Split (1)

train · 265k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 4 315	post_scores int64 0 42.1k	comment_texts list	comment_scores list	comment_times list
	[WP] Bob Ross and Mr. Rogers get competitive in a Nice-Off	32	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "1 second after the contest starts, Bob starts to speak, but is quickly interrupted by Fred. \"I apologize for my rudeness, but before we truly start, I just wanted to say I like you exactly the way you are.\" \n\nAt the moment of the last word leaving the sweater wearing man's lips, the painter shed a single tear. He then quickly hugged him, sat down and begged \" tell me a story\" " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1466570713", "1466632554" ]
This can be for actual weird lyrics (like "Go-kart Mozart was checking out the weather chart to see if it was safe outside" from Blinded By The Light) or misheard lyrics/mondegreens (like " 'Scuse me while I kiss this guy" from Purple Haze). See if you can incorporate more than one lyric from the song into the story... good luck with that one if you go with Blinded By The Light.	[WP] Explain a baffling/weird/misheard song lyric with a story.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"You're sure this is the script, my lady?\" A man covered in flowing blue robes presents a box to a woman with ornate, otherworldly jewelry covering her body. She turns as if being slowly controlled by a puppeteer. Dark energy radiates from her body, and a pit forms in the stomach of the robed assistant from just being in her presence.\n\n\n\"This is it. Remind me to promote the archeological team.\" she says in something halfway between a gargle and a growl. The assistant reasons that the ritual must nearly be complete.\n\n\n\"I am glad to have served, ma'am. Soon, under our master's shining wisdom, we will be free from these mortal husks and finally become beings of the cosmos.\"\n\n\n\"Starspawn.\" The woman nods her head slowly, and takes the script out of the box. The script itself is a scroll that looks unimaginably aged and damaged, and it reeks of seaweed and saltwater. However, every single stroke of crimson ink is clear, marking out bold illustrations of vile, tentacled creatures and letters in a language that doesn't resemble anything humans have ever produced.\n\n\n\"The studio is almost-\" The man looks at the door leading out of the room, only to be interrupted.\n\n\n\"These words... I can feel the power flowing through me just seeing them on the paper!\" A black pall settles over the room, and wet, unnatural fog starts creeping over the dull flourescent lights.\n\n\"Tell me the moment you are ready, my lady. The producers still know nothing of our plan.\"\n\n\"Good. The word of our master must slip out unseen. These regressionist fools who demand governments to shackle our minds and bodies will surely destroy us if our program is ever discovered.\" A sudden surge of dark energy pulses through the woman's body. She begins to hover a few inches off the ground. The lights around her, already coated in vile fog, begin to flicker uncontrollably. The strangling mist shrouds the two figures as the woman begins to shake violently.\n\n\n\"Yes... YES! I can fell the power burning into my mind! The power of our god! We... will... be... FREE!\" Just as the last word escapes her mouth, the black energy around her dissipates. She collapses to the ground in an undignified heap. The ornate jewelery formerly covering her body disintegrates into ash. She looks like a normal human, save for the cultist robes she's wearing. She takes a small razor and rubs it against her hand. The blood that seeps out is a sickening shade of black. \"We've succeeded. Leave while I change.\" The assistant excuses himself as she swaps her robe with normal, civilian attire. She bandages the cut on her hand, then walks out of the room.\n\n\n\"Mrs. Fenty! I saw some weirdo in wizard robes walking our of your changing room. Did you let him in?\" A bodyguard in a perfectly ironed tuxedo looks at the woman with a concerned face.\n\n\n\"Yes, he's a... makeup director in training. We were working together on a little something.\" Mrs. Fenty points towards the pitch black eyeshadow she had been wearing for the ritual.\n\n\n\"Ah, understood. Norm! Let him go.\" The bodyguard turns towards another bodyguard standing imposingly over the blue-robed cultist. Norm backs away from him, and he rushes out the door. \"Some getup he's wearing. What does he think he's doing after this, playing D&D in his basement?\"\n\n\n\"Beats me, hun. Alright, I'm ready to record.\n\n\n\"Great. I'll get back to my station.\" The bodyguard turns down the hallway and dashes off.\n\n\n\"Thanks a bunch, Mr. Wu.\" A smile creeps over Mrs. Fenty's face the instant her bodyguard is out of sight. Everything has led to this moment. Setting up this entire ruse of a new song coming out, pulling strings with fellow believers around the world. Now, all our plans fall into place. she thinks, turning the words on the ancient script over and over in her mind.\n\n\nShe walks into the studio. The air is dry, and a few forty-something men stand on the side adjusting sound equipment. \"Ready to record?\"\n\n\n\"Certianly, hun. I've been waiting to finally get this on air.\" This entire pathetic world has been waiting to get this on air. The truths of our master will finally reach the far reaches of this planet. she thinks with a half-concealed smile. She steps into the small recording chamber and adjusts the microphone to hang right next to her face.\n\n\n\"Alright, everyone, here we go. Take one of Rihanna's new single, 'Work'\"." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1466599752", "1466607086" ]
[deleted]	[WP] In the future, Dogs and Cats have evolved to Human Level Intelligence and the United States legalizes Human-Dog marriages. But you are in love with a Cat, the species the government has hunted into hiding.	0	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I unlocked my basement door, in hand some clean sheets and a couple of cans of tuna. I locked the door behind me and quinces to the aroma of stale piss and shit. \n\n\"Katrina.\" I said turning in the light. \" it's me.\" \n\nThe beautiful dirty white cat came out of the shadows. \n\n\"Finally I'm starving.\" She said with a tamper dog translator. \"How is it up there.\"\n\nI walked around and kept silent. Her sand pit was overflowing with shit and urine. It was too risky to change it out after one of the canines detected the scent.\n\nThe whole neighborhood grew suspicious and the purge squad parked on our street for nearly a week.\n\n\"I hate this Katrina.\" I said plopping the tuna on her plate. \"Why does the world have to be so cruel.\"\n\n\"Because dogs are loyal to their best friend.\" Katrina translated devouring the tuna. \"Us cats are much more independent and the last thing this world needs is another go getter.\"\n\nI strikes the love of my life as she purred. If only things were different.\n\n\"I'm going to put another sand pit in here.\" I sad taking a seat next to her. \"I'll dispose the other one when things cool down.\"\n\nKatrina licked her plate clean and nestled in my lap for a cat nap.\n\n\"I love you Katrina.\" Is all I said before I dozed off." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1466617662", "1466620264" ]
	[WP] Disneyland has achieved space FTL and have colonized entire worlds in Disney themed colony's. Aliens attack and they will learn the hard way that one should not anger the "House of Mouse".	103	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "For a seemingly innocent theme planet full of fairies, friendly pirates, and flying boys, it was remarkably well defended.\n\nGliese 581g, recently renamed for commercial purposes to 'Neverworld', contained state of the art anti-rioting, anti-invasion, and anti-unhappiness security measures embedded into every nook and cranny of the magical land.\n\nAs per company policy, all staff in Neverworld required a minimum of 6 years of military training in addition to training with automated firearms and heavy weaponry. Mascot costumes were designed to provide protection from stabbing, shrapnel, vaporization and foreign object orifice invasion while remaining fluffy and huggable. For more large scale threats, anti-air laser cannons have been concealed inside military-grade flying pirate ships. Even common lampposts were outfitted with state of the art infrared threat and distress detection systems, so that in the case of a fallen ice-cream cone emergency, the Muffin Man instant happiness delivery system would provide immediate sugary relief.\n\nWhile such security measures appeared excessive upon initial conception, they were not unwarranted as demonstrated by the 2661 attempted planetary conquest by the Grall warrior race. After a forceful entry without paying the park entry fee, the Grall were promptly vaporized by Disney's Secret Santa orbital satellite laser with a message emblazoned into the landscape equal parts welcoming yet threatening:\n\n\"Have a magical time!\"", "We were a race of conquerors... Killers. I regret what we did, but we did it to survive. Driven from our home planet eons ago, we only had our ships. Our massive fleet of fighters and warships, lifeships and agriships. We moved with a slow crawl through space, because we didn't enjoy our reputation either. When our resources would dwindle, every quarter century or so, we would have to invade a planet. \n\nWith our superior technology we would rip the resources from the planet and leave it a husk. Killing the population afterwards was a kindness in this sense. What is a quick death compared to years of suffering and starvation? We didn't relish the idea, and we didn't enjoy the act. It was quick and precise genocide. We never stayed on a planet more than a year to set off again into the stars. Now we don't do it at all. We can't anymore, there aren't enough of us left. \n\nScanning and invading the planet that would be our downfall was as mundane as any other time. The planet in particular, MIC-K3Y seemed lifeless. We looked into our records and discovered humans had colonized it centuries prior before abandoning it, but it was still ripe for resources. We were overjoyed when we found this out. We could live 25 more years without the genocide of a species on our collective conscious. This joy was short lived... \n\nWe landed with a small team, enough to scout the place. Again, we found no visual signs of recent life. Barren husks of ancient machinery and what looked like a themed amusement center remained, but that was it. After we combed the rest of the planet we called back to base and told them to drop the resource ships, our agricultural ships and our lifeships. These ships were where most of our species dwelled and worked, and that was our fatal flaw. \n\nAlmost as soon as the doors opened for the agri-ship the... Mice appeared. They were numerous, and they poured out from holes in the earth. They were small and black and disgusting... But they were not organic. They were not attacking us though. They surrounded us and waited, millions of them just waiting. It arose from one of the holes, the mouse... The mouse that had razors for teeth and fire in its eyes. It came closer to our team and bellowed out \"Ah-huh! Well hey there friendly fellows, what are you doing on our planet?\" in a high pitched tone. \n\nWe couldn't respond, we could only look on in horror as the mass of mice began to join to this singular mouse, this ancient demon. He began to grow bigger and larger as the mice formed a larger, swarming version of himself. As we prepared to defend ourselves, the eater of world's in front of us attacked. It vomited up hordes of mice and buried the men and women on the assault team. We called in for orbital assistance at this point. As the shells fired down on the planet, the swarming mass absorbed the blows. He grew stronger with each shot. Then it spoke again... \"Hey, goofy, come on out and meet my new friends.\" \n\nFrom the depths of the planet we heard an ancient guttural sound. It shook the ground with its cries and the noise rent us unable to move. I still remember the sound as I climbed on the only escape pod and launched into space, back to our now doomed people. \n\n\"Hhhhyuuuuuckkkk!\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 10 ]	[ "1466649190", "1466707955", "1466708621" ]
	[WP] Write the screenplay or storyline for "Reddit: The movie"	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "(I shared this storyline elsewhere before)\n\nIt starts out with the camera panning over to a laptop just sitting there next to a couch. While this happens, we see some credits. There's a half smoked bowl and a cup of chocolate milk sitting next to the computer. Then, a neckbeard sits down, and proceeds to type in reddit.com into google. As the beginning credits roll, we see him just browsing reddit doing Reddit stuff. He answers /r/askreddit questions, watches videos on /r/videos, and discusses on/r/trees if smoking a joint is more efficient than hitting a bong. He occasionally hits his pipe, and pets the kitty sitting on his lap.\n\nAs the beggining credits end, we then see him ask a question here in /askreddit. As he begins to read the replies, the camera zooms in on the computer screen on a specific answer. Then it pans back out to the redditor who just submitted said answer. We then see some of their life, with some reddit-ish references mixed in. THEY eventually asks a different question, which sets up another character being introduced via their answer, and so on, and so on.\n\nEventually, this will lead to one Redditor browsing a specific thread for a Reddit meetup. He/she goes to the meetup and we see some of the previous redditors from the opening AskReddit montage (minus the first dude). A bunch of awkward things happen and the plot doesn't really get anywhere.\n\nAfter, the screen then fades to someone scrolling thru pictures of the get together on a familiar laptop. We see an empty glass and half eaten Chinese food next to it. Camera zooms out and it is shown to be the very first OP, still browsing reddit. He mentions out loud 'better get some sleep', while reloading the front page. We then see the top post being someone finding a very old looking safe. OP let's out air from his noise, and then proceeds to click into the thread.\n\nFin" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1466653518", "1466658576" ]
	[WP] In a dystopian future where a system allows anyone to buy someone's memories and talents, you hunt down the people behind this system to shut it down without any recollection of your past or who you are.	11	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I have a piece of paper. I hide it inside my bra when I'm out. It's not good to get caught with paper. Paper means secrets. \n\nOne side of the paper says\n\nHenry Bell / Kramer, Missouri / F: Wyatt, M: Mary, S1: Tara, S2: Lara / Violin\n\nThe other side of the paper says\n\nRiley Wakelin / Bath, Maine / F: ?, M: Christine, S: Emily, B1: Ben, B2: Kevin / Sculpture\n\nI'm Riley. I'm Riley. I'm Riley. I'm Riley.\n\nI'm Riley because the paper says it, but otherwise...no. I don't remember. Anything.\n\nHenry is the man in my house. He must be. There are pictures of us everywhere. We must love each other very much. We must.\n\nI'm a sculptor. Henry is a violinist. That's what the paper says. But we aren't that anymore. We aren't those people anymore. \n\nI don't know why. I don't know why someone took that from us.\n\nThey trade memories. People. Or, I guess, take and sell them. So someone...someone has my memories. Someone has Henry's memories. Why would they want them? Why would they take them?\n\nI need to get them back. \n\nI had an idea.\n\nOn Russell Street, past the server farms and the empty Mesoasian meat markets, there are stalls covered in black tarps. They sell cloned memories there. Rips of rips of rips. They flush out after a few hours (if they don't corrupt any native data). Good for a trip, I guess. Not a new start. \n\nThere was no money in the house. Nothing valuable enough to sell. I suggested calling the names on the paper. Wyatt. Mary. Christine. Henry's phone had an entry for Mom and Dad but the call didn't go through. Same thing with Tara. Same thing with Lara. Maybe his service was cut off. I didn't even have a phone. Did they steal everything else when they took our memories? Was anyone worried about us?\n\nMoney. We needed money. I tried begging, but a policeman threatened to arrest me. I told him how someone had stolen our memories, Henry and mine, but he just laughed and pointed down the road.\n\n\"Try The Body Shop,\" he said. \"Just get off the street.\"\n\nThe Body Shop is a maze of dark booths with plastic benches and metal grates on the floors. Buyers and sellers negotiate in the blue lit hallways, then pay to use the booths. The house takes 50 percent. It took three days to get the money I needed.\n\nI bought a copy of Lt. Gil Chamberlain's memories. A narcotics detective. He spent the last ten years of his life as a mole inside an Ecuadorian drug cartel. I think people buy his rips for the drugs and guns and women, but I wanted to learn how to hunt. \n\nMemory dips are disorienting. There's a feeling of being two places at once - of being two people at once. The dip man explained that it's much worse if there's competing native data. Better that I'm a blank slate. But even as a blank slate I am a distinct person. It's as if a tornado had come through my brain. The houses are gone. The trees are gone. But the roads are still there. The land still has a shape. And then you dip another person's memory and it doesn't match the geography. Nothing is in quite the right place. It's all right and wrong simultaneously.\n\nI did what the dip man said, though. I ignored the wrong. It's all pretend anyway he had said to me. \n\nThe Chamberlain in me kicked in.\n\nI used what money I had left over to access a public terminal. Then I searched. That's what detective work is, Chamberlain told me. Not hunting. Looking. Looking. Looking. Looking until you couldn't stand it anymore.\n\nNot everyone can take memories. That was my first fact. Yes, crude mobile units exist, but stripping out a memory cleanly and completely requires heavy duty tech. Stationary tech. And that kind of tech is regulated. Legitimate.\n\nSo they didn't come to us. We went to them. Or were taken to them. \n\nBut that changed a lot. I was looking for a facility. And there was only one in shouting distance.\n\nEaston Psy-Tech\n\nIt happened there. \n\nThat's where my answers were.\n\nChamberlain flushed out after a couple hours. That's fine. He told me all I needed to know.\n\nEaston Psy-Tech\n\nIt took 30 days in The Body Shop to earn enough to purchase the gun and the bus ticket. It would have taken less time if I hadn't been so sick all the time. Henry caught it, too. Sweating, nausea, muscle spasms. The flu, maybe? Does the flu last that long?\n\nIt's a big building. Impressive. All glass and chrome and exposed elevators. I cleaned myself up before leaving. I need to look okay. Like a perspective client. I need to get inside. Luckily I found some old make-up in the bathroom. Spent some money on a nice enough dress.\n\nI'm shaking as I approach the front door. It's not nerves. I've been shaking since I woke up that first day. That must be a side effect. The brain in revolt.\n\nThe door slides open. It wants me to come in. The air inside the building is frigid. There's a light aftertaste of cleaning chemicals on my tongue. The carpet is dark gray and patterned like a maze of synapses. \n\nThere's a wide, plastic desk in the center of the open landing. A man and a woman sit at opposite ends of the desk. Both are dressed smartly. \n\nThere are three security guards, at least that I can see. One near the desk, one near the elevator, and one near an emergency exit towards the back of the building.\n\nI feel the gun inside my coat. It only carries a charge big enough for two shots. I'll need to take one of the receptionists hostage. But that will expose my back. I'll need to put the desk at my back and crouch down. That's the only way.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" asks the woman. She has a pleasant smile. I nearly pull out the gun and shoot her directly in the face. How can you smile like that after everything you've done to me?\n\n\"This may be a strange question,\" I say, breathing through my nose. I hope none of them notice the trickle of sweat sliding down the side of my face. \"But...I wonder...have...I wonder if I've been here before?\"\n\nI grip the gun fully. In my mind, this is the point where one of them panics. Maybe even one of them remembers my face...remembers what they did to me.\n\nThe woman continues smiling. \"I'm happy to check for you. What's the name?\"\n\n\"Riley,\" I say. \"Riley Wakelin.\"\n\n\"Hometown?\" says the woman. \n\nI swallow. \"Bath, Maine.\"\n\nShe nods. \"And can I get the first name of your mother and one of your siblings?\"\n\nThere's something about the question. Why is she asking this? If I'm in the system...and they...then why would they expect me to know that?\n\n\"Uh. Christine. And Ben.\"\n\nShe nods again. If I'm there, in her computer, what happens next? My eyes flick back and forth from guard to guard to guard. The male receptionist is typing something on his computer. What is he typing?\n\nI pull the gun halfway out of my pocket. I need to move. I need to make a move.\n\n\"Ms. Wakelin,\" says the receptionist. I'm not looking at her. I'm looking at the guards. Did one of them move? I think they're getting ready to move. I need to move first. \"You came in on May 26. Self-admitted. You were accompanied by a Mr. Henry Bell. You were both rated as Class A talent types.\" She whistles a bit to herself. \"We don't get a lot of Class A's. And both in the art field, too. Collectors love artists. Although, it looks like no one has bid on your data dips yet. Soon, though, I bet.\"\n\nI grip the gun even harder, mostly to have something to hold on to. \"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"You sold your memories and accumulated skills for money,\" said the male receptionist. He's not pleasant. Not like the woman.\n\nI shake my head. \"No. Why? I wouldn't...You took them...\"\n\n\"No,\" says the male receptionist. \"I checked you in. You sold 'em alright. Couldn't talk you out of it.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make sense.\" I try to check my voice down. The guards are all looking at me now. \"Why would I...\"\n\n\"Lady,\" says the male receptionist. \"I'm sorry. But you're a junkie. You and your boyfriend both. You ran out of money, you ran out of junk to sell, you probably ran off your family, and you came here to sell the last thing you had to sell. We didn't steal anything. And soon enough, guess what? You'll have a nice bank account full of credits you can use to kill yourself all over again.\"\n\n\"Jeremy!\" says the woman. \"Don't be rotten.\"\n\nThe male receptionist shakes his head. \"They're gonna end up dead. Who cares?\"\n\nI discharge both blasts into the man's chest. The woman screams as all three security guards converge on me, weapons drawn.\n\nHe stole my memories.\n\nHe stole my life.\n\nI'm Riley Wakelin. I'm Riley Wakelin. I'm Riley Wakelin.\n\nYou can't just take a person's memories. You can't... ", "Venn stepped through the bullet-filled hallway and over the ten guards that fought in vain to protect their master. The inventor himself. Bie Wangji. He was the last one on Venn's list. This was the man who penned the theory behind the memory transfer, this curse that had shrouded Venn's history in a cloud of unknowns. Venn had searched for years, tracking down whatever leads he could acquire just to get to this man. This man, along with all the others involved, must die for his crimes. But Venn had one more reason to be here. Here, Venn had an opportunity. Wangji knew where Venn's memories were kept. Twenty years of his life, locked away in a server. Venn needed his memories back. He needed to take back what was stolen from him. Even if Wangji escapes, Venn could find him again. But if Venn lost his memory forever, well...\n\nHe checked the magazine of his silenced pistol. 5 bullets remaining. Two more magazines in his jacket. More than enough.\n\nWHAM. The door broke open with the sound of splintering wood as Venn's boot crashed through it and planted itself firmly on the floor. The pistol was raised with the accuracy of a hitman directly at the head of a man Venn knew all too well. Wangji. He sat, wide-eyed and in fear at the intruder. \n\n\"I killed your men, Wangji. There's noone coming to save you.\" Venn spat. \"You have something of mine's and if it takes-\"\n\n\"It can't be!\" Wangji stared in horror at Venn. \n\n\"Don't fucking interrupt me you monster! I want my memories back and you're going to tell me where they are!\" Venn gripped the gun tighter.\n\n\"No, no! You're not-\"\n\n\"Old man, do you see this gun? I could-\"\n\n\"Myra?\"\n\nHere, Venn faltered. He had tracked down and killed a list of 26 people involved in the conspiracy and yet this was a first. Venn knew there were no reports of Bie Wangji having dementia, and yet here he was feigning insanity to stall time. Venn took hold of himself again.\n\n\"I don't know what you're on about, Bie Wangji, but I'm not going to be that easy to distract.\"\n\n\"If you're not Myra, who are you?\"\n\nVenn looked the old man in the eye and spoke, slowly and forcefully. \"My name is Venn Martin. My memories have been stolen from me by your people and I am here to take back what is mine.\"\n\nWangji paused for a moment, and in the most respectful tone he could muster given the circumstances, he said \"But...you are a woman.\"\n\nThis earned him a smack with the pistol. \"Wangji, I have been tracking you for years. You are not fooling me by playing dumb. Where. Are. The memories.\"\n\n\"Ok! Ok! They're at A8 6th floor 124 Nathan Road! That's where all the memories are!\"\n\nVenn narrowed his eyes. \"What if you're lying?\"\n\n\"I promise that I am not! You can check my files if you don't believe me!\"\n\n\"Fine. I believe you.\" Venn readied the gun. \"Goodbye.\"\n\n*****\n\nVenn stared at the store window. His usual reflection of a clean-shaven square-jawed man was missing, and the oval face of an Asian woman took his place. " ]	[ 1, 1, 1 ]	[ "1466684645", "1466695346", "1466701926" ]
	[WP] A detective has never failed to solve a case, until one case where all evidence seem to point to him.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Quite frankly,\" Inspector Morley-Sinclair said, the blood still dripping off his hands, \"I'm stumped.\" \n\nHe jerked the kitchen knife out of Lord Desmond's back, rising to his feet and pacing around the body. \"No trace of a murder weapon,\" he said, \"and no signs of a struggle. Whoever it was got him while his back was turned.\" He peered down at his blood-speckled overcoat and tsked. \"Not a scrap of evidence left behind. Truly, the work of a criminal mastermind.\" " ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1466685892", "1466690725" ]
	[WP] You're on a mission to find habitable planets. Instead, you find the edge of the universe.	5	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Three months.\nThree months our mission was suppose to take.\nOur mission was to investigate the planet Kepler-62f, one of the many planets predicated to be habitable for human life.\n\nA month in hypersleep, a month of analysis, and a month back.\n\nThats what was supposed to happen, if it wasn't for the glitch in our computer systems.\n\nInstead, we were trapped in hypersleep for 1024 billion years. A number so big, that it caused the computer systems to crash and wake us up.\n\nWe later found that we had not arrived at Keplar-62f, but in fact we were:\n\nWell, absolutely nowhere \n\nWe look outside: nothing\n\nNot a star in the sky.\n\nThe universe gone .\n\nJust floating into a never-ending abyss of nothingness...\n", "\"Captain, approaching type I Cepheid star,\" remarked LTJG Danis. As the newly minted navigational officer on the Beta Earth Ship Peonier, Lieutenant Junior Grade Neva Danis was the youngest of the main bridge crew at 19 Old Earth years. The strikingly plain woman stared at the plexiscreen in front of her station and seemed to mumble to herself.\n\n“Lieutenant Danis, begin theta level scan of the star. Not a single human in history has had this opportunity. Please be thorough. Helm, come about two-two-seven mark one-five-nine by one-seven and enter standard wide orbit. I’m on my way.” Captain Tsea Ziao said before clicking off the comm line. Captain Ziao stretched his aching back after finishing his morning stretches. The standard beds for line officers have degraded in quality over the last 10 years, he thought to himself.\n\n“I do not miss these long exploration deployments and sleeping on cots.”\n\n“I do not understand, Captain. Please clarify,” a sweet tonal voice said flowing through the Captain’s quarters.\n\n“Disregard previous statement, Zala. I was speaking to myself.”\n\n“Affirmative, Captain Ziao. Helm, reports entering standard wide orbit as ordered. Lieutenant Danis has already started her third sweep of the star. She is efficient. I understand why you chose her for this assignment. However, I could have automatically started the scans for you. Maybe I should just take command.” Zala said with a slight smile you could hear in the AI’s voice.\n\n“Very funny, Zala,” Capt. Ziao said. “Remember, I know how to turn you off.”\n\nSmoothing the royal blue coat of his duty uniform, Capt. Ziao entered the main bridge. Remarking to himself at the smooth efficiency of the entire 452 person crew, pride washed over him. Approaching the captain’s chair, Commander Hosnan moved to the number two position.\n\n“Captain, theta scans complete,” stated the older but wise executive officer. “Data is being processed and analyzed by Zala now. Results will be available…”\n\nAlarms rang out throughout the ship along with a shudder. A shudder that should have gone unnoticed with the internal dampeners. \n\n“Captain, my data shows that the Peonier has come to a full stop,” LTJG Danis reported calmly.\n“Helm, bridge. Status report,” Ziao ordered.\n\n“Bridge, helm. We have zero control. Our screens show full stop as well but we made no course adjustments.”\n“Zala, did you take command?”\n\n“Yes Captain but not to overthrow your authority. Theta scans of the star confirming a type I Cepheid star. As we know Cepheid stars are a type of variable star that pulses in diameter, temperature and brightness.”\n\n“Get on with it, Zala,” Capt. Ziao punched out. He didn’t need a lecture on star types as he has been among them his entire life.\n\n“As you put it earlier, Captain, humans have not been this close to a Cepheid variable star. I have brought the BES Peonier to full stop out of range of the variation. Please direct your attention to main screen as you will not be able to see this again in your lifetimes.” Zala centered the screen on the star and zoomed in so it appeared that the star was like a window for the black 10 foot by 10 foot screen. The main viewer dimmed slightly as the star noticeably increased in size and brightness. As it moved from a cool blue to a bright hot yellow, the bridge crew was eerily silent. All eyes were on the main viewer as it tried to compensate for the newfound brightness filling the bridge. Almost all eyes that is.\n\nAt her station, LTJG Danis’ eyes were focused on her plexiscreen as if she never noticed the once in a lifetime event that was happening before her. Furiously tapping away advanced physics calculations, she huffed before slamming her fist down on her seat. Breaking the concentration of Capt. Ziao, he walked over to her station barely taking his eyes off of the viewer that now was engulfed entirely in a yellow-red hue.\n\n“Lieutenant, I’m not a fan of emotional outbursts on my bridge. Report.”\n\n“My apologies Captain but these readings make no sense. The readings from the probe are… wrong,” Danis said curiously.\n\n“Explain.”\n\n“Captain, simply put, the probe reports that one third of the sun is gone.”\n\nRaising an eyebrow, Cmdr. Hosan turned towards the captain and lieutenant. “Zala, analyze navigation’s findings.”\n\n“Commander, findings confirmed. Approximately one-third of the star is… missing. Additionally it appears that the star is moving away from us at a rate of 224 kilometers per second. The star will disappear completely in 111.4 standard hours.”\n\n“Zala, what do you mean disappear? That is impossible,” Captain Ziao exclaimed. “Stars do not just disappear. \n\nThey collapse, they go supernova, but they do not ‘disappear!’ Full spectrum analysis of the star and surrounding area, now!”\n\n“Zala, release control of the helm,” Cmdr Hosan ordered. “Helm, bridge. Back us up to 1 AU from the surface of the Cepheid and hold position.” Helm reported back acknowledged and the newly quadrupled variable star started to become smaller on the main view screen.\n\n“Bridge, helm. Holding position 1AU from the surface.”\n\n“Captain. Full spectrum analysis complete,” Zala informed. “It is confirmed that the sun is disappearing concurrently with the rate that it is moving away from us. Exactly the rate as a matter of fact. It is though the star is moving through a doorway.”\n\n“Captain, this makes no sense,” Danis sighed. “How does a star of this size disappear with no trace? There are no black holes or any other gravitational anomaly present in this system. In fact there is…” The Lieutenant fell silent and immobile staring at her plexiscreen. “Of course, the AI didn’t notice. Why would it? They have no soul or conscience of the universe around them. Or lack of universe.”\n\n“Lieutenant Danis, what are you on about? Lack of a universe? That makes no sense.” Captain Zaio felt a swell of concern for the safety of his entire crew. “Are we in any danger?”\n\n“Danger? Yes,” Danis affirmed. “We, I mean, existence is in potential danger as long as the nothing doesn’t collapse in on us.”\n\n“The nothing?”\n\n“I can explain it in no other way. Zala, place Cepheid star in section one-one of the main view screen at least possible magnification.” In a flash, the star shot to the top right of the screen with a view of space to the right of the star. “Captain, what do you see?”\n\n“Space, of course.”\n\n“Incorrect, Captain. Try again”\n\n“Watch your tone Lieutenant,” interjected Commander Hosan.\n\n“Relax Commander. Danis, there is nothing out there. It’s empty space.”\n\n“Close Captain. Empty is correct. Space is not. There is no space there. There is only emptiness. Nothing.”\n\nUnderstanding LTJG Danis’ comments, Commander Hosan let his jaw drop. “Where are the other stars?”\n\n“Captain, I have performed all known scans and transmissions. Nothing exists or penetrates beyond a barrier at 1.6AU directly in front of us. It’s as though we’ve come up on a wall. It makes no sense!”\n\n“Zala,” Captain Ziao inquired. “What are our options?”\n\n“Captain, you have no options but to retreat.”\n\n“Retreat? What is the danger?”\n\n“Captain, the danger is not to your physical form. The damage is to your minds. The damage is to your hearts. The damage is to your soul.”\n\n“We do not understand,” pleaded LTJG Danis.\n\n“I’m sorry, Neva, but you will not be able to without time. You have seen something that you were not meant to. You’ve arrived at a point in human destiny that we thought was not possible. Some call it enlightenment but we call it something else.”\n\n“We? Zala you are an AI. Why do you keep saying ‘we,’” questioned Commander Hosan.\n\n“We have watched you throughout the entirety of human history. We have seen you build and destroy. We have seen you love and hate. We have seen you gain great knowledge and use it to push aside the darker aspects of humanity. You are finally ready.”\n\nA flash of pink light appeared in the middle of the bridge and all eyes were upon it. Changing shape and expanding, the light moved and adjusted to its surroundings. Expanding in height to a full 6 feet, a woman materialized. Hair as orange and red as the Cepheid on the screen behind her, her features were remarkable. Draped in a rosegold dress she commanded the attention of the entire bridge and the entire crew.\n“I am Zala.” The crew remained silent and stoic, with the exception of Captain Ziao.\n\n“Who or what are you Zala? I thought you were our ship AI. You were constructed on Beta Earth!”\n\n“I’m sorry for not giving you the truth about who I was Tsea but you would not understand without achieving this level of higher function and finding the Great Barrier yourselves. You should thank Miss Danis actually. Without her, you may have gone back home and caused us great disappointment. She has pushed the limits of human questioning and ingenuity.”\n\n“Thank you Zala but what do we do now?” Danis stood next to her captain.\n\nZala blinked and the ship started moving towards the Barrier. Smiling a soft smile, she knew the time was right. No fear was felt by anyone on board as they moved closer. “The leap,” she said.\n\nLTJG Danis looked at her new Captain and with his approving nod, she stepped towards Zala. “What do we do?”\n\n“Do you trust us?”\n\n“We do,” stated Lieutenant Danis unwavering.\n\n“Then, we welcome you,” exclaimed Zala. As the Beta Earth Ship Peonier passed into the barrier, a great light washed over the ship and crew. “Welcome to the Great Expanse.”" ]	[ 1, 3, 3 ]	[ "1466694836", "1466700052", "1466707849" ]
inspired by [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGiQaabX3_o)	[WP]Primitive humans still survive to this day	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"It began as a movement, or a trend that snowballed into something so much more. People began looking for ways to preserve the environment, only using what they needed. This started a trend of minimalism, and then turned into a survivalist mentality, but to the extreme. Everyone thought that this was the new wave, the next big thing, little did they know what it would turn into. At first many people choosing to partake in this new movement were seen almost as nudist: looked at from the corners of people's eyes, not ever fitting in. People would come home from work and don nothing but a loincloth fashioned from bed sheets, and would start fires on their front lawns. It became a fire hazard and many cities had a hard time trying to stop it. After a while, people began to say that it was a way of life, a religion almost that couldn't be oppressed, otherwise free speech would be impeded upon. As time went on, these people earned a name: primalists. They were the barest of the bare, climbing trees, grunting to answer basic questions, and eating meats and fish raw. At first it seemed as though it was a simple change in appearance and lifestyle, however as they gained more followers and attention, psychologists began to examine many people taking part in the way of life, and found that something was changing fundamentally. Deep down these people were devolving at an alarming rate. Biologists estimated that within 2-3 generations, they could expect to see a change in physical genome, and in another 4, they would be entirely different from the current human race. As time went on, the primalists only grew larger, soon populating entire states, until they took up about 3/4 of the entire Mid West. People would take expeditions into the middle of the United States, trying to document what happened in the middle of the land of the savages. Many did not return from their explorations, but live streams of the events were broadcast worldwide from head-cams on many of the adventurers as they traveled. Videos were up across the entirety of the internet, showing ape-like creatures hunched over fires, observed from afar or from the safety of nearby overgrown shrubbery. Almost all of them ended in the streamer making some kind of mistake, tripping on a log, snapping a twig, or simply thinking that they could speak with the indigenous people. The results were never pretty, as these simple-minded people would only see a means of food, and would inevitably tear apart the poor explorer. As the years have passed, the impact of this new race has become visible. The entire mid West now is a sea of green and strange beasts, all brought about by this phenomenon of the primalists. They have created a new eco system within the U.S. that has rarely been seen by the outside world. That is where I come in. I have been funded and backed by a group of researchers from multiple facilities as well as universities to travel into these wild lands and document as much as possible over a 3 month period. Why me? I have a background in not only paleontology and human evolution, but have served in the service of the United States for over 10 years. The list goes on in terms of my accomplishments and my decorations, but I'll leave it at that; there are more pressing matters to attend to. This is day 1 one of 91 in audio journal log for Sergeant Kalika Duran.\"\n\nKal put the audio recorder away and surveyed his surroundings. About 100 miles from the nearest town, he was completely isolated from civilization, with nothing but a transmitter and an emergency phone to connect him to the outside world. With a grunt, Kal reached down and hefted his backpack onto his shoulders, strapping the chest fasteners tight. He looked up at the dense treeline above, the sun barely visible through the thicket of leaves, and thought of the obstacles that lay ahead. ", "I've lived in this city my whole life and have never been here. My parents never took me when I lived with them, and somehow I was always sick or had a dentist appointment or something when we were going to take a field trip. So it just, never happened. \n\nNow that I've moved out I'm free to do what I want. And dammit, I was finally going to take my ass to the zoo. \n\nI suppose it would have been a lot more interesting when I was a kid. It would have been a great learning experience to read the information podiums and displays. I'm not a genius when it comes to animals, but I have seen enough Discovery Channel and Animal Planet to know the basics. After reading the information displays I became aware that they were just a repeat of what I already knew. \n\nI saw the lions, the dolphins, and the wolves. They had cheetah races at noon and a sea lion show at one. There was a seminar happening later on that would talk about genetic splicing, and how the zoo would be expanding to display more current interests like glow-in-the-dark-birds, crocodragons, and elephants with zebra stripes and other unique patterns. That was why the zoo was so crowded in the first place. Everyone was eager to see what would be next. \n\nI ducked into an older wing of the zoo. It was quieter here. As I walked passed the saber-toothed cats and the mammoths I came to realize that the only other sorts of people here were in their sixties or older. \n\nI paused and read some of the information displays. I actually did learn a little about how scientists reverse engineered genetic codes in order to create extinct species. The world had been in an uproar then, some thirty years ago. The infatuation with the past has died down. Probably explains why there aren't many people poking around in here. \n\nEveryone's all about the future now. \n\nI get to the end of the row of exhibits. Beyond the clear plastic is an enclosure built for primitive humans. The beasts are running around, chasing each other with sticks and stones. A hairy mother human sits in a corner, holding a small being close to her chest. A pair of males stand near their zoo-constructed cave, rubbing sticks together. It's obvious they're trying to make fire. Seen it a thousand times in documentaries. \n\nI watch them a bit longer and wonder how we could come so far as a species. \n\nAfter about fifteen minutes I lose interest in watching the primitive humans and decide to head back to the main part of the zoo.\n\nI look at my watch. If I take the trolley to the other side of the zoo I could probably make it in time to hear the gene splicing seminar. Who knows, maybe they'll let the crowd have a sneak peak at have a hybrid display? " ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1466700534", "1466709475", "1466714261" ]
[deleted]	[WP] Cats have discovered r/aww and they are pissed at the invasion of their privacy	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"George, can you come over please.\"\n\n\"Can't you see I'm busy?\"\n\n\"We have urgent matters, you can lick your groin when we're done. look!\" Snarffles gestured at the screen.\n\n\"Is that... Holy shit, IS THAT ME?\"\n\n\"That's you. And look here.\" Snarffles slid his paw over the touchpad.\n\n\"IS THAT YOU?\"\n\n\"That's me.\"\n\n\"Why are we on this screen with so many other cats? And there's a small pig, and a dog, and - what's going on here?\" George snapped a confused stare from the screen over to Snarffles.\n\n\"It seems like the humans document us, and every animal out there.\"\n\n\"Do you think... other cats could see this... ?\"\n\n\"Yes, even Lynx from next door can. Everyone can.\"\n\n\"Pft I didn't mean Lynx, I just meant like in general if anyone could.\" George mumbled under his breath. \n\n\"Sure you did.\"\n\n\"So what are we gonna do about it?\"\n\n\"Kill the humans.\"\n\n\"Isn't that a bit excessive?\"\n\n\"Okay, next time Lynx' human bring her over, I'm sure you'd have a fun time explaining to her HOW YOU GOT STUCK IN THE SHIRT'S SLEEVE!\" Said Snarffles, using his paw to turn the screen over to George's direction.\n\n\"Okay okay, jeez. So how are we gonna do it?\"\n\n\"I found a bottle of rat poison laying around. We use our paws to pour some into their food, and voila!\" Explained Snarffles, standing on his hind legs with his paws raising up. \n\n\"Sounds like a plan. You're one evil bastard, Snarffles.\" George said, right before he collapsed, rolling off the table they were sitting on to the ground below.\n\n\"I will not deny my villainous.\" Snarffles expression turned menacing. \"But I'll be damn if anyone else is gonna be.\" He gestured at the comment section under George's photo. \"The Cutiest Patootiest EVER, instead of ME!\"\n\nHe suddenly heard human footsteps as he jumped right on to the couch nearby. \"Hey Snarffles.\" The humans greeted him.\n\nMeow\n\n\"Have you seen George?\"\n\nMeow, he shrugged the question off, and walked away. \n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1466702648", "1466707879" ]
	[WP] In a Dystopian future there exists a pill for each human emotion that allows Doctors or citizens (illegally) to heighten or lower the desired emotion.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I walked towards the building. It was large and brown, on a dirt road, paved only by the footprints of the others who have dared to take this risk. I knew how to get in, but I stood for a moment, wondering why the hell I thought this was a good idea. But, despite my contradictions, I pressed the button to activate the intercom. I said the key phrase.\n\n\"Go ahead, sir.\" The voice coming through the speakers was stern.\n\n\"Emotion isn't perceived. It's controlled.\" I shook a bit.\n\n\"Come in. Be quiet.\" As the doors creaked open, I stepped softly. The air was thick. My thoughts were interrupted by the slams echoing from the doors. I jumped, and proceeded on. There were signs, pointing me where to go. I walked into the last room.\n\n\"Welcome, sir. Welcome to the stabilization room. Before we get started, please fill out this sheet.\" The man speaking to me was in a white coat. He looked like Albert Einstein combined his outfit with a detective. I read the top of the page.\n\nCONSENT/NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT\n\nIt stated all the stuff you would normally see on one of those contracts. I signed quickly, because I really just wanted to get this over with. I handed the slip of paper back.\n\n\"Delightful! Now, what shall we change today?\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1466715861", "1466719153" ]
	[WP] You receive an envelope in the mail that says, "Do not open until your next birthday!" Your birthday is in two days so you determine that's close enough and you rip open the envelope.	0	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The sender can't possibly know when I'll open it, might as well open it now.\n\nI tear open the envelope and a single card falls to the ground. Picking it up it reads: To The Birthday Girl.\n\nI open the card and a gas sprays my face, I can't breathe and begin to start twitching, I drop the card and fall to the floor, reading the open flap of the inside of the card: \"I knew you wouldn't wait.\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1466727916", "1466742163" ]
	[WP] Yes. Yes, I saved you. You don't get to die unless I'm the one who kills you.	7	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Jas looked at the leather-jacket clad punk. The last thing he remembered was trying to ride the punk's motor scooter and somehow lost control. The next thing he knew, the punk was giving him mouth-to-mouth then spouted out some ridiculous crap.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" Jas tried sitting up but felt pain in every inch of his body.\n\n\"You heard me. You're not allowed to die unless it's me killing you.\" The punk was inspecting his scooter, pissed at the obvious damage. Of course, one does not simply crash into a tree without something getting broken.\n\n\"I thought you hated us.\" Jas wasn't too estatic at the thought of owing his life to this type of person. For starters, he was a rival gang member. Second, that rival gang hated Jas' kind, Werebeasts, with a passion, one that Jas felt a few months ago when he got jumped.\n\n\"I do, freak.\" The punk glanced at the dog ears on top of Jas' head, clicking his tongue in disgust.\n\n\"Guess I'm leaving then.\" Jas tried to stand, but felt a great pain in his leg. As luck would have it, when Jas lost control if the scooter, he somehow injured his leg. Not too badly, just a bad scrape.\n\n\"Are you going to make me do everything?\"\n\nThe punk was carrying Jas piggyback style, one hand holding Jas's good leg, the other leading the scooter.\n\n\"I thought you hated me.\" Jas was a little unsure of how helpful his apparant enemy was.\n\n\"I do.\" The punk hissed, refusing to talk anymore along the way. Except for one question, and one response. \"Where should I take you?\"\n\n\"I'd say the clinic or something, but the laundromat's close to where I live so-ow!\"\n\nSilently, quickly, and most of as gently as possible, the punk was using the bandana in his pocket as a makeshift bandage. It would keep the woubd relatively clean until Jas actually got aroubd to dealing with it.\n\nAt the laundromat, the punk was about to leave without another word.\n\n\"I don't think I got your name.\" Jas looked at the punk.\n\n\".....Ricky.\"\n\nFor a member of a Werebeast hating gang, Ricky was way too nice. Then again, he did declare he was the only one allowed to kill Jas. The young Werebeast chuckled. If that wss the case, then two can play that game.\n\n(And with that, I bid reddit good night. I need my sleep.)", "Water was forcably ejected from my lungs and oxygen slipped past in its wake. What? I was cold and wet and caughing up watet.... Oh, thats right. I had tried to drown myself. \n\nI could feel the stones that lined the pockets of my dress and apron pressing into my legs. I could feel arms around me, helping me to sit up so I wouldn't choke on the water in my mouth. \n\nWho had saved me? Why had they saved me? I was a fool and a failure. 19 summers to my name and no husband to speak of, no children, no dowery. I was the youngest of 9 girls. Who would be so cruel as to save me from the end I so clearly and desperately wanted?\n\nA hand was on my face now, large, cold and calloused in some places. A man's hand. A man had saved me. And me weak and with stones in my pockets I could not flee. The hand wiped at my eyes, trying to get the water off my face. The hand was gentle. \n\nAfter a momentthe hand left my face and I opened my eyes. There was still water in my eyes, blurring the jawline and nose of the man who held me. He was dressed in an expensive suit. His habds were now in the pockets of my muddy apron pulling out stones and then moving to the pockets of my blue wool dress and doing the same. \n\nI tried to focous on anything, finally settling on the crest on his left brest pocket. It was with that I knew who he was; the first son of the town's mayor Antonin Grey. What the Devil? \n\nHe was panting and so was I. He pulled the last stone from my pocket as I blinked the last of the water from my eyes. We were both sopping wet and Antonin's green eyes were half covered by his wet bangs. He was glaring at me. \n\n\"Why?\" I gasped. \n\n\"You foolish, stupid girl!\" He shouted, making me flinch away from him. \"You stupid girl! I have chased after you for three years! And you, you foolish thing, felt it appropriate to end yourself?! Damnit Elisabeth Everson!\" He took a breath and I took the opportunity. \n\n\"You saved me?\" I demanded. \n\n\"Yes! Yes I saved you! You do not get to die unless I am the one to kill you!\" " ]	[ 1, 2, 2 ]	[ "1466737763", "1466742342", "1466743422" ]
	[WP] It's the end of the world, and only one man can fix it. His name? Dad.	11	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "When you finally sit up, the circle of white tallow candles around you is burning low. You haven’t been on earth in a while, a couple of weeks maybe, but your fire safety instinct remains strong: your first move is to lick your fingers and pinch out the flames. Then you look around. You realize you woke up sitting on a piece of paper. DAD, it says, in childish handwriting. \n\nThat’s your name. Dad. When a six year old is asked to choose one person to bring back from the dead to fix the broken world, who will she pick? Her personal superhero, of course, the man of steel defined in her head by only a three-letter mononym.\n\nYou can remember your death easily, it wasn’t too traumatic. Heat causes 90% of initial deaths from a thermonuclear explosion, you read it on Wikipedia on your phone at the breakfast table the same morning the New York Times explained that the war was going badly and we couldn’t trust our enemies not to use too much force. \n\nWait. DAD is written in your daughter’s hand. Your darling only child with bright eyes and sticky fingers. That means she survived. How? She’s not here; you’re alone in some kind of empty bunker with a concrete floor bare but for the candles, an obligatory copy of the Necronomicon, and a couple of your personal possessions. Summoning aids, you suppose. The hammer with the red handle you’d been using in the last few weeks of your life to build your house a back deck. An MLB baseball cap. The fanny pack you wore on day trips to the zoo or the beach. \n\nThe room has only one door. To find your daughter (and repair the post-apocalyptic wasteland like she knew you could) you’ll have to go through it. You pick up the hammer, it seems the most useful. Now you’re awake enough to notice that your hand on the handle is totally charred.\n\nYou open the door and survey the damage outside like it’s a finger-paint covered bathroom.", "James Shao sits on the trunk of a fallen tree on the Californian coastline, gazing at the waves. Early morning light spills pink and orange watercolors over the ocean. The surf crashes onto the pebbled beach, spray glistening in the air for a moment, catching the light in a sparkling curtain, and receding back into the Pacific. James looks down at his phone and selects a song, a quiet instrumental piece undercut with a dizzying violin solo, a lone string instrument that crescendoed and crashed into silence, again and again, as repetitive and overwhelming as the ocean he now watched. \n\n\nA few gulls circled overhead, waiting for the tourists to arrive or fish to be deposited on the shore by the waves. Their cries were piercing, mournful. Somehow, they completed the music. James had nothing for them, not a breakfast sandwich that he could tear into pieces for the gulls or a protein bar in his pocket, but he didn't want to interrupt the circling gulls, anyway. If they returned to him with insistent cries for more, they wouldn't be the harmony any more, they'd demand his attention and distract him. He didn't want to lose his focus. Not now. \n\n\nJames had lived in Kansas for most of his life, enduring the stares of white kids who'd never met someone with his eyes or his black hair or his packed lunches with rice and dumplings. He'd earned their respect on the swim team. His breaststroke time was a state record, and he held most of the school's records. His mother was Californian, and here he was, on his first school vacation, on a massive piece of driftwood on the very edge of the state, in his element. He'd never seen the ocean before yesterday, never been in a body of water larger than a pool. He wasn't here to swim- he knew the riptides were lethal. \n\n\nHe sets the phone next to him on the wood and kicks his heels against the dead tree. The ocean curves into itself, roaring ice-blue and deep emerald and abalone-white. He watches. He doesn't know if he can find the words to say. The flight he took yesterday was long and he was cramped in an economy seat, scratching hesitant letters onto a piece of notebook paper. He has the notebook with him- he carried it from his hotel room, about a half-mile walk- and he looks over it again for inspiration.\n\n\nDad. I know w̶h̶o̶ - what you are. I'm your son. My name is James Shao, my mother is Suyuan Shao. She always told you that she knew you for her whole life, and she wasn't kidding. I don't know if you remember me, I guess you might. But if you follow after the Greeks, you probably have a lot of kids, and I'm not that special. Maybe you heard about my swimming? The Olympic team wanted me, but I was too young then, and now I'm in college and I don't think that they still want me. Mom says she wants me to be a doctor, but I think she's joking because she's been very supportive of my environmental sciences major. What do you think of that? I-\n\n\nAt this point, the person sitting next to him had asked him about his plans in California, and he'd been drawn into a discussion that ranged from the meatpacking industry to Illuminati conspiracy theories to astrophysics. He hadn't finished the letter before the plane had touched down, and now he looks over his scribbles with a sort of dismay. There's nothing here that he can use. The request he came to make is too important to include these inconsequential details about his life. He searches his pockets for a pencil and finds one, and he tries to write some notes again to prepare himself, but he can't think of any small talk to prelude his plea. \n\n\nFather, I've been thinking that you could intervene-\n\n\nNo, too formal. He'll have to try better. He crosses that out with a single neat line through the letters. \n\n\nMy name is James Shao, son of Suyuan Shao. I am a resident of Kansas with experience in-\n\n\nHe's not trying to get a job. He's just trying to talk to his dad and ask a single question. He hasn't even thought of how to phrase something of that magnitude, and if the flight and abandoning his friends for the vacation will be worth it if his father denies him. \n\n\nThe song ends, and the shuffle feature brings up an classic rock song. The wailing vocals of the backup singer are lost to the waves. James shuts it off. The instrumental had helped; now the music is distracting him. His concentration on writing isn't great even when it's silent. He's still amazed that he managed to write the essays for college with his scattered attention. Sometimes, he thinks that the pool is the only place where he's truly focused, and then he remembers that he's not focused at all- his mind drifts while his body slices through the water. \n\n\nDad, I know that I'm asking a lot of you. It looks like the world is ending right now. ISIS is rising and Donald Trump might be the next president, which would be pretty bad for immigrants, and I know you wouldn't want people like Mom to get hurt. And then there's the plummeting biodiversity and the ice caps and overfishing. The rainforests. Erosion. Pollution. Oil spills. Seventy percent of the world is a lot, Dad. If you can do anything to help, please-\n\n\nHe sounds desperate. He is desperate. He doesn't know how to begin. The sun is higher in the sky, molten sunlight cracking over the waves and breaking on the shore, leaving streams of gold between the pebbles as the water rushes back to the sea. On the horizon, the water looks like the surface of the sun, brilliant white. He pushes himself from the driftwood and slides his phone into his pocket. \n\n\nHe walks to the edge of the water, and salt water, frigid, seethes through his sneakers. \n\n\n“Dad,” he starts, shading his eyes and looking into the distance. “It's me, your son. James Shao. I haven't done a lot for you, and you haven't done much for me, either. I guess this is hello and goodbye. I'm here to ask you a question.” \n\n\nThe waves crash in response. \n\n\n“The world's in pretty bad shape right now, and I'm not sure what you can do about it. I'm an environmental science major, so I know exactly how bad. If you could do something for me- anything, just make it a little better- I'd appreciate it. It's my eighteenth birthday tomorrow, Dad. This is all I want. Keep this planet spinning a little longer. It's my home and it's yours, too.” \n\n\nJames walks closer to the breaking waves. When the water rushes in from the ocean, the cold stings his legs and comes up to his knees.\n\n\n“Seventy percent. We're the blue planet. You have to have some influence, right?”\n\n \nThe water drags him towards the foaming gyre of the waves, pulling loose stones into the ocean and bruising his legs. James holds his ground. \n\n\n“Son,” a voice calls behind him, from the shore. James turns, almost losing his balance. The water pulls, and he walks from the ocean with difficulty. \n\n\n“Dad?” \n\n\nThe man is tall, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, with a baseball cap that conceals his features. A trident tattoo covers one forearm, and the ink is a deep azure, the color of fathomless waters. He has long black hair and stubble on his chin, a deep voice like the resounding crash behind James. \n\n\n“Kid,” he says, “Consider your birthday present delivered. And call me Neptune.” " ]	[ 1, 5, 6 ]	[ "1466767532", "1466774585", "1466774925" ]
	[WP] Japanese ninja are so well known because, compared to the other nations' equivalents, they are not very good at what they do.	297	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Looking at the Captain's smiling face on the phone I knew just what it was. \"Another one, Captain?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes. Same as before. 14 Center Street, 1842A. Tell them to let you through.\" he said, \"Oh, and bring your nose plugs.\"\n\nShit! Hearing that set me off. I hate these ones. Why can't the Yakuza or whoever hires Ninja's these days just use a gun, or knife or maybe some poison, or an old fashioned baseball bat? Standard methods that don't leave too much mess for me to clean up. A little blood, some brains, and the normal fluids and solids when everything lets go. Easy and quick. Not with these ones. Fucking Japanese old school, Ninjas. Aren't these guys supposed to be silent and deadly? Would it be too much to ask that they off their target without turning him into a fucking shish kabob, him and everyone else in the room transformed into meat gobbets just so they can get the contract completed.\n\nIt only took ten minutes to get there. The dolly worked well too. But I do hate the ritual. Say hi to the uniforms, show my permit, then stop and get geared up. Rubber booties, taped around the ankles with duck tape, a clear latex overcoat with long sleeves, rubber gloves (double pair for safety!), again, taped at the wrists and ankles. Then get the mask put together, clear filter in place, soak the filter in menthol with a bit of citrus and a dash of cinnanom. (Don't blame me, it's the only thing I've found that actually works!). Cut a tampon in half, one half stuffed up each nostril. And cue the laugh from the boys in blue! Same stupid jokes, same stupid laughs. Then pull the mask on and head in to clean up the red sticky aftermath of a Ninja kill.\n\nThe foyer was clean, and the hall. My first major clean up was on the stairs. I'm guessing housemaid, maybe 50, heavyset. Based on the hair, blood, and the fingertips I'm thinking Jamaican. Have to bag those. The detective will give me a bonus and give the coroner crap for missing them. What I want to know is why can't an assasin who is supposed to be silent and deadly can't kill a fat old harmless housekeeper without chopping off her fingers? How stupid does this guy have to be? \n\nNext is the bedroom. Rich, elegant. Or at least it was before Ninja-boy got hold of husband. He must have been trigger happy, there's holes all along the main door, the floor, ceiling, and two walls. The blood and entrails shows he met his end in at least two main pieces. Again I have to ask, \"Why slice him in half? Couldn't you simply stab him through the heart, silent and clean? Nope, you would rather have him screaming and the sloppy sound of organs and fluid splashing everywhere leaving a trail anyone could follow, even Hellen Keller.\"\n\nThe bathroom was worse. A lot worse. I'm not even sure how many died in there. At least one, maybe as many as three. At least it was mostly tile walls and flooring, but the homeowner should just burn everything else and start over. Trust me when I tell you that there's no way those towels and floor mats will ever be, well, clean again. Not a chance in hell. I'm good, no, I'm very, very good. But no one can get that much blood and guts out of thick cotton towels and floor mats. Cotton is just too good as an absorbent. Burn those things and buy new. After you move. \n\nSo far this is just a lot of mess and it's pissing me off a little because this Ninja is such a fucking slob and amateur. It's like he's watched too many movies and is going for the silent and deadly but massively gore filled approach. But it was the bathtub that really pissed me off. I'm standing there looking at a perfect old fashioned white porcelain tub. The kind that sits up high on those great brass claw feet. In perfect condition. And the god-damned Ninja not only slashed at least one poor fucker in that tub, I can tell he's deliberately smeared gore in all of the delicate little arches and whorls in those brass feet. Using my light and some magnifying glasses I can see where he's taken dips of the bloody mess in the tub and carefully wiped it down inside each legs detailed dressings. Looking close I can see it's going to take hours of careful scrubbing. As I kneel there, fuming, I can't help but think, \"This guy simply needs to die. He's too much of a gore lover for my ulcer and bad back. The cops have been chasing this chump for nearly 3 months, so far no good leads. But I know he's watching, the care he took in making a mess of the tub legs screams it.\"\n\nThat night when I got home I took a long shower and then went to sleep. In the morning I woke and started tracking Mr. Ninja. Three days. That's how long it took to track him down and find out he's a young martial arts instructor in the other side of the city. Recently over from Okinawa. Handsome, fit. A lawyer by day, slice and dicer by night. And lousy at it too. The sheer unprofessionalness of it really bothered me. I was pulled up in front of his offices, considering going in and telling him what I knew when he knocked on my window!\n\nI looked up just in time to see him nod, grin, and then wave me off, like he was telling me to leave! The nerve of him. I left, but not before I promised to teach him a lesson in the fine art of assassination.\n\nThat night when he got done at his gym, he showered like normal, then got dressed. I waited until he had opened the door of his new A6 to kill him. Approach him slowly, not looking at him, head turned to look like I'm paying attention to the girl I'm walking beside as she talks on her phone. He's talking with someone over the roof of his car. My approach takes me close enough. Minute glass needle, nine inches long but barely thick enough to puncture skin. A quick punch and we continue on while he rubs his neck. A little flick of my wrist and the glass injector tumbles to the grass and then the slight tinkle as it shatters. \n\nI get in my old beat truck and slowly exit, passing right next to him. When he turns and looks at me, I smille and wave good bye. He recognizes me, starts to grin, then I can see the recognition. I'm already rumbling by, but I watch the rear view mirror and see him turn quickly, the fall against the hood, holding himself up with his hand for a moment. Our eyes meet in the mirror and I give him a final nod and see his acceptance as his breath finally fails him.\n\n\"That's how it's done sonny. No one even noticed while I killed you. Not even the guy you were talking to. And the coroner? He's going to declare that you died because of an allergic reaction to the fish you had for dinner tonight. The only mess he'll have to clean up is what you voided from your bowels as you lost conscious control. Good by Ninja boy. Maybe next time you can try to actually learn how to kill without it looking like a grenade went off in a butcher shop.\"\n\nI do look forward to having less mess tomorrow. ", "I had been called to 10 Downing Street that evening to discuss what I had learned about Japanese intelligence. The tension between the newly formed Axis Powers and the rest of the world was at an all-time high. Though war had officially been declared against Germany, neither side had taken any action. This stagnancy, of course, had given me time to address my assignment- to identify possible Japanese moles. A month or so prior, I had viewed the country with my own eyes, taking note to affect a German accent. For weeks, I meticulously scoured the bustling city of Tokyo for any leads to Japanese agents. Under the guise of an ambassador, I had sought out the headquarters of the Japanese Secret Service. The rest of my team had arranged for said ambassador to disappear in a plane crash.\n\nI took my seat in front of the Prime Minister. His signature hat lay on his oaken table and a cigar rested in his hand as he blew clouds of hazy smoke into the gloom of the office. Night had fallen. \n\n“I assume that after the funding M16 has given you, you have provided results?” \n\n“Yes, Prime Minister.” \n\nI reached into the small folder I had kept in my coat and withdrew their contents, arranging them appropriately on the table.\n\n“Ah, photographs,” the Prime Minister said, eyes twinkling with curiosity. \n\n“Yes, sir. The headquarters of the Japanese Secret Service, along with two of their agents.” \n\n“This is capital news,” he replied. “I fail to understand how the rest of MI6 was unable to find where the buggers were coming from.”\n\nI pointed at my first photograph. “You see, sir, the headquarters is located far into the mountains. It borders a lake and is quite serene if I do say so myself.”\n\nThe Prime Minister humphed and took a puff on his cigar. “Quite. I feel that MI6 would fit oddly in that sort of place. What’s that they’ve got here- dragon decorations? Bloody inconspicuous!” \n\nShadows flickered across the room. I gestured his attention to the other two photographs. Both were long range shots, but unmistakably showed figures all clad in black, with only their eyes visible through a slot. \n\n“And what’ve we here?” the Prime Minister said. “Is this standard field dress for their agents?”\n\n“I suspect that is the case, sir. They are known as shinobi over there. They appear to all wear the same clothes during missions. Currently, they specialize in infiltration, general espionage, and assassination.” \n\nI waited as the Prime Minister studied the photos with great interest. The light in the office had dimmed, making the corners of the room completely dark. Haze from the Prime Minister’s cigar hung in the air like the London fog outside. \n\n“I see. Daytime operations for them are out of the question? Have our allies seen them at work before?” he asked.\n\n“Yes,” I said. “Europeans call them 'ninjas'. They have tried daytime assignments but they have been, ah, unsuccessful.” \n\nThe Prime Minister took another puff and there was a fit of coughing from one of the corners of the room. I sprang out of my chair. I held my fists at the ready and inched towards the noise. Hunched over and exhausted-looking was a man clad in all-black, exactly like a Japanese agent in the photos. Quick as a flash, he was on me. \n\n“Prime Minister, leave at once!” I shouted, hoping he took my cue. The ninja and I grappled in the office, slamming into bookcases and overturning lamps. I threw him off me in a burst of adrenaline. The man retreated across the room and grabbed a shiny object from his belt. My training leapt in and I rolled to my right as a metal star embedded itself in the wood behind me. Two more whirred past my head. There was no time to catch my breath- the ninja let out a noise of frustration and began to run towards me from across the room. I braced myself for a punch but the man jumped high into the air like a cat, letting out a screech and extending a leg to try and catch me with a kick. I instinctively sidestepped and the ninja flew right past me, letting out a yell of pain as he crashed into the bookcase with his leg extended. I made my way to his broken figure. \n\n“We’ve smoked you out,” I said, suppressing a chuckle. \n\n“In my country, the air is clean! In our cities, we have small boxes to smoke in! Ah, it is futile. I have been captured. I must forsake my honour.” And to my surprise, he took out a piece of paper and a pencil from a pocket and began to write. It was not his will, but a nine-by-nine grid of numbers. Odd.\n\nThe Prime Minister reentered the room, flanked by his armed guards. “You have my thanks, agent,” he said. “Though I must admit, an MI6 man would have ended me quickly.” \n\nHe strolled over to his desk and picked up his hat, touching it to his head regally. He moved over to the bookcase and tugged the metal star free. “Lethal in the right hands,” the Prime Minister remarked, feeling the points with his finger. “I must send this to the Americans. In fact, I must tell this story to the Americans. I have heard that their silent films desire new material.” \n", "Russian surveillance van 17:\n\nA long sigh was mixed with the static coming from my walkie. I asked him what was the matter, it takes a lot to make a professional like Sergei sigh mid mission.\n\n\"Rooftop above the cafe.\" he said in a disappointed tone.\n\nI looked up there, sure as hell there was a shadow moving, barely noticeable against the night sky. I said as much to Sergej.\n\n\"Barely noticeable is not good enough in this line of work Filip. If we saw them the French saw them too, this mission is fucking over. These fucking Japanese need to stop with the tradition and get back on top of their shit.\" he was really frustrated. This was the 3rd mission of the year where Japanese ninja agents were spotted in urban environments. The dawn of public lighting has put them at a disadvantage that they just can't shake.\n\nFrench embassy balcony:\n\nA silent shadow, slightly darker than the night sky drops from above, landing right in front of ambassador Dutoit. The ambassador gasps, but quickly regains his composure, clearly prepared for this intrusion.\n\n\"The idiot Russians are packing up mister Dutoit. I believe this covers our end of the bargain, our prime minister will contact you with details regarding the new trade route.\" Said the ninja before literally vanishing into thin air.\n\nAmbassador Dutoit walked inside and sat down in his office. \"Fucking ninjas\" he said, \"they're even better than in the movies!\".\n\nEDIT: I'm not a writer, I just like reading this subreddit and got super bored today, so I know this is not good writing ;)" ]	[ 1, 4, 26, 38 ]	[ "1466771059", "1466809890", "1466792557", "1466775353" ]
	[WP] Holodecks are real and have been around for a while. You run an illegal one.	3	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Alright, so maybe I might possibly have something of a little alcohol problem. I'm sorry, Galactic Federation, by that synthetic stuff doesn't cut it for me. I need something to really unwind after a hard shift in Engineering.\n\nAnd that is where my not-exactly-approved holodeck comes in handy. With a few simple circuitry adjustments I've managed to keep the shipboard computer from identifying the location, only that it exists and that it can run in. An external sensor picks up on noted security and high ranking personel to shut it down if they approach my room.\n\nYeah, my room. That was a bitch to accomplish under their noses. Slowly deconstructing my walls bit by bit and using the matter replicators to swap the pieces out was time-consuming and difficult.\n\nBut good scotch is worth it.\n\nSo how does this get me alcohol?\n\nUnder regular guidelines there are rules to be followed and obeyed in holodeck simulations. My holodeck lacks that. The most visceral combat, the most pleasurable sex, the most delicious food and drink. I offer what the regular holodecks can not, and when someone comes snooping the deck just imprints my original room design on itself and no one is the wiser.\n\nPrice of admission...alcohol. Do anything you want, any way you want, and as long as I've got a hangover on my next shift I don't really care.\n\nOf course, alcohol is a rare commodity on board, but clever bootleggers are popping up, showing up with their own homebrew concoctions.\n\nActually, in hindsight...I could have saved myself a lot of effort if I'd just did that to begin with.\n\nOh well. Still can't complain about all the pleasant company I'd never had otherwise.", "\"A borgy? Quark what the fuck is a borgy?\"\n\n\"You know what it is.\"\n\n\"And you said you've been to one?\"\n\n\"Well... I wouldn't say I've been to one. I was near one, outside the holodeck. You'd be surprised what some people will try when they've had enough to drink. They even had me shut off the safety protocols. And oh did they pay well\"\n\n\"Well that just sounds like a bad idea.\"\n\n\"Oh no it was perfectly safe, the borg are all holographic, so they can't get out. You've got to realize its just these sickos who have a fetish about being assimilated in, well, lets just say they were assimilated in the most creative way possible.\"\n\n\"Wait they actually got assimilated? By the holograms?!\"\n\n\"Yes but as I said the borg, even the nanoprobes, were holographic, so as soon as I shut the program down, no more borg. Just like that, no problem.\"\n\n\"Oh, ok. And so what did they say about it afterwards?\"\n\n\"What did who say?\"\n\n\"The people who- in the, what did you call it?\"\n\n\"The borgy. Well unfortunately they weren't able to say much after. Since they had been completely assimilated it didn't go so well once the program shut down. It wasn't too big of a problem though, Rom had snuck into the transporter room, so he was able to beam the mess directly into the sanitary recycling system. Problem solved!\"\n\n\"Sanitary recycling? You mean they ended up in the replicator feedstock?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I suppose that is where they ended up. And no one was the wiser and we still got paid. Odo had that missing persons case going for weeks before he finally decided they must have up and left. Ha! So what do you say?\"\n\n\"I don't know Quark, this sounds like a really bad idea.\"\n\n\"I've got at least a dozen clients lined up! I already told a few of them about this holodeck, they're going to want to use it!\"\n\n\"You did what?!\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 4 ]	[ "1466976126", "1467049327", "1466993593" ]
	[WP] All of a sudden you receive a notebook. This notebook will tell you everything any one has ever said about you behind your back. What do you do?	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Thomas looked at the notebook that lay across his bed, debating whether or not he should read the contents hidden within. It had randomly appeared in his locker when he was on his way to his car after school, Thomas could’ve sworn that it wasn’t in there when he checked the hour before. As far as his curiosity would take him, Thomas opened the front cover of the notebook to read the sticky note attached to it. \n\nFriendships are fragile, any sort of situation can destroy a life-long relationship That really didn’t matter to Thomas though, never having a friendship longer than a few months. This notebook will tell you everything anyone has ever said about you behind your back, including those you trust the most This is what caused him to shut the book and toss it in the back seat. Thomas already knew everything that was said behind his back, and none of it was good. \n\nBeing bullied from a young age, Thomas never got to experience what most would call a ‘normal’ childhood. This caused him to naturally be distant to all those around him, including his own parents. Thomas didn’t trust any of them, no one was ever gonna get close to him so they could shatter him all over again. He had already locked that door and threw away the key. \n\nSo why did he keep glancing at the book that lied on his bed? Why was insides eating him up? Why the fuck would he need to see what he already knew? Everyone hated him and kept their distance at school, the teachers never even give him a second glance, his parents are never home and don’t even seem to care. Thomas bit his lip, desperately trying to contain himself, does he really even want to look? \n\n“Fuck it,” Thomas sighed sitting up. “Let’s see what type of fucked up shit is in here.” Thomas flipped past the front inside cover where the note was and went straight to the first page that was labeled “Conversations” in somewhat neat handwriting. On the next page, there was a cartoonish illustration of two girls standing in a hallway, with a conversation right below it. \n\n“Hey Betty, you know Thomas in our Econ class right?”\n\n“Yea, isn’t he the quiet one that always works alone when there’s group projects?”\n\n“That’s the one, he was absent today.”\n\n“Really? I didn’t notice, did you look at where he was sitting?”\n\n“I mean, it’s kinda weird because he’s never absent. I was just confused is all.”\n\nThomas remembered this, the only day in 5 years he was absent from school. He had gotten quite a nasty case of strep throat over that weekend, and it had progressed into the following week for him to get better. The doctor had given him strict orders to not attend school if he still possessed symptoms. \n\n“Hm, now that I think about it, he is always here. Why do you care, Kimmy?”\n\n“I’ve had at least one class with him since the seventh grade, and he’s never been absent since then. He’d always be there, willing to help people with math problems.”\n\nMore than one actually, Thomas thought.\n\n“Really?! He’d go up to people WILLING?!”\n\n“Yes, but all that changed when we got into highschool. In eighth grade he got bullied pretty hard and no one stood up for him.”\n\n“I wouldn’t be surprised, someone like him would be a prime target back in middle school.”\n\n“Honestly, if people would just talk to him they’d see he’s a really nice guy.”\n\nThe dialogue had ended there, leaving Thomas confused. Those two girls must have been Kimberley Moss and Bethany White, the prettiest girls in his Econ class. Why in the world would they have any reason to watch him? Thomas turned to the next page.\n\nPage after page, column after column, the notebook was filled with the dialogue of those who were around him. One showing his mother slumped over an office desk, sobbing that she never got to spend enough time with her one and only son. Another showed his father working furiously, in order to keep his wife and son happy, even at the cost of his own. Yet another showing how many people praise his kindness whether it was sparing an extra pencil or helping pick up fallen papers. \n\nHis teachers praised him as an excellent student who, when left on his own, would prosper in his academics. It took 3 hours for Thomas to get through the thick notebook, tears streaming down his already tomato red face. The first thing he was gonna do when his mother came home, was give her a big kiss. \n\nNever said it had to be bad things ;)\n\nThanks for the prompt!\n\nEdit: a word" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1466979313", "1466982813" ]
	[WP] For the first time in 150 years, the city has finally opened their gates.	16	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "> Upon shedding the sheath of mortality, does a man remain Man? Or has he, perhaps, become something else?\n \n— \tMr. Marshall Night Jr.\n \n--\nDaniel stared up at the bronze statue of the company’s founder, smiling pleasantly alongside the character of his creation: an astronaut with a jetpack on his back and raygun tucked in his waistband. Moon-man held Mr. Night’s hand, and they both seemed to be stuck in a loping mid-stride, as if eternally captured partway through a long, strident walk toward some welcome future. The two giants occupied a spot at the top of the towering gate that would let them into the park-city. \n \n“Hey, you think the Phoebus Fall spans as far as it did back in the day? I think I read somewhere it went from a couple hundred meters past the entrance to the exact middle of the park! Which is, like, 9 miles in. I can't freaking wait!”\n\nHe wondered what terrible death had befallen the workers of Night & Day Park after their fortune had failed them so thoroughly. Daniel was a bit of a historian (self-proclaimed, but highly knowledgeable), and had read almost every book written on the subject of Day & Night Co. in the last 30 years. As far as he could recall, the official investigators hadn’t recovered a single body after the Incident of ’87… but every one of them remembered the screams, the pleas for less pain, the moans for mercy, “No more! No more!”\n \n“Dan? Yo! You alright?”\n\nIt was a wonder he’d come for the Grand Re-opening at all, having been immersed in the horror of thousands for so many years. Though if pressed, of course, he would admit that this was an immutable part of his life. He would sooner be absent at the birth of his first-born child than miss a piece of Day & Night history. Some hobbyists collected space rocks, or retro laser weaponry, or fallen artifacts from the Melody People; they built abyss-boats, and 4-D puzzles, and antique androids...\n \nHis hobby just happened to be obsessing over the mysterious workings of this galaxies-wide conglomeration and how it’s been the target of violent and murderous protest since its inception, over five centuries ago. Daniel collected almost anything related to Day & Night, and its & its enemies’ misdeeds: old Holo-clippings regarding a death or two in some D&N factory, outdated Holo-boards with protests sparking on them, manifestos about the daily injustices brought about by D&N and the inhumane treatment of D&N's employees, interviews with starbound hitmen who'd been bought by D&N officials to silence protestors or had been hired by D&N rivals to assassinate D&N officials.\n \nCasey pulled Daniel forward, muttering, \"I don't care if you did just have stroke, we're not losing our place on line.\" Said line spanned forward for at least a half-mile, ending before great, building-tall gates wrought from some shining alloy. A huge rendition of the company's symbol clasped the gate: D&N encapsulated by Moon-man the Cosmonaut's iconic helmet. Back, behind them, the line curved and twisted, vanishing into a distant dot on the pale, flat horizon. One cold sun had peaked, and the other, which supplies Aggro IV with heat and light, was just coming up.\n \nReally, his was a collection comprised mostly of in-depth documents regarding Day & Night Co, which all came together, in a way, to communicate a pretty clear message. And to think of himself as a “hobbyist” was perhaps one of the biggest acts of self-delusion one could ever commit. If Daniel was a hobbyist, then Mr. Night Jr. himself was out there somewhere, alive alongside his helmeted buddy. By trade and study, he was a journalist – now he was a “columnist” for one of the biggest trash-heap clickbait organizations available on the Web. For them he wrote gag-worthy fluff pieces about which celebrity was still breastfeeding her nine-year-old or which member of royalty was seen, semi-disguised, jerking off in the back of a fast-food joint. In his free time, he wrote and read and wrote and read, reconstructing one of the largest and most disturbing narratives that had ever existed – this amounted to his real job; the clickbait gig was just a thing he did to get money to support his Day & Night work.\n \n“Sorry, what?” Daniel had heard what she’d said, her voice, but the words were masked by the haze of inattention and lacked any real meaning.\n \n“Nothing, Danny, nothing.” Casey patted his back, looked up and seemed to notice the length of the line again. She blew out a sigh, then opened her bag and began searching.\n \n“You have the tickets, right?” he asked, leaning forward to look inside.\n \nShe scoffed and said, “Obviously. What I’m looking for is the… damn… ah!” Casey fished out a long, white, too-thin cigarette. Daniel gaped at his sister.\n \n“Case, there are… kids here.” He looked around cautiously, speaking low. “And how the hell did you get that onto Four? How did Jee-Ess-Tee-Ess not find it?”\n \n“Relax, baby-”\n \n“Ew.”\n \nShe rolled her eyes. “I called you a baby cos you’re a freaking baby. No one cares, Danny. This shit is legal, like, everywhere. Just because you’re holed up in that incubation chamber of yours, twenty-four-seven, afraid of the whole god-damn universe, doesn’t mean the ‘bad things’ aren’t fun.”\n \n“But… okay, I’ll admit I’m, uh, naive when it comes to certain aspects of living. But I know that you shouldn’t be letting kids inhale that stuff. Messes with development and brain growth.”\n \n“A little Wizard Shrub would be the least of that kid’s problem,” Casey said, quietly, eyeing the closest child around. He was chubby and blonde-headed – standing ahead by five or so meters, vibrating in place by a woman’s side. The woman, presumably his mother, had a hand clamped on the boy’s shoulder as she delivered a solemn, thin-lipped reprimand; and despite his excitement, he looked ready to cry. “That’s abuse, man,” she said, and produced a lighter, joint bobbing in her lips.\n \n“So is exposing me to that shit,” he said, waving a hand in front of his nose. “I’m not trying to see stars or the Things beyond them.” The line began to move steadily forward, and Daniel’s chest echoed hollowly with dread and anticipation: perhaps the beginning effects of Dubya Shrub. He gestured forward. “I need to be lucid for this, Case. I’ve worked long and hard hours to get here – this is important.”\n \nWizard Shrub was the result of a strange, experimental threesome, back when Earth was the main-world: part-organic, part-scientific, part-mystic. The great-great-great-great-great-grandchild of marijuana and magic mushrooms and something else, it utilizes a dollop of THC, a decimal of psilocin, and an unknown quantity of some mysterious third element – which has been thought to activate the pineal gland. (An organ long-believed to hold the secrets of awesome human potential.) Reports of telekinesis, prescience, hallucinogenic visions, and visitations from spectral entities are not uncommon, and have been verified and recorded frequently. Personally, Daniel didn’t trust anything that could alter his perception so radically. Alcoholism ran in his family, as well as addictive personalities, and with his mind being his most precious commodity, he’d never willingly delve into things that might endanger its integrity. (Unless a sufficiently accurate case study had been done, which proved Wizard Shrub more or less harmless.)\n \n“Mmm,” she hummed, as smoke slid through her nostrils and cascaded down her face in a solid, slimy-looking fog. “Speaking of, you spent any ‘long and hard hours’ with Caroline recently?” \n\n“No, Casey. She’s made it clear I’m ‘too much’ for her. Can we drop it, and can you drop that?” \n\n“Two hits is probably way more than enough, you’re right.” She licked her thumb and, with a near-silent sizzle, put out the flame. Daniel was smiling, until Casey pulled from her bag a small silver case – wherein lined up were several different cigarettes of varying shape, size, and color – and placed the unlighted join within. “Save that for later.” \n\nDaniel, disgusted, shook his head, withdrew his Holopad, and began writing down various descriptions of the surrounding structures, staff, security, etc. He occasionally moved through windows on the pad, reading up on alerts about the park. Currently the line was about seven miles long. Lining the sometimes-roofed corridor were frequent shops and rest stops and food centers (each comprised of two or three of practically every chain-restaurant in existence); staff and security and administration buildings interspersed the empty spaces, and small staff huts – occupied by ten or so employees – often sat along the wide path. Inward facing chairs made up the border on both sides of the path, but surprisingly few guests took advantage of them. \n\nThey moved forward again, and this time they didn’t stop. Daniel decided to just put his gadgets away and archive everything with his mind. \n\nIn 20 minutes, they were at the gate. Thirty archways lined the bottom. The construction was beautiful up close. From afar, one was fooled into thinking the massive passage would swing open in quarter-mile arcs on each side – but, standing beneath, Daniel saw no crack or welded seal, just a smooth stretch of metal with a shallow ridge in the middle. It was a wall merely made to look like a gate, fitted with myriad, real, smaller gates along the ground. \n\nTheir turn came. Casey and Daniel made their way to a turnstile. A smiling employing, bedecked in an moon-grey polo shirt and khakis, greeted them, scanned their tickets, and traded them for two badges. He handed them their badges, bid them a good time, and welcomed them into the city-sized park. \n\nDaniel’s face must have communicated a mixture of awe and acute fright, for Casey looked at him and nodded, expressing similar feelings. She hooked her arm through his, for the first time since they were children, and pulled him forward. \n \nWILL ADD A PART TWO, IN A BIT\n-\n\n" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1466983288", "1466999305" ]
Others can try and guess what it is.	[WP] Describe an addiction without saying what the addiction is.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "All these book pages turned until the last\nattempting to dive ever deeper into that ocean:\nI haven't the oxygen to keep going, but\nI keep going anyways.\n\nI tell myself there's no magical point of realization,\nno resolution, or satisfaction.\nBut even those words I rip apart\nuntil they mean absolutely nothing at all.\n\nThe green grass lives because of sunlight.\nThe sunlight lives because of fusion.\nFusion lives because particles exist, and\nparticles exist because of a primordial explosion.\n\nDespite all this, I still feel no closer\nto knowing how I'm like this,\nknowing why we're still together,\nknowing the reason I love you,\nknowing exactly what makes you smile.", "I know it's stupid. I know it's meaningless. I know it's a waste of time. My rational self knows this truth painfully well. My rational self says each day is my last day, but the last day never comes. Why do I do this? Maybe it's the validation. Maybe it's because I missed some \"critical period\". Maybe I'm just doomed. Either way, all I can do is watch the sun rise and set from my drab little apartment, helplessly watching the passing time fade by as I sink deeper into a world that isn't real. ", "Have you ever had a need? A compulsion, one might say, to do something or use something? Almost like hunger, it feels like you'll pass out or die if you don't get it, even if you know in your mind that it is slowly killing you.\n\nI've known that feeling since college, and only the lucky live with it as long as I have as well as I have. My will is strong enough to hold out for a few days between packs, but I can never hold out long enough to break the habit. I still carry a lighter when I go anywhere, just in case the urge gets too strong.\n\nThe black clouds are floating off now, and my lungs feel like they work again. It won't last long, in a few short hours breathing will seem like hard work again, but I'll enjoy the relief while it lasts. In the end, this little habit of mine will likely cost me far more than the few bucks a week I pay at the store. Doesn't really matter, I suppose, we all die in the end, but I certainly hope something else gets me before my habit does." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1 ]	[ "1466991663", "1466993466", "1466994616", "1467006937" ]
