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timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:57:01
2022-12-31 14:34:19
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-08-08 08:06:24
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans.
|
It had been tried before, always ending in failure.
The world, small and blue, stood out as a conspicuous failure to convert the last holdout of sentient life in the galaxy.
Missionary invasions had worked everywhere else. In all other cases, soldiers of the church brought the staff and the beam, the truth and the light, the core of value and the matrix of eternity. There was resistance in some cases, true. But in the end always success. Always.
But these... ..."humans" they called themselves... ...were especially beloved by their protectors. Sometimes worshipped as a pantheon, sometimes as a unity, but always there. Even when they lost their myths and their faith, the leviathans stood in the shadows jealously defending this one pocket of space.
A few attempts had come close. The greatest of all even tried once, sending his own begotten son, but he would not return. At least, not any time soon. The grip of the eight was far too tight.
Earthlings had a talent for duplicity and hate, vanity and rage, cruelty and oppression unmatched by any other creature in the galaxy. They were the only things really like themselves that the leviathans had ever found.
Monsters have their favorites too. And no one was going to touch this world without their permission.
|
> ##### Transcript - 2215 Hours Day 1 - Expedition Alpha Bravo - Unit 6 Encounter
Unit Commander (UC): Fresh Air, do you copy?
Fresh Air (FA): Copy Ultra 6.
UC: We are at 10 clicks, Fresh Air. Awaiting orders.
FA: Copy that Ultra 6, continue your descent to 11 clicks.
UC: Copy that.
********
> ##### Expedition Alpha Bravo - Unit 6 Encounter Debrief
> ##### Private 1st Class - Martin Johansen - Page 2
...continue our descent to 11 clicks. Commander Scott relayed the orders to our unit and we continued. Private Micheals and I connected the pre-laid communications line to a portable relay and began to un-spool new line as we went. We did a field test of the quick evac system and it was confirmed functional.
Sergeant Mallorey manned the primary borer, which was ordered to the front of the of the line. It took about twenty minutes after receiving the order before we were on the move again.
My suit's heat dispersal remained optimal, although we were seeing approximately one degree Celsius increases in temperature every 100 meters. We covered about 300 meters over the next six hours. Nothing abnormal occurred.
At approximately 0420 hours, Sergeant Mallory hit an unmapped deposit of some kind. I think he said sapphire maybe, but something very hard. Forward progress halted and we requested a high density drill bit be sent down the tube. Fresh Air reported one was dispatched and would arrive in 33 hours. Commander Scott ordered us to make camp.
**********
> ##### Transcript - 0910 Hours Day 2 - Expedition Alpha Bravo - Unit 6 Encounter
UC: Fresh Air, do you copy?
FA: Your coming in a little choppy Ultra 6, but we copy.
UC: We're experiencing some turbulence down here Fresh Air. Anything to be worried about?
FA: Nothing abnormal on the local scans, Ultra 6. Looks like a little belly ache, that's all.
UC: Copy that Fresh Air - just wanted to confirm, put the gang at ease.
FA: Copy that.
********
> ##### Expedition Alpha Bravo - Unit 6 Encounter Debrief
> ##### Private 1st Class - Martin Johansen - Page 4
The new bit arrived at 1100 hours on day 3. We passed it forward towards the borer and Sergeant Mallory began the installation. In order to get to the drill head, he needed to back up the borer a couple of feet. He did so, but then became startled. Something about the mineral deposit shifting. I think he was concerned about a cave in.
The Commander radioed up for a scan. Everything came back clean. .7 on the richter scale I think - but within normal ranges. Command gave the OK to drill, but the Commander and Mallory went to a private comm for a few minutes. When they got back to shared frequencies, Mallory switched out the bit. Took about an hour and then the Commander ordered us forward.
********
> ##### Transcript - 1206 Hours Day 3 - Expedition Alpha Bravo - Unit 6 Encounter
UC: Fresh Air, resuming drilling.
FA: Copy Ultra 6
[20 second of radio silence]
UC: Cave in, cave in, retreating up the tube!
FA: Negative Ultra 6, last scan came up clean, there's no...
[Speakers overlap]
UC: Everybody up tube! Fresh air we have a localized seismic event, moving...
FC: ...sign of a cave in Ultra 6, we have, Jesus Christ what the fuck is that...
