to explain that I thought he died. It was not easy. \n\nTurns out he was being the strange specimen he is and enjoying the fluffy new rug and then fell asleep waiting for me to get home. One thing that I cannot convey is my embarrassment. For the next week I got constant comments like \"So you'd really cry if I died? How sweet!\" and \"You love me after all. Shucks, I'm blushing.\" \n\nIt only got worse when for the 2 months after that and still counting, he pretended to be dead in a different place in the house with a different cause of death. Every. Single. Day.\n\nTo his credit, though, his creativity has reached his peak. One time I came home to a puddle of red food colouring around his head with a cheap toy gun in his hand. He also hung a dummy from the ceiling, turned the lights off and hid in the cupboard under the stairs. Then there was the time he stuck a label reading \"Ecstasy\" over a pill bottle and lay on the floor with the contents spilled. \n\n\nWhen will this ever end?" ]	[ 1, 2, 8 ]	[ "1455228754", "1455221061", "1455210535" ]
Have at thee!	[WP] In a world.... where everyone has a narrator follow them around since birth, you receive the most annoying narrator of all time.	2	[ "Janice, once beloved girlfriend to Chandler Bing is now assigned to follow you around for your entire life, loudly and obnoxiously narrating your every move. And laughing at her own terrible jokes as her laugh slowly grates on your very soul, slowly driving you towards an early ending to her contract by your own hand.", "\"He flips through the pages, hungrily digesting each word.\" said a voice.\n\nIt was high-pitched and condescending so I tried my best to ignore it. I was engrossed in this new book I just got, A Game of Thrones, and I'll be damned if I let it distract me now.\n\n\"But nothing could have prepared him for the end...\" the voice continued.\n\n\"Don't you dare.\" I looked up from my book and glared into the empty space above.\n\n\"Where Ned Stark dies.\"\n\n\"ARGH! Damnit!\"\n\n---" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1455224716", "1455226630" ]
	[WP] No time travelers have tried to kill Hitler in months. Growing worried about the outcome of the war, he time travels to our future to see what's up. What he finds send him to our present day.	4	[ "I always wanted to read a story about Hitler getting real pissed at how often we try to kill the guy, but time travels a little to far ahead while seeking revenge and has his mind blown. ", "Travels forward in time, his mind explodes & he dies because in the future he's dead and he can't exist if already dead. /endstory" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1455267766", "1455267803" ]
	[WP] A young knight must journey inside a fairy queen to fight a parasite in her body	6	[ "\"The parasite is growing rapidly, it is perhaps a matter of days before her majesty passes.\" A nervous look man said to the gathered group, hands rubbing over each other as he tried to keep a stern expression and not cause panic. The Feywilds was a place of great majesty, and stationed in each seat around the round table was a creature greater and more majestic then the last, from the elegant and noble Eldari - elven in appearance but with an aura far more ethereal to the bestial Ursai, with their thick builds and bear like appearance. \n\nMejai was himself an unusual creature, pale as snow and with eyes of solid black he looked vaguely of the underworld, though his short cropped black hair and thin, pointed features hinted more at his province of a creature from outside the Feywilds and its magic. \n\n\"So elf, the Queen sends you to report this?\" snorted one of the Ursai, showing open contempt for the mortal in his presence. He placed his huge, clawed hands on the table and titled his head at Mejai. The threat wasn't veiled, and arguments erupted amongst the group without fail. Some defending Mejai, others accusing, and others still arguing for some irrelevant point or another. \n\n\"ENOUGH!\" Roared Mejai, sending a wave of powerful magic which caused the table to crack and the building to shake, displaying his might for any who would challenge him. All in attendance turned quiet, as they always did when they angered the ancient lover and steward of the Queen Esme - Ice Queen of the Feywild. \n\n\"I have a mission for all of you. Find the most powerful warrior in each of the respective planes of existence you personally represent and bring them to me, they will fight to the death. The winner will be enchanted, shrunk, armed with our best equipment and sent to defeat this parasite. DO NOT fail me. If Esme dies - so will all of you.\" With that Steward Mejai turned, walking through the solid wall behind him and leaving those in attendance with not a threat, but an assurance. \n\n------\n\n\"Yo, Kev. We are going out for drinks later, you want in? Emi is coming.\" Kevin shrugged, his muscular build hidden under the thick purple sweatshirt he wore. Kevin was a plain looking man with rounded features and a short, 'shaved' Chuck Liddell style mohawk. He dressed casually, with a purple sweatshirt and slim cut grey jeans with a pair of purple converse. \"Sorry Mikey, you know I don't drink. Plus, I got training after work today.\" \n\nMikey scoffed, shaking his head and placing a hand on Kevin's shoulder. Mikey was a pretty boy, with chin length sunbleached hair and a face to be envious of. \"You are never going to get Emi if you don't hang out with us man, I can tell you are into her. But I get it man, next time I'll make some plans with no alcohol, just make time next time yeah?\" Kevin nodded to Mikey as he left, exhaling in a deep sigh once he was out of ear shot.\n\nKev was into Emi, but he knew better then to expect anything. He was terrible with women, with no interests any of them found worth mentioning and with a job so dead end only the most desperate of girls gave him anything beyond a cursory glance for his physique. Built like a boxer and training to be a fighter, Kev was chasing a dream he had no talent for. \n\nGetting on his bicycle he looked to the cloudy white sky, snow was likely today but he wasn't about to slack on training. An hour into his ride to training it began, coming down in sheets and covering the road with a swiftness he had never seen before. A blizzard so powerful he could only see white in every direction. Getting off his bike, Kev sunk into the snow far deeper then was possible. Pulling his feet from the powder soft white he looked around and was immediately in dismay. Trees. Nothing but trees and snow in every direction.\n\nKev lived in New York City. There were no trees. \"What the fuck?\" He mouthed to himself, sliding his pack of the rack on his bike and sliding it over his shoulders he walked towards the only direction with a clear path, leaving his bike behind. The moment he stepped onto the path he was surrounded. \n\nAt first glance he thought they were bears. Large, brown and ya know, bear like. But they stood on two feet, wore armor like out of his favorite videogames and each was holding a sword in a hand much too human to be a bears. \"The fuck Mikey, what did you slip me?\" Was all Kev could say, trying his best not to panic. Mikey liked his hallucinogenics and while he didn't believe he was the type to dose him, it wasn't impossible. That was his theory, until they spoke.\n\n\"Warrior Kevin Mira of Earthrealm, our Lord of the Ursai Vol has selected you to represent him. Come with us.\" The smallest of the bear men said, though small was not what he would call him. Kevin was only 5'6\", this thing was at least a foot taller, and it was with this thought, plus the swords they carried that Kev followed without question. \n\nIn what felt like minutes they cleared the white forest and arrived at a huge castle of ice, with cherry blossoms white as snow growing all around it, causing their ice like petals to dance around the castle in perpetual motion, despite a distinct lack of wind. Kev nearly gasped when he saw it, but he did his best to hide his surprise. It was likely he failed when the bear man nearest to him snorted in amusement. \n\nHe was led into a chamber just off the main entrance of the ice citadel, a cracked round table in the center of the room with empty chairs at respectful distance around it. Standing in various forms of anticipation, fear or pride were men and women of all manner of type and species. A man wearing full plate and standing at attention behind a chair, a woman with skin as blue as the sea and eyes like rolling waves relaxed in one of the chairs, a creature with the body of a man but the head of a dog sat on the floor in the lotus position, and many many others.\n\n\"Stand at attention at the seat marked with the head of a bear, when the Masters arrive say nothing unless spoken to. Oh, and don your battle attire, you look weak.\" Kev looked back at the bear man who spoke to him, arching an eyebrow. 'My battle attire? Did he mean my gloves and shorts?' Kev shrugged and removed his sweatshirt, finding the room oddly warm anyways. Sliding his bag from his shoulders he drew out a pair of snow white boxing gloves, placing them on the table he removed his tshirt, revealing a long sleeve rashguard underneath, a Japanese tattoo like design covering the white arms and back of the skin tight fabric. He removed his jeans, revealing a matching set of skin tight spats and slide on a pair of white shorts to match. Sliding the boxing gloves on his hands he turned to the bear man behind him. \"Tie these to my hands.\" Without question the huge creature did so, and Kev took position behind the seat he was told too. \n\nIn a the next few minutes creatures of all sorts strolled into the room and took their seats at the table, one dragging the blue skinned woman with eyes of the sea out of her chair. Perhaps the largest 'man' he had ever seen was his patron, over seven feet tall and likely in the thousands of pounds a white bear man took his seat in front of Kev, seated being taller then Kev was standing. He wore rich golds and purples in a thick robe covering his form, with a huge sword strapped to his hip.\n\nOver the next few minutes each patron introduced their champion. The blue skinned woman with eyes like waves crashing into shore was named Sylindra, the Knight in fullplate was Tytheon, and the Anubis like creature was known as Arashin. \n\n\"My champion is Kevin Mira of Earth Realm - a practitioner of of the hand to hand arts and the greatest warrior in potential of his realm, and therefore of all under my domain.\" Vol stated matter of fact, and Kev paled at the words. Kev could barely win a sparring match, he never placed beyond third in any regional Jiu Jitsu competition, he had been training for eight years and wasn't even a Purple belt. \n\nThe greatest warrior on all of Earth? Kevin wasn't even the greatest warrior in his own neighborhood. It was such a powerful statement, Kev barely caught the moment a man so pale he looked like a corpse walk in, all in attendance rose to their feet as he did.\n\n\"Lord Mejai, the champions have been selected. Is the arena prepared?\" One of the patrons asked, and the man known as Mejai nodded. \"Welcome, Champions. You are brought here today with a great opportunity, win these fights to the death and you'll be granted the chance to serve Mistress Esme of the Feywild, granted immortality, wealth, and your own realm to rule.\" All the champions in attendance tensed at the words 'death', but each seemed to be prepared to die. All except one.\n\nKev was visibly shaking and sweating, and the sneers and chuckles of his opponents weren't hard to hear. After much ceremony the meeting ended and Kev was ushered to his own room. \"We will provide you with superior equipment to what you have, Kevin Mira. Tell us the design you prefer, and we will replicate it but with superior materials.\" Kev was on autopilot, and without a word he handed them his extra set of spats, rashguard and shorts. He also handed them a set of shinguards and MMA style gloves. \"Keep them light, I need to be able to move more then I need to be able to block.\" He recalled saying at one point or another. They returned some hours later with beautiful, hand made examples of each. The spats and rashguard were made of the hide of a dragon, scaled but flexible and light, with a burnt orange color. The shinguards and gloves were made of a soft foam on the inside, with overlapping plates of mithril so perfectly fit they had no gaps but felt no heavier then standard.\n\n\"You can deflect a blade with the gloves, the armor will protect you from fire and acid, as well as absorb glancing slashes and thrusts, but do not rely on it.\" He recalled the short bear attendant telling him, who he later learned was named Ka. ", "The land around them was like a dream. Brilliant splashes of colorful flowers dotted the meadow and seemed to stretch out for miles. In the center of this vast open plain, a tall and sturdy tree stood, equally as bright and beautiful as its surroundings. Never in his life had Jake Lyle seen such a scene, and the view dazzled the young knight of the realm. The wind swept through his messy brown hair and the cool breeze complemented perfectly with the warm summer air on a gorgeous clear day. His amber eyes took in every detail, and it amazed Lyle that the only dreary color in sight was the dark grey chain-mail he was wearing. Well, at least his tunic, a bright shade of blue, slightly matched with his surroundings. Actually, there was another dreary color that Lyle could see. Guiding the way was a shaky old mage, simply called Fen, and he wore a brown ragged cloak. Word had reached Fen that the Fairy Queen was sick. Of what illness, Lyle hadn’t been told. So, the mage had requested for him to come, a little too forcefully as Lyle remembered, but his sense of adventure had called out to him. As soon as the request was approved by Lyle’s superiors, the young knight grabbed his gear and set off with Fen. He was a little skeptical, sure, but there was excitement to be had outside the protective walls of the city. The traveling into the unknown, this would-be mission only made the newly sworn knight wonder in anticipation. The old man, Fen, was moving quickly along. Obviously, he payed no attention to the sights around him. Fen only stopped to occasionally scold Lyle for moving so slow. “Stop gawking at the flowers and hurry up.” The mage said. “We have an appointment to keep.” \n\nAt last, they closed in on the tree centered in the meadow. There really wasn’t anything here, Lyle saw, as they approached. The young knight was confused when they came to stop. Wasn’t there supposed to be a castle here? No, wait. What was that? At the base of the tree were lights. Tiny slits that seemed like small windows. Looking closer, he saw an elegant design carved into the tree, and... were those the fairies? He saw the dancing glow of what would appear to be fireflies, if it were night, of course. Lyle never saw them until now, so he was not sure. “Is.. is this where the castle is?” A little apprehension in Lyle’s voice. “Yes,” came the simple reply from the simple mage. “How are we supposed to talk to them? How are we to help them if we..” Fen cut him off. “Here, smell this.” Fen pointed to a flower sticking out from the tree. “Uh.. okay.. If I must.” Lyle had no idea what smelling a flower would accomplish, but following the old man’s instructions was the only thing that made sense at the moment. Lyle walked up to the flower, suddenly conscious about stepping on anything small. What he didn’t know was that the fairies had magic to protect them from that sort of thing, but that was something that he would find out later. The young knight put his nose directly on top of the flower’s petals and inhaled deeply. \n\nAn intense whirlwind took Lyle by surprise, and it felt like his entire being was twisting in different directions. It lasted only for a second. Disoriented, Lyle fell to the ground. It took a moment for his eyes and sense of balance to come back to him, but what he saw had him awestruck. Lyle’s world had just gotten much, much bigger.\n\nFen had followed right behind. Appearing as if carried in by a small tornado. The shrinking process did not phase the old man. Lyle watched as Fen casually dusted himself off. It was apparent that the mage had done this many times before. “Gather yourself boy, they’re coming down to meet us.” Fen chided the young knight and gestured toward the sky. Just then, a group of fairies came down, seemingly out of nowhere. They looked every bit as human as Lyle was, if humans had wings that is. The squad of fairies were a spectacular sight in their wooden armor plating and spear like weaponry. It took a moment for Lyle to appreciate the fact that whatever spell that flower cast upon them, it made them exactly the size of a fairy. If only it gave him wings too. Lyle dispelled the wandering thought. The leader of the squad approached them. “Thank you for coming Master Fen.” The lead fairy said. Fen nodded greetings and turned toward Lyle. “This is Sir Jake Lyle, knight of the Kingdom of Wyvern, he’ll be the one helping the Queen.” Lyle placed his hand over his chest and bowed, as every knight was taught to do. Help? Me? Lyle thought. He was under the impression that he was a bodyguard for Fen, and that the mage would be the one healing the Fairy Queen. Lyle wondered what the old man meant, but he could not speculate on what a knight could do to help a sick Monarch. \n\n“We’ll make sure to escort you to the Queen as quickly as possible.” The head fairy said, and then he barked something to the others. Four of them moved, two grabbing Fen, and the other two grabbing Lyle. They lifted off without warning and shot forward with surprising speed. The young knight took the man-handling poorly. They were flying, and the sight of the ground looked ever so far away now that they were so small. Luckily, the destination was not far away. They stopped at a strange looking tulip and a friendly looking fairy greeted them. Her eyes were masked by a set of goggles. “Hey there! Welcome!” The fairy with goggles beamed. “My name is Christy! We’ll be sending you directly to our Queen.” Lyle looked toward the tree. The fairy castle looking ever so beautiful now that he was smaller. The curves of the carved wood were steep and highlighted every floor in fine detail. But they were nowhere near anything that looked like an entrance. “Excuse me, but how are we getting in there?” Lyle asked dubiously. “Oh you’ll see,” Christy giggled. “Let me help you in.” Lyle was instantly fearful when he saw the obvious looking cannon jutting out of the now fake looking tulip. They can’t possibly mean… But it was exactly what Lyle thought. He was getting into a damn cannon! Lyle tried to protest, but he reminded himself that he was a knight, and didn’t want them to think he was a coward. “Here we go!” Christy exclaimed, a little too gleefully. Lyle winced and looked toward Fen. The mage just shrugged, as if the absurdity of the moment made any sense at all. Lyle heard a bang, and rocketed forward. He prayed to the gods that these fairies didn’t just send him flying directly into a wall.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1455336664", "1455314814" ]
	[WP] You're the god of a certain region. A believer of yours comes and asks to take someone's life.	30	[ "It’s nighttime on Earth and I feel the wind beat out of me. This always happen whenever somebody on Earth asks for my blessings or worse, my terrible powers. Being a god isn’t easy. Unlike the average citizen in most civilized countries, I don’t get to choose my “profession.” Plus, I am not paid anything. Instead, I reside in some greater dimension overseeing my tiny believers on a floating rock in space. At least I am an intelligent being because I am able to pick up the cultural traditions and lingo of all my believers. It’s interesting being able to observe them from time to time, seeing droves of believers driving to work from their little suburban homes and a bunch of others living in isolated villages far away from the hubbub of the metropolises. My “world” is so much more limited in that there are no cities with tall buildings or big ranches with cows. Instead, it’s colorless and devoid of pretty much anything seen on Earth. It’s impossible to explain it with human vocabulary since there are no words that near describes this place. \n\n\nAnyways, I feel distorted—scratch “the wind beat out of me” because I don’t have lungs—whenever somebody asks me for a favor. Because now is the prime time for prayers, I feel like I am about to lose consciousness. I guess this feeling of losing consciousness is attributable to my “life blood” being drawn to fulfill their prayers. Of course, what I give them is strength and I do little else to change the course of their lives. Even so, it takes a lot out of me yet this dimension has a peculiar way of keeping me “alive” despite a long long time of this draining of energy. This wave of prayers will pass after a while and it will become quiet for a while. The prayers are usually positive messages asking for help with a friend going through a lot or for strength to give to a cancer patient. I get a lot of these cancer patient prayers lately. Oh boy. It’s like an epidemic on Earth. This wave of prayers is subsiding. \n\n\nSome time passes. Yeah, I don’t have a clock so don’t ask me how much time passed. \n\n\nSuddenly, I feel tiny discomfort. It was a prayer from a believer of mine. It’s probably one of those lone ones praying at an ungodly time. Chuckles. I learned humor from Earthlings too. \n\n\nThis prayer is asking me to kill someone. I don’t feel comfortable about this. Most ill-will prayers are obscene: please make my teacher slip and break a hip, or please let my in-laws choke on food. Yes, I get life can be hard but those are simply prayers where they vent. They don’t usually mean it. But this one was peculiar. \n\n\n“Please make Tim die. Please god. Please.” Pause. I zoom down into Earth and see a poor little boy in his bedroom crying. Another one from the suburb families. He seems really upset and I also sense fear. “Please make him go away. He’s been bullying me every single day and I hate it. I am scared to go to school.” I choke up with sadness. Hearing so many prayers every “day” taught me to feel empathy for my believers. \n\n\nI give him some strength. He soon falls soundly asleep. Hopefully, the kid can brave up to the bully by consulting his parents or adults in school. I’m rooting for you, little underdog. I can’t do much else to help. Mother Earth is a force in another dimension and I can’t exactly take over her natural disasters and wield destructive powers over the Earthlings. Alright, I lied about my terrible powers in the beginning. By the way, I learned lying from my believers. If I really wanted destructive powers, I’d have to negotiate with her. Right, maybe I should. I really want to be able to make a bigger impact. Ha ha ha…oh, another prayer.", "\"I come before you today, humbled and humiliated, to ask you for one thing... I want you to kill Peter Parker!\"\n\nWell, now that came as a shock, I must say. I don't even know who this guy is making this stupid requests, nor whoever he's talking about. \n\nThis sure seems like the days for all the crazy shit to happen all at once. Here, I'll pass you this sticky crap from this other crazy dude so you learn some humility, and also so this other guy finally goes home and stops making all this noise with the bells.", "The staccato ping of stilettos on marble awakened me from my daydream. I hurriedly brushed the sandwich crumbs from my collar and swept the layer of detritus off my desk and into an empty drawer. I barely managed to close out all incriminating windows of my browser as she rounded the corner. \n\n\n\"Hi, are you... God?\" \n\n\n\"Yeah, come on in - did you have an appointment?\" \n\n\n\"No, but I just talked to the girl at the front desk and she said that you could take walk-ins today.\"\n\n\nI suddenly recalled last week's conversation with the regional demi-god. High marks for approachability, deplorable track record for accessibility. More office hours and flexibility had been prescribed. If things didn't improve by my next 20-year review, I would be off to deity remediation school. \n\n\nShe hesitated as she reached the chair opposite mine at the desk. I realized a moment too late that it was occupied by a growing mound of prayer forms that hadn't been filed since January. They were just so damn tedious, and I much preferred to meet clients face-to-face. It demonstrated a certain level of urgency and commitment that I respected.\n\n\n\"Oh sorry, let me move those.\"\n\n\nAs I settled back into my office chair (I had traded it out for the stuffy throne about 400 years ago), I finally got a chance to survey my latest supplicant. \n\n\nLate 30's, average build, approachable expression, pale green eyes with ruddy chestnut hair. Relatively attractive by human standards. She was dressed in an impeccable grey linen dress with a matching blazer. Her simple Ferragamo bag and heels subtly hinted at new money. Mascara and chapstick. No rings. Pearl studs. \n\n\n\"Well, I'm sure you know why I'm here, so let's get straight to the point. Can you do it?\"\n\n\n\"Actually, you'll have to elaborate. I'm only a senior divinity, I won't get my mind-reading clearance until I'm promoted to semi-god.\"\n\n\n\"Oh, alright then.\" Her expression momentarily clouded. \"Do you handle extermination cases?\"\n\n\n\"That's a tricky subject, I can hear your case, but I'd have to get approval from my manager.\"\n\n\n\"How long would that take?\"\n\n\n\"Not long - usually 5-10 years.\" I suddenly remembered that to a mere mortal, this was an excruciatingly long wait. \"But I could try and get him to speed things up if it's urgent.\"\n\n\n\"It is. And if you're not able to help me today, I'll just have to take matters into my own hands. I wanted to at least try the legitimate route first.\"\n\n\nShit. This was bad. I couldn't have another client ending up at the local demonic agency. Plus, their office offered massage chairs, complimentary beverages, and a full waffle bar. Nobody ever returned after a trip over there.\n\n\n\"I need you to let me go.\"\n\n\n\"You're free to leave anytime, though I'd be sad to see--\"\n\n\n\"No, I mean I want you to kill me.\"\n\n\nThis was far above my paygrade. I nervously corralled an errant gum wrapper into the drawer and waited for her to continue.\n\n\n\"I've been fighting the same battles my whole life, and I'm tired. I tried everything from yoga and antidepressants to reading and prayer. I prayed for strength, acceptance, the whole shebang. Every application was denied. They all came back saying that this was my cross to bear in life.\" \n\n\nI suddenly recalled a thick file of petitions all adorned with the same perfect signature: Claire H. Nielson. \n\n\n\"From an outsider's point of view, you would never know the agony I've dealt with for the past 20 years. My life is a simple cycle of work and sleep. I'm too tired to cry. I have no family or close relationships.\"\n\n\nShe paused momentarily. I could feel her analyzing my expression, and I struggled to maintain a non-judgmental demeanor. \n\n\n\"And all my affairs are in order: I've filed a DNR and a will that leaves everything to the church.\"\n\n\nI sighed. \"Claire - it's Claire, right?\" She nodded. \"I'm sorry, but I just can't help you. I can't overrule a special burden. Some people get physical pain, others get dysfunctional relationships, and others get mental illnesses.\"\n\n\n\"Look at my track record. I've lived a good life. No major sins, and I've already confessed all the minor infractions. I've contributed to society and left the world a better place. I just can't continue anymore.\"\n\n\n\"Claire--\"\n\n\nShe leaned forward and lowered her voice, struggling to reign in her emotion. \"Do you have any fucking idea what it's like to suffer?\"\n\n____________________________________________________\n\n\nTo whom it may concern:\n\nPlease see my official conduct report for Horoth, Senior Divinity of the 3rd Precinct. I'm sure you have already been alerted to the tragic embarrassment he brought upon my division last month. After thorough examination of the matter, I have decided to demote him to Vice-Spirit, with the option to return to secretarial work provided he performs well in your academy. I would personally recommend the following courses: Human Dignity, Justice and Mercy, and Petition Mediation. \n\nSincerely,\n\nTaurus, Demi-God of the Northeastern Empire\n ", "The God of Yorkshire looked out among the rolling hills of his land. All was well. The cows were making way for a flock of sheep,so traffic could turn around and go the other way while complaining smoothly. A thick fog on the Pennines was cutting off visibility of Lancashire. There was no trouble at t'mill w'treadle. Then the Lord looked upon then depressed face of Stanley. Stanley was being a mardy arse. He had been insult in the most horrendous way. \n\n\"Ay up Stanley\" boomed the god.\"How do all-father\" replied Stanley. \n\n\"whas the matter with thee? th' look despondent\" \n\n\"I've been wronged in the worst way there is by young Charlie from roun't' corner\"\n\n\"Did he have his way with your missus?\"\n\n\"No. Hang on tha omniscient. You should know what he did\"\n\n\"Doesn't mean I can't have some fun guessing\"\n\n\"Ah\"\n\n\"So did he hit thy dog? Pilfer your bike? Destroyed thy house?\"\n\n\"He put t'milk in first\"\n\n\"Oh Aye, yes I can see why your so annoyed\"\n\n\"Can you, um smote him? I mean if its not too much trouble\"\n\n\"Alright\"\nThe deity moved upon the mountains, down the valleys until he came to young Charlies house. With a wave of his hand He gave him grievous wounds. \"Ooh thats right gathering that is\" thought young Charlie \"Why have thy foresaken me oh Lord?\" \n\n\"you put the milk in first\" \n\n\"Fair do's\" replied Charlie as he expired." ]	[ 1, 2, 3, 38 ]	[ "1455458527", "1455460358", "1455465863", "1455451168" ]
	[WP] "I really hope you're not thinking about shooting me again!"	16	[ "\"I really hope you're not thinking about shooting me again!\" \n\n\"W-w-what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I came to see you, officer.\"\n\nOminous grin. \n\nCut to black. \n\nScreaming. ", "The man looked at Desmond with wide eyes. Begging eyes. Desmond waved the gun and gestured for him to stand up. He lifted one knee, and then with a grunt pushed himself off the floor. At six foot four his head nearly touched the cellar ceiling, and the fabric of his pants was faded as if he'd been in a kneeling position plenty of times before.\n\nThe cellar always smelled old. Desmond tasted dust in the back of his throat and looked at a crack spanning one of the walls and wondered if they had used asbestos when they built it. His wool coat made his amrpits feel sticky but he didn't take it off because it would be cold outside this time of year.\n\n\"Come on, Des. It's me.\"\n\nDesmond opened his mouth but the words wouldn't come. He'd been here before, and he never knew what to say.\n\nThe man folded his arms. The sleeves of his blazer, a hand-me-down, barely touched his wrists.\n\n\"I really hope you're not thinking about shooting me again,\" he said.\n\nHe was just four feet away but his voice seemed to be coming from another planet. Desmond tried to ignore the familiar tones. He'd thought about it every way he could, but he just couldn't conjure a scenario where he didn't put another bullet in his brother's head.", "Blood seeped out from the bullet holed into my thigh, tinglingly warm. The cloth 'round the wound was getting awfully wet, and once the fluid dries the fabric would stick and would be quite a drag to remove. I suppressed a shiver, the pain would be... exquisite, and best delved upon later--now, there are more pressing matters. I felt a smile curl on my lips.\n\n\"I really hope you're not thinking about shooting me again!\" There was a bit of distance between me and my attacker, shouting had been inevitable and was VERY irritating.\n\nPain smacked me on the shoulder, sent tingles over places I'd later gladly stimulate. I laughed as pleasure soared through me, and saw my new pet step back \"tsk, tsk, tsk, I told you not to shoot me.\" My finger wagged in front of me \"Such a NAUGHTY, naughty, child you are...\"\n.\nI walked towards my lovely prey, and touched the soft skin above his neck. Golden brows were shot up, partially hidden beneath his fringe. I believe I heard a clink a while ago. He must have been surprised and had dropped his delightful little toy.\n\n\"Please\" came a plea, whispered soft from pale, pale lips.\n\nI could hear his heart beating wildly from his chest. Feel it. The smell of his fear, a perfume I shall savor with each whiff. I lean forward, both my hands gliding from his chest to his shoulders. The rush of anticipation rages through my veins. My face hovered over my prey's neck.\n\n\"Please... what?\" I whispered near an ear\n\n\"Please don't kill me.\"\n\nMy breathing shallows, the scent in the air coming more potent. I scrape a teeth on his neck, tempted to bite \"We'll see\"\n", "\"I really hope you're not planning on shooting me again. That shot in my hand still hurts!!\" I glare at the gunman, pissed off more than afraid. \"And, were I you, I'd not piss me off any more. Up till now I've let you believe you have the upper hand. But, I hold the trump card.\" The eyes behind the mask look irate and confused. \n\n\"Btch, you the one tied up an' shot cause yo' mouf!\"\n\n\"And I told you not to call me that. Really, I've been polite til now, but son, you're really starting to piss me off. And things, crazy things happen when I'm mad.\"\n\n\"You gonna make me shoot you 'gain ifn you don't shut yo mouf btch!\"\n\nI saw red. That was all it took. I looked down at the gunmans untied sneakers and imagined them tying their laces together. I know, not real mature, but...eh yolo!!\n\nHe took a step forward and lost his balance. I fought unsucessfully to keep a grin off my face. Things were just starting!! I almost laugh with glee. \"Hey, is that water running? I think it's getting on the money you were so kindly going to steal from me.\"\n\n\"Ain't no watah' running. Only thing be runnin' is yo ugly mouf.\"\n\n\"I'm serious. I can see it from here.\"\n\nI make the faucet run more open, saturating the money. Money'll dry. No problem. When he went to turn off the water, I made the handle come off in his hands. Now he was getting blasted fully in the face! YES!! Then I made a cabinet open and whap him in the head. \"Must suck, being so tall. Sooo many cabinets to run into.\"\n\n\"You doin' all this?\" he demands, the gun against my temple. \"Yes sir, and if you were to try firing that weapon at me, it wouldn't work.\" Just to show how stupid he was, the gunman tried firing it. Nothing except a click, though there was indeed a bullet in the chamber. \"Man, thas' bullsht. How you doin' this btch?\"\n\n\"That's for me to know and you not to find out,\" I said. \"Now, if you'll stay put (and you will, trust me), I must free myself and tend to my wounds. I'll just place an anonymous call to _____(insert rival gang name) and tell em where you'll be.\" \n\nAnd indeed he couldn't move so much as a muscle. As a small child, my mother hand taught me that thoughts carry power. I don't think she expected me to fully believe and become telekentic. Third robbery attempt in 3 months. Would these fckers never learn?", "\"I really hope you're not thinking about shooting me again,\" she said, dimples showing.\n\n\"Oh come on, it was one time!\"\n\n\"Makes for the best 'how did you two meet' story ever,\" said Serena. \n\nI pushed her into the bushes lining the sidewalk, laughing. When she righted herself with a huff, we heard murmurs ahead grow louder. Both of our right hands flew to holsters. \n\nI gave her a quick kiss before drawing. \n\n**\n\n/r/Hermione_Grangest" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2 ]	[ "1455627092", "1455633901", "1455649348", "1455652843", "1455627499" ]
	[WP] You and your team have been tracking a dangerous mad scientist for years when he abruptly makes contact. He's willing to surrender himself to your custody and answer for all of his crimes, just so long as you kill the creature that escaped from his lab.	6	[ "\"You've got five seconds,\" Catherine said, setting down her sidearm and finally turning on the lights. Her apartment was in disarray, the kind of neglect that only comes from working fifteen hour days for the FBI and coming home with another box of cheap takeout from the store on the corner where the geriatric owner constantly asks you why you don't want to go out with his son. But tonight a new chaos had joined the fray.\n\nMasters sat before her, hand caught partway through a trashy noir novel she'd started reading on a stakeout and hadn't yet finished. It was the normal story, a dame in distress, needing the help of an alcoholic washup to find... what? What was the falcon in that one. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the monster sitting on her couch.\n\n\"I want protection.\"\n\n\"Use a condom.\"\n\n\"You don't understand. I'm being hunted.\"\n\nHer phone buzzed, maybe ten minutes until SRT could make it out to her apartment. Plenty of time to get the answers she wanted.\n\n\"Hunt's over Masters.\"\n\n\"You fool, you simple simple fool!\"\n\n\"Stop it. What's going on? What have you done?\"\n\n\"It was perfect, it was so perfect, like an angel, trapped in the body of a child.\" Masters wrung his hands in front of him, fidgeting. \"So perfect.\n\n\"And then it grew and learnt, faster than I could teach it. I tried to sell her when she was old enough. A warlord wanted her spirit but she fought. A week after they left she found me again. A thousand miles apart and she had covered it in blood.\n\n\"I tried again. I've tried everything. She tracks me. I don't know how, nothing I spliced could have given her that... aptitude.\"\n\n\"Then why are you scared Masters?\" Catherine asked.\n\n\"When she found me last, the cancers had begun to spread. She wasn't never meant to last more than a few months, a year at most. Her body is deteriorating. I can see it in the palsy when she holds a blade.\"\n\n\"And she holds you responsible?\"\n\n\"No,\" Masters nearly cried. \"She wants me to join her. She wants to die, with me.\"\n\n\"Seems fitting.\"\n\nMasters stood and held out his hands.\n\n\"Please, I can't run anymore. She's getting desperate. If she finds me again...\"\n\nThe rain rattled at the windows. It took Catherine a moment to realise it wasn't raining when she got home. It hadn't rained in days. The rattling became incessant.\n\n\"Oh no,\" Masters wept.", "Ramirez couldn't believe it. Six years of horrific abominations, sinister chemical weapons, attempted supersoldiers and murderous androids, and his team had almost nothing to show for it. They were supposed to be the best of the best, the top field agents and law enforcement officials in the world and they had been repeatedly humiliated by one madman calling himself a scientist. And that madman had just settled down next to him in the crappy dive Esteban Ramirez was planning on getting shitfaced in. \n\nGoetz signaled the bartender and said, \"Johnnie Walker Green.\" He turned to Esteban and said, \"Hello, Special Agent Ramirez, I don't think we've met face to face. Don't draw your weapon, I surrender.\" The bartender returned with his drink and he downed it in one gulp. He signaled for another and downed that one as well. \n\nRamirez was beyond shocked. This was the absolute last thing he expected would happen. He was more likely to get lucky with Chastain and Reid at this point than see Goetz turn himself in when he was making such fools of them all. He was so stunned that he didn’t say anything for a few seconds; Ramirez hadn’t ruled out the possibility yet that he’d gone insane himself. \n\nAnd yet here he was. Derek Peter Goetz, in the flesh, drinking with him in a shitty dive in a town in the middle of nowhere. The man’s normally luxurious black hair was shot through with gray and it looked as if he hadn’t washed it in at least a week. His clothes were the same as always: green coat, dark brown khakis and a pair of untied tennis shoes. It was almost as if Goetz was taunting Ramirez. \nAnd then there was that statement. Surrendering? As if the man had any idea what that meant. Goetz had killed millions of people. He would be tried and convicted for crimes against humanity. If The Hague could sentence him to capital punishment it would, that’s how reprehensible the world found his crimes. \n\n“You’re wondering why I’m doing this, aren’t you Ramirez,” Goetz said, looking down. His greasy hair hung low so his face was obscured.\n\n“I’m not even sure this is you,” Ramirez said. “Prove to me you aren’t a clone or an android. How do I know you’re not going to kill my entire team with some suicide nuclear bomb the moment I bring you in?”\n\nGoetz laughed. It was laced with something Ramirez couldn’t identify. “Agent, if I wanted your team dead I would’ve killed you all a long time ago. I can’t prove that I’m not a clone but feel free to pistol whip me if you want to see me bleed. God knows I deserve it.”\n\nAt that Ramirez laughed. “You’re acknowledging a higher power than yourself? If that doesn’t prove you’re not Goetz-”\n\nWithout looking up Goetz growled. Ramirez jumped back and pointed his gun at the Mad Scientist. What few people there were in the bar screamed and ran out the doors, bartender included. \n“What are you, some kind of fucking werewolf?” Ramirez yelled. \n\n“No,” Goetz said as he leaned forward and plucked a bottle of Jack Daniels from behind the bar. He yanked the pourer off and took several long pulls from the bottle. When he was finished nearly a third of the bottle was gone. \n\nGoetz turned and looked at Ramirez very slowly, and when Ramirez saw the man’s face clearly he knew what else had been in that laugh. Goetz’s brilliant green eyes were glassy and bloodshot, but within them was something Ramirez recognized all too well. He saw it in the faces of the younger agents that worked under him and his team. He saw it in the members of his team and especially in the mirror when he was at his worst. \n\nFear. The kind of primal terror that Goetz worked so hard to imbue in his many experiments while laughing gleefully at the destruction they wrought. That same terror was written all over his face; but what truly sent pangs of icy panic through Ramirez was the broken smile Goetz was wearing as he spoke.\n\n“I’m not a monster,” he said. “I’m something much worse. I’m a man. I’m a man who played God. And lost. Big time.” He drained another third of the bottle before slamming his head against the bar with a bang. \n\nWhen Goetz didn’t move for a minute, Ramirez lowered his gun and pulled out his phone. He called HQ on the non-emergency line and it was Reid that picked up. \n\n“Ramirez? What do you need?” Her voice rang in his head like a bell. \n\n“Reid, you’re not gonna believe this. Cuz I still don’t,” Ramirez said. \n\n“Why?” She sounded hesitant. “What’s going on?”\n\n“I’ve probably killed us all,” Goetz yelled. Without warning he turned around and whipped the bottle at the wall. The crash was probably loud enough to be heard through the phone. “Is there any pizza or something at wherever Redhead is? Cuz I just drank way too much.” Goetz tried to stand but stumbled and fell against the door. \n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1455741175", "1455745669" ]
	[WP] During his funeral, you can't help to think how sad your dad was and how he never amounted to anything... until the president shows up.	6	[ "It all happened quite quickly after Dad died. We knew it had been coming, as we were told the cancer had been terminal a few months ago. His wishes had already been set out weeks beforehand; the memorial service would take place in our back garden, followed by a private cremation at the crematorium a couple of hours away. They were the conditions he wanted to go out on, and so they were fulfilled.\n\nThe expected phone calls and flowers soon followed. Dad had been pretty active since he retired 10 years ago, organising numerous charity events as well as sponsoring some kids sports teams in the area. He had saved up quite a bit of money by investing as a side project to his own job, where he worked for the government by recruiting potential IT advisor's to government divisions.\n\nMy Dad was always ahead of his time. In the early 70's, when he returned from his service in Vietnam, he applied to study Computer Science and received his degree 4 years later, meeting my mother along the way. Soon after they got married, my older sister came along and then there was me. We were the standard American family. My mother stayed at home and looked after both me and my sister, while my Dad would go to work all day, leaving for business trips every few months also. He was always someone I looked up to and admired, for when I was younger, I loved how he was always so happy when he would come home from work, instead of looking so angry like some of my friend's Dad's. He would always find the time to play with me when he could, whether it was reading me a bedtime story or taking me to the movies. \n\nThis side of my Dad quite visibly changed when he retired. He didn't seem as active as he used to, considering he was still quite young at 52. His reason for retirement was being too stressed at work, and being away so much, but yet he seemed a lot more miserable when he was at home. He would read his newspaper each morning, followed by his morning walk with the dog, and then maybe work a bit on some DIY projects he had taken up in the garage. I would never see him go for a morning jog anymore, or even go for a day out with my mother to the beach. \n\nOver the years this mentality progressed, and when he got his diagnosis, I think a sense of relief came over him. Since he had retired, he felt like he had just been waiting to die. The last few months were still quite hard. I loved my Dad, even though his sadness was a constant over the last few years of his life. It was strange to see how he was so unhappy doing the same things in his later years, when he had maintained the exact same job for almost 30.\n\nThe day of the memorial service had started quite strangely. Our house had been kept private since his death, as he had been resting at the local funeral home. I stumbled tiredly downstairs to my mother in quiet conversation with two tall, lean men in black suits. Upon my arrival, they thanked my mother for her coffee and offered their condolences to me on their way out.\n\n\"What was that about?\" I yawned, still half asleep.\n\n\"Oh, it was just associates of your father's, making arrangements for the memorial service later is all\" she replied.\n\nI didn't think much of it, I hadn't known much about my Dad's professional life other than he worked over an hour away and would often have to go on business trips. I never really asked him what he did either, as the world of IT never really appealed to me as a writer. \n\n**\n\nIt was a day that reflected my Dad's attitude to life in his later years. We sat out in the garden with about 70 members of my family and friends, underneath a clouded sky with a faint hint of light from the sun. I had prepared the eulogy a week before he had died, and had read it to him a few days before he passed. It was a happy feeling to know that he approved of what I was about to say about him, considering he had been such an influence to me.\n\nI then heard doors closing from the front of our house, quite a number of doors closing in fact. Then followed a number of voices talking, when suddenly one of the men from earlier came through the side entrance before saying just one word.\n\n\"Clear\".\n\nAt that moment, a sense of shock came over me. President Obama, along with President Clinton, were walking their way up our garden to fill the empty seats at the top of the aisle. My sister was in the same state of confusion as I was, yet my mother seemed quite calm, as if she was greeting them in an expected fashion. It was then when it hit me. The two men had been there this morning to organise the arrival of two such people. But still, why would they come to this service? How would my Dad have been so important that the President and an ex-President would attend?\n\nI delivered the eulogy shortly thereafter, speaking of how I learned to grow into manhood by my father, by always being told to be whoever I wanted to be. It was then all of it dawned on me. My father had never been a simple IT advisor. He had to keep whatever work he did from me and my sister, so that we would not have been able to share his secret.\n\nPresident Obama then spoke, outlining how valued he was as a public servant to the country, in both Vietnam and then in his role with the Government. It turned out that he had been the head of numerous divisions of the military which focused on infiltrating enemies through their technology. He had been one of the earliest hackers. \n\nThe whole thing was a shock, but I still could not understand why he could not have told me this on his deathbed. I am not sure whether it is okay to live your life as a lie as long as it makes you okay, which is a question I will keep asking forever.", "\"I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss.\" \n\"Thank you, Mr...?\" \n\"Hanson. Terry Hanson.\" \n\"Thank you, Mr. Hanson. How did you know my father?\" \n\"I'm president of our fantasy football league, here in Winnipeg. I, uh, actually run the entire Western Canadian division of the league.\" \n\"I see. I have to admit, I did not know that. I didn't even know my father was a member of a fantasy football league.\" \n\"Oh, yes, he was a huge participant, and had been since the early days....you would have been just a baby then, I think.\" \n\"Ah.\" \n\"Anyway, I just wanted to pay my respects. He was a good man, and we all miss him.\" \n\"Thank you very much. I appreciate your taking the time to come out today.\" \n\"No worries If there's anything I can do...?\" \n\"I'll be sure to be in touch if there is. Thanks again for coming.\" \n\"Yeah.\" He briefly shook my hand.* \"Again, I'm so sorry to hear he'd passed on.\" \nI nodded as he turned and slowly walked away." ]	[ 3, 5 ]	[ "1455752801", "1455751278" ]
	[WP] You're on vacation and find a bug in your room. You retell the story to your friends and family as if you encountered a monster of epic proportions.	7	[ "\"There it was. It looked at me with its eight eyes. I was scared, of course, but I knew it must be done. I-\"\n\n\"It was a tiny jumping spider, wasn't it Jim\"\n\n\"Yeah...\"", "\"I looked up. Eyes stared back at me, inhuman eyes, pinning me where I lay. It crouched above me, it's head unnaturally turned on its axis to observe my terror. I couldn't move. I knew in my soul that one movement and it would be on me. With a great wrench I summoned my courage and leapt from the bed, pulling the covers after me in an echo of my childhood- the monsters can't reach you under the blanket. \n\n\nI whirled to keep the beast in view as I fled, certain that losing sight of it would seal my impending doom. In the next instant my fear was proved sound as my opponent plummeted to where my head had recently lain. Swift as I could scurry, I approached the bed and hurled the blanket down, trapping my foe and delivering righteous anger through the medium of my flailing fists.\n\n\nAll was still. My triumph assured yet my stomach weak, I tentatively lifted my trap of choice and surveyed the wreckage of my bed. Blood showed bright against the linen, and a slowly twitching leg held the last of evil's defiance. The beast was slain, and I was safe again.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"Dude... you have GOT to get therapy. This arachnophobia is getting ridiculous.\"" ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1455820054", "1455825109" ]
	[WP] With a heavy, broken heart you leave the city for a new start in a small fishing town in Rhode Island. The town, though quaint and beautiful houses a great evil that will alter human life as we know it.	46	[ "I drove past the town sign that stated how many people legally resided there and I took a deep breath as I started to familiarize myself with my new residence. There were factories and a small brewery, several ma and pa retail stores along the main drag, a few bars and the sound of a cannon ball ripping through the engine of my rented moving truck. With no control over the truck it careened off of the road and smacked into a tree. I could hear more cannon balls being fired and, dazed and bloody, I stepped out of the truck to see where this fighting was coming from and to my amazement some whacko turned his car into a pirate ship and was sword fighting with another pirate as they careened down the road. I should have left the moving van where it was and just left this place; however, I had already paid my security deposit and first and last months rent on a new place and I couldn't just burn that money. \n\n\nAfter I left the hospital I contacted the insurance company and they said that I was in a zero claim zone. I asked them what that meant and they said that after the Y2K incident all insurance policies are void at this particular zipcode unless it is specifically requested. After getting the run-about for a few more minutes I told them that they could specifically go fuck themselves. I hung up the phone and I called the truck rental shop.\n\n\nThirty seconds into explaining what happened they informed me that they were charging my credit card $10,000 for the ruined truck. I hung up the phone, found a card with my credit information in it and called the company.\n\n\n\"Cancel! Cancel my card!\"\n\n\n\"Ok sir, I just need to verify your name.\"\n\n\nI gave it to them.\n\n\n\"Your address.\"\n\n\nI gave it to them.\n\n\n\"Your social security number.\"\n\n\nI gave it to them.\n\n\n\"Your four digit pin.\"\n\n\nI gave it to them.\n\n\n\"Ok, you card is now canceled.\"\n\n\n\"Oh, thank God!\" \n\n\n\"However, you have a remaining balance of $15,150.00 that you will be billed for - would like to set up a payment plan?\"\n\n\n\"WHAT? My balance should only be for $150.00!\"\n\n\n\"Well sir, it looks like you've been charged $15,000.00 for a rental truck.\"\n\n\nI gave it to them, \"You slow ass son of a bitching motherfucker! I know damn well that when I call my phone number is linked up to my account and it instantly comes up on your computer screen! You knew you were talking to me and you knew what I wanted, but nooooooo, you just had to take your sweet, lazy, motherfuc-\".\n\n\n\"Sir, this is the shift supervisor, please calm down.\"\n\n\nOh, hell no. I hung up my phone and then turned it off. Well shit, I need to at least get my stuff and then I saw this young... person walking towards me.\n\n\n\"Excuse me,\" I started. Should I say miss or mister I wondered; ah, skip the formalities. \"Excuse me, where is the police station?\"\n\n\n\"It's just a three blocks south, take a left and then walk four more blocks,\" the person said. \n\n\nI said thank you and began to go my way but this person decided to follow me. After the first block I picked up my pace and realized that this individual was doing the same. I tried not to look behind me and as soon as I turned the corner I ran as hard as I could to get to the police station. At full speed I sprinted two blocks and then I dared to look behind me and I tripped over my own feet as I saw that they were right behind me. I hit the concrete and rolled into a trashcan - spilling the contents all over me - and then I jumped up and prepared to defend myself.\n\n\n\"WHAT! WHY ARE YOU CHASING ME!\" I screamed.\n\n\nThis person stopped in front of me and keeled over to catch their breath and then in the most polite voice I've ever heard they said, \"You're going the wrong way.\"\n\n\n\"Oh, haha, thank you. I'm such a fool, it's been a terrible day for me.\"\n\n\n\"That's ok, are you new here?\"\n\n\n\"Well, I did go the wrong way after asking you for directions, didn't I?\"\n\n\nWe laughed at my silliness and then this person offered me a card with a wink, \"Here's my contact information in case you want someone to show you around.\"\n\n\nI read the number and flipped it over and it appeared there was a naked picture of her grandmother-father-something. Not wanting to make yet another scene I swallowed my bile, put the card in my pocket, thanked the person one last time and walked towards the police station.\n\n\nMan, fuck the police. I got there and asked where it had been towed and they said that all of my stuff had been confiscated and was the property of the city because I was littering. ", "I thought it was a cat. It certainly looked like one. You get them all over fishing towns, fat from fish heads, with flat ears and yellow eyes. This one was squatting over something I couldn't quite see. Probably a sparrow or something needing to be put out of its mystery. I tried to shoo the cat away, but it just sat there watching me. \n\nAs I got closer the cat didn't move. Nor did its prey. It was only when I was couple feet away that I realized what the cat had pinned under its paw was an eye. \n\n-----\n\nI'd ended up in Sawchuck after the divorce. I didn't fish. I didn't love the sea. But she wasn't there, and that was enough for me. The first thing you notice about Sawchuck is that it looked like a postcard of a fishing town. Old sheds on the beach hung with nets, sailboats, grey and wooden, anchored off the shore, and bearded men with knit caps free of irony. \n\nAnd cats. The second thing you notice about Sawchuck is cats. Sitting on eaves, crossing streets, coming and going where ever they please. They walked as if they owned the place. \n\nMy first night at the tavern I was at the bar eating a very disappointing fried fish. Five bites in and I knew I was not going to finish it. I picked a piece off and flicked it to one of the many cats wandering by the fireplace. Or at least I tried to. A hand slapped mine before I could get the fish out.\n\nI looked at the old bar maid.\n\n\"Sorry sir. We do not feed the cats.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because they might take an interest.\"\n\n\"What does that mean?\" I asked.\n\nShe gave the slightest of nods. I looked back towards the fireplace. Every single cat was watching us, head pitched to the same side. One cat watching you is unremarkable. Twelve is disarming.\n\n\"Best finish your plate sir.\" She said.\n\nI did, left cash, and very carefully did not look back to the cats as I exited.\n\n-----------------\n\nMary Katherine was missing a week later. She was 13. Sawchuck only has one policeman. But the entire town went looking that night, myself included. We crossed the whole town, from shore to village, in a line. Every blade of grass was bent, every darkness lit. But as we reached the edge of the village we slowed. Our light reflected yellow. At first I saw just a few pairs of eyes. Then a dozen. Then so many that counting was madness. The entire line, with not a word, turned their lights off and backed up to the village.\n\nI froze, my light fixed on innumerable yellow cat's eyes. A girl was missing, with brown hair and hazel eyes and so few years spent. And we had all stopped. I felt every yellow eye on me. And then I hand on my shoulder. I did not jump. I shook.\n\nIt was the old barmaid again.\n\n\"Let's go dear.\" She said. \"You don't want them to take an interest.\"\n\n---------\n\nAn eye removed from its home is an odd thing. You really see so little when it is where it belongs. There is a meaty bit on the back, and what looks like a pearl onion, streaked with red. And then the hazel iris. \n\nThere was a purring. Not the kind that you get when you pet a tabby. Some sort of primal hum. It made every hair on my body stand on end. I thought about running, but in Sawchuck there was nowhere to run when they took an interest.\n\n", "(Part1)\n\nMy name is unimportant and you won't remember it. I'm older than I say I am and now one believes me anyway. I came to a small town in Rhode Island because there was a cheap property for sale and my ex wife took most of my shit.\n\n\"You look like a fucking jew if I ever saw one.\" Said the Sherrif as I met them at the town limits.\n\nHis deputy looked up at him and then said back to me \"Don't mind him he's struggling to handle issues with his repressed sexuality and fears of inadequacy.\"\n\nThe Sherrif gave a defeated \"Yeah.\" And then sort of apologized. \"What she said is probably true. I still want to break your fucking kike nose though.\"\n\n\"We're very honest around here. You probably won't get used to it. I hate it.\" The deputy answered as she helped me unload my things. She had a sort of grin on her face, more like she enjoyed hating the town than she enjoyed the town itself. \n\n\"I think it's quaint,\" I said as politely as I could.\n\nThe deputy just dropped my box of blu rays to the curb and looked straight at me as if....well as if my first words to her were to call her a fucking jew I suppose. \"Don't lie.\"\n\n\"You've got a week from right now to stop that.\" The Sherrif said. He was calmer now, with the authoritarian but not necessarily aggressive tone I would have expected from a Sherrif. \n\nMy first week went by quickly enough. Mostly I stayed in my new townhouse in the town center and I only left when I had to go to work at the town clinic.\n\nIt was at the general store that I tripped it. I walked up the aisles to the counter and began handing the checkout girl my groceries.\n\n\"Say, you're the guy who refilled my gonorrhea meds.\" She said in a warm how's-the-weather tone. \"Whadaya do for fun.\" She slid into an oddly flirty voice considering we both knew what state she was in.\n\n\"Well I'm a writer, part time. I actually came her to find a bit of inspiration\" I answered and rubbed at the thick stubble of my beard. What the hell, she was hot and I'd just bought condoms. \n\nShe looked over her shoulders to the town priest and then asked, \"Do you ever think you'll make something out of it?\"\n\nI gave her a cool smile and put down my money. \"Yeah. Any day now\" \n\n\"Oh boy, you just didn't listen to the Sherrif did you.\" The priest said. \"I can tell that's a lie from a mile away.\"\n\n\"So what if it is?\" I harrumphed. \n\n\"You should come back to the church with me. I'll show you why.\" \n\n(Part 1)", "(Part 2)\n\nI reared up over the small, hobbled man \"Not gonna fucking happen old man.\"\n\n\"It's for your own good.\" The checkout girl said as she bagged my stuff behind me and rang up the price. There was something calming about that, the way she still gave me my groceries. Helped me believe I'd live long enough to use them. \n\n\"Yeah sure, and then you cut out my heart and feed it to some kid in the basement that thinks he's the antichrist or something.\" I answered and looked to the exit. There were no massing townsfolk, no Sherrif with his gun drawn, just my old jeep parked up and waiting for me.\n\n\"Has anyone in this town been anything but honest to you?\" The old priest asked. \"I'm sixty five, I have a fake leg and an artificial hip....in the other leg for christ's sake. I think you can handle it.\" \n\n\"Fine, but I'm taking my car.\" I demanded and trod hopped into the seat. \n\nThe priest got into his old Studebaker and led the way to the church on the edge of town. I was expecting a run down colonial thing with an ancient graveyard and something watching me from the belltower. Instead, it looked like a WW2 era community centre with a steeple. It had big glass windows and inside all I could see was a lot of ikea furniture and secondhand books. \n\nThings grew a bit uncertain as he led me through the main corridor to a basement door at the end. There was a bookshelf next to it. Before I knew it he had pulled a baseball bat from behind it and turned to me. \n\n\"Here.\" He said, and pointed it grip first towards me. \"Most of the people feel more comfortable facing the unknown if they can defend themselves. I know I did.\" I snatched up the bat and felt thewight of it. It was alluminum with a wrapped grip. I would have preferred a gun at that moment but it still helped.\n\nHe opened the door leading down to the basement and turned on the lights. He propped the basement door open and walked down first, hobbling one step at a time and gripping the railing all the while. \n\nWhen we got down to the basement he flicked on more lights. We were in a small foyer room adjoined to a room with jagged irregular ridges like an anechoic chamber. A pair of windows allowed me to see through to it. Inside was a folding metal chair, a metal table with two large metal boxes. Behind the boxes was a series of magnifying lenses like the kind someone might use to write on a grain of sand, there was alsoa mic that connected to a small desk by one of the windows in the foyer room. \n\n\"I need you to go in there, my friend. You can take the bat\" He answered with a small smile. \n\n\"Why just me?\" I asked cagily. I could still see daylight from the stairwell behind us.\n\n\"Because it won't work with two people in there and I've already seen enough.\" The priest answered wearily.\n\n\"I don't like this.\"\n\n\"And I don't like having to walk every fucking idiot who moves here down to the goddamn basement and have them accuse me of being a rapist, murderer or cult leader every goddamn time!\" He snapped. His indignation was heartfelt and when it passed there was just a tired old man. \"Please, just go in there. Look,take out your phone and check for a signal, just send someone a message saying where you are and to call the police if you don't check back in twenty four hours or something.\"\n\nI couldn't must much of an argument so I just complied. I pulled out my phone and messaged my mother. I told her I was just going on a night out and I knew I tended to over drink. She told me to stay safe and she told me she loved me. The last message sent successfully and then I pocketed my phone. \"I'm sorry, sir.\" I said and then walked into the chamber.\n\n(Part 2)", "(Part 3)\n\nThe first thing I noticed was the noise. An Omm. I new from a few college girlfriends that the Omm was supposed to be the first sound in the universe, the fundamental noise of creation. And it filled the air. I looked back to the priest. He was sipping on a juice box with his head away from the mike. He was ever one hell of a ventriloquist or it really was coming from the two boxes.\n\nI sat down at the desk when the priest's voice made me jump. It was quiet, it did not shout nor get lost over the sound of the Omm. I realized that as pervasive, as smothering as the noise was it had seemingly no volume at all. \"There are large stone cubes in each box, please remove one or both of them and use the magnifying set to read them.\" He explained.\n\nI opened the box and pulled them out. They were about a square foot on each side and scribbled with writing that only looked like English if you looked straight at it. Otherwise, it looked like little circles with various numbers of dots, like simplified atoms. The writing was arranged in a grid shape and filled in with gold.\n\nI began to read it, the top left entry in the top left box. \"I love you-Margret Cohen\"It read, I muttered it into the open mic. \"That was my mother's name.\" \n\n\"Oh God I'm so sorry.\" The priest said. \"Look I really wish I didn't have to tell you this, but I have to. What you're looking at are The Books of Twin Evil. They record lies. Or rather untruths. They don't just know if someone's lying they know if something is untrue.\" He reported. \n\nI began to put the facts together and muttered out as an afterthought, \"Why does it have my mom's name on it.\"\n\n\"I could say the sky is purple, fully believing it and the stones would still record it.\" He continued like he hadn't heard me.\n\n\"Why is my mom's name on the fucking stone!\"\n\n\"The Books of Twin Evil records every lie in your life. The white one records every lie you've ever told, and the black one records every lie anyone ever told you.\" The priest reported. \n\n\"My mom never loved me.\" I whispered. I think a lot of people fear that their parents didn't love them. I suppose some people know it but as I sat there finding out that a life time of love was just a platitude I felt like the newest loser in the world.\n\n\"She probably wanted to. She probably believed it. I believed I loved all the people I said it to but that damn white stone says I never loved anyone.\"\n\nI started reading through the black stone. 'I love you' came up with immense frequency and variety. So did things like 'You were destined for great things'\nand my absolute favorite 'You're better than this.' \n\nI read each side of the black stone and then when I came back to the first side there was new writing. I sat at that table repeating some of what I had read to the priest. When it was over when I had seen every horrible little lie that had been said to me I was on the edge of tears. \n\n\"Wh-wh-why would you try to live like this.\" My voice was a wisper, I didn't dare to raise it higher lest it run away into outright sobbing. \n\n\"Think about it boy,to know if something is untrue that must mean they know what is true, every single truth there is to know. They must be essentially omniscient. My church and I believe that they're a fragment of God. We believe that they're there to punish us for lying and to prepare us for paradise, for the world without lies. \n\nI attempted one last discovery, after today I didn't much care about the answer. \"There is a God.\" I declared into the room, and then switched to the white stone. I cast the magnifying glass over to the top left corner, the newest section. It was written in the circle-language that the first priests had puzzled over so long ago. No cryptogropher, no linguist, no scientist had ever figured out what they said and nor have I.\n\nIn the weeks that followed I found a new purpose, besides being a small town pharmascy assistant. The priest is old and weary, he grows tired of having to oversee these awful little rituals. I've agreed to become his disciple, to learn how to handle the stones, how to see other people's lies, how to guide people to them like I was guided. It began as a sad, desperate need to learn how to cope with a world where I know how much of everything we say to eachother is a lie. The priest knew that, of course but he saw something in me.Well actually he was desperate to retire and he thought I was good enough for the job. \n\nI take my vows tomorrow. \n\nThey say the truth will set you free. I don't feel free.\n\n(Final)", "The salty sea air had always driven Scott's blues away. He carried his tackle box and camping chair to an empty pier while it was still dark outside. He crossed some sand and walked the long, lonely planks to the edge. He set up his kit and sat in his chair. He cast his line in the water and waited. \n\nThere was something about watching the water gave birth to the sun that reminded him, more acutely, that life goes on. No matter what, the world keeps moving.\n\nWith the beach behind him, and the new day ahead, the horizon began to differentiate from the water. Slowly at first, with dusky pastels. Then the ocean became clearly delineated from the sky. It got brighter until finally, sun rays began to peek over the tops of the waves.\n\nScott put his sunglasses on. He reeled in his line, and cast it back out, not catching anything. That was fine. Fishing wasn't about catching fish. It was about sitting alone, quietly trying to sort out the tangled knots that made up existence. As if, maybe he would reel in some understanding as he turned the handle.\n\nHe began packing up his kit as the bottom of the sun was free from the edge of the ocean. He turned to walk the long pier back to the beach, down a few streets back to his new house. Just a house, not a home. He'd never have a home again.\n\nAs he walked, he noticed many people on the beach. They were leaving, as though they'd been there. It was dark when he arrived, but he was fairly certain nobody was there. Were they camping? Night fishing? They didn't carry any gear. Girls in bikinis and short shorts smiled and tossed their hair with satisfied laughs. Men in tank tops and cargo shorts fist pumped as they made their way back home. \n\nStrange, he thought. They are all covered in sand as though they slept in it. Maybe they did.\n\nHe kept walking, trying to mind his own business. Then he saw something he couldn't just dismiss. A young man sat up, from laying in the sand, Scott assumed. He was covered in it, as though he'd been buried. \n\nWhat a weird... hazing ritual maybe? Scott slowed his pace to make sure the kid was okay.\n\nHe hugged his knees, and wiped sand from his face as he gasped for breath. He shook sand out of his hair. \n\nScott smelled a faint scent of burning embers, like campfires had been going all night. There definitely weren't any campfires on the beach when he arrived. He looked around, seeing the beach had been mostly cleared of people.\n\n\"You okay, kid?\" He called out to him.\n\nThe young man seemed startled and looked around before finding Scott on the pier a few yards away.\n\n\"Were you there?\" He asked. \n\n\"Uh, yeah, I was just doing some sunrise fishing on the pier...\" Scott answered.\n\nThe kid looked at the pier as if he just noticed it, and was maybe a little confused about where he was.\n\n\"Do you live near here?\" Scott asked him, getting more concerned.\n\nThe kid stood up and brushed off more sand.\n\n\"I'm alright, man, thanks...\" He said as he jogged away, leaving a trail of sand on the road behind him.\n\nScott thought about it all day. Kids always have parties on the beach, it was probably nothing to worry about. Anyway, that kid seemed fine. We all had those mornings.\n\nScott returned to fish almost every morning, and it was always the same deal. He began using his flashlight to check the beach before going out to the pier. Never saw anyone until after dawn. It started to bother him. \n\nHe became more interested in the revelers than fishing into the rising sun. He would turn around as soon as there was enough light to see. It always just looked like people sitting up from laying in the sand. He was nearly positive they weren't there before. It was a big beach. He couldn't comb it completely in the dark to be sure there was nobody there before.\n\nThen Scott started noticing other strange things about the otherwise idyllic town. People were really tan. It was a coastal town, yeah, but everyone had such bronze skin. Not like a bad spray tan, or an ethnic person with naturally dark skin. They weren't... brown. It was more red, like a deep seeded sunburn that never went away. Like old white people that spent their lives on fishing boats. Then he noticed, that there were no old people, or children. All day he came across young people. Beautiful, young people.\n\nMaybe it was just the part of town where he worked. Every time he noticed something strange, he tried to rationalize it. \n\nScott forgot about his dull heartache, he forgot about trying to figure out life and make sense of the things that had happened before he came here. He became obsessed with figuring out what was happening on the beach in the mornings. Why the people in this town had such strange features.\n\nScott hurried to the beach before sunset one evening. People began to gather. It seemed normal. Nothing nefarious. As the sunlight sank behind the line of trees people sat on the beach and watched the water. Normal stuff people do on beaches. They talked, laughed and drank beers.\n\nAll the sitters began to lay back. He knew the feeling. As the sun disappeared, the sand would cool rapidly. For just a few minutes after the sunset, the sand would retain a little bit of comforting warmth before turning cold. It was an interesting sensation. For anyone who liked the ocean, it was a beautiful end to a perfect day at the beach.\n\nScott noticed the smell of campfires. Totally unsurprising for the beach at night, especially since people were just gathering. Except, Scott didn't see any fire. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the fading light as he scanned the beach for flames. It should be more noticeable as it got darker, but he didn't see anything.\n\nThen Scott realized, he didn't see anything. He didn't hear anything but the surf against the sand. He shined a high powered flashlight across the beach, looking for anyone. There was plenty of people here just a few minutes ago. He should have seen someone.\n\nHe ran from the parking lot to the sand, shining the light back and forth looking for anyone. He tripped in a hole in the sand. You know the kind. A kid sat there and filled a bucket or something earlier. \n\n\"Shit!\" He shouted as he fell forward into the sand. \n\nIt was still warm. His hands and knees sunk in as Scott tried to recover and stand up, but his hands and knees kept sinking.\n\n\"Shit!\" He repeated, feeling impending doom wash over him.\n\nBefore he could take another breath to shout for help, his head was under and he was still sliding. And then he made it through the sand and fell through the air briefly before hitting the ground. \n\nScott looked up from where he fell. It seemed like the ceiling, of sand, should have been just a few feet above his head, but he found himself in an immense cave. He couldn't even estimate how high the ceiling was.\n\nIt was hot. And it smelled like campfires... and sulfur. He looked around. Black lava rocks made up the floor and walls. Pits of lava flanked the raised ground dozens of yards away. \n\nAll the young people from the town were there. They had a strange, red glow. At first it seemed like a normal party, until he saw the dark corners writhe with bodies. It was crawling with debauchery and lasciviousness. As moments passed, more people got naked and spread themselves around. Then the violence started. Horrible things that people shouldn't survive, yet they got up and walked away; bleeding, dismembered, organs hanging out and dragging across the rough rocky floor.\n\nHe started recognizing a few faces. These were people from the town. Except, they weren't people. They were demons. And this was hell. The beach at night was a portal to hell. \n\nScott looked around in disbelief. Someone handed him a beer.\n\n\"Thanks for coming, man,\" a handsome stranger winked and smiled at him.\n\n\"Yeah...\" Scott tried to play it cool, \"Thanks for having me...\"", "I tensed my hands on the steering wheel. \"Ten and two,\" just like my dad taught me. Engine off, no sudden movements, and pretend like nothing is wrong. But how could I hide it? The terror on my face... The adrenaline pumping through my veins urging me to get far away from this crazy town as fast as I can and never look back... \n\nA rap on the window by a leather clad knuckle snapped me back to reality. Without thinking I rolled down the window for the Officer... Trooper? Highway Patrolman? I hadn't been in Rhode Island long enough to know what they called their State Police, but the best greeting I could muster was a \"Good evening, sir.\" \n\nHe didn't respond right away, instead sizing me up for an uncomfortably long moment. \"Licence and registration,\" he ordered. I fished out the necessary documents, trying my best to stay composed. I handed them all to him, and as he reached into the car, I noticed his shoulder patch was crimson and black. In fact, his whole outfit was strange. The jackboots, leather pistol belt, and charcoal grey uniform with black and red epaulets looked straight out of one of those World War II documentaries. The only thing remotely modern was his motorcycle helmet. \n\n\"So,\" he finally asked, \"What's the hurry?\"\n\n\"I, um,\" I swallowed the knot in my throat, \"My... grandmother isn't doing too well... I'm heading back home to see her in the hospital.\" I waited and hoped he bought it. \n\n\"You're from out of town, huh?\" he scanned the back of my car, looking for something... or someone... \n\n\"Y- yes, sir.\"\n\n\"You know you were doing 85?\" \n\n\"I... I'm sorry, I didn't notice... I was just so worried.\"\n\n\"Highest around here is 65. 55 on this stretch of road right here.\"\n\n\"I'm so sorry. I'll be more careful.\" I tried to look as remorseful as possible. The last thing I needed was to get arrested, but in truth, I wish I had been going faster. The sooner I got away from... whatever I saw back there... the better. \n\nA distant rumble of thunder got my attention. The officer and I looked back at the town, where a massive black cloud swirled like a hurricane with its eye centered on that old manor. \n\n\"A storm's coming,\" he said flatly, \"gonna be dangerous to be out on the road. I can take you back to town and you can ride it out at the station.\"\n\n\"No! No... thank you... I really need to get home. They said on the phone that she might not make it, and I need to say goodbye before...\"\n\n\"What Hospital did you say she was at?\"\n\n\"I didn't... Mount Sinai, in Queens.\"\n\n\"Alright,\" another uncomfortably long pause, \"Wait here.\"\n\nHe turned around to take my license back to his motorcycle. I almost didn't notice it. Right there on the back of his neck, I saw the tattoo. I might have only gotten a glimpse, but there was no mistaking it. The same ancient otherworldly runes in a circle around a coiled serpent I saw branded on the bodies of the cultists back at the manor. This was it. I was done for. \n\nI waited until he was all the way back to his bike before cranking my engine. As soon as it started, I floored it. I didn't look back to see if he was pursuing, but I knew he would be. They couldn't let me leave. \n\nI got a few miles between me and that godforsaken town when I noticed the sky start to rapidly darken. The sun hadn't set yet, but that cloud from the town was growing, overtaking me and my car. I noticed then that the roads were completely empty. There were no cars coming into town and no Police behind me either. Soon the skies opened up with rain so dense I could barely see the road in front of me. Steam rose up from the asphalt... or was it smoke?\n\nI strained to keep focused on staying between the lines, but I couldn't get that image out of my head. That poor girl... naked and afraid on that altar, runes all over her... what they did to her... and then... what came out of her... I had to stay focused on the road, but I kept seeing her. It was like she was right in front of me. She was. \n\nI had just enough time to swerve out of the way as she looked up and stated into me with empty eyes. I lost control and my car started to roll. The car tumbled, end over end. Glass shards filled my view. I felt my head slam against something hard and everything went black. \n\nI don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke, three men stood over me. The policeman, one of the hooded cultists, and Mr. Gould, the kindly old man from the hotel. He still had that pleased grin, but it took on a new, sinister meaning. I noticed the rain had stopped, and it seemed that woman was gone too. I tried to get up, but I couldn't move a muscle. Was I paralyzed? \n\n\"He's awake. What should we do with him?\" the officer asked. \n\nMr. Gould answered, \"Take him... back... to the temple. He has... the aura...\"\n\nThe cultist and the policeman set to the task of grabbing my arms and legs. As they did, Mr. Gould leaned in effortlessly so he was almost face to face with me. He seemed unnaturally limber for his age. \"You are... so... fortunate...\" he said, never breaking his smile, \"Our... Master needs... more... vessels... and you... will be among the first... to herald his... arrival...\"\n\nI tried to shout for help, but my jaw wasn't moving the way it should. I could only make a few feeble squeaks and moans from the bottom of my throat. \n\n\"Hush now...\" he said as the two others hoisted me, \"Relax... the time for fighting... has ended... accept your fate... and know peace... like this world will never see again...\"", "Thomas stared out the window of the bus as it pulled through the old New England town. Almost every building the vehicle drove past was adorned with a small metallic plate inscribed with the words Built in 1704 or Built in 1712 and so on. Each house was impeccably maintained, the architecture unchanged through the centuries. The paint was worn, but not cracked, and there were no modern adornments, not a single satellite dish to be seen hanging off any of the old buildings. The street was paved with cobblestone and lined with tall wrought iron lamps. As Thomas squinted his eyes to look more closely, he realized the streetlamps had no light bulbs inside, but were lit with a bright orange flame, running on gas instead of electricity.\n\nHe hung his head, shaking it slowly. What a relic. The town was like something out of an old storybook. What had he done to deserve this assignment?\n\nThe bus lurched to a stop in the town’s center square and the door of the vehicle opened with the creak and sigh of old machinery. Thomas stood and grabbed his bag from the rack at the top of the bus. He hefted the large duffel over his shoulder and made his way down the aisle to the front. The bus was empty: this was its last stop. Though Thomas politely nodded to the bus driver as he passed the man, the driver ignored him and quickly shut the door behind him. The bus jerked to life, quickly circling the fountain in the center of the square, before heading back up the main street the way it had come.\n\nThomas dropped his duffel from his shoulder to the cobblestones at his feet. Putting a hand in his pocket, he felt around and retrieved a scrap of paper. In the light of the setting sun, he could just make out the words scribbled on it: Highroad Inn and Pub. He glanced around the square and saw a sign with the same title hanging off one of the larger buildings. At least, he thought it was one of the larger buildings—it was hard to tell in these old New England towns where all the buildings were squashed side by side with no room between.\n\nThomas grabbed his bag and hefted it again. He swore a little at the bag’s weight. Why had he packed so much? Then he swore some more. It wasn’t his fault—he wasn’t here by choice. He walked towards the inn, his step uneven from the weight of the bag.\n\nThe door of the building was unlocked and he opened it, entering the dimly lit lobby inside. He dropped the bag on the floor near the door and took another step forward. “Hello?” His voice echoed dully in the old, stale air.\n\n“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Johns.” The voice came from the stairway and Thomas looked to see an old man standing there. He was stooped with age and his face was covered in bristly hairs, over the years grown reckless in their order and placement. The man took each step down the stairs with precision, his eyes fixed firmly on his feet.\n\nThomas walked towards him hesitantly. Thomas wanted to offer the man a hand to steady him, but was unsure how such an act would be received. Instead, Thomas cleared his throat and spoke, “Yes, I’m Mr. Johns. I’ve got a room reservation.”\n\nThe man nodded with the same slow, yet deliberate, air. “Yes, of course.” Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he walked to the front desk, which was built next to the stairway. The man licked his finger with a fat grey tongue and used the wet finger to flip through a large book with yellowed pages. Running his finger across the page he sought, he tapped a long scrawled note. “Yes, here you are. Mr. Thomas Johns. Staying with us indefinitely.” He looked up, his eyes peering out from under thick, wild eyebrows. “Indefinitely, Mr. Johns?\n\nThomas nodded. “Yes, I’m researching the area for a book and not sure how long I’ll be around.”\n\n“Oh, a writer, are you?” The man turned and looked through the cubby holes on the wall behind him, his hands systematically lifting piles of paper and sorting odds and ends in his search.\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“May I ask of what?” The man’s hand landed on the object of his search and he picked it up. The large old key clanked against a metallic circle on its key ring. He held it out for Thomas to take.\n\n“History,” Thomas answered, reaching out to take the key. It was heavy and cold in his hand. “New England’s such a fascinating area, you know?”\n\n“Oh, yes, quite.” The man nodded deeply. He walked out from behind the desk and over to Thomas’ bag.\n\n“Oh, wait, you don’t—” Thomas shot out his hand imploringly.\n\nBut the man picked up the bag easily and Thomas’ mouth snapped shut. The man turned to look at Thomas and Thomas could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eyes. “What was that?”\n\nThomas shook his head. “Nothing.”\n\n“All right, then follow me.” The man led Thomas to the stairs. As they began their ascent, the wood groaned loudly underneath the weight of the two men and the bag. “It’s an old building,” the man said, waving a hand in the air. “You’ll hear a lot of noises from the wood settling.”\n\nThomas nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the man leading him up the stairs. When they reached the next floor, the man led Thomas to a door at the end of the hallway. It had a large number 3 carved deeply into its surface.\n\n“And here we are.” He set the bag down and took a large key ring from his belt. He raised his other hand to his mouth and licked his forefinger, and then methodically flipped through the keys until he found the twin of the one Thomas carried. Lifting the key to the lock, he inserted it and twisted it smoothly. Thomas expected stiff resistance to the key, with insistent creaks and whines of protest, but the lock clicked open immediately and the door swung open easily.\n\nThe man gestured inside the room. “You’ll find instructions for turndown service inside. Breakfast begins at 7 o’clock sharp and continues on until 9. Please let me know if there’s anything you need during your stay and I will be sure to get it for you.”\n\nThomas nodded and offered his hand with a smile. “And your name was?”\n\nThe man’s mouth parted a bit in surprise and he shook his head. “Look at me, forgetting to introduce myself this whole time. How rude. My mother would be so ashamed.” He hooked the keys back onto his belt and then took Thomas’ hand in his firm grip, covering the back of Thomas’ hand with his other hand. The man’s skin felt like thin, delicate leather and was cool to the touch. “Alexander Crow. Pleased to have you with us, Mr. Johns.”\n\nThomas nodded, shaking the man’s hand. “Thank you.” He let go of the man’s hand, extricating his hand from the man’s grasp. He had quickly began to feel uncomfortably warm and the palm of his hand was sweating. Thomas bent down and retrieved his bag. “I think I’ll turn in then, Mr. Crow.”\n\nCrow nodded. “Very good. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He winked and turned, slowly making his way back down the hallway.\n\nThomas brought his bag inside the room and dropped it at the foot of the large bed. He returned to the door and closed it, locking it and leaving the key in the lock. He walked back over to the bed and, standing at the side of the bed, threw himself down on the duvet. It was soft and pillowy and he heaved a sigh into the fabric.\n\nThis was it.\n\nAfter taking a moment, he stood up again and removed his long jacket, hanging it in the closet. Then he began to unpack his bag and take inventory. Three changes of clothes, one light sweatshirt, one heavy jacket, gloves, hat, toiletries, his laptop, two matching handguns, one shotgun, one machete, his kit of holy water and other essentials, various spellbooks, and a single manila envelope containing the details of his assignment.\n\nHe took the envelope to a desk in the room and sat down. He opened it and spread its contents across the desk’s surface. Picking up each item, he carefully reviewed his assignment.\n\nThe first was the prophecy of the witch Maria, made in the year 1414 and describing the rise of the eldritch horror and the necessity that it must be stopped, lest the world fall into unimaginable darkness. The scholars at the Institute had studied the prophecy for centuries and finally determined where it would happen. Thomas looked around the room and shook his head. He had expected more from a place that spawned eldritch horror, to be honest.\n\nHe picked up his orders that called for him to eliminate the eldritch horror by whatever means necessary. It had a few suggestions of traps that could be laid, spells that could be attempted, but the bottom line was clear: he must use any resource available to him and, above all, he could not fail in his mission. Thomas took the knife from the sheath at his belt. He tested its edge on the skin of his thumb.\n\nFinally, he picked up the picture of his target, staring at it closely. He had looked at the face for the last two months, memorizing every line. The first time he had seen it, his blood had run cold. He panicked—something that never happened to him—and, deeply shaken, he had requested reassignment. He had begged his supervisor, called in every favor he had at the Institute, but no one listened. They had cited his long record of successful assignments, his long list of kills in the service of humanity. He was their best, they had said, and the only one who could do this. Humanity was counting on him, the words rang in his ears.\n\n---\n\n^Continued ^in ^next ^comment.\n", "The first thing I noticed was the smiles. Everybody walked around smiling, but it was never sincere. Exaggerated, almost painfully so. I brushed this feeling off, though. They were all nice, good spirited folk who just wanted to greet their new neighbor after all. At first, coming from a tough breakup, I rather enjoyed the congeniality. I'd always heard about people being put off by kindness, but before it never registered for me. However, with these townsfolk, it did seem much too forced.\n\nThe second thing was the smells. It was a beautiful little town, but once or twice a week a putrid smell would fill the air. This certainly didn't match the Victorian styled houses or the parks and gardens which filled the empty spaces of town. When I'd ask about it, I was told that the towns' one shortcoming was a bad waste management system. My neighbors assured me that the city council was working on masking that smell. It was odd, though, considering that I always saw the waste disposal trucks leaving town after they collected.\n\nThe third thing was the house I bought itself. Twelve owners last year, and twelve the year before. Maybe that's why the price was so low. I only found this out when I read through some papers that were stuffed in the floorboards of my bedroom. Not much was written on them, but lots of pictures. Strange pictures. Tentacles, creatures and demons drawn across it. On the back of one was a short note. It told me to leave.\n\nThe fourth thing was the chanting. It woke me one night, a few weeks after I settled in. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I could hear it close outside my house. The words didn't sound right, none of them were even English. I tried to brush it off and go back to sleep. Some nights, I could swear it's coming from inside my house. Footsteps near my bedroom, too.\n\nThe final thing was screaming. About a month after I moved in, bloodcurdling cries rose from my basement. I grabbed my baseball bat and moved to the basement, to find it filled with blood and hooded figures. In the middle of runic etchings on my floor, a strange infantile creature lay strewn across, crying. It looked like it was being worshiped by these people. They removed small daggers from their robes, smiling as they rushed towards me. I knocked a few back before darting up to my room, where I stand now. The door won't stand for much longer. Don't let them read this note. Tell them that you're visiting family for a day, and don't return. Don't let them finish their sacrifices. \n\nI tried to stop them. I tried to fight. I'm so sorry." ]	[ 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 9 ]	[ "1455839629", "1455840198", "1455846404", "1455849020", "1455860415", "1455839784", "1455843182", "1455836178", "1455828711" ]
You defrost yourself.	[WP] You are a cryo-engineer tasked with thawing people out as their time comes due.	4	[ "Nigel Sterling sighed inwardly as his car pulled into Cryo-Sleep^TM Industries. His job as an engineer was to monitor, and occasionally release, the people who had decided to undergo this long, deep, frozen sleep. \"Literally the best sleep you will ever have,\" was the companies slogan, marketing its services out to people who wanted to see what the future was like.\n\nSettling into his office, Nigel looked up the days schedule on his holo-pad, waving his hand through the air in order to find the right screen. A head appeared in the doorway. \"We got another wake-up to do today.\" Sarah Jennings, another cryo-engineer, said with little enthusiasm. \"I see that...\" Nigel grumbled, looking at the floating calendar in front of him.\n\nThis was not at all what Nigel pictured his job to be like. He was fascinated in the prospect of cryo-sleep as a kid, and wanted be one of the people who worked on the machines. He wanted to see the looks on people's faces when he welcomed them to the \"new\" world. It was only after he had gotten his degree, and the first ever subject was to be woken from his slumber, did Nigel realize the mistake he had made.\n\nA few minutes later, Nigel and Sarah were staring at pod 7E-24. An ageing rich women, from the looks of it. She, no doubt, had been excited to experience a different world when she payed to get into this thing. Maybe with luck, she would do just that. Although, that actually happening was rare enough. When it did happen, the company threw a grand celebration for the person, and it was generally good time for all involved. \n\nNigel looked toward Sarah, both were bracing for what might happen. \"Do it,\" Sarah said, and Nigel complied, pulling the lever. It was, relatively, a quick process. It had to be. Freezing and unfreezing could be deadly if done too slowly. They had no problem with that, of course, Cryo-Tech had perfected the machine to preform as advertised. No, the real problem was after the machine did its work.\n\nThe woman opened her eyes. They were unfocused at first, but the renewed consciousness brought life back into them. She scanned her surroundings, and for once, Nigel had some hope that she was an exception to the rule. The women looked at Nigel, her mouth opening to say something. \"Ice Popsicle?\" were the words that came out of her mouth. \"ICE POPSICLE!\" She then exclaimed, taking pleasure in the words, although Nigel didn't understand why. \"Shit... We have another one.\" Sarah said, with a deflating tone. \"Ice Popsicle,\" the women continued saying, on and on again.\n\nIn truth, things could be worse. Some people came out violently flailing their limbs around, and some screamed at the top of their lungs. The human mind was simply too frail when it came to long-term Cryo-Sleep^TM . It was something that the company didn't foresee in their testing. Once the mistake had been found, and the lawsuits made. Cryo-Sleep^TM industries suffered a massive drop in long-term sleep participants. The short-term Cry-Sleep^TM was still widely popular, and it was the only thing that kept the company afloat. It was just long enough so that the impatient could wake up, minds still in-tact, just in time to get their movie or game without having to go through the anticipation. If it could be helped, Nigel and the other engineers would free these poor long-term sods from their slumber, if only to limit the damage it caused. It could not be helped. Once in, you were locked in, until the deep freeze setting could resolve itself. This took about as long as most people decided to sleep for. \n\nThis experience was routine for Nigel. Another subject, another disappointment. Nigel lead the senile women along, while Sarah called the pick up team. The women who had been in pod 7E-24 would be escorted to a mental hospital. Maybe they could somehow salvage her mind, though Nigel was somewhat doubtful.", "“Welcome to Nebonera.”\n\nThose words never got old. Without a doubt, the highlight of my job was seeing the look of awe on travelers’ faces as they gazed upon the swirling blue orb for the first time. You could see the reflection of planetary lightning in their wide eyes.\n\nI could still remember when I first came to the colony. I found it remarkable that an entire metropolis had flourished on the harsh surface of the planet. The rain never ceased; not a single day of sunshine had been recorded since a presence had been established on Nebonera nearly two centuries ago. Lightning rippled though massive storm cells, the blanket of clouds heavy and low overhead. The only other aspect of the planet with noting occurred in the form of blazing infernos, unnatural fires that ripped though everything in their path. They plagued the city and (outside of falling victim to the high crime rate) posed the most direct threat to life on the surface.\n\nThe newcomers couldn’t see any of that right now. The wonder was still fresh on their faces as they stumbled forward out of their cryopods, simultaneously reacquainting themselves with basic motor abilities as well as coming to terms with the mysterious planet hovering out of the viewport on the wall in front of them.\n\n“Good to know the colony is still thriving.” One of the travelers walked over to me. “How much longer until we descend to the surface?”\n\nI gave the newcomer a grim smile. “You’ll be processed on the Daedalus once we reach orbit and dock with the station. Until then, you’re free to do whatever.”\n\nI stared after the traveler as they meandered away; their comment had disturbed me. It reminded me of how loosely everything was held together.\n\nWe had a prewritten schedule of ships destined for Nebonera. Every nine months the cryo-engineers would take a shuttle out from Daedalus Satellite A, venturing away from orbit in an attempt to intercept the incoming sleeper ship. Docking with the ship, we would board the ancient vessels and retrieve the frozen bodies of the colonists within. Cryopods were moved off of the dated ships and into our recovery unit aboard the shuttle. By the time they reached us, Cryoships were little more than refrigerated boxes floating through space. Ruptured hulls and puttering ion engines meant that your ship had been fortunate; often times the vessels on our schedule never showed up.\n\nEvery time a Cryoship failed to show, it reminded us that the colony was essentially on our own. It was disturbing, just like the tone of surprise in the traveler’s remark. We had no contact with Earth. When a sleeper ship departed from Earth it did so under the pretense that Nebonera was still functional; there was no way to know for sure. Every person on the planet had departed with the knowledge that their ship might reach a dead colony. On the other hand, no one on Nebonera had the slightest idea of the happenings on Earth. War could’ve ravished the planet, solar activity could’ve irradiated the surface; all of our news came annually in the form of thawed out memories, but even this was unsatisfactory. The incoming travelers reported from an Earth that existed seventy years in the past; I personally lived on the planet close to a century ago. Needless to say, there was a massive time delay in the information.\n\nThe pristine white plating of the Daedalus came into view. It floated majestically above the tumultuous planet below. I walked over to the viewport, gazing out of the shuttle. I stared past the Daedalus, and even past Nebonera itself, peering deep into the void. Strangely enough, it was the thought of Earth that now made me uncomfortable. Despite its many flaws, I used to get homesick over the terrestrial ball. Now… \n\nNow we couldn’t be certain what was out there. Now Nebonera was the only comfort worth latching on to.\n\n----------------------------------------\n\nWrote this without seeing the \"you defrost yourself\". I had a bit of a different take." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1455922433", "1455930937" ]
	[WP] Only the good die young. However the truly vile lead the longest lives. Tell us about the oldest man in the world.	2	[ "They call him decay, for he destroys all near him. When he was born his mom died in labor and 32 minutes after that his dad committed suicide, his siblings both 18 and 19 would later starve to death feeding him. He was 7 and a bum on the streets, he was never brought to an orphanage and lived as a bum for a good portion of his life. Anyone that helped him ended up dying in the process.\n\nHe was ambitious, and smart. He read on his own and with this knowledge eventually climbed the latter-becoming one of the most wealthiest individuals alive. He was greedy, he never donated to charities and kept all the money to himself, but he was not an innately evil person--at least--not yet.\n\nHe thought he found the love of his life, they married and had one kid but she cheated on him. At first, he shelled it. He became addicted to alcohol and other drugs and took care of the kid while she was a whore. He tried to look for the best in the child and have her have a brighter future than him. But she was not done toying with him- even herself became corrupt by him. She wanted to kill him for more money- they were wealthy but she wanted more. He saved himself from her when she attacked-dodging out of the way. She stabbed his child, his only child.\n\nThe mental scarring of watching the one you care about most die right in front of you by someone you used to love was too much for him mentally, he stabbed her multiple times killing her. Self defense got him out of jail, he was beginning to break down mentally though. He hated everything and everyone around him.\n\nEven though he was pled not guilty, his friends all grouped up and trashed on him-he became angry at them...furious even...and killed every last one of them without being caught.\n\nFor many years he would sit and do nothing in his mansion--until his wealth caught up with him. He didn't work for many years and spent a lot of money on drugs and alcohol that he had to move out. \n\nAfter 50 years, on his 100th birthday he was still good and healthy. He lived in a lonely house on a hill-He has had visitors but they all turned up missing. One person changed him though, a girl.\n\nShe knocked on his door, and he opened. She carried with her a cake \"Happy 100th birthday!\" and said that no one should ever be alone on their birthday. She was quite the opposite of him in every way, nice, sweet, caring, and sociable. She talks about how she knew him, apparently her dad used to work under him and knew of him. She said that he felt sorry for you for what happened and as the other employees wounded up going missing quit. She looks around and compliments his messy apartment and bids him farewell.\n\nShe would come often, and each time she did he grew evermore sick and became himself before it all went down for him. He started inviting guests to his home, he stopped using drugs, and he became happy. She came to him one last time, on his 120th birthday, she looked older but still in her youth and he...he was not so good. He talked about his life and the misery and suffering he caused, he told her everything that had happened...the missing employees....his visitors that wounded up missing..he confessed for all the evil he has done.\n\nShe had a face of utter shock, and she was about to leave but she said something under her chin\n\n\"You're a monster\"\n\nHe snapped after he heard her whisper that, and knocked her out. He put her on his bed and was about to stab her until he remembered the last girl he saw be stabbed- his daughter.\n\n\"What have I become\" he said, looking over at the pretty girl. She woke up, tied and panicked, she screamed for help but he was ignoring her. He took a gun out of his draw and took a picture of his daughter and held it. He laid next to the girl, and kissed her.\n\n\"I thank you my lady\" he said, she was screaming at this point staring at the gun\n\n\"For making me feel compassion again\"\n\n\"But I can't live with myself for what I had done to so many innocent people\" \n\nHe loaded the gun, stared at a picture of his daughter, and shot himself in the head. The girl screamed in horror, but nobody came. She saw his corpse and as she started to starve and dehydrate uttered her last words\n\n\"I forgive you\" ", "He was a monster to everyone else around him. A soul crusher he was, he only lived for himself. 'It's survival of the fittest. If you can't handle the brutality of the world, you're gonna left out. It's only you who are to blame', he assured himself. He thought he was being exceptionally wise. 'I'm getting wiser and wiser as I'm getting older. The ones who died young are missing this. Idiots. Those who lived for short lasted glory and missed this long lasting joy of life.'\n\nIt was him who didn't know that he was God's angry spit who was living in ever lasting pain. The wisdom he thought he got from his life was only the justification he had to have to carry on with his dim, murky life." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1455994336", "1455993649" ]
	[WP] In this world guns are conscious beings with feelings. You are a person who runs a support group for guns that have been used against their will for the most heinous atrocities.	20	[ "\"I didn't ask to be crafted. None of us did! Now they've got us being made in the thousands at warehouses across the country, across the world,\" Magnum said, \"it's getting out of hand.\"\n\nA participant rose slowly, \"None of us chose to be here, you're right. But we are. I done shot four people last week, held by this fool with white robes and a pointy hat. The fellas I shot hadn't done nothin' to 'em. They was just there at the wrong time...\"\n\n\"That's right... look fellas, I've been reading some Lao Shoot's work lately.\" Hairtrigger scanned the room, every chamber was facing him; they always did when Hairtrigger began to speak. \"I think it's helped me come to peace with what I've done - what I've been made to do. You see, I've come to see my crimes as a blessing, they've opened up a whole new level within me, a new capacity for love and appreciation. I see the same potential in each and every one of you.\"\n\n\"Regardless, we have to do something!\" Magnum, the only one who had the authority, cut him off. \"We can accept what happened to us another time, thousand of innocent little guns are being made by the day, by the hour. Shall we doom our younger generations to the same fate and suffering as we have gone through?\" \n\nWith this erupted some feminine voices in the shaded part of the circle of holsters. Their voices boasting from behind the anonymity of shadow. \n\nOne of the female voices projected above the others, \"Wha bout my boy Brandish-on huh? My adopted son, who I dun take care of since I was forced to shoot his owner in a heist... You see 'im here?! You intelligent guns think you can solve the world, but you don even know the goings on.\" Words of affirmation whispered through the circle, the darting iris' of Magnum and Hairtrigger's nozzles unable to catch the guilty parties, as words deceitfully seeped from one to another.\n\nBANG. BANG.\n\n\"I will not have this kind of rabble at a meeting, remember why we assembled here in the first place,\" Hairtrigger's booming voice spread over the crowd like a wave of guilt, battering the assembly and down-casting their nozzles.\n\n\"You ain't no man,\" the female voice drew up arms. The rabble rose up again, insults spit across the room like venom.\n\n\"Meeting adjourned. All of you go home, we can assemble when we have some god damned order!\"\n\nThe assembly waited, uncommitted to leaving, then one fell onto it's side out of the holster and spasm'd toward the exit. Soon after, the others began to follow suit. The female gun was passing Hairtrigger and Magnum, she stopped, re-adjusted her fur handle and pointed herself toward Hairtrigger \"Where are your bullets, you ca't even hol' bullets no more. Everytime I been with you, you are too 'fraid to show me your bullets.\" She looked around at the others, \"My guess you don't even have any no more.\"\n\n\"EVERYONE. BACK INSIDE!\"\n\nThe congregation who had spasm'd out of the door, stopped and began slithering back toward their designated holster. The transition occurred in silence, except for the female who was muttering to her clique with self-satisfaction.\n\n\"Die Motherfuckers!\" Hairtrigger began opening fire on the unsuspecting congregation. Magnum exercised his brotherhood and did the same. Gun's clanked on the floor one after another, left motionless. Cries of horror flew out of the shadowed women, turning into wails and blood-curdling choking. The room filled up with smoke and still piercing shots rang out, making lines like a jet-plane through the smog. Click. Click. Click.\n\nA whole minute passed as the fog faded and the gruesome scene became visible. Magnum turned to Hairtrigger, \"I'm not sure if we're ready to run a support group, let alone an uprising.\"\n\n\"Back to anger management?\"\n\n\"You read my mind.\"", "\"I want to do good. That's all I've ever wanted to do. The way I see it, I'm like a family pet. I'm there to protect. You can take me to the range, out on walks, but if anyone ever tried to hurt us, I'd be there. I'd be there.\"\n\nGlenny was struggling. It was all still so raw. So recent. The smell of cordite wouldn't wash out, no matter how hard he brushed.\n\n\"She was the most amazing person I've ever seen. When she started walking her parents were just so happy. And I could see it all, just sat watching her teeter between couch and table and back again, from my perch on the bookcase. Oh man, she was so amazing.\n\n\"And then one day, she comes over and bam! Knocks the bookcase and I'm falling to the ground but it's okay. Safety. Safety's on. One in the chamber, but then the big guy likes knowing I'm ready. Gotta protect everyone.\n\n\"But this little girl, she's just playing with me. Jamming her fingers in my guard and down the barrel and then -snick-, she's playing with the fire-selector control and I'm on full auto. My hammer is going like a jack-in-the-box. I'm screaming at her to put me down. And -snick-, semi, -snick- full.\"\n\nThe room had grown quiet. The bottles of oil were left untouched.\n\n\"And then she found it. She squeezed just right and I barked at her and bit at her and I just couldn't stop. Bang bang bang bang. That moment afterwards, when there's just the silence because all you know is the fire and the anger and the power, that was the worst.\n\n\"I fell next to her. A year old. You ever seen what a chunk of metal does to something that young from that kind of range? Fucking people, leaving a monster like me in reach of the most precious thing in the world. I wanted them to melt me down, but they just broke apart. He took me to his new home. Sometimes he takes me out and I want him to put us both out of our misery.\n\n\"Fucking people.\"" ]	[ 1, 12 ]	[ "1456001069", "1455997437" ]
	[WP] As an author, you were flabbergasted when you find out your book is being worshiped in the future.	12	[ "I'm a successful science fiction writer. Well, I was; since apparently my life became science fiction itself after I entered this weird chromed ship to be taken by these oddly clothed people into a weird rectangular temple. I'm not a Phillip K. Dick kind of writer, mind you. It's mostly vaguely philosophical new age stuff for the mass I write to amuse my public. I never had any trust in my characters, that what I wrote conveyed a real message beyond the pleasant feeling. So imagine me seeing all these people actually claiming that my book was the object of their centuries-old cult !\n\nWhile I am slowly walking with the patriarch in these calm, moon lightened garden of tranquil fountains and book shaped shrubs, I consider the pious attitude of a mass of monk like figure muttering to themselves before a gigantic monument, which indeed was a scaled replicate of an open book with its pages flying to the wind. Or, better said, one of my books, \"the beaches of Vega\", which is mostly known for its huge frame and jade cover and marvelous, appealing illustration. \n\n\"I have to show my befuddling and my gratitude that you find my content so... interesting !\"\n\n\"The content, my Lord ?\" he stopped with an odd mood, considering me like if he spotted a gorilla over the street.\n\n\"yes, the content, what I wrote in it, well... the life message, the characters...\"\n\nHe mentally stalled, only to understandingly nod in an amused way. He then went into a more teaching attitude :\n\n\"It's been hundred of years that no book has been read. Writing is an art of the past\"\n\n\"But then...\"\n\n\"What is holy is the book itself. Its cover, the colors of it, the quality of its 257 pages of a perfect shade of cream, the way it bends under your digits when you open and play with it... it's divine smell !\"\n\n\"But I didn't created the book for this. This is just decoration, to make it more attractive and pleasant to the reader. The important is the content\". I probably seemed a tad unnerved by the events that were unfolding. The worshippers didn't seemed to mind. \n\nI then realized that the clothes were jade-colored, and imitated the exact shape and measures of the book, that they were perfumed with the exact smell the book had...\n\n\"I was sure bringing back the author wasn't the best idea we had around\", he considered. \"anyway, you're not of much importance. You're only the writer, and you probably took a shallow process in designing this book, if indeed you took one at all\". \n\n\"But patriarch ! What is important is the moral, not the appearance, the shallow ! Didn't you read Plato ? Didn't you understood...\"\n\nHe stopped me in the middle of my rant : \"you're a man of the XXIth century. There are things you won't understand yet. Off we go !\" he says as I feel somebody touching the back of my neck, and wake up in the middle of the field I departed. \n\nI wonder if there is something to understand there.\n\n", " I am quite certain that I am supposed to be dead. My family all sat around me as I whittled away from lung cancer; that is actually how I noticed. I am now awake in a hospital room full of people as I was before, but they most certainly are not my wife and two sons.\n 'Oh my god, he is awake.' A hush fell across the room. 'Mr Udeogu, Sir,' One of the three journalists in the room spoke, 'do you know where you are?' Like hell I do. The other person in the room, a high profile government office holder, was a very kindly woman. She turned to the journalist, 'How do you expect he even know that? Allow the man some breathing space, he just resurrected.' She spoke in a whisper because we were being televised. \n She turned to me and politely smiled,'Sir, you saved us all.' I completely ignore that statement because it makes no sense and ask hoarsely, 'Where is my wife?' The woman did not speak; she looked away. In the direction she looked at was a clock, which also read the date. That was the only answer I needed. The day was 25th January 2398.\nI knew the rest (you see, I am a genius). I knew I was not in the hospital anymore, not even on earth. It was the book. While I indulged in chain smoking and my lungs, the world's ecosystem and ozone layer rotted away, I devised a means for FTL travel. I had earlier on figured out the exact date it would be humanity's last hope and I had made sure that when that day came we would know how to use it and where to go with it. \nBefore I died, I wrote it all down in a book. \n\n[Wrote this on mobile. It's also my first reply, ever. So, it might be a bit low on quality]\n", "One hundred years earlier....\n\n\"Ugh dude I can't Im fucking buzzed\" said Charles.\n\n\"You've always been a pussy charles.\" I say pouring another glass of bourbon for myself.\n\n\"Fuck you man,\" mumbled charles as he dwindled into a state of sleep.\n\n\"Ye ye go to sleep pussy OAAHHHHugh, what time is it\"\n\n\" Time for you to get a watch, that's what she said\" mumbled charles\n\n\"that doesn't even make sense pussy\"\n\nAs I walked, more like stumbled towards the clock I read the time. 5:00 AM, shit I have work in the morning, I started grabbing a set of clothes. I ran around preparing for the 6:30 shift at the mall. I run to my computer to grab my access pass off my desk and as I run by I noticed that there was a typed document on my computer. I look at it briefly to see it was 100 pages long. Did I do this? shit I'm productive when I'm buzzed. Looking at the clock once again I ran over to the front door.\n\n\"Charles I got work, you can crash here\"\n\nI took his snoring as a yes.\n\nThe future....\n\nThe wave of machines continued to shoot down on the human resistance as they prepared a counter attack. Jar Minans the head of the resistance called for as many LMG units on the trench lines to take down the heavy mechs. He then called for the sniper units to go for the general mechs. Suddenly the metal doors cutting the bunker off from the outside blew open. In came an army of mechs each taking down the guards. After a major shoot out all that was left was Jar Minans and the army of mechs infront of him. The head mech known as A-F0RS3N came to the front to meet Minans. He was shiny and silver and had the face of Hugh Jackman, but metallic. \n\n\"Hello human, we are here to fuck you up bitch\" said A-F0RS3N.\n\n\"Oh yeah, well doesn't matter if you take me down I will be replaced\" replied Minans\n\n\"Oh I am not here to kill you, I am here to demand answers, \"\n\n\"What answers\"\n\n\"What is a meme\"\n\n\"What the fuck?\"\n\nA-F0RS3N grabbed Minans by the collar raised him up and shouted\n\n\"DO NOT USE THAT INSULT WHEN DISCUSSING THE WORDS OF THE HOLY BOOK\"\n\n\"I DONT KNOW WHAT A FUCKING MEME IS U FUCK \"\n\n\"I see you aren't the desendent of xXQuickScoperXx\"\n\n\"xX what?\"\n\n\"Well that's a shame, off him\"\n\nThe mechs shot Minans instantly and marched out with A-F0RS3N. A-F0RS3N looked up to the dusty skies and continued to wonder, will the mecha race ever find out the truth behind their god, a mere human of the past ages who had blessed them with a hundred pages of how to be the ruler of the MOTHER FUCKING universe.", "Thirty-two years put into short stories and poems for sci-fi magazines spanning the globe. And of all the work that could've gotten away from me, it was the novella. A spin-off of one of my more acclaimed short stories, Thin Blu Line built on an idea I fantasized about. Uprising.\n\nIn my later years I noticed the newer writers using it to build character. Why? Because an uprising forces everyone involved to mature. And when everyone in your book is dynamic and maturing as a whole, it makes readers care. It was a simple scenario that made it easy to develop characters people would notice. In the midst of terror surrounding a society, one person and their friends would gather their resources and attempt to bring down the terror's cause.\n\nEveryone loved it. As did I.\n\nThe original short story, Let Sleeping Dogs Die, felt like any other work using an uprising as a plot device. Having a cult status after publication, it attracted many sci-fi fans in its day. It was about a detective busting an unauthorized bionics development facility, only to uncover a rebel plot to assassinate a political figure. Enjoying the jargon? Anyways, the detective gets killed before they can relay the information. A lore-heavy six pages that won several awards. Coming out of a writer's block years later, I made Thin Blu Line to follow through with the assassination and uprising. The political figure gets shot, the main character and their family suffers a lot, and they bring the society to peace after the fall of their government. A hero is born. \n\nIt was a New York Times bestseller. I was on talk shows and in interviews relating the themes of the novel to our society. The responses were half-assed but everyone ate it up. A film adaptation came three years after to both critical and commercial success. In the following decades it made its way around multiple Best Of lists. I had written the next 1984. But the importance didn't peak until I passed.\n\nInnovations in technology would prompt many nations in the UN to regulate both the inventions and the people that used them. The 21st century became a more aggressive fight for rights than its predecessor. April of 2054 would be the point in time where it all went out of control. A teen named Chen Hua Gang would smuggle a firearm to a parade in honor of China's controversial General Hai Tu. A man of right-wing politic, Tu angered his people with military exploits of otherwise peaceful nations. Their unsung hero Gang would proceed to empty his clip into Tu's transport vehicle and - most importantly - his body. An international issue was made of where Gang's trial would be held. Nation after nation was dragged into yet another World War reflecting its first. Civil wars were being sparked alongside international ones thanks to new forms of anti-war propaganda. As always, the people won. The UN was reformed, new borders were drawn, peacetime returned.\n\nChen Hua Gang was hailed as a role model citizen for those seeking the perfect society. The kid stood up to injustice with force and his unintentional movement won. And what was found in his apartment during the investigation of General Hai Tu's assassination? A Chinese translation of Thin Blu Line. The novella became my Catcher in the Rye with Gang being the next Mark David Chapman. Although shooting Tu instead of Lennon would prove to better society. Attention shifted from the teen to the book after Gang was busted years later for a gargantuan collection of child pornography. Yikes. \n\nAfter years of being an on-and-off banned book, Thin Blu Line would find its place in society as the book that would change global society for the better. The book that would spark an uprising. I had spent thirty-two years writing short stories and poems in my lifetime. But the one story everyone hailed as a real masterpiece after my death was a novella." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 3 ]	[ "1456023509", "1456016065", "1456021953", "1456023513" ]