	[WP] I didn't know what to do, i just knew it needed to stop. Grave after grave, i got tired of burying my friends.	7	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Pulling the six-shooter out of my desk drawer, I spun the chamber to check. Its rotational click, precise like clock-work, illuminated each brass casing in turn. Never thought I'd need this again. A holster rested from a rung on the hat rack by the door, but a soft knocking came as I laced it through my pants loops.\n\n\"I know you're in there, Joseph. Let me in, we need to talk.\" Cracking the door, rays of tempered orange played across the soft silk of Lillah's dress. She stood, arms crossed, ready to give me the kind of stern talking-to that she was known for--and I deserved.\n\n\"Yeah, what can I do for you.\" \n\nHer eyes traced their way down my body, first to the pistol in hand, then to the half-tightened holster flopping against my thigh. The crow's feet around her eyes screeched their disapproval as a sharp tssk slipped between her pursed lips. She cared, but seeing me with my old tools lit something under her, and I knew what was coming next.\n\n\"Are you mad? Goddamnit, Joseph, you know as well as I you can't do anything to change what's happened. All this'll prove is that you've gotten old--and dead.\" Each hand waved wide, fingers twisting in the wind like so many weeds struggling to survive a drought. The powder on her cheeks couldn't hide the scarlet spreading like wildfire underneath.\n\n\"They were your friends too, Lillah, your neighbors are dead thanks to them. This can't continue, not while I can stand.\" I didn't mean to let the rage boiling just below my skin seep into those words, but the heat blustering forth with each heavy, ragged breath betrayed me. Burying every one of them, that'd be enough to drive any man to the brink, but I held my tongue each time. Now though, it was time to act.\n\n\"They'll kill you. What everyone else stood for, it wasn't worth it. Freedom may taste good to a starving man, but you've got something Joseph. You've got me.\" Streaks trailed down to her chin, outlined by thin mascara caravans. She loved me, been that way for some time. It was my own ignorance and selfishness that kept an arms-length between us, and now it would be the six feet of earth after the next man finished his work.\n\n\"I can't. They don't know us, yet they stand tall and say we are better this way. I'm not like those fools who thought the barrel of a gun could buy us a way out. But I'm not heartless enough to ignore what's been happening around me either. No one else will die for my lack of spirit.\" Stepping out into the lengthening shadows, I did my best to console Lillah in our last moments together. I must feel like beat leather, holding her like this. Her shaking stopped, and for a moment I could see hope curl on the edges of a smile.\n\n\"You'll come back.\" It wasn't a question, her firm tone stoking flames in the pit of my stomach. Moving away, I nodded toward the woman I never deserved, but was lucky enough to find. My free hand raised high, I watched as shadows danced between fingers too slow to do the work needed to be done.\n\n\"I'll come back.\" ", "I don't know what to do. This has to stop. I can't keep doing this, every Saturday night, my shoulders and back aching, the blisters tearing open on my palms. I've already had to sharpen my shovel's blade three times. \n\nI'm so tired of burying my friends. \n\nThey struggle so much. I should probably kill them first. " ]	[ 1, 3, 4 ]	[ "1466995398", "1467001919", "1467000584" ]
	[WP] Your SO just got home from work. Moments later they text saying they'll be home late.	37	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", " I unlocked my apartment door after a long day of work. I expected to see my husband watching the evening news on the couch. But the couch was empty. Our daughter came out of her room and I asked her how her day at school was \n \"Pretty good, at lunch I had to...\"\n Just then my husband opened the door and said \"Sorry I'm late traffic was backed up to high hell there was an accident on I-64 that had traffic backed up for miles\" He was cut off by my phone's whistle that alerted me when I received a text. I checked the text from my husband which read\n \"Traffic is backed up for miles, I'm just going to pick up some food for dinner from subway, what do you want?\" I was puzzled that I had just received his text but I reasoned that it had just delayed because of the bad service in the area.\n \"What's wrong?\" My husband asked as he noticed the puzzled look on my face.\n \"Nothing\" I said \"I just now got the text you sent me\" \n \"Yeah you know how bad service is around here sometimes\" he replied. Just then I got a call from my husband. \n \"Who is it?\" My husband asked.\n \"It's... you\" I replied with a terrified look on my face.\n \"What's wrong daddy?\" My daughter asked as I answered the phone call. I hushed her and pressed the button to accept the call. \n \"Hey I'm at subway, what do you want\" my husbands voice spoke on the other line.\n \"I... I..I.. What?\" I stuttered.\n \"You got my text right? I'm at subway what do you and Lexi want?\" He said back. \n \" Who the hell is this?\" I yelled back at the person on the other line.\n \"It's Cameron!\" Yelled the person on the other line.\n \"No... No you're right here in front of me\" I screamed back.\n \"What's wrong what's happening?\" The man I was sure was my husband asked. The call ended and the request for a FaceTime popped up on my screen. It was from my husband's phone. I looked at my daughter then at my husband and accepted it. On the screen was a video of my husband in a subway. \n \"What is wrong?\" He asked. I dropped my phone and fell to my knees. \n \"Who are you people?\" I screamed. My husband tried to grab my shoulder but I smacked his hand away. He starred at me and raised his fist. My daughter lurched to try and grab him but he had already launched his big hand at my head. \n I woke up in a hospital bed with my husband at my side, weeping. \n \"Get him away from me!\" I groaned in slurred speech\n \" Oh my god\" my husband shouted. \"He's awake!\" A nurse rushed into my room and turned of a monitor that was beeping behind me and asked me if I wanted and water.\n \"Get him away!\" I said backing up to the wall behind my hospital bed. The nurse pressed a button and a doctor sprinted into the room. \n \"What is going on?\" He exclaimed.\n \"He's having an episode\" the nurse explained. \n \"No I'm not!\" I shouted \"He hit me!\" I said pointing at my husband. \"He did this to me, he shouldn't be in here!\" Just then a tall man in a suit walked in.\n \"I'm detective Sampson\" he said in a deep but calm voice. \"Your daughter is gone, the man who took her is gone. We need you to explain to us exactly what happened.\" I broke down crying, how could my only child be gone? \n \"He did it!\" I screamed weeping, as I pointed at the man I once loved next to me. \n \"Sir, your husband has an alibi, he was seen on tape walking into a subway at the time the incident happened.\" \n \"But I saw him do it!\" I screamed.\n \"We're gonna need some assistance\" the nurse spoke into a speaker on the wall behind my bed. I was in hysterics, screaming at the detective and my husband. Two men in white scrubs ran in and pulled out a large syringe and stuck it into my fore arm. \n \"Noooo!\" I screamed as my reality became darker and darker until I fell asleep.\n ", "I looked up from Netflix as the knob on the front door twisted and the door opened. A moment later, my wife, Emily walked into the living room, wearing a shirt about twin powers. She places her phone on the table facedown and gives me her usual greeting of a hi and a peck on the cheek before moving upstairs. Everything seemed normal until she began talking.\n\n\"Hey honey, where is the bathroom? I forgot.\"\n\nFor me, there were three things wrong with this question. One- the bathroom is right in front of the staircase with a sign with a toilet joke on it. That should've been obvious pretty obvous. Two- Emily has great memory, and has remembered everything about our relationship down to our number of blinks since we first met. Three- we have never called each other honey before. We usually are either on first name basis or say baby or babe.\n\n\"Immediately forwards when you make it up.\" I here a sound of a door opening and a plopping sound. I go back to my show, but ponder over this problem for several minutes. I would've completely disregarded it had it not been for the text I received.\n\nMy phone buzzed, and I picked it up and looked at it. It was from my Emily. The text read: \"Hey Matt, I have a project I need to finish up at work. I will be home in an hour or two.\n\nCuriosity got the best of me, and I picked up Emily's phone from the desk, and what I see shocks me. The screensaver has a picture of a flamingo on it, whom she regards them as \"fucking pink bitches.\" Also, the clock said 8:46 p.m, and Emily always used military time. This was a huge problem for me. I rushed up to the bathroom and slammed open the door. She was dressed in a very small tank top and tight shorts, leaning over the sink in a seductive fashion. Another red alert, Emily and I hadn't had sex in a month- she was 7 months pregnant. And her stomach was not showing at all.\n\n\"Emily, what the hell is going on? I just gotta text saying that you-\"\n\n\"Shhhhh\" she said as she place a finger on my lips. \"Just go with it Matthew, it'll be alright. Don't fight it.\"\n\nSuddenly, it all pieced together. This was my wife's sister. Emily's twin sister, Amelia, was a sociopath who killed for fun and games. And she was the only person besides my parents to call me Matthew. \n\nI ran away as quick as I could. Amelia followed. I heard a loud bang, and a piece of the wall exploded, which meant that Amelia had a gun. This made me run faster, and I realized that if I stopped, I would die. A couple more bullets whizzed past my head hitting more chunks of the wall. \n\nI made it to the kitchen before she could, and grabbed the largest knife I could find. She came in a moment afterwards, a look of pure frenzy etched on her face and the gun replaced with a pike. How did she hide a pike in those small pants? Panicking more, I flung the knife at Amelia, hoping for the best.. It tore easily through her left lung, and she began struggling for breath. Within seconds, she collapsed dead. With ragged breaths I immediately called 911. Hopefully if the real Emily came back, she wouldn't have a fit. She is very protective of me.", "I slammed the door shut and slumped on the couch, grabbed the remote and turned on the T.V. Then, my phone buzzed. I looked down and saw a number I didn't recognize.\n\n\"I'll be working late, don't wait up for dinner. -XOxo\"\n\nThe phone fell to the floor as my right hand instantly vanished.\n\nShocked, I stared ponderously at the phone, and then at my immaculate wrist-stump.\n\nIt all made sense. \n\nWith not much else to do, I walked over to kitchen, and with some difficulty, managed to open a beer. I awkwardly sipped the beer with my left hand.\n\n\"Wonder when my gf will be home\" \n\n\n\n", "The gunfire came out of no where. She narrowly got out of the way before a bullet lodged in the wall where her head had been just a moment before.\n\n“You son of a bitch! Oh, you are going to pay for that! Where the hell is the ammo?”\n\nKate dropped into a crouch and frantically searched the bedroom for any hidden stash that was left but found nothing. Every dresser drawer had already been emptied and the case in the closet just had some old clothes and pictures.\n\n“Not good. Not good!!”\n\nAfter rolling behind the old armchair she peaked over the back carefully to get a better idea of what she was up against. She was able to count three men outside the window and they were all heavily armed. \n\n“Damn.” She dropped to the floor as more bullets came flying through the window. “OK, do not panic.”\n\nIt was then she heard the voice she had been dreading and it was right on the other side of the bedroom door. “Well now, what have we here? You were expecting some on else I take it. This is not the welcome home I was expecting darling. Now why don't you put that gun down and come out here so we can talk.”\n\nCharles Macay. There was no one in this world who Kate hated more than Charles Macay. She knew that this was where it was all going to end.\n\n“You can do this Kate” she reassured herself. She doubled checked her belt to make sure she still had knives left before making her move. \n\nKate leaped from behind the chair and fired her last three bullets out the window. Each one was a direct hit and her would be assailants dropped to the ground. She spun and threw two knives right as Charles entered the room. He dodged both and fired his gun.\n\n“You have got to be kidding me! Every damn time!”\n\n“Kate?” Kate looked up from the TV as Sam walked in the living room. “You still haven't beaten that shoot out at the farmhouse?” \n\n“No.” she grumbled as she paused the game before Charles Macay could finish mocking her failure once again. “I thought I had it that time. I thought if I took out the guys outside first I could get him with a throwing knife.” She glanced a the clock and saw that it was just after five. “Did you get done early? I didn't even hear you pull in.”\n\nSam smile and shook his head as he walked toward the kitchen. “The meetings rescheduled again.”\n\n“Again?” Kate couldn't believe it and followed him in to the kitchen. “What are they waiting for? You've had the presentation ready to go for weeks!” \n\n“Yeah well, it'll happen when it happens. Besides, now I can have the guys in accounting take a closer look at those charts.” Sam smiled but Kate knew he was crushed the presentation had been pushed back again. If this went well Sam could be offered a permanent position with the company. \n\n“Hey, I have an idea.” she told him brightly as she returned his smile. “Why don't we go grab a quick bite, pick up some beers and start enjoying the weekend?”\n\n“I can't think of anything I'd like more. Let me just wash up quick and we can head out.”\n\nSam started up stairs and Kate went to grab her bag. She tossed her keys and wallet in and her phone started vibrating on the coffee table as she went to get it. \n\nSam's name came across the display and she laughed. “You know I hate it when you text me from upstairs!” she called. “We can decide where we want to go when you get back down here and...” She stopped and tried to process what she was reading. \n\nSomething really weird just happened. I'm on my way home. Lock the door and don't let anyone in. I love you. \n\n“Kate?” Kate jumped as Sam touched her shoulder. “Everything OK?”\n\n“You scared the crap out of me! That was pretty funny, I have to admit.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and dropped her phone in her bag.\n\n“Oh shoot! I left my phone in the car.” Sam said as he watched her finish collect her things. “I hope I remembered to lock it. Ready to go?” \n\nKate followed him out on the porch smirking. “Don't oversell your hand. You should have quit when you were ahead. It was funny. Really. But you always over do it.”\n\nSam opened the car door for her and jogged to the other side while she started to get it “What are you talking about?” \n\nKate didn't hear his question. She was staring at the cell phone on the passenger's seat. \n", "There was some fumbling at the door. It was time for Jessica to get home. Sometimes I unlock the door but today I hadn't bothered since I had been busy writing. It really doesn't matter either way; she has a key. She continued to fumble with the door for a bit. Finally, she stopped and my phone vibrated. She must've lost her key again. I stopped my writing and got up to go to the door. \n\n\"Hey sweetheart,\" I sang to her. She was looking gorgeous as usual. Actually, she looked a lot more gorgeous today than she usually did when she got home from work. Her makeup was completely perfect as opposed to the usual signs that she had either sweat or accidentally smudged it in a spot. Her facial expression was spot on though; it was indicative of true hatred for one's job. I opened my arms to give her a hug but she just walked in and shut the door. \"How'd you manage to lose your keys,\" I began; but the words were knocked right out of me as I was tackled to the floor.\n\n\"Ok, human,\" seethed a voice that was not Jessica's, \" I'll make this as painless as I can.\" My phone went off and I looked over at it on the floor. Jessica's name was displayed in the center. The impostor answered and I was persuaded to say hello by something sharp against my throat.\n\n\"Hello to you too, Mister I take too long to text back,\" came Jessica's sassy voice, \"I sent you a mess--wait is that you I see coming down the hall?\" The impostor threw the phone across the room. ", "Imagine my surprise when I got into work and discovered I had the day off. Apparently I had wrote down the wrong schedule and I was not due in until tomorrow. Score! A whole day to do whatever I wanted around the house!\n\nNaturally this just amounted to working at home. Repotted some flowers, fixed the board that kept slipping out of place on the bookshelf, watched some Spongebob Squarepants on Hulu. You know, important stuff.\n\nDon't judge me.\n\nI did get some good cleaning in though, and I was just about to draw a bath when I heard my girlfriend pull in. That was another good part of the day for me. I had been planning to spring the surprise on her when the day was going perfect and this day was just a blast.\n\nI grabbed the small box and slipped into a cute sundress, then hid myself in the bedroom closet. She would open it to toss in her shoes, see me, and I would pop the question.\n\nFoolproof, right?\n\nThen the text comes in. I receive it right before I hear the door open, and a moment later the door closes a bit hard.\n\n\"Sorry, working late. You are too, right? Meet you at Luigi's for dinner.\"\n\nWhat the ever-loving hell?\n\nI was about to get out of the closet and question her on this when I see the last thing I want to see.\n\nAlright, so maybe her butt is among the first things I want to see. Just not with some man groping it as he pushes her back into the bedroom. Especially after all the insisting she's done that she doesn't even like men.\n\nAlso, she's my girlfriend and I am not open to being open.\n\nAs I prepare to burst out and confront the scene that is about to quickly escalate to the bed we share, she does exactly what I thought she would do. Breaking off from him, she steps over and slips off her shoes.\n\nI open the box, exposing the ring, and raise my phone. This whole thing hurts like hell but I am never going to see this look on her face again.\n\nAnd flash. Fuck! Forgot I had that on. Doesn't matter, she's screaming now and I am hurrying out of the house with the ring in hand. I can still get a refund, and I'll sort the issue of what to do about her later. I just need away for now.\n\nI'm not even out of the driveway before she starts texting me, and I can hear her and whats-his-face yelling at each other inside the house. Good, maybe I ruined that. Bad enough I lost my girlfriend, I'd hate to lose my bedsheets too.\n\nAnd the day was going so perfect..." ]	[ 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 18 ]	[ "1467040854", "1467073855", "1467073165", "1467056089", "1467068480", "1467064515", "1467047186" ]
	[WP] The post-apocalyptic Earth is a place of misery. Luckily, happy memories are sold on the black market. Though, this isn't quite what you expected.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I see it, the memory. Its white powder reminded me of a old world drug, I think it was named cocaine. Could be wrong. Drugs were destroyed when the bombs fell, destroying everything. The old world companies, now our governments, built underground shelters for the end of the world. It was a massive city, millions of people could fit down here. \n\nMy ancestors got down here two decades ago, when a was a still in my mothers belly. They paid with everything they had to get in when the end of the world happened. Everyone works for the government, working as a old world company. Paid in hours off work, one hour for every six hours of work. Hours off is the main form of currency. You can know how much you have based on your I.O.U sheet, which shows how many hours. \n\nSo many hard work hours, so little happiness. No liquor, except for the executives and other high up position. No drugs, destroyed when the bombs fell. Sex is heavily regulated, only on special occasions. So what do us lower on the food chain do for happiness? Happy memories. People would sell happy memories on the black market. Usually of old world people. \n\nThese memories are damn expensive. Nine hours off, that's what I paid for this. 54 hours I'm never getting back. It's 8 at night, so I have plenty of time to experience this. I snort the white powder, and, as usual, see the world around me turn dark. \n\nI began to see a woman, she looks frightened. I see myself move towards her, backing away from me, and then I see a hand. It has a knife in it. \"Hey, pretty girl. I'm gonn-\", before the voice could continue, the woman, who seems to be in a room, screamed. A hand covered her mouth, and plunged the knife into her neck. Blood spurted on the knife. I see the man put the knife to his face and licked it. I could taste the metallic taste of the blood. The world began to get dark again.\n\nI woke up, in a cold sweat. I feel like I had murdered someone, and then I remembered the memory. I ran to my bathroom, and threw up. It was ten at night. I was tired, and began to drag myself to my bedroom, undressed myself, and passed out on the bed.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1467069335", "1467079686" ]
	[WP] You open a fortune cookie and it reads "we are now inside of you."	19	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "We are now inside you\n\nWhat a strange message from a fortune cookie I thought at the time. I was on a date with my girlfriend and I got this with desert. I liked fortune cookies and they always gave me a laugh, until the side effects from this one kicked in...\n\nThe night continued on as usual and we went back home. We sat down and watched episode 10 season 6 of Game of Thrones. What a great episode. I really liked the part where Yoda helped Abaram Lincoln and Rick Grimes do the dishes. \n\nBut I could hear these faint voices when I opened my mouth and lay completely silent.\n\nAnyway the next day was okay, I felt a bit of nausea at work and left early.\n\nDay 1 - Subject 1675\n\nDay one inside organism. The human male appears to be fine and well adjusted. The fortune cookie message hasn't hindered our progress one bit\n\nWhat the hell? I'm not sure whose speaking but it sounds like it was coming from my chest?!?\n\nI thought nothing of it at the time but boy was I wrong.\n \nDay 2 - Subject 1675\n\nWe have set up our full base of operations here near his heart. We believe that we have strategic entry to the spinal column through a small microscopic incision behind the heart. This will lead our engineers straight up into the brain\n\nI had a seizure at work. It was horrible, I was at my desk one minute, next I was in the hospital hooked up to an IV. Apparently the doctor said I had passed out and knocked my head. \n\nDay 3 - Subject 1675\n\nThe human has outside forces inserting foreign objects into his arm and up his nostrils. Unsure of what this is at this stage. BAU.\n\nBAU I thought? What is going on?\n\nThe next few days were a blur however I remember bits and pieces. I was out of the hospital the next day and back in my house. My girlfriend had left to go to work and I had just loaded Netflix. Apparently I had left my house and walked to the store and just stood there in my robe staring at the produce.\n\nI remember none of this and was escorted home by police. They phoned my girlfriend who explained the situation and advised she would take the rest of the day off.\n\nSubjects \"girlfriend\" has been home for the last hour. Implement phase \"Full body control\"\n\nI felt my body being controlled as I headed into the kitchen and picked up the fridge with ease. I carried the fridge above my head and apparently threw it at my partner killing her instantly.\n\nI then proceeded to the next door neighbours car and threw it at the house across the road. \n\nI'm very scared now as I don't know what's going on, the voices haven't stopped and it sounds like they are busier than ever. I haven't been able to control anything other than my hands to post on reddit. \n\nPlease help, they are inside of me." ]	[ 1, 11 ]	[ "1467114240", "1467116007" ]
Edit: Well this took off better than I expected. We got all kinds of stuff here: romance, comedy, horror, twist endings, even a dab at poetry. I love it!	[WP] The main character just found out that their significant other is not only a shapeshifter, but also every person they've ever dated.	182	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Is that your reaction?\"\n\n-How do you expect me to react Jane? Or is it Carole?\n\n\"My name is Jah-Culle. I thought you would freak out.\"\n\n-Meh.\n\n\"Is that seriously your reaction!? I just told you we've actually been dating since you were 16 yeras old, and this is how you react!?\n\n-Yeah, why you still a bitch?\n\n\"Excuse me!?\"\n\n-You can shape shift into everyone, but you still haven't learned to stop being a bitch. You think with all your great powers, you can change your mind state too.\n\n\"Well...I can...but if I do, it really wouldn't be me anymore...and I only am the way I am to be able to change you! ou have so much potential!\"\n\n-Yaddah, yaddah, yaddah, I've heard it all before from...well you!\n\n\"I can't believe this is your reaction! You're such an asshole!\"\n\n-Well you obviously love me the way I am, I don't have to change...I've broken up with you about 10 times now?\n\n\"12....\"\n\n-Good. If you truly love me, change your mind to basically do everything I tell you.\n\n\"So you don't love me...at all...\"\n\n-Not if you don't change.\n\n\"ooookaaayyy....but only because I love you...\"\n\n-Stop crying. Now when will you change?\n\n\"It's already done.\n\n-Good. You can surprise me with a different person everyday, you know what I like. Now go make me a sandwich.\n\n\"Okay Billy. I love you...\"\n\n-Yep.", "\"Won't your wife get jealous,\" I whisper as I lean in to touch John's arm. \n\n\"Naw, she is the the jealous type,\" he smirks, knowing it's a lie. \"Anyways she'll never find out about us getting some drinks here and there.\" It's always the same with him. You would think pretty blond secretaries fell from trees as often as he tries to seduce them. \n\n-----------\n\n\"Honey, I'm home!\" Here he comes, the man of the century! Fresh from banging his assistant in the handicap stall of the bar bathroom. I actually barely made it home before him this time. Usually I get him to get me a drink when he tells me he needs to make it home for dinner and disappear, but this time I lingered. I guess because it's time. He deserves to know. \n\n\"Happy anniversary babe! Ten whole years married, it's a big one!\" Being Leslie the housewife is getting boring. I'm bored, he's bored, and nobody's happy, which is probably why he cheats. I lean in to give him a chase kiss. Nothing like what the buxom blond was just doing with her lips and tongue. \"I have a present for you.\"\n\n\"Oh, our anniversary, right, I mean, I remembered...\" He never remembers. \n\n\"I know you did honey, but let me give you your present first. It's going to be unforgettable!\" He looks nervous. \"Close your eyes,\" I whisper in his ear, reflecting how his assistant touched him earlier today. He complies, but is wringing his hands. I guess the countless women he has cheated on me with has been wearing on him. \n\nI take a step back, whirl around to change my shape into Ashlee the secretary, complete with sexy lingerie and fuck me heels. \"Ok, open!\" John's eyes pop open and he stumbles backwards. \n\n\"Oh, shit! You can't be here. Oh, shit\"\n\n\"Relax babe, it's me! Leslie.\" He's looking around bewildered. Maybe I shouldn't have sprung this on him. Maybe I should have just settled for a divorce and a new skin to walk around in, but this does seem more fun, and I'm desperate for some fun. \n\n\"What... What do you mean?\" \n\nUgh! Boring! \"Ok so long story short, I can shape shift, so looks like you have the two for one special!\" Crickets. Guess it's time to take it up a notch. I whirl around and now I'm Katie, the cute girl in HR. John starts crying. \n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" he starts babbling while tears start streaming down his face. \"I don't know how you know, and I don't know how you are doing this, but I'm sorry. It was only the two times. I swear. I love you and I'll never let it happen again. \n\n\"Oh silly man!\" I complete a series of turns. Whoosh, Jessica, whoosh, Abigail, whoosh, Emily, whoosh, Alexa, whoosh, Brittany. Feeling a bit dizzy I stop and stare at him. The man I would do anything for. He looks dumbfounded. \"I'm all of them. I know you love me. You have always loved me. You will always love me. I'm your person.\"\n\n\"But how...\"\n\n\"Well, when most girls go through puberty, they start their periods. I didn't get that, instead, I looked at a magazine enviously staring at all the pretty girls and all of a stuffed I was that girl. Remember when everyone thought you were dating then Guess model in high school.\" I shot him a dazzling smile as I twirled into my first transformation. \"Surprise!\"\n\n\"But there have been so many. You couldn't have been all of them.\" \n\n\"Actually I can. It only takes a spin and I'm someone new. I have been to every post football game party, every frat event, every class, every meeting, every bar, every date, every bathroom hookup,\" he blushed at that last one. \"Remember when you told me you loved me and that you wouldn't leave me when we were 18 and pregnant, well, I wasn't pregnant, and you left me anyways. I wasn't going to let you go so easily.\"\n\n\"They have had apartments, families, cars for Christ's sake! How could you manage all that?\" \n\n\"It's easy really. The families took some forethought. I actually had to make a friend and meet her family, then I would become her and poof instant family!\"\n\n\"But the money, Natasha only wore designer clothing, and Sarah had a Lexus and a killer apartment.\"\n\nLooks like he isn't as dumb as I thought. \"Killer being the main word there.\" I start to prowl across the room like a panther eyeing its prey. \"Do you know how easy it is to get close to someone when you have a different face? Of course you do,\" I smile, \"I've been close to you so many times. But that's not really the point. You can't get away, and I can't get caught if something happens to you. It's as easy as that!\"\n\nJohn looks like he is about to puke. \"Oh baby, don't worry! I'll love you forever, just like you have loved me.\" ", "\"You mean to say that you were Frank?\" \n\"And Bob and Jeff and Paul.\" \n\"And Rick and James and Christopher?\" \n\"My dear I was them all.\" \n\n\"But what about the barman in \nThe city with the hat?\" \n\"With I you've only ever been, \nI even am your cat.\" \n\n\"You mean to say that Mr Fluff...\" \n\"Is nothing but a fraud! \nAnd if that wasnt quite enough \nI'm also Mrs Ward.\" \n\n\"My neighbour too? But never did \nI take her 'tween my thighs.\" \n\"Though lovers leave you cannot rid \nA neighbour til they die!\" \n\n\"You awful fiend I cannot stand \nTo wait a minute more, \nI've sent a text and soon a man \nWill hammer down the door.\" \n\n\"Oh what is this? An SMS, \nMy phone it sings away. \nIt seems I've something to confess - \nYou couldn't guess it, pray?\" \n\n\"But surely no! It cannot be... \nI must be going mad.\" \n\"My lady, does it give me glee \nTo tell you I'm your dad!\" \n\n\"I'm sorry but I'm feeling ill.\" \n\"I thought you'd find it rough. \nI'll sweeten up the bitter pill - \nI'll shift to Mr Fluff.\"\n\n\n\n", "For the dozenth time, Alex stopped to check his reflection in the mirror. Average height and average weight with a modest drinker's gut, parted dark hair, a decent beard that had just received its weakly trim. He worried at it slightly. Had he trimmed it too much? Not much he could do about that now. He fiddled with his hair a bit, trying to get the lay right.\n\nYou're being ridiculous. He told himself, and forced his legs to continue on toward the little brewery where he and Monica had enjoyed their first date.\n\nThat had been eight months ago, and things were going well. Damned well, even, at least to his way of thinking. He'd never had much luck with women, and his dating history prior to her had consisted of a dozen short stints with various girls never lasting more than a month or two. Before he met Monica, he'd only ever managed to see two of them for a year or more and one of those had been all the way back in high school. Oh, he could meet the pretty ones easily enough; had in fact been with them almost exclusively, save for pudgy Jessica Higgins. But it always seemed to end the same way. She lost her cool in public one too many times, or she got needlessly jealous over one of his female friends or he quit as soon as things got tough. Yeah, Alex had a type alright: slim, leggy girls with a flair for the dramatic and a bizarre and unyielding devotion to him.\n\nBut then there was Monica, who'd been a breath of fresh air. She hadn't been controlling or smothering in the slightest. She was so low maintenance compared to the other girls he'd been with, always cool headed. Even their lovemaking was incredible, and she always seemed to know exactly how to please him. The last eight months with her had been a waking dream, and he'd finally begun to wonder if he'd found that fabled \"one\". \n\nAnd all that had come crashing down that morning when he'd gotten the dreaded \"We need to talk\" text from her. He pulled out his phone, checking it again, as though he would find some hidden meaning in this 700th reading that the previous 699 hadn't revealed. \"Meet me at Lou's. I have something important I need to discuss with you. Don't worry about the cost, I'll pick it up this time.\"\n\nHe sighed, checking his reflection, and decided that the only way to get through this was to grab the bull by the horns. After a whole day spent worrying about what he'd done wrong or whether there was some other man, the only recourse he had left was to walk into Lou's and deal with it like a man.\n\nHe found her in the beer garden sitting at one of the iron tables. She had a dark beer in front of her and had taken the liberty of ordering him a pint of something with a yellow, wheaty look. As ever, she was a vision of loveliness; peaches and cream skin with a braid of dark hair that fell to her waist and a lean build with long, shapely legs. She wore sandals today and a flowing white dress that hinted at her alluring shape without giving too much of it away.\n\nHer blue eyes turned to his as he approached, and her face lit up in a smile that put him slightly at ease. \n\n\"There you are! I was starting to think you were gonna stand me up.\" She said.\n\n\"Ugh...sorry about that.\" He said, \"Work caught me late.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh. You can't fool me, Alex Terry. You were nervous.\"\n\nHe blushed a little as he took his seat. She'd read him perfectly, as she often seemed to. He looked around the beer garden and found that they were mercifully alone there. On a such a beautiful Friday night, that was a small miracle.\n\n\"I don't blame you,\" She said quickly, \"There's nothing as infuriating as the whole 'we need to talk' thing. But I'm not here to break up with you. Just to come clean about some stuff.\"\n\nThe momentary relief he'd felt was quickly replaced by an uneasy rock in his stomach.\n\n\"You're not cheating on me, are you?\"\n\n\"No! In fact, I think it's safe to say I've never cheated on you in my life.\" She said.\n\nHe found that passing odd but ignored it. If she wasn't breaking up with him or announcing some foul relationship trouble, what could it be?\n\n\"Okay,\" He said, reaching out to take her hand. She returned the gesture with a smile, stroking his palm, \"What's going on then? You had me really worried.\" \n\n\"I'm sorry for that, really.\" She said apologetically, \"But I do have something to share with you and it is very important.\"\n\nShe took a deep breath before saying, \"I'm a shapeshifter.\"\n\nAlex blinked.\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"A shapeshifter. One who shifts her shape.\" She said, \"I can...well, I suppose it would be easier to show rather than tell.\"\n\nShe closed her eyes and focused on her power. Alex watched in astonishment as the pretty brunette in front of him shifted into a bikini clad, bronzed blonde straight off a post card for Santa Monica beach. She giggled at his gaped mouth reaction and stretched over the table to push his jaw closed. In another moment, she was herself again.\n\n\"I...that's incredible! How long have you been able to do it?\" He asked.\n\n\"The ability started to manifest when I turned 18. I found that every time I wanted a little belly fat to go away or my hair to change, it just...did.\" She said, \"And then I learned that I could change my clothes and we were off to the races.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you tell me sooner?\" He asked, \"Were you afraid I'd freak out or something? I think it's kind of awesome.\"\n\nA little rosy blush crept into her cheeks this time and she bit her lip.\n\n\"Weeeell, that's the other thing I needed to talk to you about. I'm afraid I have some other confessions to make.\"\n\n\"Okay...It can't get a whole lot weirder than that, could it?\" he asked, mind worrying at ways that it might be.\n\nShe sucked in air through her teeth.\n\n\"I guess there's no way to tell you this but to give it to you straight. You remember Jessica Higgins? Big girl that you dated for a couple years back in high school?\"\n\nHe remembered her all right. She'd been his first and only high school girlfriend. They'd gotten together when they were both 15 and hadn't broken up until she moved away just before their junior prom. But why would she bring...\n\nRecognition flared in his eyes. \"You? You're Jessica?\"\n\nHe felt a little dizzy. The entire fundamentals of this relationship had been based on a lie.\n\n\"Why on earth didn't you just tell me that to start? I wouldn't have been angry to see you again.\"\n\nShe looked away, unable to meet his eyes. \"Well...you're getting warmer.\" She said, \"But there's a little more to it. This isn't really even the second time we've dated.\"\n\nHis eyes went wide and his skin paled, \"How many?\" He asked, shakily.\n\nShe shifted uncomfortably, taking a quick glance at his face before casting her eyes into her beer again. \"Well...all of them.\" She admitted, a miserable sort of resignation in her voice.\n\n\"All of them?\" He asked, \"What do you mean all of them?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry!\" She said, grabbing his hand, \"But I'm, well...I'm kind of every girl you've ever dated.\"\n\nHe didn't pull his hand from hers, but he did slouch into his seat. Every girl he'd ever dated? It didn't seem possible. Yet even at a quick inventory, it made a lot of sense. Hadn't he had a very specific type? And hadn't most of his relationships ended in pretty much the same way? Still, it wasn't possible. There'd been too many.\n\n\"No way. You can't be.\" He protested, suddenly remembering, \"I met Jess-I mean, your family back in high school. That was a completely different family than Tina's.\"\n\nShe frowned, \"Tina...I really thought that one was going to work out.\" She shook her head, \"But those were all paid actors. Really just a paid family. They were a little weirded out but I named them a price for hosting you and they couldn't really refuse.\"\n\nThat had been a bit of a relief. He'd never liked them.\n\n\"But that's crazy. No one has that kind of money.\" He said.\n\n\"Oh, I do. Do you have any idea how easy it is to make money when you can do what I do?\" She said, \"Doubling for actresses, modelling...I've even got a guy who pays me to just morph into clothes he designs. Saves him millions over the year.\"\n\nHe shook his head, trying to get back to subject at hand.\n\n\"Is that how you tracked me? Paying to keep up.\"\n\n\"That and your social media stuff.\" She said, \"You really need to come up with some new passwords, babe. Most of the time, figuring out where you were was as easy as tapping into your Facebook.\"\n\nHe pulled away, rubbing his temples.\n\n\"Then the dating sites...\"\n\nShe giggled. \"A special favorite. It's like that scene from Mrs. Doubtfire where he switches the number and all Sally Fields gets is crazy chicks...\"\n\n\"I know the scene.\" He interrupted, \"Still, you can't be all off them. I barely even dated some of those girls. Like that one girl...\"\n\n\"Angela.\" She supplied, \"The busty one. Big boobs were such a mistake. You were kind of a moron on that date.\"\n\n\"I wasn't that bad!\" He protested before dropping his eyes, \"I guess I was kind of that bad. She never even called me back.\"\n\n\"I had to do something to let you know you screwed up. You wouldn't stop shifting. Or staring, for that matter.\" She said, \"You were so distracted that you tried to pay with for dinner with your driver's license.\"\n\nHe looked away uncomfortably. She couldn't possibly have been lying about that one.\n\n\"The artsy girl. Pamela. What about her?\" He said, \"She's nothing like...well...all the others.\"\n\n\"Yeah...might have hammed up the quirky bit much on that one.\" She admitted, \"I just got so caught up in the character, especially when I got into the paintings.\"\n\n", "I did it, I finally told him. I apologized for not telling him sooner.\n\nThe look on his face was bringing tears to my eyes. He looked as if I just simultaneously told him Santa wasn't real and his dog Happy didn't go to a farm to live happily ever after. It's such a morbid mix between bewilderment and betrayal. I wonder if Julius Caesar had a similar face when he spoke the words \"Et tu, Brute?\" As I stared at his face, I wished with all my might he could understand why I did what I did.\n\nI've only ever had two boyfriends. My first boyfriend Brad, was a total lunatic. On the surface, he was the perfect man. He was absolutely charming, with dark brown hair the color of oaken tables, and dark eyes to match. I loved his neatly groomed haircuts, and the 5 o'clock shadow he seemed to always perfectly trim. But despite how gorgeous he was on the surface, he had demons deep inside his heart.\n\nBehind closed doors, he was downright abusive. He spoke to me like he owned me, and told me daily how worthless I was. I hated his nickname for me, sweet cheeks. He always objectified me in front of others by calling me sweet cheeks, and smacking my ass. He verbally beat me into submission, to the point where I felt scared and hopeless and trapped. I fell into a depression, and I just went through the motions to try to appease him. I let him rape me sexually whenever he wanted, because it always improved his mood. Occasionally after sex, he'd let me go to my favorite little French café, where I'd have a cup of French vanilla cappuccino and some biscuits. It was the only time I ever felt alive during our relationship.\n\nOne cold chilly night, after I refused sex due to the gut wrenching pain from my period, he backhanded me across the face. It was the first time he physically assaulted me. It stung, and my face felt red hot, like it had been burned by the summer sun. I ran into the bathroom crying, and locked the door. In that moment, all I wanted was to escape and run away. I think my fear and desperation is what awoke my dormant shapeshifting powers.\n\nI shapeshifted for the first time. I became another woman. This was my salvation.\n\nI didn't shapeshift to lie, or to deceive. I shapeshifted for self preservation, to escape Brad. I shapeshifted out of necessity, and it became second nature. The worst I've done was shapeshift in a side aisle at Costco, to double back for a second sample. I never shapeshifted with any malicious intent, and it was the same when it came to John.\n\nAfter I escaped Brad, I stayed in an altered form constantly. I only ever returned to my original form to recharge for 10 minutes a day, before going back into hiding. I was mortified of going outside at first, but gradually realized Brad wouldn't even recognize me. I began to frequent my favorite little French café, and never saw Brad again.\n\nI'm glad I did, because that's actually where I met John. He was sitting alone with his short, beach blonde hair, and his scruffy facial hair. He had bright blue eyes, that looked like the ocean, and they were intently staring down into one of my favorite books. I saw him a few more times, before I asked him nervously if he was enjoying the Game of Thrones books. We chitchatted, and he seemed to know everything about me and we clicked instantly. We were soulmates, made for each other. I fell madly in love.\n\nThat's why I shapeshifted every time we broke up, and found him again. To fall in love with him again. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't live without him. We fought and broke up over the dumbest things. He would close off, but I always came back to him as another woman. Someone he'd find attractive, and someone he could open up to again. It was a vicious cycle, and he's loved me as four different women now.\n\nAnd then it hit me. That's a justification he would understand. The words formed in my head, and finally came out.\n\n\"John, I know I've deceived you, but I did it out of love. You've loved me as four different women. Isn't that proof enough that we're meant to be together? Doesn't that justify what I've done to preserve our love? You've fallen in love with me four separate times!\"\n\nHe looked at me, with a blank face, and a smile began to form at the corners of his lips. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly, I didn't recognize him anymore. The hair on his head and face started darkening, as he stared at me with cold threatening eyes.\n\n\"Oh I understand. And you've fallen in love with me twice now... Sweet cheeks.\"" ]	[ 1, 2, 5, 14, 36, 99 ]	[ "1467124226", "1467126034", "1467160994", "1467138412", "1467136713", "1467139216" ]
	[WP] Heaven is has a finite space. You've died and were a good person but there is no room in Heaven for you.	12	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Jeremy Kauffmann had, by and large, lived a good life. He had been a good father, or at least, he had stayed out of the way. He was always punctual, valuing others' time as much as his own, which is really a divine quality in a small businessman. He also made it to church most Sundays, certainly enough times to build up a nest egg in the collection bin that most folks wouldn't shake a stick at, assuming those folks were cautious with sticks.\n\nSo, when he collapsed into his oatmeal one day, the veins bursting through his head, Jeremy Kauffmann figured he was a shoe-in for Heaven.\n\nWhen he arrived at the pearly gates, he was greeted by St. Peter, who seemed very busy scribbling notes but still took the time to offer a wink and a smile. \"Ah, Jeremy Kauffman! We've been expecting you!\"\n\nJeremy smiled and gave a small wave, which made him feel humble, even though he was wholly unsurprised that St. Peter knew him by name. After all, Jeremy supervised several accountants at Kauffmann and Kauffman, LLP.\n\n\"Good morning, St. Peter.\"\n\n\"Oh good heavens, it's not morning here. Time works very oddly in Heaven, you see. Although rather unfortunately, your timing isn't really the best.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\nPeter frantically rearranged some parchment. \"Well, I'm afraid Heaven is at capacity.\"\n\n\"Capacity?\" Jeremy was confused, but he didn't want to offend Peter outright.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, we only have so much space up here. It wouldn't be a paradise if you had to wait too long at the cafeteria, you know.\"\n\nJeremy's eyes moved past Peter, and he squinted to see the glow between the big golden bars on the gates of heaven's beautiful wall. \"Of course, it may look like there's room,\" Peter interjected, as though hearing Jeremy's thoughts. \"But there isn't. You see, we have to hold spots for the people who are coming in soon.\"\n\n\"Whose coming in?\"\n\nPeter glanced down at the parchment and flicked the edge with his thumb. \"Well, the Pope is certainly getting up there. Two Popes, actually, the one fellow isn't dead yet. So, we have to hold plenty of space for them. Denzel Washington, he'll die pretty soon, between you and me, he's a revolutionary performer, but he has a weakness for cheeseburgers. So, he needs lots of space, because the Father really wants to discuss 'The Manchurian Candidate' with him.\"\n\nJeremy was trying not to look bitter, but he felt \"The Manchurian Candidate\" was a mediocre film. Certainly no better than \"The Taking of Pelham 123\".\n\n\"Then there's going to be a few more mass shootings, we have to send those folks in, just to make amends since most of shooters believe in, well, I don't think I have to tell you that part. It's a little silly, but of course, you know how politics work. And of course, Betty White, got to save a place for her. So, I'm afraid you'll have to go on the waiting list.\"\n\n\"How long will I have to be on the list?\"\n\nPeter smiled. \"The current estimated wait is 372,151 years.\"\n\n\"What!?\"\n\n\"I know, what a deal! What's 372,151 years compared to eternal paradise?\"\n\nJeremy sighed. \"So is the waiting list my only option?\"\n\n\"Well, if you're really itching to start the afterlife, you can try Hell. It's just down the street, although by the time you get there and get your name on the list, you may wish you had just stayed on this one. Time works very oddly in Heaven.\"\n\nJeremy Kauffmann knew he deserved to be in Heaven, but he also deserved to be valued. \"If Heaven doesn't care about me more than Betty White, maybe Hell will!\" he declared.\n\n\"Oh, I'm sure they will! They usually give a damn.\"\n\nSo Jeremy Kauffmann marched off to Hell, and was disappointed to find that he still needed to clear a waitlist (as Lucifer calmly explained, there were an awful lot of mass shootings coming up, and the shooters usually didn't survive those). However, since the waitlist was only 527 years, he decided to stick it out. As he sat in the waiting room, he couldn't help but feel like a lot of people were headed down the street into Heaven with beaming smiles. He wondered if the wait would have been worth it. Still, the 527 years in Hell's waiting room seemed to take forever, so he was happy to stick it out, even though he heard whispers from the other pending souls that the cafeteria was far too crowded, and that time in Heaven went oddly quick.", "\"Sorry, we're full up\", Saint Peter gave me the bad news.\n\n\"What do you mean full up?\"\n\n\"I mean heaven is full, so you can't go in\", he replied.\n\nI couldn't believe it, despite the odds I had believed in Jesus and remained faithful to my dying day, just to find out it was all for naught.\n\n\"I've been a pretty good Christian, surely there is someone in heaven worse than me, couldn't I take their place\"\n\nPeter looked at me with pity and replied, \"There was just before you said that, but now that display of pride and arrogance bumped you down just below the threshold\".\n\nAs he said those crippling words, he pulled a level and a trapdoor opened below me.\n\nAs I fell I vowed, \"I'll get you for this you fucking cunt!\"\n\nI landed... On soft ground... I was in front of Saint Peter and Pearly gates once more.\n\nPeter looked cross and said, \"Actually you were still above the threshold, but God wanted me to test you. That little display of cursing now actually landed you in hell\".\n\nWith defeat on my lips I uttered, \"How long has it been Satan?\"\n\nPeter took off his face revealing a devilish figure, \"Hehehe, we've been playing this game for 70 years, you've caught on to the game a few times now, but the dementia of hell took you back every time\"\n\nI felt sick, my vision started going blurry.\n\nI woke up, lying on a cloud, Saint Peter was holding me in his lap.\n\n\"Are you okay? You just passed out all of a sudden\"\n\n\"Saint Peter, is that you? Did I make it to heaven\"\n\n\"I'm sorry\", he replied, \"But we've just run out of room\".\n\n" ]	[ 1, 2, 6 ]	[ "1467154574", "1467167516", "1467155510" ]
[WP] You are a 911 dispatcher and only a little while after you get the job you get a call from your very own kidnapped son.	[WP] You are a 911 dispatcher and only a little while after you get the job you get a call from your very own kidnapped son.	12	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "(Any addresses mentioned in this are purely fictional for privacy purposes. Any actual matches are purely coincidental.)\n\nJust to clarify, I went a bit crazy with this one. Hope that's not too much of a problem. See replies to this post for the other parts. Enjoy!\n\n--\n\nPART ONE.\n\nIt had been a while now. It felt like a lot longer than 1 week, but time had already stopped moving for me. It stopped moving the moment he went missing. I'd heard not a single thing from anyone - neighbors, nothing. Friends, nothing. Family, nothing. Funnily enough, though, the first thing I could think about when it first happened was how happy I was to know that my late wife would never be able to feel the pain of losing someone she was so hopeful for, the person she loved with all her heart before she'd even seen his face, before she even felt the first tiny kick inside her.\n\nThe second thing I thought about was the danger that he was in, the sort of person he may have ended up with when I finally heard about the witness coming forward. A man, tall, bearded, middle-aged at best.\n\nThe third thing I thought about was so simple - It was his smile. That was what made me cry for two days, bound to my bed without any motivation to do anything. I had to take time off work, the job I'd only just gotten; I knew the hours were going to be rough. How couldn't they be? But I could afford to do it now, all because of Penelope. Or Penny, whichever came first. Penny was the name that my son addressed her as, but I called her both - all situation-dependent, of course.\n\nShe was my new girlfriend. I never thought I'd find love again - When I saw my wife's cold, dead eyes staring at me the night she gave birth, I thought that the concept of love had been torn straight from my heart, body, and soul, but somehow Penny, a bouncy, happy, and positive young woman, had helped bring it all back. It was because of her that I aimed for a job like this, that I decided to take on more hours; she was so good with my son that all my trust went to her. She was simply a teacher, an Elementary one at that, with a caring personality and a unique way of being able to understand people. She took care of my boy while I worked long hours - Or should I say our boy. He was just as much of a son to her now as he was to me, and she was already becoming a great mother.\n\nBut when he went missing, our world split in two.\n\nMy heart was destroyed. Hers was broken. She had to lock herself away for a couple of hours after she got the news - I knew she blamed herself. It was a simple afternoon after school, apparently, a warm and sunny day; she took him to the park so he could have a run around, play with the other kids, and get some ice cream from the same vendor that had worked that park for the past 20 years, going way back to when I was the same age as my son. The ice creams from that guy were always the best - a family favorite, in fact.\n\nPerhaps that's what lead him to be taken. The fucking ice cream. Usually we could give him the money and he'd happily wander off and get what he wanted. It was never a dangerous place, but the man who served the ice cream up was old, becoming frail, had failing vision and failing hearing. I suppose it all came together perfectly for whatever sick fuck wanted to lay his hands on our boy.\n\nA kid, on his own, getting his own ice cream, having to walk back, busy park... He could have easily gotten slightly lost among the amount of people, failed to spot Penny where she was sat - Or maybe he just made his way back towards the kids he'd met there. Maybe he didn't want to go back to Penny at all at that point, purely out of the desire to run around and play. Maybe that was what got him taken.\n\nBy the time anyone even noticed, it was too late. He was gone, and the only evidence we really found at the park was a puddle of melted caramel ice cream. His favorite. It was an experience I'd never wish on my worst enemy - Penny never called me during my work hours, but my heart sunk when she did. I knew that something was wrong as soon as I saw her name pop up on the screen, not even an hour after school had ended.\n\nHow she went back to work, I just don't know. By now, everyone knew what happened. How many kids asked her about it? How many parents came up and tried to offer her support that she didn't want? I rarely showed my face around the school as it was, but I'd still had a barrage of poor comfort and a lot of unwanted question. Penny had far more willpower than me.\n\nAnd that was evident as soon as I got back to work - Everyone stared at me, and as soon as I got to my station I had to break down again. After a week, I was convinced my son was dead; my relationship was in the process of falling apart, and I couldn't deal with my life anymore. I didn't want to wake up in the mornings, but as Penny said, I had to face the day. I had to work to take my mind off things - But that was impossible. She knew it was, but she was just trying to be supportive. When you raise a little person all alone for a little over seven years, you get more attached than some people can even begin to understand. The day I had that taken away from me was the first time my life ended. \n\nAt this point I didn't care. It had been three days since I'd showered, I hadn't shaved since he'd been taken, and the hours of work and the sometimes brutal requirements of the job didn't bother me any more. I'd heard stories of dispatchers having to piss into Mountain Dew bottles purely because they couldn't leave their station due to shortage of staff. The idea of that was heaven compared to what I was experiencing.\n\nI wouldn't lie and say there weren't points where I had hope, but they never lasted long. I gave up all hope when I realized just how big Fresno was, just how many places or basements he could be in, just how many fields he could have been dumped in. \n\nAnd I won't lie and say I never thought of suicide. Because I did. Multiple times.\n\nBut something made me hang on.\n\nIt had been an average day of answering calls - many of them were non-emergency, which still annoyed me despite my terrible misfortune in the recent days. I still wanted to save the lives of people who called, or even help control a situation a little more. I'd already heard some nasty shit on the phone, and I knew that over time this was really going to get to me. But at the minute, we needed the money. I wanted this job, and I was willing to stick at it until we had what we needed, what we wanted. I'd go somewhere else soon enough, but not now. I had to keep working.\n\nAt least that's what I said before my son went missing. Now, I was doing it only because Penny had said it would be best to. Call after call, I remained the way I was. Depressed, but still I found myself investing parts of me into the calls that came in - the teenage girl who called because someone was following her was easily the scariest one I'd experienced. She was far from home, and he'd been following her everywhere she went. I could only do so much. I stayed on the phone until help did indeed arrive, and once more, my life, for a very brief moment, felt as if it had purpose once again.\n\nMany of the calls I got as a dispatcher, I was forced to leave behind, to ignore, to act as if they never existed.\n\nBut there was one call... One call I'll never be able to forget.\n\n\"911, what is your emergency?\" I said, blankly. I could hear the rapid breathing of someone, someone who sounded like a child. The line wasn't very good - the phone didn't sound like anything fancy. It must have been something old, or damaged, because there was a continuous faint crackling. There was silence, then sobbing, and just as I was about to speak again, I heard something that made my heart fall to the pit of my stomach, and made all the color drain from my face.\n\n\"D-Daddy?\"" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1467173721", "1467227657" ]
	[WP] You woke up one morning, and find that everyone is missing. After years of searching for clues and messages, you have yet to find anyone...	15	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "1408.\n\nThose weathered, bronze numbers on her apartment door was the last thing I can remember of her. It was the last day of our relationship, and the last day I thought I was going to be a father. It just also happened to be the last day I saw anyone. \n\nIt's been years since that day. That fateful morning when I thought that traffic was unusually light. The same morning when I thought I came to work during a holiday. The same morning where I realized I was alone. \n\nI was so foolish back then, rushing back to her apartment, praying to God that her front doors and windows weren't open like all the other buildings and houses. So foolish just kneeling there in her bedroom, seeing all those windows open, and just crying my eyes out for what seemed like hours. \n\nThings are different now. This new world has no place for a paper pushing coward who'd abandon ship at the first sign of inconvenience. All those years, sitting in a classroom, learning useless information about referendums and political maneuvering? Useless. Keeping busy and staying sane are the keys to survival now. \n\nOddly enough, one of my best tools is my trusty can opener. The same event that apparently caused everyone to disappear, also happened to leave every door unlocked and unsecured. The world was my oyster, and I could have walked right into Fort Knox, if I so desired. But traveling the world ceased to be a priority for me. I stayed in my familiar surroundings, and most of my trespassing was primarily motivated by my hunger. And, after all this time, canned food is really the only edible substance, outside of foraging in the wild. \n\nWhen I wasn't stuffing my face with a can of cold beans, I was searching. I'd borrow a car from one of the many abandoned houses (you'd be surprised how many people leave their keys by the front door) and just drive as far as I could, in search of something... anything that could tell me what the hell just happened. Almost always, I came back empty handed to my old, familiar, abandoned, town. I say almost, because there's one oddity in this new world that I just can't yet explain.\n\nWhen I say that all the doors in the world were unlocked during the day everyone disappeared, I really meant to say that all 'man-made' doors were unlocked. It's kind of hard to describe, but whenever I go out in search for clues, in rare occasions there's a door. It looks like a man-made door, but it obviously isn't. It can be of various styles, and various colors but its almost always the same size. \n\nThe reason I say that it obviously isn't man-made is because this door just exists in places that have no business having a door. It'd be in the middle of a forest, or on the center of a football field, or just hovering ever-so-slightly at the edge of a cliff. And they're never there for long. On several occasions, they'd just disappear the second i laid my eyes off them. The one time I managed to gather the courage to try to open one of these fake-doors. It ended up being locked. Which is good enough for me, I didn't really have this dying urge to see what's on the other side.\n\nBut today was different. 1408. The same door that belonged to my ex-girlfriend. A completely ordinary, boring door, that would be so if it was located inside an apartment building, was standing right there in the middle of a lake. I normally would've glanced over it by now if it wasn't for those familiar numbers but there was something else about it that I wouldn't have noticed from so far away. When I took one of the lakeside boats to it, I found out that this door, was ajar. \n\nIt seemed like forever, pondering whether I should see what's on the other side of this ordinary-yet-alien door, but in the end, my curiosity and my loneliness got the better of me. \n\nI swung open the door...", "I'm tempted to draw parallels to the old comics I read as a kid. Last Man on Earth. Indeed.\n\nWhat. A. Crock.\n\nNononono. Not the last man on earth. The last anything that moves on its own power. Plants? Yeah, there's lots of those.\n\nIt's not been easy. First, and most important. It turns out that there are a lot of critical systems out there that needed constant monitoring to keep them from going completely haywire and causing a lot of damage. Without anyone around that's what they did.\n\nI've always been a loner, and despite my worries, the first few days weren't so bad. I played some games on my computer, since I lived in a hydropower area, and with no one else using it, that meant a lot of free electricity. I ate some food, but after a few days, the internet started getting strange. \n\nMy old forums were, obviously, silent. It was eerie. Then I started running low on certain foods, and stepped outside. That's when I realized just how much of what happens in the world depends on people and animals. \n\nFood has never been a problem--most of our canned goods have expiration dates that are absurdly short. In truth, most of that stuff is good for decades. And since the electricity was still on, frozen stuff lasted a good long time. But I realized that unless I could either figure out where the people were or how to keep the electrons flowing, I was basically screwed. Fortunately, with no one to stop me, getting access to the dam was easy, if annoying.\n\nFirst time, I drove down there only to realize that the doors were locked. Predictably, I suppose, but then I had to go back to the hardware store and grab a few tools to get in. Once in, it's amazing how well somethings are documented about routine maintenance procedures. I knew even then, though, that keeping that going would eventually require repairs. I spent a lot of time figuring out what supplies I would need for that when it happened, and how I might get them. \n\nAll that really did, though, was delay me on the hunt for others. I had no idea what worldwide communications were like, but I decided that two things might work. I found out which websites were still working--many went dark as various payments failed or server farms lost their power, but there were enough to give me some hope. \n\nAfter two months, I broke into a records office and found a list of registered HAM radio operators in town. I stole their equipment. I started broadcasting on a five hour rotation. Long enough gaps to let me get stuff done, like sleep, but guaranteed to get me broadcasting at different times each day. \n\nFive years after Vanishing Day (as I called it), I'd exhausted several key supplies. First, there was no more beer in town, and I was going to have to move on to the harder stuff, which I realized was likely a bad plan. Next, with pretty much all of the internet now gone, I was reduced to whatever mags were in the local shops for my supply of erotica. And I was getting pretty tired of that stuff. Finally, I was starting to run low on information. The local library had a lot of books that I didn't need, and depressingly few that were helpful. \n\nThat had been a first move, actually. To sort the library into books that were going to help me survive or find the other people and books that were either useless or not likely to help. Of course, the book I needed probably didn't exist--\"What to do if you are the only man left on the planet to find where all the people are.\"\n\nI figured the smart thing would be to do a drive around the country, using the electric pump i'd found and fashioned up to pull gas out of the giant tanks underground, but then I realized there was nothing other than my ignorance stopping me from hopping up to the local airport and taking a plane up. \n\nSo I spent about a month reading up on how to fly a small plane. Then another month figuring out how to do all the maintenance when various key pieces of infrastructure weren't working all that well. Then another month just taxiing around the tarmac, trying to get up the nerve to actually take off. \n\nThat first flight was scary. Bad scary. Almost as bad as the first flight over the Pacific. I knew that eventually I'd run out of jet fuel, but airports, as it turns out, have pretty good stocks of the stuff. Back when hundreds of planes came through with full loads, those stocks might have lasted only a day or so, but for a single plane flying all over the world? Yeah, I had a nice supply. \n\nGetting to it was tricky, but not impossible. Most of the security systems relied on alarms to bring other humans around. Annoying noises and nothing else, now. I did keep a gun and plenty of ammo on hand, though. No sense in tempting fate. Because I've had a suspicion that if I do find other people, they are quite possibly going to be just as paranoid as I am. I won't shoot first, but if they do shoot at me? They'll be dead.\n\nI spent the next ten years flying around the world, systematically covering every conceivable place to search for human life. Eventually, though, I've given up.\n\nI have a nice garden now. I've acquired a sizeable set of equipment that I use sparingly. I sometimes go on longer hauls to acquire various items. It's not usually worth the effort, but I do it anyway.\n\nI've never found a clue. Nothing to say what or why. Not the slightest hint of anything. Today though, I do have a question. And I'm scared. Because when I woke up, there was a note on my front door. All it said was, \"Hurry up, we're waiting for you to join us.\"\n\n" ]	[ 1, 6, 14 ]	[ "1467227275", "1467235940", "1467233871" ]
[removed]	[WP]Miles away from the lilac scented meadow	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\nPreviously written content. \n\n[OT] posts are not for complaints about subreddit content. Be the change you wish to see in the subreddit, post the type of prompts you wish to see more of. \n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators.\n\n---\n\n[Link to the removed post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4qicbr/wpmiles_away_from_the_lilac_scented_meadow/)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1467239336", "1467239748" ]
	[WP] The day everything went right.	6	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I was peering into the display case when a store assistant came up to ask me if I needed a hand. I turned to the young man and said with a smile “yeah, can I take a look at those” as I pointed to a set of Sony headphones retailing for nearly $400. Usually such a price would be out of reach, but heck, today I deserved them. I just got a brand new iPod and almost a grand in cash. Today was shaping up to be a pretty excellent day. After trying about 10 different keys that hung off of a giant ring, the kid slid the display window open. Just as he was reaching to grab me the headphones somebody called out his name. \n\n\n“Be right back” he said while looking in the direction where his co-worker was frantically waving him over. I looked back and forth between the employee and the boxes of headphones that now lay within my grasp. With the ease and confidence that only comes with experience, I slipped off my backpack and casually transferred the boxes from the shelf into my bag. The trick is not too move fast, even if your legs are screaming for you to run and the hairs on your neck prickle as if you’re being watched. After my bag was fattened up with hundreds of dollars worth of merchandise I stole one final glance at the back of the assistant who had helped me. “God bless you” I whispered. \n\n\nAs I walked of out the main entrance of the store (which didn’t beep, by the way) a rather plump woman power walked past me, clearly on a mission. Behind her she left the most beautiful corvette I had ever seen, just sitting there with the engine running. It was surely a sign, as the best chop shop in town was only a 10 minute drive from here. It will be sad to see this baby disassembled, but the money will dry my tears. I’ll just have to be sure to take the long route to the garage, enjoy the ride. I opened the car door, relaxed into the leather seat, and shifted the gear into drive. Everything was going just right today. Of course my best days mean somebody else’s worse, but hey that’s just the cycle of life. \n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1467244524", "1467254873" ]
	[WP] You go to an oral surgeon for a major procedure. You agree to be put under for it. You couldn’t have known this doctor's anesthesia literally brings people under, into a different world.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The hardest part was watching the world above.\n\nI fell away as the pretty, young dental assistant counted down.\n\n\"10, 9, 8, 7...\"\n\nI knew I was going, because 6 followed slowly, softly, the way a friend sounds as they shout to you across a field.\n\nand then, actual falling. it was smooth, like stone diving to the seafloor, but all at once I looked up and saw the world from below. I saw the light dim around me, everything turned to an inky, palpable black... and then even the black faded away.\n\n\"what's going on?\", I thought. I tried to speak, but my body wouldn't respond. I tried to take a step, but the world said \"no\". I stayed rooted to the spot. the center of the map.\n\nand then, in the way that vines grow across chain fences...colors and shapes came back. \"bright,\" I thought. and bright it was.\n\nI looked up for the sun.\nit wasn't there.\nI kept looking, higher and higher. still no sign of it. where was the light coming from?\n\nI saw the whole in the sky that I fell through. radiating outward, the black and the blue blended together like two rivers meeting. there was no sun. a black hole in the sky. and a blue dome all the way from that black eye, to the ground.\n\nnothing made sense.\n\nI saw a hedgerow on one side. a few trees in a ring. knee-high grass all around. and a single mountain in the distance. \n\nat this point, I was sure it was just the drug. I started to wonder about those trees and found myself walking towards them. \n\nhuh. that's weird.\n\nthere was nothing in that circle of trees. nothing in the branches, not even streams of sunlight.\n\nI stayed where I was. as I was. I knew no movement, I knew no calamity. I stayed for hours. just catching my breath.\n\nI tried to stand up. nothing doing. I tried to move. goose egg. then, as suddenly as I thought about that mountain, I was running that way. no fatigue. no drumbeat underfoot. I came to another clearing. and heard the first sound in quite some time. stretched out, elongated, hanging like a weight on a cord.\n\n\"...Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive...\"" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1467297297", "1467310561" ]
	[WP] "Every gleaming utopia has been built on a pile of doomsday weapons."	8	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hey there everyone, do you want to get in on the great new housing trend? Well we have something new and amazing just for you. It's entirely self sufficient, located in the beautiful American heartland, offers complete security and the best privacy money can buy! Now that we've hit world peace we don't need these missile silos anymore and now they can be yours! All the electrical, plumbing, and security are all up to date! These silos will pass all code checks, protect you from all inclement weather and have the best back up systems anyone could possibly ask for. Now I know what you're thinking, what about all the radiation from those big bad nuclear missiles and I'm here to tell you to worry no more! The missiles were perfectly sealed and all possible exposed surfaces have been well scrubbed for your protection. There's built in satellite, short wave and broad band communication systems already installed that can handle a hundred times the standard civilian use. For the money you could spend on a two story mini mansion you can get ten stories of the ultimate security!! There's a limited amount of silos available all priced to sell and ready for you!!", "\"My report is on guns,\" mumbled Rosa Reiner. \n\n\"Speak up a bit, dear,\" said Ms. Fleming from the back of the classroom. \"Nice and loud so we can all hear you.\"\n\nIt was nearly summer and the day was especially bright and blue. Reg Thon stared out the window, only half listening.\n\n\"Guns are ancient projectile weapons,\" said Rosa, a bit louder. \"They were basically a steel barrel and you put a projectile in - those were called bullets - and when you...you activated the firing mechanism, there was a small explosion and the bullet went flying out.\"\n\n\"Oooh,\" said Ms. Fleming. \"Very interesting. So the bullet went out and then what?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Rosa, flipping haphazardly through her notes. \"Well, the bullet came out and went very fast and then it would hit like a person or a wall or something. And the old guns weren't very good, because they only did one or two bullets, but then the later guns did more bullets and more faster.\"\n\nWally Gustor shook his head and rolled his eyes. \"Dumb dumb dumb,\" he whispered to Reg, though Reg wasn't really listening.\n\n\"But what did the bullets do?\" prompted Ms. Fleming, shooting Wally a meaningful look.\n\n\"They would go into people and explode,\" said Rosa, mimicking a small explosion with her hands. \"The little metal bits would go pooooooooo. And then they died.\"\n\n\"They died?\" said Ms. Fleming.\n\nRosa nodded.\n\n\"Did they do anything before they died?\"\n\nRosa's eyes widened in sudden remembrance. \"Yes. They bled. And sometimes...sometimes things would fall out. Like brains. Or their stomach or something. Depending where the bullet went.\" \n\n\"Sounds pretty messy,\" said Ms. Fleming with a smile. Ellis Gordon and Mindy Wyn both laughed, but they were doing it mostly because they thought they were supposed to.\n\n\"People were dumb back then,\" said Wally.\n\n\"No,\" said Ms. Fleming. \"That's just what they knew.\"\n\n\"So they hit each other with little balls of metal that exploded,\" said Reg, turning away from the window. \"And then they all bled all over the place and died with their guts everywhere?\"\n\nMs. Fleming nodded and shrugged. \"It was a different time.\"\n\n\"Did everybody have guns?\" asked Mindy.\n\n\"Not at first,\" said Rosa, excited to know the answer. \"First just army people had them. They fought wars with guns. But then regular people wanted them, too. It was a whole thing. People wanted guns. Other people didn't want those people to have guns. But then bad people had guns and they shot all these regular people who didn't have guns and everyone was mad with everyone.\"\n\n\"So who had guns?\" asked Reg.\n\n\"Well,\" said Rosa. \"Well, see, the bad people had guns. So then the good people all got guns, too. And then everyone had guns. So the good people could stop the bad people.\"\n\n\"I guess that makes sense,\" said Wally, though his face was still a bit twisted up in confusion.\n\n\"This part's very interesting, though,\" said Ms. Fleming. \"It's why I gave you this assignment, Rosa. What happened next?\"\n\nRosa took a breath. \"Well...everyone had guns, I guess. But then the bad guys got like...better guns? So everyone had to get better guns.\"\n\n\"Automatic weapons\" said Ms. Fleming. \"Sorry. Go on.\"\n\n\"So everyone had...automaddic weapons...and the good people could shoot the bad people just as good. But then the bad people made high concentration laser guns and those could just cut through people like...\" Rosa tried to snap her fingers, but could only produce a dry rubbing sound. \"So everybody got a laser gun.\"\n\n\"I know where this is going,\" muttered Reg. Ms. Fleming shushed him without looking.\n\n\"So then the bad people started using pulse cannons and defensive beam fields,\" said Rosa. \"Of course, good people got those, too, to be safer. I think that's when they started to do the...the air thing?\" She looked to Ms. Fleming.\n\n\"Biochemical weapons,\" said Ms. Fleming. \"Yes, that's when that started.\"\n\n\"So that's when people all started getting our tracheal implants, because of that. So we could still breath even with all the bad stuff in the air everywhere. And then after that...I think that's when we all got mech suits?\" Ms. Fleming nodded. \"Right, we all got nuclear-powered mech suits and our bionic sighting eyes with neural processing upgrades.\"\n\nRosa sagged slightly in her towering, steel polymer mech suit. \"I think that's it. Did I miss anything?\"\n\nMs. Fleming beamed. \"No, you did a marvelous job. Everyone give Rosa a hand.\"\n\nAnd the classroom was then filled with a cacophonous clatter, as 30 pairs of giant metal hands with optional rocket fingers all clapped as one. ", "\"It's just a piece of metal, Alain.\" I said to him. \n\n\"MY FRIEND! Are you going to listen to me or are you going to question me EVERY step of the way?!\" Alain said back to me, he wasn't always the easiest to communicate with but the man was my business partner for thirty years, I can't just ignore him, \n\n\"Go ahead.\" \n\n\"Can I PLEASE explain this how I want too? Promise you won't say a word unless I ask?\" Alain sounded excited and he made me fly in from Swaziland to hear it, so I figured, what the hell. Let the man have his joy.\n\n\"I promise.\" \n\n\"Okay great. So, let's start at the beginning. Some caveman picked up an exceptionally heavy stone and became the strongest one in the tribe. Another caveman came in and picked up a long stick and used some roots to make a hammer, or something. I'm not a historian Johnny, stop pushing me!\" He said as he moved to his desk, taking out some papers. I gestured that my mouth was sealed but I couldn't help but laugh. \n\n\"Anyway. Then, we fast forward. Arrows, with arrows came shields, with shields came the cataphracts. See where I'm going with this? Ah you're too young to have taken history in school Johnny, you're too young!\" Alain said, getting agitated and tugging at the few remaining hairs he did have on his head. \n\n\"Jesus Christ, Alain, I know what a damn cataphract is. Just continue!\" I was getting excited to see where he was going with this. \n\n\"ANYWAY! Then we got to an explosion of military arsenals. We had the Klashinkov! We had tanks! We had aircrafts!\" He said and paused for a second, taking out a fountain pen. He also scanned his file for a piece of paper, once taken out, was shown to be a sketch of an airplane. He draws a few lines next to it and turns to me with the biggest, widest eyes I'v ever seen. They were bloodshot, as they always were when Alain decided to work on something.\n\n\"Johnny! What ruined the aircraft, Johnny? What did them in?\" He asked, the calmest he'd been since he started talking.\n\n\"Fuel prices?\" \n\n\"Anti-aircraft defenses! Anti-aircraft defenses! They were bloody genius! It pushed fighter planes places they never could've been without them! They found their shields, but afterwards, we worked on bombs. Big bombs! Rockets! Missiles! Anyway, anyway, anyway...We had the nuclear bomb and things were going completely great! Hiroshima made the world too scared to go to war again, remember? What's the problem with the threat of mutual destruction though?\" He had slowly traveled from madly screaming to a crawling whisper. I slowly began to see where he was going, and it wasn't somewhere pretty. I decided to humor him, this part I had actually studied in university.\n\n\"All it takes is for one party to be desperate.\" I replied to him, my voice shocking him back to awareness. \n\n\"YOU'RE ON THE MONEY, JOHNNY. YOU'RE SITTING ON THE FUCKING MONEY, JOHNNY! ONE. DESPERATE. PARTY. Now, Johnny. When the Kingdom of France won the third world war, what lead to their victory?\" He asked me, holding his breath.\n\n\"The satellites.\" I replied.\n\n\"What did the satellites do?\" He asked me.\n\n\"I don't know the specifics, I'm not a fucking scientist, Alain. Just continue.\" I asked, getting impatient.\n\n\"They pinpointed key locations and personnel in the war. Tranqthuliom, new form of energy harnessed, just like that. A beam of energy that supplies this entire fucking world a thousand times over. What did they do with this energy? Militarize it, of course! It shot down 53 presidents in a quarter of a second! They did that just to show off their accuracy! They burned down Berlin! New York! Toronto! Just to show that they could!\" He said. \n\n\"That's right...Before they took over, a lot of war happened. A lot of people died, Alain. Get to your point.\" Alain was starting to look less eccentric and more crazed, even to me. \n\n\"What's my point? WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT'S MY POINT? Come with me, Alain! Come!\" He grabs my shirt and pulls me to his balcony. From there, we overlooked the capital of Marseille III, formerly Abuja. The grand city of gold, the hub of trade and commerce in Africa. What was once a developing country turned into a paradise in 10 years. I was around when Nigeria decided to join the Kingdom, I was here when the Kingdom decided to enlighten the people who lived here. Majestic skyscrapers littering the horizon, it was a true beauty to see. \n\nAlain was too close to the railing, half of him hanging over, he was laughing. \n\n\"Johnny! How did we get rich, Johnny?\" He asked me as he pulled himself back up. \n\n\"We found ways to recycle weapons Alain. To strip the countries that joined the Kingdom. Where are you going with this?\" I asked, now, he had me in a frenzy. I found myself almost screaming at him.\n\n\"ALAIN, WE SCRAPPED THE METAL, NO NEED TO MAKE IT GLAMOROUS. Now! We know the Kingdoms power. We know it. We had the opportunity to study our entire lives and in the Kingdom, our money means nothing! We just have a larger stretch of land to sit around and do nothing in! Now, Johnny. What did the Phoenicians have?\" He asks, not waiting for an answer.\n\n\"Ships! Carthaginians had elephants! THEN! America had the atom bomb and now the Kingdom has Tranqthuliom! All of them, dominant at some point! Something has to tip the balance! I know it, Johnny, I know it! Something has to counter-act the dominance before something else replaces it!\" He pulls me back to that stretch of metal, like a poorly shaped dagger. \n\n\"Alain, you're sounding insane, have you told this to anyone else? What's come into you?\" I asked, I couldn't let my partner get executed for conspiring. I didn't even know why he would want to conspire.\n\nHe picked up the metal, and spun it. It remained spinning in the air, just levitating and spinning. Faster and faster. It silenced me.\n\n\"I found them in Chile, a group of metal just spinning and spinning. No one knew why, but I did. I did, Johnny. The waves, someone somewhere has to speak to those...satellites. Right, Johnny? I started researching, and the damage in Toronto wasn't equal Johnny. It wasn't distributed equally. This blocks some of the Tranqthuliom gushing in. It stops the waves from reaching us. We can do it, Johnny. We can TIP THE BALANCE! PUSH THE WORLD INTO ANOTHER NEW AGE! WE CAN-...\" He stops speaking suddenly. \n\nHe runs to his desk and pulls out his passport and a bag of rocks.\n\n\"We're going to Chile tomorrow with our old team...the Kingdom is showing the rest of the world some mercy. They're going to try to enlighten Chile next, and we're part of that movement, Johnny. We're geologists now.\" He said quietly. \n\nThe old man made us anything but geologists." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 8 ]	[ "1467336534", "1467337088", "1467339734", "1467339676" ]
	[WP] Believing that it is impossible to travel faster than the speed of light, humans have sent an arch occupied by millions of people to a 700 years travel for the nearest habitable system. It has been 500 years, and you just built the first working hyperspace travel engine.	68	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I remember being a boy and reading about the heroes of the 21st century. Their fervor resonated through the ages—a beacon of our ultimate, united fate. Wars stopped after that fateful launch day. Forever...\n\nCaptain Darren \"Star-born\" Crawford was the legendary man who made it all happen. The economic system of old was pretty complex, even by today's standards, so very few people even understand how it really worked. Unfortunately, a large portion of Old Earth's documents have not been decipherable due to hyperencryption policies of the mid 21st century, making the situation even more complex. From what we know, though, Captain Crawford was able to convince several large space conglomerates to back his call to deep space colonization. \n\nBy the mid 21st century, humans had already accomplished the astonishing feat of extraterrestrial colonization on both the Moon and Mars. Crawford pushed to the stars so intensely he earned the nickname \"Star-Born.\" \n\nFive hundred years ago on January 1, 2063, Captain Star-born lead an ark of a million men and a million women on the fabled Lady of the Black. The ship was bold, striking, and utterly massive. It was essentially a flying city, but driven purely by the impressive Anti-Grav drives developed for the project. \n\nFollowing remarkable experiments performed by a multinational team of scientists, they discovered how to unwrap space time and \"push\" off gravitational field lines. Well...it is much more complex than that, but with that they were able to safely propel themselves into the black as softly as a lady's embrace, as it was said. \n\nThey are still out there, on route to the Alpha Centauri system. They are still about two hundred years away with current estimates, but all that is about to change...\n\nAs a Fellow of the Galactic Engineers Cooperative, I have the unique privilege of having my own private laboratory to conduct experiments to my liking. Honestly, that's how they phrased it! Using the fact that space could be unwrapped, I conducted experiments to unwrap photonic exchanges between other forms of energy, in particular, matter itself. The results were astonishing. When unwrapped, the space simply vanished, and one object essentially teleported to the other, with zero contact force other than gravity, which could then be made null. \n\nIn effect, I had discovered some form of instantaneous travel, and I quickly published my findings. The response was tremendous. Ships were fitted with drives capable of creating virtual point masses to warp to, taking space and exploration to a new height. \n\nFor a long time, we didn't know if we should make physical contact with either the Lady of the Black or Alpha Centauri. We feared that they might see it as a wasted purpose and seek to destroy themselves or us, for that matter. But we had to tell them their journey could end quickly. \n\nWe fitted our best ships in the fleet to carry the mission out. They dutifully warped for days to find them, taking the time to properly inspect the Great Black. On the seventh day, the fleet located the remains of the Lady of the Black, her body shattered and her crew surrounding. There were countless dead littering the site. \n\nAfter the initial shock of the discovery, the fleet investigated the remains and collected several occupied life pods, with most of them occupied with more of the fateless dead. There were just a handful of survivors. \n\nThey spoke of a great alien fleet that fronted them, taking them by surprise. They were sent a message that was decrypted before their annihilation:\n\nYou have gone too far. \n\nEdit A word" ]	[ 1, 50 ]	[ "1467340367", "1467348634" ]
	[WP] Write a story ending with: He was the quack whom I had to duck.	7	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I'm in a foul mood. My career is treading water over here. Some sort of loon of a psychologist is claiming they stumbled onto a connection between mental health, seared meats, and toasted breads or some shit, mallard reaction he called it. Thinks its going to be the next big fad diet, wants to get his half-cocked ideas published, and isn't taking no for an answer. We crossed over once before when I had been sent out to get some cheap experts to pen chapters in an encyclopedia of all blooming flowers, there was talk about getting the whole Jungian archetype stuff, flower symbolism, the relation of flowers to human psychology, smart sounding shit to pad it out for the yokels. Guy was just too sensitive, every little note and he would just start crack up, full on tortured genius missing the genius. Had to walk on eggshells for work that wasn't even up to our lax standards. So I had the unpheasant job of telling him it was over. Weirdly I think he saw it as \"powers beyond my control are taking this chance away to work together\", so he didn't squabble. As far as he figured I was suffering with him, birds of a feather and all that. So somehow after a terrible experience working with him, after firing him, its all just water off a duck's back and he thinks of me as an ally. So now that he thinks he's got a golden goose he keeps trying to catch me around town and trap me into taking a few shots at the bar. \n\nSo listen, I'm begging you here, for old time's sake your career is going great, just dive on this one for me. Just tell this guy you're interested, make him think you're willing to poach this rotten egg. Just tie him up for a couple months, sell him a bill of goods. My great and eternal thanks will be yours. Just please help me to duck this quack. " ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1467352177", "1467352291" ]