UC: ...up tube, up tube! Mallory's gone, the borer fell through. Negative copy Fresh Air...
FC: Ultra 6, get up tube, there's a cavitation event occurring directly ahead of you.
UC: ...move your asses! Fresh Air, requesting quick evac activation.
FC: Activation approved, get your ass to the 10K marker. What are you seeing down there?
UC: [unintelligible]
FC: Negative copy Ultra 6, say again.
[Audio Reconstruction Incomplete]
UC: [unintelligible] towards [unintelligible] Mallo[ry] [unintelligible] saw bloo[d] [unintelligible] repeat [unintelligible] blood.
FC: That's a negative copy Ultra 6, status...
Unknown Transmission: **Saolamagəhnūansheeri. Saolamagəhnūansheeri. Saolamagəhnūansheeri.
Saolamagəhnūansheeri. Saolamagəhnūansheeri.**
[Transmission repeats 500 times over 57 minutes and 25 seconds]
*********
> ##### Expedition Alpha Bravo - Unit 6 Encounter Debrief
> ##### Private 1st Class - Martin Johansen - Page 4
Almost immediately after Mallory began to drill, it started. The whole tunnel shook like crazy, and we could see the carbon fiber reinforcements start to buckle. I was at the back of the line. About 100 meters ahead I saw the lights on the borer just disappear, and we all heard Mallory screaming on the comms about blood and then nothing.
I admit, I ran before the Commander gave the order. It's probably the only reason I'm alive today. Michaels waited and even the 20 seconds made all the difference.
I ran up tube as fast as I could. It got dusty real fast, so I just kept my eyes on the neon comm line I'd been laying. I heard some back and forth over the radio, but I don't really remember any specifics. I was, not in control sir, I'm ashamed to say.
It was around the 10 click marker that i heard the voice, if you could call it that. Same kind of thing from S1, only a lot louder. I could hear it *through* my helmet, not just on the radio. It made the earth shake.
I kept running until i got to the the quick evac and hooked myself in. That's the first time I looked behind me and saw there was nobody there. Just darkness and that voice. The quick evac took 30 seconds or so to warm up and as it did, that's when it happened sir. The tunnel just fell away. I mean, like there was nothing under it. If I hadn't been hooked into the evac line, I'd fallen myself.
That's when I saw the lights of the borer, and Mallory's helmet all lit up inside, moving around. It's hard to gauge the distance, but I'd say he was at least a click away, on the other side of this new cave.
Then it started moving - the whole borer with Mallory in it. Not of its own power, but upwards, through the cave, like it was floating or something.
I told Comm Sat this, i know it sounds crazy and I guess it was too dark for me to see for certain, but I swear, right before the evac kicked in, Mallory's lights disappeared and, well, you know how your hand looks when you stick a bright flashlight up to it in the dark? Well that's what I saw. Just giant, glowing fingers closing in on him, and that damned voice speaking over and over.
Then the evac kicked in and dragged me up tube. Now, here I am.
*******
*******
NOTE: So this turned into a continuation or companion vignette from another prompt I wrote earlier today. I really enjoyed writing the other prompt and this prompt was awesome too, and since I'd accidentally set up the other prompt's entry in such a way as to make it compatible with this one, I decided to continue the progression of the story and effectively meld the two prompts into the same universe as I was writing this.
So basically [Part 1 Can be found here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7vcgqg/wp_you_wake_up_in_the_middle_of_the_night_to/)
| 2018-02-05T15:14:01
| 2018-02-05T14:07:15
| 2,481
| 392
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Michael,
We were both graduating. I understand, and it was easier for us to just go our own separate ways. I wanted to say something, but rejection hurts more than leaving questions unasked. It wouldn't have worked anyway.
I loved how you call me Katherine instead of Katie. Everyone else called me Katie, even though I introduced myself as Katherine.
I loved that you made a game of making me laugh when I wasn't supposed to.
I loved that I would wake up tangled in you, like you couldn't get close enough while we were asleep.
I loved crawling in bed with you after getting back from an early class.
I'm sorry that I hid things from you. I was afraid. Afraid of pushing you away and losing the little time we had left. I told you we had a little scare, no big deal. I told you that I took care of it, I was fine, don't worry about it. That wasn't a total lie, but I definitely fudged some things.