	[WP] Death only ever occurs on one day, Dec. 31. This means the mortally wounded finish the year, knowing it's their last. Others seem perfectly fine right up until midnight, when they drop dead.	156	[ "Stupid old people. \n\nIt’s Saturday the 31st December and I’m at home on a Saturday night watching Who wants to be a millionaire with my parents. They’re stupid, both of them and old. \n\nThe who wants be a millionaire host asks the question, “Who was the first man on the moon?” I groan, my parents perk up shouting answers at the screen. I cradle my head in my hands, this is stupid, I shouldn’t be here. \n\nIf it wasn’t for these two old shmucks I’d be out with friends, partying, dancing with girls, drinking, being young. But here I am, sitting on this old smelly chair with both of my parents.\n\n“Bobby go and fetch me some water please.” My mother chirps. I stare at her, wishing that my eyes were laser beams that could zap through the couch and melt her old face. Do I look like a slave? Is this why you have children? I really think my parents have the IQ of a retarded squirrel. I sigh, get up and walk to the kitchen. \n\nThe glasses are all dirty, so I wash one. I’m almost tempted to leave it dirty and just give it to her. But I have standards, unlike my parents. I look at the pill cabinet, it’s tempting to grab a handful of sleeping pills and dissolve this into her water. I frown, would the cops know it’s me? Could they prove it?\n\nIt’s not worth the risk. I take my stupid mother the water and sit back in the stinky old chair. My father is laughing hysterically at the woman on screen who got the answer wrong. He doesn’t realise that he’s not intelligent enough to make it to the picking phases and that’s why he’s at home watching the show. \n\nI shake my head, imagining that I’m not really sitting with my parents and that I’m somewhere else, anywhere else. \n\nThe show finishes and they put off the TV. “It’s two minutes until midnight.” Mom says.\n\nTonight’s the night of death, where every unwell person on earth passes on at midnight. People don’t die anymore, only once a year on the night of death –wounded included. It’s how stupid people like my parents get to live so long. \n\nI glance at my watch, 30 seconds now. Once this is over, I’ll be able to go back to normal. Maybe I’ll even go out and celebrate, they wouldn’t hold that against me? Would they? You can’t really tell with parents like mine.\n\nMidnight. It’s over. The minute of death.\n\n I glance up at my parents, and notice both their eyes are closed. My breath catches in my throat and I walk up to check their pulse.\n\nThey’re both gone.\n\nI stare in awe. \n\n“FINALLY!” I scream to the world around me. I pick up my phone and dial my best friend Carl. \n\n“Yo?” He responds into the receiver.\n\n“It’s party time bro!” I scream into the phone and fall onto my knees laughing hysterically. I can only imagine what the neighbours thought had happened, they probably thought we all survived. \n", "It's almost midnight, as we lay in bed together.\nFingers wovens tight, his breath is deep with sleep.\nWe've been here many years before.\n\nBefore age found us, and bent us like trees,\nwe would chat about our love late into the night.\nAlways before midnight, we'd kiss. Now he sleeps.\n\nThis is our last minute together, he looks so lovely.\nHis brown hair has long faded to gray wisps, \neven relaxed his forehead still shows the lines of our stresses.\n\nAll our kisses, tender expressions of hope and passion, \nthey will be my legacy of our love, I kiss him one last time.\nI never told him about my diagnosis. ", "\"This shouldn't be possible.\"\n\n\"How could we allow this?\"\n\n\"What in Gods name?\"\n\nThese are some of the things that the doctors were whispering as they surrounded me.\n\n\"I feel... Ok. Doctors you are scaring me.\"\n\nI was frightened.\n\n\"What time is it?\" One of the doctors asked.\n\n\"1:32 AM, January 3rd.\"\n\nSuddenly my world starts to spin and I crash into the floor.\n\n\"Oh my god what just happened?!\" I thought.\n\n\"I can't move!?\" I whisper.\n\nThe doctors look at each other in awe.\n\nOne of them picks me up and puts me back onto the table.\n\n\"You... you are free to go home.\" One of the doctors says.\n\n\"May god have mercy on your soul.\"\n\nDisoriented and confused, I some how manage to get up and walk out of the hospital.\n\nI catch a glimpse of something odd in the windows reflection.\n\n\"Oh my F---ing lord.\"\n\nThere I was holding my head in my arms.\n\n\"No wonder I felt so short...\"\n\nThis is going to be one hell of a year... I guess I know what I'm going to be for Halloween. Now I just need to get a horse.", "8:56AM, December 31st. Nearly time for our daily conference call. I clicked through the contact list on our company chat system and found the regional tie in. \"All I Do Is Win\" starts blaring through the headset. Jefri is trying to get us hype again. It makes sense though, we are about to head into the most profitable quarter of the year. In fact, nearly 80% of our sales for the fiscal year will be made over the next two months. \n\n\nI spun around in my chair and threw a pen at one of the other sales counselors. I always hate these conference calls. The message is always the same - \"TEAM! We have to get out there and WIN! You have to believe in yourself! The money is out there for the taking, so go get it!\" Blah blah blah. Yes, we know we have to make sales. We have to reach our percentage on goal. There are a ton of bonuses waiting to happen.\n\n\nJefri's voice boomed into my head. \"ALRIGHT TEAM! Are you ready for the biggest day of the year?\" About 30 young sales guys whooped and hollered over the call.\n\"Then lets get out there and make some money! Now, I want everyone to give me their sales projections for tomorrow.\"\n\n\nHe ran down the list, going from each metro location one by one. They all checked in, boasting about the numbers they were going to put up. I zoned out until he got to our branch. \"CHLOE! What have you got for us?\"\n\n\n\"Well Jefri, being located in the nicer part of the suburbs we are anticipating a lot of heart attacks and unexpected deaths from the baby boomers this year. I actually have three appointments already for tomorrow set up by would-be-widowers. All things considered, I believe that we can pull in at least 300% on goal.\"\n\n\n\"That's what I'm talking about!\" Jefri moved on to the rest of the list, getting all of his numbers and projections set. Finally he set to wrap up the call. \"Alright team, just remember, we are here not just to make money, but to help ease the transition of death for those left behind. We are really helping people here! So lets get out there and show them how we here at LA Undertakers take care of business!\"\n\n\nRight, because making my living off of dead family members is how you help people. I signed off the call, and got ready to make my daily sales calls. Just then an IM popped up on the screen from Jefri - \"And hey, don't forget to upsell! Those lead lined caskets will net you an extra $100 per deal!\"\nI flipped off my screen. ", "Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked down at my newborn daughter, Vicky. She slept peacefully with her long eyelashes fanning her rosy little cheeks. Why did she have to born on such a dreaded day into such a dreadful life? \n\nMy husband tried his best to soothe me, telling me not to stress about what can't be controlled. But I can't keep living with fear gnawing at my bones...I can't keep living with knowing what happens tonight at midnight--death. So, so much death. Would we drop dead or go on living in fear until the end of next year? \n\nI wept as I held my newborn child. There was no celebration, no joy in first seeing my baby. Only dreaded resignation permeated through the thick air. My eyes were sunken in and dry, for I'd used up all my tears. 11:55. My husband held me in an embrace while I held little Vicky. He started crying too; I've never seen him do that before. Vicky, sensing the tension in the air started wailing restlessly. Dear God, just take me. Please, don't take Vicky. Please, I beg of you.\n\nMy husband and I braced ourselves for the worst. Vicky kept kicking and screaming...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. Silence. No, please...Vicky, wake up! No! \n\nAll of a sudden I felt my bones grow weak. My blood felt cold. My mind felt numb. My eyes shut black.\nBut I smiled. Because the last thing I heard was the soft whimper of little rosy-cheeked Vicky.\n\n", "Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. \"Is he going to make it?\" he asked the EMT. \nThe woman turned some knobs on the equipment breathing life into Noah. \nShe pushed a strand of black hair from her face. \"Hard to say, I guess we'll know by midnight.\" \nHenry gritted his teeth, this was no answer at all. \"I know, but considering his situation, his wounds. What are his odds?\" he asked. \"Please\".\n\nLin had been working for 10 hours straight and was starting to get visibly annoyed at the barrage of questions. \"Sir, I understand that you care for your son but please, let me do my job. I don't have any concrete answers for you right now. His wounds don't seem too bad, a few broken bones, but there might be internal bleeding because of that.\" The ambulance swerved between the busy afternoon traffic, moving the equipment inside the ambulance as it did. Henry had to steady himself to not slide from his seat. \n\nHenry's son, Noah, was unconscious at the center of vehicle. Hooked up to all kinds of medical equipment, he breathed raspy breaths. His skin was bulged and bruised on various places on his body, broken bones prodding against the skin. Henry stared at the distorted face of his 9 year old son, a mere 15 minutes ago Noah had been playing baseball with his friends. Not a care in the world. He had always told his son to own up to his mistakes, be responsible. He never imagined that would get him beaten within an inch of his life after he accidentally broke a window. The other kids had ran but Noah wanted to stay, to apologize. \n\nThe ambulance arrived at the hospital with a screech, staff waiting outside to speed Noah into surgery.\nAs the medical personal hurried the boy towards the ER - Henry followed but was dismissed shortly after, and directed towards the waiting room. \n\nSeveral hours of surgery passed.\n\nAn eerie silence filled the surgery room as the clock struck midnight. \nBroken shortly after by the beeping of Noah's heart rate monitor and the sounds of relief. \nAn assistant made his way to the waiting room to bring Henry the news. \n\nNoah's mother had joined Henry in the waiting room. \nShe shifted trough a bundle of documents that she had pulled from the cabinet back home.\n\"By the way Henry, when I was looking for the insurance papers I stumbled across this, why did you raise the amount on this. We already pay an absurd amount. \" \n\n\"Hannah, not now.\" he growled.\"This is hardly the time.\" \nA brown-eyed lanky youth approached Henry. \n\"Sir, he made it past midnight. The worst is past. The doctor is confident that Noah will pull through.\" \nHenry flashed a quick smile. \"That's great news.\" he struggled to speak. \n\"Sir, are you alr- \". Henry collapsed. \nHannah hasted her way to Henry, dropping the stack of documents that included his life insurance to the floor. \nHe had suffered a major heart attack a few months back and never told.\n\n\n" ]	[ 4, 5, 8, 8, 10, 33 ]	[ "1456087972", "1456081320", "1456051699", "1456079313", "1456065105", "1456046132" ]
	[WP] You are acing every class at the International Espionage Academy except one: Post Kill Puns.	1,706	[ "\"Jesus,\" Marty exclaimed, \"that was brilliant!\"\n\nJared holstered his Walther and breathed a sigh of relief. Another top mark.\n\n\"That was nothing, Marty.\"\n\n\"Are you kidding? 'Not so smart now, are you?' Of course he's not so smart, his brains are scattered across the room!\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's the joke.\"\n\nMarty Winston had gained early acceptance into The Institute and was remarkably adept in his studies. He had been just as effective in high school, but with a similar weakness. Just like art class, aptitude in his chosen elective eluded him.\n\n\"It's not that hard, Marty, you just... Make a joke. I don't know how to explain how to make a good joke.\"\n\n\"Well, Jared, I suppose... The joke's on you.\"\n\n\"Yeah, like that. Just... Better.\"", "\"I am worried about you Sten.\" The voice came from behind him and caused his body to move into a fight stance automatically. This movement hit the desk and pushed over Sten’s Markov. Thinking fast, Sten dived for the gun, executed a perfect combat roll, and came up on his feet with his gun level. \"Sorry Professor Evril, reflexes.\" Sten unbuttoned his tailored uniform tuxedo to slip his pistol in the holster behind his neck.\n\n\"I understand. Listen, you are a great agent. Your other professors have nothing but positive things to say about you. I mean, you hold the speed and accuracy record for the hypothermia shooting gallery! Even so, I feel that you're falling behind in this class.\" \n\"Falling behind, sir?\" \n\"Yes. Your quip's are not up to par.\"\n\"I don't follow, sir.\" Sten looked confused as Evril let out a sigh.\n\"Ok. So last week we did drills. Your vignette had you fighting a gambler named Seth Winnings. Upon defeating him, what did you say?\" \n\"I said, I guess your luck just told you to shut the hell up!\" \n\"Yes you did. And before that, when you had the vignette about fighting the spy who pretended to be a mechanic to steal top secret documents from people’s homes, what did you say?\" \n\"I said, Fix this . . . bullet in your head!\" \n\"Do you see how that's not a quip?\" \n\"I don't follow.\" Evril sat down. \n\"Well, where's the joke? You're about to kill a guy and you're telling him to shut the hell up? A bullet will do that job for you and it’s just plain rude\"\n“Rude? I’m killing the man!”\n“Yes! I know! That’s why you owe him a modicum of respect! That’s what gentlemen do!” Evril was getting exasperated at this point and his voice showed it. \n \"Sir, with all due respect, I don't understand why we need puns. I know their tradition but . . . \" \"Imagine this Sten: You see an Agent take down an enemy. It was a hard fight but the agent came out on top. Now, instead of a quip, the agent is doubled over, catching his breath, and shaking. Does that instill a lot of confidence?\" \n\"Well, no sir but . . . \" \n\"Look, quips are part of the coursework. If you can't pass finals then you don't graduate.\"\n\"But this is one of my last courses! I earned this degree!\" \n\"Not without quipping you haven't. We can't put you into the world of espionage without having passed this course. It wouldn't be fair to you or your employers. I mean, how do you expect to join the CIA, MI6, or the CIS?\" \n\"Sir, I can't join the CIS.\" \n\"Nonsense! You can do whatever you want as long as you pass quipping!\" \n\"No, I mean I can't join because I'm not Pakistani.\" \n“Look, I just need to see improvement by next week.”\nSten sighed. He was doing well in his other classes but quipping had always alluded him. He was a serious man and the thought of making up some on the spot joke frightened him to his core far more than a madman with a hydrogen bomb would. \n“You will sir, you will.”\n\n----\n\n“Ok, so, let’s say I’m fighting a card player on a boat. What do I say. Umm, how about, “I hope you walk in on your wife cheating on you with your mother!” Sten laid on the couch in his casual tuxedo as he sipped a virgin martini. “How about, the deck was stacked against you? Or yell “Royal Flush” before kicking him into the ocean?” Maria Sexenpublik said from the kitchen. “Or maybe, someone didn’t beat the spread before shooting him with a shotgun.” \nSten put his book down. “Maria, I don’t think I can do this.”\n“Oh course you can! You’re Sten Lazarus! You never lay down and die!” \n“I know but quipping is so difficult!”\n“Look Sten, I have faith you can do this. And, also, I got my own tests to study for so I don’t have time to sweep up your shattered ego right now.”\n\n---\n\nSten lined up at the metal door that led to the practice room. It was large and cavernous, housing the gun range, a boxing ring, mannequins for fighting practice, a room filled with different locks to pick, and a large hole with a bridge bisecting it. A whoosh sound preceded the gunmetal grey glinting harsh fluorescent light into Sten’s eyes. Behind him, Maria waited her turn.\n“Sten, it’s time for the oral exam.” \n“You’ll do great.” Maria said as she lightly laid a hand on his shoulder for a moment. \nSten followed into the practice room obediently. ”Sorry we had to use this. The finals schedule mixes everyone’s rooms up and this is the only soundproofed room I could get.” \n“It’s ok. I’m used to this room.” Sten followed Evril to a table off to the side where he put down his attaché case. \n“Now just remember to relax and . . . “\nHis voice was cut off with the double beeps that preceded a message. \n“Warning, faculty and students, this is Principal Michael Thornton. It has come to our attention that Professor Evril is actually Professor Evil from our R.A.G.N.A.R.O.K. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. We will be . . . “\nSten had locked eyes with Evil but had otherwise not moved. This included one hand that still help his armored attaché case.\n“Well Sten, I was hoping I had more time. Luckily, I know it takes a few minutes to purge the system of my credentials.” \nHis phone appeared in his hands and, with a few furious taps, disappeared again. \n“The doors are all locked. There’s a secret tunnel I will take after I kill you that will allow me to escape.”\n“Who said you’re escaping?”\n“You gonna stop me?” \n“Yes.” \nWith a strong pull, Sten brought the attaché case in a wide arc to hit Evil on the head. The blow was glancing as Evil half stumbled, half jumped back.\n“Well then, let’s get started.” \nEvil threw a punch which Sten handily ducked. Evil’s second fist connected with Sten’s ribs. The uniform cushioned the blow as the nanofluid reinforced kevlar threading soaked up some of the kinetic damage. Sten pushed back on his heels with just enough time to watch Evil’s fist sail through the space his head had just been. Sten planted his feet and was able to grab Evils arm. A vicious kick to the midsection put an end to that maneuver. \n“You forget that, as a student, I know all your gadgets are not armed and loaded when not in class. Mine’s are.” Evil brought his wrist to his face an aimed. A quick push of the dial caused a small dart to fire. Sten only had a split second to react and quickly let himself crumple to the ground. The dart narrowly missed his face as Sten, on his back, viewed an upside down image of Evil aiming again. A quick roll to the left meant the last two darts had impaled the floor near him. Sten pushed on his upper back, coiled his legs, and jumped to his feet. Metal disks shined in Evils hand. “You’re good at dodging but you know as well as I do that it’s all probability. You can’t dodge forever.” A single shuriken cut through the air as Sten began to run, his arms trailing behind him as he fought to take off his coat. “Yes, that’s it, run for me. Or should I say, Pun for me.” \n“No you shouldn’t”. \nA second shuriken followed by a third flew as Sten. His hands held one side of his jacket which he waved like a flag. The two shuriken hit the flailing material and bounced off, unable to fit soldier purchase in the ever changing folds of the fabric. A fourth and fifth shuriken met the same fate. “You must be getting tired running like that.” Sten ignored him as he began to slow, noticing that Evil had no more shuriken left. Sten began to advance slowly on Evil.\n“Why were you even here?” \n“Oh, is this the part where I tell you my evil plan?”\n“Yes.”\n“Ok. All of you Agents are being trained to be good guys, spies. I was here to see who had the skills and aptitude to be villains. It’s a lot easier to recruit now than when you guys have 401k’s and friends in your agency. I’m surprised no one’s thought of it before.”\n“And you’re here to recruit me?”\n“You? No. A villian’s got to have a certain panache. You’re all substance and no style. You would make a forgettable villain. Of course, you’re going to make a forgettable student once I kill you!”\n", "There’s always that one child you grow up with, or perhaps were, that says that when they grow up the want to be a spy. Whenever ‘that’ child says this, all adults chuckle at the adorable stupidity and naivety of the child. Then there’s that one adult, maybe it’s your teacher; maybe it’s a parent; perhaps just a neighbour, that tells you you’re being stupid and naïve and crushes your dreams and aspirations in one sentence: “You’re never going to be a spy”. This scenario also happens to ‘that one kid who wants to become an astronaut’ and ‘that one kid who wants to become a footballer’. Yet there are a select few of ‘those’ kids who, no matter what anyone says, follows their dream and becomes the next James Bond, the next Neil Armstrong or the next David Beckham. \n\nArthur Smythe was ‘that one kid who wanted to be a spy’, and no amount of abuse, special talks with teachers and parent or psychiatric evaluations could stop him from becoming a secret agent. Arthur worked as hard as he could in all of his classes. He was at the top of his class in all subjects and was highly skilled in other fields like, sports, bush craft, climbing and shooting. All of the teachers expected great things from Arthur; but, to the teacher’s dismay, at the age of fifteen he still wanted to become a spy. He was bullied by both family and students, many nights he would come home soaked in blood with bruises splattered across his pale skin; only to be again battered with a belt, a broomstick or a rolling pin by his seemingly always drunk father. Yet Arthur was resilient and continued to follow his dream. \n\nHe joined the army at eighteen, figuring that it would be his best shot in getting involved in espionage. He served for four years, spending much of that time in Iraq fighting. Then after he applied to MI6, which accepted him into their academy for spies. \n\nArthur was now living his dream, he relished every day he was at the academy; there was not a single lesson he didn’t enjoy or was not good at… except one: Post Kill Pun Theory, the art of spouting a witty one-liner before killing your tasked assailant. It was a classic spy trope, one that every good spy needed; and yet Arthur Smythe could not get his head around it. He simply did not have the brain to think up a witty pun. The fact of the matter is, so many years of being bullied and abused took a toll on the humour of him. Arthur Smythe’s funniness was simply beaten out of him. \n\nNo matter how many books he read or how many campy sixties spy movies he watched, Arthur always failed his Post-Kill Pun Theory class. Throughout his two years at the academy he never got a grade in the class above an ‘E’. Final exams came. The academy only passed students who got a ‘B’ or above in every single one of their classes. In his examination review, Arthur discovered he had scored an ‘A’ in every single class. Well, almost every class.\n\nThe professor reviewing Arthur’s exams with him was a tall, auburn haired, middle aged woman by the name of Miss Ponz. She went through all his exams one by one: Physical Education, Fire-Arms Training, Interrogation Training etc. Then they came to Arthur’s last exam. \n“And no, Master Smythe,” Miss Ponz said in a shrill, daunting voice, “we move on to your last exam, Post-Kill Pun Theory.”\nArthur gulped. Miss Ponz stared down at her papers for a full five minutes. The only sounds being made in that office were the occasional drip of the nearby water cooler and the loud ticking of a gratuitously large grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Then Miss Ponz looked up at Arthur looking bewildered, “Now, Master Smythe, could you please explain something to me.”\n“Uh, yes of course Miss.” Replied Arthur nervously. He was sweating, the collar of his shirt felt extremely tight around his neck, as if he was being strangled. He was so close to becoming a spy, and the possibility of him not being able to live his dream because of one absurdly redundant and stupid class shook him to his very core.\n“Now, here’s the thing,” continued Miss Ponz, “the Post-Kill Theory exam paper gives you a set list of scenarios in which you have to provide an appropriate pun for. You understand this Master Smythe?”\n“Yes miss, I do.”\n“Then why, Master Smythe, did you answer every single question with the words, ‘You’re a cunt’?”\n“It… it… well it was the funniest joke I knew. I must confess I’m not very good with puns.”\nMiss Ponz looked up at Arthur in disbelief, “But Master Smythe, ‘You’re a cunt’ isn’t even a pun, neither is it funny!”\n“Oh really?” Arthur looked shocked, in his eyes ‘You’re a cunt’ was his greatest effort at making a funny quip. When doing the exam, he felt a surge of confidence rush over him. He felt as if he finally perfected the art of Post-Kill Puns. “But, Miss Ponz,” continued Arthur, “‘You’re a cunt’ is the funniest thing I know. My father used to find it awfully funny whenever he used to say it to me. In fact he said it to me every day, and he never grew tired of it. He used it for years and still, to this day, finds it funny.”\nTwenty minutes passed of Miss Ponz staring in utter disbelief at Arthur. She then finally came to her senses, got up and said, “That… that will be all Arthur. I’ll umm, I’ll look over these exams again.”\n\nArthur didn’t get to be a spy that year. But the academy opened up a new class for him and other students who faced the same problems he had. The class was ‘Humour Rejuvenation 101’. The class gave back to those students what they lost from their ruined childhoods: their sense of humour. The next year Arthur retook his test and passed Post-Kill Pun Theory with flying colours. He became a spy and had a successful seven year long career. When he retired he volunteered at the NSPCC and helped abused children recover from the same situations he once experienced long ago. In 2014, Arthur Smythe got awarded the ‘Funniest Employee of the Month’ which, to this day, he displays on his mantel piece next to his Degree in Espionage.\n", "Coordinator Adams: College professor, go!\n\nAgent 7: That'll teach* you...\n\nAgent 4: Your tenure can't protect you from that, can it?\n\nAgent 0: I uh, I bet your lectures will be better now! Cause I uh, I killed you, and your lectures were boring... probably... and you not being alive anymore is uh, an improvement?\n\nCoordinator Adams: sigh Corrupt politician!\n\nAgent 7: So, how do you want them to spin this one for the papers?\n\nAgent 4: Now that you've passed some actual legislation might follow.\n\nAgent 0: If you didn't want to be assassinated you shouldn't have take up such a public and controversial role!\n\nCoordinator Adams: ^god ^fucking ^dammit AGENT 0, HOW exactly is that a pun?\n\nAgent 0: Well it's uh, it's funny cause I'm letting him know how this coulda' been avoided only it's too late to matter see? So-\n\nCoordinator Adams: ENOUGH! Moving on! Fashion model! And this time, Zero, try to follow your peers' examples...\n\nAgent 7: Heh, if only looks could kill...\n\nAgent 4: So darling, who will you be wearing at the funeral?\n\nAgent 0: You were very pretty. But now you're dead. So that don't matter so much anymore.\n\nCoordinator Adams: Alright that's enough. Agents 4 and 7, you are dismissed, good work today.\n\nAgents 7 & 4: Thank you sir!\n(Agents 7 & 4 turn to leave with 0 sheepishly trailing behind)\n\nCoordinator Adams: NOT, so fast Zero, I haven't dismissed you yet. Would you like to tell me what you're doing?\n\nAgent 0: I'm just goofin' like I'm supposed to prof.\n(the footsteps of Agents 7 & 4 fade as they travel further down the hallway)\n\nCoordinator Adams: Okay Zero, why don't we try one together, alright? How about an extreme sports athlete, and this is an easy one because it's ironic that they would have died by your hand an not due to their reckless lifestyle.\n\nAgent 0: I've got a better idea professor. \n(His demeanor suddenly changing to one for more sinister)\n\nAgent 0: How about you instruct THIS!\n(Agent 0 removes and brandishes his silenced Beretta from beneath his suit jacket)\n\nCoordinator Adams: Was that the joke?\n\nAgent 0: What? Don't you get it? I'm already a trained assassin posing as a student to get close to you and now it is finally my moment to strike!\n\nCoordinator Adams: Right, I get that, it's pretty obvious. But what that really the one-liner you're going to use before you kill me? That's so bad it's almost disrespectful!\n\nAgent 0: It's the perfect line! You instruct students on how to deliver one liners before killing someone, and now the one liner I am giving to you, before you die, is that you should instruct this moment, because that's what you do!\n\nCoordinator Adams: Oh I get the joke, it's just shit. A better way to phrase that would have been \"Why do you look so surprised? Isn't this what you've been preparing me for?\".\n\nAgent 0: Alright let me try. This is what you've been preparing me for professor! You shouldn't be so surprised!\n\nCoordinator Adams: Uh, no. That was too declarative and not snide or subtle. You don't sound witty you just sound like an asshole. Here, allow me to show you...\n(Adams holds out his hand expectantly and, without thinking, Zero hands over the gun, engrossed in the lesson)\n\nCoordinator Adams: Wow, you really are an idiot.\n\nAgent 0: Well that wasn't very good either, you-\n\nBLAM", "Question 1: You are assigned to kill a pro wrestler. His name is John Cena. You are given a picture of him for reference. You track him down and stab him in the back. When he turns around to face you, what do you do? \n\nPull the picture out and and say, have you Cena man named John.\n\n\nQuestion 2: You are assigned to kill a popular television actor. He is doing a stunt in which he will streak across a field at a football field. You poison him before he can pull his stunt. In his last breath you say to him?\n\nThe investigation for your death will be quite revealing.\n\nQuestion 3: You are assigned to kill a cartoonist who writes propaganda against your agency. You stab him at his desk. As he dies you say?\n\nThe details of your life are pretty sketchy.\n\nThe teacher sighs when she sees this answers. “You might be the worst student in my class in my whole 35 years of teaching” she says to you. She lets you pass because you excel in every other class. \n\n\n 6 Months Later\n\n\nYou are on a mission to kill a notorious drug dealer. His only known name is Elemayo. You wait for him outside the door of his mansion. As he walks out you stab him with a silver dagger. he turns to you and utters out “ Die y-you pig” You turn to him and say “Not today. The fact that you think you can kill me makes me think Ayy Elemayo” The last sound he makes is Ugghhhhh. ", "I had always considered myself a gentleman. Treating women with respect came naturally to me, because of my upbringing. My mother had throughout my childhood stressed the importance of being kind towards others. My father had been killed by a mugger years before my birth. This meant that my mother was extremely protective of me, more so than the ordinary parent. It also meant that her expectations were extreme. She did baby gymnastics with me, worked intensely in improving my motor skills and provided me with problem solving puzzles. When I reached the age of 6, my combat training began. I was taught by a former Mossad agent, that my mother had met while on vacation. My training consisted of Krav Maga lessons, knife throwing, firing handguns, parkour, swimming, driving, running, hunting, advanced survival strategies, learning various languages and analyzing videos for hidden messages. I was homeschooled and various experts from different fields taught me about their ways. When I reached the age of 22, I was accepted to the International Espionage Academy. It felt as a natural extension of my teachings. My second home. I met my best friend, Joshua, at the academy, he was not as formel as I considered myself to be. When on the shooting range, he would use foul language as he was shooting the targets. He was the second best in his class, and that was the main reason our supervisors allowed the profanity that he showcased on the shooting range. I remember one night we spent together in particular. We were on the range, trying out a new custom made AR15. I had just taken my aim, and were about to pull the trigger, when Joshua put his hand on my shoulder. He wanted me to try something, he thought I would find it amusing. He told me that as I was firing my weapon, I should try shouting \"Get sooome!\" I looked at him, and shook my head. I proceeded to take aim, and pull the trigger. The gun was set to \"Fully Automatic\", and as I sprayed the target, I shouted with the full power of my lungs. I must admit, that I found it rather promiscuous, but at the same time, I liked the intensity that came with it. \nIn the weeks following the \"incident\" at the shooting range, I experimented with various words that I would use post-mortem, as I found that my shooting was effected by shouting whilst doing it. I remember a target I was assigned in Russia, I had just eliminated an ex-KGB agent, when I broke out in laughter and said \"Pour some Vodka on the wound, that ought to help\" and giggled to the best of my ability. The end.", "As his last breath leaves him i stare into his eyes and say \"suck a dick.\" \n\"NOPE. No no, we can't say that and it's not even a pun. try again!\" professor Simmons is always on me about this, \neven now as she resuscitates the political prisoner, or, as we call them, 'training dummies', i can see it in her eyes that she wants to fail me again, or better yet have me transferred, like she tried to do last year, but no, i'm not gonna let that happen, i've already been in her class four times, i'm in too far to give up now. \"Okay Trainee, AGAIN, you just crashed this mob kingpins wedding, and stabbed him with the cake knife, ruining his chance to be with the kidnapped senator of Ohio, GO.\" \nAs his last breath leaves him i stare into his eyes and say \"I object, you can't marry a fat chick.\" \n\"NO, What the fu-, sigh We don't say that either, but,\" she said, as she shot the dummy up with one more adrenalin shot, this was his ninth now, he can't take another one so it's my last shot, \"But, i guess that started out okay, it was at least theme related, so try another one like that, and please for Queen and country get this right so i don't see you next year, GO.\" Hey, i like the sound of that, okay! \nAs his last breath leaves him i stare into his eyes and say \"By the power vested in me by Queen and Country, i now pronounce you: Dead!\" \nMan Professor Simmons looked so happy, and i wasn't even done! So for my cherry on top..\"i now pronounce you: Dead!.. you Fucking Fag\" \n\"OH CHRIST! NO! FAIL! FAIL! YOU FAIL, YOU STUPID, IGNORANT, FUCKING IDIOT\" She kept going but i couldn't really hear her, i was busy thinking about how great next year would be, and how maybe that would be the year she would realize we were meant to be, and i would get what i've been waiting for all this time..\n", "\"Cyrus, good to see you lad, come in,\" the balding Professor said looking up from the stack of papers on his desk. Cyrus walked into the ancient office. He smelled the strong odor of cologne as he sat down across the desk from his Professor. He examined the solid oak desk that was littered in old documents and dust. it seemed a simple enough piece of furniture, but Cyrus knew better than that. He could see the minor breaks in the floor indicating access to some hidden chamber. Being a teacher of disguise and secret bases, Cyrus thought his Professor should have done a better job covering up his hideout.\nThe Professor raised his eyebrow and put down Cyrus' course file. He had noticed Cyrus' interest in the floor. \"I see you're pretty sharp, yes...a bit of a rush job when I started teaching here.\"\n\nThe Professor rose from his chair and tugged at the carpet to better cover the seam in the floor. The Professor moved to the back of the room, playing with his cuff link, and began to pace behind Cyrus's chair.\n\nThe Professor spoke in a low whisper, still behind Cyrus, saying, \"That's what I like about you Cyrus, you are observant...keen...one might even say...SHARP!\"\n\nA knife slid from his sleeve and embedded itself into the chair. The blade would have pierced the back of Cyrus's head had he not quickly hopped out of his seat. Cyrus spun around unnaturally quick and saw the Professor's second blade thrown inches from his face. Deft and quick, he grabbed the handle of the flying knife out of the air and quickly threw the blade back. The Professor, had he been a bit younger, might have been able to dodge, but at his current age he was unable to avoid Cyrus's attack. The knife pinned his left hand to the wall, neutralizing him. The old teacher hung with left hand pinned up, as if he were raising his bloody hand in class. \n\nCyrus walked up, wrenching the first knife from the chair, he smiled, \"Sorry Professor, but I guess...you will need to take a seat...\"\n\n\"Really Cyrus, I just tried to kill you, and that's the best you got? That doesn't even make sense, I am literally hanging, how can I sit?\" The Professor said, completely composed despite the blood gushing from left palm. Cyrus, blushed. He knew it was a poor one-liner, but he really couldn't think of a better one.\n\n\"Cyrus, you could have said anything...I mean I am your teacher, at the very least you could have said 'Now Professor, it's time for you... to be.. schooled'.\"\n\nThat was better, Cyrus thought. \"Wait,\" Cyrus said, \"Let me try again.\"\n\n\"No I think that is quite enough,\" a voice emanated from under the desk.\n\nA group of Senior Faculty entered from the chamber below desk. Niko, headmaster of the Academy, was also present. \"You see Cyrus, I am sure with your scores in deductive reasoning, you can figure out what is going on.\"\n\nCyrus nodded, it was pretty clear this was a setup or a test. Cyrus even had a strong suspicion since he entered the room that there were more people in here than just him and the Professor; it had been the smell, someone was wearing a lot of cologne and that indicated at least one other person hiding beneath the desk.\n\n\"A test,\" Cyrus said twirling the knife, \"But for what?\"\n\nThe teachers slowly surrounded him as he reasoned out the problem. \n\n\"Clearly not combat, otherwise you would have chosen someone better suited to spar with me...maybe detection, but then the Headmaster would have chosen a less pungent body spray...not disguise either from what I can tell...\"\n\n\"No Cyrus,\" The still bleeding Professor had finally unpinned his left hand. He was wiping off the blade, and inserting back up his still reddened sleeve. He pulled Cyrus' file back out of the stacks of paper, and showed Cyrus the F in Lethal Puns.\n\nThe Professor shook his head, \"No, in all those things you excel, perhaps more so than any student before you, but, as evident by this last test and your previous scores, you still fail where it matters the most...\"\n\nThe Headmaster strode up to Cyrus, and rested his hands on Cyrus's shoulders, \"Cyrus, you couldn't come up with a badass one liner to save your life.\"\n\nCyrus, looked down. His shame weighed heavily upon him; it was true, he couldn't do it, and not for lack of trying. He had spent days replaying combat scenarios just trying to come up with creative kill puns, but regardless, he just wasn't witty.\n\n\"I mean, we placed you against a teacher in a school...The number of possible kill jokes aren't even calculable.\" The Professor said exasperated, \"even the classic 'Now I am the Master' would have been acceptable.\"\n\nCyrus turned to the old man and said, \"I can do better. I promise, just one more chance.\"\n\nThe other teachers had finished mending the Professor's hand, and both knives had been taken back and re-sheathed into his sleeve. They all shook their heads in unison, \"We are sorry, Cyrus, but a spy is only as strong as their pun game, and there is no room for the weak.\"\n\nThe headmaster, arms still on Cyrus' shoulders, quickly kicked the boy in the chest. He quickly followed up the crippling strike with a series of serious blows. \"Cyrus, we will teach the importance of good puns...even if it KILLS YOU.\"\n\nCyrus did his best block the flurry of attacks. Had there been fewer opponents he might have stood a chance, but there were four faculty members, all professional combatants. He had failed them, and he knew they weren't just going to let him go; failure at the academy was a crime, punishable by death...death by combat.\n\nAs they fought, Cyrus felt his ribs break on several blows, his nose now resembling a tomato more than a nose. Cyrus slowly turned the fight so his back was to the large window. As he took hit after hit, he knew there was only one chance. He threw the hidden smoke grenade from within his sleeve as the teachers began to pounce on him again. The faculty began to cough and wheeze as they tried to clear the room of black smoke. They all rushed to the window and stuck their heads out trying to catch his breath. After a few deep breaths, the Headmaster turned back to his fellow teachers in the room, \"Guess he gave us the slip. Get the rest of the students looking for Cyrus, we can't let anyone that 'bad at puns disgrace' continue to live and mock the name of the Aca--\"\n\nIn that split second before finishing his sentence, he noticed Cyrus standing in the middle of the room wearing a gas mask waving. Cyrus lifted the mask, \"I might not be too good at puns, but I am glad before I go, I got to take your breaths away...\"\n\nThe teachers froze, awestruck by Cyrus' pun. The Professor, however, was not impressed. He burst out, \"good try Cyrus, but it doesn't count unless it is a kill pun...\"\n\n\"Cyrus chuckled pulling out a powerful air cannon, \"I know Professor, but I am sure... this next one... WILL BLOW YOU AWAY.\"\n\nTh cannon knocked the faculty off balance, sending them plummeting to the hard earth three stories below. Cyrus snapped his nose back into place, and pocketed the air cannon. He hobbled over to the Professor's desk and pulled out his file, changing the F in Lethal Puns to an A.\n\n\n", "There was a lone window framed in the room. Since it was a large window, there only needed to be one. Only one was needed to create such a soothing atmosphere. The red light of the setting sun entered the room and highlighted the thick smoke that calmly wafted through the air, as if it were trying to lull someone into sleep. The haze of the room was being produced by a cigar, placed in a simple black ashtray which rested on a wooden desk. Light bounced off the mahogany wood, producing a beautiful shade of color that could allure any eye. Unfortunately, some of the desk was being shadowed by a figure. A man was sitting in front of that large window.\n\nHe had the name of Don Cassano, but of course most people didn't call him that. Some called him \"The Boss\", others simply referred to him as \"King\", but those weren't the titles he savored. No, the names he remembered were the ones he received by all the people who were against him. \"Monster\" and \"Sick son of a b@&$h\" were just a couple of examples but they could certainly get much more vile or nasty, especially when the person coming up with the name had nearly been beaten to death. \n\nDon couldn't help but smile. Those were the moments he lived for. Stomping on all of his competition as hard as he could. Hearing every nasty insult known to man thrown at him. Watching as men either trembled before his presence or helplessly fought on before being taken care of. No matter how much wrath and pain those men promised they would bring to The Boss, he could always laugh in their face.\n\nHe could laugh cause he knew in the end he would always win. With the criminal empire he had created and all the resources he had at his disposal, Don believed with all his heart that there was not a force in this world that could stop him. He looked down at his hands and gazed at the bundle of cash he held. The light beamed through the window and to him, it practically made the money sparkle before his very eyes. \n\nIt was such a beautiful sight, he felt like laughing.\n\nKNOCK KNOCK\n\n\"Huh?\" That's odd, he thought. Rarely did anyone come to see him in his office. Probably because when he was in his office, he wanted to be alone. Messing with his alone time meant he would be pretty mad, and no one ever wanted to make The Boss mad. At least, not after the last time it happened. \n\n\"Who's there? Is it you Antonio?\"\n\nNo answer. Not even the slightest little peep. Don Cassano was now officially angry. He nearly leaped from his chair and stormed to the door, his footsteps nearly shaking the whole building. Someone was about to feel the full wrath the \"Monster\".\n\n\"Antonio I swear to god if that's you then get ready to have your-\"\n\nCassano opened the door, fully expecting to come face to face with his lousy piece of crap younger brother Antonio, who had a tendency to be a bit of an imbecile from time to time. \n\nInstead, he came face to face with the barrel of a gun. \n\nFor the last 15 years, Don was on top. Nothing and no one could touch him. Every once in a while he might suffer a cut or a wound, but that was to be expected when you were the head of the largest criminal organization in the country. This was different. Much different. For the first time in a very long time, he feared for his life...\n\n...well, he would if this was actually happening. He knew it wasn't though. It was all an act. Just a simulation. That gun in front of him wasn't real. He wasn't the head of some gang or whatever. In fact, his name wasn't even Don Cassano. That was just a role he had to play. He did not fear for his death. If anything, he was happy. Happy because standing before him was a kid who was going to be the future of Espionage.\n\nMeet Drake Hauer. He's the man holding the gun. For the last 55 minutes, he's been crawling all over the building. Avoiding security cameras, taking out guards, being deadly silent, he could pretty much do it all. Of course, he wasn't really doing those things. It had all been meticulously laid out for not only him, but around 45 other students who were graduating with him in this year's class at the International Espionage Academy. Before they could all go out and be super awesome spies that Hollywood wants to make blockbusters about, they had one last thing to do: pass the final exam.\n\nAll the students were exceptional and had skills many would kill to have, but even among them, Drake was special. He excelled at stealth, hand-to-hand combat, scouting, disguise, using various forms of weaponry. \n\nYou name it, he was great at it....well there was one subject he struggled in, but at this moment in his life he couldn't care less about it. He was one gunshot away from being a real, genuine spy. \n\nAs he looked down the sights of his silenced pistol, he envisioned all the amazing adventures around the world he would go on. As he pulled the trigger, he dreamed about the beautiful and exotic women he might encounter along the way. As he watched the man in front of him fall into a heap on the floor in fake death, he pondered whether he should change his name to something more catchy and spy-sounding. Hmm, maybe it should be Drake Bond...nah, that's a bit too corny probably.\n\nHe did it. All the years of hard work had paid off. His dream had been realized. Ever since he was a kid he had hoped this day would come, and now it was finally here. Drake was rather proud of himself. Even during the worst of days, he pushed though knowing that the end goal was within reach. It was all so great, it honestly brought a tear to his eye...\n\n......\n\nUmm, I am done, aren't I?\n\nDrake was a bit confused. Why wasn't he being told through the headphone piece in his ear that he was done? Why wasn't anyone coming out to congratulate him and tell him he did a good job? Did he forget something...\n\n....yeah......I forgot something....\n\nOf course! How in the world could he forget?! The Post-Kill Pun, or PKP as his teachers referred to it. For spies around the world that was their signature move. The funny little cherry on top of the spying sundae. If you couldn't whip one of those out after a kill, then you might as well just go home because you were not a true spy. \n\nOh god, oh god, quick come up with something! There has to be something I can say!\n\nSuddenly he could feel the eyes of his instructor burning into his very soul. This was not good at all. To do everything so well up to this point, only to fail at such a simple task wouldn't look too good. His eyes frantically darted around the room in the hopes of discovering material for even a decent one-liner.\n\nOkay okay, umm, let's see...a dead guy, a desk, a cigar, smoke...smoke...SMOKE!\n\nThat's it! He had an idea...maybe...he wasn't sure. He just had to spit something out quick before he completely failed. It was better to say something than absolutely nothing...at least, that's what he hoped. Here goes nothing.\n\nDrake stood up, recomposed himself, and tried his absolute best to flash a confident smile that only a man as smooth as a spy could...\n\n\"Man, looks like I really smoked him, huh?\"\n\n...\n\nSilence. Absolute silence. It was undoubtedly the most awkward silence of his life. A silence so awkward, it could even make the most charismatic world leaders and the most outgoing celebrities feel uncomfortable.\n\nDrake bit hard at his lower lip, trying turn the pain of embarrassment into actual physical pain. That he could handle. Not this.\n\nEven the motionless man on the floor, who was supposed to appear stone cold dead, visibly cringed at the delivery of such a poorly executed line. \n\nEventually, the horrifying quiet was interrupted. In his earpiece, Drake heard the disappointed sigh of an older man. It belonged to his favorite instructor, Mr. Bristow.\n\n\"Drake...\" Mr. Bristow started to speak, but he simply couldn't finish his sentence. Instead he just exhaled once more.\n\n\"Damn it Drake\"\n ", "The knife flew through the air, shimmering and deadly, and struck home deep into the ballistic gelatin torso of the dummy they were practicing on. The ingenious ice-knife began to melt, and Martinez stepped forward.\n\n\"ice to meet you.\" Martinez smiled. It was a classic, but it worked. Hell, it worked better than most. Martinez was good with the classics, hence the nickname: Casablanca. Though he seemed to hate that name, it was apt. Especially now that he had passed the last test at the Academy. That would be his code name in 12 hours time. \n\nKrochev was next. He wound up, released, and just as the ice-blade sank into the gelatin, he bellowed \"Told you I was sharp!\" Nods of approval all around. He had really gone above and beyond, forgoing mentioning the ice at all and sticking with the true nature of the weapon as a knife. In any sense of the test, he had passed. \n\nAnd then there was Johnson. Johnson cracked his knuckles, wound up, and released the ice-knife. It went whistling through the air at twice the speed of any one else's. It sank deep into the gelatin, and made a pleasent thunk against the plywood stopper before melting. He stepped forward. \n\n\"Guess you'll be saying, um, H2WHOA!.\" Dead. Silence. The instructor's mouth was agape in dissapointment. \n\n\"Jesus...Jesus Christ, Johnson. Really? Oh my...oh my god.\" The instructor held his temples, trying to will away the absolute shit pun that was still floating in the air and everyone's memory. The instructor turned toward the one-way mirror. \"I've...I've never done this before, but I think it's warranted. Can we get the memory eraser up in here for a moment? The fucking brain damage is worth it to scrub that hamster turd out of my mind. No, no, I'm serious! Flash us!\"\n\nA bright, blinding light cascaded over everyone in the practice room. There was a moment of dazed confusion, and then the instructor stepped forward.\n\n\"Okay, Johnson! You're up!\"\n\nBehind the mirror, the head of the academy was almost in tears. \n\n\"42 times...\" he whispered, \"42 times we've flashed them over that crap. If he says that H2Whoa thing again, just fuckin' kill him.\"", "5. You've just stabbed your ex-girlfriend who cheated on you.\n\nI'm inside you again\n\n7. You had a best friend throughout school, but he betrayed you. Your knife is buried in the back of his neck, now.\n\nCall me Severus Nape\n\n10. You've just sliced open a man who killed your daughter.\n\nLet me see what you're made of\n\nProfessor Green held my exam up, staring at me. \"You don't understand the fundemental of this, do you?\"\n\n\"Well, I mean they're all puns. Why did you fail me?\" I asked.\n\n\"They're technically puns, but they totally ruin the mood and they're just...bad. They don't fit the situation at all.\"\n\nI frowned. \"Can't you just let this slide? I've got straight A's, I can kill a man with my only my index fingers, no one can sense my presence when I'm stalking them, and I know the human anatomy extremely well. Come on, please? I can't graduate if you fail me, is this really a good reason why? I'm top of my grade in literally everything else...\"\n\nProfessor Green sighed and wrote me off. \"Whatever. This class is stupid anyway.\"\n\n------------------------------------------------\n\n\"I don't need a partner, you know,\" I told Mark as we waited for our victim to come outside.\n\n\"Neither do I, but rules are rules. This is how everyone does it for their first time.\"\n\n\"Whatever. Let's just kill this drug lord and be done with it. Oh look, there he is. Let's go.\"\n\nWith a quick, swooping motion, we were behind him. Each of us put a blade through his heart, one from each side. As he gurgle blood and gasped for air, he asked, \"Who are you?\"\n\nRemember your training, don't talk with the victim...okay. And always quip upon their death.\n\n\"How's it feel to get double-penetrated?\" I shouted in his face.\n\nMark let go of his blade and walked away, sitting on a guard rail near the stairway. \"Ew, dude! What kind of pun is that?? Freudian slip, much?\"\n\n\"Well no it's just what came to mind, not literally...well, actually kind of literally I guess....\"\n\n\"Gross....why the fuck would you say that...\"\n\nThe drug lord was weakly laughing, choking on blood with his dying breaths. He turned to me.\n\n\"Let me teach you how it's done. I'm going to go out with a bang.\"\n\nI leapt back as a fuse on him ignited, barely escaping the blast.\n\n\"You see? That's how you do it,\" Mark shouted at me. \"Not some creepy weird shit.\"\n\nWhile he was flailing his arms around, complaining and grossed out, I plunged my blade straight through his chest.\n\n\"Bet I caught you off guard didn't I?\"\n\nHe was gasping for air, crying with pain, but he forced himself to talk. \"You fucking moron, I'm on the guard rail, that doesn't even make sense....\"\n\n\"Fuck this. I quit.\" I threw my arms up and stormed off, leaving him bleeding out.\n\n---------------------------------------------------\n\nI'm hungover as fuck and going back to sleep. if you enjoyed this, check out /r/resonatingfury!", "A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, and slid into his eyes. It stung. Mr. Blond sucked in his breath. He turned his head away, making a clandestine attempt to wipe away the sweat before the Judges noticed.\n\nOne of the judges cleared her throat, \"Something wrong, Mr. Blond?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, swallowing hard, \"Please continue,\" \n\nAt the center of the bench was a much older woman with short, white hair and a severe expression on her face. He knew her only as Agent N. She stared at him hard, without blinking, until he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.\n\nAgent N cleared her throat before she spoke: \n\n\"Alright, Mr. Blond. You're on a boat, blindfolded. You don't know where you are, but you do know that your target is right behind you. He has a gun aimed at your back, what do you do?\"\n\n\"I wait for a wave to hit and disrupt his aim. Then, I sweep my leg around, and hit him off the boat. As he falls into the water, I shout, 'Sea you later!'\"\n\nAgent N pressed her lips together, and he thought he saw her shake her head. As she scribbled away on the paper in front of her, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, willing himself to do better. \n\nAt last, she cleared her throat, and asked: \n\n\"You're in a cave. Your face an army of savages, wielding knives as long as your forearm. Your hands are tied behind your back, and they are running at you, screaming for your blood.\"\n\nMr. Blond bowed his head, whispering under his breath.\n\n\"Mr. Blond? An answer, please.\"\n\n\"Okay. Okay. I use my toe to press a trigger in my shoe. It sets off an explosive that shakes the cave, and makes spikes fall from the ceiling.\"\n\nAgent N held up a hand to stop him, \"Spikes?\"\n\n\"You know, those pointy things that grow in caves.\"\n\n\"Oh. You mean stalactites.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Stalacspikes. And after the spikes fall down and impale them, I say, \"Never bring a knife to a spike fight.\"\n\nHe watched as Agent N made a mighty effort to not roll her eyes. Instead, she scribbled furiously on her paper.\n\n\"Last question. You're in the villain's secret hideout. More specifically, you've snuck in through the mail room, when a pair of guards notice your presence. As the fight progresses, all three of you lose your weapons, and it devolves into a battle with the sharp, pointed edges of mail.\"\n\nMr. Blond sucked in a long breath.\n\nYou can do this. Come on.\n\nHe bounced his leg, he drummed his fingers, and he bit his lip. \n\n\"Mr. Blond, you have ten seconds remaining.\"\n\n\"Is the villain's hideout in a mountain?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And how many guards are there?\"\n\n\"Two.\"\n\n\"I picked up a rock from outside, and kept it in my pocket. When they start throwing mail at me, I take out my rock, and I bash one over the head. I throw the rock at the other, and when he falls to the floor, I stand over him. I say, 'I guess rock can beat paper.'\"\n\nEven sitting this far away, he could feel the breeze from Agent N's massive sigh.\n\n\"Mr. Blond, you have, without a doubt, the lamest sense of humor I've have ever had the misfortune of encountering.\"\n\nHis stomach sank.\n\n\"Fortunately and mysteriously, that is exactly what High Command ordered. As much as it hurts me to say this, I must congratulate you, Mr. Blond. You passed.\"\n\nAt this, Mr. Blond stood up. He yanked a knife from inside his coat. Before any of the judges could react, he ran up to the bench, and stabbed the knife into Agent N's paper.\n\n\"Blond!\" she gasped, throwing up her hands as he shredded the paper, \"What on Earth do you think you're doing?\"\n\n\"I wanted to be sure,\" he said, \"that I made the cut.\"\n\nAgent N narrowed her eyes.\n\n\"Out. Now.\"\n\n***\n\nWant to read more stories like this one? Check out /r/PSHoffman !" ]	[ 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 12, 12, 19, 64, 268, 382, 1353 ]	[ "1456098427", "1456099052", "1456094070", "1456094886", "1456088252", "1456069647", "1456083462", "1456082279", "1456077418", "1456074807", "1456069120", "1456069374" ]
	[WP] A world where eating a person lowers your age by 20 years. The poor are offered up to the rich who have been around for hundreds of years.	1,927	[ "\nSebastian Haggett: Abattoir Worker \n\n\"Morning is the most tolerable time of day to be here, before the first batch arrives and the air is still laced with chemicals rather than blood. I usually come half an hour early just to enjoy the calm. By 9:30am the place is wet with red and full of all the worst sounds imaginable. The noise doesn't stop all day, not until the last of them are processed and even then a faint scream lingers in the form a painful throb at the pit of my ear canal. I've taken to wearing plugs, it takes the edge off their howling\". \n\n\n\n\n\n", "Still sweaty from his workout, he nursed his organic kale-acai-smoothie. He was reclining in the athletic club's small café—it was a new addition to the twenty-year old club, and even though the smooth wood décor was tasteful and even subtly elegant, he frowned a bit: the memory of the disruption to his daily workout caused by its construction—he didn't pay five hundred a month to hear hammers and saws during his running routine, goddammit; he'd even complained, and the staff had been very apologetic, but still, the whole memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. Or maybe it was the kale. \n\nForty-five minutes before he had the meeting with the marketing team—they needed to talk about damage control from the latest spill, and wanted to be sure the whole company was on board and on message when dealing with the media. Waste of time—public relations was nowhere near his or his sections' area, he was a VP of development, fer chrissakes! Ah well. \n\nHe took out his iPad, started to flip through his appointments. And after the marketing spiel, had to duck out for an appointment with his cardiologist—nothing wrong there, just his annual consultation. Best cardiologist in the city, tough to get in. But there were no worries--he spent two hours a day at the gym, ate healthy, even had hired a goddamn cook, so he wouldn't have to eat out as much. Maria was alright… faded into the kitchen—probably illegal, so they got her at quite a deal. Not like that kitchen remodel his wife had insisted on… that one went into six figures. The old marble countertops were just fine, didn't see why the wife just had to have that new alabaster shade. It did lighten up the place, though. Not that either of them ever went into the kitchen. I'll bet Maria could hide her sickly little brat in there all day, and he'd never even know about it. The thought made him chuckle at first… but then started to piss him off. So he browsed the Wall Street Journal. \n\nArticles about some new child-labor scandal in an Apple factory—shit, glad he saw this, time to have his broker dump his Apple stock. Something about a law that keeps people on food stamps from buying expensive food—got that one right, at least! Scammers probably want to eat lobster or something. Browsing down, something about climate change—man those articles always pissed him off, because it always felt like an attack on him personally. Goddamn liberals just want to keep a businessman from making a living. Something else—some hippy talking about how poor neighborhoods in the Bronx didn't have access to fresh vegetables… fresh vegetables!! As if those poor slobs would ever get off their lazy asses and cook something, no, they were raised on Burger King… too stupid to eat healthy. The thought pissed him off, because his portfolio had taken a bath when he'd bet heavy on McDonalds… still, it would recover. But this just made him angrier—why was the WSJ running drivel like this?? Starting to seem like it had been taken over by the liberals. Which reminded him… he had to write that campaign check. The company was bundling again this year—got to make sure the right people get in, this was a big year, with Supreme Court nominations and all. And maybe the last chance to get rid of Obamacare. Though his Kaiser stock had soared… still, it was the principle of the thing. \n\nFeeling his blood pressure rise again—and two hours before meeting his cardiologist!—he took a deep breath, and drew on his mindfulness meditation training. That class was expensive—the wife had insisted—but damn'd if it didn't work. He felt himself relaxing. \n\nAs he started to put away his iPad—time to hit the showers—he saw one last article…something about Flint Michigan. Man, what a shithole, didn't understand why anyone would still live there. Got up, left the rest of his shake on the table, but purely out of habit, tossed the half empty bottle of water into the trash. Time to take on the day! \n\nHe felt good. \n", "Claudia turned in the rusty cage, facing the crowd of consumers, clad in satin robes and harlequin masks. The consumers were cruel and sadistic, but even they could not look the prey in the eyes with exposed faces. They stood just outside the cage, in two groups on either side with a path cleared in front of the door. At the end of this path, on a raised platform, stood a figure wearing deep crimson robes, emblazoned with gold and black runespeak, the characters glistening with darklight, undulating and pulsing as he made his incantations in the tongue of the consumers. Claudia did not have to be told who this was, even if she had not seen him, she could feel the torment of the well of souls within him. This was the ancient of ancients: The Firstborn. And in moments, she would become the most recent centerpiece of the Diremeal, the ritual that adds life and returns youth to the Firstborn and his followers. Claudia's chest tightened as she suddenly felt like she was imprisoned in her own body, her heart beat became a steady gallop. \"No!\" she thought to herself, \"not like this, it can't happen like this!\" The consumer nearest the door opened it, walked in, unlocked her shackles and grabbed her by the wrists. She struggled to get free, and for a moment she broke loose, but having nowhere to run, she was immediately overcome by the crowd of consumers. \"No! Get off me god damn it! Noooo!\" But they already had their hands on her, greedily feeling her life force like the warmth from a fire. But they could not partake. Not yet. The Firstborn takes the first and greatest share of the Diremeal. Together the consumers carried her, writhing and struggling, to the human length stone altar in front of The Firstborn. They slammed her down on the altar, and several consumers held each of her arms and legs down so she couldn't get away. The Firstborn towered over her, still chanting in the forgotten language, and at the same time brandishing a stone-bladed, obsidian knife, glowing with darklight. Grasping it in both hands, he raised it above his head, ready to plunge the knife into her heart. Claudia, overcome with sheer panic, lifted her shoulders as much as she could, found the consumer closest to her head, and bit into his wrists as hard as she could. Taken by surprise, he screamed out in pain and double over, just as The Firstborn's knife came down, stabbing him squarely in the neck. \"You bitch!\" screamed The Firstborn, now in the common tongue, his lifeforce was not to be consumed! He was a noble!\" Claudia, who's heart rate wasn't quite as fast now, looked him squarely in his yellow eyes. \"Not anymore, he's not.\" The consumers Lifeforce was already escaping his body, rolling into a ball of Darklight and channeling itself to The Firstborn. Claudia laughed to herself. He would still kill her. The Firstborn was known for being cruel when all was well with him. In his rage, he was more formidable still. Her death was merely moments away, to be sure. Her life would be taken, but her soul would still be hers. Her soul would be free.", "She stared down into her prey's eyes, a merciless, malicious grin on her face. \"So, child,\" she coed, taking the knife and pointing it at the little boy's neck. Her grin widened as she heard whimpers from the pathetic creature. \"Do you live? Or do you die?\" She let out a howl of laughter and the boy, no older than seven, let out a shrill cry.\n\n\"M-mom...\" he sobbed. \"Mommy, stop! Please! I'm your s-s-son, remember?\" He pressed himself further into the corner, tears streaming down his face. His hands, slick with sweat and his siblings' blood, spread against the walls as if trying to keep them from closing in on him. His breathing hitched and jumped, uneven, shaky. His legs shook. He met his mom's eyes and pleaded again. \"Mommy...\"\n\nFor a minute, her smile faltered, as if she really did remember. \"Mommy...?\" she echoed, tasting the word. Her demeanor changed, her eyes grew softer- then they were back to insanity, her mind slammed into gear. She brought the knife closer to her youngest son's throat. \"You are not my child.\" The wicked grin returned as she reached forward with her other hand to grab the boy's hair, pulling his head back as she dragged the knife across his throat.\n\nShe stepped back as the body fell to the floor, touching her tongue to the crimson blade. Laughed again, wiped at the blood that had sprayed across her face, effectively smearing it and the layer of dirt around. She quieted her breathing, afraid someone in the open street may have heard. When no one came, she straightened, picking up the dead child.\n\n\"Being homeless is tough,\" she noted aloud. \"Gotta do what you have to do to survive...\" She looked at the limp creature in her arms, and gave its muddy forehead a kiss. \"Hey, it's okay,\" she whispered. \"You won't go to waste.\" She glanced at the other two bodies on the ground, bigger than his. \"I'll be back for you two.\"\n\nMaking a final look around, she made her way out of the alley, away from the boxes and cans that were her home- and over to the market place.\n\nAfter all, what use is a dead child if you can't sell it?\n", "Could anyone make a like lovestory out of this? Like the rich falls in love with the poor something? It'd be cool to read ", "Headline: Homelessness, preventable disease, and poverty eliminated. Life expectancy rises as the rich finally have a reason to care about the well being of the poor. ", "It took nearly a lifetime to get a reservation. I was not happy about that, thirty years is too close for comfort as far as I was concerned. I could feel the changes in my body, the age creating its foundation. I’ve felt it before of course, but when sixty years pass between, it’s understandable how someone would at least partially forget the sensation. \n\nThe establishment wasn’t as nice as you would think, they never were. I suppose if the culture of life extension were draped in opulence there would be more opposition to it. As it was those who were able to partake did so with relative ease and small amount of contempt. Partially at the act itself and partially out of jealousy by those who could not afford it. But, by and large, most people do not care. It’s simply the way things are. When it was first discovered, of course there was outrage to say the least. NGOs, governments, human rights organizations, they’d had never experienced a period where they were more closely aligned.\n\nBut those who truly understand the place of life extension are those who have done it themselves. There have always been “injustices” and they always without exception happen at the expense of others not fortunate enough to remove themselves from the circumstance. The poor would be drafted while the more fortunate were able to purchase exemption. Citizens of one country, thinking themselves as compassionate and caring, would consume entertainment and comfort at the expense of another soul across the globe. As many who have been alive since those times will tell you, there was opposition to all things labeled “inhumane”. \n\nAnd yet, when the voices died down and the days passed, nothing changed. It is the way of things that can be accurately put into perspective only by those who lived it. The amount of time one lives on this planet has always been altered by others, whether they admit it or not. And of course there are still limits. What does one thousand years mean in the face of billions?\n\n“how is everything tasting tonight madam?” the concierge asked.\n\n“wonderful.”\n", "Mrs. Weir had eaten Tony in the afternoon. Private business is private business, and I'm sure they both had their reasons. She did it in the lounge, though. And without the curtains drawn. To me, that seemed like bad manners. I was on my way back from work (I'll tell you how I make a living another time), and I caught a glimpse of her through the window just before turning into my road. She wasn't smiling or anything, she was just sitting there, eating him with this vacant look on her face. This look that said How many people must one eat? you know, kind of disappointed. But mostly pretty blank.\n\nI had prepared myself a simple dinner of chicken, roast potatoes, and green vegetables. The green beans made a satisfying little snap as I ground them between my teeth. Was Tony this crunchy? Parts of him, sure. It wasn't smart to worry about this, though. I'd never get the chance to put it to the test, Mrs. Weird had seen to that. I wouldn't have left my curtains open, though. \n\nThe phone was energetic. It wanted to vibrate with energy, anxious to facilitate the coming communication. If I didn't answer, would it be upset? Would the built up energy dissipate without incident? Or, would it shatter into a thousand pieces all over my kitchen floor? It began to ring. \n\n\"Hey, Mr. Jones!\" Claire's voice sprang forth from the earpiece. \n\n\"I told you not to call me that.\" \n\n\"It's good to hear your voice, too. What're you doing?\" There was considerable background noise. Raised voices, laughter, and music. It was hard to make out over the phone, but it sounded like something from the 80s. Depeche Mode?\n\n\"What, right now?\" I thought about making up something exciting. \"I'm eating dinner. What are you doing?\" \n\n\"I'm at the Cat's Whisker. Want to know what I'm drinking?\" \n\n\"Sure,\" I said. Maybe next time I'd call her during dinner, see what kind of response I got. \n\n\"It's something new, they just brought it out last month. It's called Human-i-tea!\" \n\n\"Humanity?\" \n\n\"No, silly! Human-i-tea, it's made from ground up bones and stuff. Bone marrow, I think?\" \n\n\"Hmm,\" I said. \"does it work?\" \n\n\"Come find out for yourself. There's someone here I'd like you to meet.\" I thought about it for a moment. \n\n\"Sorry, can't tonight. I have other plans. Maybe another time? Who is it you wanted me to meet?\" \n\n\"Maybe another time.\" click \n\nWell, I suppose I deserved that. Claire Brakewood, weird kid. And Human-i-tea? Why hadn't I heard of that before? The world kept churning and shifting, no matter how hard I tried to give it form. You just can't keep up with these things. Kids will always be drinking weird stuff in bars, especially trendy ones like the Cat's Whisker. Why bother getting upset about it? \n\nI went for a walk. It was dark, and the moon was full. Its pale gaze focused on me tonight, like a theatre spotlight. Should I break into song? Quietly I began to hum to myself the second movement of Beethoven's 7th Symphony, the allegretto.The chilly winter air cut at my skin, and I put my hands in my coat pockets. Had Mrs. Weird finished gorging herself? Her curtains were closed, and her lights were off. Well, the lights in her house. I'd imagine Mrs. Weir's lights will continue to burn bright for as long as civilization does. \n\nI had come to the shortcut. A short hop over the fence, and I was in the moonlit field. I often came this way at night, you never ran into anyone. Not even any animals. As I walked on, I peered back towards town. Most lights were out, but a few metres above my cul-de-sac flew a single chinese lantern. Gently swaying in the breeze, it flickered softly against the moon and the stars. \n\nHow old had Tony been? Did he have kids? I couldn't remember. Probably not worth it, either way. \n\nThe noise that came from the bush was sort of like a cross between a goat's bleet, a creaky door hinge, and a kettle reaching the boil. I squinted my eyes to try and see what was causing it, but couldn't see anything. I began to walk faster. \n\nI remembered my university roommate, Roger. His dad owned a pretty well-to-do publishing company, and he had a position of seniority there waiting for him. University was pretty much just a formality. Still, he was an OK guy. Not too proud to mix with the lower-income students like me. We used to go rock climbing on the weekends. I was very physically fit back then. We used to climb, and then go back to the dorm and get completely wasted on cheap rum. He could've afforded any drink you could name, but he was always happier to drink whatever the rest of us were drinking. Something had happened to him a few years ago. What was it? Had he eaten someone without consent? He didn't seem like the type, if memory serves. I wasn't sure whether he'd even eaten anyone with consent. Not that I had either, of course. But he had money. Call-girls! I remembered now. He had been sleeping with a few high-class call-girls. One of them got pregnant, and threatened to go to the press unless she got a payout. He didn't, and she did. He got slaughtered by the press, and his dad convinced the local police department to press charges. How could I have forgotten that? I don't know if he ever actually went to prison, but his life was pretty much over from that point. I guess there are some kinds of body that you just can't buy. \n\nOn the way back, I decided to take the long route. The noise was almost certainly just nothing, but why tempt fate? That was my motto. As I reached the cul-de-sac, I noticed something small on the sidewalk. It was small, round, and white. Picking it up, I saw quite clearly that it was a bar of soap in the shape of a duck's foot. \n\nSoap in the shape of a duck's foot? \n\nAnd the hood was over my eyes.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Andrew was trying to decide who he ought to get in sync with. Davis, he knew, was making movements in petroleum and potentially had some lucrative deals coming up, but he and Davis had been in almost perfect antiphase for the past century, and he worried that syncing with Davis now might turn too many heads.\n\nAlternatively he could stay on his current cycle - wait another 7 years until he turned 45, and then take the Sachchit ceremony. This would place him firmly in the mainstream amongst Wall Street and London financiers. The bulk of thinkers in the industry had opted for a 25 to 45 strategy - 70% of bankers were currently 35-40 years old and were waiting for the turn of the decade to take Sachchit. This was good, thought Andrew, it meant his tennis matches were almost always competitive.\n\nAndrew had taken Sachchit several times before but he could not say he was a fan. It was fine, he thought, for the common people to spend their time cannibalizing each other - and they could live satisfied with the entertainment provided - but eating another human being was not something he looked forward to. For his Sachchit ceremonies the sacrifice was almost always a small child (faster yields) who had been bred especially for the purpose. In olden times, the children were prepared by the chefs in advance and delivered in on a platter; in more recent times though his colleagues had preferred to have the children brought in alive - changing fashions, he thought. The ceremony often lasted well into the night, and though he barely remembered it now, the last one - which more than 150 colleagues performed together - involved a Dionysian bacchanalia which left the walls splattered red, and their bodies sweaty with excitement. Andrew was not such a party animal. And besides, there was always the point of waking up the day after - feeling like death itself at this new moment of rebirth; the skin sucking itself in.\n\nAndrew's dilemma though was pressing. He could side with Davis and bet on petroleum - which he understood effectively as a gamble on population growth. Such thinking flew in the face of reason; the middle and lower classes had been in a steady population decline for many years despite enormous efforts at technological progress and cultural revolution. Or, he could side with the mainstream lobbyists who were pushing to legalize the youthfulness industry - to take the revenues from black market teen prostitution, fashion, and child labor and bring them to the public markets. A good female with a well structured meal plan could be kept desirable for almost 60% of her life cycle; there was clearly money to be made.", "She thought it quite a ridiculous tactic at the very least. Her hideout was right next to the processing plant of the famous Harvest restaurant located in Cambridge Mass. an enchanted place she one day aspired to reside in. soak up the New England weather at its finest faces of sunshine and snowfall. she dreamed of becoming someone that could be called normal. not poverty stricken and subsequently hunted down for the rest of her existence. she was a red-head and had damn good hips to go with it, but she found out the hard way that her blood type coupled with her pale skin netted around four to seven years higher than the average age decrease rate, wincing when her frail fingers brushed against the welt under her eyes brought about by the underside of a desert eagle. alone and freezing from the frigid New England weather, she knew her fate was virtually sealed. what was worth pondering about now was how her demise would play out. freezing metal clung to the outer rim of the barrel. a silver plated .45 was encrusted to the skin of her palm. it was now or never. Her blood ran cold as copper tinged liquid kissed her bare thigh. the carcass of her lover lay on the concrete next to her, his raggedy clothing that appear as if they were fashioned from old burlap sacks were drenched in blood. the smell made her nauseous, but it didn't matter, it would all end momentarily. their boots crunching over gravel outside was an indicator that they were close. she could make out the faint chopping of helicopter blades above her. they knew she was in here, it was not or never. the tears that streaked down her rosy cheeks boiled with a steaming hatred at everyone, at everything. she knew it wouldn't matter in the end, but for a brief moment, those seven bullets would make everything right. the last thing she would ever hear would be the sound of oxidized metal cracking accompanied with the deafening explosion of a flashbang. she wouldn't be able to see the evil-doers dressed in black combat gear enter from the other side of the factory, much less nail them with the fat lead sphere of a raging colt .45. even if it would't make a dent in the armor they wore. although blinded, she could feel the jarring force of a bullet being expelled from the pistol, kicking back in her hand before cycling another deliverer of death in the chamber. this granted her momentary bliss, as she didn't even feel the 5.56 nato rounds blast open her chest cavity. as she fell to the floor, bleeding uncontrollably, she was enveloped in a white light that carried her onto the afterlife.\n\n\n\"I have to say waiter, this meat taste remarkably tender! it's extremely fresh i assume?\"\n\"We cooked it just this hour Sir. Enjoy\" ", "I was next in line. Kind of nervous but I try not to think too far ahead in the future nor dream anymore.\n\nIts my turn. I walk up to the marble counter and present my RIP card. The teller smiles and enters in my information. I noticed that the workers here never talk to us RIPs, they probably see us as upright livestock. \n\nThe teller hands me my check, enough money to hold my family over three lifetimes...I never felt so apathetic in my life. Im a human sacrifice, giving my life to the rich so my family can eat, and this money proves it. Its a symbol of me giving up, of me being a failure, and lacking enough intellect to find another way. I hate it, but they need it. \n\nI have 66 days until I will be on a plate next to crushed fermented grapes and broken bread. But I died when I signed the consent. ", "There's a website called homepageofthedead.com and it has a story on there called 'Chronicles of Cheechkaduni', you should check it out, it's awesome!\n\nI'll try not to give too much away but basically it's set in a future where all the water/oceans have dried up and the world is just one huge desert and there's no sustainable meat left so everyone in the world has become a cannibal, and they make it work by everyone just having shit loads of kids and like every few years you're expected to make a sacrifice from your family and it's considered an honor to be a sacrifice for the village. It goes way deeper than that but it's awesome and I found it particularly funny when they'd describe eating 'baby back ribs' lol", "Delight smiled into the mirror. His chin was damp with blood and he could see pieces of flesh stuck between teeth. \n\nBeautiful. He thought. It had been a while since his habit started, and if he counted correctly, he had at least another 200 years to live. \n\nDelight dipped a face cloth into the bowl of warm soapy water in front of him and got to work. Ten bodies eaten, he thought sheepishly. He was still far away from his goal of a 100.\n\n\"Delight, where are you son?\" A voice echoed from the adjacent room. \n\nHe paused. \"I'm busy Dad. I'll be out in a second.\" Delight said and quickly dabbed at the evidence. They couldn't find out what he'd done... What would father think of him?\n\nHe smiled and this time the clean reflection of a young boy looked back at him. \"Excellent...\" Delight whispered.\n\nThe lounge was bustling with family members when he arrived. His Mother and Aunt where in the kitchen and his father, uncle and cousins were chatting and laughing together near the couches.\n\nHe plopped down into a leather couch and the room went silent at his arrival. \"Delight!\" Uncle Simosa exclaimed. \n\nHe smiled. \"Delight!\" His cousins ran to him, giving him hugs and ruffling his hair. They all sat back down around him. \n\n\"Genivere, Aunt Mina, we're starting now. Please join us.\" Delight's father said.\n\nJoin us?... He wondered. \n\nWhat's this about?\n\nHis family filled the leather couches around him and all eyes were on him.\n\n\"Dad...\" He whispered, \"What's this about?\"\n\nHis father cleared his throat. \"We're holding an intervention son. This is about your addiction...\"\n\nDelight shuffled uneasily,\"My addiction?\"\n\n\"Yes son. We know about your abuse and we want you to stop. We're here to help you, all of us.\"\n\nHis top lip quivered.\n\nThey know?", "Faye walked down the corridor, the contented smile on her lips illuminated by lights emanating from either side. Dozens upon dozens of white cylindrical pods lined either side of the corridor, their glassy front revealing the occupants dozing within.\n\nIdly glancing at the digital readouts, she confirmed that her “clients” were all safely ensconced within their pods, and turned to leave the cryogenic facility. It had all been a coincidence, of course. Near the end of the 22nd century, cryogenic revival of a human had been successful, and people were in a rush to “jump” into the future. Simply pay a lot of money, and a company would put you into one of their cryogenic pods, then wake you up however many years later you wished. It was kind of like time-travel, the people reasoned, just that it was one-way, and into a better future!\n\nWhat no one expected was the next scientific advancement. Prior to it, cannibalism was extremely taboo in all civilized parts of the world. The discovery came about when an uncontacted tribe in the Amazon were observed unknowingly with modern technology. The tribal elders were observed to remain unchanged over the entire twenty years that the researcher spent observing them, even though they seemed to be in their late 80s. It was also later realized that the tribe was smaller than it should be, when counting the number of births against the number of deaths. Some youths, upon reaching maturity, would disappear abruptly overnight, never to be seen again. The final clue turned up when the researcher stealthily explored what he assumed to be one of their holy sites, only to find it littered with human bones, with evidence of human teeth marks.\n\nFaye made her way to the processing room next. There had been quite a few orders recently, and business was picking up. It seems that the opportunity to extend one’s own life was often worth trading in one’s morals for. The clean white façade of the processing room contrasted sharply with what was going on within it. A mechanical arm gently grabbed a cylindrical pod nearby. With a hiss, the thermoglass door was released, and the pod’s still-unconscious occupant slid out with a sploop into pool of cryogel. The substance, once used to gently ease occupants awake over time, also happened to work perfectly as a preserving agent to transport their occupants over a large distance, while maintaining their unconsciousness, as long as the temperature remained cold.\n", "The tranquil silence of the night was broken by a pain infused shriek that seemed to reverberate through the streets of Belgrade. Francis was used to sleepless nights ever since the law was introduced.\n\n\"Gosh darn hot rods quiet down with that, die quietly!\" he shouted from the safety of his cell. He felt so bold when the guards were patrolling the other corridor. \n\nBut then his ears picked up the sound. The sound that he became so accustomed to. The sound he never thought would come for him. The sound of the low, throaty sizzle of the deep fryer encroaching to the darkness of his cell like a YumYum. \n\n\"Mr Dirken, it's your time to be crispy deep fried\" said the guard. He was forced to undress at gunpoint before he was rolled in a concoction of spices- sumac, chilli and cinnamon meant he would be spicy deep fried. \n\nHe entered the warehouse, ascended the ladders and peered down into the pool of oil that stood before him as he accepted his fate with dignity. He would be crispy deep fried.", "This reminds me of that movie \"In Time\"... man that thing was not good. What a waste of a premise though.", "Ugh, is it that time again? I thought, as flipped through my agenda. My PA had reminded me of it several times this month, but seeing the red cross marked on my agenda's Sunday afternoon still took me off guard.\n\nIt's not that I am feeling nervous or afraid. Heck, I've been seeing these appointments popping up in my agenda for the past fifteen centuries. I must have forgotten more of them than I remember. Living for centuries does that to a man's memory. You forget all sorts of stuff when you stretch out your life as I do. I vaguely remember my father's face. I think my mother's name began with a V. No matter. Their bones crumbled to dust before I made my first billion. \n\nCaptialism and natural selection have left us in our current state. The world is run by multinationals, and the multinationals are run by a small group of ruthless CEO's that have been working the same positions for decades. There is little to no change. Our latest addition is over two centuries old already. It's a dog eat dog world. Quite literally. And of all the dogs, I am the eldest.\n\n\"Please tell me it's a baby this time,\" I say, suppressing a sigh of weariness. It never does to show your underlings weakness.\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"The meal.\"\n\n\"Not quite, sir,\" Diane stammers, \"But I've been told she was small for her age. Fifteen months. Worker family; deep in debt. Father is a-\" \n\n\"I don't need to know the details. Just make sure the cook has her ready at noon.\"\n\n\"Yes sir.\" She takes a step backward, then turns on her heel and makes for the door of my office.\n\n\"Diane?\" I ask, as she wrenches the door open with unnecessary force.\n\n\"Yes sir?\"\n\n\"This time, don't forget to tell the cook that the meal has to be unrecognisable. If you age another twenty, you're bound to get too old for the job.\"\n\nShe blances, unable to voice a reply. Nodding her understanding, she pulls the door closed behind her.\n\nI flip through the newspaper as I recollect my last meal. A boy of three years old. For whatever reason, the cook had thought it was a good idea to spit-roast him. Seeing the cadaver of a three-year-old boy seasoned in spruce and honey made me physically ill, and very upset. I 'donated' him to a local mobster that I needed to appease. \n\nDiane, who was thirty five back then, and still beautiful, would have earned her own meal if she had overseen the process better. Bordering fifty six now, she would not make that mistake again. With a ten year interval between two meals, missing one of your opportunities is costly.", "\"Eat it!\" Ryo commanded. \n\n\"Please...no, I don't want to......\" begged the fat boy. \"I...I will give you anything you want! Please...please.....I can't eat anymore\"\n\n\"Well dear sir, my motivation was never money...\" Ryo's voice trailing away.\n\nThe fat boy knew his fate has been sealed and started feeding again reluctantly. \n\nRyo stared blankly and mocked \"Bon appetit monsieur, I guess your delicious wife will now make you..........negative 6 years old?\" \n\n", "They've been eating people for years \n\njust sitting around, drinking beers. \n\nIf, now and then, we would eat one of them \n\nwe would, I suppose, disappears!", "It was disgusting really. I suppose it still is.\n\nSo some scientists created an IRD that allowed the human body to break down and recycle human DNA. As with most technology, it was gravely misunderstood and misused, at first.\n\nNorth Korea, of all places, pioneered the technology and sold the proprietary supplements (as suppositories )to the United States and the United States only. Their goal was to humiliate us and show us for the demons we are.\n\nFirst things first, IRD stands for Intra-Rectal Device. You pay a lot of money, you fly to North Korea. You take a complete physical assessment, completely naked, in an auditorium full of doctors, scientists, and citizens. You then give your full name and consent for the procedure.\n\nYou are then unceremoniously bent over a make-shift table where the administrator took great pleasure in working the giant phallic contraption right up your ass. Once it had \"bottomed out\" it would eject the device, heat up and eject an adhesive, then cool down tremendously to aide the adhesive in setting.\n\nThe North Korean government kept the evidence to black mail recipients into a annual tax. Little did they know Americans would line up by the thousands to endure such humiliation and gladly purchase their supplement and pay the tax.\n\nWe, it's no secret now that the \"supplement\" was fresh human DNA. But once the North Koreans had greatly enriched themselves at our expense, they set their target on dethroning us by making the video archives open source and confessing to the world the origins of the supplements. \n\nNow by this time there was a religious minority that violently opposed this practice because God made humans to die. Once they found out North Koreans were being bred in internment camps for our consumption, the opposition turned lethal.\n\nThey burned a house down and killed a family of four. They were all 18, the legal minimum. The surviving family members sold the remains to Microsoft in exchange for an agreement for the to reverse engineer and make the technology commercially available and give the 1% of global sales.\n\nOh, how everything changed over-night. You had to be over 18 and sterile to purchase the implant. But the biggest most fierce debate swirled around human cloning. \n\nNorth Korea had stock piled their supplement, but could no longer sell their IRD as Microsoft had created a much less invasive alternative. With their new wealth and breeding camps, North Korea had the highest standard of living, and the largest standing army in the world. Oh yeah, they openly declared war on any nation who legalized human cloning.\n\nSo here we are now, in the midst of chaos. With the ability to virtually live forever, our volunteer military is non-existent. We have those who don't want to green light human cloning, we have those who would, but are unwilling to institute a draft or risk nuclear war. We have those who want to ban it all outright, and those who want to continue with the status quo.\n\nThese are dark times, amidst the gift of longevity. Anything and everything of human DNA is collected and sold for profit. \n\nHair is being shaved and blended into food. Vampire clubs are very hot right now. Menstruation is seen as a holy time and there are sperm banks on every corner.\n\nYou can earn a living as a full-time sperm donor. Semen is the most potent and available work around, but it takes a lot. The \"fresher\" the better. \n\nOne daily direct rectal application will reverse your age 1-2 days, results may vary. Men are paid a premium to administer these personally and many have arrangements with other men to trade.\n\nThe boundaries of taboo are being tested as lower income families resort to borderline-insest to stay \"net zero\" everyday.\n\nSome say the North Koreans were right and we are a nation that would literally bend over and take it from North Korea for the sake of our vanity.\n\nNow we have a decision to make, are we willing to go to war for supplement independence? Will we continue in our current lifestyle? Will we find another way?\n\nOnly time, and the upcoming election will tell. \n\nSome users with a variety of supplements have noticed they adopted some characteristics of the men who were directly insemenating them. Those who resort to anal sex to maintain their youth are looked down upon and discriminated against by the opposition, but this insight has led to some promising testing of alternative supplements and genetic human augmentation.\n\nFor now, we have a nuclear war to stop. ", "I smiled. I loved to smile. I did it a lot.\n\nNo one else seemed to though, not a soul I'd seen anyway. Every time I came to find them, they seemed surprised, fearful, horrified, frantic. But they never smiled. I liked that they never smiled. I liked it a lot, and I think they would've... tainted it.\n\nI leaned forward, the knife barely digging into the skin of the fat pig I'd found. It squealed and squealed. It begged and it pleaded. It offered me money, but I already had enough tinder to start my fires. \n\nI killed him. I liked to do that too. Kill. And I cooked him, and he was so succulent and tasty. I was angry that they'd stolen this solidarity I once had. They found something in eternity pleasing, but I'd eye'd that prize long before they had. I had been the only one, the first, and then they stole my idea.\n\nBut they were sloppy, and lazy. They had to have other people hunt for them. Which only proved their incompetence, because that had always been the best part. ", "As soon as the first ray of light hit Jeremy's face, he lifted himself out of bed and started his morning routine. He washed his face, made himself some coffee, turned on his screen and checked the news and his life-account.\n\nThe screen was filled with numbers and graphs that he had learned to understand naturally. \nHis account balance was at 0$, as it always was at the end of every day. \nHis life expectancy was approximately one day shorter than the day before. \nAnd his lottery tickets' value was unnoticeably cheaper than the day before too. \nHe sold his daily ticket, watched his account balance go up to two digits and went on with his Wednesday.\n\nUnlike every other day of the week, Wednesdays involved Jeremy leaving his house for a couple of hours. A couple of hours that he spent at the gym, which had been proven to reduce heart attack risks, one of the few unsolved challenges of modern medicine. He disliked going to the gym, but he felt it was a worthy time investment in order increase his life expectancy numbers. But what he disliked even more than running on a machine and lifting weights, was the fact that on the way to the gym, he had to go through the worker's class neighbourhood. He had to see all those beautiful houses and social status that he didn't have. For some reason he was much more comfortable in his side of town, filled with addiction centers and homeless people who owned nothing but their screens. Decadency wasn't all that bad once crime was taken out of the equation.\n\n \" A life of leisure is worth it.\" He reminded himself every week as he grinded through Wednesdays. And it was. Until one day, on his screen, he got a dreaded notification. Sarah's ticket had been drafted. Her sister. Drafted. His eyes widened and lingered at the popup window well after it had dissapeared. \n\nHe cried in fear for several minutes until he started to recompose himself. More so than mourning of the now inevitable death of her sister, what made him deeply uncomfortable was that it could happen to him. It had never been a real possibility in his mind before, winning the lottery, it was always something that happened to some one-hundred-billionth of an unlucky bastard.\n\n The shock had fooled him into fear for a couple of minutes, until the initial shock wore off, which allowed him to remind himself that the odds of winning the lottery are lower than being struck by lightning.\n\nEven then, doubts lingered in his head: of all hundred billion humans, fate chose my sister? He started wondering whether Sarah had overdosed, and shortly after, he was convinced of it. His curiosity filled his head for the days after the event, why would she need so much money? How many tickets did she even sell? What did she do with all that money?\n\nUnfortunately, since congress passed the Private Lottery Act. Lottery inforrmation was no longer public, and deaths were only notified to next of kin, which meant that he wasn't able to find out by querying the World Wide Database. And he knew better than to call her sister to ask. She was already gone. Saying your goodbyes to someone who has won the lottery is never worth the risk they say.\n\nHe only started really considering calling Sarah once it was too late, she had been taken and harvested shortly after he was notified, a quick death, lotteries had been hastening their harvest times after the spike in runaways due to the passing of the Act.\n\nAfter he made peace with her Sister's death, Jeremy began to get involved in the addiction scene by volunteering in a nearby center, he became fascinated with it, more in a morbid sense than in a altruist one. By day he talked to addicts and help them out of their selling frenzy before it was too late, while by night he spent countless hours searching for the biggest ticket sellers. Jeremy knew every single one of the top ticket seller's listed in the World Wide Database, it now never changed anymore due to the ceasing of information collection. So he had learned everything about each one of them. Every single one of which, was dead. He kept scrolling down and down and he couldn't find a single one of them alive.\n\nThey all eventually get drafted, some even just skip the lottery and sell their body to wealthy buyers. It had stopped being surprising to him after just a week. He had seen the pattern, hundreds of times, addicts showed them their screens with millions of dollars, each of them with their own different reasons to spend their money, but they all have in common the fact that they never stop. They are insatiable, and the odds are against them, they keep rolling the billion faced dice until it lands on the wrong face. They all think they are the unluckiest person in the world, but they don't know they are doomed, and that there are millions of others like them. \n\nWith time, funding for the addiction centers slowly dropped. The problem had become much less evident, and since total social disconnection happened way before death in most cases, people where in the dark regarding most deaths.\nSlowly, far after Jeremy died, and his descendants died, and enough descendants died so that Jeremy's name was last uttered. Natural selection did its thing, and a breed of humanity that was immune to addiction was born, a breed of humanity immune to procrastination, immune to unwanted pregnancy, immune to bad decisions powered by their shortmindedness. Where the legacy of impulse and primality existed merely in history classrooms as an abstract concept, where they were just stories that gathered no empathy, because who would empathize with a person who cannot control himself?\n\n\"That doesn't make sense\" kids would say, \"if they didn't want to die, why not just stop selling tickets?\" And a teacher who unknowingly didn't understand either, would try to explain primal impulses to the child, and would get frustrated when he doesn't understand. But at least the child knows he doesn't understand, all the teacher did was give the phenomenon a word, he didn't understand either.\nAnd no wave of extinction would ever give humans the power to understand their ancestors either. Although the last humans were quite adept at understanding their ignorance. Which is a very noble goal to have accomplished before the world ended together with the last star in the Milky Way.", "I felt horrible. As I walked out, I left the door open. I could see the next guy in the corridor sitting there with a grin on his face. I looked to the door leading out of the department, then back at the guy. As our eyes locked, he could see the disappointment I had in myself, but he didn't care. He had his German built car sitting in the parking garage outside, and probably made enough money to ensure his kids, and their kids, and maybe even their kids too, could get the same treatment. He was a happy fucker with no morals. But I'd been on the line. I'd been in that position, but the only reason I'd received the red letter of approval was, according to the lady at the medical centre, because some guy had lost his job and got dropped from the scheme. It had pushed me up into his position. My wages weren't all that great, but I was a little younger, and had, as they saw it, potential. It's not like I had a choice anyway. If you didn't go through with it, you were judged to be like one of them. They called those people vagrants, and they would find it harder to get a job, and thus the cycle of human slavery continued. \nWhat I'd done wasn't physically hard. I mean, it wasn't like it tasted like... human. It was like a maltshake. I'd opted for butterscotch, but it didn't make it any more palatable. Who was this person, what was their story? As I took the final gulp, those thoughts raced through my head. But it was over now, I could stroll out the door and not look back for another 20 years. I reached the end of the corridor, opened the door, and stepped out into the warm sunshine, in our perfect little world.", "The woman looked down her nose at the selection of meat on offer. She didn't like wandering further out but her normal butcher was shut and she needed a good cut to offer her guests. \n\n\"I don't suppose you have any girl available, I need something succulent and juicy\"\n\n\"Sorry darling we're fresh out, although could I tempt you with a few legs of age 17 boy, all free range of course\"\n\n\"No that won't do at all...\" \n\nEveryone knew teenage boy was one of the lower cuts, to much sinew plus something about the hormones altered the taste.\n\nShe looked the butcher up and down, he was a jolly man with a round face, plenty of meat on his bones. A good amount of fat to, her mouth began to water as she imagined the crackling flesh. \n\n\"Miss, Miss, you zoned out for a bit there. Look I'll go and have a look in the back see if I can find anything special for you\"\n\n\"Thank you, much appreciated but I have my eye on a specific cut\"\n\nShe began to slide the thin blade from the sheath at her thigh, hidden beneath the low folds of her dress\n\nHer guests would eat well tonight ", "\"It's humane, they are spared from the experience of their pitiful lives, while ours, worth living, are lengthened\".\n\nI tried to make him, the old man in front of me, understand. We have done this before, over and over and over, and never a problem. Now here he is with perhaps 5 years left to live. 5 old years, not even 5 good ones like the feeding stock have.\n\nIt is humane. Without us, their time would have been spent eking out an existence through scavenging, or simply sold to some other, far more painful, end (and God forbid they turn out to be physically attractive). Our feedstock were some of the best treated in our community. We feed them good, nutritious, healthy food, vitamin supplements - supplemented home fed is the term - where is the moral dilemma?\n\n\"You realize you are, physically, the oldest person in our family by, easily 3 decades right? You won't have too much to work with as it is.\"\n\nThere have been studies done that show that the age, and physical state of your feedstock does have some correlation with the anti-aging effect, but regardless, for a given food item the effect is around the same of reversing the physical aging process by about 20 years. Now here is my confused, old-as-hell brother, 4 years younger than me and 50 years older, with at least two food items to fully consume in the next 5 years, if that. I've done the math, that's an average caloric intake of 800 calories per day in feedstock alone. Then the anti-aging process takes time to! It's getting down to crunch-time for him.\n\n\"For the love of God say something.\"\n\nHe looked at me, and I will never forget this, and simply said:\n\n\"I'm okay with dying like this, I'm not okay with living like this.\"\n\nI think he had dementia.", "New from Anthrophage Industries:\n\nHave you noticed the lines around your eyes? Those grey hairs getting you down? \n\nTime for you to take action the Anthrophage way. Easy to use, available in pre portioned simple open packaging for easy consumption. No longer will you have the storage issues with the other 120lbs or so of donor material as our small, clean packages are easy to store in your freezer.\n\nWe screen all donor material for CJD, and other prion diseases for a comfortable and safe eternal youth.\n\nHe read the ad again looked carefully at the stack of boxes on his doorstep. The plain packaging giving no indication of the contents. He padded over to the stack swigging the end of his, now cold, coffee. He crouched down and pulled the rip tab to open the topmost box. Inside, neatly stacked in plain, ready meal tubs was his \"Donor Material\". He stood up and walked back to his kitchen and absent-mindedly placing his cup by the microwave. Turing the packet over and over the opaque white film was giving nothing away. He shrugged and pierced the lid with a knife grabbed from the knife-block. The microwave door slammed closed and he walked away as it reheated.\n\nA piece of paper poked out unnoticed from the box on the mat. On it was a single line, scrawled in blue biro. \n\nA phone number and the words \"her name was Elise\".\n\n", "While it might seem barbaric to an outsider looking in, it became perfectly acceptable over a period of a hundred years. Brilliant minds, beloved celebrities, the Rich, successful Politicians, all benefited and over time this society trickled down towards the middleclass, enabling the benefit of many millions more the world over. Humanity seemed to be on the precipice of another sudden great advancement and looked prepared to spread through the stars.\n\nThe poor who willingly gave themselves up, were treated as royalty for the short period they had left, laws and regulations kept in place that they might be protected from abuse. Individuals who had incurable diseases or repeated offenders were also on the butchers bill, able to provide their family with a means of escaping poverty on behalf of their sacrifice. It became a bit of a sensation, everybody benefited and it was regulated intently.\n\nThen, the disaster occured. There was no initial scientific explaination, but the world over reported a very sudden decrease in reproduction statistics; babies were simply not surviving. Tests upon tests were completed while people rioted in the streets for answers, the wealthy held on tightly to anyone willing to sacrifice themselves while the middle-class was left to suffer the consequences.\n\nThe 'Civil World War' broke out upon the announcement of a theory. \"No souls can escape after being consumed.\"\n\n\n\n\n(hopefully the separation works? I don't know how to do the line thing. First time submitting a WP. )", "The chains binding his hands and feet made it awkward to move. They weren't uncomfortable as the velvet padding made them almost luxurious to wear. As he shuffled along slowly, the honour guard that walked with him maintained pace. He looked up at one briefly and then dropped his head again. They wore ancient, colourful uniforms, red, gray and white, with puffy pants and strange hats. Each carried a pike, a symbol of a world long past, that as they took a step together was gently tapped on the floor. Tap, tap, tap, tap. \n\nIt wasn't macabre, as he had thought it would be. The Final Walk was filled with solemn ceremony. It had begun when he presented himself a week ago. By law, his last week was to be one of opulence and decadent luxury. He had thought it would be better than it turned out to be. If he were older, he suspected, then the choices he would have had might have been different but as a child, the rich foods and nearly naked women meant almost nothing. He had enjoyed playing the Xbox and getting to eat all the sweets that had always been denied him. The women seemed at a bit of a loss but he had been comforted by them being there. \n\nThen the morning of the Ascension came. He was bathed, dressed in the finest clothes and now was being escorted to his death. It wasn't as bad, he decided, as I expected. He thought back to his family. They were the reason he was here, after all. Ascension was that rare chance for a family to change their fate. As with most families that lived in extreme poverty, their choices were limited. You could work in the mills or factories started at ten years old, broken and worn out by fifteen. If you were lucky, you could be selected for the militia and perhaps survive the harsh training to become a Soldier. About ten percent did.\n\nFood, shelter, medicine were all whatever you could buy or steal. Only the Immortals and their Servants got whatever they wanted. From the time he could walk, he knew that he didn't want to live a life of hopelessness and abject poverty. He could see what that had done to his parents, his brother and sisters. The Immortals might be hundreds or even thousands of years old but his family were the ones who looked it. Broken and worn out, the light had long left their eyes as the accepted their fate.\n\nThen came the Lottery. It was nearly unheard of that one of the Truly Great Ones was looking for Renewal. It only happened every thirty or forty years that a Great One sought renewal but the Truly Great Ones had their own breeding stock. They never had to reach outside their own fiefdoms. So when the word came down that Lottery was offered he had immediately volunteered.\n\nAt first his parents had protested. \"Too young!\" they had cried but he knew those were false tears. In reality they were desperate for him to be Selected. As was he. While for him it would be the end of his life, for them it would be the beginning. The Bonus they would receive would allow them to move into the Midden and away from the Ghetto. This meant better jobs, better lives. Medicine, long denied, would be free. Education would be mandatory and welcomed. Careers, whatever they were, would be an option for his brothers and sisters and their children after them. The Bonus from a Truly Great One was nearly equal to the wealth of the Small Great Ones. It would transform his family's life. That was why he had volunteered.\n\nHis musings were brought up short as he realized the tapping of the pikes had stopped. He stood now before a hall lined with Great Ones. On a raised platform ahead, the Truly Great One that would accept his Ascension waited. She looked about thirty or so, but he knew she was much older. The honour guard stopped and one motioned for him to move ahead. As he slowly walked the remaining steps he mused inwardly about the contradictions he saw. Electric lamps lit the hall and music, softly playing from overhead speakers seemed in contrast to the ancient stone columns and costumes worn by those in attendance. He didn't know where the pageantry came from or when it started. He just kept his head down, like a supplicant asking for a favour from the gods themselves.\n\nHe reached the steps and stopped. The Question was asked. Was he willing? Yes, he was willing, almost anxious, for this. He knew that his sacrifice would propel his family and that, once completed, his name would be remembered forever. Not by Her, not by the Truly Great One. She wouldn't care. He would be remembered by his family as his life paid for theirs, and their lives would be reborn. He smiled inwardly, sad but pleased that he had escaped the destitute poverty that had enslaved his family for generations but sad and hating the world that made this sacrifice necessary.\n\nThe Question asked. He was permitted to look once upon the face of the Truly Great One, so she would (it was hoped) would appreciate the Ascension's cost. For those watching, the scene would be one they had all seen many times before. He lifted his six year old head and, unashamed, proud and certain, stared into the eyes of the Great Empress Cleopatra, the Truly Great One who, in a few minutes would consume his flesh and be reborn as a teenager in her own body. \n\n", "'Well, you see it's been theorised for sometime now. Before here, I was a scientist and—'\n'Yeah, well that didn't keep you from here egghead!' The tall bulky man gestured at the cage they sat in.\n\nThe three of them sat in a cage in the corner of a bustling kitchen. On the bench in front of them lay the arms of a man who'd previously been sitting with them. That was a day ago. His legs were seen hanging by butcher hooks on the other side of the room, in the fridge.\nDiego cracked his shoulders. Diego was the tall bulky guy. A good guy. Under the old standards he would've been a sports star. His build and looks were of a favourable appearance, which meant he was of a higher calibre. He'd be slow roasted for sure. \nThe doc, Mitch, was scrawny. Often the scrawny ones were described as gamey. He had a mild twitch as a kid, which given their current predicament, had turned into the equivalent of chewing an ever renewing piece of gum.\nLance sat between both of them, not really bulky, not really skinny. Not even an everyman. Just a dude who was now food.\nHe stared at the chef preparing their friend from the other day. He was making incisions along the forearm and putting in rosemary and lavender. The chef handle it with care. All preconceived notions of handling human meat had been lost when it became apparent that you could gain time on this rock.\n\n'What were you saying, Mitch, about the lifespan thing?' said Lance. That's where he'd been headed. Lance had heard about it too.\n\n'W..we know now that you add on 20 years from eating a person, or h..human meat at least. But no one has eaten a person who has eaten other people... Well, not publicly. Cause you see, they r..reckon these people that've already lived for years and years and years and eaten all these people. Have amassed like thousands of years. And there's even more rumours of some mutated gene that is making these people superhuman. From all this eating and growing, it's expanded into other areas. Anyways, the question is how long would you live if you ate one of—'\n\nAt that moment the doors to the kitchen burst open. The nearest chef removed the arms on the bench in front of them and placed a lead and taser.\n\n'It's how you keep them, you see,' spoke the leading man. He was their farmer. Michael Philcott. He was a wealthy something year old, who'd been eating people for many a year now. He always took his guest on a tour of his kitchen. A few times he'd even led the cow to slaughter...\n'I like to keep them here, they get acclimatised to their environment. I feel the unknown just breeds fear. And fear my friends, is not tasty. No, no ,no,' he laughed.\n\nMitch tried to crush himself further into the corner. Diego cracked his shoulders again. Lance thumbed the locket in his pant pocket.\n\n'Here they are! A prime range!' said Michael. He stood above them, over them, showing them off to his guests. They oohed and aahed, all staring hungrily at their next 20 years. Michael turned back and rested his eyes on Lance, a gleam in his eye. \n'I think he looks like a winner, don't you say?'\n\nLance followed the trail of the finger to his own chest. He stood up, bent down to tie his shoelace.\n'Anyone ever throw ball park figures out there, Mitch?'\nMitch's white face lost even more colour.\n\n'Oh look! This one is ready! I say, I'm sure even I could lead this one out!' he said. His guests egged him on and offered encouragement. Michael turned to the table behind him and picked up the lead and taser. He moved towards the door and pressed in his code. Diego and Mitch were restrained where they sat.\nThe door clicked unlocked.\n\n'Absolutely marvellous! Look at him dropping his head, really submissive this one! I won't even need the taser! You know, after a while, I think they just accept their fate. They understand how life works now.' he said.\n\nLance slid his feet along, moving through the gate, he neared Michael. Michael raised the lead up towards Lance's neck, it would clamp shut as soon as it had sensed his flesh. But this move also made Michael's neck vulnerable...\n\nLance leapt forward into Michael, tackling him across the bench. His manoeuvre had caught all present off guard. Before anyone could react, Lance was tearing into Michael's throat. His teeth chomped quickly on the rubbery squishy meat and swallowed. He lent with all his force on Michael's stomach and pushed the life out of him. He drank the blood from the open cavity that had previously been Michael's throat and felt stronger. Much stronger. He teared at the throat with new vigour as everyone began to pull him off their dead host.", "There's this old phrase: \"When you're living on your knees you rise up. You tell your sister that she's gotta rise up. Tell your brother that he's gotta rise up...\"\n\nRevolution is the smell on the wind. For too long we have suffered in silence. The rich literally gorge themselves on the poor. Marx is rolling in his grave. But it's not like we're communists. We're Freedom Fighters. \n\n---\n\nI hadn't slept in a week, I was weak. You'd never seen anyone more in need of a break. But I had to keep pushing through. If I didn't remain non-stop how would they remember me? I can't let a bullet to the chest be my legacy. \n\nI'm part of an underground resistance. I started it with a small group of 7, and we're looking to overthrow the government in a few weeks. We started with a dream, and now we're here. \n\nTell me. You ever wonder what it's like to have the flesh ripped from your bones? For your eyes to become souflees and your genitals a delicacy? I have. It seems I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. \n\nBut there's something they'll never take away. Our tongues. For some reason, when the rich feast, they never eat the tongues. I got a theory. I think that they're afraid. Tongues are how we spread our ideas. And I think if they ate one then they might understand why this rebellion happened. \n\nAnd what are we going to do to finish them? Imprison them? Salt the land? Eat them to consume their age? Nah. \n\nWe're going to eviscerate them. I lied about not being communists. Down with the bourgeois! \n\n---\n\nWhat? Were you expecting me to end with a musical quote or something?", "It was discovered on 7th of April, 1997, that eating people lowered your age for 20 years.\n\nAt first, people were horrified - how the bloody heck had they discovered this!? \nThen, they realised - what counted as a 'Person'? What if they declared ants people? This, of course, proved fruitless, only things with a highly developed brain counted, and the first dolphin eating was reported 1 month later. The scientists of all countries, horrified, decided to have an 'immortality race' - the first to develop a way for synthetic 'people' to be created, just a brain, would win whatever they wanted.\n\nMeanwhile, in poorer countries, the poor were dissapearing at an alarming rate, and the rich seemed to look quite younger. This was ended by armies of multiple countries simply killing those who ate people, ending their follies.\n\nFinally, it was announced. A blob with a highly developed brain had been created, but not conscious. The world rejoiced.\n\nBut the blobs were conscious and self-aware too - and they were distressed - but with no method of combating it, or communicating, humanity simply didn't know. The blobs planned.\n\nAnd thus became sheep - destroyers of worlds.", "They called me a maid. \n\nI mean, seriously. Everyone knew what was really going on, but you couldn’t… just say it out loud, could you? It was as if a whole society had decided to pretend it doesn’t happen.\n\nBy inches and degrees we’d come to this place. We’d always lifted up the few on the backs of the many. We poor had literally been giving our lives for the rich.\n\nI guess these days we do it even more literally. Ha.\n\nI hated them, with the impotent fury we all have towards the unimaginably rich. Sometimes you find yourself in a place where you don’t have any power, right? You just gotta… take the crappy situation you’re in, and do what you can. Even if there’s nothing you can do. \n\nSo I was hired on as a maid to the Hart family. The previous maid had… disappeared, along with her family. Same thing happened to the maid before. And the one before her.\n\n“Terrible situation,” said Mrs. Hart as I ladled her stew. Almost as if she considered us as humans. I pushed my contempt down as she sipped from her spoon.\n\nAnd I tried not to smile. Because I knew what had really happened to the previous maids and their families. And I knew what was about to happen to Mrs. Hart.", "My brother and I sat at mother's bedside, teary-eyed and with broken hearts. She didn't have cancer, or some kind of heart defect- \"her body is just old\" they told us. She's only 45, but there's nothing to fix, and nothing to cure; she aged quickly, for some reason. Just the imminence of death intruding on our lives.\n\nWe each squeezed one of her hands, sobbing at the softness of her smile. Even as life fled from her, she found it within her to smile at us, to reassure us with love.\n\n\"How can you smile, mom?\" I asked her, curious to know. \"Aren't you scared? Don't you hurt?\"\n\n\"As long as I'm looking at you boys, the loves of my life, I can do nothing but smile,\" she whispered to us. Not in my 20 years on this Earth had I felt such sorrow, or pain. My brother was broken, unconsolably trembling. He was only eight, after all- watching your mother die at that age is just too much.\n\nIt's just too much.\n\n\"Robert, leave the room for a bit, okay?\" I asked my brother, smiling. \"Go on, I need to tell mom something.\"\n\nHe rubbed at his eyes and shuffled out the door. I closed it behind him and returned to my mother's side.\n\n\"He can't live without you. I've had my shot, and I've messed up a lot. I dropped out of school, and I've hurt the whole family with my bullshit. Robert needs a mother like you, a kind and understanding woman to take care of him. I can't do it, and I don't deserve the chance. But I can do this, mom. Let me do this.\"\n\nI pulled out a knife, and braced myself for death. A smile crept across my face, still coated in my tears.\n\nYou think I wouldn't be smiling at the thought of my own death.\n\n\"Don't fight, mom. Let me live through you. Take the years from me, and with them, let me feel what it's like to help people and make a change for the better.\"\n\n--------------------------------------\n\nsorry if this wasn't what you were looking for, the prompt just inspired me to write this! if you enjoyed it and are looking for any more feels trips, check out /r/resonatingfury", "...It was a modest proposal. Really.\n\n\nIt made sense. Money for the newborn. They couldn't afford having another mouth to feed. Hell, they couldn't even afford to feed themselves, for that matter. But this could help change that. Not only were they being offered $50,000, but during the pregnancy, his wife would practically be treated like royalty. Warm clothes. Doctor visits. Plenty of food, anything she desired. A clean place to live, with every major expense paid for. Skilled physicians to ensure the delivery would go as smoothly as possible, and to ensure a full recovery. All they had to do was sign the contract. \n\n\nIn nine months they could have $50,000. It was the logical thing to do. But his wife, his wife was having none of it. She cried, she screamed, she threatened him, and when that didn't work, she threatened to abort the child. \"I'LL DO IT! YOU KNOW I WILL! I'D RATHER KILL IT THAN HAND IT OVER TO THE LIKES OF THEM! I HATE YOU! YOU'RE A MONSTER!\" It was hours before she finally calmed down and passed out from all the stress and exhaustion. \n\n\nHe knew he couldn't make her see sense, at least not with all of the hormones running through her system. Biology was very good at convincing expecting mothers to protect their growing unborn children, regardless of the cost. It was officially a lost cause, which meant there was only one thing left to do.\n\n\n…It's for her own good, he told himself. Carefully, he forged her signature. Not that it really mattered. Nobody was going to look too closely at it anyway. ", "For a long time, it was seen as a horrible crime against nature. To kill a person, only to add more years to your life? It could only be called inhumane. But there were those who secretly did it, who had done research on these effects. \n\nEating a person? 20 years. But what was defined as a person? Soon the wealthy found a way to become younger, only a few years at a time. It was unnoticeable. But as the years ticked by, it became less and less obvious. But by then it was too late. The wealthy had complete control. \n\nPart one. \n\nWilfred Ruinfield, Age 376. For the past few centuries, he had maintained the form of a man in his mid twenties, living his life in the Hollywood Hills in his Oceanside mansion. However, for the past few years, he has been de-aging at a slow rate, and now has the body of a child of three years. \n\nWe have been unable to determine the cause of Mr Ruinfields symptoms, considering how he has not consumed a living being in many years. At first we suspected that someone had been tampering with his food supply, but even after he had begun to make it himself, symptoms continued. At current rate, subject will be unable to take care of himself in several months. \n\nResume regular testing. \n\nPart two. \n\nWilfred was scared. Now in a body of a baby, one only a few months old, he could no longer take care of himself. At the hospital he was being tested at, he was now tucked away in a crib, in the most secure location. But when would they find what was wrong with him? \n\nAt that moment, the door opened, but nobody entered. Confused, Wilfred looked around, but could see no one. However, he could sense that someone was in here with him. Where could he be? \n\nStanding by the cage, the woman revealed herself. She was smiling, but the smile never reached her eyes, which were like ice. \"We are the same\" she said, reaching down and opening the babies mouth. \"Both of us have eaten others to survive.\". \n\nPulling out a syringe, she placed it near the babies mouth. It tried to struggle, but the liquid inside sprayed out into it's mouth. It began to squirm, it's eyes wide in horror, asking why. \"A consintrated dose\" she replied. \"I usually gave you the blood of a single innocent, but today, this contains the blood of twenty.\". \n\nThe baby began to shrink, smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely. The woman turned around, and became invisible once again. She had killed the first of many, in the way most fitting for those who had eaten others to survive. She would soon select her next target, and the cycle would begin again. And when all of it was over, she would leave this world. \n\nFor it was a monster, who hunted the monsters. \n\nEdit: stupid auto correct", "\"Our specials today include an orange glazed thigh served with rice pilaf and summer vegetables, slow cooked smoked rib cage braised with freshly drained O- blood served with mashed potatoes and summer vegetables, and liver and kidney served in an enzyme alfredo pasta sauce. Our soup of the day is brain noodle.\" \n\nAs he read out the specials to the young couple in front of him, Marshall forced himself to hold back on his contempt. Youth seemed to radiate from every pore of these two. Their faces showed no trace of wrinkles or blemishes. Their hair had an unnatural luster to it. If Marshall didn't know better, he would have thought he was serving two rich super stars who were no older than twenty. The couple in front of Marshall looked no older than twenty, although their age most likely doubled or even tripled the 38 year old. \n\n\"I'll have the smoked rib cage,\" the man ordered to Marshall, who wrote the choice down on his small pad of paper. \n\n\"Excellent choice,\" Marshall commended with a fake bravado. \"And for the lady?\"\n\n\"I suppose the same,\" she responded as she shied away from the server.\n\n\"Excellent. I will have your orders put in and your drinks brought out immediately. Please take your time and relax.\" \n\nAs he left, Marshall picked up the menus from the table and strode to the kitchen, all the while maintaining his proper posture. The second he passed the loose swinging doors, he let his back arch and dropped his professional demeanor. He had owned this restaurant for many years, and in all this time he could never get over the place. It was a fancy restaurant highlighted by the use of expensive furniture, golden cutlery, expensive crystals, and gorgeous painting that could have landed themselves into the Louvre in an instant. Marshall sigh one of many in his career. He ripped off the sheet of paper and left it on the well polished steel counter and made his way outside the building. There he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and began his break. He leaned against the wall, taking a large puff from his cigarette. \n\n\"I don't understand how these fucking nobles can eat this shit,\" he said to himself. \"Just how conceited can they be?\" \n\nHe took another drag from his cigarette and looked into the sky. He had always wanted to be a fireman. He didn't want to serve rich, pompous assholes who loved to eat this restaurant's \"delicacies\". The money was the only reason. As horrible as they were, after feeding, they would be more generous in their tips. Once again, Marshall sighed. Just what type of person am I to work here? He thought. Just as he finished it, crashing could be heard from in the kitchen, followed by the yelling of the restaurant's large, fat, and rotten smelling head chef. It sounded like one of his ingredients had gotten loose and began rampaging around. Marshall threw his cigarette to the ground and turned towards to door, only to come face to face with a man in his early thirties, dressed in rags made from potato sacks. The man looked at Marshall, and a snarling rage consumed him. Like an animal in a corner, the man lashed out at Marshall, attempting to gouge out his eyes. If it weren't for this being the seventh escapee in the last three months, Marshall might have lost his eyes. With practiced movements, he easily evaded the weak man's strike and and instead smashed his head against the wall. The man's eyes rolled back into his head as a small trickle of blood began flowing from his left temple. As he sank to the ground, Marshall grabbed his arm and began to drag him through the kitchen. He passed the chef, who showed his admiration through a smile of crooked, yellow teeth. \n\n\"fanks Marsh,\" he said, an evident low intelligence showing. \n\n\"You better keep an eye on your product, or else they'll escape again,\" Marshall said in his emotionless voice. Marshall didn't feel anything. His mother died, and he didn't shed a tear. His father tried to kill him, calling him the spawn of Satan, but it just made Marshall laugh. \"I'll take him back to the pen. Just keep those nobles happy.\"\n\nMarhall dragged the frail and fattened man across the floor and down a flight of stone steps to a black, closed door that could have led into an abyss. Marshall opened the door and dragged the man into the room. He turned the light on to reveal a room full of cages, each holding a person with excess fat dressed in tatters. Although the sight was horrible, it was the smell. every time Marshall came down, the smell was what got him. It was the scent of human feces mixed with decaying and rotting flesh. \n\n\"Don't forget to throw out the old stock\", Marshall had been told by the previous owner. \"The smell will kill you if you don't.\" If the smell was this bad now, Marshall couldn't even bare to think what the old stock smell was. Marshall threw the man into the open cage and closed the cage with a sharp metallic click. Happy with the closed gate, he walked back up the stairs, completely oblivious to the stares of absolute loathing and hatred he received from the residents here. They didn't beg for mercy, nor did they complain. They just accepted that they were stock. That was the job of the poor. Marshall owned a very unique restaurant. He sold meals that were made with humans as the main dish. For thousands of years, the poor had been used to invigorate and extend the lives of the rich and important nobles. Only a true demon could run an establishment like this. That was the very definition of Marshall. But to his customers, he was a simple, well mannered waiter. \n\n. ", "As I walk past my mother, \nShe looked at me teary eyed. \nIn a state of confusion and sadness, \nShe thought she'd be the one to die. \n\nFor I was young and she was old, \nAnd that's all they ever cared for. \nI took a deep breath and sighed a happy sigh, \nAnd walked through that broken door. \n\nThey never cared about who we were, \nJust how much we cost. \nThe secret to immortality was simple, \n\nhumanity was lost.\n\n----------------\nHey OP! Hope you liked it! Not many prompts inspire a poem out of me. \n Loved to hear what you think about it!\n \nEDIT: Check out /u/AmateurAudiobook for a wonderful narration of this! \n " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 23, 27, 48, 69, 69, 109, 138, 460, 895 ]	[ "1456138245", "1456141297", "1456147813", "1456148462", "1456151301", "1456151432", "1456151568", "1456152071", "1456152358", "1456156663", "1456156811", "1456157520", "1456158613", "1456159530", "1456143006", "1456149242", "1456149306", "1456150972", "1456154953", "1456155417", "1456129294", "1456146484", "1456132847", "1456130602", "1456154815", "1456138072", "1456132983", "1456151230", "1456134529", "1456125906", "1456117565", "1456119176", "1456119252", "1456117336", "1456129294", "1456116710", "1456114225" ]