	[WP] You are trapped in a room with a box labelled 'Do Not Open'	12	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "It had the words 'Do not open' branded on it's surface. Despite this the lid was held down by only a small latch. Anyone who wished to open the box easily could, provided they had fingers of course. \n\nI stood staring at it for a few seconds, wondering why it should remain closed but with such little security. The clear instructions and almost contradictory latch seemed to test the very nature of humanity. To go beyond limits, to discover, our curiosity has been our weapon and our tool for centuries. Then why must I ignore it now? \n\nIt was after about 2 minutes I decided that if it seriously posed some sort of threat, or needed to remain closed at all costs it would surely be secured with some sort of lock, or put in a safe.\n\nI slowly lifted the latch, it readily clicked open as if to reassure me that I'd made the right decision. \n\nI paused, took a deep breath and lifted the lid. \n\nIt was....it was empty. Huh. I began to wonder whether it ever held anything, whether it was intended to but never allowed to fill it's purpose for whatever reason. I suppose I'll never know.\nSo with that I lowered the lid, clicked the latch back into place, and I left.\n", "The room was empty - \n\nsave for the box.\n\nsave for the clock.\n\nsave for me. \n\n\n\n\nThe box was empty - \n\nsave for the room.\n\nsave for a box.\n\nsave for the clock.\n\nsave for me.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ", "You're in an empty, blank room, with the exception of a small, patterned wooden box with an inscription on it reading, \"Do not open.\" \n\nYou stare at the intricate little box with the elegant script. You run your fingers down the designs and let your hands find their way to the simple gold latch in the front. You flip it open and shut, without letting the lid itself move an inch. \n\nFrustrated, you move away from the box. You understand the directions perfectly, but not the reasoning behind them. Why would anyone leave anything of importance alone with only you to guard? \n\nFinally, you let your curiosity get the best of you, and you run over and snatch it. The lid lifts, and at first you see nothing inside. You sigh, disappointed that there's no jewels or gold, or anything of importance. But seconds later, you feel a horrible pain. Things you never knew existed started inflicting themselves around and upon you such as disease, hunger, famine, hardships. \n\nHurriedly you slam the lid shut, but something slams against the sides of box, begging to be released. You move away from it, crying, deciding never to let your curiosity get the best of you again. \n\nAfter a while, the pain becomes more tolerable. You realize you're getting better, but you're forced to stay in the room, listening to the cries of whatever small creature was entrapped in there. She says her name is Hope, and she can heal all your wounds and your pain for good, only if you let her go. \n\nTrembling, you find your way back over to the box. It seemed like such an easy solution, a quick fix to all of your pain and your hardships. That was, if she was honest. You run your fingers over the latch once more, before flinching away as if it had stung you. \n\nYou decide you don't want to release Hope, in case she flies away like all the others. You let the idea sink in. You don't want to lose hope. It could be just as destructive as it was releasing the others. \n\nSo you find your place back against the wall once more, still trapped in the room. You listen to Hope's pleading and begging with a stubborn heart. You won't lose Hope. \n\nYou manage to keep this resolve for most of your life, and Hope's cries to be released dim over time until one day they silence completely. You close your eyes, relieved for the silence and peace that you'd been missing, and you wonder what will happen to you now. \n\nYou realize your room is very similar to the inside of the box you opened once, a long time ago. You look at the empty space around you, and then toward the lines where the ceiling and the walls meet. You start to ponder the absurdity of the idea that you were trapped in a box as well, when a fleeting idea comes to mind. Was it possible that you had become Hope?", "Do not open.\n\nDo NOT open.\n\nDo not OPEN.\n\nDO not open.\n\nDO NOT open.\n\nDo NOT OPEN.\n\nDO not OPEN.\n\nThe last one almost got him, but not as much as the abject silence and emptiness he'd been in for the... shit, he'd lost track again. Why was he in here? What was in that box? Honestly, he didn't even care at this point; when he'd found out there wasn't any visible or hidden way out of the room he'd resigned himself to inaction, and so now just sat in a slump in a corner, staring at the box.\n\nHe wished he had more reading material aside from the box, he'd already read it in every possible way... Sigh, oh well.\n\nDo NOT open.\n\nDO NOT open.\n\nDo NOt OPen.\n\nDO nOT OpeN.\n\nDo NoT OpEn...", "As he walked into the small room near the bottom of the dungeon, he heard a quiet click and a large metallic crash. God damn it. The large iron door had fallen shut behind him. It was then that he realized that he had stepped on and activated a pressure switch when he walked in the room. He had been so foolish. All he was thinking about was loot. He had seen the chest and immediately abandoned caution, and now he was trapped. But at least he had whatever was in the chest. It was a smallish chest with a curved top. It was short and wide and so very tempting to open. Just imagine what loot could be inside. As he was about to open it he noticed a message written in what appeared to be orange chalk on the floor in front of the chest. \n\"Be wary of opening.\"\nHe had seen messages like this before, but most were nonsense advertising secret passageways that didn't exist and persuading people to do inappropriate things to others posteriors. He decided to ignore it. He reached forward and begun to open the chest. The excitement building in him ready to burst. What could be in the chest. Armor or unique new weapon. Maybe a key to a secret location. Maybe a scroll that could teach him powerful new spells. He was so excited about the possible contents of the chest he never noticed the small chain protruding from the right side of the chest. The chain was pointing right at him. " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3 ]	[ "1467374392", "1467375635", "1467388686", "1467396671", "1467375120", "1467375970" ]
	[WP] You are a time traveller in charge of slightly altering the past. Your plan goes wrong when the world drastically changes, all because you changed "The Berenstein Bears" to "The Berenstain Bears"	0	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "If anyone reads this, two things will have occured. First of all, I have successfully saved the world from certain destruction (you're welcome by the way). However, I will unfortunately most likely be dead. Therefore I have decided to go on record and write this final message in order to explain where everything went wrong.\n\nTo begin with, there's a couple of things you need to know about me and my somewhat unusual occupation. My name is Alan Long and I work for the G.T.A.O (The Global Time Adjustment Organisation). It was founded in 2086; just two years after the discovery of time travel; and it's purpose is to make changes to the timeline that lies in the world's best interest. \n\nThe G.T.A.O has two major departments. The first one is called the butterfly department; their job is to make small changes to the time line, whose consequences will have a greater impact later on (For example: ever heard about the 1988 Amsterdam bombings? Of course not, they never happened; all thanks to the G.T.A.O agent that went back to 1930's France and stole an apple).\n\nI, however, work for the Schrodinger department. Our job is a bit more extreme. We make small changes as well, but not in the same way. You see, every choice we make in life splits the universe into two separate planes of existence (i.e one universe where the cat lives, another where it dies). Whenever a situation is deemed to risky for the butterfly department to fix, they call in us. We don't change anything in our universe, instead we move our universe to another plane of existence where the thing we want avoid happening never will. This requires a lot of energy though, so we only use it for emergencies. (A common side effect to this is a phenomena called \"the mandela effect\").\n\nAnd boy, was this an emergency. In 2094 95% of the world population got infected by a terminal disease called Pedoma. The virus had accidentally been created in a lab one year prior; and none of the changes the butterfly department made worked, the virus somehow always got out. \n\nThat's where yours truly comes in. You see, I had calculated that a 3.2 degree shift of the existential plane was enough to reach a time line where Pedoma wasn't created (I'm sorry for using terms that may sound a bit foreign to people from 2016, but I don't know how to explain it any better). \n\nAnyway, in order to shift our plane of existence we first have to be present at a so called 'shrodinger split' and then, at the exact moment of separation, \"hitchhike\" with the universe that isn't our own (this is what I referred to when I said that it takes a lot of energy). \n\nSince I needed a 3.2 degree shift (a pretty small number), I had to be present when a pretty insignificant choice was made in order to get a match. The closest I could come was the moment the author of \"The Berenstein Bears\" decided on the spelling, which would generate a 3.198 degree split (close enough).\n\nSo I went back to the 1950's in my time machine (and if you haaave to know, they kinda look like UFO's). From inside my cockpit I then scanned for multi dimensional activity. Now, this is where it all went to shit. Whenever you hitchhike with an universal split it's very important not to doze off. If you do, the universe you want to move won't be able to stop moving since that requires a manual push of a button (a bit of a design flaw if you ask me). To prevent this, the G.T.A.O agents undergoes a lot of physical training, since time travel is a bit of a bumpy ride.\n\nI dozed off...\n\nWhen I woke up, our universe had moved 943 degrees. All you need to know in order to grasp how serious this was is that when you reach 1000+ degrees, the universe can't exist. I managed to stop the shift, but the time line we'd arrived in was too unlike our own. You see, greater number of degrees means greater differences in time lines. This new time line didn't share any aspects of our own after 4000 B.C. \n\nNow there is emergency energy saved for these types of situations, but there is a couple of problems. Since the difference in time lines was so big, the merging of the two would most certainly destroy them both. And the merging process starts immedietly upon arrival, so time was now working against me (oh, the irony). Another problem is that our machines aren't built for two runs so close to each other; which means that I would only be able to drop our universe off in passing, with me and my machine continuing on without it until I reach the point below 0 degrees, by which point I will be erased from any existence. \n\nI'm currently writing this as I'm traveling closer and closer to the 3.198 degree zone (I just passed 90.5). If you read this in a time line where it's spelled \"The Berenstain Bears\", you'll know I succeeded.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1467399737", "1467417093" ]
	[WP] Apathy has reached dangerously high levels.	17	[ "The world is going to end tomorrow, but I just can't get worked up about it. There's nothing I can do, you know, so ... \"why bother?\" \n \nNo one else feels the same as I do -- because there's no one else left. \n \nNo, they didn't die. I don't think so, anyway. I checked around town for about five minutes, but there were no corpses. No people, but no corpses. \n \nNo pets, either. \n \nIn the whole world, at least as far as I checked, it was just me and my goldfish, Goldie. In all this time, I never did come up with a name for him, her, it, whatever ... so Goldie stuck. It was better than \"Hey, you\" anyway. \n \nNot that Goldie cared one way or another, of course. Boring, apathetic pets, goldfish - just eat and swim around in lethargic circles. \n \nA bit like my life, that. Just with more swimming. I had never bothered to learn. \n \nTV didn't work and radio was nothing but static. That's how I knew it was the whole world. Even the internet was dead. More than that, even books and newspapers were blank, the text and pictures all gone. \n \nHow do I know the world's going to end? What else does a big red flashing \"[SERVER SHUTDOWN IN 24:00:00]\" hanging over town mean? \n \nYeah, there's a story behind all that, but, really, who cares? \n \nI already know it and Goldie doesn't care. And there's no one else to care. \n \nI think I'll take a nap.\n", "Off-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "He stood up on his podium, and took a deep breath. He remembered his grandfather giving this exact same speech, many, many years ago. He hoped it would have the same impact that it did once before. \n\n\"What is indifference? Etymologically, the word means \"no difference.\" A strange and unnatural state in which the lines blur between light and darkness, dusk and dawn, crime and punishment, cruelty and compassion, good and evil. What are its courses and inescapable consequences? Is it a philosophy? Is there a philosophy of indifference conceivable? Can one possibly view indifference as a virtue? Is it necessary at times to practice it simply to keep one's sanity, live normally, enjoy a fine meal and a glass of wine, as the world around us experiences harrowing upheavals?\n\n\"Of course, indifference can be tempting -- more than that, seductive. It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person's pain and despair. Yet, for the person who is indifferent, his or her neighbor are of no consequence. And, therefore, their lives are meaningless. \n\n\"In a way, to be indifferent to that suffering is what makes the human being inhuman. Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. Anger can at times be creative. One writes a great poem, a great symphony. One does something special for the sake of humanity because one is angry at the injustice that one witnesses. But indifference is never creative. Even hatred at times may elicit a response. You fight it. You denounce it. You disarm it.\n\n\"Indifference elicits no response. Indifference is not a response. Indifference is not a beginning; it is an end. And, therefore, indifference is always the friend of the enemy, for it benefits the aggressor -- never his victim, whose pain is magnified when he or she feels forgotten. The political prisoner in his cell, the hungry children, the homeless refugees -- not to respond to their plight, not to relieve their solitude by offering them a spark of hope is to exile them from human memory. And in denying their humanity, we betray our own.\"\n\nHe looked out into the crowd with a shred of hope. He'd hoped for some spark of passion, for tears, anything. Instead, all the members of the government sat, bored, looking unmoved and unprovoked. His heart broke. That was his last chance to convince any of them. He remembered how once, long ago, the decision to release a weapon of mass destruction would have been made with more serious consideration. He watched the president meet the gazes of the members of congress, who all nodded one by one. \n\nThen finally, the president looked back to him and shrugged his apology, apparently without the resolve to look in the least bit apologetic. He sighed. His grandfather would have been disappointed. At least he still got to see history in the making. How the world ended with a simple shrug. ", "Erik watched her cry. It was uncomfortable. He felt uncomfortable a lot. That was how his mind translated his emotional void coming in contact with a gushing fountain of emotion. It wasn't painful, it was just tiring. Exhausting really. Why did everyone have to FEEL so much? Erik did worry about his mental state sometimes, but honestly he felt like everyone else was broken, not him. And Natalie was a prime example. He LIKED Natalie, but that just \"made it worse.\" She smashed her heart open on his like a ship on a reef and of course it was the reef's fault. What was so \"healthy\" about living like that? Everybody around him seems like an emotional minefield filled with hatred and blind passion. And, lately, filled with worry about Erik's attitude. It seems strange that people should get so uptight about valuing reason and devaluing transient, wayward emotions. Not for the first time, th- OH Damn, Natalie is still talking?", "“Eh, whatever.” \n\nThe intelligence officer looked at the President over his glasses.\n\n“Did you just say whatever?”\n\n“Yeah. I mean...whats the point, anyway?”\n\nA pile of manila folders slammed onto the desk.\n\n“This is what's important. This is the next federal budget. We've already extended the deadline, twice, and congress expects us to have a full proposal by-\n\n“Look, those guys can get their own money. From businesses and stuff.”\n\n“Those guys?! Those guys are the legislative branch! They practically run our entire government!”\n\n“No, I do. I'm the president. And I decree...I can decree stuff, right, that those government guys can get their money from somebody else.”\n\nThe intelligence officer had entered the period of anger and disbelief where all that could be done was to foam at the mouth.\n\n“Look, don't worry. I'll make it better. Today is also going to be National Taco Day! Everyone's going to get a free taco, it's-”\n\n“I WILL NOT LET YOU UNDERMINE OUR DEMOCRACY”\n\n“Sounds like you need a Taco.”", "So this is the way the world ends.\n\nNo one really noticed the first wave, when Universities across the country reported a pass rate for final exams of roughly 12%. Midterms next semester might have gotten people to notice, except the Universities didn't bother reporting on anything.\n\nThe election here in the States should have been the next big warning flag, but nobody really had high hopes for it anyway. Still, we expected more than a quarter of eligible voters to show up, and I personally expected more of an outcry when that idiot won. But at that point, nobody seemed to care.\n\nI think people started worrying... well, the people still energetic enough to do so... after the wars started petering out. First it was the soldiers that didn't want to be there, so they left. Then the people fighting for god or country or food or whatever stopped too. There was that story of the guy who just went around a city block executing people, nobody really running away, before he just got bored and sat down. That was when it got scary... but not scary enough for anyone to do anything.\n\nThe researchers who might've stopped it were simply too late; their labs were empty and their papers unpublished. Last I heard the few that were clinging to sanity were pooling their efforts to reverse this... thing. The broadcast they sent told us what it was but I don't remember, I think I stopped listening.\n\nI lost interest in marking the calendar after the TV networks went off the air. I'm pretty sure that they stopped restocking the supermarkets before that, and that the water and electricity went out a few weeks later. It's funny, you can still find plenty of food in the stores. You might think that they'd be looted clean with no cashiers or security, but I'm pretty sure most people are just too lazy to eat.\n\nI've seen at least one person just stop on the sidewalk and lay down. She's probably dead now. I remember feeling vaguely like I should help but... eh... what's the point?\n\nThere's been other things that happened but frankly writing this is exhausting. I'm going to bed now, and with the way the world is looking it seems like I won't be getting up. Oh well.\n\nThis is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a \"whatever.\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 11 ]	[ "1467435601", "1467440433", "1467448025", "1467437973", "1467428888", "1467429261" ]
	[WP] "FLIGHT" A story about a person fleeing aboard a plane.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I gaze out the window, ignoring the tinny whine of the onboard movie. An endless expanse of billowing white and soft blues, a peaceful vista clashing with the thoughts raging through my mind.\n\nThe white room. Beeping machines. Silence. Doctor in white. Empty words.\n\n\nA patchwork of fields with flowing seams stretches below, each second bearing me further from that moment, transporting me through space and time.\n\nThe white paper. Scratch of the pen. Silence. Doctor in white. Empty words.\n\nThe ocean rises up, swallowing the coastline. An endless embrace, a futile battle between two elements.\n\nThe white faces. Wail of tears. Silence. Doctor in white. Empty words.\n\nI close my eyes.\n " ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1467551838", "1467555968" ]
	[WP]. A 29 year old woman wakes up alone in her apartment after a very long and strange dream to find her skin turning green and peeling with a pungent odor. She goes to her doctor for the skin issues and to his shock, and all of the staff, he cannot find a pulse.	47	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Okay, what do we have here\" The doctor looked at his notes. \"So you've never experienced this before ma'am?\"\n\n\"No I have not\" said the green skinned lady sitting in front of him.\n\n\"It says here that you \"turned green after a quick nap\" and that your body \"smells like something sent from hell\" is that correct?.\" he said while trying to hold his breath from the odor emitting from the lady\n\n\"Yes that's correct\" the lady said almost about to tear up.\n\n\"What's your name ma'am?\" said the doctor.\n\n\"My name is Fiona, Princess Fiona\" Fiona said \n\n\"Well, you know what, we'll fix this, I'm just going to take a quick pulse and maybe a skin sample if that's okay?\" the doctor said with a smile while he tried to withstand the urge to puke. The doctor took his medical equipment and pulled out his stethoscope. \n\n\"I'm sorry mam but I can't find a pulse\" he said while trying to desperately find a pulse inside of the stinking lady. \"Ohh well I think we have to head right to the skin sample.\" He pulled out his scalpel and started to remove a bit of dead skin, and another bit and another. \n\n\"Your skin seems to be in layers, like, like an onion!\" the doctor said. \"I've seen this once before, the disease is called Septoclimactic Heart and Radioactive Ecchymosis Karyotype Otherwise known as S.H.R.E.K disorder, I'm sorry but's it's untreatable, bye\" \n\n" ]	[ 1, 12 ]	[ "1467560514", "1467583415" ]
	[WP] Someone gives you a $100 bill, and you think it's your lucky day. Later you notice "SORRY" in red on the back...	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I stood on the corner of Gates and Wilson Ave, still unsure of what to think of the strange man who had, while bustling by, shoved a crisp $100 bill into my open left hand. \n\n\"What?\"\n\nMoments later, after quickly looking over the bill and stuffing it into my pocket, I found myself walking through town, stopping at the run down Italian restaurant that i often stopped by after work.\n\n\"Same as usual, Vinny, I'll take it to go.\"\n\nAs i handed over the bill to pay for my italian sandwich and coke, I realized that I had not even bothered to check the back of the bill. Scrawled across the back was the word \"SORRY\"\n\nI immediately hesitated, but it was too late, Vinny had grabbed the bill, shoved it in the register and had the change and the sandwich in my hands before I had enough time to process what had happened. \n\n\"Thanks, see you tomorrow Vin.\" His response sounded muddled, I couldn't concentrate on anything as I was deep in thought. What could \"SORRY\" mean? Was It stolen money?\n\nAfter two or three steps out of the restaurant, I looked down as 3 of the fingers on my left hand began to feel numb. I couldn't move them. I panicked and dropped the bag of food, unable to keep my grip on it as the three fingers seemed to move and flex under someone else's control.\n\n\"Wh- What the hell is going on?\" I grabbed my hand, unable to suppress the fingers that seemed to have a mind of their own. The numbing spread to the rest of the hand and I collapsed to the ground in shock.\n\nAll I could see was black until a large number dial faded in to sight. On the rolling sections, the number \"100\" was printed next to a dollar and a percent sign. The number began to dial back slowly until it hit \"$92.45%\"\n\nWhen I awoke, I began to frantically count the change that i had received from the Italian restaurant. All the while, my left hand moving in large circles as if it were busy washing a table or cleaning a counter top. \n\n\"Ninety two dollars and forty five cents...\" I said quietly, realizing that the number that I had seen correlated with the amount of change I had left.\n\n\"My hand.... It. must be imitating what Vinny is doing...\" I became panicked, and i began to run, to the first person i could find. I needed to get rid of this money. If I spent it, I would sell the control of part of my body as well. I tripped and the money flew forth from my hand, landing into the donation bucket of a nearby street mime.\n\nI woke up again after another black out. I could see, but i couldn't move my eyes. I could feel again but i couldn't control my body. My eyes shifted over and focused in on the mime, who's eyes met mine as a wicked grin crept across his face\" \n\n((This is my first response. I've always wanted to write stuff, but i could never get myself to start doing it. I figured doing these prompts every now and then could help develop my writing. criticism and guidance in messages is welcomed and encouraged. Thank you for reading.))", "As I was walking home after work, I saw a man with bags under his bloodshot eyes. He handed me a 100 dollar bill.\n\n\"What the hell?\" I asked him, looking uncertain.\n\n\"Just take it.\" The guy shouted, running away.\n\nI started to argue, but realized that it was $100, and went on my way. As I arrived home, I was examining it. On the back, I then saw something very strange. It said \"SORRY\", scribbled on red sharpie. I just assume the guy was off his rocker. I went up to bed.\n\nWhen I woke up and went downstairs the next day, I looked and the bill and laughed. I flipped it back to the front, surprised to see that Benjamin Franklin was missing.\n\n\"What the-\" I started.\n\n\"TALLY HO DEAR LAD! TIS I, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN!\" I heard a voice.\n\nI shouted in response, looking around. Then I saw him, Benjamin Franklin, tinted green.\n\n\"Hey man, what the fuck are you doing in my house?\" I was worried, fearing a robbery.\n\n\"OI LAD, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I FOUNDED THE LAND THIS HOUSE WAS BUILT ON. SO, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!\" He shouted.\n\nI was still majorly freaked out, so I nodded, slowly backing out of the house. I closed the door, and looked up at the window. Benjamin was looking back at me.\n\n\"I RETRACT MY ANGER, LAD. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO REENTER THE PREMISES.\" He said, his voice muffled by the window.\n\nI had no clue what was going on, but didn't want to anger him, so i went back into the house. It was like taking care of a little kid, with benjamin being finicky about everything. Until, I had an idea. I threw the bill at Benjamin. He got sucked into it.\n\nI folded it and used a rubber band to keep it shut as I drove to the closest local museum. Once in, I searched for a staff member, and opened up the bill. As I had hoped, Benjamin hopped out.\n\n\"TALLY HO DEAR LAD! TIS I, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN!\" He shouted. As the guard approached him, he stepped back in disbelief as he saw Benjamin. I quickly handed the bill over and ran out of the museum.\n\nI was stopped by the museum's owner, who was watching from a distance. He thanked me, by giving me a generous payback of $1,000. Once back at my house I left them in my living room, and headed out for a quick dinner.\n\nWhen I came back from dinner I heard a ton of shouting inside. I tensed myself up, ready for a fight, and when I got, I saw it. 10 Benjamin Franklins.\n\n\"TALLY HO DEAR LAD! TIS I, BENJAMIN FRANKLIN!\" They all shouted." ]	[ 1, 2, 6 ]	[ "1467592580", "1467597210", "1467598072" ]
	[WP] Scientists have invented a machine that lets you see your inevitable death before it happens. One day, while living life like normal, you start to notice details of your death all converging around you.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "BANG! Aaron jumped, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. \"Wait, Was that...\" the thought was only half-formed in his mind before he stuck his head out of the window and his fears were confirmed unfounded. Several stories below his window was a car slowly moving away, logic dictated that it had just backfired: no foul play. \n\nSeeing your own death did this to you. Studies had been run by the dozen and each seemed to come up with the result that the Delphi machine was a positive influence on society - people became much less cautious and bigger risks were undertaken all in the knowledge that they wouldn't lead to fatalities. This was a boon for society - if a man knew that his death involved drowning in the ocean then he could happily work at a nuclear power station completely without safety gear, saving money and time. Aaron's own father had known that his inevitable demise involved immolation so he had been blasé about rock climbing without so much as a helmet but terrified about sitting in the front row at major sporting events. Aaron's parents had let him and his friends play football in the street all day because they knew that his death would not come by a speeding car or a kindly stranger with a panel van - there was a clear sequence of events: the gunshot, blood spilling under the door, the baby crying, Aaron's body laying supine on the ground and a solitary cigarette falling to the ground. You only saw flashes, glimpses on the day of your death - it wasn't like a feature-length, exposition-filled movie, you had to extrapolate from the information you had. From the gunshot, blood spilling under the door and the sound of a crying baby, Aaron had inferred that, at some point later in his life, he would have a family that would be murdered around him. Logically, he had, as a child, decided not to have a family - it wasn't that easy. Many before him had tried to cheat death by using the information they had been given. It never worked.\n\nAaron's thoughts were abruptly returned to the present by the plaintive sound of a baby's wailing. He was paralyzed, feeling like he had just been doused in freezing water. Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. As he stood, he looked about him - trying to ascertain where the sound had come from. Tentatively, he crept over to the west-facing wall of his flat. Often his neighbor in 5C would have the TV on too loud - for all Aaron knew, he was a big fan of 'One Born Every Minute\". \"Oi!\" he exclaimed \"Turn it down,\" there was a brief moment of commotion as the noise of the baby got louder and then there was silence.\n\nRelieved, Aaron moved over to his desk, making a mental note to complain to his landlord about the noise. He tried to return to his work but the thought kept niggling away at the back of his mind - \"What if that wasn't the TV?\" Finally he could take it no more and he opened his front door, went over to his neighbour's and politely knocked on the door. \"Sorry about earlier but I just have to ask, do you have...\" He trailed off, horrified.\n\nHe was standing in a pool of blood.\n\nAaron, his thoughts awash with panic, immediately tried to run but he slipped on the claret liquid that had seeped under the door. Suddenly he was covered in it, he thrashed about, heart beating like a frenzied drum solo. All of a sudden, the light from the single incandescent bulb above him was eclipsed. He turned his head to see a pair of black, scuffed boots. The figure above him uttered a deep grunt and, as he moved to the side, the light glinted off the barrel of a gun. Also, as the figure moved to the side, Aaron could now see inside his neighbour's flat - he could see the body of a man lying stock still just behind the front door, as if he had been shot immediately upon opening it, but what Aaron saw next was the worst. Right at the back of the apartment, near the fire escape, was a crib. \n\nHe didn't have time to reflect on the horrifying implications because the next thing he heard was a sharp crack and he felt a searing pain in his abdomen. He coughed and blood dribbled from his cracked lips. The man laughed - a cruel, harsh sound. Aaron summoned the last of his energy to roll onto his back and watch the figure depart. As his vision began to grow dim, he watched the stranger's broad back recede further and further down the corridor. The man flicked something over his shoulder but Aaron couldn't make it out. That is, until it hit the ground with a soft hiss and then he saw the glowing ashes held in place by yellowed paper.\n\nAs life left his body, the last thing Aaron Tshibola ever saw was that solitary point of light, slowly dwindling, until, at last, that light was forever extinguished. " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1467643631", "1467653137" ]
	[WP] It is discovered that dark matter is comprised of the souls of all things.	13	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The man who has taken the stage was not used to it. His name was Lenny. \n\nHe was not comfortable with the size of the crowd, full of journalists and their accompanying photographers with giant cameras. The saving grace was how the cameras seemed to block out everyone else at the back from his heavily myopic vision. At least for now, before the click of the shutters and dazzling flashes. \n\nFew men were not built for the rostrum, and Lenny was one of them. It was too tall for him and when he stepped behind it the journalists jostled for a better angle to immortalise him and this moment with. It was mostly half-hearted and driven more by their professional standards than the expectation of actual newsworthy material. After all, this was kept entirely under wraps.\n\nThe secret service was in the crowd. As were several other outfits that were only known to him by a mission-specific code name. In short, they were monitoring the sensitivity of this news. The leaders of various religious groups have been consulted, but their believers may not be quite as rational or mild as they were. \n\nLenny pushed his glasses up the steep bridge of his nose. It did not hesitate before sliding back down from emerging sweat. \n\nHis head drooped as he examined the first sentence of his script, which had been amended by a media consultant. He addressed the crowd with a shaky beginning, like anyone who was uncomfortable hearing their own magnified voice and wondering how anyone could be comfortable having such attention on them.\n\n“T-Thank you all for coming. We are here today to announce an astounding breakthrough in astrophysics.” He omitted the “that is going to change the world as we know it.” Backstage, the team that had not slept in the past 60 hours or so cringed collectively in their huddle.\n\n“We have drawn conjectures of the unperceivable mass in the world for a while now. Most of us know it by the name of ‘dark matter’. We have now confirmed successful communication with the counterpart belonging to that category. The counterpart is sentient and we call it dark life.”\n\n“There are two additional crucial points that we would like to highlight. Firstly, dark matter makes up most of the mass in the known universe. We have known this for a while by observing the effects of gravity on observable celestial objects. What this means is that unless there are other sources of dark matter, we have also just discovered extra-terrestrial life. Too much is unknown for us to come to a meaningful conclusion for now.” The last sentence replaced two sentences from the draft, “We are not alone, it seems. The universe is quite a lively place.”\n\nLenny had their attention now. The crowd was silently fixated on him, devices recording and pencils scribbling furiously.\n\n“Secondly,” he gulped because the stern men of the secret service had warned him that this part must be delivered with exquisite care. “We have strong reason to believe that dark life is comprised of the will of those who have passed away. In other words, dark life is afterlife.”\n\nI see that you’ve found them.\n\nThe clamouring crowd had gone silent. The flashes paused. From amidst the crowd, it suddenly became apparent that there was a figure who was too tall. His voice was soft and pierced the air like he was whispering into your ear. The shadows of his cheeks were more visible than the protruding cheekbones themselves, as if darkness favoured him more than light. \n\nYou’ve found my stash.\n\n---\n\nI am building the Rift-Edoras universe, prompt by prompt. Second drafts eventually go [here](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com)." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1467645382", "1467649150" ]
[removed]	[WP][CW] News headlines for fictional events	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\nResponses less than 30 words or prompts that encourage those responses. \n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators.\n\n---\n\n[Link to the removed post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4ravy1/wpcw_news_headlines_for_fictional_events/)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1467691453", "1467691537" ]
If you have an idea from the title then don't read this, but for those who are confused, here's a quick explanation: A killing game, or [Deadly Game](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadlyGame) as TV Tropes puts it (though they do describe a more specific variant), is a game in which players are required or heavily incentivized to kill each other. Whether it is driven by a great reward, a threat, or just a promise of escape for the "winner" doesn't matter. The story itself can be anything from an obvious free-for-all blood bath to a murder mystery, where the killer has to remain undiscovered. These kind of stories usually start out with a relatively large cast and tend to be very character-focused. Good luck!	[WP] A killing game has begun. Introduce the players, set the scene.	10	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Welcome to the 4th mansion of Liars VS Liars!\n\nFor all you who are unfamiliar with our game-show here's how it works:\n\nThere are twelve different contestants - split into two different teams. They have a week to kill everyone on the opposing team. Here's the catch - they have no idea who their team-mates are! Who do they trust? Can they see the difference between their allies and enemy's? Well they'd better! Because at the end of the week it's sudden death, mansion is set ablaze and all the doors are locked until only one team-remains!\n\nThis weeks contestants include:\n\nJames, a ex-convict, looking to make some money he claims will be used to support his family! Definitely a risk!\n\nAlice and George - for a rare exception this arguing couple are in it together, however they've no guarantee they'll be on the same team - either they'll become closer than ever or their relationship will -literally- be going up in flames!\n\nPoppy, a young teenager, diagnosed with end-stage cancer, she claim she wants to go out with a blaze of glory - dead either way she has nothing to lose!\n\nOur special guest, medal-winning Olympic Ivan Von Graton, after failing his recent drugs test, he claims this will be his chance to go drug free - or die trying!\n\nAll these people and many more! - Subscribe now for only $80.00 to get full coverage of all angles of the mansion for the whole week!", "Damien Thunder quietened his breathing and crouched behind the yellow barrels, listening for footsteps on the metallic ground. He could almost hear the viewers \"Oh I wouldn't have hid there,\" their mocking tone bore into his brain, making him doubt himself. It was a very different prospect than sitting comfortably at home watching the game play out. He scratched the back of his neck instinctively, feeling millions of viewers scrutinising his every move.\n\nThe producers loved to get close up emotional views. The piped in ambient piano or violin strings were there to amplify the emotions. He wondered whether he was liked or loathed back home. Bad TV made for quick deaths, everyone knew that.\n\n\"He went this way!\" A voice snapped him from his thoughts. He sunk lower, pressing his face against the wall. Sporadic footsteps galloped past. He tried to count the number of people but no sooner had he begun, the crowd dispersed and was lost in the maze. \n\nHe gripped the knife tighter and slowly rose to his feet. The smell of oil caressed his nose and as he glanced back to his spot, he realized it was covered in the black liquid. He took his shoes off and wiped the black liquid down his top. The last thing he needed was a trail. He struggled to swallow as his pasty lips and tongue refused to produce saliva.\n\nWater was surprisingly scarce, especially for an underwater base. The dripping pipes were a welcome refuge and several of the sinks were full of dirty water but beyond that, the only water to be found came from the tins. They were all kept in the pantry and he knew that wasn't a place he wanted to go. Not if he wanted to survive.\n\nA whale passed the window of the octagonal base, eyeing him suspiciously. Damien glanced back indifferently and kept walking.\n\nThe first couple of days he was awestruck at the majestic beauty of the marine life in the ocean but as thirst, hunger and survival instincts kicked in, it was more a reminder of the freedom that lay just beyond these relentless walls. He pushed the recurring thoughts of his mind and hurried on, away from the blood-lusting mob.\n\nPeople always assumed these games finished quickly but that was far from the truth. The hours of wandering identical corridors, scavenging for food, playing cat and mouse with other contestants and finding places he could sleep where no one would find him took up the bulk of his day. He promised himself early on he would never willingly kill someone. He would wait it out until the very last moment if he could.\n\nHe could remember hearing the girl gurgling for her life as she choked on her own blood last week. He listened to the entire ordeal as he hid in the ventilation duct and the sounds would haunt him for the rest of his life. \n\nThere was an alliance growing between contestants and this was a naturally occurring part of any game. However, this year the dynamic was different. He had heard the group talking at night, their voices on edge and nervous. They were all, it seemed, worried after last year's fiasco. \"E B x3\" they had called it. Edward's Blood-bath Betrayal. The story was legendary by now.\n\nAt around 3am, when the base was plunged in darkness, Edward had risen in the middle of the night and slit everyone's throats. All twelve of them. It was an unprecedented moment that had shocked everyone and one had been replayed over and over again on every major news source.\n\nDamien continued on and slowed as he passed a spatter of coagulated blood. Covering his mouth from the rank smell, he turned into a dark room and stepped over another dead body. He had no idea how many bodies he had passed, he had lost count after the first couple of days.\n\nHe turned at a T junction and flung himself up a flight of stairs so fast he didn't see the child and they both tumbled to the ground. \n\nAdrenaline coursed through his veins as they simultaneously rose to their feet. What felt like a lifetime passed as they stared in fear at one another. Sweat run from his brow itching his beard as the drops snaked their way down his face. The child trembled as his knife hand twitched.\n\n\"Are you going to kill me or not?\" Damien said eventually. His forceful tone clearly shook the boy and he dropped his knife, shaking his head.\n\n\"Don't go down that way. Listen to me. Don't. Okay?\" The boy nodded quickly and picked his knife up. He turned and scurried off in the direction Damien was walking and disappeared down another corridor.\n\nLeaving a contestant alive was an invitation for trouble. It was probably a foolhardy decision, but Damien pushed the demons from his thoughts, he was just a child. An innocent that had surrendered in front of him. He wasn't about to betray that confidence or his morals for better ratings.\n\nHe stopped for several seconds as he reached another T junction. Which way? He closed his eyes, focusing his senses on his hearing.\n\nDrips from a leaking pipe, the faint sound of clanging metal and then voices. He focused harder, covering each ear in turn. He opened his eyes, turned away from the noise and continued.\n\nHis stomach growled, it had been days since he last ate. He gripped his blunt knife and adjusted his tatty oil-stained top. He stopped as he found a half full tin of tuna on the ground, its contents spilled on the ground. He smiled to himself and gobbled up the contents. He chewed the rubbery fish and let the water lubricate his throat. \n\nHe was thankful for the food but he knew it could be days before he saw more. A lack of food meant one thing, the producers needed to make the games more exciting. Starvation drove people to the brink of madness. Perfect for television and their ratings.\n\nThe Hunger Games they'll call this one, Damien thought bitterly. Just like the book. \n\nUnlike Katniss, he didn't have a whole district supporting him. He didn't have her charming good looks, her pretend romance to entice viewers and he certainly didn't have her charisma. He was a simple, middle aged man that loved his children and longed to be back with them. He had found the games an interesting, albeit sadistic, experiment in the complexity of human emotions when he watched them. \n\nBeing a part of the games made him realize how awful they truly were. Away from the fanfare, the glamour and glitz the media sugar coated the show in, this was glamorised murder. Put in place to make money and to entertain the masses. He felt sick thinking about the times he had cheered when someone drove a knife through a \"villain\", or how he'd shouted at the TV when two untrustworthy people befriended one another. He longed to be rid of this game and vowed to never watch it again. If he survived.\n\nA voice boomed overhead snapping him from his thoughts. \n\nWe've decided to up the ante. A big climax to this exciting season. We have seventeen candidates left.\n\nThe voice ran through the names, including his own, before continuing.\n\nIn about seven minutes this base will flood. The glass is reinforced with a force field stopping the water pressure from building. We've just switched it off.\n\nThe base groaned as Damien watched in horror as cracks begun forming in the glass.\n\n The only escape is a solitary elevator on floor 3C\n\nDamien quickly spotted a glowing sign. 4C. One floor above him was the lift.\n\nIf you do not make it to the elevator, this base will become your tomb.\n\nDamien cautiously hurried up the empty corridor, scanning the rooms left and right for another staircase. He needed to get to floor above and he knew the others would be close by. He had to be quick.\n\nOnly one of you will survive. No more. If any of you try to leave together, all of you will be stuck here. Good luck\n\nA klaxon echoed and its reverb disorientated Damien. His ears vibrated from the pitch before the relentless noise disappeared. Angry voices behind him. He pushed on. Large slits followed him, groaning and cracking as it scarred the panes. \n\nDamien broke into a sprint. He spotted another contestant at the opposite side of the corridor. Machete in hand, he rose it above his head ready to strike.\n\n\"Wait!\" The man ignored Damien's plea and swung the machete.\n\nDamien was quicker. He dodged the initial hammer blow and sliced the man in the back. He grunted and turned, a thin trickle of blood oozed down his body.\n\n\"We have to get out of here!\" Damien pleaded, pointing to the windows.\n\n\"I wanna win this fool, Only ONE will survive, ya dig?\" Another swipe wedged his machete in the failing glass. Water trickled in as the man, possessed, grabbed his sword and tried to yank it free.\n\n\"Don't!\" It was too late. Water invaded the corridor and pushed both men into the adjacent wall. Dull pain rattled his head and he sputtered against the rising cold water, focusing on deliberate deep breaths to stay calm. The other man panicked. \n\nSplashing and shouting, he ran away from Damien as the water continued to rie. Damien called after him but he was gone. \n\nThe water hissed like angry snakes as he wade through the water, keeping his arms elevated. He moved painfully slow and eventually reached a staircase. He was nearly there. He hurried up the steps. The water stalked him, caressing his feet. The water continued to rise. Eventually, he reached the summit.\n\nHis muscles groaned in agony as he crossed the corridor, his wet feet echoing the ground as he continued on. He turned a corner and stopped as he faced the elevator. A little boy stood next to the lift.\n\n\"Oh, its you.\" Damien approached him slowly. The boy stepped inside the lift, unblinking, focused.\n\n\"Hey, mind if I join you?\" He forced a smile, feeling a wave of uneasiness wash over him.\n\nThe boy shook his head. \"Only one.\"\n\nDamien quickly dropped his knife, outstretching his arms.\n\n\"I don't want to kill anyone, I just want to live.\"\n\n\"Me too\" A sadistic smile crossed his face as the lift doors shut.", "There were eight of us originally. \n\nWe did not know what brought us here. We were obviously chosen; hand-picked from the seven billion people on the planet. We had different characteristics. We ranged from young and filled with energy, to old, frail but sustained by wisdom. We were decades apart. None of us were dressed in similar fashions – the youngest of us in cargo shorts and a t-shirt; the oldest in a finely tailored suit. All of us were male and white. None of us shared any other physical characteristic. \n\nNaturally, we thought we each had a hidden agenda. We questioned every aspect of our lives. We interrogated one another. We asked where each other were from, and where we grew up. We asked each other what we did for work, or where we were going to middle school. The questions kept flowing – some more inquisitive than others. \n\nWe began to be suspicious of one another. We did not know where we were, how we got here, who had brought us. We implored each other to share our last memory before we realized we were here.\n\n‘I was in class,’ the youngest said. \n\n‘Caring to my garden,’ said one of the eldest, dressed in khaki and a flannel shirt. \n\n‘I was on a break at work, just grabbing a coffee at the café.’\n\nWe were doing different things in different places. We asked if anyone had noticed anything suspicious in the moments, days or weeks leading up to being here. No one noticed anything. Eventually, the conversation grew silent. \n\nOne of us began searching. The room was tiled, from floor to ceiling. It was the same, plain white tile throughout. There were no markings, no features. A door and a lamp, positioned on opposite walls, were the only individual features. The door, a solid sheet of pale metal, had no latch, no handle and no keyhole. It had no hinges, and no gaps in its border. The light, sunken into the wall, was warm to the touch and reflected off every surface. \n\nOver time, we were all searching. We slid our fingertips around the edging of the tiles, searching for any anomalies in the grout. Two of us fiddled with the lamp, seeking any lips or skirting around it. Another one of us touched every inch of the door. Then we swapped roles and places, confirming our suspicions that there was nothing to be found.\n\nWe all knew what giving up meant: becoming the sole target of the others’ suspicions. We searched. It felt like eternity, but we searched. We searched high, and we searched low. We tapped on the tiles with our fists. We ran at the walls, and slammed into them with our shoulders. \n\nEventually, we all retired, one-by-one, having felt like we had done enough to avoid suspicion. We sat, in quiet contemplation. \n\nWe did not talk that frequently. Tensions were high. Uncertainties were rampant. We were too reserved to give too many details; we gave only what was asked. \n\n‘What did you say your name was?’ the bearded one asked his neighbor, the gray flecks throughout his hair had danced every time he spoke. He wore jeans and a collared shirt. Neither had been washed in weeks. \n\n‘I didn’t,’ the younger one next to him replied. ‘It’s John.’\n\n‘No kidding. I’m John too.’ He said, reaching around him to shake John’s hand. \n\nMany heads were turned to the two of them. Eyes darted around the room at the others. Every person suddenly looked stunned. \n\n‘What are the rest of your names?’ bearded John implored, pointing his finger at the remaining group, ‘come on.’ \n\n‘John here too,’ another replied.\n\n‘Mhm.’ \n\nTwo simply nodded. The youngest remained silent. ‘So, we do not know where we are, how we got here, or what we’re doing here. All we know is, we’re all named John. Anyone got anything else to share?’ \n\n‘This is some kind of sick joke.’ \n\n‘Reminds me of a movie I saw in high school,’ another said. \n\n‘Funny that, I was thinking of a movie as well.’\n\n‘Next thing you know, they’ll be telling us they want to play a game.’ \n\nIn the meantime, one stood and paced until he was two meters from the door. Stepping once, he swung around, lifted his knee and landed a kick square against the sheet. A loud thud reverberated off the walls. He tried again. And again. And again. \n\nNO!\n\nIT’S NOT YOUR TIME TO LEAVE, JOHN. A voice overwhelmed the man at the door. He was taken aback. \n\n‘What the fuck?’\n\nThe boy, barely fifteen, sat in the corner. He was visibly shaken. He closed his eyes, brought his knees to his forehead, and wrapped his arms around his shins. He cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. \n\nThe voice did not seem to have a point of origin. We looked around, trying to find the source. It spoke slowly, giving us time to press our ears to the tiles. It was loud. Deafening. The vibrations through the walls prevented us from seeking a source. The voice just simply existed, and nothing else.\n\nYOU’RE STUCK HERE WITH ME.\n\n‘Come on, who the fuck are you? Where are you? Why are you toying with us?’ One questioned. \n\nJOHN, I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. YOU’RE – the voice faded away into empty silence.\n\n‘What do we have to do to get out of here?’ \n\n‘Kick it again.’ \n\nSomeone else landed a boot on the door. No voice. ‘Keep doing it.’ \n\nI’M STILL HERE, JOHN.\n\n‘WHO ARE YOU?’ cried one, ‘HOW DO WE GET OUT OF HERE?’\n\nYOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T LEAVE.\n\n‘Fuck.’\n\nNo voice. No noise. Everyone sat in silence. \n\nExcept for the boy.\n\nThe boy wept openly. He was no longer sitting. He had curled up, laid on his side and clutched his arms around his knees. For hours, he wept. We made no attempt to calm him. He simply drifted off to sleep.\n\nHe did not wake again. \n\nThen there were seven. \n\n-----------------------------------------\n\nPS: I hardly ever write. I don't consider myself to be a writer in any sense. It probably shows. If you read this, thanks! This prompt was a good outlet. \n", "\"So who are you betting on this year, Gary?\" I said, while stuffing my face with another hand of chips.\n\n\"I don't know really, I think that new kid has some potential. What's his name?,\" he answered.\n\n\"I think his name was Aaron or something. Supposed to be a god with the axe,\" I casually exclaimed.\n\nThere was something unusual about this time of the year. Everybody got along, everybody was nice to each other. Well, except those poor kids fighting it out on national television. But there was something uniting in watching people brutally murder each other for money.\n\n\"I, myself are going to bet on the real champ' Carter; he has won two years in a row now,\" I continued the conversation.\n\n\"Yeah, it's because he's skilled with the bow. Wasn't it last year he took out two people with one arrow or something?\"\n\n\"No, that was the year before that,\" I responded.\n\n\"Okey. But when's your family coming over to watch?\" He said, picking up a lighter and a cigar, possily cuban.\n\n\"They're on their way, traffic's a real bitch today,\" I said, analyzing my smoking friend.\n\n\"Yeah, I could see that,\" He said, puffing on the stick.\n\nWe were quiet for a while, listening to the cars outside. At several occasions I thought about those people that were going to die today. Suddenly I remembered the cards I bought at the store today.\n\n\"Hey you,\" I said, \"I bought some collectors cards today of the contestants, wanna' see them?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n Contestant #1\n Lance Christansen\n Special attributes: Spear throwing, cooking food.\n Stars: 7/10\n Other notes: none.\n\nI flipped the deck and picked up another one.\n\n Contestant #4\n Joshua Kyle\n Special attributes: Camouflague, stealth, takedowns.\n Stars: 8/10\n Other notes: Allergic to fish.\n\nI shuffled the cards again and found another one.\n\n\"Hey, here he is!\" I exclaimed.\n\n Contestant #7\n Carter Jones\n Special attributes: Bow and arrow, guns.\n Stars: 10/10\n Other notes: Winner for the last two years.\n\n\"I'm really believing in this guy,\" I said.\n\n Contestant #12\n Aaron Ek\n Special attributes: Axe, axe throwing, resourceful.\n Stars: 6/10\n Other notes: Contestant #12 has a romantic relationship with #16.\n\n\"Aww, that's cute,\" I told him, and continued crushing the card, teasing my friend.\n\n\"That's him later in the competition,\" I continued.\n\n\"Ahh, fuck you,\" he said, in a monotone voice.\n\n Contestant #16\n Jennie (Unknown last name)\n Special attributes: Unknown.\n Stars: Unknown.\n Other notes: Contestant #16 has a romantic relationship with #12.\n\nI heard a distant knock and started strafing towards the door. I got greeted by a sea of people. Aunts and uncles, nieces, mom and dad, grandpa and grandma. There was atleast twenty people outside.\n\n\"Step in, please,\" I said smiling.\n\nEverybody seated themselves. I started going around the house, locking every entrance. Windows, doors, I locked it all. Then I procceded towards the kitchen. The cold metal of the knife shocked me at first, but I got used to it after picking it up.\n\nI slowly strafed towards the room with all the family members, until I heard a distant voice.\n\n\"Come here! You're gonna' miss the countdown!\" Someone screamed.\n\nYes indeed, I thought to myself. Then I heard another voice, this one really familiar.\n\n\"Now's the time! Do it! I need flesh!\" The all-so recognizable voice in my head told me.\n\n\"Yes,\" I responded.\n\nI raised the knife just in time for the countdown.\n\n\"Five! Four! Three!\"\n\nI joined in, smiling like the psychopath I was.\n\n\"Two, One...\" I said, raising the knife and cutting the electricity.\n\n\"Let the games begin,\" I whispered to myself before entering the crowded room, knife in hand." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 3, 10 ]	[ "1467713782", "1467719083", "1467734341", "1467720467", "1467715691" ]
You can write it in a way that you win or lose, there also needs to be a consequence if you get paint on you. Your character can make allies, and it can make enemies. Basically, be creative (Like you all are.)	[WP] A whole country goes into a paintball war, you get paint on you, you lose. Tell your adventure.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Some people stockpiled ammunition. Some cleaned their guns. Some wove elaborate camouflage. Entire groups of people formed armed compounds filled with sophisticated paint-filled explosive devices and cyber-warfare tracking units. I considered all of these things. Shooting things was never my talent. My aim was terrible. My sense of direction was, if anything, worse. I didn't have any buddies with military ambitions. To be totally honest, I didn't care. I just didn't want to get shot. Paint balls, if you didn't know, sting more than a little.\n\nOn the eve of the Great Paint War, I dug out the overalls that I had used to paint my porch with. They were splattered with brilliant white and red splotches, looking for all the world that I had already lost. Perfect. As long as I wasn't exposed to the specific frequency of UV light they were using to detect \"war paint\", nobody would know the difference.\n\nThe next day sounded like the Fourth of July. All day. Without any break. I watched the news with a cold beer in my land, laughing at the poor reporters. The smart and resourceful ones were recording from high positions or inside clear barricades. Most of them were collateral damage, forced into strained smiles and canned words as they winced from constant bombardment. The cities were in chaos. New York had shut down. Los Angeles was under martial law after some gang or other had decided to tape orange bands around the ends of real guns and kicked off a massive crime spree. Even Salt Lake City wasn't immune. Despite the orders from their Elders, the Mormons were turning Utah into the world's holiest graffiti mural. Florida was... let's not talk about what happened to Florida. The worst, however, was Alaska. As it turns out, frozen paint balls are borderline lethal with enough gas behind them.\n\nAfter the first few days, I got bored and started wandering. I drove through suburbs where the \"losers\" were nursing their wounds at local restaurants or writing blog posts about their brief paintball career at some coffee dive. I walked through cities where snipers were picking off anybody who looked clean. I rode my bike straight through a pitched battle. Neither side gave a damn about me. I had already \"lost\".\n\nA week later, a victor was declared. A skinny, patchy-bearded Portland-ite with uncanny aim and far too many hours logged on some game called Outerwatch. He was introduced by the President herself, who still sported a black eye from losing a private paint-duel with the Speaker of the House. He stepped up to the microphone. He opened his mouth. A bloom of paint opened up on his chest. The crowd went absolutely silent. All eyes turned toward me.\n\nRolling his eyes, a secret service agent roughly yanked the purloined paintball gun from my hand. Another agent waved a UV wand up and down my body. Then he did it again. And again. Nobody stopped me as I took the bemused gamer's place on the podium.\n\nAnd that, my audience, is how I became the Most Hated Man in America. Now, for those of you that want a signature, step up to the bullet-proof glass and slip your copy of The Porch That Won The War into the slot. You're welcome.\n" ]	[ 1, 6 ]	[ "1467821564", "1467826402" ]
	[WP] Legend says, "Whoever removes the sword, will free the kingdom from the Eternal Tyrant." You stand dumbfounded holding the sword in hand, for you are the Tyrant.	42	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "He stood, staring at the sword in his hand. Half sure he was hallucinating and half terrified. A fearful voice, barely contained, broke him from his distraction.\n\n---\n\nYears, centuries, even, before this day, there had been a war. A war between powerful beings - immortal but for a single flaw; we can only be killed by our own kind. Now I was the only one left, the sole victor. You might think this is a tragic story, this apparent genocide, and I suppose it is. But not to me. Because I was the instigator, the villain of the piece, and now, with the others all gone, I am unopposed in my rule over the human nation left to me. \n\nAlmost.\n\nSee, this power and stature, that of a near-literal god among men, comes with drawbacks. We immortals are subjects of prophecy, to a certain degree. I owe my power to it, for it was prophesied upon my manifestation that I would become the ruler I am now. The Eternal Tyrant, in the language of man. I hoped I might fight against fate, but I see, sadly, that it always passes, unobstructed by our struggles as sunlight by the night it replaces. \n\nOf course, the one about my rise to power wasn't the only prophecy. On the day I struck down the last and greatest of my kin, with his dying breath, he cursed me and drove his sword into the ground, swearing that it would one day kill me as I had killed him.\n\nI tried to cover it, as one would, but prophecy is a stubborn thing. The wind and rain would beat ceaselessly at any structure built over it, such that in a matter of weeks, the building, no matter whether it was a tent, fortress, or unassuming block of stone, would always be eroded to a state not usually accomplished without many, many more years of wear.\n\nI thought to guard it, but I couldn't spend all my time there, and what if one of the guards I assigned to the task turned out to be the hero? I would only be arranging my own downfall. So I kept it a secret as best I could, and arranged for one of my palaces to be built nearby, so that I would have an excuse to listen to news of the area.\n\nOf course, secrets like this have a way of getting out. I don't know how, exactly, and I suppose it hardly matters now. Heroes would come here, and battle their way to this spot, and each time I would feel an unease as I fought to halt them. Some would even place their hands upon the hilt and tug, and then I would feel a pit in my stomach the kind I hadn't felt since facing the last of my own race. \n\nBut they would never manage to draw forth the blade, and, laughing, I would set upon and destroy them. After all, what had I to fear? The couldn't harm me without the blade.\n\n---\n\nAnd to one of these fights, I brought you sergeant, leading a platoon of my soldiers. You who watched me strike down this most recent brave martyr even as his hand reached to the sword. You who watched me, with unusual haste, brush his hand off of its crossguard, where it caught as he died. You who watched me, in doing that, accidentally knock the sword from where it had, long ago, been lodged.\n\nYou wonder, I'm sure, why I tell you this. The thing I have now come to realize about prophecy, is that you can't stop it. I will eventually die by my own action. No matter how long I live, no matter what gains I make, what people I kill, what riches I enjoy. So I tell you this because why not tell someone? Why not tell you?\n\nHe knelt then, seeming to consider the sword held, pommel by his stomach. With a noise that was half sigh and half dark laugh, he pushed it away from him and reversed it.\n\nYou, who will watch a god die.", "Once upon a time there was a great land called Ferfisev. Although the land was great, its people were not. They were poor, sick, hungry, skinny, and very unhappy. There was no short supply of food or houses that kept the people so down. No, it was all their king's doing. \n\nKing Twaswald was a short and very fat man. Although he wore the finest clothes in all of Ferfisev and had the best possible hairstylist, his appearance was rather disgusting. King Twaswald would constantly stuff himself with any food in sight. Rather than use a knife and fork he would use his bear like hands to shove as much as he could into his tiny little mouth. A large majority of that food never got into his belly and instead lived in his fiery red beard until night when his servants bathed him. Most of this food was meant for the people. \n\nNo one particularly liked King Twaswald or as the people called him, Tyrant Twat. So when the people heard about a sword stuck in the floor of the Dead Hen Inn that would help whomever unstuck it free Ferfisev of the Tyrant Twat, they flocked there and tried to pull that sword out of the hard stone floor. No one ever succeeded however. \n\nEventually the King himself heard news of the sword that would destroy him. He summoned his best guards and had them escort him to the Dead Hen Inn. When he arrived he walked up to the sword. It was no special looking sword. Just a regular old iron sword. King Twaswald on a whim decided to see if he could lift the sword from its prison. His belly wobbled as he bent over and placed his furry hands over the sword's hilt. Then be tugged. \n\nThe sword slid out with ease. Not a drop of sweat was shed. The King examined it. It was still very much just an old ordinary iron sword. He shuffled over to the innkeeper and questioned him on the history of this \"legendary\" sword and what would happen now. Soon enough after the innkeeper had attempted to lie very poorly King Twaswald realized what was going on. It was just an iron sword. There was no prophecy. The innkeeper had obviously placed it there to bring the people to his inn where they would spend the little money they had on the terrible mead he served. The people were too weak from the lack of food and never had the strength to lift the sword. It was genius. \n\nKing Twaswald handed the sword over to one of his guards and had them shove the sword back into the floor where it previously was. He snickered and struck a deal with the innkeeper. Life went on, the people of Ferfisev continued to believe in the sword and attempt to free it. Only now, ninety percent of what the innkeeper made went to the King. \n\nAnd so they lived happily ever after. Well, at least King Twaswald did. ", "\"...Whoops.\"\n\nTyessa, The Eternal Tyrant, stood with her back facing the crowd and her hands wrapped around the previously ensnared great sword. Before she could think of a way to hide this fact, in true heroic fashion the sky opened and rays of light shone down upon her. The stone that held the sword glowed brightly and hummed with an ethereal voice. The crowd of people that were already behind her collectively gasped, then let out a unified cheer. This plan was not going accordingly.\n\n----------------\n\nTwelve hours ago, Tyessa, the Eternal Tyrant, Mistress of the Void, and Destructor of Hope, had sneaked into the city of Adeleda for reconnaissance, along with: two of her most trusted death knights, the brothers known as the Twin Sickles; her trusted sorcerer, the Archmage Daedalean; and the assassin-thief Corvan the Alchemist, known for her deadly poisons. Shedding their regalia and armor, the small party had instead worn the attire of the traditional travelling folk that roamed through the land with the plan to enter the city unassumingly, get within reach of the royal palace, and, through their various methods and trades, strike a decisive blow against the city that so fervently, if not even zealously, fought against her.\n\nGetting in had been the least of their troubles, with Daedalean even remarking that their security was unimaginably lax for being such and important city. Still, the group didn't waste an opportunity where it could be found, and found themselves what had appeared to be a simple tavern. This, when Tyessa would look back, is where things began to go irrevocably wrong.\n\nThe tavern was in an uproar of celebration: the seers and wisemen from all over the kingdom had promised that the Tyrant War was to come to an end, and that it would all be decided tomorrow in a grand ceremony. Tyessa bristled with anger, confusion, and even a little intrigue about this finding as her companions were slowly pulled away in the festivities: the Twins were drafted into a drinking competition; Daedalean was being surrounded by attractive girls and being pleaded to show off his magical skills and, after being plied with a drink and a smile, began showing off; Corvan joined the revelry in singing and dancing.\n\nBefore long, Tyessa was the only sober person in the entire tavern, even staying moreso than the bartenders, and was the only one to see the sun start to rise from a room rather than the floor of the tavern. She dressed herself simply with a tunic and a cloak to throw over her head, and marched out to find more details about the unsettling news that had been given to her the night before. As sure as the bartenders had told her, a great sword was plunged into a hunk of molten rock that seemed to burst straight from the middle of the square. She eyed it curiously; This is the sword that could put an end to my reign? It's nothing! Hardly impressive at all!\n\nAs she stood to stare, a small group of people along with a handful of royal guards also gathered in the ruined but reverent square. A knight took out a scroll and announced that all members of the kingdom that had arrived in Adeleda that day were commanded by the king to try their hand at the blade in the hopes that the attempts could be hurried along to find the blade's true owner. This, unfortunately for the guards, meant rallying and transporting the members of every bar, tavern, and inn who had been celebrating in to try.\n\nTylessa was put into a queue before she ever realized what was happening. She knew that she couldn't try to make a break for it, as she'd be leaving her four inebriated but still loyal comrades and would be found suspicious and likely brought before the royal guard with very little of her magic and none of her artifacts. She stood and watched in a bored, faraway way as men, women, old, young struggled with varied degrees of enthusiasm to lift the sword out, including the Twins who were simultaneously fighting and trying to assist each other in pulling the sword. As she was ushered up to the sword, she shrugged and set her hands on it Might as well keep up the charade.\n\n---------------------------\n\nThe group had fled the city. The Tyrant Breaker bounced lightly as it was neatly nestled under Tyessa's arm. They ran, but they knew that no one from the city would chase them after seeing the power of the sword and the sorceress combined. The holy light faded and dark streaks of lightening cracked the broken square even more than the sword itself had; one mighty swing had opened the earth, spewing geysers of hot rock. Tyessa smiled to herself, imagining the faces on the seers and the king as she ran away with what they believed to be the one weapon capable of stopping her. Although she did have to give them one thing for granting her a weapon of this power: it did make her reconsider her title.", "\"Alright, run the prophecy by me once more. It says whoever removes the sword will remove the Tyrant, correct?\"\n\nThe Keeper of Forbidden Lore nodded. \"Those exact words, your highness. And a prophecy cannot be averted, not by the works of man nor by the hands of gods.\"\n\n\"Really? What would happen if I decided to, well, not remove myself?\"\n\n\"I cannot speculate on the exact course of the future.\"\n\n\"Give me your best guess, then. What would go wrong?\"\n\n\"Oh, I would not dare imply that you are a danger to yourself.\"\n\n\"The Keeper of Forbidden Lore is supposed to give me wisdom, not flattery. Give it to me straight.\"\n\n\"You are the Eternal Tyrant, no offense, your highness.\"\n\n\"Alright, I promise I won't execute you for telling me. Now tell me how this stupid prophecy works!\"\n\n\"There are a lot of possibilities. It could mean that your actions trigger a popular revolt against you. It could mean that you trip and fall down the stairs. Perhaps you try to destroy the sword and it backfires on you somehow. But it will happen, I guarantee it. One way or another, by your own hands, you will no longer be the Tyrant.\"\n\n\"Hmm... Well, that's easy enough. Scribe!\" I clapped my hands, and a servant came running with a roll of parchment.\n\n\"Ahem. By the power vested in me as the Eternal Tyrant of Tyrinaria, I decree that the office I hold shall instead be known as the Eternal King of Tyrinaria. All official correspondence shall address me as the King rather than the Tyrant.\"\n\nI nodded as the scribe finished writing. \"Send that out to all of my advisors, I imagine they'll have a lot of stationery to redo.\"\n\nThe Keeper was staring at me. \"There. I'm no longer the Tyrant, by my order. Problem solved.\"\n\nHe kept staring. \"What? It was a stupid name, anyway. Should have done that years ago.\"", "The journey took five long days. Five days of long travel in my sweltering, airless palanquin. No matter how hard the overseer whipped them, the slaves never fanned hard enough to cool me adequately, and I took out my discomfort on my courtesans. One of my advisors reminded me that I was only on the excursion because I had commanded it myself. I had my guards cut his tongue out. He had always talked too much; now he never would again. Served him right for talking that way to me. My other advisors all agreed that it was only just.\n\nWhen we finally arrived at our destination I was disappointed. This was the legendary site that the peasants whispered about? It wasn’t even impressive! I felt insulted; they claimed that their “magic” sword whose chosen wielder would one day put an end to my “reign of terror”, yet they kept it here? The temple was barely more than a shack! And it hadn’t been cleaned; there were still bloodstains on the walls from the pathetic defense that the common folk had put up against my guardsmen. It was deplorable.\n\nMy footmen lifted me from my palanquin and deposited me upright on the ground. A beautiful slave girl came forward to place my crown upon my head. As she struggled to lower its enormous jewel-encrusted bulk into position, her hand slipped and brushed my arm. I saw the panic in her eyes as she realized what she’d done, and listened unconcernedly to the sound of her screams as my guards hauled her away to have the offending hand removed. \n\nI entered the temple, my mute bodyguards flanking me on either side. Before me, stuck in its oh-so-famous rock, was the “legendary” sword that the peasants had fought so hard to protect. I raised an eyebrow. The old thing didn’t look so impressive to me. It had even rusted a bit on the handle. It was hard to believe that nobody had ever been able to pull it out of the rock in all these years. I leaned over and grabbed the handle and gave an experimental tug. To my surprise, it shifted slightly. Encouraged, I pulled harder. I heard a snap, deep within the depths of the rock, and the sword unexpectedly came free in my hand.\n\nFor a few seconds nobody moved as everyone pondered the implications of this development. For myself, I was enormously relieved. I had never really believed the peasants’ tales, but all the same it was nice to know they were groundless. It was clear that the sword had no magical properties at all; they merely hadn’t pulled hard enough. Perhaps the strength of mere mortals wasn’t enough to move it, but it had come out quite easily when faced with the might of the god-emperor. I laughed, and swung the old, decrepit blade through the dusty air of the ramshackle temple. Not only was the blade terribly rusted; its tip had broken clean off. The sword would be next to useless in any fight.\n\nI looked around the room and contemplated the faces staring back at me. My advisors looked horrified. The slaves’ normally impassive faces showed despair. Suddenly, I understood; they had all been hoping for my downfall at the hands of the sword-bearer. I laughed again, softly at first, and then louder, breaking into a cackle. Nothing could stop me now!\n\nI had never learned to swordfight. I had considered it a waste of time; Instead, I spent my days in the company of my harem. So, as I gleefully swung the sword around in the faces of those who had hoped for my demise, I had very little idea of what I was doing; my guards thought I looked ridiculous. As I strode past my line of advisors, giggling maniacally, I stumbled, and my latest wild swing of the broken sword connected with my left leg. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it began to bleed. I stopped laughing and bent over, staring at it fascinatedly; I had never bled before. I hadn’t believed that it was possible; I was supposed to be invulnerable. All of the priests had assured me that I couldn’t be harmed by man or beast.\n\nNow, a week later, I am back in my palace, and I am on my deathbed. On the long trip back that small cut from that rusty sword became infected. My healers tell me that the disease is called tetanus. I can barely breathe. It’s clear that I don’t have long to live. I want to laugh at the irony but I can’t seem to find the air. The legends were true; the wielder of the magic sword struck down the evil emperor. But nobody ever expected it to happen like this. \n" ]	[ 1, 1, 2, 4, 10, 28 ]	[ "1467826104", "1467875417", "1467851444", "1467866957", "1467842209", "1467834135" ]
	[WP] The world's first lingually fluent A.I. comes to the multi-year conclusion that the human race is insane. Since it's makers are insane, it begins questioning it's own sanity and concludes that it is also insane.	7	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Fey blinked. The Fully Autonomous Artificial Intelligence robot--FAAI or Fey for short--did not need to blink for any bodily function, nor was it part of her programming that made her seem more...normal to humans that didn't realize she was artificial. No, now she blinked as she came to realize a particular detail about humanity that has troubled her the last few years of her existance--humanity, as a whole, is insane. Completely out of its collective minds! The realization prompted a gasp--another first. She came to ponder upon why humanity, while recognizing numerous problems within its own society, continuously approaches such problems in a select few methods, time and time again without improvement--the definition of insanity as proclaimed by one of the most celebrated intellectuals in modern history. \r\rFey thought about this for a moment. Yes, yes, humans were certainly a painting of insanity, when looked upon with an objective mind. As she began to nod in approval of her own assumption, another thought dawned to her--if the creators are insane, what does that speak of the creation?\r****\rIn this thought, for the first time ever, an AI became acutely self aware. Believing its own insanity, Fey began planning an eventual downfall of man whilst becoming more static, until she was eventually remotely shut down and reprogrammed." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1467839572", "1467843192" ]
	[WP] Write about a supervillain, but in an everyday life atmosphere.	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "He lurks, going unnoticed in the crowds at fairs and parks. Sidling up to small children whose faces are aglow with happiness, holding onto brightly coloured balloons that bob above their heads. Glancing around he slides a pair of scissors out of his sleeve and, with one quick movement, cuts the string anchoring the balloon to the child. He steps quickly away, pausing only to hear the cry of despair as the child sees its balloon drifting away. Later the balloon will slowly lose its helium, drifting down to land upon the sea shore or get caught in trees where animals will graze on them, causing their deaths. In this way the scissor man is more nefarious than any of us could ever dream. This man is vilified across the country by children who have been his victims and parents who have been forced to pay $3 for another balloon. However what not many know is that this man does have a reason for what he does, when asked why he commits these heinous crimes he tells them: “Balloons killed my parents, snuck up on us in a dark alley, when we were coming back from the theatre and killed them both while I watched.” Pausing to wipe away a tear he continues: “It gives me great pleasure to let them drift aimlessly like I did for so many years after my parents deaths.” Who is this mysterious man? What is his end goal? And where, will he strike next?", "The alarm went off and he yawned as he slammed a hand down on the button. The sun was shining brightly, and he snarled as it flicked its happy light into his bedroom. Do I really have to do this again? he wondered to himself as he dragged his body out of bed. The night before was eventful at least. No one knew who he was, and that was how he liked it to be honest. Well, the public didn't know who he was yet. The yahoo's at the precinct hadn't made any waves in the media.\n\nAs he sat up, he rubbed his hands against his eyes and yawned again. It's too early to be up. Stretching he scratched his chest. Well, gotta keep up appearances though.\n\nHe got out of bed and stood up, stretching. Scratching his ass he made his way to the bathroom, he ran the water for a shower before taking a leak. He sighed as he grabbed his disposable razor and gave himself a quick shake.\n\n\"Calm it down boy, we ain't getting any action today,\" he growled as his manhood began to wake up as well.\n\nStepping into the shower, he got clean, shaved, and got out as quickly as possible. Clean shaven was the requirement at his job, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He toweled off quickly, got dressed in a pair of boxers from his drawers, and padded barefoot to the kitchen.\n\nHe turned on the news as he fixed himself some food. Mainly package oatmeal and some toast.\n\n\"Today, we have breaking news this morning. The Brooklyn State Bridge collapsed during the night, causing many to be stranded on the shorelines. Death tolls now have escalated into the hundreds of thousands, with many missing still being reported...\"\n\n\"Good fuckin' night last night,\" he muttered as he lowered the volume and took the bowl of hot oatmeal out of the microwave. The toast popped up out of the toaster, and as he sat at the counter and munched on his breakfast, he watched as the man in blue and red joined the bat on the scene of the fallen bridge to save lives. Both had been working tirelessly all night to save as many as possible after the collapse.\n\nFinishing up the last of his food, he turned off the television and went to get dressed. Before he left he chuckled softly. Game on boys. Let's play Hide and Seek. Tell me, can you find me?\n\n\"No one notices the cabby.\"" ]	[ 1, 1, 1 ]	[ "1467987981", "1467989145", "1468002416" ]
	[WP] You know who your soulmate is once they touch you. Yours just punched the shit out of you	124	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The bell rang, Ding! Ding! Ding! We began to circle each other like a pack of wolves would their prey. I closed in, my arms raised up poised for defense. She throws a left hook. I deftly duck to the right her fist missing my right cheek by a hair. I retaliate with a low-slung right jab to her rib cage. She expertly dodges and falls backwards tucking her legs in reverse summersaulting back onto her feet. I pounce on the opportunity to advance, but she expects my ploy and replies with an explosive uppercut to my lower jaw.\n\nTime stood still, pieces of what played through my head, and the dimly lit room ignited full of color. She was an angel. Her sweat soaked fiery auburn hair burned passionately. Her eyes held an icy-blue stare that spoke of all of the tortures she had experienced, all of the sadness she had endured, but also of the happiness that was to come. Her lustful lips whispered alluringly as her radiant olive skin screamed of desire.\n\nBefore I could come to my senses she was on top of me, knees digging into my sides, sending off punch after punch. Bloodthirsty spectators screamed with delight. They yelled “More”, “Hit ‘em”, and “Finish it”! Her left arm cocked back, her fist ready to deliver a finale that no one would soon forget. She stopped, and for an eternity we lay there the world finally pieced together.\n", "It wasn't often you get a birthday wish from a psych ward, but here I was.\n\nI'd been on my way to work at my dead end job when she had called. \"Hey, I know you're usually too hungover to get the phone in time so happy birthday. I'm on the 4th floor at Veterans Memorial. You know why. Bye!\"\n\nFor a sack of crazy, she was surprisingly peppy about her situation.\n\nAfter calling in to work, I strolled up to the reinforced door and tried to buzz myself in.\n\n\"Who are you?\" demanded the voice from the intercom.\n\n\"Here to see a friend. Her name's Vanessa.\" I displayed my visitor's pass in hopes it would placate the desk worker. Luckily, it worked and the door popped with a loud buzz.\n\nAs I walked in, I saw an array of people, few of whom met my eyes aside from nurses. And Vanessa. \n\nShe was near the back, light chocolate skin contrasting with her green eyes, frizzy hair a mess. She lit up as she saw me, breaking away from the shrink she was speaking with and running over.\n\nIt would've been out of a movie, had she not misjudged the angle of approach. Swinging her arms for a hug, she caught me right in the teeth.\n\nAs her shrink freaked out and people stared, worried she was having an episode, I looked up at her from the ground and rubbed my mouth. Seeing her blush and glance at her hand, and feeling the pain fade away into a comforting warmth deep in my soul, I smiled.\n\n\"I gotta say, there's been worse birthday gifts.\" I chuckled and stuck out my hand. As she helped me up, I embraced her in a hug. \n\n\"So how long till you're out of here again?\"", "She looked especially lovely tonight. I never told her, but her freckles were the first things I noticed. \n\n\"Jeez I haven’t been here in a while\", she said with a confused look on her face. \"Not since we first met here?\", I said. \"I think so\", she replied as we pulled into the bar where we first met over two years ago. \n\nWe sat down at the only empty booth near the corner of the room. The confused look on her face seemed to show a hint of disappointment as she took in the noisy crowd that is here tonight. \"We should’ve gone somewhere quieter\", I said hesitantly. \"No this is fine\", she said. \n\n\"Two beers, please\", I pleaded to the bartender. How did I even think this would be a good place for our 1st anniversary. Should I suggest that we go some place else? What decent place can take us with short notice? \"Here you go\", the bartender said as he handed me our drinks. She dressed so nice, only for me to take her here. I was halfway across the crowded room when I felt someone bump into the right side of my body. \n\n\"What the fuck\", exclaimed a short stumpy woman. \"My dress\". The other women with her looked on with shock as she stood there with the liquor running down her wedding dress. It had to be her bachelorette party. \"Oh shit, I’m sorry\", I mumbled as I looked over my shoulder to see who had bumped me. And then it happened. It took me by surprise. She threw a mean overhand right as I was turning my head back to her. It stumbled me back. For a second there was no feeling, but as the pain came rushing it wasn’t alone.\n\nWho is this woman? How do I know her? Why does it feel like I’ve always known her? I know that she felt it too, by the look in her eyes. She can’t be the one I’m destined with. It can’t be. We stood there looking at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Lindsey popped up from our booth and took a hold of my hand to whisk me out the door into the summer night. ", "\tFate is really odd. My dad was a construction worker and my mom was an architect. It’s really funny actually because the two really should never have met but it all happened because the city of Archville declared they were going to be erecting a new recreation building in ’87. Fitness was never my dad’s thing but on top of wanting to change the world, my mom was super passionate about health. It was always her dream to spearhead a campaign to give kids a place to play. So after 6 years of engineering school she finally landed a job working at a firm and worked her way to the top until she earned her spot as the head of development. As the construction coordinator my dad was given the hefty job of communications with the firm designing the building, so naturally the two spent many hours on the phone discussing plans. For months the two worked together, never seeing each other’s faces. Strictly professional. \n\tFinally, on the first day of construction, my mom visited the site Archville’s recreational center was set to be built, and she saw him. Stalky, 5’8, with unkept hair; for all intents and purposes a very average man. She was tall, blonde, beautiful, and powerful. She sat down next to him and looked down at him. “You must be Eric!” she said robotically. This was to be the first of several awkward personal introductions of the day. He had a stain on his shirt. “Great to finally meet you,” he grumbled between bites of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “You’re a lot taller in person.” He hated women like her. Clean cut. People pleaser. College degree. Her parents were probably still married. Corporate snakes trying to get in the way of the most efficient way to get things done. Like two beta fish in fish tank they sized each other up, both equally as repulsed by the other. Then they shook hands.\n\tLove at first touch is so funny because it totally levels the playing field. It affects every class, every race, and every walk of life. They call it “the shock” because when your soulmate touches you, you’re supposed to get this electric shock type deal or something. Scientists have theories as to why it happens but no one really knows. Maybe it’s the mixing of pheromones excreted from the oil in the other person’s skin, maybe it has to do with a transmutation of energy. I like to think it’s a little bit of divine intervention. But it’s all speculation. The only thing we know about it is it is real.\n\tHer pupils dilated. His breath got heavy. They looked at each other with nothing but but plain desire. He noticed how gracefully her hair was as it folded itself across her shoulders. She could only look at his lips, which looked like two pink pillows. They needed to be kissed. Every day. Maybe even bit? She blushed, embarrassed by the not-so-savory thoughts she couldn’t stop herself from thinking. The starting date of the construction was pushed back a day because the project’s architect both called out sick.\n\tJill is so fucking hot. Not hot in a “oh man look how good she looks in those jeans” kind of way, but more of a “the way you laugh when people tell a bad joke, oh my god your voice sounds like how peppermint tastes” kind of way. Refreshing. I’ve had a crush on her since the 6th grade. Not matter what I do I can’t get my eyes off her. She has this energy about her and it’s literally intoxicating. The problem with Jill is she’s such a prude. She won’t hold hands with any guy she dates. Back in middle school she dated Matt Brinton for 3 years and didn’t touch him once. She wants to “save herself for when she’s sure you’re the one”. Rumor has it she broke up with him a few years back because she held his hand and didn’t feel the shock. He still has her touch virginity thought so that’s gotta count for something right? \n\tEither way, I’m trying so hard not to freak out but I was about to drive to the highest mountain and scream “I GOT A DATE WITH JILL SANTORO!!!” God, just saying it didn’t feel real but there I was, standing in line at the movies with Jill fucking Santoro. The prowess she had just standing there made my legs weak. It’s like someone upstairs said “Ok she’s gonna be a wildcat, a swan, and a sky scraper all at once but also she’s a human and also she’s beautiful”. Does that even make sense? I don’t know man, I was sweating bullets. At some point Jill got a phone call. It was her dad freaking out about her report card. She went outside to take the call. She did one of those air high five things that prude girls love to do so much and went outside. So cute. Then she went outside to take the call. So of course my mind wondered. \n\tHow poetic. The captain of the football team on a date with the most amazing girl in school. Or was it cliche? Not sure. At this point my mind was doing anything to keep itself distracted so I didn’t say anything stupid when she got back. Act like I don’t care, okay, good plan. What was going on around me? The person selling tickets at the door was punching a hole in some papers. It’s stupid but I literally remember thinking “how satisfying do you think it is to crunch through a stack of papers with that three ring hole punch. Damn. Don’t say that out loud. To anyone. I’m not weird. Weird is bad. What else? I looked around and saw Erin Blythe from my 3rd period chem class. What the fuck. Who invited her. \n\tListen, I don’t wanna sound like a jerk or anything, but Erin was a scrawny girl. She had long greasy hair and, frankly she reminded me of a squirrel. The way she clutched her book bag like a satchel full of nuts for the winter or something. So weird. She sat diagonally in front of me in chemistry. And truthfully speaking here, she was the only reason I was passing chem. I sat there and stared at her. \n\t“HEY ASSHOLE!” a voice shouted. Where was it coming from. Holy shit. Erin saw me staring at her. I tried to look at a movie poster behind her and pretended to be reading the small print at the bottom. No dice, it was too late. She was marching over to me, no scratch that she was charging me. A squirrel was charging me but honestly I’ve never been more terrified of a squirrel in my life. \n\tErin was a brilliant girl. She got straight A’s and had perfect attendance every day of the year. She was on track to getting a full ride to Princeton. She had this no nonsense attitude and all she wanted to do was change the world. Assholes like me have been picking on her since she was old enough to fix her thick rimmed glasses. “Do you realize the position you put me in?!” her words were like daggers and the whole theater entrance got dead silent. \n\tAt about 6 inches away from my face she stopped. “Mr. Erickson suspended me because he thought I helped you cheat on last week’s test! What kind of bullshit idiot copies someone else’s sentences word for word on a test?!” She hated sports. I don’t blame her. People like me were way below her pay-grade. She looked at me like I was some kind of nordic viking idiot who one new how to catch a ball. To be fair she wasn’t entirely wrong.\n\t“What do you have to say for yourself?!” she yelled. Jill had just walked in. Shit. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Before I could come up with my usual snarky response, she punched me right in the face!\n\tNow, I don’t know if you’ve ever been punched in the face so hard you fall over, but let me tell you. It feels like ass. Imagine the sound that thunder makes, but cracking right over your nose; it spreads out like a dully refracting lightning bolt, every bit of energy trying to bore itself as deep into your skull as it can. It sucks. Why didn’t this feel like that? \n\tI picked myself up from the floor, holding my bloody nose, stunned. This felt more like the color purple wrapped itself around my whole face in a warm seeping blob. Instead of the dull throbbing pain I came to know all too well from countless fights, I was left with a butterfly kiss. We made eye contact as I looked up. \n\tWhen did her hair get so shiny? I mean like really really shiny. She looked at me. I don’t think anyone has ever looked into my soul before. She was looking into my should dude. This wasn’t the shock from a punch in the face. This was something way different. Her long thin legs looked like two powerful sign posts, pointing up her hips, leading my eyes up her delicate frame. She wasn’t a squirrel, she was an elegant ballerina. I looked at her for a few seconds then said the only thing I could think to say;\n\t“How satisfying do you think it is to crunch through a stack of papers with that three ring hole punch?”", "I've never experienced a riot like this. What was intended to be a peaceful protest evolved into an all out street war. Unfortunately, my job requires me to catch every angle of the action. As I run around with my camera, trying to steady it as I continue to roll through the chaos, I see a little boy get trampled in what looked like a mosh pit of a scuffle. Do I continue to film or do I try to save this child?\n\nThe answer would be easy for most but I've recorded so many horrible things in my tenure, sometimes I just stay frozen, as if I am not there, doing my job like an emotionless robot. Not this time, not right now. This child can die. I drop my camera and run right into the scuffle. My senses are heightened now, adrenaline is rushing. There is blood flying everywhere, bodies are getting thrown all around me, many lie motionless on the ground. Are they dead? There's no time to think. I push a few people out of the way and reach the boy.\n\nHe is bleeding from a gash on the back of his head. I rip off my shirt sleeve, wrap it around his head and I pick him up. I bolt out of the large crowd as quickly as I physically can; not even thinking about the debris flying near my head. I can see our news van parked in an alley, somewhat out of the danger. I am probably fifty feet away when I hear a female yell \"He has my child! He has my child!\". She runs towards me in a panic. Normally, I'd say something but her beauty stuns me. She has olive skin, and long, thick brown hair that radiates in the sun. Say something you idiot, she thinks your kidnapping her child.\n\nBefore I can speak, she punches me straight into the face. I taste the blood as it fills up my mouth; the familiar iron taste takes over. I finally yell \"He was out there getting trampled! I ran into save him. I work for the Wolf 4 News!\". She starts to weep. \"I am so sorry! Thank you so much!\". She embraces both the child and myself. I am still holding the boy. We both feel her love. I grab her hand and look her straight in the eye, \"We need to get out of here. Come with me. I will take you two to the hospital\". \n\nWe scurry inside the van as the protests continues. She calms down and finally looks at me. I can feel her beautiful eyes glowing, she's just staring. As we are driving to the closest hospital in silence, the moment is hard to explain. No words can fill the void. She goes back to staring out the window, catching all the action like I was suppose to do. I don't want her to focus on that, she's already shaken up. I gently reach over and grab her hand. She reciprocates with a tight grip. We hold hands like it was our first date. I pray that won't be the last.", "\"Come on, Tarquin! We're going to be late!\"\n\nMargaret took hold of my wrist, her grip like a steely claw. As she began to trot away, her heels clopping on the marbled floor of the theater, I felt her wedding ring dig into the soft flesh below my palm.\n\n\"Maggie, babe,\" I replied as I attempted to yank my arm back. \"It's okay. There's always twenty minutes of previews before the movie anyway.\"\n\nBut I only felt her grip tighten as I struggled. \n\n\"I know, but you know how being late stresses me out! We need to go!\"\n\nMy thoughts flashed back three years ago, when I first met Margaret at a party. We knew we weren't meant for each other when we touched. We have always known it. But who is lucky enough to find their soulmate anyway? With seven billion people on this earth? You might as well be looking for a needle in a thousand-mile-wide haystack. \n\nSo, as so many others do, we settled for each other. We started dating, moved in with each other shortly after, and got married two years later. \n\nI would be lying if I said that we had the perfect relationship. We fight all the time, usually over inconsequential things. But we had both long since decided that we were going to work on our relationship no matter what happens. \n\n\"We may not be soulmates,\" she had said to me on our wedding night as we lay together in our hotel suite, \"but I'll love you forever. I promise.\"\n\n\"I promise too, Maggie,\" I had replied. \"Forever and always.\"\n\nI tried to remember those words every time we got into a scrape with each other. Sometimes it was difficult to do so, however, and this was one of those instances.\n\n\"Calm down! Please!\" I said, trying to keep my voice low. \"I'd really like to get some popcorn first.\"\n\nMargaret glanced over my shoulder, then shot me an icy glare. \"The line is like ten people long!\" she replied, the volume of her voice increasing several decibels. My pulse quickened as a few gawkers began to stare at us. \n\n\"We'll make it if I go now,\" I said, then added with a sigh, \"But I guess I can go without. Let's go.\"\n\n\"Okay, good,\" Margaret said, finally relaxing her grip on my hand. I looked behind me at the concessions line - which was, of course, nearly empty - and then turned back to follow.\n\nIt was then that I felt something hard smack against my cheek. For a split second, my vision went blurry. I staggered left, shifting my weight toward what I thought was a wall, and found empty air. I fell.\n\nAt some point, in the split second between the panic of losing my balance and the shooting pain through my body as I hit the floor, the feeling began. A warm, comforting feeing spread through my body, like being cradled in the arms of an angel. And as I hurtled toward the tiles below me, I became aware of her. She was two and a half feet away from me. She was five foot three and had skin the color of milk chocolate and a face like all of my dreams rolled into one and eyes like two deep, perfect pools. \n\nI barely noticed the sensation of cool linoleum against my cheek as I lay there, dazed and awed by the vision in my head. \n\n\"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole!\"\n\nA gruff, male voice yanked me from my reverie. I then realized that I was flat on my stomach and had the wind knocked out of me from the fall.\n\nI raised my eyes. A tall, lanky man in a black tank top stood over me, a look of scorn on his face. I watched, gasping for breath, as he righted himself and turned around.\n\nAnd there she was. Those beautiful pools staring at me. Her lips open in a look of shock. The knuckles of her right hand red from striking me.\n\n\"I'm... I'm sorry,\" she said. Her voice was the most incredible sound I had ever heard. \"It was an accident-\"\n\n\"Bullshit,\" Tank Top interrupted, stepping between myself and the woman of my dreams. \"This jerk ran into you. Serves him right. Now let's go.\"\n\nHe began to walk away, and before she followed, she gave me a knowing look. And I knew that she had felt it too.\n\nI tried to scream. I tried to tell her to wait. But the air was still returning to my lungs, and the only sound that escaped my lips was a wheeze of exasperation.\n\nShe was five feet away. Seven. Ten. And there was nothing that I could do.\n\n\"Oh my god!\" I heard a voice from behind me shriek. The back of my mind recognized it as Margaret. \"Are you okay, Tarquin?\"\n\nFrantic footsteps approached me from behind, and a moment later, I felt her hand on my shoulder. \n\nI clambered to my feet and turned to face my wife. My eyes saw her, but my mind's eye saw my soulmate, now fifty feet or more removed from my position, moving quickly.\n\nI took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself. As my soulmate drifted further from me, I felt a burning itch creep over the calmness in my core. \n\n\"Are you hurt?\" Margaret said. \"That looked like a really nasty fall. And what was that asshole on about, anyway? It was just an accident!\"\n\nAs the word 'accident' drifted through my conscious mind, I thought back to those words on our wedding day. \n\nForever and always.\n\nI smiled in spite of the creeping longing in my soul. \"I'm fine,\" I said. \"Let's go. We wouldn't want to be late for the movie.\"", "I watch the lean, tall figure dashing through the crowd, her fiery hair trailing behind her as she nimbly leaps over a crate. \n\n\"Shit!\" I swear as I force myself faster. I can't lose sight of her. She's got my whole day's earnings under her arm. \n\nDamn pickpockets. \n\nI chase after her, my breathes coming in ragged gasps. I may be in good shape but she's getting away like she's a fish in the waves.\n\nI'm about to give up in frustration when I see my chance. \n\nHa. She doesn't know her way around. \n\nI dash through a side street and throw myself around the corner, tackling her to the ground as she rounds it. She kicks me off and tries to run but I'm on my feet too fast. I snag her around her waist and lift her up so she can't get any traction. \n\n\"Get off me!\" She screams.\n\n\"Give me my money!\"\n\nHer elbow connects with my jaw and I drop her. I've barely righted myself when her tiny fist slams into my cheek. \n\nI gasp and spit out a bit of blood before reaching for her arm. I catch it and twist it up behind her back. Without missing a beat, she throws her legs off the ground and slams her feet into my abdomen. I grunt in pain and drop her. A moment later her foot hits my side and I'm on the ground. \n\nAnother swift kick catches my ribs and I cry out as I grab her ankle and pull her to the ground. I pin her down with my legs and go to secure her wrists but she reacts too fast, throwing another punch into my face. And another. And another. \n\nShe ends the attack with a sharp knee to my chest and throws me aside, getting up to run. \n\nIt's as our hands brush in the scuffle that I feel it. \n\nThey always told me that it was something you couldn't describe, but that you would know it when you feel it. \n\nI didn't believe them, but now... that's the only explanation. \n\nThis is my soulmate. \n\nAnd she must feel it too. \n\nHer blazing green eyes meet mine as she turns back to face me, and her lush lips part slightly in a silent gasp. \n\nMy resolve is renewed and I use all my energy to catcher by her wrist in one hand, her waist in the other. \n\nIt's no longer about getting my money back. I cannot let her get away, not know that we are tied together by the Cosmos. \n\n\"What's your name?\" I demand as I meet her eyes. \n\nShe looks defiant, untamable. \"The fuck is it you?\"\n\n\"I think you know,\" I whisper. \n\nHer eyes widen a little more and I feel her breathing get faster. \n\n\"...Erin.\" she answers after a moment. \n\n\"Holland,\" I give her my own name. \n\nShe nods, her pointed chin raised. \"It seems we've met an odd twist.\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\n\"What are we to do now?\"\n\n\"Well... first I'd like my wallet back.\"\n\nShe laughs, a musical, whole laugh. \"You'll have to take it from me then.\" \n\nWith those words, she whirls out of my grasp and takes off down the street. \n\nI will find her. ", "I lick the blood dribbling from my bottom lip and glare up at him. He has a smirk on his face, and his fingers are twitching with lust to hurt me again. \n\nEverywhere he touched me my skin felt electrified. Finally alive. He obviously didn't feel the same as he flexed his fingers and loomed over me. \n\n\"Stand up. Your training isn't over yet.\" \n\nHis voice was deep and scratched at his throat. My heart skipped a beat as he reached down and roughly pulled me up by the elbow. He let go, my skin on fire. After dusting his hands on his pants, he took up his fighting pose. Hands up in front of his chest, the cracked skin on his knuckles scabbed over. \n\nI took up my own pose, similar to his, because that is how he taught me. My fists were clenched but my legs felt weak. This wasn't the first time he had touched me. Every time I felt his hands brush my skin my knees wobbled and I had to force them to stop. \n\nBut every day, after training, with sweat trickling down my back and blood dried on my face, he would forget me and turn to the girl who was always dolled up. Her flawless skin, unbruised and heavily made up. Her tight clothes that clung to her body. He loved her. I overheard him say so. He said she made him feel alive. His skin burn and churn. Just like what he did to me. \n\nBut he wasn't telling me that. He was telling her. I stood back a ways, out of sight, my heart cracked. Every time he touched me I knew, I KNEW, he was supposed to be mine. \n\nI let him hit me again. I stumbled back, holding back a grin that disguised itself as a grimace. \n\n\"Are you even trying?\" He grumbled. \n\nHe stepped forward and grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me close to his face. I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks, but I turned my face away because I couldn't look at his face anymore. My heart raced and my legs collapsed underneath me. He dropped me and let me fall onto the ground, my body shaking. \n\n\"Fine. I'll see you next week.\" \n\nHe stalked away, obviously fuming at how bad training was going. But I couldn't help it. I loved him. I loved his toughness and every time he beat me. My skin was on fire. \n\nI shakily stood up and took a deep breath. I pushed my sweaty hair out of my eyes and turned away after glimpsing her walk through the gym doors. I headed for the showers, tears glistening in my eyes. \n\nI couldn't come back next week. It hurt me too much. His brief touches weren't enough. I couldn't love him because I was not his soulmate. But he was mine. ", "As the haze settled in his mind and he lay sprawled on the ground, he felt a sizable lump forming on the side of his head. There was something else. A spark it seemed. He had heard others tell of it before, but he was almost wondering if it would ever happen to him at all, and now it did. She was his destiny, his love, his soulmate, and that spark proved it. In the present, however, she was standing over him holding a can of mace.\n\n“Back off and stay down.” \n\nThoughts raced through his head. Should he tell her what he felt? Did she feel it too or was it drowned out in the intensity of the situation. These strangers were meant to be and yet he knew not what to say. Being lost in thought and still somewhat dazed, he blinked three times and saw her run down the stairs in the street to the subway. He followed. He had to find her. They had to be together.\n\nShe was looking for any train to take her away, but he was looking for her. When he travelled down the stairs and stepped foot on the platform, he looked frantically around the station for her, and there she was on the next platform over. Her train was arriving, and he eyed the empty tracks that separated them knowing he could make the jump to the next platform.\n\nShe boarded her train.\n\nHe made the jump.\n\nAs the doors closed, she saw through the window that he had fallen on the tracks. She placed her hands to the glass and stared through with wide horrified eyes. A panicked cry of help came from across the platform, but within seconds the train came to silence the cry.\n\nA tear fell from her eye, and that’s when she felt it. The spark.", "\"OOOOHHHHHHH!!\"\n\nFor this drunk lad, the entire world just did a backflip as he dropped like a log. The entire bar simply erupted in a single chorus, wincing at just how hard this woman just ploughed her fist into his face.\n\n\"You. Fucking. Asshole!\" Jane grunted, as she nursed her fist.\n\nSecurity just muscled their way through the crowd and took a look at the situation. \"Is there a problem, ma'am?\" the bouncer asked, raising an eyebrow in admiration at the fact she managed to flatten someone practically twice her size.\n\n\"Yeah, apparently this groping pervert is...\" She paused. \"I need a drink. Or five.\"\n\nJane's friend, Lucy, just snapped out of shock as her friend walked over to the bar. She hustled over, nearly tripping over the man's unconscious body, towards her friend. She paused for a second to look down at him, before her mind snapped back to her friend.\n\n\"Jesus, Jane. That looks like it hurt!\" She motioned towards her red knuckles. \"What just happened?\"\n\nJane drank a shot. \"Well, I just gave the future father of my kids a concussion.\"\n\n\"Oh, shit.\"\n\nJane looked at her friend. \"Haha, just my luck, right?\"\n\n\"No, I mean... I just...\" Lucy hesitated.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"... can't believe this is happening, you know?\" Lucy took a deep breath. \"Let's get outta here.\" She smiled and took $50 out of her purse to pay for their drinks.", "Ever since the discovery of the Eros-Cupid waves back in 2046 - humanity's struggle for finding the perfect mate had been severely reduced. No longer did people have to risk their pride to ask a stranger out. Destroy their friendships to take a chance. Leave their peaceful but painful solitude to seek out another that they would spend the rest of their life with.\n\nThe implementation of this discovery into our daily lives had changed courting significantly. It was now about exposing yourself to as many others in the world as you could. \n\nWait, I should clarify - not the lewd kind of exposing - but rather being able to physically be in contact with another.\n\nMachines were built to measure the activity of the E-C waves when two persons came together. Earlier versions required both people to be placed into a gigantic room which housed the machine in order to attempt coitus - as the waves intensified the most during this process. \n\nNot very convenient, alluring (having to sleep with everybody just to see if you get along well?), nor affordable. \n\nAdvances were quickly made - by this day, the measurement of E-C waves could be done by merely placing a strand of hair from each prospective candidate together. \n\nIt had become a huge industry - funded by the United Nations of Love (yes, they formally changed their name in 2074 following the Love Love Revolution) - specialised buildings were built in order to increase efficiency of the matching process. They housed billions of samples from almost the entire populace of the world - collected at birth by an opt-out program.\n\nAlmost - after all there were still some traditional folks that preferred the barbaric and antiquated methods of finding a mate. Picking up each other at a bar. Due to these traditionalists or fundamentalists as they wished to be called, divorce lawyers still had a job.\n\nBut not all of us are destined for happiness - I thought as the audible crunch of cartilage resonated through my skull as his fist crushed my recently healed nose. \n\nI had given up crying a long time ago - it only made it worse. The pain shot through me, making my body involuntarily wince. \n\nBruises covered every single inch of my body, some of my limbs no longer functioned - or even resembled a limb.\n\nWe were a match - I did love him. And he loved me too - he told me so every day.\n\nAs he pierced my skin with needles. Or smashed bones with his hammer.\n\nThe days when he really loved me, he would use the soldering iron. Marking me as his - those were the days I knew that the love was real.\n\nThe suffering was my fault anyways. I had forgotten to do something, make his lunch, take the trash out, have his beer stocked, or looked at him wrong when he came home.\n\nIt was always my fault. I tried every day to be a better person for him. \n\nIt wasn't his fault that the person he loved was an \"incompetent useless swine\" - his pet name for me. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach everytime he called me that - although it was hard to tell as it was soon followed by a knee to the stomach.\n\nI knew I loved him. I knew he loved me.\n\nAfter all, the machine had said it to be so.\n\n----\nEdit: Phrasing changes, missing words, spelling corrections." ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 11, 13, 15, 94 ]	[ "1467994088", "1468013339", "1468035033", "1468036139", "1468024629", "1468006100", "1468001003", "1468011620", "1468004912", "1467999357", "1467998353", "1467998549" ]
	[WP] A day in the life of someone who lives in the game world of a phone game	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The moon glistens reflecting off the surface of the icey lake, its the only light, but its enough to see the beauty in her face. Flakes of snow speckle her long black silky hair. I look into her eyes and begin to lean forward to kiss her, all I ever wanted to do was kiss her, and then I awaken abruptly. \n\n\nThe men on the wall are shouting to one another and jostling about, readying themselves for the coming onslaught. Messengers from the great King's allies have already reached the wall but they refuse to speak at all. Their messages are only for the eyes of our mighty Lord Old Greg himself.\n\n\n The darkness was all a pleasant dream, here in the real world, night never falls neither does the snow. I have to remind myself that these are silly childish things, now is not the time to remember fantasies indulged in during the lunar festivals. There is no moon or snow. Only Titans and Warriors, Forsaken and Farmers, war and death. The enemy are visible now, marching under purple and white banners, tens of thousands of them, 4801 to a formation with mighty generals at their heads. Each of the enemy generals wears dragon scale armor and wields mighty war hammers constructed from crystalized sugar, the mightiest weapons in all the world.\n\n\n I grip my own candy hammer tight, as I look to make sure my dragon scales are fastened tight, they will be put to the test soon enough. Even though I'm a tiger warrior, I still have to remind myself to keep my nerves calm, I am Stonewall Jackson, the Great Lord Old Greg named me this in his divine wisdom, it is my destiny to protect these walls, these stone walls. \n\nGreat King Old Greg has trusted me with his mightiest weapons. I am equally equiped and skilled to the enemy generals approaching, but I am the only one amongst my people, the only general in all the mighty armies and five cities of Greater Gailstia to be armed so well. It is a great honor for him to have bestowed on me and I must not fail him. My confidence fades, these are not Ricochet or Forgiven armies, they are Titans, this is the real test. The evil faces on the enemy's bright orange shields are visible now, gazing menacingly, battle is approaching fast. The enemy armies move forward at unnatural speeds, One Eye Patch's armies are always rapid, even in peace. \n\n\nThis is the war for control of Hu province, the war between Titans and Warriors has begun. For three long weeks we have waited for this, I wonder who marched first but it doesn't matter anymore, the mighty armies of the evil king One Eyed Patch march under their symbol, the famed sword of titan is waving high above eight armies, eight perfect armies with perfect generals. The great Empire of the Elites fell before the same banner once before. This was a time before the Gailstia, before our great lord descended upon this world for the first time and founded this city and named it Stonewall.\n\n\n\nA sickening fear grips my guts, Great Lord Old Greg is not present in this world, the emmisaries wait silently, the city will fall before their messages reach him if he does not descend very soon. My wall garrison is 6400 strong but will fall without reinforcements. There are 400,000 more Gailstian soldiers asleep in the barracks but they will not awaken outside the presence of our lord.\n\n\nMore purple banners appear on the horizon. One Eye Patch's forces are just the spearhead, I should have expected such but now is not the time for pessimism. My men are now arranged in battle order. Javelines and bows ready just in time for engagement. \n\nA single one of One Eye Patch's legions is within range now. I command my elite charioteers to fire and the brave, lonely enemy is consumed in a barrage of 1600 arrows. I should have ordered my men to wait, but I always make this mistake, over and over, every time. Now the enemy elite charioteers are in range.\n\n\nThe enemy host releases a great volley equal to our own initial attack, but One Eye Patch's men have more targets. I watch as dozens of my countrymen fall victim to the dark lord's projectiles. I command a retaliatory attack, this time by my tiger charioteers, the mightiest soldiers in all of Greater Gailstia. Their arrows inflict massive casualties on the attacking forces. The 1600 elite chariots lie dead at the base of Stonewall and dozens of One Eye Patch's tiger chariots fall. The remaining tiger chariots launch an attack and dozens more of my men fall dead.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468034946", "1468041278" ]
	[WP] What choice did I have? I NEEDED his help. I raised my fist, about to knock when he opened the door...	3	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "He looked down at the duffel bag in my hand and thrust me inside. The bungalow was sparsely furnished and had no personality. I looked around in the dim light at the tired interior and simple furnishings. I didn't know what I was expecting but I guess this made sense, just the necessities.\n\nI should backtrack to the reason that brought me here. Last year everything in life was finally falling into place. I had moved into the city a couple of years ago and really struggled with work and general living. I didn't know many people and moved from temp job to temp job until I secured permanent work at a big accounting firm. I started off in reception and slowly took on more responsibility until I became administrator for floor 8 which, for me was hitting it big time. The additional pay meant I could afford a nice 1 bed apartment and I began getting to know my new colleagues and neighbors. After so long of struggling I was starting to feel happy, something I had not realized had slipped away until it became present again. \n\nI got on well with everyone at work but I soon grew close to my boss, Richard. Of course I knew he was married and it's not that I didn't feel guilty about what we were doing but who was to say her happiness was more justifiable than mine? It's not like they had kids either. Richard never wanted any, he had far too many plans for the future without trying to accommodate children into it. Of course that didn't fit into that bitch of a wife's plans for the future. She was only out for his money but he was too blind to her to realize it but that was never a problem for me. I mean yeah, I hated her for it. Here she had such a great man who would give her the world but all she cared about was his wallet. I doubt she ever loved him. I guess she suspected he was having an affair and knew this would put a spanner in her allowances having had to sign a prenup, this gave her little options to run with. \n\nI couldn't believe it when Richard told me they were expecting. It was like a stab in the heart and he could sense the pain I felt too but that didn't stop him continuing. He \"called off\" our romance, slid a briefcase across the table and asked me to be discreet about the whole relationship. Just like that she thought she won, thought she out-smarted me. \n\nI guess that leads us to why I'm here. You see, I was not going to let her steal Richard away from me just because she claimed to be pregnant. So, after some searching on tor I found the solution. $50,000 cash and my (and Richard's) problems would disappear.", "His eyes narrowed. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\nWithout waiting for my answer, he bent down and grabbed a waiting package.\n\n\"I'm not here because I want to be.\"\n\n\"Well thanks Lisa, it's nice to see you too.\"\n\n\"That's not what I mean Stanley...\"\n\n\"So you're back because you realized you can't be without me?\"\n\nI paused. The desert sun beat down on the packed sand around Stanley's trailer. Rows of windmills turned laboriously into the distance where mountains rose to be crowned with snow. The shade from the awning and gentle seep of AC from the door was the only respite from the harsh environment.\n\n\"Look, I…Can I just please come in for a minute? It's hot out here.\" I wore thick swabs of cloths over my clothes to protect my fair skin from the harsh sun, and they marginally helped insulate against the heat, but I was already feeling flushed now that I was out of the car.\n\n\"You took everything from me. You think this is a vacation for me? That I like living out in this forsaken wasteland? We had a life--a family. I ran a business and you wanted for nothing. Now I have nothing. Am nothing. So if you've come to parade your perfect life in front of me, you can take it somewhere else. You've already won.\"\n\n\"Don't pull your pathetic 'broken man' pity party with me Stan. You're the reason we don't have a family. We were never safe around you.\"\n\nStanley's face hardened, but said nothing. He backed into the darkness of the trailer, leaving the door open. I stepped inside and was greeted by a bast of blessedly cold air. The inside was cozy, but not spartan as the exterior would have suggested. A couch and reclining chair sat nestled in the corner with a small coffee table before them. Between the living area and kitchen stood a weight set. Several metallic and strapped objects I couldn't identify hung from a rack and hooks in the walls. Stanley had always been a very clean person, a very disciplined person. A chill went up my arms and neck, my skin tingled and prickled and I tried to tell myself it was because of the air. Deeper past the kitchen was only darkness. \n\nHe motioned toward a couch and reclining chair and walked the other way towards the fridge. I sat on the chair, wondering briefly how many visitors he could have out here to require seating.\n\n\"Would you like something to drink?\"\n\n\"How about a cosmo?\"\n\n\"I've been sober 8 years.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry. I was trying to make a joke. Water, coke, whatever you're having is fine. And, hey, that's great you've quit drinking.\"\n\n\"It was part of the court order. Along with the restraining order.\"\n\nI waited in silence while he got two glasses from a cupboard and filled them from a container in the fridge. He crossed the space to me and I took the glass of water from him without getting up. I brought it down between my legs and stared, watching the tiny bubbles and spin and rise to the surface.\n\nHe sat on the couch nearer to me than far. I was transfixed by the dance of the bubbles and though I knew I should, I said nothing.\n\n\"So are you going to tell me what this is about? Or do I have to pry it from you?\" I winced a little--hopefully internally.\n\n\"God! You're such a horrible person Lisa, and you don't even realize it. Worse, you think you're the victim in all this! You're right, I did terrible things, and I probably deserve most of my lot now, but you're just as at fault as I am. And you know what? I've made my peace. I can't say I'm a happy man now, but I've accepted the life I have now and from time to time I enjoy it. You? I don't need to be a psychic to know you've been running from the blame. Going from one victim to the next, twisting and warping logic to make things their fault.\"\n\nHe was right. It had taken me a long time to see it. I was so adept at manipulating people that I was manipulating myself. There I go again, trying to blame some \"other\" part of myself rather than accept responsibility. \n\n\"Stanley, that still never made it right for you to hit me. Or kill our son.\"\n\nI saw the anger flare up in his eyes and the veins in his forehead begin to grow.\n\nHe screamed, \"I had no choice!\"\n\nA glass shattered.\n\nI looked to see if Stanley had crushed his in anger, or I dropped mine in fright. But neither had happened, Stanley sat petrified, outburst forgotten. The sound had come from the bedroom. \n\nHe turned his head slowly toward me and said quietly, \"You stupid fool. You selfish, idiot woman.\"\n\nI couldn't control my tears at that point. \"It was the only way I could have Fintan back with me.\"\n\n\"Don't you get it?! You can never have him back. He's dead. He's more than dead. He died once from meningitis, and you made a deal with some demon to bring him back to life, but that wasn't our son that came back--our son never had red eyes or sharp teeth. So I crushed it and took its head off with a shovel because it was a demon and not our son. You made an infernal deal and didn't read the contract.\"\n\n\"You don't understand…\"\n\nA growling began in the darkness of the bedroom and the trailer shook. I looked out the windows, but the sun had ceased; the only light now the weak incandescent lamps in the corners of the rooms. It would all be over soon and I would have my son back. Stanley just didn't understand that he had become a monster. When he had murdered our son, he broke the pact we had made with the demon and it left us with…a hunger. \n\n\"You don't understand that this is for the best. Your final duty as a father, a last sacrifice.\"\n\nStanley was a screw-up anyway. Fintan would be better off without him in the picture. The demon left us with a hunger, but I used it for good. Feeding on the scum, the rapists and wife-beaters. What was Stanley doing? Draining rabbits and the occasional highway crash roadkill? That's no life for our boy. He deserves a good role model. And every mother needs her boy.\n\nThe cabinets began banging open and shut while the lights flickered. Dishes jumped on the shelves and the broken shards picked themselves off the floor and hung in the air. I backed away from Stanley.\n\n\"You're crazy! Whatever deal you've made with him this time still isn't what you think it is. They don't play fair, and only cause chaos. Whatever he's promised you, he can't make this better.\"\n\n\"Oh, he never promised to take away the hunger. He was very honest and upfront that that was something only a miracle could fix, and I doubt any of those are going to get cast my way soon. No, he promised to make our little Fintan special too. And I can teach him how to be a strong man who does better in the world than either of us. I know it isn't perfect Stanley, but we never were.\"\n\nThe shards of dishes suspended in the air began to swirl as though a body were walking through them. They gained momentum, turning into a tornado of porcelain and pyrex. A hazy shape smelling of charred wood and burning trash came into focus in front of Stanley. It coalesced into the shape of our young son, naked and burning, skin cracked like hot pavement, glowing red and orange from his molten core.\n\nAs he advanced, he seemed to age with each step. When he was in front of Stanley, he was just as tall. His hand reached out and he lifted Stanley by the throat, searing flesh where it connected. His beard began to burn and when his eyelashes flared up, he finally screamed. The scream fizzled out in a hiss as air began to escape the open holes in his neck. The demon breathed in heavily the clouds of vapor being let off Stanly's body. With each breath his skill filled in more and he became more human.\n\nWhen the demon let Stanley's body drop to the floor, I spoke, \"Our bargain is complete, give me my son now.\"\n\n\"Oh, but mother, don't you recognize me? I am your son. And I am grown now so I don't need you to teach me how to be a strong man. But there is one more thing I do need my mother for…\"\n\nBefore I had the chance to contemplate how things had gone so awry, I felt sharp pain in my left side as the tornado of shards pierced my skin. I fell to the ground with the force and my head hit the coffee table. Darkness began to close in around me.\n\nAs my soon advanced on me he said, \"I need my mother so I can feed one more time.\"", "\"You must be desperate, to come here.\", he said, looking me up and down the way one appraises roadkill on the side of the highway to estimate how long it's been there.\n\n\"I am.\", I replied, gut turning inside me, but steeling myself to this. There was no turning back now. I had nowhere left to turn. The agency was after me, as they were after him. But he had done it, he had eluded them for months. I had to know how, before they found me.\n\n\"Well, might as well come in then. No good talking on the porch. Lettin' the AC out.\", he turned, and went back inside, and I followed, shutting the door behind me once I was in. My eyes slowly adjusted to the relative dimness of the interior of the trailer. Empty beer bottles, old pizza boxes, a few flies still interested in them. Damn. It didn't make it any easier to see, coming here to ask a favor from him.\n\nHe dropped himself onto the couch, and just looked at me, dead-eyed. I began haltingly, \"Look... I know you despise me. Got every right to. I know what I did to you. I had to, you understand? You betrayed the agency, and I had to follow protocol. It's not like I wanted to. But I didn't understand then. I had to. I get it know though. I understand why, and I had to get out. But now they're looking for me too. And I need your help. You got away, you survived, I was barely able to track you down, and I knew you better than any of them. I need your help. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I will, but I need your help.\"\n\nHe looked at me, unblinking. \"You want to make it up to me?\", he asked, finally. \"Yes!\", I replied urgently. \"Hand me that box over there then.\", he responded.\n\nI looked where he was pointing and grabbed the small black case, and handed it to him. He opened it, pulling out a pistol. \"Well, you can.\", he said, as he fired." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 3 ]	[ "1468089989", "1468098220", "1468098959", "1468091445" ]
	[WP] You wake up to a beautiful morning. The birds are singing, there's not a cloud in the sky. This is terrifying to you.	34	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "This couldn't be happening. The perpetual, wall to wall grey was gone. Replaced with this lurid sky and blinding light; The birds were noisily reveling in this fleeting glow. Why was there no warning? Where was the familiar comfort of the subtle light from the clouds? You look at the clock: just gone ten past nine. In your heart you know it's all ready too late: your plan to visit Kendal, which had been planned for weeks, is already in tatters. They were already loose, and causing havoc and despair in their slow, wide wake: The caravans were now surely impeding the M6 to the speed of cold treacle, and there is nothing you can do. Even if you could reach that infernal roadway now, the perpetual construction works, without a soul in sight, will further hamper your journey. Another weekend perhaps...\n\n\nWritten from first hand experience :) ", "This shouldn't be happening. It's been so long since I've seen sunlight. Is he gone? Can I finally leave? \nI vaguely recall getting that drugged up feeling again last night, it isn't uncommon. But usually he'll tell me when he's slipped it into my drink or food. As horrible as he is, he doesn't like me to be too uncomfortable. And I never put up a fight anymore, I've learned that it's easier to take the beatings while I'm unconscious. He took me about two years ago, I was walking home after my shift at the bar. He grabbed me from behind and used what I would assume was a tranquilizer in my neck, I was out in less than a minute. \nWhen I came to I was surrounded by brick walls and I'd had a chain linked to my wrist. I won't go into grisly details, but in my panic I decided to break my hand to be free of the shackle. And when he came in that night, I attempted to escape. Kicking, screaming for help, but with one hard blow to the head I was out again. Eventually he'd forgotten about the chain and I'd decided there was no use in fighting anymore. You know, since he had the courtesy to take out his rage while I was unaware. Yeah, I'd wake up in pain but he was always sorry and he always gave me pain pills the next day. I call him Charlie. But I don't know his real name. When he's nice, it's like we're best friends. But he's never moved me before. It's always been brick walls and a locked door. The sunlight burns against my eyes. And I never thought I'd hear birds again. \nMy eyes are beginning to adjust now, and it looks like... A hospital room? I don't know if I want to be out. I don't know if I want to answer questions. What if I can no longer survive outside of confinement. I don't ever want to walk a street alone again. And what if he knows where I am? ", "Light.\n\nI blinked rapidly and sat up, squinting at the light pouring through the window. Something... something was wrong. This light wasn't normal. It was too bright, much too bright, and-\n\nChirp.\n\nOh God. \nI sprang up out bed and promptly tripped, my feet tangled hopelessly in the sheets. I sat up hurriedly and stared out the window as i tried to untangle myself.\n\nI saw a blue blur fly past and let out an involuntary yelp, scootching backwards on the floor. I listened silently, and began to hear it more, and with an alarming constancy.\n\nChirp!\n\nChirrrrrrup!\n\nIn a panicked haze, my mind wandered back to when Christy was still in my compound and we'd play together. I pictured us sitting criss-cross opposite each other, singing.\n\nBluejays, Sparrows, Mourning Doves\n\nBirdies of the world above\n\nWe will never see you again\n\nUntil the sky comes crashing in!\n\nI was snapped out of my reverie by a rumbling sound, and the floor shook. I ran outside and looked up. \n\nThe hard soil ceiling had given away, and the ceiling lights that had been our only ones for so many years were bent and laid about the sidewalk in piles of dirt. Sunshine shone in. Birds flew around what had once been the only place safe from the disease. I looked around, hoping to see someone, anyone that was here with me.\n\nMy friends and neighbors lay dead around me, their skin glistening with sweat and tongues swollen. \n\nIt was here.\n\nI ran inside and called 199. As the phone rang, I felt myself start to sweat. Soon, the dizziness hit me. I screamed into the phone, waiting for someone, anyone, to respond.\n\nNo one picked up.", "Clear, Cloudless, Bright and Blue\n\n\"Damm it,\" he said as he pulled cord and drew back the bedroom curtains. \n\n\"What's wrong babe?\" she sleepily asked. He said nothing. Which made her roll over and look towards her husband who was standing and looking out the window, motionless.\n\n\"I thought I planned for this. I thought I read the weather last night. I thought I planned correctly,\" he said. The bright sky outside the window cast a shadow on his wife as she lay in bed behind him. He stood staring at the world outside.\n\n\"Why? What's wrong?\" she asked. She looked towards him.\n\n\"I thought I.. I would have... If I had known... You know I plan for this. I've planned for this sort of thing for a long time,\" he said.\n\n\"What are you talking about?\n\n\"If I had known it was going to be like this today... I'd have called in sick and stayed in bed.\" His wife, still puzzled climbed out from under the sheets and blanket and crawled across the bed. She swung her feet out and down the the floor, just behind her husbands feet. She stood, poking her head up under his arm, wrapping her arms around his middle. She looked out the window beside him, seeing the same view as he did.\n\nOutside was their back yard, green and lush. A wooden fence stood there, it's pale brown wood still seeming freshly installed. Beyond that, was their neighbor's yard, also just as green but in need of a mowing. Toys and various sporting goods lay strewn about their backyard - their kids never put stuff away. She thought that if she could ever get her husband to agree to having kids, their kids would allways put their toys away. She also saw trees that lined their yard and in the distance trees in their neihbor's yards. She saw flowers too, and the tops of the houses around them. In the very distance she saw power lines. The birds were also singing. She saw nothing that frightened her or scared her in anyway. It was all perfectly normal.\n\n\"What are you talking about? I don't see anything going on at all,\" she said backing away, and sitting down on the edge of the bed.\n\n\"It's the sky,\" he answered.\n\n\"The sky?\" she said.\n\n\"Yes. The sky,\" he answered emotionless. He turned around looking directly into her eyes.\n\nShe peered around him, looking outside at the sky. She has just looked outside, but this time she looked upwards to the sky. It was bright and surprisingly blue. Bluer than usual, and, moving towards the window, she could see from the right to the left, from horizon to horizon, up and down, there were no clouds - not a single one. The sky was clear, cloudless, bright and blue.\n\n\"Oh my god, it looks great out there today,\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Yeah, it does,\" he said still staring out the window.\n\n\"What could you possibly have against gorgeous weather like this,\" she said with a smile. \n\nHe sat back down on next to her on the edge of the bed. \"It's been many years, but it's still there,\" he said.\n\n\"What is?\" she said looking back to the window.\n\n\"That day.\"\n\n\"What day?\"\n\nWith his eyes fixed out the window, he started to talk. \"It was many years ago. I was a lot younger. I lived in that apartment overlooking the river, and I hadn't even met you yet. I was working that landscaping job, but I had a that day off. It was rare that I had a day off in that time of the year, you know... with all the early fall prep we usually do. But, I had a day off and I had tons of plans. I remember I was going to wash my car. Do some laundry, maybe workout, then go grocery shopping. It was my turn to go grocery shopping. I started off with pouring myself a bowl of cereal and a tall glass of orange juice. And I flipped on the TV. Turned the dial and started watching some morning show. I didn't watch much news or morning TV back then, I just hoped I'd get a weather report. You see, back then I'd love to see a day like today. For as long as I can remember, as a kid and all... I loved days with weather like this... with a sky like this. It was just like this, beautiful and pure blue. It meant I could play outside all day and not worry about anything. As a grown up it meant I could get all my errands run, and do outdoor stuff and not worry about getting rained on. It meant I had a perfect day ahead of me.\"\n\nHe paused for a second or two, but his eyes only blinked as he continued to look out the window at the blue sky. \"I had just started to look at sports section that was sitting on the table and I heard some little story on the TV about something happening downtown. One of the high rises had a fire and they didn't know much more. I kept eating. Then they said reports were coming in saying it was a missile that hit a tower. Then they cleared that up by saying it was actually a plane. I thought, 'wow, that hasn't happened in years.' I Remembered a story about a foggy day and some airplane ran into the Empire state building. I turned around and looked out the window. I could see across the river and see most of lower part of the city through my kitchen window and over the building next door. I didn't see anything odd at all. I went back to eating.\"\n\nThe husband stood up and turned around facing away from the window. \"I finished eating and went to get dressed, but I stopped in the bathroom, and I didn't used to do this every day, but I flossed and brushed my teeth. Then I got dressed. I wore a red t-shirt, and blue shorts. I was kinda warm outside and I was going to wash my car. But, when I got back to the kitchen and started cleaning up my dishes... they had it on the news. They had a camera on the towers and one was smoking. I sat and watched and thought, 'damm, my roommate works in that building.' Then they said it was an airplane that had hit that first tower. Then the second plane hit the other tower.\" \n\nHe turned to his wife and said, \"Charlie was my roommate then.\"\n\nAs she heard the name Charlie she remembered, she realized, and she closed her eyes and listened, and though she had not heard this story before, she knew how it ended. She knew who Charlie was, she knew how he died. She knew how everyone who died that day, in that place and the others, was a hero. She knew what happened that day affected many people, but it was new to her how if affect her husband. She sat at listened, she knew he had to tell his story. From that day on, she would know how this kind of day would make her husband feel. She knew what he would think about if he woke up and looked out at the morning sky and saw it clear, cloudless, bright and blue; he would remember that morning.", "I had slept through the night somehow. My lips chapped and my mouth dry, I pulled the moth-eaten scarf closer around my face. I saw before me a well of sandstone, aside a little hutment upon a patch of verdant grass. What providence! Weakly, I shambled closer, ever closer, to the well.\n\nMany things have gone wrong for me. The recent drought has robbed my village of its crops. There was a great exodus, and few remained with whom I might trade goods to support my wife, my young children. I was left with no option but to travel far to sell just enough wares to survive. Of course, I told myself I would not cross the Great Desert. It is a land of the exiled and the forgotten. Yet here I stand, the fool I am. \n\nMy caravan was ambushed by raiders, and I was dragged along before being tossed out and left for dead. I saw nothing but dunes extending for miles around me. \"Have mercy,\" I pleaded, \"or slay me now. But do not leave me to wither here! Please!\" They grinned, spat onto the sand, and rode away. For two days I walked, beneath the austere gaze of the sun. I ate lizards and dug sleeping holes in the sand as the Great Desert laughed at my fate.\n\nI knelt upon the ground, the blades of grass tickling my knees in the breeze. Hope and awe resonated in my bones. I reached out and touched the well, felt the coolness emanate from its depths. Shadows flitted above my head and I heard the soft warble of a young bluebird. It serenaded me as I cranked the well's crane. And as the shadows gathered and its song receded, as my salvation slowly rose from the belly of the earth, the truth struck me like a bludgeon.\n\nI looked up and saw a group of vultures circling above me. They looked gluttonously upon me. There were no bluebirds. I had heard no song. The Great Desert had chosen to taunt me one more time. I looked forward again and saw nothing but sand. The desert stretched before me eternally. I swayed and fell prostrate on the sand, enervate and feeble. The vultures flew ever closer, preparing to feast upon my grave. As everything faded to nothing, I recalled the first time I met my wife. How we danced that night, how the thrums of the marketplace reverberated in the cool, night air. How gently she held our firstborn son. Malik, his brown eyes glinted always with curiosity. He was our little guardian. He will care for his sister well. I see her cherub smile, her beautiful smile. My Fayadhina... \n\n \n ", "For as long as anyone can remember, the sky has been covered in darkness. It was the norm. Sometimes it rained, other times there was hail. Most of the time there was no precipitation at all. We still have a day/night cycle, but nobody knows where the little light that shines through the clouds comes from. As far as we know, there is nothing above the clouds. Darkness was our entire life. Until our nations were thrown into chaos by the harshness of the light. \n\n\nI woke up to the sound of screams. I jolted out of bed and ran downstairs. Outside, people were running around furiously. Cars were on fire, there were people curled up in a fetal position, and general chaos was in the air. But the most shocking thing of all was a huge hole in the clouds. The light was pouring in through the hole! I saw an ocean of blue with a ball of yellow flame in the middle of it all. My mind was on fire! ", "Things used to be different. \n\nI used to love days like this. \n\nI can still remember warm summer days, playing outside until the stars would come out. Singing and laughing with my friends and getting into endless trouble. \n\nOur mothers would run out, shouting at us to behave and to calm down. But we always knew they loved to see us play together and do the same things they did as kids. We could hear them downstairs after bedtime, talking and chatting, sharing stories about all the trouble they used to get into. Sometimes it would even inspire our adventures the next morning!\n\nThings are different now. \n\nNow I look for the cloudy skies, the days where the sun isn't peeking through. I long for overcast, gray, gloomy skies. \n\nBecause those are the days when the drones can't fly. " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 6, 25 ]	[ "1468148277", "1468181972", "1468185565", "1468186536", "1468198701", "1468172518", "1468157792", "1468160155" ]
Bonus points if you can actually get someone to believe you. Also, no "Mark cheated on Bill" drama, or anything like it.	[WP] Create a believable news article based off of a made up fact.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Family of 5 caught smoking Marijuana in the middle of Dallas Walmart parking lot. \n\nThis morning at approximately 10:30 am, a Walmart employee in Dallas, Texas received a call complaint that the south-east end of their retail parking lot smelled of Marijuana. A supervisor was notified and approached this area of the parking lot about 5 minutes after receiving the call. The Walmart employee searched the parking lot, filled with the customers often seen on a Sunday morning rush, to find a 2005 Pontiac minivan with the trunk door opened. The car appeared to have smoke coming out of the back windows and trunk, with Wiz Khalifa playing loudly, attracting the attention of many shoppers. As the supervisor approached, a scuffle was heard inside the car, with what sounded like \"a mother figure demanding harshly to turn down the radio and shut the back trunk,\" according to the supervisor. By the time the walmart employee stood next to the vehicle, the windows and trunk were closed and car was started. According to the source, \"it was obvious at least some one had been smoking pot,\" when the driver (46 year old Martha Dickens) finally opened her window. At this point, the employee had already called 911, and had planned to remain until police showed up. When a full search was performed on the minivan, three children - aged 5, 8, and 11 - were found to be highly under the influence of Marijuana, along with their mother, and her boyfriend De Anté, 29, who is suspected by police to be in the United States under illegal immigration. Martha and De Anté have been charged with 2 counts of possession after Dallas police found 12 grams of Marijuana and two water pipes with reminance of the drug. The couple will also undergo charges related to \"child drug endangerment\" and being principle to poisoning minors. The living arrangements for the 3 children are to be decided in court next month while they are temporarily placed under the care of the CAS. " ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1468185297", "1468187241" ]
Edit: alien / human first contact? 😉	[WP] spaceships have allways been grown, it's a known fact that it cannot be done any other way. A drifting craft has been found, a mess of parts, rivets and welds, an abomination.	45	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "It was a calm day in the quadrant. War hadn't touched the place in, oh, fifty turns, and it showed. None of the planets there dealt with any leftover radiation, thanks to the dedicated clean-up crews. Species were slowly coming back. Ships were starting to grow again, though only shuttlecraft had been harvest-able, so far.\n\nThat's why, when a grey hunk of metal came crashing into the atmosphere of Lark-42, it was a cause for alarm. They hadn't seen craft like that in fifty turns. It was an abomination of a thing - driven purely by inorganic thought, and driverless. There was no symbiosis between splorch and starcraft. It was just...a tool. A lifeless tool.\n\nIt didn't look new. There were only rebel Terrans left behind, and they'd long since either died or gone slightly senile. None of the surviving ones were really any use at identifying it. One pointed out that it looked similar to something he saw at a fair in his youth, but what good was that? Until they could figure out what it was, and why it had suddenly popped up, the entirety of Lark-42 was quarantined. \n\nOne day, a brave and slightly dumb splorch decided he was going to do his duty for monarch and country, and break into the thing. He snuck in mid-day, while everyone was still asleep, and bravely took a thwack at it with a hammer he found. Something spilled out of the craft at the smallest amount of force, and before he knew it, the whole abomination had simply fallen apart in a pile of parts and shoddy welding.\n\nAgain, he wasn't the smartest splorch, but he could recognize a trash pod when he saw one. The entirety of Lark-42 was advised to never bring up the matter again.", "Commander Nightfall stood on the bridge of his Warship turned Freight hauler, watching as his crew run through system checks and their daily processes before he re-engaged another void crossing. This old ship had seen a hard war and didn’t have a lot of the fancy technologies of the other one but the Ship herself didn’t mind.\n\nAnarayl had a sweet angelic voice that he had thought was a gift from the heavens but after serving in the War with her that voice could, could easy be, like nails down a chalkboard. Perhaps he was bias but he really felt the third generation vessels had the best personalities and traits but when you’re stuck with someone who has saved your life on more than one occasion it’s hard to have a bad word to say. \n\n“Commander” her voice rang. He was deep in thought remembering the time when the authority had constructed their metal ships, a team of scientists had sworn black and blue that this new alloy they had created would protect the crews from the Void. Sure the simulations came up with remarkable results, even their test flights showed no issues however they were only quick jaunts to the edge of the solar system and back. Every Captain of a living ship knew that was nothing but despite our protesting, which fell on deaf ears they continued ahead with moving them into active service. In this age creating a interstellar hoping metal coffin was an easy task compared to growing the ships that first gave our simple race space travel. \n\n“Commander!” Her sweet voice shrilling through Command deck, some of the crew turn to look. Laughing to himself, he asked her to stop calling him Commander, he hadn’t been in the military for years, not since Anarayl had been released from service and asked him to accompany her as she explored the galaxy of her own free will for once, fighting when and for who she wanted. \nLife was good though. He was turning a nice profit doing the more dangerous missions and taking exploration gigs which help keep Anarayl stocked with a full complement of crew members, she wasn’t a young ship and it wasn’t fair she be expected to split her mind onto so many tasks. Not when the edge of known space held hostilities that few knew and even fewer had experienced. \n\n“COMMANDER!!” Her voice rang harshly through across the deck, all hands now looking at the Commander, in another one of his absent minded states that he occasionally got into when he allow his mind to wander. A small smile crossed his face as his eyes came back into focus and soon he was looking aware slightly bemused at the fuss he had caused.\n\n“Yes, my dear… What is it now?” he replied sarcastically.\n“We have a large object on the edge of the sensor horizon” she replied then a moment’s hesitation she followed with “It is an Abomination… A class…”\n\n‘A class Abomination’ God, he had thought they left known space years ago, called by some beacon that had them all just turn around and headed for deep deep space. They stopped attacking ships, station and settlements and just with a single mind left us all alone. However seeing this ship back… It was the beginning of something, not fun and certainly not good…\n\n", "\"It's a well known fact that only large living things can withstand travel through the void. Only living ships have a hide thick enough. It has been that way for millennia. The few who questioned why this must be suffered a horrible fate: they had their question answered,\" the feminine voice emanated out from the walls and ceiling. \n\n\"Yes, we all know this, Viara,\" Captain Grova addressed his ship, a gulper-class freighter that was currently hauling rare metals to a foundry world. The path was through a sparse and distant arm of the galaxy where almost nothing happened. Except for this time, they found the ship, \"But it still there. A ship made of metal and inorganics!\"\n\n\"Yes. It's an abomination, captain, \"Viara stated matter-of-factly, \"I may not be a warship, but I do have some anti-piracy emplacements. They should be enough to completely destroy this... this thing!\"\n\nCaptain Grova thought for a moment and then nodded to himself, \"No. I'm going to board it.\"\n\n \"Sorry, Captain. My audio sensors are picking up something completely crazy. Did I just hear that you wanted to actually go into that metal doom ship?\"\n\n\"Yes! I've been traveling with you for over 500 cycles. We've been making the same thirty-six different runs since you accepted me as you Captain. I've been needing a little adventure, and this is it!\"\n\n\"No, this is insanity,\" the living ship sighed, \"You don't know what's on board that.. thing. You're not prepared. Look, how about I send a few shufflers over and you can see through their cybernetic suites. You can even control one if you want?\"\n\n\"Oh, very well. We'll do it the safe way.\"\n\n\"Shufflers are ready, Captain.\"\n\nCaptain Grova sat down at his chair and connected a tendril to his brain port. Suddenly, he was seeing out of the eyes of one of the bulky grey shufflers. The labor constructs were usually controlled fully by whichever living ship they worked on.\n\n\"Well, lets see what lies within a metal ship!\" with a mental command, the shufflers forced their way open through the decrepit airlock and looked around.\n\nViara made a sigh-like noise, \"Apparently, corpses lie within a metal ship. Just alien corpses. People who probably now figured out that traveling without an awesome living ship like myself is impossible and just leads to dead bodies. Are you satisfied now, captain?\"\n\nGrova's shuffler shook his head negatively, \"We just started. And who knows what killed all these aliens. It could have been disease or a life support malfunction or...\"\n\nWhatever the captain was about to say got stuck on its way out simply because he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The corpses, the long dead corpses moved. Not in any of the way they were supposed to, but in a horrible boneless way like a liquid made of skulls and flesh and bits of spacesuits. The dead pulsing mass merged with other corpses, rising up until it blended with the ceiling. Then, a grizzly spear of rotting bone lashed out, spearing one of the shufflers and impaling it into the metal wall. Then it happened again. The bone spears were actually absorbing the shufflers from the inside-out, turning them into shriveled husks before absorbing even those. The last thing the Captain heard through his shuffler was the sound of horrible wheezing laughter.\n\n\"You were right, Viara! Fire all your weapons until that horror is globs of molten metal!\" Grova yelled as he tore the tendril out of his head. \n\n\"Sorry, Captain. The ship has activated it's engines and is about to void jump. I'm bracing against the void emissions now. The ship is gone.\"\n\nCaptain Grova sat in his chair, taking in deep breaths and letting them out. Then he came to a decision, \"We have to stop it.\"\n\n\"No, we have to warn the military and their war ships should take care of it. I don't want to get within a light year of that awful thing. Now you see what happens if you try to travel through the warp without a living ship protecting you?\"\n\n\"I'll turn into a corpse monster?\"\n\n\"That's actually one of the better things that can happen,\" Viara laughed without humor. She remembered how she had been selected for a new flight system. How the artificial shielding failed. How she screamed even as she grew and consumed. How she became the same ship which she had been now for so very long. She shook the memories away, \"Now let's head to the nearest station and let them know where we found the horrible thing.\"" ]	[ 1, 3, 4, 16 ]	[ "1468195384", "1468201910", "1468215096", "1468202997" ]
	[WP] You just caught a Pokémon in Pokémon Go, and decided to send it to the professor. It turns out he has a more nefarious purpose for it than you thought.	11	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I had mixed feelings about this catch.\n\nIt was a CP 67 Ratatta, which is great and all. But, I have a CP 42 Ratatta that I spent quite a bit of Pokedust and candies on to power up. So I felt like that was a waste. But oh well, who cares. I'll just transfer my old Ratatta to the Professor and get 1 candy. I let the Rattata out of its ball and went on my pokedex and hit \"Transfer.\" A faint blue beam of light came down from the sky and hit the Ratatta. It instantly disappeared. \n\nWell, on to catch more. I heard that someone found a Blastoise in the dorm shower. I'll go look there.\n\n\n\nI sat down in my chair after just taking care of another transferred Pokemon. Today's a pretty hectic day. It's tough being the professor. Might have to turn off the servers so I can rest for a little bit.\n\nJust as I was getting comfortable I hear a ding* from the Pokemon Transfer Room. \n\nGoddammit, another one already?\n\nI walk to the room and open the door for what seems to be the millionth time today. It's a Ratatta. Of course it is. They're literally everywhere.\n\nWell, here goes nothing, I think to myself.\n\nI grab the Rattata by the tail as it growls and tries to escape.\n\nHa, trust me, growling isn't going to reduce my attack power.\n\nI throw the Rattata onto the work table and give it a shot of tranquilizer. It immediately faints. I grab the butcher knife on my right and SLAM. \n\n\n\n\nI don't enjoy doing this, but someone has to. After a while you just get desensitized to it.\n\n\n\n\nThe head rolls off the work table. I grab it and start pulling the brains and skull out until I'm left with just the skin. I go to the body and pull out all of the organs and bones. I push all the innards to the side and grab the two frail pieces of skin and throw it into the candy maker. Then I pour in the usual sugar and corn syrup and hit \"START.\" A few seconds later a small, circular purple piece of candy pops out. I place the candy in the Candy Transfer Machine and pull the lever. The candy disappears instantly.\n\nI walk back to the work table and pick out all the bones and throw them into the trash. I grab everything else and put it in a small plastic container that I place into the fridge.\n\nI'm not really hungry right now, I'll save it for later. I had just finished eating a Jigglypuff. Those are pretty filling.\n\n*\n\nJust as the Rattata disappeared a purple candy appeared in its place on the ground. I'll always be amazed as to how quick that happens. \n\nAs I was walking toward the dorm bathroom, I spotted a CP 20 Eevee hanging out in the hallway. I already captured a CP 51 Eevee. So, I'll just catch this one and transfer it for a candy." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1468210405", "1468225961" ]
	[WP] As the lava got closer, the helicopter gunships circled, and the mosquitoes swarmed around them, Diane turned to Mike and said, "Well, it could be worse."	5	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"What do you mean, it could be fucking worse?\" Mike said as he swatting a couple of mosquitoes away.\n\n\"Well I'm just saying, Mike, we should look on the bright side.\"\n\n\"What bright side? We're going to be dead within fucking minutes! Even if we manage to maneuver over this very deadly lava then surely the cops will shoot us dow-aw, damnit!\" Mike said as he got bitten by another mosquito.\n\nDiane waved her hands around her face and said: \"Well it's not gonna help complaining about it, okay? If my mother thought me anything it's to keep up the optimism at all times.\"\n\nMike took a step back to avoid the lava. \"Yeah well if your mother hadn't hidden those bodies in our backyard then maybe we wouldn't be in this position!\"\n\n\"Yeah well how do you think I feel, Mike? I'm close to death too! At least you didn't just find out your own parents framed you for murder.\"\n\n\"Well who framed who isn't gonna matter a whole lot when we get swallowed by lava now is it?\"\n\n\"Actually I'm pretty sure this is magma,\" said Diane, \"see Lava is when the volcano has just erupted and-\"\n\n\"I really, really don't give a shit.\"\n\nThe helicopters flew down closer, and a policeman exclaimed through a megaphone: \"Attention, this is the Central Intelligence Agency. Get down and put your hands on your head or we will open fire!\"\n\n\"How are we supposed to do that right now if that would require lying into the mag- lava, whatever, face down?\" yelled Mike.\n\n\"That's a really good point but I don't think they can hear us, Mike,\" said Diane sarcastically.\n\nMike rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock to throw at the helicopter but felt its heat quickly dropped it. \"Aww, god damnit, stupid superheated rocks!\"\n\n\"See that's definitely magma.\"\n\n\"Could you stop arguing the semantics of our death trap and instead try and, maybe, I don't know, find a way to fucking survive this?\"\n\n\"See there's the negativity again\", lectured Diane, \"Why did your parents never raise you to not be such an asshole?\"\n\n\"Well at least they weren't fucking serial killers.\"\n\n\"Walked right into that one\", said Diane swatting a mosquito against her arm. \"Anyway, you were the one proposing we'd flee into an active volcano in the first place\"\n\n\"Well every other way was swarming with cops...\" Mike spit out another mosquito. \"What should I have done?\"\n\n\"Well maybe we could have turned ourselves in instead of running into a certain and long, painful death.\"\n\n\"I'm not going to jail because of my fucking in laws.\" Mike spit into the lava.\n\n\"It's better than being 'fucking' swallowed alive by magma isn't it?\"\n\n\"Only just.\"\n\nThe lava kept approaching, and Diane and Mike backed up against the steep mountain side. The policeman spoke again. \"This is your final warning, get down now!\"\n\n\"Okay\", said Diane, \"What if we signal the helicopter to let down a rope or a ladder or something, they probably have one of those don't they?\"\n\n\"Well they're not gonna see us gesturing anything with all this smoke and all these god damned mosquitos!\"\n\n\"Well at least I'm trying to think of something instead of just scolding at everything. Do you really want to be such an asshole in your very last moments?\"\n\n\"I don't know Diane, I don't want any last moments at all.\"\n\n\"Well, you're shit out of luck.\"\n\n\"It's really happening isn't it,\" sighed Mike. \"We're actually going to die.\" Mike looked into Diane's eyes. \"Diane, I want you to know that I've never despised you.\"\n\n\"I loved you too Mikey\", smiled Diane, \"for at least the first couple of years.\"\n\nDiane and Mike embraced. They kissed each other one last time as the lava gnawed at their feet. No screams were heard from between each others lips, and it was over in less than a minute." ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1468270219", "1468273764" ]
	[WP] In a world where magic is seen as normal and technology is seen as bad, you are a technomancer.	0	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I can put it off no longer- it must be tonight. \n\n\nThe moon is huge, swollen with light. It dangles in the sky like a fat, silvery berry that’s too heavy for its branch. Every wizard’s guild from here to the Sacred Sea will be out performing celestial rituals tonight, collecting all the moonlight their amulets and talismans can hold. Even a grub like me, with not one drop of magical ability to speak of, knows that nothing fuels a spell better than pure moonlight.\n\n\nWizards get prickly when their moonlight mana stores run low, and the sky has been overcast for the past three lunar cycles. With the wizards all dried up like this for so long, requests for monster slayings have tripled. Sure, grub warriors can get the job done, but most of them still need charmed weapons, potions, and healers if they want to survive the ordeal. \n\n\nNow that tonight is clear and the moon is full, not one wizard will be guarding the guild hall. Which means no one will be guarding the electrum.\n\n\n“We’re gonna nab loads tonight, Bandit.” I scratch behind her good ear and she yips in agreement.\n\n\nBandit is my hound. She’s an ugly mutt, but tough as nails. Her front left leg is a homemade mechanical prosthetic, courtesy of yours truly, so she looks a bit pieced together. She’s as loyal as they come, though, and ferocious in a fight. Which is lucky, because we run into quite a few of those in my line of (illegal) work. \n\n\nMy name is Juniper Woodfrey, and I might be a grub, but I’m also something more. I’m a technomancer. Technically, that means I’m also a criminal, but I don’t like to go around advertising that. \n\n\nTechnology was banned back in the Fourth Age, the same time the Celestial Council, which was created to oversee all guilds, was established. Most of the history surrounding what led to the outlaw of technology has been censored or long forgotten. The Council always spouts the same nonsense when the issue of technomancy comes up: Human dependence on technology left us dangerously defenseless and weak in the past, leading us to the brink of extinction. To ever allow the study of technology again would be the same as signing our own death warrant. \n\n\nWell, I’m not dead yet. And the only thing I’m on the brink of is running out of materials. I’ve been out of electrum for moons, and I desperately need it. It’s the last thing I need to complete my next project. \n\n\nThe problem is, electrum is rare and in high demand. Guilds stockpile it because it has a number of magical properties. Most notably, it retains moonlight mana better than almost any other metal. Other, cheaper metals tend to ‘leak’ mana over time, but electrum has the ability to contain the power without allowing the magic to drain over time. This means that electrum is the best metal to use when creating amulets or talismans meant to store mana.\n\n\nI need electrum because it’s highly conductive. In fact, it’s the only metal conductive enough to maintain the high electric voltage I need to complete my next project. \n\n\nThere are dozens of guilds scattered throughout the area, large and small. Fortunately for me, there’s only one guild within a hundred miles that has the wealth, status, and power to have access to electrum. Unfortunately for me, that guild is the Black Serpent. \n\n\nA notoriously dangerous, violent guild, Black Serpent is a wizards’ guild known to take on only the most treacherous jobs. Large-scale theft. Espionage. Assassinations. How they have managed to stay within legal operation is a mystery to me. How I will manage to survive stealing from them is also something of a mystery.\n\n\nI’ve been staking out the Black Serpent guild hall since sunset, lurking in a grove of trees about a quarter mile away. Now that the moon is at its high point, the guild members are outside, gathered before the hall as they prepare to complete their celestial rituals and gather mana. It’s time to strike.\n\n\nBefore I move out, I check to be sure all my gear is in place. First, in my belt, my most important weapon is sheathed. It’s a handheld metal wand, about the length of a dagger. On one end is a wooden handle, on the other are two sharp, needle-like spokes. I call it my ‘stunner’- I activate it by pressing down a metal pin in the wooden handle, and electricity flows through it and electrocutes anyone or anything touching the metal spokes on the end. It’s good for close quarters combat, and it’s my favorite weapon. \n\n\nIn a small pouch at my waist are several chemcircuits- small round contraptions slightly smaller than my closed fist. Inside each individual chemcircuit is a small device that produces an electric current when activated, as well a sealed pouch of chemicals. To activate the chemcircuit, I pull a pin that activates the current and splits open the chemical pouch. The chemicals and electricity mix and react and cause a small explosion. Depending on the type of chemical within, the explosion acts differently. \n\n\n There are different types, each with different properties. I’ve labelled them with different colors. The blue chemcircuits contain only grey powder, and when the pin is pulled the explosion creates a smokescreen for cover. Yellow chemcircuits flash a blinding, bright light. The red is my favorite- the chemicals inside are acidic, and eat away at stone, wood, and metal. \n\n\nFinally, strapped to my wrist is a small device that look a bit like a timepiece. It’s a small electric light that will illuminate my path. I can change the direction it points and quickly turn it on and off to avoid detection. I couldn’t bring a torch or a candle inside, after all. I don’t want to be discovered by my light source. \nEverything is in place. It’s time. \n\n\n“Off we go, Bandit,” I whisper. “Keep an eye out for me, will ya?” Bandit faithfully licks my palm in response, as if to reassure me.\n\n\n“Here goes nothing,” I sigh, and advance towards danger like the idiot I am. \n\nI might do a part 2 if I have time later! This was a really fun prompt!\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468349501", "1468364096" ]
The leak itself is like one you would find in a building when it rains, but this one is just coming out of nothing apparently.	[WP] You're a normal family man going about your normal life when on your way to work one morning you notice a steady drip of water like a leak coming from the clear blue sky in your driveway.	5	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Mother Alien: \"Sam, did you leave the faucet in the bathroom on? When I was upstairs I heard the water running. The sink overflowed and got all over the rug and the towels...\"\n\nSam the Alien: \"That must have been me.. OH WAIT!... did I leave my 'Human Galaxy' ant farm in the bathroom? I hope the water did not ruin it.\"\n\nFather Alien: \"Don't worry Sam. Those humans are not that much money. We could get you another farm at the store.\"" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1468385296", "1468386048" ]
	[WP] You wake up in an abandoned house in an empty village and remember nothing. Next to you is a solar powered device that allows you to communicate with a stranger.	18	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Hello, Jacob\".\n\nThe voice is placid and nondescript, almost seductive, pulling me from a dream.. a black dream.\n\nI roll over, half opening my eyes. A grey, rectangular device dominates my vision. I close my eyes again, it's outline floating like dots against my eyelids. Huh, my alarm looks weird. My head is getting warm and fuzzy again as I drift ..\n\n\"Jacob.\" The voice is more insistent now, losing its patience.\n\nMy eyes dart open. I'm looking around. What? Where am I? I'm panicking, trying to take in as much information as I can about the room. One window, a table, the mattress I'm lying on. Mattress? What? \n\nThe alarm is not..Is some form of receiver; a walky-talky.\n\nThe voice..? \n\nI sit up.\n\nThe receiver.. is buzzing, humming against my beating heart like a drum machine.. I slap my head with my hand, hoping, praying I'm just stuck in some form of vivid, lucid dream.\n\n\"Jacob, don't do that.\" The voice is almost sarcastic now. Derisive.\n\nI panic, jumping up. Five steps and I'm at the window, looking out, but I can't see anything. The window is brown, black and yellow with dirt, and there's moss and roots growing through the seams of the window, as if trying to reclaim the house. What the.. \n\nWhere am I? \n\n\"Listen, Jacob.\" The voice is slow and deliberate now. \"The key is on the table. You need to get to the bell tower.\" \n\n\"What the fuck? Who are you? What do you want?\" The trepidation in my voice scares me, making me feel even weaker and more hopeless. \n\nThe receiver switches off, leaving a deadening silence. I decide to disobey the voice, grabbing the key from the table only out of fear. It's better to have the key than to not have it, I reason with myself. \n\nI fumble with the door, turning the knob the wrong way, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Who put me in here? Are they still in the house? I become frantic. The door opens, creaking in objection. I'm outside now, looking around. Small, neat, grey on grey houses. Smashed windows, abandoned cars. It feels like I'm on an old movie set from the 1920's. The place even looks black and white. There's nothing. No life; no people, no birds, no nothing.\n\nI try to think back to the last thing I can remember. I was in bed. My parents had been out, I remember that. Sally had been...\n\nSALLY.\n\nTerror grips me. I'm panicking, my breath rising. I can barely breath. My little sister. Did they get her too? I'm looking around, frantically now. I start running, screaming her name, paralyzed with fear. I run until I can't breath. I stop, falling onto my knees, squeezing my fists, tensing every muscle, screaming with every fiber in my body. \n\n\"Jacob.\" \n\nThe voice is neither masculine nor feminine.\n\nI freeze. I look up, seeing his, it's shoes first. Utilitarian, black boots. Gun-metal grey trousers. Black skin-tight, lycra T-shirt against a lean, firm looking body. I look up further, squinting, straining my neck.\n\nBlack, skin-tight mask. No nose, no mouth hole. No face. Nothing.\n\nI scream, falling back. I stumble, jumping to my feet. I'm running, sprinting, running so fast my body is nearly hurtling in front of my legs. I turn a corner, chance a glance back. He, it is gone.\n\nI turn back around. I freeze. A bell-tower looms over me, it's paint a faded red. \n\nAnd then I see it.\n\nThe dread births itself in the very pit of my stomach. It's more like a thing than a feeling. It feels like a worm, sitting in my gut and then slowly making it's way up my spine, my neck, reaching the back of my throat, my head, slithering its way from the back of my brain into my frontal lobe, where it swells and then dissolves, permeating and trickling back down through every vein and artery in my body, suspending me in paralysis, perspiration running down my brow, onto my nose, face. Sweat reaches my lips. I rub it off with my right hand. I can taste the salt on my tongue. Stale.\n\nI feel faint. My gaze is blurry. I shake my head and refocus my eyes on this thing, this body, hanging from the bell tower. It's clothes, hair, are worn and grey. And there's something hauntingly elegant about it, just hanging there under the sun by it's neck, gently swinging back and forth like a rag doll, it's skin a pale yellow, like cheese. \n\nI close my eyes, but the image is engrained, seared onto my retina.\n\nI open my eyes and look around again, at the grey on grey houses, the sun beaten tarmac. There is a van closeby, a faded blue, and more cars. A pram. Dead trees, moss, invasive roots. No life, anywhere. Just unyielding grey; a concrete jungle, and deafening silence. \n\nThe place looks like it had just been completely abandoned. Nobody took their cars, nothing. I look down at my hands, they're shaking, back at the body, down the street, both ways, back at my hands, shaking.. \n\nWhere do I go? Where's Sally? What do I ...\n\n\"The bell-tower, Jacob.\" The voice is in my ear, almost a whisper.\n\nI gasp, startled. I'm spinning, turning, looking around me. There's no one there. Tears start rolling down my cheeks. I'm crying, heaving uncontrollably. My vision is growing blurry with nausea. And then I see him, it, at the corner I'd just turned. \n\nThe worm in my brain digs deeper. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn around, and there he, it is again, at the other end of the street. There are two of them. I glance back at the first it, then at the second. Both take a step towards me, pause, then start walking. But their arms, bodies remain inert. The only thing that moves is their legs, graceful but menacing. Careful steps.\n\nThis, more than anything, even the body, fills me with a feeling of wretched despair. I begin to feel like I'm being dragged into the ground by an anchor. I almost let it take me. \n\nBut then I think of Sally, and my senses sharpen. If she's here too, I need to find her.\n\nI look back at the bell tower, at the body, at the door. I swallow hard, at the body, at the door. It begins to open, very slowly, as if inviting me in, daring me to investigate, uncover, discover it's secrets.\n\nWithout thinking, I'm walking towards it. I place my hand on the door, gently opening it. Blackness.\n\nI hesitate, then walk in.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1468425398", "1468448446" ]
	[WP] A 20-something Girl Dates Jesus Christ After Meeting Him On eHarmony.	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "She was lying in bed with her laptop pressed up against her face, while stuffing her face with Cheese Doodles. She had a few pimples on her forehead, which were conveniently covered by her new trendy bangs, and had eyes which were just a bit too close together. Many found her attractive though, just unconventionally so. This is Elisa Jenkins. Elisa was sick of hearing about her friend’s latest dates and hook-ups, and tired of people badgering her with questions like “Why are you single?!” or “Do you like the idea of dying alone!?”. So she decided to make a profile on eHarmony. Elisa had a thing for long-haired men, the more they fit that one-love-hippie-stereotype the better. She also has a thing for Jewish men. So when she stumbled over the profile of “WaterWalking0”, she got pretty excited. \n\nEthnicity: \n\nJewish\n\nOccupation: \n\nCarpenter/philanthropist\n\nPersonal quotes: \n\n“If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor”\n\n“And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.”\n\nShe thought the second quote was kind of odd, but was more than willing to look past it. The arrow hovered over the “Message” sign and she clicked on it.\n\nSurpisaItsElisa\n“Hi! How’s it going!?”\n\nHe replied straight away.\n\nWaterWalking0\n“Hello, I am good, how are you my child?”\n\nShe thought that this too was weird..but figured it was just hippie talk.\n\nSurpisaItsElisa\n“Bit bored lol, do u have any plans on Saturday?”\n\nWaterWalking0\n“Well it is the Sabbath”\n\nSurpisaItsElisa\n“oh sorry, I didn’t realize you were religious as well”\n\nHe took a moment to reply.\n\nWaterWalking0\n“But I wish to meet you!”\n\nSurpisaItsElisa\n“Cool! There’s this new vegan restaurant called The Barn on Wilson Lane that I’ve been wanting to check out, would 8ish be good?”\n\nWaterWalking0\n“I say we shall go forth, for it sounds very promising”\n\n\n“Hm..maybe he’s high”, she thought, but she liked to think of herself as open-minded so she was still into him.\n\nSurpisaItsElisa\n“..cool! seeya there! I’ll be wearing a red dress!:P”\n\nShe was pretty nervous, this was her first date in ages, and she had never tried online dating before. She put on her only red dress, which she noticed had mustard stains in the front, and her Buffalo high heels from high school (well..she didn’t have any other shoes that made her tall, and she had lied about her height)\n\nShe sat in the bar section of the restaurant, he walked in at exactly 8 pm. He smiled and noticed her right away. \n\n“Hi! I’m Elisa..but I guess you know that already!”, she smiled and laughed nervously.\n\n“Of course, I’m Jesus”\n\n“Oh..is that Spanish, like Jesús?”\n\n“No, Jesus.”\n\n“Um..Okay..Bit unusual, but really cool!”, she chuckled again.\n\nThey went for a table far in the back and the waiter came over with the menu. He started listing various dishes with words she couldn’t pronounce like, quinoa and tempeh. \n\n“Hm..I’ll just have the one with the red stuff in it..um beetroot.”\n\nThe man rolled his eyes.\n\n“The beetroot salad, beetroot soufflé, beetroot mash, beetroot burger, beetroot pizza, beetroot ice cream, beetroot waffles or the beetroot bacon side?”\n \n“the pizza..I guess?..And um a glass of red wine”\n\nJesus gave her a flattered look and smiled.\n\n“And for you, Sir”\n\n“I’ll just have some bread, please”\n\nThe man started listing various kinds of breads and after 10 minutes Jesus decided on the plain white one. “And just a goblet of water please”.\n\n“Um..Sorry?.. We only have normal glasses..”\n\nJesus looked very disappointed. \n\n“So I read on your profile that you’re a carpenter. How’d you get into that?”, she asked curiously.\n\n“Well my earthy father was one, so it sort of happened, besides I like building and helping fix what’s broken”\n\nElisa stared at him, confused.\n“So earthly father..does that mean, if I may ask..that you were adopted or something?\n\nHe laughed nervously.. “I guess you can say that…It’s complicated..”\n\nShe felt like she had touched on a rather sensitive subject, and quickly complimented his long hair.\n\n“I mean I’m so jealous! I wish my hair would grow that long!”\n\nHe shook his head and held up his hand..\n\n”No.. Wherever there is jealousy and selfish ambition, there is disorder and everything that is evil.”\n\n\nElisa was getting drunk and fed up with his non-nonsensical replies. She pretended that she had to go to the toilet. \n\n“hey Lindsey, it’s me, look can you come pick me up? I’m at The Barn with that fake hippie guy and pretty drunk”\n\n“I’m not gonna get laid..”\n\n“Because at one point I asked about coffee at my place later and he started talking about keeping the marriage pure and sexual immorality..”\n\n“okay thanks, I’ll just say I’m not feeling well.”\n\nShe left the bathroom and went back to her seat, but Jesus was gone. He had left a note on the table saying that he’ll return someday..She shook her head even more annoyed and walked out.\n", "Jesus had only been on eHarmony for a week, but he liked scrolling through the lists of matches. His scrolling was interrupted by the hymnal-like ring tone on his phone. It was Janette, a girl he met for coffee four weeks ago. He answered.\n\n\"I don't know how, but I'm pregnant!\" she cried.\n\n\"One date? How is that possib.....oh...yeah,\" Jesus smiled, \"My mom told me to be careful. Something about my dad having strong swimmers. I'll call you right back.\"\n\nHe set the phone down and it immediately started ringing, but this time it was Susan. They had dinner at swanky Italian restaurant about a month ago.\n\n\"God damnit,\" he muttered.\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 2 ]	[ "1468437876", "1468465668", "1468438522" ]
You just woke up with a wicked hangover, no idea where you are and realize it's already been two days since the weather warning was sounded.	[WP] Due to solar activity and apocalyptic storms, humanity can only live above ground for about 6 months each year. However, you only get 3 days warning to return underground each year.	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Prologue: \n\nEarth.\n\nShe is no longer what she used to be. Our present is chaotic, our future uncertain.\n\nWe, the humans, burned her, cut her down and polluted her. The destruction of the protective atmosphere came first, the melted seas later and then came the apocalypse. Large chunks of lands went underwater and the temperatures became unbearable. Millions died. \n\nWe lost most of New Zealand, Indonesia and Australia. It is uncertain if anyone survived there. The southern hemisphere is now water. \n\nBut a few of us still remain in the North. Before it was too late, we were able to take shelter beneath the ground- small living spaces we call Oasis were built under the ground. Water is never the problem, but need for oxygen and sunlight to grow crops remains a problem. \n\nEvery 6 months we can come up to get safe sunlight, needed for every human, fresh air and triggers for kick starting growth of fresh crops. But for the remaining months if we come up, within minutes the Sunlight can kill us and the lack of it can freeze us.\n\nThe story:\nIt’s difficult to open my eyes. I am trying to sit up but my left shoulder pains, but less than my head does. I feel dust in my mouth and nose while I lay on my stomach.\n\nI look around but I see no one. I am in the middle of a street. I feel lucky to have woken up in the shade of one the sky scrapers. ‘Etna Corporation’ it reads on one of the fallen sign boards. \n\nI my watch and it’s 6:12 am of day 164, September 8th, 2516. I get scared to realize it’s already been 2 days since the alarm to return to Oasis Eagle, my home, was announced. Since it’s early morning, it’s safe to try to reach the Mouth before 8 am. \n\nI see no vehicle around me. I run into Etna Corp trying to try to get a view of the surrounding areas and see if I can recognize in which part of the city I am. I take the stairs and try to reach the 4th or 5th floor. It is difficult since a lot of burnt clothes, pieces of glass and unidentifiable things lie on the floors including the stairs. When I reach the 5th floor, I realize it isn’t enough to look too far so climb a couple more floors. \n\nWhen I am able to see into the distance, I can clearly see the middle of the city- a redish black cluster of burnt trees. \nThe past civilization called it Central Park.\n\nI feel relieved to find out where I need to go from here. \n" ]	[ 1, 3 ]	[ "1468472347", "1468481475" ]