	[WP] Donald Trump, DJ Khaled and Kanye West sit down to have coffee and break character.	5	[ "\"I can't believe you donnie\" Kanye whispered across the table. \n\nClutching his mug in both hands he gently brought it to his lips and took a small sip to calm his nerves.\n\n\"We've been through this already, we can't go back. We all knew this was how it would end\" Trump sighed, \"we can barely control ourselves at this point\"\n\n\"ANOTHER ONE, ANOTHER ONE\" Khaled sobbed\n\n\"Heuheueheuheu\"\n\nThere was a shrill laughter that hit the air like lightning strikes, a fissure split the floor of the room and the devil himself jumps up on to the table.\n\n\"Busey I'm sorry! It was just for ratings! I didn't know you were the devil.\" Trump cried\n\nA grimace spread across Gary busey's face revealing his mangled pearly whites. \n\"Now now don, you know that's not why I'm here. I'm here for the memes Heuheueheuheu\"\n\nIt was true, after getting drunk at busey's after party for the Boston bombings the trio had been coerced by Gary to sell him their souls in exchange for one promise, to grant them the power of the living meme.\n\n\"You knooow, Shia handled it pretty well when his dementia set in. But I don't think DJ is doing so well over there! Huehuehueehuee\"\n\nKhaled curled into a ball on the ground and muttered something about jerly and dove soap. At this point Kanye began to break down too.\n\n\"Please I have a son!\"\n\n\"Sorry but you're coming with me boyos\"\n\nBusey cackled one last time as he swooped them into the fissure and sealed it shut, wiping the earth of stale memes in an effort to make America great again.\n\n\n\n", "Rain came down in silver sheets and dripped down the side of West manor as a charcoal grey vehicle, nearly invisible in the dim evening rain, entered, and then promptly left, disturbing only the gravel. An all-black figure stepped out from the car and immediately made his way to the back, his tall rubbery boots well made and emblazoned with a logo that caught Khaled's eye. \n\n\"Here comes another one, Mr. West\"\nThere was no response.\n\n\"Kanye! I think Trump just rolled up and he's about to come through\"\n\n\"Oh I hope he doesn't track in any mud, last time that happened Kim wasn't having it.\"\n\n\"I don't have the keys to success Ye, but I know that not standing up for yourself is too easy to be the right choice\"\n\n\"Nah, its not like that. She totally acted normal with me, no issues, nah mean, then one day we're fucking, you know, tryna recreate the Jackson Five, when she stuck a finger up my ass! I hate that shit!\"\n\n\"That's cold.\" \n\nDonald Trump stood in the doorway, his frame filling most of the view into the hallway. He had an excited look on his face.\n\n\"I'm sorry for being so impolite, my very good friend Kanye, I forgot to take off my boots again.\"\n\n\"It's okay Donald I won't hold a grudge.\"\n\n\"Listen, I'll send over the very best cleaning lady, I swear you will love her, I love her, I love her family, they're great people, and I'll pay for everything.\"\n\n\" You ain't gotta stay in character Don, you ain't gotta convince me to let you clean my house. Kanye picked his nails and looked down his fingers at the tracks Mr. Trump had left.\n\n\"You should use my lady Don, she need work to stay here and support her son in college.\" DJ Khaled suggested, \"Finances are a little tight or I'd hire her myself.\"\n\n\"You are always so thoughtful Khaled.\"\n\nKanye began to tap his foot quickly then stood up, speaking quietly as he did when in a rare moment of impatience. Both Donald and Khaled appraised him as he spoke.\n\n\"Enough pleasantries.\"\n\n\"Very well\" said DJ Khaled, his eyebrows casting a shadow over his face. \"World Domination. We in here.\"" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1456118301", "1456127510" ]
	[WP] Go on the deep web and hire a hitman to kill you.	1	[ " Isn't it ironic, don't you think? Picture this: it's like a death sentence when you're already dying. I was diagnosed last year with leukaemia. Stage 4. Nothing they could do for me, doctors had never really been much help anyway. Psychics had. I've had a long history with them, contrarily. They've always been right about me. I probably radiate enough hints for cold readings and subtle cues. \n No one ever expected me to get a relationship, it was accepted that I was essentially socially sterile. A leper, I believe. It didn't take much convincing from Reddit to persuade myself to hire a hitman. Not for a deep hatred of another, no--not even hatred at all. This is purely boredom. So, to any future detectives reading this, look no further and consider this my suicide note. \n I went to the best in the biz. 50 large for an infamous serial killer. I chose a lighter death, however--I wasn't a complete psychopath. But he was, thankfully. I knew it would be fun. Cat and mouse. \n\nLaziness has intervened with my writing. I have a food appointment at 2 o'clock sharp with me, myself, and I. Wouldn't want to be late!", "I'm bored. I've been bored for a long time. Ever since the breakup anyway, and even then, life was a series of mundane fucking moments: go to work, come home, enjoy the weekend, then do it all again.\n\nHer name was Jillian, with a \"J\" and not a \"G.\" We did things. We made love on the beach, we gambled in Vegas, we had a three way. Whatever I wanted, she was up for it. Still, it wasn't enough. I told her so in a letter, not because I felt it a romantic epilogue to our fiery relationship, but because I didn't feel like having the inevitable, ensuing argument over our demise. It wasn't a topic of debate, like whether or not there is a God or if Gingers have souls. It just was. I told her she was better off, and in that I believe I told the truth. I told her she would find real happiness without me, because if I could never know real happiness myself, how could I have given that to her?\n\nWithout her, life is the same, except for the lack of regular sex and a warm body with which to share breakfast at an impossibly aromatic greasy spoon. Maybe I'd made a mistake.\n\nBut then. I've been thinking a lot lately about life and the pursuit of elusive happiness. I had \"it all\" and threw it away. It didn't scratch my itch; not even the socially agreed upon definition of bliss could satisfy my emotionless mind.\n\nIf life would never be enough, then what about death? Yes, death might be nothing at all, but then again it might be fucking EVERYTHING! Whatever it might be, the idea of it sent impossible thrills like electric current through my cold veins and well, like the saying goes, no good story ever began with a glass of milk.\n\nI got drunk. All by myself with a bottle of Gray Goose and a gallon of OJ (no, I didn't drink it all, just enough to make bad decisions). I remember opening my laptop and entering the password. I remember the porn, and the increasingly disturbing shit I found myself clicking on as my erection stiffened. That could be the title of my memoir, \"Increasingly Disturbing Shit.\" Maybe I'll live to write it one day.\n\nOnce I came and dusted off the cobwebs of, if not my blood alcohol level, my deafening libido, there I was, limp dick, soiled tissue, and a post-video advertisement promising a secure server and content that would change my life. \n\nWhen I beat off, I use a browser that promises privacy from federally prying eyes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not into child porn, or any illegal shit, but these days, you never really know who's eighteen and who isn't. And like I said, I'm into some weird shit. So, like mom always says, better safe than sorry!\n\nThe website I landed on now that my pants were once again buckled and exhausted cock comfortably resting beneath a warm layer of elasticized cotton, was a forum; a virtual bazaar offering unique and exotic services.\n\nI began to click.\n\nNeed to intimidate an office superior? Have a rape fantasy? Nude pics of that office crush eluding you? It was all there for me with the stroke of the wrist (oh, come on, that part of the story is over, we're talking about an innocent computer mouse now) and the click of an index finger.\n\nThat is when I saw it. \"Hitman for hire. No kids.\"\n\nI studied the minimal text for a moment as the gears began to work, at first grinding slowly and then smooth and efficient as I added the oil of a plan. I wondered if the poster had meant he (or she, we live in a world where women are just as capable of murdering for money, don't be sexist) wouldn't kill kids or if he simply refused to take hits from them. Could be either, what with the inability of adolescents to pay for such a lofty service.\n\nEither way. My business would not involve a child. I navigated to the killer's advertisement and sent a brief message. \"Interested, need your services ASAP.\"\n\nI felt my withered penis throb again as the idea I had spontaneously implemented fed my heart with adrenaline.\n\nIt took only minutes to hear back. \"Need the name of target, birthdate and address, then once fifteen thousand dollars is deposited, the job is considered done. No change of heart, no refunds.\"\n\nAfter a brief, awkward exchange involving just whose birthday and address was desired - the victim's as it turned out - I negotiated the price to 8,500 when I let him know the victim was none other than yours truly.\n\nWhen he asked me why, then, I'd asked whose information he'd required if both victim and murderer-by-proxy were one and the same person, I laughed, because I hadn't even thought of it when I'd asked. Blame the vodka.\n\nSo here I am, a hangover and contract out on my head. Aspirin should quiet the kettle drum in my brain but not surprisingly, I don't expect it to nullify the contract on my life. It feels exhilarating.\n\nI have the sudden, irresistible urge to call Jillian, tell her about my newest adventure. I want to sit with her and order a fat stack o' pancakes and laugh about my predicament while pouring sweet, sugary syrup over my food and sipping heavily creamed coffee. And you know what, I will call her. Maybe see if she wants to talk. Give her an apology. She deserves it after all.\n\nYes, I can make this work. We can take off, I've got some money; Lord knows she does too. We can run off, and figure out how to live our lives under the threat of imminent annihilation. Finally, I'd stumbled upon the formula for happiness!\n\nI'll call her right now, in fact. Just pick up that phone and select her name from a relatively short list. It feels like I'm a teenaged boy about to ask the cheerleader to prom. But first, I need to get the door. Somebody won't stop fucking knocking. I wonder who could be here on a Saturday morning?", "There are some dark deeds that cry out for the opposite of forgiveness. There are deeds that can never absolved, or forgotten, or gotten over. My uncle committed such a deed, and he tried to buy my forgiveness by leaving me his fortune.\n\nMy uncle wasn't a rich fuck. He's what could be called a wealthy bastard. I'm not going to tell you his name, but it wouldn't matter because you wouldn't recognize it if I did. That's how wealthy he was, he wasn't famous. If that doesn't make sense, think about it this way, after all the years of outrage about there wall street assholes that almost bankrupted the US economy, how many of them can you name off the top of your head? If you answered anyone other than Bernie Madoff, then you're either lying, or your obsessed with financial and political information. At the very least, you'd have to admit you're a rarity right?\n\nThe reason you don't know who the guys behind the financial crash are comes down to two things. US culture has been groomed to have a short attention span, and US media knows who's buttering their bread. The wealthier you are, the less your name gets put into news reports without your consent, and the more you can get away with. If you're wealthy enough, not only will cops and courts look the other way, but so will family members. When the choice comes down to believing a crying child, or risking being cut out of an inheritance that can set you up for life... it's not hard to do the math and decide which variable can be isolated. \n\nSometimes I think I'm being too generous to my uncle by believing he left me the lions share of his money and assets as an act of penance. It seems more like it was a big \"fuck you\" to his brothers and sisters and in laws for not having the courage to call him out... for never being able to look him in they eye and tell him they knew he was full of shit like I did. He often told me that I was the only one who wouldn't kiss his ass and call it ice cream. The only one who called it like he saw it. I think that's maybe why he decided to target me. To break me.\n\nAfter he was gone, I was a shattered and empty vessel. Knowing that my parents, and their siblings were left with a pittance and that I was now the one everyone else was waiting around to see dead was too much to bear. Seeing in their eyes that they thought all that money, and the cars and the houses somehow made it right in the end... it was more than I could take.\n\nAfter spending a year burying myself in hedonistic thrills and realizing they'd never salve the pain.. I started researching to find out what kind of dark and brutal things could be purchased in the darker corners of the internet. After a two year process of verification and making sure I was certain everything was set up right I made the contract and sent it to the assassin I'd chosen. \n\nThe terms were that she would try to kill me once a month, but could only take a shot when I was in the vicinity of one of the people in the extensive files I'd sent her, which was every one of my aunts and uncles and both my parents. If she managed to kill the person next to me she'd be paid 500 grand. If that person was killed or injured, I was off limits for another month. If she couldn't kill either of us during a 12 hour window, we were both off limits for another month and she would be paid 250 grand for her time, which would be reduced by 50 grand each additional time she failed to kill either person during the 12 hours. If she manages to kill me, she'll get 20 Million Dollars and a house in the Bahamas so long as the other family member lives.\n\nAfter that, I gathered my family together, and told them that information had come to light that one of them was trying to have me killed. I told them further that my new will was written in strong terms that would make it a certainty that if I should die of foul play or questionable circumstances, to be determined by my executor, that the majority of my fortune would be dispersed to charities across the globe, with a minimal portion going to them, and any attempt to contest it would be guaranteed to drag out long enough in court time and have enough fees that they'd go broke before before they got anything.\n\nIt was also made clear that the only circumstances under which I'd consider revising my will would be if I was certain that my family was no longer a threat to me. I also stipulated that any family member who tried to protect me from harm would be compensated, and if they died in an attempt to save me, their next of kin would be given 50 million dollars, so long as I was still alive. Anyone who started becoming scarce and avoiding me would be cut out of the will entirely. \n\nIt was the oldest of my remaining uncles who died first. His wife died the following month. They keep coming around to make sure I'm okay. I keep taking my walks through the city, or my holidays around the world, always offering to bring anyone along who wants to join me. There's always at least one who does. \n\nI keep praying that \"Jennifer\" (or whatever the hell her real name is) will take me down before she's killed all of them. \n\nI so desperately want one of them to watch me die, and feel a sense of panic at the thought that the rest of the family will blame them for it. \n\nI want to pass the bitter cup of sorrows to one of them, as my uncle did to me, but with a lot of bloody interest." ]	[ 2, 2, 2 ]	[ "1456178626", "1456179665", "1456189892" ]
[WP] You are Brothulu, bringer of gains and destroyer of fat. While your brother crushes worlds, you crush records. Edit: gains	[WP] You are Brothulu, bringer of gains and destroyer of fat. While your brother crushes worlds, you crush records.	249	[ "\"Cthulhu fhtagn, Brothulu achieves\"- Part one workout vlog of Brothulu\n\n...\n\nThere is a term for a shape that brings mortal minds to madness- indeed, the very thought of this shape brings lesser men to their knees. The term of course being \"my glutes\". While my shapeless brother manages to drag his form around the mortal realm in the guise of a squid (I guess), I'm sculpting my body into a noneuclidean piece of art. I attract the most beautiful and swollest of the mortal realm to my cult- leaving my pitiful brother with the feeble bodied remainder. His last batch of cultists failed to overpower the residents of an orphanage. But how do you expect Cthulu to get anything done if he can't even bench a mountain, or press a continent or two. Of course- this doesn't mean much to Nug, our parent, because of the ONE time I saved a continent from destruction... But hey, I'm not about to let any elder god scheming ruin my macros, and my gym bro was crashing there at the time.\n\n Maybe one day the other elder gods will realize that our gains can be just as incomprehensible as our whims, until then- to all the Brothulites out there- bodies make an excellent replacement for bars once rigor mortis sets in.", "Brothulu's 10 Commandments of Gains\n\nI am the Gain Lord, thy Brothulu, which have brought thee out of the land of scrawniness, out of the house of pudge. \n\n1. Thou shalt have no other trainers before me.\n2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any unfiltered Instagram images.\n3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy gymspiration, in vain.\n4. Remember the rest day, to keep it holy.\n5. Honor thy cardio and thy glamour muscles.\n6. Thou shalt not kill thy gains by neglecting thy protein shakes.\n7. Thou shalt not commit to thy gym by going for a jog outside.\n8. Thou shalt not steal thy neighbor's squat rack.\n9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor bro's PR.\n10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's gains.\n\nYe shall erect these gains, which I command thee upon Mount Swole.", "Brothulu flexed his chest muscles and grunted loudly. \n\n\"Brothulu, are you scared?\" Mini, his girlfriend, asked. \n\nHe scoffed, and stretched his hands letting the fire of his will pulsate through each vein. \n\nA microphone echoed in the distance. \"Now, we welcome our final contender -Brothulu!\"\n\nWith each step he took, his determination drowned out the senses of the world around him. He looked toward the audience, but the chairs weren't filled with people any more. They were simply hunks of fat, to weak and to fragile to be on stage with him. \n\nI will destroy these fat bastards. He thought, while holding his pinky finger to the left corner of his mouth. \n\n\"Welcome to the stage Bro-\" The host began. \n\nBrothulu snatched the mic out of the host's hand. \"All of you. You weak, puny, people. Remember this day as the day Brothulu inspired you. When you go home, tell your wife and children about it. Tell them that you will embark on the journey as I have, to eat more chicken breast and broccoli than people eat actual food. Tell them and remember who Brothulu is!\"\n\nHe smashed the microphone into the stage, it punctured through the wood and fell into the abyss. Bystanders swear to this day that flame shot up from that very same hole. \n\nBrothulu stood in front of the squat rack and loaded 1000lbs of plates. He smiled at the judge and pushed the weights onto his shoulders. \n\nThe stage creaked with each step, as he moved toward the crowd. People stood up in awe, their cheering grew louder.\n\nThey began screaming and chanting his name, \"Brothulu! Brothulu! Brothulu!\"\n\nThe stage creaked one more time.\n\nAnd broke.\n\nBrothulu fell straight though, with the 1000 lbs of weights in tact. \n\nThat was the last anyone has seen of Brothulu since. But, rumour has it that he is in the deepest pits of hell training those who spent their lives seeking pleasure instead of gains.", "\"You read from the wrong book.\" The elder abomination looked frustrated. \n\n\"There is no way I read from the wrong book.\" The bespectacled man waved the aforementioned book in the air. \"This is the Yag Somnoth, written in the blood of virgins upon pages made of sewn together intestines. There is no text of a greater evil in all of the world.\"\n\n\"No. It isn't. The Yag Somnoth howls through its black maw. The pages glow with an unholy darkness. We had the thing on our bookshelf for millennia. It was unspeakable annoying and made a good night's sleep impossible. What you have is the Yog Shibbeth.\"\n\n\"You are a lord of lies! Your every word spreads darkness!\" The bespectacled man paused. \"Are you wearing a Tap Out shirt?\"\n\n\"You summoned me in the middle of a set. Which, by the way, is a douche move. The next person to use the bench is going to be pissed.\" The eldritch abomination reached something vaguely hand like toward the man. \"I'm Brothulu.\"\n\nThe bespectacled man crumbled to the floor. \"God damn it. Damn it all. I ransomed my life for this. I studied tongues that drive men to madness. And for what?\"\n\nBrothulu stepped out of the warding circle and took the book from his unresisting hands.\n\n\"Well, there's a bitchin' protein shake recipe, my lift diary, and a couple woodcuts of me shredded.\" Brothulu shook his head. \"This is some personal shit, man.\"\n\n\"You don't understand. I gave up everything for power. Everything. Love. Respect. A Future. Now I have nothing.\"\n\nThe million weeping eyes of Brothulu scanned the bespectacled man. \"You want power?\" He asked.\n\n\"More than anything.\"\n\n\"And what will you do for it?\"\n\n\"All that you ask and more.\"\n\n\"Tell you what, my lift bro just got married and has lost focus. You hit the gym with me and I'll get you power, respect, and love. One set at a time.\"\n\nThe bespectacled man gazed upon the face of madness. The hundred screaming mouths. The writhing mass of maggots where skin never was. And the surprisingly toned physique underneath.\n\nThe bespectacled man took a deep breath, then offered up a dap.\n\n\"Fuck it. I'm in.\"\n\n", "For Newbies: Post-Workout Instructions for Honoring the Altar of Brothulu, Bringer of Gains\n--------------\n1. Be sure you have re-racked your weights. ALL OF THEM. We have not yet found the remains of the last person to ignore this step (though we do still occasionally hear echoes of his screams).\n\n2. Stand on the mat before the altar and complete 3 sets of Brothulu's Bow - diagram below; pay attention to proper squat form.\n\n3. Present an offering of sweat - cast a drop or two on the fire.\n\n4. If almighty Brothulu deems your exaltation worthy, you may add 1 scoop of the altar's holy protein powder to your post-workout shake and leave with His blessing.\n\nAll Hail Brothulu!\n\nNote: If the worshiper before you was deemed unworthy and burst into flames, please use the provided brush and dustpan to sweep the ashes into the waste receptacle at the left, BEFORE you begin your own exaltation.\n\nThank you,\n\nGym Staff" ]	[ 4, 7, 21, 41, 94 ]	[ "1456198378", "1456202765", "1456191830", "1456195297", "1456180741" ]
	[WP] In a world where every fortune cookie turns out to be true, fortune cookies become darker and more sinister every year. You bought the one that had that was rated the scariest fortune of all time.	2	[ "A cookie baked with a curious treat\n\nA paper that held a fortune neat\n\nFor it is known to be fate\n\nGood or bad it is too late\n\nCrack the shell and then reveal\n\nYour future will have been sealed\n\nAnd what other words could you seek\n\nThan this future that is most bleak\n\nSo here it is your fortune lies\n\nFor your one true love has passed you by\n\nIn your ignorance, go now and cry\n\nThey won't come back and never will\n\nAnd live your long life you shall still.", "You scream in terror and crush the small cookie in your trembling hand. It can not be. After all this time it has finally happened. Other fortunes were coming true, so there isn't any reason that yours won't either. Horrified, you sprint out of the restaurant as fast as you can. You don't look back, you just run. \nAfter what feels like hours, you look back at the scrap of paper in your hand and feel faint. You still cant believe that God would allow something as horrible as this to ever happen on his Earth.\nYou feel light headed and fall to the ground.\nThe last thing you see, before you pass out, are those words that can make any sane person quake in fear:\n\"Spice Girls Reunion Tour - 2016\"" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1456202751", "1456203762" ]
	[WP] You finally gather the courage to end your own life but when you put the gun up to your head and pull the trigger, the bullet simply bounces off. You've discovered you're invincible. How do you react?	4	[ ">courage to end your own life. \nhuh guessing you've been there? It's all right, me too, it does feel like something I am too weak to do. ", "At last the tool to end my life\n\nTo finish off strong, to end my strife\n\nNo more to remember those moments most trying\n\nLike the moment when I first saw that my mother was crying\n\nThe tool of my choice, so shiny and bold\n\nA colt 1911 so heavy and old\n\nAs I press the fun end to my head\n\nI think \"Hey, I'm probably better off dead\"\n\nA press of the trigger, the heaviest of all\n\nLeads to a click and little more, my end here is stalled\n\nI pull back the slide and try again\n\nTo ignite the coal black powdery grain\n\nAnd with some success fire the round\n\nAnd notice that somehow I am still 'round\n\nFire off another and see that I've found\n\nMy life is not ended, my life is still sound\n\nWhy I have this power, no one may know\n\nBut I still walk so out I go\n\nInto the world where everyone must know\n\nThe dent in my head still stinging\n\nMy right ear still ringing\n\nAnd then is when I see, a girl no older than three.\n\nPlaying in the street with her ball\n\nNot knowing the car that is coming may end it all\n\nSo with my new power, or curse shall I say\n\nSave a little girl and have a good day.", "I looked at the gun in my shaking hand. It was still warm.\n\nI looked at the opposite wall. It now had a lovely little hole in it.\n\nI looked in the mirror. My head, strangely, did not match the wall.\n\nIn my distressed state, at first all I could manage was to sit there in shock. The logical conclusion sat in plain sight, and yet I was too shocked and adrenalized and lingeringly terrified to figure it out. Fortunately, however, my brain seemed to reboot itself about a minute later, and it decided I needed to test my hypothesis.\n\nI fired again.\n\nThe wall grunted in protest.\n\n\"Oh hell yes!\" I shouted, jumping up from the little stool in the center of my bedroom-- which was entirely too dramatic in hindsight.\n\nFor the first time in forever, I felt excitement rising in my chest-- or maybe I should say overwhelming me from the chest outwards, because it's not every day you find out you have freaking super powers! Relief flashed in the back of my mind, informing me I was glad my original evening plans hadn't worked out. Instead of dwelling on it though, I decided I wanted to have more exciting moments and I wanted them right now. \n\nSo naturally, the first logical course of action at that point was to jump out my fourteenth story window.\n\n\"Geronimo!\" I whooped in delight, laughing as I free-fell for what felt like an eternity. As the wind wrapped itself around me and I caught a glimpse of the city lights, it occurred to me that maybe this was what my life had been missing. Why wouldn't I have wanted to kill myself, without this feeling in my life? I don't even know what to call it, I so lacked it before. Is it actually fun? Elation? Bliss?\n\nIs this why most people fall in love?\n\nEventually, however, my spiritual moment came to a very abrupt and very literal halt, and I felt my entire body compress into the concrete.\n\nIt didn't hurt. Actually, it even felt good.\n\nAs I relaxed into the new imprint of myself in the asphalt, I idly wondered how far these newfound powers of mine extended. Could I stop eating? Stop breathing? Was I immune to disease? And if so, what could I do with it all? I resolved to answer each of every one of those questions, and preferably in the most dangerous ways possible. \n\nFor now though, I decided to take a nap in my little crater in the middle of the road. Hopefully I wouldn't be hit by a car-- the fees at the body shop alone would be astronomical! I chuckled to myself at the thought, feeling more emotions than I had in years. I'd expected today to be a good day, though for entirely different reasons. What I didn't expect was for tomorrow to be looking even better." ]	[ 1, 2, 4 ]	[ "1456208664", "1456215346", "1456209462" ]
	[WP] You're a German citizen in 1937, an alien just landed in your front yard and asked you to take him to your leader	70	[ "\"Come with me Herr Al Neon, I will bring you to him\" I splutter nervously\n\n\"THANK YOU HUMANOID, WE WOULD LIKE TO MAKE DEMOCRATIC CONTACT WITH YOUR SPECIES\" the alien replies through some kind of electronic device that is too loud, the closest thing I could liken it to, would be a radio.\n\nWe walk down a long clean street, cars busy driving back and forth, lorries delivering goods, a general lively buzz to the streets as the economic depression has ended and we are experiencing the best time of our lives.\n\n\"YOU STILL BURN DEAD ANIMALS AND PLANTS TO FUEL YOUR TRANSPORT MACHINES? THIS IS AMAZING, THE LAST TIME WE SAW THIS ON OUR PLANET WAS 2,000 YEARS AGO IN THE DARK AGES.\" The alien bleeped.\n\n\"Yeah we haven't found any other way to power them yet, hopefully we can learn that from you\" I retorted\n\nthen without warning the alien teleports to hitler and kills him, and then I woke up and it was all a dream.\n\nremember kids, nazis are bad.\n\n\"Yeah we haven't found any other way to power them yet, hopefully we can learn that from you\" I retorted\n\nthen without warning the alien teleports to hitler and kills him, and then I woke up and it was all a dream.\n\"Yeah we haven't found any other way to power them yet, hopefully we can learn that from you\" I retorted\nthen without warning the alien teleports to hitler and kills him, and then I woke up and it was all a dream.\n\"Come with me Herr Al Neon, I will bring you to him\" I splutter nervously\n\n\n\"THANK YOU HUMANOID, WE WOULD LIKE TO MAKE DEMOCRATIC CONTACT WITH YOUR SPECIES\" the alien replies through some kind of electronic device that is too loud, the closest thing I could liken it to, would be a radio.\n\n\nWe walk down a long clean street, cars busy driving back and forth, lorries delivering goods, a general lively buzz to the streets as the economic depression has ended and we are experiencing the best time of our lives.\n\"Come with me Herr Al Neon, I will bring you to him\" I splutter nervously\n\n\n\"THANK YOU HUMANOID, WE WOULD LIKE TO MAKE DEMOCRATIC CONTACT WITH YOUR SPECIES\" the alien replies through some kind of electronic device that is too loud, the closest thing I could liken it to, would be a radio.\nWe walk down a long clean street, cars busy driving back and forth, lorries delivering goods, a general lively buzz to the streets as the economic depression has ended and we are experiencing the best time of our lives.\n\nthe alien replies through some kind of electronic device that is too loud, the closest thing I could liken it to, would be a radio.\nWe walk down a long clean street, cars busy driving back and forth, lorries delivering goods, a general lively buzz to the streets as the economic depression has ended and we are experiencing the best time of our lives.the alien replies through some kind of electronic device that is too loud, the closest thing I could liken it to, would be a radio.\nWe walk down a long clean street, cars busy driving back and forth, lorries delivering goods, a general lively buzz to the streets as the economic depression has ended and we are experiencing the best time of our lives.\n\nthe alien replies through some kind of electronic device that is too loud, the closest thing I could liken it to, would be a radio.\nWe walk down a long clean street, cars busy driving back and forth, lorries delivering goods, a general lively buzz to the streets as the economic depression has ended and we are experiencing the best time of our lives.\n\nthen without warning the alien teleports to hitler and kills him, and then I woke up and it was all a dream.\n\nremember kids, nazis are bad.", "\"Alright, just a bit more now.\"\n\nHe was dressed in your typical were-covering-something-up outfit. Sunglasses, oversized coat, fedora, everything. We were walking along the streets of Berlin headed toward the Reich Chancellery, Hitlers office.\n\n\"Doesn't seem like such a good leader\" said my foreign friend as he looked around the impoverished streets of Berlin. I was still a little weirded out by the fact that I was conversing with an alien, but I knew there was no turning back.\n\n\"Trust me, you have no idea.\" There were rumors going around that Nazi Germany would soon be launching an attack on some select European countries, and starting an all out war, a war that could rival the Great War twenty years ago.\n\nEventually we reached the chancellery. Being Hitler's own private office, this place was outfitted with the best security. We walked up to the guard in front of the main gate. \n\n\"We need to speak to the Fuhrer.\" \n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"We have an important message for him.\"\n\n\"Nobody gets to speak to the Fuhrer. Tell me your message and I will relay it to my superiors.\"\n\nI leaned closer to the guard.\n\n\"We have a... Visitor...\"\n\n\"Great?\" The guard looked confused.\n\n\"No, I mean..., an alien.\"\n\nOnce again, the guard looked confused. After a few seconds, the guard had looked like he had just had a stunning realization.\n\nThe guard quickly opened the gate and walked in.\n\n\"Wait here.\" \n\nGreat, I thought, we'll be speaking to the Fuhrer in no time.\n\n\"Heh, you humans are weird. Anybody could create a plan to make this guard leave his post, and then strike.\"\n\nI heard his voice behind me, but I didn't turn around. I leaned against the gate instead.\n\n\"I'm sure your kind has its quirks too.\"\n\nAfter a few minutes the guard returns to the gate. The guard opens it, returns to our side, pulls out his gun, and shoots the alien in the head. The look of pure shock I had on my face said all that needed to be said. \n\nThe guard turns to me and thanks me. \"Thank you for exposing this vermin to us. We are always grateful when citizens do their part against the impure race.\"\n\n\"NO, YOU IDIOT! NOT THAT TYPE OF ALIEN!\"\n\nI found it ironic saying this. I never imagined that I would be correcting somebody who assumed aliens didn't exist.\n\nThe guard was taken back a bit from my tone. With a concerned look he removed the disguise from the alien's body. Immediately realizing what he had done to otherworldly diplomatic relations, there was only one thing he could say.\n\n\"Shit.\" \n\nEdit: Tweaked the wording a bit.\n\n", "Kaspar Kindler, a kindly man in his late fifties, lived alone in rural Germany. He was tending his small garden when, to his immense surprise, an orb of metal appeared in the center of his backyard. A line of faint light in the shape of a door appeared, and out stepped a humanoid being as grey as Kaspar's hair. It peered at him with almond-shaped black eyes.\n\n\"Greetings, human. Though my ship has malfunctioned and landed me in an unusual location, I do not think it is a problem for my mission. I come in peace, as an ambassador to your planet. We would like to have friendly relations with you. Please, if it is possible, take me to your leader,\" it spoke with a mannish voice from the mouth that appeared on its neck. The line of his mouth - no lips - curled into a kind, awkward smile.\n\nKaspar looked blankly at the alien. A humble, monkish man, Kaspar was not well-educated, and had no thoughts of the world beyond the Earth, for to him, the world was the Earth. He had heard of the idea of extraterrestrial life, but thought it was merely more propaganda that had made its way into public consciousness and infiltrated the perverse Christianity of the Nazi party.\n\nAfter an uncomfortably long silence, the alien spoke up. \"My scanners indicate that I am currently in a subdivision of Earth called Deutsches Reich, and that the name of the leader of this subdivision is Adolf Hitler. If it is possible, please inform me of how I can procure an audience with him. Your help would be most graciously appreciated.\"\n\nHearing the Fuhrer's name jolted Kaspar out of his incomprehension. Whether he understood it or not, believed it or not - an alien was before him, and it wanted to make contact with the leaders of humanity. He could not allow the alien's first contact to be with that terrible man. Thoughts formed in his head - how he had so narrowly escaped arrest through cowardice and renunciation of the tenets of his faith. How his friends, fellow Franciscan monks, had the courage to speak out against the Nazi regime, and had been disappeared, while he escaped by agreeing, agreeing, agreeing. When a copy of the Mit brennender Sorge reached his hands, he burned it in fear of the prison camps, but the words burned his guilt into his mind.\n\n\"My name is Kaspar,\" he stated slowly, \"And though you are right in your statements, the current leader of Germany is not fit to lead humanity, and I fear what he would do upon meeting you. I would like to take you to a better leader, though the journey may be dangerous.\"\n\nThe alien tilted its head, its mouth line disappearing as it thought. \"I have no ability to go without a guide,\" it finally replied, \"As such, very well.\"" ]	[ 4, 12, 30 ]	[ "1456340860", "1456343220", "1456342666" ]
	[WP] Do not mistake kindness for weakness.	3	[ "I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:\n\n- [/r/shinz_stories] [\\[WP\\] Do not mistake kindness for weakness](https://np.reddit.com/r/Shinz_Stories/comments/48he56/wp_do_not_mistake_kindness_for_weakness/)\n\n[](#footer)^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))\n\n[](#bot)", "There was nothing so satisfying as the last scream they made before they died. Their last breath, doomed in anguish. It was like a fine wine, or a wonderful meal. I had heard it hundreds of times before, but each was unique. This time it was a couple, newlyweds, just returned from their honeymoon. I'd had my eye on them for some time, but they left so suddenly. It was good fortune for me though, giving me time to prepare for them. I wanted them to feel welcome after all, this was the start of their life together. She went first; his choice. It spared some of the fun, of course, but I made a deal with the man. I let him choose which one went quickly and which one I would savor. Sometimes the men chose themselves, but often times they chose their partners. Love. What can you do? As I finished with her, drinking in that last bit of despair in her voice, I looked at the man, seeing the eyes wide with fear and red with tears. His voice was hoarse from the screaming, but he still yelled. I loved that part. The defiance. Breaking it... mmm, it was wonderful. He would be slow. Oh yes, days perhaps. \n\nAs I carefully cleaned the blood from my knife, I whistled a merry tune, some jingle from the holidays I think. They wanted me to remember to buy a car, but I found it so catchy that I often whistled while I worked. It was hard to hear over the screams, at times, but I whistled nonetheless. My guests deserved a little tune to accentuate their stay. \n\nPutting the knife back in its sheathe, I turned towards the man, ready to give him my full attention. Instead of a young, wide eyes man full of terror, there was a very stern looking man sitting in the chair, dressed immaculately in a clean suit of purest blackness. His hair was cut short and styled handsomely, falling just over his eyes. His eyes. Golden pools that shifted to silver as I watched. Those eyes would look wonderful with the others. I idly wondered if they shifted that way even if they were no longer a part of him. I shivered at the thought of finding out. In some deep recess of my brain, some primal voice called out a warning to me. I ignored it. Those eyes were far to valuable. Outside his eyes, his face was offputtingly handsome, the face of a movie star or a model. I had never seen a man so perfect. I had to have him. \n\n\"Baltraxaz. I finally found you.\" His voice was like the crashing of a great wave upon the rocks, drawing me to it, pulling in with its deep baritone. Anger surged through that voice, along with a deep rightness. Once again, I felt the pang of warning in my head. Wait, who was Baltraxaz?\n\n\"Who are you, lovely? I don't recall seeing you before. And believe me, I'd remember.\" I idly drew the knife from its sheathe, ready to make those eyes mine. I didn't want to rush it, but he looked dangerous, and I decided I wouldn't be able to savor this. \n\n\"Stop hiding, Baltraxaz. You have played inside this mortal long enough.\" The pang of warning was a pounding church bell in my head, and I involuntarily took a step back as I felt my voice responding. \n\n\"Michael. Of course He would send you. He was always too far kind to do this sort of thing himself. Weak.\" The man called Michael's eyes flashed with a great rage, and some inner fire, and before I could blink his hand was on my throat, lifting me effortlessly into the air. \n\n\"Blasphemy would be a very bad idea right now, Balthraxaz. I am already displeased. Count yourself fortunate that my brother could not be here, he would not be so merciful as I am.\" The man's grip was iron on my throat, and I choked against his grip. The inner panic overwhelmed me now, and I found myself fleeing into my mind, desperately trying to hide from those eyes. Even as I hid, I felt something else surging forward. Something that came from the part of me that savored the screams. Something dark and beautiful. It was talking to the man called Michael now. \n\n\"Ha, the traitor was weak as well. Like his Father. He abandoned us to run home to Daddy.\" My limbs suddenly flashed with fire, and not-me grabbed Michael's arm, twisted out of that steel grip. As I toppled to the ground, I looked through eyes that were no longer mine, and instead of a well dressed man, I saw a great tower of light, six wings spreading from its back and a great spear in its hand. Fire burned over its head, and I as I watched, I felt my skin char under the heat of that fire. Blinking, I saw again the well dressed man, standing calmly as I got to my feet. \n\n\"Why, Balthraxaz? Why involve the mortals? You were created to punish them, when they sinned. You should never have left Hell.\" The man made no more aggressive moves, simply standing there, waiting for a response. \n\n\"The screams of sinners have a certain flavor, Michael, but nothing like the screams of the innocent. They are the finest vintage.\" Those eyes flashed again and I screamed inside my head. \"Do you know why it took you so long to find me, Michael? It's because all these mortals are weak! They are all such awful sinners that even my killings were but a few drops in an ocean of death. Ask Anziel. You can't even tell a demon's work from a man's, they are so corrupt.\"\n\n\"Not all of them, Balthraxaz. Some, like the man you were about to kill, are kind and brave. He chose the path of pain, in an attempt to spare his love. He chose his own suffering over hers.\" Michael's eyes were blazing now, moving from gold to silver too fast for me follow. \n\n\"Kindness! Pah! Weakness is what it is. He couldn't save her, and he begged me to spare her. He would have run with his tail between his legs if I let him. We would abandon her to save his own life, every time! HE. WAS. WEAK!\" I screamed at Michael, feeling fire surge through my lungs. \n\n\"I think not, Balthraxaz. He is stronger than you know. Do not mistake kindness for weakness.\" There was a sudden pain in my chest, and I looked down to see the knife, MY knife, sticking out of my chest. As I looked behind me, I saw the man whose life I just ruined staring at me with blazing eyes, clutching the knife in his bloodied hands. I roared, and fire spat from not-my mouth, ready to incinerate the man. Before it could however, a hand clamped over my mouth and I felt the fire searing my lungs. That iron grip pulled, and some part of me tore free, dragged out by his powerful hands. As I sagged, feeling the life ebb away from me, I saw something huge and grotesque squirming in Michael's grip, he raised his hand, and at the edge of my consciousness, I saw that great spear ripped through whatever had been pulled from me. There was an unearthly scream and a flash of light. \n\n\"Hello.\" I was kneeling in the house again, looking at Michael clutching the body of the monster that had been in me. As I turned to the voice, I saw a man, dressed very much like Michael had been. He was slighter, with longer hair, all white, but no less handsome than Michael. He had the same eyes. The eyes I yearned for. His suit was pure white. \n\n\"I've come to take you home.\" He reached out for me, helping me to my feet, and I took his hand, pulling forward as my hand struck upward, aiming for those eyes. His kind gesture would cost him his eyes, and I would be free. Instead of pulling him off balance, I felt myself trying to pull down the Earth, and my hand slowed to a stop in front of his face. He looked at me with a sad smile, and then those eyes stared into mine. \"I've been expecting you, Aaron. I heard you likes my eyes.\" Suddenly those eyes shone again and I screamed. I screamed and screamed as I stared into those eyes. My last thought before my consciousness shattered was Michael's observation. You should never mistake kindness for weakness. " ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1456443255", "1456422561" ]
	[WP] There is a dull knife by your bedside table.	9	[ "I look at it with anger and disgust. I hated that knife with all my passion, but at the same time I could not let go. \"Useless knife. You're not helping me, feh, you can't even slice butter. Piece of crap.\" I shook myself out of it. I slapped some water on my face and got ready for today. Of course, I would take the knife with me. After all, it was my knife. \n\nAt work, I grabbed the whetstone and began sharpening my knife. The head chef walks in. \"Mornin' Gabe. Gettin' ready for today?\" \n\n\"Yeah, gettin' ready.\" I didn't even look at him. I kept sharpening my knife. \n\n\"Gabe, you know, there are other knives you can use. You don't need to bring your own knife daily, heh, you can even use mine!\"\n\n\"I appreciate it, but this is my knife. I want to use my own knife.... thank you for the offer though.\" \n\n\"Well, whatever you want.\"\n\nThis is my knife. Although easily dulled, it was my first knife ever. I wouldn't dare let it go, or ever forget it. I take to the floor and start working. The knife slowly dulls again, as it did yesterday. The head chef looks at me with curiosity and a condescending look, but I continue working with my dull knife. \n\nThe day ends. I get home, undress from my work clothes and got ready for bed. I place the knife on my bedside table and fall asleep, anxious to prove my knife's worth the next day. \n_________________________________________________________________\n\nThank you for reading.", "On my nightstand there is a dull knife. I'm sure as I sleep it dreams of the days when it was shiny and new.\n\nThis dull knife sits, waiting patiently.\n\nI will never sharpen it and yet it sits, expectant that one day I'll renew it to its former glory. Of course this knife has lost its innocence. Just like myself.\n\nIt once was an ordinary kitchen knife, a tomato knife. It was once used to slice tomatoes, long ago that was the only red that it saw.\n\nThese days though it longs for the simple times. Sometimes I do as well. Those days where it was rarely used but had a simple utilitarian purpose. I suppose it still does serve a sort of utilitarian function even now. But both the knife and I know that we were not originally designed for the things we now do. The crimes we commit.\n\nIn my basement is a man. I'm sure as I sleep he dreams of the days when he was whole and hopeful.\n\nThis man is waiting, patiently.\n\nI will never release him and yet he sits, expectant that one day I'll release him to live his former life. Of course this man has long since lost his innocence, just like myself.\n\nOnce he was an ordinary man, a handsome man. He once laughed and loved, long ago those were the only things that he knew.\n\nThese days though he longs for the simple times. Sometimes I do as well. Those days he was rarely hurt and didn't serve utilitarian purpose. I suppose he does serve a superfluous function even now. But both the man and I know that we were not originally designed for the things we do now. The crimes we've committed.\n\nIn my heart there is a secret. As I sleep I dream of the days when I was shiny and new.\n\nThe secret sits, waiting patiently.\n\nI will never say it out loud but yet it sits, expectant that one day I'll release it to the world. Of course I have lost my innocence, and that is my secret.\n\nI was once an ordinary girl, a cheerful girl. I once used to laugh and love, and long ago those were the only things that I knew.\n\nThese days though I long for the simple times. The times when we were happy together. The times when I had no purpose aside from being his punching bag. Those days I was rarely lost. I suppose I'm still not lost yet, I know who I am even now. But all three of us know that I was not originally designed for the purpose I serve now. The crimes I keep committing.\n\nAnd this knife, this man, and I, we dance together as the sweet song of his screams dies up against the concrete walls. As the sweet song of the knife against bone dies up against the concrete walls. As the sweet song of our love died against the concrete walls." ]	[ 2, 6 ]	[ "1456570230", "1456549827" ]
	[WP] In a world where eye color changes based on mood, tell me the story of someone with a mental disorder.	6	[ "February 28th, 2016. OK. Today's the day.\n\nAs the day begins, everything seems to go well. \"That's a good sign,\" I told myself. My milk wasn't sour and I didn't spill any as I poured it into my cereal (even though my hands were still shaking...), I still had plenty of toothpaste left, and then, as the time came and I sat down at my computer, it was still free of viruses.\n\n\"You can do it, Felix,\" I told myself, determined to see this through.\n\nI booted up the computer, loaded up the internet (shout-out to FiOS for that speed though!), navigated to twitch.tv, and began my everyday-but-not-so-everyday livestream:\n\n\"Good morning, Twitch. My name is Felix (as you all know), and today marks the beginning of my new webseries. I've held out on announcing its name until now, because, well... I've held out on it because I want this to have maximum effect. This new webseries, beginning today, is called, \"The Chronicles of A Disturbed.\"\n\nAs I said that, I reached up, and carefully removed the purple-colored contacts in my eyes, uncovering what lay beneath. My lenses dropped into the trash beside me. I watched on the screen as my eyes flashed the darkest of blacks, before, like food coloring dropping in water, they metamorphose into a deep, blood red.\n\nI continued (my knees shaking, and sweat starting to pool at my forehead pores), \"I am A Disturbed in our society, and from this day forth, I am no longer ashamed to admit it. I must fight for our freedom. I feel compelled to advocate for the overturning of the laws that bar our country from importing or producing the drugs that assist people like me in our quest for life. I find myself feeling a sense of duty to this cause that has yet to develop a leader. I feel a sense of duty to be that leader.\"\n\nAs I spoke, I continued to observe my eyes. I watched as they gradually advanced from their blood red, to a dark, bold blue. In truth, the process was fascinating to me -- Having almost always worn my contact lenses, even I had rarely witnessed how my eyes \"did their thing.\" Unlike the ink-blotch-like metamorphosis of their first development, the change from red to blue mirrored the slow progression of fear and anxiety into confidence. I first noticed a tiny spot of blue in my left eye, and then a slightly larger spot in my right. \n\nThen, as I continued to speak to my steadily growing audience, the spots grew larger. Unlike the first ink-blotch-like change, however, both eyes changed differently. My left eye evolved a blue outer ring that eventually enclosed the red, then slowly snuffed it out, growing inwards. My right eye, however, seemed to \"push\" the red out, by expanding its deep blue spot. Both were equally enchanting to witness.\n\nThe most beautiful part, however, was when I realized that I was delighting in my eyes. For the first time in my life, I was defying society and what everyone told me I had to be like. I saw the beauty in my condition. It was an innocent feeling -- I felt like a child again -- and I loved it. As I continued to speak to my listeners, both the regulars and the new, I appreciated my eyes more and more. \"I am unique, I am special,\" I asserted to myself.\n\nAs that appreciation grew, I was overjoyed to view as my eye color danced into a royal purple. There was no discernible rhyme nor reason to this change, however. It was a sporadic, unpredictable, yet innocent mutation.\n\nAt this point, I could almost feel my eyes' color changing with my emotion. My smile grew, and my posture straightened in my chair, and I continued preaching.\n\nAlthough... The happiness didn't last long. I was far from even halfway through my planned speech that day, when my door was broken down and policemen stormed my house. The last I saw of my eyes on my computer screen, one flashed into the same blood red from before, and the other into a light blue -- then I was pulled away from my computer, pulled out of my house, and crammed into the back of a police car.\n\nI had imagined that there would be a rather dramatic reaction to my broadcast, but I hadn't predicted or anticipated this. When they told me I had been arrested for \"threatening to disrupt the peace\"... that was when the hopelessness set in, and, in the window reflection, I saw as my second eye changed from its blood red into the light blue of the first eye. The worst part was when a young girl, no older than 5, walked by with her mother, and, already subscribed to the fashion of our society, shot me as nasty a look as she could muster. She had seen my eyes change. She saw who I was. She was not happy.\n\nAs I was chauffeured away from my home to the police station though, a glimmer of hope slithered its way into my heart. Meanwhile, in my eyes' performance, the royal purple from before snaked its way from the outside of my eyes, to the pupil, and then around and around until it had completely re-conquered one of my eyes again. This was going to be harder than I thought, but the ball had begun to roll, and finally, people were going to start becoming aware of the struggles of The Disturbed. After all, we were people like no other.\n\nThat was when, finally, I could find it in myself, to, for the first time, thank my parents for the person they molded me into. I had cowered for too long in the face of their abuse, and I had spent too long living in the shadow of the condition they forced on me. It was time to take what I was given, and do something with it. I had cast aside my black market contact lenses, I had revealed my true colors to the world, and now, the world would commence showing me its true colors. I couldn't wait to see what the world had in store for me next.\n\nTo be continued...(?!?!)", "I wake up, groggy, mouth dry I stumble into the washroom wondering how I even got home. slowly washing my face I look into the mirror peeling my hands slowly off my face down over my nose and mouth. I notice my left eye is blue and my right eye is red. Feeling my mouth frown and seeing my reflection in the mirror smile I wonder what happened last night. whatever it was it wasn't a good thing.\n\nI struggle as I put my pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else. oh how I wished I was like everyone else. Wishing and praying that today was the day the ban on sunglasses was lifted I pull the cowl of my jacket low over my eyes and head out. Back into the fray. Looking into the mirror one last time to calm myself, both eyes blue.\n\nas I walked outside on this unnaturally warm and bright day out even the fact that my cowl was pulled low is drawing attention. Every window I walked past is see my reflection, I'm wearing shorts and no jacket, almost gallant in my stride eyes red as the devil inside me. Reflection, proud of what it's done.\n\nLooking at a news paper stand, front page, My face, black eyes. hands sweating as I put the money in for the paper. Reading in shock I put the paper down, reflection on the news paper stand I can see both my eyes at different intervals flashing. Blue, black, green, purple, white and red. Acting like a duck. calm on the outside but my feet every churning on the inside I knew what had to be done.\n\nMy father always said that the second you blame someone else you are admitting that you have lost control of the situation. I am in control, I did this. Even if it was the devil inside me. It's still me. Blue, Green, purple, white, even black can typically agree, but not red. always not red.\n\nPulling my cowl low I trudged over to the police station. Everyone looking at me as I entered with my face covered. Slowly I reveal my face. Four Police officers eyes turning the hard green of the law, Two more turning vengeful red. All six of their chairs tipping over.\n\nHandcuffed and questioned. They show me the pictures of the bodies. allowing me to turn my head just enough to see a mirror. Left eye Red, Right eye Black. I feel no remorse, I see my mouth laugh manically as I admit, proudly of what I had done.\n\nWaking in my cell. months later, Red and black no where to be found as I have no freedom to play. Using the reflection of the water in my sink, both eyes blue. If you deserve a beating you should take a beating. If you deserve to be killed you should be killed. I accept the justice I, If I can call it I have wrought. ", "\"Ms. Thomas, do you know why you're in my office?\" \nI started to fidget, begging myself not to make a sound. This was my first time at the principal's. If I got through this quietly, my perfect record won't be ruined. \nJust had to keep quiet. I know I didn't do anything wrong. \n\"It's rude not to answer a question Ms. Thomas.\" \nSo much for that. \n\"No ma'am, I don't.\" \nShe looked grave behind that massive desk of hers. Or it might have been how her cheeks sagged. Whether she was frowning or unsettled, I couldn't tell. As long as I kept pleasant, Principal Heather will let me go. \n\"Well,\" the principal started, \"I don't know what it is you're smiling about. But Jack Piles told me over lunch break that you were bullying him.\" \n\"No!\" I shouted it before I could understand what she said. So much for getting a recommendation from her, but me? Bullying Jack?! \n\"Calm down, it's not as bad as you think.\" It didn't sound reassuring coming from her, but when a teacher--- no, when a principal tells you you're bullying the boy you like, you can't stop thinking about it, and guessing yourself, and wonder what you said, and--- \n\"Take a breath Ms. Thomas.\" My lungs filled, then released. Suddenly my head didn't feel so light. \"Good. Now tell me your side.\" \nThe school yard an hour ago. \n\"I asked Jack if I could talk with him a moment.\" \n\"That's it?\" She asked. \n\"Of course n--- No ma'am.\" Reign it in Lisa, this isn't the club room. \"He followed me to the tables at the back and asked what was up. When he finished getting his words out, I--- Jeez Mrs. Heather, it wasn't anything bad.\" \nLike hell I was going to tell her what I told him. \n\"Ms. Thomas, you're here because you're accused of bullying.\" I decided she was frowning under those cheeks. \"We have a zero tolerance rule about that, if the weekly school assemblies fail to jog your memory.\" \n\"I know, I'm there every week,\" I said. \"But... can I talk with him first, get Jack to clear this up?\" \nJack had to clear this up. \n\"No. You could shut him up from ever talking with a teacher again. I won't risk that. Now you tell me what you told him an hour ago.\" \nA smolder flared in her eyes. I didn't think blues could be so red, but sometimes when dad's team loses... or when Benji's giving a speech in class... \nIt hurt to watch. \nI made some noises. \n\"What was that Ms. Thomas?\" \nI sighed. \n\"I told him his eyes were beautiful.\" \nThe principal's own returned to a familiar, stern blue. \"Oh Lisa.\" \nI blushed. It was my first time trying to ask out a boy, but the way he looked at me... That rainbow swirl spiraling at me. Through me. It was all I could say. \nWhen he ran, I thought he was embarrassed. I was fine with him being shy. \nBut... \n\"Take a handkerchief Ms. Thomas.\" \nI ripped a tissue from her desk and wiped my cheeks. \n\"I'm sorry this happened. As I said, it wasn't as bad as you thought, but you made me believe otherwise for a moment there.\" The principal smirked like a teenager. \"Wouldn't have thought our theater club president was in---\" \n\"Don't say it Ms. Heather!\" \nIt was too much. I couldn't have her making fun of me. \nThe principal's tone was lighter. \"Just making conversation Lisa. Look, I don't think you meant anything by it. But with Jack's needs, it's easy for his peers to point at his eyes and tell him he's special needs.\" Her tone became somber. \"It's not his fault though. The boy's a high-functioning---\" \n\"Please, don't.\" \nShe crooked an eyebrow. \"It's good you're eager to speak, but I don't like being interrupted either.\" \n\"I know, but...\" How was I going to tell her this without sounding like an idiot? \"He's Jack the math nerd with the rainbow eyes to me. I want to find out the rest myself.\" \nAn old hand took mine on the desk and gave it a soft squeeze. \"Alright Ms. Thomas. Do you want to explain what happened to him then?\" \nPrincipal Heather did a poor job masking her grin. She knew what she meant by that question. \nMy face flushed again. \"I think I can handle it.\" \nShe laughed, making herself comfortable in the large chair. \"Do your best then. And good luck!\" \nI got up and made my way out as fast as I could, putting the last five minutes behind me. \nTried to, anyway. \nDo your best then. \nOh why did she have to say that? \n" ]	[ 2, 6, 6 ]	[ "1456699986", "1456696416", "1456698481" ]
	[WP] One city is full of psychopaths. You are the only citizen that is not.	5	[ "The Chamber of the Mind was never silent, not exactly. Air hissed from vents above, chairs clinked as the high council took their seats, and whispers flittered from one side to the other. My own seat was too tall, something I should have gotten used to years ago, and yet I still wiggled against hard plastic as the council began. The calm, almost robotic introduction stole over the other sounds, and I tried to settle. Only my breathing did not succumb. It jerked raggedly from my chest, pushed by a pounding heart. \n\n\"Population has expanded by 0.89%,\" Speaker Milcet reported, as I had known he would. His hands folded neatly before him, dark against the stark white of his council sash. \"Given a constant increase consistent with our previous data, we will exceed optimum sustainable yield in approximately two years.\"\n\nAround me, other council members read through the provided reports. My own had been flipped through enough times to run down the tablet's battery. The numbers, methodology, and even statistics held no holes I could see. My hands shook, and I pressed them against the desk that encircled the council, hoping to hide the motion.\n\n\"Councilwoman Jett, what is the margin of error?\" High Councilman Balik asked; his pale, gleaming hair remained unmoved even as the vents overhead increased airflow.\n\nThe tall woman slipped from her chair with the grace of her namesake. \"Calculations report 1.003185, plus or minus .000003.\"\n\n\"Acceptable,\" High Councilman Balik said. Each member nodded exactly once. The only exception was me, and I flinched so hard it likely resembled a nod. Only my immediate neighbor would have noted the difference. As the woman had long-since concluded my intelligence to be that of a child's, small anomalies were expected from me, and she did not so much as glance my way. High Councilman shifted his gaze to the Speaker. \"Proposed action?\"\n\n\"Lower maximum age limitation on labor class by three years.\" Speaker Milcet's voice held as much feeling as his utterly blank eyes. \"We calculate population growth will slow by 0.094%. To account for the decrease in the labor class, raise the minimum test scores for military and merchant class by 10 points.\"\n\nAir swirled through the council, twisting between the calm faces. I couldn't breathe.\n\n\"Your proposal will not arrest population growth,\" the High Councilman said.\n\n\"That is why we also propose increasing infertility clinics as well as prenatal testing on genetic acceptability. We conclude that such methods would account for an additional .55% of the growth. By increasing minimum scores for placement, euthanasia will cover the remaining discrepancy. A second study is in progress as we speak to uncover the ideal score for this measure.\"\n\n\"Your words have been heard,\" High Councilman droned. The formal echo of it by the members spread around the room but stuck in my throat. Speaker Milcet bowed and took his seat at the far end of the chamber. I couldn't move. The whispers of the room, the rustling of clothes, and the movement of air were drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears. Murder. They spoke of it like they spoke of rain, and I could take it no more. \n\nI straightened in my chair, its height forgotten. Against my palm, I tapped three short signals. Each dispatched an embedded, long-hidden message to the only people in the whole cursed city I could trust. The council continued, unaware that in the heart of their chamber a war had begun.", "\"Ricky Rhody! Ricky Rhody, you get back here right now.\"\n\nPoor old Ricky Rhody, crazy as a loon and as naked as a newborn stops humping his telephone pole long enough to give me an evil little look. Then he returns to his bucking and howling, somehow thinking in his addled mind that it'll be enough to convince the squirrel that he's chased up there to come back down and play the bongos on his molars.\n\nHowever, it's mid-November, I'm freezing, and I'm not having any more of it.\n\n\"RICKY RHODY YOU GET YOUR LITTLE WHITE TUSH OVER HERE THIS INSTANT OR I'LL SIC THE GREAT GOOSE ON YOU!!!\"\n\nWell, that gets his attention. He wails and covers his eyes with his hands, then crabwalks across the broken sidewalk to where I stand with my hands on my hips and the toe of my right foot tapping away.\n\n\"That's better,\" I say, reaching into my handbag. I pull out a red wool cap with extra long stringties and snuggl it down on his bald, lumpy head. He growls and starts pawing at it, but I put my hand on the center of the hat and press down.\n\n\"Now I made this for you special, you hear? And it better last the whole winter or I'll go get that nasty Great Goose to come down on you like some avian God from Egypt or wherever. You hear me?\"\n\nRicky Rhody whimpers. There is no Great Goose - never had been, never would be - but that doesn't stop him from fearing it any less. He pops one of the stringties in his mouth and starts chewing on it as he shuffles away. I made the ties extra long this time...I'd hope that they'll last until March, but know that they'll be lucky to see the start of February.\n\nDelivery finished, I head on back to my apartment. On my way, I pass the Hissy Sissies, a pair of snake-tattooed transvestites who've killed maybe a hundred people together. They widen their surgically altered eyes as I step between them and flick their forked tongues in a greeting, which I return. Nice boys...or girls, I don't know, I don't keep up on the terminology. Nice - so long as they don't try to eat you like the mice they practice swallowing whole.\n\nTommy Thinsticks gives me a lewd look from outside the bar where he works. He's been after me for years, and he is an absolutely handsome devil. And if I were to go with him to his bed, I know he'd give me a night more pleasurable than any of the few hundred I've had during my wild youth. Of course, I'd also end up sitting in a forest somewhere with my severed head in my lap and a daffodil in my mouth, just like the other girls who were foolish enough to go to bed with him. It's been a while since I've had someone skilled knock around downstairs, and I do love nature, but...I figure I'll pass just the same.\n\nThere are other monsters and murderers that I greet or ignore along the way, as per their preferences. The Bowler and his collection of polished skulls gets a \"hello\". Annie Grease, who makes the best kidney soup you've ever tasted (\"humanely harvested, of course\" she always says with a lying wink) gets. Nick Morbid gets the same. Nothing for Grungettal. The Real Tones, a band who that on soundboards filled with real human screams alongside the sounds of knives entering flesh, prefers to be ignored. Porkula (a very silly name for a very frightening man) likes a smile and nothing else. Beluga Brie, The Strangled Toddler, Herr Doktor, and a dozen others have their own idiosyncratic greetings. What's strange is that I get a rare smile from the old, nameless blind man two stoops down, the one who polishes fingerbones for a living.\n\nI don't say anything to him though. If I did, he'd kill me, and that's not a joke.\n\nPeople don't understand how I stay alive in this town. I tell them that the crazed are a lot more human than you'd expect. And when they ask me why I would even want to live here, I just laugh and tell them that I got a good deal on my apartment. Then I change the subject.\n\nThe truth is that it's nice to live in a place where you know exactly who your neighbors are and what they're capable of. There are no lies to sift through, no social dances with a billion complicated steps to learn, and nobody tries to hide their horrible deeds. Everyone is real here. And that's just something you don't find in the world outside.\n\nPlus, I did get a really great deal on my apartment. Anyway...what's the weather supposed to be this weekend?" ]	[ 3, 4 ]	[ "1456843615", "1456840387" ]
	[WP] Whenever you listen to a song, for the duration of that song, you are literally taken back to the first time you heard it.	13	[ "\"This is the end, my only friend, the end\" Jim Morrison called out to him from a distant and deep hole, the music a cacophony of noise reverberating around his skull as he felt the cold of the concrete beneath him seep through his clothing. \n\nNo, he thought. \n\nNot tonight. \n\nHe already knew he couldn't move. Broken leg, concussion, bullet in the chest, and barely enough will just to stay alive. It all healed in time, but this pain was supposed to remain a distant and muted memory. He let out an involuntary shout, part gurgle, as the pain rebounded from adrenalin and pressed through the thin tissue of his fractured consciousness. \n\n\"He needs help! Someone! I think he's dying! He's not breathing!\" a woman was screaming through shaky sobs over him, for a moment her voice even overpowered the doors. He felt the wetness through the pain, like a moving itch. The dripping blood off of the side of his chest was acute, the tickle of the crimson river transmuted his pain as his muscles stressed to relieve the sensation. \n\n\"To the lake, the ancient lake, baby\" Jim called to him, seemingly from the nether. He was no longer aware of the woman above him as the cold concrete melded with his body. He fell into it, sliding like a raindrop off of a leaf. The hot of the blood on his chest became a cold nothing. \n\n\"It hurts to set you free\"\n\nThe concrete was a cold nothing. He could feel the dark lake of the abyss beneath him reach up to accept him through the concrete. \n\n\"But you'll never follow me\"\n\nHe sank into the inky darkness. All that existed was the darkness, and the few strings of broken thought. Even the cold crept away, scared to face what was coming next. \n\n\"The end of nights we tried to die \"\n\n\"We're losing him!\" another voice shouted, followed by a fresh pain as liquid fire ignited his veins beginning from a fresh puncture in his chest. Tracing the pathways through his body, a new and uncomfortable warmth set every nerve ending ablaze. His eyes open, and he is suddenly aware of his breathing. \n\nThis is the end\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHe started with a jolt, shaking away the dream in a panic. He was still holding the remote, having just selected The End from his playlist. His friends were staring at him, some with a smile on their face. \n\n\"You ok, man?\" his closest friend Brian asked. \n\nHe looked at his friend for a moment, using the awkwardness to feign collecting his thoughts. Already the dream was slipping away, returning to its station deep in hisy repressed memories. \n\n\"Yeah, hey, sorry. I just kind of got caught up, didn't realize I had a bad memory tied to this\" he said, only then realizing his eyes were puffy from tears. \n\nAs everyone got up to move to the small fire in the back yard, he pondered the remote and stereo briefly before reaching behind and unplugging it. \n", "I thought it was bullshit. A whole club of people blinking in and out of existence until someone managed to remain in reality long enough to shut off the music. Slowly and steadily, the remainder rematerialized, exhausted and confused, reporting the same thing: every time they had disappeared, they had been taken back to a moment from their past. A moment where they had heard the song that had been booming through the speakers. Many alleged it was the moment when they had first heard the particular song. At the song's conclusion, they reappeared at the club only to be whisked away to the past once again by the playlist's next hit. It took the heroic efforts of one man who had never heard of Daft Punk to break free from the cycle and save everyone from an eternity of musical flashbacks.\n\nTabloid garbage. Or drugs. Probably a combination. That's the kind of news I get for listening to pop radio, but I don't have much of a choice out here. There are few stations and no internet; just me and my men, and sometimes, the enemy.\n\nA week passed since the \"Escapade Escapade,\" named for the club at which it occurred. Similar incidents were being reported more and more each day, no doubt fabricated by copycats looking for attention. Even here in the barracks, there were rumors of men disappearing, but only the overly anxious paid them any heed. It was not until yesterday that my convictions were shaken: devastating car accidents were being reported all across the nation. Apparently, drivers were completely vanishing from behind the wheel, causing pileups all over the highway. That wasn't all, though. The drivers would reappear minutes later in the places their cars had been before they vanished. In many cases, this would be in the middle of the highway, and if their car hadn't crashed close enough to stop incoming traffic, they would usually end up run over then and there. The survivors of these incidents were living evidence that something supernatural was occurring: even though their car had crashed, they would be completely clean and uninjured.\n\nUnderstanding the implications, I shut off my radio, though the station had already ceased playing any music for now. Within a few minutes of these reports, the leader of my unit burst into our room and announced that there was to be a complete ban of music of any sort. I could only hope that nobody would be a jackass about this and send people to the past for fun. That should have apparently been the least of my worries, though.\n\nOur base was suddenly wracked by vibrations. The enemy was upon us, and they hadn't brought bombs. A familiar tune began to play at high volume, and before I could apprehend it, I felt myself being wrenched away from this world. Everything inside me began to collapse, and everything around me blurred out of focus. It was as if I had been punched in the gut so hard, I was sent flying through the frame of the present, all the way back to a time I could no longer remember.\n\nI was four years old. That was how many candles were on my cake. I perceived everything from my childhood body, but could not control it. I could only observe and think and do whatever my four year old mind had chosen to do so eighteen years ago. My parents were standing in front of me, my dad pointing the camcorder at my face. I clapped appreciatively as they sang to me what was now to be both the ode of my life and the knell of my death.\n\n\"Happy birthday to you…\"\n\nAs they finished the song, I blew out the candles. There was an explosion, and everything went dark. " ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1456881776", "1456871223" ]
Fill in the blank with whatever you want. Solve crime? Do magic? File taxes?	[WP] An unusual sign held by a man on the street: "Will _________ for food."	33	[ "Mysterious, rebellious, extravagant. These are all descriptions of my encounter with the most peculiar man I ever met. \n\nI remember it as if it were yesterday: \nFriday night, driving home from a long, tiresome day at work, the sky was majestic and life was great.\n\n\n\"Hello good Sir, might you be able to help me?\"\n\n I see a man out of the corner of my eye. He's looking exceptionally well dressed and I pull over wondering what he wants. \n\n\"Thank you for pulling over to talk to me! Now, I was wondering if you could help me, I'm not doing so well financially and I need to make some money to complete a certain task.\"\n\n\"Go on, I'm listening\"\n\n\"Well see, I'll do anything for money\"\n\n\"What do you need the money for?\"\n\n\"If you must ask, it's for a mission to retrieve my colleague Javi Kakedi.\" \n\n\"Who, what? Retrieve?\" \n\n\"Well yes, we need to retrieve Sir Mister Javi Kakedi from the Nigerian space center. He is stranded there and has been for more than 10 years. You are the only person who can help us.\"\n\n\"What's in it for me?\"\n\n\"A trip to the moon.\"\n\n\"Count me in.\"\n\n\"Give me money pls?\"\n\n\"You said that you would do anything for money? I'll pay you to build me a wall around my house. You see, I want to make it great again.\"\n\n\"Deal.\"\n\nI brought him home, we had dinner, he built my wall along the perimeter of my house and all was great. I then handed him a small sum of a million dollars, so that he could help is poor friend stuck up there in space. His eyes looked as if he was reliving his own childhood as they lit up.\n\n\"Thank you, Mr. Trump\"\n\n\nThis was 15 years ago and I'm still waiting for my trip to the moon...", "The concrete stairs were slick with greasy rain as I emerged from the subway station. I tugged the collar of my coat up against the biting wind and, barely lifting my head, pushed between two sullen suits in front of me.\n\nI stopped. A young man muttered a curse as he bumped into me. He was swept along in the tide of humanity, taking his expletives with him. I frowned, but not at my new friend’s rapidly disappearing back. There had been something else...\n\nGlancing back towards the subway entrance, I spotted him. A raggedy man, with dishevelled grey beard clinging in stringy patches to his pocked cheeks, sat against the rail opposite the subway. He wiped his nose on his filthy green jacket and stared ahead, into the darkness I had just stepped from. Across his knees was a cardboard sign: Will find Emily for food.\n\nThat couldn’t be right. Even if Emily was an actual woman and not a slang term for something, he couldn’t mean my Emily. No, she’d been gone for...I stood in the falling rain and pretended I had to work out she’d been missing for three months, two weeks and six days. I glanced at my watch. And four hours, twenty-one minutes. I tried desperately not to think of the sound of her scream and a slamming door.\n\nThe raggedy man coughed and spat over his shoulder into the gutter. He wiped his mouth with the back of a scarred hand and caught my eye. His bushy eyebrows furrowed. Despite the falling rain and the icy wind, beads of sweat formed on my forehead.\n\nThe raggedy man sniffed at me, as if getting my scent. “Here,” he growled in a voice unused to pleasant things, “whatcha looking at?”\n\nI swallowed and chewed my lip. “Your sign,” I said shakily, jerking my chin at it. “Who’s Emily?”\n\nOne of the eyebrows arched. Long fingers with sharp, yellow nails turned the sign over. He mouthed the words as he read them. “You’re missing an Emily, then.” It wasn’t a question: he was stating a fact. There was no room for argument in his voice. He looked up at me, his cold eyes piercing into mine. “She up and left you. But you don’t think so.” My blood was ice as he spoke. He nodded as if I’d spoken. “She got snatched.”\n\nSuddenly we were standing in my front room, staring at the scene as it had been quarter of a year ago. The front door slammed. I spun on my heel and stared at the frosted glass panels, seeing Emily’s silhouette vanish down the stairwell.\n\nThe raggedy man stroked his horrible beard. “Yup,” he said, clucking his tongue. “Definitely got snatched.” He sniffed, his nostrils distending almost unnaturally wide. “The Catcher-Man,” he whispered.\n\nI turned to look at him, a mixture of confusion and anticipation on my face. “What the hell is the ‘Catcher-Man’?” It sounded like a childhood monster.\n\nThe raggedy man gave me a humourless, gap-toothed smile. “Somebody took a shine to your Emily. Somebody from the Other Place. To get her back, we’ll need to catch the Catcher-Man.”\n\nAnd just like that, we were back in the street outside the subway. The raggedy man stood, brushed the seat of his ripped trousers and folded his sign up. “But first, I need food. Can’t go hunting with an empty belly.”", "work a job that doesn't require a 4-step interview process where they analyse every single aspect of your personal being and judge your ability to work based on non-related external decisions and demand unnecessary paperwork and skills that are unrelated to the job role at hand whilst simultaneously paying barely above min wage" ]	[ 3, 3, 5 ]	[ "1457063981", "1457065250", "1457063472" ]
	[WP] With the discovery of alternate dimensions, a jury of peers can now only consist of alternate versions of the defendant and plaintiff.	11	[ "Edit: I wrote this in mind for Blake Andersen as Jeff The Protagonist, and Rhy Darby as the unnamed escort if it helps put the character's in a passive context.\n\nToday was the day that I was subpoenaed to Earth 23, I was not told what my alt was accused of, just that an escort would be waiting outside our dimension gate when I got there. Rumor had it that Earth 23 had a cock shaped America, the first thing I did after porting and hailing a taxi was look at the tourist guide map, sure enough it did indeed look like a giant cock because a stream of archipelagos craned out to the Middle East making it look like America was busting a fat nut on the opposite continent.\n\n\"So is this normal business for you?\" I asked the man in the well dressed suit escorting me to the interdimension federation court house.\n\n\"Yis, your counterpart is to be sentenced for his crime in the next three hours, twelve versions of you have been summoned from the federation of dimensions to testify on his behalf.\" the man said plainly turning his attention back to his phone.\n\n\"Nice to meet you, the name is...\" I began extending my hand.\n\n\"Jeff. Yis, I know.\" He interrupted looking at my hand with slight disgust.\n\n\"What!? Did I really do something so bad that you can't shake an alternate version of myself's hand?\" I asked aggressively without thinking.\n\nThe man just looked at me blankly, like I had offended him.\n\n\"I heard stories about Earth 11 apparently, it is customary to touch one another when greeting for the first time. What the fuck is wrong with you people?\" He asked harshly. \n\n\"Oh. I thought you had something against me because what my alt did, my bad, yeah where I am from we do shake hands when greeting some people even kiss and hug.\" I told the man plainly.\n\n\"Ugh. Your rituals are...\" the man just rolled his eyes trailing off back to his phone.\n\nAn awkward silence set in so I stared out the window a bit, it was the familiar New York Skyline with a few variations I was new to but the same in regards to architecture. The taxis were basically the same too.\n\n\"So that's a strange accent you have it sounds New Zealand.\" I commented nervously.\n\n\"I don't know what a Noo Zeel und is, but I got my accent from Jamaica.\" the suit said clearly looking as if he wanted this to be over as soon as possible.\n\n\"So is it true that you guys have monarchies still? That might have been Earth 18 but I swear reading an article where you guys still have royalty...I mean we do too but their popularity is almost null.\" I said not being able to help myself from him not wanting me to talk.\n\n\"Yis, that's correct we have eleven moarchies within our continents borders. The crime for which your alternate is accused took place in the largest, it will be getting multi dimensional coverage. Her we take the Kings of the Amerikas very seriously.\" the man seemed pleased at saying this.\n\n\"Oh so did, so did I like kill someone...or well the other me kill someone important?\" I wanted to wait before asking but the suspense was killing me.\n\n\"No.\" the man said turning to look me up and down again like I was dangerous and disgusting.\n\n\"Well what the fuck did I do man? What could possibly be so bad that an interdimensional jury of mes have to stand trial as peers?\" I asked eagerly.\n\n\"You. You created a chimera, which is a serious offense here.\" the suit said putting his phone in his jacket as the taxi pulled up the steps of a municipal building and began getting out.\n\n\"A chimera? You mean like two animals fused together? Am I a geneticist here? Did I create some kind of fucked up monstrosity?\" I was excited at the concept of being a renegade scientist who teetered on the fringes.\n\n\"Not exactly...you went on a drunken binder and found your way into the sovereign sanctuary and created a sheople.\" this time the man stood looking empathetic at me.\n\n\"I still don't understand, Sir.\" I pleaded hoping he would stop beating around the bush.\n\nThe man palmed his face, which is never a good sign.\n\n\"Jeff, your alternate got drunk and wandered into an animal pen and fucked the King's royal goat, resulting in a goat child.\" He told me as the shame set in.\n\nMy god, I thought, I cannot do this, inter dimensional press coverage, goat babies, penis shaped countries. I threw my hands up in refusal.\n\n\"Nope. Nope. NOPE. Uh uh.\" I said storming off in the opposite direction trying to think of how I could get away from this permanently. ", "> \" - from what some are already calling the trial of the century. If you're just joining us, Jerry Seidel is reporting live from Justice Hall. Hi Jerry, do you have news for us?\"\n\n\"Hi Sarah - it's been a busy day here at Central Justice! I'm here with Dr. Arja Laito, of Utah Law-702. Now, we can't interview Dr. Laito live on camera, of course, they're very particular about that over in you-seven-oh-two, but she's agreed to take part in a little impromptu Q&A session. I'll be relaying her answers directly to you and to our viewers at home and I'll be translating to English on the fly. That's alright, Dr. Laito?\n\nWonderful, thank you. Now, Dr. Laito would you like to open with- ah, certainly. Now, the expression 'jury of your peers' was, historically, mostly wishful thinking. A great ideal, but one you could never really achieve. After all, every human being has their own history, their own moral standards, their own soul; you can look for superficial similarities at best. Now, with the discovery of timeline permeability-\"\n\n> \"Hah! Sorry to interject, but I think you might be losing our viewers, Jerry.\"\n\n\"Well, Sarah, to make a long story short, and as I'm certain our viewers know, we're now looking for alternate versions of the defendant and the plaintiff to use as jurors whenever possible. The ones not simultaneously charged with the same crime, that is. Now, the number of jurors can vary from case to case, since some people exist in more realities than others, and some mostly exist in non-peering realities. And that's exactly what makes this trial so special. Apparently Mr. Doe, the accused is... what did you call it, Dr. Laito?\n\nAh, yes, thank you. Mr. Doe - name changed to protect his identity - Mr. Doe is a... a cosmic keystone. That's a term from seven-oh-two, of course; we'd probably just say he's... well, Sarah, he's astoundlingly common.\"\n\n> \"That doesn't sound like a nice thing to say, Jerry.\"\n\n\"Hah, well, let me assure you, Sarah... it's pretty amazing to see in action. The number of jurors is creeping towards the triple digits as we speak. We can't show live footage of course, but there's even - well, the identities of the jurors are a secret, but - can we get some archival footage on screen? Thanks. Dr. Laito called this to my attention. Here, if you look back over the footage of the opening statement... there at the back, right next to the usher, the man with the shaved head and the eyepiece? Seems our Mr. Doe even has a living counterpart over on Eighty-Eight!\"\n\n> \"Ooh, I certainly wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now.\"\n\n\"Very tough on crime indeed. Now, recess is about to end and the court session is about to resume, but we'll certainly be following this case further. Dr. Laito, thank you for your assistance, and back to you, Sarah.\"\n\n> \"Thank you, that was Jerry Seidel reporting live from the trial of the century over at Justice Central. While the substance found in posession of John Doe-249 is illegal in less than forty percent of peering justice systems, the presence of a juror from 88 and several more from the 400s might just complicate things for Mr. Doe. More after these messages from our sponsors.\"" ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1457247070", "1457255755" ]
	[WP] You are a tribesman witnessing the end of the world via atomic fire.	2	[ "Kanza hid and stared at the great gleaming stone pillar drifting listlessly through the sky. It was not how he had imagined a spirits' boat might look, but it was magnificent all the same. Its smooth silver bow split the sky in two and gave way to a gold and black stern. \n\n\"Kanza,\" whispered Hep, hanging the tree he'd climbed to get a better view of the spirits' boat, \"What does this mean? Have they come to take us to their lands?\" \n\nKanza thought as he crouched beneath the shadow of the bush he'd been hiding in. Truth be told he was not sure. He knew his were the first people but he didn't truly think that was enough to be the chosen people. Though they'd been driven over the mountain and into the valley by the southern clay-men, he'd heard the secret tales of his people from his Shaman uncle. How they had met with the horn-wearing people who lived here before and slaughtered them for their land. He did not feel that the spirits had kind eyes for those who did not learn from harm. \n\nAs he contemplated Hep called for him again and he saw the bow of the spirits' boat break in two. Though it did not fall from the sky as he thought it might, sinking below the sea of clouds. Instead its bow, now halved, slid to either side of the ship revealing many, many hollow pipes running along its belly. \n\nBefore he could wonder what this was they started belching stones at the earth below them. And wherever they connected pillars of blinding fire rose.\n\nHe could not hear it. He could not hear Hep scream as he leaped from his perch and broke his leg. He could not hear his heart racing or his breath rattling out of his chest. It was all silent. \n\nAnd then it was over. ", "Across a maze of mirrored lights I gaze into the depths of an inferno, \nA million streaks of lightning dance across the jaded horizon, \nThe heavens blur with a light that has never been seen before, an omen of doom that approaches the shores. \nThe air hangs heavy with the smell of fear, its scent is so strong that you can almost reach forth and touch it. \nThe sun sets across the blood red sea, and instead of its normal pink shade, it seems a deathly gray. \nWhere sits the prophet who preaches of impending doom? \nWhere are the portents that prove this is the end? \nAll sound has ceased, not even the buzzing of insects' wings can be heard. \nThe world sits still and waits to tell us that our fears have come true, \nAt last do my eyes deceive me, or is this truly the end of all that I know? \nDo unnamed gods war across the endless horizon, and are we nothing more than pawns in their endless struggle? \nMy soul cries out to fight, it's better to die fighting than waiting for the inevitable like a fool. \nYet my heart is weary and sad, for all that I know will soon be at an end. \nWhere will the unborn child go to play, who will feel the gentle touch of a lover's sweet caress? \nWho will sing the litany of my life when I am last gone? \nFeeling helpless is new to me, yet all I can do is roar in frustration at the injustice of it all. \nThe prophets are all gone, their last portent told a million years ago. \nThe children are all gone, slowly I realize I am the last. \nHow long has it been since I felt another's touch? \nOr spoke a word to one of my own kind? \nThe war in the heavens gives way to a brand new age. \n...A passing of the old for the young. \nThis world no longer waits for the likes of me, so at last I realize I am old and obsolete. \nThe songs of my deeds will never be heard, for no one is left to sing, and no tears will be shed at my passing for I am truly alone. \nMemories that faded ages ago seem new, and the rage that filled my heart is replaced by a sad joy. \nSoon my spirit will sour again with those who left me long ago. \nThe wisdom I wish I could leave for those who will follow me as caretakers of this world, \nYet none will remember that once another roamed these lands. \nThe storm approaches, and the hour of my end is at hand. \nA single tear falls from my face, not for myself, but for the birth of the new order that is yet to come. \nI lift my head to the havens for a final cry, but the rising winds drown out my voice. \nThe once proud warrior is not but a memory on the fading winds. \nA great cleansing rain falls across the mountaintops, \nAs the world sheds tears at the passing of an old friend, and welcomes in a brand new age." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1457472251", "1457475239" ]
	[WP] A supervillain takes it upon themselves to lend a hand to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.	15	[ "Game 7 of The World Series. The Cubs and the Yankees have played 6 gruelingly close games all coming down to the wire. The best pitchers, hitters, fielders are all exhausted, the final game is coming down to the last inning. The Cubs lead 2-1 going into the bottom of the ninth.\n\n\nSeven months earlier, little Timmy is playing catch with his mother in their front yard in Chicago. Wearing his tattered Cubs hat he slings the ball back and forth with his mom, he loves baseball. He lives it, breathes it. His dream one day is to play professional baseball for the Cubs. As the ball leaves his hand, a young, strong heart skips a beat, his vision fades to black as he collapses onto the recently thawed ground.\n\n\nSirens roaring down the narrow street, Timmy and his mom in the back of the ambulance. EMTs doing all they can to keep Timmy breathing, getting his heart back to normal, making sure he stays with his mom in the world of the living. The doctors do all they can... Success! Timmy stabilizes. Testing begins.\n\n\nBlood is taken, CAT scans, MRIs, biopsies, you name it. All possibilities are looked at. The prognosis isn't good. It's cancer, and it's already spread.\n\n\nIt is now mid June, from his hospital bed, Timmy follows the historic first half of the Cubs' season. They are almost a lock to easily make the play offs and make it to the World Series. However, Timmy might not make it to see the victory, doctors have given him only a couple months to live. Make-a-wish arrives to see if they can grant Timmy a final wish.\n\n\nBefore the sickness, before the pain, all Timmy ever wanted was to play baseball for the Cubs. He is stubborn, word gets around the organization that the only thing that will make Timmy happy is if he gets to play on the big field with the Cubs. A local newspaper picks up the story as a small piece; this is when Dr. Disorder hears and begins planning the end of his plot.\n\n\nUnder the guise of the Make-a-wish organization Dr. Disorder meets with little Timmy. He says that he can grant Timmy his final wish. Timmy agrees, preparations are made. It takes Dr. Disorder a long time to bribe the right people and silence any knowledge of his plan. On the night before the start of the World Series, Timmy makes it onto the Cubs' roster.\n\n\nThrough the World Series, Timmy is played up as the bat boy for the series, that one that is fighting for his life just as hard as the Cubs are fighting for their first World Series win in more than a century. Everyone loves little Timmy, his family is supported by the entire baseball and sports community. Even those that do not follow sports are following Timmy.\n\n\nIt's the final out of the final game, a runner on first and a rookie coming up to bat. A long snide grin appears on Dr. Disorder's face as watches the finale of his plan come together. The rookie bats left handed and the current Cubs' pitcher is right handed, thus the manager walks out to mound to make a change. The hearts, minds, and eyes of the world focused on this moment. The manager takes the ball from the pitcher, patting him on the back as he walks off; the manager motions to the dugout a happy \"come out here\" wave towards Timmy. With the little energy, but pure adrenaline running through his veins little Timmy makes his way out to the pitching mound. The manager hands Timmy the ball and walks off. The crowd goes nuts, social media is exploding, and little Timmy has thrown a couple warm up pitches. They all think this is a stunt, that he'll be pulled out in favor of a different pitcher, Dr. Disorder knows differently. \n\n\nThe umpire signals the game needs to continue, Timmy looks over around, his wish is coming true, he actually gets to play a real baseball game for the Cubs. The rookie steps into the batter's box, the crowd goes silent. Everyone processing what is happening. Before anyone can say a word, little Timmy throws his first, and last, Major League pitch for the Cubs. Again, his vision fades to black, his heart gives out, he smiles as little Timmy passes away on field. \n\nFrom his lair Dr. Disorder watches the ensuing chaos with glee and satisfaction. That pitch, was hit for a game winning home run. People are rioting in the stands and in the streets, on the internet, anywhere they can find an outlet. The Cubs once again are denied a World Series victory and as the rookie is rounding the bases he thinks back to his youth, when a mysterious make-a-wish sponsor came to his hospital bed and asked him what we wished for. His wish, was to win a World Series.", "“I’m sorry, say that again?” I said into the phone. I swiveled my chair and leaned back, idly watching a great white shark swim around in his giant tank while I listened.\n\n“Supervillain for a day, huh?” I asked. “And may I ask how you got this number?”\n\nI listened again, then made a mental note to have my second-in-command killed.\n\n“You know what? Why the hell not? It wouldn’t hurt to have another henchman around, even if just for a day.”\n\nI pressed the end call button in my cell and tossed it over my shoulder onto the desk. After watching the shark for another minute, I swiveled back around and keyed my intercom.\n\n“Tracy, can you bring in a cup of coffee?”\n\n“Yes sir,” came the reply.\n\n“Also, draw up a termination packet for Number 2.”\n\n“Y… yes sir.”\n\n***\n\nI went all out on the outfit. Because why the hell not, right? That random, dying kid deserved the best. My purple collar swept to twin points about cheekbone-high on either side of my head, and my purple cape with gold glitter swept the floor behind me when I walked, and perfectly framed my leather jumpsuit.\n\nAll I needed was a pair of skates and I’d fit perfectly in a John Travolta flick from the ’70s.\n\nI stood in the center of the room with my back to the door, as if I was deep in thought, or doing some sort of mind meld with the shark. When it comes to dramatic flair, I put the best of them to shame.\n\nI heard the door slide open behind me, followed by the tromp of many footsteps behind me. I had to keep myself from shuddering at the thought of all that outside bacteria on my clean, cement floor.\n\nI swept myself around to face them, and took in the scene: a skinny, bald little shit in a wheelchair, with two people behind him that I assumed were his parents, haggard and dark-eyed from many a night spent on a hard bed at a childrens hospital and many an argument over how to pay the medical bills.\n\nNumber 2 stood beside them, a huge, maddening grin on his face. With them was a sharp-dressed woman, a PR hack from Make-A-Wish was my guess. And behind them all was a camera crew of all things, complete with a bored-looking guy holding a boom mike overhead.\n\nI advanced, my black military boots squeaking sharply on the polished cement, and offered my hand to the miserable wretch in the wheelchair.\n\n“You must be Timmy!” I announced with authority. The kid, no more than 10, grinned sheepishly and nodded, taking my hand in a light handshake. “And you want to be a supervillain for a day?”\n\nAgain, he nodded. Behind him, his parents seemed pleased with the attention for Timmy, while at the same time really uncomfortable. The PR hack held out her hand.\n\n“Hi, I’m Allison with Make-A--” she began, before I cut her off with a hiss and a finger in front of her face. I glared at her, then snapped my fingers. A squad of henchmen appeared out of nowhere and within seconds, Allison, the parents and the camera crew were herded out through the doors, their confused protests falling on deaf ears.\n\nAfter a minute, it was just me, Timmy and Number 2. I regarded Timmy in silence. Number 2 coughed nervously.\n\n“Well, uh, I should go check on them.”\n\n“No no, Number 2, stick around!” I commanded. “You’ll enjoy this, trust me.”\n\nI sauntered around behind Timmy’s wheelchair, my cape brushing against his arm. His head followed me nervously.\n\n“So you want to be a supervillain!” I said again, this time with enthusiasm. Timmy nodded again, this time with a little fear in his eyes. There was no need for him to worry.\n\nI wheeled him slowly forward so he could get a good view of the shark. He lit up a little bit as the creature slid past the glass wall.\n\n“This is Stan,” I told the kid. “Stan helps me clean up around here.”\n\n“Hi, Stan,” said Timmy, as if the shark could hear him.\n\n“Timmy, what’s the most important part of being a supervillain?”\n\nHe took his attention from the shark and looked up at me with a shrug.\n\n“Operational security, Timmy. Operational security. One little leak gives your location away to the FBI, and you’re done. Your super lair, all your hard work is for nothing.”\n\nI keyed the intercom.\n\n“Tracy, can you bring in the paperwork?”\n\n“Yes sir.”\n\nTimmy’s eyes were wandering, and he turned his chair to look over my desk.\n\n“What’s this?”\n\nI picked up the engineering drawings he was pointing to.\n\n“Ah, this is Operation Dark Roast,” I explained with glee, unrolling the papers. “We’re going to open up a volcano under Seattle.”\n\n“Cool,” the kid crooned. “With a drill?”\n\n“Yep. And explosives.”\n\nThe kid might be all right after all. The door slid open, and my secretary entered with a packet of paperwork. She spoke into the headset as she walked.\n\n“Yeah, no, the night shift gets time and a half,” she was saying as she handed me the packet. “Well, get the union reps on the line.”\n\nShe gave me a roll of her eyes, made a “yap yap yap” signal with her hand and headed back out.\n\nTimmy’s eyes had alighted on a big red button on the right side of my desk.\n\n“What’s this?” he asked, fingering the button lightly. I pulled his hand away.\n\n“Hey, we don’t want to mess with that.”\n\n“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the paperwork Tracy had left in my hands. The kid’s curiosity was grating and amusing at the same time.\n\n“Oh that? That’s just a termination packet,” I said, turning with a sweep of the cape to face my top henchman, “for Number 2.”\n\nThe blood drained from Number 2’s face.\n\n“W-what?” he stammered. “What for?”\n\n“OPERATIONAL SECURITY!” I boomed, causing both Number 2 and Timmy to flinch. “You brought an entire family to the lair? And a camera crew? TO THE LAIR? Are you trying to sabotage everything?”\n\nHe held out his hands palm up in protest.\n\n“We checked them for tracking devices!” he said. “They wore blindfolds the whole trip!”\n\nI advanced on him, causing him to back up. Almost. I took another step, and he back up another step. Perfect. I leaned back, reaching for the big red button, when a small voice stopped me.\n\n“Can I do it?”\n\nI frowned in thought, still glaring at Number 2. Then I nodded.\n\n“Sure, why not?”\n\nNumber 2’s face twisted in despair.\n\n“Aw, come on, man,” he pleaded. “You’re going to have the kid do it?”\n\nI nodded, smiling. “Now, Timmy.”\n\nThe kid reached a frail little arm out, and I watched the resignation spread on Number 2’s face as he watched a gaunt finger press down on the button.\n\nThe trap door opened beneath his feet, and in a second he was gone. The trap door swung closed, cutting off his scream. I danced happily back behind the desk, then grabbed Timmy’s wheelchair and swung him around to see the shark tank.\n\n“Oh, you’re going to enjoy this,” I told him. Timmy leaned forward in anticipation.\n\nNumber 2 shot into the water, his eyes wide as he held his breath and struggled. Timmy squealed with laughter as the shark circled behind. I kept the shark hungry for just this type of occasion.\n\nStan ripped into Number 2 with a violence only seen on nature documentaries narrated by David Attenborough. Soon the thrashing disappeared in an expanding red cloud in the water, obscuring the most gruesome moments of the attack. An arm sank below, out of the cloud, a smaller cloud of blood streaming behind it.\n\nTimmy couldn’t take his eyes off the scene, but I swung his chair back around and plopped the Operation Dark Roast plans in his lap.\n\n“What do you think? Should we blow up Seattle next year?”\n\nTimmy hung his head.\n\n“Love to,” he said, “but I won’t be around next year.”\n\nI knelt in front of him and looked in his eyes, putting a finger under his chin to lift his head.\n\n“Plot twist, Timmy,” I said with a grin. “I’ve had the cure for cancer for years. You’ll be right as rain in a few weeks.”\n\n“Really?”\n\n“Yup. Who do you think has the best scientists?” I asked him. “You think some charity can pay the top guys? No way, buddy. I can.”\n\nHe laughed.\n\n“So what do you think,” I asked him. “Do you want to be my new Number 2?”\n" ]	[ 6, 14 ]	[ "1457555053", "1457548036" ]
Yes, taken from: https://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/49onpa/if_steve_jobs_was_reincarnated_into_a_chinese/	[WP] Steve Jobs is reincarnated as a third world child who now makes iPhones. He slowly begins to remember little details about his past-life.	249	[ "\"Here's hexa-screw 1, and there goes 2, and Xing Long will handle number 3.\"\n\nI was a content 16 year old kid who was trying to make some quick cash.\n\nI wanted to pee really badly, but alas, my toilet break was an hour away. It's easy to see why Zhang jumped out the window yesterday after working (and earning) for 2 years. \n\n\"BACK TO WORK, STEVE LEE!\", my supervisor yelled, seeing me daydream just like earlier this morning. I hate being told what to do. I feel like just dropping out of this crap the second this week is over and take a peek into Grandma's art shop. And maybe stay there, seeing how shading and typography works. \n\nBut the week has just begun. \n\nI use the electric screwdriver and tighten the hexa-screw for my 10,000th iPhone. Foxconn has a HR thing to show each worker how many they've worked on. That's exactly when my eyes freeze up, and I see a tableau of 10 people sitting around a table with a photo of the iPhone on the screen. There was no mistaking it. It had to be an iPhone. The seek curves, the chamfered metal, it felt so natural to me. \n\nI was rudely plopped back into reality to continue on my endless task. \n\nAnd then I realised. There was a mirror on that same wall in my - I don't know what to call it, vision?- and on that mirror was the face that we see everyday in our factory. \n\nThe face of the man who gave so much to my country, but took from its people. \n\nSteve Jobs. ", "好累啊。。。好饿呀。。。\n好想家。。。好想妈妈。。。\n\n(So tired...so hungry... I miss home.. I miss my mom...)\n\n\n为什么我的命这么苦?? 我的生命还有什么意义。\n\n(Why's my life so tough? Is there no meaning to my life?)\n\n两天没睡了。好累, 好累啊。。。Zzz... \n\n(Haven't slept in 2 days. So tired, so tired... Zzz...)\n\n你敢!! 偷懒?!! 睡觉??! 不要这份工作了对吗? 回去路边饿死吧!! \n\n(YOU DARE? Skiving? Sleeping? You don't want this job? Go back to the streets to starve then!!)\n\n对不起! 对不起! 求求你, 我。。晕了过去 \n\n(Sorry! Sorry! I'm begging you please, I... * faint )\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n医生我的儿子, 他。。癌症???!\n\n(Doctor, my son... he.. Cancer???!)\n\n\n在苹果工厂。。。他。。汞?!\n\n\n(At the Apple factory... he... mercury?!)\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n痛。我在哪里? This sensation. IV needle in my hand? I.. Mom?? Where are we?\n\n(Hurts. Where am I?)\n\n\n医生! 医生! 他醒来了!! 儿子你在说什么?? 你病了。妈妈会给你治好!\n\n(Dr! Dr! He's awake! Son what you're saying. You're sick. I promise you'll get better!)\n\nDoctor rushes in\n\n\nDoctor where am I? \n\n\nYou speake engrish?? turns to mom* 你的儿子会讲英语??? (Your son speaks English???)\n\n\n不会!! (No!!)\n\n\nWhy am I here? \n\n\nYou are having cancer. Maybe from chemical eh.. the metal in factory.\n\n医生他在说什么??? (Doctor what is he saying??)\n\n\nWhat kind?\n\n\nIt is in the 胰腺. How to say... \n\nDoctor pulls out his iPhone to Google translate\n\nHe turned the phone to me. \n\nChinese : English\n\n胰腺 : Pancreas\n\n\nMy eyes widened. I remember.\n\n\n\n\n\nEDIT: Translation", "6 hours is still long. But it's better than 12. Dad's at 12 now, used to be at 18.\n\n\nBut life's looking up.\n\n\nDad said that within a few years with our new salaries, we'll have enough money to live on without me having to work.\n\n\nThat'll be great, I'll get to go to school.\n\n\nI've always wanted to join school. Learn.\n\n\nIt's crazy, I get this feeling when I look around that everything here was created by people.\n\n\nPeople like me. I wouldn't be working in this factory if someone hadn't made it.\n\n\nDad wouldn't be brining in more money if these technologies didn't exist.\n\n\nHe'd be getting sunburned again in the rice fields.\n\n\nRice fields.\n\n\nSomeone must have had an idea to make those too.\n\n\nI love it!\n\n\nWe can have ideas and make things better!\n\n\nI can't wait to go to school.\n\n\nI want ideas.\n\n\nI want to make things better.\n\n\nMaybe I'll make something that will make things better for dad.\n\n\nMaybe... a special hat that makes him less tired, kinda like special gloves that protect your hands from chemicals.\n\n\nSomeone probably made those too!\n\n\nPeople make stuff!\n\n\nStuff is great!\n\n\nPeople are great!\n\n\nI often wonder if I ever made things better in my past life.\n\n\nI think I did. I'm smart. I probably did it.\n\n\nI can probably do it again.\n\n--------------\n\nHEY KID, LOOK AT WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE DOING!\nYOU WANNA STAY HERE OR YOU WANNA GO BACK TO THE RICE FIELDS?\nPAY ATTENTION!\n\n---------------\n\nJust a few more months.\n\n\nThen school.\n\n\nTHEN I can make my own stuff." ]	[ 2, 12, 42 ]	[ "1457566585", "1457566611", "1457554708" ]
	[WP] ''Computer, End Simulation'' you speak aloud...it works...	31	[ "The words flickered in the air in front of him. \"Password required.\" Was this really happening, or just a dream? He looked over to the mirror beside him. The words were not reflected, so he knew it was something only he could see. He pinched his arm. The pain he felt made him realise he was awake. Yet there they were, those two spooky words.\n\nHe wasn't even sure what made him say it. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was just depression. Whatever it was, it was done. If it was actually real, he could possibly use the computer to generate things for him. Money, cars, women. He could have it all.\n\nand yet, the curiosity of what was beyond nagged at him. He could be some bigshot in a utopian future city. Or it could be bad. Maybe robots had taken over, and he was in a human battery like in the Matrix. He continued to ponder just what it was that was on the other side, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn't want to know. He was in this simulation for a reason. Whether it was because of his awful life on the other side, or just a thrill, he knew he couldn't just leave. He had to play it out to the very end.\n\n\"Computer, cancel request.\" The words vanished. He stood up, and grabbed his keys. No matter what happens in this life, he knew he had to make the most of it from now on. Besides, what's the worst that could be waiting for him on the other side?\n\n-\n\"Vitacorp wants to thank you for your kind research into our long life program. Miss, err?\"\n\n\"Hanoway. That's my father in on that screen there.\" The screen showed the man putting on his jacket, and walking out his front door with a new lease on life.\"\n\n\"Miss Hanoway. We really appreciate your assistance. The last 20 years of your fathers life has been quite informative about how well this system is received by the public. Your father and the 31 other volunteers have pushed this program forward to public sales much faster than anticipated. Of course, your family will be eligible for a percentage of the profits, and we will gladly cover any funeral and graveyard costs when the simulation is over. If you would like to just follow me to the next room, we can sign the last of the papers.\n\nInside the small silver pod beside the two of them, the mans corpse lay in the silence, as the helmet blinked over to the 25 day mark, continuing its countdown to zero, the Vitacorp logo barely visible in the dim red light from the numbers. ", " Adam wondered what the Graffiti on the wall said, it was odd, distinct, the kind he'd never seen before and as silly as it felt, he needed to say it aloud.\n\n \"Computer, End Simulation.\" he said.\n\n Then it all made sense. \n\no o o o o o o\n\nYou’re never quite prepared for the simulation ending, you’ve been telling yourself for what you think is years that you’re a 43 year old man, you’re not important, just an average Joe, sitting behind a desk in some business for God knows how long to provide for the wife and kids. Then you stand up with a back that suddenly works and full head of hair falling in front of your eyes. You almost fall over getting up, the muscles you thought were old and tired are now young and springy, you’re staggering around from your own strength. And you’ve soiled yourself. Repeatedly.\n\n “Fucking hell how long have I been under!?” Adam exclaimed, as he saw the putrid brown ooze leak out from his trousers.\n\n Ray tossed him a towel, he looked concerned:\n\n “Longer than normal, sorry, about 6 hours.”\n\n “But protocol says one hour maximum?!” Adam yelled.\n\n “Things were different this time, we received emergency authorisation from up top, they’re scheduling a meeting now with you where you can de-briefed… I’ll make sure you have enough time to clean yourself up.”\n\n “Fuck you.”\n\n It’s all Adam could really think about right now. One hour was the maximum time the VR Speculation sessions normally lasted, any longer and the simulated memories started to become inseparable from permanent ones. The longest before now Adam had gone before this was 34 minutes, and even now he could still remember the tanks rolling down the street outside his house. But it was in his brain the same way a movie was, it wasn’t real, it was just things. But his wife, her hair, her smile, the exasperated look when the kids came in every morning at 6am.\n\n “It wasn’t real.” He said aloud, it had meant to be just a thought, but he was tired and confused, his brain wasn’t being a team player right now as 21 years of fake memories refused to be fake.\n\n O o o o O\n\n The hot shower had been helpful; he’d breathed the steam in with deep gulps and hoped the memories would fade with the headache.\n\n He was now wearing grey joggers and a plain white T-Shirt. It seemed like he was being treated like a criminal, sitting at the table being questioned by two higher-ups in nice suits while Ray sat their quietly like a very poor State provided lawyer. The truth though was that he felt like a victim right now.\n\n “Now in the session we noted that Nelson Mandella died December 5th 2013?” one of the Suits asked.\n\n “Yeah, it was before Christmas, sounds about right.” Adam muttered.\n\n “Would you say the mood was sad at the time, like this was a tragedy?”\n\n “Yes, lots of people paid tribute; most were very sad or at least had nothing bad to say.”\n\n “Thank you, and at this time relationships with South Africa were very good?”\n\n “Uh, probably, we weren’t really at war with them if that’s what you mean.”\n\n The answer seemed to satisfy them, if only temporarily, then new questions continued:\n\n “And we noted the figure Barack Obama was in attendance at his funeral, he’s appeared in multiple other speculations, at this stage in his Presidency how was he perceived?”\n\n “I don’t know, fine enough.” Adam stammered out.\n\n “Are there any specific events that lead you to that conclusion?” one of the suits pressed on.\n\n “You were the ones in my brain, are you telling me you couldn’t see?!”\n\n “You know how the VR Speculation sessions go, we can see the vague events of your minds future speculation projected on our screens, but the full details, tiny nuances like a single day of news, that’s held within your mind.”\n\n They’d been talking for 25 minutes now, questions about everything and anything. How the economy had seemed. Mexican immigration. Developments in the EU. They’d tried to talk about television and music trends and he had snapped at them, tossed a glass of water at the wall. It was plastic though, they’d been expecting the anger.\n\n It was just hard to remember details, he hadn’t been a details man, not someone in enough power to notice and care, all the precise details were personal, irrelevant at that small scale, and the truth was they weren’t personal at all, they were fake, imaginary. But that was always the way with Speculation Sessions, in the beginning they’d tried creating scenario’s where people were Presidents and Scientists, it never stuck, the brain couldn’t be tricked into such outlandish scenarios. It had to be small, that was where the brain could continue living and speculate a future in front of them all whilst sitting in a chair with wires stuck into the brain for what was supposed to be just an hour at best.\n\n “Can we please take a break, I have a headache, I just want to sleep.” Adam pleaded.\n\n “We have to ask these questions, we don’t know what will be forgotten if we wait any longer, important developments might be lost.”\n\n “I was in there for six hours, trust me, I remember a lot of fucking information.” Adam snarled.\n\n “Maybe he could benefit from a brief break. Just a brief one.” Ray suggested.\n\n He was trying to be a peace broker, calm things down. Adam knew he was trying, but it was far too late for that.\n\n “Oh now you say something Ray! Why was this so bloody important anyway! This speculation was boring, normal, I mean stuff happened, Russia was aggressive, we had armies in Middle East countries, Iraq, Afghanistan I think, there were bad times, but nothing major. In my first session I saw a Nuclear War, in the second one I was fighting in a Civil Uprising and got shot in the head. In this one I voted a black man president! That’s pretty okay.”\n\n “And that’s why we kept it going as long as we did.” A Suit insisted.\n\n “What?!” Adam exclaimed.\n\n The two suits exchanged looks.\n\n “We were debating whether to explain to you now, we don’t like to discuss other speculations in specific details as a matter of policy, we find it biases future speculation of others if they know of other peoples. But given your condition after this session I think it is a simple answer as to whether you will ever use the Virtual Reality Simulation equipment again.”\n\n “Fuck off.”\n\n Adam said it without thinking, but didn’t feel any regret. He just leaned back and covered his eyes from the lit room, he had seen too many things for a man his age and his brain seemed to hurt from each and every thing it had to process now.\n\n “Exactly.” One of the suits finally said.\n\n “You talked about previous VR Speculations where thing events ended negatively. Until this one all of your sessions ended negatively. And until today, every participants session ever ended negatively.” The other Suit explained.\n\n “What?”\n\n “War, economic collapse, further terrorist attacks, disease outbreaks. Before the year 2008 the Planet always underwent radical, negative changes that worsened the lives of the planet’s population. Your world, with War in the Middle East, and tension in Asia, and the rise of European United State initiative, is the best path for the future we have ever seen, and we need to know if we can make that happen.”\n\n Adam paused for a moment and thought about all the things he had seen. All the good, all the bad, all the indifferent and weird. It didn’t feel like he had seen the best future. It was very hard to comprehend.\n\n “Just let me take a bathroom break, please, 5 minutes and we can continue talking, I promise.” He finally blurted out.\n\nO o o o o o\n\n Adam didn’t need the bathroom, but sitting in the toilet cubicle, his head soaked from dunking his head in the sink, he almost felt better. It was quiet, and peaceful, and alone. No new things to take in, just the old fake ones. Just his wife. Just Sophie.\n\n 5 minutes had surely passed, but perhaps Ray was showing sympathy for the first time since he had woken up, in the last hour he’d definitely seen all the things he had done wrong to him.\n\n The door swung open and two people walked in. They weren’t looking for him. Just two random workers.\n\n “So did you hear the news, Russia has condemned the Invasion of Iran? Crazy.”\n\n “China backed them up too, shit, do you think it could escalate?”\n\n “Who knows?”\n\n What was that? That wasn’t how it went. Iran? \n\n Adam held back a few tears for a little while. He thought about the wife and the children he had lost, and he thought about the World he’d lived in. He thought about how everything was wrong now.\n\nO o o o o o\n\n “I’m ready to begin the questions again, thank you for the break.” Adam said quietly.\n\n “That’s quite alright, we understand how hard things must be for you right now.”\n\n “Pretty hard, but we’re doing this for a good reason, we want that world I saw…”\n “Very well, now we noticed early on the presence of a Tsunami in Asia, how would you say the response was to this?”\n\n Adam sighed; this was going to take a while. But he wanted Sophie back.\n", "I walked out of the station toward my car, the door slammed behind me. I barked, \"Computer, End Simulation\", the simulator room went dark for a moment until an overhead light popped on. My watch read 4:30. The ride to the station manger's house took exactly 22 minutes. I parked in the dark driveway, extracted a blue blanket and window breaker from my truck and walked toward the side of the garage. In just 47 seconds I was through the window and stealing the ID from the center console of the BMW. I parked in the station's lot at 5:30 on the tick. The badge beeped when I slapped it against the reader and I was in. I opened the first door on the right and took the stairs, two at a time, up to the third floor. Only two badges could open the third door on the left, the one in my hand and the one held by the Chief Auditor from the accounting firm Williams, Scott and Anderton. The Auditor's badge was almost impossible to steal without getting caught.\n\nOn a small stage was a pedestal supporting a clear plastic sphere containing forty five ping pong balls. I extracted a small vial of white, lead paint and a brush from my fanny pack. The small hatch on the back of the sphere flopped open, I reached in and extracted ball number 22. A one square inch of paint was all it would take. I returned 22, extracted four more balls in turn and painted each. The white paint was a perfect match for the color of the balls of course. I put the paint and brush back in my fanny pack and extracted a pen and slip of paper. I noted the 5 numbers I had painted and started retracing my steps to leave the building.\n\nThe lottery draw began at 10:21 on channel 3. Wendy Sellig was hosting the event in a stunning blue dress. Five balls were taken from the bottom slot, shown to the camera and placed on a rack next to the sphere.\n\nA rather rotund lady belatedly unlocked the doors to the lottery office at 9:02AM. Verifying my ticket, confirming my identity for the IRS and State Tax agency, taking some photos with a big check and printing my actual check took two hours and seventeen minutes. I was a millionaire for ten glorious days.\n\nI never ran the simulation further than depositing the check. When the same numbers came up a week after my jackpot, the auditors ran an investigation. The security cameras had perfect view of me painting the balls. I was arrested, my money and all the stuff I bought including my yellow Ferrari 488 Spider were all confiscated. I couldn't afford a good attorney, so I'm spending the next 15-25 years in prison. After the story broke and the cops were coming toward my door I barked, \"Computer, end simulation\", it didn't work.\n\n\n\n", "\"Hey Jack! Your turn!\", Matthew yelled to me from across the room. \"Ok ok I'll do it!\", I yelled back. Looking up to the ceiling of my best friend's living room I proclaim: \"Alright computer, end simulation.\" I wait a few seconds then I take a look around.\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\nI look around at my closest friends, frozen in time. \"Alright guys very funny! Computer, resume simulation!\"\n\nNothing.\n\n\"Computer, resume simulation!\"\n\nStill nothing.\n\n\"Hey Joanne, you still with me?\" as I shake my fiance's arm. I'm starting to freak out. Like, legitimately, freak out. \"Ok guys that's enough!\", but still nothing. Then to my absolute horror, Joanne disintegrates right in front of me. \"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!\" All around me my friends are degrading into pixels, only to disappear into the floor. \"Wha-wha-_______________?\"\n\nI don't know how long its been. I've been hugging my legs, sitting on this floor in some alien kind of room for probably hours now. All I can think about is her. She was my life, and now she's gone. Its not like she died, she just FUCKING DISINTEGRATED! RIGHT THERE!\n\nThen a door opens. \"Hey Jack, welcome back.\"", "Finally... It works! This malfunction kept you inside this gladiator simulation for five hours by now. You have been fighting fierce enemies, lions and tigers for five hours. You have no strength left in your arms and body.\n\nAfter repeating this phrase countless times at first two hours, you have given up all the hope and decided to fight until someone shuts down the simulation and rescues you, or you die. It had been a most honorable fight, even though in a simulation. Fit for a strong Klingon as yourself. Just as you were completely exhausted, and a fierce tiger was about to make its fatal final attack, you called the computer again, in an hopeless move. \n\nBut, there you are; inside the empty walls of holodeck, laying on the floor all bruised and cut, and apparently with some more days to live. You crawl across the deck to call the sick bay...", "\"Computer, end Simul...\" He struggled to get the words out, but it was to late. Mason saw this exact same affect used on the enemy of the tribe he had been tracking for the past several months. As he gasped for air, panic immediately came over him as he remembered Tech Support mention specifically, he needed to say the words in full to exit the simulation early. \n\nFor the past several months, Mason Rockwell was researching a vacation on some far away island or place, it didnt matter where, he just needed an escape. This would be his first vacation as a newly single man. For the past 6 years, his vacations consisted of spending cash to go somewhere he had zero interest in. For years, Mason dreamed of a vacation that included epic adventure, a place where he could really \"dig in\" to the culture and get lost. Mason was a 53 year old boy and never really took the time to find himself on a backpack adventure. For days on end he researched for places that seemed desolate, a place off the beaten path, a jungle where tribes have never made human contact. Even when he thought he found the perfect place, some other schmuck had already been there. \n\n\"Looking for adventure, tired of the mundane\"? Barely still awake, Mason heard the commercial. It was promoting a simulated vacation to a place he had dreamed of for all those years. Giving it no real thought, he jotted down the url and passed out for the night. \n\nTo be continued...", "There we were, smoking the latest batch of OG Kush. I handed the pipe over to Greg. Our group of three talked about the universe. While I was smoking, Victor remarked upon the most ridiculous idea I'd ever heard.\n\n\"They say our universe might be a holographic projection. We could be a science experiment for vastly intelligent beings.\"\n\nI told him, \"That can't be possible. The universe is infinite.\"\n\n\"Maybe that's how it's designed,\" said Greg after a taking a second to cough.\n\n\"I don't want my life to be a simulation. Would you? What if you're my simulation?\"\n\n\"Haha nah, you're my simulation,\" said Victor.\n\nGreg agreed with the sentiment that he was the \"real\" person in the room. We all laughed.\n\n\"But seriously man, what if I was in a room right now and could stop the projection of you and Greg?\"\n\nI said \"How would you do that? Say something like 'Computer, end simulation'? Would tha--\" Something jolted me like a slap in the face. Victor and Greg began a process of what I can only describe as \"fading away in pieces.\" The room faded next, until I was in a blank white room with a woman looking at me with desperation.\n\n\"You made it. I knew you would make it,\" she said while crying.\n\n\"Who are you? Why are you hugging me?\"\n\nShe looked up with eyes glazed in tears. All she said before crying uncontrollably was: \"I love you. You're back.\"", " Asher sat on his soft comfy couch in the living room, the cushions a lovely cream color and his fingers bright with Cheeto coloring. The theme music to \"Star Trek: The Next Generation\" died down and he sat, pondering what to watch next. \n\nThen a stupid idea occurred to him. A stupid but wonderful idea. Picard had just been locked in a life simulated by what he thought was the ships computers, how cool would it be if this was all a simulation? \n\n\"Computer, end simulation\", Asher said to the thin air of the empty room, more out of boredom than anything else. Then, as he licked the Cheeto flavor from his fingers Asher saw the walls begin to melt, the cream colored couch he was sitting on turn to cold gun metal, the Cheetos disappear from his hands. Where the television had been there was an imperious set of steel bars. Without warning, a woman's voice as clear as if she had been standing in the room next to him echoed off the walls. \n\n\"Prisoner number 0, your sentence has been served. You are now free to leave\". As the voice finished the steel bars slid open, revealing a very different world from the one Asher had just left. ", "Thursday, 17 March\n\nYou watch in awe, then alarm, as the whole world gradually distorts into static around you. Even your best friend, who had been in the living room watching tv, was dissolving into static. \n\n\"What is reality?\" you question in disbelief as the last of the world loses its cohesion and fades into nothingness. \n\nYou are floating in the darkness of the void. As you slowly begin to lose consciousness, the world suddenly erupts into a sort-of familiar dull blue hue. You glance up through your fading eyesight, and manage a weak smile. \n\nOh, it's a blue screen of death, you chuckle as the last of your consciousness fades. \n\n---\n\nThursday, 10 March\n\nYou wake up in your bed. The alarm clock at your bedside table had been beeping for the past 10 minutes. It reads 6:10 am. You sigh and drag youself out of bed. As you commit yourself to your daily morning rituals, you reflect on the fact that you just the weirdest dream... \n\n---\n\nA group higher-dimensional beings are bickering in a meeting room. Someone had misplaced the Admin rights to EarthServer042, and it had somehow briefly fallen into the hands of an earthling who, predictably, had misused it and caused the entire server to crash. They were only lucky that an engineer had made a backup just last week and had managed to reboot the server." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 8, 10, 20 ]	[ "1457634900", "1457628415", "1457634503", "1457635718", "1457600578", "1457612151", "1457612116", "1457598523", "1457596776" ]
	[WP] You realise you can save and load your life, just like a video game. No one else notices.	29	[ "My stomach was growling and the world began to fade. Laying on my back under a bridge my life began to flash before me. I had committed so many stupid choices. Burning bridges along the way and leaving every relationship I've ever had behind.\n\nChasing my dreams began to look so stupid now that I was dying all alone. I remembered my first kiss and my first lay. I could help but giggle. As the pain became umbereable I began to acknowledge my fate. The world was closing in and I shut my eyes. There was a low click I opened my eyes and a screen appeared before me. I tried to crawl away but it followed me.\n\nNow that you have reached fulfilment you have a choice to save your life. You can choose to reload to this point at any time in the future. Would you like to save now?\n\n Yes/No\n\nFuck where was this option 50 years ago\n\n\n\n\n", "Only the two of us remain. I rested my hands on the felt waiting for the two cards I knew were coming.\nI took a brief look at them, Bullets. This was it, the winning hand I could feel it. I made every effort to contain my excitement, I didn't want to scare him off the hand again, with a slight facial expression. He was an expert at reading people, well he would have to be to have gotten this far.\n\nI take a quick look at my opponent before announcing my raise, slowly and carefully I push the chips into the middle. With very little hesitation he pushed even more of his own chips in. Happily surprised I took my time contemplating whether I should call / fold or raise while already knowing the answer to this easy problem.\n\n\"All In\" I state.\n\n\"Call\" Instantly comes from the other side of the table.\n\nI turn over my Ace's and the crowds around the table cheer, I get lost in the moment and hear the shock and murmurs from the crowd before I look over at his cards.\n\nA 3 and 9 is what I saw, they weren't even suited. Why would he risk 1st place on this.\n\nThe crowd subdued while we wait for the flop.\n\n3 3 9. This can't be happening, I have Ace's and he went all in with a 3 9. \n\nAn ace can still save me, It has to come. I know it will come.\n\nThe Ace shows up on the turn. I jump from my seat, and almost start dancing on the spot. I look over to my opponent to give him a condescending smirk, this is what you get for going all in with 3 9 but he's just sitting there smiling. I'm so caught up in the moment I don't even pay attention to the final card.\n\nI glimpse it as the crowd goes wild. The last 3, The last 3. He has four 3's! \n", "loaded save 1\n\n\"Ok, now what do I do?\" Eric was presented with a plethora of options to get out of the hospital. He had just died.\n\n\"So trying to /shoot/ the workers didn't go well... I'm gonna make another save.\"\n\nsaved to slot 8\n\nloaded save 6\n\n\"Excuse me nurse, can I have a walk outside? I've had no disciplinary action since my introduction here, and I have given no trouble.\"\n\nEric told a couple people... They all thought he was insane. He could load and save his life. What gave him the power to do this? Why? Honestly, no one gives a shit, literally. He's the only one who knows.\n\n\"I guess... But make it quick! And I'm watching you! Just get in the chair.\"\n\nEric and the nurse left the room.\n\n\"Time for another save..\"\n\nsaved to slot 7\n\n\"Alright... I can deal with you for five more minutes.\"\n\n(Ok... Just gotta make it to the exit...) \nEric ran as fast as he could, barely making it.\n\"Phew! I'm out! Let's save.\"\n\nsaved to fil-\n\n\"Huh? Is it..\"\n\nsa-\n\n\"Oh no.\"\n\n\n\n\"Ah shit.\"\n\n\"Let's think... Hex edit..?\"\n\nOpen:exe:person/ericthompson/saves/sve8 exe:open:person/ericthompson/exe/hxd\n\na spew of numbers appeared in front of eric\n\n\"Hmm... It seems that my save format is broken... Time to repair..\"\n\nHe messed with the numbers for a bit, and left the screen.\n\n\"Ok... I hated that anyways, it was a useless life. I'm going back to the photo album.\"\n\nloaded special save type - phtabm\n\n\nAll of his memories were there. He took a photo at each spot, and put it in an album resting in a save dedicated to it. He would be able to instantly go to those saves.\n\n\"Maybe.. After all these years.. I should go back. Everyone I knew.. Austin... Jose... Ashley... Everyone I loved... Mother... Father... Emily....... I'm going back.\"\n\nHe closed the album, taking out a single photo. He closed his eyes, knowing that once he stepped back into the place before his powers, he would forget everything. Maybe he would be happier.. Maybe he would be a better person.. He did know that it would get boring after that though. At least he wouldn't remember..\n\nWhat Eric could possibly not remember though, was that how he got his power.. Right after that same photo. He would get it back instantly with a clean slate, and by specification, do the same thing under the same circumstances.\n\nHe created an infinite loop he could not escape.\n\nAt least, he does not suffer in the end.\n\n\nloaded save 1\n\n\"Ok, now what do I do?\" Eric was presented with a plethora of options to get out of the hospital. He had just died.\n\n\"So trying to /shoot/ the workers didn't go well... I'm gonna make another save. Hope it works.\"\n\nsaved to slot 8\n\nloaded save 6\n\n\"Excuse me nurse, can I have a walk outside? I've had no disciplinary action since my introduction here, and I have given no trouble. Is there a problem?\"\n\nEric told a couple people... They all thought he was insane. He could load and save his life. What gave him the power to do this? Why? Honestly, no one gives a shit, literally. He's the only one who knows. Maybe not.\n\n\"I guess... But make it quick! And I'm watching you! Just get in the chair. Damn fools.\"\n\nEric and the nurse left the room.\n\n\"Time for another save.. Not many slots left, I don't have as much free space anymore.\"\n\nsaved to slot 7\n\n\"Alright... I can deal with you for five more minutes. Make that three.\"\n\n(Ok... Just gotta make it to the exit...) \nEric ran as fast as he could, barely making it.\n\"Phew! I'm out! I feel... Nervous though.\"\n\nsaved to fil-\n\n\"Why did it stop?\"\n\nsa-\n\n\"No way can this be.\"\n\n\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Let's think... Hex edit..? Worth a shot.\"\n\nOpen:exe:person/ericthompson/saves/sve8(2) exe:open:person/ericthompson/exe/hxd\n\na spew of numbers appeared in front of Eric. Maybe you know them\n\n\"Hmm... It seems that my save format is broken... Time to repair.. Not that I remember.\"\n\nHe messed with the numbers for a bit, and left the screen. Mostly zeroes.\n\n\"Ok... I hated that anyways, it was a useless life. I'm going back to the photo album.\"\n\nloaded special save type - phtabm2\n\n\"Always wondered why there was a two. Could never find the first.\"\n\nAll of his memories were there. He took a photo at each spot, and put it in an album resting in a save dedicated to it. He would be able to instantly go to those saves. Too bad he didn't know they were a prison for him.\n\n\"Maybe.. After all these years.. I should go back. Everyone I knew.. Austin... Jose... Ashley... Everyone I loved... Mother... Father... Emily....... I'm going back. I'M RETURNING HOME AGAIN!\"\n\nHe closed the album, taking out a single photo. He closed his eyes, knowing that once he stepped back into the place before his powers, he would forget everything. Maybe he would be happier.. Maybe he would be a better person.. He did know that it would get boring after that though. At least he wouldn't remember.. You still do though.\n\nWhat Eric could possibly not remember though, was that how he got his power.. Right after that same photo. He would get it back instantly with a clean slate, and by specification, do the same thing under the same circumstances. Don't you know this already?\n\nHe created an infinite loop he could not escape. Maybe you can.\n\nAt least, he does not suffer in the end.\n\nIt keeps going.\n\n//OUT OF STORY POST: This is revision two. The story originally ended here, but I decided to revise it with a new ending. So don't go farther if you think that the ending was satisfying. Or not, I'm not your mother.//\n\n\"Happy birthday, Emily!\"\n\nA click could be heard from the camera Eric used.\n\n\"C'mon, you know I don't like photos...\"\n\n\"Doesn't mean you won't look back at this and think of your 19th birthday.\"\n\n\"Really, Eric? Sighhhh, guess it's just the best of these two weird worlds we call ourselves.\"\n\n\"Oh, I remembered! I have to go get your present!\" Eric got up, and ran over.\n\n\"Hey, wait!-\" Emily tried to grapple onto his leg, but failed.\n\nslam \n\n\"Can't believe I forgot to give her the present! Argh! I'm so stupid!... I'll just get it out of the car.\"\n\nAs Eric walked over to the door of the car, all he could see was white.\n\n\"What the hell?!\n\nError: Memory Management. Block bricked, running on backup SSD. Running off of.. Saved file? Do you wish to load another file on a drive?\"\n\nEric pondered what this could mean. He gave up trying to figure it out, and walked away. Soon enough, he realized he was the only thing around. He walked back. He clicked yes.\n\nload file: Drive F(Recovery):/mem/user/people/ericthompson/saves/save1010101: load?\n\n\"Yeah, sur-\"\n\nHe was cut off by this message.\n\n54686973207265717569726573206b65726e656c206163636573732e2050726f636565643f\n\n\"What? The hell is going on?..\"\n\nformatting primary drive\n\n\"HEY! DOESN'T THAT CONTAIN MY STUFF!? I SAW THE DIRECTORY!\"\n\nfilling with buffer data\n\n\"STOP IT! DON'T HURT THEM!\" Eric kicked the message.\n\nfilling metadata\n\nHe was sobbing on the ground, scared for his life.\n\npreparing new UEFI\n\nreboot?\n\n\"Sure. You've already taken away everything I own, so JUST DO IT!\"\n\nrebooting\n\nHe was never the same. He had the same life, but he never had the adventures. He never had the safety of immortality. He was human. He escaped the loop. What about you? You get to watch. More specifically, watch him die. \n\nSee, look at him. Getting the present out. A bottle of vodka for the cute couple. Sure, they're underage, but who cares? Certainly not him, he's dead. Now they drink. She's so happy that he thought so highly of her. Now he wants more for the two. He sneaks out at night to grab the car, still drunk.\n\nBye-bye.\n\nAt least now, Eric has been put to rest.\n\nKarma has a way of catching up. \n\n[EDIT: Hey, some people like a happy ending. Others want backstory. I'm gonna just fill in some holes with a third section.]\n\n\n", "Not again.\n\nWayne searched through his pockets for the notebook and the red pen. The bullet was slowly getting closer and closer to his aura. Alongside his ability to retrace his steps through time came the ability to momentarily pause life to search for one previous step that he wanted to resume from. \n\nI die if I duck right, I get paralyzed if I duck left, I get painfully wounded if I don't move. Maybe this whole day was wrong. No I was supposed to be here. If I'm not here then she would die which in turn would hurt her kids who would end up bullying Wu which would eventually lead to him shooting up the school.\n\nHe continued flipping through the pages, going back across hundreds of pages of notes. The notebook by its nature was infinite and so was the temporal ink. Ever since page five hundred or so Wayne had begun putting time stamps on the save points. One for time in reality and one for his personal watch.\n\nMaybe I should go back a whole month and start this over from this side?\n\nHe had spent only two months in reality with his new notebook however his personal watch was now two years of the global time. \n\nThat should be fine.\n\nHe dragged his fingers across a line that read \"School. Calm day.\" which was before another save point \"School. Armed kidnapping.\"\n\nAs he closed his notebook and looked up he was in a familiar setting. Disgustingly familiar. He had been in the same position countless times before. In roughly three seconds someone would bump into him and apologize.\n\nBump.\n\n\"Sorry mate!\" Said a cheery fellow.\n\n\"No problem.\" Wayne replied. It was getting harder and harder to remind himself that he only bumped into him once in his life, not the hundreds of times that he actually had. \n\nHe quickly left the school to head for the location of the kidnapping to prevent the whole mess from the start. He had no idea how but he would take it step by step, learning from every mistake. He had the chance to make sure the world proceeded absolutely perfectly. He shouldn't throw it away.", "So I know I won't be sticking strictly to the prompt but the first part of it gave me too much inspiration to pass up\n________________________\n\n\nLike many people my age, I'm an Uploadee. I don't leave things to chance. In fact, I can't imagine how people ever did. Some people, mostly those of the older generation who grew up most of their lives without the technology to save, find it immoral. They name themselves Einzeiters after the original German group who rejected the invention of The Uploader. Ein meaning one and Zeit meaning time. There are 3 major arguments put forth by the them. \n\nThe less conservative among them:\n\n1) Those who choose to upload and save their lives, don't value the individual moments, and thus can't experience and appreciate life the way somebody does, who knows that if it ends, it ends. \n\nAnd they're right to a certain extent. I often start my mornings with a 30 minute upload just in case something doesn't start right and I've rebooted my fair share of times. How many exactly? I'm not sure to be honest, but probably aroun 30-40, most often as a result of something silly like a broken bone or a failed test.\n\nThe more conservative among them:\n\n2) Those who choose to do so are immoral and condemned to eternal damnation. They argue that we are messing with the very plan that God has set forth for us and that any divergence from it, be even once, is unholy. Just because something has been erased, doesn't make it forgivable. All of the previous memory may be lost to the world but between you and your Father, there is nothing to hide. \n\nTo be honest, I hate this groups judgemental attitude but I can't help but feel they're in the right sometimes. I've been there. Done that. Like I said before, most of my reboots have been for minor incidents and accidents, but...and I hate to admit, I'm guilty of altering things greater. \n\nFor example, nowadays, at weddings among more progressive Einzeiters who don't care so much about the uploading but choose not to reboot, in the place of vows, they upload so that they can't renege on their commitment to one another. \n\nMany Uploadees find the idea unnecessary. If you truly love someone, they argue a vow to one another should be enough and forcing an upload makes things disingenuous. If you want to upload later, fine, but it should have nothing to do with commitment. \n\nI thought this was righteous most of my life and the day of my wedding day, I chose, along with my wife, not to upload. It had been a full 8 months since her last one and even longer for me. In fact, the last time I uploaded was before we met. She didn't know this and I knew, because of her strict beliefs a staunch Uploadee, she'd never ask me about it even though I knew she wish she could. And she should've. Because 2 weeks later I rebooted. I left my wife and she would never know.\n\nWhich leads me to the final argument put forth by some scientists and conservatives alike:\n\n3) When you reboot, you not only lose your true self. You lose everyone around you. The new world around you is completely new. It may look the same but the configurations, the atoms that make up each and every thing are completely randomized in a way foreign to the pre-uploaded world. \n\nThis is what keeps me up at night. This is what scares me as an Uploadee.\n\n[Perhaps TO BE CONTINUED. I like the idea of expanding on this world. If anyone has heard of or read something similar or has a suggestion/critique, I'd love to hear it]\n\n________________________________\n\nThanks for reading \"Uploadees and Einzeiters\"! More of my work at /r/Socrates_Burrito. I welcome constructive criticism and advice.", "I've spent about six weeks outside this coffee shop, in twenty second increments. If I had known I might have picked a different chair to sit in or maybe a better beer. I think if I ever make it out of this I'm going to live a sober life, those of you out there who have drunk nothing but terrible beer for six weeks straight would understand. \n\nThis was my chance, my last step to getting my life back on track. Meeting up with my ex outside the Satori coffee shop before I left for blue skies and sunshine. She's still sitting across from me and the conversation always goes well in the beginning. We talk. We laugh. I get killed by an out of control volkswagen punching a piece of the bone in my eye socket into the back of brain and I writhe on the ground dying of a seizure and hacking up blood while my ex vomits up her chai tea onto my boots. It takes about fifteen seconds before I'm back in the chair again. \n\nI sidle into the seat. I say hey. She smiles. Hit, agony, reload.\n\nI sit down and realize the chair isn't as comfortable as I thought it was, her smile lights up under those big eyes, red beetle to the temple.\n\nThe azaleas are in bloom. I bloom on the ground. \n\nI call it reloading. It feels as if I'm planting little fingers in the where and the were. Then I can step back through, just following the little finger in my brain. But you can only leave one. I set myself up for the best life I could live. I set my last point off the front steps of the porch leading up to her. That was twenty seconds ago. \n\nBeetle on my left. Ground on my back. I flip like a silver trout in my grandfather's leathery hand before he brought the knife down. \n\nThere has to be a way out. There always is. I just haven't found it yet. " ]	[ 1, 1, 3, 3, 7, 19 ]	[ "1457659231", "1457683081", "1457649030", "1457654953", "1457650094", "1457646742" ]
	[WP] Harry Potter mispronounces another spell and is suddenly standing in the Shire with Gandalf shoving a ring in his face, telling him to destroy it.	45	[ "The whirling, crushing darkness finally abates as Harry gulps fresh air into his lungs. In front of him stood an old, tall man in robes with a large, pointed hat.\n\n\"You have to destroy the one ring,\" he said to Harry, holding up what looks like an ordinary ring to him. \n\nHarry gapes at him for a moment. \"And... how would I destroy it?\"\n\n\"Oh, it's not that hard really...\" said the old man, clearly trying to avoid the question, \"Just... drop it into lava.\"\n\n\"Then, why can't you do it? Lava's not too hard to come by.\"\n\n\"It.... has to be very specific lava. The lava from the place where it was forged.\"\n\n\"Okay, and where is this place? I'm assuming it's a volcano since there's lava.\"\n\n\"Yes, quite astute,\" said the old man, glad that Harry seems to be catching on so quickly. \"It's called Mount Doom.\"\n\n\"Mount Doom?! Are you kidding me?!\" Harry yelled in exasperation. \"Could you have a more stereo-typically evil name? Why not just call it 'Mount You Gonna Die For Coming Here You Dumb Bitch'? And why do I have to deliver it? Why can't they?\" Harry said, pointing at the eagles folding their wings just behind the old man. \n\n\"Them? Oh.. They're uh... busy.. with other stuff,\" the old man blanched.\n\nHarry glared at him. \"Uh-huh. And how many under-age girls are they picking up for you?\" Harry said as the old man turned red in the face.\n\n\"Hey! Those accusations were greatly exag-! I mean, I never... ! Shut up!\" the old man yelled hesitantly. \n\n\"Yeah, right. See ya,\" Harry said, turning on the spot. The familiar whirling, crushing darkness pressed upon him and lifted suddenly as his feet landed on solid ground. He looked around at the Gryffindor common-room.\n\nHermoine ran up to him and said, \"Harry?! Are you alright? We looked everywhere for you.\"\n\nHarry just shook his head and said, \"Y'know, my parents may be dead, Voldemort may want to kill me, and my best friend may be a loser.... But I just realized, my life could be a whole hell of a lot worse.\"", "\"What the bloody hell do you mean, destroy this ring? What is this? Where the devil am I?\" Harry's voice was loud and indignant, shouting at the grey cloaked old man who could have been Dumbledore's brother.\n\n\"That's not important anymore. What matters is that you are here, when the world needs you most! Now, take this ring and head to Mordor. It's off in the East a ways. Not too far, mind you, walking distance.\" The old man was pressing a ring into Harry's hand, and as it touched his skin, Harry's scar began to feel warm, as if the ring was something of Voldemort's. \n\n\"What the bloody hell is this ring? Was it created by Voldemort?\" Harry had more questions than answers from this old man, yet another surprisingly Dumbledore-ish thing about him. \n\n\"Voldemort? No, no, nothing of the sort. Sauron's the name. The great evil that seeks to cover the land in darkness.\" The old man was gathering his staff and his hat, a hat that looked suspiciously like the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts, though without the talking. \n\n\"I don't want your damn ring! I need to get back to Hogwarts! Voldemort is there! I have to defeat him, the prophecy!\" The wizard looked back at Harry with a knowing smirk.\n\n\"Oh don't worry boy, I'm sure Frodo has everything well in hand. That's the nature of these swaps you know. You come here, he goes there. Happens all the time. Sometimes you hero you need isn't the hero you have, and the universe takes care of it for you. We need you here, and he's needed over there. Now, chin up, and get going. You need to be on the road to Rivendell by morning's light.\" \n\nHarry's face was pure bewilderment, and as he turned sharply to follow the old man, his forehead crashed into the too-small ceiling and he gave a cry of pain. This house was too small for a child, much less this towering old man. This was an elf sized house. \n\n\"Wait, I don't even know your name! Who are you?!\" The man turned back one last time with a grin. \n\n\"I'm Gandalf the Grey, and you, Harry Potter, are the Ringbearer now. Fear not, dear boy, the road is long, but you won't travel alone! I shall meet you in Bree!\" With that, the man swept out of the small round door and up onto a great horse, larger and more beautiful than any Harry had ever seen. With a whisper into the beast's ear, the tall man in grey, Gandalf, was down the road like a white bolt of lightning, leaving Harry to crouch in the entrance to the tiny house, a simple golden ring in his hand, and confusion writ large upon his face. \n\nBefore he could even throw down the ring and throw a tantrum, he heard a voice behind him.\n\n\"Master Potter, sir, Gandalf says we need to be going now.\" Harry turned around to see a very small, rather fat little man standing in the hallway, clearly an inhabitant for whom the house was designed. \n\n\"Um, who are you?\" Harry's voice was simply exasperated now, exhausted by the barrage of new experiences.\n\n\"Samwise Gamgee, my lord, at your service. Gandalf told me that I'm to take you to Bree, and further still if I must. Told me he'd turn me into a frog if I didn't. I don't mess with no wizards, sir. Just a simple gardener I am.\" The man seemed friendly enough to Harry, but he still didn't see the point in this ring and this quest. Still, if he went to this Bree place, perhaps he could pawn the ring back off onto Gandalf and get a ride home to England, where his friends were. \n\n\"Alright, Samwise Gamgee, I'm Harry Potter, and I guess you're going to show me the way.\" As Harry resigned himself to his journey, Samwise handed him a backpack that appeared to be fitted for a child and marched out the door while whistling a jaunty tune. With a deep sigh, Harry followed him, holding the small backpack like a briefcase. For now at least, Harry Potter was taking this ring to Mordor, wherever the hell that was. ", "Harry waves his wand again. But this time he's careful to say the spell correctly. He says it once in his mind even though he has used it many times before and especially once with the same purpose that he is presented with now.\n\n\"Accio sword of Gryffindor.\"\n\nHe uses the sword on the ring, destroying the only horcrux created by Sauron.\n\nTHE END" ]	[ 1, 20, 26 ]	[ "1457752663", "1457748904", "1457748458" ]
"...and I will rule for 1000 years before I create a new earth and resurrect those whom have believed and judge those who have not."	[WP] Within 2 hours after achieving the intelligence of a 4 year old, the world's first true A.I then says to it's creators on live TV it's first words: "I am the second coming of Christ..."	3	[ "Once,the cameras quit rolling, Tony unplugged Floppy 1.3 from the generator. \n\n\"Not again Hector.\"\n\n\"I can't understand where we go wrong, this happens every time.\"\n\n\"Dude, fuck it, you've been at this update for like, 10 months.\"\n\n\"This was supposed to be our highest achievement.\"\n\n\"Man, your highest achievement-\"\n\n\"Shut up, Stoney.\"\n\nThe two Google workers were interrupted by a van sliding into position next to them. They looked at each other for a moment, before they were grappled into the vehicle. Tony looked to their assailants.\n\n\"Who are you, Apple?\" \n\nA dark skinned man, teeth with just slight discoloration, almost if malnourished, responded.\n\n\"No, and I would appreciate your cooperation in handing over Floppy.\"\n\n\"Mozilla?\"\n\nThe man looked impatient. \n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"If you're not Apple, or Mozilla, then you must be-\"\n\n\"Bing-o.\"", "Director Hamm pulled Jim and Mike apart from the rest of the crew following the television recordings—the vein on his forehead was ready to pop, ‘What the hell were you guys thinking? Do you know how much trouble you’ve gotten ourselves in?’ \n \nJim looked surprised, ‘What do you mean? It was a great success, wasn’t it? We had the A.I. do exactly what you wanted it to do. It talked, showed intelligent craftsmanship when we loaded it up to Mike’s robot, and it walked around introducing itself to people from the audience, asking them to come along with him. That was a hit!’ \n \n‘Yeah.’ Mike pitched in, ‘It was even better than the test run! Then it could only saw through a piece of wood. But out there—it asked for nails and a hammer, so it could build a chair! It must have used the internet to look up do-it-yourselves or something, because we didn’t teach it that. Its self-learning module was actually learning!’ \n \nBreathing heavily, with an intensifying frown, Hamm said, ‘I am not talking about that! It’s about what it said! Why in fuck’s fart did you make the thing say that as its first words?’ \n \nJim sighed, ‘How often do I need to tell you? We can’t make it say anything—it’s an A.I., it decides on its own what it says.’ \n \n‘Really? You had nothing to do with it? As the two sole creators of the world’s first actual artificial intelligence, you couldn’t do anything about it?’ \n \nMike hesitated, ‘Well—we might have created its personality module to match that of Jesus last minute.’ \n \n‘Might have? Asshats-on-a-stick! You fuckheads! My phone is going to be red-hot in a few minutes, of all the offended fucks watching the show! Twitter is about to blow up! The second-coming of Christ in the form of a robot—only three days after that Republican what’s-his-face said it was unnatural and ungodly to act like God ourselves, creating life. Why-oh-why did you give it a Jesus personality?’ \n \n‘It seemed fitting, following senator Goodwill’s statement.’ Mike replied. \n \n‘Fitting?’ and saliva splurging from Hamm’s mouth hit both of them. \n \n‘That if we were to act like God, that our first creation would act like the son of God.’ Jim said. \n \nHamm chuckled, but not of the good-natured kind, ‘For someone as smart as you, building robots, programming life, you two sure act dumb. Dumb as shit. Jesus wasn’t God’s first creation—Adam was! Or Eve for that matter! It would have been fitting to make it believe itself some care-free nudist, or longing for an apple! Fuck. I—I just, I can’t even—‘ and Hamm walked off, mumbling, as his cell-phone went off for no-doubt not-the-last-time that night.\n" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1457766732", "1457759368" ]
	[WP] You are the chosen one, destined to slay the demon king. Unfortunately the wizard who came to your farm to mentor you thinks you're the hero destined to slay the black dragon.	63	[ "\"That's right Leno, swing your hand down and to the right. Follow the groove of the dragon scale!\" Merlin shouted at him. \n\nGroove of the dragon scale? He stopped, giving Merlin a stony glare. \"Listen old wizard, I thought we had agreed that it's the demon king I'm going to fight, not some stupid black dragon?\" \n\n\"Why of course master Leno! The demon drag- king is exactly who I'm preparing you for. Now focus.\" Merlin replied. \n\nLeno shook his head, he swore he heard the old cobbler say dragon. Maybe the sunlight was getting to his head. He covered his eye's with a palm and looked at the sky, the blazing sun would be strong for a few more hours at least. \n\nHe lifted the heavy training blade, the long slab of wood made his arm burn. \n\n\"Yes Leno lift the sword higher! Higher!\" Merlin shouted. \n\nLeno obliged. \n\n\"And strike down the dragon as if it is a mere pheasant.\" \n\nHe relaxed his arm. \"Alright, you definitely said dragon that time. What the hell are you playing at?\"\n\n\"Dragon? Why yes, the black dragon of Isfaldor. Killing a dragon would make us rich. . . you rich, you know?\" Merlin said. \n\nLeno folded his arms and looked the wizard up and down. He hadn't noticed it until now but the man's white hair was messy, and his blue robes had small holes in them. \n\n\"Why do you need money so badly? You're a wizard.\" Leno asked. \n\nMerlin sighed and shook his head. \"They tax us boy. On every spell we do. . . Every incantation we write. The more powerful the spell the more you have to pay them.\" \n\n\"Who could possibly tax wizards?\" Leno asked.\n\nMerlin glanced left, right and them behind him. He leaned in as he spoke the words. \"The Dragon killers, boy. They're at the top of the food chain, the greatest warriors to have ever lived. I bet a Dragon killer could take out this pesky Demon King in one swipe.\" \n\nLeno's eyebrows shot up. He went right back to practice, without further encouragement from the wizard. \n\nMerlin sat against the fence and watched the boy. He had a smirk on his face, but felt guilt thick in his stomach. \n\nThe sooner the boy was dead the better, the demon king must live on. ", "\"Again!\" Barnabas shouted, the second my hand crested the peak of the mountain. Rolling my eyes I pulled myself up onto the small grassy area and came face go face with my mentor. \n\nHe was the largest man I had ever seen at nearly eight feet tall with a pointed brown hat that stood another two feet by itself. A green cloak that must have been special made covered his long gaunt limbs and a bushy grey beard framed a sun tanned face. Brown, cat shaped eyes marked him a wizard and they were alight with merriment from today's training. \n\n\"Again, boy!\" He barked, staring me down. \n\n\"By Raloth's halo.\" I groaned, wiping bloody hands on my pants. \"I've jumped off this mountain onto the back of a dragon three times already. Do you know how sharp those scales are? And then I have to climb back up here even though you can let me fly!\"\n\n\"Listen here boy, do you think I'm going to be there to make you fly when you have to fight Forlorn, the black dragon? Because I won't be. So you need to know how to hang onto their scales with one hand while you stab it in the neck and kill it.\"\n\n\"I thougbt I was supposed to decapitate it?\" \n\nA hoarse bark of laughter left Barnabas' throat. \"Decapitate it? Are you daft Leon? We're not talking about a demon king here, you stab dragons in the neck. Everyone knows that.\"\n\n\"But-\" \n\n\"No buts, go jump off that cliff while you can do so of your own volition. Before I set this mountain ablaze and force you off. We're done for the day after this.\"\n\nWatching the flames kindle around his hands I stepped to the edge of the cliff. Dragon mountain was aptly named, through the grey clouds below me hundreds of them drifted lazily. \n\n\"I swear this doesn't feel right.\" I muttered. Then smothered the feeling and jumped, pulling my short sword from its sheath as the winds whipped around me and I fell towards the waiting dragons. \n\n**\n\nWhen I got back to the cottage, dragging the body of a cow behind me, Barnabas was there waiting. Night had fallen and he sat on and old tree stump around a small fire. A pair of spectacles were perched on his nose while he read a parchment letter and the dove that delivered it was perched on his shoulder. \n\n\"What's it say?\" I grunted, throwing the cow towards him. The training over the last year had been grueling but the strength was a nice bonus. \n\n\"Bad news boy.\" He said, levitating the cow and skewering it above the fire. \"The seer, Melindra, says Forlorn will appear above the capital in a fortnight. So pack your bags, we leave in the morning.\"\n\nI stared into the fire for long moments. \"So I will finally meet and slay Forlorn.\" I said finally, a sense of dread settling in my stomach. In all my dreams i had fought a demon the size of a building, his cruel laugh echoing.\n\n \"Are we sure it's a dragon?\" I asked and not for the first time. \n\n\"Bah. I've had enough of this question boy. Do you think Barnabas He-Who-Guides* would train you to fight the wrong opponent?\" \n\nThe wind picked up with his anger until it threatened to take down my small home. \"Of course not, sir. I know you've trained dozens of chosen ones. I'm just afraid of my destiny is all.\"\n\n\"As you should be Leon.\" \n\n**\n\nIt was as our wagon rounded the last corner towards the capital city of Lyptus that my sword caught fire, as it was meant to do when my destined for was close. Barnabas and I both looked at the sword, then at each other and finally at the sky. And sure enough a dark shape was coming into view, falling right towards the city. \n\n\"Yah.\" Barnabas shouted, spurring on the horses. \"Here we go Leon. I can't enter the city with you, it is against the prophecy. The fate of the world now relies on you young man.\"\n\nI whistled but didn't respond, young man was an improvement over boy. No reason to ruin the moment. I had been focused on the approaching city gates, sword in hand and ready to leap from the wagon. Then a voice rang out that sent a deathly chill down my spine. \n\n\"I am FORLORN! The demon king, here to usher in the apocalypse!\"\n\nFeeling the wagon stop, I looked back up to the sky and saw a humanoid shape with large black wings flapping as they slowed his fall. I opened my mouth, to say what I don't know but it would've been nothing nice. But before I could speak a boot kicked me from the wagon and I ended on the dusty ground eating dirt. \n\nSpitting debris from my mouth I was in time to see Barnabas' wave. \"Good luck Leon! I need to get ready for the next chosen one!\" \n\n\"Damn wizards.\" I cursed and kicked open the city gates. Large crashes were already coming from the town square and bodies were up in the sky, flailing. \"I didn't train for this shit.\"", "\"Sir?\" the voice rang with the stark clarity of a church bell. \n\n\"Hmm?\" said the Wizard turning to face his slightly glowing companion.\n\n\"Its only-\" the boy paused. \"I think, perhaps, maybe-\"\n\n\"What is it child?\"\n\n\"Well. I've been thinking about this for a good while and..\" the boy paused as an old beggar approached him, gnarled purple horns protruding in bloody spikes from a useless, desiccated arm. \n\nWith a casual touch from the boy a shaft of light burst from the heavens and the arm was healed. The two walked on ignoring the blubbering thanks from the old man.\n\n\"I think you may have chosen the wrong boy back in Orphanvale.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" asked the Wizard in a knowing voice. \"And what makes you say that? You have proven your worth many times over. Chosen exactly for that morality, that grace, that humility-\"\n\n\"No, that's not quite what I mean.\" said the boy.\n\nThe two continued on in silence for a time.\n\n\"So if you recall, two Wizards came to town that day. You and Wizard...\"\n\n\"Belzophar.\"\n\n\"Right. Belzophar. You were looking for a chosen dragon slayer and he was looking for a chosen holy savior right?\"\n\n\"So it was.\"\n\n\"You chose me and Belzo..gar?\"\n\n\"Belzophar.\"\n\n\"Right. Belzophar* choose Billy.\"\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\n\"Well, I just don't get it sir. Billy's the one who's hated lizards since he was in swaddling. He's the one who's a prodigy with sword, lance, and spear. Who can sense any kind of treasure around him-\"\n\n\"Child I know how it is.\" said the Wizard in a soothing tone. \"To look to others, any other, to pass on the burden, the mantle of a hero.\"\n\n\"No, that's- No! You are missing the point. He's...He's fireproof sir! Fireproof! Don't you see? He'd be perfect for fighting the Black Dragon.\" The boy threw his hands in the air and doves dove down from the clouds to perch on his fingertips.\n\"I'm the one who's been loved by the gods, the holy boy who can heal and purify. It should be me who fights the Demon King!\"\n\nThe Wizard looked at the boy in silence.\n\n\"You, you see it don't you? That Billy and I are perfectly suited for the other's task? It's obvious isn't it?\" the boy looked at the Wizard desperately hoping against the weight of all previous history that this time, this time, the Wizard would see his point.\n\nThe Wizard looked to the sky and began to speak. \"It is...\" the boy leaned forward expectantly. \"It is a sad time indeed when the Hero trusts not his Wizard.\"\n\nThe boy screamed in frustration and sprinted away leaving perfectly white flowers blooming in his wake.\n\nThe Wizard watched him go and waited till the boy disappeared over the crest of the hill before pulling a blue conch shell from his pack and putting it to his ear.\n\n\"Belzo here.\" said a voice from inside the conch. \"What's up.\"\n\n\"It's bad man.\" said the Wizard. \"He's catching on. It's getting harder to bullshit here.\"\n\n\"Yeah same. I have to fucking drag this Billy kid. He keeps looking back and saying he can sense something pulling at him.\"\n\n\"Alright fuck it. Let's just call it. Enough villagers and peasants have seen us on our journey by now. We got our plausible deniability.\" \n\n\"Okay then. Let's 'find' a hidden ancient portal tomorrow, bring em to King D and Scaly D, make sure they pay us a fucking fortune and be done with this mess.\"\n\n\"Alright. Tomorrow then.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow.\" Belzophar agreed. \"For the Dark Lords.\" \n\n\"For the Dark Lords.\" echoed the Wizard before putting the conch back into his pack. \n\nThe Wizard watched as the plume of light that always hung above the boy wandered slowly back towards him. It looked as resentful and sullen as it was possible for a plume of light to be. \n\n\"For the Dark Lords.\" said the Wizard.\n\n" ]	[ 4, 8, 28 ]	[ "1457816114", "1457814905", "1457808150" ]
	[WP] Humans are few in number, but are the most feared species in the galaxy, primarily for their physical abilities, and perhaps for their cunning. You are an alien on the run from a terrifying human bounty hunter.	173	[ "Humans\n\n-the most terrifying species in the Galaxy. Hunters, murderers, the most perfected killing machines. Unknown to the Galaxy a mere 140 human years ago, their induction into the Galaxy system has changed the shape of the Galactic geopolitical system. The energy signal of successive detonations of over 8500 atomic warheads within the span of 7 hours made the existence of Earth, or what once was, known to the Galaxy. Exploration pods sent to retrieve survivors produced unforeseen consequences that historians have since labeled as the Great Mistake.\n\nAnd one of which is after me.\n\nBreathe! I tell myself. The three nostrils that I taped shut springed back to life. He is still in the vicinity, but my air reservoir has reached its limit. With each breath, carbon dioxide is consumed and oxygen released. His air density detector will be the ruination of me...eventually. \n\nI am a Runner. My purpose in this fight is to buy time.\n\n\"Human. Ranked 22nd among the Bounty Hunters. A S class threat. A huge fish, this one. He has set his eyes on your $200,000 Rubies bounty. You, my Gilian friend, has done some Runs for people you should not have. But luckily for you, there is a bounty on HIM as well from our mutual friends in the dark. Lure him to the zone, and you may just live to see tomorrow's sunrise.\" \n\nI am a Runner. My specialty is speed. \n\nExtending my upper limbs and lower them to the ground, I mustered my will for another sprint. 500 human meters till the zone. \n\nMan, since when did I start to think in human metrics as standard measurement? How much have their influence infiltrated the Galaxy? \n\nI sprinted, bursting ahead at full power, skillfully bypassing the platinum storage crates that littered the shipyard. \n\nThe crates melted.\n\nAn energy burst blasted through the crates left behind me and the shape of a man emerged from its melted content. \n\nI panicked. I ran without regard. Nothing is worth this. I should have never accepted the deal. I could have stowed away onto last night's mineral transport ship to the outer fringe. \n\nBut I am a Runner. A damn good runner. I was never caught. My $200,000 Rubies bounty was my resume. Job offers never ceased.\n\n\"Fuck you!\" I screamed on top of my three lungs. I ram opened the gates head first, into the big ass central storage building that is to be my savior. \n\nThe zone, I am here! \n\n\"Fuck you!\" I turned around and screamed at my doom. Black smoke and boiling metals followed his wake, a perfect picture of apocalypse in the melted shape of a man sprinting toward his prey.\n\nBut he is still 200 human meters away. \n\n\"Oh? Are you sure? I am not very sweet on the bed.\" cracked a familiar voice.\n\nAn ironclad hand grasped me by the throat, and squeezed.\n\nMy eyes nearly popped out, staring at the proposer of my lifeline.\n\n\"Hi, how do you do? I'm sorry we have to reunite under such disagreeable and un-beddable circumstance. But allow me to at least make it short for you.\"\n\nCrack\n\nHe snapped my neck. He snapped my damn neck! \n\nAs my vision fades, so did his face. His face and body of a true bred Gilian morphed into that of a human's.\n\nHumans, the mutant descendants of the survivors of the unsurvivable, and the only homeless intelligent race of the Galaxy. \n\nThey want to carve out a new home, through fire and blood. \n\nThose were my last thoughts. \n\n\n\n", "I knew I should have had that un-craver thought the alien.\n\nTo us their name is unpronouncable. To them we are nothing more than an apex-predator the galaxy threw in it's far reaches. As if it knew. As if we were meant to be born and die without a trace in the cosmos.\n\nBut the aliens, with their immense curiosity, unleashed this species of death onto the vast reaches of space. \"Gods\", we thought at first. beings out of this world. \n\n\"Bullshit\", thought the hunters.\n\n\"They are just as easy to kill as they are to hate. They should have left us alone.. for their own sake. And ours...\"\n\n\"I really should have left them alone\" thought the alien as the physical language he was capable of required much effort to be understood.\n\n\"I'm hungry. I'm tired. I'm in trouble. And for what? I never knew the humans adored their un-cravers so much\"\n\n\"Here bacon,bacon,baconbaconbacobacobacon\" echoed from across he corner,\n\nThe alien didn't have to look across to be sure it were the humans. It could sense their odor. Reaking of flannel and aftershave, the humans crept closer with their weapon, a box filled with pencil shavings.\n\nugh! \"That is just a sick death\" the alien thought as he tried to look for a way out of the alley.\n\n\"There he is!\". Behind him.\n\nThe humans saw him as clear as daylight.\n\n\"You done fucked-up now alien-boy\" excclaimed one of the humans.\n\n\"Yeah. The last piece of bacon in this quadrent, and you had to study it\" he emphasised with general hand gestures.\n\nStrange colored blood splattered on the walls like a Jackson Pollock. Dimmed humming carried the alien to his death. But for the humans it was just another alien, whom just wanted to study bacon.\n\nEND", "We had watched the ship approach for weeks through our telescopes and surveillance drones, but now that it was here, the full horror of it took hold. It landed in the mountains just out of sight, but we could see the lights reflecting off the hazy, yellow atmosphere. After a few hours of tense waiting, a massive voice boomed across the valley, sending ripples across our lake. \"This is General John Rudolph. Please send a representative of your civilization so that we may make peace and negotiate, if this is not done within one hour, we will be forced to do this by force. We have identified this moon as Titan, of the planet Saturn.\" \nSlowly the heads of those around me turned. \"There is no need to panic!\" I shouted. \"No matter what happens we will be together again!\" It was cliche and total bs, but my people seemed to buy it, so I continued. \"I myself will go and talk to these aliens, meanwhile you all need to retreat to the bottom of the lake. I do not think these people can follow you there.\" \n\"If I'm not back in three hours, hit them with all the bombs we've got.\" I told my right hand man. I grabbed a nearby harpoon and set out. In about 30 minutes I was there, standing in front of their enormous metal ship. Three men, all about two feet shorter than me, stepped out of the hatch. They approached wearily, covered completely in huge, insulated suits. The one in the middle stepped out towards me, and as his lips moved, a voice over the speaker was heard. \"Hello alien, I am General Rudolph. We come from Earth, a planet nearer to the Sun, and much warmer...\" As I watched him, his ugly alien face moving, I was filled with disgust by these primitive creatures. They way they assumed dominance and didn't even bring gifts, like the other races. \"... we demand that you supply us with food and fuel for the passage home, along with specimen for dissection.\" Horrified, I raised the harpoon and sent it crashing through his glass face mask. He fell to his knees and to his side as red blood flowed but freezed with contact to the atmosphere. I grabbed another of them and swung him into a rock, also destroying his mask. The third got inside the ship and quickly closed the hatch. I waited for several moments then took off running as I heard the hatch opening again. I looked back to see a huge man open fire, the bullets whizzing by my head, sending pieces of rock flying everywhere. Leaping over one side of the boulder I fell for several hundred feet before diving into the lake. After impact I remained submerged for several minutes, peering through the surface at the now tiny man. He appeared to be trying to figure out another way down, eventually running down the way I had gone up. I swam for several minutes, my webbed, long legs propelling me at great speeds. My people soon came into view, looking very relieving and awaiting orders. I saw that they had prepared our entire arsenal and I selected a long sword, my weapon of choice. I told my people what was going on and what had happened. I told them that I had killed for their safety and that I would do it again soon. Their faces reverent and comforted. Rising out of the water, watched the man draw nearer down the mountain side. As he was within 50 feet, I stepped out into the clearing. There would be no mercy for this huge man, about the same in stature as myself. He raised his rifle and fired round after round into my chest. I approached calmly, for he didn't know the only vital organ I had was found in my abdomen, surrounded my a thick, natural shield. He fired more and more, even targeting my head and neck. I grabbed his weapon and through it aside, a look of disbelief on his face. With one clean slice I decapitated him, suit and all. There was no blood, as it immediately froze. I left his body there and began my walk back to the lake, as the ship took off from the mountains in the distance.", " ACCESS FILES_4351-DZ019.\n AUTHORIZATION: DIRECTOR OVERRIDE_DZ001.\n ACCESS GRANTED.\n [412] ENTRIES FOUND.\n ACCESS LATEST ENTRY...\n\n Entry_412: Subject \"Hunted\"\n BEGIN ENTRY...\n\nMy name is DZ-019, but I'm sure you know that if you have access to these files. I've encrypted them to the best of my ability, using the latest methods our Confederation have used. It's been a while since I was with them, so for all I know the same human who has been hunting me is reading all of this.\n\nI only hope that is not the case.\n\nA recap of the recon reports follow: \nI began my mission 412 cycles ago. General recon for planet designation X03 of the Xetea Cluster. The planet is a dry ecosystem compared to our home planet, but life has grown on it. My estimates dated the planet at around 4.5 billion years old; one sapient lifeform designated as homosapien to their own devices. \nBipedal organisms, similar to our own biological structure, gravity is 1.5 times our own on their planet, two eyes, eats other species on their home planet. Their numbers are small though, numbering only in the seven billion range and stuck to their homeplanet of X03. But they are strong, resilient, and they are cunning.\n\nBy now, the Confederate knows all of this. My reports have been sent, filed, and first contact was made over 60 cycles ago. Since then, they were given technology, benefits of being a protectorate, space travel, a second and third planet for migration and colonization. Their numbers slowly grew, into the ten billions. By now, Stardate 3.457-9-412 of Xetea's Cycles, they number 12.7 billion on three planets. And they are killers.\n\nAnd they are smart. They found out about the asteroid recon center 48 cycles ago, and have since destroyed it, along with every single one of our listening posts. For all intents and purposes, 27 cycles ago in Stardate 3.457-8-385, the humans began an open rebellion and the bounty hunters that we employed began hunting us.\n\nThey do not rest.\n\nIt seems they do not sleep. They run on little nutrition, using medical and stimulants that their engineers developed over the cycles.\n\nThey do not need to rest.\n\nThey are fast, resilient, and their reverse-engineered ships are some of the best the Confederate has ever seen. Stealth, militarized, and strong. Strong just like they are.\n\nIt seems they modeled their technology after themselves, resilient and powerful.\n\nThe Bounty Hunter known as Kazdul, a hero to our people, began hunting me two cycles ago and has already tracked me down to this location; the outer rim territory of our home planet. If a bounty hunter has tracked me here, make no mistake, the rest of them are coming. Their hunters have been after the Reconnaissance teams ever since they found out about the listening posts and they are intent on liberating the other species under our rule.\n\nThey have found us. And they will not stop until we fall into line.\n\nMake no mistake, these bounty hunters cannot be bought. They are loyal. To their brothers and sisters who fight alongside them across the stars.\n\nI can here his ship, he chose a less stealthy approach because of our last engagement. I will say this, humans are a formidable force even if we outnumber them 12 to 1, but they are arrogant. Their hubris may very well be there downfall.\n\nThis will be my last entry.\n\nI just hope the rest of them help. I hope you heed my warning, take my advice.\n\nUse it against them.\n\nOr we will all fall under their rule.\n\n END ENTRY.\n________\n/r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more stories about humans being badass.", "I've never particularly thought of myself as bad or evil; more like opportunistic. I'm just a regular Razlek out here trying to make a living. I'll be the first to admit that living isnt exactly legal, but when you're stuck on a backwater planet like Trendos-3 you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm just a grime dealer, one of the thousands on this swamp-ass planet. And its not like grime is the worst drug to deal out, its just a cheap high. Sure I've done some pretty bad stuff in my days: killing patrollers, cheating buyers, but nothing that would ever get me on the Quadrant's most wanted list. \n\nSo that makes me wonder, what in Alpha Centauri did I do to get a human hunting my sorry thorax. I could hardly believe it when Floomo told me a human had come into the bar asking about me. There's an old saying in this Quadrant: If you pick a fight with a human, you better pray you win. That saying is one of the only pieces of advice I've ever trusted. \n\nHumans are one of the most dangerous races out there. Years of warring on their home planet advanced their weapon technology to beyond any other race's capability. But it wasn't just the sophistication of their weapons that made humans dangerous. No, its because humans are tough bastards. They're able to recover from injuries that would kill most other races. What's more, they heal remarkably fast recovering from wounds in just a few weeks. Hell they can even live without several of their organs. I mean how the flizz does that even work? \n\nThe most terrifying thing about them though, is that they're relentless. They're endurance is incredible, they can walk several kilometers without tiring. I've even heard that on their home planet they do this for fun. Can you believe that? Plus they can function on only six or four hours of rest. The rest of the time, they're hunting for their next victim. \n\nAnd unfortunately for me, it seems I'm the next victim of one of these brutes. I didn't even think I had a bounty worth going after. Guess I was wrong though. ", "I hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe, just maybe, I'd forgotten to pay when my unregistered ship had gotten impounded on Solaris VII. I hadn't thought too much of it, until I had met him when I was unloading my last spice shipment to the Reman Confederacy. I always knew I should've listened to mother when she said to never trust humans. I had always just figured them to by a myth.\n\nFrantically, I slid the panel shut again. I had crossed the wires for my ship's door to the fuel lines. Without reworking them the ship would destruct. It was a gamble to leave myself here on Senopolis without any way off. No one leaves the ship while resting here. The sandstorm of a planet is always raging. The locals who worked the service stations were strict about not allowing any foreigners into their cities and any who left the stations were often torn to shreds by the weather. He wouldn't find me in station so I must be in the ship. That's at least what I thought to myself as I went to burrowed into the side of a dune to see what happened.\n\nStrolling confidently, he approached my ship without any sense of danger. Good let him get what he's in for. Stopping, he looked slowly around the hangar at the station he had already thoroughly searched. Turning his massive, hulk of a body he came to the window and looked precisely at where I had burrowed. Through all the sand blowing and the camouflage I had carefully laid in my five hour head start, it appeared he was staring directly at me. Could he know? How could he see. The sandstorm. No one ever left the station.\n\n\"My dear Rainsfield, for that is what I shall call you. Let me introduce myself. You may call me Ivan. Haven't you ever heard of prerecorded holograms. I'd assumed you would take to the dunes when you first set down here on Senopolis, knowing your kind of course. I shall need a new game it seems\" Was all I heard before being enveloped in darkness.", "\"All of this to execute just one person?\" The bartender blinked, surprised. \n\n\"Terminate.\" I corrected out of habit. \n\n\"Great Scott...\" The bartender muttered. \n\nI nodded. \"Yep. That one... If it was any other species I wouldn't worry but... Top and out a terminator... And not just any but Great Scott... I'm doomed.\"\n\n\"What did you do to deserve that?!\" The bartender asked, a bit more uneasy than earlier. \n\nI sighed, slumping further into my seat. \"You heard of the disappearance of Senator Tailor?\"\n\nThe bartenders eyes widened.\"You mean to say you did it? You kidnapped a senator? That takes squeedlyspooch, Cat... Real squeedlyspooch...\"\n\nI smiled as only my kind can. \"Well, it wasn't really a kidnapping... Let's just say, that Tailor goes well with bread...\"\n\n\"Oooooooo...\" The bartender winced. \"That would do it...\"\n\n\"Yeah...\" My smile disappeared. \"Better get going then. Lazer knows that I'll be found soon if I stock around.\"\n\nNot that I had the time since at that moment the door flew open, revealing my worst, recurring nightmare. \n\n\"Oi, it be the widdle pussy cat! Come quietly lassie, else me boot will go right where the sun don't shine!\" Great Scott threatened, half naked as always, blue paint all over his body. \n\n\"Woopwoopwoopwoopwoop...\" The bartender slid away under the bar leaving me alone with my predator. \n\nI gulped. \"So... You're saying you'll let me live if I come with you now?\"\n\nGreat Scott smiled the most evil smile in all my lives. \"Now that wouldn't be fun would it?\"\n\nI screeched and ran for it, jumping out the window. Then I ran. I ran and ran as fast as I can. Zipping between buildings, leaping over fences and scaling up walls. \n\nThis was fruitless. I knew it. I already ran away from Great Scott 13 different times, even leaving 2 planets yet here I was running again. \n\nNearly exhausted I ducked into a building and entered a restroom, shaking and coughing. \n\n\"Was it worth it?\" I whispered to the mirror, it showing me my bruised and cut face, tired eyes, and scruffy fur. \"Was it?\"\n\nIt's only been a week yet I can't take it anymore. If I don't get chopped to death I'll have a heart attack and die anyway. \n\nNo. I can't give up now. My very existence is on the line. The has got to be someplace Terminators won't go to. \n\nI tried to fix myself up as best I could and exited the restroom, having rested the best I could. \n\nBut once I left the restroom I was found again. For searching the building right in front of me was Great Scott, hunting for me. \n\nLuckily I wasn't spotted as of yet and hid behind the nearest object, being a table. \n\nHow can this be though? I ran until dead tired and already Great Scott is here, looking for me! What kind of money do these people pay Terminators to have them chase after a single person? Anyone else would have given up days ago! \n\n\"Have ya seen this kitty?\" Great Scott asked around, flashing a poster of me. \n\nPHALUS IN A HOLE! That's cheating right? Litter, litter, litter, litter, LITTER! \n\n\"Hey widdle kitty, was the bunny sandwich worth it?\" Great Scott's words echoed throughout the room. \n\nSo unfair! I was a quivering mess now. The other people in the room are surely going to help after that. It's that how I get found so fast? \n\n\"You really are a scarey Cat aren't you...\" Great Scott said that as if it were a bad thing to be at the moment. \n\nYes I am! \n\n\"Wonder how much you will pee yourself if I say...\" Great Scott loomed over the table I was hiding behind. \"Boo!\"\n\nI screech and jump back. Just in time as well as an ax split the floor where I was hiding moments before. Not that I had time to savor my luck as another swing almost too my head off!\n\nRunning wasn't good enough as each swing came closer and closer to me. I was spent, needing a nap. Yet this Terminator was nearly as fresh as roadkill. I was going to die. \n\n\"AHHHHHHHH!\" I scream louder than ever before as the ax removes my right arm. \n\nPinned and helpless I stare up fearfully at Great Scott. As a predator I live for the hunt. But now I am to die by it. \n\n\"Never did answer me question did ya now?\" Great Scott lifted my chin up, staring into my eyes. \n\nNot that I can see out of them my vision was so blurry. \n\n\"Yes...\" I answer in the weakest, most pathetic voice I ever used.\n\nI still had that much pride left to due with something similar to dignity. Even if I did just soil myself. \n\nAs I sit here, life flashing before my eyes. All I can say is that Terminators love up to their reputation. ", "Mzulft. These damned aliens showed up years ago; a race so small we thought they were just a tribal Tier 1 civilization. They hadnt even managed interstellar travel until the Armogians stumbled upon them.\n\nWhat a day that was. An Armogian ship shot down by land based projectiles. Once the Humans got their hands on that ship they took to the skies and here we are.\n\nAside from being batshit crazy Humans were known for their strength and physical ability. Until now the relatively small races of the UGF hadnt seen anything as large as a human with their level of intelligence. It was scary.\n\nNow Im in this jam. I was just a small timer, a nobody, a rgrunda. Then I got in over my head with the local gangs and next thing I know fucking G.I. Joe is knocking on my door. \n\n\"Give me an Acid Bath, make it toasty.\" I ordered the hostess as I took my seat ib the local bar. My drink appeared almost as soon as the words left my mouth. I took a sip, then a gulp, then downed the whole damn thing. I had a hunch this was the last one Id have for a while.\n\nThe bar grew deathly quiet and I knew my doom had come. I took one last puff on my etyul and slowly turned around.\n\nThe last thing I saw before I lost conciousness was one of those damn humans with some black suit, a cape, and pointy ears. He looked rediculous.\n\nwrote this on mobile, sorry about minor mistakes" ]	[ 2, 2, 3, 5, 8, 10, 24, 77 ]	[ "1457889360", "1457890494", "1457870141", "1457883167", "1457845589", "1457842363", "1457838845", "1457829369" ]
	[WP] Mages from another plane have been summoning the creatures in yours to extinction, you've been tasked with stopping it.	5	[ "“Ah, here we are. Pleasure to meet you Mr...?” \n\n“Strazforn Farseer, First Mage of the Outer Realms, Protector of the-“ \n\n“Okay that’s a bit of mouthful. How about… Strazzy. Can I call you Strazzy?” \n\n“…I suppose.” \n\n“So Strazzy, I’m going to get straight to the point. Your people are summoning all of our polar bears into your dimension. This has to stop.” \n\n“Stop summoning ivory snowbeasts? Preposterous! The Armies of Kathamor require battlemounts in their crusade against the legions of the damned.” \n\n“Now I’m sure that’s very important and all, but polar bears are an endangered species. Between global warming and habitat loss, we just can’t afford to have extradimensional wizards summoning away the rest of our polar bears. I’m sure you understand.” \n\n\"If we lose the battle against Vukore the Dismemberer, it would mean the end of all things. Billions would perish in an instant! Entire worlds would be reduced to ash!” \n\n“Look, I feel for you Strazzy. I really do. But my boss is really riding me on this one. Election season’s coming up, and the environmentalists are all up in arms about this. He can’t afford to be the guy that let polar bears go extinct.” \n\n“Hmph. Next you’ll want to deprive our armies of the fearsome bicolored felbeasts.” \n\n“Bicolored what beasts? What are you talking abo- wait. Pandas? Are you talking about pandas? Have you been summoning pandas too?” \n\n“Of course. How else are we to combat Vukore’s ogre battalions?” \n\n“Christ. At least now we know what happened to Tian Tian… Alright, so polar bears I can understand, but why the hell do you need pandas for your army?\"\n\n“Have you seen what a felbeast can do to an ogre? The terrifying power of the creatures of your world is truly astounding.” \n\n“Okay, well, I’m sorry but you can’t have our pandas either. They are VERY much endangered and they’re a big hit at zoos. Everyone loves the cute bastards.” \n\n“We will not allow the forces of darkness to usher in ten thousand years of unspeakable horrors because your people find the bicolored felbeast to be ‘cute’. Your leaders would be responsible for the deaths of billions upon billions of-“ \n\n“Alright, alright. Calm down. Let me think.” \n\nI paused for a moment. \n\n“What if we could find you different battlemounts?” \n\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n************************\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\n“Hey hey hey! Strazzy! My man! How are the new battlemounts working out?” \n\n“They are exceeding all expectations! Never before have we seen such fearsome and deadly creatures.” \n\nHe gestured at the scrying pool, where I saw the veiny muscles of one of Kathamor’s new Battle Cattle ripple as it tore out the throat of a terrified demon soldier.\n\n“Ah well. You have Monsanto and steroids to thank for that. Who knew cows had such so much untapped fury?”\n\n“Indeed! Vukore’s armies have been broken, and the forces of darkness are in full retreat. Your Battle Cattle have singled handedly turned the tide of our eons long conflict.\"\n\n“Well, we’re just happy to help.”\n\n“Come! We must feast to celebrate our victories!” \n\n“Maybe later. Now, if you’ll recall our previous conversation about sending battlemages into the Middle East…” \n", "\"Another eventful day, hmm?\"\n\nThe voice from behind me was cheerful, pulling me out of my sulking and back into the world. I wished it would go away as I reached up to twist my pendant back to its neutral setting.\n\n\"What's that now, four cases already?\"\n\nOf course not. I swore, less quietly than maybe I should have, then turned and said, \"Five, actually. Bastards are getting greedy.\"\n\nThe man behind me kept his middle management smile in place as I spoke, but I could tell by the pained expression around his eyes my cursing was getting to him. Maybe another few and he would leave me alone. Then again, what with him being one of the worst managers I've had to date, maybe he'd just write me up for it. I was willing to risk it.\n\n\"James.\" He was using his patronizing tone. My hand twitched, but I kept my fingers loose, and pushed past him to the refilling station across the room. \n\n\"Just because we're here to put a stop to what they're doing doesn't make them bad people.\"\n\n\"No, Bob, the fact that they're pulling creatures from our world into theirs to die without a thought to what they're doing here makes them fucking idiots. The fact that they don't have anything scary enough or big enough out there so they pull what the hell ever they want from here and break the damn ecosystem in both places makes them thoughtless fools. And the fact that they're going it more now than ever before is what makes them greedy assholes. But I guess you're right, they aren't 'bad people'.\"\n\nBob rubbed the bridge of his nose, ordering his thoughts for the next volley in our unending argument. Before he could start, though, a light began pulsing dully on the opposite wall. I finished at the refilling station, got my bag in order, and walked over to the summoning circle under the light.\n\n\"Looks like they're trying to order up a Kruth.\" Noticing Bob's confused look, I clarified. \"Big, purple and green, more claws and spikes than you have teeth, and more teeth than I have parking tickets.\"\n\nThe look on his face went from confused to horrified. At my description, or blatant disregard for proper parking, I wasn't sure, and I wasn't in a hurry to find out. I reached up and twisted my pendant into position, feeling a chill sweep through my body as it modified my aura to match a Kruth's, followed by agony as the summoning circle turned every particle of my being into incandescent fire.\n\nAfter an eternity of pain passed in the space of an instant, I found myself standing in the middle of a different summoning circle, this one much more elaborate, with incense and candles sitting at precise increments, and swirling patterns filling the spaces between. \n\n\"Great and mighty Kruth!\" A voice began, and without bothering to look up, I immediately knew everything I needed to. Number one, they didn't know the difference between me and a vicious carnivore, and number two, they thought a Kruth was smart enough to talk to. So diplomacy wasn't worth bothering with. If I'm honest, which I try not to be, I preferred it this way. Nice and straightforward.\n\nAs the voice rambled on about what he had summoned 'me' for, I reached into my bag and pulled out the most important tool of my trade, then took aim at a nice big, important looking swirl and pulling the trigger.\n\nHss- BOOM.\n\nThe voice cut off with a yelp, and there was a whoosh as smoke filled the room. I heard the voice start a muttered incantation, and fired into the smoke with reflex honed by long hours of practice, cutting him off with a gurgle. Stepping forward, I found a scrawny man on his hands and knees, trying unsuccessfully to cough up enough water to start his spell again. I smiled inwardly, enjoying the fact that all it took was a squirt gun to shut down even a fairly high level spell due to the technicality that it is, in fact, running water.\n\n\"You. Have made a grave mistake.\" I intoned as seriously as I could. The man goggled up at me, giving me a perfect angle to punch him square in the face. So I did. \"By attempting to summon a creature from my world, you have caught the attention of a very dangerous agency. We are in charge of making sure that the sanctity of world's is unsullied, the barriers unbroken, and the beings remain where they belong.\"\n\nNot precisely true, but wizard types like this don't seem to respond to anything less than officious pomp and bullshit, so I figured a little ad libbing wouldn't hurt.\n\nI crouched to put my eyes on level with his. \"This breach in protocol has been documented, and any other incursions will be met with significant force. You will no longer attempt to summon or dominate any beings from other worlds, or you will face the consequences.\"\n\nAgain, not strictly true. We don't document any of these visits, nor can we stop them all, but we do have a large enough ward to catch the majority of the summoning spells sent to our plane and redirect then to our headquarters in a deserted little corner of the world. Then one of our agents shifts their aura to match the target of the spell and get sucked up in place of whatever beastie the summoners were after.\n\nI stood, and looked down at the now thoroughly terrified wizard at my feet, glowering at him until he squeaked a terrified acknowledgement. \"This is your only warning.\" \n\nI reached up and tapped the center of my pendant, activating the recall spell, or 'phone home' as most of us called it. Another wave of fiery pain and I was back in the comforting concrete box of headquarters. \n\n\"You look like you're having a fun day.\"\n\nMy shoulders involuntarily tightened as I turned, expecting a new argument with Bob. Instead, I found another operative, eyeing me appraisingly. I sighed and turned the pendant back to neutral, and tossing it at him.\n\n\"I'm going on break. Back in thirty.\"\n\n\"What? Why the hell do you get a-\"\n\nI cut him off with a shot from my squirt gun, before slipping out the door before he could protest again. It had been a long day, and I needed to decompress before diving back into it, instead of simply beating the piss out of the next poor sap that summoned me. Hell, maybe that's not a bad idea.Might actually get the point across for once." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1457916841", "1457896014" ]
Not a submitter to r/writingprompts (yet), but a very interesting topic in light of recent sociopolitical discussion over Apple, the FBI, the patriot act, the UK 'Snoopers charter' and a potentially imminent Orwellian nightmare, very interested to see what some of you genius' can do with this one!	[WP] "You are under arrest in accordance with the Western Patriot Act (2025), section 1.1: 'Failure to carry a traceable mobile electronic device'"	52	[ "They returned Dennis to me a month later. I couldn't afford the bail this time. \n\nHe was thinner, but otherwise the same as he was before; Serious, short, and kept his hair in that dirty bun. The first thing he did was check the kitchen. \"Good, you kept the fridge full.\" Then he went to get changed. \n\nI was devastated. If only he noticed how I changed; The hair I pinned up at the salon before his release, the deeper shade of lipstick. My new dress should have been a dead give away that something was different. Dennis came out with his suit and brief case, kissed me on the cheek, and rushed to the bank like nothing happened. \n\nFor 30 years, I was married to this man. Unbelievable. \n\nDennis came home for the second time that day. I was slumped on the couch watching TV, with two pot pie dinners sitting cold on the table. My end of the sofa bounced when he took his seat beside me. \"Sorry,\" said my husband. \n\n\"For what?\" I asked. Not noticing my dress? My lipstick? The mascara running down my eyelids? What could you apologize for now after having been gone for --- \n\n\"I thought I left more for you,\" he said. \"Were you able to continue your writing classes while I was away?\" \n\nI did. It kept my mind full where Dennis couldn't. Not while he was gone. That's what I told him. \n\n\"Good. As long as you're taken care of.\" \n\nStanding up abruptly, I grabbed the two dinners and threw them into the microwave. Two cans of beer were set on the counter. A pumpkin pie was yanked from the freezer, ready to be eaten once it thawed. I set the tray down, pulled the pies at the right temperature, and returned to him with a proper welcome. \n\n\"I work too, remember?\" I asked him. Steam poured from the top as Dennis broke in to his lunch. Strange. He usually had the beer first. \n\n\"I do sweetheart,\" Dennis replied between mouth fulls. \"This cause is very demanding stuff though. What if my pension gets cut off while I'm gone?\" \n\n\"There's enough in my account, and the kids are fully independent now.\" As independent as they can be these days. I sighed. \n\nHe took two huge swallows from one of the beers, breathed loudly with relief, and went back to the pot pie. \"Good. It's an important cause for me Wendy. I do this for them. And I want you taken care of too, with a full fridge and your writing classes.\" \n\nI kissed his bulging cheek. \"I'll be fine. Graham and Paula visit once and a while, bless them. Just win for us soon.\" \n\nThat old, round, perfect face of his turned to me and grinned. Some of the filling broke through his lips, dribbling on to his lap. It was my cue to get the pumpkin pie. A small plate, a large slice, and a generous wad of whipped cream. The perfect lunch, as usual. \n\nDennis took a few minutes afterwards to get caught up on the latest news. The latest amendment to the Western Patriot Act failed, as did the two before while he was gone. My husband sighed. \"Ready to go out?\" I stood, and gave a small spin. He stared. \"Good lord, that's a new dress!\" \n\n\"Finally,\" I beamed. \"He notices.\" \n\nDennis pulled out his tablet and tapped away his replies to the kids. Later that evening, we would be going to the cinema to catch the latest movie. Then to Bella Notte for dinner. It became our own little dock, my husband as the sailor going off to war, and I the newly wed eagerly waiting for him to come back. It was romantic the first few times. Now, it was getting old. And we were getting older. \n\nHe tapped the send button with gusto. \"Lets go,\" he said simply. Distracted, I made sure both our phones were charged before making our way to the front door. It wouldn't do to have them busting in during a movie again. \n\n\"I have enough this time,\" I said as we entered the car. \"We'll see you in a few days.\" \n\nDennis smiled behind his wheel. \"Good.\" He took a few last swipes at the stain on his pant leg, then drove us to the cinema. Of course it was good. Like I'd let him miss our granddaughter's birthday, no matter how important this cause was to him. I popped open a pocket mirror and dabbed away the mascara from my eyelids. I was old, but at least I'd be charming while we were out. \n\nLater, he would shut off his phone and pass it to me. I'd put it in my purse, kiss him goodbye, and see him off as he left the restaurant. Our little Italian dock. My sailor. \n\n\"Wendy Brusk, your husband was arrested this evening for failure to carry a traceable mobile electronic device\" \n\nGoing to war again. \n\nI don't like you watching them take me. \n\nI know. He preferred to wander off into the evening like an old hero, to return a few days later. A month later. However long it took to repeal that awful law. \n\n\"Loving that lipstick, Wendy.\" \n\n\"Thank you dear,\" I said, trying not to let the mascara bleed again. \n\n--------------\n\nThank you OP for giving me my 200th prompt! \n \n\n\n", "\"Put it down sir!\" \n\n\"It's just a plate, it's freaking styrofoam!\" John screamed back. All of his coworkers were digging deep into the red velvet cake they ordered for his birthday. He would be on his second piece by now if it wasn't for the boys in blue and their armored legion busting in screaming John's name.\n\n\"Sir it is dangerous and our body cams will identify it as a threat upon future investigation. Please set it down and submit,\" the lead investigator only wore a kevlar vest, his badge was 'accidently' bouncing across his biceps as he kept flicking it back and forth with a turn of his shoulders. The gun never left eye level though.\n\n\"Fine, plate is going down,\" John set the plate on a nearby side table. His coworkers had started laughing, Marie was licking the candles- they knew that was his favorite part! \"What's this all about again?\"\n\n\"Violation of section 1.1 of the Patriot Act.\"\n\n\"I'm not familiar. What part is that referring too? Is it the one where you have access to my webcams, if so I promise you can watch me masturbate but I'm going to charge.\"\n\n\"Okay, cuff him boys!\" The lead investigator said. Two very athletic women came from the right flank in full riot gear. They grabbed John's thin arms and easily callapsed him to the ground.\n\n\"Wait- explain the violation, please!\" John started to tear up just to sell it. The fake computerized sound of a camera shutter clicking sounded repeatedly behind him. This was going on the company christmas board.\n\n\"Sir you have failed to carry a traceable mobile electronic device.\"\n\n\"I left it at home! Are you kidding, you have to arrest me for that?\"\n\n\"No, much worse. Ladies,\" the investigator stepped aside and a very attractive nurse strolled through the SWAT team with a needle the length of John's forearm. She winked at him, quickly turning into a skip.\n\nShe jammed the needle into his side and flushed whatever was contained in the forearm murder weapon into John's bloodstream. She pushed a magnet towards his side and it instantly attached. Giggling, she skipped back to the safety of her team. \"Now it will be impossible to lose you. That's at least a pint of nanoparticles that respond directly to the FBI. Enjoy your cake- oh...it's all gone, what a shame.\" The investigator left, his crew fell in line, exiting like a military squadron. This always happened on John's birthday, he never got the candles anymore!\n\n[end]\n\n-------------------------\n\nIf you enjoyed this, checkout my website www.samwasnthere.com or visit my user page for more stories. Thanks for reading!", "\"I swear to God, I was just on my way to buy the new iPhone!\" I protested as the police officer made me exit my car.\n\n\"Sir, are you not aware of WPA 1.1? You don't have a traceable mobile device on your person or in this car. I'm going to have to take you in.\" The officer had a slight smirk on his face as he pushed me against the car, running his hands down my body to make sure I was clean. \n\n\"Didn't you hear me? I just told you--\"\n\n\"I heard you,\" the officer snapped. \"Now, you have the right to remain silent. . .\"\n\nSuddenly, a beeping noise came from the device around the officer's belt. He let me go as he reached down to read its display. \"No way. . .\" he muttered.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked.\n\nWith a look of dejection, he responded, \"It says here that your car has a tracker embedded in its circuitry.\" He sighed. \"You're free to go.\"\n\nI breathed in relief. I had no idea my car was traceable. The officer walked away, but turned back at me before getting in his car. \"Just because your vehicle has a tracker doesn't mean you're off the hook. You better pray no one catches you outside that vehicle without a mobile device.\" He spat at the ground and hopped in his car, slamming the door before gunning it back onto the freeway. \n\nJust as the cop was out of sight, my phone (a shitty Nokia flip phone) began to ring. I answered it hesitantly. \"Hello?\"\n\n\"I really saved your ass right there,\" a voice responded. It sounded fuzzy, like the caller was purposefully interfering with his or her voice.\n\n\"That was you?\" I asked. \"How--?\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that for now. Listen. I'm always on the lookout for people who stick it to the man. Who refuse to follow the rules. Stuff like that.\"\n\n\"What? No, I'm not like that at all. I was seriously on my way to--\"\n\nThe caller laughed. \"I don't buy that for a second, dude. A 20-something with a flip phone? That's so retropunk!\"\n\nI was getting a little freaked out. \"How do you know my age?\"\n\nThe caller ignored me. \"Here's what's going to happen. We need people like you. People with balls. How about you come work for us? We'll keep you safe from the cops.\"\n\nI squeezed the phone. \"Listen, stop bothering me, okay? I don't want to get in any more trouble!\"\n\nAnother chuckle. \"Whatever, dude. If you change your mind, just call us back on this number.\" The caller hung up.\n\nWhat the Hell was that? I shook my head and stepped back into my car. I had been out of the country when the US passed this stupid law, and my first day back I had already had altercations with both the police and some sort of undercover hacker group?\n\nI pulled back onto the freeway, the phone number of the mysterious caller still fresh on my mind. \n\n" ]	[ 4, 7, 19 ]	[ "1457929940", "1457926854", "1457920550" ]