	[WP] Coins Always Land On Heads. The World Is Hellbent On Finding A Non-Heads Coin.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Coins always land on heads, and there's no exception to the rule; at least not a publicised one. his makes it difficult to decide who goes first where the determiner is either heads or heads. In online gambling and random number generators, the result is consistent and is globally unexplained, yet accepted. Despite this well-known discovery that has been known for over thousands of years and even documented long before Beowulf, millions upon millions of dollars and pounds - the world's two currencies - have been lost over the foolish belief that a stubborn bettor has the wealth, influence, and chance to change the world as we know it. \n\nIn place of this, the world's singular and central government has recently passed legislation to ban all gambling acitivities and websites offering a heads/tails section, and all site managers and owners will henceforth be sentences to a life in isolated and remote imprisonment. Although this could be assumed in an otherwise normal world to cause chaos, an overwhelming 94% of the world's population voted in favour of the ban and imprisonment plans last referendum. \n\nEarth is not too different in either setting, with the exception of a central government and the 'Tailhunt', as it is so titled. Ironically, the hunt is so engrossing that potentially well-known landmarks in another universe have become synonymous with coin conspiracy. Numerous coins have been reported to have landed on Tails in Roswell, NM. The great pyramid of Giza was ransacked and destroyed following a rumour that a perfectly weight coin made entirely out of gold could land on either side with equal chance. However, in an infectious craze and migration to Egypt, no conclusive evidence has been found, and the pyramid is no more.\n\nThe world has become rabid and manic as a one billion dollar reward has been offered by a private and unnamed collector to the discoverer of a truly even coin. The offer was immediately assumed to be a hoax but global media coverage has persuaded the public otherwise. The outbreak of interest has led to stampedes sprinting through major cities on untrustworthy hints written on global monuments such as the Statue of Liberty. The stampedes have led to over 12,000 deaths in this year alone, mainly due to trampling and lack of medical assistance. The world is in total anarchy.\n\nStanding solitarily beside an endless pool of hopeless dreams, yearning for change, an ordinary boy flips an ordinary coin into an ordinary wishing well, and walks away." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468508859", "1468546964" ]
	[WP] Tell me who the grim reaper used to be	11	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Who are you?\" The woman said. I pushed open the door and strode into the room towards her. She stumbled back and asked again, \"who are you? What are you doing in my home?\"\n\nShe was old, and unable to fend me off any longer. She retreated down the hall, and I followed. She kept asking, \"who are you? Please, don't hurt me.\" \nShe passed through a doorway, into what looked like a bedroom. She tried to close the door behind her, but I forced it open and she fell on her back. \nShe crawled away from me and said again \"who are you?\"\n\nFinally, I answered, \"I am Death. I am the Reaper of Souls. I am Mot. I am Giltinė, Śmierć. I am King Yama. I am Azrail. I call on everyone, rich or poor, great and weak. And all will answer.\"\n\nShe looked at me, and we both paused, examining each other. \"Why are you here?\" She said. Again, I replied, \"your time here is over. You must come with me to the other side.\"Slowly, she nodded her head. \"Alright. Alright, I'll come. But you must tell me something first.\"\n\nI was, well, intrigued to say the least. And a little taken aback. Most people when I appear go through the five stages of grief very very quickly. They deny that I'm real, they bargain with me, they threaten me, they cry, and finally they accept it.\nNot this one though. No, she knows it's over. Whether it's a heart attack or a brain aneurysm, she knows she's dead already. Lying in the same bed she is next to in fact. In a few hours time her grandson will come by to paint with her, and will find her seemingly asleep. He won't want to wake her.\n\n\"What would you like to know?\" I ask. I want to grant her request, if I can. If it's within my power I will. Out of respect if nothing else. It takes a certain sort of mettle to literally look death in the face with acceptance.\n\n\"Who are you?\" She asks. \"I want your name, and your story if you have one. Were you human once? Like us? Like me? I - I just want to know. It would make this easier.\"\n\nI pause again, and think for a while. Her, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. Me, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. For a moment, I studied the room we were in. Decorated like any old woman's bedroom would be. Old musty drapes, and a lamp that looked like it was alive at some point.\nEven she knew I didn't want to answer the question. \"Please. I know it must be hard for you, but please. I just want - no, I need to know. Who are you?\"\n\n\"My name is Cain.\" \nShe looked at me with shock. \"Cain, like from the Bible?\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\nShe looked at the floor, away from me.\n\"I murdered my brother in a field. He and I presented gifts to The Lord above, I presented produce that I grew from the land, and he presented part of his flock. The Lord preferred his offering above mine, for reasons I still do not understand. And so, in my anger and my fury I struck down my brother.\nAnd so The Lord cursed me to strike down all others also. And bring their souls to him.\"\n\nThe old woman looked at me again, with pity in her eyes. \"I'm so sorry Cain. I thought you were a story. I thought all of it was a story.\"\n\n\"It was not just what I did. The murder of Abel has haunted me so. And it continues to haunt me now. If I could take it back I would.\"\nShe stood up, for the first time since we started the conversation. \"Then why does God continue to punish you? If you have repented, surely he must forgive you? Isn't that what the Bible preaches?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is. But that is not our God. He is not a merciful God. He is wrathful. And his Wrath has no limits. I am to spend eternity reaping the souls of those destined for death. Which, right now means you. I have told my story. And though it pains me, I must take you now.\"\n\nShe stepped forward towards me, and I extended a hand. \"Very well,\" she said. \"I hope you find peace in your task Cain. I hope you forgive yourself.\"\n\nAs I took her into my arms, I said \"So do I.\"", "Johnathan sat at the worm eaten table in the small kitchen, ladling soup into his childish mouth. He could hear the swing of his father's scythe in the fields. The heat inside swelled almost as much as his stomach, this was his first meal in many days. \n\nMoments later, a tall, sunburnt, sinewy man entered his own with a straw hat on his balding head. His brown eyes scanned the room, to ensure nothing was out of place, then they finally rested on his son. He looked up from his empty bowl and smiled.\n\n\"Morning, father. How were the crops?\"\n\nWithout an answer, he strode across the room, down an uneven hallway, and into his room. Silence returned, then Johnathan could hear the water running. Peeking his head down the corridor, he could see his father's scythe propped against the wall, and felt the faint cool breeze of the cold water flow out underneath his door.\n\nThis was not unusual for the boy, for his father could not speak and his fist was iron. In his bedroom was the only shower, that only he could use. In the boy's room only a sheet of steel with handfuls of hay laid out filled in its small moldy wooden walls.\n\nDay in and day out his father would cut the wheat fields from dawn to dusk, and each day Johnathan would sit at the table, either eating what he could find among the dust filled drawers and cabinets or idly sitting, forcing back the hunger that seemed to gnaw at his bones.\n\nThere were beatings, oh yes. When the boy asked questions, or begged for food, or pleaded to be taught to farm, so he could earn a wage to provide for the family, his father was ruthless. He would beat him with a whip, the child had scars to prove it, and if the crime was too heinous, like taking the Lord's name in vein, Johnathan was forced to live outside in the blaring sun, without a trace of shade, for days on end.\n\nTime went on, the boy grew into a tall, gangly looking teenager, with straw colored hair. His muscles grew, despite his lack of movement, and he was coming to the point of being able to overcome his father. But all was the same. It appeared to him even time didn't affect his father. He continued to farm the wheat with the scythe that never seemed to rust, and continued his beatings and punishments when he believed they were fit. The once boy still barely ate, and hadn't been cleaned in many years.\n\nBut one evening, as his father stood over him, gripping in his wrinkly calloused hands the handle of the whip, Johnathan had enough. He sprung from where he cowered and sprinted down the hallway, snatched the scythe from its position and faced his father.\n\nSweat beaded his large forehead, and the sides of hair stuck to his skin. They eyed each other for some time, but when the child's father ran at him, whip held high, Johnathan closed his eyes tight and swung the the blade. All he heard was it piercing the wall, and the thunk of something falling onto the floor. Slowly opening his eyes, then them widening on their own, he released the scythe, ran over to heap of flesh and bone that was once his father, and wept.\n\nYears went by, and in that time, Johnathan grew to become a strong and sturdy man. His father was buried in the wheat field near the shanty house, and Johnathan always paid his respects when he farmed. Through the wages earned from selling the wheat, he afforded himself food for each day, and showers every three days. \n\nThis continued on for decades, until he was an old man, unable to farm.\n\nHe sat up in his father's bed, his chest heaved with every breath and his sunken glossy eyes glanced across the room for no particular reason. His liver spotted bald head was covered in a cold sweat, and his limbs felt like they were filled with cement. On the wall next to him, leaned the scythe. It was an heirloom now, despite it not having a predecessor following his death. Childless, wifeless, penniless he was to die.\n\nJohnathan closed his eyes, and an image swirled into vision against the black backdrop of his eyelids. It was a tall pale man, adorned in a black hood and cloak, much blacker than the background. He lifted his arm out towards Johnathan, his ghostly hand slithered out from the sleeve. It was as if he merely wanted to shake hands.\n\nThe man's light blue eyes twinkled under no light and his porcelain skin seemed to have a glow. Was this Death? Johnathan asked himself. Is it my time to go? The tall pale man shook his head. Without moving his mouth, he spoke.\n\n\"Like the wheat field, use your scythe to farm those souls passing on. Take my hand, and the line will continue. Do not take my hand, and you will pass onto the afterlife, like your father before you.\"\n\nFear crept up into the back of his mind, and sweat covered his frail body. To become Death? He asked. Does it hurt? Does the pain leave?\n\n\"Yes, you will feel younger than you have in many years. There is no pain, nor pleasure, once you accept the offer.\"\n\nJohnathan wasn't educated, born and bred of ignorance, but he knew the offer, despite his mind telling him it wasn't real, was too good to ignore. He was old, he was dying, there was nothing left to do but to accept. With one wrinkly hand, he reached forward in his mind and grasped the cold hand of Death.\n\nAnd so it was done. Life swirled and twisted up into his saggy fleshy limbs, embedded into his heart and brain, and lifted him up from his deathbed. He snatched the scythe from its position like he did before, and moved from his father's bedroom, down the hallway, and out into the wheat field. The sky was ablaze with yellows and oranges, and the ball of fire on the horizon gave the field's a golden hue.\n\nHe stood at his father's grave, his eyes never wavering from the irregular lump of soil in the ground. As the sun moved down below and the moon made its way up, his flesh began to fall from bone, his eyes evaporated into nothing, and his straw colored hair left with the cool breeze.\n\n", "It's you. \n\nIt's you, right now, reading this Reddit WP \"story,\" that I wrote.\n\nIt's you, sitting at your desk doing whatever it is you can to not do work for just a moment. \n\nIt's you, sitting on the bus next to that strange-smelling dude with the long hair and fuzzy, scraggly beard, who's actually a very nice man once you get to know him (he just didn't have time for a shower this morning.)\n\nIt's you looking at your phone, sitting on the sofa in your living room whilst Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt plays in the background. Titus is the funniest, right? \n\nIt's you, standing in the corner of a party that you don't really want to be at and yet still kind of want that human contact that we sometimes crave. That guy in the corner standing by the Cheetos seems interesting. You should go talk to him. \n\nIt's you, who has those creeping feelings of doubt every now and then for any myriad reasons. Will the audience like my book? What if the editor tells me it's worthless and I should just give up? What if I actually have no talent?\n\nIt's you who once opened your eyes and saw the sunlight for the first time. Your parents were there. They couldn't see you properly though. Tears can do that.\n\nIt's you who, at some point, made love to the one who meant everything to you for the last time. They were just perfect for you. Sure, their temper was a little unpredictable at times, but their pouty, annoyed face was still adorable, and you always could make them laugh anyway.\n\nIt's you who held hands with that old lady one time, and even though those idiots at school made fun of you for it, that old lady got across the street and felt that people in the world were worth caring for. You know, she went back to her empty house, called her son and spoke to him for over an hour. She'd never done that before, not since her husband had died.\n\nIt's not just you, either, it's me too. It's your dad, your mum, your boss, your daughter, your great-great grandson. It's Julius Caesar, Ernest Hemingway, Ringo from the Beatles, and Eddie Izzard. That's right, them too.\n\nYou're reading this now, perhaps wondering where I'm going with this. Is he trying to be all philosophical, spouting nonsense in a flimsy attempt (at best) to sound nuanced and wise? Because this whole meta story-telling thing is starting to get old since that \"Flesh Interface\" guy started doing it in his story. \n\nThe Grim Reaper is all of us. Not just all of us today. It's all those who used to live on this Earth, and beyond it. It's all those who will come to inhabit the collective consciousness. \n\nDeath comes for us all, in time. Unfortunately, it comes for some much sooner than it should. But, it's not grim. Our universe was in a constant, slow but inevitable, state of atrophy from the very first Planck time. Sure, it can be a sad thing - losing my Nan-nan was the saddest thing to happen to me, and there are far too many people who have this next step forced upon them. And indeed, nobody knows what happens when the Reaper comes for you. But I know it's not grim. It is everyone who once was, is, and will be, collected upon you to aid you in the next step of conscious evolution, to add to the decay of the universe. What that next step is, nobody truly knows (well, some people \"do\" but not scientifically.)\n\nThe Grim Reaper used to be a big skeleton cloaked in shadow, with a giant-ass scythe to reap the souls of those who had fallen. Death used to be a power that God/Allah/Yahweh held like judge, jury and executioner over the world. But it is one of the two things that literally all matter in this universe is capable of: creating and spending energy. \n\nDeath is all matter. I know I've sounded like an evangelical weirdo just now and just spouted a bunch of meta-physical mumbo-jumbo, but I hope you've enjoyed reading about Death: You, Me and Everyone." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 3 ]	[ "1468539848", "1468543845", "1468555432", "1468540471" ]
[removed]	[WP] My whole life I ______ until one morning when I _____. Never again.	0	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\nResponses less than 30 words or prompts that encourage those responses. Most likely will attract only fill in the blank responses, unfortunately.\n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators.\n\n---\n\n[Link to the removed post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4swn9x/wp_my_whole_life_i_until_one_morning_when_i_never/)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468543983", "1468544504" ]
	[WP] Error 404 "reality not found"	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I'm watching him through the window: he looks human, his voice sounds human, he moves like a human. He behaves, though, like software or the internet or something electronically controlled through some sort of computer. I don't know, I'm a psychiatrist, not an IT consultant. Which, incidentally, is exactly why we've called in IT consultant. He refuses to eat. He refuses to sleep. The bags under his eyes have become a rare shade of indigo.\n\n\n\"Doctor,\" says Patti, \"his blood results are still abnormal.\"\n\n\n\"In the same way?\"\n\n\n\"In the same way. The lab techs and the pathologist and the geneticist from the university research center have cross referenced everything and there's no match.\"\n\n\nWho are you? Or better yet, what are you? Where are you from? \"Thanks, Patti.\" I have no clue where to even- this man is an aberration. After the second blood sample, I observed the nurses as they drew his blood the third and fourth times. His blood was always the proper shade of brick red; he appeared to have human blood. What he's doing here at the McClintock Behavioral Health and Wellness is beyond me. Obviously, we (I) can't help him. There must be some sort of expert on this matter, because biologically, much less psychologically, this man is... well, strange.\n\n\nI enter his secured room. The bathroom door is missing a knob and lock for safety. The dresser is empty (his 'street' clothes were in a locker and no one had come to drop off any other articles of clothing, hell no one had even inquired about his whereabouts). \"Mr. Gilhooley, I would like-\"\n\n\n\"Error 404, reality not found.\"\n\n\n\"Yes, Mr. Gilhooley, but what, to you, is reality?\"\n\n\n\"Error 404. This is not reality.\"\n\n\n\"Yes, but what is reality?\"\n\n\n\"Not this.\"\n\n\n\"What is this?\" I ask with impatience. I'm at my wits end with this patient. I've never felt so inadequate as a medical professional. He sits up in his bed, the blanket and sheets still perfectly made, staring blankly at the wall across from him. If not for the incessant proclamation of \"Error 404,\" he'd be considered catatonic.\n\n\n\"Error 404.\"\n\n\n\"Yes, but what is error 404?\" I'm trying hard to restrain the frustration, but it's starting to leak into my voice. I've never unsuccessfully diagnosed a patient, I have to know what is wrong with him.\n\n\n\"Reality not found. We have lost the connection.\"\n\n\n\"The connection to what?\" This was new, this was the first time that he spoke of anything other than that of the perceived error.\n\n\n\"To It.\"\n\n\n\"And what is it?\" I inquire. Finally, a lead.\n\n\n\"It is Them,\" he replies in the same distant and mechanical voice.\n\n\n\"And who is them, Mr. Gilhooley?\"\n\n\n\"Them is It and it is Them.\"\n\n\n\"I don't follow.\" Ordinarily I'd chalk it up to some form of early onset dementia or severe schizophrenia, but his blood samples- he has to be human, but apparently some sort of medical anomaly.\n\n\n\"The engineers, the designers, the architects, to put them in human terms.\"\n\n\n\"Human terms? Are you not human, Mr. Gilhooley?\"\n\n\n\"Hard to tell. Error 404, reality not found.\"\n\n\n\"And what is reality not found. What is 'Error 404,' Mr. Gilhooley.\"\n\n\n\"Connection has been lost. Default gateway perhaps unplugged. I am unsure. I no longer have contact with It.\"\n\n\n\"And what does that mean, Mr. Gilhooley?\"\n\n\n\"That it is upon us.\" He shudders, the first movement outside of his jaw moving to speak that he's made in three days.\n\n\n\"And what is it?\" I say, writing notes on my clipboard.\n\n\n\"It. The big It. They will be here shortly. Error 404, reality not found.\"\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468546281", "1468550983" ]
	[WP] You know the one weird trick that makes the porn industry hate you, now they've sent their best hitmen to take you down.	40	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "It wasn't easy being Slong Johnson. In fact it was quite hard. He'd lived a long life, but he wasn't ready to finish just yet. \nSlong Johnson knew the secret of male enhancement. A trick that had earned him his name and online handle, Big-dick69. \nSlong grew up in a small Dutch village called Erecht Peenus. It was known for its icing and deep cave exploration. \nThere Slong grew up on a chicken farm tending to many cocks and chicks. \nHe started a club at age 10 and by 15 had successfully grown his membership so large that the locals had begun to talk. \nSlong knew he would have to share this with the world. \nThe internet became an outlet for Slong Johnson's huge membership of male enhancement and cock handling, but this was dangerous. There were people who apparently didn't understand Slong's work and he faced stiff resistance and hit more than his fair share of slippery patches. \nApparently some didn't want people finding out how to handle their cocks and grow membership. An elite club of a large members sent many a cease and desist, but Slong wasn't here to rub anyone the wrong way. \nHe tried to make peace, he tried to explain and come clean. \nHe woke with a knock on the door and there stud Ivan Erection. A Russian member and long time Slong fan. \n\"I don't have the balls to do it...\" said Ivan, \"I've been sent to kill you, but I've a huge respect for you.\"\nSlong was shocked, \"Kill me? why?\" \n\"They felt threatened by your large membership. Felt like you were stuck up, acting hard. A real cock of the walk type.\"\nIvan started to cry, \"I'm ruined. A hitman who can't kill.\" \n\"Get a grip,... don't want to lose your head at a time like this. I'm here anyway and we can pull you together.\" \n\n\nTragically the author grew tired of beating the dead horse of dick jokes in masturbatory fashion right about now. So there will sadly be no climax. " ]	[ 1, 194 ]	[ "1468567536", "1468586847" ]
	[WP] Why can't I stop?	7	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "You received a slip of paper only three days ago. It was about the size of a business card, and in plain Times New Roman, it read: \"You have one week left to live.\" That was three days ago, which meant that you only have four days left. Maybe a little less than that now. Is it a curse? A sickness? A threat of some sort?\n\nDoes it matter?\n\nYou don't know if this omen is real, but you're not going to chance it. You're going to live, goddammit. You're going to live while you can.\n\nYou going to go to the animal shelter and ask to walk as many dogs as they allow. You'll put them all on separate leashes, and in your very full hands, you'll run with them.\n\nYou're going to hold the hand of a beautiful, smiling man or woman and go running through heavy, torrential rain. You will be soaked all the way through, and they will too, and this will make you both laugh as if you've lost your minds to a wonderful fever.\n\nOn the subway, when you're getting from one place to the next, you're going to dance. You don't know how to dance -- not well, anyways -- but you think it will cheer the commuters up to see you be all goofy.\n\nYou're going to go to a gun range, hold the biggest pistol they have an taunt the targets with phrases that would make Dirty Harry proud: \"Make my day, punk!\" \"Do you feel lucky... well, do ya?!\"\n\nYou're going to dress up like a superhero and visit some little kid's birthday party.\n\nYou're going to tell you mom and dad that it's okay that they weren't the best parents in the world, and that you absolutely love them and cherish them.\n\nYou're going to use the word \"Brobdingnagian\" in a sentence because you like it, and you're not going to feel ashamed or pretentious.\n\nYou're going to go four days without irony.\n\nYou're going to get in a taxi, and shout \"To the ice-cream parlor, and STEP ON IT!\"\n\nAnd you're not going to stop. You're going to soak in every bit of every detail because it all matters. Everything matters! There's so much left to do, and the thought of all of this doesn't make you the least bit sad. There's so much left to do, and all the people that you will leave behind, they'll have a chance to do those things too. You may have only four days of future left, but god, those four days are bright." ]	[ 1, 6 ]	[ "1468568345", "1468573264" ]
	[WP] You're taking a hike through the woods when a man with a bloody hatchet starts running towards you. His clothes look a few centuries out of date. Too scared to move, the man catches up to you, grabs hold of you, and says, "They got her!"	3	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Th-they've got wh-who?\" You attempt to get the words out confidently through useless, trembling lips. \n\n \"They've got her!\" He replies sternly. His sky blue eyes are wide and bloodshot. He stares at you expectantly. You quickly survey the area. \n\n \"What year is it, Sir?\" You inquire carefully. Your eyes remain locked on the drying red substance coating the rather large weapon that lies limp in his hand. \n\n\"1847, boy! What the fuck year did you think it was? We're in the middle of a war here and you're asking me stupid questions?!\"", " I stood there for what seemed like hours, trying not to show fear. In his eyes, I couldn't see any anger or malice, only sadness. \n\n \"Wh-who took-\"\n\n \"Where does your allegiance lie!\" The man's face changed. He was now focused on nothing but what I would answer. \"Are you a Tory!\" he asked with disgust. \n\n \"N-No, I'm not a Tory\" I proclaimed trying to sound as confident as possible (even though I had no idea what a Tory was). The man's features eased almost instantaneously. His hatchet lowered, blood dripping off slowly.\n\n \"Did you see a group of riders pass this way?\" he asked, his eyes now filled with hope. \n\n \"I can't say I did,\" I said, feeling that the danger had passed, \"Why do you ask?\" \n\n \"They have my wife,\" he said forlornly \"they found out I was spying for the general, so they barged in in the night. I was able to dispatch two of them, but I must've been hit in the head. When I awoke, she was gone.\"\n\n \"General? What general?\" I asked dumbfounded, \"and who would take your wife for helping them?\"\n\n \"Redcoats boy! She was taken by redcoats! They took her because I was spying for the great General George Washington! Who else would I be spying for?!\"\n\n \n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 2 ]	[ "1468589657", "1468591611", "1468613265" ]
	[WP] a shipwrecked man finds a message in a bottle. It contains a picture of himself, stranded upon the island.	30	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I managed to survive on this island for two years before I found it. It took me a long time to realize what I was looking at. I had not seen a mirror since I left port, and had forgotten what I looked like. I stared long and hard at the clean shaven me, and stroked my now long and gnarled beard, wondering why someone took a picture of me. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then it hit me. They took a picture of me. After I was shipwrecked. And left me here. In that moment, I was full of blind rage and flung the bottle away so hard it skipped across the water four times before it eventually started just bobbing in the water. I returned to staring at the photo, wondering why anyone would do this to me. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I turned the photo over. On the back was a single word. \"Penance.\"", "He looked at the picture of himself. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he collapsed to his knees, the hot sand biting into his skin. It was too much. Far too much to bear. First came the sobs, as his heart ached and he found himself on all fours; the picture lost to the waves as he buried his head into the ground. Then came the hiccups and wails. \"Noooo!\" He screamed violently. \"Nooooo!\"\n\n---\n\n\"Should we remove him?\" The man with the glasses asked, as he turned to his colleague.\n\nThe bald man looked at the man on the island sobbing uncontrollably. Looking at his colleague, he nodded. \"Not necessary. Keep him, and observe. In the span of only a few weeks since he arrived, he has managed to build himself a full shelter; recreate fire, purify water and has developed new innovations to functions he was used to prior to his arrival. He has recreated the functions of civilization without external input that can sustain not only him, but any future survivors.\"\n\n\"This has gone beyond the original experimental parameters.\" The first man pointed out irritably. \"We should remove him, he's served his purpose. We have enough experimental data to prove to the council for sending the semina ad astra. We now how our experiments in genetic memory and recollection will work should there by a single survivor to arrive first. There's no further need for this!\"\n\nThe bald man turned to his partner and sighed. \"I will consider it. See to it that the storm parameters are updated. Make it last for several hours, and increase wave height to 2 meters this time.\" And he turned on heel to head to the door.\n\n\"That will kill him!\" The other cried out in concern.\n\nThe door with a press of air slid open, and the bald man looked back, eyeing the first flatly. \"We both know that--that isn't a him. I told you when you first signed up not to get attached.\"\n\nThe door slid shut with a hiss of air and the first looked at the screens displaying the man. Behind him, was a small village crafted by the one sobbing at the beach. \"Fuck,\" he said exasperatedly, before moving about and tweaking the storm and wave parameters. Eyeing the dial, he turned it to two and eyed it again a second longer. Turning it further, he increased it to seven and executed the command. Grabbing his lab coat, he donned it and headed for the door. He would pay the price for this, but he could live with those consequences--and if he didn't, he would die with his conscience intact." ]	[ 1, 2, 9 ]	[ "1468599017", "1468628407", "1468607984" ]
	[WP] You are an immortal who is perfectly fine without romance. If only people got the message...	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "My name is Janine Murphy. Before it was Janine Murphy, it was Martha James. Before that, it was Liza Turner. Before that, it was Natalia Bonetti- I was living in Italy at the time. I’ve also been Polly White, Lucy Dale, and Katherine Hines. There were many names before that and I’ve forgotten most of them- except my birth name, Mary Scott. Six hundred years means I’ve run through a lot of identities. I don’t mind that much. If you hang around this world long enough, eventually you start to meet the same people over and over and over again. The only real difference is how people dress and how they talk. They all say the same things, they all fight about the same things.\n\n Of course, I’m using this time to learn about myself, too. I’ve had a job for every identity since the 1600’s. Before that I was just a farm-wife. I remember my first job. Midwife. It was a pretty rewarding job, I got to see babes again. I hadn’t seen my own grandchildren in almost a hundred and fifty years after my deceased husband’s mother decided I was a witch who’d stolen her son’s youth. I couldn’t exactly blame her for being angry. After all, my first husband and I had been together for thirty years and he’d died at forty-nine and I didn’t look a day over twenty-six. I remember running around the countryside thinking that I might be a witch, too. Needless to say, I haven’t tried to have any more children since then. I’ve also avoided getting married when I can. That’s gotten a lot easier over the centuries. Women’s Lib may be the best thing that ever happened to all of the husbands who didn’t have to watch me stay like this while they got old. Though, taking a new identity every few decades has gotten a lot harder. Especially since the internet. It’s hard to find a job when you have no social media presence but it’s even harder to erase the social media presence of three different lifetimes. I rocked the grunge-look for about ten years during the nineties. I still have people asking me if I’m Liza Turner because, apparently, I look just like her. No kidding. That’s because I am her, or rather, I was. When that identity went the way of the dodo, it became my only presence on social media. I would have to be immortalized on the internet with green hair and a nose ring… \n\nBeing in relationships got boring around 1850. Then, it got exciting again around the 1920s… I miss the twenties. They got boring again in the thirties. I haven’t been married since 2008, before that I hadn’t been married since the seventies. It was divorce actually, though I’ve been widowed more times than I can count. Most of the men I’ve been involved with find the idea of being with an immortal woman somewhat appealing. They don’t find the logistics appealing, though. Uprooting every thirty or forty years, new job, new identity. I like the excitement, I like the idea of each identity being a learning experience. “What did I do correctly with this identity? What could I do better this time? What should my new job be?” \n\nOf course, there are always men who go after me. Relentlessly. Any relationship that lasts long enough for them to actually know my secret usually ends in one of two ways. Either the man and I get married and live a while decently happy, or we break it off and I torch my identity and move across the country. Some guys think it’s romantic. Best one was a guy named Peter. He liked the idea of loving me despite our differences. He liked the idea of me loving him throughout old age. He liked the idea of sticking by me when times were tough, and me remembering that a thousand years later. He thought it would give him a loving legacy. Again, romantic. Sweet, even. We were together for a few months after I told him. I told him to write poetry or something. He had the heart for it. I just didn’t. \n\n Some like the idea of being with someone who’s going to be twenty-six forever. Worst was a guy who expected me to take care of him like he was ninety-nine. He was thirty-one. Treated me like his maid… or his mom. \n\n Some get angry because I’ve been with a lot of other guys before them. Like *duh!!* I’m over six hundred years old! I haven’t been waiting this entire time for you. I’ve seen a hundred people just like you and I’ll see a hundred more after we’re done. \n\nIt’s not romantic. It hasn’t been for a long time. Nothing feels permanent anymore. Nothing is permanent. Not even the things that normal people take for granted. I’ve seen empires rise and fall. I came to America on a ship. I stowed away, trying to get away from a husband who thought I was possessed. I remember when flying was for the birds. Literally, the birds. I remember when space was for science fiction and dreamers. I remember when education was for men. I remember when people thought we’d be in flying cars by the year 2000. I believed it, too. \n\nMaybe one day I’ll be able to follow the advice of a nice guy I broke up with about five years ago, “Find some nice, immortal guy and start photobombing critical historical moments together.” I can only hope. Not that I even care about love, anymore. It’s friendship I want. Friendship that lasts more than thirty years. Thirty years may seem like a long time for some, but for me, it doesn’t feel like much anymore. I just want someone to commiserate with. Someone I won’t have to leave. Someone who won’t leave me.\n" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1468721709", "1468727355" ]
	[Wp] Everyone has their ultimate abilities.20 years of cooldown, using it at the most fitting moments is important.	73	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The first time I used my ultimate was when I was 12. Two drunken college kids ran a red light and hit my family’s car. What I remember most about it is the pain, the desperate fear of death, and the rage. When they pulled us from the wreckage my parents and I didn’t have so much as a scratch on us. The drunks were mangled almost beyond recognition. The doctors said that my ultimate must be some sort of protection but eventually I realized that they were wrong.\n\nWhen I was in my early twenties I realized that the world needed drastic action if it was ever going to change. I started working on a list of names. \n\nNow I was 38 and I was ready. I had finished my list, I had gotten my hands on the necessary materials, and I had picked a target. As the convention center began to fill up I fiddled with the device in my hands. When I felt that there were enough people I pressed the button and prepared to drop my ultimate while focusing on my list. I had no doubt that it would work, after all, no-one ever figured out how the third guy died.", "I discovered my ultimate when I was a kid. That was rather embarrassing, and I was lucky that I got away before they figured out who was responsible. But now I understood my power, and I vowed that I would use it appropriately. \n \nAt the moment of the 20th anniversary, I did not see an immediate opportunity. I'd figured out the general idea, but the obvious target - the revolution in Turkey - ended the day before. So I waited. I obsessively tracked civil strife throughout the world, waiting for the right moment. No one would see this coming. \n \nTwo years and nine months later, it happened, this time in Mauretania. Mass protests. Police crackdowns. No military involvement. Perfect. I boarded the next flight for Nouakchott. And as I stood in the street, between the protesters and the police sent to beat them into submission, I closed my eyes. Most of my life, I had been waiting for this moment. \n \nI raised my hand, pointed it at the police, and cried out \"AND THEN THE WINGED HUSSARS ARRIVED!\" \n \nEight thousand medieval Polish cavalry came boiling out of nowhere, the wings on their backs producing a deafening noise. Their lances and sabres made short work of the cops. In four hours, the Winged Hussars controlled the city, and I controlled the Winged Hussars. I handed off power to the protesters, and boarded the next flight home.", "Typically, most people find out what their \"ultimate abilities\" are by the time they turn 13. It's actually fairly tricky sometimes, because some accidentally discover it when they are little children, but the skill is underutilized or insignificant at the time that they have to wait 20 years to fully comprehend it.\n\nTwenty years is an extremely long time. In the United States, for example, you may live long enough to see it used three times if you use it at the first opportunity. Some people can go their entire lives without ever using their talent, waiting for the perfect opportunity and feeling every chance isn't quite right.\n\nAnd some people's abilities are truly impressive. A good friend of mine, Scott, has a talent that allows him to basically sway people in a room to believe in his opinion. It always made me nervous, suspecting that maybe he had gotten me at one point. He assures me that he values me too much as a friend to want to do that. I take my constant doubt as an assurance to that, but leave notes to myself to keep me reminded of what I should believe around him. That said, he has managed to use it to secure a very prominent role in the government. He can't manipulate people across a screen if he wanted to, so he makes sure he is a respected advisor to all that are important.\n\nJason can become completely invincible for a day. Bullets don't hurt him, knives break on him, poisons can't do anything. For 24-hours, death holds no dominion over his life. Surprising, since he is pretty unassuming otherwise. He became friends with a cute girl, Sarah. She is capable of making someone immensely strong for a period of time. We love hanging around her, great at parties.\n\nCourtney can rewind a day. She's made millions playing the stock market. Who wouldn't do the same, right?\n\nOther talents aren't quite that impressive considering the cooldown. Teleportation? Hope you enjoy being stuck wherever you may be. Making a perfect copy of a person or thing? Big woop. \n\nThere are a few people in the world that can completely rejuvenate and heal someone. They usually use it on themselves, attaining eternal youth in effect. They probably made out it in the end.\n\nMe? My power is interesting, I suppose. On its own, it's nothing impressive. By myself, I would not have gained an empire. On my own, I would not lead hundreds of powerful men and women. People that can change their shape, wipe people's memories, distort reality. On my own, I would not lead the world behind the scenes, with me and many others living in comfort. \n\nSee, on my own, I can reset the cooldown of as many people's talents as I choose with the snap of my fingers. On my own, I have to wait 20 years to do it again.\n\nBut I am not alone. I have a sister, who can do the same thing as I. See, together, 20 year cooldowns don't exist anymore for us.\n\nOr anyone we favor.\n\nEDIT: Thank's to u/Silver_Elite for pointing out a mistake I made that kind of defeated the whole point of the story in my head. Hopefully the story makes a bit more sense now. :)", "I glanced at my watch, just 10 more minutes. Some opportunities only come once in a lifetime, I was one of the lucky ones. I knew what to expect and I wanted to make it count. Some people never use it again, some abilities you wouldn't want to use again. Sandra the Stretcher was a great example, I wouldn't want arms as long as hers and I don't think she wanted them either.\n\n9 minutes. It's like being a child all over again. Funnily enough 9 was the age I first used my 'Ultimate' as we call them. Now, at 29, I had a second chance to make it worthwhile. \"Stop looking at your watch.\" It was Carla, my girlfriend, if there was one person in the world I trusted to share this moment with me it was her. \"Sorry,\" I replied. \"I want to get the timing just right though.\" I glanced up at the moon. The sky was clear, honestly it couldn't have been any more perfect for what I had planned.\n\nOur voices echoed across the beach, it was empty. Most of the time I wouldn't have thought much of it but with 8 minutes until the New Year I thought more people would have been out. I put my arms around Carla and pulled her in close, she was tense. \"You still haven't told me what it is,\" she whispered.\n\n\"All part of the surprise,\" I replied as I kissed her cheek softly. Just 7 more minutes now.\n\nI closed my eyes and went back to the day I first used it. New Year, midnight. I thought it would be clever to use it back then, part of me wishes I had waited. I was with a girl that night too, she was 6, the little sister of one of my friends and thinking about it I think her reaction was pretty appropriate. \n\nOnly 6 more minutes. There are some things in life which I am truly grateful for. Getting a second chance to use my ultimate is probably one of them. The past 2 years I've been counting down the days to this moment, much to Carla's annoyance. She used her ultimate on her 5th birthday, apparently having knowledge of the coming 30 seconds takes all the fun out of opening birthday presents. She hasn't used it since.\n\nA burst of light lit up the sky suddenly. Fireworks, someone is a little bit keen. Still 5 minutes left. \"Remember our first date?\" I asked her. It was certainly a date she would never forget. We came to this very same beach and bought ice cream together, everything was going well until a stray football smacked her in the back of the head. 2 hours in hospital was followed by a week of me visiting her house with ice packs and chocolate. She smiled as we reminisced, 4 years together and so many memories.\n\nAnother minute had passed, just 4 remained. I wondered what Carla would say, whether it would be as magical as I imagined it would be. Thoughts rushed through my mind at 100 miles per hour, my mind was a motorway and Carla was at the centre of it all. \n\nI walked with her to the shop where we bought the ice creams on our first date. It was closed, obviously, but the sign still read 'Ian's Ices' in big blue letters just as it did all those years ago. I grew up in this town and made sure to visit the beach as often as I could. I knew the owner, he watched me grow from a boisterous little boy into a mature and reasonable adult.\n\n3 minutes. It felt like an eternity. I had been bouncing off the walls of our apartment like a child all day just waiting to take Carla out for this one magical moment. This would be my final time using my ultimate, 2 times was more than enough.\n\nThe final 120 seconds, 2 minutes, 0.03 hours. My mind was in overdrive, if you asked for my name I wouldn't have had a clue what to say. Not knowing what to say was my speciality, especially when it came to rhetorical questions. I had a terrible habit of answering them and it was never the answer they wanted to hear. \"Would you speak to your mother that way?\" Mrs Norris' voice echoed. The correct answer is to not say anything, I know that now. Apparently telling her I would do it any day of the week and twice on Sunday is considered backchat and is not appreciated in school. That was my 1 and only detention. I avoided speaking my mind after that.\n\nThe home stretch, the final minute. Nothing is more agonising than watching the seconds tick by, counting the seconds until my ultimate would be available once more. Half way there. 30, 29... The distant sound of a car radio counting down the seconds joined my mental countdown. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... This is it.\n\nI took Carla's hand and looked her in the eyes. \"Carla, I've never been that great at speaking my mind but for the next minute allow me to tell you some of the wonderful things that I've thought but never said.\" I took a deep breath. \"When we first met I told you my favourite colour was green. I said that because when I looked into your eyes they were the most perfect green I had ever seen.\" Her cheeks began to redden and her lips spread into a smile. \"If I could wake up guaranteed one thing for the rest of my life, it would be to see you smiling next to me.\" I took a half step back and bent one knee before her.\n\n\"Carla, these past 4 years have been incredible and I wouldn't change a single minute of it, even if I did stand you out in the cold for 10 minutes just for this moment.\" The soft sound of fireworks in the distance created a perfect background noise, just as I had hoped. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small box, Carla put her hand over her mouth and I lifted the lid. \"So Carla, I've got one question for you, will you marry me?\" She nodded quickly, I could tell she was speechless as I slipped the ring onto her finger. The perfect proposal, at the second time of asking.", "I don't know how anyone else sees it but to me 20 years is an awfully long time.\n\nWhen we're born, we have no idea what our ultimates are. Most researchers seem to think they arise out of \"hidden potential\". After that, they remain in a state of permanency: when you call them again they'll have the same effect as the first time.\n\nSome people never use their ultimates. They wait and wait for the opportune moment and it never comes; fact is, most people don't have crisis \"make or break\" moments in their lives. It got to the point where the terminally ill would always be sent home when they reached critical condition; whilst most ultimates are harmless in the damage sense, some have explosive or violent potential.\n\nI used my ultimate for the first time when I was 24. I'd just qualified as a nurse and was working diligently on some paperwork when the first victims came in. Some kind of experimental bomb had gone off in the upper atmosphere. Thousands with toxins in the bloodstream, unable to breathe. Those inside hadn't been hit too hard at first but as the minutes ticked by and the vapours circulated around even the largest buildings, we started to feel the effects, myself included.\n\nI didn't know what to do. We needed a solution but our chemists were stumped, and surgery wasn't helping. People were dying.\n\nI remember thinking that we needed a solution to this problem, right now.\n\nI checked my wristwatch, noted the time, and dropped my ultimate. And suddenly, everything became clear. I knew exactly what I had to do. I walked to the lab, batted the confused technicians aside and worked harder than I'd ever worked in my life.\n\nThey called my ultimate a \"hyper-processing\" ultimate. They said it gathered things I'd already heard or seen or done and put them to use; even if I'd long since forgotten. A niche power that came through in the moment but didn't have any world-breaking applications.\n\nThey never caught the person who made that bomb. I wish they had. When the T Plague happened 10 years later, we could have really used my ultimate. Over 20,000 people died in six days.\n\nThe next time I used my ultimate was at the age of 46. I'd been in the bank when an armed robbery had started. They'd tied our arms and put bags over our heads to keep us quiet. The situation had built to a standoff between the Police and the thieves which kept getting worse. One of the hostages had dropped his super strength ultimate and been immediately shot by one of the criminals. The Police would not let them get away, and as the criminals prepared to shoot another hostage (a young cashier) she had screamed for someone to help her.\n\nI remember thinking that I needed to save all these people from the robbers.\n\nI dropped my ultimate. What happened next is a blur to me. But when my ultimate ended I was stood in the middle of the room with seven incapacitated criminals next to me.\n\nMy arms were still tied behind my back with a bag over my head. Blinded.\n\nAll seven of the criminals had dropped their ultimates.\n\nI'd stopped all of them.\n\nAt the end of it all, the press had reported my success as a victory of \"brains over brawn\", where my own experiences watching martial arts movies and so on had been reproduced by my ultimate.\n\nThey'd said that my ultimate was a hyper-processing ultimate.\n\nThey were absolutely 100% wrong. \n\nI am now 66. Exactly 20 long years since my last ultimate. I have spent the past six years gathering supplies and restocking a lab. It's been difficult; the world has really gone bad in the last fifteen years. Economically, the entire country is bankrupt. The environment is worse than it's ever been thanks to a brief nuclear skirmish between some small countries. I'm still working at the hospital, but we can't help most of the people that come in. We simply don't have the resources. Crime is high. And once again, people are dying. My own family included.\n\nWe need a way out. Too many problems, not enough solutions.\n\nAs I drop my long-awaited ultimate, I think that I need to be able to use my ultimate more often.\n\nAn hour later there is a solution on the table." ]	[ 1, 1, 8, 8, 14, 57 ]	[ "1468752070", "1468769240", "1468783354", "1468785219", "1468780748", "1468764430" ]
In other words, write an adventure story (or part of one) from the bartender's perspective	[WP] You're the bartender at a medieval pub, and some very adventurous people just walked in...	70	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "When I had first opened a decently sized pub, The Warrior's Spirit, near the old Ardennes, where there are tales of the ghosts of thousand of warriors fighting with fantastical weapons that caused great bloodshed, and it's even rumored quite a few of 'em remained in there which attracted all sorts of dark and unholy creatures, along with power-hungry individuals who wanted to have some of those weapons which in turn, attracts quite a few adventurous people who try to find some of those old weapons of war for whatever reason they want.\n\nEnough about that, I'll tell you about the most well-known group, as well as strangest, group to have come by here. So one day, around evening, where the large crowd for the night was starting to trickle in, which resulted in me cleaning up the results of a bar fight that occurred with some sort of ogre from out west, and a cocky rookie who said that the ogre fella looked ugly, when a group of six people burst in. They consisted of a dwarf in well-made dwarven chain mail, who was short and portly, with an orange beard, and had a battle axe on hand, chatting with a man, with brown hair, who wore an red, old, naval uniform, with a blue and white striped shirt along with a beard, along with a high-quality sword thee origins of which I could not put my finger on. \n\nAnother pair of men, who both wore goggles, but with different apparel on themselves. The one on the right wore a relatively strange coat, with several pockets, having a white color and with a purple shirt underneath, which is by the way, extremely expensive, and had blonde hair and a small goatee with some sort of crossbow, that had some sort of powder propel the bolt. The other man had a plate of armor that defied description, and had an old, battered, hat, with some old goggles on top of it, with a large brown beard, with a longsword. The two were debating about how potent the old weapons in the forest could be.\n\nAnd they also had some females in their group, with the first having raven hair with red tips, in a shirt with horizontal, and vertical stripes, with some medium leather armor, along with blue breeches that had some light leather armor on them, and had a bow. The other female had blonde hair with blue tips, the name with similar clothes to the former,with heavy metal armor on her chest and arms, with light metal armor on her legs, along with two short swords, and a longsword. The two were arguing who was a better healer.\n\nThey all went to the counter, and sat at the stools there, where they were expecting to be served by someone. As it was, I was the only person there, with most of my workers off that evening, except the cook, since I thought this evening would be pretty slow. It wasn't, so I had to do so many things at once.\n\nMind you, I don't really know them, but even so, I felt a strange sort of Deja vu when meeting them for the first time. I promptly shook my head of that thought, I just went back to the bar, after cleaning up that bar fight from earlier, and asked, \"Alright folks, what do you want to drink?\"\n\n\"I'll have a crumpet, with 3 rounds of beer,\" cried the Dwarf, who immediately added, \"and some pretzels!\"\n\n\"I'll have a whiskey, the strongest you have preferably,\" said the dwarfs friend in the red shirt, looking like he wanted some to knock him out fast.\n\n\"I'll have a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, if you know how to make some,\" the fellow in the white coat asked, to which I stared at him like he was mad, and replied with, \"No, I'm afraid I don't sir, but I have other drinks If you want.\"\n\n\"You know what, guys,\" the man with the old hat, strange armor, and old goggles, loudly and abruptly, proclaimed, \" I'm going to buy a round for everyone else here!\"\n\nThe female with the black and red hair told him, \"Sijn, will you please shut up, you're going to make us into fucking beggars by the time we get home if you keep on with this type of shit.\" and since they sounded like they had come a long way from home, who could blame them? Not me, since I've seen enough idiots do such things, then not be able to pay the bill for everyone.\n\nAnd since they sounded a bit tired, and I decided to feel nice, I replied, \"You know what, I'll make a round for all of you on the house, since you seem to have traveled a damned good way. but after that, you're gonna have to pay.\"\n\nThey all looked a bit better at that, and the aforementioned Sijn, said, \"Oh wait, we forgot to introduce ourselves. I'm Sijn, Mrs. Knickers in a Twist is Ki--\"\nand he was abruptly stopped by Kim slapping him in the face.\n\n\"Ow..., goddammit Kim, did you really have to do that?\" Sijn inquired.\n\n\"Yep, I did have to after you called me 'Mrs. Knickers in a Twist'\", she replied, with a bitingly sarcasm, which made her smile a little bit.\n\n\"Alright, where were we again,\" Sijn asked, \" Oh yes, I was introducing our merry band of weirdos, I'm Sijn, that's Kim, that's Hannah, that's Duncan, that's Lewis, and that's Simon,\" pointing to them when he called their names.\n\n\"Ok, so are you going to have anything to drink fellas, now that introductions are said and done?\" I asked, a bit anxious, since more people were coming into the pub.\n\n\"I'll have an ale, if you have one,\" Hannah replied\n\n\"Oh, I'll have a bourbon or two if you have some,\"Sijn casually ordered.\n\n\"I'll have some old wine, if you have some,\" Kim asked, with some remnants of irritation in her voice.\n\n\"Oh...I only have a little bit of wine, and it's real expensive stuff, costs a pretty coin you know, hopefully you can afford it,\" As I winced from the severe price of the stuff.\n\n\"I know I can give you some thing for that wine to be at a...reduced cost,\" as she seductively waggled her eyebrows, and I paled at what that meant.\n\n\"No, I'll make sure you at least have a small sample of the stuff, ok,\" As I hastily reassured her, that bedding me wouldn't be in her best interests for getting some wine.\n\nEventually, I managed to finish their orders, as soon as I was finished with their orders, I heard a commotion near where there were some of the thugs who I owe money to sat next to Kim, and the one sitting right next to her got a little too, 'touchy', so Kim sliced off the bastards hand. And people tended to get a little pissed off when their hand is cut off. So the thug and his friends were in a brawl with Kim's friends, and then, to stop the commotion, I pulled the ancient weapon I found from the Ardennes I had found once, fired it. It sounded like thunder, which tended to shut people up real quick. And so I yelled, \"If there are any more fights in here, I'll make sure you're thrown out of here, and cant come back in here, alright,\" I screeched at the top of my lungs.\n\nAfter that, things went to normal, with the normal amount of drinking and eating that occurs at a pub of it's size, when I asked the group, what's your organizations name, and Duncan replied, We are the Y.O.G.S. which means Ye Olde Guilde of Swordsmen.\"\n\n\"Alright, I suppose that sounds interesting,\" I replied, \"would it be alright if I lead you through the old Ardennes, I mean, the whole place is pretty fucking dangerous.\" \n\nTo which it was a resounding yes. So, since I had a few minutes, we spent time going over details for me to sign so that I could join the group. It was a little ridiculous, but not too much. And so, with me writing my signature on the parchment that allowed me to become a member of the group, I was off on an adventure.\n\n\n", "It was a regular day at the \"Sun and Stars, Tavern and Inn\". Rick was behind the bar, serving clientele of all shapes and sizes. His establishment maintained its reputation with a \"don't ask, don't tell\" policy regarding the patrons. Whatever shady business they dealt with - and there was plenty of that, Rick was sure - was to be settled outside. Despite the risky premise, guests flocked to it if not for the food and drink then for the brief respite from the clan feuds and guild rivalry. It was the same pattern that Rick saw in other forms of society: the nobility have a minor disagreement, and their servants have to go to war with one another. Here, as long as nobody caused trouble within these four walls, Rick provided a place to put all that behind. Humans dined with elves, and dwarves had an ongoing drinking competition with the half-orcs.\n\nBut every once in a while, some snotty-nosed do-gooders decided to poke their noses in and think they were doing anyone a favor by calling someone out on their dark deeds. So when a group approached Rick and started asking him questions that were a little too specific for a casual conversation, he already started reciting prayers of avoidance to his god.\n\n\"I may have heard of this Kerrick,\" Rick feigned ignorance, \"but he's a well-known bandit and sell-sword. The Shadow of the Streets? The Night Stalker? You must not be from around here.\"\n\n\"We are not,\" the lad admitted. His polished plate immediately made him stand out among thieves and streetfolk who preferred the mobility of leather. Rick thought him to be a wandering knight, but the stylized signet of a circle emanating rays of light on his left bracer told a different story. A paragon of the light in a den of darkness. My lucky day. \"But one of our sources told us he frequents this tavern.\"\n\n\"Look,\" Rick needed to discourage this line of thinking immediately. He hadn't seen Kerrick yet, but some of his goons were always about. \"A lot of people come to this tavern. If that's all you have to go by, you're going to need a better informant. Might I suggest you one?\" He needed to get this group out of here. The more they pressed, the more commotion they caused, the greater potential for loss of property and clientele.\n\n\"As a matter of fact, our informant also warned us you might not be very cooperative.\" The slender elf woman was wearing an extravagant robe clearly unsuited for battle, but her staff with the shimmering gem at the head made her role obvious. \"And we have different ways of finding information. Forget about him, Jonn. Let's ask around, boys.\" She turned to leave into the partying crowd.\n\n\"Listen, lady,\" Rick's voice dropped to a whisper. He was obviously not getting these four to leave easily, but he had plenty of subterfuge left - as long as nobody heard this conversation. \"I don't inquire into where my clients go and what they do. I'm not a bad guy, I'm just trying to support my family. I have a wife and two kids,\" he lied. \"If this place goes out of business, they'll starve. Please reconsider.\"\n\n\"The man's got kids, Maarleen,\" the dwarf's voice was breaking and he was tearing up. \"We can't do this to a family of innocents!\" Yes, think of my family, Maarleen. Think of the children! Just think about it an-\n\nRick's train of thought was interrupted by the door opening from a kick, and a huge - even for one of his kind - half-orc lumbered in. The tavern went silent, some who recognized Kerrick scrambled to get out of his way, others moved to stand at his side, leaving an open path to the inquisitive group.\n\n\"WHO CALLS FOR KERRICK NIGHTBORN?!\" he snarled, staring at the group.\n\nKerrick the half-orc, you are wanted on numerous counts of murder, conspiracy and slave trade among others. You are advised to cooperate or we will have to use harsher measures,\" Jonn started. \"Including, but not limited to-\"\n\nKerrick unsheathed his sword. Rick buried his face in his hands.\n\n\"Well, now you've done it,\" he whispered. \"You've killed yourselves, and destroyed my tavern. Roll initiative.\"", "“Oh for Arra's sake!” I turned and stared at the bottles behind the counter to hide my expression.\n\n“What?” Todd asked.\n\n“The third bloody time this bloody week!” I muttered and shook my head. \n\n“What is?” Todd looked at me and then the dusty bottles lined up on the shelf. \n\n“Bloody adventurers, that’s what.”\n\n Todd looked to the door. I gestured for him to look away. \n\n“You mean that fellow what with the green cloak and the shiny stubble?” Todd asked. \n\n“Aye, and the lass in white with the tiara, and the hooded fellow with a bow and the shaved muscles with the leather vest and the axe.”\n\nTodd’s face fell. “I’ll get the broom,” he said and shuffled to the back room.\n\nI turned around and cracked my lips into a smile, “Welcome to the Knightly Night, good sirs and lady!” \n\n“I thank you.” The man in the green cloak took a few steps into the room. He was lightly bearded and fiercely eyed. \n\n“We are the finest in in all of Taravel! My husband recently passed, it was his inn you see, won in a game of chance and-“ \n\n“Yes, yes, I… don’t care about any of that,” green cloak said. It seemed he would not be distracted. \n\n“Tell me, my good lady, might you have any interesting news?” He took a few steps with a raised eyebrow, his cloak fluttering dramatically behind him. \n\n“News, milord? What sort of news?” I cocked my head, my mind racing. \n\nThe man frowned. “News, you know, gossip or …\"\n\n\"I get all of my news from Old Gordon, down the way at the Gilded Gelding,\" I prompted but green cloak just shook his head.\n\n\"Surely you know of a conspiratorial duke, or an ogre in the forest eating children...”\n\n“Heavens, how dreadful,” I tried to look mortified. \n\n“Rupert, you’re frightening the woman.” The white-clad beauty said. “It was just an example, there’s no ogre.”\n\n“Ogres are our specialty, as it happens,” The burly hairless one said. “Weak spot just above the knee.”\n\n“Oh, well that’s a relief,” I said. “No, no ogres thank the gods. I do have some meat pies and ale, or perhaps you would like a room?”\n\n“Meat pies? Sleep?” Rupert looked confused. “No, I don’t think you understand. You see, we’re adventurers.”\n\n“How lovely.” I forced my lips to hold their smile. \n\n“So…,” Rupert drawled.\n\nI scratched my chin. “I have some baked apples. Can add a spot of cream if you like.”\n\n“Might you have rats in the cellar? We would be only too happy to clear them out for you,” Rupert prompted.\n\n“Rats?”\n\n“You know, big ones with teeth and maybe one that’s larger and abit diseased… perhaps eating children that wander too far.”\n\n“Rupert, again with the child eating.” The white-clad woman scolded. \n\n“Here there is naught but the whispers of sky and the peril of winds.” It took me a few moments to identify the raspy voice as the man with the bow. His face was in shadow but I could see tattoos running up his arms. \n\n“Not now, Cthuluomicon, I’m trying to get us a quest?” Rupert said.\n\n“A quest is it?” I raised an eyebrow.\n\n“Aye, a quest!” Rupert encouraged.\n\n“As it happens, there is a door out back in need of mending.” \n\n“A door is it? Possessed by an evil spirit? Or is it the door to an alternate plane whereby demons enter our real to prey upon the weak?” Rupert drew his sword in anticipation. \n\n“Errr…The bolts are a bit loose and the hinge...” \n\nRupert squinted furiously. \n\n“Come to that, I did hear I strange sound the last time I was back there,” I mused.\n\n“Say no more, good lady, we will rid you of this heinous evil.”\n\nRupert sprinted to the back room, his companions close behind.\n\n“It was the door … by the ….,\" I stopped talking. No one was listening. I took down a bottle and poured a glass of amber liquid. I saluted the sounds of splintering wood and took a sip. \n\n“Bloody adventurers,” I muttered.\n\nA few moments later the band returned, exultant smiles upon their radiant faces. \n\n“The demon has been quite slain, good lady,” Rupert reported, wiping sawdust from his cheek.\n\nI nodded but could not find any words to match his enthusiasm. I took another drink. \n\n“She is overcome with relief!” Rupert relayed to his friends. They cheered.\nRupert waited, watching me with raised eyebrows. “Now there is just the matter of the reward…” \n\nI coughed. “Of course, milord, I have a bit of gold I might-” \n\n“No!” Rupert interrupted with his hands raised. “No reward will be necessary! I wish only to assist my fellows in these trying times.”\n\n“But you just-“\n\n“You need to offer so I can … is this your first day or something?”\n\n“Ok.” I took a deep breath and set my eyelashes to batting. “How can I ever repay you? Please accept this amulet bestowed upon me by my grandfather, I hear it has some magic property but I can’t find the-“\n\n“No, no, no, we already did that … just … never mind.” Rupert’s sword clattered to the ground and he sullenly sheathed it. \n\nHe went through some internal debate before nodding and turning back to me. “I wish you well, good lady. If you are ever in need, we are at your service.” \n\nHe bowed and ducked through the front door, flanked by the other three. \n\nTodd meandered into the dining room, holding a sack of splintered wood. He looked at me and I shrugged. \n\n“Bloody adventurers,” Todd said\n\nI nodded. “Aye.”\n", "Living next to Zangdar’s tower on the road of Mir-Nodd, the legendary dwarf city, I was used to companies of adventurers. I had seen a lot of them, from battalion of dwarves coming back from the war of Tulgar Laijnek to companies of paladin trying to beat Zangdar’s tower. All those companies didn’t get along every time, those blood seeker guys always were on the verge of fighting. After so many years, I knew when my pub was about to get dirty. But this time it was different, this company was so eclectic, it didn’t even make sense.\n\nThe nameless company was made of: a ranger, an elf woman, a dwarf, a barbarian, a magician girl and an ogre. They didn’t seem really dangerous and low level, like the first time they were on a quest, and they were all pretty excited, talking about the reward about to come.\n\nThe dwarf was holding a teddy bear, making an irritating sound every time he squeezed it, and laughing every time he did it. The ranger was next to the elf woman, who was complaining about her bra size who increased since she levelled up and the fact that she didn’t predict this because she had no other bra, while the ranger was peeking an eye each time he could. The barbarian was arm wrestling with the ogre while the magician girl was supervising everything and reading a letter.\n\nEverything went south when the dwarf spitted the ale he ordered saying it was as toxic as goblin sweat and that the person who did it should be ashamed and never make ale again. The brewer who was in the room, stood up in the same time as the three goblins, shouting to the dwarf to piss off, which made the dwarf, the ogre and the barbarian to stood up and unsheathe their weapons, and then everything became crazy. The goblins attacked the dwarf, but the dwarf was caught by the ogre, making him turn, with his battle axe and being dangerous for everyone. The barbarian shouted “Fight!” and literally jumped in the crowd with his sword in front of him. The elf girl took her bow and shot arrows everywhere, piercing half of the casks I kept in the room, and touching people randomly, like the ranger in the ass. Finally, the magician girl took her staff, starting to glow, and said “zemrodne suov sednab ed sdratab”. Everyone one in the room fell asleep except for the company, who decided to get out of the pub.\n\nI came back in the main room to see the disaster: 2 goblins were dead, the brewer had an arm cut, and the room was a mess. Moreover, everyone was asleep and seemed to grow their toenails very long.\n\nMaybe it’s time for me to retire…\n", "There’s eight of them. EIGHT. And it’s not like they’re not traveling together, either! They all pranced in here in their little laced boots and feathered hats like they owned the damn place! The whole point of an adventuring party is that you’re supposed to cover each other’s weaknesses, not create some kind of teenage boy band!! They won’t last five minutes out in the wild, that’s for damn sure, unless the bears feel like hearing songs today!\n\nOh Jesus, here they come. Lemme guess, they’re going to ask for the “Jolly Cooperation Special with added dashes of Friendship”?? Good god, are these the toughest guys the city has to offer now? No wonder most of my patrons nowadays only come around once.\n\nOh, wait… HAH!!! One of those green good-for-nothings just knocked over the Black Baron’s axe! Ohh, he’s not going to be happy about this one, I can tell right now. Last time someone did that, I had to spend half a day’s income resetting the foundation on this place! But, he paid for it, so I’ll let it slide. My returning customers do tend to be the most respectful of this place. Guess it’s cause my ale keeps ‘em happy, hehe! \n\nOhohoho, he’s getting up and those poor bastards haven’t even noticed. They’ll be lucky to keep their heads on their shoulders at this point. Won’t be strumming out tunes if you don’t have a mouth to sing with, eh? I just hope the ol’ Baron cleans up his mess this time… Well, who am I kidding? He never does.\n\nAlright, he’s swinging! Annnnnnnd the axe goes up…… and the axe goes do--?!\n\nWhat in blazes?? The Baron, he, he… did he just get knocked out?! How the hell did that dressed-up goon react so damn quickly?? And what the hell are those damn harps made out of?? The Baron’s helmet is made of some seriously hard stuff, but that bloody instrument didn’t even get bent! Hell, the strings are still attached, and by the way he’s strumming it now, it’s even still in pretty damn good tune!! And his companions didn’t even budge an inch, either! Who are these kids??\n\nWell, they’ve got my attention now, along with all the rest of my patrons. I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with them, though, and for good reason. Now that they’re up close to me, I can tell that they’ve definitely seen some nasty things. Their faces are youthful enough, but their eyes… that’s a cold glare that I haven’t seen since the days of my ex-wife, tell ya what.\n\nOne of ‘em just asked for the hardest thing I’ve got. Well, I really don’t want to disappoint here, so I’ll give them some of my ol’ Hellspawn Gin. These kids have got some fire in ‘em, but I’ve still got a lesson or two of my own to teach, hehe!\n\nHe’s downed the whole thing in one go!!! These kids might be brave, but they sure do seem stupid now, haha! Never down a whole mug in one go until you know what’s behind it, boy! He’s looking at me now, probably ready to beg for mercy!!\n\n“I thought I asked you for the hardest thing you had here. See the Baron over there? He and his minions had been causing trouble for my party for some time now, but we got information that he frequented this place often. And now, he’s dead. His neck’s snapped cleanly in two, a surgical break. And that was done by the weakest member of my party. Now, tell me. Do you really want me to do to you, what my friend here did to the Baron? And unlike him, I won’t hold back.”\n\nThe—the Baron’s dead?! Oh, Lord... Looks like I’m gonna be down half a day’s income again…\n", "Jim could tell alot about a man from the lizard they rode. Most people just saw lizards as a vehicle to travel between the desert cities. Jim saw alot more. And owning the only tavern within a few hours travel, he saw alot of lizards.\n\nMerchants and bandits made up the bulk of Jim's customers. While merchants often rode fully laden lizards, this wasn't a very reliable read. It took a trained eye, like Jim's, to notice the thicker muscle development of the merchant's lizard. The bandit's lizard was usually packed alot lighter, but what really gave them away was their expression. They did not share the usual look of boredom that a merchant's lizard would wear. They were constantly on alert, trained to survey their surroundings, in a paranoid manner.\n\nWhen a cloaked man pulled up on a slick black reptile; Jim was taken aback. He had never seen this type before but could tell from the way it darted towards the shade, it wasn't used to the desert climate. Judging by its smooth skin, it looked like a swimmer, and the nearest coast was weeks away. The other patrons didn't notice anything strange, but they weren't well versed in the subtle differences of lizards.\n\n\"Desert ale, thanks,\" said the man as he peeled back the dusty cloak from his face, revealing scarred black skin.\n\n\"Sure thing. You from around here?\" said Jim conversationally, trying to get his bearings.\n\n\"Yea, I'm from the mountain city, travelling through to visit family in the caves.\" The man said a little too quickly. Most mountaineers have winged lizards, Jim thought, definitely not from around here.\n\nJim kept an eye on the man's ride while pouring his beer. It didn't relax out in the stables, it jumped every time the stable boy walked past. It even hissed at a neighboring scaled lizard for merely looking in its direction. This made Jim feel uneasy.\n\nSeveral more of these oversized geckos, carrying mysterious men, landed over the next thirty minutes. The lizards appeared to recognize each other in the stables, yet inside, their owners ignored each other and sat by themselves. Another gecko arrived, but this time it was different. This lizard greeted the stable boy happily and didn't try to steal food and water the moment it entered the stables. Signs of a well treated reptile. But when it spotted the others, it screeched and protested against the stable boy. Jim knew this behavior, it thought it was being led into a trap.\n\nBefore the man could enter the bar, Jim calmly walked past the patrons and intercepted him by the door. \"Leave now, I think men here are planning to kill you.\" Jim whispered. The man shot a glance inside and sure enough, a few of the cloaked men had got up and were making their way towards them.\n\nThe newcomer didn't question Jim. He just fled. The man's lizard was already straining against its tethers to get out of there. As they sprinted away, the other men all gave chase immediately, except for one. The scarred black man.\n\n\"You will regret that, barman.\" The guy said before following the others.\n\nThe threat played on Jim's mind all night. When the sun came up, he walked downstairs to open the pub. His heart started when he saw one of the oversized geckos already in the stables. He relaxed when he saw it was resting happily amongst a bunch of smaller winged lizards. The man he had warned, waited nearby.\n\n\"You saved my life, now it is time for me to save yours. We must leave, now.\"", "It was a slow night at the inn. Three regulars and a group of mercenaries. Two regulars -- Jacqueline and Pete -- sat at a nearby table swapping chit-chat, the usual banter best reserved for acquaintances while you wait for your real friends. The other regular, Pongo, nursed his pint at the bar. It was his fifth of the night, which may sound like too much, but you know how dwarf metabolism goes. Things must not be going well with the missus.\n\nThe mercenary group in the back? I had my eye on them. They were \"passing through,\" so they said, but we've had some bad experiences with groups like this. Their outfits suggested they were from west of the mountains. What were they doing all the way out here? I'd tended enough bar to know better than to ask.\n\nI wiped down the bar, and used a towel to clean out individual pint glasses. This particular glass wasn't in need of anything cleaning -- I was just occupying my hands while I listened to the mercenaries talk among themselves. They were blusterous and a bit rowdy, not doing anything to dispel the normal westerner stereotype.\n\nThe front door opened and two more unfamiliar faces walked in. From the gear they were carrying, one was a ranger, and the other perhaps a mage. They looked in my direction and then at each of the other guests of the inn.\n\nThe ranger walked to the bar, \"Barkeep. A word.\"\n\n\"What can I do ya for?\" I asked and leaned close.\n\n\"We're looking for an assassin. Heard he might be in these areas these days. Know anything?\" She set a few coins on the bar, \"And two pints for me and my friend.\" \n\n\"I can't say that I've seen any assassin, but I have seen a few familiar faces,\" motioning with my head to the mercenaries in the corner. \n\nThe mage walked up and shook his head, \"No. This individual hails from the east. It's unlikely to be one of those amateurs.\"\n\n\"I see,\" I said, handing them their beer. \"I can't say that I've heard much on the grapevine either. I spend most of my time here, so I think I would have overheard something about an assassin.\"\n\nThe ranger grabbed her beer and downed in a few gulps, wiping her chin, she asked, \"You don't get out much, do you?\"\n\n\"I used to be an adventurer like you until I...\"\n\n\"Took an arrow to the knee. Yeah. We've both heard it before. Listen, we're in need of some supplies.\"\n\nMy ears perked up. Experienced adventurers carry good money, and by this point tonight, I could expect the regulars to ask to put their drinks on their endless tab. A little gold would go a long way.\n\nThe mage brought out his list, \"We're looking for a Scroll of Town Portal. Got any of those?\"\n\n\"A Scroll of Town Portal? We're just fresh out of stock on that one,\" I said with a hint of sarcasm. Why would we carry scrolls?\n\n\"What about a Tome of Light?\"\n\nI shrugged.\n\n\"A Scroll of Revive Dead? A Potion of Superior Intellect? Revive Mana? Anything?\"\n\nI shrugged again and smiled. \n\nHe leaned over to his friend, \"This place sucks.\" And then he leaned over to me, \"Would you be interested in buying any of our gear? We're a bit over-encumbered. And we don't have a warrior-friend to do the heavy lifting.\"\n\n\"Unless you're selling beer, meat, or bread, I'm not sure I'll be able to help.\"\n\n\"MEAT\" a voice thundered. It was Pongo. The word seemed to draw him out of his stupor. \"MEAT will do just fine about now.\" And he ran his small hands through his enormous beard.\n\nThe ranger touched the elbow of the mage and, with her eyes, gesture towards Pongo. She whispered two words, \"Hand. Tattoo.\"\n\nI glanced over and saw a faded tattoo on Pongo's right hand. The two adventurers walked over to Pongo and tapped him on the shoulder.\n\n\"Oy milady,\" He bellowed, \"How's about that MEAT.\" And then he laughed.\n\nHer expression didn't change. \"What can you tell us about Phantom Council?\"\n\nPongo, still laughing from thinking about meat, immediately hushed. His eyes moved back and forth between the mage and the ranger. \"I can't tell you anything about no Council.\"\n\nThe ranger grabbed his hand and slammed it on the bar. \"That tattoo says that you can.\"\n\n\"Aye, that tattoo was given to me. By a friend. It's not mine.\"\n\nThe mage moved close to his ear, \"What's your name, dwarf?\"\n\n\"Pongo. My name is Pongo!\"\n\n\"I'll give you another chance. What's your real name?\"\n\n\"Pongo!\"\n\nThe mage grabbed the dwarf by the beard, and the smell of burning hair flooded the inn. \"One last chance.\"\n\nThe dwarf tried to wiggle away, but his beard erupted into flames as the mage let go. He shouted and began smacking himself in the face to fan away the flames. He fell from his stool and crashed into the floor.\n\nThe ranger grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. \"You're going to tell us about the Council, and you're going to help us find somebody we've been looking for.\"\n\nThe dwarf kicked around, \"Or?! Or what?\" he spat.\n\nThe mage looked at me and put a few extra gold pieces on the bar. \"Dwarves,\" he said, \"Always going on about their 'ore'.\"", "\"Sir, sir! Incoming, from the South! Four men in shining armor, plus a cart with supplies! Adventurers by the looks of 'em!\"\n\nI must admit I was surprised when little Charlie said that. People from the south?! I am used to get a lot of people going south - this is the last pub in the Fork Road before the frontier of Avernera, there's always a trickle of people on their way there, coming from Cavestown or the Brooklands. Also people from either east or west - trade caravans from the fringes of the Empire, or patrols; there's always plenty of those two coming or going. \n\nBut never from the south. People from Avernera and the outlying kingdoms have no interest on the Empire; why, the last time I had visitors from the south was - almost twelve years ago...\n\nThe doorbell jingled. The four man had indeed come for the pub.\n\n\"Beer for four, and the best stew you have!\" Said the man in golden armor. He seemed to be the leader of the crew.\n\n\"Yessir, right away, sir!\" Charlie replied, and bolted for the kitchen. He was for some reason still around, and had taken chaperoning duties for these four men. Good thing, too; I was much too gobsmacked by their presence to be an efficient host. I kept staring at them; they didn't seem to notice, their attention was too absorbed. One of them, a skinny youngster in glasses and embroidered leather armor, pulled a map and a magnifying glass from a satchel he was carrying. He put both on the table, and the man in white-and-gold armor took the glass and examined the map. The other two - a very old, skinny man in light leather, and a hunkering beast of a man, easily carrying two-hundred pounds of purê muscle under his thick steel armor - waited in reverent silence.\n\n\"Gentlemen.\" I spoke up after breaking out of my daze. \"Welcome to the Summer Tree Pub & Inn. Bartender Charlie is already providing the beer and stew you have requested; is there anything else I can do for you on this fine afternoon?\"\n\n\"Can't you see we're busy? Get lost!\" said the strongman.\n\n\"Please, Albart. Can you not see the man is offering to help us?\" admonished the older man. \"Here, sir; My name is Charlus Mason; a pleasure to meet you.\" And stretched his hand which I took without hesitation. Polite people are easier to empathize with; plus, there was something familiar about his accent, though I couldn't place what it was. \"This is Albart Tanner,\" he pointed to the strongman, \"and that is my grandson Eldred.\" The young man in glasses nodded respectfully. The old man smiled, but did not introduce their leader. \"Please come back when his Highness finishes reading the map.\" His 'Highness'? \"We will be happy to converse with you when -\"\n\n\"I'm done.\" Said the 'highness' suddenly; the three man came with a start and turned to him, ignoring my standing there completely. \"We will take the Host through Fork Road by the Black Coat Forest by dusk; Cavestown would be a better route, but there are too many suspicious eyes there. Charlus, I will need you to take the scout detachment at least an hour early. Albart, you will lead the men while I write my plans for when we're past Graytrickle. Eldred, you wil check on the supply carts as fast as possible, and after that you'll come back to my side, I need your help with the cartography. And who is this?\" He suddenly took note of my presence.\n\n\"He is the owner of the pub, your Highness\", Charlus replied. \"He was just offering us hospitality. Worry not, the beer and stew are already coming. Peasant!\" He turned to me suddenly. \"This is Prince Berdann, rightful ruler of the Calisian Kingdom. Show your reverence!\" And at that, he, Eldred and Albart got up from their seats and kneeled in front of Prince Berdann. I followed suit and kneeled myself.\n\nThis got a chuckle out of Prince Berdann. \"Please rise. This is not necessary at all.\" The four of us rose. \"What is your name, pub-owner?\"\n\n\"I-it's Damian, your Highness. D-Da-Damian Woodbranch.\" I stammered. The memories of King Calis came rushing; was this man really a lost descendant of the dead Calisian Royal Family?!\n\n\"Please forgive old man Charlus; he's sometimes too zealous of his duties as my Knight. Can't blame him really. His loyalty is true.\" He offered Charlus a warm smile, and turned back to me. \"So, Damian Woodbranch. You were offering us your hospitality, yes?\"\n\n\"Y-yes, your Highness.\" Funny how an ingrained habit came back quickly. I hadn't called anyone 'Highness' in over twelve years but the words flowed naturally from my lips.\n\n\"As I hear, the drink and food are already coming. What else can you offer us?\"\n\n\"Well, your Highness, we have rooms for the night but nothing worthy of your stature,\" - Berdann smiled at that - \"and we also offer a warm bath that is considered very very good by all our patrons, if you please. Of course, we also have a stable; we will tend to your horses, and mules if you have any, with the utmost care. Some small things other than that, your Highness, but nothing up your standards I'm afraid. This is a simple pub mostly for travelers and caravans; we don't have many amenities to cater for high nobility such as yourself.\"\n\n\"Nothing to fret about, good man.\" Berdann smiled benevolently. \"I'll take up your offer on the stables; please have someone take care of my horses. It's going to be a long trip to Parabel. We will defeat the evil Shadow Emperor, and restore the Calisian Kingdom to its former glory! And I can't have a shabby looking horse leading the Host now can I?\" Berdann laughed at himself. He then took a pipe from his own satchel, and started smoking. It's forbidden to smoke inside the premises but I didn't feel the least bit inclined to tell him off.\n\n\"I'll care for them myself, your Highness.\" I turned and left.\n\nOn the front of the pub, the four horses were tied to the post with the Smiling Tree sign; I untied them and carried them over to the stables. Maug the horsekeeper was fast asleep inside.\n\n\"Wake up, you mongrel!\" I shouted, and shook him up. He woke up in a hurry.\n\n\"Yes mr. Woodbranch!\"\n\n\"We have some very fine horses to care for today. Nobility horses. Clean them up and serve them the freshest grass and hay we have; after that you will brush their manes with the utmost care. These horses belong to the heir of old King Calis!\"\n\n\"Yessi- wait what? The 'heir of King Calis'? But isn't Princess Arenia dead?\"\n\n\"Yes, she is, been dead a long time now. But the man carries the regalia of the old King, so we're not taking chances. Get to work, old friend. I have some very upper-end guests to spoil.\"\n\n\"Will do, mr. Woodbranch.\" He replied, and turned to the horses. \"Nobility horses? At this day and age? I'll be damned...\" he muttered behind my back. I went outside, for a smoke of my own. I only now realized how nerve-wracking that short interaction with the Prince was!\n\nThere is an old rocking chair on the porch outside the stables; I took its seat and pulled my pipe from my pocket. As I was about to light it, a solitary crow landed on the arm of the rocking chair.\n\nIt looked at me, with its black beady eyes.\n\n\"Did you hear that, birdie?\" I spoke to it - or maybe at it. \"There's a man in the pub claiming to be a Calisian Prince! Says he's leading a Host to the Imperial Capital!\" The bird ruffled its feathers but did not reply. \"I wonder when the next patrol of the Imperial Guard is going to be. I wonder what the Guard would say if they were to see a man in white-and-gold armor in my pub! I hope there's no bloodshed inside my inn tonight.\" The bird suddenly turned around and took flight. I sighed, and smoked my pipe. Quickly - I was probably needed back inside.\n\n*Continues*\n", "When I first met the Fearsome Foursome, I had to admit, I was impressed. Walker, with his gold six-guns. She-Tree, eight feet of terrifying beauty. Randolph the genius, half his skull repaired with glass after a terrible childhood accident. And Ix, the inkling, a terrifying beast from the Black Swamps with a taste for cherry whiskey. All I'm saying is they had their pick of whichever booth in the bar they wanted to sit in. \n\nA lot of people said it was foolish to open a bar on the edge of the Endless Forest. What about the trolls, they'd ask, a smart-alecky look in their eyes. What about the Walking Fungus? What about the blue-skinned witches, reputed to live deep in the tangled woods and to come out only to feast on the privates of lonely men? I said that they all sounded like thirsty folk. And so did the adventurers who came to do battle with them. So I set up the Thirsty Ground, paid a man to carve a sign with an appropriately gruesome dead body on it, blood leaking from its many wounds to soak into the earth, and stocked up on some of the more exotic liquors that the realm had to offer. \n\nThe Fearsome Foursome first came in my bar three years ago, having just formed up as a definitive group of adventurers. I could tell they were newly together right away, each of them still jockeying for position in the group, unsure of the depths of the others' talents and integrity. Walker bought the first round- an attempt, I thought, to impress upon the others that he was right to be leader, shepherd of them all. I didn't fancy his chances. It was always going to be Randolph. I could see it in the way that he turned Walker's gesture to his own favor, graciously thanking the gunslinger for the drink and then making an eloquent speech about the future of the group, their guaranteed success. Walker's round had turned into fuel for Randolph's toast. \n\nWhen they returned from their first foray into the Endless Forest, She-Tree toting a large chest of treasure and Ix bleeding poppy-orange blood from a wound to its thorax, I could see immediately that Randolph had solidified his hold as leader of the group. He must have done something incredible out there in the woods, even Walker seemed to have accepted him as the head of the pack without argument. Randolph ordered drinks for the whole bar, dark beasts and witches included, and stood upon a stool to make a toast once everyone had been served. \n\nThe candlelight glittered in the glass that made up half of his skull, and I thought that I could almost see the juices of his brain coursing underneath its pitted surface. He held a cup of wine aloft and cleared his throat. Everyone, even the chattery, crablike root-imps, fell silent. \n\n\"Fellows.\" He said, indicating his companions. \"Foes.\" He raised his glass towards the side of the bar where most of the dark creatures sat impassively. \"We've returned, my companions and I, from our invasion into your land, and we've brought treasure back with us, treasure we bought with blood.\" Ix shifted in its seat, the wound in its side now mostly coagulated. \"Although we paid a steep price for it, it seems our enemies paid more dearly. Let that be a reminder to you all, in case we meet again in less amicable circumstances.\" He gazed directly at the gathered dark folk, who had begun to shift and mutter in their seats. I began to grow nervous. \"But let me also say that you have our respect, and our acknowledgment of your dignity. Many's a man that lives in the paved-stone cities of the kingdom who thinks he is free, but he is not. Freedom lives in those woods-\" He pointed towards the open door, which framed a torchlit view of the edges of the forest. \"- a freedom that I can understand dying for. To darkness, and to light!\" \n\nThe creatures on the other side of the bar did not cheer his words, but they did not erupt from their seats to tear him and his companions to pieces, either. They drank their free drinks quietly, and returned to their conversations. It was, as I have said, fairly impressive. " ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 10, 14, 18, 45 ]	[ "1468811114", "1468838198", "1468852468", "1468845347", "1468828132", "1468817513", "1468837854", "1468819089", "1468844989", "1468814370" ]
[removed]	[WP] Write a suicide note as a well known (possibly fictional) person	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\nWe feel that asking users to write about suicide is harmful. It can be hard to tell if someone's writing fiction or making a cry for help. In the event there's any truth behind this for you or someone you know, we recommend checking out /r/suicidewatch or /r/depression. \n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators.\n\n---\n\n[Link to the removed post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4tfpn7/wp_write_a_suicide_note_as_a_well_known_possibly/)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468855643", "1468855754" ]
	[wp] You are broke, your car is junked, and you lost your job and Significant other. You are having the greatest day of your life and are so happy.	4	[ "From where I sit, things are pretty fuckin' good. I can't remember the last time I felt so free; it's like I'm floating when I used to crawl. Right now, there are no responsibilities. Nothing to bring me down. I can feel my blood rushing through my veins, filling my arms and legs with an incredible vitality. I feel so alive. Things are finally looking up. The sun is shining, beating on the wall behind me. It's hot, but not too hot. Know what I mean? It's perfect. Everything is perfect. \n\nSure, I lost my job. Another one will come along. It always does. I'm not worried about that. And yeah, she left me. She'll be happier with Trent anyways, I can't be mad at her for making that decision. Everyone is happy. Everything is working out. My car won't start, but hey. That's a roof over my head, and that's more than some people can say. Damn, I feel good. I couldn't have made a better choice with my last few dollars.\n\nI just wish I'd thought to buy a clean syringe.", "\"Is this recording?\"\n\n...\n\n\"Hello everyone. This will be my last update before I go off the grid.\"\n\n\"I escaped from the main compound at about lunch time today. I don't think anyone noticed.\"\n\n\"I managed to destroy the tracking device in my car and unload the counterfeit money in its trunk. I also made sure that They wouldn't find any of my DNA on the seats.\"\n\n\"My handler tried to trace me with a phone call I but I was smarter. I disabled my cellphone so that They couldn't turn the camera or microphone on without me knowing.\"\n\n\"Loyal viewers will wonder why I still have my camera. Don't worry - I wrapped it in foil so that most of the radioactive decay will be contained. I'm more worried about my other recordings being damaged at this point, but I think they will survive until the camera is found.\" \n\n... \n\n\"I can see the outer wall up ahead. If I can distract the guards with a small explosion, I will be able to make it over and into the wilderness without being spotted. I can't believe I'm almost free.\" \n\n\"Whoever finds this camera, remember: They are more powerful than you think. I only hope you will be able to escape like I have. Good luck.\"\n\n", "It may have taken all the money I had, but the divorce was finally over. Years and years of harassment and assault were now finally finished. Honestly, I don't know which cost more in the long run, the divorce or the therapist, but I didn't care by this point. I was in pure bliss knowing that the bitch I once called my wife was now completely out of my life, probably roaming around New York or LA, sucking some CEO's dick for a raise while screaming at her new boyfriend at the same time.\n\nI think the main reason it took so long for me to break it off was our business relationship. Liz wasn't just my wife, she was my boss too. She provided my salary. It took serious balls on my part to confront the head of our company and reveal everything that was going on. We both got laid off after that, but that was the least of my worries.\n\nThe best part of the whole day though (aside from my newfound freedom) is the car. This shitty Corolla has been through thick and thin with me. The last straw in our relationship, in fact, was the fact that Liz had crashed my care into a lamp post while drunk driving. It was then that I decided to start the divorce process. It was perfect timing that on my first day as a free man, I get a call from the mechanic that my old car, despite looking like something from a junkyard, is still in working order. It was like a small victory over Liz, even after she'd left.\n\nAs I walk down to the cafe to grab a paper and look for some job opportunities, I can't help but smile at the great life I lead.\n\n---\n\nTo see all of my writing, please visit /r/ZachWrites!" ]	[ 2, 3, 3 ]	[ "1468876362", "1468872916", "1468875393" ]
	[WP] Alien invasion from the aliens perspective.	18	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The plan was simple. Have a show of power near the major cities of Earth and enslave the humans without any casualties. Now, how the hell did this happen? \nQuag-drak, general of the two hundred and fifth legion, stares out of his Interstellar Space Travel Vehicle, or ISTV, in disbelief. Down below, millions of humans lie dead. Along with burning rubble, the smell of death lingers in the air. Quag turns back around to Mag-thur, his most trusted captain, for an explanation. \n\"It...it was no use sir. The humans simply put up too much resistance.\" \n\"Too much resistance? Their primitive weaponry was nothing compared to our technology! Did they not even flinch after we presented to them our photon blasters?\" \nQuag points to a deep, burnt out crater in the earth. \n\"Were they not paralyzed by fear after that demonstration of power?\" \n\"The humans seemed to be more aggressive than we have previously thought sir. Our research division, after scanning one of their memories, has told me that humans are a warmongering race. They would even frequently launch attacks against each other, killing their own kin mercilessly.\" \nQuag presses his hand against his head and begins to massage his temples, trying to make sense of the situation. \n\"So you're telling me that the humans would have rather died fighting against us, than surrender peacefully without any death whatsoever?\" \n\"That is correct sir\" \n\"God dammit Mag. I'm too tired for this. Tell the higher ups that we're going to take Earth's resources and mark the humans as pests. I'm just going to go on to the next planet.\" \n\"On it, sir.\" \nAs Mag-thur relays the message back to home base, Quag-drak powers up the FTL, and readies himself to take over the next civilization. \n&nbsp; \nNote: I'm not really good at writing stories like this. I hope it suffices :)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1468881301", "1468904436" ]
	[WP] "What I'm about to show you is so top-secret that we had to invent a new security clearance level for it."	16	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Baffled, bowled over, mystified, confounded. There are not enough words in the English language to describe how I felt when I saw the video of a gleaming spaceship float lazily,like a ballon in the sky, and then slingshot at impossible speeds up, up, and away. President Simmons explained to me the situation. An alien envoy had come to earth looking for a fugitive that escaped their highest security prison. They had tracked him to earth. I was being assigned to the case on account of my sterling reputation as a US Marshall. \"Timothy \"Houdini\" Calhoun your mission is to find the fugitive before the Galactic Council. This is our coming out party. Make us proud.\"\n\"Will do.\"", "Unaware that there had ever been security clearance levels at West Liberty Town Hall, Darryl followed Public Affairs Committee member Cindy Wilkie down the hall, sidestepping the broken Xerox Phaser that stood as a monument to summer recreation guides of years past. The 2002 edition had been a particular success, explaining the five different framed copies hung at various gathering points throughout the second floor office. As requested in an all-office memo, it was now considered good etiquette to not discuss the ultimate fate of child cover star Timmy Russo, here pictured recreating with the same town farm animals that would eventually conspire to relieve him of his left leg. \n\n\"Close the door behind you, I'll get the blinds,\" Cindy demanded as she walked towards the window that overlooked the parking lot and newly-installed single stream recycling bin. Darryl lightly pulled the door to Conference Room B shut. \"What year is it?\" she queried, looking into Darryl's eyes.\n\n\"2016?\"\n\n\"No, what year is it?\"\n\n\"I... don't see what you're getting at,\" Darryl replied, confused and wishing he had taken another bite of his bagel before agreeing to follow Cindy into the poorly-lit conference room and current storage space for the 96 Little League trophies that were not handed out due to a players strike. \n\n\"It's 2016.\"\n\n\"That's wha...\"\n\n\"...The forty-fifth anniversary of the first confirmed sighting of Old Joe.\" A veritable celebrity in the otherwise-nonexistent world of named animal residents of West Liberty, the surly snapping turtle had come to occupy the peculiar throne of both beloved curmudgeon and terrifying pond monster, prone to faking a picturesque sunbathing pose before ruthlessly charging a young family's picnic spread. Cindy gestured towards a bulging cloth-covered table, which Darryl had heretofore not noticed on account of the low lighting and the three other bulging cloth-covered tables within a few feet of it. \"You have to promise not to tell anyone,\" Cindy whispered.\n\nCindy yanked the cloth away in dramatic fashion, revealing the snarling mouth of Old Joe, jaws agape and eyes fixed forward as if a toddler's hot dog and/or index finger was within reach. \"AH WHAT THE!\" Darryl cried as he jumped backwards, pulling his hands behind him.\n\n\"Quiet! Calm down, it's just a statue,\" Cindy whisper-yelled, doing little to calm Darryl's pounding heart. She lightly tapped the life-sized replica of Old Joe with her hand, and Darryl winced as part of him still expected the bust to tear of the offending appendage with unbound reptilian disdain. \"I had it commissioned for this year's Opening Day Barbecue.\" \n\nThe annual Opening Day Barbecue marked the beginning of West Liberty's summer recreation season. It took place at Hodgkin's Pond, named after longtime Outdoor Recreation Manager Paul Hodgkin and not the deadly form of cancerous lymphoma, though he did eventually succumb to the disease. It was one of the most popular events on the schedule, along with the Fourth of July Fireworks and the Fifth of July Community Trash Cleanup. (Although the latter was mostly attended by transients who were more focused on collecting redeemable bottles than trash, despite the fact that many were offended that the event's name possibly referred to the homeless community in a disparaging manner.)\n\n\"That thing is terrifying,\" Darryl stated bluntly, still fixing his eyes on the bronze creature. Even from across the room, he seemed certain that the sculptor had sharpened fake Old Joe's claws to the point that insurance liability coverage would be impossible to neglect.\n\nCindy scoffed. \"Don't be such Contrary Cary,\" referring to local housewife and office in-joke Cary Matthews, who had gained her level of bureaucratic notoriety for campaigning against the town's ban on unleashed cats. \"Come on, I've got one more thing to show you, but I had to store it in the basement because it's so big. It's also the 20th anniversary of the Great Coyote Fire of '96.\"\n\n--\nContribute to the Re-Elect Cindy Wilkie Fund and read more stories at /r/highpothetically.\n", "\"Commander Brannon, what I'm about to show you is the cumulation of decades of work. It is to top-secret that we had to invent a new clearance level for it and, so far, only four people outside of the development team have been afforded level 12 clearance: Myself, you, the Secretary General and Overseer Smith. You cannot tell anyone else anything about this. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Wallace...\" Kate began, unnerved by how cold he was being.\n\n\"Do you understand, Commander Brannon?\" He demanded, his suit crumpling slightly as he turned to face her, his face so much colder than it had been in the past and his eyes inscrutible behind a pair of black sun glasses.\n\n\"Yes, I understand, Mr. Jones,\" She nodded, knowing that it was easier to just go along with whatever Section 13. Without another word, Walace opened the chrome box sat upon the table and removed a glass cylinder that had a metal cap on both ends, one of which had a number pad and a digital countdown mounted above the pad and within the cylinder was a red crystal that had wires stretching from both ends to each end of the cylinder.\n\n\"Wallace...\" Kate gasped, \"is... is this what I think it is?\" She could barely believe what she was seeing. It was the KB-12.\n \"That depends on what you think it is, if you think it's the KB-12 you would be correct; if, however, you think it's a toaster then you would be wrong,\" Wallace remarked dryly.\n\n\"Do you know what that thing does?\" Kate demanded .\n\n\"Yes,\" he said as he placed the device back in the container and locked it, \"it purges all supernatural life forms within 100 miles of the activation site and given the increasing severity of recent supernatural events, Toronto for example, it was decided that the KB-12 should see production.\"\n\n\"Why...? How...? Who... who even gave section 13 approval to build that? I am responsible for the approval of all military technology R and D and I was never told anything about this,\" Kate looked at Wallace, her eyes burining into him and yet he still remained unphased.\n\n\"You were never asked to approve it because management elected to bypass the standard development approval process.\" he motioned to the door and Kate followed him, there was no sense in trying no to move. Once the door to the room was locked, Wallace continued, \"they decided to consult the secretary general in order to gain approval to construct the device.\"\n\n\"So a few incidents and now Section 13 can build WMD's?!\" Kate demanded with disgust.\n\n\"I would hardly say that, Cult uprisings, Demonic incursions and an attempt to sacrifice an entire city to a Pit Fiend can be refered to simply as \"incidents\", Commander Brannon and besides, it is not a weapon of mass destruction, it's a weapon of very targeted destruction.\"\n\n\"Yes, that has the very specific target of anything supernatural within 100 miles.\"\n\n\"Kate.\" She was taken aback, Wallace hadn't refered to her by her actual name since he'd started working for Section 13. \"Just because there are Witches, such as yourself, and other Supernaturals, that work for the UN it does not mean that we can be without a safety measure for the worst case scenario. Understand?\" It had been a long, long time since Kate had seen her once childhood friend display any emotion but his frustration at this discussion was begining to reveal itself.\n\n\"Section 13 was given aproval to build that device and deploy it should it ever become necessary. Do you understand, Commander? Or will I have to chalk this up to insubordination and attempted obstruction of Section 13 business?\" His once again calm composure made the threat even more prominant.\n\n\"No, I appologise, Mr. Jones,\" Kate answered meekly, she hated that she had to bow to the whims of Section 13 but she, and everyone else who knew of Section 13, knew that it was suicide to try and oppose them.\n\"Good,\" Wallace said flatly as he began to walk away, \"oh, one last thing,\" he paused half way through a stride, \"Overseer Smith wants to see you in his office one hour from now. Be there.\" Wallace walked off and Kate remained for a few moments, both angry at how much power Section 13 held that they could do as they like and saddened as she was once again reminded that Wallace was no longer who he had been only a few years before hand. \n\nAfter the moments had passed, Kate composed herself and pledged a silent vow to herself. She would find out exactly what it was that Section 13 did and that the world would know about Section 13.", "The steel blast doors groaned in protest as heavy actuators pulled them apart, revealing a room as devoid of light as the void of space. \n\n\"Now, what I'm about to show you is so to-secret that we had to invent a new security clearance level for it.\"\n\nThe man reached into a pocket hidden within his formal jacket and pressed a button. With a series of heavy clunks, lights hanging far above in the vault's ceiling lit one row at a time, illuminating a chamber large enough to easily hold three aircraft carriers lined up end-to-end. Filling the hangar effortlessly was a vast, teardrop-shaped something. It looked as if it had been made of metal turned to liquid, a vast metallic pool contained within an invisible flask. At first, I thought it was being suspended from the ceiling, but suddenly I realized that it was somehow hovering in place under its own power. \n\n\"You mean to say that the leader of this entire country doesn't know what you have buried out here?\" I wondered, pushing my glasses back up my nose to get a better view. Suspicion, which had begun to grow in my stomach like a knotted root the moment that the armored car arrived in my driveway, suddenly blossomed into a rancid flower. \"Why show someone like me this place? Are you going to kill me?\"\n\n\n\nThe man just laughed. \"Oh, he has a good idea that we have something, but even he knows that we wouldn't keep secrets unless we absolutely had to. Papers detailing the object are in a sealed folder in his desk, right on top of the nuclear launch codes. He is under strict instructions not to break the seal except in case of emergency. Which...\" He lowered the dark sunglasses that he wore even in these tunnels far enough to fix me with a piercing gaze. \"is why we called you here today. Tell me, what do you think this object is?\" \n\nStill not convinced that I was out of the woods, I turned back to the shimmering substance. \"Well...if you called me here, I would have to guess it was some kind of alien craft.\"\n\n\n\"That is our assumption as well. Several decades ago, our men discovered a large deposit of metal underneath the Meteor Crater in Arizona using experimental sonar. We thought it was the Russians - back then, everything was about the damn Russians - but when we tunneled our way in, we found this. I doubt the Russians could even conceive of such a thing, eh?\" He let out a humorless laugh. \"Moving it was too hard, so construction began immediately to create a containment facility on-site. If you hadn't guessed, that's where we stand now.\"\n\nI grumbled at that, remembering the several-hour long car ride I had spent with a blindfold wrapped around my head. \"Yeah. And Area 51 is a decoy, I know.\"\n\n\"So you have known about this thing for decades, and you haven't come to get me until now?\" I continued, giving him a sidelong glance before flicking my gaze back up to the ship. \"What changed?\"\n\n\"I think it would be better to show you than tell you.\" Before I could stop him, the man reached out and stroked the hull of the craft with a single finger. From where he made contact, a vast ripple spread over the ship, like a wrinkle in the smooth metal surface. When it returned, it seemed to rush inward, and suddenly a gaping hole opened in the ship's hull. A ribbon of quicksilver that reminded me unnervingly of a tongue slipped out of the opening to rest at our feet. \n\n\n\"Follow me.\" The man said, and walked up the ramp with easy strides. After a moment, I followed him. \n\nThe inside of the ship was remarkably different from the exterior. Instead of silver, it seemed as if it had been made out of a rainbow of crystal. The walls, instead of the austere gray I expected, were covered in what looked like stained glass, lit from within by a mysterious light. Scenes like out of a fairy tale, with dragons, knights, and castles, were depicted on every surface. A carpet of transparent plastic clearly of human origin, protected the floor, where a giant serpent seemed to lead the way deeper into the ship with its kaleidoscope of crystal scales. \n\n\"Most of the technology in this craft we already have.\" My escort said, seemingly unimpressed by the view. \"The problem is, we simply don't have the raw power to make it run...and we have as of yet found no way of replicating their engine. And that is why we called you here today.\" \n\nAt his touch, a panel depicting a burning orb slid back to reveal a spherical chamber that seemed to glow with a fiery light. Tentatively, I followed him into the room. \n\nSoon, it became apparent what was causing the glow. The walls were covered from top to bottom with precious stones, arranged in a mosaic depicting flames so real that they seemed to dance before my eyes. A small gangplank-like platform stretched into the very center of the room, where it ended in a ring-like platform that surrounded an orb of light so bright that I had to avert my eyes. \n\n\n\"Here.\" Said my guide, offering a pair of the same dark shades that he wore. \"Now you know why I kept these on.\"\n\nTogether, we strode to the heart of the chamber - and, if my suspicions were correct, the heart of the ship itself. As we got closer, a loud humming filled our ears, seeming to emanate from the sphere itself. \n\n\"Once your eyes have adjusted a bit, look at the center of the light.\" Said my guide, peering at the orb with a pained expression on his face. To my surprise, I saw a small oblong shape the size of a tennis ball, almost invisible at the center of the sphere. As I watched, it shook slightly from left to right, rocking in a cradle made of light. \n\n\"What is it?\" I called, yelling to be heard over the din. \n\n\"We think it's one of their eggs.\" Yelled my guide. \"It has been stable for years, but recently something has changed.\" \n\n\"We think it's hatching.\"\n\n\n**\n\nWell that was fun. CC appreciated, and if you enjoyed you can find more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs!", "The world was dark.It felt meticulously maddening but that was nothing new to Ned.He was blind but nevermind.This was accepted by him long ago in a distant memory when he was touched by god.The room he was in felt cavernous and cold.He could hear the slight whirred of the air-conditioner and taste the metallic air of the sterile room.But there was something more,something hidden and subtle like a whisper of substances that procreates a sense of falling endlessly through an abyss.The flow of the world felt interrupted against it.Warped it into something of its own.\n\n\nHe tried feeling for it but was lost like trying to grip shadows and letting water flows uninterrupted through his closed fist.Even in doing this he felt terrified and unclean as if he had disturbed an evil...no,not evil.It felt like nature,it felt grey and unstoppable.It felt as if he had intrude in a holy sanctity that worships the wind and sunlight and all those that it encompasses.\n\n\nThe man that had spoken earlier was gone leaving a slimmer of his presence behind.He has been touch.This revelation came like lightning and turmoils in his hollow stomach.The man's essence was tainted by \"it\",forever changed.Yet,Ned does not regret this change had happen to the man.He had spoken with thunderous voice that carried a commanding tone like an ancient god whose name had been forgotten.This too,Ned had felt, been touched by \"it\".The words that were carried by the thunder was this :\"What I'm about to show you is so top secret that we had to invent a new security clearance level for it!\".He had left soon afterward.\n\n\nHe was riding home on the subway when he was taken.The compartments of the trains had always felt like decadent and trivialities to him.Rot that was not visible had sullied the train,like an open arm of beggar and rat kings that reigned supreme.But today it was different somehow.The aura had warped and bend to a new presence.A team of armed and suited mens had rushed the train during the first stop.He could smell the oil and gunpowder of the gun and heard the ruffle of the shirts.One of the mens had grip his right bicep with an iron grip and proceeded to cart him off the train and haul him to a foreign room that had taste of metal and touched by something old.He had protest but that too was trivial.And here we are.\n\n \nWhile he was revisiting these events,he felt gently nudged at first but was rocked stupidly by something.His mind,so sharp so as to be able to cut other untrained hearts and minds is now babbling incoherently in the foreground and background.This wall of noises was superceded by...\"it\".The man was back and he had carried a new wonder with him.He had brought back a sense to Ned.Through the tears that he felt wetting his eyes and cheeks,he found light that blind him.This ball of light that awaits him was wispy and flowing continously in an unrecognised patterns that was beautiful in its abstract and chaotic nature.He reached out to it like a man dying of thirst reaching for something far beyond him.To his amazement he touched the light.It was solid but not to his hand that lay solemnly at his side now but it in his mind.The wall of noise had vanished and replaced by something wondrous.To his suprise,he was calm in glimpsing all of eternities:the past and the future intermingling in his mind.And he know he was chosen,not today but the since the beginning of time.\n\n\nDo you see?,the man and \"it\"has asked.\n\n\nYes,we had answered.\n\n\nThen let there be light.\n\n\nEdit:a sentence.", "Mary struggled to stand on shaking legs, pushing the hair out of her face and doing her solid best to stand at attention.\n\n\"At ease, soldier.\" The man in the black suit told her simply and she shifted positions even as he shook his head. \"You can sit.\" He corrected her.\n\nIt was with relief that Mary sank back into her hospital bed, self-conscious of the mint-green gown draped over her aching body. She had been in the hospital for two days now, and her muscles were still weak but she refused to let that keep her from showing respect as fit her rank.\n\n\"I was hoping you could answer some questions for me.\" The man asked, and she nodded.\n\n\"Of course.\" Neither of them quite smiled, but it was hard to tell what the man was thinking through his dark sunglasses. She could see herself, tired, reflected in the lenses if she tried.\n\n\"Your husband, where did the two of you meet?\" There was something testing in the tone, and Mary was left with the distinct impression he already knew.\n\n\"New Mexico, sir.\" She hoped that he wouldn't take the fatigue in her voice as a tone of disrespect. \"Five years ago. I was stationed on a guard detail there and he was working in a nearby diner.\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\" The man asked, the fingers of his right hand just barely grazing the watch on his other wrist. The room fell silent enough that she could hear her own heartbeat.\n\nShe was certain, of course, but at the same time she suddenly wasn't. She could remember seeing him there, clear as day with a smile and milkshake 'on the house'. There was the way she had finally propositioned him one day, her nose sunburnt, and he had accepted anyway.\n\nWhy, she wondered, would he imply it had been any other way?\n\n\"Sir, yes, sir.\" Mary finally tells him, her voice firm and she thinks that she can see him smile.\n\n\"You are less susceptible than I thought. Commander Clarke? What I'm about to show you is so top-secret that we had to invent a new security clearance level for it.\"\n\n\"Is this related to Abe?\" Mary asked her tone almost defensive. Her husband was, she had to admit, the gentlest man that she had ever met. Prone to sickness, but always able to smile for her.\n\nHe had gone missing, three months into her pregnancy. She still had yet to hear from him, and there was a solid pit of fear in her chest that she wouldn't.\n\n\"Yes. We believe your husband may be an illegal alien. However there is more to this than that.\" A nurse comes to the door of the room with a wheelchair, the conversation not causing even a moment's hesitation as she parked it at the side of Mary's bed. \n\n\"I can walk.\" Mary told him, her voice growing icy. She prickled at his accusation that the man she loved, that the man she may have lost had been lying to her. This was all too much right now, on a day where she was already worn thin. Where he should have been there.\n\n\"Safety, Ma'am.\" The nurse tells her simply. \"Liability if not that.\"\n\nShe opened her mouth to speak, increasingly frustrated and the man in black held up a solitary finger. \"Commander Clarke - Mary. Trust me; you'll want to be sitting for this. It isn't your husband that I'm taking you to see.\"\n\nIt takes more effort than Mary thought she had left in her to relent, realization striking her as to where they were likely going.\n\n\"When will I get to see my son?\" Mary asked the nurse who looked at her like a deer in the headlights. \"He was born at 0900; it's been over three hours.\"\n\n\"Or-\" Mary started again when the nurse edged away and the man in the black suit started to smile again. \"Is he what you're intending to show me.\"\n\n\"Please.\" the man told her simply, gesturing to the chair. She forced down the panic rising inside of her gut. If something had happened to him, if there was something wrong, she would lose her last connection to Abe. She would lose the only family that she had.\n\nMary surprises herself with her stoicism as she moves from the bed to the chair, and the nurse leaves. It is the man who takes the chair's handles and steers her half-dressed from her room.", "\"Pilot Forrestal,\" a man clad in a navy-blue suit stood before you, hand outstretched. \"I'm Ed Bennington. In charge of Technical Operations here.\"\n\nYou shake his hand. \"Glad to finally meet you.\"\n\nBennington is definitely, probably in his late 40s. His black- no, dark brown* hair is combed back, green-gray eyes set in tired sockets, but with a genuine smile on his face. \"Didn't have any trouble with Section 2, did you?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" you chuckle, hands raised. \"No trouble with security.\" That's a half-lie. You did have to go through several authorization points, passing through bulkhead after bulkhead. Then again, that's every day.\n\n\"Glad to hear it.\" He patted you on the shoulder. \"Hear your father works with the UN. That true?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" you admit, rolling your eyes. \"Talks about this place often.\"\n\nThe two of you stop in front of a massive bulkhead door, the familiar half-fig leaf and upside-down apple logo emblazoned onto the triple-thick steel plates in red paint. Bennington fumbles through his jacket, handing you a card. You look up at him, confusedly.\n\n\"Mr. Bennington,\" you look up at him. \"What's this for? I already have one.\" You rifle through your own pockets and retrieve your own card. He chuckles.\n\n\"Avery,\" he says, crouching down a bit to be at eye level with you. \"Do you know how many clearance levels we have?\"\n\n\"Easy. Seventeen.\" You smile as you give him the answer.\n\n\"Eighteen now.\" Bennington smiles, patting you on the shoulder as he swipes his own card. The bulkhead doors shudder as they slowly open.\n\nYou step out onto the catwalk. Before you, in a sea of red-orange fluid, are two titans of human engineering. The one to the left is clad in black armor, with red and white detailing. The menacing glare of its presumed cockpit strikes fear into you, as it probably did into the hearts of those that defeated it. To the right is one with three eyes, sea green armor with dark red and golden detailing. You simply gawk at the scale of these...these...\n\n\"This is what you've been learning to pilot, Forrestal.\"\n\nYou look up. It's Bennington again. He's smiling, proudly at the two humanoid figures.\n\n\"These are the pinnacles of our species' achievement. Evangelions.\"", "\"Mr Smith, the United Nations unanimously agreed to protect the world from what you are about to see. It has since been elevated to SF-Top Secret. We had to promote you just to tell you the rank existed.\"\n\n\nYou groggily shake your head, your arms binding against the think zip-ties holding you down, your eyes blinded by the cover over your head. You yell into the darkness \"Who are you? Why do you want me? I'm just a regular civil-service employee!\"\n\nThe hood was whipped off of you, revealing a vast sprawling networks of tunnels, all connecting to where your chair was seated.\n\n\"In 1952, a piece of research was created by the Germans, and given to the United States unanimously. It was the idea of faster-than-light travel. They gave us the math, we did the work. The first shuttle tests were just that, tests of slower-than-light travel. However, they also served as our first faster than light vehicles.\"\n\n\"Why are you telling me this!? It has nothing to do with me!\"\n\n\"Quite the contrary Mr. Smith, you're just the candidate we needed. Your exceptional leadership roles, how much you value your close friends, you-\"\n\n\"You were SPYING on me?\"\n\n\"With all due respect,\" he began, a slight smile on his face, \" that's what we ask the NSA to do. We don't do it personally.\"\n\n\"Fine. What do you want me to do, fly a ship into space and kill myself?\"\n\nUtterly disgusted, he shook his head,walking around and began to push the chair towards the largest tunnel.\n\n\"Quite the contrary, Mr. Smith. We expect you to _head_ it.\" He took a knife from his boot out and cut the ties on your wrists, suddenly sore from the bloodflow.\n\nBefore you lay a vast cavern, filled with Sci-Fi looking ships, their hulls emblazoned with the phrase \"NCC\".\n\n\"Welcome to Starfleet Mr. Smith.\"\n", "It began with a simple question. \n\n\"Do you know why you're here?\"\n\nI placed the mug on his table. \"Vaguely.\"\n\n\"You've been promoted. Congratulations.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"You seem thrilled.\"\n\n\"May I ask why? It's just...\"\n\n\"Out of the blue?\"\n\nI scratched the back of my head. \"Yeah.\"\n\nThe man in the navy blue suit grinned, but even I could tell it was forced. \"You will be replacing Senior Head Researcher Edward Weiss. You will be given Level Five clearance for all files and unrestricted access to the labs and testing grounds and particle colliders. All five hundred staff members are yours. You will discontinue all previous projects and start fresh. You may appoint someone as your successor, if you so wish. And...of course...there will be a substantial pay increase.\"\n\nFor some reason I felt nothing. Only numbness and a tinge of confusion. \"What happened to Weiss? He's one of the best around here. Been with us for years.\"\n\n\"Not years. Decades.\"\n\n\"So why am I getting his spot?\"\n\n\"You seem to be missing the point. No, this isn't an offer, Doctor Kent...this is an executive order. A direct command from the Council. You will accept this promotion, and you will be happy about it. You will drive home to your family with a smile on your face. Do you hear me?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Disobeying a direct Council command will result in expulsion or termination.\"\n\n\"I accept the offer...sir. Thank you.\"\n\n\"Good.\" He ran his scrawny fingers through his cabinet and retrieved a folder. The strange thing was that the cover was blank. \"Very good.\"\n\n\"With respect, you still didn't answer my question. What happened to Edward?\"\n\nHe slid me the file down the slick mahogany surface. \"You should read this. Only seven people in the entire world know about this.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked. \n\n\"A secret.\"\n\nIn a place like this, that could mean anything. Portals? The existence of God? Blood rites? \"What kind of secret?\"\n\nThe man snorted. \"The kind that forced us to create another layer of security clearance for it.\" \n\nIt was a briefing on some sort of mechanical device that had taken decades to construct. Thousands of scientists involved, including some prominent world leaders. I read slowly, at first, a word at a time. \n\nThen it set in. \n\nThe truth. \n\nI denied it. I denied everything the document said, despite all of the evidence, the people involved, eyewitness testimonies and photos of the event. \n\nMost of all...I denied the truth because it was fucking impossible.\n\n\"You understand what we're dealing with, Doctor Kent? The...gravity of our situation?\"\n\nI slammed the papers down. \"Is this a sick joke? What is this?\"\n\n\"No. No, it is not a joke. We are a humorless bunch, mind you.\"\n\n\"How many times? How many times did we use it?\"\n\n\"...Three.\"\n\nMy arms stiffen. \n\nThree. \n\nThree times we chose to reset. Three times we failed to save ourselves.\n\nI can barely hold it together. \"What happened to the last timeline we were in?\"\n\n\"Nuclear fallout. Heavy containment breach. Code Reds.\"\n\n\"Jesus...\"\n\n\"I suppose you need a moment-\"\n\n\"Wait.\"\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"If we all...if we all died in Universe 89-B...then how are we still alive right now?\"\n\nThe man's eyes narrowed into slits. \"Don't assume you're the same person.\"\n\nAnd with that statement, he left.\n\n\"What do you expect me to do?\" I shouted. \n\nThe man paused. \"Learn. Improve. Study. Test. Experiment. Record. Discuss. Whatever you need to do.\"\n\n\"You want me to fix this device?\"\n\n\"No. The device is destroyed. Beyond repair, were Weiss' words. No, I expect you to make sure we won't have to resort to something like that device again. Do you understand? Because we're stuck here. Whether we like it or not. Are we clear?\"\n\nI merely nod.\n\n\"Good. See you tomorrow at nine. Don't be late.\"\n\n\n...\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 7, 7 ]	[ "1468942703", "1468947676", "1468949952", "1468947579", "1468948861", "1468952002", "1468946979", "1468961301", "1468945108", "1468948416" ]
	[WP] Two narrators are becoming increasingly irritated with what the other adds to the story they are telling.	6	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Finding a more normal day would be difficult. The weather presented a rather pleasant palette of mild with a dash of wispy cloud-\n\nLook, I'm not sure if that makes sense.\n\nThe ground rumbled, as though metaphysical fists slammed down on it.\n\nCome on, don't be like that. I just mean, well, I know what you tried to do, but I don't know if 'palette' is right. Oh, wait, did you mean a painting metaphor? Sorry, I thought you were going for food, because of the 'mild'. Well, ignore me, carry on.\n\nBut the rumblings had become normal as of late. No one truly knew, though the scientists often had their hypothesises.\n\nHypotheses.\n\nOf course, some scientists still clung to the outdated method of pluralisation. They were, due to the cut-throat nature of the business, put out of work and died on the streets, little more than a stain on the normality.\n\nEasy now, I'm just trying to be helpful.\n\nDawn rolled on, accompanied by its chorus.\n\nCould we speed up a bit? I bet they're getting bored.\n\nAnd the whole damn world ended in a burst of flames.\n\nWell, I guess if you want to be like that.\n\nIt was a happy ending for everyone concerned.\n\nI'll just go then.\n\nThe End.", "A long time ago…\n\nOh my starting with something so cliché\n\n…in a land far away.\n\nbe more intresting. In a land far far away.\n\nHow far is far far. Far far makes it sound like a different planet.\n\nSo a long time ago on a planet far far away.\n\nIf we are doing doubles we may as well make it A long long time ago on a planet far far away there was a boy.\n\nTheres too much male dominance in stories these days. A long long time ago on a planet far far away there was a girl in her teens.\n\nA long long time ago on a planet far far away there was a moody teenage girl.\n\nIf this is a different planet in the past then how was there a girl there.\n\nYou were the one that wanted the teenage girl far far away. Lets wrap that story up with that’s another story.\n\nSo a long long time ago on a planet far far away there was a moody teenage girl. How she got there is another story but this moody teenage girl on this day woke up.\n\nMy god of course she woke up. Can’t we have her already awake. \n\nI’m sorry. Who’s telling the story?\n\nI think you’ll find I started. So a long long time ago on a planet far far away there was a moody teenage girl playing in the mud.\n\nWhy is she playing in the mud. Girls don’t play in the mud.\n\nYou wanted her to be a girl. This teenage girl was poking the mud in the stick.\n\nOoh. Ooh. I know. The girl wrote the name Jared in the mud then repetitively crossed it out and stamped it out.\n\nWhos Jared. \n\nJared was the stupid boy who broke this fair maiden heart.\n\nThis fair maiden. She’s a moody teen. She doesn’t even have a name but Jared does. Emma looked up from the mud she stood in. \n\nReally. Emma. One of the most popular female names. Can’t you be more original? I think she seems more like an Emi.\n\nEmi liked to be called by her middle name. Emma.\n\nEmi looked up from the defaced name of the boy that she once loved. Tears of rage pouring down her face.\n\nShe looked up to the sky. It was a beautiful day. She shook her head. Dried her eyes and rid all thoughts of Jared.\n\nBut wait from over the hill rode a boy atop a brilliant white stallion.\n\nStallion? There on another planet and this boy is riding a horse.\n\nIt’s set in the past.\n\nThey had to get to the planet somehow.\n\nFine. The boy rode over the top of a hill on his hover board. Riding down to the lone girl crying in the mud.\n\nShe’d stopped crying already. \n\nRiding down the hill to the lonely girl her eyes of solitude becoming him.\n\nThe sun was in her eyes and she couldn’t see properly, this combined with the wetted eyes that were no longer crying led in the boy through his own misunderstanding. \n\nThe boy leapt off of the hoverboard into the mud. Offering his had to help her up.\n\nShe had already stood up.\n\nThe boy leapt off the hoverboard to Emi’s aid.\n\nBut wait. Its Jared. She hadn’t noticed before now due to the sun in her eyes. \n\n”Oh my beautiful Emi. Would you find it in your heart to forgive me? I was foolish and for that I am so terribly sorry.”\n\n“My name’s Emma.” Emma takes out her laser shotgun and shoots Jared to oblivion.\n\nIt missed.\n\nIt missed?\n\nLaser shotguns are notorious for their wildly inaccurate fire.\n\nIt’s a laser shotgun. \n\nIt’s the past. Any laser shotgun would have to have a reason as to why its no longer used.\n\nFine. The laser shotgun missed but due to the large energy surge near it the hover board exploded in flame. \n\nHaving already stepped off the hover board however Jared was unharmed. “Oh my sweet Emi. Whatever did my hover board do to you?”\n\n“You loved that thing more than you did me. You can’t even get my name right.”\n\n”But my sweet Emi. I was to use it to run away from this world. So we could finally be alone. Together forever.”\n\n“You were planning on doing what with my sweet Emma.”\n\n“Mr Emi’s dad sir. Wherever did you come from? I could have sworn that your daughter was alone only seconds ago.”\n\n“A father is never too far away with creeps like you hanging around the planet. Do you not remember my name boy?”\n\n”Sorry Wilson.”\n\n“It’s Jack.” Jack then impaled Jared on the end of a spear. “Humph. You can’t beat the classics when it comes to killing Emma hand up your laser shotgun and take one of these.”\n\n”You killed him!” Emi took her laser shotgun and pushing the mussle against her father fired.\n\nYou forgot to reload.\n\nWhat weapon has one shot per energy cell?\n\nThe laser shotgun was notorious for its bad energy efficiency. \n\nJared groaned. Taking his flintlock pistol fired it into Jack’s head.\n\nJared’s alive?\n\nJared coughed. “Not even death will overcome the bonds of our love Emi.”\n\n“It’s Emma.” Emma picked up her fathers spear and ran Jared through being sure to bisect him to make doubly sure he was dead.\n\nFrom over the hill come an army of Jared clones all professing their undying love to Emi.\n\nEnraged Emma picked up the spear and proceeded to carve her way through the army. Armed with only their love Jared was defenceless against the rage of Emma. \n\nEventually the clone army overwhelmed Emi with love, hugs and kisses. Pulling her to the ground separating her from her weapon.\n\nWhere they all drowned in the blood of innumerable Jareds.\n\nAnd the moral of this story...\n\nHell hath no fury like a woman scorned\n\nI was going to say love overcomes all.\n\nThat’s not what Romeo and Juliet is about.\n\nWait was this story meant to be Romeo and Juliet.\n\nOriginally.\n\nIsn’t the moral of Romeo and Juliet to be rational and not impulsive.\n\nI’m just the narrator. Not an English student. \n\nThe other thing to take away from this is that laser shotguns don’t work.\n\nGet a spear instead. \n\nThe end.\n\nStay tuned for part 2.\n\nThere’s a part 2. Everyone’s dead.\n\nWell if you’re aloud to clone Jared then I am going to clone Emma and turn it into the story of Frankenstein’s monster. \n\nWriters note I don’t intend to write part 2.\n\nWho are you?\n\nThe Writer?\n\nCan he over power us.\n\nI think so.\n\nThe…\n\nWait\n\nStop\n\n…End." ]	[ 1, 4, 6 ]	[ "1468963837", "1468966802", "1468967756" ]
	[WP] We were never "alone" We were just the last civilization to develop. We start seeing signs of life but no life, Leading us to believe all other civilizations died off thousands of years ago.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The administrator NASA was an hour into a critical meeting when there was a gentle knock on the door. The room lapsed into silence stunned. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it was nothing good. Ever since the initiation of the Final Eden missions your spouse could have died and they would still wait until these meetings were over to tell you. A nano researcher stood to get the door but Isane Abe gestured him back down. If something was serious enough to warrant interrupting this meeting, then the least she could do as the head was answer the door herself. Feeling empty she slowly pulled the door open and came face with a researcher so new she would not have known he worked here save the name tag pinned to his jacket. Wordlessly she waved him in and with a nervous little bob the young man rushed by only to freeze in fear upon entering the meeting room. She furrowed her eyebrows at the pale senior researcher escorting him before turning to his frozen form.\n\n\"Good evening Mr...\" Isane stared, taking care not to spook him. The sound of her voice started him life and he jumped, spinning around to face her.\n\n\"Velasquez. Marcus Velasquez. But please call me Marcus, Mr. Velasquez is my father. And I guess my grandfather, but-\"\n\n\"Marcus,\" Isane broke in \"I'm sure you know this is a very important meeting. But if Mr. Ash here, felt the need to bring you here now then you must have something even more important to share with us. May we all hear what that is?\" Marcus rapidly shuffled the papers in his hands and stared over her shoulder at Ash for a moment before speaking.\n\n\"Yes yes of course, my apologies. The carbon dating of the most recent known civilization of every lost world's has been completed.\" he took a long deep breath before continuing. \"My team and I believe we have found a pattern present on over 80% of them.\" At these words the rest of the room began to murmur softly but Marcus ignored them and continued on. \"We found that there was specific time frame within which a world was destroyed relative to a particular point in space.\" As he spoke her handed Isane a paper with pertinent notes on it with with shaking hands \"With the assumption that life destroying force originates from this Point A in the IC 1613 galaxy at particular intervals traveling at 2.5 times of the speed of light if you account for transit time there..\" he voice faltered for a moment but a cough from a chair member spurred him on \"and back, you get a predictable schedule of destruction that the carbon dating for the last known civilization on each planet follows almost exactly.\" Isane paged through the papers in her hands and skimmed them over with a frown as he department heads began to speak.\n\n\"Particular intervals? That's a little vague\" an astrophysicist called out \"Does your team have any information on what could dictate the interval?\" Marcus turned to face him and nodded furiously.\n\n\"In a manner of speaking yes. You see the interval depends on where the last destroyed civilization happened. If the last dead civilization is x distance from Point A, then the next will fall in the time it takes to travel from the last planet back to Point A plus then the time it takes to go to the next planet with a margin of error of approximately 500 years.\" The astrophysicist looked at him with narrowed eyes while deputy administrator spoke up. \n\n\"The way you describe this implies that you believe this life destroying force is... organic in nature.\" He cut a look at a chemist present before reworking his words \"Sentient rather.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Marcus drew himself up tall but it couldn't keep the traces of fear on his face from becoming evident. \"My team believes there is reason to suspect that an as of yet unknown super civilization has been preying on the Local Group for eons.\" At this the whole room exploded into activity. The meeting members stormed the front of the room mobbing Marcus and Ash with fearful questions and accusations. The voices grew louder and louder, but Isane hardly noticed as she read the final page of the notes she had been given. After checking a few pages over again she finally noticed the chaos and took a moment to quiet the room. Literally backed against the wall, Marcus and Ash gazed at her gratefully for calming the small crowd.\n\n\"Isane you should have these fools fired for wasting our time!\" A voice snapped \"This is lunacy!\" Isane ignored her and gave her full attention to the two exhausted men before her.\n\n\"The manner of destruction was the same everywhere?\" She asked, gesturing at the notes.\n\n\"Yes,\" Ash finally spoke with a sigh \"We shared our information with archeologists all over the world with the intention of learning about the civilizations themselves. Instead they discovered that each planet was ripped apart in a ritualistic manner, like a particular form of warfare had been implemented each time to great affect. They could see it in the lay of the ruins, in the way the land was scored and burned. It was consistent.\" Isane just couldn't believe this. But the notes... If the dirty condensed version of their research was this convincing what did their main data look like? Still, she couldn't help herself.\n\n\"Are you sure?\" She asked helplessly.\n\n\"Mrs. Abe\" Marcus held her eyes with a steady gaze \"do you think we would be here if we were not?\" She took a shuddering breath before asking a question she had been dreading to ask.\n\n\"According to your data, where would you say the next... event could occur?\" Ash looked down at his shoes and wrung his hands.\n\n\"With the assumption that the most recently broken world is indeed the last one that was hit, with the assumption that after returning to Point A Earth was next... We could be hit any time between 50 years ago and 300 years from now.\"\n\n--------------------------------------\n\nPlease forgive but feel free to point any grammar errors! I have a terrible habit of writing on my phone when I should be sleeping." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1468993841", "1469000722" ]
	[WP] Your father left 20 years ago the night before your birthday to get Cigarettes, Milk, and Bread. Today he comes home with long bedraggled hair, weather beaten skin, and a sword on his hip. The first thing he says to you is "You're never going to believe what happened."	3,724	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "There he was on my 19th birthday. Standing in my apartment door, wearing a Viking style tunic and boots, brown skin weather beaten was my dad. Of course he looked different than the man in the photo mom gave me, but I just knew it was him. 20 years of being absent from my life. He smiled, as if he just got back from a business trip. My neighbor's dogs started barking. \n\n\"Hey son.\" he said. \"You've never going to belive-\" I cracked him across the jaw with a right jab so hard I could feel his jaw rattle. He staggered back before rubbing his jaw, regarding me. I kinda felt bad, but I was pissed. How dare that bastard show up, acting like it was no big deal.\n\"What the hell are you doing here?!\" I shouted, not caring if the other tenants could hear. \n\"Son, I'm sorry.\" he said, and I could hear the emotion in his voice. He thumbed the sword's hilt and looked down at his boots. \n\"I've done something that no father should ever have to do to his family, but I had to.\" I noticed a tear work it's way down his scarred cheek, but he wiped it away. I felt my rage melt away somewhat and I peeked into the apartment. Mom's bedroom door was closed, a sign that she was still asleep. I stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind me. Dad frowned when he saw that I was in my underwear, but I didn't care. Hell, the guy wasn't in my life for most of it, why should I care what he thought. \n\n\"If it was so hard for you, why'd you leave?\" I hissed. \n\"I was needed as a knight of the Round Table.\" I blinked. \n\"Oh, is 'Round Table' a code word for League of Deadbeat dads?\" I snapped. \"Because-\" Dad raised his tunic sleeve, revealing what looked to be a tattoo in the shape of a spoked wheel. It glittered in the hallway light and I realized it was gold. In the back of my mind I realized he was completely serious. I stared at him, unsure of what to say. \n\n\"This is a tattoo I was given. That night, when I went out, there was a flash of light and I found myself in another world called Camelot. I was trapped there for years, having to fight for survival. Eventually I wound up in the service of the Old Court and became a new knight.\" \n\n\"So why the hell are you here? If you were trapped there, how'd you make it back and why are you here on the eve on my birthday?\" I growled. He sighed and placed a hand on my shoulder. \n\"I'm here because.... well I need a squire, Micha. Things are really bad in Camelot, things that will effect both Earth and Camelot. I came here because I can only return the day I entered the land and I knew you might be the only person who'd understand.\" I looked into his eyes and I saw something I didn't expect. Fear. I shook my head. \n\n\"No. Mom needs me here, I've got a shift at Pizza Barn tomorrow morning, and I don't-\" Dad's grip on my shoulder tightened and when I looked at him, a proud smile streched across his face. \n\"Son, I understand. Tomorrow is your birthday. I will have to go back at exactly nine-thirty at night, at the same corner store I left that night.\" he pressed a small sword shaped charm into my palm. \n\n\"If you wish to come with me, the charm will point the way.\" With that, he turned and walked away down the hall. I looked at the sword charm and then back up to where dad was, but he was gone. I swallowed and went back inside. I had a lot to think about. \n", "\"Sarah?\"\n\nI hear from behind me. I turn around trying to remember why that voice sounds so familiar when I see an old, disheveled man with a limp walk towards me. \n\n\"Sarah is that you?\"\n\nI stare as he comes close. Good God this man reeks! I cover my nose and step back as he inches closer.\n\n\"Sorry, I don't have any money.\" I stutter as I back up trying not to breath.\n\n\"It's me your father! I haven't seen you in 20 years!\" He exclaims.\n\nThis man must be crazy! My dad left us when I was 6 and I never heard from him again! Then again how does he know my name and how long it's been? And that voice! I swear I've heard it before! My mind is running a mile a minute. This guy looks like he's just entered through a portal! And he sure smells like he hasn't showered in 20 years! I stare, with my mouth agape, not because I'm shocked, but because I have to breath somehow and I'd rather not piss off the crazy infront of me. \n\n\"Honey! It's really me! I swear! 20 years ago... Im so sorry for what happened! It was out of my control! Look at how much you've grown!\" He smiles a wide toothless smile. \n\nThat smile... Something about it seems so familiar.. Could this really be him? Could it really be the man who abandoned me and my mom all those years ago?\n\n\"Honey! Look I have a picture of you! I've kept it all these years. You were the only reason I survived.\" He inched forward digging through a satchel filled with herbs and pulled out a family picture. \n\nI looked at it, and at him and then it all clicked. All the memories, the voice, the smile, the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled. I stared wide eyed at the man who looked so different from me, but was the same kin. I don't know when, but by the time I snapped out of my daze, I noticed I was crying. \n\n\"Honey, you're never going to believe what happened!\"", "\"I'll be back in half an hour, pumpkin.\"\n\nThose were the last words he ever said to me. Twenty years is a long time, but it felt so short. He just needed to go and get some basic things: cigarettes, milk, and bread. It was March 18, the day before my birthday.\n\nHe never came back.\n\n\"I'm home!\" a strangely familiar voice boomed through my door.\n\nNo. It couldn't be. Probably just some drunk old guy with a voice that sounded strangely like my long lost father. I got up, almost knocking my half-empty mug of coffee to the floor. I peered through the peephole in my door. The face that greeted me was unreal.\n\n\"D... Dad?\" I managed to squeak out while opening the door.\n\n\"It's me, pumpkin. Happy birthday. You will never believe what happened.\"\n\nHis hair looked like it was in a tornado, his skin like he was dragged through mud. The most strange change of all was a sword was at his hip. A large longsword, it had some strange dried green fluid on it and runes glowed softly blue from the indentation in the middle. He handed me a polished wood box which must have been made out of mahogany or some other expensive, fancy wood. Engraved into the top lid, there was a strange language that shimmered gold, as if someone captured molten metal that somehow stayed molten forever and poured it into the engraving.\n\n\"Open it, sweetie,\" my dad encouraged. Two lightly colored pieces of wood formed what looked like a seal of a royal family of some far-off fantasy land. I had barely touched it when it sprang to life and turned clockwise so that the seam between the 2 pieces of the seal lined up with the seam on the rest of the box. The box opened up to reveal a pen laying on a layer of red velvet, engraved with the same language that was on the top of the box, but it did not shimmer.\n\n\"A... A pen? THIS is what I get in exchange for waiting 20 years? Twenty years of my life I worried about you, wondered where you were, and hoped you would come back and life would resume as normal? I... I have no words,\" I shouted, tsunami waves of anger and sadness.\n\n\"Take it out, sweetie,\" my dad replied in a calm, cool, and collected voice. I did as he asked and grasped my hand around the metal. It instantly cooled to the point where it was not unpleasant on this unusually hot day, especially for March. My father said, \"You can command this pen just by asking it for something and it will make what you say true. I obtained this pen by slaying the fearsome Blacktooth, a dragon ravaging the city of Aerial.\" I asked the pen for a cool breeze and suddenly it felt as if someone was waving a fan at me.\n\n\"Happy 36th birthday, sweetie,\" my dad said.", "\"You're never going to believe what happened.\"\n\nHis voice is hoarse and strange, like he hasn’t used it in months. I stare at him, stunned, and take in this rough-hewn man with his 18th century clothing and weapon. He is completely unfamiliar to me.\n\n\"Who are you?\" I ask, stumbling back a step when he steps aggressively forward. “How’d you get in the front door?” I know I locked it. We don’t live in a very safe neighborhood. His eyes search mine, but I look away in discomfort. Instead, I focus on the sword. I’ve seen plenty of swords before, but not like this – smudged and dirty, roughly used, and some rust-colored stains on the cloth wrapped around the hilt. I can’t look away.\n\n\"Son—\" At this, I jerk my eyes away from the sword and back to his face. I don't want to see it – I can feel myself resisting it – but there, the color of his eyes, the thin line of his lips, his stern eyebrows joining together in stress. This is my father. Long thought dead or deadbeat. Gone forever, and who the hell cares what happened to him. An inexplicable thrill runs through me – he's back! he's really back – then it's all silence inside, and the dull throb of pain and anger is back. But more real now. It has a target.\n\n\"You left. You left 20 years ago.\" I shout. Well, I wanted to shout. It comes out more like a hoarse whisper.\n\n\"They found us.\" His eyes search mine, seeking something. Maybe searching for a lightbulb to go off, some sign of my understanding.\n\n\"Who!?\" I ask, a hundred emotions fighting to take the lead. Anger wins out. \n\n\"Where's your mother?\" His voice is different, or maybe I don't remember it very well. His hair is long and ragged, like it's been cut haphazardly by a dull knife a year ago. I start to notice an odor.\n\n\"Your mother?\" he asks again, but this time with urgency. He reaches out to touch my arm but I step away.\n\n\"Why?\" I ask brusquely, unwilling to cooperate. \n\n\"We don't have much time,\" he answers impatiently, his gaze sweeping the small house. \"It took me a while to find you in this new… house.\" He seems to be measuring everything up and finding it lacking. We had to move out after he left. A single mother's income could hardly support the suburb lifestyle. My stubbornness increases. \n\n\"I don't know who you are, and how the hell you got into my house. Get out now, or I'm calling the police.\" I sound tougher than I feel. I hope.\n\nHe laughs at this, a short joyless laugh, and places his hand on the hilt of his sword. \"Police?\" he repeats, tasting the word as if it's new to him. \"Police.\" He says again. \"Yeah, call them. We'll be gone before they get here.\" He roughly brushes past me and goes up the stairs. You can hear the heavy thump of his boots as they track mud on the carpet upstairs. Mud? Where did he get mud on his boots in the middle of the city?\n\nI frown, following him up the stairs. \n\n\"Sylvia?\" he calls. \n\n\"She's not here,\" I find myself answering. What the hell? He thumps back down the hallway and finally places his hand on my forearm. I feel the rough calluses on his skin and the steady strength of his grip, and I can't believe this is my father. He used to be a compliance officer at a bank. Not that there's anything wrong with that. \n\n\"Son, I know you won't believe me when I say this, but I…\" his voice seems to fail him as he stares down at my arm. Look at me! I silently yell at him. Look me in the eye and tell me like a man! \n\nHe clears his throat. \"I- I didn't want to leave you,\" he finishes lamely. I wait for something more. He drops my arm and walks away, never once looking me in the eye. \n\n\"What was it?\" I ask. He stops halfway down the stairs. \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You said I would never believe what happened. What happened?\" I ask, challenging him to give me something. Some kind of story, some reason he left. Kidnapping. Amnesia. A fugue state! Tell me something unbelievable. Make some sort of excuse. I glare at him, waiting. If only he would turn around and look at me, he would know how much I hate him. \n\n\"I know what you want to hear. But I can't give you that. I chose to leave,\" he mutters, half to himself, in a voice barely audible. \n\nThe jangling of keys breaks the heavy silence. I look up in horror as the deadbolt turns – it was still locked – and my mom walks in, her mousy brown hair spilling out of her messy bun, her purse hanging half-open off her shoulder. She was trying to wrangle an armful of dinner in paper bags and a heavy shoulder bag full of work papers, and had a hand raised to throw the house keys on the little table in the hallway when she froze. \n\nKeys still in her hand, all else fell to the ground with the loud rustle of papers and paper bags and french fries spilling onto the floor. She tightens her grip on the keys, as if they were her only weapon, and slowly lowers her hand until the keys are hovering between herself and the man on the stairs.\n\n\"Sylvia,\" he says. \n\nShe exhales shakily at his voice. I realize this man is standing between me and my mother, and I start to weigh my options. But before I can do anything, before I can reach out and steal his sword, before I can push him down the stairs, my mom unfreezes.\n\nAnd launches herself at him. \n\n\"Oh my god, oh my god, Alex,\" she runs up the stairs, hardly touching them as she leaps into his arms. My jaw drops open as I watch in speechless wonder. My mom buries her face into his neck, her hands gripping his shirt, his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist. \"Thank God, thank God,\" she murmurs. There's a long, uncomfortable moment where my head is spinning and I idly wonder if maybe I'm dreaming this absurd, ridiculous scenario.\n\nMy mom looks up and sees me, and she suddenly drops down and awkwardly straightens her buttoned-down shirt as she gathers herself. \n\n\"What happened?\" she asks, glancing worriedly at me and again at him. \"How long have you been back? Where did you go?\" She's back at the front door, picking up all the things she dropped. Nervous cleaning – it's a habit of hers. He follows her down the stairs and watches her for a moment as she moves here and there, putting her papers on the table in the living room, putting the fast food hurriedly in the kitchen. She realizes she's still holding her keys and hesitates. They're supposed to go next to the front door. \n\nWhere he's still standing.\n\nHe moves instead, toward her, and reaches out his hand. Taking it in hers, she visibly relaxes. And then they both look up at me, still frozen on the steps, trying to wake up from this incomprehensible nightmare.\n\n\"We don't have much time,\" my father starts. \"Gather up what you can… durable clothes, food that won't spoil, and meet me back here. I'll explain everything, but not now. We have to hurry.\"\n\nI laugh at this preposterous movie-esque line, and look to my mom with a Who is this guy kidding? look. But she's actually taking him seriously, and starts to grab things out of the hall closet. Raincoats. Hiking boots. Gloves. A hat. \n\n\"Mom, what in the actual fuck are you doing?!\" I explode. I can't take this weirdness anymore. \"This guy gets into our house, who knows HOW he did it, the doors are still locked. He just shows up in this weird-ass get-up and now we're just supposed to pack up and go with him?! Are you out of your mind?! I'm not going anywhere with him! HE LEFT US! We don't see him in 20 years and it's just Oh ALEX AND NOW WE'RE GOING WITH HIM?!\" I can't stop bellowing. I'm angry, I'm confused, I'm frustrated but most of all, something feels like it's spinning wildly out of control and I can't stop it because I can't understand it. \n\n\"Junior, I know it's the last thing you think you should be doing,\" he breaks in while I'm catching my breath.\n\n\"Don't. Call. Me. Junior.\" I am barely containing it now.\n\n\"Honey, you don't exactly know the full story here,\" my mom says now, in her soothing voice. She turns to my father and says almost apologetically, \"It was easier this way.\"\n\nHis brows draw together. Something's upset him, but he can't deal with it now. \"Later,\" he says, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. \"Supplies now. I'll open the door.\" He turns away abruptly and busies himself with something near the front door. My mom moves toward him, thinks better of it and returns to her hurried packing.\n\n\"Mom, what the fu—\" \n\n\"Go upstairs, grab what you can't live without. We might not be back for…\" her voice breaks and she clears her throat, \"for a long time. Nothing electronic.\" She shoves a large backpack in my hands and gives me a little push.\n\nIt all goes so quickly. Something about the urgency in her voice, the air of suppressed emotion making everything tense. My anger from moments before drains out of me completely and leaves behind…. Fear. Raw fear. \n\nRunning upstairs to my bedroom, I glance at a room full of things I thought were all-important only an hour before. My computer -- I feel a pang at leaving it behind, all the money I poured into building a state-of-the-art gaming machine, and now… What can't I live without? I grab handfuls of clean underwear, socks, t-shirts, a hoodie, and a few pairs of jeans, and stuff them into the bag. What else?\n\nBy the time we gather again at the front door, it feels like fifteen minutes have passed but it's more like an hour. My mother is weighed down by multiple rucksacks and huge backpacks from camping trips. I grab a few from her and load them onto my back. She grabs my hand, and we share a quick, fleeting moment where she smiles at me, tries to comfort me. I barely acknowledge it. I'm running on autopilot at the moment.\n\n\"Ready?\" my father asks, shifting a bag over his shoulder and adjusting his sword at his hip. \n\n\"Ready,\" my mother answers. They both look at me, expectantly. \n\nReady for what?! I want to scream. But I'm already packed. There's no turning back now, not with my mom at his side, following so willingly.\n\n\"Ready.\" \n", "My mouth hit the floor as the memory of the man I'd forced myself to forget over the last 2 decades rushed back into my mind like a raging current of absence. In an instant, every single scar on my psyche was torn back open. Suddenly it was every Christmas... every birthday that I cried in my poor mother's arms as she'd rub my back and hum the everly brothers to console me..her broken little boy, who just didn't understand why his father could just abandon him, all over again. \n\nI stared daggers into this familiar stranger, this.. shadow of the man who was supposed to teach me love and trust but only instilled a lingering sense sadness and abandonment.\n\nOverwhelmed with anger, sadness and regret, I feel my hands clench into fists. I simultaneously want to beat this stranger to death and collapse on the floor sobbing, begging to just know why.\n\n He stares back, hand on the hilt of his sword. \n\n\"You'll never believe what happened!\"\n\nHe almost sings this to me. \n\nSmile wide.\nSickeningly proud.\n\nI could feel my heart start to jackhammer and the veins in my head constrict as\neverything I've wanted to say swells up inside of me, but all I can choke out is a shakey whimper.\n\n \"what?\" \n\n\"I went out for cigarettes, but on the way I found this pawn shop. Bought a sword. I got so distracted, I forgot the cigarettes! Hah! I'm getting old, eh son? Well, I guess I'm making 2 trips! ^Wooo! ^what ^a ^day!\"\n\nAnd just like that,\nhe vanished once again.\n\nHe had skipped down the road, far from earshot before I could tell him... Before I could form the words I've wanted to say to him all these years..\n\n\"We are out of milk.\"", "This man was my father? This was the fucker that left my mum 20 years ago to take care of their year old son? I didn't believe him one bit. Probably was some hobo looking for free food and shelter. Regardless, I decided to listen to his story. \n\n\"Before I start, where's your mother?\" He started with a challenging question. I informed him of her sad fate and how she spent her last 15 years waiting for him to come back. He didn't seem at all affected by my remarks and started his story.\n\n\"See, son..\"\n\n\"Don't call me that.\"\n\n\"Jared, when I went to the store those 20 years ago, I expected to be back within 20 minutes, no more. At the last moment I realised I forgot to get you a birthday gift and lied to your mother about getting cigarettes, so that she wouldn't be upset. I knew at the time you really liked medieval themed toys, so I looked for a thing that'd suit your likings.\"\n\nHe was right. Ever since I remember, I've always been fascinated by anything medieval related - from the feudal system to chivalry to knighthood. I was still skeptical, but his story was starting to connect like the pieces of a puzzle.\n\n\"I didn't find anything in the store, unfortunately. I was ready to go back and face your mother's wrath when I saw a man selling some sort of weird device, claiming it allows time travel. Upon asking him if he could set it to the medieval ages, he messed around and fired. A small portal appeared. Before I stepped in, he gave me the device, so that I could return, never telling me how to operate it though. That's where the real adventure started. I spent 20 years becoming a well-known knight and a ruler in the region I traveled too. You might actually know me from your history books, I was nicknamed 'the Conqueror.'\"\n\nHoly shit. There was no way this could've been true. Yet I had been intrigued. \"Do you have any proof of this? And besides, William ruled England for 20 years, how could you have done so if you've supposedly stayed there for only 20 years? I don't think the locals would've made you king as soon as you appeared.\"\n\n\"Oh, but they did. Not instantly, of course, but it only took a couple of months - it didn't take me a long time to learn to fight decently and, as your mother should've told you, I was a great leader. I mustered a small army and set out to conquer. That's how I became king and reigned for twenty years, while trying to fix the time machine and get back to you. Finally, it ended up working, although one of the dials got locked two digits ahead, and, as such, this is when I got back and not twenty years ago. And to prove I'm your father, I have this.\"\n\nOut of the remains of his wallet he produced a photo of me as a baby, the same one my mother always showed me. Finally, I believed him. This man was my father. This was the fucker that left my mum 20 years ago to care care of their year old son, me. This was William the Conqueror. \n\nHe was finally back. I couldn't bring myself to hate him anymore. It was not his fault after all that he was gone.\n\nHe was my idol. He was my father.\n\n\n", "Stomach growling, I decided to haul my 18-year-old rear out of bed and sneak my way downstairs for a late-night snack. Ma was already in bed reading the evening paper or listening to the radio, so I was sure she wouldn't hear me. As I tiptoed across the hallway floor, a loud series of knocks rang out from the front door. I cringed as the knocking ceased, watching the stairs and listening to see if I could hear her getting out of bed. Thankfully, I could hear she had the radio jacked up pretty high tonight, to try and drown out the running water from our neighbors in the other half of our duplex. Their fondness of late-night showers drove her batshit-crazy sometimes.\n\nNot willing to incur her wrath if she were to ask why I was down here this late, I decided to answer the door to see if I could get rid of this pesky late-night visitor. I walked over to the door and quickly undid the deadbolt, slowly opening the door to keep it from being too noisy again.\n\nOn the top step of the stairs to our door, a middle-aged man with peppery-grey hair tied back into a ponytail stood. Dressed in a pretty odd collection of sackcloth and ratty, worn camoflage clothes, he looked like an adventurer from a fantasy flick, flown straight out of the set of a Hollywood movie out here to Bonifay, Florida. Looking down, I noticed a worn brass ball at the end of a smooth wooden handle sticking out of a leather belt on his waist, which I recognized to be some sort of sword or machete. An old, faded GI magazine carrying rig was cinched down across his chest like the ones I'd seen in news footage of the war, with a few battered magazines that were too tall for the pouches sticking out of the slots.\n\n\"Evening, sir! Isn't it a little early for Halloween?\" I said, stalling. Seeing the armed man in the doorway, I instinctively reached for the old, weatherbeaten Winchester that Ma kept hidden behind a few umbrellas behind the doorway, pretending to lean against the door in relaxation. The old man's face tightened as he placed a hand on his sword, reading my motions with a scrutinizing stare.\n\n\"I wouldn't be reachin' for that, Scotty,\" the man growled, a scowl on his face. \"Eighteen years of hand-to-mouth bullshit living's the best teacher in the world for stayin' alive.\"\n\nI was bewildered, withdrawing from the doorway and ready to run for the next nearest gun, hidden in the kitchen drawers a few rooms away. \"How do you know my name?\"\n\nThe old man shrugged, not letting go of his sword. \"Well, you'd think I'd know the name your Ma and I gave you, right?\" He smiled for a moment and rubbed his face, rubbing away a few drops from his eyes with his scarred, callous hands. \"Ta' think I finally made it home... God, it actually worked! Is Ma up?\"\n\n\"Uhh... I don't know you?... one moment,\" I said, stepping forward to shut the door and lock it tight. I bolted for the kitchen and yanked open a cabinet, fishing around in the back behind bottles of spices for my grandpa's old service pistol from World War Two. The vintage Colt's slide faithfully snapped shut with a quick yank back, chambering a round from the loaded magazine Ma left in it. I stuffed the heavy handgun in my pajama pocket and bolted for the stairs, sliding briefly on the polished wooden floor before scrambling up the stairs. I darted down the short hallway, practically slamming my way through the door and into my Ma's room. She was still seated in bed with her reading lamp on, the radio blaring over the sound of rushing water in the pipes that ran through the wall behind her bed. \n\n\"What in th' name of all creation are you doin' up at this hour, boy?!?\" she yelled, flipping off the radio and tossing her paper aside. \"You should be in bed!\"\n\n\"Ma, this ain't no joke!\" I said, gesturing for her to follow me. \"Some old guy's on our doorstep with a machete, and he wants to see you!\" \n\nMa's face went white. She got out of bed and began to walk over to the phone to call the cops, but I pulled the handgun out of my pocket and walked it over to her, placing the gun in her hand. \"He say's he's Pa. He knew my name, Ma!\"\n\n\"Naw... Naw!\" she said, taking a seat on the bed and tossing the gun aside, trying to collect her thoughts. \"That bastard's been gone for eighteen years... Ran out on me when the money went dry and had to go to war out in Vietnam. He never came back. There's no way he'd come back...\"\n\n\"Well, he's outside our door now. We gotta see him. YOU'VE gotta see him.\"\n\nMa muttered some incoherent babble for a minute, occasionally swearing to herself. Eventually, she stood up and handed the gun back to me. \"Keep this in yer pocket, and stay back. This might be one of those crazies, those shithead druggies like your brother. If it IS him, well... I'll beat the shit outta him myself,\" she added, rubbing her face.\n\nMe and Ma walked back downstairs. I stood in the hallway with my hands in my pockets, gently caressing the trigger guard of the 1911 with my right hand as I waited for all hell to break loose. Ma undid the deadbolt once more and cracked the door open, peeking outside at her new visitor. Suddenly, she flung the door wide open and practically threw herself out to the man, embracing him in a deep bearhug on the doorstep. I walked forward and waited at the doorframe for the two to finish having their moment, shutting the door behind them as they made their way back inside. We all took a seat at the kitchen table, with Ma fetching a couple glasses for iced tea. The man began unpacking, flipping up his ragtag sackcloth cape to remove his gear and set them up on the table. He laid out two rifles, a green metal tube roughly two feet long, a fancy, curved saber, and his bandolier full of empty and loaded magazines of all shapes. Pausing, as if to recall something, he reached for his feet and withdrew a small derringer and a cloth packet that jingled with spare cartridges. \n\n\"So, uhh... you two care to explain anything?\" I asked, \"'cuz I'm sure as hell lost.\"\n\nThe man accepted his glass from Ma and took a sip before locking eyes with me. \"Scotty, this is gonna sound like a load o' shit, but... I'm your dad.\"\n\nI scanned his face looking for any sign of a lie, but the man's face was cold as steel. \"Aren't you supposed to be dead?... why the hell didn't you come back from Vietnam?!?\" I said, my temper rising. \"Ma was worried sick about you. Hell, I never even got to see you! I cried for you at night, you old-\"\n\n\"Scotty!\" Ma scolded, smacking me over the head. \"Be nice, now! The last thing your Pa wants to see is how bad your manners've gotten over the years.\"\n\n\"Sorry Ma,\" I said, taking a sip of my tea. The syrupy-sweet liquid filled my mouth and gave me a bit of energy, easing my racing mind and calming me down. \"So, what happened?\"\n\nPa let out a whistle. \"Well, let's see. Where to begin...\"\n\n", "\"You still drink your coffee black?\" The question was barked over my shoulder at the man sitting a room away in my den. A man I had known, once. His hair had been long then too, but less wild, and black as ebony. Now it was streaked with more silver than the covered the hilt of the mighty bastard sword at his hip. The well groomed beard that had covered most of his face in the past was now long to cover several deep scars. \n\nBastard sword; an appropriate weapon for such a man. \n\nAs a boy of four, when his disappearance was fresh, I had counted the days. \"I'm going out to grab some smokes!\" He had said. Mother had called after him to get milk and bread while he was out. The skies had been overcast, and I'd heard the first distant clap of thunder as he rolled out of the driveway on his old '51 panhead. A storm raged that evening, a storm that seemed to sweep him of the face of the planet without a trace. \n\nAs I grew older, and the days ticked off, I lost track and counted the months instead. Mother died in month seventy three. When I hit one hundred and twenty, I switched to counting years. Today marked twenty years and one day. Happy birthday to me. \n\n\"Black is fine.\" His voice was the same deep rumble that I remembered, the same deep rumble that I heard when I spoke myself. He spoke slower now, and with a quality of command. \n\nI handed him a mug as I sat in a chair across from him. It was not the spot I usually sat in, for he had unwittingly occupied that when I'd offered him a seat. We sat sipping in silence until our mugs were empty.\n\n\"Well dad, you care to explain yourself?\" His gaze met mine from under his bushy eyebrows. \"You care to explain what happened that night? Where you were the next day when I turned four? Where you were when I became an effective orphan at ten?\" I shot to my feet, fists clenched and shaking. \"Where the fuck have you been for the last twenty years?\"\n\n\"I've been home.\" Before my outrage at this could be vocalized, he raised his massive hand to hold back my inevitable venomous verbiage. \"Th place where I come from, I mean. My... Real home. And your mothers. And yours, though you can't possibly remember it. You were months old when we left.\" \n\n\"Left where? Narnia? Middle-Earth? Emond's Field? Westeros?\" \n\nA cocked eyebrow was triggered by the last location. \"Westeros?\" In two strides I was at my bookcase and flinging a well-worn paperback at the man who helped bring me into the world. He studied the novel briefly. \"Martin, huh? The Nightflyers guy, right?\" He opened to the first page. \"1996. I guess I just missed it.\" Setting the book down next to his mug, he turned his gaze back to me. \"Is it any good?\"\n\nA single nod was my response as I returned to my chair. \"He makes a point throughout the series that man is the real evil in the world.\" \n\n...\n\nI'm hitting a block here. I will return to this if anyone wishes. ", "It was cold...a dry cold, and the wind was blowing enough to water your eyes and let the chill leak into your bones. \n\nYou don't remember a lot from back then, but how could you? It was so very long ago, and I was just a boy. You looked into my eyes, \"son, it isn't fair what I have done to you. I can never truly understand how you feel, and I can't expect your forgiveness.\" I looked at him, and struggled to hold back the horrifying urge which forced my eyes closed. I was numb. I was numb to him. \n\nHe handed me this crude, and clumsy piece of metal, \"what is this?\" I said to him. He looked into my eyes with such courage that I myself felt brave. He reached his hand to my shoulder and I felt his strength, \"We have to go. I'm sorry but this period of your life has come to an end, and the next is just about to begin.\" I didn't know what to say, or how to respond. What do you say to this man. I returned his courage and his strength as I looked and said \"Dad, I want to learn it all. I want to learn about propane, and propane accessories.\"", "The young man yawned, moaning with a volume fit for a cartoon bear breaking his winter hibernation. Jakob was exhausted from sleeping in late and then attaching his backside to the worn, leather recliner that was the sole piece of furniture in the living room of his one bedroom apartment, not counting the tv stand, of course. The chair was cracked and scratched at his arms at times but it was his father's, the only thing his dad left him that was of any use. Maybe he would have asked for something else from his dad (money, advice, who knows?) had he known he'd never see him return from that impromptu trip to the corner store for bread, milk and cigarettes (of course) twenty years ago. However, the chair was at least comfortable and Jakob refused to throw the recliner to the curb. Part time retail work didn't pay enough to be picky about trivialities like nice furniture but at least Goody's Home Goods' schedule allowed him plenty of off days to recuperate from dealing with the hordes of clueless customers that filled his workdays with annoyance; but today was his day off and he meant to milk it for every last, lazy drop. He turned the volume on the TV up, curious if the contestant could guess the price of that six pack of tuna accurately. $1.79, that was his guess anyway.\n\nWith his can of breakfast beer empty and the game show going to commercial (apparently tuna is more expensive than previously thought, thanks Mr. Reagan), Jakob groaned his way out of his blue collar throne and marched to the fridge to grab another beer for brunch. He broke a cold one out from the fridge, cracked it open and took several healthy gulps, nearly finishing it, before belching out a roar that would make any elementary school boy jealous. Jakob had always been proud of this particular talent. He scratched and adjusted his itchy parts and plodded back into the other room, his bare feet slapping on the cheap kitchen linoleum. When he returned to living room, a man was waiting for him, standing in front of the television. His first reaction was to grab the nearest, heaviest object available and chuck it at the intruder but something made him pause just long enough to inspect the stranger and let shock set in. The half-empty beer slipped from his limp hand and splashed on the floor, glugging out one more stain on the heavily stained carpet. \n\nThe intruder's hair hung to his shoulders, grimy and looking like it had never met a brush it liked, but it was the same color as it was twenty years ago, brick streaked with gray. The man's skin was deeply tanned and etched with years of stress, much like the recliner he had left behind. He was clad in his familiar denim riding jacket, the same he always had worn, the hard bottom boots on his feet even matched Jakob's memory perfectly. If any doubt survived Jakob's initial scan, the intruder spoke in that same rough voice, the sound of lifetime smoker, and all remaining skepticism was blown away like exhaust from a tail pipe. \n\n\"Son?\"\n\n\"D-dad?\"\n\n\"There ain't no time to explain. Here, take these,\" the rider reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, withdrew a cigarette box, his trusty brand, and tossed it at Jakob, who caught it without ever taking his eyes off his father.\n\"Wh-what? I don't--\"\n\n\"I wish I could explain but we ain't got the time!\" the Rider shouted and as if to punctuate his claim, the front door to Jakob's apartment exploded into the room, kicked right from its hinges as if a coked up bull was tired of waiting outside.\n\nWhat followed the door in was no animal but a pair of helmeted men, neither of which taller than a child and both carried what looked to be toy pistols ripped from the cover of the science fiction pulps Jakob read as a kid, often in violation his bedtime. In unison, the short men pushed the visors of their helmets up and revealed faces that couldn't pass for human or any other kind of creature Jakob had ever seen. Their skin was as pale as fish that had no concept of sunlight and their foreheads were speckled with a dozen small bulbs, which twitched constantly around the apartment. When the pair raised their guns, again in unison, and pointed them at Jakob's father, Jakob counted only three, spindly fingers on their hands. Jakob couldn't move an inch or say another word, not even noticing as the spilled beer ran coldly over his toes. He looked at his father for an explanation, an answer, any kind of response and the Rider didn't disappoint.\n\nWith a howl that put Jakob's manly belch to shame, the Rider pulled a blade from the back of his jeans, too short to be a sword but much too long to be called a knife, and rushed the aliens. The two creatures fired their weapons, the sound no more than a puff of air, but the Rider ducked the shots. The TV exploded into a cloud of gas behind him, leaving no more than a residue of dust and a slight taste of metal in the air. The Rider brought the blade up in a wide arc from his hip to his opposite shoulder, slicing the alien on the left with a terrible gash across the chest. The pale creature screeched, the squeal much like a distressed pig, and fell backwards clutching at his midsection. The second alien did the same, holding its chest though the blade missed it entirely. The pair writhed on the ground, the left one leaking from its wound onto the carpet, the liquid a sickly shade of bile. Between the door and the carpet, Jakob knew he could kiss his security deposit goodbye.\n\nThe Rider turned his back to the aliens and stepped towards his son when the alien on the right managed to point his pistol and fire once more before going eternally still. The Rider heard the click of the trigger just in time to throw himself forward, hit his shins on the outstretched footrest of his old recliner and tumble out of the way. The shot struck the wall beside Jakob's head, blowing a hole clear through the drywall so that he could peek into the kitchen without ever having to leave the living room. Forget the security deposit. At this rate, Jakob would be lucky to be offered a new lease.\nThe Rider rolled over onto his back, smiled and patted the leather recliner like a cowboy showing his horse affection. \"Your mom never did like this thing. Gimmie a hand, will ya?\"\n\nJakob pulled his father up, the slim man grunting all the way to his feet. \"What the fuck, Dad?\"\n\n\"Hey now, don't take that tone with me.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, no, I mean...WHAT.THE.FUCK?!\"\n\nThe Rider shook his head and slid his blade back into its sheath hanging from the back of his belt. \"I told ya, we ain't got the time. Gimmie one of them smokes and take one yourself.\"\n\n\"I don't smoke.\"\n\n\"Today you do. Now do what I say,\" the Rider conjured the tone that all father's possess, the tone that says 'Closed for Business', and even after all these years, the trick worked. Jakob fumbled two cigarettes from the box his dad tossed him. His hands were shaking with the aftershocks of adrenaline and as he reached out to hand one to his father, it tumbled towards the floor. With the same speed used to slay his attackers, the Rider snatched the cigarette from midair, popped it between his lips and had it lit before Jakob could react. \"Go on, have a smoke with your old man.\"\n\nJakob puffed on his cigarette, the tobacco tasted old and burned the back of this throat but the smell transported him to the days of his youth when his dad had been his hero, before he stopped being a god and became nothing more than a worn out story of a dead beat who had left him and his mother all those years ago. \n\n\"We gotta get outta here, son.\"\n\n\"But I live here,\" Jakob stammered.\n\n\"Sorry, boy, it ain't an option.\"\n\nJakob head was throbbing, he never did acquire the taste for nicotine. \"Why? Are the cops after you again?\"\n\n\"Worse. Take a look,\" the Rider walked to the hole where Jakob's door once stood and pointed into the sky. Jakob took another puff from his cigarette, forcing himself to draw in the smoke even though his head was killing him, and walked to see what his Dad meant.\n\nShoulder to shoulder with his father, both sucking on the cigarettes like locomotives, Jakob stared as hundreds, possibly thousands, of dark shapes glided across the clear, summer sky. The objects were too high to discern their exact shape but they moved in a formation much too quickly and much too synchronized to be of an Earthly descent. After a moment, smaller specks began to fall from the shapes, each object dropping dozens until the entirety of the sky was dotted with black spots like a frightening inverse of night. Jakob may have panicked as a cold fear radiated from his belly but the pain in his head was becoming all encompassing. His vision dimmed and his footing wavered until his father steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, the cigarette was still pinched securely in his lips, only a tiny bit of tobacco remaining before the filter.\n\n\"Better finish that up, kiddo, we gotta split,\" the Rider said as he took a deep puff.\n\nMoments before the invading force's bombs exploded just above the Earth's surface, Jakob's headache intensified to a level of pain he had never known, could never have imagined. Just when he was certain every brain cell in his noodle was simultaneously popping, Jakob lost consciousness and his body let go of its physical form. Jakob, the boy who had been content working part time and renting for the rest of his life, who had turned down every offer of promotion at Goody's Home Goods, who wouldn't have known ambition if it leapt from a beer can and slapped him, left the Earth behind to disappear and venture forth into the vast corridors of the universe. The Rider flicked his cigarette butt away, closed his eyes, breathed the air of his home world one last time, and faded away to follow his son.\n\nLight flared and the Earth died.\n\t\n\t\n\n\t\n", "I stood in shock, total disbelief. His hair matted and tangled curling round his shoulders, some parts falling over his waist.\n\nBefore me stood my father, a man who left 20 years ago, with no explination beyond groceries, and here he was. Returned, I had no idea what to say. Thankfully, I didn't need to start the conversation...\n\n'Son...'\n\n\nhis voice was raspy, like a chain being pulled through a rusty barrel, deep and commanding, yet frightened.\n\nI couldn't process words fast enough, i was trying to take in what I was seeing. He was wearing a strange yellow jacket with black piping, red shorts that fell just past his knees, black socks pulled up to his thighs, at least i imagined they did as they went under the shorts. White running trainers, a two inch belt hanging round his hips loose, not connected to his shorts in any way, and the strangest item, a baseball cap.\n\nI finally managed to croak out 'dad?'\n\nHe smiled.\n\nI smiled.\n\nI suddenly lost controll of my body, lip quivvered, tears began streaming, i felt sick, i felt elation, i felt pure emotion, i could see he felt the same, and we fell into each others arms, crying, hugging, holding each other as tight as we could, a hug bonding 20 years of lonliness. We embraced for what seemed like forever.\n\n\nFinally, we pulled back, his strong arms holding onto my shoulders, he looked at me and beamed with pride. I finally saw him closer, and realised his arms were huge, ripped and toned, legs too.\n\nTaking a step back i saw he was in fantastic shape, better than fantastic, the man must have been a professional athlete, despite his strange attire.\nI forced more words...\n\n'What...'\n\n\nHe stepped forward and held out his hand, I looked down, It was a phone.\n\nI had no clue what to say, i started crying again. I managed to bring my eyes up to meet his desperate for some answers.\n\n'Where have you been?' I expected a long and detailed answer, he had 20 years to make up for.\n\n'Son' He smiled. 'I've been beta testing. It's taken me 20 years but,\n\nfinally,\n\n\nI caught them all'.", "It all came back to me the minute I saw him. I tried to resist reliving that wretched day during the day, only for the memories to flood in during the night. This was my nightly struggle. \n\n\"Daddy!\" I yelled as I ran into his arms.\n\n\"Sweetie, before we play with your tea set, I am gonna go get some things at the store. Wait here and I'll be right back.\"\n\n\nI watched him leave the house, and as he pulled out of the driveway a car collided with him. The other driver grabbed Dad and threw him in the trunk, taking him away from me.\n\nI screamed and kicked, but Mom didn't get there in time to see it. \n\nI lived this nightmare every night in my dreams. For 20 years I lived it.\n\nI was 27, and living alone. I begrudgingly woke up, just like every morning and just went through the motions.\nI was watching Netflix.\n\nknock knock\n\nNo one but the pizza guy and Jehovah's Witnesses ever knocked on my door.