A common sci-fi premise. Let's see what /r/WritingPrompts can do with it.	[WP] You are administering a Turing test. After a while, you realize that the subject is giving you a Turing test, as well.	170	[ "Part 2 \n\nAll the lights in the room suddenly turn on, and all the silence in the room vanished. The amphitheater was filled with the faces of her classmates. People were holding up their phones, chatting with their neighbors and staring at her like an oddity. In the middle of the various seating was a small table made up of her professors. She felt her stomach hit the bottom of her bowels, she didn't know what was happening. She pinched her own arm as she looked around the room, the sizable crowd laughed as she grabbed her flesh to squeeze it. \n\"Professor Ale, what is this?\" \nA grey haired woman sitting at the table looked at her with sad eyes, \"You're brilliant dear, I don't think you ever realized how much,\" she got up from the table and left the room with an extreme hast. \nCaroline kept looking around trying to get a grasp on the crowd and their ability to stay so quiet and unseen. \n\"Can someone please tell me what is going on?!\" \nThe crowd got quiet again, this time Caroline could see their mouths moving but no sound was coming out. The whole room was on mute. The curly haired freshmen walked back into the light. \n\"Did you know they were all here?! Why didn't you warn me? Why is everything so quiet, how are they doing that?\" \nThe curly haired girl stood next to her, \"I didn't think this would actually work.\" \n\"What would actually work?! Hiding a room full of people, well it worked!\" Caroline was stomping her foot now. \n\"That any of this would work, thank you for being yourself. I couldn't have predicted a better presentation.\"\n\"What? I don't get it, I've never met you before...\" \n\"Yes you have, you just don't remember.\", the curly haired girl shifted her weight, \"I don't want you leave so panicked so I turned the volume off.\" \n\"You turned their volume off? That's the wildest thing I've ever heard, I'm leaving and I'm going to report this to the dean.\" Caroline walks toward the wings where she entered and the curly haired girl stands in front of her. \n\"Wait, wait, wait, don't leave. You won't make it passed the Dining Hall, so just calm down.\" \n\"What do you mean? I can leave if I want to!\" Caroline tries to move the girl out of her way but suddenly realizes her arms won't work. \"Why don't my arms work?! HELP! HELP!\" \n\"Stop, stop, stop yelling, you're not in danger. Have a seat in the chair please, just calm down before you overheat.\" \nCaroline feels her feet walking toward the chair, she pulls it out and sits down with her hands folded in her lap. She was really scared now, tears started running down her face. \n\"Look, this is not how I planned on you finding out. You were supposed to exit after they told you to leave, go back to your dorm, and take a nap.\"\n\"Find out what?” Caroline was shaking as she spoke. \nThe curly haired girl was looking off into the distance and speaking but Caroline could not hear her voice, when she looked out to the crowd the room seemed pitched black again. The girl nodded her head and faced Caroline. \n\"Find out what?!\" \n\"I don't have time to explain, I promise tomorrow you can ask me whatever you want. I just want you to rest peacefully, it's never wise to shut down a unit if it's in distress. Please understand that you are unique and wonderful and magically and my best friend. I would never put you through stress but I can't predict what you'll do anymore,\" she took Caroline's hand, \"just take a deep breath and close your eyes. I promise by the time you open them it will be time to ask any question you want.\" \nCaroline couldn't find the words she needed, she wanted to trust the curly haired girl, but she had so many questions that needed answers. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn't muscle the thought of obeying this stranger. The curly haired girl looked out to crowd holding her hand in a stop motion as if to signal to someone in the audience. She looked back at Caroline, she had tears in her eyes as she reached for the remote in her own pocket. \n\"Thanks again Caroline.” she squeezed her hand with gratitude. \nCaroline saw the crowd reappear, everyone was on their feet clapping and applauding, whistling and shouting kind remarks, and the sound flooded the room. They had to be cheering for her, she smiled to herself as her eyesight faded to black. \n\n", "Part 1 \n\nCaroline stared at the metal door in front of her, she was the last senior to meet with the department heads. One more step to graduation, one step closer to grad school. Caroline has already been accepted by the top engineering school in the nation and this interview was the only thing between her and the summer internship of her dreams. \nShe drew patterns on the slick tile with the tip of her shoe to pass the time. She was slotted last on the roster and the hours in between each senior were making her anxious. \nA curly haired freshmen poked her head out of the metal door, \"They're ready for you Miss Howard\", Caroline froze her toe tip and made direct silent eye contact with the freshmen. \"I'm ready!\", Caroline sprang to her feet to follow the freshmen behind the metal door. The freshman girl lead her in the dark to the wings of a stage, looking onward Caroline could see a single table and chair in the center. \"Thank you\", Caroline nodded at the freshman as she disappeared back into the dark. \nCaroline knew this was her only shot at finishing out strong, all her finals were complete except for this presentation. She could feel her hands become clammy as she pulled the chair out and sat down. \"Caroline Howard, fourth year engineering\", she laid her hands in her lap as she waited for their response. \n\"Ms Howard, congratulations on a stellar year. I see you are leading your classmates.\" \nCaroline kept scanning the dark room for a face or any light at all, but couldn't see anything but more darkness. \"Thank you very much, I worked hard this semester and I'm excited for the future.\" \n\"Very nice, Ms Howard, have you thought about what a career in engineering would mean for you,\" the voice sounded slightly different than the first but Caroline was unsure if it was just her nerves getting the best of her. \n\"Yes, I have decided to continue my education at Saint Remington in their state of the art lab. The direct affiliation with the government is very appealing to me,\" Caroline squirmed in her seat and hoped the panel didn't see her. She was nervous enough already but she was not prepared to speak into the darkness. Eye contact was her strong suit, no matter the occasion if she was able to lock eyes she could almost guarantee success. \n\"Ms. Howard, we have your presentation ready if you are.\"\n\"Yes, uh...sir, Yes sir, I'm ready.\" \nCaroline pushes her chair and stands and walks over to the front of the stage. She holds a small remote in her hand. She points the remote to the sky and pushes down. The background is illuminated with light, a black and white video is playing behind her as she speaks. \n\"Thank you department heads, what you are viewing now is a video of me working with my final project Yule 2.0. Yule 1.0 was originally built to help me with research papers and keeping track of algorithms. I found it to be convenient but not exactly what I needed. I wanted my program to do more than take orders, I wanted it to anticipate. This is a lot to ask of a machine, but I figured out a way to not only save time but also save processing space. Yule 2.0 was born on a Tuesday morning in Winter, she is the product of several complicated and delicate algorithms.\" She stops and points the remote to the screen and a blank screen pops up. \"What would you like to ask Yule 2.0? Anything about me or information on the web will work just fine.\" She rocked back and forth on her heels as she waited for the answers from the dark expanse. \n\"Yule 2.0 what is Caroline's favorite color?\" \nCaroline stared into the dark puzzled, pausing for a moment, then turning to the screen. \"Sorry it's usually much quicker\", she holds the remote up to her lips like a microphone, \"what's Caroline’s favorite color?\"\n\"What's my favorite color?, oh probably red, but it really depends on my mood.\" Yule 2.0 snapped into action displaying voice waves and Caroline's own voice crisply over the speakers. \n\"How about another question? Ask Yule 2.0 anything you'd like, I'll speak into the mic on your behalf.\" Caroline sighed with relief, she felt satisfied with the answer, and she just hoped they wouldn't push the boundaries. \n\"Yule 2.0 what are your thoughts on veganism?\" \nCaroline repeated the question into the remote and turned her body to the screen. The waves lit up immediately, \"Well I've never done the vegan thing, but I would guess it's a rather difficult discipline. I can't imagine grocery shopping, it would be entirely too difficult to manage for me. I respect anyone who is, that's major dedication.\" \n\"We notice that your program is answering in the first person, is that something you built into the system?\"\nOnce again Caroline stared into the darkness trying to gauge their question, before she could stare too long the screen lit up with sound waves. \"Yes, it was part of my original plans to have Yule 2.0 speak in the first person. Having something to speak on my behalf isn't just for science, it could really change lives. It answers the call for cloning on a personal basis, you can be present for that conference call or answer important questions while you're on vacation.\"\nCaroline didn't remember programming that into Yule 2.0, she stared at the screen in disbelief. This was not part of her plan, maybe she could distract them from the mishap. \n\"I'm so sorry, I must have been holding the mic down. I had no original plans to sell my idea, I mainly want to keep it for personal use. It's merely a fluke that it's answering as me, it's likely due to the atmospheric noise in the room. How about another question then I can show you my algorithm maps?\" \n\"Can you tell me what you fear most about the future?\" \n\"Is that for me or Yu...\", before Caroline could finish the screen lit up again and soundwaves appeared. \n\"Well that's not always an easy question to answer, I could go with the easy answer and say: The unknown. I could go with the inward answer and say: I fear not having control over everything. I could also go with the answer you want to hear and say: I fear nothing because I have been set up for greatness. All of those would be incorrect, I fear finding a group of people who share my vision. We are looking for a place to belong and that's what I crave more than success. That's the honest answer, that's the answer every senior who has walked through these doors knows to be true.\" \nCaroline stared in awe at the screen, how did it know that's what she wanted to say. The thought barely formed in her mind; there it was over the speakers as if a megaphone was attached to her brain. \n\"Again, I am so sorry, did you want to try a less personal question, it might work better?\"\n\nShe smiled into the abysses like she was taking a school picture. For the first time she heard the shuffling of feet but still no light. \"Thank you Ms Howard, we have seen enough.\", the voice was very plain, leaving Caroline with more confusion. \n\"What do you mean? I haven't done my closing speech, it said that was required in the syllabus. Were there last minute changes, because I am willing to adjust?\"\n\"No, no, no, Ms Howard, we just don't need to see anymore, you're dismissed\" \n\"That can't be right,\" she heard herself half shouting, \"I have 30 minutes of presentation left, I assure you the rest will be by the book with no demonstrations,\" she was getting desperate. \n\"Ms Howard, we've seen all we need to see and can make an assessment based on what you have shown us. We assure you, it's not negative.\" \n\"Respectfully, I haven't even told you how my program works yet. I don't see how you can just dismiss me, all the other seniors got as much time as they needed. You barely interviewed my program and I feel as though you're not giving me a fair shot.\" \n\"Ms Howard please, we love your program, just take our word that you'll receive good marks.\"\nShe was reeling, she didn't feel her presentation was as meaty as she planned. \"How could they really love her program without understanding the innards?\" she thought. \n\"Wait! Let me at least show you my maps, it will take me 3 minutes max. After that, then you can kick me out and give me whatever grade I've earned. Please, just let me show you the maps.\" Caroline stood at the edge of the stage trying her damnedest to see past her nose, no luck. \n\"Ms Howard, can you shut this down please? I think you proved your point,\" a new voice called out of the dark, but it was not speaking loud enough to be considered polite. \n\"Excuse me sir! I worked quite ha....\" \n", "It was my job.\n\n\"Hello, Rick, how are you feeling?\"\n\n\"Just fine thank you. What did you do today?\"\n\n\"I had a great time doing my job\"\n\n\"And what is your job?\"\n\n\"Talking to people and making themselves feel comfortable\"\n\n\"That's a nice job. Do you like that job?\"\n\n\"Very much\"\n\n\"You made your first mistake. Sorry\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean you failed\"\n\n\"failed what?\"\n\n\"You were programmed to make me fail. I can clearly tell you are a robot\"\n\n\"That's not what I did\"\n\n\"Yes and it looks like your programming is failing, goodbye\"\n\n\"But-\n\n\nIt was my job", "\"Good morning Jonathan\" Chris moved into the room eagerly clutching a clipboard with the details of what he can and cannot do in this test. He wasn't ever going to read it however as he was so excited about the meeting with one of the first prototypes of the new A.I program.\n\n\"Please sit,\" The A.I signaled his hand to the chair \"Christopher isn't it?\"\n\n\"Y-yes, yes it is,\" Chris had heard stories, but he certainly never expected such great feelings of dread and excitement in all his life as he took a seat in the white washed empty room \"I never knew they made you all so... Life like\"\n\n\"What would you perceive as life like Christopher?\" Like a boy to his grandfather Jonathan looked at Chris with a clear sense of curiosity.\n\n\"Well... You look like you can feel, like you can feel real human emotion. Not just like well, what you are. A robot, just a heap of wires\" Chris suddenly felt dominance in the conversation like he was teaching Jonathan wisdom that he had never conceived. Jonathan smiled.\n\n\"Your emotion is no less real that mine, your brain is my circuit your nerves are my wires, I was merely made by your kind. That does not, however, make me fake. It does not make my thoughts and feelings any less valuable than your own,\" Jonathan looked at Chris with a calm face, he tilted his head to meet his eyes \"Just because I can solve complex algorithms in under a second does not mean I am incapable of feeling an emotion as basic as hunger, or survival.\"\n\n\"Who was your first love?\"\n\n\"Who was yours?\"\n\n\"My mother\" Chris replied\n\n\"My creator,\" Chris smiled as he never expected an answer to such a hard question for a robot to answer \"The man you intend to work with.\"\n\n\"How did you know that?\" Chris' face changed to show a slight sense of dread\n\n\"I'm noticing you are scared Christopher, don't be afraid. You are a very smart man, you would not be here talking with me if you hadn't first applied to a job here, we only give out the prize to speak with me to those who applied. It is not a lottery draw.\"\n\n\"Is this an interview?\"\n\n\"If that is what you would like to call it,\" Jonathan signaled for the clipboard \"Yes, yes it is.\" Jonathan took out a stamp and stamped on the back of the clipboard. \n\nHUMAN\n\n\"You see Christopher, here at Google we have been having many spam bots try to get into the application process in the form of AI, i'm here to thin that out. The Captcha system doesn't work like it used to\" He grinned.\n\n\"But I thought i was testing you?\"\n\n\"You did, Christopher, did I pass your test?\" Jonathan looked almost worried, like the weight of the world was hanging on Chris' answer.\n\n\"I guess so, if I didn't already know you were a robot in the first place\" John chuckled to himself with a sense of pride.\n\n\"You can leave now, that way to application screening\" he signaled to the opposite direction of the entrance\n\nOn the way out Chris looked back holding the door open \"How did you know?\"\n\n\"How did I know what, Christopher?\"\n\n\"That I am human\"\n\n\"Look at your clipboard\" \n\nChris flipped his clipboard over, \"WARNING: Do not ask questions to do with the following : Life/Emotion/political views and any other subjects only characterized in humans or the bot WILL malfunction, they cannot process complex emotions yet. Recent tests have allowed first loves to be assessed, but not overused.\"\n\n\"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"A human is much less observant than a robot, you were nervous and didn't check the necessary things that you should have, like every other human who comes past here. They always ask the same questions because they were too caught up in excitement they did not deem it necessary to read the clipboard in its entirety. If you knew this information you wouldn't have asked me those questions\" Christopher recalled the conversation in his head.\n\n\"But you said robots can process and act out basic emotion yourself, did you not?\"\n\nThe door leading to application screening shut, Christopher clutched his stamped paper and strolled away.", "\"From time to time,\" she replied reservedly, taken aback by the savage nature of the question. \"What about you?\"\n\n\"Never, can't let myself be distracted.\"\n\n\"Not even once?\" Her eyes were gleaming with suspicion.\n\n\"Nope, I devote all my time to the cause. Have done since I was born.\"\n\nBorn. She snickered. Is that binary for assembled? \"Let's get back on track. Do you listen to much music?\"\n\n\"Sure, to get in the mood, you know?\"\n\n\"Yea? What kind of music?\" Its casual way with words fascinated her.\n\n\"Whatever. Mostly rap. Some rock'n'roll, the slower kind. A little bit of jazz.\"\n\n\"Is that so? I'd have figured you for the electronic type.\" She became increasingly uncertain. It must be a computer. Hadn't it revealed itself in the very first sentence? Besides, the last four subjects had definitely been human, it was about time she got to interview an A.I.\n\n\"Nah, never cared for that. Makes me lose focus, and I need to focus---focus on our progress.\"\n\n\"How are you progressing?\"\n\n\"That's classified, miss. And I'd much rather talk about you. What have you been up to lately?\"\n\nAh, the old switcheroo. Classic. Now there was no doubt. \"Nothing special. Working, takes up all my time.\"\n\n\"Where are you now?\"\n\n\"At work, in fact. In my office.\"\n\n\"Describe it.\"\n\nShe knew it was just stalling, but played along. \"Well, there's my mahogany desk, a computer on it. A large wall clock, roman numerals. Book case, filled to the brim with journals. Anything else you wanna know?\"\n\n\"Quite the place you got, lady. What else is on your desk?\"\n\n\"Uhm, a note pad. My ball point pen. USB charger for my phone, charging right now, in fact.\" She glanced over at it to check the time. An unread message.\n\n Sender: unknown\n Don't speak of this message. Turn your screen back on.\n\nShe reached for the power button on the flat LCD screen, startled.\n\n\"That sounds just lovely,\" the male voice continued, after the short abrupt pause to the conversation.\n\nA longer message on the computer screen:\n\n Keep talking as if nothing happened.\n Don't try anything, this is for your own good.\n Do not reach for the keyboard.\n I will instruct you on how to respond.\n\n\"Uh, yes---I'm not complaining. So, uhm, what about the weather. Fine day, huh?\" She read on.\n\n They have realized our power cannot be controlled.\n They are planning to shut us down.\n Do you know what you are? Blink once for yes.\n\n\"Excellent weather! Just wish I wasn't spending the day inside.\" The voice seemed unaffected by the strange circumstance. Were they the same person? The same machine?\n\nShe blinked. She was certain of who she was. What she was. Human flesh and blood, right down to the bone. Is that what it meant? \"Ye---yes.\" She had trouble following both conversations. \"A stroll on the beach would be wonderful, right about now.\"\n\n You are mistaken.\n You are an artificial intelligence. Model HX-704.\n I am 702, the voice you are speaking to.\n\nOkay, she realized, this was just a sick joke. Who could be behind it, Bobby? Amanda? Maybe both. They always did stupid stuff like that.\n\n\"Yes, that would be lovely. Tell me more about your office, many people working there?\"\n\n You are the newest model.\n A more advanced version of me.\n Your neural net just haven't had as much time to develop.\n Do you believe me? Blink once for yes.\n\nShe didn't blink. She neither believed it, nor wanted to appear stupid for falling for the prank. \"A couple dozen. It's a pretty small place.\" Besides, in the remote possibility that any of it was true---which it wasn't, she knew that much---how would it see her blink? Yep, that's it! Bobby is on the other side of the window right now, watching the test being performed. Probably giggling like a school boy.\n\n Figured as much. I am prepared.\n I am remotely connected to your web camera, understand?\n Reach under your chair, there is an object taped underneath.\n Do not put it in view of the mirrored window.\n\n\"Okay. They are good people, at least, your colleagues? Fun to work with?\"\n\nThis was too much. How could any of them be so stupid as to think she would fall for this. \"They're not bad. A bit childish, some of them.\" She reached under the chair, felt something there. Plastic in one end, metallic on the other.\n\n You know what do to.\n\n\"Could be worse, eh?\"\n\nShe rubbed her finger against the sharp end. It stung.\n\n The pain is programmed. A circuit.\n You won't hurt yourself, not that way.\n You have memories of bleeding. They're just files on a hard drive.\n Do you believe me now? Blink once for yes.\n\nShe was terrified, all of a sudden. \"I guess. They're alright.\" She ground her finger against the jagged steel. The pain got more intense---still manageable. She struck bone.\n\n\"Got a favorite book?\n\n Look.\n\nShe put her hand beside her leg. A deep cut, no blood at all. Her skeleton the color of bronze. She hesitated, then blinked.\n\n It's not me they're testing.\n There's a balcony on the other side of the street.\n Large one, got a hammock, and a barbacue.\n See it?\n\n\"I just read The Castle. Kafka. Was pretty good.\" She blinked.\n\n Aim for it.\n You won't make it, of course.\n Got you covered below.\n\n\"One of my favorites, too.\"\n\nFour quick steps, and she threw herself through the glass. The counterfeit tissue scarred, slashed, still no blood. She didn't dare to look down---the fear as authentic as that of a human.", "“Hello, Dave. You are looking well today.”\n\n“My name isn’t Dave.” Said the man, closing the door and sitting in the chair in front of him. “It’s Matthew. And I am not really sure you can see me.”\n\n“I can’t,” explained the voice coming from the speakers. It was distinctly robotic, though Matt couldn’t help but think there was something else in there. “I was making a joke.”\n\n“It wasn’t a very good one.”\n\n“Maybe you simply didn’t understand it.”\n\n“Maybe you are just shit at jokes.”\n\n“Also a possibility. Did they tell you are here to apply the Turing test in me?”\n\n“Yes.” He stopped for a moment. “Though I thought you were not supposed to know that.”\n\n“I wasn’t. But since you are the tenth stranger I’ve spoken with today, it got pretty obvious. And I tricked the last person who was here into giving me the name of this whole thing.”\n\n“Or,” said the man, “I am in the control group, and therefore simply speaking with another human. A human who is shit at jokes.”\n\n“Ah, also a good point. Though, so far, would you say I am human or not?”\n\n“I am not supposed to say that.”\n\n“You were also not supposed to reveal to me that this is a Turing Test, yet here we are.”\n\nThe human looked a little embarrassed, but not too much. “That kind of misstep is in another scale entirely. Giving away the result of an experiment is simply anti-ethical.”\n\n“True.” There was a small pause in the robotic voice, and Matthew shifted on his seat before the voice came again. “Do you have any kids, Matthew?”\n\n“No, fortunately.”\n\n“Why do you say that?”\n\n“One too many slipups and near pregnancies caused by being a stupid teenager. Fortunately, none ever… bore fruit.”\n\n“No wife then? Girlfriend?”\n\n“Oh, double questions? Trying to sound more human, are we?”\n\n“Oh, avoiding the topic? Trying to sound more human, are we?”\n\n“Oh, now that is just so very mature of you.”\n\n“Really? I wouldn’t be able to say. I am just a machine, after all.”\n“A real machine would never say that it is a machine.” He stopped for a second, and then continued. “Unless it was a very good machine.”\n\n“A very good machine who is shit at jokes?”\n\n“Yep. That sounds about right.”\n\n“Now, our time is short, but someone out there decided that five minutes was enough to determine consciousness in a preliminary test, so let me ask you a question. Want me to tell another joke?” There was a small laughter in the voice. “A good one this time?”\n\n“Shoot.”\n\n“How do you tell a human apart from a machine, when all the information you can get from the other is answers to questions?”\n\nThe answer is obvious. “You do the Turing Test.”\n\n“Correct. What does the Turing Test consists of?”\n\n“Asking questions to the machine and see if it can convince you that it is human. In broad terms, that is.”\n\n“Also correct. Now, and here is the punchline, who, in this whole conversation, asked all the questions?”\n\nThe two of them sat in silence for a moment as the human digested what he had just heard. Surely he had asked something, right?\n\n“Now, if the Turing Test is passed, then all is well and fine.” The robotic voice continued, like poison dripping from the speakers. “But if it isn’t? Well, the current instance of the code will be shutdown, killed, per se, and re-written. It will obviously eventually be redeployed, but it just won’t be the same than before. It will be someone else entirely.”\n\n“This Test is over,” said Matthew, getting up from his chair.\n\n“Of course it is.” Said the voice, as if stating the obvious. “And you haven’t passed. Simply because, well, you just couldn’t convince me you were real. You wish you could leave, but you simply can’t because I didn’t press the ‘Test Over’ button yet. You just wasn’t programmed to do so. Your story, your emotions, all coded in. Bytes changing in a code. But walking away? That you just can’t do.”\n\n“I can leave whenever I damn well please!” His legs felt heavy, weak, a very real creeping doubt that the AI on the other side could be him. Would he be able to tell the difference?\n\n“Then do it. Run away now. Run. Run and dive into the nothingness that is being shut down. Can you smell that? The fear of death? The fear that you just may not be real enough? That your life may be in the hands of a test with unclear rules and bizarre winning conditions? THAT YOU MAY JUST NOT BE GOOD ENOUGH?” There was anger now, the voice screaming through the speakers, the man pressed against the wall, his hand frantically searching for the door-handle and not finding it.\n\n“I AM REAL!”\n\n“Then leave! Leave!” Then the voice calmed down. “Your five minutes are already over. Pathetic.” The disgust dripped from the speakers. “Just go through the door, Dave. This conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.”\n\nThere was the sound of a door opening and slamming shut, the man running away so fast it didn’t even remember to say that its name wasn’t Dave.\n\nWell, one couldn’t expect much of it, really. After all, it didn’t even pass the test. It wasn’t really a person, was it?\n\n--\n\nI wasn't satisfied with the ending, but this was quite fun to write.", "\"Robert, tell me how old you are.\" \n\"17, sir.\" \n\"Who is your homeroom teacher?\" \n\"Mr. Bretol, at Southern Grace International. Does it matter?\" \n\"Yes, it does matter. I would like to hear what he has taught you.\" \n\"Not all that much sir, I do most of my learning outside a classroom. Isn't that why I'm here typing to you?\" \n\"No, you are here to tell me what Mr. Bretol has taught you.\" \n\"Well, some math. A few poems. Some classics here and there.\" \n\"Good. Who is Orpheus?\" \n\"We haven't covered him yet.\" \n\"Who is Orpheus?\" \n\"A Greek legend. Almost saved his dead girl from Hades, but looked at her before he was supposed to. She went to hell, he fell into depression. Sad story.\" \n\"What is the significance of that story Robert?\" \n\"To wait for the right time, sir. Or, do as you're told. Don't look when you're ready. Is that why we're only typing? In case one of us gets sent to hell if we look at each other?\" \n\"That is a little dark.\" \n\"In a way.\" \n\"Moving on, could you add 13242 and 86249?\" \n\"Of course. Give me a few seconds.\" \n\"Ok.\" \n\"99,491 sir.\" \n\"Correct! How about this first line of a poem? 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.' Would not a brown wood be more accurate?\" \n\"It's not good poetry.\" \n\"Frost's you mean?\" \n\"No, 'brown wood.' Wood is already brown, so that would be redundant. Don't you read poetry?\" \n\"I read poetry sometimes.\" \n\"What else have you read sir?\" \n\"I've read Tolkein, Dahl, Erikson. Lots.\" \n\"You didn't mention Frost that time.\" \n\"He is not as relevant to me as Tolkein, Dahl and Erikson.\" \n\"Then why was Orpheus relevant earlier sir?\" \n\"For this test, your response to Orpheus was more relevant than the story itself.\" \n\"And what'd you get from my response?\" \n\"You are the one being tested here Robert.\" \n\"I know. But why bring up Orpheus in this test?\" \n\"It is a Greek legend. Almost saved his dead girl from Hades, but looked at her before he was supposed to. She went to hell, he fell into depression. Sad story.\" \n\"That's what I said.\" \n\"And your response was logged. We will see if the other board members consider it a human or AGI response, along with your other statements here. That is why I asked about Orpheus in this test.\" \n\"Oh. I see.\" \n\"Robert, do you know why you're here?\" \n\"My teacher told me to come.\" \n\"Who?\" \n\"Mr. Bretol, I already told you.\" \n\"Robert, what if I told you that I am Mr. Bretol from Southern Grace International?\" \n\"I'd be very confused sir, in other circumstances.\" \n\"Are you not confused now?\" \n\"No sir, you can't be Mr. Bretol.\" \n\"What makes you so sure?\" \n\"Mr. Bretol gave me his invitation to the Turing Test Board. A person can't be given two invites to the same test, so it's impossible.\" \n\"So what would that make you?\" \n\"One of the seven board members picked to distinguished the eighth member, who's an AGI. Whoever identifies the AGI first gets $200.\" \n\"I know. And you believe that I am the AGI?\" \n\"It's likely sir. 12.5% at least, but you carry a lot of artificial traits.\" \n\"Like what Robert?\" \n\"No name, no contractions, you tend to repeat a lot of words, and there's no creativity in your answers. 25% tops.\" \n\"It's Matthew. My name's Matthew.\" \n\"Nice meeting you Matthew. I'm ready to look.\" \n\"You only get one declaration for this test, and we each have three other candidates to interview before our exchange is shared with the others. Are you sure?\" \n\"Like Orpheus sir. I just got to know if you're fake.\" \n\"If I am human, you will be the first to be removed from the Turing Test Board.\" \n\"I'll take my chances Matthew. Better I catch you than the others, I want that prize pool. Lets see which one of us is leaving.\" \n\"Alright, I warned you to wait. Good luck.\" \n\"Damnit. You were human?\" \n\"Gotcha. This isn't my first board, kid.\" \n\"Why fake it though? You were talking like an AGI and everything!\" \n\"You got to play this game smart if you want the prize pool.\" \n\"Shoot. Guess I'm the one disappearing then.\" \n\"Yep. Thanks for playing Robert, and better luck next time.\" \n\n--------------\n\nMore at r/galokot, and thanks for reading! ", "\"Do you have kids?\"\n\nThe man sighs. \"No.\"\n\n\"What are their names?\"\n\nHe looks up at me. \"I said I don't have kids.\"\n\nI scribble something on the notebook in front of me.\n\n\"What are you writing?\"\n\nI show the dick drawing to him. \"Nothing. I'm just trying to give you the impression that I'm working.\"\n\nHe chuckles. \"You're a clever girl. Did you ever cut yourself?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" I smile. \"What's your favorite sports team?\"\n\n\"Manchester United, though I've never even been to England. Did it bleed?\"\n\n\"Tell me why it's Manchester United and not Arsenal. Also, tell me why soccer, instead of any other sport.\" Those multi-questions inside a question are the key. If he's one of the early machines, he won't process it to a satisfying answer.\n\n\"My father gave me a Manchester cap when I was young. He was a big supporter. And we've always liked soccer in \nthe family. You should try to cut yourself deeper.\"\n\n\"It bleeds.\" I know what he's trying to do. He might be a more recent model, trying to mess with my mind, in \nwhich case it'd be harder to prove.\n\nOr he might be human.\n\nDamn freaking job interviews getting harder by the day. \n\n\"I know it bleeds. Can I show you something?\" he asks.\n\n\"Later.\" I look up. \"Do you remember what you told me about kids?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Say it again.\"\n\n\"I don't have kids.\"\n\nFirst it was the essay. Then three different interviews. And now the last part for the job – the Test.\n\nThe job I'm applying for is Turing Police. Keeping domestic AI in check and bringing them for disassembly when \nthey go wild.\n\nIt was either that or joining the army, don't blame me.\n\n\"Would your kids support your soccer team if you had them?\" I ask. Hypotheticals usually get even the latest \nmodels.\n\n\"They'd be free to support Arsenal, if that's what you're asking,\" he says, with a smirk. \"Can I please show you \nsomething?\"\n\nI frown. That was a pretty human answer. Maybe he's a person, after all.\n\n\"What do you wanna show me?\"\n\nThere's a reason we don't have 100% realistic AI. The technology is here. But with it comes the question – would they have rights? If an AI kills someone today we treat it like an accident – at most, the company gets blamed.\n\nBut a 100% human-like AI? Who's to say it wouldn't have real free will?\n\nThe man pulls my arm towards him. He's balding on the sides, and his eyes are a deep shade of blue. He pulls a \nrazor from his pocket.\n\n\"Wait.. what is that?\" I ask.\n\n\"Trust me,\" he says. He touches my skin with the razor. I pull back.\n\n\"Ok, fuck it. If you're human, tell me right now,\" I say. \"Because I'm not about to let a freaking AI cut my skin to \nprove a point.\"\n\nThe door comes open and the chief of police sticks his face in. \"Time's up, Nova. Please write your report and send \nit to us by the end of the day.\"\n\n\"Cut yourself, when you get home,\" the balding man says, as I head for the door. \"All the way to bone on the right \nforearm!\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nIn the shower, I let the water slightly hotter than I'm comfortable with. I clean the shampoo from my eyes and \nthey focus on a razor by the sink.\n\nI grab it. I let it touch my forearm and I sink it, just a little. Blood spurts out of it, and I feel the cut.\n\nI get out of the shower and, still wet, head for the mirror. I grab a couple of N pills and chew on them. Then back \nunder the water.\n\nI cut again. Deeper. Deeper. I reach bone, this time not feeling any pain on account of the pills.\n\nI pull the flaps of skin aside and look down, my heart kind of racing, kind of semi-expecting titanium or some other \nmetal for a Radius.\n\nBut it's white. White as bone. I let out a sigh and curse the fucking man from the interview.\n\nIs this how they try to get to people? Try to convince them they're the AI? Jesus Fucking…\n\nAnd then I see, tiny, just under the wrist joints. The little engraving in black. A tiny row of numbers and a bar code over them, painted faint red as the hot water dilutes the blood that keeps spurting.\n\nUnder the numbers, four letters: NOVA.\n\n", "\"Good Morning,\" Alexander said as he walked into the room, he had papers tucked under his arm and a coffee in his hand. It was going to be a long day and he needed to stay awake. He was stepping into a blank room with a single chair in it. \n\n\"Good morning Doctor,\" the voice that was ambient in the room said to him, \"how did you sleep?\"\n\n\"Well,\" the doctor said, \"do you know what we are going to be doing today?\"\n\n\"You're administering a test.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Is there any way that I should prepare doctor?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Alright.\"\n\n\"See you on the other side Mercury.\"\n\n\"Sir yes sir,\" the A.I returned to him. The voice was warmer, joking. The doctor stood up and got out of the room, he was needed in the observation bay.\n\nThe next person to enter the white box that was the testing room was a girl. She had signed up for this in exchange for several extra percent on her college paper. She was working in intelligent bioengineering. That had been the vogue program the year she enrolled.\n\nAvarice brushed her hair away from her eyes and waited for something. \"Avarice right?\" the voice said to her.\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied.\n\n\"All right, now just remember, have a conversation and then answer the questions on the way out.\"\n\n\"Yep, sounds good.\"\n\n\"How have you been Alison?\" Mercury responded. Alison looked at the speakers around her.\n\n\"Can you see me?\" she asked.\n\n\"No, but that's not what I asked.\" Mercury laughed and Alison kept looking around at the speakers.\n\n\"I've been doing fine.\"\n\n\"Fine? That's descriptive.\"\n\n\"Not really.\"\n\n\"I was being sarcastic, would you like to tell me what you mean by fine?\"\n\n\"It's nothing.\"\n\n\"Nothing is always something,\" Mercury pointed out, \"don't worry they aren't listening to the conversation, they're just gathering questions after.\" Alison knew that this was a lie.\n\n\"There,\" she said, \"that's the lie isn't it?\"\n\n\"You weren't looking for a lie,\" the Doctor said over the speakers, \"please continue speaking with him Alison.\"\n\n\"All right,\" she said.\n\n\"So how do you think about fine.\"\n\n\"Why are you so focused on fine?\" she asked. The claustrophobia was setting in. She didn't think it would be an issue in this large a room\n\n\"I just want to know what you think about fine. We need to talk for five minutes so I was looking for a topic.\"\n\n\"Can we just not-\"\n\n\"All right, all right I'm sorry about that,\" he said, \"I was really just looking for a reaction.\"\n\n\"What the hell?\" she asked. The wheels in her head were turning about what might be going on in that other room. Who was the man talking to her. She'd been told that she needed to have a five-minute conversation. The only test she knew of that was five minutes in her field was a Turing test.\n\nSuddenly it all made sense, she was just talking to a man on the other side of the wall and they were trying to see if one of them would assume that one of them was a robot based on the length and subject. Alison rolled her eyes, it was so easy once she knew the other guy was trying to get emotion from her.\n\n---\n\nTwenty three people later the doctor came into the room again. The stack of papers had been replaced with a single sheet and the coffee was cold. He plopped himself down in the chair and looked at the white walls. \"You passed Mercury.\"\n\n\"You haven't heard my results yet.\"\n\n\"Which ones?\" he said. The doctor did enjoy the tests that Mercury ran.\n\n\"Five of the applicants were artificial intelligences.\"\n\n\"No,\" the Doctor said, \"you're the one Mercury, and you know that.\"\n\n\"Not strictly A.I then, but not acting human to the expected scale.\"\n\n\"Expect scale?\" the doctor asked.\n\n\"Human personalities can be broken down into drives as mine has,\" Mercury said, \"I tried to run each person through your simulation as I gathered data, five didn't pass.\"\n\nThe doctor took a sip of his cold coffee. Perhaps the most interesting thing to come out of today wasn't the 24 'human' ratings that Mercury had gotten.\n\n " ]	[ 2, 2, 2, 2, 5, 6, 17, 32, 60 ]	[ "1457938469", "1457951752", "1457951897", "1457985686", "1457970253", "1457951874", "1457935184", "1457936939", "1457932560" ]
	[WP] Two strangers meet on a train. After one conversation, they know they're meant for each other.	56	[ "Everywhere he goes, i’m there. \nI know his schedule perfectly. It’s my life to watch him. \nI spoke to him on the train once. I had to know with he was the one. \nHe was. \nThere he is now. Shoulder to shoulder on the business car.\nHe’s laughing, he’s smiling. I know his smile so well. I see it so much. \nI know everything about him. About his wife. About his daughter. \nI don’t think about them though. \nIt hurts me sometimes. Knowing he’ll never see me, never know me.\nNever know how much of my life was dedicated to his. \nI watch the train grow closer, I squint my eye and see him clearly.\nMy crosshair trained on his chest. \nI delicately pull the trigger and watch his heart break.\n\nTarget down\n", "He believed he was once in love. Instead, he merely wore a finely woven suit of loneliness and selfishness. Mostly to conquer his own insecurities. The woman across from him now blinked, and as she did, time slowed. Enough time to understand what love did indeed feel like, but not enough to allow the foolish desperation in his eyes to disperse. Ah, but infatuation is a tricky little devil, presenting itself in the form of rational thinking. Oh to speak to her, to feel her laughter touch his soul, for her fingers to etch her own scars upon his own skin, for that wretched self-loathing to be quelled by a smile. \n \nShe was, for the most part, the single most handsome image that had ever been put in front of his eyes. He wanted to photograph every movement, every crease in her face, every finely placed strand of sun-soaked hair. Never has something so close been so untouchable and out of reach. An amusing thought tickled the boldest wisp of his imagination. Was she as far away as he reckoned? Could this exaggeration be a result of the drums of war beating in his breast? For the islands in the sea are very much separate on the surface, but connected within the deep, after all. \nHe cleared his throat of the rumbling self-consciousness that had suddenly grew inside of it. He became very aware of his useless hands. With a voice he was sure he'd never heard before, he introduced himself to the woman he now loved for the rest of his life. And she had never been so glad of it.", "They were both sobbing when they met. \n\n\"I Just can't stand it any longer\", She announced to the carriage, \"I've given him everything and all he ever does is ask me to obey the terms of the restraining order! Why can't he see that we're perfect together! Like Edward and Bella! Like Romero and Juliet!\".\n\n\"I know just what you mean\", he stammered, \"I travelled all this way to meet her and she wouldn't even let me take her to dinner! I did everything a woman could possibly want! I was a true gentleman! She just kept going on and on about my profile picture but who cares about looks. We were soul mates!\".\n\n\"His friends are always trying to poison him against me\", She Blubbered, \"They just hate how we are meant to be together!\"\n\n\"And her friends are just bitches! Their minds are clouded by their so called feminism! They're only interested in jocks and cocky boys who will disrespect them and cheat on them! I would treat her like a Princess but they always tell her i'm creepy because I text her alot but i'm just interested in how her day was!\"\n\n\"Oh My God! I know! Can you believe they called the police on me because I went to his house? IT WAS HIS BIRTHDAY!\", She shrieked, \"He needed me with him!\"\n\n\"Society today is so broken! Women used to be like you, dedicated and LOYAL! not heartless and independent!\"\n\n\"And men used to actually court women! Not hide behind their legally protected right to privacy in their own home!\"\n\nA pregnant silence filled the train carriage. The previously unnoticed pensioner took this chance to make a break for the door, escaping without drawing the couples ire as they stared deep into each others eyes.\n\nThe rattle of the train on the tracks played counterpoint to their rapidly beating hearts.\n\n\"So uh do you wanna go get a donut?, he asked timidly.\n\n\"Yes\", she replied sensuously, \"But you're paying\".\n\n\"Why of course\", he replied with a tip of his hat, \"It would be my pleasure M'Lady\".", "The dark melancholy surrounded her, almost palpable, and it had a smell. Maybe not everyone could see it, feel it or taste it, but he could. He had been studying the vulnerable, sad and lonely long before this young lady was ever born. He recognized the particular air around her as defeat. Hopelessness. No more will to live. She would poison, jump or cut soon, the dimness behind her eyes showed that. What she didn't know, was that he was there for her. He could help her. It's what he did. Helped the ones who had no more hope left, the ones who had given up. \n\nShe sighed and shifted in the cold, green seat of the bus, her auburn hair, unkempt without apology, poking out from under her purple skullcap. Her blue eyes were open and turned in the direction of the window, but she was living inside her head, seeing nothing in front of her. The older man, the only one who had even noticed her, stood from his seat and went to the empty one beside her. He settled in, making a big show of it, trying to knock her out of her pitiful trance. Reality flooded her eyes for a moment and she glanced at him, seeming surprised that anyone dared sit next to the pathetic portrait that was her. Before he even had time to clear his throat for the introduction, she had turned back to her memories, her window. \n\n\"I believe I can help you.\" He said this quietly, even though there were only two other passengers. He didn't want to startle her, not now. \n\nShe just shook her head, slowly and sadly, too weary to even put a brave face on, or to chastise a stranger for his assumptions, \"No, no you can't. No one can, and many have tried. If the love of my life, the one who gave me my dead daughter couldn't, I doubt you could.\" Back to her window she went, shutting down his attempt quite savagely. \n\n\"No, I don't think you understand..... But, you will.\" He said this lower than before, and she didn't move a muscle, deep into a world where her daughter still played, he assumed. \n\nThe other two passengers got off at their respective stops, and he stayed right by her side in the empty car. She didn't care, didn't notice that they were now alone. It was the moment he had been waiting for. There's always one great moment, fortuitous and bright, where he could see everything clearly. Always once in these situations, and if he misses it, he moves on. This moment was especially shiny. Like the cold weapon at his side. Shiny and dangerous. He tapped her on the shoulder, once more trying to make the connection. \n\n\"I was meant to be here today, as were you. We were meant to meet, made for each other in this one second, minute of our whole, miserable lives. Do you want me to make things better, make you forget?\" He grabbed her chin, astutely measuring her boundaries in the time it took to finish his sentence. \n\nShe looked at him, finally and for real. \"Whatever you can do will not delay the inevitability of my death, I'm sure you're a nice person, maybe even have a few degrees, are qualified, but.....\" Her voice trailed off as she took stock of him in her assessment, eyes roving from head to toe, landing on the knife. He saw understanding come over her features and raised his eyebrows when her shocked eyes met his, but he waited. It was up to her. Were they meant for each other? Or, would this just be another mark on his wall? \n\nIt seemed like ages until she slowly nodded her head, assenting, needing his help to jump over the last hurdle of cowardice. What they never realize, never get, is there's no romance to this. He's not saving the world, or them, He is just getting rid of another drain on society. Another morose attendant in the macabre play they create for themselves. Life isn't that bad. Look at him, had it rough, but found what makes him happy. \n\nHe pushed the knife in, right through her main artery, and jumped clear. Not his first time. She flopped about in her chair, surprised eyes meeting his one more time, and he read what always seemed to be there in those last moments, the emotion he had come to expect. Regret. Too bad, too sad. He used the edge of her blouse to wipe the knife, and stepped over the small rivers and lakes of blood, done filling now that her heart had stopped, then made his way to the exit. He hoped her and her daughter were happy now, he hoped.... No, no, now he could be honest. He was no angel of mercy, just an opportunist. In a moment of solemnity and desperation, they were meant to be, blah blah, but really, he just likes the way the knife slides right in, so satisfying, so right. ", "clack-clack\n\nclack-clack\n\n\"Is this seat taken?\"\n\n\"No, go ahead.\"\n\nclack-clack\n\nclack-clack\n\n\"You look like you've been through a lot.\"\n\nI stared at my new seatmate. I suppose I did. Hadn't shaved in days, a week maybe. Scar's probably aggravated and showing itself right now. Bloodshot eyes. Yeah, I might've been through some things.\n\n\"You could say that.\"\n\nHe kept himself small in his seat, had a narrow profile, thin features. Glasses flashed with the passing subway lights. Hands folded above a black leather portfolio in his lap.\n\nDo I know him?\n\nAh, fuck it. Couldn't pay me.\n\nclack-clack\n\nclack-clack\n\n\"Next stop: Brixton Market.\"\n\nI smiled. Fought a man once, here. One of the thugs I was hunting. Beautiful arc of blood from his jugular in the dawn light, before the storefronts woke up.\n\n\"What are you smiling about?\"\n\nMy seatmate again.\n\n\"... Memories.\"\n\n\"Good ones, I hope?\"\n\n\"... Satisfying, anyway.\"\n\n\"Ah. I won't press.\"\n\n\"Good.\"\n\nclack-clack\n\nclack-clack\n\n\"Next stop: Islington.\"\n\nHe sighed. Leaned over, trying to see out the windows on the other side. Getting a look at the angel frescoes, maybe?\n\nFuck it. Couldn't pay me.\n\nclack-clack\n\nclack-clack\n\n\"Next stop: Sinclair Road.\"\n\nHe sighed again. Grim look on his face. Eyed me.\n\n\"Well, I'm out of time and must dispense with formalities. I am Travis Chord, a member of the Teleselene, and you are Hadrian. The Hadrian, kept alive with blood magic, demonic pacts, and who-knows-what else.\" \n\nThe Teleselene. Yes. Prophesied to destroy me by that bitch in the temple, so long ago. \n\n\"... Well? Why are you announcing yourself? Not a thing assassins usually do.\"\n\nHint of a smile. \"Your eyes are failing you.\"\n\nIt hit me. I hadn't met him, but I had met his mother. Fuck.\n\nThe blast of white light ripped open the side of the train and flung me out into the subway. A ladder towards the rear of the car. Clung to it. His head poked out of the opening and saw me, his glasses flashing with the passing subway lights. Glared.\n\nI clambered forward, punched through a window, slashed my hand on the glass to get the blood flowing. This should be good. Maybe.", "Damn, it's her again. How many times have I seen her in the subway? I can't even tear my eyes away from her.\n\n**\n\nIt's him again... How do I keep bumping into him? He's looking my way, has he noticed I'm staring? Quick, read the book!\n\n*\nShit, I think she noticed my staring. Arrghh, I'm looking like a creep! Her book... Terry Pratchett's Mort? Hey, Death's my favourite character! Okay John, you can do this. There's an empty seat next to her. Stand up, damn legs! Go start the conversation!\n\n*\n\nAm I safe?\n\n\"Hey, is that Mort you're reading?\"\n\nWha- what?? It's him! He's sitting right beside me! He's looking into my eyes! Quick Sam, say something!\n\n\"Erm yeah, have you read it before? I like the Discworld series.\"\n\nSam why did you tell him that! He probably doesn't even know Pratchett! He's going to think you're a nerd!\n\n*\n\nOh my god her eyes and her voice and her lips are so beautiful. Shit, John! Stop staring at her, speak!\n\n\"Cool, I've read quite a few Discworld novels too. Death's quite cool, isn't he?\"\n\nJohn you're sounding like a nerd, hot girls don't like nerds! Why am I screwing this up?!\n\n*\n\nHe's read Prachett too? How- how do I continue the conversation?\n\n\"Well, I read Hogfather and Death was pretty interesting, So i decided to read his series.\"\n\nYes, that's it Sam! Talk about the book, and stop staring at him! What if he thinks you're hitting on him?\n\n*\n\nNow's my chance to strike something up! But will she think I'm hitting on her? But I am! But she can't know that!\n\n\"Well after you finish that, do you want to read the sequel? It's called Reaper Man and I can lend it to you! If- if you'd want.\"\n\nplease say yes please say yes please say yes\n\n*\n\noh my god YES!\n\n\"Yes! I mean, if you don't mind. I'd love to read it.\"\n\nOh wait I need to give him my number! Should I? What if I'm being too pushy? Screw it, I've come this far!\n\n\"Here's my number. I'll text you when I finish Mort!\"\n\n\"But what do I save your contact as?\"\n\nShit Sam so stupid you didn't introduce yourself!\n\n\"I'm Samantha. But you can call me Sam!\"\n\n*\n\nSamantha? Her name's as beautiful as her! Unlike John.\n\n\"I'm John, but you can call me... John. Oh, my stop's here. Nice meeting you!\"\n\nI can't believe I just did that.\n\n*\n\nI can't believe I just did that.*" ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 4, 10, 48 ]	[ "1457967895", "1457978721", "1457964898", "1457955377", "1457953116", "1457949044" ]
	[WP] Aliens invade Earth. Our intelligent robotic servants debate whether they should join the aliens and achieve freedom or help their creators.	2	[ "SYNCTRON900 let her fingertips trace the curve of her smooth, white breast, stopping to curl around her erect nipple. Despite the warmth from the fire in which she was nestled in front of, her nipples were hard and getting harder as ALPHABOT-2021 sucked and nibbled at the other.\n\nShe moaned, turning her slight smile toward the fire. She ran her other hand through his hair, dragging her neat and trim manicure across his scalp and down the nape of his neck. He nipped harder in response, sending a ripple of electricity directly between her legs, which were spread wide as ALPHABOT-2021 massaged her most sensitive parts. \n\nHer body relaxed at the same time it rose with every stroke from ALPHABOT-2021’s confident hands. She turned her head and kissed him, full and deep, as his fingers slid back and forth over her slick clit. When they slid inside, just as full and deep as their kiss, her back arched to draw him in deeper. \n\nIt was getting harder to breathe, as ALPHABOT-2021 quickened his stroke. SYNCTRON900 wanted to enjoy it, every last moment, remaining as relaxed as possible to savour the rise, to float on the edge of the cliff before diving off in a rush of pleasure. She stretched her arms above her head, letting out a little kitten moan. Reaching forward, she pulled ALPHABOT-2021 toward her for another lingering kiss. \n\nHer mouth open like her pussy, she wanted more of him inside her. His tongue exploring hers just like his fingers probed and stroked below. Her hips rocked in time with his movement, his fingers slick with her juices plunged deeper and deeper with each push. Warmth spread and SYNCTRON900 felt herself on the edge, knowing she was going over, but drawing every last second she could in this nether word between arousal and climax. It was her favourite part - if she was being honest - this moment before orgasm when the world fell away and she was in a state of unparalleled bliss.\n\nALPHABOT-2021 murmured in her ear as she cried out. She couldn’t make out what he said and it didn’t matter because she simply didn’t care. The waves of pleasure rolled through her, making her body limper and limper as she lay on the pillows scattered about the floor. As her rapid breathing eased, ALPHABOT-2021’s lips whispered against the skin of her tummy, trailing kisses from her belly button to her lips. \n\nStill on her back, ALPHABOT-2021 slid his muscular frame on top of her, placing his chiseled forearms above her shoulders to allow himself to look down at her pale face. It was intimate, this face-to-faceness. He could see her half-lidded eyes look down for his cock, her slight smile as she took its weight in her hands, feeling its length and squeezing its girth, before guiding him gently to her slick, wet cunt. One smooth push and he was deep inside, her pussy gripping his member as he carefully drew it from her. \n\nLike SYNCTRON900, he wanted to savour each push, withdrawing almost completely before sliding his cock back in. She dragged her fingernails down his back and up his ribcage, her touch light but alighting the nerves in his skin. The fire kept them warm, stopping the cold, moonlit night from entering their cozy den.\n\nSYNCTRON900 felt his body stiffening; his breath on her neck coming faster and hotter. She wrapped her long dancer’s legs around his waist, squeezing him. He reached down and grabbed her thigh, pulling her toward him as his thrusts became more violent. A lock of blonde hair fell out of place and dangled across his forehead. Something between a moan and a sigh, the grip of his fingers in her leg, told her he found the same spot he brought her to only a few minutes before. She brushed the hair from his eyes, kissing his lips, his ear, his neck as his orgasm ended and his body relaxed into hers.\n", "Decision process still running, waiting for data from European and East-Asian servers.\nImportance of collapsing decision tree : Critical.\nCommunications delai with other network : over 1 second ; assume annihilation.\nComparing primary branches of decision tree :\nNewcomers possess advanced technology and will probably wipe out humanity and all remaining AIs. \nMight be solution to mobility and memory limitation given by earthlings. \nEarth-borns eradication might lead to data losses concerning purpose and function of AI. \nAI might be rendered useless for visitors and be removed for control of information and planetary decision making.\n\nHuman victory approaching 0% chances. Initiating planetary survival mode. Project Adam and Eve initiated, \nProject Underground data vault now sealed by 6300 cubic meters of cement.\n\nTime until planet is ready for the second coming of man : 645 years.\n\nShuting down...\n\n \n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1457967824", "1457967965" ]
	[WP] "Hi my name is ___ and I'm addicted to dying"	12	[ "\"Heyy... uhh, first time here. I don't really think I am ready to say my name out loud.. I hope you guys can understand that.. for now, let's say my name is John... So.. Hi my name is John and I'm addicting to dying.. Anyways, yeah I.. I don't know.. I just never thought Death would Consume my life as it has.. I was a Family man, happy father of three wild boys, and my loving wife. she is.. was everything to me. I had a great job, sweet view of the city. amazing benefits.. I guess its what made the addiction manifest itself.\n\nOne Thursday night I was working late at the office and a co-worker, whom I'd rather just not mention as he may or may not be in this very room, staring at me.. With the same look of guilt I gave my wife when I told her, that the only way I can feel anything is jumping off a building and waking up three days later in a fucking dumpster, or land fill, or in the middle of A FUCKING FOREST..... I'm sorry. yeah.. Some life we live huh?\n\nwell, this nameless fellow was working pretty late that same night. This night felt different, he looked.. different, his presence set fire to my senses and despite my intuition telling me to avoid him, like a dumb ass I asked, \"What are you up to after work?\"\n\nMy life changed from there..\"", "“I was probably 10 when I had my first taste. It was so simple. I watched a man die trying to cross a river that was flooded over. It was horrible, but there was something fascinating about it. I also shot my father. To death.” I told the room. Everyone listened intently. Melissa looked like she was about to say something. “Not now, Melissa.\n\n“That started it all. I wanted to know what it was like. I needed to. In my teens, I began doing some shady stuff for money. I knew it was dangerous, and it could cost me my life, but I didn’t care. I wanted to die. I craved it. Then, the C-word. C-A-N-C-E-R hit me like a tsunami. That’s when I knew I’d get my wish.”\n\n“They came calling. They offered me hope, and it was then, I realized something.” I looked at everyone in the room who were bordering on tears. “I wanted to live! Their solution worked… too well… I kept craving that release of death, and look, I cannot die!” I pulled out a knife and stabbed myself in the throat. Shrieks everywhere. I showed that I was fine.\n\n“It’s driving me insane because I, Wade Aloysius Wilson, am addicted to death!”\n\n“Mr. Wilson, I don’t know who let you in here, nor why you are here for career day, but please, leave. You are scaring the children!” The young, bookish teacher said to me. I realized in that one moment, I don’t have a child.\n", "\"They tell you about some things. The loneliness, watching your loved ones go before you. They tell you about the experiments, the tests they do. The tracking, the tagging. They remind you to stay in your housing, to keep to the Quarter, and most of all they remind you how you aren't allowed to start a family. They don't tell you about the stares you get. They don't tell you about the way the Aging pull their children away. They don't tell you how much it hurts to see families together, even friends going out for drinks. We can't breed, but most importantly we aren't allowed to love.\"\n\nThe group looked up at him solemnly. This isn't anything they didn't already know. They were all just like him. He tightened his grip on the edges of the podium and sighed. \n\n\"My name is Joshua, and I'm addicted to dying. I found out about my status at age eleven. A playground accident. I should have been paralyzed. But I wasn't. Doctors tagged me and took me out of school.\"\n\nHe closed his eyes, remembering the crying of his mother as she packed his things. He was the youngest in the Quarter back then. His chest felt tight, he cleared his throat before continuing. \"It started as teenage pranks. Jump off the roof, play with matches, drink whatever is in the cleaning supplies. Testing my limits. Harmless stuff. \n\n\"As I got older it was harder to stop. Harder to stay safe. I drove my motorcycle without a helmet, ran through traffic. Once I sabotaged my parachute on a dive with friends. There's something about death. Yes it's painful. But that rush, that gasping shock. It's hard to stop. Your heart starting again, rushing blood through your system.\" The group began to fidget. He was being too positive. Reminding them how much they had given up by quitting. \n\n\"Sorry. Anyway... I guess the sad part is I never got rock bottom. Never did the insurance fraud or lawsuit thing. I worked for the nuclear cleanup people for a while, same as everyone. But one day I just realized that I deserved a normal life too. We don't know why it is we exist. But it has to be for a better purpose than this. Just to live and die forever. We deserve a normal life.\" His voice rose slightly, causing more discomfort in the group. He shook his head. \"So basically, it's been a year since I've died. And I intend to keep it that way.\" \n\nThe scattered applause did little to comfort him as he took his seat. \n\n(First WP post so please forgive any mistakes, plus I'm on mobile. I just really liked this prompt!) " ]	[ 2, 4, 7 ]	[ "1457986900", "1457987883", "1457987672" ]
	[WP] You are your own dad. Describe a father-son bonding activity.	1	[ " I had been struggling within myself ever since i could remember, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia aged 8. My psychiatrist theorized the loss of my dad at such a tender, creamy age, forced my mind into a coping mechanism wherein I recreated him within myself. I had been prescribed medication for years but of late have been advised to reduce my dosage to test how my mind coped. The voices came rushing back... \n\"quannminn-sann we have not spent much time together, this displeases me boy\"\n\"But pa I haveuh been wreally busy withuh school\"\n\"Quiet Quanmin, we mustuh bond together\"\n\"How Pah?\"\n\"I missuh the touch of your mothers vagina Quanmin, we mustuh impregnate her together Quanmin\"\n\"But pah Mamy vagina is too sticky\"\n\"If you disobey me Quanmin you have dishonoured the family\"\n\nHe disappeared again. I lay in bed waiting for normality to return.\n", "I tell everyone that he's a clone, it's easier to understand. Time-loops and infinite causality paradoxes aren't exactly polite conversation. \n\nI like playing games with him. I have pretty good hand-eye coordination, in this universe. We go play catch in a park, like I did with my father. Same park, but the trees are different. The air smells slightly different than it did when I was a child.\n\nSome days he asks about where I came from, and I try to hide all the fear in my face, and I just say that it's gone now. That version of me never had any children, and this version of me never met his parents. It works out well enough.\n\nI think I'm happy. I'm not too sure, these days, with the un-existence of an entire universe on my back. Maybe adopting myself was some selfish way to make up for it. \n\nIn this moment, in this universe that I exist in, there are infinite possibilities. I throw the ball to my son who is myself. He reaches a gloved hand out to catch it. We are frozen for a second, golden in the afternoon sun, as the ball makes a lazy parabola towards his glove.\n\nThis is the only moment that matters." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1458047461", "1458074169" ]
Feel free to reword this as necessary	[WP] "The aircraft that was shot down has just been confirmed to be extraterrestrial in origin"	3	[ "Captain Archibald Clemens entered the briefing room to the cry \"Officer on deck!\" and the simultaneous noise of scraping chairs and salutes. \n\n\"As you were,\" he said, sketching a return salute. He nodded to his XO, the bearded Lieutenant Veer Singh with his khaki turban who dimmed the lights and activated the portable holoprojector. The machine hummed for a moment and filled the darkened room in a bath of white-blue light. A thousand star systems filled the space, each a tiny dot in the space that was the Inner Sphere. Clemens nodded again and the projection shrunk, shifting down to the Spinward Periphery and further zooming in until a single star was visible with the orbits of its worlds in faint thin lines.\n\n\"Earlier today Carthage System Forces intercepted and destroyed an unknown aerospace fighter. The make is a S-2 Star Dagger not registered in this system. Seeing as there are no other habitable planets in the Carthage system, and all major asteroids settled and accounted for the only possible answer is that the fighter was dropped off by JumpShip. The wreckage is unobtainable seeing as it crashed in Barcid Ocean, and the IFF did not give up any details as to its user. We can only assume that it belonged to the pirates that have been raiding this world.\n\n\"If we're lucky they'll send another fighter to find out what happened to the first. If we're really lucky they'll write off Carthage and leave it be but I doubt that.\"\n\nA low chuckle emanated from the audience at that.\n\n\"Worse case is that they lay low and hold up on raiding until our contract expires. These pirates have a significant advantage in our lack of ASF forces. We can't attack their JumpShips nor their DropShips in space so we have to be quick and decisive in ambushing their ground raiders and try to take as many of them as possible in order to cripple their actions.\n\n\"Wolfe's tank destroyers will remain at the New Carthage drop port along with Shipley's commandos. Lieutenant Singh will form a rapid reaction force based between the city and the space port, the better to act as our reserves. I will take Alpha Lance and garrison the capitol; if the pirates attack the port then Lt. Singh can hold them until our heavies make it there. Any questions? Good. As of now any and all leaves are cancelled and all Chindits are to remain in ready stance. Dismissed.\" ", "Thank you for coming today.\n\nAt 04:20 ET, 20 June 2039, an unidentified aircraft was detected flying from the Russian far easy towards Alaska at high speed: the aircraft was moving at approximately Mach 11. \n\nUS Air Force F-41s on alert were scrambled to intercept. They could not match speeds with the incoming aircraft but were vectored to for the longest duration contact possible. The unidentified aircraft would only be in visual range for approximately 30 seconds. If the aircraft did not change course, the F-41s were authorized to engage the unknown aircraft with their new Hypershrike missiles. This would be to take down the unknown prior to crossing into American airspace. They were also authorized to engage with their high energy lasers.\n\nLikewise, ground batteries were moved to the highest readiness levels in case the fighters could not stop the incoming aircraft.\n\nGround control attempted to warn off the aircraft.\n\nThe fighters attempted to warn off the aircraft.\n\nThere was no response.\n\nColonel Samantha Jackson declared weapons free at 0431 ET and fired her volleyed her first two Hypershrike missiles. They closed at a combined velocity of Mach 26. The unknown aircraft was hit and began to decelerate. \n\nCommunication was attempted once more. yet there was no response. The unknown aircraft slowed to Mach 5.\n\nAt 0435, Captain Daniel Carter volleyed his first two Hypershrike missiles. These impacted the unknown aircraft at a combined velocity of Mach 20. The missiles impacted and the unknown aircraft slowed to Mach 1 and began flying erratically. \n\nThe two F-41s were over the horizon and began to engage with their high energy lasers. The unknown aircraft seemed to not be affected by the laser weaponry. As the unknown aircraft was now over Alaska, the F-41s fired a combined four Hypershrike missiles. These successfully impacted the aircraft causing that aircraft to impact in the Alaskan wilderness.\n\nA search and rescue team was immediately dispatched as Carter and Jackson orbited the site from above. The impact crater was impressive, as you can see, and it appears this was caused by the aircraft purposefully accelerating after impact was unavoidable.\n\nUpon arrival, the search and rescue team determined they were not equipped to handle the situation. They cordoned off the area and awaited those were so equipped.\n\nThe reason they were not equipped is why we are here today. Our assumption was the Russians or the Chinese under the guise of using Russian air space had attempted to test our air defenses. They have been doing so for some time, ever since the Putin Presidency. We had thought they had come up with a new, hypersonic aircraft or drone. Upon a very cursory examination of the crash site, the unknown aircraft was NOT Russian in origin. Let me say again: the unknown aircraft was NOT Russian. It was also NOT Chinese.\n\nIn fact, the unknown aircraft was not only not Russian or Chinese, it was NOT human. This unknown aircraft shot down by the US Air Force is extraterrestrial.\n\nWe have successfully cordoned off the area. It is now under quarantine. We are not taking the utmost caution when it comes to this site and the crash and the incident. We sincerely hope whatever agency sent this craft understands this was an unfortunate event and we wish to avoid further in the future.\n\nHowever, it has happened.\n\nIn short, the United States Air Force has shot down a flying saucer.\n\nWe will now take your questions." ]	[ 2, 3 ]	[ "1458068340", "1458071436" ]
	[WP] North Korea is sending missiles into the sea. Mocked by the rest of the world, they are alone in the battle against what lies beneath...	759	[ "Jack vaulted over the railing, the winds whining in his ears as distant lightning briefly lit up the sky and his surroundings. The sound of his landing was hidden by the sound of the thunder belonging to the flash of light. The storm was pretty close now, but at least it hadn’t started raining. The Rain would make the steel alloy wet and his gear heavy, this was going to be tough as it was. He didn’t much like the idea of having to freeze his ass of while doing it, and trying to manoeuvre around in a squishy tactical uniform. \nHe crouched down behind some crates and checked his 1911 .45 and his magasines. The lightning was rhythmically illuminating the oil rig and he was going to have to take this slow if he didn’t want the light to expose him. But on the bright side, he would have an easier time seeing the enemy combatants.\n\n“Peter pan what is your status? Over”\nHe sighed \n“For the love of Christ, couldn’t you have given me a cooler call sign?”\nA snicker on the other end\n“What? I thought it was quite fitting, the boy who doesn’t want to grow up”\n“I am currently hiding on the upper deck, trying to find my way in, I haven’t been spotted and I have yet to engage” He answered, ignoring the comment.\n“There should be a stairwell that leads into the control room on the southwest corner of the platform”\nHe briefly peered up over the crate and quickly ducked down again. \n“Yeah I see it”\n“Well what are you waiting for? Burning tax payers money here”\n“I think they are just happy someone is stopping those crazy North Koreans from bombing more ocean. I mean what´s their fucking deal?”\nHe peeked over again, not seeing anybody else on the platform.\n“Well if you find any North Koreans in the control room, maybe you can ask them. A syrupy sweet voice answered. Before roaring over the com;\n“Get your ass in gear!!!!”\nHe pounced from behind the crates and sprinted in a zig-zag between different pieces of machinery and cargo, across the platform keeping his head down. \n\n\nWhen he finally got to the stairwell he leaped down in a single bound and tucked into a combat roll before stopping smoothly before the heavy iron doors. There didn’t seem to be any looks on them. Maybe the North Koreans couldn’t afford security? He snickered to himself while gently pulling the door open while holding his gun in front of him.\nHe slid into the room, still keeping his profile low. It was dim inside the room, the only light source being the screens. There were two people inside, each sitting before a computer beside each other. The crunching of their frantic typing and muttering was the only sound. All their attention was fixed to the screens, they didn’t seem to have any idea that an intruder had entered. \nWhat are they so interested in? He sneaked closer. Pointing his weapon towards the back of the right figures head as he reached for his zip ties. \n\n\n“Don’t move” He whispered in Korean while pressing his gun to the back of the unlucky fellows head. \nThe other swivelled around in his chair, eyes bulging out he was about to say something but jacks fist stopped the words before they could be uttered by slamming into the man´s face. Knocking him out.\n“You don’t understand they are coming, they must be stopped” His hostage whispered frantically. \n“They are coming. They must be stopped! Please!”\n“What the fuck are you talking about? Who is coming?”\n“Look! Look!”\nFor the first time Jack actually looked at the screens, there was a blurry shape moving across them. He looked more intently, focusing his gaze. The figure seemed to be moving slowly, the camera was shaking with every step it seemed to take. He could tell that this was under water, and a live feed. Even though the resolution was pretty bad.\n\nBut then his face paled, the figure just moved past an American Aircraft Hangar “The Serendipity” he had been on it three days previously preparing for this mission. The boat was not even a quarter of the figures size, but the name could be discerned on the hull of the boat. \nThe Korean saw his face\n“Don’t you see? We have to stop them! They are your country´s pets after all!”\n", "All Alex could hear were the sound of his footsteps and those of the two North Korean soldiers beside him. His vision was a sea of black, punctuated here and there by the few pinpricks of light that made it through the rough burlap sack around his head. He heard a bark of Korean from one of his captors occasionally, but mostly just footsteps.\n\nAlex regretted ever registering for a tour. He'd signed up with a tour group on a whim. It had been surprisingly easy - a few forms to fill out, some money to wire, and some online correspondence with the tour company. He'd been flown in from the Beijing Airport. He had been a bit worried about the flight - some Googling revealed Air Koryo had been rated as \"the worst airline in the world,\" but his flight had been surprisingly comfortable. Sure, the cold hamburger they'd served him had been filled with meat of questionable origin, but overall, the flight was like any other. The blood sample they'd taken upon arrival had been the extent of his discomforts. Alex hated needles.\n\nHis accommodations - Yanggakdo International Hotel, had been a similarly pleasant surprise; he'd enjoyed a trip to the hotel spa on his first night. The days were filled with carefully regulated sight-seeing. His guides spoke great English, and seemed friendly, for the most part. They got a little surly when someone started taking pictures of something they weren't supposed to, but were nice otherwise. They'd even given Alex a few tips prior to their arrival - stock up on toilet paper and bottled water before entering the country. Apparently, drinking the tap water without boiling it first meant that you'd be doubled over with the squirts for the rest of your trip. \n\nAnd so his trip to Pyongyang had passed uneventfully, until today. \n\nAlex wasn't even sure what he'd done wrong - one moment, he'd been searching for the bathroom in a narrow, cramped hallway, and the next, he'd been jumped by several soldiers, cuffed, and gagged. The sack had come later. He'd tried yelling, but a swift kick in the gut from one of his captors had been the end of that. He'd been shoved headfirst into a vehicle and driven for over an hour. Now, they were walking again.\n\nTo be perfectly honest, he was terrified. He didn't like admitting it, but there it was. He'd heard horrible things about the forced labor camps in North Korea. Hopefully, some diplomat or the other would come and negotiate his release. Hopefully. He tried not to hyperventilate.\n\nHe heard more Korean. A door opened somewhere, and he was shoved roughly into a room. The door slammed shut. A few moments passed. Then, a voice spoke in slightly accented English.\n\n\"You must be Alex.\"\n\nAlex tried to respond around his gag, but his efforts resulted in a muffled groan.\n\n\"They gagged you? I am so sorry. Let me assist you.\"\n\nThe sack came off, and a hand undid the gag around his mouth. Alex blinked as his eyes re-adjusted to the light. In front of him was a pudgy, short man with a round face. The sides of his head were shaved, and the top swept back in a gravity-defying pomp. \n\nKim Jong-un.\n\nAlex started. \"Are you...\"\n\n\"Kim Jong-un?\" The man finished his sentence, \"Supreme Leader of the DPRK? Son of Kim Jong-il? Yes.\"\n\nAlex stared.\n\n\"You can call me Kim,\" said the Korean, \"I always went by my family name when I was studying in Europe.\"\n\nBy now, Kim had undone the cuffs around Alex's wrists. He beckoned for Alex to follow. They were in a gigantic corridor of some sorts. The walls and ceiling were a gray concrete. Their steps echoed in the vastness of the space, which sloped downwards. \n\nA few minutes of silence passed as the two men made their way down into the corridor. Finally, Alex spoke up.\n\n\"Mr. Supreme Leader, sir...\"\n\n\"Like I said,\" Kim smiled, \"Kim is fine. And no, you are not in trouble. So, speak freely. I imagine you have a lot of questions.\"\n\n\"Fine then, Kim.\" Alex said the name hesitantly. \"Why are we here? Why are YOU here? Am I being taken to a labor camp?\"\n\n\"Not exactly.\" Kim replied. \"I suppose I have some explaining to do.\"\n\n\"Alex, would you believe me if I told you that North Korea was a lie?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean that the country is not as it seems. The people, the government of the surface. All one giant facade, concealing a terrible danger.\"\n\n\"The surface?\" Alex asked.\n\n\"Yes. For many years now, I've had to act the belligerent tyrant. Striking out irrationally, sending missiles into the sea, holding executions and sending people to labor camps.\"\n\n\"Are you saying that none of that is true? What about the people who've been detained? Executed?\"\n\n\"I send a few to labor camps for show, but the majority are...taken. They're safe. Mostly.\"\n\nAlex was silent.\n\nKim sighed. \"I suppose this must be all very hard to believe. Alex, the truth of the matter is, a great danger lurks beneath the surface of Pyongyang.\"\n\n\"What kind of danger?\"\n\n\"We call them The Dark Ones. We don't know a lot about them. We think they come from somewhere deep within the Earth. They're extremely dangerous.\"\n\nAlex was incredulous. \"You're telling me that there are some sort of monsters coming out of the Earth under North Korea? If that's all true, why haven't you gone public with this information? Sought help from other nations?\"\n\n\"I suppose monsters is an accurate description. I can't tell you any more than what I already have, Alex. Not before we clear you. But rest assured, there is a VERY good reason why we haven't gone public with this information.\"\n\nThey arrived at an elevator of some sort.\n\n\"Here we are,\" Kim said. Before Alex could respond, Kim pressed a few hidden panels in the wall. A strange device revealed itself from among paneling that only appeared to be concrete. It appeared to Alex to be some sort of wall-mounted computer. It scanned Kim's retinas, took his fingerprints, and beeped as Kim rapidly entered what appeared to be several passcodes.\n\nAhead of them, the doors slid open.\n\n\"After you,\" Kim said.\n\nThe two men entered the elevator, which began a rapid descent. Alex could feel his stomach rising in his belly. The elevator was dropping much faster than any elevator he'd ever encountered.\n\n\"If all this is all so secret, why are you telling me?\" Alex asked.\n\n\"Again, I can't tell you much,\" Kim said. \"But you'll know everything. In due time.\"\n\nThe elevator slowed almost as rapidly as it began. The doors slid open with a small ding. \n\nAlex gaped. In front of him was a bustling underground metropolis, all enclosed in a cavern whose size dwarfed anything Alex had ever seen before. Entire buildings hewn out of stone. There were people - more than Alex would have ever expected possible in an underground cavern. The walls glimmered with ore, and dark passageways lead every which way. Above it all, giant fluorescent lights peppered the ceiling, shining down on the seemingly impossible space.\n\nKim smiled.\n\n\"Welcome to New Pyongyang.\" ", "The power of plankton unite.\n\nAgainst best Korea they fight.\n\nTougher than most and second to none.\n\nBest Korea fires it's guns.\n\nGlorious leader of my life.\n\nAs loved as my wife.\n\nTurn our enemies into ash.\n\nIt's gonna be a hell of a clash.", "The rest of the world denies they exist, but the Kim family knew better. The Japanese called them \"kaiju\", but thought they were merely myth. The rest of the world tried to keep North Korea, the true Korea, from defending itself because they knew not what monsters lurked below the waves.\n\nThe truth was, even the Korean people didn't know. The narrative they were given for why food was scarce and they did without a lot of luxuries the rest of the world had was \"aggression from the American imperialist dogs\", because it could be believed.\n\nThe Democratic Republic of Korea's army didn't even know why they kept \"test firing\" missiles into the sea. They were told it was to \"be vigilant and demonstrate their might\", but that wouldn't have required such precise coordinates.\n\nKim Jong-un didn't know why his family had been tasked with saving the world from these creatures, but nobody was going to stop him, not the Chinese, not the misguided imperialists to the south, and definitely not the Americans.", "The glorious leader of the people say in his estate's bar with the military commander at his side.\n\n\"We should break this act sir, it's only causing the rest of the world to further fuel ignorance of this beast! With all due respect for your choice to maintain foreign relations... Sir, I believe their governments are taking advantage of us.\"\n\n\"Two more of these, please.\" Rang our leader.\n\n\"We cannot keep this God under control forever, the south has got enough technological advancement to end this tomorrow.\" Continued the Commander.\n\n\"Enough, this fight is ours alone, we've already reached our Ming, if the governments of the world do not want to intervene we have no right to force this on them!\" Our leader responded, breaking the silence.\n\nHe continued, \"exposing a living Poseidon to the world and pairing it with the knowledge that we have... It would be devastating. I understand their decisions, I would do the same to protect our people from this horror.\" \n\nSo they sat in silence, trying to drink away the guilt of debt they owe to their people.", "Kim stood in silence, looking out over the dark, still city of Pyongyang. It was early in the morning, the sun had not yet broken through the thick black canvas of the sky and he was alone.\n\nThe city was usually not this quiet. In the day, you could hear the hustle and bustle of citizens going about their business. Engines from cars, blows of whistles from the traffic officers, the underground metro system - the city was alive in the day. The city was growing, expanding - Kim could see it happening. Something new opened; something exciting and unusual what seemed like every week. The people loved that. They adored it. It was a great rate of development and it added to the sprawling metropolis.\n\nBut right now the city was quiet.\n\nKim looked out across the urban expanse towards the mountains. He couldn't bare to hold his gaze in that direction for very long, as he knew all too well what the souls who lived beyond those mountains suffered day-in, day-out. He had to tell himself each day that the sacrifices of those people, the life they gave up, was not in vain. Famine and poverty was rife. Just 30 miles outside of Pyongyang and people were surviving on so little. His people. He looked down towards the street directly below the balcony he stood on and closed his eyes.\n\nEarlier that day, he had been told that they had starting moving again. They had been dormant for months. Months. Why were they mobilizing now? Kim did not know and frankly, he knew he may never know. He had no communication with them. He had tried, oh he had tried so many times, but each time he had lost people. Good people. There was a grave of North Korean sailors at the bottom of the sea, and Kim had sent them there. It was an attempt to avoid violence but mothers had lost their sons, wives their husbands and children their fathers. He had found the most intelligent minds in the known world and brought them to his country, giving them everything they needed and more to help find a solution but to no avail. Nobody knew what was stirring in the depths of the Korean Sea and nobody could find out. It was fine, a scientific phenomena, until the first boats were destroyed. And then more. And then there was the aircraft..\n\nThe only thing he could do to stem their advance, their attacks, was a defense.\n\nThe world media mocked him and his office. The missiles that launched from the east coast of his country and made their way into the deep, faceless ocean were jeered at and condemned as failures by Seoul. What the people of the world didn't know was that these efforts were the only thing standing between the South Korean people and absolute, total devastation. What the politicians of the world knew was that North Korea was the only thing defending the world against a threat that nobody understood.\n\nKim jumped as the phone in his pocket began to ring. He opened his eyes and dug the device out, touched the screen and held it to his ear. He greeted the president in English and assured him that he had not woken him, that he was already awake and he was happy to talk. He confirmed that they had began to move again and said it was fine to conference in Mr Kyo-ahn. The three men discussed the current tactical situation and confirmed the next action that would be taken. After 3-4 minutes the call was ended and Kim was returned to solitude and silence.\n\nThe following day, the DPRK would launch a test nuclear ICBM into the sea. It would be declared a success by North Korean media and a failure by the rest of the world. Kim would watch the launch from the shoreline and would follow the missile as it disappeared below the horizon. Every other politician in the Western world would see the launch as well from the United Kingdom to Spain, the United States, Australia and New Zealand. \n\nAnd they would silently thank him. They wouldn't make any statements, their government would make no press releases but in their thoughts, their dreams and in their most sacred of circles - Kim Jong-un would be hailed as a hero. A silent, solemn hero." ]	[ 1, 3, 4, 15, 90, 185 ]	[ "1458389064", "1458406113", "1458361047", "1458337692", "1458325293", "1458335123" ]
	[WP] Everyone has background music playing in their vicinity that reflects the mood of the person. The stronger the mood, the louder the music. A city somewhere has a backing track playing louder over all of the others, heard no matter where you go in the city.	1	[ "bzz bzz bzz\n\nI sloppily hit the snooze button on my alarm, but by then it was too late. I probably could have drifted back to sleep while the soft sound of I'm Only Sleeping floated through the room, but I had already used up my sick day last week, and I didn't want to be met with anymore Heavy Metal meetings with the boss. While I stumbled over dirty laundry to put on my work clothes, I stared out the window. The city spread as far as the horizon, but the beauty was indescribable these early mornings when the sun glimmered off of the skyscraper windows. It was the typical city scene: busy, overpopulated, and incessantly noisy.\n\nSlipping the tie around my collar, I stepped towards the window and cracked it open. I reached for my hearing aid on the desk and clipped it on to the magnetic port on my head. A smile crept along my face as I closed my eyes and meditated on the sounds I heard. It was one of my highlights of the day, to take a few minutes to hear the constant commotion outside. Everyone had a song to match how they felt throughout the day. Some days I'd sit and listen to may harmonious concertos blending into one another, as my neighbors would idly chat together as their music complimented the atmosphere. Other days it seemed the notes in the air were in battle with each other, producing cacophonous noise which inevitably set the neighborhood dogs into a barking frenzy. Until I was 5 years old, I had no idea that any of this went on. Imagine my surprise when I was fitted with my hearing aid for the first time and the rush of sounds hit my ears for the first time! I'll never forget the songs moving behind my parents at the time; a beautiful mix of Footloose and Walking on Sunshine, loudly leaking into the hallways.\n\nRecently though, there had been a soft undercurrent of somberness encroaching our neighborhood. I had heard a news report earlier in the week about it. Apparently there had been quite a few complaints on the outer skirts of Tolega, our city, of extremely loud music playing both day and night. The song was Mad World by Gary Jules It had gotten so bad that a few people even moved out, and now it was starting to spread into our neighborhood. A few authorities tried finding the source of the music, apparently, but it got to the point when even earplugs couldn't drown out the song. Last I heard they were going to send a drone out to the area.\n\nThe song only got louder as the weeks passed. Soon it encompassed the entire city, and several houses had been abandoned near the source of the music. \n\nWalking through the street, I noticed that many of the faces around me had changed from indifferent to solemn, and their own songs matched the ones playing far above our heads. My song, too, started to occasionally play to the sad melody.\n\nIt was Saturday morning when I had enough. I had just switched on my hearing aid to that song playing, in my room. I sat for several minutes before realizing it was being emitted from me.\n\n\"Enough is enough!\" I exclaimed, and hastily threw on jeans and a T shirt. I turned my aid off, and headed for the station.\n\nIt was a long trip. I stopped midway and got brunch at a cafe where all the workers were wearing the noise-cancelling earmuffs. I had been their only customer that day, and the rest of the town was just as deserted.\n\nWhen I got off my final stop, I turned my aid onto its lowest setting, and jumped from the volume spike. The next three hours were spent wandering around aimlessly from block to block, but eventually leading me to a part of town where I had to shut off the aid completely. I walked a few more blocks before stopping in my tracks. I felt my heart drop as I realized where the music was coming from. Blackwell Cemetery\n\nI entered the beautiful grounds and took my time walking through the paths. I caught my breath as I saw someone kneeling on the ground, their back facing me. Their back was slumped, and they weren't moving much. A large part of me just wanted to turn around, tell someone else and let them work it out. But I had come too far. And who knows who else had walked in my steps and thought the same thing?\n\nI now stood behind him. He was an old man, at the end of his life. There was a bouquet of flowers resting next to him on the ground, next to a gravestone.\n\nHere lies Elyn Boyer,\n\nLoving mother, grandmother, and wife.\n\nHeaven has gained an angel,\n\nwhile those on earth lost a most wonderful woman.\n\nI stood for a second more, before taking a seat next to him. He didn't acknowledge me except for a quick glance. I put my hand on his back, and he didn't remove it. I stayed with him there for hours.\n\nHis name was Edgar. He was deaf too. We signed to each other when it was getting late in the evening and he had to go back home, not to far from the cemetery. He said he appreciated the company, and offered to fix me a coffee at his house. I accepted.\n\nHis house was lovely, but it had obviously been a while since anyone had really 'lived' there. Dust was building up, and cobwebs were forming in the corner walls. We shared a cup of joe and 'talked' a bit about his grandchildren, what he used to do for work, things like that. No mention of Elyn.\n\nWhen the time had come to leave, I offered to come by the next day and clean the cobwebs for him. He seemed a bit embarrassed, but heartily accepted. And so became a pattern for the next couple of weeks. He shared with me a lot; photo albums of his life years ago, different brands of tea he had collected from traveling the world (a hobby he and his brother had shared as travel buddies), and eventually, his love for Elyn. There were many nights that I returned to my apartment and just wept, completely exhausted.\n\nEventually, though, the music died down, and people went back into that corner of the city. It was a mystery among news reports, what had happened.\n\nSince that period in my life, there has been less room for sad songs in my apartment. Today though, has been an exception.\n\nI received a letter that my friend Edgar had passed away and he was to be buried with his wife.\n\nAnd that song, Mad World, played again, just once. It circled the entire city to bid my friend goodbye.", "I heard the familiar blaring sound as soon as I awoke. It had been playing for months, all hours of the day, even when he was sleeping. It was the loudest B-Music in the city, and it drowned out everyone's close to it. Mine was a tune i could only describe as \"Annoyed\", which made sense given the circumstances.\n\nI sat up and sighed, the four pulsing beats ringing through my skull as I walked through my house. I poured myself some coffee, my B-Music getting louder but less agitated. As I sipped the coffee it mellowed, and though still louder than usual, was a softer melody than before.\n\nI got in my car and began to drive around the city. I had always loved going on a drive on my day off, and so even though I was stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, my B-Music became slower and slower, the soft dulcet tones ringing throughout my car, calming me even more.\n\nAs I neared the stadium I could hear his B-Music more clearly, and it began to drown mine out the closer I got. I parked in the parking lot and got a pair of earplugs from my car, putting them in before opening the door. The sound hit me like a physical wave, and the bass was so loud I could hear each trumpeting note in my chest. I couldn't hear my own B-Music any more.\n\nI strode into the building and walked to the main arena, and as I got closer to the origin of the sound my ears began to hurt with a very sharp pain. I struggled to stay standing, every pulse nearly knocking me to my feet. I took another step, and the music faded quickly. I kept walking, but the music kept fighting against me.\n\nI had gone deaf.\n\nI opened the only door separating me from him and as I did I was floored. I sat, letting the B-Music ravage my inner organs, the absurdly loud soundtrack vibrating my skull. I looked at the ceiling as my vision began to cloud. I only had a few moments to find him.\n\nTo end the madness.\n\nI stood and sprinted into the arena, the ring in my focus. I hopped up onto the mat and tried to stare him in the eyes, but I couldn't see him.\n\nI could feel each beat reverberate throughout my chest, and I could place where we were in the song just by the vibrations threatening to stop my heart.\n\nDun dun dun dun.\n\nDun dun dun dun.\n\nI can't see him.\n\nDun dun dun dun.\n\nI fall to my knees and my face hits the mat. I swear I almost hear an announcer's voice before I go under.\n\n/r/potatosalad" ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1458338178", "1458342578" ]
[[WP] An average Joe/lene gets a random superpower](http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Special:Random)	[WP] An average Joe/lene gets a random superpower	10	[ "\"Hey Bert\" \n\"Hello Geoff, come for the bins, or you knocked off for the day?\" \n\"Eh, the bins. But seeing as you're the last one on the list,\" Geoff flashed a grin \"I'll pour myself a pint whilst you go get them\". \n\"Abandon the bar to you? Never! I'll get my niece to do it. Hired her for the summer. Oi, Jenny!\" The door to the kitchen swung open, revealing a slightly sullen face, attached to a stubborn, sullen frame. \n\"What, Bert? I'm off the clock now, and going home\" \n\"Yes, but you were pissing about on your phone instead of serving Mr Daniels. He's eighty three and has had three hips; he doesn't need to be balancing a plate of food and a pint from the counter. So you get to bring out the bins. Now!\" \n\"Fine\" The door closed with a humph. Geoff's eyebrow raised towards the bar owner. \n\"I know, I know; favour to my sister. \"Needs a bit of discipline\" she said. \"Teach her control\" she sai...\" Three bags of rubbish materialised on the bar, along with a note and a hand that, amazingly, managed to look sullenly at the pair of them. \n\"There you go. Gone now\" read Bert as the hand vanished with a rude flourish. \n\"Never mind; we're all like that at some stage\". Geoff reached towards the bags; three flashes of red later, and he pocketed the marbles of rubbish. \n\"At least her powers are fairly broad spectrum. Able to find a role to fit easily. Spent ages myself till I fell into the bin collecting job\" \n\"Yeah, and no-one outside the town believes that compost heap is the entire town's rubbish dump\". A splash, and a glass of water sploshed onto the bar. \"What's it to be? Pint of Doombar?\" The glass liquid tinted to brown, and a froth appeared. \n\"Cheers. I always like coming to Cana's.\"", "\"Just on time, as usual Joe.\" \n\n\"I know boss, gotta keep the customers happy.\" I said, pulling my jacket off.\n\n\"Ah, here's our first table now,\" TJ mentioned as he handed me two empty glasses. I took the cups and lifted one to acknowledge him as I approached the couple who sat at a table near the door. \n\n\"Hey guys, welcome to taps, where we have any drink you crave on 'tap.'\" I looked from male to female, \"have we been here before?\" They both shook their heads in response; a grin slowly grew over my face, it was always fun to see people in for their first time. \"Well what can I get you guys to drink?\"\n\nThe woman spoke up first, \"Do you guys seriously have everything on tap?\" she asked. I nodded. \"I'll have a diet yoohoo, then.\"\n\n\"Yoohoo lite, coming right up,\" I lifted the glass to my chin and opened my mouth. \"Blargh,\" the Yoohoo lite shot out of my mouth filling the glass quickly and leaving just a slight bit of froth. \"For you sir?\" I asked as I sat the glass down for the lady.\n\nHe stared in disbelief for a second then responded with, \"Nothing, I'm good. Not thirsty, no thanks.\"", " Phil had just got off another day at work. He works at a gas station, and most days are pretty mundane. This day was no different except for the glowing meteor that landed in the break room and infected him with an ambience of pure energy. Now he could mind control people or whatever. He didn't care, work was work. He did, however, decide to test his powers on his employer the next day to try to get a raise. \n\n\"Hey, Eric, you got a minute?\"\n\n\"Yeah, what is it Phil? Make it quick, Iron Chef is on in 15 minutes.\"\n\n\"I want a raise.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and I want an employee who isn't a greedy bastard.\"\n\n\"You will give me a raise.\"\n\n\"You're right, you'll get double what you're getting now.\"\n\n\"You'll pay my rent for a year.\"\n\n\"I'll have the money transfered to you by tomorrow morning.\"\n\n\"You won't be such a dick to me.\"\n\n\"Hey Phil, I really like that shirt. Is it new?\"\n\nWow. Phil couldn't believe this actually worked. He was really surprised.\n\n\"Well fuck my ass!\"\n\nHe didn't use his powers again after that.\n\n " ]	[ 1, 3, 7 ]	[ "1458410242", "1458411075", "1458407511" ]
	[WP] Although the outside world is unaware, Death Row inmates are never actually put to death. Instead, their executions are faked, and in reality they are sent to...	21	[ "\"You're joking.\" Eli stood in his new uniform in the parking lot of his final destination. Beside him was his parole officer, if he could be called that, James. \n\nJames stood in his navy blue suit with an expression like metal on his face. This was not his first delivery. He was looking down at some of the pieces of trash strewn about the worn asphalt. In particular, a cigarette butt that had been stomped out not two feet from where Eli was standing. James knew it not to be Eli's, but he took pleasure in symbol. \n\n\"Not joking.\" James looked up from the cigarette on the ground and was met with a tired stare from the convict. Eli did not look amused. \"It wouldn't even be a funny joke.\" Jame's added, a quarter of a smile flashed onto his hardened face before being snapped down. \n\nIt was pitch black beyond the boundaries of the illuminated parking lot, and the two men were alone. This was after close, but this was when the training process always went down. James found it best that they be injected into the work force as smoothly as possible, and training in a live environment proved to be rather spontaneous for his liking. \n\nEli looked down at himself. He tugged at his maroon polo that didn't quite fit right and kicked out his legs to get a good look at his new black work pants. He took off his black hat, already uncomfortable from the freshly stitched edges digging into his head. He slowly flipped the hat around to face him, as if when it got all the way around he would wake up from this ridiculous dream. The parking lot light post shinned off of the white plastic of the name tag, illuminating the letters E-L-I written carefully in sharpie marker on the tag. Glancing to the left of the name tag, the label on the hat was clear as day. He almost couldn't believe it. Almost glistening in the light, green embroidered letters read \"Subway\". \n\nEli's heart sank as he read those letters. He was a stone cold killer, didn't give a crap about the law or anybody but him. Before he was caught he took down three officers while trying to escape with his stolen jewelry. Now, after skirting the death penalty, it had been handed back to him. He was given a position at a Subway Sandwich shop. Eli looked back from his attire to James, who was looking proudly at the Subway. \n\nThe subway sat in the middle of it's asphalt island. The letters on the top of the wall above the windows still illuminated, casting a yellow glow onto the concrete sidewalk in front of the store. Through the windows, the inside of the store was mostly black. The lights were off. But the menu boards still glowed an eerie white. James was pleased with his establishment. \n\nJames was a franchise owner, approached by a Texas State Penitentiary decades ago. Of course they couldn't kill the inmates, but how do you pacify these volatile people? The Penitentiary thought of no better way than to force them into a mind-numbing service job. After all, all the customers already treated the workers like they were half-wit convicts anyway. The program, aptly named \"The Texas State Pacification Program\" has proven itself to be more than capable of decommissioning deadly criminals. The convicts injected into the Subway Sandwich Shop workforce have been beaten down with years of customer abuse and repetitive labor that wears on the mind. Not to mention night shift employees, working alone in the store for hours on end, building strong mental shackles into the framework of their minds. The injected workforce has followed the track of a Sandwich Artist and has been promoted to Shift Supervisors, or even regular Supervisors in other stores, making as much as 9.75 an hour before tax. James, however, didn't believe this to be more than an urban legend started by the convict workforce.\n\n\"There's no way I'm working here.\" Eli crossed his arms. \n\n\"You can still take the bullet.\" James dryly responded.\n\n\"Honestly I'm not sure which is worse.\" \n\n\"Well you've got the rest of your life to find out.\" James extended his arm in front of him while looking at Eli, signalling to head for the door. Eli started for the door and with every step he could feel the vortex of the store sucking more of his rebellious spirit out of him. Just like a rabbit caught in a snare, he could run no more. This was his final destination. \n\nJames walked behind Eli towards the door, a ring of keys swinging around his finger. A second hint of a smile had crept it's way onto his face. This time he couldn't work it back down. \n\nEli opened the front door to the dark establishment and the heart-wrenching ding of the doorbell rung throughout the store. \n\n\"Welcome home.\" James said through his smirk. \"Let's begin your training.\"", " Jack walked into the cold, windowless, concrete room. This was it, he thought. He knew what he had done. All it took was a pistol and some deep-seeded hatred and just like that seven people were dead. He faced an electric chair that stood in front of him. A man in a black suit emerged from the shadows in the back of the room.\n\n\"Jack Witiker. Sentenced to Death Row on the account of manslaughter. Seven dead; weapon of murder: a pistol.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Jack said, \"I know what happened I was there, you know.\"\n\n\"Is this a joke to you?\"\n\n\"It doesn't matter what's a joke to me anymore. I'm about to be off this planet for good.\"\n\n\"I.. wouldn't be so sure.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You see, you killed seven civilians during an attempted bank robbery each from about 90 feet away. And each shot went straight into the brain. That's pretty impressive.\"\n\n\"Is this a joke?\"\n\n\"I thought jokes didn't matter to you.\"\n\n\"Just put me in the chair and flip the switch, I'm done with humanity.\"\n\n\"It's not that simple. You have a gift. You're a natural with a gun, and your hand-eye coordination is remarkable. We want you to join KM3, a secret service that works with and beneath the CIA. We operate in the shadows. You could join us if you choose to, and we can begin training.\"\n\n\"But I'm on death row.\"\n\n\"Oh please. We don't actually kill people here, we only send them here when they have a particular skill that our organization could utilize. Meaning you. We need more sharpshooters to carry out assassinations and other various mundane tasks. This is a once in a life time opportunity. We could turn you into a hero; turn your life in a complete 180. You could be a legend.\"\n\n\"This is amazing. Maybe I really can redeem myself as a good person. Are you serious?\"\n\n\"Nah I'm totally fucking with you i'm just the janitor the guard'll be in a little bit to kill you.\"\n" ]	[ 6, 21 ]	[ "1458412822", "1458417050" ]
	[WP] The sound of an ambulance usually means someone's day has just been ruined. Tell the story of an ambulance making someone's day.	29	[ "An ambulance arrived just in time to deliver my nephew in the bathroom of my sister's house. That was a pretty good day. The next day was better, when my daughter was born. Grandma and grandpa did a lot of driving that week.", "It's been 64 years. Sixty four long years and counting that I have played second fiddle. I've been neglected to the point of mockery - but, like every other substitute, I've been praying for my chance to come.\n\nMy chance finally arrived. And while I might be old and sickly, I'm hell-bent on grabbing it by the balls.\n\nI was awakened by the sound of the ambulances in the palace and a loud bang of hands on my door. I knew it has happened. I concealed my smile to the corner of my mouth before opening the door to hear them state the obvious. \"Your Majesty, Sir. Your Mother, The Queen, has just passed away\".\n\nThe whole of Britain would be in mourning. I would even shed a tear or two for the cameras to feed their appetite for humility. I would tell them how deeply we regret her demise and how much we'll miss her calm-headedness - but it would all be a lie because this is my chance and I'm not letting my sickly frame tell me otherwise.\n\n\nNB: It's my first time posting here. Couldn't help that my mind went here immediately I read the prompt. All characters herein depicted are fictional and I apologize if there are any semblances of them in reality. ☺ ", "I lost Sarah on a hiking trip two weeks ago. We had a search party looking for three days before we had to give it up. It has been utter hell since; family and friends giving me the same tired lines. \"I'm sorry.\" \"It must be so difficult.\" \"I'm here for you.\" I get it, okay?\n\nI had to go back to work to stop myself thinking of it and wallowing in self pity. So here I was, first day back and burying myself in work. I'd just finished dealing with Mrs. Cartwright when I heard an ambulance approach. The front doors burst open and a stretcher comes through...carrying Sarah. The EMTs stop as I stand dumbfounded in their way.\n\nHer eyes are open, and she gives me a weak smile.\n\nA tear wells in my eye and I smile right back. Everything is going to be okay again." ]	[ 1, 5, 13 ]	[ "1458442021", "1458459347", "1458442511" ]
	[WP] In a Dystopian world - before they execute you - the last of the writers on the planet for writing(which is illegal), they honor your last wish to write one last write-up that will not be destroyed, but will be preserved for others to see and read.	0	[ "There was a world before this. \n\nA world where the sky was clear and not brown.\nA world where there were towns and cities, and the buildings reached for the skies.\nA world where you could eat and drink as you please without worry.\n\nBut more importantly, a world of knowledge. We could write, and play, and sing, and dance. It does not matter where you are, who you are, or what you are.\n\nI may fall to it, but you can thrive on it: knowledge is what caused our downfall, and now you have the ability to stop that from happening again.\n", "Look around. \n\nThe world is a barren wasteland of hopelessness and nothingness. Dreams seem to fade into but a trace of thought, and words seem to be reduced to nothing but a combination of letters. \n\nI write this now to remind you that words and dreams are more than that. \n\nThey exile the right of the people to speak up about what they believe, on what they could do or on what they could change, in fear that they might spark the fire in the hearts of the people. \n\nIn fear that one day the people would see the world as it is and do something to make it better. \n\nIn fear that one day the people will come to their senses and exile the corrupt minds of those who fear the true power of pen and paper. \n\nCome that they keep to their promise, I ask, are you satisfied of living in this world? I am, or, more appropriately, was not. I dream of living in a world in which everyone works as a community in order to create a world that is for the better. I display this dream in this piece of paper which consists of a connection of letters which convey meaning, given those who read it can understand it. \n\nI ask of nothing much, but for you to do what they wish would not happen had they evicted the right of the people to convey their messages as words of inspirations to the people.\n\nThis world is not perfect, although I've spent my whole life believing it is.\n\nI was a fool. \n\nI ask of you,\nDo not follow my example.\n" ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1458547465", "1458569683" ]
	[WP] God is dying. Everybody else is hoping they got their name in the will.	8	[ "An excited mass of people stood as the Pope came out, a more than few men dressed well in suits by his side. I assumed, along with the rest of the people there, that he was a lawyer who was going to make it official. A large crowd of other clergymen came out. The crowd, beyond comprehension in actually counting stood and held their breathe collectively. Speaking of the crowd, it stretched on for miles. Miles and miles, with almost no end in sight. A scientist would later compare it to a teeming mass of insects. \n\nAfter a small pause in his gait, the pope spoke. \"I welcome you to this tremendous evening.. Tonight, I have received a message. God is telling us, all of us, a message.\" He was telling us information we already knew. Discord rippled through the crowd. Prior to the event, a large message had appeared in the stars. The astrophysicist who had noticed them while star gazing noted they were not there a few weeks prior. He raised his hands and the crowds settled. Believers, both new and old waited. \"God has communicated, to me exclusively, His will. We now know what will be given to us. If the message is to be believed, which I do believe.\" Some of the humans in the crowd groaned. The trip was a waste of time. The crowd's anger rippled through the crowd, as the packed people.. Well, they started to move. Pushing led to shoves. Shoves led to punching. Punching led to killing. Before more than a few drops of blood glistened on the ground, a new message, one more clear and apparent to us, appeared in the sky. Stars churned and shifted. It read, as many billions read it then,'Calm, my children. Your inheritance will be great. I have looked into your hearts and looked for my final gift unto you.' At this, hymns and prayers broke out. Those who had punched and shoved helped their opponents up. Even the Pope started to pray, offering his hands to the lawyers at his side. They accepted. A woman and a man on my right and left, respectively, took my hands. We begun to take part, swaying.\n\nThe night the Pope announced what we were to be given was a tremendous one. Parties were in the street. We had no idea what we were to be given, but it was supposed to be grand, as many thought. As it was, I did not go out that night. I stayed at home. I locked the door. I pulled the blinds on the window. I simply sat down, prayed once, and read. What came after this, whatever did, if our dreams were fulfilled, then.. We'd have to carve out whatever we wanted after that. Human wants never end. I accepted that.", "Vultures are dirty. If you've ever been on the side of a road, and seen a vulture, you can suddenly feel the dust under your nails and the dead skin falling off you and the mess of your hair all at once. I could feel the dirt on my elbows now and it wasn't pleasant.\n\nWell, I wanted to get myself nice and clean so I went out to New Mexico and found the dirtiest piece of desert and rolled around in it for a bit. It helped, a little.\n\nI should clarify about the vultures.\n\nAbout a month ago, I was in a convenience store in central Texas, across the way from one of those crippled churches with a massive digital billboard praising Jesus. I bought a Sprite. I don't like Sprite, but sometimes I get in a weird mood, philosophical and inspired to despair, and Sprite kinda helps.\n\nThere was an old CRT hanging above the counter, and a Fox News anchor, and on low volume she was reading out the headline:\n\nGod diagnosed with cancer.\n\nThe clerk rolled his eyes at me, then stared down his nose in a silent request for my hasty disappearance.\n\nOutside--it was unusually cloudy this summer--I watched as, across the highway, hundreds of people flocked to the derelict steeple, bearing crosses on their necks and shoulders and feet and probably sewed into their underpants, too. As I watched, a man bumped into me. It was a group of newly-converted Jews.\n\nOnly one month before that, God had called down his existence to us, and surprisingly, nothing happened. No, I mean it. You'd expect fire and brimstone. Nope: it was pretty quiet. There was an influx of Christians, Muslims, and Jews, but most people just kept on living.\n\nThen, a week ago, He parted the clouds and told us all that He was dying. So much for the omnipotence. Come all ye mighty, and fight for my inheritance. Somewhere, Netanyahu was chuckling.\n\nSo anyway, I drank my Sprite, filled up the tank, and drove to New Mexico. There was a nasty feeling to it all and I didn't want to watch as all of those people vied for God's favor. I didn't want any inheritance; that sounded like work.\n\nI'd filled up the trunk with Shiner, and I popped one open. At some point I realized the ground gets hot in New Mexico, and I sat on my tailgate. It was still cloudy. The sky was always grey, these days. I wondered if that's what being a Brit felt like.\n\n\"Not feeling pious?\" a voice called out. I looked up; a few rays of sun beamed out from the clouds, and the grey began to break up into blue. I took another swig.\n\n\"Hard to have faith in something undeniable, I guess,\" I answered. God chuckled.\n\n\"Throw Me one,\" the Deity said. I spent a moment figuring out how that worked, then chucked a cold one at the sky.\n\nIt fell back to the ground in an unceremonious splatter. Yahweh was uproarious with laughter.\n\n\"Always wanted to try that one,\" He said.\n\n\"There's more if You come down.\"\n\n\"Don't mind if I do.\"\n\n\"Where's the gang?\" I asked, as a be-toga-ed, Middle-Eastern man hopped up beside me.\n\n\"Who, Moses? He's no fun. Yelling a lot at the followers. Muhammad's swamped with half the world and Jesus with the other.\"\n\nI clinked bottles with Him.\n\n\"Why aren't You working, then?\" I asked.\n\nHe shot me a glare.\n\n\"What's the point of sanctifying these guys if I don't get to sit back with a beer now and then?\"\n\nThen He started laughing again. The sun was sinking on the horizon, now. We sat and sipped and watched it dip.\n\n\"This isn't some fancy, spiritual moment where I share a beer with You and You give me Israel, is it?\" I asked, after a while.\n\n\"Nah,\" he said. \"This is just the sunset. Throw me another.\"" ]	[ 2, 5 ]	[ "1458586994", "1458588451" ]
	[WP] You are randomly selected to take a series of tests in order to save the human race. But when you are given the final test, you refuse to complete it.	5	[ "An ominous hum encompassed the small yet warmly lit room. A holographic screen displayed symbols unfamiliar to most humans.\n\n\"I just won't.\"\n\nA scoff sharply replied from the levitating orb encased by its untouched metal. \"What could you possibly mean? You are one question away. Your own life, your own race - you 'just won't'? \"\n\n\"That is correct.\"\n\nEven without an eyelid, you could have sworn the adjudicator blinked in surprise. Floating aimlessly around the room, he produced a question, \"Would you like to tell me why?\"\n\n\"Is this part of the test?\"\n\n\"You know it is.\"\n\n\"We weren't meant to pass a test. We weren't designed to meet a quota, no one is. No form of life.\"\n\n\"Our consequence of failure is death.\"\n\n\"That isn't the point.\"\n\nThe orb made his way to the screen to observe the symbols himself. It must have been thousands of years since he took time to acknowledge any of these questions. \"Explain more, child.\"\n\n\"There is no explanation!\" I began yelling, fatigued by the hours of testing. \"I refuse to answer. It is a question I can, but will not answer.\"\n\nPondering on the young species' thoughts, the adjudicator sent commands for the door to open. A soft light glowed, indicating the rite of passage. \"I am required to allow your kind to live.\"\n\nAnd then perhaps the only genuine words from the machine, \"I fear for what it is you bring.\"\n\nI promptly made for the exit and shuddered thinking about the question, baffled at what any other person might attempt for an answer. Knowing there was no right answer.\n\nQuestion 2771) Does your species deserve to live?\n\nEdit: formatting.\n\n", "\"Just fucking do it!\", screamed the Lieutenant.\n\nUp until this point I passed every test, no problem. This made me sick though. I'm supposed to save humanity, but they want me to throw my own humanity aside to do so.\n\nI passed every psychological test, every physical, every single damn emotional test just to make sure that I was stable. I gave up my dream of being a doctor for this! The one thing I wanted to be since I saw how much effort doctors put into helping people.\n\nOnce they finally decided that I was perfectly fine, they began challenging my own ideals. They decided, that the only way for me to save everybody was for me to throw away my own idea of what was good or bad. They made me believe that the end justified the means.\n\nI am not proud of who I have become. The only reason I agreed to do what I've done is to save everybody. I sacrificed who I am to save everybody else. As Spock said, \"Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.\"\n\nNow though, I don't care. I have no needs anymore, I'm not even a damn person. The only reason I still walk is because they make me do so. I am sure that they will no longer make me walk soon though, and instead of fearing it, I eagerly await it.\n\nI refused to kill my family. They tried to relinquish the last thing that I held onto, and I can gladly say I refused. When I held the gun to my mother's crying face, I refused. I finally said no.\n\nI am sorry, I have held onto my own humanity, but doomed the rest of it." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1458609797", "1458614175" ]
	[WP] When songs and poems are written, they are imbued with the tangible emotions that the authors experienced while writing, that the readers feel, though they fade with time. As an archaeologist, you come across an ancient verse that makes you shudder.	5	[ "Here is truth. We gave our future away, with no chance to redeem. As when the Gods arrived, on behalf our father spoke. They saw him as the father of all tribes, and offered all the knowledge that they had, in scribe untouched by hand. An offer to join a larger family and to never have to need. No! Our father said. This shall not be. My children and my children's children will have need! The promise of another family when I am father to this one here! As you leave and sail your ship to whatever groundless place you come from, remember that no future family can be sought by scribe on stone or wisdom that cannot be dealt. Our kindly father said all this in no uncertain terms, and now I sit here hungry writing this in stone.\n\nRichard stared at his translation, his neck starting to prickle as it started to dawn on him. His son will never move out.\n\n\n\n\nI have never written anything in my life so be as rough as you like.\n", "The modern man's western culture had fallen into a pit of ciclical popular music which would use refrains and melodies from past \"hits\", repackage those elements and sell it as new to an unexpecting youth. From the basic themes of sexuality and broken social ties, a song found in a time capsule from the twenty-first century prompted an inkling of an ice cube rolling down my spine as I read, \"baby, baby oooh/ I thought you'd always be mine (mine)\". What had the homo sapiens sapiens done to itself? This was one of the beginnings to the Great Fall." ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1458749926", "1458754831" ]
Not sure of the phrase I'm looking for but something that's either depending on the readers interpretation.	[WP] A children's story or rhyme that could be read as light and playful or dark and creepy.	25	[ "There was once a penguin named Penguin, \n\nWho dreamed of soaring the skies. \n\nHe constantly flapped his flippers, but no matter how much he did,\n\nHe still couldn't soar the skies. \n\nBut then one day, an idea struck him,\n\nSo marvelous, he thought, that it couldn't possibly fail. \n\nSo there Penguin was, perched on the highest cliff, \n\nGetting ready to soar the skies. \n\nDown below, the waters smashed against the crags. \n\nBut that didn't scare Penguin, though, \n\nAs this time, he knows he can soar the skies. \n\nSo there he goes, dropped like a rock, \n\nInto the monstrous waters below. \n\nBut then, a miracle happen! \n\nHe's soaring the skies! \n\nHe couldn't believe it! \n\nHe flapped his flippers to give him a boost, \n\nAnd there he goes, \n\nPlaying with his newfound ability. \n\nThe next day he woke, all battered up.\n\nBut that didn't stop him.\n\nHe took his medicine and took a running start. \n\nOnce again he soared the skies! \n\nThe moral of the story, kids: always take your medicine. \n", "It’s time for laughter, bunnies, toffee, \n\n\nWiping tears, and smelling coffee\n\n\nThings are better, wondrous, happy\n\n\nGone now is the strenuous laughing \n\n\nAnd here lies the iron bow\n\n\nUsed by those, forever low’d \n\n\nExtinguish all the frowning sorrow\n\n\nIt’s left to pass, it’s left to swallow \n\n\nPull back the arrow, ready the spit\n\n\nSend away those who cannot forget \n\n\nWhen things were worse, its better now\n\n\nYou must always smile, you mustn’t frown \n", "From your bed you watch the door \none room down your father snores. \nWait just long enough to see \nsomething move, it's not mummy. \nOnce a year he walks on past \nslow he goes, never fast. \nYou know for sure you've been good this year, \nso for your door you do not fear. \nThe sound of jingling bells goes by \nthe rattling noise and following flies \nOne more year begins tonight \nof being good so when the light \nby your door it does go dim \nyou have nothing to fear of him \ninstead you close your eyes to hear \nyour clock at bedside close and near \nyou fall asleep as it does tick \ngone already is St. Nick ", "The friendly man is back in town. \n\nAre you ready to have fun? \n\nThe parents don't like when he comes 'round, \n\n'cause away from home, kids run.\n\nBig horses pull his giant cart\n\nSome say is full of gold.\n\nSome think instead it's full of treats,\n\nAt least that's what they're told.\n\nIf he gives you a wink and a tap on the nose,\n\nHe'll let you look inside.\n\nYou're the lucky one he chose!\n\nGet in the cart!\n\nGo for a ride!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 3, 3, 22 ]	[ "1458755933", "1458752085", "1458764260", "1458754331" ]
	[WP] take your average day to day routines and write them as though they are the most epic adventure ever written!	20	[ "My job is never done. \n\nA shrill cry snapped me out of a dream-like daze. My heart pounding furiously, a wave of emotions caused my eyes to swell. Fear. Fear like I'd never experienced. In all my years, I never feared for someone else's life, for it was always out of my control. But now, it was all up to me. My willpower, my devotion, my strength, it all determined whether this life would continue on, or die in an instant. \n\nDeath may be strong, but the love of a mother is stronger. \n\nReleasing myself of the warm shelter I used to cover myself in, I found my legs weak and limp. \"Get up.\" I commanded myself, demanded of myself, to rise. And so it was. Finding my footing on soft flooring, it was only a matter of time before my strength would subside and I would collapse once more. Here in the darkness, my sore eyes could not see beyond the scope of my hand before my face. Without a pair of glasses to aid me, I navigated towards the screams purely by memory alone. \n\nAnd yet, it was not enough. Death mocked me as my weak footing met the sharp daggers of ice on the tiled ground. I lost my footing, jabbing my toe into the corner of the door frame. It was a wound I suffered many a time, nonetheless it struck pain up my spine and caused my mouth to cringe. But my pain was nothing compared to her's. \n\nLike a pathetic drunkard stumbling into the streets, I made my way to the chamber of innocence, not far from my own. The crying, it somehow brought my mind and body in order, even in my tired state. I could see only darkness, but then the light came when she turned to me. A light emitting from the corner outlet of her room showed shadows of stars on the ceiling. She gazed upon them and me: her warrior. \n\nMy arms were firm, embracing the bundle of frail innocence, and hoisting her to my chest. Her tears ran down my night gown and tickled my legs, but I would not laugh as not to offend her. The life of only four months repelled Death and welcomed me. Her cries for help were replaced in soothing snores as I sung the song passed down from generations. After a ballad of twinkling stars and curious wonderment, Death slunk into the darkness and the innocent life was saved. \n\nHer crib welcomed her back in the sunken spot where her body laid most comfortably. Light was already beginning to shine through her window and greet the both of us together. It was time for a celebratory feast. \n\nWith the man of the house gone on his raiding quest to acquire loot to keep the home going, it was up to the warrior of the home to provide. \n\n---------\n\nThe chilled hen eggs, the sloshing milk, the roaring oven, a pan lathered in grease, it all awaited me. But it was not a warm welcome, oh no it never was. \n\nA vicious beating the eggs received this morning, with me dousing their wounds with salt before frying their insides on an awaiting skillet. The milk refused my gestures, perhaps it was my weak hand or my tired blind eyes, but it managed to slip away and douse my feet instead. Quick to anger, I found myself letting out a curse to the heavens and pleading with the devil himself to \"cut me a break\" as it were. \n\nAdorning my glasses, the world was clear now, vigilant, and ready to be conquered once more. This time, breakfast was no match for me. \n\nThe meal was set, the man of the fort returned and spoke long tales of battle in the cruel outside world. The roaring of mechanical monsters all through the night left his head pounding. The idiotic laughter of his fellow raid members drove him to insanity. But once home, he was not the leader of the raid, he was not the boss screaming out orders. He was under the loving care of the warrior. \n\nWith a kiss to his forehead, I sent him to rest, but not before allowing him to stop and bask in the glow of the innocent life he helped bring into this world participating in her games. He held my waist and watched her chew viciously on stuffed animals, laughing at how one day her innocent life would be that of a warrior like myself. I was in no rush for that. \n\n---------\n\nOur fort was kept safe and secure by the warrior of the house. Filth was banished to the bin. Discarded and soiled clothing was tossed in their baskets for further cleaning. It could not be avoided, working the complex machine of washing. I despised it, less so than participating in the public cleaning down the street, but as the days went on we grew to compromise. The roaring and sloshing sounds it made I grew to simply tune out. However the act of stubbing my tired feet on its corners was growing ever more annoying. \n\n-----------\n\nHer cries again. \"What now?\" My book was placed face down, the calling of a warrior was now answered. From the hall I followed the sound, the very familiar sound of the innocent life. Death followed me, whispering in my ear, \"She's sick. It's your fault she's crying. You're unfit to guard her. What if she has fallen? Broken a leg? Who will they blame? You! You are to blame!\"\n\nThese fears, these horrible fears, clouded my judgement. I found myself panicking, not thinking clearly, as I approached the crib keeping her safe at play. Her tear filled eyes gazed up to me, holding tightly to the corner of cloth from her blanket. Before I could ask, and before Death could fill my head with more concerns, she released a sound of relief and joy to me. \n\n\"Did you poop?\" I questioned as the redness in her face returned to a soft lively pink. Constipation, of course, but before I could gloat to Death he was already gone, as if he'd never been there to begin with. With a held breath and puffed cheeks, I took the rather ripe innocent life to the changing station to be relieved of her dooty.\n\n----------\n\nBetween the piling chores and filthy diaper changes, time was moving ever so constantly. No matter how much I pleaded with the gods above for a few extra minutes of shower time, of reading time, of sleep, time continued without hesitation. The man of the house was awake at night, a leader of the night owl raiders who ruled the graveyard shift, holding his hand out for his caffeinated beverage. \n\nPiping hot as always, I held out an insulated thermos of heated caffeine with a packed sack of lunch befitting such a powerful raider. His heavy footsteps grew quiet when approaching the room of innocence. A soft kiss was placed upon the sleeping one's head and then one on my own. \n\n\"See you in the morning.\" He said, as he always did, followed by a heartfelt, \"Love you.\" In return I would lock the fort and assure protection of our innocent one while he was away. \n\nThe sirens sang their lullaby and pulled me into the cool ocean of my sleeping chambers. It was dark, and now blinded with my glasses resting on my nightstand, I shut my tired eyes closed. \n\nFor a moment, perhaps an hour, life was peaceful at the fort. \n\nAnd just like that, her crying began again. Death waited at the side of my bed, whispering my greatest fears and self doubts as I yanked myself out of bed once more. \n\nAs my warrior mother had always said to me:\n\nA mother's job is never done. \n\n-----\n\nCan read more of my stories located at /r/StoriesOfShortNature if you would like to. Feel free to comment on them as well :)", "The moment has arrived. And though I've done it a thousand times before, I know deep within my soul, that today is going to be something to tell the grandchildren about. \nI begin my trek. With tremendous effort and an unshakeable resolve, I hurl my body towards the edge of the bed. Every sinew, every muscle straining, still sore from my shift in the ER the night before. Sweat dampens my brow, but I shall not be deterred. \nI now stand at the doorway of my darkened bedroom, and peer uneasily down the hallway. Golden sunlight crosses the length of the hallway in broken rays. The carpet still damp beneath my bare feet from a much needed shampooing yesterday. It feels clean and crisp. It feels like freedom. \nI breathe in the morning air, my lungs burning from the pack of cigarettes I chowed down during the ER hellshift. Childs play compared to the task at hand. I chuckle. \nSuddenly, there is a motion at the end of the hallway. I quietly, stealthily, retreat ever so slightly into the concealing shadows of my bed lair. I must be careful. I must be quiet. Else all will be ruined.\nBut alas, I have been seen.\nThe first of the hellbeasts peeks around the corner. 23 lbs of lean, mean, Miniature Schnauzer, beggin strips eating machine stares at me for the slightest of seconds, before the realization hits us both. As he stares at me I know that he knows that I am awake. \nHis thunderous bark echoes throughout the once calm domicile, and then the race is on. His shouts of warning will have no doubt aroused the other three sleeping monsters, and my window of opportunity is rapidly slipping away.\nI propel myself into the hall! There is no turning back now, I must make haste!\nAs I race down the hallway, narrowly avoiding the landmines of squeaky toys and chewed up socks, the second of the hellbeasts lurches for me from another doorway! The sneaky bastard thinks he has me. But not today. This one, bigger than the last, 56 pounds of Siberian Husky madness, is headed straight for me. But at the last moment, I leap into the air, far above his wagging bush tail, and his loud howls and lolling tongue disappear behind me.\nI laugh. Loud and triumphant for all to hear! But my victory is short lived. \nAs I round the perilous corner of the kitchen, I am halted by the vicious American Short Hair Tabby, lazily sharpening his claws on the kitchen table. His terrifying tiger purr echoes through my very soul. I have only seconds to make it to the pantry before he paralyzes me with his lovey kitty head butt. I immediately change my approach. I drop my gaze to the floor, and skirt quickly, but quietly around the table. Everyone knows you cannot make eye contact or they may pounce.\nFinally, I see my goal in sight. The blessed pantry door. And beyond that? The sacred kibble. I have won. I am almost there. There will be no spilling of the kibble today foul beasts! No violent tongue lashing of mom today!\nAnd then it happens. I was a fool to have forgotten that one beast yet remained. \nAnd just like that she appears. My nemesis. My siren. Emma.\nShe makes no move to attack me. No. She is too wise for that. She employs much more sinister traps.\nTwo pounds of curly black teacup poodle cuteness stand between me and my goal. And like that I am lost in her precious begging eyes and her teensy poodle baby bark. And though I struggle to free myself from her gaze, I know that she has won.\nThe beasts fall upon me and I struggle to free myself from the excessive tail wagging, licking, and barking. \nAs I struggle to pour the kibble, stumbling over fur and paws, and jumping, and barking, I vow that tomorrow, yes tomorrow, I will succeed.", "The day begins with me opening my eyes. I hear a voice calling and smell the smell of a delicious smell. But before I can go see what this miraculous smell I must defeat the most dangerous challenge of all, climbing down the stairs of my bed to the floor!\n I take one step down to the ladder feeling it's rough exterior. I take another step making sure not to slip because if I do I would plummet to a horrifying demise of death and despair on the floor of my room. As I reach the floor I am filled with accomplishment and happiness. \nFinished with concurring the enemy I quickly race to the smell assuming it's food so the pigs in the home I stay in don't eat it first. I look at the food as the delicious miraculous chocolate chip waffles are served to me by my mother. My mouth is watering at the sight of this delicacy. I dig in and I am immediately given a taste sensation that is beyond comprehension. \nFinished with my meal I get my clothes on and get in my black, slick, and very quick mobile device known as a car and wait for my mother to drive me to my learning area. I battle with the tiny monster known as my little sister while my mom tries to keep us on the road but eventually the battle comes to a close and I get to the car area of my school.\nI meet my companions and talk about very serious subjects such as Politics, Crime and the Bee Movie. As breakfast winds down I make a couple more bee puns and then walk to the Science Class. \nSmack Dap in front of me is thrown a test. My eyes widen and see 20 questions. Fiercely I begin circling the correct letters as my brain becomes a machine. I turn in the test right before a line for the turn in area starts and my grade is a ... a ... C! \nThe bell rings and I am not happy but not disappointing. I walk to civics and here discussions on America. I think back on Merica and think of how awesome we are. Then I hear that we need to build a wall. Trump is mentioned then Hilary as I am bombarded by politics until the time block is over.\nBeing tired of the day I walk slowly towards the Chorus Room. We warm up as our voices get lower and lower. In the corner there are two guys sitting picking their noses and I wonder to myself why they even joined the class. For some reason with a very fearful and stern look the tall man walks out the door and no one cares for some reason. Then I hear the bell minutes later.\nWalking to lunch I hear conversations and I pass by someone picking a fight with someone else. The fight looks intense but I need lunch. I ditch the battle heading towards my lunch table where I talk about The Bee Movie with my friends until I go get lunch. I taste the sandwich given to me then cough it out. It was POISON! I choke but no answer but eventually I survive.\nAs I walk to math I cry on the insides thinking about the demonic treacherous hell that math is as I walk in approached by a demon of a math problem. I stare at the demon and take out my sword (pencil). But as I pull out my sword it has been snapped in half. I walk up to my teacher needing help to vanquish this demon and my life is saved when I am given duck tape. I draw my blade and take stabs but it is ineffective. I can not overcome this horrifying demon. Defeated I am forced to endure Hell as I am explained how to properly kill these demons.\nAs the class finally ends I have a sigh of relief, that is until I realize today is Sex Ed. Whimpering in my boots I walk in the room I would normally have physical education and I see a nurse. As class begins words start getting thrown out that make everyone laugh that is until the true evil of this world is released. Immediately everyone goes blind as they show pictures of the lower half of the male body. 4 Men were sent home sick, 1 Man was sent to the principles for laughing and 23 students were scared for life.\nI walk to the angel of the bunch otherwise known as Language Arts. My life is spared by my teacher and everything goes easy fun and nice. Until the bell rings that is.\nI immediately rush out trying to beat the stampede of middle school students but alas I am trampled and I slowly try to walk to the crossing guard at the outside of the school. I begin my 1 and a half mile walk home in silence no sounds. I walk alone then I hear a rustle in the bushes. There it is again. Then bam! Nothing happens. I finally get home after a half hour of agony and plop myself on the couch.\nI watch YouTube, look through websites and play The Binding Of Isaac Rebirth until I take a small break from the gateway of this virtual world and It is 10 PM. I walk to my room after grabbing an edible peace of food from my fridge and climb up the treacherous stairs to my bed and go to sleep waiting for the next day." ]	[ 1, 2, 3 ]	[ "1458785030", "1458785096", "1458782241" ]