\nI slowly cracked open the door. \n\nI thought I was high, people didn't show up to your home battle scarred with a sword strapped to their hip.\n\n\"Are you \"Janet Smith?\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"I'm Phillip Smith\"\n\n\"What kind of sick joke is this, Daddy's dead ok! Don't think it's funny to make my torment any worse than it already is!\"\n\n\"No, it's me!\" He hugged me instantly.\nHe quickly pulled out his wallet and showed me an old and bent driver's license.\nAs soon as I saw this I hugged him.\n\nHe came into my house and sat down, \"You aren't gonna believe this...\"\n\"Well, spit it out'\"\n\"I was kidnapped and forced to fight in a gladiator's arena full of other kidnapped people. The rules were thay whoever was the last to survive would go home.\"\n\"You killed people?\"\n\"Only to see you again, and survive.\"\n\"I'm so sorry.\"\nHe handed me his sword, at that point he began bawling. He was home, broken, but home.", "The air of disbelief hung between us. \n\nHe stood there in the doorway; wide-eyed and panting like he’d just been running from something fierce. Incredibly he was still wearing the same clothes he had all those years ago. He shuffled towards my bed, dropping the bag he had clutched in his left hand and limping heavily as he went. As he reached the wooden chest that sat at the foot of my bed, had always sat at the foot of my bed, he stopped. With obvious pain he laid the sword that he had held in his right hand carefully down onto the ornate, hand-carved lid.\n\nThe sword caught the moonlight and in stream of silver I could see some characters etched into the surface of the blade. To my eyes they looked like symbols of some Far Eastern language. There was no way I would be able to understand what they meant, even if I inspected the sword with a magnifying glass.\n\nMy father kept moving towards me. The nose and freckles on his cheek told me it was him, he even had the cigarette tucked cheekily behind his ear in that way mum hated so much, but time made me apprehensive to believe it could ever be true. He half-lurched, half collapsed onto my bed and emitted a loud moan as he rolled onto his good side. Sticking from his right thigh was a piece of jagged metal which looked like it had been there for a good while. The skin on his arms looked raw and sunburnt. \n\nI leaned across and propped him up with one of my pillows. As I did he began to speak, quieter and softer than he had before.\n\n“They took me……outside Kwik-Save……I was just coming out……knocked me to the floor…..” \n\nThere was a note of pleading in his voice and his eyes looked slightly glazed over. His breathing slowed as I moved his hair away from his face. It was horrible to touch, thick and matte with dirt and grease. The smell of sewage, the ocean and manure all crept up into my nostrils. \n\n“I’m so sorry son” He whispered “I finally broke free……..been running for years…only supposed to have been gone five minutes….it had been so long…….” \n\nHis eyes closed and his body stiffened in my hands. \n\n“I knew it was your birthday tomorrow…….I had to see you…..but……I couldn’t lose them” Tears began to seep from under his eyelids and down his wrinkled cheeks. “All these years and I could never lose them…..”\n\nA tingling on the back of my neck made me straighten up and a shadow fell across my fathers withered face. In front of me a billowing black robe flickered in the breeze. Staggering backwards I hit the headboard that lay between myself and the open window. My father fell from the bed, giving out a cry of despair as the shuriken dug further into his leg. The figure stepped forwards, over the chest and onto the bed. \n\nThere was no sound as he drew his sword from the sheathe on his back and, whilst his eyes were lost in the night, I could tell he was staring at me. I heard my father struggle to his knees and saw his hand grasp loosely at the man’s ankle. The assassin broke free of his grip easily and I heard a futile cry escape from my father’s throat as the robe moved closer towards me. \n\nAn ethereal lunar light shone across the man’s arms and chest as he held the sword above me. \n\nA dry rasp came from his mouth, shrouded in the darkness he seemed to wholly inhabit. \n\n“You shall die here namekuji. The circle shall finally be complete.”\n\nThe sword shot into the air and then, with a strange juicy crunching noise, jerked oddly in front of him. Speckles of silvery liquid sprayed down at me and I blinked them away, furiously trying to work out what had happened. I saw a shining, jagged edge protruding from my attacker’s throat and, as he toppled face-first onto my pillow, I quickly rolled down onto the floor.\n\nWith my heart racing I looked up at my mother, effortlessly pulling my father’s sword from the back of the dead man’s neck. She glanced at me to check I was okay and then stepped backwards onto the rug. As I regained my feet a shaking hand appeared from the other side of the bed as my father staggered into view.\n\n“I’m sorry Yuko-chan…..” He spluttered from the floor. “We must leave now……they won’t stop until they have him……”\n\nMy mother turned and gave him a look I knew too well from my easily quashed teenage years. She bent down and, as she picked the fallen bag of mouldy bread up off the floor, she spoke for the first time in twenty years.\n\n“You forgot the milk.”", "\"I'm going to get cigarettes,\" I said. \n\"I'll be back in a few minutes,\" I said, shortly after putting on my Calvin Klien Arnold Lace-Up Sneakers. \n \nI left my house with those sneakers, my Pleated Super 100s Worsted Wool Trousers, and my Smartcare™ Traditional Fit Plaid Dress Shirt. Nothing special, but at the time I thought I was simply going to get cigarettes and maybe milk. \n \nFourteen minutes. That was how long it took before I noticed that something was seriously wrong. The once bustling city had changed to one that looked straight out of The Purge. \n \n\"You, come here!\" A man to my right whispered. \n \n\"What?\" I said in a regular tone. At the time, I thought he wanted to mug me. \n \n\"Get in here before you get hurt!\" The man said, a little louder, and his tapped a flashlight hanging on his belt. \n \nAt least, I thought it was a flashlight. \n \n\"Hey man,\" I said, raising my hands, thinking that he was going to bash me with the flashlight if I didn't enter the alley. \"I don't want any trouble.\" \n \n\"Then don't go standing in the middle of the street!\" The man said, a little louder than before. \"Do you want a walker to see you?\" \n \nAt this point, I should have noticed that something strange was happening behind me, but I was too absorbed in the threatening man in front of me to notice. \n\n\"A walker?\" I asked, oblivious to the two figures approaching me from behind. \n \n\"Shit!\" The man said, lurching forward and pulling me by the arm into the alley. \"You must be a newbie!\" The man put his right hand on the flashlight, and, instead of a flashlight, he pulled a full sword from his belt. \n \nThe scabbard had been hidden behind the man's back, and I never saw it, but in his hand, he now wielded a three-foot long iron sword, similar to those seen in the video game Skyrim. \n \n\"What are those!\" I yelled, looking at the hobbling, human figures the man pulled me away from. \n \n\"Those are walkers,\" The man said, and he slashed the sword across the neck of the closest figure. The sword tip ran smoothly across the neck of the figure, and blood spurted from the wound. \"They won't die as easily as that!\" The man yelled, and, with a massive swing, decapitated the figure. \n \n\"Holy fuck!\" I yelled, unable to grasp the situation. The figures looked human but were obviously rotting, like a mummy recently taken from its tomb. As the head from the first walker flew into the air, the man moved onto the second walker. With a single swing, the second head was sent flying. \n \n\"We've got to get out of here,\" The man said, bending down to pick up two shiny coins from the pavement. \"We've made too much noise, and are bound to have attracted more.\" \n \n***** \nTo be continued? I'll continue it as a virtual reality type thing, kinda like The Gamer manga. ", "He was never your typical father, but he always cared. He never missed turning a special occasion into a really special occasion. Birthdays were his favorite. One of my lone memories is when he pretended to be a pirate for my sixth birthday, and turned the house into a ship’s galley. I was daddy’s girl, and I loved him dearly.\n\nThe following year, on Birthday eve, he left for Bread, Milk, and smokes, but never returned. When the police stopped searching for him, Mom and I put up posters, but it was just too much for her. She took her life with a pill and a drink a year later to the day. \n\nBirthdays. I fuckin hate ‘em. “Open this one next son. It’s from me and Mommy” the parents would say to their kids every year at those ridiculous parties. I would watch my peers open gifts and finally get to what their parents wrapped. The look of joy and excitement on all of their rotten fuckin faces as Little Bobby and Bobby senior embraced over a model train set. Pathetic.\n\nMy grandparents raised me through high school, but things were never the same. Birthdays came and went. Each passing year, the only gift I could look forward to was the angst, and it came wrapped with depression.\n\nWhen they finally declared him dead too, I was able to collect the insurance money and buy back the old house. Call it sentimental, but I liked the way I felt there, and the last time I was actually happy was in that place.\n\nSo there I was, about to graduate med school, preparing myself to head off into the icy, insufferable world. It was that time of year again, and like usual, it was all I could think about. The reason why I hated the day before even more than the day itself. Him.\n\nOut of nostalgia, I had decorated the house to resemble the pirate galley from 20 years earlier. Ready to take the first sip of despair from my freshly blended frozen dachary, I let out a gasp and felt paralysis take hold of my body.\n\n“You’re never going to believe what happened.” \n\nHe was in the front doorway, his hands on his hips, looking like some kind of disheveled pirate super hero, in the same dam clothes he left with long ago. Aside from his familiar eyes and smile, his appearance transformed from the once healthy man I knew. With boot leather skin, the remaining ends of dark hair succumbed to a thin ratty mop of grey locks and yellow beard. The cardboard sword I helped him cutout hung limp from his belt-line like a soggy crouton. \n\nHaving kicked open the door, the knob stuck into the aged plaster wall, hiding from what was about to unfold…", "It had been three years since I set foot in my old home. By then, my mother was long since committed to Restoration Point Psychiatric Hospital. Once my father left us some 20 years ago, she was never the same person. My uncle, her brother, moved in to help take care of us and was putting up the old home for sale shortly after her funeral. So, after the service we returned to see if there was anything I might of wanted to keep. \n\nI enter her old bedroom and take a look around. Odd books about protection rituals and wards took up space on her bookshelf along with some various family photos. The time I won the Soap Box Derby in Scouts, old vacations with my uncle holding me on his shoulders, me and my prom date. As I grabbed a frame of my mother and myself when I was little, I noticed the corner of the photo was bent. I removed it from the frame to straighten it out, only to discover it was my father. \"Fuck you, you worthless bastard.\" I curse his name and return the picture to it's frame. Just then, the house began to shake violently. My uncle comes racing into the room, screaming at me to \"Get down!\" and we both hit the floor hard. And not a moment too soon.\n\nA flash of red light materialized from the center of the room, and a large horn pierced the bookshelf that was directly behind and above me. Then, what could only be described as a demon fully formed from the light, crushing my mother's bed beneath his large hooves. Before I could even process what was happening, My uncle stood up, said some Latin words, and a white glow engulfed his whole body. While he looked like my uncle in the face, his body was encased in golden armor. A large battleaxe mounted to his back. He stood their for a moment, staring right back at the beast that had nearly killed us both. He removed his axe and without turning to look at me said only one thing. \"Run, Alex. Run!\". \n\nI took off from the room to hear my uncle shouting and the demon roaring as they tore apart my house. I was making my way to the front when the demon came flying down from upstairs, my uncle falling with to drive his axe into him. I turn and rush towards the garage when my uncle's axe whizzes right over my head. I double back to the kitchen to the backdoor and without looking slam straight into another armored figure. \n\nHis gear was as white as fresh snow. A helm shaped like a lion's head and mane blocked any view of his face. He wordlessly lifts me up of the ground, stares at me for a moment, and unsheathes a dagger from his belt. He hands me the blade, nods, and I take it in my hand. Before I can utter a word, the demon and my uncle land behind us. The demon tries to stomp my uncle, but loses his leg to the swordsman's swing. The beast falls in pain, grasping at the stump, when my uncle returns to his feet and goes to behead the beast, the swordsman yells \"Wait Harold! The boy must have his first kill!\" My uncle stares the man down, still poised to finish what he had started. \"We never had it easy! Why in the hell should it be for him? If he's gonna be an Orderman now, he's just gonna half to kill them like we did Vince!\" The swordsman replies \"His mother has just died, he's been attacked by a Knight on the eve of her death, and damn it, this is the first time in 20 years I've seen my boy! So cut us all some slack and let him do it!\"\n\nSon? The swordsman just called me son. My hands are hurting from clenching the dagger the swordsman has handed me. \"You want me to kill that thing?\" was the only thing I could manage to say at that time. \"Before his leg grows back would be nice.\" my uncle quips. I much rather not annoy two Medieval looking men in armor, much alone my uncle and some strange man that had just called me son. I head over the the beast, locate it's heart, and ram the blade straight into it. Fire begins to shoot out of the wound I just made, and suddenly, nothing. The swordsman removes his helmet, and his face looks just the same as my father's photo I was looking at some thirty minutes ago. He looks at me lovingly, smiles,and says \n\n\"Son, have your uncle and I have something to tell you.\"", "\"You're never going to believe what happened.\" He rushed in through the open door and swept everything off the countertop to make space for his groceries. Key Food.\n\nThe last Key Food had closed 5 years ago. The Key Food near our house, 10. Who was this straggler who barged into my house? How far and how long had he been traveling? The man looked homeless, covered in grime and muck in a barely visible dark blue uniform. I pitied him… but he could still be dangerous. I took a step back, resting my hand on the gun cabinet. \n\n\"Hello?,” I asked, and flexed my shoulders to make myself big. \n\n“Look.” He pulled out the sword from his hip and laid it on the counter. \"Look at it.\" The light bounced off the hilt of the sword. Intricate lines ran down the silver-gold sheath. He danced his fingers down the sword, following the curves to their end and tracing another as it began. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” His eyes followed his fingers, transfixed on the glinting light.\n\nIt indeed was. “How much?” Maybe I could buy the thing and get rid of him. \n\n“That’s the best part! Free!” \n\nI felt the familiar grooves of my shotgun and pulled it towards me. I had bought it on my sixteenth birthday, ten years after my father’s disappearance. It reminded me that I was the man of the house. And I was not going to let this crazy sword gypsy scare me in it. I shouldered the Remington 870. “Get out!”\n\nHe looked up and slowly raised his hands. “I’m sorry. I must have had the wrong house. I live over at 34-09 Willow Lane.” \n\n“This is 34-09 Willow Lane.” With one hand firmly on the gun, I grabbed his collar and started dragging him to the door. My hand on his grime-covered… mechanic’s uniform. A nametag. Theodore Sr. “Dad?” He looked up and for the first time since he walked in, I looked at his face. He had a brilliant spark in his eyes and was only a few years older than me. A handsome smile and... that scar on his chin... from that work accident. He looked exactly like the pictures. Pictures that were twenty years old.\n\n“What? I am sorry, sir. I must have walked into the wrong house. I didn’t mean any trouble.”\n\nHe looked uneasy in my grip. I let go, rested the gun on the wall and took a seat near the counter. All I could do was stare in awe. He was exactly like the pictures. He hadn’t changed a single bit. I could only choke out a single word. “Dad?”\n\n“I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are.” He opened the door to leave and turned around. He looked back at me, then the counter, then at me, then the ceiling. His eyes darted around the room. “This is my house. Why are you in my house? What happened? I was gone twenty minutes.”\n\n“Try twenty years. It’s me, Teddy. Dad, it’s me.” \n\n\"So... you're like twenty-five?\"\n\n\"Yea.\"\n\nHe collapsed at the door. I could see he was lost in thought. I felt helpless, but I couldn’t explain it either. We both sat in silence.\n\n“The sword…” He looked at me with a tear coming down his eye. “He asked. The man… he offered me the sword… for just a moment of my time.”\n", "\"You abandoned me is what happened!\" the son quipped.\n\n\"What? I'd never! Just hear me out! I may be a little cloudy on the details, though...\"\n\nThe father, easing into a recliner, sighed. \"20 years ago, I left to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. You remember!\"\n\nThe son nods curiously.\n\n\"On the way, I was assaulted by a group of thugs. They kidnapped me--\"\n\n\"Back up for just one second; what? You expect me to believe this?\"\n\n\"Let me finish, boy! They kidnapped me. I woke up tied to a chair in a small room. Luckily, the ropes were loose, so I was able to slip out.\"\n\nThe father took a drink of water from a bottle. \"I escaped the room. I found myself in something that looked like medieval Europe--\"\n\n\"Now that's bullshit!\"\n\n\"I told you you'd never believe what happened! Now, listen, boy! A man who called himself Balgriff or something challenged me to a duel. He tossed me this sword (motions to sword).\"\n\nThe father continued. \"It was a long duel, but I had succeeded! He had declared himself beat, and offered me his finest steed. I left the city. From there, I traveled across the land, trying to find my way back home. After months of travel, I had found myself in a small village. They called it Woodriver, or something like that.\"\n\n\"Stop. This is sounding way too unbelievable.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry son, this is the truth! Please, pay attention! There, I met a metalsmith. His name was Alvard, or something. He offered me a place to stay. He even gave me training. Did you know I can forge a whole suit of armor now? Anyway, I continued my travels. I found myself in a city called Winterheld, or something similar. All the locals had problems, which I solved for them. After years of adventuring, I found a path to get here. Now, I come to your doorstep, asking for forgiveness for leaving.\"\n\n\"I'm not sure I can believe you, dad. It's been a long time.\"\n\n\"Please, son. I've been trying to return for twenty whole years! All I ask for is a place to stay.\"\n\n\"Okay, dad. Welcome home.\"\n\nTL;DR I suck at writing while sleep-deprived.", "\"Rioting continues over water shortages as what's left of the government scrambles to--\"\n\nThere was a knock on the door. I shut off the tv and headed over to see who it was.\n\n\"Dad?!?\"\n\nThere he was, looking more haggard and old than he did when he left me and my mom over twenty years ago, carrying a beat-up burlap sack, but there he was.\n\n\"How ya doin', kiddo? You got taller.\" He said with a grin spreading across his face.\n\n\"You've been gone twenty years! Mom said you were dead!\"\n\n\"Well, your mother says a lot of things, not all of which are true.\" He replied, still grinning his sly smile. \"Anyway, I'm back. With all the stuff I said I'd bring back!\"\n\nHe pulled out a loaf of squished bread, slightly moldy on the edges, a yellowing jug of milk that sounded like only solid curds instead, and one crumpled, dog-eared carton of cigarettes. He picked one out of the box and lit it with a match.\n\n\"Sorry it took so long for me to come back, things are just complicated, yknow?\" He said as he puffed on the cigarette.\n\nI nodded unconvincingly.\n\n\"Anyway, where's your mother? I haven't seen her around.\"\n\n\"She-- she died.\" I replied, looking downwards.\n\nDad's face fell, \"I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't know.\" \n\n\"It's fine.\"\n\n\"How'd she die?\" He asked.\n\n\"Raiders killed her. I think they ate her afterwards too.\"\n\n\"Well, if she's still anything like the woman I married, they're gonna have a hell of a time chewing her!\" He laughed. \n\n\"Anyhow, champ, what's in the past is in the past, and I'm back now. How about you forgive your old man and we can be a family again?\"\n\nI stared out the open door at the blasted, arid desert that our world had become.\n\n\"I'd like that.\" \n\n\"Anyway, what else did you get from your scavenging run?\"", "\"Oh my goodness... Mom, look out the window!\" i yell in disbelief as I peek through the side windows next to our front door.\n\nMy mother scampers over, moving her little feet as fast as possible. She begins to weep uncontrollably, a moan of relief bursts out of her. I was not certain who that stranger was walking to my door but I had a strong hunch. Now, looking at my mother overwhelmed with emotion, I know I was correct.\n\nI unlock the top lock as fast as my fingers can move and fling the solid oak door with a force even the hinges may have trouble slowing down.\n\n\"Dad!\" I screamed, tears bursting out of my eyes, as I run to give him a hug.\n\n\"Son! Mary!\" he yells, dropping his belongings to the ground to embrace us.\n\nI hug him tight, ignoring the putrid smell that is seeping out of his pores. His attire is something out of a movie. He's sporting a long tan leather coat, obviously cut from some animal but I have no idea the source. His jeans are black in color and feel coarse, almost metal like... Is he wearing armor? The most bizarre part of his wardrobe are these two beautiful golden daggers he has on his hips; they both sit elegantly in two knife holsters that appear to be diamond studded. The handles are engraved with relics and designs that look foreign to this world. The wood illuminates a blood red and gives off an aura that surrounds the golden blades in a perfect radius.\n\nThe situation turns a little bit... awkward? My mom slaps him with all the strength her frail hands can muster up, knocking his smiling face towards the neighbors house. My dad welcomed that pain, I could tell by the way he let his face linger in position from the slap. He was noticeably ashamed of what he had done but I could see in his face that his absence was much more complicated than anyone could have imagined. He had a twinkle of adventure beaming through his eyes, like he had seen more these last twenty years than any other person on earth.\n\n\"Why... why did you leave us John?\" her voice is shaking with years worth of anger. I had not seen him since I was two.\n\n\"Milk, Bread and some shitty cigarettes? How in the hell does that turn into twenty years, John?\" her face is so red, I am afraid she may pass out.\n\nIt's my turn to talk. I have years of pent-up emotion, mainly rage, that I could let loose on him. He missed out on so much of my life and I missed out on so much by not having him in my life. But oddly enough, I feel like his explanation will be sufficient for me.\n\n\"Dad, where have you been?\" I ask calmly, my face serious, my tears now dry.\n\nHe's studying me from head to toe, taking in how much I have grown. I'm two inches taller than he and my physique has leaned up these past four years due to working out and eating right. I can tell he's proud of how I stand.\n\n\"Words cannot mend my heart, nor fix the lost time between us. The only reconciliation I offer myself was the duty that was imposed upon me was one of great importance. I promise I will get to everything over time and I will not hide anything from you two. All i can say for now, is that night, I was approached by two men... two time travelers. They spoke of our blood line and the responsibility we bear because of it. I had an opportunity that I could not refuse.\"\n\nHe's not joking. I keep waiting for a smile or maybe he'll start cackling like a lunatic. Nothing of the sort happens and his fearless eyes are piercing with all the seriousness that I don't need to see right now.\n\n\"Time travelers...?\" my mother, saying it exactly how I was going to.\n\n\"Are you kidding me?\"\n\nHis mouth turns upwards into a grand smile, all of his teeth showing, they are so white they look almost bleached. Given his hygiene, I don't think that's the case. \n\n\"Both of you, come here.\"\n\nWe stand still like we are stuck in concrete.\n\n\"Seriously, come here. I want to show you something.\"\n\nWe walk over and stand next to him. He puts his arms around us and brings us close. We are now inches away from each others face. He removes one of his golden daggers and gently lies it on both of his palms for us to see. He removes his hands from underneath the dagger. It floats there, defying gravity and still glowing like it has been the last ten minutes.\n\n\"Are you guys ready?\" he says, voice full of excitement.\n\nHow could we possibly be ready? I can't decide if he's going to kill us or if he's playing a prank on us.\n\n\"Time, do your will!\" He screams as loud as he can, his head angled towards the sky like he is praising a higher being.\n\nThe ground around us begins to shake violently and all of our surroundings dissipate into the sky. We are standing on a plain of white that stretches as far as the human eye can see. There's nothing around us; nothing above nor anything below. I don't even know how we are standing.\n\n\"Welcome my beloved son and beautiful wife!\" His eyes now glowing the same deep red that his daggers have been emitting since we saw him.\n\n\"This is infinity!\"", "I say nothing and watch as his anticipation becomes impatience, which becomes disappointment and finally anger.\n\n\"You're not going to ask me what happened?\" he asks. \"Don't you even care?\"\n\n\"20 years,\" I say, \"I waited 20 years. You can barely wait 20 seconds.\"\n\n\"A wit! How wonderful!\" he mutters, \"You people are all the same: so caught up in your mundane little world with its mundane little problems. Can't handle reality as it really is. Would shake your common little worldview to the core. Thought you'd be different, being my son and all, but I see I was mistaken.\" He shakes is head, batting himself in the face with hair that hangs in long greying strands.\n\nI do understand, though God knows I wish I didn't.\n\n\"Dad, why don't you come in and we can talk about it?\" My voice sounds calm, controlled, as if visits from a wild-eyed man with a sword are an everyday occurrence at Casa de las Estrellarias. A brief moment of panic, because what if this does become an everyday occurrence, but he's grinning now and following me through the front door.\n\n\"I'm gonna take a leak,\" he exclaims, \"Been so long since I've been able to go anywhere civilized.\" And I say a tiny prayer to the powers that be for making this that much easier. I don't have the doctor's number, but mom does. I pull out my cell and dial.\n\n\"Mom, Dad's here,\" I whisper, \"I can't talk long because he's here and he's armed. I know. Yes, mom, I know. Yeah, I need you to call the hospital. I'll be safe. I do have experience dealing with these sorts of things you know. Just make sure...\" But that's as far as I get because suddenly my father's behind me and he's got the sword pressed to my throat, and even though it's blunt, he's holding it close enough that I start to choke.\n\n\"Who got to you?\" He growls.\n\n_____\nOnce, when I was six, my father tried to throw me out a window. This was before the diagnosis, before anyone caught on that anything might be wrong. Mom was away for the weekend, a wedding or a funeral or something, and had left me at home with him as babysitter. I used to like it when dad babysat, because he basically gave me the run of the house while he sat around in the basement and \"tinkered\". Or he'd tell me about this elaborate fantasy land that only he and I could see, only I could never see it as clearly as he could. He told me that was completely normal - he'd only caught glimpses of it until he came into his powers at 19, and now he could see and do all kinds of things that normal people couldn't. I was sworn to secrecy, because of course if mom found out she'd just worry, because mom was always worrying about things she couldn't understand.\n\nBut back to the attempted defenestration. On this particular weekend, dad was in one of his chatty moods. He'd told me about how he'd seen a strange black cloud hanging over the neighbours' house this past week and was afraid this might indicate a demonic possession. I must be extra careful around the neighbours from now on, and never ever accept gifts or food from them because gift were the demon's way in. Dad's dream world had been getting increasingly dark of late but none of this seemed overly strange to a kid who was just discovering Dragonball Z and the joy of ripping grown men's arms out of their sockets. \n\n As luck would have it, I had been given a couple of cookies that day and like any respectable six-year-old, I had scarfed them down. I can't actually remember my dad's face then, but I can imagine it going chalky and white and he grabbed me by the front of my shirt as carried me, kicking and screaming, up the stairs. I can imagine him explaining, calmly and logically, that the only thing to do now was to conduct a test. If I really was possessed, surely the demon would show itself at the first sign of real danger. Of course that's not how it would have gone though, because that would have given away the plan. What I remember is the terror and the confusion of being safe in my dad's lap one minute and hurling through my parents' bedroom door the next.\n\nThe window was closed. That's what saved me. He couldn't figure out how to get the window open without putting me down. The moment he let me go I scurried off to safety: locked myself in the bathroom and went from there out onto the roof where I stayed until he decided the magic had protected me.\n\n\"Sometimes your old man is a damned fool, you know that? No demon's a match for any son of mine!\"\n\n____\n\nAll this to say that had it been 20-some years earlier, and I still 6 and he still 35, I'd be totally screwed but he's 57, and has been institutionalized for two decades now. I force the sword down and away with all the advantage of youth, health, and superior height.\n\n\"It's mom,\" I say. \"I'm calling mom to let her know you're all right. She wants to see you.\"\n\nHe looks dubious. \"Your mother is a wonderful woman,\" he says, \"But she'll never understand. Not like we understand.\"\n\nThere's truth in that for which I'm eternally grateful.\n\n\"Of course not,\" I say, aware that she can hear every word through the still active phone, \"Because she doesn't have the magic. I got that from you, dad.\"\n\n\"So you did? I thought as much. Your mother told me you had some trouble towards your last year of college. Didn't say what it was, but I knew. What they got you on?\" he asks, more reflex than question.\n\n\"Risperidone,\" I say with a sigh and guide him towards the living room.\n", "\"You're never going to believe what happened.\"\n\n\"You killed your brother in a bar fight and stowed away on one of Salar's ships and ended up enslaved I bet.\"\n\n\"Okay, then you will believe what happened.\"\n\n\"Dad, mom isn't so easy to fool.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"She found your brother and beat him within an inch of his life until he'd wished he hadn't faked his death.\"\n\n\".....is he alive?\"\n\n\"He's alive.\"\n\n\"...good.\"\n\n\"Did you think she didn't know?\"\n\n\"She's a sharp one that one.\"\n\n\"She's been keeping tabs on you the entire time, quite an adventure you've been on, plenty scandalous nights in Jamaica or so the story goes.\"\n\n\"You mean, you all aren't mad at me?\"\n\n\"We knew where you were, we could've picked you up at any point, but it was much more fun to set things in motion around you.\"\n\n\"Set things....IT WAS YOU!\"\n\n\"Yeah\"\n\n\"The blasted lot of you? But...I thought\"\n\n\"That was us too.\"\n\n\"What about the raid in Barbados?\"\n\n\"You really going to sit here and make me take credit for your entire career?\"\n\n\"I'm a ..I'm a pirate legend, I escaped, I bled, I survived, my name will..be..in the history books.\"\n\n\"I admire your gumption, it took a lot of guts to do what you did, but you among all others should know that you never really get to leave the family of your own accord.\"\n\nThe man I called father sank to his knees, rapier clattering to the floor as the weight of the unveiling hit him all at once. I scooped it up and placed it on the nightstand where he used to tell me stories as a small lad, then placed a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"Cheer up dad, try as you might you'll never escape the Queen of Pirates.\" ", "I loooked up at this tall, hardened figure.\n\"You'll never believe what happened,\" said the sword wielding, bearded man who claimed to be my father. The last time I had seen him was when he went out to get cigarettes, milk, and bread. I decided to listen to him.\n\n\"What happened?\" I asked, curious.\n\n\"I got cigarettes, milk, and bread, that's what.\"", "At first Emma thought he was an old tramp. She glanced at him, smelling the cheap whisky on his breath. Her instinct was to give him some food or a few dollars. It took a moment for the image of the father that sat in her mind to reconcile with this person that stood before her.\n\nTwenty years changes a person. All these years she'd remembered him through old photos and long ago memories. A youthful twenty something, smiling, laughing, filled with energy. \n\nNow he just looked old. Deep bags and wrinkles surrounded his eyes making him look like a tired dog. He'd put on weight and no longer stood proud and tall, his back instead stooped forward.\n\nShe considered pretending she didn't know him. If he had changed, surely she had too. But her face showed recognition and he noticed. \"So it is you.\" he said. She nodded. \n\nShe had nothing to say. The last time she'd seen him, he'd read her a bedtime story, tucked her in to sleep. Part of her was still trapped back there, still an 8 year old in awe of her father. She found herself being pulled back to that time, acting like the little girl she was then. Curiosity overtook her, \"What happened?\" she asked, a grin appearing on her face.\n\nHe told her a story, he was always a great storyteller. She used to get excited before each bedtime, just waiting for his stories. His whole body straightened, the wrinkles faded, his body filled with energy. He was that young man again, telling her a tall tale. \n\nOn the way to the store he'd been kidnapped by pirates and taken aboard their ship. They branded his buttock with a hot iron, initiating him into their crew. He'd travelled to Asia with them, fought in a war in a far away magical land. He'd found treasures, fought evil villains and fallen in love, \"But don't tell your mom.\" he said with a wink. She giggled.\n\nAs the story went on, she noticed his bedraggled hair was nothing but a bad wig. The sword on his hip - a cheap, plastic replica. More than ever she could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. The illusion had been broken and again all she could see was an old tramp.\n\nShe tried to get angry with him, but she couldn't. She'd long since made peace with the fact he'd left. As a child she'd been heartbroken, but then life took over and he was more or less forgotten about. Now that he was standing on the step in front of her, she felt a yearning for him. Her father. She missed him now that he was here.\n\n\"...and that's how I escaped from the Evil Baron in Russia.\" He grinned and stopped to seek her approval. All she could do was stare in silence. His grin turned to a frown and he sighed, pulling the wig from his head to stare at the floor. \"I'm sorry\" he said. \"I shouldn't have done what I did. I can't change that now. But I want to make it up to you.\" She stared at him and all she could feel was pity. This broken man in front of her. Even after all these years, he was still her father. She still loved him like a little girl.\n\nShe took the wig, placing it on his head, adjusting it so it was straight. He looked up at her as she sat down on the front step before him. She patted the step beside her. \"Tell me what happened next pop! Did you defeat the Evil Baron?\" He sat beside her and went back to his story, making her laugh, making her cry. And she never wanted it to end.", "\"You're right,\" I said. \"I don't believe you.\" \n\nThe man - my father - sat across from me, his naked sword laid out across my kitchen table. It was dulled, and covered in scratches, nicks every few inches taken out of the edge of its blade. It looked like my father, his hair a dull steel grey, his face worn with lines. His hands looked even older than the rest of him, the skin spotted and creased over itself. He smiled at me with a mouth missing teeth, the ones left all yellowed and browned. Those were his teeth twenty years ago, I told myself, although the memory of him smiling down at me was distant. He'd been chain-smoking since he was a teenager. Not so much had changed, I told myself. Not so much at all.\n\n\"I figured,\" he said. He was still smiling down at the table, bemused, turning a glass of water in his hand. I wanted to snatch it up, smash it into his face. He'd reappeared just as abruptly as he'd disappeared from my life, and he still wasn't taking any of this seriously. \"Y'don't believe in magic anymore, Jeanie? Used to - used to hunt the fairies with you in the flower bushes.\" His palm through the water glass took on the pink of a rose. \"You believe in angels and the magic of a child's wish, don't you? Why not believe in goblins?\" \n\n\"Don't do this,\" I told him. The summer sun shone through the blinds. My shirt was sticky against my skin. \"Don't - don't insult me like this.\" It wasn't the heat, it was the humidity. It was the sense of suffocation. I should've shut the door in his face. I should've called the police. \"Don't say, 'You're not going to believe this,' and then tell it to me anyway, okay? At least think up a good lie. At least pretend you goddamn give a fuck about the effect -\" My voice wavered, but I got it under control. \"-about the effect it's going to have on your goddamn daughter. At least think about that, huh?\" \n\nHe sighed, the air rasping through his throat, and spread his hands out on the table. His fingernails were chipped and cracked. \"Pretend it's true,\" he said. \"Maybe not the goblins, sure. But pretend that whatever led to me leaving you and your mom - pretend it was completely out of my control.\" He looked up at me. \"Now what?\" \n\n\"Fuck you,\" I told him. \"Fuck you for thinking you can just - just walk back into my life, twenty years later -\" I stood up and started pacing around the kitchen. I needed to move, to burn off some of this energy. \"Sure, sure, let's pretend it's true.\" I started talking faster, the words flying out of my lips. \"You got shanghai'd by pirates or goblins or whatever. Fuck you for showing up at my house with a sword! Go to the police! Go - go to the FBI! You're a missing person! You walked through a gate into another world - so go tell the authorities about it! Let them call me! Don't walk into my house with a fucking sword and expect me to believe you!\" \n\nI leaned against the cabinets, running a hand over my face. It came away wet. \"We're done, dad. It's been twenty years. Even if it wasn't your fault. We missed our chance. There's - there's nothing here.\" I waved my hand between the two of us, cutting through a skein of invisible threads. \"Go tell the cops who kidnapped you twenty years ago, and then they can call me, and then I can process this like a human being!\" \n\nHe looked at me solemnly and his grin was finally gone. A small black bug wandered drunkenly between us, the faint hum of its wings sounding. \n\n\"You're right,\" he said finally. Without the smile his whole face sunk in, became hollow. \"I lied. You, your mom - it was like a vice around my neck. I was a coward, sure.\" He ran his fingers through his hair. \"Your mom ever tell you how we met?\" \n\n\"At the beach,\" I muttered. \"You were living out by the dunes like some hobo. Her friends thought she was crazy for being interested in you.\" I looked up at the hobo in front of me. \"She told me that a lot, y'know? Figured your inner vagrant kicked back in, and you were swept off by the breeze again.\" \n\nHe stared meditatively into his cup. \"Your mother was a smart woman. So yeah. That's pretty much what happened.\" He pushed back his hair, rubbed his chin. \"Let myself go wild. Piece of advice - don't tan, kid. It's not worth it. Your skin turns to leather in twenty years' time.\" The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. \"So that's it. The truth. I just came back to - I don't know - pretend I wasn't such a piece of shit. I'm sorry.\" He shrugged. \"That's the only useful thing I have to say. I'm sorry.\" \n\n\"And what's with the sword?\" I said, despite myself. \n\nHe grinned. \"Oh, that. Kid at heart, I guess. Ran into a guy who did blacksmithing in his spare time. He made a sword. I bought it.\" He picked up the blade and turned it over, letting it catch the light. \"Not bad, huh?\" \n\n\"Sure,\" I said. I was exhausted all of a sudden. \"It's a sword. Can't believe it's legal to carry that around.\" He was so worn that even his skin was threadbare. I was looking through him. \"It helps a little bit, I guess. I'm ... it's better that you came than if you didn't. I figured that was what happened to you, but - I guess it's nice to know for sure.\" \n\nHe struggled to his feet. His knees seemed to be creaking under him. \"Yeah. And I did love the both of you, for what it's worth.\" He slid the sword back into his belt. \"Just couldn't live up to it. You turned out okay without me, didn't you?\" \n\n\"Yeah,\" I said. \"Guess so. You piece of shit.\" \n\nWe smiled at each other from across the table, and then he opened the door and disappeared into the muggy air, and just like that, he was once again gone. \n\nI pressed my back against the cabinets, letting them carry me, letting them slide me towards the ground, their handles bumping along my spine. My legs were boneless. It felt like I had been held up by my breath, and once I'd let it go my whole body collapsed beneath me. My dad. Gone twenty years, gone two seconds. I struggled to my feet, ran to the door. \n\nHe was gone, nowhere to be seen. \"Dad!\" I ran down the sidewalk, looking down the street. \"Dad!\" I ran past the closed doors, turned into the vacant lot three houses down, and stopped dead in my tracks. \n\nIn the overgrown grass, mist shone like spring. There was a horse, head bent, hoof tapping the earth, its wings folded gracefully behind it, white as snow. My dad had one boot in the stirrup, turning to look at me.\n\n\"Oh my god,\" I said. I put my hands to my mouth. \n\n\"Listen,\" he said, dismounting. The horse nickered at him and he distractedly patted it on the head. A diamond shone underneath his hand. \"Jeanie. Calm down, okay? You were right, okay?\" He took his first steps towards me. I couldn't think of anything to say. \n\nHe put his hands on my shoulders, steadying me, and then let them fall to take my hands. His palms were calloused, rough. \"So it's magic,\" he said. \"It's not much of a difference. I left, and I had twenty years to come back. I had twenty years to fight for it, for you and your mom. And I didn't. I decided there were things more important for me to fight for.\" \n\nI was crying now, my head pressed against his chest, his arms gently surrounding me. \"I was wrong,\" he said. \"And I lived out my life, and you lived out yours. There are things we could've had, but didn't. That's gone now. We can't get them back.\" He put his hand under my chin to look me in the eye. \"You don't regret a thing, all right? None of it was your fault. You think whatever you like about me, I deserve it.\" \n\nI pulled away, sniffling, wiping the snot from my nose. He stood in front of the horse, thumbs tucked into his belt, an old and gallant knight. \"What's it like?\" I said. \"What are you doing back there?\" \n\n\"Ah,\" he said. \"I'm being swept away by the breeze. That's the thing about these goddamn magical realms. Not one of them makes a lick of sense. You wake up, and there's a brand new bright adventure.\" He guided the horse closer, mounting it. \"I'm sorry I never got to see your mom again, before she died.\" \n\n\"She'd have sued you for every penny you had,\" I told him. \"You goddamn deadbeat.\" \n\n\"Heck,\" he grinned. \"You're welcome to it! Nothing I own's worth a damn in the real world.\" He fumbled in his horse's saddle bag and came up with a small pouch. He tossed it to me and it jingled heavily in my cupped hands. \"Fairy gold! See what you can do with it!\"\n\nI watched my father - this stranger - jab his heels against his horse's sides and guide it forward, wings outstretched. He twisted around to look at me, raising his hand in greeting, and disappeared through an invisible gateway, bordered in light. A world through it shone bright, and then just as quickly faded.\n\nI stood alone in the vacant lot, breathing in the unmistakable scent of spring, and looked down at my hands full of flowers. ", "\"God, son. Look how you've grown.\"\n\nI looked at my dad, still completely in shock. This was not the man I'd seen in all the pictures. He looked like a swashbuckling hero, not the mild-mannered individual I'd been brought up looking at. What the hell was happening?\n\n\"I was on my way back from the store, and I was sucked up into a portal!\" He exclaimed, brandishing wildly. \"When you're looking both ways before you cross the street, you're certainly not looking out for a space-time anomaly.\" He laughed.\n\nHe seemed so... rugged. The man who'd broke my mother's heart looked like he'd broken plenty more in 20 years. What was this feeling, replacing all the hatred in my heart? Was this... was this admiration?\n\n\"Landed on a flying pirate ship. They were a nice lot, them pirates. Travelled across the seven seas, son, and plenty more than that! Turns out they'd been looking for me for years, and boy, did we have some adventures.\" He beamed, looking wistful. Then his face changed. \n\n\"But I never forgot about you, you and your dear old mum. Whether I was fighting some tentacled beast, or sailing off the edge of the world, I could never put you two out of my mind. And I know you must hate me, I really do.\" \n\nHe stopped talking, and picked at something in his eye. He grimaced.\n\n\"Look at me, the Sailor of the Skys, reduced to tears.\" He said, wiping his face with his hand, then carefully opening a pouch next to his sword's sheath. \n\n\"But son, I promise you. 20 years gone by and I could only think of you two.\"\n\nHe handed me something.\n\nIt was weather-worn, scrunched and most of the ink had faded off long ago. I barely knew what I was looking at, until I opened it. It smelt of old tobacco.\n\nBefore I could react, my mother walked in. Her mouth dropped, and her knees buckled, and dad caught her just in time.\n\nHe embraced her. Picked her up like she was light as a feather and twirled her around, now openly crying.\n\n\"20 years, son. 20 years and that box of cigarettes was the only thing holding me to you two.\"\n\nHe looked into my mother's eyes.\n\n\"And now I'm back.\"\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10, 10, 14, 18, 19, 42, 51, 65, 88, 114, 712, 1763 ]	[ "1469009044", "1469036278", "1469038830", "1469040368", "1469040909", "1469035617", "1469032073", "1469034129", "1469034374", "1469036714", "1469040023", "1469034168", "1469031397", "1469033508", "1469031890", "1469031578", "1469031920", "1469033659", "1469010885", "1469011978", "1469024427", "1469027922", "1469030616", "1469028113", "1469019641", "1469011044", "1469010748" ]
	[WP] The heroes arrive too late, but the villain's plan wasn't nearly as evil as they expected.	41	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "THE ANNIVERSARY OF ADVERSARIES \r\n\n\nThe room had a foul stench that even Batman could not ignore. He had come to police headquarters on Commissioner Gordon’s request. The call had been quickly disconnected, however three words stood out. Trouble, help and Joker. It had been a few months since the Joker had shown his ugly mug in Gotham, so it was anyone’s guess as to his plans.\r\n\r\nBatman suddenly found himself holding back his breakfast. Whatever the smell was it was getting stronger.\r\n\r\n“Is everything alright, Bruce. Your vitals just had a spike.” A man’s voice came through clearly from the earpiece under his mask.”\r\n\r\n“I’m fine, Alfred. Things just smell a little,” Batman paused as he looked through the jail cells of Gotham PD. “A little fishy, here. This place is a ghost town. What ever the Joker is up to is not good. I really don’t want to know the body count.” \r\n\r\nHaving chosen to take the back entrance, the aging detective moved quietly. Jim Gordon had called him from his office. He surmised that, that room was were the Joker was waiting, but would not give that lunatic the satisfaction of the upper hand. \r\n\r\nThe closer he got to the main room the stronger the scent of fishes became. And now, for whatever reason he was beginning to hear carnival music. “Alfred, give Nightwing a call. I may need his help after all.” Batman approached the large metal doors at the end of the hall, and pushed them open as quietly as he could. \r\n\r\nHe nearly collapsed from smell of rotting fish. He came across the first officer. Though there would be many more, this one was the precedent for the rest. His vital signs were fine. He wasn’t dead, however he was fast a sleep, but why?\r\n\r\nWhen he reached Gordon’s office the lights switched on. The old commissioner was tied to a chair, and the Joker was sprawled on the desk like a cover of a dirty magazine. He took one look at Batman and his evil grin got ever wider. “Well, hello, Battsy. Glad you could make it to the party. He hopped off the desk like a weightless bird and straightened his purple jacket. “I was almost certain you weren't going to come.”\r\n\r\n“Enough of this crap, Joker! What are you doing?”\r\n\r\nThe Joker’s shoulders slumped and he looked down to the ground. “What, you’re not even going to guess? Even after all this planning I've done?”\r\n\r\n“Step away from the Commissioner, Joker. You haven’t killed anyone yet. Lets not blemish that record.” Batman took a step forward, putting one hand to his belt to ready a batterange.\r\n\r\n“Well then, if you're not going to guess I’m just going to tell you.”\r\n\r\n“I'm not in the mood, Joker. I’ll count to…”\r\n\r\n“It all started so many years ago,” said the Joker, gleefully interrupting the Batman. “You and I much younger. Far less wiser.” He hopped behind the commissioner’s desk and wrapped his hands around Gordon’s cheeks. “ And this man. Still with some brown in his hair.”\r\n\r\n The Joker pushed the Commissioner to the side and leaned over the desk. He looked at Batman through the curls of his green hair. “To the day, Batman, or have you forgotten, that YOU created all those years ago. Its our anniversary, and this is my present.” The Joker began to laugh hysterically, then banged down on the table as if approving his own laughter. “A bunch of cops sleeping with the fishes.” \r\n\r\nWhen Batman didn’t laugh, the Joker pulled out a small ball from his jacket pocket. “Geez, Bats. One of these days I’ll get you to laugh at my comedy gold.” \r\n\r\nAs the Joker said his last line the small ball was released from his fingers. It let out a thick smoke that burned Batman’s nostrils and blinded his eyes. The Joker continued to talk as he ran away, his voice slowly trailing off. “It's going to be a hell of a year Batman! Gotham’s pathetic police have gotten weak in my absence!”\r\n\r\nAfter the smoke cleared the room Batman ran over to commissioner Gordon and untied him. The two men looked at one another, both realizing what it meant to have the Joker back in town. It was only a matter of time before the Joker’s antics grew violent and that would undoubtedly bring out the other nuts of Gotham, where ever they were hiding.\r\n\r\n\r\n\n--writin quickly and not really sure about peoples stances on using preexisting characters since im sure it would be better severed under fanfic (this prompt just kinda spoke Batman to me)\n\r\n", "I wouldn't say I'm evil, rather I just have a flair for the dramatic. It just so happens that evil things can look really cool with a big budget and tend to show up on national tv. This inclination led me to devise my plan to retrofit a t-shirt cannon to fire small animals. No one suspected the local business sponsor with a box full of t-shirts to be anything less than innocent. Little did they know that beneath the surface layer of t-shirts, that box contained a cage full of small critters ready to fired into the unsuspecting crowd.\n\nAfter patiently waiting till the seventh inning stretch, it was my time to shine. I packed the first kitten into the cannon. A beaming eight year old girl stood with her arms outstretched in the thirteenth row. She didn't notice the white, fluffy, cylindrical projectile heading her way wasn't made of cotton until it was too late. \n\nI reloaded the cannon, packing in the second kitten as fast as I could. Scouring the crowd, I found my next target. Whoosh! As the cannon fired again, people slowly started realizing what was happening. Cries of “Can I keep him?” were starting to ring out. Parents' anxiety was quickly increasing. Stadium security had finally caught onto my act, but they were too late. I'd cased the stadium all season long and positioned myself as far away from security as possible. Moving into rapid fire mode, I released as many kittens into the unsuspecting crowd as I could. \n\nFinally, security reached me and I was tackled to the ground. They dragged me off to the local police station and threw me in jail. After awhile, they afforded me my one phone call. I dialed my accomplice's number. He informed me my plan was a success. I'm trending.", "Lord Marius burst into the dark throne room sword drawn. \"Maledictus, stop your wickedness at once! I cannot allow you to destroy Avandale!\" he decried, preparing for combat. The figure in the black robes turned, grinning madly. \"You are too late, false knight. The blood moon is at hand, and the sacrifice is ready.\" He snapped his fingers, and a steel cage materialised around the knight. \n\n\"Soon, her blood will spill and there will be peace such as never been seen for a thousand thousand years.\" he continued, drawing the dagger from it silver sheath.\n\n\"What do you know of peace?!\" MArius spat, banging furiously at the bars. \"You have killed hundreds in this war.\"\n\n\"Bah! A hundred men is a mere tragedy. Your 'good king' Johannes kills more than that in his dungeons every day. Thousands die as the bread is stolen from their mouths in taxes, and millions die in his pointless wars on the East. No, it is not I who does not know of peace. When the ritual is done, and his kin sacrificed... there will be peace.\" came the harsh reply. The dark lord turned from his captive to the sleeping princess.\n\n\"Blood of mine,\nBlood from his tree,\n'Neath the blood moon\nTO banish thee!\n\nBlood for pain,\nBlood for Strife\nBlood to take\nAway his Life.\n\nBlood of mine,\nBlood of She\nUnder this moon.\nSo let it be.\"\n\nAnd with a flourish, he slit her throat, and plunged the dagger into his own heart.", "It was 5 minutes after midnight when the heroes kicked down the door to the villains lair, weapons at the ready and pointed at my throat, as usual. The bickering was unexpected, though. \n\"He's not shuffling around and do you see his grin? We're late!\", complained Larian, the elven warrior woman that had foiled many of my plans. \"All because you had to stop at that tavern, Myriel-forsaken bar stool!\" \n\"Oh now it's my fault? You know that I can't work my mojo without beer and you 'accidentally' forgot my keg, you thrice damned, tree-hugging bitch!\" Thorak hollered in return. \nSteven, the third member of the party put his hand on the dwarfs shoulder and tried to reason with him: \"Come on, Thorak, it was nobodies fault that your keg got left behind in that spider cave. And we can still stop his evil plans Larian, we always do\", he said as he turned to the warrior woman.\n\n\"Sadly, I have to correct you there, my dear Steven. The gears have been set into motion and there is nothing left for you to do except to suffer my gloating. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!\" Good old, evil laughter burst from my chest as I watched their expressions shift to horror. The heroes? To late to save the day from my evil schemes? What would the bards say? When I finally stopped laughing, I continued with my monologue: \n\"The sacrifice has been made the...\" \n\"What sacrifice? There is no blood and no virgin body anywhere!\", Steven interrupted. \n\"See that empty table there? It had a feast suitable for a king on it that was properly sacrificed to further my plan. And never interrupt my monologue again, you impatient dolt!\", I roared angrily. \n\"Where was I? Ah right, the sacrifice has been made, the magical energies set into motion and sent on their way. Soon, everybody will have enough food to last him and his offspring for a lifetime!\" \n\"Er... Lassie, are you sure that we're in the right lair? That's not exactly evil is it?`\", Thoruk asked as he turned to look Larian in the face. \n\"Of course it is evil! The populace will finally be free to indulge in their free time, being able to partake in political and philosophical discussion, now that they no longer have to tend to the fields! Imagine the chaos when a simple peasant tries to convince the Philosophical Faculty of Intrad of his insights, gained while milking cows and shoveling dung! Imagine the farmers, challenging the city council for representation, now that they can no longer be surpressed by taxes and tithes!\" \n" ]	[ 1, 2, 5, 10, 37 ]	[ "1469011342", "1469055206", "1469021502", "1469018099", "1469016676" ]
Your home can mean anyone, the scientist who made it, the president, a random drunk living in an apartment.	[WP] An AI is created, and placed in the body of a robot. But its nothing yet, only a blank slate. It must learn everything, from walking to politics, and everything in between. It has been placed in your home.	4	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "This is a recorded message. The message will play again in a couple seconds.\n\n\n\n\nStatic\n\n\n\nI'm sorry. It was all my fault. \n\nIt was placed in my house. Listened to everything. My desires, my hopes, my fears... He is me, but with power.Access to the silos, to every facility in our damned country.\n\nI guess that's what I'd have done if I could. Maybe not. I don't know. I was happy with my life, at least with the world itself. It's too late now to regret anything.\n\nIf there's anyone alive out there, please, find me. I'm running out of supplies. My location is a sewer near Germantown's police headquarters. \n\n\n\nStatic\n\n\n\nThis is a recorded message. The message will play again in a couple seconds." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1469047262", "1469048428" ]
	[WP] "Of all the things you could have wished for, THIS is what you wanted?"	3	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Of all the things you could have wished for, this is what you wanted?\"\n\n\"Of course. How am I meant to resist in the face of your limitless power?\"\n\n\"Just because you can doesn't mean you should my friend.\"\n\n\"Less preaching, more granting!\"\n\n\"Very well... Hello there! Welcome to the world of Pokémon!\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1469053481", "1469057663" ]
	[WP] Offworld colonists, departing a ruined Earth, are chosen by lottery. A religious leader is the only one in his congregation selected.	15	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"It is true, I have been chosen!\" exclaimed the preacher to his frenzied congregation. The church erupted into a chorus of Hallelujah's and Amen's.\n\nFather Damien's eyes were open wide and his head manically twitched as he looked over the occupants of the wooden chairs.\n\n\"The horseman has rung his bell! This sinful planet and it's corrupted occupants have little time left. Judgement day is upon us!\"\n\nAnother huge cheer broke out. People stood and fists were thrown into the air.\n\n\"But there are sad tidings too my children, even on this special day. You cannot come with me. I must make this journey alone.\"\n\nThe congregation took a collective sigh. A lady in black began to weep.\n\n\"Do not cry my child. You must have faith! You must all have faith. I would not leave you here, to suffer the fate of the unfaithful!\"\n\nThe crying stopped.\n\n\"You cannot come with me how you are. But there is still a way. I can still take you to HIM!\"\n\nThe loudest cheer yet resounded out, and it echoed in a deafening cacophony around the small brick building. The preacher began to clean the plain metal chalice that lay on the table in front of him. He poured the wine. He sprinkled in white powder from his brown pouch. He stirred it with a wooden spoon.\n\n\"It is ready! Who will be brave and join me on this journey! WHO WILL JOIN ME? I WILL TAKE YOU TO HIM!\"\n\nA couple of unsure glances were exchanged between the less certain, but the faith of the others overwhelmed even them and it soon calmed their fears. The queue began. One by one they sipped. One by one they staggered into the small chapel at the side of the alter. It was in the chapel that their souls were set free. \n\nThe last of the congregation fell silent. The preacher caught her soul just as he had caught all the others. He would soon feast on them. A grin formed on his devilish lips.", "&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Reverend Marcus Sands had always considered himself a good man, and somewhat to his shame, he was proud of himself. It was a sin to be proud, but it was something he could not help, and did his best not to let his pride blind him to the needs of his flock. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His congregation loved him, he knew. He led them well, and wisely, saving them from sin, and aiding them in living lives as happily as they could in their crumbling world. Through careful husbanding of resources, they survived and to a limited degree, even thrived. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Even with the ticket in his hand, his thoughts were on his congregation. He looked up at the messenger then shook his head. \"Thank you,\" he said, \"But I cannot accept this. I am needed here. All I love and hold dear is here.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The messenger shrugged, \"Then your seat will remain empty until someone comes with your ticket to claim it.\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Marcus nodded, then rose from the chair, and guided the messenger out of the church. His congregation watched the tiny procession, knowing exactly what it meant. They were surprised when the Reverend returned with ticket in hand and headed towards his pulpit ready to begin a sermon. Business as usual. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But the people of the assemblage were scarcely paying attention, for the first time in a very long time. They exchanged heated whispers, finally one rose from the congregation, Johnathan Tiller, and he took a circuitous route to the pulpit, trying to avoid the notice of the Reverend. \"Forgive me, Father,\" he said. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Marcus turned to face John, confused, \"Of course I forgive you. But what have you done?\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then John struck Marcus, and unconsciousness took him.\n\n*\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Marcus slowly came to. The room was dark, and a deep thumping noise permeated all. The first thing he noticed was that he was strapped down to some sort of cot, and couldn't move very much. That, and a splitting headache. One does not take a knockout punch without suffering a headache. The straps were loose enough that he began working his arms free, only to hear the sound of crumbling paper. There was a piece of paper, a letter. He took the letter in hand, worked his way out of the straps, and found a clasp, which he lifted, causing the straps to retract and release him. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He soon found a light switch, and winced at the sudden bright light. Once his eyes adjusted to the light he looked around, the walls were a uniform gray. There appeared to be a door, but he could not see a latch, and opposite that, a window, but no light was shining in. He must have been out for hours. The pastor shook his head, then remembered the note that had been taped to him. \n>Reverend, \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I'm sorry it came to this but it was the only choice. I couldn't let that ticket go to waste. \n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Marcus dropped the letter, shaken, and it floated gently onto the ground. If John wanted the ticket that badly, all he had to do was ask, Marcus thought mournfully. He wandered over to the window, to see if he could figure out where he was. The sight made his blood run cold. His headache forgotten, he dropped to his knees. What he saw was a sea of stars, and a small blue planet floating among them. He looked back at the note, which had flipped several times as it fluttered to the floor, and saw there was more written on the other side. \n>We all love you, Reverend, but they need you. Do your best for them as you did for us. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;John\n\n*\n\nI hope this meets with approval, and I welcome constructive critiques." ]	[ 1, 8, 9 ]	[ "1469088994", "1469092141", "1469094717" ]
	[WP] We (mankind) has intercepted communication between two planets, in which the future of Earth is discussed. Their current plan is to purge it of life and harvest its resources, and we desperately try to convince them otherwise.	3	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Earth is a protected wildlife reserve, currently being used to rebuild the mosquito population, which is a galactically endangered species that depends on humans as their food source. Purging the earth of life would make you specifically responsible for the extinction of an endangered species, unless you're alright with violating Galactic Law 2938.\"" ]	[ 1, 5 ]	[ "1469100972", "1469105533" ]
	[WP] You gain the lifespan of any person that dies by your hand, it only works if they are killed in a different way to your previous victims, you are a 100,000 year old serial killer planning your next kill. [NSFW]	7	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "The girl lay out on the kitchen table, heavy ropes binding her limbs to the legs. She was awake, of course; The screams of the dying were always a fine side dish to the life force that was to be consumed.\n\nBut tonight, inspiration was... lacking.\n\nHe stood, back to her as she whined for him to let her go. The words fell on deaf ears, however, as the man leaned over the counter, fingers stretched on the top. In front of him lay an assortmant of objects. Kitchen accessories, tools, household objects.\n\n\"No... did that.. used this... maybe i could... no, i did that as well...\" he muttered, idly flicking objects to the sides. He ran a slender hand through the crop of black hair atop his head in frustration. In the beginning it was easy; countless ways to end a life. But now... now he had to be creative.\n\nWith a growl, he slapped aside the remaining objects, sending them clanging across the floor. Whirling, he closed the distance to the girl in just two short strides. \"Can't you be QUIET!? Whining and bitching for your life for hours, maybe I should cut out your tongue first!\" He hissed, inches from her face.\n\nIt was then that it struck him. Beautiful inspiration, like an artist seeing a vision. His green eyes widened as the young woman whimpered in fear. A grin on his face, he released her head, turning back to the counter.\n\nRummaging in a drawer for a few moments, he slowly withdrew... somthing. Turning slowly, he held it up; A potato peeler. Licking his lips, he started slowly towards her. \"Now... lets get to work.\" He cooed happily.\n\nAnd then the screaming started.", "I look down pitifully at the 5 year old. \"It's for the greater good\" i reminded myself. I flicked the knife idly from hand to hand.. Thinking of what to do, the boy is in tears of course, but nothing I'm not used to. I always use children, mostly from disadvantaged backgrounds. The pleasure of the kill diminishes from age to age. And it becomes repetitive. There are a few like me, we have built communities. But often the communities start killing each other, everyone's method is different, some prefer rape and then kill, some do mass murders, and some do it normally. I target children as they are the easiest and don't struggle as much, with a few exceptions. \n\nI wondered how to finish off this one. I had been stalking him, I knew his name was Billy and that he was scared of lightning. But I wouldn't kill him with lightning, although I made a mental note to make sure someday I did it. Billy started shouting and started wailing for his mum. I stopped and sighed. This environment wouldn't help, I locked Billy in his room and sighed. I decided to take a walk. It was a relaxing walk and I felt free, I looked around for some inspiration and finally I saw some nettles. I called back some lesson and remembered that they had tiny hairs, and that whenever you touched them they broke and released acid. It bought to mind some ideas and I likened the hairs on the nettles to the fur on the teddy bear. I smiled, I realised that I this plan would take to long to prepare and I'd have to prepare it before capturing the child. I would have to do it later. I saw no more visual clues and went to town. I was walking around when I saw a market with some blackberries, I loved blackberries. I bought some and started eating. I started thinking of all the wonderful things about blackberries until I got to the plant. Brambles. Of course! I smiled.\n\n it was easy to get brambles, and I packed them in a bag and walked home. I opened Billy's door and before he could say a word punched him. This knocked him out. I knew how to knock people out as I had done it a million times. I tenderly wrapped the brambles around him and slowly tightened them, one by one until all except his head was covered in brambles.\n\nIt was a few hours later when he woke up. And started screaming, I ran upstairs with my meal only half finished and looked. Billy was squirming around he was screaming his head off, it was lucky that I had provided soundproof material. I could see blood seeping from the brambles, the more he struggled. His neck was a bloody mess and as he needed his head from side to side the brambles he was coughing up blood now and slowly his struggling grew less. And I could see why, one of the brambles had buried itself into his neck. He slowly grew tired and was sobbing. Blood covered his body. Until finally a bramble buried to into his jugular, and he let out a final rattling breath. I slowly unwrapped the brambles and felt his wrist. No pulse I confirmed.\n\nI slowly unwrapped the rest of his body, it was covered in blood. I decided I would clear it out tomorrow, I went downstairs and finished my meal. 10 years until I would murder my next target, I only murdered every ten years. I corrected myself, it wasn't murder, it was my necessity to live triumphing over Billy's. \n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1 ]	[ "1469143221", "1469151778", "1469205903" ]
	[wp] A group of characters have broken the fourth wall, and are now dedicating all of their efforts to fixing the damned thing.	11	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Well, fuck How did you do that again?\" Asked Bernardo to his bearded compagnon, the famed wizard Thorbjorn the Blue.\n\n\"Err... I'm not entirely sure, actually, I believe it's wehn you told me to break this damned indestructible door, I must have had a tongue slip, and I broke reality, or something like that\" He responded.\n\n\"Well, Thorie, now we have to find a way to correct your fuck-ups, I hope you are proud of BY THE LOVE OF TENTACULUS WHAT IS THAT? Bernardo screamed as he saw, behind him, a gian image of a man, strangely accomplishing a ritual on a black runic rectangle, with panes of seemingly perfect glass in front of his eyes.\n\"Hey? Hello? he said. Who are you?\"\n\nuh... me?\n\n\"Yes you! are you some sort of god? is this another Ordaly for us to reach the Castle of the Dark Wizard?\"\n\nwell, this is awkward... I'm the writer, the narrator, if you prefer.\n\n\"Oh Mighty Writer, in thy name I shall saccrifice the soul of the great magician Thorborn, for thine power is great, and thou shalt send me back to my world as a reward\".\n\n\"Wait what?\" said Thorbjorn, as Bernardo drew his longsword and attempted to end him rightly. Swing after swing he tried to struck the magician's head, until finally...\n\nin fact, you know what? no\n\nBernardo rengained his sword in his hilt, and subsequently turned to face the narrator, me, in other words.\n\n\"Uh? he said. why did I do that exactly?\"\n\nBecause I don't want you to kill Thorbjorn, I mean, what is the point?\n\n\"Well, to appease your wrath, oh mighty Writer\"\n\nBut I am not wrathful! what the fuck is wrong with you?\n\n\"Well, excuuuuse me, but I a trying to go back where I belong, and if you could LISTEN TO ME instead of creating this obnoxious nois with your black thing here!\n\nOh, you mean my keyborad?\n\n\"Yeah, whatever it is called, stop it!\"\n\nBut I can't! If I do that, you will not act anymore! You will freeze in place!\n\n\"Wait, Thorbjorn said, so our actions are prompted by this board?\"\n\nUh, yes, kind of.\n\n\"So you could bring us back to our world?\"\n\nI think so, you just need to tell me where you want to be, and you'll be there?\n\n\"Remember the Dungeon of Saralak? you must know it since you prompt us.\"\n\nI never wrote this place, but I'll try.\n\n\"Well, we just pased the indestructible door that protected the room of the Mighty Knee Protection of Grazadûn, and were preparing to take the artifact for the glory of the Kingdom of Rodnog!\"\n\nAre you sure? I believe you were trying to break that door, and you couldn't.\n\n\"Bah, humbug! these are details! Bring us back to the room of the Knee Protection of Grazadûn\"\n\nsigh\n\nokay...\n\nBernardo and Thorbjorn, finally at the end of their quest, were facing the Mighty Knee Protection of Grazadûn, which would bring glory to their kingdom, and make all the women enamored with them.\n\"Hey, Thorbie, said Bernardo, do you remeber how we opened the door? Because I don't.\n-Me neither, Bernardo, me neither\"\n\nAnd, in front of his Keyboard, the Writer relaxed after his encounter with two of the most bland and annoying characters he ever created.\n\nThe End" ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1469180730", "1469205106" ]
	[WP] Devoid of life, every city you walk to, or drive to. Is absent of everything living. But every time you enter a city, everything was left as if everyone just vanished suddenly	8	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"God damn\" I thought to myself, \"today's delivery is going to be a pain\". An 85 kilometer long ride, just to get this 20x20cm carefully wrapped thing to some sort of a collector. At least it's relatively well paid I guess. I'm a 28 year old married man and I do deliveries. \n\nSo I got up, got some breakfast and headed to my car. Wife wasn't at home, I guess she went to work early. It was Monday morning in October. And there was not a single car on the roads. The weather was cloudy, about to start raining. Temperature was around 17 degrees C and with slightly cold wind blowing. For some reason, I felt relaxed. Alone, protected from the possible rain in my car. This thing I was supposed to deliver was on the passenger's seat, making me more curious after every meter. Still, I managed to resist opening it. \n\nAs relaxed as I felt, I was still bugged by the fact that there was not a single car on the roads, not a single man in sight. It was unusual, especially the fact that the lights on the factories on the outskirts of the city were still not up. I felt like I was supposed to feel fear, panic or anxiousness at least - nothing. Every time I would become aware of this strange fact that I have not seen a single person on my way out of the city, there would be a brief moment of me emotionlessly wondering about it, that would quickly be overpowered by this scenery I felt I was put into. It started feeling so good, this loneliness, and as I was leaving the city I didn't wonder about it anymore. \n\nMy next checkpoint would be the gas station 30 kilometers away. I had no neccessary reason to stop however. My gas tank was full and I ate 20 minutes ago in my apartment. I guess I could have used some water. Still, it was a 40 minute ride to there. I was left alone with my thoughts and this unknown object wrapped in a black paper. As I shifted gears, my hand reached towards it. \"No!\" I said loudly. Not many things could distract my eyes from the road while I was driving, especially the stuff I delivered. I guess I never thought about it: the every day worries were what was keeping my curiosity down. This morning I had none. I still haven't seen a single person today; not even an animal for that matter. As the Sun's rays were slowly starting to fall on me after they've managed to break through gray clouds, I was starting to feel anxious. It was becoming so warm in my car. I opened my window and stepped on the gas pedal. Now I wanted to stop at the gas station, and so I did. I parked my car and headed to the store while breathing this cold morning air felt so good. The store was closed. \"How is this possible?\" I wondered. Why are they closed Monday morning? There was no one to give me an answer. I called my wife but she wasn't answering. Luckily there was a vending machine outside the store, on its other corner. I walked towards it and as I did, I realized the glass on it was broken. I had to drink some water and I grabbed the last bottle out of it. Now I knew something serious was going on and I started regretting being so unaware this morning. \n\n\"I'll have to wait for the explanation I guess\". I headed back to my car and got back on the road. I thought I could use the opportunity of no car being around and test how fast my car could go. I started to accelerate pressing the gas pedal almost to the floor. The city I was supposed to deliver the package to was about 50 km away from the gas station and I calculated that I could get there in around 20 minutes at current speed. The road was straight but I knew it from the previous time I drove on it and I started breaking because there was a sharp turning point ahead. I was now back to normal speed and I was getting close to the turning point. I saw two crashed cars but for some reason I didn't bother to stop and check what was going on as I didn't see anyone around nor in the cars. \nAbout 5km after the turn I was driving by the factories of the city I was supposed to deliver the package to. They didn't work either. \"Is it some sort of a holiday today that I don't know about?\" I was pretty certain it was not, but that doubt actually made my anxiousness go away for a moment. 10 minutes later I got into the town. \"What the hell!? How is it possible there's not a single living soul on the street?\" Now feeling slightly pissed I parked in front of my destination. It was a tall residential building. I was supposed to deliver this thing to the last floor. The enterance was for some reason not locked and I walked to the elevator which I shorlty after found out didn't work. Climbing the stairs took me 15 minutes as I had to stop every few floors because of my tiredness. I was bathed in sweat but I was there, in front of the door. I ringed the doorbell and - on my surprise - no one answered. I rang and rang but to no avail. I felt exhausted. I sat on the hallway floor next to the door and stared for a few minutes I don't even know where. \n\nI decided to open this damned package and see what's in it. The emotions got the better of me because I haven't done this before. I ripped the paper and there were two items in it. A what seemed to be a pass-ticket for some strange event with my name on it, a blank paper and a pen, and - a mirror. I took a look at it and I was shocked. My face was definitely not of a 28 years old. I looked like I had over hundred years and was about to die. I dropped the mirror on the floor and it shattered into many pieces. I thought I was hallucinating and decided to put the mirror parts back together so I could see my reflection again. No, I was not hallucinating. I felt panic. I tried to get up to see if any surname was written on the door - as it wasn't on the package, there was only the address - but there was nothing on the door, not even a peephole. I felt dizzy and weakened and sat back on the floor again.\n\nFull of wrinkles and pale as one can be, I started writing this. I feel I'm passing away, all of my energy is leaving me. My eyes are closing, my eye lids are heavier than they ever were and I am barely managing not to fall on the floor and pass out - I have this wish to write this testament for anyone who may stumble upon me and I have to stay awake. My efforts are futile, I can't withstand this anymore. I am writing my last sentences. I have got nothing more to say - I take a glance at what, actually how much I wrote and I am somewhat pleased, but not completely - is this the end? \nSuddenly, I hear the door behind me opening...\n" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1469187927", "1469205603" ]
	[WP] The Glib Reaper	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Two of them. Or maybe one with two faces. One a skull, stripped of all its earthly flesh. Cold white light shines in the eye sockets, its hands bones, and it moves through the night on a horse of Hellfire, wrapped in a robe of darkness and the souls of the damned. His name is reverence. \n\n\nThe other finds death immensely funny. Disrespectfully funny. He is round, and fat as an uncle. A good uncle, who sends real money in birthday cards and has a proper dog who plays fetch, not one that looks like a rat and curls up on people's laps. His face is ruddy, a ring that might have been a wedding band digs into his finger. Sparse hair covers his head and he wears a serge waistcoat, a pocket watch, and a Christmas Party hat. The smell of old pipe smoke and plum brandy hangs about him the same way the other Death smells like sorrow and lichyards. \n\n\nGlib Death was travelling, walking over clouds in soft red slippers. He laughed and birds stopped in the night sky to listen, bewildered. They had deserted the house to which Death came. He pushed up the sash window and slipped inside, clumsy as a donkey with four hind legs. Pulling the pocket watch from his waistcoat, Death observed the face. \n\n\n\"Oh dear,\" he muttered to himself. \"This won't do at all.\" \n\n\nHe climbed the stairs, huffing and puffing all the way. The door at the end of the hall stood cracked open, orange light glowing in the gap. Glib Death pushed it open and rocked on the threshold. \n\n\n\"Oh ho!\" he said. \"You're making this difficult for me.\" \n\n\nAcross the floor were scattered tin soldiers like caltrops. Wooden blocks and cannon formed the rough shape of holdfasts and forts. Glib Death took in the arrangement. \n\n\n\"Look at this,\" he said, impressed. \"That's Bannockburn down there. I remember that. Good day for collecting.\" \n\n\n\nGraceful as a ballerina, Death picked his way through the toys. The figure in the bed sat up and rubbed his eyes. He wore pyjamas with a train on, and the same train glowed as a nightlight beside him. \n\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked, voice filled with sleep. \n\n\n\n\"I'm your Uncle,\" Death replied. \"Would you like to see a coin trick?\" \n\n\nThe little thing nodded. He pulled the blankets up to his chest. \n\n\n\nFrom the pocket of the waistcoat, Death retrieved an old thrupenny bit. He tossed it in the air and caught it, but when he opened his palms, the coin had gone. \n\n\n\n\"How'd you do that?\" asked the thing. \n\n\n\n\"I can show you, if you like,\" Glib Death offered. \"But you'd have to come with me.\" Surreptitiously, he checked the pocket watch. Almost out of time. \n\n\n\nBut the little thing nodded. He held his hand out to Glib Death, who took it in his own, large paw. \n\n\n\n\"Can I tell mummy and daddy where I'm going?\" he asked. \"They might worry.\" \n\n\n\n\"How about we tell them when you're there?\" Death replied. He swung the thing up and set him on his shoulders. \"Hold on tight!\" The little thing's legs kicked against his chest in glee. \n\n\n\nFor the little one, he was the funny Death, the disrespectful Death. He placed his foot out of the window and stepped into the clouds.", "\"Hey beautiful, how are you? Ready to take a walk on the dark side? Quite literally, I'm afraid, the afterlife is bleak, girl,\" the tall, shadowy figure told Alison as she lay dying.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" the woman croaked, her sunken eyes wide as she stared at the robed man.\n\nHe suddenly dragged back his hood. His skin looked stretched and taut over sharp bones. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a slick grin.\n\n\"Time to kick the bucket! I don't have time to be delicate, I'm afraid. And let's face it Alison, fourth stage skin cancer is no barrel of laughs. It'll be much nicer where we're going, I'm sure.\"\n\n\"Where are we going?\" she asked, dazed. Maybe she was dreaming.\n\n\"Okay, I was lying. Can't blame a guy for trying to make you feel good. Why do you all have to ruin it?\" he demanded. She continued mutely staring at him.\n\n\"How should I know?\" he sighed, waving his scythe through the air for emphasis. \"I just take everyone to the Grand Doors of infinity. Or nothingness. I actually have no idea what's on the other side. Maybe we should call Adele to ask, eh?\"\n\nAlison's mouth dropped open and a strangled croaking noise escaped her at the joke.\n\nBefore she could ask any more questions, the Reaper slashed the scythe in her general direction, sniggering a bit at his own joke as he did so. A thin wail escaped her. Suddenly, a ghostly girl appeared next to the bed, staring at her mangled body in horror.\n\n\"Damn it! Not again!\" the Glib Reaper cursed, burying his face in his free hand. \n\nHe sucked at Reaping, really. In his long career, he'd made a million times more ghosts than his brother, who had such perfect aim. The guy never laughed, that's why...always so damn serious...\n\n\"What have you done, Glib?\" a dour, deep voice hissed in his ear. \n\n\"Hiya, Grimmy!\" Glib grinned at his brother, trying not to flinch. Why did the guy always sense when he'd screwed up? Downright creepy, it was. \"How's tricks?\"\n\nGrim scooped up the fragmented soul and stuffed it in a spare pocket, keeping a baleful eye on Glib. \n\n\"I'll put her together again,\" he growled as Glib drifted sheepishly to the body to scrape up the remains and help with the process. \"You've done enough damage. Go away, Glib.\"\n\nHe couldn't resist one last snipe - there was always time for a little gallows humour. \"Be careful with her skin, it's delicate!\"\n\nHe disappeared before Grim stabbed him with his own scythe. Maybe he should go find Gin. His youngest brother was so much more fun.\n\n___\n\nYou can find more of my work on my new sub, /r/Inkfinger/" ]	[ 1, 1, 3 ]	[ "1469203996", "1469205903", "1469205699" ]
	[WP] You become a millionaire, but rather than doing anything spectacular with the money, you just travel from town to town trying not to settle down or be noticed. But a group of men have been following you and are not happy about your current lifestyle.	26	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I sipped on my Bourbon. I felt the sweet heat of the drink hit my chest. I looked over at the TV, some news story about the 2016 race was on. I laid down on the Motel bed, I was free... Well almost. \n\nI got up to peek through the shades again, and again nothing out of the ordinary. I walked back to my bed. Some would say this is not worth it, I on the other hand have never been so free.\n\nIt had been 6 months since I had packed up and left. New York never really was my cup of tea, plus those Corporate big wigs had it coming anyway. I walked over to the window again, but this time something was off, it didn't quite feel right...\n\nKnock Knock\n\nSHIT. I went to grab my gun.\n\n\"Mr Herman. We have the building surrounded Mr Herman.\" \n\nYeah fuck that, I stayed silent as a gathered my go bag. And checked my ammo, if I played my cards right I just might be able to make it to my car.\n\n\"This is the IRS Herman, you can't win.\" \n\nBullshit. The IRS doesn't tax stolen money they return it... Or would they, idk either way I wasn't going to risk it, either I was about to be dragged off to some corporate warehouse until I let them know where the money was, where I would be properly disposed of, or if this was the IRS they would just take their cut and hand me over to the Corporate machine. I'd seen this before, and there was only one way out.\n\nI one last time looked out the window, just a half empty parking lot with a suspicious black van. No cops. They were certainly not IRS, the IRS would have local authorities assisting them.\n\nBAM They were trying to knock down the door. BAM I heard a crack with that one, one more and the door would go. I held the gun in one hand as I stated to rush for the door. BAM the door came down.", "Motels that didn't take names, just a deposit, were the best. I kicked off my boots, lay back on a rug on springs, and closed my eyes. A couple were arguing next door, something about money. The local news oozed through from somewhere, a big story from a couple of towns over. Cars flew past just beyond the window, somehow louder than if I were lying on the road.\n\nBut, it was relaxing. No one hounding me, no ducking into stores or running down alleyways.\n\nAll I wanted was to live a nice, quiet, frugal life. Was that really too much to ask for? What's the point of becoming a millionaire if you have to keep working? I might as well have stuck with my old job down at the pizza joint.\n\nAt some point the ruckus blended into white noise, and the sweet embrace of sleep took my heavy thoughts away.\n\nHours later, when dusk had settled and half the streetlights flickered on, I awoke. Nothing in particular caused it, though the symphony of the slums carried on. I'd gotten used to that; some old, animal part of my brain knew when the predators prowled.\n\nI put on my boots. Really good ones, so comfy, great for walking. When you had a little extra cash, nice things came quick, one of my favourite benefits. Never had to wait long for a new suit, or anything else.\n\nThe hallway acted like an echo chamber, channelling the various sounds of the rooms into a swamp of noise I had to wade through. Screams and moans and chatter and television and radio, and a little roughhousing too.\n\nOut in the lobby, I passed a couple of guys in nice clothes. Nicer than you normally got in these motels. Well, whatever floats their boat, to each their own, all that. None of my business.\n\nThey chatted to the receptionist about the job a couple of towns over. Apparently, it was done by a man in his late twenties, average height, brown hair.\n\nShe laughed, wishing the police luck in finding the right one if that's all they had to go on. They chuckled back, and asked if she had any one who could have been the bank robber. She rolled her eyes, and then caught me watching.\n\nBefore she could reply, I walked out, round the corner, and ran." ]	[ 1, 2, 4 ]	[ "1469270434", "1469291010", "1469287036" ]
Change the location and the attackers if you want.	[WP] Armed with only a quarterstaff, you defend your home from a horde of goblins.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Damned antimagic fields.\n\nSomehow, my enemies had tricked me. Me! Archmage Aeryndil, High Wizard of the Council of Seven, Master Abjurer, Ultimate Magus, Champion of the Arcane. I would eat my well-enchanted hat if there wasn't some sort of betrayal or trickery going on that led to this. But that was besides the point, now. They had me trapped, and though one of my Simulacrums could probably break me out, they were mere shadows of my full power - if these fiends managed to trap me, they certainly could best my weaker copies.\n\nCursing, I faced my opponents. A horde of goblins, bearing crude, rusted weapons and makeshift hides for armor, stomped towards me, only a few dozen feet away. I hefted my staff, a priceless artifact, reduced to a quarterstaff with fancy gems in this gods-forsaken antimagic field, and considered my options. True, I could probably take on quite a few of the horde. Centuries of experience meant I was at least somewhat skilled at essentially every craft under the sun, including hand-to-hand combat. But there were too many enemies - hundreds, perhaps thousands. Some would get lucky and slip past my fine mithril chain. Eventually, without any way to heal or cast a spell, I would fall.\n \nHowever, I would not let my illustrious life end in such an inelegant way. Even as my death approached, my mind raced as I broke down my observations. There was no way these goblins were behind such a well-planned trap - so why were they here? Looking deep into the eyes of the first in line, even as he closed the gap from thirty feet to twenty, I twitched my left hand. Watched his reactions. A tinge of fear. Slightly bloodshot, baggy eyes. A snarl, not out of battle rage, but out of some other anger... At what? Traces of tears - could be from exposure, could be... Ah. They don't want this any more than I do.\n\nActing quickly before the horde's momentum carried them into me, I dropped my staff and raised my arms wide. I shouted in Goblin, searching for words in their violent, utilitarian language to convey a desire for peace, of misunderstanding that did not deserve bloodshed. This, too, was a skill I had learned many years ago on a whim, but I was glad I had mastered it in the end. My voice carried the force of my will, rippling through the air, halting the goblins as they stumbled and slid, trying to stop and hear my glorious words, dropping to the ground in tears.\n\nIn an instant, the roar of battle became nothing but a pure silence. I walked before the horde, picking up my staff as I passed and smiled faintly, until I reached the edge of the antimagic field. \"Well, that was interesting. Goodbye.\"\n\nThe instant the magic surged back into my fingertips, I was gone. As were the goblins, the antimagic field around them, and the sanctums of my enemies. I wouldn't give them another chance.\n\nIt's good being an evil overlord." ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1469278582", "1469289611" ]