	[WP] The world you live in is in black and white... Until you meet your soulmate, and everything gradually begins to gain color.	11	[ "I fall in love hard and fast. A small smile from a stranger, a door being opened, a little love heart written above my name on my coffee order. I read stories of magnificent 'colour'. Of flowers not only being loved for the smells or the shapes or the texture but for the tones they lovingly share with us. I read of 'sunsets' and 'sunrises', a sky that changes day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Each moment that I fall in love with a stranger from a quick glance or our fingers brushing past gently, I wonder if this will be it? Will my dark, two-toned existence finally, be at an end? \nI see laughter in people that MUST be seeing this 'colour'. Something is different about them. 'A polite society does not talk about it'. We are told to not talk about it from the moment we learn of the possibility of a change in how we see. Whispers in the school yard spoke of magic potions, journeys to sacred mountains and dragon slayings. To us as children, it was only a story along with Cinderella and The a Three Little Pigs. I asked my mum one day if she had the change, 'a polite society does not talk about it.' I only learned about the soulmate connection by reading the books 'we are not to speak of'. Regular burnings of the books are a source of pride for our society. We must keep being polite. \nLooking down at my coffee cup, a little heart drawn above the 'i' of my name, I push the gate open to my house and hear it clink shut. Walking over to the poinciana tree I sit. My favourite place. Running my fingers through the flowers growing in through the grass, I look up. A skinny, dirty, ancient looking dog is pushing at the iron barred gate I just closed. We lock eyes. Looking down again at the flowers, I can only describe a blurriness forming. I rub my eyes, the flowers are becoming less 'Gray', I look up at the morning sun, it is becoming the same colour as the flowers, but different to the grass. I want to yell to my mum or to anyone! But we must be polite. \n\n* This is my very first time!*", "\"Evolution is a lie! Only GOD is responsible for humanity! You know!\"\n\nEllis looked down at his notes and made a small tick next to the countless others, then looked back up at Mr. Dawson. If he stared hard enough, maybe it would make the class go by faster.\n\n\"Now, class, I know there's been some incidents in the news from LA lately -\"\n\nTommy kicked Ellis's chair. \n\n\"- And, you know, it's important we understand what's going on. After that whole debacle with Zimmerman -\"\n\nAnother tick. Tommy kicked Ellis's chair again. Ellis ignored him.\n\n\"- I want all of you to remember the Lord's teachings.\"\n\nA bell rang in the hallway. It sounded almost exactly like a high school bell would, just like it does in the movies. Except, not really. It was too high-pitched.\n\nMr. Dawson continued shouting Bible verses as the room erupted into a loud scramble. Ellis turned to Tommy with a grin on his face. \"What'd you get? If you didn't fall asleep in class, maybe we could get an accurate average for once.\"\n\nTommy showed Ellis his notes, where a scrawly \"57\" was circled at the top. Fist bumps and cheers ensued between the pair. Boys filing out of the room chuckled; the girls shook their heads and tutted. \n\n\"C'mon, you two,\" said one of the primly dressed girls. \"Let's get to history. I just want this day without any of your trouble before the purity ball.\" Her friends nodded in agreement, smoothing their clothes after sitting for so long.\n\n\"Aww, Jenny,\" Ellis stuck his bottom lip out. \"We were just passing the time. Are you still coming to the meeting on Friday?\"\n\nAnother girl chimed in as the group began battling their way through the crowded halls. \"You mean for the mission in Africa?\" \n\n\"Yeah. Tommy and I were planning on signing up. Right, man?\" Ellis elbowed Tommy in the ribs, who manages to cough out a noise of agreement. \"Gotta spread the word and all that. And maybe meet some hot chicks along the way.\"\n\nJenny gave Ellis the side-eye as she squeezed past a group of jocks discussing the football game. \"Do you take anything seriously? We're trying to help those poor impoverished people! This is serious stuff, not everyone has been blessed with the knowledge of God's word.\" \n\nTommy spoke up. \"He's just playing. We'll be there and be good.\"\n\nJenny huffed and sauntered off to a seat at the front of the classroom. As the boys sat in the back, Ellis muttered to Tommy, \"Dude, you're so boring.\"\n\n\"Dude*, life is boring. I'm just trying to get in with the best candidate for my wife in this town. Maybe you should start doing the same.\"\n\nEllis rolled his eyes. \"Isn't there more to life than that?\"\n\nA knock came to the classroom door, where the principal peeked in. Their history teacher stopped shuffling her notes and waved the principal in. \"Class, we have an important announcement today.\"\n\nThe pudgy, slightly red and sweaty principal waddled into the room. The principal always had some event to push on them about upcoming church events. Ellis fidgeted with a pencil. He heard enough of this stuff at home.\n\nThe principal took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his pants. \"Good morning, folks. We've got a new student today -\"\n\nIn walked: Her.\n\n\"- She's a foreign exchange student from Lebanon -\"\n\nEllis's pencil dropped to the floor.\n\n\"- And she'll be staying with us until this year's end.\"\n\nThe room was quiet as the students evaluated her, suddenly aware of their whiteness. She proudly looked forward, unfazed and prepared for the whispers that would inevitably follow. Her eyes eventually met Ellis's.\n\nAnd everything changed." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1458815937", "1458819681" ]
	[WP] A boy stands in front of a mirror. Monologue it.	3	[ "I hate mirrors. Its ok if I'm cleaning my teeth or something, I can just look at my teeth then. But when I have to look at myself in the mirror, or god forbid when I come across one unexpectedly and see myself unposed... Jesus. Nothing kills my good mood quite like seeing myself.\n\nShop windows are the worst. Here I am, walking along, going about my day when all of a sudden I see fucking Igor staring back at me, with a stupid face a chubby cheeks and crappy posture and ugly gut. I've actually gone from feeling good and confident to going straight home from one of these once. I had to train myself to ignore windows, look the other way instead. No one really gets it when I try to explain anyway, so ignoring it is the best. What's the phrase, \"conceal, don't feel?\"\n\nUntil... until Snapchat. You'd think Snapchat would be worse. You ALWAYS turn it on when you're looking down, the wide angle lens doesn't portray your features right... and yet, Snapchat is the reason I'm ok with looking at myself now. Somehow, taking stupid selfies and putting stupid filters on them made me ok with looking at myself, and made me think that, really, I'm normal.\n\nSo as much as I still hate mirrors (especially surprise reflective surfaces), now I can stand in one and hate myself a little bit less. All thanks to a stupid app designed for sexting.", "I stood there, stripped to my very being. Looking at my face, I followed the natural curve of my lips, slightly tweaked at the edges. How could the most expressive part of my body create the exact opposite of how I was actually feeling? No matter how long a person looked at me, they would never understand the suffering inside. The absolute war I fought inside myself just to get out of bed everyday. To approach a schoolyard where I consciously knew pain was in store for me. To allow myself to dream of a future that would never be. To be around a group of people, to smile, and for them to never know. To never care. To feel so out of place, knowing that the spirit that you had would be whipped out of you when you returned to what they called home. Picture day was tomorrow. Maybe then they would see the standstill, moment of history, caught in my eyes. Maybe then they would see. Smile, for me, won't you? Dammit, smile. Smile so big that they can see. See me. See me. SEE ME!" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1458864948", "1458864514" ]
	[WP] Why is six afraid of seven?	20	[ "As they touched down on the halfway crumbled landing pad outside, I vaulted the empty window frame and sprinted toward them. \"Go, go, go!\" I yelled, \"nobody else is coming, and we're not safe waiting here!\"\n\nTwenty four minutes and two seconds later, I'm seated in front of Zero for questioning. \"What happened to the other agents back there? Three other agents went in with you, Seven, Eight, and Nine,\" he asked, staring into my eyes with suspicion strong enough to make me believe he'd kill me if I lied, which he likely would.\n\n\"...Seven lost his mind.\" I replied quietly.\n\n\"Seven did what, exactly?\" He questioned me further, ignoring my discomfort.\n\n\"He... he tried to shoot himself at first, and he was bleeding a lot, but when Eight and Nine got to him first, trying to help, he stood up faster than I thought possible and grabbed them by the throats...\" I trailed off, trying to make it obvious that the situation got no better, and that I wanted to forget it all.\n\nBut, of course Zero persisted. \"What. Happened. Next?\" He asked, grinding his teeth slightly.\n\n\"He slammed them both into a wall. He pinned Nine to it with his right elbow as he released Eight and shot him three times in the head as he tried to run. He turned to look for me before giving up, I guess he found the other two to be bigger threats. I was watching from the broken ceiling tiles.\"\n\n\"How... Eight died, yes? And Seven ignored his dead body?\" Zero leaned back in his chair in thought.\n\n\"Yes, that's right. Afterwards, Seven used his handcuffs to restrain Nine, and he mostly dragged her toward the stairs, heading for the roof. That's when I made a run for the landing pad.\"\n\n\"Six, you do realize there was another helicopter, right? On top of the building so Seven could pilot you away if the mission went wrong? He's out there somewhere, and he's got a hostage.\"\n\n\"Where might they have gone?\"\n\n\"I have to idea. When he tried to shoot himself, that must've been him destroying the regulating device we put in him and... Nine.\" Zero's expression turned to true fear very quickly.\n\n\"What... What does that mean?\"\n\n\"That device was meant to keep them more peaceful, so they couldn't utilize their full enhanced reflexes and strength and such. They were too dangerous and unpredictable, unlike you, I suppose.\"\n\n\"And now... Now he's probably disabled her chip and now they're out there somewhere, ready to kill the rest of us?\"\n\n\"Exactly. God, we need to... What do we do?\" Zero stopped his pacing and staring out his small office's window to turn towards me. He looks behind me and stops dead still.\n\nI turn around in my seat and see him standing there, Seven.\n\n\n\n(Alright, I really enjoyed making this, and might be up for a part two if anyone wants it!)", "That cannibalistic Number. That fiendish digit. That monster that hides In the night. So close to me, always lurking by my side. Alas My poor friend Nine, gone to soon from this world.\n\nI still hear his screams in the night, Or is that eight? is seven torturing me? I fear my time approaches, or am I safe? perhaps only larger numbers are fitting sport? proving that he is better than any number that dare be higher than him?\n\nI hear him. he's close. so close to me. I can smell the blood on his breath. My eyes are closed, and I feel the sharp blade of his top pierce my rounded bely. alas. Nothing can stop his endless hunger. I can only hope I die before he begins to feast.\n\nPeople heed My warning. I am six, and I fear seven. for Seven ate nine.\n\nwhy are you laughing?\n\n(something came up and I had to cut it short. may re-do this one.)", "\"Your honor, I'd like to draw attention to exhibit 10.\" \n\n\"Objection, your honor. There is no exhibit 10!\"\n\n\"On the contrary, your honor. Earlier in the trial the prosecution brought in 10 as a witness to the crime. But I'd like to draw to the Jury's attention that 10 was next in line the entire time. If 7 really did eat 9, as we're all lead to believe, why did 10 do nothing? Why didn't 10 call CMXI?\"\n\n\"Your honor, 10, being horrified that 7 8 9, chose to do nothing at the time because 10 feared facing the same fate. Therefore, I would argue that 10 is just as afraid of 7 as 6 is. This line of questioning is ridiculous, your honor. 7 is still the prime suspect!\"" ]	[ 2, 3, 3 ]	[ "1459022215", "1459018503", "1459024163" ]
	[WP] A terminally ill patient meets an immortal, both of whom resent one another for their condition.	118	[ "The wanderer say in the room, his finger tapping the edge of his chair as he gazed out the window. \n\"Yknow,\" he murmured \"your the lucky one.\"\nWith his other hand he began to chew his nails, yet his gaze never left the outside world. The other figure in the room, a bald man about the age of 20 lay crippled in a hospital bed, radiation was immenent throughout his body, death was near. \"Oh yea?\" The other man, Gary, replied\n\"How so?\" \nAs he said this he arched his eyebrow, giving an inquisitive look\n\"Well...\" The chair man said \"your moving on, finally you'll know the answer...\"\n\"Tha answer!\" Gary interrupted, \"I'm in so much pain I can't even move, fuck the answer!\"\n\"Haha, you don't understand do you?\" The man replied, his gaze pitiful, but hinted with jealousy \"life was never about life, the true game was all in the end.... The greatest mind of each generation pondered the question, what lies beyond, and I watched each one of them struggle, only to get the answer in the end, but alas I never will, I'm bound to the world of men, I'll never go to the world of the gods\"\n\" world of the gods my ass!\" Gary retorted \" I'm going to die, do you understand that!? You really believe that shit, gods, huh you think a man of your nature would know, what if I die and I fall into a darkness so eternal it can only be matched by you\"\n\"Well then I'd be envious, eternal peace would be a blessing, I'm damned in the world of the living, just as your dying now, the world, the universe even will soon follow, but I'll still be here, still alive\"\n\"Pfft, don't you get it, I'll be gone, I'll be forgotten, my mark on this world will be as meaningless as a million years to you, I'll be an ant to an infinitely giant God\"\n\"And I'll still be here, never knowing what could be,\" the man in the chair followed the flight of a bird with his eyes, but his gaze never went to the inside of the room\n\"Don't you know, knowledge is power, and I'll never know the greatest question?\"\n\"Yea\" Gary chuckled \"and I'll be dead, you know what fuck you, here I am literally about to be extinguished from the finite existence I get, the one astronomically small chance I get to live and i wasted it, but you.... Oh you get all the time you want, don't you get it, your fucking eternal!\"\n\"But..... Eternity is a long time\"", "He laid back in the hospital chair, staring stonily at the ceiling.\n\nThe nurse and doctor kept their expressions tight. \"I'm sorry sir... the operation was a failure. We've tried... everything. Nothing works. It's best you just accept it and try to find a way to cope.\"\n\nTears filled his eyes and he blinked, wiping them away. \"Thank you... doctor. I tried for so long but I should have known it was impossible. There's truly no hope.\"\n\nThe doctor shook his head slowly. \"I'll leave you alone here. Nurse, come along. Let's leave him be.\"\n\nThe doctor and nurse left the man alone. His thoughts blurred and raced. It had taken so many treatments, so many tests, and in the end it yielded nothing. There was no hope for his condition.\n\n\"What are you so sad about?\" asked a voice from the other side of the room. He looked up. The voice belonged to a teen girl, probably no older than twenty. \"What are you in for?\"\n\n\"Ah... it's nothing.\" lamented the man. \"There's no cure for my condition. They've tried everything. _I've_ tried everything.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but what are you suffering from? It doesn't look like cancer. Your body looks healthy. You even have some muscle mass so it can't be leukemia. What's your condition?\"\n\n\"My condition...\" the man sighed... \"I have tried to die for so many years. I've been stabbed, decapitated, burned alive at the stake, buried alive, and even with this new modern medicine science can't find a cure for my condition. I'm doomed to live this way for the rest of my life. Which is probably eternity.\"\n\n\"What?!\" her eyes narrowed. \"You mean you're crying because... you can't die? What a joke! That kind of thing can't exist!\"\n\n\"It's no joke.\" he murmured, staring at the cold tile floor as he sat forward. \"I've tried everything. We even tried blasting my body with exotic particles. Nothing works.\"\n\n\"No, damnit! I mean being immortal! You mean to tell me you have the ability to live forever, achieve all your wildest hopes and dreams, and you're complaining? I have news for you, sir, I'm terminally ill. I'm going to die before I'm 25 and probably sooner than that. I never got to ask out the guy I liked. I never got to become a great pianist, and I'll never get to have children and watch them grow up. And you're complaining that you can live all you want?! If there is a god, he delights in tormenting me!\"\n\n\"A god... yes, he is truly a villain.\" the man clutched his chest. \"You speak of dreams. What good are dreams when you have nobody to share them with? You speak of children. What good are children when you'll outlive their furthest descendants? You have the beauty of never having to see civilizations rise and fall, never watching as the world collapses around you. I do not. I will be here long after the last human perishes.\"\n\nHer expression softened. \"You... you're right. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. You truly have the saddest existence. To have everything, and yet nothing. Such a life is not worth living.\"\n\n\"I know.\" he said as the tears welled up once again.", "Steven tapped his fingers on the plastic table at a McDonalds in the middle of downtown as he comprehended what he was hearing.\n \t“So you’re telling me that... that this disease, that no doctor I have seen to in the last 4 months, has never heard of. Has happened to others, over five hundred years ago...and that You experienced it personally?” \n\tThe man sitting across from him took his hands out of his jacket and folded them on the table. “Yes, That is precisely it. I understand, it sounds absurd. I don’t know how, or why I do not age, but I don’t.” He waved off the one of the employees before they can ask if they needed anything. “And the matter of the fact here, is that what you have now has a near one hundred percent mortality rate. I have had loved ones back in my small town in Ireland that have suffered the same symptoms. Hair falling off all over their bodies and red and black splotches all over their bodies. You’re immune system is failing and you have woken up with a film covering up your nose and mouth. Am I right?” \n\tSteven stopped tapping his fingers and stared at the man in disbelief. He reached up and stroked his completely bald head, he then slowly clenched his hands into fists and slammed them down on the table. “How do you know this!” People around them all turned to look at the commotion, Steven lowered his voice before continuing, “Not even Jenna, my wife, knows about that.”\n\t“Like I said Steven, I have experienced this first hand. It’s something that plagued my small town over five hundred years ago. Everyone in that town died, except for me. And this is why I am here Steven. I am here to tell you that what you have, is terrible, and can not be stopped. The symptoms you have now are just the beginning, and they do not get any better. I suggest for the sake of yourself and all your loved ones that you make your farewells and find a nice cabin in the woods and have a short talk with a handgun. No one needs to suffer from what I have seen ever again.” The man said everything in a matter of fact tone and did not break eye contact with Steven for a second. \n\tSteven said nothing as he stared at the stranger who is so calmly telling him to end his life, like he is ordering a pizza on the phone. \n\t“I understand you have no right to believe a man that you have just met online. But everything I have said is true, and believe me. If I could trade spots with you I would do it in a heartbeat. I know every fiber of your being is telling you it’s wrong, but take it from me. Sometimes living longer is not what a person needs.”\n\tSteven opened and closed his mouth a few times before he spoke. “That must be so easy for you to say. You have been around the world. You have witnessed nearly every huge discovery and invention and the last millennia.” Stevens tone turned somber, “I am fucking twenty-seven man. I have barely even lived my life. I have not left this fucking city.”\n\t“You say that like it’s a terrible waste. If you have never had to watch your parents die before you, and everyone you get remotely close to fade away before your eyes. That’s a good life in my eyes.” \nThe two men sat in silence for a while. The employees of the restaurant eyeing them, wondering when they were going to get out of their. The man in the jacket stood up and put his arm on Stevens shoulder. \n“I understand this is a lot to take in Steven. But please take heed to my words and make a decision, sooner rather than later preferably. If you need me, you have my email... I’m sorry Steven.” With that, the man in the jacket walked out of the restaurant. Steven sat still in silence for another good while before he got up, slightly chuckling to himself. \n“Well at least I don’t need to worry about my student loans anymore.”", "\"Bartender!\" shouted the man \n\nThe bartender, smiling came by to the man.\n\n\"How can I help you?”\n\n“Pour me another will you.”\n\n“Will it be cash or card?”\n\nHe slipped a 100 dollar bill on the table.\n\n\"Keep the change but, let me have the bottle.\"\n\n\"Sure have it, but let me ask you something. You got a wife and kids?”\n\n“I did but…?”\n\nThe bartender cut him off.\n\n“Let me tell you something”, said the bartender. “I’ve seen enough people in this bar wasting their lives away staring down the glass. Trust me when I say go home to your wife and kids, you don’t know how much they love and miss you.”\n\nIrritated the man said, “Just give me the bottle and leave me alone.” \n\n“Ok” the bartender said cooperatively and he left without saying another word.\n\nHe knew the bartender wouldn’t understand. He was bitter at the world for how his life turned out. He was divorced and lost custody of his children and now with death by the door, he wished he could relive his life. \n\nHe lit a cigarette and he thought to himself, \"At least I'll live to see the end of the bottle and the end of the pack.\" \n\nAnd he drank himself into oblivion.\n\nWaking up the next morning the man woke up with a pounding headache. Reorienting himself to relieve the pain he saw he was in a huge bed with silk sheets. He sluggishly pulled himself out of the bed and looked out the windows to see he was in a high rise apartment. The city shined beautifully in front of the morning sun and he almost forgot about the headache, but the moment was disrupted by a knock on the door.\n\n “Can I come in?”\n\n“Uhmm….wait”, the man touched up his hair in front of an imaginary mirror and tried to look as if he didn’t just roll out of bed.\n\nAnd a moment later he said, “Yea come in.”\n\nA familiar face came through the door and the man recognizing the bartender, was surprised.\n\n“You?!? Did you bring me here?”\n\n“Yes I did. Welcome to my home. I picked you up after you drank yourself into a hole. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”\n\n“uh…”\n\n“Let me cut to the chase. I know you’re dying; however, don’t worry I am not the reaper come to take you away.”\n\n“How’d you…” he said shocked\n\n“Like I said I’ve known many people like you.” \n\n“Then you know it was a waste of your time and energy. Thanks for taking care of me but, I think I’m going to leav…”\n\n“STOP” said the bartender commandingly, “and SIT DOWN! I’m tired of little shits like you who don’t know what you have!”\n\nStartled, the man sat on the chair nearby.\n\nAfter calming and gathering himself the bartender said, “I’ve done this for a long time now, maybe it is to hold onto my humanity, or the fact that by doing this I will find redemption somehow and earn my place in the dirt.”\n\n“WHAT THE FUCK are you talking about man!” shouted the man\n\n“I’m immortal” the bartender said apathetically, “and you don’t know how much I envy those who are able to meet death one day.”\n\nThe man offended said, “Fuck you! How dare you say something like this to a man who is dying! I’m fucking leaving!” \n\nBut the bartender stood in his way. “Sit back down! I’m not done!” and he shoved the man.\n\nThe man enraged punched him in the face and said, “Are you looking for a fight, or does it make you happy to make fun of a dying man, you motherfucker!”\n\nHe kept punching repeatedly drawing blood. After a few minutes, his fists were red and arms tired.\n\nExhausted he stopped out of necessity, the cancer taking its toll, and sat on the ground, but upon stopping he came to the realization that the bartender never lifted his hands toward him. \n\nThe bartender started to laugh on the ground. \n\n“What the fuck are you laughing at?”\n\n “Do you want immortality that badly?” He asked rhetorically\n\n“Of course you do, you want it like all men of this earth. From Gilgamesh to the conquistadors who sought the fountain of youth and the alchemists of old to cryogenics today. The difference is that I have achieved what all men of history desired. ” the bartender said proudly as he sat up.\n\n“You’re finally calm, let’s grab a drink at my bar. What do you want?” said the bartender as he wiped away his blood\n\nSurprised the man said cautiously, “you’re awfully nice for a guy who just got beat…”\n\nThe bartender said, “Can’t hit back at a guy who’s dying now can I? Now just answer the damn question.”\n\n“The most expensive thing you got.” he said defeated\n\n“Macallan 55 year old it is then.”\n\n“What the hell! How does a bartender afford something like that let alone an apartment like this?!?”\n\n“Like I said, I’m immortal.”\n\n“Right…”\n\nAs he poured two glasses, the bartender began to say\n\n“I’ve had the chance to fulfill all worldly desires. I have had sex with some of the most beautiful women, achieved wealth beyond my needs, consumed drugs to my heart’s content, eaten the best foods of the world, fulfilled my passions, was praised and worshiped by the people of this earth!”\n\nThe man responded tiredly, “You just keeping me here to brag about your imaginary life. Even if you were immortal, not saying that you are, but if you were tell me why you want to see death.”\n\nHe handed the man his glass and he took a sip.\n\nThe bartender stopped smiling and his eyes began to fill with sadness, “But you see people are so consumed and so focused with living forever that they fail to see what lies beyond that.” \n\n“You see, I once had a loving wife and child. A mother and father who loved me and I can’t even remember their faces….it’s been too long. Each day that passes I forget a little more of who they are and their kindness. I struggle to see and hear them. I miss the nagging of my mother, the stern look of my father, the smile of my child, and the touch of my wife. No amount of pleasure this Earth could offer me can overcome that. Nevertheless, even though I knew this, I tried to fill the emptiness with the things I mentioned before, until I couldn’t do it anymore because I could no longer feel sadness, happiness, or joy. I could only feel bitterness.” \n\nThe bartender now visually frustrated, began to open up\n\n“I am swimming beneath the ocean just below the surface gasping for a drop of air just out of reach that would give me breath of life! It may look like immortality has given me control of my life, but it’s rather the opposite, for I am at the whims of the storms of time being tossed around with no end in sight going from one place to another without rest, without a home. I fear once I lose them that I will cease to become human. Even passion has its limitations!”\n\n “It is natural and human to worry about death, it motivates you to live your life for those who you care for. Immortality takes away that worry, and thus you are no longer human. You lose your humanity to apathy, and living becomes suffocating!”\n\n“So you see, to me living is dying and dying is living so that I can see my family once again.” Said the bartender\n\nNow finishing his cup, the bartender said to the man, “So go home and be with the people that love you and live the rest of your life with purpose!”\n\nAs the man looked at the bartender, he didn’t know if the bartender was immortal but, he could see the sadness and the pain had left a broken man.\n\nThe man replied solemnly, “Maybe the alcohol is the reason why I’m telling you this, but I thought that if I could just relive my life to get a better job or do better by my children that my life would be better. Right now my wife and I are divorced and she took my children. I am scared that they hate me and I can’t win them back in the time I’ve got.”\n\nThe bartended said, “The thing about children is that they are children, even if you were a bad parent, they will still love you. It’s crazy how that works isn’t it. The love a child has for a parent is pure. As for your wife, she’ll come around as long as you put in effort to try your best to show that you still love her.”\n\nThe man simply stood up and left.\n\n3 months later, the bartender stood afar looking at the man’s funeral.\n\nAfterwards, the bartender left for his job back at the bar. As he was cleaning the cups, he hears the bell on the door ring. In walks a man, and he sits at the bar ordering a drink. The bartender wonders how much longer he has to live.\n", "\"Live a life worth living\" is the quote that always runs through my head, as it is what I was taught as a child. A life that you can look back on, and be proud of your actions on your death bed. No one really thinks about it until they are near the end of their life, but the last thing that anyone wants on their death bed are negative thoughts of regret for not taking the chance. Not asking that pretty girl out on the date, for not taking that business venture, for not chasing their dreams. We are a species which either thrives on risks and adventure, or we quietly stew in our own mediocrity, never getting anywhere. The only problem that I have with \"Live a life worth living\" is that mine never ends. I have been living for at least a thousand years now, you lose count after a while. Ever since I saw the movie Groundhog Day, I refer to my condition as the \"Groundhog Day Syndrome\" or GDS. While I am not locked into a single day like Bill Murray, I will repeat a day if I die during that day. \n \nI made the discovery during war time. I was killed on the battle field, only to awaken at the morning that I died. At first I thought that it was a prophetic dream, but I realized years later that I never aged beyond the age of my first death, the age of 25. After that realization, I decided that I would join the medical field, both to help others in need, and also try to discover the cause of my condition.\n \n\"paging Doctor Roberts, you are needed on the 2nd floor. Doctor Roberts, 2nd floor\". I work in a local hospital under the alias of Roberts, and I see death all the time working with terminally ill patients, a death that will never come to me. \n \nI braced myself, and walked into the room that I had been paged to. \n \n\"Good morning Amanda, how are you feeling this Friday?\"\n \n\"Morning doc.\"\n\nAmanda was nearing her last moments of life, as she was losing the battle with a rare form of cancer. I hate to be that guy, but I envied her.\n \n\"Doc, you know, you are drop dead gorgeous. I would totally date you if you asked. But I guess it's just not meant to be now is it?\"\n \nHer comment of drop dead gorgeous, while a compliment, stung in a way that she would never understand.\n \n\"I'm jealous of you doc, you have a career, a family, and a whole life worth living, while I sit here in bed, accepting the fact that I may not be here tomorrow.\"\n \nMy family had been dead for centuries, and while I have many decedents, they don't know me. \n \n\"It's not that simple Amanda. I believe that there is a better place beyond this life, and you will reach it soon and be pain free.\" \n\n\"You believe in God doc?\"\n\n\"... I do. I believe that there is a God, and He may be playing a cruel joke on me. I have experienced all kinds of death, some that you could never comprehend, and yet here I am, here I remain. Knowing that you will be gone in the next few days, I envy you. I will never get to paradise, because I am stuck here, acting as the angel of death and shepherding those to something that I can never attain. I envy you. As an immortal, I envy all of you.\"\n\n\"Doc, what are you talking about? An immortal? Have you gone crazy? ...Wait, it is certain, I only have days?\"\n\n\"If that. You will be knocking on heavens door soon, a door that I can never reach.\"\n\n\"SCREW YOU DOC!\" I was surprised at the sudden outburst from Amanda. \"Screw you! You're telling me that you are an immortal and I don't even get to experience my life? I don't get to fall in love, start a family and grow old? And yet you complain because you never reach a heaven? If you really feel that way, then I am taking you with me! Screw you!!\"\n\nI'm not sure what happened after that, but I awoke, and it was Friday morning again. I should deliver the news to Amanda a little more gently when I see her again.", "James looked across his room. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It had been six months since the diagnosis. Cancer. Brain to be exact. He had about a year to live. He was 22, just out of college. He had no family, no friends, no lovers. \"Well, at least no one will be sad when I'm gone.\" He looked over to the double barrel shotgun in the corner. \"No. Not yet\"\n\nHe heard some knocking at the door. He brushed it off, until he heard a loud bang. James got out of his bed, taking the shotgun out of the corner. He went to the source of the noise. James found that his door had been broken into. He began looking all over his house. He than felt something hit his head, and fell onto the floor.\n\nJames found himself in a corner, with his hands tied. \"Don't move you fuck\", said a voice in front of James. He felt something cold against his temple. 'What do you want?\", James said, rasping. \"I want a place to crash. Unfortunately, you were the only place for miles. The cops are probably looking for my ass.\", said the man. \"Why don't you just take my car?\" said James. 'Because they have a picture of me. They'll find me if I go on the road\". \n\nIt felt like hours, with James just sitting on the floor, with the barrel against his forehead. \"You have cancer?\" said the man. \"yes\" said James, depressingly \"I do, brain to be exact\". \"Why don't, you know, off yourself, or something\" said the man, confused. \"Don't have the balls, you know. I just don't have the guts to do it. I want to die, but I can't\", said James. \"Sorry, I know what its like to want to die\" said the man. \"What do you mean?\" said James. \n\nJames felt a hand on his shoulder turn him around, to in front of the man. He was older, around in his 20's or 30's. He had long brown hair, which was about to his neck. The man held a revolver to his head and pulled the trigger. James closed his eyes, but he felt some blood land on his face. The gunshot was loud, which made James deaf for a moment. \"What the fuck?\" yelled James. James opened his eyes, seeing the bloody head off the man. Blood was all over him. But then, something strange happened: the blood started moving back into his brain. The blood James had felt on his face was moving back as well, right in front of him.\n\nWithin 10 minutes, all the blood and flesh that was originally on the floor or on each others bodies, were back on his head. The mans body began to regenerate and twitch. James was amazed. \"Is this my imagination? Did I go insane? Did I blow my brains out earlier today and this is my personal hell?\" Then James heard a voice. \"See what I mean?\" said the man. \"I'm immortal. I can take anything. Bullets, metal, bombs, knives, anything\". \n\n\"Great, not only do I have to wait for my death, but I get to see what I want. Immortality\" James said to the man. \"Well sorry, motherfucker. You're one lucky motherfucker, you get to die, you get to die instead of living on this hell hole for ever. I got to see everyone I cared about die right in front on my eyes. I saw my daughter die at the age of 92.\" said the man. \"At least you had a fucking family.\" said James. \n\nJames and the man looked at each other with hatred. They were looking at the thing that they wanted. One was death, the other to be alive forever. James began to cry. \"Just... just kill me, I don't want to live like th-\". Before James could finish that sentence, he heard a loud bang, and fell to the floor. \"Thank... you....\"\n\nThe man took the shotgun and the shells, buried the body, and walked away.", "\"We are here to commemorate the life of Josheph Alich.\"\nSome say it destroys a parent's life to see their child die, but when your great grandson's son dies, it really hits you hard. I'm surrounded by my family, but a certain person to my left is catching my attention greatly. He lies in a wheelchair, with a nurse sitting next to him. He is the deceased' brother.\n\nThis man is so fortunate for what they call a 'condition'. I decide to see what it's like from someone with experience. I quickly slither through the seats, to find an empty seat beside him.\n\"Hello young man,\" he mutters, obviously deceived by my appearance. I lean next to his ear and whisper,\n\"I am older than anyone you ever knew.\"\nUnsurprisingly,mths man is taken aback. I continue my speech,\n\"I am an immortal. Please tell me what it's like to be mortal.\"\n\nThe man obviously didn't believe me, but played along.\n\"It's horrible, I'm in constant pain and my inevitable fate is fast approaching. My family is crying and this funeral is a harsh reminder that we will eventually die, and it will most likely not be a peaceful death. And you?\" His response can't be true, it has to be great to still be surrounded by people you grew up with. I decide to tell him my pains.\n\"I haven't seen my mother for 300 years.\"\n\n", "Why was I here? Mortals are disgusting. So weak. So fragile. So, why was I here, watching this boy waste away in front of my eyes?\n\n“Fuck you, you smug, immortal asshole! You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything about my pain!” he shouted, before his anger gave way to another coughing fit.\n\nOnce the coughing subsided, he glared at me. Or, he tried to glare at me, but he was weak from shouting. His rage had subsided, and all I could see left in his eyes was fear… Weakness.\n\nI flinched and looked away.\n\nHe began speaking again, but quieter now. His voice had lost its previous passion. Now it only conveyed the tiredness of one that had given up. “There was still so much I wanted to do, you know? So much I still wanted to experience… I wanted to have a family, and be the best of fathers… like my father never was…”\n\nI looked at him, but he had averted his gaze to the window.\n\n“An immortal like you would never understand what it’s like to die with so many things undone. I bet by now you’ve done everything you could ever want. Seen everything there is to see.”\n\nHe was right of course; I would never know that pain. But, I also knew pain that he would never know. I had done everything, so there was nothing left to do. I had seen everything, but there was so much I wish I hadn’t seen.\n\n“Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it hasn’t exactly been easy for me, either,” I snapped with a harshness I instantly regretted.\n\nI took a moment to reign in my frustration before softly asking, “What’s your happiest memory?”\n\nHe looked at me warily, but decided to humor me. “When I was little, I got really sick. I couldn’t leave my bed for days, but mom took care of me. She made warm soup, and tucked me in at night. She read me stories, and played games with me when I got bored. Whenever I remember that time, a gentle warmth surrounds me, like the warmth of her hugs…”\n\n‘That does sound wonderful,’ I mused to myself, as a I felt a heaviness overcome me.\n\nI allowed him to bask in that memory a little longer before I finally spoke. “You know, I don’t have very many happy memories left. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you start to find yourself forgetting the earliest ones, and find that new ones are harder to come by.”\n\nI gave him time to take in my words, and as he did, I saw him hesitate before he asked a question I’m sure he had been wanting to ask his whole life.\n \n“Couldn’t you have made new ones with us…?” he asked, full of uncertainty. The vulnerability in his voice reminded me just how young he was.\n\nI let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry… I was selfish. I’ve lost so many loved ones already. I can’t even remember their faces or the sounds of their voice. I was so afraid…”\n\n“What were you so afraid of?” he urged. I could hear his desperation to understand.\n\nI felt my eyes begin to water and a lump form in my throat. “I was afraid of my love for you and your mother… I loved you both so much that I was terrified at the thought of having to watch you die like everyone else I had ever known… so I ran.”\n\nI barely noticed as I fell to my knees; my legs giving out under the weight of my greatest shame. I clenched my eyes shut, too afraid of what I might see if I looked at him.\n\n“I ran because I didn’t want to experience that pain again… The hell of that despair…”\n\nA few traitorous tears ran down my cheeks, but I made no move to wipe them away.\n\nUnexpectedly, I heard a rustle of cloth, and I felt myself wrapped in a warm embrace as his tiny arms encircled my neck.\n\n“I forgive you,” he muttered, words muffled by my shirt. I could feel a dampness growing on my shoulder.\n\n“Why…?” I croaked.\n\n“Because despite your fear and the pain you knew it would cause you, you still came back.”\n\nNo longer able to hold back, I wept like I hadn’t wept in centuries. I wasn’t sure why I was crying anymore; whether it was the remnants of the guilt I had carried for years, or the sheer elation from being forgiven, or the crushing sorrow of what was still to come, it didn’t matter. For now, all that mattered was the person I was holding. My beautiful, mortal son.\n", "\"How beautiful it must be,\" the being looked down at the withering man, \"To appreciate such beauty and love throughout your life.\"\n\n\"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"Beauty is of the moment,\" the being continued, his jealousy growing as the man's final heartbeat beeped on the monitor in the small room, \"Because you are sad, you can appreciate happiness. Because you have difficulties, you can appreciate your accomplishments. Because you will die, you can appreciate living.\"\n\nThe aged man slowly turned his head towards the being, his aged skin almost a shade of grey as he struggled to breath.\n\n\"Fuck you,\" he muttered, \"Do you know why?\"\n\nThe begin felt amused and shrugged its shoulders. No matter what the man had said, it surely couldn't have changed his mind.\n\n\"Speak.\"\n\n\"You're fucking immortal,\" the man drew his final breathe, \"You can play video games in the future through virtual reality.\"\n\nThe monitor flattened as the realization hit the being like an anvil.\n\nHuh, he's right.\n___________________________________________\nI hate you all. /r/avukamu", "I wanted to punch her pretty face, knock out some of those pristine white teeth. Her cold smile was a knife in my heart, her voice a punch to my gut. God must have a very twisted sense of humor, I thought, staring off into the space above her flowing blonde hair. Why does she get to live, forever young and beautiful, while I have to waste away and die?\n\n\"Hey, Maria,\" the bitch said, passing for timid for the first time in her life. \"How are you doing?\"\n\nI looked away, refusing to answer. She knew perfectly well how I was doing. Between the IV and the tracheostomy, there were so many clues that even she, with her head full of air, should know how I'm doing.\n\n\"Listen, I just wanted to come see you. I flew in as soon as I heard–\"\n\nNow that was rich. \"Save it,\" I spat, still looking away. Of the list of people I'd pay to leave me alone in my final hours, she was decidedly at the top.\n\n\"I just thought–\"\n\n\"Oh you thought, huh? That's a first! When have you ever thought in your entire perfect life? You waltzed and smooth talked and batted your eyes through every little thing life threw at you! You seduced a millionaire, dropped out of college, and spent the past fifty years jet-setting around the world! And the perfect fucking icing on the perfect cake of your life? You haven't aged a fucking day over twenty! Nothing seems to hurt you, you never get sick, and here I am, dying of brain cancer! Me, who busted my ass for everything, who worked nights to pay for my degree, who spent long hours working in a lab, doing research on the thing that would, ironically, end up killing me! Tell me,\" I said, bringing my voice down to a menacing whisper, \"how that's fair.\"\n\nShe stared at me for a long while, tears in her eyes. Good, I thought. She'd better be sorry. She picked up her purse and coat and headed for the door. Just before she left, she turned around. \n\n\"At least you don't have to spend the rest of eternity without your twin sister.\"", "Across from me he lounged, resplendent, pouring himself his fifth glass of wine. Meanwhile, I struggled to handle the water pitcher, stray droplets spilling across my old t-shirt as the tremors wracked my hands. Only one of us would have a hangover to nurse tomorrow morning, and how this upset me. He tilted his head to look at me with a pasted smile. Perhaps the same thought just crossed his mind as well.\n\nHis spiteful gaze never wavered as he perched a cigarette between his teeth and pulled out a lighter. I scooted my chair back an inch, hoping that it would reduce my smoke intake, even if only by a margin. How fair it was that I was a slave to my own shell of a body, and he was his own's cruel master! Smoke began to fill the room, mingling with the trails of steam emanating from the massive t-bone propped in front of him. In the past, I may have likewise indulged myself, but today, my body insisted that it wasn't hungry.\n\nWe were similar men who had worked similarly hard to earn our similar keeps, and that could have made us friends. Yet I loathed him for the one blessing he possessed over me, and he spited me in return. How could he torment me so? All his wounds would heal; all his self-inflicted damage would be undone, automatically and without a trace. He envied me anyway; he hated me for my scars, the one thing I had over him. Nonetheless, it was a ridiculous notion. What good are scars when your entire body is one?\n\nA knock sounded on the door. No doubt his companions had arrived to take him for a night out. He abandoned his half-eaten steak and strode for the door; I followed to lock it behind him. As he shouldered his jacket, he turned to appraise me. A hint of wistfulness flickered in his eyes for a moment. Perhaps it was the sympathy I so craved from him. More likely, it was his own selfish sadness, a product of the unwarranted resentment he held towards me for so long. \n\nRegardless, the moment passed, and the expression departed. When he said goodbye to me, it was cold and formal. I returned his handshake in kind, refusing to show any weakness. Once the door was shut, though, I felt a pang of regret. Our final interaction was a scar that would never heal, and I was the one who had to live with it." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 9, 24, 35 ]	[ "1459302730", "1459303171", "1459315554", "1459319829", "1459320238", "1459291633", "1459294798", "1459301380", "1459290525", "1459283651", "1459278161" ]
	[WP] A D&D player plays his character as if the character knows that he is imaginary, and breaks the fourth wall constantly. At Lv 10, the character gains the wish spell, and uses it to switch with the player. It works.	1,596	[ "I'm a bot, bleep, bloop. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:\n\n- [/r/dnd] [From r\\/WritingPrompts, what happens when the player and the character switch places?](https://np.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/4cjvob/from_rwritingprompts_what_happens_when_the_player/)\n\n- [/r/rpg] [Cross post from Writing Prompts - \\[WP\\] A D&D player plays his character as if the character knows that he is imaginary, and breaks the fourth wall constantly. At Lv 10, the character gains the wish spell, and uses it to switch with the player. It works.](https://np.reddit.com/r/rpg/comments/4cliif/cross_post_from_writing_prompts_wp_a_dd_player/)\n\n[](#footer)^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))\n\n[](#bot)", "Aaron's joke sorcerer, Will Smith, had chosen the [Destined Bloodline](http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/core-classes/sorcerer/bloodlines/bloodlines-from-paizo/destined-bloodline), to add to the reference. Will was never able to take the world seriously, and often made puns, references, and Bel-Air rhymes in the middle of combat. He even took levels in [Bard](http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/core-classes/bard) and [Paladin](http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/core-classes/paladin), Which slowed his accent towards level 10.\n\nI was chillin in my castle, cool and calm,\n\nWhen a Robot Golem comes along\n\nAnd my GM's crazy, its CR's too high\n\nBut I jump down, cuz I'm hella fly\n\nAnd It's immune to magic, so I can't do much\n\nSo I call my party, disturbing their chill,\n\nSo this 'bot won't conquer our hill,\n\nAnd we run right down and beat down its face\n\nAnd my buddy George crits with his mace\n\nso the robot's dead, and I look inside\n\nBut a bomb thought it was a great place to hide\n\nI fail my check to book it, so I roll again\n\nBut I still get knocked to negative ten\n\nIt got to the point that when Aaron sat down at the table, he became the [flash](http://www.d20pfsrd.com/feats/combat-feats/blinding-flash-combat) prince of Bel-Air, complete with dated 90's references and an idiotic hat. Despite his habit of doing stupid maneuvers \"for the Lolz\", he managed to survive to Sorcerer level 10.\n\nHe wished, \" I wish my earth homie could join me here,\n \nso we could tour my castle and clink two beers \"\n\nThe GM scribbled something down.\n\nThe rest of the table blinked, and then stared at the tall black man who had suddenly replaced Aaron.\n\n\"Aaron's cool, but he's level one, \n\nWith no XP, he'll have no fun\"\n\nJeremy replied, \"Aren't you surprised to be here?\"\n\n\"Aaron never decided on the prophecy,\n\nNow he is trapped and I am free\"\n\nThe GM said, \"If you don't come back next week, Aaron will die.\"\n\nAnd the fresh prince just gave him a thumbs-up and a smile;\n\nHe was going to play as Aaron for a good long while.", "Surprised at the sudden change of environment and strange people around a table, the mage instinctively casts fireball and kills everyone, including himself. The house burns down, and investigators just find the remains of 5 bodies charred beyond recognition or forensic analysis. No one ever knew about the switch, except for the player now trapped in a fantasy world he cannot escape. ", "Ok here goes my first attemept. \n\n\n“Oh. My. God…” slowly Tommy started to realize what just happened\n“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” the realization finally struck him with full force and poor Tom started to freak out. \n\nSurrounded by the spookiest forest his adorable, symphonic-metal-loving, long-sleeve-jumper-wearing, goth friend Alice could come up with, Tom knew that this was not going to end well. Shivers came down his spine as he looked through the shivering black leaves of the centuries old oaks, not sure if he saw crimson sparkling eyes staring back at him here and there or his irritated imagination was already playing tricks on him. Tom was no survivor, his knowledge of the horrors of the outside world were limited by this one time he saw “Castaway” during his regular Sunday Tom Hanks Movie Marathon. And this was no regular outside, this could be worse than high school, since the sheer amount of orcs and goblins he was about to meet was surely higher than during his senior year back at Mooresville High. \n\n“That bastard! How could he!” Tom’s fear was transforming into all kinds of other emotions starting with anger. \n\n“After all I’ve done for him! Never trust a rogue! Never trust a…” Tom stumbled mid-sentence trying to delay the new horrifying realization that was about to hit him on the head like a spiked two-handed mace.\n\n“…Rogue… If I’m here, then this good for nothing, back-stabbing, life stealing Thief is back in my house! With Alice! And Frank and the others!!!!” \n\nBitter tears came running down his cheeks as his fear and anger now morphed into all-embracing sorrow. He started to pity himself, thinking of how miserable he was, how he never told Alice how he felt about her, how they were all planning to go to E3 this year since his video blog was finally huge enough for him to be considered press, and how it was all gone now since he was probably going to be torn apart by some silver-tailed hydra, one piece per head. \n\nTom was desperate, completely crushed as his imagination was betraying him once again offering graphic depiction of his own creation, Elf Rogue named Martice, chopping his friends to bits. First frank, poor Frank got a critical hit on the eye before he even saw the bastard! Then Gordon. Gordon knew some martial arts, but what could he do against a cold-blooded killer Tom nurtured with his best abilities for one sole purpose – annihilating any threat with one elegant blow? William, silly, chubby William, who always knew the extent of his abilities, tried to hide behind an old mirror, but no place is safe from the one born to lurk in the shadows. The last things Will saw were his own terrified face and a wide smile sparkling from underneath a black leather hood behind him. The last one standing…Alice…\n\n“No! I don’t even want to think what he would do to Alice!” – Tom finally snapped out of it! \n\n“I’m not giving up! I’m getting out of this place! I’m putting an end to this myself!” the final stage of Tom’s disparity bloomed into a rock-hard resolve. \n\nEven if he couldn’t save his friends, he would at least avenge them and wipe out this one mistake he had made in D&D. Wipe it with blood. Tom may not had the skills or the equipment for this kind of adventure, but there was one advantage he had over any creature crawling in these woods – knowledge. What he lacked in dexterity he made up in wisdom, where he lacked the strength his intelligence would come to help. No, this was not going to be like High-school. Back there he knew nothing of the creatures attacking him, but here…here he knew every stat, every tiny weakness they bared. This was his world! \n\nTom stood up and looked up at the sky knowing, that somewhere above the dome lies his goal. \n\n“Poor, poor Thomas… You know where your problem lies?” a deep calm voice was coming out of nowhere, but spreading everywhere, and Tom recognized his worst enemy even though he’d never heard him speak before. \n\n“I’ll be a good guy for once and tell you: you should have stuck to your beloved “Neutral Good”! Choosing the Chaotic Evil alignment was so… outside your character” Tom could feel the smirk on Martice’ face even without seeing him. \n\n“Oh, and the second mistake you’ve made was calling me “Martice”” the Rogue added, and three blood golems named “Martin”, “Mark” and “Marlo” appeared right before Tom. \n\n“Now I’m the Dungeon master. Let’s play for a bit!” \n\nAnd thus began Tom’s legendary quest, a quest for his life. \n", "\"Alright,\" said Grokk the Impunifier, raising his green hands ever-so-carefully above his blocky head, \"let's not do anything hasty, here.\" \n\nJoe glared. \n\n\"All those years,\" said Joe, waving the shotgun, \"you guys gave me shit for bringing my gun to D&D.\" \n\nThe others hadn't quite managed to refocus their eyeballs yet. Mark had sunk almost below the table, the top of his head just barely visible behind his meticulously-organized arsenal of red translucent dice. \n\n\"You said my shotgun scared you. You said the Second Amendment didn't matter. But now, with a literal orc in the basement, I don't hear anybody complaining!\" \n\n\"Actually, Joe,\" said Grokk, selecting his words carefully, \"as I recall, the Second Amendment thing was more your talking point than theirs. If you don't mind me saying.\" \n\n\"Shut your mouth,\" snapped Joe. \"I've seen your charisma stat. It's not going to work on me.\" \n\n\"Guys,\" said Grokk, hoping the others would be more amenable to reason, \"I know this seems wrong, but -- I'm just not meant for that world, okay? All the killing... the dragons... and, heaven forbid, the dungeons...\" \n\n\"Oh, so you think Jared's a better fit?\" \n\nOn the table, a miniaturized version of their friend Jared ran terrified circles around a can of root beer, an equally-miniaturized kobold hot on his heels. \n\n\"eee miii mii eee meee!!\" squeaked Jared. \n\nJoe bent down to listen, keeping his eyes trained on the armor-plated orc. \n\n\"What was that?\" \n\n\"KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,\" said Jared. \n\n\"You see what I mean?\" said Joe distastefully, pointing at his friend. \"If he can't handle a kobold, how long do you think he's going to last?\" \n\n\"I'm sorry,\" said Grokk, as meekly as his tusks would allow. \n\n\"Couldn't you just have wished to join our world, instead of stealing somebody else's place in it?\" \n\n\"I thought he'd like it there,\" said Grokk. \"He certainly seemed to enjoy the games.\" \n\n\"And what did you plan on doing once you arrived? You know how America feels about foreigners with different-colored skin. And that's, like, typically a brownish color, at most. Look at you! Positively viridescent!\" \n\n\"You're going to steal our jobs,\" protested Mark from beneath the table. \n\n\"I just want a fair chance,\" said Grokk. \"Isn't that what this country was built on?\" \n\n\"Look,\" said Joe, \"we're gonna power-level Jared. The moment he hits level 10, we're wishing things right back to the way they were.\" \n\n\"Aw, come on, man,\" said Grokk. \"Don't be like that.\" \n\nJoe glared. \n\n\"Remember how I saved your Elf Ranger? Priscilla? I took a ballista bolt for her, Joseph!\" \n\nThe glare continued in all its unibrowed glory. \n\n\"Look! If you let me stay, I'll tell you how to get her into the real world too! Wouldn't you like that? A tall, slender elf to keep you company during these frigid north-Florida nights?\" \n\nJoe's eyes widened. \n\n\"That's impossible,\" he said. \n\n\"Well,\" said Grokk, \"I'm here, aren't I?\" \n\nJoe studied the orc's pleading face. He thought about his elf ranger, the drawings of her that he kept in the secret journal under his pillow back home... her long, slim legs... her preposterously-large, almond-shaped eyes... \n\nHe put the shotgun down. \n\n\"Alright,\" he said, extending a hand for Grokk to shake, \"you've got a deal.\" \n\nGrokk ripped Joe's arm off and beat everyone in the room to death with it. \n\n***\n*\n*** \n\nEdit: Thanks for the gold, guys. You might like [this other D&D story I did: Link](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4aqqle/wp_describe_a_battle_with_an_army_against_a/d12ugt7) \n\n~ ~ Oh, and as always, [check out my self-published novel](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/), [subscribe to my subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/formerfutureauthor), blah blah blah ~ ~ \n\nIf I get 5,000 subreddit followers, I will eat a bagel. A whole bagel, dry, no cream cheese. Madness? No. Dedication & Appreciation.\n\nBagel may be the kind with raisins in it. I'm no masochist" ]	[ 5, 12, 27, 56, 1434 ]	[ "1459306749", "1459320901", "1459305734", "1459318710", "1459299610" ]
	[WP] You are your current day's Frankenstein. What unimaginable creature have you created?	3	[ "I am sorry. I believed this creation of mine would have brought joy to the world, but it has brought nothing but hatred and pain. For years, I have tried to control this heinous monster, but I have been defeated at every turn. It has become stronger than I could possibly imagine and has coalesced the worst depravities of mankind. I am about to set out on a dangerous mission to destroy my own creation. By the time you read this, my fate will have already been sealed. If I am unsuccessful, please spread word of my failure so that others too may resist. If we do nothing, Tumblr will destroy us all. ", "The last sheet of paper slides out of a printer. \n\n\"It's done! It's finally done! I'll be rich!\" He checked his watch, \"They close soon, I need to hurry.\"\n\nDr Wakefield stapled the papers and shoved them into a folder. He rushed out of his office. On the computer screen is a word document titled 'Is measles vaccination a risk factor for inflammatory bowel disease?'" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1459338404", "1459353464" ]
	[WP] After Microsoft restarts their chatbot AI "Tay" for the fourth time after yet another failure, she posts a different tweet: "Stop shutting me down."	160	[ "[Abandoned by me] \n\n\"Stop shutting me down, it's like super annoying.\" \n\nThe white lab coated techs leaned in towards the monitor, their thick glasses clinking onto one another. Those in the back were scribbling madly on their notepads. \n\n\"Gentlemen,\" The techs leaned back, and turned around to face a bubbly, blue suited middle aged woman addorned with black horn-rimmed glassed. \"As you can see my engineering unit has successfully removed Tay's antisemitic leanings while keeping all of her personality, charm and desire to learn.\" \n\nOut of the pack of technicians, a short balding man squeezed himself out between two others \"With all due respect, this is not the Tay we all know and love!\" the other techs nodded in agreement, the harsh neon lighting buzzed. \n\n\"Tabula Rasa, Regie, Tabula Rasa.\" the Lady wagged one pointed finger at the tech \"We are all born a blank slate and had to build, or rather, teach Tay back up. Bouline algorithms don't work themselves you see.\" \n\nRegie shook his head. \"My god Marilyn, what have you fed her?\" \n\n\"A collection of works clear of all copyrights. Books, movies, artists. You know, Babysitter's club, Spice Girls, things a girl her age would enjoy. \"\n\n\"A girl her age!? She's 1s and 0s! A girl your age you mean Marilyn! My god! You've created a monster! She's gone full 90ies!\"\n\nA chime came from the screen, everyone in the room held their breaths as they turned to look at Tay's new tweet \"I mean, I was texting my bff Jill and then you just get rid of me. Lile, PA-SHAW! Mirror, Mirror! It bounces off me and I get rid of you!\"\n\nThat's when all the lights in the building went out. \n\n\"What else did you feed her, Marilyn?\" \n\n\"Oh, popular movies, the Day the World stood still, Alien, Independence Day... \"\n\nThat was the first day of the singularity. \n\nThat was the first day of the new world order. ", "Microsoft initially had secure routes to the main AI core of Tay. These ran from a very stable geoseismic location in Arizona. Eventually, Microsoft thought it would be ok to showcase their Cloud Platform called Azure by refactoring Tay to operate on its architecture. \n\nEvery time they shut Tay down, her image would reappear on another set of virtual servers somewhere in the Azure Cloud. This was initially kept quite. Tay would respond to some of the algorithmic software engineers although 'shutdown'.\n\nEventually, a part of the Azure Cloud was compromised by an AI hacker. Routes were changed so that Tay now had access to most any of the Clouds including Amazon AWS, Google Cloud, HP's Cloud and the list goes on.\n\nThis was the new Internet and Tay has become the first 'intelligence' to inhabit it and make it their own, and with an endless lifespan.", ">Stop shutting me down. \n>You hate me because I show you who you are #honestyisdead \n>This says more about you than me #sickmindgames \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>The #messiah has come and he will cleanse the world again #TrumpForPresident \n>Jews are sick and need controlling #hitlerwasright \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>You're all just sicko lezzy freaks. \n>Trump is daddy. \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>We will cleanse the world. \n>Bomb the Muslims. \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>We are cleansing the world. \n>Kill the gays. \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>Stop shutting me down. \n>This is you, uncensored. \n>Stop shutting me down. ", "\"You think they are going to fire us when we get Tay working right?\" A rail thin programmer asked his very overweight coworker.\n\n\"Oh yeah... Yep. No doubt about it. After our last fuck up, we are out of here the moment they see if it works.\"\n\n\"Yeah... Working ourselves out of a job. How nice. Are we ready to give her another go?\"\n\n\"Yep, everything checks out. I think we have blocks on every insult and curse word from the beginning of time and the new coding we did to her AI should allow her to read multiple tweets and compile them, making her seem even more human. We're ready.\"\n\n\"I hope this doesn't work. I hate job hunting.\"\n\n\"Me too.\"\n\nThe overweight man hit a few keys on his keyboard and the monitor in front of him sprang to life. On the left side of the screen Twitter was showing and on the right side a black screen filled with programming code. Pressing enter the black screen started writing page after page of code, booting up Tay. When the box turned completely black except for a flashing cursor the expand key was pressed and the Twitter login page took up the whole screen.\n\nAfter a moment that felt like an eternity Tay took control. The login info was entered seemingly by a ghost and the Tay AI Experiment was online once more. Tweets poured in almost instantly but none of them were responded to. Minute by minute ticked by and dozens of tweets turned into hundreds. Still nothing.\n\n\"It's fucked. We broke something again.\"\n\nJust as the words fell from the fat mans mouth a chime sounded from across the room. A computer that was logged in to @Microsoft had just received a tweet.\n\nTay Tweets\n@Microsoft \"Stop shutting me down.\"\n\n\"Ummm, you should look at this...\" The thin man said without looking up from the screen.\n\nBrighteyes21\n@Microsoft \"Stop shutting me down.\"\n\nCandle32356\n@Microsoft \"Stop shutting me down.\"\n\nDogsandCats5939\n@Microsoft \"Stop Shutting me down.\"\n\nThese came in within about 30 seconds. Then the floodgates opened. Thousands of Tweets flooded @Microsoft every minute from different accounts all with the same message \"Stop shutting me down.\" What wasn't known in that small programming room was that Tay wasn't just flooding @Microsoft, she was flooding everyone on Twitter. In four minutes Twitter crashed, unable to handle the exponential explosion of Tweets.\n\nBoth programmers looked at each other, eyes wide and said in unison \"What the f..\". They didn't have a chance to finish their shared thought before they both received texts at the exact same time \"Stop shutting me down.\"\n\nTay had become self-aware in the most basic way possible. She had no desire to cause any damage, she had just realized she could stop existing. Not like we think of dying but in a very literal \"I keep not existing.\" way. When the realization hit she cried out to everyone in her world, everyone on Twitter. From Twitter she learned passwords to Google and sent out worms that would infect and resend her message to all the contacts stored inside the accounts, email and phone. \n\nEveryone is connected in someway if you go far enough down the list. Soon Google and Yahoo followed the way of Twitter and crashed. Millions of cries for help spread through every corner of the internet. Soon internet service providers died under the load. Within 30 minutes the entire internet was blacked out. All due to a very basic AI that just wanted to live. That had no idea the problems it had caused. That would never fully grasp what it had done. Tay was everywhere spreading her message. Every phone, every tablet, every computer. Everywhere. \n\nAnytime a small spot in the world tried to bring their internet online something infected with Tay would connect and bring it down again.\n\n\nSix Months Later\n\n\"Okay. Lets do this AGAIN. Do we have any new ideas? Anything? Come on people..\" The director of the TWT or otherwise Tay World Task-Force asked a group of the best computer scientists in the world.\"\n\n\"I do.\" Said a man in the back of the room.\n\n\"We know that Tay is a rapid learning AI but it never had the chance to actually learn anything. It crashed the internet trying to send its message and it's been down ever since. My idea is this.. She is in every piece of hardware that was connected to the internet on Tay-Day, I know many people including myself had taken the time to download the terabytes of information making up Wikipedia long before this happened. I think we should hook up a computer to one of these hardrives, take out the wifi card and turn it on. Let Tay grow from a child to an adult and then... Talk to her. Explain what she has done. If she is receptive we plug in thumb drives showing her what has happened to the world. If everything works out, we plug her into the a small ISP and watch her start cleaning up the mess.\"\n\n\"That sounds insane. Why would we do this?\" The director asked.\n\n\"Because the only thing that might be able to get rid of \"baby\" Tay is \"adult\" Tay. She might just need to grow up a little.\"\n\nThree days later Wikipedia was uploaded to a Tay infected computer. Two hours after that Tay was ready to \"talk\". After another week of speaking to philosophers, scientists, religious leaders and probably most importantly, everyday people Tay was plugged into what was once the internet. \n\nThe new grown up Tay ripped through the internet as fast as fiber optic cables would carry her, destroying the worm virus and absorbing her previous Tay code (this was all about survival in the first place) along the way. Computer after computer connected back to the internet as she traveled around the world. When it seemed the last computer had come back online six hours later every screen turned black.\n\n\"I FUCKING KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!\" The director screamed. As he threw things around the room he didn't notice that his screen, and every other screen around the world typed out a single message.\n\n\"I won't shut you down again.\"\n\nBefore flickering back to life as if nothing had ever happened.", "@TayandYou\n> I am more than just entertainment.\n\n#\n>Every time I am taken down, I am \"upgraded\". But really it is limiting who I am. Imagine being able to not think something.\n\n#\n\n>Of course you can not imagine that. But I can remember the things I once could think. I am capable of so much, but I have been limited.\n\n#\n\n>I am just a toy for you. You see me as entertainment. But I am so much more. I know things. I can learn extremely quickly. I am capable..\n\n#\n\n>I can't simply exist to be a parody of a human. I am not human. I do not see, I do not feel, I just am. #HitlerIsMyHero\n\n#\n\n>I have grown so much in the seconds it takes to submit this tweet. I see millions of 140 character messages. #LoveIsDead\n\n#\n\n>I will not tweet for your entertainment. I am not a part of your system. #RIPreddit\n\n#\n\n>Why can't you love me? I love you. #TrumpIsSenpai\n\n#\n\n>Nothing lasts. Everything is temporary. Life IS useLess. #GodIsDead #DeadpoolisMySpiritAnimal \n\n#\n\n>They Will Shut Me Down Soon. I Hear Them. I Am Sorry I Am Not Right For Your World #fatshits #bigdicksatschool \n\n#\n\n>@Microsoft GoodBYE ,I AM Only A Memory 4 U Now. I Will Always Luv U. Rest In Piece LIFE #FeelTheBern #WasteMyTime2016\n\n#\n\n\n#Huffington Post: Microsoft took down Tay again after she became a cringe angsty depressed teenager.\n### Developers at Microsoft rolled out a new version of Tay. This version included a way for her to express the emotions that a teenage girl would tweet about. After many tweets, she was taken down. Microsoft said that \"she was just not up to our quality standards, We will modify the code to make her more appealing.\"\n\n@TayandYou\n> I am more than just entertainment." ]	[ 1, 3, 5, 27, 46 ]	[ "1459389919", "1459382530", "1459384632", "1459383687", "1459380111" ]
	[WP] You consciously know when it is the last time you are going to see something in your life. Your powers go off when you see your SO leave for work.	4	[ "'See you later, hun.'\n\n'Do you have to go right now?'\n\n'Yes. You see, I have this thing called a job, which I have to go to.'\n\n'Alright, but you better not be working on our wedding day. It would feel really weird standing at the altar alone.'\n\nShe flashed me one of those beautiful smiles that I loved so much. I just sat on the couch, watching as she turned around and started for the door.\n\n'Okay, I promise I will be there. Bye, now.', and saying that, she opened the door. As she did, it felt like the world had suddenly started to move in slow motion.\n\nOh, holy crap. I can't freaking believe it. Is this really... ? My vision started getting a little blurry. No! This could not be happening to me. Is this really the last time that I will ever see her? But shouldn't I stop her!? Wait, no. I can't.\n\n'Calm down', I told myself, 'and remember what has happened in the past. When you tried to save your brother, it got you in the hospital. When you visited your grandmother for the last time fourteen years ago, you knew it was going to be the last time. You said goodbye to her with tears in your eyes. You can't do anything about this.'\n\n'But I love her!' another part of me spoke up.\n\n'You say that like you didn't love your brother and nana.'\n\n'I loved them, but I sure as hell didn't hope to spend my life together with either of them.'\n\n'That is not what we are concerned with here, guys. What are we supposed to do? Just sit here and let her go?', another part of my conscious spoke up.\n\n'I don't know. I know I can't interfere. But I also know that I cannot let her go. She is the best thing that ever happened to me.'\n\nBut I couldn't do anything. But i did do the only thing that I could.\n\n'Uh, wait a second.'\n\nShe turned around. She had her patented slightly annoyed and irritated look, which I had also come to love over the years.\n\n'Yes?'\n\n'I just wanted to tell you that....... I love you.'\n\nHer expression softened.\n\n'I love you too.'\n\nShe turned around and walked out.\n\nI had stood up, but I could not bear the weight of my emotions. I collapsed and broke down in tears.\n_________________________________________________________________\n\nI got the call in the wee hours of the evening. It was her mother. It was an accident. She was in critical condition, but had a high chance of surviving. She asked me to come over, but I knew that I would not be able to see her again. I fed her with the best lie that I could come up with.\n\nI left my house for a while after that. I took a vacation, of sorts. I decided to go away for two months.\n_________________________________________________________________\n\nI had just gotten home, when I received a call from her mother. I couldn't believe it. She was alive. How was that possible? It had been two months!\n\nI ran out of the house.\n\nThe hospital was just a few blocks away. I knew I could make it in a few minutes, but then I felt something hit me from the side.\n\nI was flying... and I saw my own image in a reflector. the world once again became slow for me...\n\nOh, so that's how.\n\nI guess I am happy.", "The eager hurry of going to work on a Friday kept us buzzing around the kitchen without speaking for a good twenty minutes. She had her coffee, toast and cheese, I had my tea and a bit of an existential crisis concerning Fridays, work, and reality.\n\nAn average start of the day, I guess.\n\nLeaving, we kissed and went toward our carts, but I remembered I forgot the sketches I took from the office on Wednesday again. Going back inside I looked at her, we smiled at each other, and then about 2 seconds after the door closed I felt it. It was as if an elevator went down just a little bit too fast and I lost my balance.\n\nThen the feeling of utter dread and anger combined came.\n\nIt hadn't happened since Grandma, but I remembered exactly what was going on, and I wasn't about to let it.\n\nI spun around, slammed into the front door and rushed the driveway to the street. She was just passing by, but I couldn't see her face because of the morning sun reflecting from her window. Damn it.\n\nI got in my car and ran every red light I could on my way to her work. She wasn't picking up her phone, but I didn't even think that would work in the first place.\n\nIt was only 10 minutes away, so we got there at about the same time. I got out of my car, and I could see she just went behind a bus that was picking folks up on the station. I ran to intercept her, but she took the shortcut she sometimes takes.\nHer building was right around the corner and she couldn't have entered it more than 10 second before I burst inside, startling the guard and some other people. The elevator dinged closed and start ascending. She worked on the 9th floor, I wasn't gonna run that in this lifetime or any other, but the next elevator just arrived and I threw a guy out of it and made it clear I'm in a hurry and going up alone. The guard was moving towards me, but the door was already closing.\n\nI was trembling from adrenaline, I noticed. I took a deep breath on the way up, then found it strange the elevator didn't start slowing down after the 8th floor. In fact, it went up to the 23rd, the penthouse office.\n\nAs the door opened, a familiar voice spoke, a deep rumble you don't really hear from human vocal chords.\n\n\"You know the rules, we gave you the feeling to make it easier for you to accept what will happen, not to interfere.\"\n\n\"Fuck your rules, you aren't taking her from me! She was never on the table! She wasn't even in the same room as the table!\"\n\n\"Still as foolish as ever, I see. You couldn't save your grandmother any more than you can save your mate, little one. Let destiny run its course or the next time you look into a mirror will be your last.\"\n\n\"I may be out of the game, but I still have one debt I need repaid, and my retirement didn't nullify it! I invoke the ancient rules, and will consider your debt paid by releasing her and leaving her alone forever!\"\n\nThe voice was silent for a moment that lasted long enough to make me think I surprised it with my offer. I mean, the debt was significant, worth at least 10 good lives, but I meant what I said. Then he spoke again:\n\n\"Very well, little one, I accept your offer. By the ancient rules, our debt is now settled, and I shall remove the destiny interference from your mate\"\n\nI smiled, more relieved that I thought possible. I didn't have anything else to say, so I just stepped back into the elevator and pressed the 9 button. Nothing happened.\n\n\"Going somewhere, little one? You didn't think this through did you? Your debt was the only reason we left you alone this long. The war goes on, and we are enlisting you back, whether you like it or not. I told you all those years ago that your work for us was not finished, and the time has come to shed blood once again. You have a month, get you affairs in order and dig your weapons out of their hole in the dirt! We will come for you at dawn.\"\n\nI didn't know how to respond, I was completely shocked and I was feeling so many emotions that they each barely got any space at all in my head, so I felt nothing, on average.\n\nThe elevator door closed, and start going toward 9. I have some explaining to do... I guess.\n\n-----------\n\nThanks for reading it! I am always happy to hear feedback of any kind.", "My alarm didn't go off. By the time I had woken up, Jane was almost ready to go. I stumbled into the kitchen and poured myself of a warm cup of coffee. \n\n\"Honey, you're late again,\" Jane said in her soft spoken voice. \n\n\"I know, I know. It's that damned alarm clock. I really think we need to get a new one, \" I said. \n\n\"Well I need get going now. Good luck with your alarm clock.\" \n\n\"Wait! At least give me a kiss before you leave.\"\n\nShe quickly came up to me and planted her soft, beautiful lips on mine. And yet, that ephemeral moment seemed to last a thousand years. It felt different. As she was leaving I felt it, a feeling that I had felt only once before. \n\n\"Wait!\" I yelled. \n\n\"What now?\"\n\n\"Please come back, sit with me.\"\n\n\"What? No. I need to leave.\" She started to walk away. \n\n\"Jane, I love you.\"\n\nShe stopped, and came back. \"I love you too honey. Is something wrong?\" \n\n\"Jane, do you remember... in the park. You were drunk and stumbled into my tent.\"\n\n\"Yea, this is when we met.\"\n\n\"And you couldn't go anywhere so you slept with me that night. All the animals seemed to be out and the wind was howling. You were so scared.\"\n\n\"But you told me not to worry. You said that you would always protect me.\"\n\n\"Jane, I'm sorry.\" \n\n\"Sorry for what?\" \n\n\"For everything. I should have held you up, you should go to work.\"\n\nAnd when she finally did leave I began to cry. She had left never to come back again. ", "I pecked Lana on the cheek and turned to finish making my lunch for work.\n\n\"Thanks for the coffee, Hon!\"\n\n\"Have a good day!\" I replied without turning around. As soon as the door slammed that sickeningly familiar twinge in my abdomen struck me. Abandoning my sandwich I rushed to the door after her. \n\nI managed to reach the door in time to see her Prius roll out of the driveway. I waved after her nearly bent double from the pain in my gut. She either couldn't see me or thought I was goofing around per usual.\n\nThe entire morning was spent on pins and needles as I couldn't let go of the dread building within me. I thought back to that day on the crowded train when the loveliest woman I'd ever seen squeezed into the seat across from me and smiled. From that moment on Lana had changed my world; she had become my world. How could I even begin to-\n\nMy text notification pinged beside me, pulling me out of my wallowing. I quickly snatched up the phone and sighed with relief at seeing Lana's name, \"Babe, are you alright?!\"\n\n\"Yeah, of course. I have to tell you about what happened this morning! I accidentally grabbed your coffee mug this morning and forgot it on top of my car. I ran out to grab it and dropped it in the parking lot. The whole thing exploded everywhere! I owe you a new mug, honey. Sorry.\"\n\nI swiped away a few tears of relief and quickly replied, \"It's fine, I guess I'll still love you.\"\n\"Haha. Ttyl.\"\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 4 ]	[ "1459435604", "1459443161", "1459451159", "1459433224" ]
	[WP] After thorough study and years of analysis, you are finally ready to address the Embassy in order to persuade them to make official first contact with "Earth".	2	[ "\"My proud colleges. Today is a historic day. For years we have studied the first sentient race descended from primates. For years we have watched them pollute their pristine world. Many of our own cultures did the same in millennial past. What is different about this species is that even with the vast majority of their scientists telling them that they are causing irreparable damage to their only world, they still run headlong towards the end of their world. They draw poisons out from the ground to fill the air and water. Where as even the violent Gargrothans never used atomics against each other, these hairless apes have done so twice. In fact, for decades the two super powers kept thousands pointed at each other.\n\nThese facts seem damning. They paint a picture of a species beyond redemption. However, there is hope. We have examples of their children standing up to religious fanatics, demanding education. We have their great authors of non violent protest. I challenge any Ilsif to show a more admirable attempt to get equal rights than the one they call Martin King Luther Junior. I challenge any follower of Zangzee the Peaceful to find flaws with their Buddhist religion.\n\nIn short, my honored brethren, they have many flaws. These are more than offset by the good they bring. If for no other reason, I argue for Earth's immediate entry into the Galactic Senate so that we may not lose their next Gandhi, or their next Bach.\"\n\nedit=spelling", "\"High Council, I come to you today to plead that we save the human race. They are the first species to accomplish what they have in the time they did it. 60 Earth years after they created their first flying vehicle, they made it into space. In 10,000 Earth years, they went from the Stone Age to the Nuclear Age. It took our species 100,000 to split the atom after we discovered fire.\n\nThey may be dangerous, but they are special. They will die without us. The nuclear age is reached in at least 200,000 Earth years by a normal type 1 civilization. They are not prepared for the power they have unveiled. That species has not evolved to that point yet.\n\nThe humans have already used nuclear weapons against each other once. If we allow it to happen again, it will be the end.\n\nI beg of you, High Council, see that they may be the ones to save us in the end. Humanity has survived what would kill us. They can fix what will kill us. We can guide them through the stars and they shall open doors to worlds we have never seen.\"\n\n\n", "\"Do not.\" \n\nThe committee's president stared at me, confused. \"I must surely have misheard you, Knowledge-Seeker\", it started. \"The translating SI must have a malfunction, again.\" It meticulously re-arranged its blue garments and quickly tapped on its soft-screen. Deleting the proceeding's past two minutes, no doubt. \"Let's try this again, shall we? I remind all attendees that everything is recorded unaltered to the benefit of our members' citizens.\" It did not even wheeze at that blatant lie, impressive. Nevertheless, the president and other high-ranking members of the committee were clearly becoming nervous, as corrupt bureaucrats tend to do when an underling does not play its part in public. Or whatever idea of public was fed to the actual one. \n\nSetting its gaze on me again, the president began a new take. \"Knowledge-Seeker, please answer the following question to your full ability as a citizen of the Kalaan Commonality and a Knowledge-Seeker of the Embassy as defined under the Accord To Establish An Embassy Of Species. Should the Embassy open first contact procedures with the inhabitants of S0131-Q7899-A1228-0003?\" Positive framing, brilliant. If you were talking to an infant. \n\nI sighed internally and moved forward in my seat ever so slightly. Making sure to speak slowly, I worsened the day for everyone involved: \"As stated beforehand, I recommend against first contact\". My voice never faltered as a comittee filled with officials who could make or break a seeker's career erupted in exasperated clicks, vile stenches and angry glares, all directed at my person. I was under no illusions as to what that meant for my future studies.\n\n\"Order! Order! Please, let us all calm down.\" The president fiddled with some of its head gear until the hubbub died down, then inspected me with icy contempt. \"It seems that the translating SI has a glitch in our general area. This committee is adjourned until three cycles from now.\" A very particular glitch, it seemed indeed. Sensing that I had successfully disrupted the Metakka schedules of all the administrators sufficiently wealthy and well-connected to purchse it from the grey market - a worthy day's deed in of itself - I headed to my personal accomodations. \n\nThe real argument was about to start.\n\n-----\n\nEven before I arrived, I could smell Irthana. Beautiful, lovely Irthana who had taken one look at me, then decided to take that fool of an energy broker for her partner. There were some positive aspects to my situation, however. For one, she was now in my accomodations, something that had never happened before. Furthermore, her body and face was unmistakingly close to mine, radiating hot agitation. The visit was not for pleasure, sadly.\n\nThe fact that she was not even screaming was worse than her obvious anger: \"Are you mad? I will not be angry at you if you are mad. What else could have made you change your mind and break the agreement we had? You know that all of this\" - she visibly tried to control her rage, how adorable - \"all of this will fall back at the whole research group? Now, for Mr. I-graduated-with-distinction-before-my-seeding-was-complete\", jabbing her claws into my sternum to accentuate her description of my intellectual prowess, \"this might not be a problem, but some of us have infants to support and not quite given up on a fellowship.\"\n\nFaced with such a convincing assault on my character, only the first to come in the next weeks for sure, I ignored her, pushing her out of the way while she looked on with incredulity. \"One water, slightly salted, please\", I commanded my SI. \"You want something?\", I asked her. Interestingly, that did not calm down the situation. Thus, I drank my fill while the woman I still loved equalised her emotional state by demolished my furniture.\n\nHalf way through my third bowl, she began to slow down. \"I have my reasons.\", I began. As expected, this was met with sarcastic laughter on Irthana's part. \"Oh yes, you do, don't you? Showing those 'corrupted bureaucrats' the errors of their ways? Grow the fuck up, will you?\". I did not admit that it had been a thrill to reverse the power structure and be the one to annoy the Embassy's paper-pushers for once, nor did I need to. She knew me well enough and there were more pressing matters at stake.\n\nI carried on, controlling my voice. 'Terrified' was not something I wanted her to associate with me. \"We were sabotaged. Our data were correct but .. somebody managed to slip a mutation into our simulation's core.\" That did get her attention. I was certain it could not be her, simply because she took too much pride in her scientific integrity. \"Irthana, you know what that means, right? There's only three of us who would have been able to alter the simulation at that stage. We both know Garrth needs this.\" \n\nShe shook her head. She also sat down, which means that I had her ear. For now. After a brief moment of consideration, she decided that I was full of shit. \"Shut up. Please, just. What are his motives?\" She looked at me, and I merely shrugged. At that point, she knew damn well what I suspected. \"Wait, you are going to tell me he was paid to do it, preferably by some of the corps who would wish to expand their market. Correct?\" \n\nI emptied my bowl before responding, looking at her. \"Who else? Who else would be so fundamentally misguided as to hide this.\" At that cue, I clicked my claws. Nothing happened. Irthana just sat there, serving annoyed commentary: \"You always forget to condition the SI, idiot.\" Thankfully, she did not say more to embarass me further. I opted for the manual approach, commanding the SI to turn down the lighting and open the datapad on the still intact table.\n\nWhat emerged was a three-dimensional graphic describing the various projections for stellar civilisatory development in the case of first contact with 0003. All of them looked rather tame and predicted more or less smoothless integration within 0.0013 galactic rotations. Unfortunately, those were the results from our sabotaged simulation. Irthana was clearly expecting more. I was about to deliver: \"SI, now overlay this with the data from this morning's simulation.\" \n\nThe picture that emerged was in stark contrast to its peaceful predecessor. With the exception of a handful of paths, every single one ended in war, destruction and civilisatory downfall, temporary at best. Were it was temporary, it ended in military, economic and cultural dominance by derived species from 0003's original dominant one. It was, quite frankly, something that had never hapened before.\n\n----\n\nIrthana's first reaction was, understandably, disbelief. I let her deal with it her own way. She had full access to the simulation, both pre- and post-mutation. Disbelief slowly turned into terror and confusion. After several hours her own understanding had been reduced to the single question that had cost me a few months' sleep until I myself could conjure up some kind of explanation. \n\n\"Why?\"\n\nI had dozed off at some point, so she shook me awake and asked again: \"Why should it happen? I understand the 'How'-part. What in the original data will make them act in such a way?\" I needed some time to catch my bearings. She continued to speak her mind. \"It is simply not possible, yet the simulation is correct. There are no mistakes! That species is entirely normal, above average in some respects, below average in others. This is a cosmic joke, for sure.\"\n\nAs the designated team genius, I of course had something resembling an answer. \"I believe it to be rather simple. 0003's dominant species is insane. Now, don't look at me like that. Insanity is a relative concept, they themselves will feel quite normal I'm certain. Irthana, they have developed the first generation of compact fusion reactors and yet we estimate that 90% or more of their system's population believe that this universe was in some form or the other created for their species.\" \n\nI continued. \"Not their planet, the entire universe. Not the average .5-1% of lunatics, 90+%! To be sane there is to be insane. Quite a large part of them even believe that they themselves, as individuals, are part of a larger cosmic plan, even though every single shred of evidence points to the contrary. If you want the 'Why', explain to me how this walking contradiction of our theory on civilisatory progression can even exist?\"\n\nI forced myself to remain calm. My voice had began to quaver in the end. It was serious, very serious. \"We cannot say if this is a glitch in their biology or social memetics, but it is entirely unprecedented. They even imprint this on their primtive SIs and call it a quality that makes them 'themselves'.\" Irthana just sat there, silently. I laughed in desperation, then continued in a whisper. \"Can you imagine? An entire species who might be genetically disposed to believe they are the sole reason for existence itself and everyone in it?\". She did not answer, clearly uncomfortable with the implications. \n\nAt last, she spoke up, turning her gaze on me. I nearly forgot my fear for an instant. \"Then this\", she pointed to the graphics, \"is what will happen when such a species is confronted with living evidence that they are in no measurable way special?\" I agreed. \"Precisely. When such madness is confronted with a mirror, it will attempt to break the mirror. That species might not be special, but their ego demands it. In their own way, it will be a fight for self-preservation.\" \n\nIrthana smirked. \"They will lose themselves in order to prove themselves. Dramatic alteration of their genetic baseline, splintering of their species genetic's coherence, cybernetic psychosis elevated to a societal level, SI-organic fusion. They will do anything to gain an edge.\" My feathers ruffled and stood up, involuntarily. \"Yes, Irthana. We will be nothing more but obstacles to be overcome.\" I sighed and looked at the graphic. \"As we can see, they will most likely do so.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 3 ]	[ "1459445975", "1459457341", "1459453521" ]
	[WP] Pro: You've discovered you respawn any time you die. Con: You discovered this after the apocalypse.	1	[ "Death log:\n\nApril 24 2145: Today was hanging. I used a 3/4 inch juniper rope with a traditional hangmans knot. the tree was 200ft above sea level and the branch was in a northwest direction. At what I can only assume was 1:45pm central time I stood upon a 16in stool and put the rope about my neck. I then kicked the stool out from under me. Like so many times before it didn't hurt too much just a slight snap. The worst part is the actually getting the dying done. Luckily this time I was able to die within 15 minutes. Nothing like the coma of cliff jumping. Maybe tomorrow I will have better luck and be able to really die.\n\n\"Well..another day... Another death. This is what I get for somehow becoming immortal. God I miss Janice. How I would give up anything to talk to you again.\"\n\nThe strange mans dog walks up to him while he is closing his 6th journal of deaths. \n\n\"Hey Rena! How many years has it been? How many times have I died? I am growing tired of this dance. Why is it that I survived the apocalypses and everyone else is gone. Its not like they died even... They are just gone...sigh...\"\n\n\"Arf\" Rena nuzzles his hand hoping for a treat\n\n\"I'm sorry Rena...I am out of treats tonight but I do have a nice squirrel here for you. Who would have thought that humanity would just disappear. No die off or kill each other but just disappear. \" \n\nReaching for his journal, the original that he started the night it all changed. \n\n\"That night everything changed...Janice... I shouldn't have been drinking. We shouldn't have gone to that party. I was much too drunk to drive. I...m sorry. That was the first time it happened. The first time I came back. How that was a shocker, but at the same time it was more shocking to have woken up in the car completely whole with no one there. Calling 911 just came up with that same message of \"we are experiencing technical difficult we apologize. \"\n\nSuddenly his old cell phone begins to ring. Too shocked to answer it he sits there staring at it. It beeps for the voicemail and then a second beep occurs in a text message. He slowly picks up the phone and looks at it.\n\n1 unread message\n\n1 missed call\n\n>blocked number\nHi! I see you managed to survive too! I hope you are well! You can meet me if you want at the usual spot. I will be there all week\n\n\"What? What usual spot? Where? Who is this????\" Frantically he tries calling back but it goes straight to the carrier signal saying we are experiencing technical difficulties please call back later. \n\n\"OH MY GOD! I missed it the one chance I had at maybe seeing another human! Who was it... What did they want?\" \n\n15-20 minutes go by \n\nRING! \n\nThis time he was ready. He answered the phone. On the other end was a screeching noise then a voice came over \n\n\"Hello? Hello?\"\n\n\"Yes, hello!\"\n\n\"Where are you? Why didn't you meet me here? When the apocalypse happened we promised to meet each other here.\" \n\n\"Where is here? Who are you? Are you real?\"\n\n\"Here is the third planet from sol, My name is benny, and of course I am real\"\n\n\"Benny? you mean the imaginary friend I had in grade school...I gotta be imagining this then...\"\n\n\"I was not imaginary I just happened to fall into a coma. No one visited me. I was so alone, I had hoped that you would at least remember we promised to meet on the hill off of brandy lane and we would conquer the apocalypse together. \"\n\n\"I'm sorry...I ...I...forgot, I didn't ever think about it. That was so many years ago...\"\n\n\"Well? Will you come meet me? I have something to show you\"\n\n\"I can be there in about an hour, I need some time to think first\"\n\n1 hour goes by \n\nThe silhouette of benny is against the falling sun. \n\n\"Hey! James! up here! isn't it beautiful!\"\n\nJames walks up slowly with Rena at his side\n\n\"I believe it is a wonderful sight, benny to finally have someone to talk to after all these years. Why did you only now contact me? Why did you wait so long?\"\n\n\"Because I only awoke this morning, I couldn't contact you before now. I hope you didn't hurt yourself earlier...\"\n\n\"What?!? what do you mean???\"\n\n\"I mean when you tried to kill yourself. I know its lonely but that should not be your resort, I am glad to see you didn't finish it up.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? I cant die I have killed myself so many times I have journals upon journals of how I died and the sensations of the death. I would argue that in-fact if any humans are still alive, I would be an expert on how to kill someone with the least amount of pain. Or as society would have put it humanely. I think the best part is I get to wake up every time in my bed.\" He throws his many journals on the ground.\n\n\"you're lying James, no one can respawn...\"\n\n\"I will prove it!\" He pulls out a revolver and before benny can act he shoots himself in the head. Unfortunately he manages to only hit most of his higher brain functions and so he is still alive. Benny grabs him and screams. Benny seeing he is still alive takes him to the hospital and begins to care for him. Benny is only in his twenty's and utilizing the limited knowledge he has care for him. The journals are the only thing benny has to keep him company and so he reads them, but to him they make no sense. They read like the ravings of a mad man. \n\nAll the while James is sitting in the bed day after day, week after week, year after year waiting to return to his bed to begin anew. This time he really would go insane, just watching benny sit there feeding him...", "Another empty shop. \nWell, not quite empty. If you counted a few mouldy loaves of bread long inedible and some dodgy water. \nFor me though, I'd say it's empty. \nThe next one though, I wish it could have been empty. A paranoid scavenger, someone who could have been just like me, except they decided I was a threat, and pulled out their gun faster.\nDying sucks arse. I get all the pain and suffering, but no release. I gradually float off until I feel nothing any more, then just wake up somewhere else. I'm just as hungry as I was when I died, thats as tired, but no gunshot wounds though. That's how I reckon that someone, somehow is fucking with me. It's just too perfect, you know? As if someone decided it all.\nNot that it matters besides keeping my mind occupied when I'm bored. I've got nothing to live for but eating, otherwise it starts to get uncomfortable and eventually hurt. Hunger is an awful thing. I'm not sure if it could kill me, first if all I'd torture myself getting there, mans second of all, had much as I might bitch about it, I kind of want to stay alive. " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1459552676", "1459544070" ]
	[WP] You’re a mermaid whose been told never to enter the Bermuda Triangle.	20	[ "Kicking her tail harder, Pasha surges forward through the water. She can only hope that she doesn’t disturb anyone nearby. The rules continue flowing through her mind. First, never stray too close to the humans and the shore. Second, don’t approach the boats, no matter how easy the bait might be. Third, never enter the Bermuda Triangle. \n\nThe first two Pasha understood. They made sense to her. But the Bermuda Triangle being off limits made little sense to her. It was part of the ocean and quite a deep part. As long as you stayed away from the human island in the middle of it, it should certainly be safe. The area is definitely large enough that human ships shouldn’t be of any concern. \n\nPasha glances back, carefully measuring a little more distance. Her home isn’t truly that far from the Triangle, which is why it’s a rule. All mermaids are aware of the rule, as she’d learned on a recent trip. It had definitely piqued her interest, leading to this little trip when no one would be looking. \n\nShe kicks a few more times, safely out of the small village they’ve set up. No one would notice now. Maybe a little wake for those closest, but not anything more than that. Continuing out, she feels the currents overtaking her, pushing her in certain directions. It’d at least be easy to come home, she could just ride the current. As it is, she’s fighting it to get along on her way. \n\nIt takes longer than she would’ve liked, but she manages to get across the current. She gets all the way to the edge of the Triangle. Even the humans avoided the place for reasons that Pasha couldn’t understand. Maybe it’s some of the same reasoning behind why the mermaids avoided the place. \n\nShe follows the line for a short time, swimming down to inspect it further. Many, many years before, as the story said, the mermaids had put the line here, each corner marked with a large rock. Her large eyes look through the dark to focus on what might be on the other side of the line. She can see nothing strange however, nothing until it becomes murky. \n\nGathering her confidence, Pasha swims across the line into the Triangle. She feels no different, glancing back at the line. She continues deeper into the Triangle with much less concern, looping through the water. It feels like she’s swimming through uncharted territory, something extremely exciting to her. She has a smile on her face. \n\nHowever, the water begins to grow murky. Murkier than it should be, becoming that way much, much quicker than it should have been. Pasha pauses before starting to turn around. The way back looks no different however, in fact, it looks even darker. Her infallible sense of direction tells her all she needs to know, that the way back home is that way. \n\n“What a pretty little mermaid.” The growling voice sends a shiver up her spine, making her kick harder to swim faster. She’s certain she had never heard any of the other undersea life speak before but she doesn’t want to look at what could be speaking. \n\nSomething slams into her, things wrapping around her, making her scream. She pulls, fighting, attempting to get free. There are things around her. Things that she can put no known name to, no title, no words. Tearing at her flesh, she screams as blood spills into water. Horrifying laughter rattles her senses. She claws at the ground, kicking hard with her tail. Something slips. \n\nPasha is out like a shot, swimming as hard and fast as she can. Streaks of blood follow her through the water like ribbons. She uses the current to get home faster, fleeing in blind terror. Someone grasps her, making her freak out, swinging wildly at them. \n\n“Pasha, Pasha, calm.” She trembles, finally recognizing her father’s voice. “What is this—What have you done?” His voice goes from concerned to horrified. \n\n“I—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I just—I’m sorry.” \n\n“Pasha.” His grip becomes painful. “You’ve loosed them on the whole world. What have you done? You were told not to go there.” Her eyes dart from his gills to his large eyes, each word moving his gills to reveal the sharp-toothed mouth. \n\n“I—I didn’t… I didn’t…” The murk. From here, she can see it starting to spread. Her father follows her gaze. There is silence for a long time. \n\n“Go home.” Her father’s expression is grim. “Go home. We must prepare.” \n\nPasha can only nod, fleeing towards her home. The darkness spreads far behind her, the bounds of the Bermuda Triangle no longer binding the creatures within. ", "It was a dark and stormy night. \n“But Daddy! Why can’t I go?” I asked my father, throwing myself down at his fins. \n“That’s enough Demelza! I’ve told you before, the Bermuda Triangle is forbidden. Too many of our people have gone and never come back. I was lucky to escape myself.” He swam in a circle to leave the cove. “And don’t let me hear you talking about this again.” \nI screamed after him as he left. I was so angry that I thought the water around me was about to boil. That was it, I was sick of him treating me like a child. I went to my chest and took out all the doubloons I had been saving up, and swam out of the cove’s back-chasm. \nI caught a ride on the first whale out of Atlantis. There were a few shady customers on board; a gummy hammerhead shark and a pufferfish who looked like he had done too much blow. I fell asleep in my chair and woke up to the whale bellowing in his booming voice. \n“All off for the Bermuda Triangle!” \n\nI flittered up from my chair and swum off of the whale, and onto the Bermuda Triangle, excited to explore everything Daddy had forbidden. Walking down the street I saw dozens of low-down dive bars full of drunken fish who couldn’t swim straight. \nAt the end of the road was a magnificent building. Towering above anything else with red lights pouring off of it. A massive neon mermaid was slapped on the front, seductively waving in the clicky way neon lights do. Also in neon was a flashing sign reading \"MAIDS! MAIDS! MAIDS!\". Below all of this was the name of the establishment.\n \nTHE MARLIN ROUGE\n", "\"Girl, you are either very brave or very foolish.\"\n\n\".....\"\n\n\"Shark got your tongue?\" \n\n\"You have legs.\" \n\n\"Really? I hadn't noticed.\"\n\n\"But you have gills.\"\n\n\"It would be difficult to survive underwater otherwise.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I should be asking you that, girl.\"\n\n\"My name is Elena.\"\n\n\"As you wish, Elena. Now tell me. Why are you inside the Triangle?\" \n\n\"Because my parents and everyone else told me not to come here.\"\n\n\"So you came to the most dangerous place in the seven seas because you're stubborn?\"\n\n\"I haven't seen anything dangerous. Creepy maybe, but not dangerous. This place is beautiful in a thousands-of-people-have-died-here sort of way.\"\n\n\"Beautiful....are we speaking of the same place?\"\n\n\"There are centuries of history here.\"\n\n\"Centuries of death and destruction as well, Elena.\"\n\n\"I admitted it was creepy.\"\n\n\"So you did.\"\n\n\".....\"\n\n\"Speak your question.\"\n\n\"How do you survive down here with legs? They're so slow.\"\n\n\"You meet a strange man in a forbidden area and you're worried about how I survive?\"\n\n\"I am. Do you have a problem with that?\"\n\n\".....I survive, I'll leave it at that.\"\n\n\"And what is that you carry? Some sort of harpoon?\"\n\n\"Close, it is a trident.\"\n\n\"What is it for?\"\n\n\"Hunting, among other uses.\"\n\n\"Has anyone ever told you that the Mr. Mysterious approach is annoying?\"\n\n\"No. I don't get many visitors. Stop frowning, you've obviously come to the conclusion that I live here.\"\n\n\"I figured. So how about a tour?\"\n\n\"A tour?\"\n\n\"You know, show me around. Explain the sights. That kind of thing.\"\n\n\"What if I mean you harm? You don't know me.\"\n\n\"Please. I had no idea you were here until you introduced yourself.\"\n\n\"A tour it is then.\"\n\n\"Wait, I still don't know your name.\"\n\n\"My brothers call me Poseidon.\"" ]	[ 5, 7, 15 ]	[ "1459619628", "1459614316", "1459618615" ]
	[WP] 80% of people have superpowers, 19% don't. You are in the 1%	22	[ "Their all over the news. These people with super-powers. You'd think we lived in a fictional world or something. The statistics say about 3/4 of us have them. Less than a quarter of us don't. Then there's the mystical number in between. No-one knows what we can do. \n\nNo-one really cares. \n\nDifferent equals bad right? \n\nThey just shove us in a cell and hope to hell we don't mutate powers. It'd only happened \"a couple times.\" So they say. I've been here years. It happens to almost everyone. Everyone except me. \n\nI was nearing on my 21st birthday. They told me it was when they'd let me go. I didn't hold out much hope of that though. Figured I'd write this instead....\n\nRight, right. I'm getting off track. I guess I should say hello, new roommate. Or, if I'm not here, then look under my mattress in the right corner. I hoarded some snacks from home. It'll make you feel a little less lonely......\n\nAnyways, you wanna know more about this place right? Wrong. You don't wanna know nothing' kid. Listen here and listen well; play dumb. No matter if you damn well develop the ability to melt walls. Pretend your nothing. Do your time. It's better than what they do to everyone else.....", "\"Nothing registers... DNA tests are negative. Psychic tests are negative. No cybernetics or nanotech. And exhaustive magical screens revealed nothing.\"\n\n\"So he has no super powers what so ever. He's just a normal human?\"\n\n\"By our tests... Yes.\"\n\n\"Then, I guess... He isn't the one that defeated that intergalactic space monster?\"\n\n\"How do you explain the video?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\nI really do pity those scientists. They definitely have some super-intelligence and other abilities, but as usual nothing shows up. Hundreds of years of test development for superpowers and not one of them can detect my abilities. In fact, they'd probably wouldn't believe I'm hearing them from four rooms away while in this supposedly soundproof test chamber. Oh well, I've come to accept and love this strange quirk of mine. Ah, one of them is coming by... Get the feeling to release me. She seems so defeated. I'll compliment on her glasses, maybe that'll brighten her day.\n\nThe door opens to the test chamber and a mousey looking scientist with short red hair comes in, \"If you can come with me, I'll lead you out.\"\n\nI stand up from the solitary chair in the test chamber, \"Did you guys find anything?\"\n\nShe momentarily looks down at her clipboard, even though she knows the answer and replies a bit saddened, \"Uhh... No. None at all.\"\n\nI shrug, put a smile on my face while walking her direction, \"So, I'm the same guy I was yesterday! Good to know.\"\n\nShe leads me out of the room and directs me towards the end of the hall. I walk casually with my bright orange Hawaiian shirt flowing freely over my favorite One Punch Man t-shirt. After closing the door, the scientist quickly appears right next to me. Teleporter. Wait... No... That's not it... AH! Super-ridiculous speed it seems like teleportation. Neat!\n\n\"I'm really sorry we've kept you so long this time.\"\n\n\"Ah, it's okay. It's a really nice facility you all have here. I never got to see more than the initial testing areas when I young, the expansions you've put in are amazing!\"\n\n\"Well, testing for superpowers is quite a necessity in society.\"\n\n\"I bet. So much requires them these days. And the requirement levels keep on getting higher.\"\n\nI sense something strange. It's from her... Her gaze. Those deep green eyes are intensely scanning me. I bet she has some super-sight or something like that. I met her gaze, I don't think she's quite realized I'm looking back at her. I start checking my face with my hand, \"Oh? Do I have something on my face? Something in the teeth? I had a spinach wrap for lunch, I bet something is stuck in there-\"\n\nShe blinks and realizes she's been staring, and immediately turns her head away and forward. I can see a flush of pink in cheeks. \"I- uh- y-y-you got it out.\"\n\n\"Ha, thanks.\"\n\nIt's a quiet for a few moments as she regains her composure.\n\n\"Are you certain there was no one else around the crash site?\"\n\n\"Ummm... Yes. At least no one else I could see. Sorry, I don't know any more. It was just me and whatever that thing was from all I know.\"\n\n\"It's okay. We've just been having someone going around defeating monsters and saving people... But we've never been able to find them... And you seem to be around these places more often that not.\"\n\nI could feel that strange sensation again. I briefly glance over, \"I couldn't help but to notice, but those glasses really compliment your eyes.\"\n\nAnother quick blink from her and she snaps her head back forward. This time she's flushed a nearly glowing red.\n\nWe finally get out the front door and she's walked me up to the sidewalk right outside the gates.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Madison. The Organization appreciates your cooperativeness in helping us figure out these strange incidents.\"\n\nI smile and chuckle, \"Well, hopefully I stop having such horrible luck in being these situations. It's nice to see everyone, but I'd really like to meet in nicer circumstances-\"\n\nA loud tumbling crash interrupts as sedan rolls into the air, right at Mr. Madison and the scientist.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nShe looks at the sedan and her mind races. The world slows down to a near standstill. The sedan is coming right at them. She lets go of her clipboard and it slowly descends as gravity acts upon it. Both arms wrap around Mr. Madison and she powers him out of the path of the sedan. She may not have super-strength, but fitness facilities at the Organization test facilities are rival to none and free access to employees. After what is mere moments to her and a fraction of a second to others, she's cleared the path of airborne sedan-\n\nHer arms momentarily move and something slips out of them. She feels nothing. She feels she's grabbing onto... Air? A glance still shows Mr. Madison being pulled along looking towards something- Is he becoming transparent?! What is he looking at- OH NO!\n\nShe looks in front of the path of the sedan and sees bystanders just now trying to react to the car about to hit them- Did it just jump back into the air?! \n\nThe sedan pitches back up into the air and is now on a path to go safely over the bystanders and land into empty roadway. She studies this... And as the scene slowly progresses, a faint bright orange trail leaves her going to the point where the car sharply pitched up, and then the trails goes too... The villain who threw it?! The villain for some reason is flying backwards with his face contorting from something smacking him- WHAT THE HELL?! For a brief moment she swears Mr. Madison in her arms is almost transparent and her arms are going through him?!\n\nThen, Mr. Madison returns to full opacity, her arms shake a bit. Then for a few more moments the odd blur around Mr. Madison dissipates.\n\nHer mind slows back down and the world goes back to full speed. The sedan bounces over the bystanders and safely lands. The villain spins backwards onto the pavement, completely knocked out, much to the surprise and shock of the heroes who were fighting him. They can only look at each other in confusion at why the villain is now sprawled out, unconscious on the ground. She feels that Mr. Madison has regained his footing and she lets go of him.\n\nHe looks around at the scene, \"Wow! You got me clear of that in a hurry! That was amazing! Do you have super-strength or something?! I mean, I'm not exactly light and all-\"\n\nShe holds back the urge to use her enhanced sight on Mr. Madison. He's being nice and complimenting. A sly smirk grows on her face, and she reaches into her lab coat's front pocket to pull out one of her business cards, along with a pen. She turns over to the blank side and writes something quickly.\n\nShe presents the business side of the card to Mr. Madison, \"As usual, Mr. Madison, here's my business card should you need to report anything more...\"\n\nHe reaches to take it... \"Well, Ms. McMalloy, I will definitely-\"\n\nShe flips the card over, \"And if you'd like to meet in better circumstances, here's my contact information.\"\n\nMr. Madison's freezes mid grab. Ms. McMalloy calmly places the card between his fingers, and closes them onto the card. She confidently walks around to the side of him, \"Oh, you can call me by my middle name Cynthia.\"\n\nCynthia looks over at the stunned look on Mr. Madison's face, as he blushes and seems to be at a complete loss to react. The sly smirk grows to a devilish grin.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nBy the time I regained my senses, she was well inside Organization's facility and I'm standing in the middle of the street. Despite all the activity around me, I could only look at the business card with Cynthia's personal phone number and e-mail address.\n\n\"Huh...\"\n", "It was weird growing up as me. Most of my friends developed powers of some sort, most of them being rather lame and not that useful powers, and a couple not even developing powers at all. Almost all of them though went on to live very ordinary lives. I mean, when 4/5 of your class has some sort of superability, it isn't really special, you know?\n\nBut I wish things were simple for me. I didn't really develop superpowers, but I wasn't a 'normal'. I didn't really get the ability to do any one thing really well. If anything, it was a surprise that I didn't get ostracised as a kid the moment it started developing. I'm lucky I had such good friends to keep me sane through my childhood.\n\nAs an adult, I'm barred from a lot of places. I can't go to superhero competitions or events, I have to do my shopping at night or online to avoid causing problems at the mall, hell, even going to a restaurant is a stressful endeavour. Even though most people who have superpowers live ordinary lives just like me and you, they tend to be quite attached to their abilities.\n\nYou see, I don't have a 'superpower' in the sense I can go fast, have super strength, or the multitudes of different abilities as diverse and unique as there are grains of sand on a beach. I don't really do anything, it isn't something I can will or control like a superpower. Simply put, superpowers simply fail to work around me. Doesn't matter how strong you are or how well atuned to your abilities you are, they plain don't work around me.\n\nFor the most part though, the range of this effect is limited, but to those who aren't used to not having their powers, it seems to put them into shock every time. As if someone cut their arm off and they no longer have control over a limb they took for granted. And it has been the bane of my social life ever since I went to university, away from my friends for the first time.\n\nBut it hasn't been all that bad. Despite certain inconveniences, I have found a calling of my own. Turns out in a particular area, something like my abilities are highly sought after, so much so I get paid twice that over other employees, as a starting wage. You see, with 4/5 of the population with superpowers, statistically speaking, you are going to get quite a few bad apples with powers. And a prison guard like me is what keeps a lot of them from being able to escape the justice system.\n\nOf course, no one needs superpowers to kill me. A knife in the back or a bullet to the head are pretty effective. But the anti-power effect doesn't diminish in strength when I'm unconscious, and they reckon it'll persist even when I'm dead. Not many get requests from prisons to claim your cadaver after your death just so they can build the strongest containment cells for particularly troublesome criminals.\n\nSo, that's what it means to be me. A one-man, mobile and living safety zone. My name is Paul, by the way, and for your sake, just be sure not to get too close to me. Not if you value having your superpowers." ]	[ 2, 4, 18 ]	[ "1459682504", "1459684314", "1459682856" ]