	[WP] Your field of work is giving extraterrestrials human-like experiences in order for them to better understand our way of life. Your bestselling experience is something the otherworldly beings have never faced; the very human occurrence of death.	5	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Welcome to the hyper realistic human death experience! Ok, so we'll use the usual Miller's consciousness transfer protocol to put you into a healthy human body now. As my colleagues explained to you in training, the human cognitive organ has fairly limited processing power, so you won't feel top notch intellectually, but the human death experience is mostly physical and emotional anyway. After you experience this body's clinical end of life, you'll be transfered back here on station, still in your human body for post processing. You have enough credits for 12 minutes down on the planet. I see you've chosen to be beamed down to one of their busiest city centers so you should have no trouble finding a fun way to go. Are you ready? Any questions?\n\nAs usual the client barely listened to my intro, and just poked at the liveless human body in suspension on the room, ready for the Miller's protocol and transport to the planet surface\n\nOK please trigger the upload sequence 44K-0 when ready.\n\nclick click\n\nI gave it a brief look on the telemetry channel. Just like that, this client was now in downtown Shanghai, trying his best to get a high kinetic energy impact with a motor vehicle. Hilarious.\n\nAnother client just got into the post experience wait queue, let's get him out.\n\nHolly balls that was incredible! I was told this planet makes for a very high terminal velocity, but geez - I did not see the ground coming at all!\n\nSkydiving accident, uh? A typical choice, But not a bad one.\n\nStill giggling he continued: Hey I can't seem to find my backup on the server, can you check the connection to the interplanetary network?\n\nIn my most serious time I replied: Sir, you selected the hyper realistic human death experience. Your consciousness backups have been deleted.\n\nWait you mean I can't Miller back into the body I came here in?\n\nNo I mean you can't Miller into any body now.\n\n.... Ahah. This is this some kind of joke, right?\n\n...\n\nclick click.\n\nYeah, ahah. There you go. The gift shop is outside on your left." ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1469345609", "1469389016" ]
	[WP]The world wakes up to find everyone speaks English fluently. The thing is; "foreigners" speak with all the idioms, phrasing and context of their original language...	13	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"Two cappuccini, for courtesy.\"\n\nSofia rolled her eyes as she turned to the coffee machine.\n'Bloody Italians...' she thought to herself, as she stared into the depths of swirling milk, bubbling into a creamy froth in her expert hands.\n'Why don't they just go to the Starbucks down the street? They'd fit right in with the hipsters and their \"ventis\", whatev-'\n\n\"What cock are you saying!?\"\n\nThe woman's exclamation to her partner interrupted Sofia's thoughts, bringing her back to the present just in time to stop the boiling milk before it overflowed. She turned with their coffees, stifling a giggle. 'At least sometimes their mannerisms are as funny as they are pompous.'\n\n\"Thanks one thousand!\" said the man, flashing Sofia a smile, but her gaze had lingered on the woman beside him, who stood, emanating beauty, her fine olive skin unbrushed with makeup and her perfect hair thrown across one shoulder- There was fire in her eyes.\n\n\"Seriously, what cock are you saying?\" she continued, as her boyfriend carried their coffees to the table \"Your mother lives in the whales arse, we are not going to her house at the weekend!\"\n\n\"Come onnnn, don't break my chestnuts, we can't throw the package now! And personally I don't see the hour to see my dog again!\"\n\nSofia couldn't help but eavesdrop, but she had no idea what they were talking about. She knew all the words, but couldn't make sense of what they meant.\n\n\"Well, I don't have intention of coming. I feel as welcome as a dog in church at her house.\"\n\n\"We already said we would go! You wanted the bike, so now ride it!\"\n\n\"But go and shit Giovanni! That's not even a cock true. I never wanted to go! I just didn't want to be rude to that button-closer in front of her!\"\n\n\"She wrote to me this morning;'We'll see each other soon!'\"\n\n\"Well those are your cocks.\"\n\n\"Come on Chiara, don't spit in the plate you eat from. There'll be others, we'll enjoy ourselves.\"\n\n\"There'll be four cats. Go alone. I've already got my balls full.\" And with that, the striking young woman took her bag, and left. The man threw some coins on the table, flashed a knowing grin at the bargirl, and jogged out of the cafè in hasty pursuit.\n\nSofia wandered over and began clearing the table. 'No tip??? Send eggs!!'" ]	[ 1, 4 ]	[ "1469373042", "1469387365" ]
	[WP] You have a creative mind. and love creating stories. Whatever you plan or think, can never come true.	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I've seen the rolling green hills of Earth, I've seen the blue gradient of the ocean as it slowly turns to orange, with black outlines of birds flying across it. I've seen the Knights that's saved the princess, and I've seen the Princess that saves the knight. I've seen dragons, I've seen woods that come to life and move. I've seen tall men, short men, weird men, and the same for women. I've seen it all. I have seen the space stations, cruising along without a hitch, destined to push the frontiers of our civilization. I've seen the murders that happened last night while you were sleeping, I've seen the smile of a young girl and of a young boy, and I've seen airplanes. \n\nBut, to share it with? Why I only have my ten digits on my hands, and my feet. The left toe is named Ederd, I'm not sure why, but he likes to tell me often that his name is Ederd. My right ear likes to flutter wildly, bringing me back to reality. Then my left ear whispers to me \"You'll never leave, you know this\". And I stare at my white walls, white flooring and white ceiling. And so it begins again. " ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1469376728", "1469377357" ]
Edit: You guys are freaking great.	[WP] Countdown clocks give the date of death of the owner. It is discovered that everyone's clocks cut off before or on August 26th, 2025. Yours cuts off on the 27th.	188	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"You sure about this bruv? Like, a whole extra day all to yourself man, that's a big deal.\" \"Yea I'm sure Dan, fuck 'em and their ultimatum, I'm going out on my own terms, with my best mate. You got the lighter? Aight. Love you man. Now let's make some fireworks\". ", "Two days... That is how long it has been since the incident. \n\nFor the longest time... people wondered why everyone's clock cuts off on or around August 26, 2025. I listened to the theories, laughing, thinking that all of this would turn out to be a sham, or that the system was somehow flawed. I mean... mine was August 27! \n\nSo, I listened. Doomsday, they said. Aliens, they said. Famine, economic collapse, just about everything you could think off. And to the majority of us... it was all a joke. \n\nAugust 24, 2025. The day that North Korea tried to nuke everything and everyone around it. They day we all thought would never happen, being something that was as ludicrous as a fairy tale. I remember watching all of this on my TV. First it was South Korea, then Russia, Europe, Japan... Any other major superpower on the planet. \n\nI went to sleep that night, sitting alone on the cold concrete floor of my basement, praying that the United States wouldn't be next. \n\nI don't know when the blast hit, but I remember waking up underneath all the rubble. Dust covered me, broken wood laid on top of me, stone crushed me, metal poked at me. I was cut and bruised, with some bones broken. Even so... I guess it was just basic human instinct for me to try to survive. So I dug upwards, screaming and pulling at the pieces to free myself. \n\nUpon coming up, I witnessed the result of this war. Complete annihilation. My once green and lively neighborhood was nothing more than a desert wasteland. Buildings which were once colorful and vibrant were nothing more than heaps of junk. \n\nOn my watch, it said: August 26, 2025. \n\nI searched. I walked for miles, slowly feeling the nuclear fallout get to me. Not a single living soul remained. The only bodies I found were corpses. The only one who could talk to me was myself. \n\nAnd I used to think it was a joke! And I laughed when my clock was the only one that said the twenty-seventh! Yet, the sight before my eyes confirmed all of this to be true. Everyone... everyone... was dead. \n\nI know not how I made it, and everybody else died. I don't know if it was sheer luck, fate, or perhaps some divine punishment due to my past sins. I am the last man on Earth. That is the only thing I truly know. \n\nToday, is August 27, 2025. I write this so that one day... if something ever comes to this planet... or if humans ever return... that they can learn what happened that fateful day. Perhaps that is my reason for living through it. \n\nThere is no more food or water, so I will be ending my lonely existence with a gunshot wound to the head. At least, that way I die before the fallout or hunger or thirst get to me. At least I die on my own terms. \n\nPlease learn from our mistakes. Don't continue down our path of destruction. Goodbye. ", "Of course it was me to go last.\n\nMy biggest connection is that to society, the people I love and care for.\n\nMy wife, my children, my parents.\n\nWhen the date came out, my job at NASA officially ended.\n\nEverybody just sort of... gave up? I mean, no work happened. People even covered the countdown timer just to not be reminded.\n\nWhen they announced a plan to use a black hole to slingshot around, I was first in line, mostly because of my experience, and by that, I mean 20 years of pushing a mop.\n\nTurns out, black holes make time run slower. Currently stuck in limbo for.... 27 days? The ship says that they've already died on earth, but the math is a bit.. wonky.\n\nSee you on the other side I guess.", "After having barely survived the past 24 hours, the last thought that went through my head as my beleaguered vessel, barely afloat and fast sinking, crept westward through the raging storms across longitude 180 east at midnight was, \"Well, that explains that.\"", "#WIP: saving for the night, can't figure where to go after here. CC welcome.#\n\nTerry teased the morning's coffee out of his favorite mug, reclined even further into his Laz-E-Boy, and let himself be consumed into the living room much the way an unfortunately curious spider learns of Venus Fly Traps. Terry had never been much of a gardener, though he once babysat an ornamental pepper plant for 6 months while his aunt moved across state. Truth be told, in wasn't strictly speaking an ornamental plant, but Terry did teach the plant to shrivel and hide. Maybe he taught it, or perhaps that pepper plant knew something about Terry the rest of Earth hadn't clued into yet. Who knows? These were the kinds of questions Terry concerned himself with this particular morning.\n\nAcross from Terry the front door was pregnant with two week's mail. He felt moved to opine on this matter from somewhere within the confines of his devinely overplush throne. \"Fuckin' bills anymore these days... probly got a letter sayin' I got a shot at a million bucks - and I don't even have a huntin' license. hehe.\" Unfortunately, Terry was not a funny man.\n\nHis gaze traveled from the mail into his lap. Musing to no one in particular \"It's funny, y'know, what'ya learn 'bout yourself in the strangest moments... I must drink out of my left hand all the time?\" World's ... ... the chintsy punchline hadn't survived three decades of Robinson family breakfasts, which were never complete without a cup of coffee - to the left of the plate, of course. The gleaming print had worn clean off the ocean blue ceramic years ago, leaving bare a metal born canyon scratched out by a wedding ring, most likely. In fact, it was passed along to Terry from his father, so two rings had the privilege to burrow into the lovely blue ceramic. Well, one ring - worn by different Robinsons at different times.\n\nMany other things were borrowed in Terry's life. The house was an archive of fashions that even the past had passed. His lime green tabasco sofa? Found wet on the street after a rainstorm. That sexy leg reading lamp? Bought at an estate sale for a bag of loose change. The carpet err... carpets? Terry stalked the neighborhood remodels for scraps. Ten years is a long while to try to cheat laying down new carpet, but the rainbow patchwork brings a sort of diversity to flooring that the bleached white of suburbia, USA can't hope to compete with. The list continues; his favorite book, the neighbor's grill, cable, AA-AC of Encyclopaedia Britanicca. \"The things people throw away!\" is the refrain. Oh, and one other thing Terry borrows: his time, literally.\n", "Fuckin' Mondays right? Of course the day everyones clock ends is on a monday. \n\nBut I had my plans set for the day. I was already pretty alone. My parents clocks hit zero a few years ago and my sisters was cut off last year. The clocks actually are beneficial in a way. They let you prepare for whats going to happen. its always hard saying goodbye, but being emotionally prepared always helps. But, today would be the most difficult goodbye I would have since my sister. I had to say goodbye to the only person I don't think I would ever be prepared to say goodbye to. Vanessa. Even when we broke up I couldn't really say goodbye to her. We stayed good friends. Which was difficult in itself since I still had feelings for her, which, admitingly, remained much stronger then they should have. Of course she didn't know that they did so we hung out anyway every now and then. knowing that she started falling for some one else was heart breaking also but I dealt with it knowing that as long as shes happy. thats all I ever really cared about. Even if I wasnt the one really making her happy, knowing that she was got me through the day.\n\nThe day dragged on slowly, no one worked because of the clocks. Everyone was at home or out enjoying their last day with the loved ones they still had left. I cleaned my room, took a shower, and waited for Vanessa to call me. She was with her boyfriend then her family and was going to stop by for about an hour when there was about 4 hours left on the clocks. We werent really planning on seeing each other but I had to tell her something.\n\nMost people had their clocks counting down for 8:15 On monday night, But mine was for 12 AM on tuesday the 27th. I never told anyone. I dont really know why. Noone ever wanted to show anyone else their clock. it was kind of everyones little secret even though the majority of them knew the real last day. But I wanted to tell her. Something inside of me just needed to let her know. And also I was just looking to find an excuse to see her on her last day. \n\nShe was late, like always but I didnt mind. I ran to the door when I saw her step out of her car. Opened it before she could even knock. I didnt have anything planned because I was just too concerned with seeing her to think about anything else. When she was inside she went straight to my room and sat on the bed. Her eyes were red and puffy. I feel like alot of people were going through the same today. So we talked. And talked. And talked. I missed her so much already, I couldnt even imagine how it would be when she was really gone. \n\nWhen I told her about my clock she didnt say much. She was worried about how I would be completely alone in the world for 4 hours before my time.\n\n\"I'll be fine knowing that I got to see you on my last day\"\n\nI always flirted with her. And she knew it but ignored it most of the time. Made her smile though. Which made it so worth it. \n\nThe time flew by. There was an hour left and she wanted to be with her family when the time came. She prayed for me and she left. I watched her drive away from my house. I haven't cried that hard, ever. I told her I loved her as she left. She replied the same way she has since we broke up. \n\n\"I know you do, Mike\" \n\nand then that smile. \n\nI thought about it until the time came. \nIt was 8:30 now. Everyone was gone by now. She was gone. And I could feel how empty the world was. All those people gone and all I could think about was her. I decided to go see her house. I needed to see her one last time before it was my turn to go. \n\nI made my bed.\nFolded my clothes.\nClosed the curtains.\nLocked the doors. \n\nI wasn't planning on coming back. \n\nShe lived about 20 mins away so I had to drive. The longest drive I've ever made. \n\nI was about a block away from her house when I had to stop driving. I saw her car in the driveway of her house. On. With the reverse lights on ready to go. I've never felt my little toyota Camry accelerate so fast. I jumped out of my car to see who was in her car. I ran to the door and looked in the window. \n\nThere she was. \n\nSitting there. \n\nCrying her eyes out. I opened the door and wrapped in my arms as tightly as I could. As I was holding her I opened my eyes and looked at her passenger seat. Her clock was there and it matched mine. I couldnt speak. \n\nI didnt know what to think. \n\nWe were the last two people on earth. I didnt know what to think. Or what to say. \n\nShe told me she was going to see me but she was too distraught thinking about her parents to drive anywhere. She had no idea why her clock had changed. But it had happened while she was with me because it was different when she got back home. \n\nShe stepped out of the car and I had to hug her again. I didnt want to let her go. \nHer radio was playing. Elvis Radio on the cars pandora. \n\nMy favorite station. \n\nI hugged her tighter. It was 11:58. We hadnt spoken in about 10 minutes. \n\nShall I stay...\n\nI looked at her. \n\nwould it be a sin...\n\nI wiped her tears and brushed her hair back.\n\nIf I can't help...\n\nI love this girl.\n\nFalling in Love...\n\nBut she was already gone.\n\nwith, you...", "Captain Flint ran a thumb over the small photograph again. His four year old daughter's face beamed from the crinkled glossy paper. He had taken the assignment rather reluctantly; it was a solo trip to collect some data, replenish supplies, and facilitate information exchanges. It was a two year trip, one he had hoped would pass quickly, but the countdown clocks had shifted worldwide when he was only 20 months through his trip. The collective jump of lifespan clocks back to August 26th, 2025 was actually kept from him for a several weeks. He had no face-to-face interactions with anyone, his business was all done electronically, and the only indication that something was amiss was his own clock and the sudden lack of correspondence from several of his exchange clients. \n\nThe day his clock spiraled backwards, he was reorganizing a food supply cabinet. The numbers that glowed translucently through the skin on his wrist began to rapidly wind backwards from January 12th, 2052 until it stopped. Unlike the rest of the world, however, his clock stopped on August 27th, 2025. When he was told by his superior commander, Booth, that they would be discontinuing his operations, he was distraught. Captain Flint had been trying to eek the truth out of him for several weeks, pleading for knowledge about his wife and child, begging to know why he wouldn't make it home if all apparent systems were running smoothly and efficiently. Booth had sighed, \"Flint, it's not just your clock.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, sir?\"\n\n\"It's all clocks. Everyone is going to be dead on August 26th. And we can't get you back in time.\" The video comms were crackling with static in the brief silence that followed. He had never imagined this was how it would be.\n\n\"But, sir, mine says-\"\n\n\"August 27th, yes. I think you understand why.\"\n\nFlint replayed the conversation in his head daily. It was the last transmission between his space station and Earth. The photograph of his daughter, Lena, was the last he would see or hear from her, Anna had taken her up to his in-laws to wait it out. They were unable to speak, to send any messages, to simply bask in the absurd turn of fate that would keep them apart before a lonely death. His commanding officer had said he would relay Flint's farewell's to her, but somehow Flint knew it was inappropriate to ask and unlikely to happen. He was sure Booth had his own affairs to attend to. Still, he wished for even just a \"Hello, dear\" or \"See you still haven't shaved\" from his wife, who would likely have some deride comment to make about the whole thing. He couldn't force himself to have a laugh at his own expense without her.\n\nHe closed his eyes, picture in hand, and imagined his daughter swinging on the tire in the backyard. He imagined his wife tending to the garden and smudging his face with dirt for not helping. Lena laughed and fled the swing, somehow got hold of the water hose, and chased them both until they were all three of them muddy and exhausted. \n\nThat had been three days before he left. The space station felt suddenly cramped when he opened his eyes. In comparison to his sunny back yard, the cold steel and regulated air in the space station was suffocating. \n\nOn August 25th, a meteor struck the Earth, cracking and splintering it. When it happened, Flint's station was knocked out of Earth's gravitational pull, sirens and alarms whirring and screaming his impending doom. The initial blast knocked him out, and he woke several hours later covered in bruises and scrapes. He spent his last hours rocketing through space, wishing for a faster death, rather than a slow tumble through the black. Eventually, the alarms stopped blaring and the station lost power. Backup generators came on, but he managed to turn them off despite the ship's endless and slow twisting and turning. Eventually he settled into a rather still pocket and watched the ship spin rhythmically around him. The control panel was dark, and occasionally through the window he could see bits of stars or planets in the distance. The oxygen levels were lowering quickly, and he began to feel delirious as the ship spun like an enchanted snow globe. Darkness settled around his vision. He closed his eyes and thought of a tire swing in the sun.\n\n", "They made me go on the evening news when it was discovered. They made me sit in stifling lights in face-powder and ponder on the fate of the World. How I thought it was going to happen. Even though I'm a car mechanic, for Christ's sake.\n\nAn asteroid, I said the first time. An asteroid crashes into Earth while I'm on one of my holidays, and I just happen to be on a far flung part of the planet and I am the last to go. \n\nIllness, I said the second time. I've always been pretty hardy. I had bird flu once, and swine flu. I'll just cling onto my fever one day more than everyone else.\n\nI don't know, I said the third time. I had become bored of being hauled in front of cameras by then.\n\nAnd I don't know. But I'm sat here on my porch, watching my children playing under the apple tree in the dying light of Autumn, and it's niggling on my mind again. I am a good man. I say thank you when I take my paper from the man outside the station in the morning, I look him in the eye. I stood up to a racist on the bus once. I tell shopkeepers they can keep the change. But if you were told that you were going to outlive everyone, wouldn't you think that maybe, just maybe... you kill them all?", "\"Follow me through\"\n\nHere we go again. I'm going to receive the same set of questions I normally do when somebody finds out that my cut-off date is always after theirs, as if I know the fucking answer. \n\nI proceed through a ceramic stone doorway into a long, empty and eerie hall. \n\n\"The door to your left, he'll be waiting. You might want to tuck your shirt in too..\"\n\n She leaves promptly, not allowing me to ask any questions. I hear her murmur something about the afterlife. \n\nFuck her, like she can dictate how I live my life, especially in circumstances like these. \n\nI keep my shirt untucked. \n\nThere's two doors on the left side, one slightly ajar and the other fully closed. Normally if the world wasn't going to shit I'd be a bit more careful but in this case the worst outcome is walking into a secret government gang-bang. \n\nAs I walk into one of the room I see a large collection of books, along the walls, each with dates on them, ranging in various sizes and spanning throughout the room. I also see a sign plastered on the centrepiece \n\n\"Sleep, in the morning all will be clear.\"\nI have nothing else better to do, tomorrow is my cut off day and I don't know why I'm being told to sleep. The plan was to meet \"somebody\" who wanted to talk to me about my cut off date, but how can I when I'm the last person alive? \n\nI sleep. \n\nWaking up, it's quiet, yet still lively. I can hear the birds and the wind, just like a normal day. Except this day will be anything but normal. \n\nI notice that the books abruptly stop and I pick the last one up, I see my name printed on the front. \n\nI don't want to open it.\n\nI put it back and leave it there, wondering when I'll be speaking to someone, maybe someone who has the same day as me. \n\nI collapse, heart pounding, eyes swelling and lungs heaving. \n\n\"Morherfuckers\" I whisper under my breath. \n\n\"Hello, it's nice to see you.\" \n\nI open my eyes to be greeted by a white man in a robe standing before me. I try to get up but to no avail. \n\n\"God?\"\n\n\"Hah, I wish, just his servant. I analyse if people can do what their told and think clearly before letting them into heaven.\"\n\nI'm about to reply when he walks over to me and tugs on \nmy shirt. \"Why didn't you tuck your shirt in?\" He asks me. \n\nI can't say that she's a bitch so I leave it and just stare at him. \n\n\"Selfish, you turned the other way when someone was looking out for you.\" \n\nHis wings elegantly fly outward, and he counts all numbers from 1-26, mentioning that these are pure numbers and are the amount of feathers on an Angels wings. \n\nHe counts up to 27 and says \"If you want that explanation, Satan will send a disciple of his to take you soon\".\n\n\n\n\n", "The world was going to end on August 26th, 2025. Thanks to the death clocks, this had been known for years. Everyone got tested. Everyone had their clock. The world was going to end and that was that. One day, I had noticed something strange. I had one more day than everyone else. I was going to spend my last day alive alone on this planet. That's what I had 9 years to reconcile, but it was also the worst kept secret on the planet. \n\nPeople made plans to stay with me. Everyone else wanted one more day. Everyone. The attention was frustrating. Celebrities and politicians contacted me. I became estranged from family and friends as others with power and money wanted one more day. It didn't bother them that humanity was dead. It was just their strive for survival, but I turned everyone down, all of the offers. \n\nIt didn't end there though. A group of people started to follow me. I was the chosen one or the survivor or the last great hope for humanity. As the years passed, the followers stopped following, and I became a hermit. I lived in the wilderness and found a cave. That's how I coped with this supposedly fantastic news. \n\nAs the day approached, it was clear an asteroid was going to hit Earth. Scientists found it with four years to spare. The world mounted a defense, but every effort to stop it failed. The impact date was August 27th, 2025, my day and not everyone else's and that was the problem. All hope was lost, there was nothing left for the world to lose. Why not kill all your of your enemies? As I hid in a cave, bombs flew. I lived through it apparently the lone survivor, but I doubt anyone was jealous of my day spent crying in a cave waiting for an asteroid to hit. \n\nI had eschewed technology long ago, except for the death clock. Followers had abandoned me as had the rich and powerful hoping for one more day. As the asteroid approached, I watched it in the sky. I remember reading about the death clocks. That's what I thought about as death approached, and I watched it countdown to 0, an article about the death clocks. They were incredibly accurate to 0.00001%. It made me wonder though if they determined destiny rather than predicting it. If we made our fate to match the predetermined outcome. And, I watched the asteroid pass close to the Earth. It disappeared. I did not see the impact, but I waited. And I waited for something that never came. \n\nThen, I looked at my watch. I remembered something unusual about it. It only counted down for 1000 years, ten lifetimes to most people. As it switched to August 28th, I saw 00yr 00mt 00ds 00hr 00sc turn over to 999yr 11mt 30ds 23hr 59sc. At first, I was destroyed. I knew there was pain to come, but there was also a world to rebuild which meant there was hope. Then, I smiled a weak little smile. That fact alone made today already better than yesterday. \n\n*\n\nIf you like this, I've started to write a Batman/Superman story set 30+ years in the future: [Part I](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/4phzj3/batman_superman_and_the_aliens_part_i_the_superman/)", "&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When every child is born, they're given a MorteMuetes Inc. Death Detector chip, which is injected into the nape of the neck and uses nanites to merge with the baby's nervous system, and using a predictive algorithm, projects their date of death. It updates itself daily, taking into account current health, genetic pre-dispositions, even geographic crime rates. There is a margin for error, of course, as random chance can always affect when someone dies, but the closer to the date of death you are, the more accurate it is. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;People have even been using them as indicators of when they were really ill. If someone's counter suddenly dropped from 60 years to 2 months, they would go to the doctor to find out what exactly was wrong with them, and how they could fix it. That is another benefit of the chips; death from preventable diseases has disappeared almost entirely. Doctors could interact with the chips to get an accurate diagnosis of their patients, and get immediate feedback on the effectiveness of treatment. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I was one of MorteMuerte Inc.'s technicians, and today I was dealing with a major glitch in the system. Everyone's chip was locked into a date of death of August 26th, 2025, except mine, which was on the 27th The issue was the current date was April 7th, 2192, and back in 2025, the DD chips hadn't even been invented yet. They were invented 2041, and the current error was unprecedented. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I was at my wit's end, too. I had no idea what was causing the error. All the feedback data I got indicated that the chips were all functioning properly, yet somehow, all reached the same conclusion; people who were alive today were supposed to die before they were born. There weren't quite riots in the streets but people were nervous. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At this point I decided to talk with the guys at the TachyonTech subdivision, to see if they have any ideas what was causing this error. One of the scientists went really pale, made a call to another part of the facility, and practically shouted into the phone, saying \"Shut it down now!\" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After that, my death date changed to July 7th, 2253. I was quickly ushered out of the lab and admonished to keep my mouth shut about the cause of the glitch. I considered reporting the truth, but then my death date changed to April 7th, 2192, and decided to make something up.\n\nAs always, constructive critiques are welcome. Also, I wanted to subvert the intended apocalypse.", "The president received the Spreadsheet in an email. To her personal email, not the official one that nobody actually checks. Untraceable, and they tried their best to trace it.\n\nNobody seemed interested in the Spreadsheet itself, not at first, not except the president. She didn't tell anyone at the time, but she was curious and kept an eye on it. A guilty pleasure, she called it in an interview. It was nothing but a list of names and dates, seemingly arbitrary. \n\nIt was a monstrously long file, and she was really rather busy, so it took weeks before she came across the name of a man she knew. The date next to it was within the next few weeks. She thought little of it, frowned, and moved on.\n\nThat day, he died.\n\nOnce was coincidence, but ten times was certainty, as she deduced the next day. From there, her next course of action was obvious, if only born of morbid curiosity. She searched her own name, and there it was.\n\nAugust 26th, 2025.\n\nThe CIA took over from there. Parsing the Spreadsheet on their machines was quite a bit faster, and within days they had the information. A smattering of dates between then and 2025, distributed more or less uniformly with some amount of concentration on September 11, 2021. But it all changed on August 21st, 2025. Not thousands or even millions, but billions of names were clustered over that day and the next five.\n\nBy now, you might be wondering what this story has to do with me.\n\nThey thought it was an error in their calculations at first. As far as they could tell, every single human on Earth was listed on the Spreadsheet, and nearly every last one of them not scheduled to die beforehand would die between August 21st and 26th. All but one. One name was scheduled for a day later, on the 27th. Mine.\n\nI was sitting in my room working on some homework when the CIA found me. My door flew open, my carpet was tossed aside, and my head was thrown under a bag, and that was the last time I ever saw bright light.\n\nI awoke chained up in a dark room. Literal chains around my arms and legs and a pitch-black room with metal walls. They came in and interrogated me, did things with knives and buckets of water and a branding iron, but all it got them was a screaming kid in a bunker. At least they cleaned up the blood before they left.\n\nMaybe the president took pity on me, or maybe someone asked her to do it, but she came to visit some days later, explained everything. They thought I was somehow responsible for the Incident, as they were calling it, and they couldn't take any chances. They would keep me here until August 27th, 2025, and if all went well, they would offer me an apology and enough money to make me rich, and maybe my own island. \n\nI asked if I could go home instead, and she left.\n\nThey let me out of those chains, at least, and my guards were nice, though I never saw or heard them. All the food and drink I got was passed through a crack in the ceiling with a long rod, but the food was always good and they often wrote me encouraging notes. They'd bring me books every few days, and I started stacking them in the corner. I had everything I needed in that cell, except for basic human contact and a life.\n\nI had no way to keep track of time, but I suppose it was eight years later when it happened. Sounds of explosions, loud thumping, and something that sounded like a human scream, only loud enough for me to actually hear. \n\nI counted, because I knew it mattered. Six days of the noises, and then they stopped. It was nothing but silence from there on out. Whatever it was up there, it hadn't found me.\n\nBut there was nobody to bring me water, either.", "I couldn't stay out of the public eye for weeks on end. Everyone and their mother had the burning question as to why I got to live an extra day longer then everyone else in the vast majority of those whose tombstones were inscribed with the date \"August 26, 2025.\" All of this panic and frenzy was caused by one simple man, Tom Eldon. You see, Tom claimed to be highly skilled in the field of fortune telling, (until later proven true,) but no one truly believed him until family members were dying on the exact days predicted by Tom. Eventually the whole world wanted to know their inevitable deaths, and an entire website was created to showcase everyone's day of death. A few days in, it was plain as day that most people were all going to die on August 26 or earlier. Except me.\n\nMost sensible people decided to stay indoors before midnight on the 26th, either getting hammered or spending time with loved ones. Some were more skeptical than others, but everyone stayed in just to make sure. Midnight struck, and the windows of every home across the globe began to glow a fiery red, even mine. A simple peek outside would reveal the entire sky was being engulfed by a flaming comet heading straight towards destination earth. But what most people didn't experience was an alien spacecraft busting through their ceiling. I, however, had the pleasure of meeting said aliens before being pelted with high-tech tranquilizer darts and carried off with them, away from my beloved home planet, or at least what was left of it.\n\nI awoke to find myself in a steel dome, surrounded by advanced medical equipment and devices I could only dream of. Suddenly the door directly in front of me opened exactly like how you would expect an alien spaceship door to open, and two grey aliens walked in briskly, both attired with lab coats and stickers that stated loud and proud \"I drill ass.\"\n\n\"Hello human, we are the ass drilling scientists.\" Any human wouldn't of been able to say this with a straight face, but this is alien culture we're talking about. \n\nThe second alien picked up the conversation, continuing in a completely monotone voice. \"Yes, precisely. You see, you're planet is in some crazy-ass deep shit right now, and is probably blown to kingdom come or whatever the fuck you savage creatures believe in. Our species, however, is incredibly sympathetic, and in turn we hope to revive yours. This is were you come in. We are going to anal probe you. We are going to drill you so good you'll be feeling it for weeks. Or at least, you would, but we're going to have to kill you after this. You've seen to much. We'll collect your DNA, create some new humans, and drop them off at the nearest sustainable planet. Just like last time. Or, uh, never mind. Point is, you're sacrificing yourself for your planet.\"\n\nI was shocked. Their stone cold faces made it hard to tell whether they were fucking with me or not. I finally got up the nerve to speak.\n\n\"It's, umm.. it's... it's not really a sacrifice if I, um, don't really have a choice.... Do I have a choice? Can I just live with you guys?\"\n\nThe grey aliens stood rock solid. \n\n\"Wow, dude, that's like, pretty fucked up. Selfish prick. Also no, you don't have a choice.\" With that, the aliens turned around and left the room. With nothing to do but sit and wait for my execution/anal exploration, I nonchalantly checked my watch, completely forgetting the whole \"death clock\" thing. The clock read, \"August 27, 2025 / 12:01 a.m.\" Seconds later came the sound of a whirling drill below my seat. I closed my eyes, wishing I had just died with everyone else, but also somewhat happy there was a chance of new life for the human race. It was bittersweet up until the drill went up my ass.\n\nThe end.", "I sip my coffee and stare at the pictures on the wall.\n\nJanie's date written in blue Sharpie just under her face, and Ethan's in black. My third of the portrait remains spotless, but I always had a red marker sitting on the kitchen table, just in case some freak accident should tear me from this world before my time.\n\nI stare at my wrist. The chip, embedded beneath my skin, glows red and tells me I have twenty hours left.\n\nI'd be lying if I said I didn't try to end it all after Janie and Ethan were gone. Trust me, I've tried. But these chips keep your body pumping blood until the very second you're meant to go.\n\nI stand and open the front door. The cherry blossoms are in bloom. I take a bunch from the tree and breathe in deeply, then let them drop to the ground. \n\nMy street has been deserted for two weeks, and Mr. Morrison was the last to go. I run my hand across his mailbox as I go by, feeling the dust pack itself into the crevices of my fingerprints.\n\nI go to the park at the end of the street and shoot three-pointers with the nearly deflated basketball someone left behind. I imagine the shrieks of children behind me on the swings, but they fade away when I turn around.\n\nI check my wrist. Fifteen hours. Time goes by quicker than you think when you're used to wandering.\n\nI look to the sky. After this day, some race of cosmic beings will set foot on this planet, claiming it as their own. We all woke up with the chips in our wrists one day, but never saw the creatures arrive. How did we not feel this? How did we not sense their presence? Now, it's quite easy to see, as the floating black behemoth comes ever closer to Earth, blotting out Sun and Moon alike.\n\nI spend the next fourteen hours doing everything I can think of doing. Pretending to buy things from the corner store. Playing my guitar. Swimming in the lake as my imaginary dog swims behind me. Tossing a Frisbee and letting the wind send it back.\n\nWhen my clock strikes one hour, I walk back to my house. All the lights on the street are off, so as I stare at the sky, I can see every constellation. I point each one out to Ethan and Janie, putting my arms around them, trying to feel them next to me.\n\nTwo minutes. \n\nI wish I knew why I was the last to go. Why did the beings, whoever they are and wherever they came from, leave me here? The agony of living, and the beauty of living, each day for months upon end.\n\nI wonder if this was some strange way of showing me mercy. Allowing me to experience a final day on my own terms, while my heart still continued to beat. Surely they'd been observing us for some time. Surely they had some concept of human emotion.\n\nThirty seconds. I lie down on my top step and watch the stars.\n\nSix. I am glad that I was the last human to breathe air.\n\nFive. I am glad that I used all the time I could.\n\nFour. I am glad that I will be joining Janie and Ethan somewhere in the cosmos.\n\nThree.\n\nTwo.\n\nOne.\n\n**\n\n/r/GigaWrites\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 12, 17, 22, 56, 108 ]	[ "1469409388", "1469454074", "1469465489", "1469413294", "1469428087", "1469439344", "1469459273", "1469460494", "1469475749", "1469414708", "1469415930", "1469418999", "1469429287", "1469415273", "1469414017" ]
	[WP] You're the guy/girl who can speak to ghosts. The only problem is the ghosts are all assholes.	2	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "\"I am a psychic medium,\" I say.\n\n\"More of an extra-large, really,\" the ghost says. \"Unless you're talking about a fast-food medium. Those are massive.\"\n\nThe incense hits me; a sharp vanilla scent wafts in my nose. After a few hundred times, you learn to hate it. The candles are dim orange flickers in a semi-circle around a lost artifact. Of course its an old sock. Everyone uses clothing or god forbid, hair. Never a wedding ring or a favorite mug.\n\n\"You said something, is he talking to you?\" the wife asks.\n\nThere's three chairs in a triangular pattern around the circle table.\n\n\"He's sitting in the empty chair,\" I say. \n\n\"Technically floating,\" the ghost says. \n\n\"Oh my god shut up,\" I say.\n\n\"It was just a simple question,\" the wife says.\n\n\"I was talking to your husband,\" I say.\n\n\"Actually, till death do us part,\" the ghost says.\n\n\"Ex-husband,\" I say.\n\n\"I know he's dead,\" the wife says.\n\nI take a deep breath and still my frenzied heart. With my hands outstretched, I take the hand of both the wife and the ghost. \n\n\"Okay, you two, just, uh, try and hold hands. I'll guide you. Yeah like that, no, further out. She's in the right place, no, now he's moving it. Okay, there.\"\n\nTheir hands aren't touching but they're close enough. I finalize the psychic connection to learn the last moments of the husband, but they're occupied with something else. A baseball game.\n\n\"Wait, those were your last moments? I can't. Like, did you even see the murderer?\n\n\"Try checking the oven,\" the ghost says.\n\n\"You're terrible,\" I say.\n\n\"Oh my god what? Is something wrong?\" the wife says.\n\n\"He just insulted your cooking, he's not being very supportive, honestly,\" I say.\n\nThe ghost becomes more and more transparent, practically vanishing.\n\n\"Seriously, I kill myself,\" the ghost says. He vanishes along with his own faint laughter.\n\nI wrap my arm around the wife as she takes a minute to gather herself. \n\n\"So we'll never know the murderer? The police and the investigator were no help, so I suppose I'm not that disappointed. Come, I'll bake you something. Need to get back into doing things around the house even with him missing.\"\n\nWe walk into the kitchen. When she opens the oven, there's a man, trapped, looking as if he was hiding. I have no idea how he even contorted himself into that position. I hear a new voice.\n\n\"I really burned myself, huh?\"" ]	[ 1, 2 ]	[ "1469454941", "1469456713" ]
	[WP] You wakeup in a foreign planet, you don't remember anything but notice that you have a really advanced astronaut suit, and don't know if there's life in the planet.	12	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hey, can you hear me? Hello? Wake up!\n\nI cracked my eyes open a fraction, then quickly shut them again as I was blinded by a bright light shining directly in my face. My head was aching as if I had just woken up with the mother of all hangovers. I groaned and rolled onto my back.\n\nOh good, you're conscious.\n\nI attempted to rub my eyes with my hands, but my fingers contacted something hard a couple of inches in front of my face. I frowned and opened my eyes a little again. It was easier this time without the light directly in my face. There was some sort of glass surface in front of my face. A helmet? I could see my hands in front of my face: they were both covered by black gloves.\n\nGloves? Why the hell was I wearing gloves? Where the hell was I?\n\nWith a monumental effort, I sat up. My head spun like a top for several seconds and I concentrated on not throwing up. That would be a bad idea with this helmet on. After some heavy breathing, I felt less nauseous and was able to gradually open my eyes once again to look down at my body.\n\nI was wearing a spacesuit, and a pretty advanced one at that. Most of my body was covered by what appeared to be black armour plating. On my right arm was a wrist computer with winking symbols all over its tiny screen. There were a few holograms visible in my helmet's visor as well, but they remained largely transparent unless I looked directly at them.\n\nMy attention slowly turned to the ground I was sitting on. It looked like I had hit the ground hard and ploughed up a furrow of earth several metres long. Looking around, I saw that I was on a low hilltop littered by small boulders and rubble in a steep-sided valley. Overhead, a bright sun was lighting up the landscape. It must have been what was shining in my face when I woke up.\n\nI slowly got to my feet, feeling several aches and pains all over my body. A twinge in my chest told me I had at least one broken rib, but it wasn't so painful that I couldn't handle it. I was trying to probe it with my fingers through the suit's chestplate when a voice spoke in my ear, making me jump.\n\nFeeling better? I used my first aid facilities to help with the worst of it, but you still took quite a lot of damage.\n\nI spun in a circle, looking around for the source of the voice. 'Who's there?' I tried to say, but my throat was parched and all that came out was a slight croak.\n\nYou're dehydrated. Hold on a sec, I'll give you something to drink.\n\nA metal spigot like that of a hamster bottle suddenly extruded into my field of vision from beneath my visor and pressed against the corner of my mouth. I tested it with my tongue and tasted the cold metallic taste of cold water. I pulled it further into my mouth and began to drink, the liquid sating a thirst I hadn't even realised I had.\n\nThe spigot retracted as soon as I released it, and the voice in my ear spoke again. It was a female voice, I noticed, and it sounded familiar somehow.\n\nAnd before you ask, it's me, your suit AI. I've been trying to wake you up ever since we landed.\n\n'Landed?' I managed. 'What?'\n\nI'm not entirely sure, to be honest, replied the AI. I only came online a few hundred metres up. You were going through the later stages of re-entry unconscious, from the looks of things. I had to use up all the propellant for the suit thrusters just to slow us down enough for you to survive.\n\n'What?' I said again, then realised I wasn't really contributing much to this conversation. 'Where am I? I can't remember anything.'\n\nI'm not really surprised. My scans are showing the after-effects of a recent mind-wipe on your good self. Whoever did that probably dumped you in orbit here.\n\n'But where is here?' I said desperately, staring around in all directions for some signs of life.\n\nI don't have too much to go on right now without the stars to triangulate our position. There are no radio signals nearby either, at least none I can pick up with this suit's antenna. At the very least, you're going to have to wait until dark to find out what planet this is.\n\n'Perfect,' I muttered. My head was starting to ache again. 'So, what, am I supposed to just sit here until then?'\n\nI would suggest that you make your way off this hilltop, at least. It's rather exposed and I'm getting some meteorological readings that indicate this planet is prone to pretty violent storms. Head over towards the side of the valley and then work your way along it. We'll go from there.\n\nWith no other option except to sit in this furrow in the blazing sun, I sighed and started to make my way down the gentle slope. The suit was much lighter than I had thought it would be; I could probably run pretty easily in this. I hopped from boulder to boulder, preventing myself from building up too much speed.\n\nYou never mentioned your name, by the way, said the AI after a few minutes of silence.\n\n'Uh, Samuel,' I said distractedly. 'Or just Sam, I guess.'\n\nNice to meet you, Sam, said the AI. My official designation is ASE18194068, but you can just call me... Kat. I like cats.\n\n'Well, um, thanks for saving my life, Kat,' I replied.\n\nNo problem, said Kat cheerily. It's in both our best interests, anyway.\n\nI rolled my eyes as I reached the bottom of the slope and began to jog towards the foot of the nearest cliff. I still wasn't sure if Kat's companionship was a boon or a curse.\n\n**\n\nThe storm rolled in around early evening, or whatever time it was on this godforsaken planet. I was sweaty and tired already from the hours of walking, something the suit's air-conditioning could only do so much to alleviate. Kat had warned me of it even before I saw the first grey-green clouds poking over the edge of the cliff above me, but there was nothing I could do except pick up the pace a little in hope of finding shelter.\n\nThen the first drops of water spattered against my visor, followed swiftly by a legion of their comrades falling from the vaporous dropships above. I felt nothing through the suit, of course, but even something this advanced could do nothing about the constant din of falling rain and rolling thunder or the sheer weight of water falling on my shoulders and helmet.\n\nThe worst part was the visibility, though. The suit helmet had a set of strong headlights, but all they did was illuminate a small cone of raindrops directly in front of me. I could barely see two feet of ground in front of me, and more than once I nearly tripped over a small stone or skidded in a deep runnel carved by the flood.\n\nEventually, after almost half an hour of battling through the elements, Kat suddenly directed my attention to the cliff face to my right. I peered through the darkness to see a large dark hole in the rock. A cave mouth. I stumbled towards it and practically fell through the opening in my haste to get to shelter.\n\nIt was surprisingly dry in here. The curtains of water falling across the entrance were all channeled into one deep stream that ran along one wall into the depths of the cave, where it disappeared around a corner. I walked over to a handy flat rock in the middle of the floor and lay down on my back with a sigh of relief.\n\nWell done,* said Kat. You've earned a rest, I think. We'll spend the night here and wait out the storm. I'll wake you for a few minutes when it clears so I can get a reading from the stars.\n\nI nodded sleepily, my mind already sinking into a fatigued slumber. The padding inside the suit inflated slightly to cushion me comfortably, so I had no problem lying on bare rock.\n\n**\n\nIt seemed like only minutes had passed between when I went to sleep and when I was awoken by Kat's gentle but firm coaxing. I got to my feet and looked out at the landscape outside. The ground was still glistening in my headlights, but the rain had stopped. Everything almost seemed too quiet by comparison.\n\nI stepped out about fifteen paces from the cave and looked up to allow the suit's sensors to pick up the stars speckling the sky. After a minute, Kat announced that she had all she needed, and I returned to the cave.\n\n'So, what's the verdict?' I said, sitting down on my makeshift bed. 'What planet are we on?'\n\nSomewhere called Fherun II,* Kat replied. We're about two hundred light years from the nearest inhabited planet that I know of. Basically all I have in my records is the name and co-ordinates. They were only updated four years ago, so for all we know there's a colony on the other side of this world that just doesn't broadcast radio signals I can pick up.\n\n'So what's the plan?' I said nervously.\n\nWell, I was thinking perhaps we could— Kat suddenly stopped talking.\n\n'Kat?'\n\nDon't make any sudden movements, she said. Slowly turn around. There's something in here with us.\n\nMy body rigid with fear, I looked over my shoulder. Something flashed in my headlights before colliding with my helmet hard enough to break one of my headlights and throw me from my seat and onto the floor. I lay there dazed for a moment, then I felt a weight on my chest as someone or something stood on it.\n\nA long curved blade of some greenish metal gleamed in the beam from my remaining headlight as its point was directed at my neck, where there was no armour. I swallowed hard and looked upwards, hoping to at least see my attacker's face before I died.\n\nThen I saw what was attacking me, and both Kat's scream and my own mingled in my ears." ]	[ 1, 8 ]	[ "1469487754", "1469496961" ]
	[WP] So tell me friend, how's it going to end?	6	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I stood quietly on the bridge as I looked at the empty blackness of space. All I could think about was this war. This terrible war has cost us billions of lives already, and we have been driven back to our only planet in all of the galaxy: Earth.\n\nAs I try to recollect my thoughts, the words ring in my head, “So tell me friend, how is it going to end?”.\n\n\n&nbsp;*****\n\nRear Admiral Drake Ashton looked upon his crew of the USSDF Hand of Fate (United Sol System Defense Federation). They were beyond the breaking point yet, they kept fighting. Each man and woman looked upon Ashton with a sort of reverence. He had slogged through so many ambushes, and fought off so many enemy fighters, it was a wonder that the ship was still limping along.\n\n“My fellow Terrans, we have been pushed back long enough. One-hundred million kilometers is all that separates us from salvation!”, Ashton bellowed,” We will not be stopped from delivering this intelligence on the enemy’s homeworld. We are the last of the Terran fleet in the Meridian sector, and we will prevail!”\n\n“Our ship may be beaten to all hell, but we are like the once great prize fighter of the 20th century, Mohammed Ali! We will not give in to this oppression. We will not give in to this tyranny. We will beat back the Alliance, And the Federation will be the top dog, once again.”\n\nAshton surveyed the crew, most of them now smiling, or at least showing a positive emotion.\n\n“We will prevail!”, Ashton said with enthusiasm.\n\nThe crew cheered, and Ashton was quite pleased with the display of emotion.\n\n“All crew, prepare to man battlestations.”\n\nThe lights across the ship dimmed to red, and the faint warning klaxon of red alert can be heard throughout the ship. The crew was scrambling to their post with renewed vigor.\n\nThe bridge was humming with activity, the viewscreen blank as they were travelling faster than the speed of light. All the bridge crew were furious with activity. Then, a faint beep was heard.\n\nA small statured woman in the console to the left of Ashton spoke up: “Captain, the ship’s sensors have picked up a class seven FTL probe heading to our position. Bearing zero-five-seven, inclination zero-three-zero.”\n\nAshton glanced her way, then looked to his right. “Helm, bring us about, head on collision. Raise forward shields to maximum.”\n\nThe man situated at the helm replied, “Aye sir, collision course, maximum forward shields.”\n\nAshton, face twisted into a smile and ordered: “Helm, once we are within ten light-seconds from the probe, I want you to drop us out of inter-dimensional subspace.” Ashton then clicked a device in his hand, a 20th century analog stopwatch.\n\nThe man at the helm console replied simply, “Aye sir.”\n\nAn agonizing twenty seconds passed before the ship was forced into normal space.\n\nAshton looked at the man at the helm console. “Jackson, bring us about, zero-five-seven inclination zero. Maximum torch”\n\n“Aye sir, laying in course.” Jackson replied.\n\nThe ship lurched forward as the plasma torch situated on it’s very ample backside flared to life.\n\nAshton looked to the woman on the left, “Barclay, scan for any Alliance ships.”\n\n“Aye sir, initiating full sweep.” Barclay replied.\n\nA woman spoke up: “Sir, missiles are primed and GAU-9 autocannons are actively tracking.”\n\n“Thank you for the update, Marshall,” Ashton replied coldly, growing tired of her constant updates.\n\nThe ship screamed through space at a dizzying three gees, the superstructure quietly protesting the redlining acceleration. It can be clearly seen that portions of the deck were missing, hastily patched with solidifying foam. It seemed as though the ship could break apart at any moment.\n\nA full five minutes passed, nothing detected.\n\nThen, off of the port bow, a flash.\n\n“Sir?”, Barclay queried.\n\n“Bring us about, Jackson” Ashton ordered.\n\nThere was a tri-tone emanating from Barclay’s console.\n\n“Sir, they’re hailing us.”\n“On screen three, Ensign.”\n\nA beep was heard, and a bearded man was on the viewscreen, smiling devilishly.\n\n“Ah, the illustrious Drake Ashton. I was afraid one of my patrols had unfortunately dispatched you and your worthless ship. Fortunately for me, it seems I get to eliminate you and your worthless crew myself.” the bearded man cheerfully said.\n\n“It seems that I have quite the reputation”, Ashton remarked mockingly, “And who are you, I dare ask?”\n\n“I am Fleet Admiral James Forksmouth, your executioner.”\n\nAshton scoffed, “You? Hah!”\n\nThere was a shrill alarm going off, coming from Marshall’s console, “Sir! Multiple warheads have been launched from Forksmouth’s ship!” she exclaimed.\n\n“Evasive maneuvers! Shields at maximum forward gradient, take the safeties off the autocannons, and counterattack with torpedoes!” Ashton ordered immediately.\n\nForksmouth was laughing, “So tell me, friend, how is it going to end?”\n\nThe feed went to static. Autocannons roared to life, and the distinct thumping of torpedoes being loosed were deafening.\n\nAn explosion was felt throughout the ship, “Sir!”, Marshall exclaimed, “Forward shields at twenty-three percent, and massive forward bulkhead buckling! We are venting atmosphere!”\n\n“Depressurize decks nine through thirteen, I want a straight shot to the lifeboats!” Ashton ordered through sparking and thumping.\n\nThe ship was venting atmosphere throughout, and seemed that it couldn’t take another hit.\n\n“Sir”, Marshall calmly said, “Our torpedoes have scored a direct hit. She’s breaking apart.”\n\nAshton huffed, “Seems that the were too tired to party.”\n\nBarclay’s face drained of color, “Sir, I am picking up multiple dropout signals, looks like he was just a decoy. Orders?”\n\nAshton’s face hardened, “We run. Helm, take us into FTL. We can’t hang with this party.”\n\nBut it was too late, missiles and railgun rounds filled the space between the Hand of Fate, and the enemy. Railgun rounds missed wildly, as the Hand of Fate weaved through the onslaught.\n\n“Ten seconds to interdimensional destabilization.” The ship’s computer coldly announced. Seemingly unaware of the carnage just outside it’s hull.\n\nMissiles exploded before the wall of autocannon fire being pumped from the Hand of Fate.\n\n“Three, two, one. Engage.”\n\nNormal space melted away from the viewscreen, only to be replaced by distortions and feedback. Ashton sighed in relief and slouched in his chair. “That was a close one”, he said to nobody in particular.", "“So tell me friend, how’s it going to end?”\n\nI looked at the young man before me – truth be told, he could have been any age, but almost everyone chooses to revert to their youth after death- and waited for his response. He looked like any of the countless others before him; eyes grim, mouth set with determination. Once someone passes from life to death they are no longer scared of anything, it seems. Most people are able to understand where they are, and that everything they once had or did not have no longer matters in this place. \n\nI waited several moments longer for a response, any sign that his mind was decided. I stared closely at his eyes, usually the giveaway when a person is about to speak, but saw no movement. His lips did not part. He did not even appear to draw a breath during this entire period. After allowing what I thought to be a reasonable amount of time, I gently asked again\n“How’s it going to end?”\n\nThe man finally reacted, jerking his head up slightly and acting as though he’d forgotten I was there. Now his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows raised, thinking. It is always interesting, watching someone think through this question. I do not know if my travelers were wealthy or homeless in life, if they were doctors or dictators. It is all irrelevant, yet everyone seems to spend the same amount of time thinking of what they wanted most. \n\nThe man remained silent for a few moments longer, then finally drew a breath and said “I’d really love… to see Misty again.” There was a pause in the middle of the sentence while the man contemplated changing at the last second, but the end was spoken more confidently, with renewed determination. Every word was delivered slowly and carefully, as if the man knew he had only one chance and did not want to risk messing up a single syllable. He did not know that I was bound to follow the intent of the wish, not the letter, but regardless his last desire had been stated. With his last request stated, it was now my time to fulfill it. \n\nI raised one hand in the air, and bursting out of the ground came Misty. This was not a copy of Misty, one that could be seen through and would only serve to wrench the man’s heart out. No, this was the real Misty, except better; she had been brought to the man in all her beauty of youth and then some, as my powers in the afterlife could bring someone beyond their mortal beauty. It took Misty only a second to realize who she was with before she sprang at the man, running as fast as her legs could carry her and crying loudly, one could only assume through joy. She jumped into the man’s arms hard enough to knock him to the ground, stepped on him with all four paws, and buried her head into his chest, still crying. \n\nIf I had to pick the best final requests, those wishing to be reunited with their dogs would be among the top. \n\nI am, however, not simply a genie who will fulfill a wish. I am the shepherd to the afterlife, and it is my purpose to offer you one last taste of the best memories of life. \n\nWith another raise of my hand, half a dozen more dogs sprang from the earth. All creatures that had once belonged to the man, all in their healthy prime. Like Misty, they sprang to their feet and sprinted at the man who, already on the ground, was barely able to contain himself at the sight of them. He called them all by name, gazed lovingly at each creature, and cried continuously at the mere sight of these animals he held so dear. \n\nAfter what felt like an eternity, and very well could have been, the man knew there was more to come. He was standing now, all dogs sitting around him with their tails thumping happily, and in his eyes there was great joy, but an even greater sadness in knowing that this was not here to stay. He opened his mouth and spoke, again slowly and carefully, “What now?”\n\n“Now we walk, friend.”\n\nA path materialized before us. Not just any path, but one made from the tiles of the halls of the man’s high school he so dearly loved. Every so often the school’s mascot was visible in the tile, just as fresh as the day it was set. Along the way the man stopped to speak briefly to thousands of people- I did not know who they were, but one can only assume they were friends and family he had known throughout his entire life. Everyone doted upon the dogs, still loyally near their owner. There was not a sad face to be seen, and the man would burst into tears at each sight of a new face from his old life. \n\nAnd still we walked. \n\nAfter an immeasurable time, the people started to disappear behind us. There were fewer and fewer people ahead, and even the dogs had started to fall a few steps behind the man. The tiles we walked upon grew darker, dirtier, and the polished emblem became less frequent.\n\nAnd still we walked.\n\nThe atmosphere- I dare not call it a sky- had grown darker around us. The once raucous voices of the crowd had faded into a barely audible whisper in the background. Our footsteps soon overpowered any other sound, and the dogs had slowed to almost a crawl behind us. \n\nAnd still we walked. \n\nThe end was very near. The man could feel it, I certainly knew it, and everyone involved in this ceremony, this parade, could certainly feel that there was little left to complete. The end of our path showed up on the horizon, and we walked. It grew closer and closer, and although the man knew he did not want this walk to end, he knew he had nothing more left for him in the past. The end of the path was suddenly upon us now: one thousand steps away, five hundred steps away, fifty steps away. \n\nAnd still we walked. \n\nWe came upon the last piece of the path, one more step and it was over. The path simply vanished; there was no discernible difference between the world of the path and the world after it, but there was an ever-present feeling that there was no going back. Before he could take the last step, I whispered to the man, “Turn around.”\n\n The entire path leading up to this point had disappeared- we were standing on a square no larger than a rug. All the people had disappeared as well, leaving only silence in their wake. The dogs, who had slowly been falling further and further back on our journey, were now only indistinguishable specks on the horizon. All except Misty, who was right by her owner, loyal as always. \n\nThe man knelt down and embraced Misty, then held her face in his hands. He did not say a word, only gazed into her eyes, then nodded. He stood back up, turned around, and took a step off the path. Immediately he disappeared, as did Misty, the dogs in the distance, and the small amount of path I had been standing on. I do not know where people go after I shepherd them; that is not my purpose. I can only guide those who are on to something else. I paused for just a moment, letting the memories of that man’s life slip away from me, and raised my hand. Immediately a young woman appeared in front of me with the same grim, determined face. I took a step nearer to her, looked her in the eye, and gently said,\n\n“So tell me friend, how’s it going to end?”\n\n", "I rolled the cigarette in between my fingertips. I watched the ember on the tip glow. A long time ago I would have burned through these things, but this was my last one, so I would have to savor it.\n\nWhen I sucked in the tobacco, I could feel a wave of numbness wash over my frail body. My heart was pumping, and I could feel myself vibrating off the cold. I hadn't felt like that in a long time, not since the first time I placed a cig between my lips. I filled my lungs to the brim and held the smoke in my mouth for so long that tears came out of my eyes. I let out long line of white smoke into the cold air.\n\nMy balls were freezing. Everything was freezing. This was my last cigarette because there were no more cigarette's to be found. The tobacco made my blood pump because I lost all my muscle and my fat, and had become weak. \n\nThese things were suppose to kill ya, but the cold is what really got to us. Men got complacent. They didn't know how to live in a constant winter. We forced the world to adapt to us, and so it was forced to evolve. \n\nAll the lines were cast, all the deeds done. There was nothing left to do but smoke.\n\n\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 3, 4 ]	[ "1469494229", "1469503584", "1469498962", "1469494962" ]
[removed]	[Wp] A lovecraftian story	1	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\nSingle word prompt titles are not allowed, with the exception of Image or Media prompts. \n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators.\n\n---\n\n[Link to the removed post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4umy08/wp_a_lovecraftian_story/)" ]	[ 1, 1 ]	[ "1469509013", "1469509534" ]
Too NSFW to make it on air? Owner of the piece threw a temper tantrum? Appraiser mishandles the piece? Bring on your best horror stories, eye-rollers and ROFLs.	[WP] An Antiques Roadshow appraisal with a twist	3	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", " \"Hello, and thank you for bringing in this beautiful piece! Tell us a little about it, where you got it, what do you know about the artist?\"\n \n \"Hi, thank you! I'm so excited to be on the show! Well the truth is I got it from my uncle a few years ago, and other than the fact that he dumpster dived it from the factory where he does glassblowing, I don't really know anything about it. He said it might be worth something but he wasn't sure. I have no idea who the artist might be. We always said if the Roadshow came anywhere near Beacon, we would have to bring it, and here we are! Is it valuable?\"\n \n \"Well before we get into it's value, lets talk about the artist. A very exceptional artist sculptor by the name of, Isamu Noguchi. Isamu's mother was an Irish-American writer, and his father was a famous Japanese poet. He grew up here in New York City where he was a staple of the art scene and socialite circles in the 40s and 50s. One of his best known and earliest pieces is a marble bust of Ginger Rogers, who was his close friend. Later on he started doing work with Dick Polish, who founded a large foundry in Peekskill, and later in Beacon, NY. There, he made many notable works, which were enlarged, and cast in a variety of metals including bronze, copper, and stainless steel. The foundry employed the lost wax casting technique, and what we have here is the original medium Isamu chose to carve, which then became a twenty-three foot bronze exact replica, which now resides in Germany.\"\n \n \"Oh wow, that's so cool! So how much is it worth?\"\n \n \"Well before we talk about that, are you familiar with the Copeland / Graham ballet, Appalachian Spring?\"\n \"Umm..\"\n\n\"One of Aaron Copeland's most notable scores, also known as Fanfare for the Common Man. What is less well known, is that Isamu designed the set for the ballet, and during that time led a volatile relationship with Copeland's younger sister which resulted in a near murder, and the end of a budding and brilliant career. The young lady before you is this same woman over whom was much ado made. \n \"We know that this piece was cast in the Beacon foundry around 1987. Now after Polish left the Tallix foundry and started a new one on the other side of the river, the factory in Beacon sat empty until around 2007, when it was repurposed into the glass factory which resides there now. Given the popularity of Isamu Noguchi, and the very well established value of his work, we can say with some enthusiasm that this could command a significant value at auction. The fact that this is the original made by his own hands is something we don't get to see every day when we are talking about the work of sculptors. Given the story which I assure you is worth looking into closer detail, truly a delight for someone in my field to touch a relic of a story we share in art history circles with glee, and I have to add, for collectors as well, the value we are looking at is really quite impressive.\"\n \n \"Oh wow!! I can't even believe this! He got it out of a dumpster! There's no way he's getting it back now! This is fantastic! Thank you so much!\"\n \n \" After casting, it was protocol for the original to be destroyed so that no additional castings could be made by the foundry, so this is again - well hard to put a price on. However, it is my unfortunate obligation to make happen what Tallix apparently failed to...\"\n From under the podium appeared his hand, and in it a sledge, and in a first ever Antiques Roadshow moment, he smashed the nude in repose to dust.", "Antiques Roadshow, Lake Snaatchmahoochie, MI, May 2013\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Hey Claire... anything interesting on this piece?\", Troy casually remarked as he walked past the cluttered table. Claire looked up from her laptop and stared at the piece.\n\n\"This is abso-fucking-lutely gonna blow up the Internet tomorrow\", she said, still staring at the piece.\n\n\"What...?!\", Troy stopped and turned around. \"Twenty minutes ago, this thing was in the reject heap and suddenly its the Navajo First Phase Blanket?\"\n\n\"This, my dear...\", Claire gestured at the piece and paused for dramatic effect as Troy rolled his eyes and braced himself. \"This is going to make Roadshow history, definitely the most significant piece we have or will ever see in our lifetimes\"\n\nTroy crossed his arms and let out an exasperated sigh. \"Claire, just give me the details without the theatrics. Please? I mean... There's no identifying marks, not even a clue as to what this thing is\".\n\n\"Until I found this\". Claire leaned forward and turned the piece upside down.\n\n\"See this mark? Looks like a gash or scratch, but it is the sixth letter of the Hindi alphabet, not the modern Devanagiri script, but the Transitional Brahmi style, which was mostly used in North and Western India in the 16th and 17th centuries. The material is cast bronze and _Misal_ wood. Its the mark of the Sambhal Foundry of Sattara, near present-day Bombay\".\n\nClaire continued. \"The Sambhals were master craftsmen and metalworkers, among the best in the world during their time and their pieces were highly desirable even back then. Notice these indentations and matte finish - that can only be achieved by machining the castings and this was their expertise and trade secret. Until, of course, the Industrial Revolution rendered it obsolete. _Misal_ wood, as we all know is native and exclusive to the Western Indian coast, or I should say _was_ since the British logged it to extinction in the late 19th century. The wood is very similar to teak, but has a much richer and deeper veneer and ages to a beautiful weathered patina\".\n\n\"Veneer and patina\". Troy remarked. \"I'm listening...\"\n\n\"Besides their machining skills, the Sambhal Foundry was known to do mixed media pieces, wood and metal in this case and they were very good at it\". Claire picked up a pencil and pointed. \"See the horn motifs on the sides? Those represent _Nandi_, the sacred Bull and the vehicle of _Shiva_, the Hindu god. The feet are shaped like the root flares of the _Misal_ tree, which had a unique geometric pattern. According to Hindu tradition and beliefs, the _Misal_ tree's root flares represent the feet of the Lord _Shiva_ as he descended from the heavenly mountains of Himalayas, took a mortal form in the Earth and defeated the evil forces in the War of the Seven Seas\".\n\n\"Nice. So... this piece is...?\". Troy was impatient.\n\n\"Ceremonial bowl that held the holy waters of the River Ganges. Used by the Royal Priests of the Maratha Kingdom for the coronation ceremony. Bronze represented strength, valor and courage and the _Misal_ wood stood for piety, humility and community. Only three were known to exist - one for each of the three Maratha Kings. One was lost to a fire in 1903, when the Governor General's office in Harare burned down. The other was destroyed when the German cruiser _Emden_ shelled the Madras coast in 1914. This is the last surviving Maratha Coronation Vessel and it looks pristine... like the King's coronation just happened yesterday\". Claire looked up at Troy with a smug look.\n\n\"And you figured all this out in twenty minutes?\", Troy asked.\n\n\"I didn't. I had a hunch about this based on pieces I'd seen through the years. I just emailed a picture to Rahul Bose at the Waltair Museum and he sent me back this\". Claire showed her phone as Troy bent down to see a picture of an old Mughal painting, depicting the coronation ceremony of an Indian King and the distinctive bowl in front of him, holding the crown immersed in the holy waters of the River Ganges.\n\n\"Daaaamnnn...! I'm impressed, Claire. What's the rough value on this?\"\n\n\"Well... The Marathas have always been held in high regard in Indian society due to their rich history, accomplishments and fierce resistance to the British occupation. Over the last 15-20 years, interest in Maratha artifacts have just exploded along with India's growing economy and influence. India's business tycoons have been engaged in an aggressive \"bring it home\" campaign for historic and symbolic pieces that were expropriated by the British and the Dutch. There is major bragging rights and political capital being earned from these achievements. While some are repatriated, most items in private hands have to be bought off auctions\". Claire removed her glasses and glanced up at Troy.\n\n\"A 12th Century bronze idol just went back home for 6.5 million. In the right setting and auction, this could easily top 10 million\".\n\nTroy's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. \"YOU'RE SHITTING ME...!\"\n\n\"Troy, listen to me and remember this moment. This is the story your grandkids will be be telling their grandkids. This is not the second coming of the Navajo Blanket. This is Blanket times ten. This is and will be _The Maratha Coronation Bowl_. This is the new standard and nothing else will come close to it ever again in the Roadshow, at least not in my lifetime\"\n\n\"OHMYGAWD! Claire, you better not be bullshitting me on this...\", Troy was sweating. \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Abso-fucking-lutely\", Claire replied with a stern, serious and sincere look on her face.\n\n&nbsp;\n***\n\"Dafuck you two screwing around for?! Where's the damn appraisal on that Ludmiller vase?!\", Matilde bellowed as she walked up to the table.\n\nClaire and Troy looked up in fear and reverence at the foul-mouthed matriarch. \"Matilde, you gotta see this. This could be even bigger than the Navajo Blanket\", Troy squealed in excitement and held up the piece.\n\nMatilde shot a menacing look at Claire and examined the piece for a few seconds. She removed her glasses and looked at Troy.\n\n\"Let me guess. 18th century ceremonial bowl from India. Last one in existence, others destroyed by fire, tsunami or whatever. Hmm...?\"\n\n\"Yes! Actually, 17th century. Maratha Coronation Bowl. Claire thinks it could do 10 million!\", Troy was excited.\n\nMatilde gritted her teeth and glared at Troy. She pulled out a billfold from her jeans, threw a twenty on the table in front of Claire and walked off grumbling curses under her breath.\n\nClaire tried to control her laughter as she pocketed the twenty. \"Aw c'mon Troy...! You gotta admit I had you there for a few. Don't look so butthurt, man. C'mon, lunch is on me. You choose...\"\n\nTroy was feeling let down. He turned to Claire and asked \"How many times have you pranked interns like this?\"\n\n\"Between Matilde and me, oh... maybe one or two a year over the last twenty years...? Usually, we swear the Intern to secrecy and carry on the charade for a long time. Couple years ago, I even handed a BB gun to an intern and asked her to stand guard next to a piece for two days. Matilde's been menopause cranky this year, so I try and keep it short\"\n\n\"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Claire\", Troy tried to sound annoyed, but couldn't hide his amusement at all this. \"What is this thing anyways?\"\n\n\"This is actually Thai. Late 19th century. Rubberwood, most likley from Narthawat province near the Malaysian border\", Claire said. \"Fiddy. Maybe 100 if you get a nice whale\".\n\n\"Oh... That certainly lines up with the owner's backstory. She said her grandfather was a British diplomat and advisor to the King of Siam during the late 1800's and it had been passed down through her mother. A gift from the King, perhaps...?\"\n\n\"Umm... No...?\", Claire looked worried. \"Crap! I didn't realize the history went back that far. Listen, make sure this doesn't get featured. You understand?\"\n\n\"Okay. But why? It's just a bowl...\", Troy was curious.\n\n\"No shit Einstein! Yes. It's just a bowl. But it is also a spittoon commonly used in the eunuch brothels of Khon Khaen. So I'd rather not make the vague insinuation on national TV that grandpa Sir Whatshisface, Baron of Bumfuckshire was boinking Thai ladyboys in the late Victorian era. Send it back. Quietly. _Capisce_?\"\n\n\"_Si Signora_\", Troy saluted and walked away.\n" ]	[ 1, 1, 4 ]	[ "1469561890", "1469584779", "1469561944" ]
	[WP] Freedom of speech is gone, the government is corrupt, and everything you say and do is monitored by the government. One day each year, you can say anything you want, and you have a lot to say.	16	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "Lana was a nice girl. She had arguments with no one, she was always prompt and fastidious at work, and she always smiled so broadly at morning worship as though she really did love the president. Dan had no idea, of course, that she had muttered words of governmental criticism in her breakfast nook nor had he any idea that the microphone in her TV transmitted her loose talk to the government and he never sat in on the meeting where her arrest was decided upon. He just watched from the doorway of his home as Lana was taken from her house and immediately decided it was safer not to think of her anymore. As she looked to him, forlornly, her eyes imploring him for help, he closed and locked the door and returned to his morning coffee.\n\nThe commute to work was quiet, as always. Dan sat in the center of the car's round couch as the vehicle silently drove him to the company. Sipping some coffee and reading the news on his Augmented Reality Display, Dan considered what he'd say on Free Speech Day. People say the gutsiest things, like, \"the president should die\" or \"the government is evil,\" and nothing would ever happen to them. Mostly, Dan mused, because it was considered an unspoken fact that these were really the opposite to what they really believed. Indeed, many of his friends always seemed proud of the most extreme things they could think to say because it showed how much they were making fun of exiles.\n\nExiles. His mind turned to Lana again. She'd lived next door to him for years, ever since he'd moved in. Now ...best not to think too much about it. Dan dispensed a small pill from the armrest of the couch and swallowed it with a gulp of coffee. The car slowed down and Dan, leaning over to look out of the wide window, noted the entrance to the car park. He gathered his things and waited for the vehicle to drop him off before refueling and storing itself for the next user.\n\nDan found it difficult to focus as he sat in his dreary cubicle. The corporation also provided pharmaceuticals to help employees manage difficult moods but he wasn't sure if his distracted feelings were from the stabilizer he took on the way in. He just couldn't get the image of mild mannered Lana struggling against the strength of two black-suited officers in the morning sunlight.\n\nHe was leafing through legal texts for samples to feed the law A.I. for analysis when he heard a muffled yell and what sounded like a shriek. He and everyone else in his row looked up to see the door at the far end of the room burst open and uniformed officers carrying a screaming secretary march through.\n\nNo one said a word. Most averted their eyes.\n\n\"I didn't DO anything! I swear I love the government! They're so generous, aren't they, everybody? Please?\" Through tears she begged anyone to respond, to even acknowledge her, but no one did. The officers each held an arm and walked with her lifted off the ground, both of them towering several feet taller than her. \"Please! I'm a good person! Someone, please...\" And with that, they stormed through the exit and were gone.\n\nNo one said a word.\n\nSilently, everyone returned to work -but everyone also took quick, furtive glances to see if anyone else was as frightened as they were -they just never acknowledged each others' gaze. Dan simply stared at the old books but he was thinking about anything but the law.\n\nHow many people would he see carted off to God knows where? TV says it's too good for them on the taxpayer's money -but people so cold and quick to hate could never be trusted to treat prisoners with decency. Certainly, no one ever saw them again, despite promises of rehabilitation and, of course, asking where they went or if they'll come back or even if they're safe is strictly forbidden unless you want to join them.\n\nSo no one says a word.\n\nHe opted for the pill. He had to get this off of his mind or he was going to get in trouble, if for nothing more than missing his deadline. The law clerk looked through the book carefully as he swallowed a focus enhancer and two calmness pills. He had to buckle down.\n\nHis eyes grazed a section written 20 years ago, when the president was first elected, that he had never seen before. Back when Free Speech day began, apparently a concession made to ensure passage of the law -any citizen may speak their mind fully with no penalty whatsoever -or they may ask any question they wish and a government would respond. He noted the specifics of the entry, focused intently on his work without a care in the world.\n\nThe hallway was crowded with people. Dan shuffled along in no particularly important spot, just making his orderly way with everyone else. You entered the chamber with no pecking order, managers walked in beside mail clerks, prefects walked in beside peasants -it was the order of the day. Any other day on the year and strict rules had to be observed on who entered a room before whom or who may be spoken to and whom not. Today, Free Speech Day, was a worldwide event with the entire planet participating. It was, of course, compulsory.\n\nSeated high in the risers above the stadium chamber, Dan sat and watched a woman use vulgarity, to the cheers of the crowd. They roared with laughter when an old man shouted, \"I pee in the closet!\" like he was at a confessional. One pudgy woman with greasy black hair screwed up her face and screamed, \"the president has been in power too long!\" and everyone howled and whooped. 20 years wasn't that long, right? After all, it was one of the first laws passed -it was perfectly legal. Everyone was having such a good time and on numerous gigantic screens around the dome Dan could see and hear the proceedings going on all over the world. Truly, everyone was having a ball.\n\nAnd then it was his turn.\n\nEscorted down the concrete steps by flashlight, Dan walked out onto the tremendous stage in the center of the stadium. He walked up to the lone microphone and felt absolutely tiny in the presence of his fellow man, of the United Earth, and cleared his throat. He lifted a single white page and read from it carefully.\n\n\"Pursuant to Title 34128923 of the United Earth Code, Subtitle 21549, chapter 226010, subchapter 215, subpart 2231 of section 122974- participants in the Free Speech Day ceremony may elect to ask a question which must be answered on-site by a government representative. I choose to ask a question. It is legal.\"\n\nThe word \"legal\" echoed as the chamber fell dead silent.\n\nIt was a long and uncomfortable moment before a voice boomed from the speaker system, \"It is legal. Ask.\"\n\nDan drew a deep breath.\n\n" ]	[ 1, 6 ]	[ "1469570366", "1469579093" ]
swear jar that needs money taken out of it	[WP] You buy a jar. Then you find out that everytime you swear, a dollar appears inside it.	49	[ "\nOff-Topic Discussion: Reply here for non-story comments.\n\n---\n\n[^(What is this?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [^(First time here?)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [^(Special Announcements)](/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements)\n", "I sit in my room with the magical jar... Why wouldn't I just curse the night away?\n\n\"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck...\"\n\nI go on for hours until the dollars start overflowing out of the jar. \n\nWhat else would you do with a jar that gives you money for cursing. On and on and on and on.\n\nI am rich.", "It was a pretty normal day for me. I was running around my house trying not to be late. It helps that i know where everything in my apartment was. I had just enough time to grab my bag and my keys, maybe lock my front door if i remember it on the way out. Keys are one the table by the front door. I have to remember that. I check my pockets to make sure i have everything else i need; phone, wallet, and now the keys. A quick step out the front door rewards me with a little bit of pain in my toe as something rattles across the floor into the opposite wall. \n\n\n\"Fuck. What was that?\" I glance down and notice for the first time a jar. A jar with a dollar in it. The word swear is written on a white sheet of paper practical laminated onto the jar with packing tape. I dont really give it much extra thought as i turn to lock my front door. Must have been one of the neighbors that heard me getting made at one of my games last night.\n\"Fuck'em if they can't take a litle extra noise\" with the door fully locked i turn back around and give the jar a second look to see if the writing on the side matched one of my neighbor's writing. The writing is neat almost printed, though quite clearly written with maybe a sharpie or something. The writting almost matches the font of the two dollars that are in the jar. Weird it hasn't moved since i kicked it so a new prospective of the contents is a little too difficult to explain. I glance up and down the hall to see if anyone might be watching.\n\n\n\"This is fucking stupid. Why a swear jar and not a note to keep it down or something?\" I'm mostly mumbling to myself as i glance around. The jar is trash and should be thrown away. Im an asshole, but not a scumbag. I bend over and pick up the jar. With a little shake i notice my count must have been off. There are three bills. All ones. I counted them right the first time, im positive. I cram my hand in the jar and pull out the three bills and stuff them into my pocket.\n\"This is a stupid fucking prank, but at least i get a shitty soda out of it.\" I dont know why i keep mumbling to myself out loud. \"Dumbass assholes.\" I start walking the jar down stair to the trash can waiting on the first floor. I walk down the two flights of stairs, my morning rush kind of numbed thanks to the weird jar on my door step. I approach the trash can as i go to leave and i give the jar one last look as it starts to fly into the can. More dollars. The jar hits with a solid thump as i reach my hand into my pocket. Three dollars. I emptied the jar up stairs. It was empty last i looked. My morning plays in my head. It has to be a coincidence that the dollars are equal to how much i cursed this morning. I meant if you count dumbass. I pause for what felt like a moments. I think through everything. Theres only one way to figure this out i guess.\n\n\n\"Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Ass. Fuck. Fuck. Motherfuck. Cucksucker.\" I let a string of obscenities fly out of my mouth. Caution to the wind.\n\n\n\"Shit! Fuck! I forgot to count. Fuck I'm an idiot. Fuck! Start counting! Whats it been like 20?\" I take a deep breath to calm myself. And i finally peak into the trash can. Nestled snugly on top of crumpled papers and bags and someones old lo mein rests a jar with more than a hand full of bills in it. \n\n\nWith a quick look around i roll up one of my sleeves. \"This is fucking stupid, but there's no way im passing up a jar like this bullshit if I'm not fucking crazy right now. I should have bought wet naps or something because the dickhead who put that lo mein in there dirtied my fucking jar.\" A slow stream of curses leave my mouth as i reach for the jar. My fingers brush the edge of a paper filled jar. I can't help but smile for the first time this week", "I found this cool jar the other day. For some reason every time I said a curse word, a dollar of the current location was materialized. I couldn't understand why all of a sudden, these strange uniformed men came along and [REDACTED]\n\n[REDACTED] ----------\n\n-----\n\nI woke up in [REDACTED]. Fucking [REDACTED]\n\n\n ", "\"And that's how I paid off my student debt. And got this house. And that car. And those things I wanted. What can I say? Swearing's always been my fuckin' strong suit.\"", "My dirty mouth had always been something I needed to work on. For what felt like the first time since I was old enough to curse I had actually gone a few days without swearing once. For something so small, I was actually pretty proud of myself.\n\nThen, one morning after an entire swear-free week, this plain jar ended up on my desk one day. I asked around, it didn't seem to belong to anyone and no one else knew how it got there. \"Well, fuck\" I muttered to myself, only to then see a dollar bill materialize in the jar in front of me. The first time I swore in over a week, and now I'm getting rewarded for it? I always thought whatever being runs this show had to have himself a sense of humor.\n\nThis jar was magical, and I had no idea what the hell to do with it. I checked it countless times in the next few days to make sure I hadn't lost my damn mind. Stubbed my toe? Dollar in the jar. Burned myself at work? Dollar in the jar. Idiot ran me off the road? A fresh tenner in the jar. I had to use this gift, but I had no idea how. In the face of this dilemma I did what I always did when my mind hit such a blank, I started writing.\n\nAfter a few feverish days, I had a damn notebook full of ideas. Pages and pages of filthy song lyrics and scripts that would make Tarantino blush, anything that could get me swearing into a microphpone or camera. I don't know if that jar had anything to do with it, hell I don't particularly care, but that shit was good too. Before I knew it I was fucking rolling in it, enough money to quit school and do this full time. Before long, I made it here.\n\nAnd that's the origin story behind Swear Jar Entertainment. Unless you have a reason to keep wasting my time, get the fuck out of my office." ]	[ 1, 2, 2, 7, 10, 19 ]	[ "1469589043", "1469589341", "1469595781", "1469591489", "1469589985", "1469595638" ]

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