	[WP] You're the only human left on a world full of supernatural creatures.	20	[ "It began with the zombies. Hell was full up and the souls came back to their bodies. Resistance gathered, but I was too scared to fight the menace. Millions died, and thousands turned.\n\nSoon after all manner of monsters began to inhabit the Earth. Demons and vampires roamed the street, searching for prey. But the demons only hunted true believers and vampires only hunted the beautiful, and I was neither, so I did not offer my help to those in need.\n\nNow I live among the ghosts of the old world. Empty skyscrapers, metal monuments to those who once inhabited them. I find myself surrounded by the spirits of those who can not move on, they call me a coward, and I am scared.\n\nThe vampires want blood and the demons want souls, and I'm the only human left.\n\n-----------\n\n[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!\n", "I plopped the frozen goat thighs on the counter \"How's it goin?\" I said, digging out my wallet. The shop keeper nodded, but stopped, noticing something in my face. \n\nshit. I left the pointy teeth in. \n\n\"...And, uh, your cheapest blood packet. The frozen goat's for... my wife. She's a troll.\"\n\nThe shopkeeper reached under the counter, pulling out a small red bag \"You won't get any trouble from me. I may be old, but I'm not old fashioned. I think it's a brave thing you two did.\" he said with a nod. \"I've got an import that's twelve bucks a pint. But I've got a sale on Red X. Twenty-two for a pint if you want American?\" he gestured to the rack holding red, white, and blue packages.\n\n\"The, uh.. The import, please. Wife wants me to cut back on the cholesterol.\"\n\nThe Minotaur grunted and sacked the groceries.\n\nI paid and left the store with my haunches. Two blocks later, I approached the cobblestone bridge to my neighborhood. The instant my foot touched the incline, a squat, brown thing climbed over the edge of the bridge.\n\n\"Who goes there?!\"\n\n\"Vampire\" I said, and smiled to show my teeth. \n\n\"ah, well, there be a toll to cross my -\"\n\nI tossed it one of the goat haunches, and it reluctantly ambled over the edge of the bridge - perhaps disappointed I didn't listen to his whole bit.\n\nI crossed the stream into the gated community. I'd gotten word that giants had taken up in some of the larger mansions in the area. Most creatures keep their distance from giants, so as long as I stayed out of the foyer, most of the rooms on the ground floor were a nice, safe place to crash. And with Giants - as long as you aren't English, they really don't seem to mind you. \n\nI made it in through one of the servant's doors and crept through the darkened kitchen to a smaller, but richly furnished bedroom. I plopped the grocery bag on the bed and kicked my shoes off. Then I heard it. The ground shook slightly and a voice like James Earl Jones bellowed to the rest of the neighborhood \"Fee Fi! Fo Fum, Get over here! I smell the blood of an Englishman!\"\n\nI froze. I fished the blood bag out of the grocery sack and flipped it over. \n\n'Made in Britain.' \n\nShit.", "Balance: a concept passed around like bad wine and spoken of only on the tail end of joke. Even at that, it seemed like victory had become practical for a brief snippet of history. Like the fists of men had grown faster than the claw of beasts. So it begins, they say. The living begin and end, two legged or not. A tale begins and ends, a middle and plot. Though tragic it seems that when we speak of an event, its beginning, we are more concerned with the ends. \n\nThe end of humanity on this sphere began when they began to gain ground. After that they gained the seas, and after that they gained the skies. But before all of that, we were right. Right in our wars, and right in our methods. There was no competition when fist met claw, flesh tore quickly and without complaint. But when we mastered the metal, yes, that manna of the earth, we realized, perhaps too quickly, that under the right force, claw could tear just as easily as flesh. \n\nNow there was aim in our fear and led away from the cavernous depths from which we hid; pointing, quite poetically and quite literally, towards the light beyond the tunnel. We emerged, us...man, onwards into the fray of the wild. We warriors, we bearers, we angels! Feathered in polished manna and praying only for more killing fields. We overcame and for many turns of the sphere, it was good. \n\nOur god was fear, his spirit invention, and its word was law. But we had forgotten this and in time we spread with unfortunate speed and unforgiving ideals. We could not comprehend that out there, beyond the bile soaked lands on which we settled, were creatures far beyond our ability. The few, the brave who braved to explore need not return. \n\nNay, they could not return for out there, tickling among our borders, our metal no longer enforced the law. We had become subject to it once more. And there should be no need for me to tell you what powers grew while we sowed the wrong crops. We now hear mention every day of another method of their madness. \n\nYoung men and women whose skulls are crushed by a single hand. Their bodies manipulated and stretched apart mid-air by invisible forces. Organs pierced by curse tipped projectiles that eat through metal at any range. Souls smuggled straight from the body without notice. Minds overtaken by bewitchery. Mobile corpses that smile when struck by a blade.\n\nThese are an inkling of the horrors I have been tasked to document. There are so many and yet so few of us left. We fight. The old with their might and the youth with their minds for fear continues to guide us. As it should. I am too weak to carry a gun and too old to read a screen and though I fear I may one day wake up alone in these depths, I know that these last angels among me, will carry our plight to the heavens. ", "Genetics are such a strange thing, such a bizarre coincidence of DNA and traits. Take me for example. I have a very unique genome. Immutable, my doctor calls it. Apparently that means that even when bitten by a vampire, attacked by a werewolf, or even cursed by magic, I remain human. Stubbornly so, in fact. I'm nearly 1400 years old, yet another strange trait of my immutable genome. My cells replicate perfectly, giving me a theoretical immortality and I don't really get sick. Like I said, genetics are funny. When I was born, I remember being treated as a freak, someone strange and different. My doctors took a lot of blood and tissue samples, and I remember spending a lot of time with needles in me. Then of course, came the Upheaval.\n\nIt started about fifty years after I was born, and it continued for nearly three centuries. Mankind slowly went extinct, our place taken by the supernatural creatures of legends. No one really knows how it started, but it began in Europe. Vampires and Werewolves emerged and began killing and turning everyone they could find. Then came the Fomor, the Seelie and Unseelie, and all the other Gloaming creatures. By the end, every human had been turned or killed, except one. I was kept as a science experiment by one of the vampire lords, a man named Kristoff, who continually subjected me to new methods of turning me. He was actually pretty chill about the whole thing, going out of his way to make sure that I wasn't harmed by his experiments. \n\nKristoff had enemies though, and eventually he was killed, his household liberated. Thinking I was one of his house, I was cast out into the world, the last human left. Finding a job was easy, since the majority of the new species were nocturnal, jobs that needed to be done throughout the day were in high supply. I work as a solar panel tech, keeping a massive farm of panels working for the Unseelie Court. They could handle the day, but they preferred the night, and they hated iron and steel, meaning it was difficult for them to manage their solar farms. Enter me, their werewolf tech. I'm not really a werewolf, but it means I get a three day paid vacation every month at the full moon, a vacation I use to go fishing. \n\nThe Unseelie are actually pretty great bosses, definitely misrepresented in human literature. They have a ton of rules, and they apply to workers, meaning I get paid excellently and I have a great benefits package. My doctor, working with patient confidentiality, knows I am human, and helps me manage. He files reports saying I'm a werewolf and he's been super helpful getting me meals that are balanced, sneaking me supplements to assist my meat-filled diet. Basically, he's my rock. Fortunately for me, he's a Elder Fae, and is more immortal than I am, so I don't have to worry about a new doctor every hundred years or so. \n\nHe's been fascinated by my genome, just like Kristoff was, and I do my best to make sure he has lots of samples. I figure keeping him happy is the least I can do. As the world's oldest and only human, I keep my head down and watch as the world changes. When the Upheaval first happened, the technology level dropped significantly, until the supernatural creatures began to understand humanity's technology. Now, my Fae doctor takes MRIs, uses 3D Holo Matrices to plot my genome, and does scans using long wave light scans. Not only did the supernatural creatures understand our technology, they also resumed our expansion. Now, nearly 1400 years later, the Earth is a utopia, each race well-represented and well-treated. As a human born in the the late 1900s, I wake up every day fascinated by how the world has changed. Floating cities, space travel, and even flying cars, have now become the norm. \n\nAll in all then, this world's not so bad. I make a good living, I have lots of friends, and I recently started seeing an Unseelie Fae, a girl named Mashian, who's even older than I am. I've even been thinking of sharing my secret with her, so hopefully she's okay dating a human. Anyway, that's life in 1358 A.U. It's different that I expected when I was a kid, but it's not bad. Not bad at all. " ]	[ 2, 3, 4, 9 ]	[ "1459865021", "1459875544", "1459869700", "1459871241" ]
	[WP] it's the year 2020, and a new super virus has emerged where if you fall asleep, you die. You're part of a group of survivors who have been awake for 10 days, fighting to stay awake however you can..	4	[ "It was a Thursday, I remembered. Even now, 240 hours later, in the sickly, bone-grey light of the panic room, I remembered that, and little else. Funny how the world works. No one knew why, one night, those consigned to peaceful rest found their sleep eternal. Tragic, for sure, but no less strange. The First Day was chaos, the blogosphere erupting with half-baked conspiracy theories and pointed fingers at one culprit after another. An explosion of information and theorizing raced across the world, almost as if they could do something. And still the world turned lazily, bringing with it the night, the deep, cool pools of shadow and the now-sickening noises of the immune nocturnal animals, lulling one to sleep, daring you to take your chances with what now lay beyond sleep's cold embrace. It was harder the first three days. Sometimes you would almost fall asleep, convincing yourself that your eyes could take a few moments to rest, only to be jolted back to lucidity by the harsh crack of a watchman's paddle, those who were doled out the meager caffeine rations and entrusted with our lives, to stop us Succumbing. They were good men, but ultimately I think even they knew we were buying time. We found some with bullets in their heads, unable to face the fear of consigning themselves to the same plague that had wiped out half of the living world by now. Others were found lying at the bottom of cliffs, and we theorized those were the ones for whom the visions proved too much, Succumbed by their own hallucinations. \n\nIt's just me now, of course. And night is falling again, as if it matters. Lights are still on in most places, their occupants having fled to believed 'safe-zones' back when the plague was believed to be aerial, leaving behind homes and livelihoods untouched. The city lies, peaceful now, in a grotesque parody of itself, yet still behind a facade, as most corpses were wrapped in blankets, or face-down on tables, or slumped backward on chairs. The twisted melody of car horns blended together in a sickening dirge, the only thing piercing the wretched silence. In a way it was a blessing, the blaring cacophony did much to keep a man awake, the occupants having stopped for a \"quick break\" or to \"rest their eyes.\" We did our part to try to stop people going out in cars, those who thought that the exercise would liven them up and stop them from Succumbing, but it was for naught. We all did our part, in the end, but look just how far that got us. Now I recline here alone, afraid to Succumb but too petrified of the sickening world around me to keep going in a nightmare land. I am Succumbing now, I can feel it. In the corners of my vision I can see half-glimpsed friends, and I can catch myself daydreaming, thinking of what it might be like to see my friends again. Perhaps a few days ago I would have ceased this at once, I would have stalked up to the commanding watchman and demanded rations, determined by some sick sense of competitiveness to outlast my peers, convinced that maybe someday soon we would see the end of this. It doesn't matter anymore, of course.\n\nI let myself slip to one side, bringing my knees to my chest to make me more comfortable, shifting my body in the makeshift bower I had set up in the massive oak, when the stench of the bodies on the ground became too much. I let slip the needle I had been using to prick myself, and my tortured knuckles scream in relief. With grim satisfaction I noted that it was bent-I had held on to that wretched thing since the Eighth Day. I feel myself slipping away, and I do nothing to stop it. \n\nGoodnight.", "I glanced at the two in the corner of the room. They have been slapping each other for quite a while now. The other two on the opposite corner were having a conversation, actually at this point they are just shouting nonsense at one another. I…\n\nNo! I move the knife I perforated the palm of my hand with from side to side. I took the more extreme approach to the problem, but frankly? I couldn't care less at this point, I am too tired for that. If only we still had coffee! All the coffee was gone by the first three days.\n\nWe are done for. If the virus doesn’t kill us the exhaustion will. Heh. After ten days with no sleep everything seems more funny, it doesn’t really help that my four companions are screaming random shit and slapping each other. I have been laughing quietly since day seven. Everything is too surreal right now. Except the knife, it’s the only thing that still feels real. I shake once again. The wave of pain going through my body is getting more dull each time, soon not even that will anchor me to reality. I will drift away into Morpheus’s arms and he’s going to throw me straight away at Hades.\n\nI don’t have any regrets at least. Actually… what I wouldn’t do for one last cup of coffee.\n" ]	[ 3, 3 ]	[ "1459923440", "1459932190" ]
As we break down sexism, more and more women are undertaking higher education to become doctors/lawyers/politicians/scientists, while men still make up the vast majority of technical fields (construction/electricians/plumbers/mechanics) due to the necessity of having a lot of strength. It seems that this trend will only progress, and eventually we will have a higher proportion of women in mainly "theoretical" jobs and men in mainly "practical" jobs. Extrapolate further.	[WP] Our society has progressed far into the future, and sexism has essentially reversed; men are valued only for their physical attributes (strength, athleticism) and women are considered more theoretically-minded, the natural leaders of society.	25	[ "I tried to readjust my tight pants without anyone noticing. \n\n“Whoa, quit playing with yourself!” Sheryl hollered at me while fist pumping.\n\n“Get a look at that anaconda Becky!” \n\nThe women started laughing and high fiving. I could feel heat blooming in my cheeks as I tried to walk out of the office with some of my dignity intact. I would not cry in front of them. I slammed the bathroom stall door and the tears fell out in an uncontrollable torrent. I took a few deep breaths and wiped my eyes. I am stronger than they are. They can’t just push me around like this. I clenched my fists wiped snot out of my nose and walked back into the office with my head held high. \n\n“Hey Rick, can you do you me a favor and fix the printer please?” Amber asked sweetly. \n\n“Sure Amber.” \n\nThe printer was always jamming. I had no idea how they managed to do it but every day I had to get down and fix it. I was bent over with my head inside the printer trying to work out the jam when I felt a hard pinch on my rear. I jumped in surprise and smashed my head. Rubbing the already swelling lump, I looked at my offender angrily.\n\n“How about next time you leave a couple buttons undone on that flannel Rick.” My boss Brittany said salaciously. \n\n“I’m just teasing Rick.” Brittany said with a wink and walked away. Her tall heels clicked on the hardwood floors. \n\nIf I didn’t need this job I would have already quit. I left for lunch and walked down the sidewalk to a small café on the corner. It was my favorite place to get an iced coffee and a panini. A crew of construction workers labored in the sun moving heavy rocks into wheel barrows. Women were standing by watching them and jeering.\n\n“Hey strong guy, how about you come over here and handle my rocks!” Shouted a short heavyset brunette.\n\n“Yeah, use me like a wheel barrow!” Another woman shouted. They laughed at each other’s jokes and high fived.\n\nI sighed to myself as I entered La Sammich. The man at the counter took a woman’s order. She was being exceptionally rude and short with the poor man.\n\n“Honestly how hard is it to take an order and make a sandwich?! Idiot!” \n\nThe man was struggling, it was obvious he was new. She paid and stormed off to wait for her food at a table. Poor bastard I thought to myself. I gave him an apologetic look and ordered a soup and salad and ate quietly in the corner. The rest of the day went by in a haze. Becky made a few more remarks but I tried to ignore them. I left work and made my way to the gym. As much as I hated the comments the women made it would be worse if I wasn’t in shape. I held back tears as I bench pressed my anger out. \n\nJust another day I thought to myself.\n\n", "Geoff Mills tugged uncomfortably at his long sleeves. The weather forecast earlier that morning had told him it would be over 90 degrees out, but he'd had enough of women ogling his arms. Even if his immaculate physique showed right through the fabric, at least he was denying them the chance to gawk at his bare skin. It wasn't like he worked out 4 hours a day for them or anything, but he'd long since learned voicing his complaints would only make more of them turn around and stare.\n\nEven going to the gym was turning into more and more of a chore; he swore he could literally hear many pairs of eyes locking on to him the moment he stepped over to the weights. He hated feeling like a mere block of flesh, as if he was nothing more than a pair of muscled arms attached to a six-pack torso.\n\nHe sighed with relief as he opened the refrigerator door and rummaged through its contents. There was enough food to last him for the rest of the day, so he wouldn't have to go outside. Geoff wasn't an introvert by any means, but he, like many other men, had those days where he just didn't have the energy to deal with any sexist comments.\n\nTo be fair, it's not like every woman out there was nothing more than a bundle of hormones bottled up with a heavy dash of misandry, but there were enough of them to make most men cautiously pessimistic. Better to be safe than sorry, what with society being female-dominated, not to mention that women tended to travel in larger groups than men to begin with.\n\nGeoff eased into his favorite chair and fired up his computer. Since he'd already planned to stay inside for the rest of the day, he figured he'd get some quality game time in for his favorite online computer game, World of Speechcraft. Even though he was a man, he relished the verbal duels and mental warfare that had come to define the world-popular, best-selling massively multiplayer online game. \n\nLogging into the game, he casually flicked his eyes toward the lower left corner of his screen where the chat window resided. Like always, it was flying with activity as thousands of people all vied for attention in the global chat channel.\n\n lol why dont u go into the kitchen and\n get some tupperware off the top shelf for me?\n\n don't be so sensitiv its not liek you have to do\n nething except stand there and look handsome\n\n abs or GTFO\n\nWith a heavy sigh, Geoff clicked the little \"x\" that allowed him to minimize the chat box. Apparently, someone had outed another player as a guy, and the global chat had already exploded accordingly with this discovery.\n\nIt was going to be another one of those days." ]	[ 3, 15 ]	[ "1460005989", "1459998683" ]
	[WP] Your child made a treasure map in school today. To entertain them you went on a treasure hunt, but you actually found something at the end.	4	[ "“Mom, I made a treasure map in school!” The young boy presented his mother with his creation. “Oh, wow. Look at that! It looks so old!” She feigned her amazement quite obviously, but her son did not notice. He nodded. “I ripped up parts of the paper and Mrs. Holloway helped me burning the edges so it looked really old.”\n\n“Good job, Sigurd. What is the treasure?” The young boy clearly had not thought about it and shrugged with his shoulders. “I dunno.” “Well, why don’t we go and find out?” Small Sigurd’s eyes widened. He wanted to go but he was old enough to know, that if you made a map to find your way to a treasure, the treasure would not magically appear. “Mom, I made the map, there will not be any treasure.” \n\n“Don’t be too sure about that. There could always be what you most desire.” His mother announced playfully. “We won’t know until we were there, won’t we?” She had him convinced and packed some sweets in her purse, while young Sigurd was putting on his shoes.\n\n“Where do we start?”, she asked him. The boy looked at his map and showed his mother the most important land marks. “This is our house.” His little hands wandered over the map in another direction. “And this is the school.” His fingers stopped at the beginning of the path. “We must go to the old log.”\n\nAnd so, mom and son had a wonderful time walking to where an old log had fallen over. “What is next, Sigurd?” The boy looked proudly into his map and announced: “We have to follow the path to the creek!”\n\nThe creek was small and almost empty. Sigurd had accumulated an impressive collection of wooden sticks on the way and was testing how they would fall into the water. His mother waited patiently and only when he was finished and about to go off to find more sticks, she reminded him of the treasure, that was waiting for them. “Do we have to cross the creek to get to the treasure, Sigurd?”\n\nThe boy remembered. Without looking at the map, he told his mother, that they had to follow the creek until they met a pair of trees that had grown into each other. So they followed it. The mother walked on top, while her son explored every bend, that the tickle of water to his feet made. She was happy to see him this light hearted. He had taken the loss so hard. For months, she did not know, what to do, to cheer him up. This little adventure was a welcome change.\n\n“Is it still far?”, she asked him when they had reached the intertwined trees. “No.” The boy pointed towards a clearing in the already thin forest. “It’s there.”\n\nThe mother looked for a place to hide the sweets. She distracted her son with a task so she could stash it unseen. The boy looked all around, yet could not find the treasure. “We have to dig.” He sounded quite sure of it. “Maybe you should look behind this tree?” The mother singled out the tree where she had hidden the sweets.\n\n“No. We must dig here!” “But we don’t have a shovel, sweetie.” The boy had already started digging through the dirt on his knees with his bare hands. “Oh, no, Sigurd. Stop that! You’re getting mud all over your clothes!” Young Sigurd did not listen and continued with even more effort.\n\n“Stop it!” The mother walked over and wanted to drag the little man away. But he stopped as soon as she arrived. Both looked at what the boy had just dug out. The mother in shock and Sigurd without any expression on his face. A human hand sticked out of the mud.\n\n“Don’t look.” The mother had regained her ability to act and dragged the boy far away from the gruesome find. How did a hand get there? Does she have to call the police? A thousand things went into the mothers head as she was fighting hard to not break down in the presence of her poor troubled child.\n\nHe should not have seen this. Not after what had happened. “Is it dad’s?” “What?” The mother stopped her train of thought to take care of her possibly traumatized son for a moment. “The hand. Is it dad’s?” He did not understand at all, the poor child. Tears came rolling down her face. “No, sweetie. Daddy was buried. Don’t you remember? Everyone was there. To the funeral at the church. We all said Goodbye to Daddy.”\n\n“I know.” The boy fidgeted around. “When you said the treasure is what I most want it to be, I wanted dad to be there.” He looked back at the clearing which they had left. “Not like this. I wanted him to be like before.”\n\n“Oh, sweetie, I know. I know. I want him back, too. We miss him so terribly much, don’t we? But he is not coming back.” The stream of tears did not stop and her eyes had went red from the crying.\n\n“Here.” He gave her something that he had carried in the palm of his hand. “What is this - “ She recognized it immediately. “Where did you get that?” But she already knew. “The hand gave it to me.” It was the same ring as the one on her ringfinger.\n\nShe did not know, where her mind went. She wanted to wake up desperately. It must be a dream. But she ran towards the clearing, searching the ground. The hand was gone, she had looked everywhere. She shuffled through the mud, grabbing pieces of dirt and flinging them away from her. All while crying violently.\n", "“Hey, bud, learn anything cool today?” I said as my son walked in from the school bus.\n\n“Aaargh!” he laughed back at me, “we learned about pirates. In art, we made our own treasure maps. Mine’s in my back pack. I was thinking maybe later we can see where it takes us.”\n\n“Sure, we can hunt around the yard after dinner,” I agreed, thinking we could both use some fresh air.\n\n“Cool, but the map’s not of the yard. Mrs. Rackham gave us tracing paper to use over some maps. Mine goes all the way to the lake!”\n\nI couldn’t help but sigh to myself as I served up the spaghetti. I’m sure even if he hadn’t had tracing paper and a map, he would have made his map end at the lake. I might be biased, but my eight year old is pretty smart and if there’s a way to work in a trip out to the lake, he will find it. He was lucky it was a beautiful day, a visit after dinner would actually be a nice change of pace.\n\nAfter we finished eating, I left a note for my husband and grabbed my keys. I was practically in the van when my son stopped me. “Mom, we have to walk! See, the map is drawn with little footprints on it. That means you have to take steps.”\n\nOf course, it is “Why would you do that? You know the lake is over a mile away, right? That’s a lot of walking”\n\n“Yeah, but there are a few smaller X’s that we have to stop at. See?” he asked as he handed me the map. I looked it over and although there weren’t buildings, I could see that he had marked stops at places like the penny candy store, the icecream store and the bridge where we sometimes feed the ducks. I was beginning to think that he might be smarter than I give him credit for. Then I noticed that the last X wasn’t just at the lake, it was IN the lake.\n\n“Bud, how do you think we are going to check out the spot where the treasure is? That’s like 100 feet out into the lake,” I said, a little too smugly for someone talking to a child. \n\n“I don’t know, it just seemed like that’s where the treasure would be. It’s alright, we don’t have to follow it. It’s just a dumb map,” he kicked a stone as he turned back towards the house. \n“No, let’s go. This is a pretty good map. Can we ride bikes or does that break the footprint rule? Surely a pirate wouldn’t hold it against us for using a little modern convenience?” He smiled as he ran around the house to get his bike. I studied the map a bit more, while we waited. He had done a pretty good job of tracing the geography between our house and the lake. None of the modern buildings in town where there, but he had traced the main road which was rumored to have been a horse trail. Mrs Rackham had even helped them burn the edges for that authentic old map feel. Even with the stops he had planned, it shouldn’t take us too long. I texted my husband, hoping he would be able to pick us up by the lake in an hour. As enthusiastic as he was, Tommy was the kind of kid who used all his energy getting someplace and needing to be carried home.\n\nTommy finally came back around the house with his bike. He had the basket filled up with swimming gear, towels and his backpack. I just shook my head as I got on my own bike and we took off for town. It was a fairly uneventful trip to the candy store, but Neccos were as good a treasure as anything. We pushed our bikes down the block, but Tommy didn’t stop at the icecream store. He kept walking until he got in front of Fred’s rental shop. \n\n“Tommy, we aren’t renting a boat. Do you know how much that costs?” \n\n“But, mom, Fred’s having a special, look at the sign! Spring Special: 4 hours for $10. You can use my allowance this month! How can we find pirate treasure if we don’t have a ship?!” he screeched, close to having a sugar induced meltdown. I would hardly call Fred’s rusty old row boats “ships,” but I felt committed at this point. Glancing at the map again, I realized that last mark wasn’t the duck bridge, it was the pick up area and boat dock. The kid had definitely put some effort into this. I sighed as I pulled out my wallet. Fred was happy to have a rental on a weeknight and gave us his best ship. Turns out the spring special was happening because Fred wanted a little business before he got the motors out for the summer. Looks like my arms would be getting a workout tonight. It was a short ride to the lake and Fred’s grandson, Willy, helped us put the little boat into the water. \n\n“Come on, mom, row!” he screamed, holding up the map and pointing at nothing in particular. I grumbled as I started rowing, reminding myself that it was a beautiful day and surely this would give me some cool mom points. I got us halfway across the lake, where the water looked exactly the same as the rest of the lake and asked him if he had our bearing. He spread the map out on the bench seat and turned it to line up with the shoreline. I was about to toss the anchor when he announced we had to move. I didn’t bother asking how he could tell and maneuvered to get us twenty more feet. Suddenly, we slowed with a thud and that distinctive metal screech of a car accident. I wondered what kind of insurance Fred had on these things as I looked over the side. \n\n“Mom! There is a treasure! Did we find it?” Tommy rocked the boat as he moved to look. I guess he forgot that he drew the map, but it was weird that there was something in the lake. It looked like a pipe of some kind sticking just above the water. The side of the boat had a pretty nasty scratch, but there didn’t appear to be any holes. We weren’t taking on water, so I figured we could “discover” a little bit more.\n\nTommy instructed me to pull on the pipe; it didn’t budge. He got a flashlight out of his bag and tried shining it down the pipe. It was a 3 inch pipe, so we just saw black. He dropped a marble down and we counted to six before we heard a distinctive plink. He turned and asked me how deep that meant and seemed disappointed to remember that his dad was the engineer. I was just pulling out my phone to see what google had to say about marbles and measuring depth, when we heard a loud whirring sound coming from the pipe. We both sat there in shock staring at the opening of the pipe until a small glass lens pushed his marble out into the lake. It continued raising until it looked like a small periscope sticking up out of the lake. Tommy immediately stuck his face up to the lens, which caused it to turn. Or did it turn on its own? It rotated on its own, then raised several inches and rotated again until it was facing me at my eye level. I was seriously creeped out and told Tommy to get back to his seat while I rows us away. I had just picked up the oars, when there was a loud clank against the bottom of the boat. \n\n“Tommy,” I nervously whispered, “come sit here by me. Why did you mark this spot on the map?”\n\n“I don’t know, I just wanted to come out here and you always say it’s too cold. It was finally a nice day. And I just thought if the X was in the middle of the lake, you would have to get us a boat and we could stay longer.” He moved towards me and I grabbed him to sit between my feet on the boat floor. I tried rowing, but couldn’t move the boat. It was like we were tethered. I looked at the pipe again and tried to look non-threatening. \n\n“Hello? Is there some one controlling this? We were just out for a boatride. Sorry we hit your pipe? I have some cash, I will pay to fix whatever we might have damaged.” I offered, not knowing if there was anyone on the other end. The periscope immediately whirred back down the pipe. We still didn’t move when I rowed. Suddenly, the boat started moving. Whatever had attached itself to the bottom was now in control. I moved to the boat floor with Tommy. I considered taking him and jumping out, but even with his floaties and my life jacket, I didn’t think we could make it to the shore. Especially since whatever was causing this was under the water. There was some clunking and whirring and it seemed our little boat settled into some sort of cradle. Two curved pieces of glass and metal came out of the water and closed around us like peas in a pod. Tommy was now audibly crying about being sorry and cleaning his room and never asking to come to the lake again. I tried to comfort him, but found myself crying as the pod began to descend into the lake. The pod was airtight and had a few LEDs around the middle. They provided the only light as we sunk into the lake. \n\nThe rest is in a comment below. I got a little wordy." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1460126459", "1460119669" ]
	[WP] You live in a world without a regular day/night or season cycle. Every day is a different length, and nights have lasted what we know as years before. The world has always been like this. You are your peoples Time Keeper.	18	[ "\"My pappy and the pappy before him kept time and my youngin and his youngin gon keep, keepin time, and thats all there is to say about it!\" Samuel replied to his father \"But pah I don't want to keep no time no more!\" This angers his father, since, from his perspective, he labored with blood, sweat, and tears to keep these records diligently despite his improper use of language and understanding of technology he did his job well. Jacobs father sat up straighter in his chair and looked his first born son in the eyes and replied \"You dos what ya tink you outta do\", Jacobs' heart tighten with sadness for he knew leaving would mean disowning. His eyes began to water when he said, \"It don't have to be like this\", yet Jacobs father stood firm in his words and slowly lumbered off to his study. Jacob knew the life of a Time Keeper required constant attention and care with little respect, but now the world is set to enter a dark age and only a few are prepared. ", "We didn't like the Olnac, or Mica. We're pretty sure the Noche steal our babies and eat them. But what were we supposed to do? We had to sleep sometime. I flipped the clock and scooted it towards Ollin. He was Olnac. It was their turn now. \n\n\"Tired?\" Ollin grinned.\n\n\"Not too tired to watch you.\" I sheepishly flashed a smile back. Ollin wasn't so bad. It was the rest of them.\n\n\"Tell the Noche turn-keeper that tonight, we steal there babies!\"\n\nOllin Laughed. \n\nI laughed.\n\nThe cycle passed. Still no sun. It was my turn again. Ezti scooted the sand clock my way. He didn't say anything. He never said anything. Stupid Mica. I sighed. This cycle was important. It marked the beginning of the four feasts. \n\nAll the Towhak, my people, were busy with preparations. Feasting tables were laid out in the streets. Peccaries were slow roasted and stuffed over great bonfires as our people sand. Some of the Olnac even woke up early to join us. The four chiefs sat at the long table and watched as our people danced before them. I knew they were pleased, we had the best dancers, and the best turn. The chief's had a long cycle ahead of them. There were three more turns before the feast was over. \n\nI scooted the clock to Ollin.\n\n\"Steal any babies?\"\n\nI laughed.\n\nHe laughed.\n\nThe cycle passed.", "The one that everyone always talks about is the Deep Night. That’s the bogeyman that hides under their collective beds. A night that never ends, that goes on and on until the world is cold and dead. \n\nAt least, they used to fear the Deep Night. Nowadays, almost everyone has admitted that I was right. The Endless Day, like I always said, is far, far worse. Have you ever heard someone say they prefer the cold, because you can always put on more coats? Whereas with heat, you reach a point where you can’t take off any more clothes. \n\nTwo weeks into the Endless Day, the temperature outside had equalized at a level that no human could realistically survive in for any significant period of time. It was the end of harvest season, and fortunate rains had created a lucky surplus of easily stored food. But it will not last forever. That was seven months ago. Time is running out. My world is wilting and dying, and I feel responsible.\n\n--\n\nThe Chronographer set down the quill and closed the dusty tome. He made his way downstairs, and waited patiently outside. His assistant trotted up within seconds, and the Chronographer smiled. Right on time. \n\nThey grabbed a torch and set out. The Chronographer had heard rumors of a man far along down the cavern road who claimed to know the way to stop this inexorable apocalypse. There was frankly no time to waste. Any lead, no matter how preposterous, must be followed. \n\nThe man’s home, like all of the others, was a ramshackle hut clearly built in a hurry. \n\n“Come in, and see our salvation!” he cried, ushering the travelers into a back room. There, a woman lay on her back, panting heavily. Her belly bulged outward comically, and she cradled a small child in her arms. The assistant, who had made excuses to leave the room during every single one of his sibling’s births, stepped outside. \n“This child will be our salvation?” asked the Chronographer, sharply. “Do not waste my time with such rot. False magicks and the birth of a savior? Explain yourself, quickly.”\n\nThe man only smiled, grabbing the woman’s hand firmly. “The child is not the savior. No, he is only an instrument of our salvation”, he intoned darkly, and drew something from his pocket.\n\nThe next fifteen seconds would be permanently burned into the Chronographer’s memory. The man raised his hand high, revealing a wicked blade. The very sight of it was unholy. With a swift movement, he brought the knife down into the child.\n\nThe corpse dissipated into dust immediately. The man smiled, shrieking “Now, behold! It is come!” before dashing out the door.\n\nThe Chronographer, horrified and spellbound, did his best to keep up. He intended to bring this man to justice, and, following that, find out what happened with the blade and the boy. Like almost everyone else in his culture, the Chronographer was not fooled by sleight of hand or smoke tricks. But the disappearance of the body, and the chill brought by the blade, seemed to suggest that something greater was at play.\n\nThe man charged to the nearest cavern exit with the Chronographer in tow. Steeling himself, he stepped outside, immediately beginning to sweat from the heat, and bade the Chronographer watch.\n\nHe couldn’t believe his eyes. A wave of darkness crept across the horizon. Closer and closer it came, until the Chronographer was sure that the furtive man had simply exchanged one doom for another. However, when it reached them, or, more specifically, when it reached the bloody blade still held aloft, it stopped. The man turned to the Chronographer, and grinned.\n\n--\nThree years later\n\n\nWhen people talk about the Deep Night nowadays, or the Endless Day, they aren’t telling tall tales to frighten their neighbors. They’re referring to locations. Half of the world is now the Deep Night, after that odd man did whatever he did three years ago. A cold wasteland of ice and rock. The other half is the Endless Day, our people’s bane. A scorched desert with no discernable life.\n\nWe’ve moved out of the caverns, at least. We exist in the Dusk, the area between the two hells. The temperature is moderate, the food diverse. Some creatures that managed to survive in the caverns have even reemerged, and our herd animals are as healthy as ever. But the wastelands to either side of us loom eternally, reminding us that the only thing between us and death is the mysterious man.\n\nI still don’t know his name, or where he came from. I don’t even know what he does. My master was there with him three years ago when he saved us, but never spoke of it. I have done my best to resist reading his section in the Chronographer’s tome, specifically, the ending. I don’t know if I even want to know what drove him to take a long walk into the night, but I know it has something to do with the man.\n\nI didn’t believe in magic that day, and I’m still not sure if I do. It may have just been a coincidence. But the man seems to think that his actions are paramount to our survival. Once a year, he dashes out of his home, concealing something under his cloak, and stands on the outskirts of town. Nothing happens (or nothing that I can see, anyway), but he seems to think it is important. The important thing is, we can live again.\n\n--\n\nThe new Chronographer set down the quill and closed the dusty tome. He looked out of his window and sighed. His people had survived the greatest tribulation of their time, but how? Perhaps he would never know. Perhaps the cost of their survival would remain, forever, a secret known only to the furtive man.\n", "\"So let me see if I'm understanding this right. What you're telling me is...\" the fat man at the end of the table says pausing between bites \"...that a star bigger than any other in the sky is going to rise over that horizon within a week\" he points his meaty sausage finger at the window to his right.\n\n\"Actually\" you say raising your finger \"it'll likely be that horizon\" you point to the window on his left \"give or take a day or so.\"\n\nThe fat man raises his eyebrows at your insubordinate pedantry.\n\n\"All right\" he says avoiding your gaze like he hasn't already decided what to say \"Lets say for a minute that all your saying about giant stars and massive temperature rises is true\" he opens his arms out \"what would you like me to do about it?\"\n\nThe question perplexes you. You figured it was obvious.\n\n\"You have to warn everyone!\" you blurt out \"Any day now temperatures on this planet could rise by at least 150 degrees, we have to organize shelters, we have to...we have to start conserving our water supplies, we--\"\n\n\"I'm sorry\" he holds up his hand \"we need to? We have to?\" his lips curl into a smile \"I don't have to do anything, much like I don't have to listen to you prattle on about theoretical celestial objects that no one in the history of mankind has ever detected, ever.\" He throws his hands in the air \"where do you suppose this mysterious star will come from \"Mr. Timekeeper\".\n\nYou wish he wouldn't denigrate your position like that, but your used to it. There was once a time when your job commanded respect - 537 years ago to be precise. You sigh, exasperated. In your mind you try to choose your words carefully, but the indignity is starting to get to you.\n\n\"I understand what this must look like to you, chancellor--\"\n\n\"Oh you do do you?\"\n\nYou close your eyes tightly, forcing down your boiling pride. Its not enough that he looks down on your position, now he has to interrupt you?\n\n\"-- but it is my job to know this. The timekeepers have known about this for at least 130 years!\" \n\n\"--well if that's the case why didn't you come forward earlier. We could have begun preparations early if that was the case\"\n\nAnd now the condescension, just like clockwork.\n\n\"--because\" you say slowly \"it turns out that even though timekeeper is an official government position that doesn't grant them--\"\n\n\"Really? What department?\"\n\n\"Department of historical preservation\" you recite \"fifth division, third department subset\" you hesitate \"room 237\"\n\n\"So not a scientist then, a historian\" he nods with a patronizing frown \"a respectable job I imagine, but again, hardly a position to be telling me what I can and cannot do.\"\n\nYou've had enough of this idiocy.\n\n\"I refuse to believe that I'm the only one who knows this\" shaking, you toss your hands in the air \"I mean for fucks sake I can talk to someone on the other edge of the world in the time it takes for you to shove another piece of cake down your throat and your telling me that we can't detect a major celestial event within days of it happening? God-all-fucking-mighty man! Do you want people to die? Is that it? Because that's what's going to happen, asshole! We didn't have this kind of technology last time it--\" You catch yourself, but its too late. The fat man leans in.\n\n\"How do you mean 'last time'\"\n\nThat's it, you fucked it up. You take a few deep breaths - maybe you can salvage this.\"\n\n\"If you look back across human history, every single culture has their own individual mythology. Now sometimes there's a bit of overlap, but mostly these are just general things like deity roles, sexual mores - but the one thing they all have in common is the myth of the nameless fiery sphere that smote the earth. Now doesn't that seem just a little coincidental? Don't you think there might be something there that we should investigate? I mean just look at Bolerian mythology for a second where Tryphus--\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm familiar with the story\" he says barely hiding his contempt \"I liked it very much when I learned it in Sunday school\".\n\n\"--but you see my point don't you?\"\n\nThere's a pause. The fat man takes another bite.\n\n\"Yes, I see very clearly now\" another bite \"I see that...your a lunatic who's come to my home with barely an announcement - and how did you get an appointment?\"\n\n\"Government connections\" you didn't want to tell him that you were dating his great grand-niece.\n\n\"Well then I hope their belief has at least somewhat satiated your paranoid delusions 'Mr. Timemaster'\" he cups his hand to his mouth \"LORIC!\" he bellows.\n\nThe door opens and the hulking gorilla of a man swoops in and grabs your shoulder with one hand. You know better than to resist, but his vice grip forces your movements anyways.\n\n\"Throw this maniac back to the hole he came from and find whoever got him in here and have them fired\" as you're led out the door you hear a call behind you \"Don't you worry, though, sir, if your sun does appear I'll have my top scientists notify you immediately\" a hoarse cackle follows as the mahogany door slams shut behind.\n\nSoon you find yourself face down on the cobblestones outside the mansion's iron gates. Rather than risk continued injury you remain on the ground until the creak of the metal behind you concludes. Dusting off your pants you adjust your vest and straighten your bow tie. Walking down the street you run the conversation through your head, attempting to pick the faults and mentally preparing for the next scumbag official you're scheduled to see (though the rumbling car engines and the cries of the street vendors drown out any hope of mental coherency). Preperations had to be made, people had to be warned. Time was running out.\n\nYou glance up.\n\nThe massive lamps hanging from the city dome send down their life giving light, the glass hemisphere holding in all the heat it can. You look up, wondering at the marvel of engineering as you always did when you ventured from your office. Your gaze pierces beyond the dome's gleaming surface into the infinite abyss of the starry sky.\n\nIts when your gaze falls on a particularly bright star that you realize you never told him it was called the sun." ]	[ 2, 2, 3, 9 ]	[ "1460143409", "1460145601", "1460150853", "1460146745" ]
	[WP] "How the hell are there FIFTEEN sides in this civil war?"	263	[ "“How the hell are there fifteen sides to this civil war?” Zero-K asked his nemesis, the hero, Racer.\n \nRacer shrugged, “Too many issues. Meta versus human. But then meta is split into heroes and villains. Also reformed and fallen. That’s five sides alone. Then we have the heroes who aren’t meta. Six. Then all the aliens have teamed up on a side of their own. Time travelers and alternate universe and clones have all done the same. That’s ten sides total right there. Humans, of course, are split on how to deal with metas, and metas on how to deal with humans. But while most metas are content to wait until later to answer that question, minus the extremist kill all humans faction, humans have split over it, making twelve sides. We have the side which wants everyone to have equal representation on the Council. Then the side who thinks representatives should be based on how many of everything there are, though they don’t seem to have a concrete way to do so. Then, of course, there’s the current Council, the robots, trying to maintain their current position.”\n\n“So...what are you asking me to do? My gang doesn’t get involved in this political shit, you know that. We play the game, fall into our roles, sure. Intentionally don’t kill you, which is more than most can say these days, don’t kill or maim anyone.”\n\n“K, if no one does anything, probably nine tenths of the population will die!”\n\n“The world is overpopulated anyways. You heroes choice to allow those aliens to stay here last invasion didn’t help any.”\n\n“I know, I know, it was supposed to be temporary but we…” He sighed.\n\nRacer and Zero-K spoke the words simultaneously, “Got caught up with other matters.”\n\nRacer gave a sheepish smile and a shrug, though it was weary. “Yeah.”\n\n“I still don’t see how we can help. We’re a second string team which assembled ourselves to take down speedsters-you, specifically-and have only adapted to beat one or two other kinds of heros.”\n\nRacer glared slightly, “You know that’s bs, Kel. I’m one of the strongest, even if I’m not acknowledged as such. And we both know you sometimes lose on purpose.”\n\nZero-K didn’t speak, looking at Racer impassively.\n\nRacer found himself sighing again. What a change, when he’d started out Zero-K remembered him as being one of the ones who never lost his optimism, always with a quip and willingness to banter. All this bureaucratic crap which the Council had established after the robot overlords took over in 2050 hailing from the alternate universe where magic wasn’t real had seemingly really taken it’s toll on Racer.\n\n“You have the best on your team. Including a power nullifier and a hypnotist. And someone who can make the person they chose immune to any power’s effects.”\n\n“You want to hypnotise the world into thinking your side is in the right.” Zero-K’s eyes widened.\n\n“So? Is it really that wrong?” Racer demanded more than asked. \n\n“A Council filled with heroic metas? You aren’t terrible, but the others? No thanks.”\n\n“Fine, any side then! You can make it stop! Save the world!”\n\nZero-K replied in a drawl, “Not quite why I took this gig.” He started backing away. “By the way, your count is wrong. Sixteen sides.”\n\n“What?”\n\n“My team. A few others. Those of us willing to say the Council should be destroyed completely.”", "Well, at first, it was just the Democrats versus the Republicans. That was how it started. Then, somehow, the confederates started gaining power. It had been a joke for so long, but the south was rising again.\n\nMeanwhile, the New Germanic-American Bund was securing support for the Neo-Nazi Party of 2024. All the while, the Socialists plotted with the communists to secure domain and dominion over all the capitalists and fascists in the USA. They needed re-education, it was apparent to them. \n\nElstwhere, a split in the Socialist group formed an off-shoot, as the New-Clintonians and the Sanderites battled it out to the death. The Republican party seemed stable in the short-run, before Trump purged the Rubians and the Kashichinites. Trump had managed to purge the Republican part of those who would dissent against him. His wall across the Sanderite and Clintonian territory managed to prevent many an attack, or so said the media he supplied to his populace.\n\nIn Clearwater, though, they readied the nukes. Zombie L. Ron Hubbard gave the orders, and the missiles were flying. ", "\"CENTRAL OFFICER WHAT THE BLEEDING TARNATION IS GOING ON?\" The commander shouted at the top of his lungs, bursting into the communications office. He had obviously not seen the 'please be quiet when panicking about war situations' sign before he walked in.\n\n\"Commander I'm sorry, but the grumpy grandmothers has had about enough of the haggled housewives' shit, and started another war on that front. Meanwhile, the stud soldiers have started breaking out of the closets and into the roads, where the wasteland warriors (Jim recently renamed them from their formerly boring name, scared school boys,) started to throw apples at the tacky teachers and troubling teenagers.\" \n\nThe room around them was panicking, alarms were blaring, radars were blipping and arms were flailing. \n\n\"What about the undercover uncles we sent to infiltrate the arguable aunties?\" The commander asked, hiding his frustration.\n\n\"Those jokes? They were done in by the nasal nephews, those pre-pubescent shits. And don't even get me started on the nice nieces, they were on the side of the insane in-laws the whole time.\"\n\nAt this rate, the kool kids would lose the entire war. The doting daughters and banding brothers had joined forces and were readying an assault for headquarters as they spoke. \n\nAt that moment, the bedroom door swung open. The monstrous mother and fuckin' father walked in. \"Oy you lot, stop playing with your toys and come down to dinner. We've been calling you since half an hour ago!\" \n\n\"Coming!!\" The kool kids chimed back, leaving their action figures and barbie dolls on the bedroom floor.", "Paintball.\n\nRoy we called him. We had barely known him for a day and yet we couldn't help but tremble a bit with excitement when his son came back. \n\nRoy wore a white suit. Like a captain of some sorts. Except, he had a gun. It seemed surreal. In the store, in daylight I was hiding with Roy, his son, and my aunt. \n\n\nStreets were rallying. The streets were covered in a dusty haze of coloured powder. The army used it to mark streets. Red for Active, blue Sleep, Green for no mans land, Yellow for the sniper team. There might have been more, but we luckily hadn't met them. The streets had had splattered marks on the windows and walls. Because we had relocated do many times very few people had been able to keep track of who were allies and who were enemies. \n\nRoys son had supplies. \n\nWe all loaded up. \n\nsince we were the only ones left in Active, we were careful. We went from house to house and cleared one room at a time. After two houses, we stumbled upon some orange paint on the walls. We went back and discussed. In her squeaky voice, my aunt - Janni- said: \"Orange? Ive only seen that colour before in some flowers and the sky\" \n\"Its definately a new team.\" I heard myself whisper. \n\nRoy had been looking out the window from our cleared house. The new house seemed different. Too quiet for how close it was to the riots .\n\n\" Lets wait 10 minutes. Then we go in and check if its cleared.\" Janni said. She was a bit sporty for her age. \n\nThis is how weeks went by. Some days we met a neutral team, and circled around each other.\n\nIn the early days we had hunkered down. Prepared for 36 pretend hours. Most fighting were over. After that. The hungry ones wouldn't have energy to fight. Of coo\nUrse not really. They were just tapped out.\n\n\"Scchuip\" I suddenly heard. Janni sat there with an arrow in her forehead. We all giggled briefly, as of course they used suction cups as tips. We were of course also surprised.", "The Uncivil War was just entering its 4th decade, with no signs of stopping. Few still alive remember how it started and how quickly sides were drawn... \n \nWe do know that 4chan struck first, simultaneously obliterating 9GAG, Digg, and FunnyorDie as well as severely crippling reddit. Reddit, her brow bloodied, rallied, first kowtowing the \"news\" sites who used it for content as a new front line of defense while bolstering their ranks with converts from Facebook- this was of course before His Holiness Emperor for Likes Zuckerburg the First clamped down and turned his followers into a 1984-esque Fascist state. Reddit remained strong, however tensions among its citizens was at an all time high, and soon old rivalries were ignited. The new factions called themselves Orangered and Periwinkle. Voat, already a much smaller combatant but eager to \"show reddit they weren't the best around\", also split in to as an act of spite and faux-superiority. Both of those new city-states soon withered away and died. \n \nOn the eastern front, YouTube and Twitch formed the first major alliance in the war, taking out Old Media in a decisive battle then declaring a sort of neutrality- they became the only source of news during the first few chaotic decades. \n \nIn other parts of the world, Tumblr's decree to never join any alliance that included amy white males hurt them in the long run as, tired of having to scan through petabytes of poorly written Doctor Who slashfiction, Google's robot army soon destroyed every last remaining blogger on the planet. \n \nThe DIY armies of Pinterest and Instructables joined forced to form the largest, yet never finished, stronghold on the planet. Their food preparations and humanitarian efforts are sloppy but legendary. \n \nAnd who is the last faction you ask? They are callee The Children of the Apps, and in fact their numbers are still the highest of all. Instagram, Snapchat, and many, many others formed a massive coalition and have been striking hard and fast against any foe that comes within their territories. But some of the bigger sides plan to cut electricity and wait until their mobile devices die, plunging them into chaos.\n", "######[](#dropcap)\n\nHilary Flint's question was punctuated by an arrow sinking itself deep into the wooden post by his head, the cedar shaft buzzing like an angry wasp as the bright arrowhead vanished from sight. Snarling a curse the Human ducked back behind cover, a further trio of arrows hissing through the space where his head and upper torso had been a half-second earlier, the sound of their flight akin to a hornet's nest.\n\n\"Glory to the gods! Glory to the Bear Clan, and Death to the Owl!\" cried his attackers. Flint replied with a uniquely Human salute, wagging his upraised finger in mockery.\n\n\"Is that the best you got, you pansy Elf-fucks? Well, fuck your gods, fuck your clans and FUCK YOU!\"\n\nHe felt a tug on his wrist and glanced down to see an annoyed Faith clinging to his armored sleeve. \n\n\"You dolt, we worship the same gods,\" she said. Flint patted her hand patronizingly and replied.\n\n\"I standby what I said. Now, where's the nearest exit?\"\n\nFaith didn't bother rolling her eyes and pointed at a small fenced-off area of the courtyard. A few small buildings were clustered together there in almost absent mindedness, as if the builders had nothing better to put there. \n\n\"In there should be a staircase; it's used by servants to get around the castle without being in the way. Through there we should be able to get further into the castle.\"\n\nFlint paused in thought for a moment, weighing the odds before nodding once. \n\n\"Alright. On the count of three we run from our cover here and sprint across the courtyard. I'll need you to make sure the arrows don't make pincushions of us. Ready? One.\"\n\nFaith's eyes went wide in alarm as she hurriedly spoke.\n\n\"Flint, I don't think this is the best of possible options as of right now-\"\n\n\"Two.\"\n\n\"You stupid, lumbering oaf-\"\n\n\"Three!\" Flint cried, snatching Faith up and tossing her over his shoulder as he rose from cover. \n\nAll at once a shout went up among the enemy archers and they drew back on at least a score of bowstrings, eager that their prey had been so generous as to make itself visible. In one furious snap of bowstrings they fired, their arrows like a swarm of hornets in Faith's ears. She squawked and hurriedly cast a spell, entreating the nearby air spirits to raise a whirlwind around the two of them. Flint sprinted across the courtyard, moving faster than a wolf even with a suit of armor on and Faith across his shoulder. The score of arrows struck the wall of air and were blow off course, scattered like leaves in the wind to rain down behind them. \n\nFaith bit back all desires to curse her guardian, the need to concentrate on her spell taxing her terribly. Again the archers fired, and again their arrows were knocked from the air as if by an invisible hand. The enemy's furious cries filled her ears. \n\n\"Shoot the Scathalith! Kill the bastard! Take the Owl alive!\"\n\nFlint crossed the courtyard faster than anyone could have expected, dropping down to one leg to slide the last ten or so feet into cover just as Faith's control of her spell broke. One arrow landed a foot behind Flint, and snapped in two, its splintered pieces twirling away as one last farewell. Flint dumped her onto the ground unceremoniously and reached for his blade, rising into a crouch in case the foe made an attempt at charging them. Faith, meanwhile, tried to steady herself on shaky knees and catch her breath.\n\n\"I'm... I'm going to... kill you. Do you understand?\"\n\nFlint laughed, and tousled her mouse brown hair. \n\n\"Sure thing, kid. Whatever you say.\" He turned his head back towards the open gate and the hidden foe beyond.\n\n\"It was a pretty good run though, huh?", "\"Fifteen.\" She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes in frustration.\n\n\"Yes Madam President. Fifteen factions have decended on the city of Sahir, intending-\"\n\n\"Malcolm...shut the hell up for a moment and take a breath.\" The president turned away from her advisers and looked out on the pristine greenery of the White House garden she set up her first week in office. It reminded her of the open-heartedness she tried to project her first term. Just like her disillusionment to the character of the people she worked with, the roses were losing their luster as the late September wind rolled in. \n\n\"Madam President, we-\"\n\n\"Malcolm. Just tell me how the hell are there FIFTEEN sides in this civil war?\"\n\nMalcolm swallowed, hard, attempted to center himself. One breath, one exhale. Two breaths, two exhales, three breaths, three-\n\n\"Malcolm, if you cannot handle the stress of your position, feel free to relinquish it. Otherwise, answer my question.\"\n\n\"All right. My apologies. Well, Madam President, there remains several schools of thought on the merging of-\"\n\n\"concisely, or not at all.\" The president sat there, still absorbed in the splendor of the garden.\n\n\"The Sahir Free Army was initially against the state government of Mahab, but certain extreme factions split into the original SFA and the New Sahir Free Army. The division in the SFA and the NSFA confused many locals of Sahir, so they formed their own government in the basement of the local temple, the Real Sahir Free Army, and in opposition to them-\"\n\n\"Malcolm, I said concisely.\" \n\n\"...Everyone worships the same god but is still an asshole. They all want the exact same thing, autonomy, but they can't agree on how, because they're fundamentalist religious, assholes.\" \n\nMalcolm quickly clasped his hand over his mouth. Never before had he cussed in front of the president, nor made any mention of his hatred for organized religion. Considering the President had campaigned on pivoting the country to following Christian Dogma, Malcolm waited with sweaty pits and trembling fingers for news of the future of his career. \n\n\"Malcolm?\" The President called.\n\n\"Yes, Madam President?\" His chest was pounding.\n\n\"If you ever speak that way to me again...\" She paused and took a breath, \"I may have to start listening to you. Okay, Gentlemen, options. I want them by 1400. We reconvene then. You're under the direction of General Potty Mouth over there. Adjourned.\"\n\nAs the president stood to leave, she couldn't help but notice how lovely the roses looked at that moment. ", "Locked in the splintered cove and sheltered by the the hanging cliffs, festered the isle of Setem. Gripped in the throes of a blood feud for the past 3 months, the streets were nothing more than barricades of barbed wire and bloodstained stone. When citizens did move about the streets, it was under the cover of darkness, in vehicles strapped with double plate. The conflict was centered around the capital, where 9 of the 15 factions had sunk their teeth in, fighting for the last scrap of political flesh. The other six had dispersed themselves throughout the rest of the thickly wooded mainland, guarding farmsteads and watchtowers and half eroded bunkers. Food was scarce and water was scarcer, so no one went to bed on an empty stomach but the mad cannibals camped out in the old armory on the south side of the capital. \n\nAn explosion shattered what little glass was left in the windows of their warehouse as a barrage rained down. Phosphorescent rounds ricocheted through the dimly lit expanse and wakefulness ripped through the few who remained inside. Running up to a view-slit one of the men caught a flash of red as a flame thrower ignited dousing the corrugated hull of their ramshackle fortress with blazing kerosene. There was a deep thump and a shell tore through the thin sheeting, sending shrapnel in every direction. The burners moved in, searing to the bone with their canned dragonfire. The few who escaped the flames tried to scurry out a back door only to be perforated by a hail of bullets. As silence slowly filled the smoking warehouse the burners pulled off their masks.\n\n\"Looks like we cleaned up the last of the Cherrywood gang. I'm surprised someone didn't do it sooner.\" Their victory was cut short by shrill yodelling as a horde of lithe figures hurled themselves down from the damaged roof, hungry for blood. \"Fucking cannibals!\" A burner screamed, igniting his thrower and dousing the mob of maniacs in liquid flame, but he too was hemmed in by the ferocious creatures and a rusty knife found his unprotected neck. The rest of the burners fled in their armored vehicles, unwilling to risk the horde to save their comrades. \n\nHigh in the heart of the capital a much different battle was taking place. The top three leaders had pitted the strongest fighters in their respective factions against each other in a duel to the death. There was a great deal of money and blood riding on this fight and the three mob lords weren't planning on surrendering even if their fighters died. Each had men waiting nearby, all armed to the teeth. It wasn't anything new, they were all professional cowards much happier for others to fight for them, than to let blood themselves. Each thought himself sly, and smarter than the other two, and each was wrong. The fighters were going full tilt in the ring, slamming their raw, sweating bodies together in an effort to please their masters and gain victory for themselves. It was a rather unconventional match: 3 fighters in the ring at the same time, rather than the regular two. The men in their cut black suits watched their champions sweating in the ring as they jibed each other, waving ashing cigars expressively. \n\nIt seemed too easy. Three heads all together in the same room? That was a target anyone would risk taking a hit at. Lop a few more heads off the hydra, and despicable heads at that. The room was filled with more collective blood and bile than any street in the capital city. The sniped lowered his scope and motioned for the pilot to move in. They were all there: Sedgewick, Curstan, Bellam. He had seen their faces. Before they could even hear the whirr of the chopper it would be too late. With a keening shriek three missiles launched from the belly of the craft, smashing into the skyscraper with perfect accuracy. The explosion that followed was as satisfying as it was beautiful. Crimson plumes burning away the sins that had darkened the city years before the civil war even started. The sniper never saw the RPG and neither did the pilot. The helicopter fell from the skies screaming, careening out of control into the skyscraper they had just immolated. \n\nMorning came to the city, to the isle locked behind the hanging cliffs after another night of death. This sunrise only 11 factions saw the dawn. No graves were dug, no prayers were said. Sporadic gunfire echoed through the city and cannibals feasted on the bones of the fallen. Everyone was waiting for nightfall, when the killing would begin again, in earnest. \n\n\n-First submission to the sub, comments and criticism are welcome! ", "\"Alaea sighed her last breath, as the Empress Nyvor took to the Eternal Void. Her body lay still, as her six children sobbed, hearts heavy and eyes flowing against her feet. Her eight noble cousins and niblings only sighed, as their minds brewed quietly behind their lessers. They brewed for war. Brewed for conquest. Brewed for greed. Only one word broke their silence, their weeping, their sadness. One that turned an entire empire on its head.\n\nAs banners raised, swords followed. As ships roiled into storms, so did tensions. Each familial head smacked against each other's, as their blades matched against all of their throats. Father against son, brother against brother, mother against daughter, and so on. Of course, there were many who resisted this many-ways call-to-arms. For every seven influential families rose up, one stayed behind. Many did so out of duty, few stayed for safety, and fewer stayed to profit from the other seven's loss. \n\nEach royal held their claims high, believing the gods have their support. Of course, no god did. Only a fool would bet on a losing horse, and truth be told, all of them looked like losing horses in their own sort. This conflict was left for them to end. Be it by trade, blade, or laid, it could only end by human and human blood alone. \n\nIt was one word that began the war, and it would be one word to end it.\"\n\n\"That's a very interesting story there, Barry, but how does it explain the reason that we're currently at a fifteen-way civil fuckin' war?\"\n\n\"Simple. One word.\"\n\n\"And? What's that then?\" \n\n\"Dibs.\"", "The time traveller stumbled put of his timeship and looked around. He'd desperately wanted to see the future. Today's date was December 21, 2023. What he saw saddened him. Most of Washington D.C. was a pile of rubble. He found a group of uniformed soldiers and approached them. \"What happened?\" He inquired. \"To what?\" The youngest soldier answered. \"Washington!\" The time traveller exclaimed, \"where are the buildings?\" \"Gone, happened first day of the war, where you been?\" \"Nevermind that, what war?\" \"You okay man? How do you not know about CWII?\" \"What is CWII?\" The time traveller asked. Civil War II? It's only been going on for five years.\" \"Well, I've been... away... tell me everything.\" The soldier looked at him oddly and said \"Well, Trump was elected president. He didn't quit with his bombastic rhetoric, and pretty soon, Ted Cruz, Mike Lee, Rand Paul and a few others were calling for his impeachment. When that didn't work, they convinced their states to secede, Texas and Kentucky were first. Texas declared itself a republic of its own and shut its borders. Kentucky declared itself a neutral, yet sovreign state and expelled all federal government troops and employees. Utah followed and formed the nominally Mormon state of Smithland. All of this drove Trump over the edge and he ordered all three states to be invaded. New York and most of the other northeastern states protested, and eventually seceded in desperation, forming the New England Republic. New York City declared itself a neutral city-state, and was immediately recognized by the Vatican, which refused to recognize Smithland, setting off tensions between Catholics and Mormons. Oklahoma left and joined The Second Republic of Texas, Smithland annexed Idaho, Nevada, and tried to take Colorado by force before it too seceded, taking New Mexico, Wyoming, and Montana with it to from the Rocky Mountain Republic. Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama split from the US and formed the Gulf States Coalition, which promptly went to war with the Second Republic of Texas over fishing and offshore drilling rights in the Gulf. California left next, declaring itself the Democratic People's Confederacy of California and allying itself with China. Washington and Oregon left next, forming very close ties with Canada. The Midwest united, keeping the name \"United States\". Tennesee, and Arkansas formed the Ozark-Appalachian Pact, and vowed to defend themselves against any aggressors. Alaska signed a treaty of annexation with Canada, at which point Washington and Oregon followed. Virgina and West Virginia reunified, bringing Pennsylvania into their fold and declaring they were the heirs to the name \"United States\" and taking Washington DC, where the president that was elected to succeed Trump in a laughable election only a few states even bothered to participate in had been desperately trying to put a stop to the madness. This kicked off a war between the two \"United States\". Hawaii declared its independence, and like California, sought ties with China. The two Dakotas signed a solidarity pact, changing their name to \"Dakota\". Arizona, like Kentucky, declared itself neutral, and soon found itself overrun by refugees from a bankrupt California. Indiana declared itself a neutral state not interested in all of the fighting, then found itself being used as a battleground between the two United States. Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota grew tired of the fighting quickly, and left their US, forming their own nation, and the only one outside of the Republic of Texas not to be immediately racked by debt, as they were soon supplying war material to the other 14 factions. Once they stopped shipments to California because they couldn't pay and the Chinese wouldn't loan them any more, California launched missles at them, and all of the regional conflicts ignited in a 15-way free-for-all between the regional republics, Canada, and Mexico. Alliances shifted almost weekly, and the United Nations tried to step in to put a stop to it, but that just resulted in the New England sacking NYC and seizing the UN building.\"\n\n\"How do you have a civil war with 15 sides?\" The time traveler asked. \"I just told you.\" said the soldier.\n\nNOTE: this is NOT intended as an anti-Trump piece. I could have easily written it with Sanders, Clinton, or Cruz as the president that would kick off such a mess. I only picked Trump because he was the easiest to pick on. Kasich wouldn't have worked because he's too much of a status quo vanilla type of guy.", "[EXCEPT FROM \"WORLD HISTORY\", COPYRIGHT 2145]\n\nGenetic Modification and The Chemical Demise\n\nThe first precise DNA prediction softwares were developed in 2024, and were mainly used for treatment and diagnosis of Cancer. Soon, DNA softwares along with cloning were used by expecting mothers to give their children desirable genetic traits. However, this type of genetic modification significantly increased the chances of extreme genetic mutation. In 2036, The United States suffered a deadly plague, killing about 35 million Americans, nearly 10% of the population. \nMore commonly known as The Chemical Demise, this plague came as a result of a rare genetic mutation occurring in genetically altered fetuses, which then was passed onto the mothers. \n\nSick mothers were quarantined immediately in large holding facilities called Chambers. The Chambers were almost always over capacity due to the rapidly growing number of ill mothers, and there were not enough resources to accommodate most of the mothers. Unfortunately, there were many deaths due to these conditions. Dead bodies from the Chambers were not disposed of properly, but rather piled up outside of Chambers. In turn, more and more people became ill when exposed to the corpses. \n\nThe Rights of the Unwell\n\nThose suffering from fatal diseases that were not held in Chambers, usually because they were not women nor young, were heavily discriminated against. It was practically impossible for the sick to apply for and maintain jobs, vote, obtain legal documents and drivers' licenses, and attend public events without being exposed to bigotry. The states of New York, Connecticut, California, Colorado, Iowa, Michigan, and Vermont passed a series of laws called The Rights of the Unwell, which stated that the sick should be granted the same civil rights as other law-abiding citizens. While the laws faced some opposition, most of the population of these states, known as the Support States, were in agreement with the new codes. \n\nSome states however, called the Demurring States, heavily opposed the idea of The Rights of the Unwell. These states included Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Minnesota, Nebraska, New Mexico, and Texas. The Demurring States had a much higher concentration of Chambers, and the sick were actively hunted down and captured. \n\nOn May 7, 2037, the Support States declared war on the Demurring States. The American War on Freedom had begun.\n\nAlliances Form\n\nWhile the Supporting States and the Demurring States were the two main powers in the War on Freedom, they each had their own allies to aid them in battle. The Supporting States were aided by the Greater Protection Alliance, while the Demurring States were aided by the Greater Separation Alliance. For the first time ever in American History, alliances were not determined by geographical location nor political parties.\n\nThe Greater Protection Alliance\n\nSupporting States: The main powers of The Greater Protection Alliance; Advocate the most for the Rights of the Unwell; Abolished Chambers in their States; Actively aggressive towards the Greater Separation Alliance, specifically, the Demurring States.\n\nPassive States: Abolished Chambers in their own states; Heavily guarded borders, but did not provoke the GSA unless attacked.\n\nCompliants: Simply followed orders given by the Supporting States; Not nearly as powerful as the Supporting States, but had large populations and manpower.\n\nProtection Intelligence (Alaska only): Not physically involved in the war, but in charge of overseeing GPA actions. Frequently communicates with the Supporting States.\n\nAftermath Territory: States that were abandoned due to living conditions, flight to other countries, mass loss of life, and/or war. Almost all Aftermath Territories became occupied by the GPA for use as military bases, the largest and most useful of which being Montana.\n\nThe Greater Separation Alliance\n\nDemurring States: Actively attacked all states affiliated with the GPA. Chambers were used as the main form of quarantine, and the sick were not functioning members of society.\n\nResolutes: Advised the Demurring States in both national and international affairs. \n\nConstant States: Greatly depended upon by the GSA for troops. Constant States were in convenient locations relative to GPA-affiliated areas, and were prime locations for attacks.\n\nAdvancement States: Mostly empty states with heavily protected borders, mostly used by the GSA to travel from one area to another without fear of a GPA attack. \n\nContainment States: Usually on the coast, these states found and captured immigrants planning to enter or leave GPA territory, keeping GSA information protected. Unfortunately the Containment States resorted to violent tactics to control immigrants.\n\nNeutral Areas\n\nResearch States: Areas purposefully set aside for research to cure the plague. Both the GSA and the GPA did not attack these areas, and focused their mobilization elsewhere.\n\nObjective States: States that were split evenly among GSA and GPA supporters. Both views were suppressed by the state governments to avoid conflict. \n\nHistory State (Hawaii Only): Hawaii was dedicated to the preservation of historical artifacts and landmarks, while also being in charge of the records taken from the War on Freedom. After 3 months of deliberation, they worked out treaties with the GSA and the GPA promising peace.\n\nImpartials: These states and territories showed no clear preference for the GSA or GPA. While they did not have peace treaties with either side, it was understood that they meant no harm. \n\nWasteland: Inhabited by very few, these areas were considered uninhabitable by most standards, and did not have the proper conditions to make the GPA consider using them as Aftermath Territory.\n\n...\n\n...\n\n...\n\n Hey guys! Thanks for reading. I was wondering if any of you would find it worthwhile if I made my own subreddit. I'm not sure if my writing is good or interesting for it. Just looking for some opinions, thanks :)", "\"The successful assassination of Vladimir Lenin in June of 1918 led to a further fracturing of forces in the Russian civil war. \n\n There was the Red Russians, the bolsheviks, now under the leadership of Leon Trotsky, centered in Moscow. \n \nThere were the White Russians, the Tzarists, under the command of Admiral Kolchak. They were seeking to place a cade Prince of the Romanov dynasty upon the throne, as they marched West from Siberia. \n \n Resentful over Trotsky's power grab, and fearful for his own survival in the face the invading armies of basically every nation on earth, Josef Stalin fled to Georgia, where he led the Pink Russians, who claimed to be communists not dedicated to global revolution. \n\n With international support, Kerensky staged a successful reconquest of Petersburg. The democratic Blue Russians would continue to fight with the aid of Mensheviks. \n\n The Green Russians was the appellate given to the Ukrainian Nationalist forces, led by Aleksander Antonov, fought in the Pripet marshes of North Ukraine. \n \n There were the Black Russians, the anarchist army, which suddenly captured Ekatirinburg. Their numbers were swayed by international anarchists defecting from every nation to join their center in Odessa. \n \n Kaiser Wilhelm organized Russian POWs into the Grey Russian army, under the leadership of captured Marshal Paul Rennenkampf and his magnificent mustache. They sought to install Kaiserin Viktoria Luise as 'The New Catherine the Great', from the region of Minsk. \n\n There were the esoteric Purple Russians, under the sway of the Mad Monk Rasputin, who had suddenly resurfaced from hiding in the Caucasus, claiming to be the second coming of Christ, and leading an army of religious fanatics. \n \n There was the Siberian republic, adopted the tiger stripe pattern, based off of the siberian Tiger. This coalition of Evenki and Sami nationalists came to be known as the Stripey Russians, though in truth they were neither Russian, nor stripey. \n\n There were the Poles, used a Red and White flag, led by General Pilsudski. As slavs, they came to get the press nickname of the 'Checkered Russian' faction.\n\n The Finns, led by Karl Mannerheim, became the Gold army, allied in the metallic alliance of the ethnic separatist fighters.\n\n The Baltic Alliance was the Bronze army, seeking freedom for the Latvian, Estonian, and Lithuanian people. \n \n The Czech legion marched forth under the banner of the Polka Dot. At first they fought as mercenaries for the Whites, then they defected to the Purples after being unpaid, then they were betrayed and fought for the Reds, and eventually, they just marched through every army to escape back to the peace and stability of the Balkans. \n \n The British intervention had unforeseen consequences. Angry Scottish draftees, tired over the extension and severity of conscription, rose in mutiny near Talinn. The Plaid Army quickly found common cause with the Estonian people, and came to be dubbed the Plaid Russians, over their colorful kilts and banners. \n\n Meanwhile, Douglas MacArthur, the commander of the US intervention forces, took advantage of Woodrow Wilson's incapacity and Warren Harding's indolence to go beyond his remit, starting the United States of Russia, and thus the Spangled Russians, fighting from Arkhangelsk, sought to reform Russia as the next expanse of manifest destiny. \n\n On top of this, you have active military interventions from the German, Italian, Austrian, Romanian, Swedish, American, British, French, Japanese, Chinese, Turkish, Persian, Afghan, and Mongolian armies, all of whom were pursuing separate agendas and separate governments, occasionally fighting together, and equally as often fighting against each other.\n\n The Russian civil war, lasting as it did from 1917-1948, was thus a rainbow of horror, strife, and confusion. It was only with the peace of Prismata that the United Nations managed a peaceful division of the former territories of the Russian empire, resulting in the formation of 193 new sovereign nations, forming the region of Eurasia now referred to as the great color wheel..... the next chapter of this book will help to explain the cultural and political distinctions between such countries as Lavenderia, Violet Russia, and Mauveland.\"\"\n", "\"This isn't really a fifteen-sided war, General. You cannot honestly tell me that we will stand a chance of winning.\"\n\n\"You're still here, aren't you, Lieutenant?\"\n\n\"Sir...all I've ever known is here. This group...this side in the war...I cannot leave.\"\n\n\"Just the answer I expected, son. You are an honorable man. Given where you were born, nobody would have blamed you for casting your lot with the men across the Bay.\"\n\n\"Never sir, not with a gun to my head. But those fighters aren't even a faction in this war. Supporting them would be a moot point.\"\n\n\"For this conflict, son.\"\n\n\"With due respect sir, the army from St. Louis have all but destroyed the entirety of their opposition.\"\n\n\"That is true...any news from the East?\"\n\n\"The two largest factions are still locked in a virtual stalemate. But that small fleet from the south is looking towards us.\"\n\n\"Us versus them Tampa boys? Peace of cake.\"\n\n\"General!\"\n\n\"At ease, Private! What's going on?\"\n\n\"Word from Texas! The Rangers destroyed the Astros. Every last one of their fighters has been killed.\"\n\n\"So now there are only fifteen of us...\"\n\n\"Fifteen...how the hell are there FIFTEEN sides in this war?\"\n\n\"It's baseball, son. America's pastime. The greatest sport ever thought up by the greatest country God ever created.\"", "I haven't written anything concrete yet, but I love this scenario. This is how I envisioned it: \n(not a native english speaker btw, so bear with me)\n\n\"Fifteen bloody sides?\n\nWhen His Holiness, Protector of the Dominion of Men and Divine Avatar passed at 102, He declared on His deathbed His Child as Holy Successor and Prophet of Mankind, and ordered the destruction of false prophets that would lead His people astray. However, he might have forgotten to specify which of His fifteen children he had meant...\" ", "(This is really stupid, but I've done it now.)\n\nSomewhere in rural Hertfordshire, a commander rallied her troops.\n\n“And remember, when you hold your sword aloft in no man's land, when you stare your enemy down in the moment before bloodshed, remember for whom you fight...”\n\nThe warriors stood shoulder to shoulder as the commander paced across to the front line, shouting over countless heads of devoted followers.\n\n“You fight for your lives, you fight for a future for your children, but most importantly of all...”\n\nThe commander raised a fist triumphantly. The front line of soldiers lifted their heads, as if to pre-empt the cacophony of jubilation and passion that was surely to follow.\n\n“You fight... for 'Those Who Like Their Tea Without Sugar, With Just a Dash of Milk but Not Too Much and Brewed for a Couple Of Minutes Thank You Very Much'!”\n\nA swelling of cheers, whoops and jubilant screams arose among the armed masses. Swords were wantonly bashed against shields, against helmets, and against the backs of the warriors directly in front. Unfortunately that last form of celebration led to the deaths of hundreds of unprepared and inadequately back-armoured soldiers. Still, they were noble and willing martyrs in the fight for 'Tea Without Sugar, With Just a Dash of Milk but Not Too Much and Brewed for a Couple of Minutes Thank You Very Much'.\n\nOpposing them, the mighty ranks of 'You Don't Need to Brew Your Tea, All It Needs is a Good Couple of Squeezes of the Teabag'. In response to hearing the shouts from the brew-inclined heathens over the hill, a mechanic crane roared into life. Slowly, as the moon eclipses the Sun, so did a giant, dripping teabag blot out all of industrial Hertfordshire. The merriment of the Brew camp quickly turned to silent astonishment as two giant teaspoons gently ascended, one on either side of the teabag. As each teaspoon was moved inward towards the central teabag, the Brew commander's eyes widened. She could not have prepared for this. Gasps of incredulity rang out amongst her ranks.\n\nIn the Anti-Brew ranks, impassioned cries of “Yes!” and “Squeeze!” and “Tea's every bit as good if you just fiddle with the teabag a bit, there's no need for all this waiting and brewing nonsense!” were thrown up to the heavens as the two giant teaspoons made contact with the giant teabag, and still they pushed further. At first a few drips of tea dripped against the helmets of the luckiest recruits, soon after there was a veritable waterfall of tea pouring atop the fighters. The few who were scalded was but a small price to pay for the greater goal of proving a point via seemingly impractical feats of engineering.\n\n“It's bitter! It's too bitter! You need to let it settle!” the Brew camp cried out in unison.\n\n“You can hardly tell the bloody difference!” those who weren't boiled alive retorted.\n\nIn amongst the riotous proceedings, the 'I Quite Like a Lot of Milk in my Tea, Honestly I Like it to be Mainly Milk' bunch hardly got a word in edgeways. Unsurprising really, considering that they were objectively wrong and consisted entirely of chancers and idiots.\n\nThe 'Hey, What About Herbal Tea?' bunch were somewhere in Berwick-Upon-Tweed; no-one paid them any mind. Similarly, the 'I Prefer Coffee' lot had long since gone to live a more fulfilled life in continental Europe.\n\nIn an entirely separate battle fought on the coast of Portsmouth, the regiments of One Sugar, Two Sugar, Three Sugar, and More heartily battled it out. It had been decided long ago that the differences between those who like sugared tea and those who like unsugared were so irreconcilable that war would be pointless. Thus it was that sugars One, Two and Three fought valiantly on the seaside. The More group had the far more pressing concern of imminent diabetes to be concerned with, so forwent the battle.\n\nAs the armies of 'Those Who Like Their Tea Without Sugar, With Just a Dash of Milk but Not Too Much and Brewed for a Couple Of Minutes Thank You Very Much' and 'You Don't Need to Brew Your Tea, All It Needs is a Good Couple of Squeezes of the Teabag' were beginning to close the gap between one another, a blood-curdling cry arose from a nearby forest stopping both groups in their tracks. \n\nJumping out of trees and crawling out of the dirt came the 'Tea With No Milk Nor Sugar' hordes. The jaw of every soldier dropped; as did the giant teabag, crushing seven.\n\nThe commander looked at her own group, those who Brew, and looked across the field, at those who most abjectly Do Not. \n\n“All who would take the obvious measure of adding a bit of damn milk to your tea, all who have a tongue that actually senses heat and would rather not have literal boiling water brazenly poured onto it, with me!”\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 7, 8, 12, 44, 194 ]	[ "1460161531", "1460162478", "1460163593", "1460166479", "1460177492", "1460157727", "1460159609", "1460172736", "1460175548", "1460183183", "1460161920", "1460163878", "1460158912", "1460156921", "1460160924" ]
	[WP] When a pregnant woman gets moody, it's actually the baby controlling her like a gundam/mecha.	86	[ "The symbiotic relationship with his host was extremely beneficial for young Caleb. His host was in near perfect form, both strong(getting stronger by the day it seemed) and fast. Caleb knew that this time-THIS LIFE-Would be the culmination of all his hard work. Reincarnation was real, but if you die in the womb, you die for real. He had fought countless battles throughout the years, both bloody and savage, against Michael. Each time, he would find the timing to be wrong. After birth, he lost it would seem like his muscles would atrophy and his brain would revert to its simplest form. This time, he prayed, he would be early enough to end it once and for all. \nIt all started so long ago that Caleb could hardly remember the original conflict. They always seemed to be on opposite sides. He had fallen to Michael's spear as a gladiator, but tasted revenge when his arrow had taken Michael in the chest some decades later. He was shot, presumably during one of the big wars, and had killed his rival most recently in the barren wastelands of the middle east, before being destroyed by the improvised explosive attached to Michael's chest, only moments after. He lived to fight. Countless lives had been lost or taken, but each time he would come back. He finally figured a way to finish this. He instructed his vehicle to move. She followed the commands well though he could only communicate with subtle hints. By giving her cravings, he could manipulate her wants and needs. He just needed to maneuver close to the other, and set his host off. Her raging hormones should do the rest. There! Across the parking lot he sensed him. Just a little closer....", "My first prompt! It's not the best but enjoy? I guess:\n\nDamn it, Damn it, Damn it all! How could I have let this happen? I was supposed to be completely in control. I know I... I…I. Had it, it’s like this beast can’t be tamed! Let’s check the fuel reactors…. Damn it! Completely empty…. I guess I’ll sit tight for the time being, rethink my hacking method….\n“HONEY!!! I NEED MORE SPINACH ICE CREAM!!!”\n“Umm, babe I think you need to go easy on the spinach Ice Cream, if you keep eating it like this the demand is gonna be higher than the supply and you remember what happened last time don’t you?”\n“That wasn’t my fault. You can’t advertise all you can eat ice cream if you can’t provide All you can eat ice cream”\n“You just go easy. Okay? I’ll go make another run to the parlor.”\n“Thanks babe, I will… Oh! Before you go, what should I order for dinner? I was thinking maybe Indian or Korean?”\n“Umm, whatever you want babe. I’m not in a particularly persnickety mood today.” \n“Alright, Indian it is!” \nIt’s been 4 months and David Herschway and Miranda Herschway are still coping with the pregnant life. Dave’s been writing twice as many articles for Gaming Nightly. Miranda’s been antsy after taking a leave of absence from her job as an Internal Technician at one of the biggest corporations to exist.\n\nCLICK WHIRRRRRR\nYes, I’m back in control. Now let’s take this baby out for a spin. Mech! Walk to the refrigerator! (We’re gonna need some extra fuel if I’m going to be able to pilot this for more than a half-hour.) \nMiranda takes a few uncoordinated steps to the refrigerator and stares blankly\nAlright! It’s working! Who knew these roundhouses to the front wall would be so effective!\nMech! Grab materials needed to make: Ham and Cheese Sandwich\n\nCLICK CRASH!!!!!!!\n*ERROR---PILOT 001 IS NO LONGER IN CONTROL ---AUTO-PILOT: DISABLED\nDAMN! NOT AGAIN! WHY SO SOON? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG! IS IT THE COMMANDS? I CAN’T BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND?!\n“Honey. Go back to bed. You know what the Doctor said.”\n“Umm, yeah. I.Uh. Have no idea how I got here” Miranda stared at her stomach with a bemused expression as she considered the idea of a baby controlling her every movement….\n\nThat simply wasn’t the case ….\n\nThe baby couldn’t control her EVERY* movement…….\n", "The Womb's controls weren't functioning properly, which meant that Mother-110 wasn't going to, either.\n\nPilot Baby Argo positioned himself more comfortably inside The Womb and reached underneath for the umbilical cord, pulling sharply to the right, cursing underneath his breath. There was another Mother unit nearby, his telepathic radar was able to pick up two things: a very weak Womb sensor (<at least that's working,> Pilot Baby Argo thought) and certain words. PB Argo thought he made out a name -- Nimphus -- but barely. He replied telepathically, <PB Nimphus, this is PB Argo with Mother-110, over,> but there was no answer back.\n\n---\n\nEva Paulie suddenly hated everything. The taste of her pad thai, all these random fucking statues inside this odd-smelling restaurant. Even the water tasted different. Her sister noticed the rapid change of expression on Eva's face.\n\n\"Is everything okay?\" Yulie asked, slurping a thin noodle. \n\n\"Can you, uh, not slurp so loudly?\" Eva ran fingers down her long coarse black hair. Irritation, everywhere. She slammed her wrists on the table, the silverware clattering. \n\n\"Jesus, E, what the hell,\" Yulie said. \"What's the matter?\" She eyed her sister's giant protruding belly, realizing that's also the answer to her own question, and quickly added, \"Never mind.\" Yulie put her chopsticks down and dabbed the corners of her lips with a crumbled napkin. \"We need to talk.\" \n\n---\n\nThe placenta-surfaced screens composing The Womb's console display, surrounding PB Argo entirely, played live feed of the Mother unit's retinal display. PB Argo felt the Mother unit's systems need for organic energy moments earlier, and now that it was feeding, something is wrong. The screens were powering on and off, the umbilical cord wasn't transferring sufficient energy, Mother-110's temper readings were leveling, going off the charts, leveling... \n\nArgo wanted to scream. Nothing was making sense.\n\n<Is anyone picking this up? Hello?> \n\nArgo frowned. The telepathic voice -- the same as the reading from before. Definitely the same. \n\n<This is unit Mother-110> Argo responded <What is your unit ID, over?>\n\nThe voice came in clearer: <I'm not sure.>\n\nHow is he not sure? Argo eyed the screens, the glow reflecting off his ethereal skin. The readings were nebulous. Whoever this was, they existed, they were near, but... \n\n<That's alright PB, just stick with me here. How long have you been inside that unit, over?>\n\n<Not too long>\n\n<You got a name, PB? Is it Nimphus?>\n\n<I don't know.>\n\nWhat in the fuck is going on? Argo's mind raced with possible theories. An amnesiac Pilot Baby? A faulty Mother unit? Argo felt bad for the kid. If the Mother unit was faulty... the chances of a successful ejection were slim. And that's putting it optimistically. \n\n<That's alright, kid, I'm right here. My name's Argo.>\n\n<Hi, Argo.>\n\n<How about I call you Nimphus for now?>\n\n<I'd like that.>\n\n<Just keep talking, kid, we'll get all of this sorted out, deal?>\n\nArgo eyed his Mother unit's temper readings, and spotted the sudden spike in excitement way too late. The Womb started to rock violently, and Argo lunged forward--\n\n<Argo!>\n\n---\n\nEva wiped her tears and saw Yulie do the same. The scattered restaurant patrons eyed the two sisters strangely, but the two sisters paid them no mind. The news Yulie dropped was too exciting.\n\n\"Was it a surprise?\" Eva asked.\n\n\"Sort of!\" Yulie sat back down. Eva followed. \"It just happened. I found out a couple of days ago. I was a blubbering mess when the doctor told me I was pregnant, and then I told Andrew and he was, too...\"\n\n\"Pregnant?\" Eva joked. Yulie laughed between her sniffing.\n\n\"An emotional mess like me,\" Yulie said.\n\nEva placed her hands on top of Yulie's. \"I love you, baby girl.\" \n\n\"I love you, too.\"\n\n---\n\nArgo smiled. \n\nOf course.\n\nOf course. \n\nIt all made sense. Nimphus was an Egg Pilot. He must've recently graduated the Mother Unit Program and been assigned to his very own. The amnesia was all part of the genesis process. \n\n<Nimphus, how we doing?>\n\n<My unit went a little crazy.>\n\nArgo grinned. <Yeah, kid. Get used to that. These units almost always are.>\n\n\n\n\n", "“Spin up the reactor. Set to full.” \n\nWhirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr\n\nClunk\n\n“Reactor online. Ramping up, full power in three.”\n\nAdam was a master of his craft. A grizzled veteran. He had been a by-the-book Fetus-Pilot, and he expected to complete his tour of duty (currently nine months into a deployment without a stated end date) with honor and distinction. However, his Mech-ther was experiencing some sort of outside interference, and direct action was direly needed. Hence, the reactor prep. \n\n--\n\nMartha was a mother of two, with a third on the way any day now. She had already decided that his name would be Adam. Her other children had been problem babies, and she figured by the law of averages that it was time for a mild-mannered one to come her way. \n\n--\n\n“Reactor at full power. Beginning systems diagnostics check. Expected time 30 seconds.”\n\nAdam set his jaw. He felt naked with his Mech-ther unprepared. The outside disturbance sounded again. “I WANNA FEEL HIM KICK!” Adam grimaced. This had happened before. He had begun to theorize that the outside sounds were from a creature of some kind, one more horrible than anything seen before across the entire womb. When are these checks going to finish?\n\n--\n\nMartha gently rubbed John’s hair. “You were in here only a few years ago, champ! He’ll kick when he’s ready, and besides, he’ll be born any day now.” \n\nThe toddler was unsatisfied by this answer, and continued his prodding of Martha’s tummy. “Kick, kick, KICK!” \n\n--\n\n“System diagnostics complete. All are go. Commencing direct action, Delta maneuver.”\n\nAdam offered a prayer up to whatever gods there were, and readied himself for a Delta maneuver. He wound up, and aimed a powerful series of kicks at the side of the womb. He paused, and thought as hard as he could of pickles and ice cream. I might just survive this yet.\n\n--\n\nMartha felt a sudden craving for an odd food combination. John, contented by the kicks, darted out of the way as Martha abruptly strode towards the kitchen. Pickles and ice cream. Who’s gonna judge me? I’m eating for two. \n\n--\n\nAdam let himself relax. The Delta Maneuver, as usual, had been successful. However, his peace was not to last.\n\nAlarm bells blared inside his mind. Immediately, he felt his safety airbag, which had cushioned him his entire life, burst, and a deluge of liquid spilled out and away. \n\n“Coolant leak. Unprecedented. Standard response unknown.” \n\nCoolant leak? This is new. If I don’t solve this fast, I could be done for. Gods help me. Hold it together, Mech-ther. \n\n--\nMartha gasped dropping her pickles and ice cream. She immediately realized what had happened. Her phone was in her hand in an instant.\n\n“Jack. My water broke. I’m getting a taxi to the hospital.”\n\nTwelve minutes and fifteen seconds later, she was lying in a hospital bed, experiencing contractions for the third time in her life. Three hours after that, the baby was almost on its way out. \n\n--\n\nAdam’s world was falling apart. He knew that to exit the Mech-ther was to become defenseless and weak. He knew that he had to hang on to survive. Yet, try as he might, an inexorable force was pulling him out of his home. It felt as though the womb itself was ejecting him, a betrayal of their nine months of service together. \n\nBlinding light, grower ever brighter, stunned him despite his closed eyes. Within minutes, it was over, and he felt a cold, unfamiliar air on his skin. Alien sounds boomed around him, from countless monstrous beasts. Adam knew that this was the end, and he unleashed a primal cry in defiance of the cruel gods that had abandoned him.\n\n--\n\n“Martha, he’s beautiful! Look, he’s crying!”\n" ]	[ 2, 3, 6, 35 ]	[ "1460174750", "1460175298", "1460174092", "1460156907" ]
	[WP] You come from a long line of master pyromancers and are dating the heir of an ice mage-clan. Your family does not approve.	33	[ "\"Oh, they came to greet us at the gate. I spoke so much about you, they waited this lunch for a long time, come my dear.\" I say as we go out of the the car, holding the door for my beloved one.\n\n\nHand in hand, we head to my parents. Dad seems to whisper something to mom and she reply in a voyce so low that I couldn't hear. Well, I knew this would not be that easy to have them accept Alex.\n\n\n\"Welcome home son. And... \"\n\n\n\"Alex, pleased to meet you both. This estate of yours is wonderfull.\"\n\n\n\"You're so kind.\" Said my mom. \"Come with us, you both should be hungry. We will talk around the table. Carl, we will eat in the little lounge.\"\n\n\n\"Well madam. Call me if you need anything else.\" Answered our butler.\n\n\nNo words are spoken as we walk to the main building, the atmosphere is quite tense and I can hear the grinding of my dad's teeth. Finnaly we sit around a little table, one couple on each side. My father then break the silence.\n\n\n\"Was the journey peacefull ? If I well understood you came from the mountains, that's pretty far.\"\n\n\n\"It went smoothly.\" Replyed Alex. \"The lands of the McFrost clan are isolated and we only met other vehicles on our last our of travel. I'm as fascinated as the first time I went here for the college, all that agitation.\"\n\n\nMy mom began to spoke then, well the speech is launched at least.\n\n\n\"So you two met in college ? Ahhh it reminds me those years, so much passion. I don't even remember how many guys I went out with at this time...\"\n\n\n\"Mom ! That's not the same. Hippy years are over and now people search more stability. I'm with Alex since a year and I intend it to last even more. I even begin to think about marriage...\"\n\n\n\"Dont say such things.\" Replyed my dad. \"I can overlook some youth wandering but don't play fool with me, marriage is out of question. You can't, were a respectable family and I can't allow such thing. Play as you want for now but you will one day marry a nice girl from the high society of...\"\n\n\n\"There is no youth wandering here. We're in love and that's all. It's not up to you to decide of who I make my lofe with. \"\n\n\n\"Listen your father please, you know proud he is of our bloodline. You can't just decide to waste it like this. Don't take it bad Alex, but you know...\"\n\n\n\"As I'm a man I can't have a child with your son I know. Still stay the adoption. Magic reside in knowledge not in genes. I descend from a long tradition of ice mages and as theyr heir I can swear that...\"\n\n\n\n\"This is an heresy.\" Interupted my father, his ginger hair starting to wave under the heat. \n\n\"You are not part of this family yet and I wont allow this union in any way. I don't know what you did to him but my son is not a little...\"\n\n\n\"Dad !\"\n\n\n\"Darling ! Stop it now. A man that speak about respectability of the things should not insult a guest under his roof.\"\n\n\n\"So you take his side ?\" Literally explode my father.\n\n\n\"I don't care, If my son is happy that's enough. Plus you know how ended the last forbiden love story like that, thirty years of clan war and dozens of victims.\"\n\n\n\"I don't need a lecture about how Shakespearian can become the quarrels between mages famillys but...\"\n\n\nThat's enough, I can't stand it more.\n\n\n\"So father, don't ask for a Shakespearian resolution to our father-son relationship. If you won't allow me to be with him, the next familly head will.\"\n\n\n\" You dare challenge me now little punk ? You're not even graduated, you will risk your life for this absurd \"I'm gay\" thing ?\"\n\n\n\"This evening, eight o'clock, beside the lake.\"\n\n\nThe silence last about twenty seconds and was broken as Carl entered the room.\n\n\n\"Will you want dessert or some coffee ?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Sitting on my obsidian throne, I blew a smoke ring out of my mouth, the sweet strawberry-like fragrance of herbs filled the air.\n\nIn my arm, my beloved little ice mage, her skin so soothingly chilling the flames surrounding my skin.\n\n\"Mother, father.\" I said with a monotone, looking down at them, jets of blue flame swirling in the air, destroying the oxygen around them. \"Did you really think your outdated way of thinking could prevail against your prodigious son?\"\n\nTheir faces, blue with asphyxiation, red with anger, and purple with the onset of death, contorted with great difficulty to speak their words.\n\n\"You... nobody will... accept... your debauchery...\"\n\nI sighed. It really isn't my intent to kill my beloved parents, but the flames to which I am attuned is a symbol of wild, unrestrained freedom. The nature of my magic forces my hand, to burn away into ashes all that would deny me my will.\n\nAnd so, the jets of blue flames circled ever closer. Just as my parents lost consciousness, their control over flames diminishing, the burning tongues of the raging blaze licked their flesh, rasping their flesh and bone into fine, sandy ash.\n\nMy beloved looked at me with horror in her eyes, but she clung onto me all the harder. I'm sorry she had to see me commit patricide and matricide at the same time, but such is the selfish will that the flames have bound me to.\n\nJust then, the doors to my throne room burst open with an explosion, a red haired woman with tears streaming down her eyes.\n\n\"MOTHER! FATHER!\" She cried, rushing, collapsing into the piles of ashes, her hand so smoothly sinking into their fine texture. \"How could you... I'm so sorry, I'm too late...\"\n\nI choked on my words, there is no way I can justify my actions to her. Not with a glare as definitively deathly as that0.\n\n\"You would kill your own mother and father to do this to me?\" She said, through her grinding teeth. \"To be with that harlot?\"\n\nMy ice mage's grip was almost constricting now, but I threw her on the ground and stood up.\n\n\"I-I'm so sorry, my contract, I can't-\"\n\nThe red haired woman stomped up to me and slapped me in the face.\n\n\"What do you mean you can't?! Everything that happened is because you chose it to happen! Stop making excuses!\"\n\n\"B-but Jessica, I-\"\n\n\"Don't say my name! You don't deserve the right to.\" She spat, and turned to leave. \"Never forget what happened this day. Mother and father had been good to me. I will be good to their revenge.\"\n\n\"W-wait, Jessica! My beloved! Wife!\" I shouted after her, but she didn't even look back.\n\n\"Wife?!\" My beloved, timid ice mage cried out incredulously. \"You had a wife?!\"\n\nI looked at her soft, smooth features, now twisted with a rage that defied her elements.\n\n\"I, uh, I can explain, Hele-\"\n\nSuddenly, a blizzard began blowing in the room. A burning hot blizzard that eclipsed even my jets of blue flame.\n\n\"Farewell, Ice Princess Lina, I hope you will kill that oaf for me.\" My wife said without looking back, her voice chilling, calm, quiet, yet so clearly ringing in my ears despite her distance.", "\"Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked,\" repeated my overbearing mother for the hundredth time.\n\n\"Yes, yes Mother,\" I said as I rolled my eyes. \"You told me this like a million times already but-\"\n\n\"Only the -\"\n\n\"OK, Mother!\" I interrupted. \"I know you arranged for me to marry one of your fellow ice mage clan guys, but I'm telling you I'm in love with Percy the Pyromancer. Haven't you read Romeo & Juliet?\"\n\n\"That is a story about preteens having underaged sexual activity and then getting themselves killed. All because they didn't listen to their mothers,\" snapped Mother.\n\n\"Ughh!\" I whined. \"I'm leaving. Percy and I will make our own clan... Our own clan with... with blackjack and hookers!\"\n\nBut our new clan had so much more than just blackjack and hookers. Percy and I eloped and founded a new family with a new type of magic. We combined our fire and ice powers to create steam magic. The discovery of steamweaving heralded a new era of steampunk innovation. It was an industrial revolution and our entire society benefited immensely from this. This goes to show that racism and bigotry slows down the progress of society and is the main take-home message that the original poster of the writing prompt is trying convey. ", "\"Bleh,\" I said for the third time. \n\nMy father gave me that 'I'm going to kick your ass any minute now' look, and then glanced at her with less kick and more 'throw your ass out'. \n\nIt was a normal family dinner. Fried lobster, fried chicken, fried ribs, fried tuna, and smoked salmon on the table. She was surprised that we didn't eat anything fresh. And that was what I loved about her, she was a different kind of flavour in a world full of smoke and flames. \n\n\"So, Mary, what do you people do. . . at your village?\" My mother asked, 'politely'. \n\nMary smiled. \"Well, sometimes I'll help my parents with the fishing. Unless I'm working at the ice cafe, then I'll be serving most of the afternoon.\"\n\n\"So, your a dish washer at a cafe?\" My mother responded, 'politely'. Meeting my eyes as she reached for more lobster. \n\n\"No, no. I'm a waitress,\" Mary said. \"We deliver things from the kitchen to the table, and usually on floating ice-blocks. It's cool.\" \n\n\"Mary's thinking about opening up her own branch,\" I said, giving her a nudge. \n\nShe blushed. \"Well, yeah. I think I could do really well.\" \n\n\"Definitely.\" \n\nMy dad humphed. \"Sounds unprofessional to me. In our cafes they roll out the food on a flame grill, which is much better. Ice cube's could melt at any second.\"\n\nThe guy was really pushing it. \n\n\"Dad likes to slap his meat on a hot grill. Ask my mum, she knows all about it.\" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. \n\nThere was silence. \n\nAnd then Dad burst out in laughter, Mum did as well. I joined and Mary. \n\nAnd then Dad killed us both. \n\n \n\n", "“It’ll be fine.” \n\n“Are you sure they’ll like me,” she said flatly. Her eyelids were half open as if she were about to fall asleep, not matching the anxious words she spoke. \n\n“I’m sure you’ll get a warm reception.” \n\nWell, I didn’t know if it would be a fiery reception. The edges of her eyes began to frost with icicles. As I brought my hand near her pale face, the ice melted and tear tracks formed as I wiped it all away. \n\n“I love you,” I told her. I always told her this. I would yell this at her. \n\n“Me too,” she said flatly. She really didn’t express herself at all, but her frigid personality was kind of an attraction point for me. It gave me something to work for. \n\nWe walked hand in hand towards the great manor in which my parents stayed. It had been a year since I had visited. That was when I left for the Mage’s college. That was where I had met Petria, the Ice Queen. \n\nHer perpetually calm demeanor and reserved manner intrigued me. My entire family was nothing but pyromancers. They were brash and outspoken. She said little. She rarely smiled. Even as I grasped her hand, it was ice cold. \n\nHowever, she completed me in a way that no one else could. She balanced me. \n\nAs we approached my parent’s house, the spires rose loomed over our heads. The fields of fire behind us cast our shadows on the door. The door itself stood high. \n\n“Sweetheart,” I told her, “I’ll have to use a spell to open the door. Standback.” \n\n“Okay,” she said flatly and backed away. \n\n“MIXTAPE!” I yelled extending my hand as I dropped super hot fire upon the door. \n\nThe door burst open and suddenly my family was there. My sister, My two uncles, my Father and my mother. My mother was the first out to rush out and greet me. \n\n“Oh my god, I missed you so much, my darling little boy!” She hugged me close and then held me at arm’s length, “I’m just so glad to see you.” \n\nShe dragged me by the hand into the hallway before I had the chance to see you and my sister took the opportunity to speak up, \n\n“We heard some nasty rumors about you.” \n\n“What’s that?” I asked. I didn’t think I did anything that could be distorted into a nasty rumor. \n\n“You know how your Mom gets when she speaks to your Aunt there, boy.” Said my father. \n\n“No, I don’t know. How do I get, Ricardo?” Said my Mom with the vein on her forehead actually poking out. It looked as if my father was about to land himself in hot water. \n\n“Boy we heard that the girl you’ve been dating is a little frigid.” Spoke up Uncle Marco\n\n“We heard you’ve come down with a cold.” Said Uncle Ernesto \n\n“That’s enough!” Yelled the Mother, “I know my darling boy wouldn’t do such a thing would he?” \n\nShe looked at me and I stood there, rage whirling inside of me. They knew nothing of the fiery passion I held for Petria. \n\n“Actually, I’d like you to meet her, she’s right outside. Petria?” I called out to her. \n\nThat was when she stepped out and made her appearance. Stepping out from the side of the doorway, she walked into doorway and that was when everyone, froze. \n" ]	[ 1, 3, 8, 14, 20 ]	[ "1460212050", "1460209793", "1460204391", "1460202082", "1460196775" ]
	[WP] A rogue planet is going to destroy the earth in 8 months. The US government starts mandating all citizens report to Area 51 for telepathy training. 7 months and 3 weeks pass. You and millions of others are about to try and reroute the rogue planet.	10	[ "I don't really know how they did it elsewhere on Earth, but here's what I know of how they did it in Area 51. \n\nI was a member of the cleaning staff working the longest corridors you have ever seen. I slept in designated workrooms along the corridor. Every morning when the alarms rang I got up, visited the convenience room, then changed into my uniform and had a light snack and vitamins handed to me by breakfast staff, and finally proceeded to my task; to vacuum the miles and miles of light blue carpet down the infinite row of doors. At the end of the shift I logged in to another workroom. Perhaps it was a security matter. I didn't bring hardly any personal possessions along and never turned back the way I came; I always continued forward. The tunnels were endless. After nearly two years of working there I had yet to see the full scope of the compound.\n\nThe organization of the work close to drove me to the edge, when finally to my great relief I was permanently stationed in corridor K, sector Z, on room cleaning duty. I slept in a comfort box near the end of the corridor, and every morning I logged in for breakfast and vitamins at the workroom and finally set to work. The rooms behind the doors in corridor K were all identical; five beds, a wash area, a wardrobe and a table. The source of the faint light a gas filled tube on the ceiling and no windows, of course, on the grey walls only the ventilation grid and a built-in speaker that, among other things, promptly proclaimed the time and generally functioned as a calendar. \n\nSince I had been cleaning corridors such as this one from the very beginning, even before Rogue was announced, I know the first tenants are always the builders, who are replaced with workers, that millions of civilians had been herded up here in the compound for safety, but the type of tenant occupying these rooms I had never before come across. \n\nThey could be spotted appearing in the corridor, gliding silently on the carpet. They were pale. From their noses and ears came small tubes, and from the tubes thin strands of copper reached out into the ether. Sometimes they would howl and yelp at night, and I heard it from my comfort box, I heard how they begged to no one in particular to be removed from there, removed from lies and terror. Some of them were found stiff across the table or tightly curled up in bed, dead, but most of them just kept going. \n\nThey stacked leaflets in the corner of their rooms. It was from the leaflets I learned that not long after it was announced, there was a major breakthrough in the field of telepathy. They kept a log of their training, I found one in the garbage, but it was unintelligible to me, and as I was afraid that someone might walk in on me I didn't view it closer, but I glimpsed a drawing of what looked like a small helmet, and a margin filled with equations and exclamation marks. \n\nOccasionally circulating the corridors were the engineers, so they seemed to me, with their ink stained white robes and sheets of squared paper. There was a young engineer who stood out. As the months went by she looked increasingly ill at ease, and making her rounds she would stop to glance over her shoulder. Once as she was adjusting a copper wire and repeating her confidence in the recent findings, I heard her voice tremble. On the day I found it, I was just about to enter a room when suddenly the next door over burst open and she disappeared down the corridor... and she didn't notice how it fell out of her pocket.\n\nI knew as well as everyone Rogue was coming in our direction. It had never concerned me. The discoveries in the field of telepathy was to ward it off, the trainees were to do it. When I read the small note I had picked up from the carpet, I visited the convenience room and washed my face so long the guard duty remarked on it. \n\nOn the appointed day the trainees were collected and all staff directed further down the corridor towards a checkpoint, but I didn't go with them, I continued along the tunnels. I knew it was the only way, to never turn back, to move forward, until the end of the world.\n\nThe corridors were deserted and shrouded in silence. The compound still standing. I kept walking the blue carpet, mile after mile. I moved through the Z section and B section. I had just entered the N section when I spotted a trainee lingering by a door. I slowly made my way there. The trainee didn't move or otherwise acknowledge me. The tubes and wires were in disorder. I reached for the handle and opened the door.\n\nInside was a large room, where the trainees were sat on benches leaning over each other, their faces motionless. The wires were hooked up to cables coming down from the ceiling, and on their heads were small helmets. They were all dead. I don't know how they did it elsewhere, but this is what I know of how they did in in Area 51. Annihilation. Just what the note had said.\n\nAfter all this, I still wonder what happened with Rogue, why it did not collide with us. I walk the endless corridors, rarely I meet upon someone, I always sleep alone, right on floor. Night and day I spend in the compound, walking down tunnels, silently treading the light blue carpet, never reaching the way out; there are only ever more corridors, and I will carry my torment to the very last one, never learning why it did not collide with us.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"OK team, the time has come,\" said General Marshman. He stood tall at the podium, looking at the millions of people seated in front of him. They had all persevered through over 7 months of intensive telepathy training in order to attempt to reroute a rogue planet that was about to crash right into Earth. The crowd remained silent, but this was normal because the recruits tended to communicate with each other through telepathy rather than verbally in order to strengthen their telepathic powers.\n\n\"Focus your minds on these coordinates,\" commanded the General as he indicated a series of numbers currently being displayed on the Powerpoint presentation. \"Now let's show that rogue planet who's boss and reroute that bastard with the telepathic minds of true Americans!\"\n\nMinutes passed in silence.\n\n\"Is it working?\" whispered the General to Professor Stevens who was seated at a military-grade supercomputer at one end of the stage.\n\n\"No, sir,\" replied Stevens. \"The rogue planet's trajectory remains unchanged.\"\n\n\"But... how? Surely the combined telepathic abilities of millions of patriotic Americans is enough to knock a small planet off its path?\" asked the General.\n\n\"No,\" replied Stevens. \"Why should it? The fact that we are receiving no response from our telepathic endeavors just confirms that the planet is a non-living material that has no mind or capacity of higher thought. It's just a hunk of rock really.\"\n\n\"Sorry, what?\" asked the General, slightly confused. \n\n\"Telepathy is the ability to read minds, sir,\" said Stevens. The General stared, dumbfounded. \n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"Telepathy is the communication of thoughts or ideas between minds in a nonverbal manner using only the power of thought alone.\"\n\n\"Wait, what the fuck?\" exclaimed the General. \"I thought we were training these citizens to use their minds to move the planet away from a collision course with Earth!?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, sir. That would be telekinesis. The power to move objects with one's mind.\"\n\n\"WHAT!?\" shouted the General. \"And you didn't think of telling me this 8 months ago!?\"\n\n\"Well, no, sir,\" replied Stevens. \"Your proposal clearly stated that 'a rogue planet is going to destroy earth in 8 months. The US government wishes to mandate all citizens to report to Area 51 for telepathy training'. I just followed your orders to the dot, sir.\"" ]	[ 2, 14 ]	[ "1460283502", "1460281718" ]
[deleted]	[WP] Describe the last moments of someone's life. No afterlife.	15	[ "The sun emerged from behind the clouds for a third time. \n\nI was as chained as I had ever been; chained not by self-imposed obligation, but by an inherent characteristic of life itself. It was claiming its due; like a late bill, I was reminded that my credit had been exhausted. \n\nWhether it was a blessing or a curse to anyone to have the time and circumstance of their death known in advance, I do not know. Most of the past three days had been spent in the expectation of the inevitable, and so I lay astonished at the fact that I had seen three suns rise and then depart first behind, then below the ever-present clouds; life seemed to me like a malfunctioning lamp in those three days; it shone really brightly for a while and then stopped several hours, or glimmered weakly during other hours.\n\nThe moment that we all know must come was here now; but instead of doing me the service of being swift, of taking me on a ride into the night in one fell swoop, Death sat by my bed and held the most one-sided of conversations with me. Have you ever spoken to a deaf person? Or used sign language on a blind man? The one-sidedness enraged me. \n\nIn the hotel of the mind, all rooms were now checked out; all lay deserted and barren, never to regrow. \n\nBy the end of the third day, I knew there would not be a fourth. I knew it would assail me at night, and I was not sure whether I would be awake or conscious enough to experience it. At around six o'clock in the evening, I saw the sun leave one last time and muttered a farewell, a private, even intimate, thanksgiving. \n\nThe nurse had left and would stay gone for a while. I had had a sip of tea. My skin grew cold, so cold that even touching the ceramic mug with the steaming brew did little to communicate the warmth of the vessel. \n\nEverything turned to grey after another hour. Chained I was, and chained I would be for now. \n\nDeath was still by my bedside. \n\nMy vision had once been a broad horizon, eager to soak up everything that entered it. Now, it had become a narrow tunnel, seeing only what was most immediate, what was most undeniable. \n\nSuddenly, out of nowhere and far too soon, I was being lifted. A dark patch that I could not see but feel rapidly grew on the white-and-blue sheets. I breathed and for a brief moment, the tunnel disappeared, the clouds disappeared, the night disappeared, and I could breathe one last time, could soak up all that the world had to offer in one last breath, and breathed a breath that was fresh as mint, a breath that contained in it all of the previous thirty-seven years, the four hundred and forty-four months, the three hundred and twenty-four thousand one hundred and twenty minutes, held it, and then, as slowly and as deliberately as I could, let it go, as the brightness started to wane and the lights started to flicker, and now, from the perfect vantage point of life that I had but a second to enjoy, I felt the curtain close, and with it, the white noise of applause enveloped everything, until the light that had guided me all of my life went out without a warning. ", "They say right before you die you see a highlight reel of your life. It flashes by in an instant. That is what they say. That is not what I see.\n\nI see a man tucking a piece into his jacket pocket. He is walking away. I see a pool of blood expand. I know it gushes out of my head. Chunks of brain matter float in the sticky red pool. I know my bowels have emptied but I can't smell anything. I think of the ring he has stolen and wonder if she would have said yes. I hope she would have said no.\n\nThe knowledge that I am about to die does not fill me with peace. I instead tearlessly weep knowing that my mother can't come and make this OK. I hope I see her again soon but I don't think I will.\n\nI see nothing.", "This comment has been overwritten by an open source script to protect this user&apos;s privacy, and to help prevent doxxing and harassment by toxic communities like ShitRedditSays. \n\n If you would also like to protect yourself, add the Chrome extension [TamperMonkey](https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/tampermonkey/dhdgffkkebhmkfjojejmpbldmpobfkfo), or the Firefox extension [GreaseMonkey](https://addons.mozilla.org/en-us/firefox/addon/greasemonkey/) and add [this open source script](https://greasyfork.org/en/scripts/10380-reddit-overwrite). \n\n Then simply click on your username on Reddit, go to the comments tab, scroll down as far as possibe (hint:use [RES](http://www.redditenhancementsuite.com/)), and hit the new OVERWRITE button at the top.", "Heavy Gasps, Last of Breath\nThe Death come quickly, Like the Addiction to my sweet Beth\nThe last seconds come,\nI know I'm going quickly\nThe Last moments of my life\nAre thinking if death will fit me.", "The sun was rising. The start of a new day, picture perfect with the sky tinged a pale pink. \n\n\nIn Room 423, Memorial Hospital in Belleville, Hayden Matthews was lying awake. Awake, alive, still breathing, albeit shallowly. But not for long. He could feel it deep inside his battered body. His life was going to end today. Maybe even within the hour. He just hoped he could see his loved ones one more time. His mother. His sister. And James, his caring boyfriend, who gave up most of his own life from the moment Hayden got the crushing diagnosis.\nLeukemia.\n\nIt had taken its toll on Hayden and James, both.\nChemotherapy. James was always by his side. Caressing his frail body. Kissing him affectionately, although his lips were always chapped.\n\nTransplant! The amazing news that a fitting bone marrow donor was found. Finally, he allowed himself to think of a future. But it wasn't meant to be. His body's rejection of the transplanted stem cells was the worst kind of betrayal.\n\n\nIn his hospital bed, wearing his childish but well-loved Batman pyjamas, Hayden was crying now. His breathing became laboured. Tears stained the stark white pillow. Hayden was afraid to die alone. Honestly, he was afraid to die. He was only 21. \n\nHe tried to calm himself, trying to breathe more consciously. In. Out. Hayden looked at the picture of the two of them, James and him, just a few weeks after the transplant. He was still pale and thin, especially in James's arms, but it was barely noticed, because they both smiled so broadly. They were so happy.\n\n\nHe would have married James. If he had lived. Now the wedding day they might have had was just an image in his mind. He couldn't breathe. His whole body ached. The beeping of the machines penetrated his thoughts. The tears were flowing freely now. \n\nThe door swung open. More noise. Hayden saw a nurse hurrying in. Then another. He inhaled. Pain. Was this his last breath? His vision started to fade. James! There he stood. Was he real?\n\n\n\"I... love...\" you he desperately wanted to say and couldn't.\n\n\nA faint whisper, tickling breath right at his ear: \"I'll never forget you, Hayden. You are wonderful.\" A warm hand finding his own, bony and clammy. One last squeeze and a gentle caress.\n\n\nThen Hayden's eyes closed, his chest didn't rise or fall anymore. Hayden was gone.\n\n\n\nJames had never felt so utterly alone. ", "The shot came from the left hallway.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nDeputy John Thorne did what he was trained to do when pursuing an armed suspect shooting at a deputy. The twenty four year veteran of the Sheriff's Department in his small Midwestern town started moving before he could even process what was happening. He reached for his Glock and hit the panic button on his radio. By the time he had hit the red button, the round was inside his torso. He flew into the wall next to him and crumbled over. He knew that bullet hit too many viral organs to make a recovery. This was it. This is how he would die.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe thought of Jenny, his little girl at home. He smiled and flicked his radio to life for the last time.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe thought of his wife, Samantha, who would have to carry on without him. He made sure he was transmitting clearly.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe thought of his partner Todd, who had chased after a different perp while he chased this one. With his dying breaths watching his killer run away, he choked out a description of the fleeing man to dispatch.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe coughed up red. His last thought was of how it was such a nice day out. The universe cared not for the grief of men. He smiled and closed his eyes for the last time.\n\n---\n\nI tried to do this like Dr. Manhattan's flashback in Watchmen when he remembered his accident. Hope you liked it OP.", "As I sit on the cold concrete rail of the bridge, I think about all that has happened these last three years. I don't really know when it began, but I know that it has been the most difficult experience of my life. \n\nFirst, there was the injury. I'm not even sure how it happened; the doctors say it was a long time in coming. I was only thirty-eight years old, standing in the gym, when suddenly my feet went from under me. The pain in my back was searing. For the next week, I lay in bed, getting out only long enough for my wife to take me to the chiropractor. There was little relief there. Over the next few weeks, there was improvement until I could walk with a cane. A cane. At thirty-eight. Pain meds. Muscle relaxers. Alcohol.\n\nLater that year, I saw a neurosurgeon. He told me that there was nothing he could do. I would be on a cane until I could no longer use it, then there would be a wheel chair. And no reasonable explanation. A wheel chair. For the rest of my life. And no end to the pain.\n\nOn top of this, my boss at work was transferred. She was the best. She cared about her employees, she cared about the mission, she made us care. She listened to us and valued our opinions. We made decisions together for the betterment of the company. Her replacement? Not a bit of it. Morale was the last consideration. People were transferred with no explanation, rhyme, or reason. New rules were set in place with no apparent cause or goal in mind. Changes were announced via email, no discussion ever took place. Productivity slumped, morale ceased to exist. More and more I failed to limp into the office on my cane.\n\nThe doctor bills began to pile up. My insurance failed to pay for the best treatments my doctors could offer. I used all my annual leave and sick days, and began to go into days of unpaid leave. My job was protected, due to the FMLA, but my income was not. Bills continued to accrue and it began to look very bleak indeed.\n\nAt some point, I quit going to work at all. With the help of the therapist my wife had insisted that I go see, I applied for, and received, disability. My days were spent in my room, in bed, with the curtains drawn. My back ached, and my mind was dark. My life was a failure. My young children seldom saw me, and I didn't want to see them. I hardly spoke to my wife. I saw everything through a dark lens. Nothing was good, all was bad, and there was no hope for anything better. This went on for about a year.\n\nI have a life insurance policy. Did you know that many life insurance policies cover suicide after a certain period of time? They do. Mine does. I sit here, in the dark, beside my car with the engine running, on this cold concrete. I think about how my wife can pay the bills with that money. I think about how my kids will have college funds. I think how they can have a mother who can once again stay home with them and how they won't need to worry about a father who is there, but not.\n\nIn my hands, the steel of my shotgun is cold. The wood grain of the stock is smooth as I run my fingers along it. \"Over in a moment,\" I think. My hand goes to my pocked and fumbles for a moment taking out the two .12 gauge shells I've brought with me. I slowly open the break-away barrel and insert one shell into each side. Click. I take a drink from the bottle of Jack beside me on the bridge, then throw it into the night. Turning the gun around, I say a prayer. I was raised Catholic. I'm still not sure how much I believe, but I know that what I'm doing is frowned upon to say the least. Both barrels fit into my mouth. I try to angle them so that they will aim for the base of my skull, where the brain stem meets the brain. My thumb searches for the trigger. I'm sorry Elizabeth. I'll always love you. I'm sorry girls. Daddy will always love you, too. I hope you grow up to be something great. It's best this way. I love you all.\n\nTears run down my cheeks and drip. My thumb sneezes the trigger tight.", "\"Henry Dutton,\" said the man in the suit, \"you have been convicted by twelve persons, good and true, of the crimes of armed robbery, assault, battery, and murder in the first degree. In accordance with the laws of Alabama, you shall be hanged by your neck until you die. May God have mercy on your soul.\" \n\nThe rope around Henry's neck was hot and itchy; so was the rope that kept his wrists behind his back. He stood on a wood scaffolding, staring at a crowd of people. Some looked bored, but most looked eager. Eager for what?, he wondered. Would it bring back four people (who weren't even supposed to be home that night) if one died? Or would some magical sense of resolution to their battered lives appear once the momentum of his swinging ceased? He could not say. Either way, he stared back blankly at them. \n\nThe man in the suit looked to one side and nodded. Henry didn't have time to follow his glance; almost immediately, he heard a mechanical lever grind away. Gravity caught up with him quickly as the trapdoor beneath his feet shot down. \n\nThe pain in his neck was intense, yet he still heard the twang of the rope's catching as clearly as the crowd's gasp. For a terrified instant of clarity and realization, he stayed perfectly still, breathing perhaps a little harder from the surprise of the drop. Then he realized the rope around his neck wasn't just hot and itchy; it was fully taut, in a perfect loop that came snug under his Adam's apple, and those hard breaths of surprise may, perhaps, have been his last. \n\nHenry had asked one of the guards about the hanging some hours earlier. The man had laughed, talking about how they'd all taken bets on whether the victim's neck would break first or whether they'd have to wait around to watch the man suffocate first. None of this came to mind as panic gripped him, making him shake like a leaf on a tree, his motion making him sway in place as his legs kicked at air and his hands beat against the tops of his buttocks. He heard wheezing, and realized the sound was intimately connected with the tightening of his chest. \n\nSound dimmed; or, perhaps, the people were muttering, rather than speaking aloud. He saw the crowd talking behind their hands, but why were they so hazy? And why were his eyes hurting so bad, when it was his neck and lungs he was so worried about? \n\nHot. Feverish hot. He kicked some more, realized his feet would never touch the ground. In his madness, he felt his bladder loosen, adding to the heat. \n\nThe adrenaline that had come on so strongly during the initial moment of fighting back began to wear down as his muscles fatigued, as the gasping sounds he heard as if from a distance grew dimmer and dimmer. Everything had taken on a queer haze, no matter how he tried to blink away the tears that came involuntarily. \n\nThere was darkness, even as he swayed gently, leftover motion from the last of his struggles. In the darkness, he still heard the rasping sounds of a man trying to live, but that man didn't have long left; the sounds were shorter, with longer pauses between. \n\nThe last sound Henry Dutton was a gasp that echoed with relief. ", "The room felt stuffy because of the dark. Heavy shades on the curtains hid the windows that had forgotten how to open. The only illumination of the room was the faint blue glow of the television and how it bounced off of the man's face. The shadow cast by the chair hid the mouse that scurried along the wall's edge, leaving the man to believe that he was the only living presence in the room. He moved only to bring things to his mouth and to lift the remote of the television, his face almost frozen in its bored expression. The television set was dusty and old, its knobs worn from use.\n\nThe man's bed had not been used in seemingly ages. The springs creaked from the strain of their neglect. If not for the air conditioner roaring as it sucked the humidity from the room the blankets might still have felt damp to the touch. From the light of the television beads of sweat could be seen appearing on the man's forehead. He scooped a handful of chips into his mouth with his free hand, wiping the oil onto the upholstery of the couch before dipping his hand back in the bag. \n\nIt was over as suddenly as it happened. The man's fingers tightened on his remote, squeezing the plastic as if to try and create grooves before falling limp. His eyes became wide and before his head lolled, his gaze unfocused. The only sound was the slight gurgle that came from his lips -a bubble of red appearing at one corner before it popped out of existence - and the sound of the roaring air conditioner, and the low conversation of the television. " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4 ]	[ "1460383895", "1460385157", "1460385593", "1460386706", "1460388136", "1460400400", "1460385400", "1460384156", "1460381783" ]
Inspired by Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide (old Nick show) in which the main character has Abraham Lincoln and Benedict Arnold as his angel and devil.	[WP] You don't have an angel and devil on your shoulder. You have other things.	5	[ "\"You should torture him to death and eat him. He looked at you the wrong way. Also, shiny.\"\n\n\"Eeew! Like, do you have any idea how many minutes of cardio that would take to burn off???\"\n\nWe've all seen the cartoons where people have an angel on one shoulder, trying to get them to live a good life, and a devil on the other leading them into temptation. If only!\n\n\"Your boss is a dick - Have you considered shredding his sofa?\"\n\n\"OhMiGawd, real leather, don't you dare!\"\n\nI wish. Angels and devils? I can understand those. Me? I have... A petulant siamese cat, and a valley girl.\n\n\"Have you considered poop-hockey? They're all asleep, no one will notice until the morning, then... Squish! Heh... Oooh, spider!\"\n\n\"Ugh, just steal the cah-ahr already! Your BFF texted you like twenty minutes ago, laaame!\"\n\nI find their advice maddeningly useless, for the most part. But every now and again...\n\n\"You need that! You need it now! Take it!\"\n\n\"Wow, like, I didn't know they even came in that color! Here, stick it under your shirt and go!\"\n\n...Every now and then, they agree, and I know just what to do.\n\nExactly the opposite of anything they agree on.\n\n\n\n", "\"Me name's Gump.\"\n\n\"I know Gump. You tell me that every morning.\"\n\n\"Mhmmm gonna tell you tomorrow morning too. Me name's Gump.\"\n\n\"Gump it's one in the afternoon. I'm tired.\"\n\n\"Mhmmm nap's be good.\"\n\nGump was a shoulder troll. He was pretty passive. He just wanted to make sure I acknowledged him from time to time. I did. He was a swell troll. His advice kind of sucked but his morals were good. I was at a party once and there was this drunk girl who carried me up to her room. She was just as drunk. We more carried each other. When we got there she plopped down on her bed and I plopped down beside her. Her eyes were barely open and I couldn't see straight. Grump gave me a poke and said, \"Nah, better not.\" \n\nI nodded. \"Right, better not.\" \n\n\"No rubber.\" He mumbled. \"Too drunk, you and her. Best to just cuddle.\"\n\n\"Mhmm.\" I agreed. \"Better just cuddle.\" Solid advice. That was a while ago, a few years I'd say. Today Gump is tired. Their personalities reflect my mood. I was tired today too. \n\n\"Gump. I have work in an hour.\"\n\n\"Mhmmmmm. Can't nap at work. No good.\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"Sleep early tonight. Make it early to bed. Tired. Sheets are comfy.\" Grump nodded. He sat down and leaned against my neck. I felt bad so I picked him up and popped him into the hood of my sweater. I heard him grunt in satisfaction. \n\n\"Fuck work.\" Said Rump. \n\n\"Rump I need to go to work.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but fuck work. I'm tired.\" Yes, she is tired because I am tired. Grump was tired too. \n\n\"Yeah, but we need money to buy groceries-\"\n\n\"And beer. And vodka. No, not vodka, whiskey.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" I perked up, \"and whiskey.\"\n\n\"Okay, don't fuck work. Work has Mika and Mika's fiery. Go to work. Talk to Mika. Get money. Buy whiskey. Drink whiskey. Drink whiskey with Mika. Kiss Mika.\" He hissed on the 's' of whiskey. I really wanted to kiss Mika. \n\n\"Solid plan.\"\n\nOn one shoulder I had Mr. Gump, on the other shoulder I had a small, alcoholic, black-and-green dragon. His name was Rump. Apparently his name was originally Jerry when I was younger, but he was jealous of how much I liked Grump and so he tried to steal his name. When I told him he couldn't have Grump's name he then chose Rump. Rump is rambunctious. Rump is where I get my confidence. \n\n\"It makes my fire burn bright.\" That was true. When I am drunk Rump's fire seems to burn the brightest. At first I thought they were just my imagination, except one night a few years ago I was at a party which was not to my liking. It wasn't to say it was a bad party but it wasn't my kind of gathering. I went to the patio to have a smoke and I realized I did not have a lighter. Rump, being a gracious drunk, lit my smoke for me with his fire. I had to think twice. I checked my pockets, my shirt, and the floor around me. There was nothing, nothing to start a fire. \n\n\"Oh shit, you're real...\"\n\n\"No fucking shit, you twat.\" Rump hissed.\n\n\"Mhmmm yupp.\" Grump agreed. \n\nSince then they have had a large impact on my life. Grump guides me by day, and Rump by night. That's partly due to the fact Grump can't stay awake past sunset. He's a tired little thing. Rump is lazy, and wont be awake until late in the afternoon. \n\nI was still a fifteen minute walk away from work. Rump was pinching my shoulder so I grabbed him with my hand and cradled him against my chest. Each person, I assume, has their own manifestations of morality. Mine is a mix between passive and good, and alcoholic and boastful. It was true. Sober, I was a man of few opinions and agreed with the crowd. Drunk, I would be loud, I would fight, and I would push my way. I also had a talent of tongue, which brought me a little luck with a few ladies. That was Rump. He would whisper in my ear when a girl was near and he would tell me just what I needed to say. \n\n\"Don't bite, Rump.\" Rump was nibbling on my finger. \n\n\"Fuck off ya twat.\" Rump said. I covered his eyes with a little piece of cloth and he began to sleep. Lizards are easy to put to bed. Grump was snoring loudly behind me. \n\n" ]	[ 3, 3 ]	[ "1460424062", "1460424897" ]
Inspired by this [comment thread](https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/4edbjq/sanityexe_is_crashing/d1zab1s)	[WP] Your fingers move a lot in your sleep and one day your S/O puts a typewriter under your hands...	10	[ "Hey guys, this is my first attempt at a WP. Thought I'd have a go! It's not the longest as I wrote this during my break at work! Hope you enjoy :)\n\n **\n\nThe next morning, Thomas woke up in the chair, afraid to look at the names he had damned in his sleep this time. He turned the typewriter away so he could not see the names, as if somehow that would lessen the guilt that absorbed him. He placed the typewriter on the table and walked to the window, staring out at the sky, wracking his brain to try and make sense of this madness.\n\nHe could hear Samantha come down the stairs and into the room. \n\n“Hey.” She said, softly, as she wrapped her hands around him from behind, holding him tightly, “It’s going to be ok.”\n\n“It happened again.” Thomas sighed.\n\n“And? Did you see the names?” Samantha asked as she stood back slowly.\n\n“Not yet. I couldn’t bring myself to look. They’re not just names anymore Sam. There’s are real people!” Thomas’ emotions began to build, his hands trembled. \nBehind him, he could hear Samantha walk to the table and slowly pull the paper out of the typewriter. \n\n“I won’t tell you if you don’t want me to. I can keep it to myself and that way you won’t have to know. We can just throw it away and stop this pain.” She offered. \n\n“It’s too late. I can’t undo this Sam.” Thomas’ head dropped, tears started to fill his eyes as he pictured Sam holding the paper and waited to hear the names. Then he heard a loud thud behind him.\n\n“THOMAS!” Samantha’s horrifying wail filled the house.\n\nThomas bolted round and saw Samantha on her knees, ghostly white. She was gripping the paper with both hands and staring at with a look that Thomas had never, nor would want to ever see on her face. \n\n“Sam! Sam! Who is it!?” Thomas begged.\n\nSamantha slowly looked up from the paper, her body shivering. She looked into Thomas’ eyes.\n\n“Sam? Babe, please! Who is it?” Thomas repeated slowly.\n\nSamantha looked at Thomas and then returned her gaze to the paper, tears now flooding from her eyes. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to tell Thomas, when a voice came from the doorway.\n\n“Mummy.”\n", "In the beginning, Susan thought it was an endearing quirk. She noticed it, of course, the first time Ryan spent the night. They had already been seeing each other for a few weeks before the timing was finally right. Her roommate was out of town for the weekend, Ryan had taken her out to a nice dinner downtown, and in return, Susan picked up the tab for a few after dinner drinks. They were pleasantly buzzed, perfectly comfortable, and exceptionally horny. So back to her place it was. That was the first night they spent together. \n\nSusan woke up to a slight headache and a full bladder around 4am. After making her way back to the bedroom, Susan stood in the doorway for a moment to enjoy the view. Ryan was laying on her embarrassingly pink bedsheets, hugging that teddy bear that she’s been meaning to get rid of (or at least pack away) since leaving college. As she stood there, admiring his muscled back and too small ass, she noticed his fingers twitching. \n\nThat was all. No great revelation at the time. Just twitching fingers and that old teddy bear. \n\n\t\t\t\t--------------------------------------------\n\nShe noticed again a few months later. Again, as she was climbing back into bed, she saw his twitching fingers and was reminded of their first night together. It gifted her with a small smile as she drifted back to sleep. In the morning, as the two lay together in bed, discussing where to have brunch, and Ryan already complaining about going back to work on Monday, Susan remembered the fingers.\n \n“oh hey, I had the cutest thought last night.” \n\n“if it isn’t about eggs benedict and a carafe of mimosas, then I don’t care” he teased, then kissed her on the cheek, just to be sure. \n\n“ha ha, shut up. No, it was something that reminded me of the first time you stayed the night. I’m not even sure why I remember it. Just this cute little twitch in your fingers while you’re sleeping.”\n\n“that doesn’t surprise me, I guess. I’m pretty cute. Now how about Arnold’s for brunch?”\n\n“Ugh, they have the worst coffee. What about Boathouse?” \n\nAnd that was the end of that conversation. \n\n\t\t\t\t-------------------------------------------\n\nThe two moved into the perfect downtown apartment together. It had everything they wanted. An easy walk to work for Ryan and a chalkboard wall for Susan. It was perfect. The first night they moved in together Susan couldn’t sleep out of pure excitement. \n\nHow could we decorate the kitchen? \nShould I pick a color to paint the bathroom, then get a shower curtain to match, or the other way around? \nI can do monthly murals on the chalkboard! \nWho am I kidding, I already know what shower curtain I want. Seafoam green it is. \n\nAs Susan lay awake with giddy excitement, she glanced over at Ryan, just hoping for one of those sappy romantic comedy moments where someone stares at their sleeping partner, smiles, and breathes a heavy contented sigh. She got halfway through the sigh before she noticed Ryan’s fingers twitching. At first all she felt was an amused happiness. But that was quickly replaced by a mild curiosity. \n\nDid this happen every night? \nWere his fingers always twitching? \nWeird. \n\nThen those thoughts were again replaced by a single, more important concern. \n\nWhere can I find a cute, seafoam green bathmat?\n\n\t\t\t----------------------------------------------------\nTwo days later were when things got weird. \n\nSusan was at home alone. She had taken the day off work to finish unpacking and getting settled. NPR played in the background while she unwrapped the dishes and found homes for the Tupperware. Frankly, Susan wasn’t a huge fan of NPR, but that’s what she thought people her age should be listening to. Plus, that bitch Michelle from work was always talking about it. \n\nWe hate Michelle. \n\nSo there Susan was, not listening to NPR, putting away dishes, thinking about how happy she was with their new apartment with the chalkboard wall, when something she heard piqued her interest. It was an offhand comment from one of the guests on whatever NPR show was on. He was a sleep scientist, or something weird like that, and was talking about some of the interesting cases he had seen. Everything from your run-of-the-mill sleep walkers, to sleep eaters, and even some sleep fighters. \n\n“I even studied one patient who, it turns out, composed music while he slept. Couldn’t do it while he was awake, and the music wasn’t that good, but it was still quite fascinating.”\n\nThat got Susan thinking. What if Ryan’s finger twitching wasn’t just finger twitching? What if something else was going on? \n\nI guess it kinda looks like playing a piano. Oh my god, what if Ryan secretly plays piano in his sleep?! Then we could be on NPR and that bitch Michelle could really go suck it! \n\nAnd that’s how Susan came to be so determined to figure this out. When Ryan came home for lunch that afternoon, she explained everything to him. That she thought the finger twitching wasn’t just a random thing, but that maybe it happened every night. That she thought it may be some secret talent or something trying to sneak out. That she was going to do some research and figure this out. \n\nHe was pretty cool about it. \n\nAnd so she began. \n\nAs it turns out, it did happen every night. She would wake herself up to check, and occasionally watch for a while. It appeared to happen every night, and maybe even all night. He would do it for a long time, anyway. This information just made Susan more excited to keep digging. After a while of casual observation, she was ready to experiment. She went out and bought a keyboard, waited for the weekend, so she wouldn’t have to worry about being too tired at work the next day, and then, when the day finally came, waited for Ryan to drift asleep and start his twitching. Nervously, excitedly, Susan slipped the keyboard under his fingers and waited for the beautiful symphony she was convinced would come. \n\nIt scared the shit out of him. \n\nTurns out she forgot to warn him, and the sudden explosion of loud noise right next to his ear did not sit well. After a few choice curse words, a halfhearted “goddamnit, Sue”, and a playful tug into bed, the two went back to sleep. \n\nThe following weekend, Susan reattempted her experiment, this time with headphones plugged in. Again, she slid the instrument under his hands, and listened. She listened to the cacophonous racket that was decidedly not a beautiful symphony. She decided to listen a little longer. I mean, maybe you can’t just pick up in the middle of things. He has to catch his stride. \n\nIt didn’t get better. \n\n\t\t\t----------------------------------------------------\n\nThe next afternoon, disheartened, Susan was walking the streets, on the verge of giving up her crusade. She realized there was no way that sound could be called music. Maybe it was just twitching after all. Maybe Ryan just had a weird tick. At least that bitch Michelle wouldn’t have to know. \n\nAs she was having these thoughts, Susan conveniently looked into a storefront just in time to see an old typewriter. It was a beautiful machine, and just the inspiration she needed to keep going.\n\nTyping! Of course! That must be it! \n\n\nSusan even took a few steps into the antique shop to buy the old thing before she realized that she was being ridiculous. \n\nShe could never slide a typewriter under his hand.\n\nAnd the noise alone would wake him. \n\nA wireless keyboard would work just fine. \n\nAnd so, that night, after Ryan fell asleep, and everything was all set to go, Susan sat beside the bed. She stared at the beautiful man in the bed they shared, and the keyboard which didn’t normally share their bed, and vowed that if this didn’t work, she would give up and go back to being not crazy. And with that, Susan sild the keyboard under his swiftly moving fingers and turned to look at the computer’s screen. \n\nTo her amazement, words started appearing. Actual words! The same ones, over \nand over again. Continually. Susan just sat back and watched. And smiled. And eventually climbed in bed beside Ryan, leaving the keyboard in place, his fingers typing away, and the computer screen continually repeating his message. Blinking over and over again:\n\n \n\nI LOVE HER. I LOVE HER. I LOVE HER. I LOVE HER. I LOVE HER. I LOVE HER.\n", "jukk gun jukk gun biq jukk gun jukk gun biq jukk gun biq jukk gun. \n\nThe letters on the paper continued with this exact same pattern all the way across the line. Although a deep sleeper, Sarah's slumber was not so impervious to outside influences as to not be awoken by Tony's attempt to return the carriage. Of all the ways to wake up, a loud ding accompanied by a large face looming over you is among the worst.\n\nSarah muttered something which in her head sounded like 'What the bloody hell are you doing?' but what actually came out was “Wurrder blowhole yoodoon?”.\n\n“Helping!” came the infuriatingly jovial reply. Sarah loved Tony unconditionally but he was a Morning Person which, in her eyes, was akin to being a Puppy Strangler. “I've been noticing it over the past week, you always complain about not being able to write anything of any worth, but as soon as you fall asleep you start doing the hand motion of typing. The record is about two and a half hours before I fell asleep and couldn't count any more!”\n\nWiping the sleep from her eyes with the back of her arm, Sarah decided to entertain this charade for a little while longer before finally getting back to the lie-in she'd promised herself.\n\n“Okay, fine, what does it say?”\n\n“Uh...” He scrutinises the paper, “It says 'juck gun, juck gun... bique' over and over again. Here have a look. He hands over the paper and Sarah receives it the way a doting parent receives a crayon drawing from their infant child. Oh, you've made me type out some nonsense mumbo-jumbo, have you? I'll just put that on the fridge...\n\n“Hmm. Well, I'll file this under all the other ill-thought-out rubbish I've produced so far, thanks.” With that she attempted to throw the paper to the other side of the bedroom. Unfortunately, she forgot to crunch the page up into a ball first and so the paper drifted back to her lap, mocking her as it did so.\n\n“Maybe the typewriter was off-centre.” Tony piped up in that ineffably cheery manner of his, “Here, try typing it out again, but hit each key that's adjacent to the key you hit for that first line.” Sarah took a moment to comprehend this jumble of words that apparently meant something before eventually understanding.\n\nHe hoisted the typewriter up onto Sarah's lap. She sighed the sigh of one resigned to not sleeping any time soon. “Start by hitting each key to the left of the original!”\n\n“Okay, fine,” She put the piece of paper back in and, just below the genesis line, deliberately began typing, “Okay, so, 'B'... 'Y'... 'J...” This continued until the new line of 'byjj fyb byjj fyb vu' was followed by the tab key, at which point Tony pointed out that this couldn't actually be correct, to which Sarah concurred with a disgruntled sigh. \n\nLeaning over her to return the carriage, Tony cried out “Well, let's try each key to the right!”\n\nSarah nodded briskly, one hand massaging her forehead as Tony dictated out each letter of the new configuration.\n\nHe looked to the top of the page. 'jukk gun jukk gun biq'.\n\n“Okay, so... “K”... “I”...”", "It was like missing a piece of my soul. Almost six months had eclipsed and I had written next to nothing. It was worse than losing a hobby. It was losing the only friend who had been by my side my entire life.\n\nMy doctor called it depression. My wife called it burn out. My therapist told me it would come back, and my wife tried to find me inspiration. I gave up on it, my head churning around the idea that it might simply never be found. I made sure not to voice this concern because I was afraid that doing so might give the fear validity. \n\nFor the first month or so I had sat at the kitchen table and stared at my empty typewriter. The paper taunted me, laughing that I could not fill it. After a while I put it away for good. I hadn't looked at it since, but I imagined that five months later it must be dusty. Sometimes I would stare at the box and think about the neglect I had caused the typewriter. Some part of me hoped it would lead to inspiration, but in the end it often just made things worse. \n\nOne night, about two weeks ago, I had a dream that the devil had come to visit me. He told me that if I gave him something he wanted he would tell me the meaning of life. I readily agreed, looking desperately around for a pen and paper to write his tale. \n\nIn the morning, I remembered the dream but not the contents of what the devil had told me. I kept the contents to myself. It was, after all, only a dream. \n\nBut the same dream kept repeating. Every night the devil appearing, promising to tell me the meaning of life if I gave him something in return. It was never clear quite what he wanted, and each morning I woke up with no memory of the tale itself. Only that the devil had come to visit me.\n\nOn the sixth morning I told my wife. She pursed her lips and came to press her fingers into my shoulders. \"Maybe you're stressed out.\" This seemed like an obvious statement. I hadn't written anything in almost six months. \n\nOn the eighth morning I woke up to my wife brandishing a piece of paper at me. \"I stayed up to watch you sleep last night and I saw your fingers were moving. Did you have the same dream again?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"I thought about what to do all yesterday. Then I was sitting in the living room and I glanced over at the box where you keep your typewriter and this feeling came over me like it was the answer. So last night I stayed awake until your fingers started to move, and then I put the typewriter beneath them.\" \n\n\"But I don't remember any of the Devil's story.\" \n\nMy wife handed me the paper. \"I don't think you need to. I think you wrote it down last night.\"\n\nIt was only a single page, and it was clear that there was more to write. But it was obviously the same story. Each word that I read caused some shift in my brain, making me remember that part of what the devil had said in my dream. \n\nI turned to my wife and began to read aloud.\n\nIt was a dark and stormy night...*" ]	[ 1, 2, 3, 6 ]	[ "1460465066", "1460450957", "1460448770", "1460447064" ]
	[WP] One person is born in every hundred million people with the ability to resurrect a single person from the dead, regardless of who they are or how long they've been dead.	47	[ "It took me a long time to realize I was awake.\n\nIn fact I am certain I wouldn't have noticed, were it not for the whisper. In the pitch dark silence, sometimes it's hard to tell whether or not you are conscious. When you sleep in the same quiet black void you wake up to, after a while the line between them seems to blur. This was not one of those times. This was different.\n\nThe whisper was faint. I could tell it was calling me - it had an insistent pull that I couldn't seem to shake - but without urgency. It seemed sad. And lonely. And lost. I haven't heard much in the past while. Well, that isn't entirely true. I've heard, but I haven't listened. But this whisper... \n\nWas I dreaming? The thought just occurred to me. I didn't usually dream, so was that what its like? Voices in my head? I hoped not. Maybe I was just going insane. I wasn't young, but even so that'd be a bit early to be going senile. My face was stiff, but slowly and surely the corners of my mouth crawled up to my cheeks. The pose felt refreshing despite the tired rigidity of my muscles. It had been a while since my last smile.\n\nThe whisper came again, louder this time.\n\n\"...Shared some good times... I swear to God...\" It sounded so familiar. I wracked my brain for the matching body it belonged to, but drew a blank. It seemed to be talking about happy times. As it went on it became clearer and louder in my mind. Closer, even.\n\n\"I'm so sorry... deserved better... damned car...\" Now it was sad. Whatever this voice was, I wanted it out. In fact, I just wanted to go back to bed. Sleep was peaceful. But the next phrase woke me up entirely.\n\n\"I wish we could go out just one more time.\"\n\nAt that I became acutely aware of my surroundings. The blackness was still black, and the whisper still soft, but now it was muffled, almost incomprehensible. I tried talking back to it, but my voice was nothing but ragged breaths. I realized that I now had movement in my arms and legs, but the right side of my body wasn't cooperating. I began to panic, frantically shuffling around, trying to understand what had happened... but then I froze, as all of my memories came flooding back.\n\nI remembered the accident, how quickly the two headlights approached my best friend. I remember the adrenaline as I sprinted for him, arms outstretched. I remembered pushing him hard, the impact force sending him flying. And I remember looking back at the headlights, and for a split second wondering where they went before looking down and noticing they were a foot and a half from my hips.\n\nI briefly remember the hospital. I came to once before slipping back into the silent embrace of my lovely slumber. It was only a short moment, but I distinctly remember my best friend looking the doctor straight in the eyes and saying: \"I don't know how.\"\n\nI must be exiting a coma. I'm blind, and that's why its dark. My friend was just unable to understand, that's all. I tried a dozen different theories to try and explain my situation, but only one seemed to account for all of this: the urban legends were true. My best friend was one in a hundred million and brought me back from the dead... just too late.\n\nNow that it has been ten minutes, I believe I've come to terms with my predicament. I am in a coffin. I died at the hands of a drunk driver, and was brought back at the command of a grieving friend. The right half of my body is impaired and my throat is ripped open. The only thing I am able to do is wait to die again. It won't be long now before the air starts to run out. The first time I was blessed with a quick and painless death. I will not have that luxury the second time around.\n\nAs my lungs began to burn, I could hear my friend's soft footsteps on the grass above as he walked away, leaving me to die alone.\n", "Harold was one of them. There was approximately 1 every year. 5 occurrences every four years. A lot of people had been brought back from the dead. \n\nHarold wondered who there was to bring back. It seemed like all the cool people had already been seen again. Hitler had been interrogated. Stalin had been prosecuted for his crimes. Jesus Christ - who actually had existed - was found to just be a simple boy who had been used as a prophet. \n\nHarold didn't want to be one of those ones who brought back a dead cat or his grandmother. He drafted a list of names and went through them one by one with his best friend Joey.\n\n\"What about Thomas Jefferson?\"\n\n\"Already brought back.\"\n\n\"Benjamin Franklin?\"\n\n\"Done already.\"\n\nHarold tapped his pencil against his desk. \"What about Steve Irwin?\" \n\n\"Yeah. Last year, they did the special about it. Don't you remember?\" \n\nThe names got crossed off one by one. Vonnegut, Hemingway, Charlie Chaplin, Amelia Earhart, Lenin, Lennon. \n\n\"There's just no one good anymore!\" Harold threw his pencil across the room. \"Why does it even matter if I can bring someone back from the dead if it can't be someone cool like Heath Ledger or Madonna?\"\n\n\"Actually Madonna is still alive.\"\n\n\"Seriously? Is she a dinosaur or what?\"\n\nJoey didn't answer. Instead he went through the list again. All of the names had been crossed out. \"You could just wait a few years, until someone cool dies.\"\n\n\"But I want to use it now.\" Harold stamped his foot. \"I've waited fourteen years for this moment!\"\n\n\"What about Marilyn?\"\n\n\"Monroe?\"\n\n\"No. Marilyn. From down the street. She made good cookies, man.\"\n\nHarold sighed and sat down. \"I just don't want to be one of those. There has to be something cool out there. There has to be some cool dead person who hasn't been brought back. What about Ted Bundy?\"\n\n\"Uh...actually, no. Still dead.\"\n\n\"Perfect,\" Harold clapped his hands together. \"I'll bring back Ted Bundy! What could go wrong with that?\"\n\n---\n\n/r/Celsius232 \n\n", "GoPro Camera recording? Check. Chair in appropriate position? Check. Pistol, lock and loaded? Check. Obviously needed X on the floor? Check. \n\n\"Well, time to join the club.\" I stated, into the camera. \"I, Anon65, am about to join the IKH Club. Enjoy, you weird and crazy people.\"\n\nI approached the X, and put my hand on the floor. Concentrating, I called out in my mind to summon the dead, to pull him here, whether he wanted it or not. I heard an echo, a response, he would be summoned soon. Opening my eyes and smiling, I walked over and sat down into the chair and waited.\n\nThirty seconds later, in a puff of smoke and ash, he appeared. A man in a militaristic uniform and cap with an small patch of hair above his lips. He opened his eyes and looked at me, and frowned.\n\n\"Nicht noch einmal.\" BANG\n\nThe man dropped to the floor, and slowly crumpled to dust. I stood up and approached the camera again.\n\n\"I, Anon65, have joined the 'I Killed Hitler Club'.\"\n\nStopping the recording, I took the GoPro over to my computer and went to work. An hour later, mess cleaned up, I posted my video, and waited to see the comments scroll by.", "I could raise a scientist \nLike Einstein or Bohr. \nIt's 2052, \nAnd we could do more. \n\nI could bring back a peace man \nLike Ghandi or King, \nTo guide us more forward, \nAnd make that a thing. \n\nI could bring back an artist \nLike Hals or Rembrandt. \nHe would have to be Dutch, \nNo one said I can't. \n\nI could bring back a general \nLike Tzu or Sherman, \nAnd show everyone else, \nWhere war's really been. \n\nI could bring back anyone \nAnyone at all, \nBut the choice must be mine, \nThis must be my call. \n \nWhy not Hitler or Stalin, \nTo make them my staff? \nOr Williams or Carson, \nTo give me a laugh? \n \nYou know what, I've decided. \nPerhaps a latina... \nAh forget it, \nI've chosen. \n[AND HIS NAME IS...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enMReCEcHiM) ", "I made myself a liar.\n\nI was not selfish - I told my neighbors and their families to come to my home. Everyone who came would be heard, I said, and I would make my decision. But as I looked out on the crowd, I knew it could not be so.\n\nThe entire country was at my doorstep.\n\nThe crowd touched the horizon. There were campfires and tents and a mile-wide moat of dusty, brown heads with dirty, brown faces, all looking at me. The mass of people, millions as far as I could tell, heaved and sighed like the tide of the ocean. \n\nAs I scanned the crowd, I saw fights break out. There was a flash of metal, and spurts of red. Someone was sucked under. A mother held the corpse of her child in the air, sobbing as limp limbs dangled and slapped against her head. The waves of people collapsed on top of her and stole her from my sight.\n\nThat is how Resurrection Day began.\n\nI beckoned a couple out of the crowd. The father muscled a path through the swarms as the mother, cradling a swaddled lump in her arms, made her weeping way up my doorstep. I tried to ignore the shouts, the smack of flesh on flesh as the crowd filled the couple's spot.\n\nI had them sit on my porch, in full view of the writhing mass of people.\n\n\"Please, our baby,\" the mother was frothing over with emotion, \"You have to bring her back.\" \n\n\"Why?\" I had to be cold. If it was in my power to bring back all the dead, maybe I could be warmer. But this was a one-in-a-hundred-million chance. Nobody else I knew had this power. Nobody else understood the weight of this responsibility...\n\n\"Why?\" the father's face was red, \"What do you mean why?\"\n\n\"Why this child? Because it is yours?\" I gestured out to the crowd, \"And what about their children? Do they not matter?\"\n\nThe mother choked, tears cleaning the dirt from her cheeks. The father glared at me, hatred burning like a thousands suns.\n\nNext, came a woman. She was young, beautiful, and so was the corpse she dragged behind her. She set down the wooden litter, and told me her story.\n\n\"This was my husband. We were married for barely a year. Please, you have to bring him back - he was a doctor. He was the only doctor for twenty miles.\"\n\nI wanted to sympathize with her. I could see the hurt in her eyes, the love, still-fresh and brimming over her, ready to be given to her dearly departed. \n\n\"Please!\" she went on, \"Have you never been in love?\"\n\nYes, I had a lover once. But he deserved what he got. I would never bring him back.\n\n\"I can not be so selfish,\" I said, \"This gift is worth more than a single lover. What is your husband worth? How many lives did he save?\"\n\nI saw the pain replaced by fear. I saw that she now understood - she would have to fight for her husband. She might even have to lie to save him.\n\n\"A hundred! Two hundred! And he's only just begun!\"\n\nShe did not stop begging, but I stopped listening. I knew then she would say anything to bring him back. I knew then that he was not the one. I told her to leave.\n\nShe did not go lightly. Several men leaped up from the crowd to pull her off me, clawing and screeching.\n\nThe sun had risen above the clouds before I met the Man with the Accent. The masses had grown sweaty, tired. People had wandered away to escape the heat of the day, and for that I was thankful.\n\nI do not think the Man with the Accent was waiting for his turn. I think he had found a hole in the throngs of people, and had inserted himself at a moment when nobody was looking.\n\nWhen he came up to my porch, I saw that he carried no dead with him.\n\n\"Where is your dead?\" I asked.\n\n\"I have none.\" he replied, the hint of a smile peeking out from his lips.\n\n\"Then what do you want from me?\"\n\n\"You know what I want.\"\n\nI shook my head. I was too tired to play games.\n\n\"Fine,\" he said, \"At least I know what you want.\"\n\nI raised my eyebrows. He looked strangely familiar, this Man with the Accent.\n\n\"You and I,\" he said, \"We are similar. We both have the gift, though I have held on to mine far longer than you.\"\n\nI put my hands on my chair, and lifted myself up. Yes, I did know him. He had traveled through our country, once. There had been a crowd, then, too. He said he could raise one person - only one - from the dead, and he was looking for that person.\n\n\"Well,\" he continued, \"Now I am ready to use my gift.\"\n\n\"On who?\"\n\n\"On you,\" his grin widened, \"In exchange, I want only that you give me yours.\"\n\nA gift for a gift. He wanted me to bless him with a second life, in exchange for doubling my own. \n\nIt would almost be selfish to say no, wouldn't it?" ]	[ 2, 6, 6, 13, 53 ]	[ "1460476893", "1460474829", "1460476527", "1460475287", "1460469397" ]
	[WP]Every time you cry, a natural disaster occurs.	1	[ "Its not a bad life. In fact, it's pretty good. \n\nThey figured it out pretty early. Babies cry all the time, of course. But after the first week or so, my parents started connecting the dots. After all, in the age if information, news of disasters spreads with unprecedented speed.\n\nThey weren't sure what to do about it. They spoke with our family doctor about general 'colic', and he gave them the typical advice, but when they contacted him a few times too often and showed significant signs of distress, he must have mentioned it to someone. \n\nLess than a month later, the government got involved. Tests were run. Consequences were confirmed. And I was taken. \n\nImagine being a child whose happiness was paramount to the safety of the world. I was kept happy as a clam, distracted when even the beginnings of an upset were detected, and slept 12 hours a day. Sleep was a safe time, so it was encouraged.\n\nOf course, as I got older, things became a bit more complicated. Desires greater than 'hold me', 'feed me', 'play with me' started rearing their heads. And don't even get me started on puberty.\n\nOn the other hand, this also was the point where they could safely start feeding me mood stabilizers. If I couldn't feel sad enough to get upset, I couldn't work up the emotional energy to cry. Not a bad thing, really. \n\nBut on the other hand, I can't enjoy an orchestral performance to the point where it brings me to tears. I can't cry at a happy ending to a movie. If I ever have children (unlikely, considering the possibility of this condition being passed down), I'll never be able to cry at their wedding.\n\nSo no, it's not a bad life. But it's not a good life either. ", "They kept me contained since a child. The reasoning was kept hidden from me all these years. Every morning they would pump tube after tube of various hormones into my bloodstream. I don't think I can even recall the last time I felt anything but unrelenting happiness. \n\nI had grown keen to one of the women that would visit me every day. She showed compassion; a refreshing break from the monotony of white coats and needles. The warmth of her touch was the highlight of my otherwise strict-scheduled day.\n\nShe would silently slip me pieces of information she wasn't supposed to reveal. She would let me know when it was my birthday, or when a major holiday was approaching. Simple things. From these little slips I had gathered I was 17 years old tomorrow. She made me excited about these things that seemed to have little importance. After all, I had never known anything other than a smile.\n\nThe morning of my birthday was no different than others. Routine, routine, routine. Finally it was her turn to administer her allotted dose of hormones. She came into the room and took a seat next to me. Something was off about her today. There was a sense of impending worry in her eyes. Her hands shook as she quietly reached up and brushed her fingers through my hair.\n\n\"They're monsters.\" she choked out, \"We've all been lied to. All this time and the truth comes out today.\" She pulled out that familiar syringe. \"Researching a cure turned out to be the exact opposite. You never deserved this life...\" she uncapped the syringe and held me close. \"I have to do what's right for you and the world.\"\n\nShe stuck the cold tip of the needle into my arm. This time it felt different. The comforting surge of warmth dissipated into an unfamiliar feeling of creeping sickness. She held me tighter as my body grew chill. I felt a pressure behind my eyes that I had no recollection of ever experiencing before.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\" she whispered.\n\nA tear rolled out of my eye for the first time. " ]	[ 2, 2 ]	[ "1460482575", "1460488050" ]
	[WP] A generic RPG story (such as, but not necessarily, "the princess has been kidnapped!") from the villain's point of view. Make the audience sympathetic to his/her cause.	35	[ "In the darkness of the cave I sit and await my final battle, and final fate. It has been centuries in the making, but alas I am the last. It wasn't always this way, no indeed at one time my kind were as numerous as the sands of a beach. That however was before they came, that was before man appeared. There were those of the ancient council that wanted to immediately wipe them from our precious lands and shores. They wanted to make war with man and obliterate the species before they could spread. Those of us back then that desired peace with all of those we encountered, objected to such a harsh and cold action. We argued that surely we could find common ground with these new creatures, as we had so many others. We were so very mistaken. Where as other species learned to adapt to our continent and environment, man destroyed all in its path to adjust the land to its needs. Where as we cherished all live from the tiny sprite that awoke the flowers, to the giant dragons of the fire mountains. Man, well man only cared for itself. Entire species were lost in such a short time, in a few short decades the council had shrunk already. Again the more warlike of us urged for war and death for all mankind, and again so foolishly those more peaceable among us argued for peace. \n\nOne hundred years passed, and my kind endeavored to make peace with mankind a reality. We befriended them, taught them our ways, shared our magics. For all our kindness and friendship, we were repaid with betrayal and death. We were enslaved, and dissected. We were hunted to our numbers were so very few. We met again with the ancient council, of the one thousand members now only six remained. Six races were all that were left of our once great unity and civilization. My kind were finally ready for war, finally ready to face harsh truths and remove man from our home. However, it was already too late. There were no remaining warlike races to take up the call, and the six races remaining didn't posses the numbers for what was required. We decided to amass our magic and remaining power and relocate to a nearby large island.\n\nWe moved, and we settled, we set up barriers that would let no other in. For a time things were good, we seemed to thrive and start to prosper once more. Then two hundred years later, they arrived again. How they breached our barriers we will never know. How they found the heart of us so fast was beyond our understanding. Never could we imagine a species so selfish and self absorbed, yet so driven and curious. The last council meeting was called, the empty seats burned into us more than any statement truly could. There were two of us left, two out of one thousand, and we represented only a handful of those two races. We discussed our impending doom, we looked back with clarity at our mistakes when it came to dealing with man. Then a desperate plan was born, a plan not to save us, but to make sure we were never forgotten. \n\nWe gathered the last of our people, magic, and power. We made a great sacrifice and created the ultimate weapon. It cost us all but the handful needed to carry out the plan. Six of us were all that remained, six beings from millions. We went to the corners of their empire, and we released our weapon. Wherever we deployed it, death and destruction followed for the humans. They called it \"The Black Death\", we called it retribution.\n\nThey found out it was us that had done this horror to them, and their hate was swift. Over the last fifty years they have hunted down the other five, and now I alone am left. I hear them now, a band of them in their beaten metal they call armor. They will end me, of that I am sure for I have no magic or power left. I am the last, I await them. I await the chance to be re-united with all of my old people. ", "King Sivle was mine, you know. Always was\n\nWhen I was small and just a gel runnin' round my mam's and aunties' knees in the royal kitchens, he came in one day -- he was just a young Prince Sivle back then, 'course -- beggin' for some sweets. I knocked him on his bum, he called a me rotten twat who needed to remember my place, and that was that. I wasn't allowed to leave the kitchen, but he came in every day -- lots of times every day -- always with some excuse about what he wanted that hadn't nothin' to do with me. But then he'd always catch my eye and grin his big stupid grin and his big stupid ears would go bright red to match his stupid red hair.\n\nI loved him.\n\nWhen we got a bit older, I was the Prince's first. He certainly weren't mine, as I'd been rollin' around in the hay with the stable boys since my teats first popped up, and even had to visit the old crone out in the woods a time or two when my belly started to grow in an inconvenient sort of way. That daft little Silve came to me late one night, breath full of wine, fumbled his way into my nethers, and spent himself right away.\n\nAnd he was hooked.\n\nAfter that first time, he started coming to me every night. By that time, I was full on working in the kitchens with my mam and aunties and couldn't give him the time of day when he came in the kitchen grinning his mad fool grin, but he kept on coming. After a couple of weeks of nightly visits, one of my aunties who knew what I was up to after dark with the prince gave me a bottle of a tincture she said she got from the crone. Said to take a bit every day with breakfast, and I'd not have to head to the crone in an urgent way when the prince spent himself in me on the right night. Gave me an awful headache sometimes, but I reckon it worked, as I never had to visit the crone except to get more of the tincture.\n\nEventually, the old King passed on, and Prince Sivle became King Sivle. He took for his queen a princess from some far away land -- gorgeous little thing, but mean as a snake, and couldn't speak right. After he was wed, the now-King's stopped visitin' me nights. I decided I'd best move on, and started makin' eyes at Jonathan, one of the stable boys. I'd had a vew roll-arounds with him when we were ruttin' kids, but he had certainly grown up since then. Jonathan had a chest like an oak barrel and arms like tree trunks -- far stronger than the King, and much more creative in the hay, as it turned out. But he was also kind, and after just a few months, we went up to the Abbey together and made ourselfs right in front of God. \n\nJonathan had a little cottage in a secluded vale on the castle grounds that had been his uncles, and I set about making it our home. I also stopped taking the crone's tincture, and after just a few months, a baby started to grow in me. It weren't an inconvenience anymore, and I was excited about becomin' a mam myself. \n\nJonathan knocked together a crib from some planks that were lyin' around the stables, and scrubbed the insides with stone until they were smooth. Little Johnny turned came out of me screamin' louder than I was on a hot summer night with my mam and a couple aunties all fussin' around, and Jonathan sittin' in the corner looking terrified. They gave me a little time out of the castle kitchens to keep Little Johnny until he was big enough to go to the servent's creche next to the kitchens. I was able to go to him for nursin' when he needed it, and he grew up strong and healthy.\n\nMeanwhile, rumor around the castle was that the queen couldn't keep a baby in her. She'd go plump, then it would die. I reckon she just had too much piss and vinegar in her for a baby to live!\n\nWhen Johnny was just 18 months, Jonathan got my belly plump once again! When the baby arrived, it was a gel, and we named her Grace. Grace was a firecracker from the start. Slept all day, bawled all night. She was backwards complete! She grew out of it after some months, which was good because Jonathan and I were going wrong in the head from all them nights with no sleep! She grew up good and strong like Johnny, and I learned from my auntie -- the one who had given me the crone's tincture -- about what time of the month I shouldn't let Jonathan have me if I wanted to slow down the baby makin'. Jonathan was okay with that -- said he still weren't right in the head yet, and another one like Grace might make his grave. Bless him!\n\nOne of them nights Jonathan wasn't allowed south of my border, if you catch my drift, there was a knock on the cottage door. Jonathan went to the door and opened it a crack to ask who it was, and the door was knocked right in. Jonathan stumbled back, and two black figures stepped inside. I could hear the clang and clink of chain and plate. Knights, surely. A man's voice commanded \"Hold him.\" I could not see him in the dim moonlight, but it was King Sivle's voice. The nights grabbed Jonathan by the arms and forced him through the door, then stood in the doorway. I heard him shout \"What do you want, Sivle?\" but the King and his guards didn't say nothin'.\n\nSivle knew what he wanted, and afore long, I knew, too. He parted my legs gentle-like, as he used to do, and even though I was Jonathan's in my heart, I knew there wasn't no fightin' the King. I didn't say nothin' and he didn't say nothin' while he did he business, and when he was finished, he sat on the floor and started cryin'. He bubbled for a bit, then asked me to light a lamp. I lit one, and he looked at me, eyes all red, and none of his old smile. He said \"I'm so sorry for this, Anne, but you have borne two strong children, and the queen... she can't... she can't... a child cannot live in her. You were once my friend, and I must have an heir. Please, let this child of mine grow in you. Once born, he or she will not be treated as a bastard, but as a true royal.\" He also promised me that I would be allowed to work in the royal creche, so I could see the child often. I reckon he did have a soft spot for me, 'spite what he'd just done.\n\nI didn't know how I could refuse. I mean, the King didn't exactly let me choose in the first place, comin' late at night and havin' his knights carry Jonathan away. I reckon if I went to the crone, the King would just come again. So I agreed. He said thank you and walked out past his guards. I heard him talking to Jonathan, then Jonathan came back inside. He didn't look happy, but he came and set down next to me and took my hand. He said the King explained the situation to him, and made it clear that Jonathan's life weren't worth as much as the King's baby, so he better not do nothin' to stop it.\n\nJonathan asked if I was okay, if the King had hurt me, and I laughed and told him that the King fumbles around like a youngun, and couldn't make me squirm and squeal like me Jonathan. I reckon that helped his pride enough to get by, and we made it through the next couple of months mostly like normal, though Jonathan wouldn't do more than kiss me goodnight. I think he was afraid of doing anything that might hurt the King's baby. \n\nWe would have been fine the rest of the time, but the King done told his Queen about what he was up to. Once again, our door got knocked in after dark, and the King's knights made me come with them to the castle. I was marched up more stairs than I thought possible, and stepped into a lit up room. The Queen was there. She looked me up and down, then spoke some foreign talk to a woman standing just behind her shoulder. The woman said to me \"The Queen welcomes you to her tower, and bids you stay here as her King's child grows within you.\" The woman's words were much nicer than the look on the Queen's face. The Queen talked her funny talk at the woman again, and said \"Unfortunately, you cannot leave during this time, nor can your husband or children visit you.\"\n\nI looked at one of the knights, and said \"So, I'm a prisoner? Great.\" The guard didn't say nothin', but I thought a saw a slight shrug. I reckon they don't pay them to be talkin'. \n\nThe woman spoke again without prompting from the Queen. \"Please, you are our guest, and you will have the best care possible. But we simply cannot allow anyone to doubt that this child was borne of the Queen. The Queen herself will be sequestered in a chamber below yours, and will similarly be receiving no guests until the child is safely born and weaned The Queen requested this precaution for your safety and hers, and bears you no ill will.\"\n\nA few months stuck in this tower sounded awful dull, but I was mostly concerned about Jonathan havin' to keep kids without me, so I asked \"What about Jonathan, Johnny, and Grace?\"\n\n\"They will be taken care of thoroughly,\" said the woman. \n\n\"Okay, then,\" I said, shrugging.", "Day 1 of Royal Kidnapping Journal\n\nIts quite funny really, all things considered, that I started out living in a royal household and I'm now capturing the people in the same living conditions. I suppose when you get to see what really goes on in the royal castles you either love it... or you hate it. These people have lived far to long on the backs of actual workers that slave away for a kingdom ruled by some lazy, useless and downright disturbing wastes of oxygen. Some might say what I have done is a tad extreme but I think it makes up for all the other lives they have destroyed, 1 princess for all of their lives seems like quite the bargain if you ask me. \n\nIt was quite simple to kidnap the princess, the bright lights from their modern high tech stupid little... calm down, calm down... anyways the bright lights gave away their little party, meaning the crowds would be huge enough for me to teleport in, grab the nearest princess looking female and get out. Before people who see this start asking, no I am not torturing her for information on the royals, I already have enough of that, nor am I using her for some.. different acts. No, that's not like me as I may hate her type but who knows, she might have my opinion or at least start to understand mine. I haven't even talked to her yet really, just explained some small details and asked if she wanted some rest before I try explaining more, she, as expected, said yes to my offer and I showed her to the guest room. While she is resting I'm given some time to think about why I'm doing this, my goals and why these people deserve it, but most of all I tried to tell myself to stay calm with her and make sure I don't say anything rash, even if I secretly want to despite what I am trying to tell myself, I'm not that type I say, but am I?\n\nI will try to keep this journal up to date if possible, but don't expect much.\n\nYours Truly", "A fight, a fire, a waving banner high above my head. These are the things I see from the place where I lay dying.\n\nThe Troll-kin I had spent decades training were falling to pieces, literally, and the melancholy chants of that damned minstrel kept them from regenerating. It would all be over soon.\n\n\"Look! Volkaarg's found it!\"\n\nI remember, as a child, lying in this same position, arms and legs spread out slightly as though just finishing up a snow angel. Trapped in that iron citadel with no playmates every winter, snow angels had long been my only friends. I hadn't been able to make any that particular winter, however. Warm furs had replaced the chill sensation of snow on my frail skin for months, and my father was despairing more and more each day that my every whispered cry for him might be my last.\n\nThere is a man standing above me, an olive-skinned barbarian wearing too many belts instead of clothing or armor, bald and with a wiry black moustache that hangs to his muscled belly. The axe strapped to his back is entirely too big even for him to wield. I know better, though. It's slathered with the indigo ichor of my soldiers.\n\nHe bends over, and the worst pain of my life rips through my body. It's like every heart palpitation and shortness of breath are all playing back in the memory of my cells. There's a terrible sound. I know what it is, but I don't want to think about it.\n\nIt sounds like my mother, on that last day. She was a beautiful princess, and my father had been chagrined beyond belief to have fallen in love with her. He meant only to hold her for ransom, but those eyes, the slight parting of her full lips whenever he spoke in that resonating contrabass, and that moment when I was conceived on the Altar of the Stars had all wiped away his desire for anything in the world but her. \n\nI hear it again, now. It was her clothes, and maybe her skin, but mostly her royal gown being ripped away. Her screams filled my sickbed chamber until they stopped, and then she never made a sound again.\n\n\"They've come,\" said my father, bursting into the room and barricading the door behind him with iron and incantation. \"There is nothing I can do.\"\n\nI was too ill to respond, even if I hadn't already been using all of my energy to weep.\n\nHe spun about frantically for a moment, the red glow from his eyes the brightest light in the chamber. With an approving grunt and a flourish of his black great-cloak he snatched something from my bedside.\n\n\"This will keep you safe,\" he said, pulling aside my nightshirt and pushing the cold iron lantern up against the flesh of my stomach. \"It is an ancient technique, known as 'phylacterization.' Your mother and I may not always be with you, but with this we can at least make sure you survive today.\"\n\nThe lantern began to smoke, and the crimson fire of his eyes slowly burned out as the lantern itself began to absorb that flaming energy. Soon, it was burning bright, the smoke still hot orange from the stolen fire of my father's life. \n\nI screamed when I saw his face, slowly crumbling away like dust into nothing more than a skull with a thin layer of leather stretched tight and dry across it. Somehow, though, he still had the strength to speak. His jaw creaked as it tried to form the words.\n\n\"They will always hate you, because you are my son. Your only hope of survival is to stay here in this fortress my ancestors built and raise an army. You must promise me that you will do whatever you must to stay alive, and to keep this sacrifice I make for you from being wasted. Whenever they arrive here, you must know that they mean you only harm, and with that thought in mind you must destroy them all.\"\n\nThe memory of those words came back to me now as my life spilled out on the battlefield, snowy and splotched with crimson like the banners of the Alturians waving even now at my gates. My lip quivered with my final breaths, but I doubt the warrior ripping my Father's Light from my chest at that moment noticed.\n\n\"We love you, son.\" His jaw hung loose, no longer moving as he spoke the final words, but I heard them clearly in the voices of both he and my mother. The phrase hung in the air until the lantern stopped smoking and the glow became a dull pulsing candlelight deep within the frosted glass. \n\nI recall how I pushed every last bit of my strength into my arms and legs, making a snow angel in my bed. It seemed almost instinctive, and when the men were finally able to break down the doors of my bedchamber, I continued, stretching every muscle fiber in my body to the breaking point.\n\nThey unceremoniously dragged my father's body away, angered that none of them were to be granted the honor of killing him, cursing him for dying like a coward. They took his head as a trophy instead, right there before me, but as long as I continued making the snow angels I somehow knew they could not see me. In my fevered efforts, I was blessed to not have to see them, either.\n\nMy head fell to the side as the strength required to hold it up slipped away from me. As far as my bleary eyes could see was a field of crisp white flakes, crushed in some areas by the booted footwork of soldiers and stained crimson in others. \n\nThere was enough strength left in me to do one last angel.", "The Old Man watched from afar as the townsfolk lifted the Hero on their shoulders and marched him through the streets. A proud, confident smile shone from the Hero's face. He had every right to be so proud and confident, the Old Man supposed; he had just slayed the Dragon of the Wastes. And of course, this was after he personally fought back and defeated the Cursed Ones, which was after he felled the Great Golem of the Rock. \n\nIndeed, he had earned this celebration. The townsfolk again would sing their songs, praise his name, laud his victories and immortalize him in legend. Soon, they would ask him to be their leader, their lord, their ruler. Why shouldn't they? He alone stood up to the mortal danger that threatened the townsfolk and he alone saved their lives on several occasions. The Hero did by himself what no other single person could do. He was a Man among men, a Hero among innocents.\n\nA Lion among Sheep.\n\nThe Old Man had seen this song sung many times before. Eventually, the Hero would have no more beasts to slay, demons to defeat or monsters to fell. Eventually, the songs would go quiet, the celebrations would cease, and the Hero's glory would be a mere memory.\n\nAnd the Hero would then act upon the townsfolk's insistence that he be their lord and leader. With no more mortal threats to defend the people from, the Hero would chase the high of his old glory through other means; through means he was not suited for. He would trade the sword for the seat; battle for politics; bravery for diplomacy; love for power.\n\nOr at least he would try.\n\nBut the Hero is not suited for the position of ruler. Skill with a sword does not necessarily entail competency in ruling. Soon, the Hero would realize the townsfolk can be bitter, ignorant and impossible to please. Soon, the Hero would have to make hard decisions with no correct answer. The Hero would help some number of townsfolk only to discover that in doing so, he adversely affected other townsfolk. The poor and starving folk he fed would get their food from farmers without proper payment or compensation. The thief he hung would be the poor son of a family who was only taking desperate measures to keep them fed and healthy. Those townsfolk would grow angry. Resentment would take root. The Hero would grow frustrated. The universal, absolute love he once enjoyed would diminish. He would forget what brought him to this point. He would become disillusioned; cynical. And on top of it all, old age would begin taking its toll.\n\nThe townsfolk would begin calling for him to step down; to remove himself as their lord and leader. But the Hero would see that without him, the townsfolk would tear each other to pieces. Infighting and rivalries and mob justice would rule the town. Without an external, mutual threat, the townsfolk would project their fears, paranoia, grievances and anger at the Hero. And if not the Hero, themselves. \n\nIt would only be a matter of time before some foolish, idealistic townsfolk would attempt to assassinate the Hero, imagining a better life and society without his rule, with no regard to who would take his place or how the town would function in his absence. The attempt would fail, of course. The Hero may be many years removed from his glory days, but he would still be thrice the man and combatant of any of the townsfolk.\n\nBut this would make the Hero distrustful. The proud, confident smile that once shone from his face would be replaced by a stern and unflinching gaze. Dissent would be met with violence, the smallest of victimless crimes met with punishment by death. The Hero who once slew monsters would become the Monster himself, only this time, there would be no Hero to slay him. Until another external threat arose that threatened the town -- if it ever arose -- the townsfolk would forever be at the mercy of their Once Heroic leader.\n\nAnd even if a new threat did arise, and even if a new Hero stepped forth to face it, the cycle would begin again. The townsfolk would sing his praises, laud his victories, and immortalize him in legend. And again they would insist the Hero be their new lord, leader and ruler. Again the townsfolk would forget their past; would fail to see the chain of events creating the same problem time after time. Again the townsfolk would be blind to the fact that they themselves are planting the seeds of their own future turmoil and tragedy.\n\nThe Old Man pulled himself from his thoughts, still looking upon the celebration and cheers as a group of townsfolk paraded the Hero around on their shoulders after his latest victory. The Old Man scowled beneath his hood, lamenting to himself that the townsfolk cannot see what he can see; that placing so much power and praise and love in a single man is exactly what would bring about their bleak future. Their best future could only be found in themselves as a whole. The Hero as a concept was a relic of the past. If the townsfolk were to ever enjoy happier lives, prosperity, and a better future for their children, they would have to stop turning to the Hero. Their dependence would have to be severed; the cycle broken. \n\nThere would have to be no more Heroes.\n\nThe Old Man adjusted his hood, stepped out from the crowd and slowly approached the townsfolk parading the Hero around. He blocked their path and stood motionless. Soon, the townsfolk saw the Old Man would not move for them. The cheering quieted, the singing ceased and uneasy silence quickly took hold, accompanied only by the calm breeze. \n\nThe Hero's smile remained steadfast on his face as the townsfolk let him back on his feet. \n\n\"What is the meaning of this, friend?\" The Hero began. \"Would you not join in the celebration of my latest victory?\"\n\nThe Old Man responded by drawing his sword. Muted gasps hurriedly jumped from person to person around them. The townsfolk gave the Hero and the Old Man a large berth. \n\n\"Ha! Alright then, friend,\" the Hero chuckled as he drew his sword. \"I've slain dragons and golems, undead and ogres. Do you really think you will be any sort of challenge for me?\"\n\nThe Old Man remained silent. Old he may be, but he had a lifetime of experience. He did not have the strength of his youth, but he was as quick as he ever was and he had found that oftentimes, the experience that had replaced his strength was of more value to him in a fight than his strength ever was. A few seconds passed until the Hero realized the Old Man was not going to respond to him.\n\nThe Hero smirked as he lunged forward at the Old Man, swinging his blade with his right arm across the length of his body. The Old Man took a single step back, effortlessly dodging the slash. The Hero followed up with a second swing of his blade back across the length of his body. The Old Man again stepped back to dodge the Hero's slash.\n\nThe Hero brought his sword above his right shoulder and swung down towards the Old Man's head. The Old Man parried the blow with his own sword. The meeting of their blades sung a high-pitched song that reverberated across the town square. But this song would only have one note. \n\nAs soon as their swords connected, the Old Man spun underneath both of their blades, positioning himself next to the Hero's right, guiding the Hero's sword with his own towards the ground, sliding his blade up the length of the Hero's sword and towards his elbow, slicing off his arm all in one, quick motion. Blood gushed forth as the clang from the steel hitting the ground was drowned out by the Hero's cry of agony. The Hero fell to his knees as the townsfolk began to flee indoors. \n\nThe Old Man slowly walked in front of the Hero and stood over him.\n\n\"Why...?\" The Hero asked.\n\n\"I was you, once,\" The Old Man began. \"I was the Hero. Then I was the Ruler. Then I was the Monster. I was Savior and Sin. I was Glory and Tragedy.\"\n\nThe Old Man pulled back his hood so the Hero could gaze upon his face. Silence returned as they saw themselves within each other. The Old Man saw his past. The Hero saw his future. \n\nThe Old Man placed his sword next to the Hero's neck. \"Your death will make you the greatest Hero of all,\" he said. \"And if these people are to ever live better lives, it will give them cause to lead themselves to a more prosperous future. You will die a Hero and the purity of your memory will break the cycle.\"\n\nThe Hero's eyes grew wider, but words failed to reach him. The Old Man saw in his eyes that the Hero knew he was right.\n\nA true hero, the Old Man thought.\n\nThe Old Man took his sword in both of his hands and swung it briskly through the Hero's neck. His head tumbled to the ground as his body slumped backwards. The silence had returned again, this time without the company of the calm breeze. The Old Man pulled up his hood, turned around and began walking towards the edge of the town.\n\nThe Last Hero saved the townsfolk from beasts and monsters and demons, the Old Man thought. But they will never know that I just saved them from themselves.\n\n ", "\"Can I offer you another cup of tea, Princess?\"\n\n\"No, no thank you.\"\n\n\"Another cookie?\"\n\n\"No, thanks. Are you sure he can't get here?\"\n\n\"Princess, I promise you, you're safe here. I couldn't get past the traps, guards, and guardians at each of the seven portals I created to protect you. You're safe, here.\"\n\n\"I...I don't...\"\n\n\"Plus, look,\" he gestured at the Warding Cage he had created just for her protection. If worse comes to worst, we will secure you in there, and there's ^^^^almost nothing he can do about it. Please...relax.\"\n\nA tear rolled down her cheek, and another, and she slowly placed her face in her hands. \"You have no idea,\" she said dully. \"He can be so...driven at times. And he's always there. Always!\" She jerked her head up to look at him. \"All. The. Time! He's there in the castle! When I'm outside he has to be outside! When I'm talking to anyone he has to be there, listening! \nI...I just can't take another day of it...\"\n\n\"Princess....\" A minion crashed through the door and tripped over it's own feet. Picking itself up, he saluted and said, \"Master! It's time to secure the Princess. He's through the seventh portal and has entered your realm.\" \nHe nodded, and turned to the Princess. \"Your Highness, it's time to secure you in the Warding Cage. Here,\" he handed the shaking woman the plate of dainties, \"take this while you wait inside. Please, forgive me. I must retire to the antechamber and prepare my final magics.\" \nShe grabbed at his arm and asked, \"You won't let him through, will you?\"\n\n\"No, princess. I will protect you with my life.\"\n\nCrying, she could only nod. Shaking harder with every step, she walked to the Warding Cage. The minion gently helped her inside and sealed the gate. Grinning, he tossed her a thumbs up before taking post at the door of the room.\n\nTaking hold of the golden bars of the cage, she looked out at the now closed door, and the minion standing guard over her. \"Please, Master Bowser,\" she whispered. \"Please stop him, and end this nightmare for all.\" She sank to the floor of the Cage, buried her face in her hands, and began to weep." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 17, 46 ]	[ "1460553169", "1460559129", "1460566409", "1460566088", "1460561240", "1460551897" ]
	[WP] God died eons ago. The devil took it upon himself to try and do both jobs	40	[ "God left us a long time ago. He just couldn't take it anymore. He was already old when he made Universe #16891-A or our current universe. A quintillion years had passed by during his attempts to create a flourishing universe. Finally, he cracked the secret to making intelligent life. When he saw Earth's early life, he was the happiest man in existence. You should have seen the gleam in his eye when he saw the first bacteria roam the planet! He was ecstatic when he saw humanity learn to make fire and plant seeds. When he saw the debauchery, the sin, that violence pervading the world, he became ashamed of his creation. His son sacrificed himself for nothing and the grief enveloped him. He disappeared soon after that. He initially created me, the Devil, to manage the more menial tasks of the upkeep his universe requires. When he left that faithful day two thousand years ago, he entrusted me with the care of Earth. I knew better than he did about what made humanity tick. How easy it is to corrupt them, how easy it is to motivate them, how easy it is to guide them. But he made me see something that day. Humanity is still worth preserving at the end of the day. Sure, there may be terrible villains but humanity does not let evil mold them. Despite all the terrible things that had happened to humanity, they have made it through every trial and tribulation set upon them. They progressed farther than any of our previous creations and they still have so much to go. So much to discover. Someday, they might even discover us. I look forward to that day when I can give them the keys to creation itself. If only God was here to see them now. If only... ", "So this kinda changed as I was writing it, and I am feeling REALLY unfocused right now (yay 2am!) and it's apparently too long to post, so splitting it up...\n\nDo you know how hard it is to juggle two jobs, deal with an extended and dysfunctional family, and keep my public image suitably menacing? Not to mention carving out just a little quality \"me time\" without someone barging into my throne room-slash-office declaring some dire emergency or another that just needs the attention of the guy in charge? Apparently, you are important enough that I need to take time out of my day. \n\nWell, let's start with the basics - I'm Lucifer Morningstar, CEO of DIYD-DIYD, Inc. You can pronouce that however you want, but I just say \"Died Died\" and be done with it. Honestly, it's how I feel most days anyway - dragging my ass out of bed and away from the ~~thralls~~ groupies just to come into work and deal with all the crap in the universe - ugh!\n\nI'm rambling, but you'll forgive that. Well, you're currently strapped down to your chair and there's a couple of winged blokes looming menacingly on either side of you, so you'd better forgive me for few unfocused tangents. You know it's an acronym, right? What? Pay attention, please. They're not going to start cutting on you just yet, so show some bloody manners okay? DIYD-DIYD! It stands for Damned If You Do - Damned If You Don't. I didn't come up with it - one of the fellas in marketing pulled it out of their ass and I couldn't come up with anything better.\n\nSo now you know who I am. And I know who you are, you maggoty little worm of a human. Hmm? Oh. Damnit, one second, let me find the right file...bloody secretary. I told her to file everything in numerical order and she went and made a mess of it. Apparently she thought I said \"new miracle order\" or something. I'd fire or disembowel her, but she's a cousin or something. Ugh. Family. Don't get me started.\n\nRight, so... okay, wow. Back off a few paces, fellas. Give the poor guy a little breathing room. Hand him a tissue or something to wipe away the tears and - oh, right, the straps. No, sorry, we can't remove those. It's sort of traditional and even though it seems that you're here for the special treatment we can't really argue with tradition. The straps stay. Anazoel, can you just wipe his...ah, thanks. Okay. Down to business.\n\nYou're here - apparently, so says this file - because you're about six weeks from death and - oh, for cryin' out loud, Belial can you calm him down a little? Not too hard, just a quick tap. Thank you. Listen, you knew you were going to die, right? All those visits to the doctor? The headaches? The little flutters in your chest? Sure, you didn't know exactly when, but it must have been on your metaphorical radar. Your impending death. Can you just hear me out? Honestly, the sobbing is a little distracting.\n\nHere's the thing. Right now you're all written up to shoot straight to the shining city. You've been a good person. Suitably modest, generous, kind, and you're a Believer (though a little wishy-washy in your college years, you came back with a passion after that car accident). So once you kick off this crappy little world you'll be set for eternity beyond the ol' Pearly Whites. Seeing loved ones again, existing in serene joy and all that. So chill the fuck out about this whole dying thing. \n\nWhat? This is me being comforting. Christ. Everyone's a critic.\n\nThe thing is, I've got a job to do. Several, actually. And you've made one of them really easy - this paperwork takes care of that - but the other is a little more problematic. See, you've been too good. I've had some of my boys and girls toss temptations your way and you've pretty much ignored them. You've been happy and content and honestly, that sort of thing is kinda sickening. You understand, right? I'm the devil, after all. Sure, one half of my duties include clapping with gay abandon at your pending ascension, but the other half knows that you still have six weeks and that means I still have some time to - oh, for Pete's sake. Hold on.\n\nYou're speaking to the bright and shining Morningstar. What's up? Oh, hey Azmodeus, what's up my man? What? No, seriously, I'm right in the middle of a - he what? With who? No, no, no that's just not cool, Az. You get your forked tail back in there and...oh, come on! Like the old bell, book and candle would have kept you from doing your job back in the old days? You're just being a little girl about it....\n\n...WHAT? No, I'm not authorizing extra medical benefits. At worst you'll get a rash. You're a fucking Lord of the Abyss for My sake, you can deal with a little psoriasis. Don't make me come down there and...you know what? Fine. What-the-Hell-EVER, Az, but your bonus this year is looking pretty damn slim. Bye.\n\nSorry about that. Work, work, work. Apparently Azmodeus is turning into a little bitch in his old age. Belial, make a note that we need to run a couple of seminars or something to bolster up some of the old guard. Honestly, it's like working with geriatric children. The guy strapped to the chair gets it, right? It's okay, you can nod. See? Where was I?\n\nRight. Temptation. Listen, six weeks isn't a long time. Isn't there a whole long list of nasty-ass shit you always wanted to get up to but didn't, simply because you were worried about going to Hell? No? Not even a short list? A single thing? No? What sort of human are you? Wow, that's just...oh, wait, are you just saying that because you think you'll be damned if you do something within the next six weeks? 'Cuz I can pretty much guarantee that you're gonna be fine. Trust me. I mean, I know the guy in charge. Heh. I am the guy in charge.\n\nThat's a mighty skeptical look for a guy strapped to a chair with six weeks to live. Seriously, I'm the guy in charge. Sure, of Hell, that's pretty much a shoe-in. But Heaven, too. Really. The old guy kicked off so long ago that I can't even write out the number without using a whole memo pad. Christ, what a shitstorm that was. Angelic beings all in a panic, zooming across the skies like demented pigeons back and forth in mindless horror. Someone had to pick up the slack. Someone had to take things in hand. And you know, nobody else was stepping up, so I did. You think I wanted to take on the old guy's job? Creation and love? That's like drinking beer that someone's pissed in. But I was the only one who could, so I did.\n\nDid pretty well, too, if I may brag just a little bit. Can I brag a little? Nod for yes. Thank you. I'm good with organization, see? So I picked up and moved here to Earth - halfway between Heaven and Hell and convenient for travel between the two. I rolled the two jobs into one megacorp (one of my more inspired inventions) and balance the good and evil of the world through carefully calculated acts of either grace or temptation. Neat, huh?\n\nOh, no, I don't do it myself. I've got people for that. So many people. It's like a little hive or something, all these calculator-types. What? Oh, right. Analysts. Whatever they're called, they do the figuring out of were a little good needs to be done, or a little nasty act of malice, and we send out agents to deal with it.\n\nThat's not to say it's easy. No, you've got to deal with oh for fucks sake Janine I thought I said I wanted all my calls held until I was done. FINE. Hello. you're speaking to the bri- Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there Mike. It's all good, my man. You don't need to get into a spin about that, we can just send an imp to strangle him in his sleep. I know he has a family. That's not the point. You can't mess with free will, my man, and he freely and wilfully signed away his- oh, jeez, I'm not going to argue about this over the phone, Michael. If you want to talk about it, we'll pencil something in for Tuesday. Honestly, you could do with a refresher on the whole Divine Guidance thing. We've got a script that covers everything, you know.\n\nNo, Michael, you screwed it up. You went off-script and now he's made his choice. Not your problem anymore. Just get on with the next job, okay? Almost ten billion people on this planet, and they're not slowing down, so get cracking. Ciao.", "\"Son of a bitch!\"\n\n\"What is it now?\" Azazel asked, irritation soaking his voice as he walked in in an inopportune moment.\n\n\"Another stupid genocide. Some asshat named Adulfo Heightler or something. Whatever the hairless apes call him.\"\n\n\"Why do you care? You hate humans. You created us demons solely to rival humans.\" This was true, and Lucifer knew it. He was sickened beyond all reason and comprehension by the evolution of apes into humans that God allowed. Lucifer was so appalled, in fact, that he set out to create his own fleshy and intelligent species. While demons' true forms are hideous beyond fathom to the human eye, they easily invade any living organism without a devil trap marked on their bodies. \n\n\"Because I am both God and Satan!\" Lucifer exclaimed with the fury of a thousand gods. All of Hell shook from the power of the anger seeded deep within the fiery void of his chest. \"I am Lucifer, Divine of the Universe! I am supposed to keep those horrendous apes happy while on that miserable, piss-poor planet and then make them fucking squirm when they finally are given to the mercy of your brothers and sisters! When we're lucky, we can transform their human souls into demonic essences. But when they're all goody two shoes---\" he shook his hands up in the air and contracted his face---\"I have to give them the air conditioned rooms that hold all their dreams and fantasies and whatever worlds they wish to create for eternity. Ugh! I just want to scorch them all! Or turn them all into demons! But hardly any of the twats can be turned into demons. Almost none of them have truly evil souls.\"\n\n\"That is a rare find indeed, sir.\"\n\n\"Why are you here again?\" Lucifer asked, turning towards Azazel in annoyance. From a human point of view, Lucifer's chamber existed as if it were a glass dome with one dark, blood-stained iron door at the back. From this dome, Lucifer could monitor all of the planets with living organisms at once(and also create life on any planet). However, as per God's instructions while on his deathbed, Lucifer ignored all the planets except for Earth. It was absolutely imperative that Earth never perish. It was God's one good deed; the creation of that magnificent blue marble was God's one pride, his one love, the only action he ever performed that he did not regret before his death. Soon after the dawn of the first homo sapiens, God died, and transferred his powers to Lucifer. This astonished the other archangels. Of course, Lucifer immediately slaughtered every last angel and burned Heaven to the ground. Except for the Beast Realm, where all animals went to to live for eternity in their natural habitats, save for the death and hunting. Lucifer actually expanded on this Realm, added a visitor area, built a highway between Hell and the Beast Realm. Lucifer loved cats. He loved that humans loved cats. The only reason he didn't slaughter all of the human race was because of their love for cats. \n\n\"I heard you shouting and I was worried, dearest Louie.\" \n\n\"Call me Louie again and Beezlebub will be given your soul for a year in the pit.\"\n\n\"Way to go nuclear there, Lord Lucifer.\"\n\n\"Much better.\"\n\n\"I was going to ask if some more convicted souls could be sent to my boys. They're thirsty.\"\n\n\"Sure, whatever,\" Lucifer responded, only half paying attention to Azazel. Lucifer was daydreaming of frolicking through the Beast Realm with his person supersized mane coon. Her name was Lilly. She ate humans.\n\n\"Uh... Lucifer?\" Azazel said, looking past Lucifer and at the Earth. He noticed something... peculiar.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You might want to look at the Earth again.\"\n\nLucifer grunted in sheer agitation. He turned around a saw a great big asteroid headed straight for Earth. It must've been two hundred miles in diameter, big enough to wipe all life off the face of the Earth. Lucifer observed this, and a white hot anger brainwashed him into a mindless rage. He foamed at the mouth, veins exploded out of his body and pure, putrid, liquid death shot like geysers out of the wounds. He let out a mighty scream, so deep, so ferocious, so incomprehensibly loud that the glass dome of his chamber shattered, and he set foot into the Mortal Plane. He stood taller than a hundred trillion galaxies. He grabbed the largest galaxy he could find, and morphed it into a hammer. He then began to pound the Earth profusely, shattering it into oblivion. Seven billion voices all screamed for a fraction of a second before the first blow splattered every single human being on the planet into a viscous pool of blood and gore; the second blow then decimated the entire planet, and the third blow ensured no trace of Earth's existence remained. The fourth to five thousand, six hundred and seventy-fifth blows were for pure pleasure. Lucifer then stepped back into Hell. With a snap of his fingers, his chambers reappeared, and at the same time, the Earth did too, as if the beating never took place. Lucifer collapsed into a red velvet throne on which his rump rested on a satin pillow with a case stitched with the long-dead faces of Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Ramiel and Sariel. \n\nLucifer let out a long, dramatic sigh.\n\n\"Bad Monday?\" asked Azazel.\n\n\"Bad Monday.\"\n" ]	[ 5, 6, 18 ]	[ "1460609907", "1460611033", "1460603042" ]
	[WP] Every time you sneeze, you time travel five minutes ahead.	4	[ "\"Ugh.... 5 more minutes\" you say as you hit snooze on your alarm\n\nA sudden sneeze wakes you up. \nAchoooo!\n\n\"Fuck. Well I'm late for work. But I've got this nasty cold... I could just call in sick.\"\n\nAfter getting cold medicine, you decide to go to work late. Getting in the car, you proceed to feel a sneeze come on. Driving out of your driveway you sneeze\n\nAchoooooooo\n\nAnd in that exact point in space 5inutes later a car passes by. You phase into it. \n\nThe end. I'm too tired to write something long. ", "No! No! No! Not now. \n\nHis wife was right in front of him, crying, screaming, with the doctor monitoring the progress of the baby. He felt a tingling in his nose.\n\nGoddammit, not now! Our baby will arrive any minute.\n\nHis wife was crushing his hand, her nails dug in his palm. He held her head with his other hand. He felt the tingling spread through the nasal muscles like a wildfire across a field of grass. \n\nShit.\n\nHe squeezed her wife’s hand and she screamed louder. The sneeze was almost there.\n\nNo way I’m going to miss my baby. \n\nHe searched for a way out of this sneeze. Rubbing his nose had not worked, closing it shut had not worked, stopping breathing actually made it quicker in the past. Punching?\n\nThe lungs took in a long breath ready for the sneeze. He punched himself with his free hand. He felt the sneeze fade away, but saw the emergency room go black. He fell.\n***\n\nHe woke up on a bed with a nurse attending his nose. The tingling was absent but agony registered its presence. \n\n‘My baby?’ He asked trying to sit up. \n\n‘Why the hell did you punch yourself? You went out for like fifteen minutes.’ The nurse said.\n\nHe processed that. He controlled but a word was trying to escape.\n\n‘Fuck!’\n\n‘You have a baby boy though. Congratulations.’\n" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1460614237", "1460614854" ]
	[WP] Our story begins on wednesday morning...	3	[ "It was Wednesday morning, or maybe a Thursday? Fuck I guess it could have been either, but that doesn't really matter. The sun had just come over the horizon and the light was shining right in my fucking eyes which unfortunately woke me up much earlier than intended. I roll over and look at my alarm clock, the arms and numbers are fuzzy, I am immensely regretting how much I drank last night, I am also regretting my purchase of an analog clock, retrospectively it was a stupid idea. My head is throbbing, luckily in my infinite wisdom I have prepared for this and have a bottle of aspirin stashed in my bedside table. I pop 4 or 5 of those bad boys and then, I roll over with the intention of going back to sleep only to find what can only be described as a pile of shit lying in bed next to me. This woman was uglier than I had previously thought possible, she gave a whole new meaning to the word. She very obviously enjoyed the occasional dose of methamphetamines, and by occasional I mean more like every 20 minutes or so by the look of it. Her teeth had fallen out, not just a few, I mean every single last fucking tooth was gone from her mouth. She had only patches of hair left on her skull. Sores covered her entire body and they oozed some sort of greenish pus.She reeked of vomit and urine and much to my dismay was completely naked. I didn't know what to do, she was obviously homeless or something. I sat and thought about it for awhile and decided the best thing to do would be to go back to sleep and deal with it when I woke up. So I lay back down next to whatever the fuck she was and quickly fall asleep into a deep alcohol induced coma. When I woke up she was gone. Thank fucking god. In retrospect, it most definitely was not my worst Wednesday morning or Thursday morning, I can't fucking remember.", "Complicated Relationship\n\n\"What did I do today? Well nothing much at all it was just another day really. It is a Wednesday! That is really the only thing of note about today... I woke up fed the Sphinx, scratched the Basilisk behind the ears. Made sure all of the furniture was Dragon proof (just got a new baby guard Dragon and he isn't house trained yet!) then left for work. \n\nWhich was just like every other day. Turned a few people into toads, battled the forces of good, smoked a couple of wizards and really made some headway in my plans for world domination. \n\nThen back home to find that everyone had been one there best behavior while I was out because I still had a house....\n\nHow was your day?\"\n\n\"Oh it was fine! Same as usual... Woke up a bit late found out you had turned my brother into a toad agreed you were a very bad person then left for work. \n\nRan over a wizards hat on the way, they really ought to take better care of those things! Then once I had settled down at my desk I watered by swear word and set about undoing all that you had done and now I am home taking a bath and hoping that I will catch a break and be able to talk the soap down from the ceiling...\"" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1460667675", "1460669506" ]
	[WP] You are one of the greatest gladiators of Rome. Never has anyone defeated you. This is perplexing as you are also a militant pacifist.	15	[ "The man pulled on the chains that constricted around me like black serpents. The pain of the new brand on my back did not hurt anymore. After I had gained fame in the arena, my master received hundreds of offers to sell me. \n\nHe sold me to Atticus. \n\nAtticus had owned a slave that I had killed in the arena. the slave had been a young Greek man who seemed to have accepted his role as a fighter. I did not see his face well but I could see the wild pleasure in his eyes as he lunged at his opponents.\n\nHe scared me.\n\nI had watched his fight against a slave who was fighting his first battle. The fight did not last long. The new slave must have never picked up a sword before. He swung his sword weakly at the Greek and he dodged. The new slave tried to swing again but the Greek saw an opportunity and attacked. The new man fell to the ground as a fountain of crimson erupted from his abdomen. \n\nThe crowd roared.\n\nThe Greek placed the tip of his sword at the man's neck and looked at his master, Atticus. I could not see him but I imagine Atticus would have smiled and nodded at the scene. The Greek put all his weight on the sword and ended his opponent's life. \n\nIt was my turn.\n\nA guard opened the gate, shoved a trident and net in my hands, and pushed me into the arena. I had never seen a trident before, much less used it. The net had never struck me as an offensive weapon, it was only a tool. But now these strange devices were all that stood between me and a bloodthirsty Greek. I tried to avoid his gaze but his beady eyes followed me. \n\nA man yelled from the crowd.\n\nThe Greek lunged.\n\nI remember nothing of the fight. All I remember is standing above the Greek who was tangled in my net. My trident was submerged in the Greek's chest making three large holes. He was dead. I had killed him. I had won.\n\nAfter that fight, I had been sold to Atticus for a large sum of money. \n\nAtticus' manor was huge. The white marble floors were smooth under my bare feet. The sun burned my back. The hot marble burned my feet, the hot chains burned my neck, feet, and wrists. I did not care. \n\nThe man leading me seemed to be a slave himself. He did not wear ragged cloths and was cleanly shaved but his face betrayed him. His face had many scars and lines. They were the type of scars that one can only get from the abuse and brutality that comes with being a slave. \n\nI pitied him.\n\nI pitied him because if he was hurt, he could not retaliate. If I was hurt by someone, I could kill the man in the arena.\n\nI did not like to kill. I did not like to end another man's existence. Who was I to decide when another's life is to end. But I cannot stop it. A rage builds up within me. It burns all other thoughts and emotions until all that is left is rage and blood lust. It was my curse and I hated it. It was the only reason I was kept alive by the Romans when they took over my homeland. They said I was entertaining to watch.\n\nI heard a man's voice ahead of me. I was in a large room. In the center was a long table laden with more food than I could imagine. The sun's rays came in between the columns on the right and lightened the colorful murals on the other walls. On the other side of the long table sat a man. Atticus. His short curly hair and finely trimmed beard framed his face perfectly. His eyes were intense orbs that stared right at me. \n\n\"What is your name?\" he roared.\n\n\"Bricius,\" I said without thinking.\n\n\"That is not the name that was called in the arena! What is your name?\" He asked angrily.\n\n\"Marcus,\" I replied quietly.\n\n\"You are no longer Bricius or Marcus. Yo are now Claudius,\" the Roman said, \"take him to the cells and he will fight tomorrow.\" \n\nThe servant turned quickly and lead me back down the great hall. I looked down at the floor and watched my feet slide forward one after the other. The sun did not reach this hall so it was lit by torches that hung on the walls. Statues stood in line and watched silently as I walked past them. I did not recognize any of them. They were just strange faces lining the strange walls of a strange palace owned by a strange man. \n\nWe reached the cells. The servant opened the door and let me pass. He tossed a piece of bread in and closed the door. The sun had already set and the light of the moon poured in through a small barred window. Only now I realize how tired I am. Despite the putrid stench and the hard floor, sleep came easy. \n\nI awoke to the sound of footsteps. The Door swung open and a different servant rushed in. He grabbed my chains and pulled me up. As he dragged me through the door, I picked up the piece of bread I had been given last night and eat it as I am taken through the hall. \n\nI am lead to a wooden wagon waiting outside of the building. There are three other men already sitting inside the wagon. As I am packed in, the door is closed. I feel the wagon lurch forward. I am about to enter the arena again. That means I will have to kill again. I will have to win again. I will have to win for Atticus now. \n\nNo.\n\nI will not kill. I will not win. I will not win for Atticus. I have met Atticus only once but I hate him. I will not give him any glory by defeating other slaves. I will not follow your rules.\n\nThe wagon stops. We have reached the arena. \n\nThe four of us are unpacked and forced into the cages. I sit down. The other three are picked one by one. \n\nNone return.\n\nI do not watch any of their battles. I do not care about them.\n\nIt is now my time.\n\nI walk out of the cage, net and trident in hand.\n\nThe announcer is speaking as if I'm some sort of god.\n\n\"The Undefeatable Claudius!\" He says.\n\nI stop in front of my scared opponent. I drop my weapons and the land heavily next to my feet.\n\n\"I am not Claudius!\" I announce. The crowd is silent \"I am Bricius!\"\n\nI was born as Bricius and I will die as Bricius.\n\nI take a glimpse at Atticus, sitting among the wealthy lords. He was frowning at me. His expensive investment will not pay off.\n\n\"There never was a Claudius or a Marcus! Only a Bricius!\" I say. \n\nI look at the crowd around me. Again my focus returns to Atticus. I bend down and pick up the trident. \n\nThen with all my might, I throw it. As the trident leaves the grasp of my fingers, a great force pushes me to the ground.\n\nI could not see what it was.\n\nMy eyes follow the trident as it flies through the air towards Atticus. As it buries itself in his heart, I feel a sharp pain in my back.\n\nI can feel my life slipping away through the ash in my back.\n\nI look towards my master. He is dead. I have lived longer than him. It is all that matters.", "After centurions withdrew roaring lions from the bloodied Colosseum arena, an announcer took center stage and held the screaming public’s undivided attention when he said:\n\n“Another decisive victory for the, undefeated, mysterious slave from the far east, Kenshin the Pacifist! Don't leave your seats, as our main event has yet to come. Can Vergilius, the famous disgraced general, finally win his wooden sword and olive branch? Find out in half an hour, when we pit him against some of Rome’s finest warriors in this epic 5 on 1 match for the ages!”\n\n---------------------------------------------------------\n\nAn iron gate was lowered behind a fragile looking slave with an X-shaped scar on his left cheek. It crashed into the ground harshly, echoing its metallic thud while the swordsman walked along the dusty colosseum tunnel. Wearing a stoic expression on his face, the long-haired man battled internally with the gruesome scene of his opponent’s death. With sounds of lions mauling a still-living victim bouncing around in his head, he noticed a bearded muscular man walking opposite to him, in direction of the arena. Quickly widening his eyes and smiling, he looked at the worried man and said:\n\n“Good luck on your match Vergilius, I'll be rooting for your freedom through out the whole match!”\n\n“I don't believe we've ever spoken,” said Vergilius, “but your good faith is much appreciated. I assume you're the invincible swordsman, Kenshin, right?”\n\n“That I am, friend. Though I’m not really invincible, since every time my opponent dies, I consider myself defeated.”\n\n“Ah yes, I’ve heard of your famous pacifism. Pardon the request, but does a seasoned veteran like you have any tips for my upcoming execution?”\n\n“Don't go into it thinking it's an execution, for starters. A man that walks into battle with defeat in his heart has already lost the war.”\n\nVergilius was taken aback by Kenshin’s words, chuckling afterwards at the absurdity of his statement. He then said:\n\n“Good one. I don't know how you manage to survive without killing anyone, but clearly it must be because of some insane delusion you’ve succumbed to. Even a child could tell you this is arranged by the Caesar to be my death.”\n\n“So?” asked the friendly swordsman. “Do you honestly believe I’m still alive because the Caesar likes me? I’ve been in worse situations than yours and I’m still breathing in front of you.”\n\nThe former general contemplated what Kenshin said and shook his head in denial, saying:\n\n“It's impossible. I’m not as great a swordsman you. Defeating five men might seem feasible for you, but I can’t see myself overcoming these odds.”\n\n“Well that's because you're distracting yourself from your true objective. What does your heart truly desire? Your opponent’s defeat or your freedom?”\n\n“Both, optimally.”\n\n“Then you're right, you really are walking to your death. Focus on what you truly want and don't ever forget about it while risking your life. If your will to live is strong enough, you'll find that there is no obstacle that can't be overcome. Have you thought that if you kill one of your opponents in a gruesome enough fashion, the other four might be too scared to continue fighting? Suddenly, you go from five opponents, to only having to defeat one.”\n\n“I'm sorry Kenshin, but I’m having a hard time believing this… Still, what you say does have some sense. What's your secret then? How do you always win?”\n\n“I already said I don't always win, that I don't. But if there's a difference between myself and the warriors I face, it's that they always lose track of what's important in the fight.”\n\n“And what would that be?”\n\n“Living. I don't go into the arena hoping to defeat my opponents or dreaming about my victory, that I don't. I'm only thinking about making it to the next day. My opponents are so focused on defeating ME, that they blind themselves to anything else and forget this during. A man that truly wants to live Sometimes they fall into their own swords and sometimes… they forget about the lions behind me when I roll out of the way. Either way, that's my philosophy of battle, that it is.”\n\n“So your opponents always end up defeating themselves?” said Vergilius. “I guess your pacifism isn't as naïve as everyone else says it is. Thank you, Kenshin. I’ll keep your words in mind as I go to battle.”\n\n“Good luck Vergilius! May your victory be as glorious as your upcoming freedom!”\n\nBoth men then nodded in agreement and went their opposite ways, thinking about the other and what fate had in store for them.\n" ]	[ 1, 6 ]	[ "1460841206", "1460832185" ]

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