I'm sorry I was short with you, cold to you by the end. It wasn't logical, I just didn't know how to deal.
It was more than a little scare. I was more than a few days late. It took more than just a pill. I would have been due last month. I was terrified, and I didn't want to put that on you. I'm still not okay.
I imagine a parallel universe where it had gone differently. I Know I made the right decision for me at the time, but there's always the *what-if*. Where would we be? Would we be happy? Would you resent me?
Do you resent me now?
I miss you.
Katherine
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:14:02
| 1,462
| 236
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
*Number 1 -- ranked number 1 for 20 consecutive years today, and nobody has even come close to usurping me. Do you know why? Because while all the powerless, scum-dwelling peasants are fighting each other with knives for scraps, and those of the middle and upper classes are all tearing each other apart to rise through the ranks, I am in a class of my own. The truth is, my power is the weakest, least extravagant power imaginable. But, it is also the most powerful. My power is subtle, discrete, and soft-spoken. Nobody knows what it is, and it is because of that discretion that I have grown so great. For 20 years, I have been number 1 for one reason. Belief. I have the power of mass, psychic hypnotism. For 20 years, the people of this city have believed the lie that I am God incarnate because I have thrust it upon their conscious minds. And so too they believe the greatest lie this city maintains -- that the list exists at all.*
*They worship me. I am an idol and an icon, and those who have been reduced to icons have been exalted beyond humanity. In other words, no one dares touch me. I am naked. Here I stand with no armor in the midst a field of warring titans, and yet I have been unscathed all this time.*
*The power of belief is as strong and permanent as any iron, if not stronger. The motto I have made -- and made well-known -- for this city is "Strong as Iron." They believe it is about them. But underneath, on the hidden layer they cannot see, it is about the only that matters. It is about me. The holder of the key to faith. The rope that holds the cargo in place. The iron that is stronger than iron.*
These were the final thoughts of the monarch before they captured him. Before they raided his office and dismantled 20 years of a rock-solid faith. Before they tied him to a post with rifles to his face. Those were his final thoughts. And these were his final words: "how did you know?"
And the people replied: "even iron can melt."
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T11:44:55
| 243
| 68
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
One knows when they're in the presence of something ancient. A turn of phrase, the way their gaze meets yours, the way the air around them hangs, as though to communicate an unspoken form of reverence. Or fear. Simple folk like to trade their wives tales, attempts at justifying the things that exist just outside their conceptions. Makes them feel better.
I wonder what they'd say about me.
But my gift, a paltry glimpse into the age of those who cross my path, is nothing compared to the man- er, woman? Hard to tell after so many years. Anyway. Is nothing compared to the figure who comes, every eight months like clockwork, to visit our humble distillery. The first time I met them I thought, sure. Someone's slipped me something. Just because I can see the age of things doesn't make me immune to tampering. And I've been at this for a few decades.
All this to say, the first time I met the man (at the time) who saved my life, I had difficulty believing he was nearly four-thousand years old.
"Been around a while, then?"
"Oh, I dread to think."
"What brings you 'round the Juicy Jailer then?"
"It really wasn't my decision. Just passing through, I suppose."
"Not much inside worth your time, I'd think."
"Well. You'd be surprised what I find when I'm not looking."
Turned out he was right, as later that evening we learned the distillery had been housing an underground warehouse what took people and stuffed 'em into tin suits. Sy-buh whatitsorsomething' he called them. Made this dreadful, monotonous speech about "upgrading" everyone. But quick as a flash, this man had done them in and cleared out just as quickly as he'd come. I asked for his name, but he gave me his vocation instead. Weird bloke.
But you never can tell with Time Lords, can you?
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:22:02
| 585
| 62
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Monique,
We both messed up. I should have paid you the attention you needed when you needed it, and you should have told me when you felt you had lost control of your life. I'm sorry, but this is no reason to throw away a wonderful 10 year marriage. Please come home, we miss you horribly.
I love you and I always will.
-A
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T20:41:24
| 1,462
| 67
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
It wasn't so much a power as it was a curse. Tell me how you would feel to die a million deaths. To wake up the day before the dominoes fell, the machination of reality that would end your life took place, and then some small nuance in the fabric of reality is altered to spare your life for a few more days, years, an eternity. Maybe your consciousness was somehow attached to every other version of you in a theoretical multiverse. Maybe history would simply rewind. You didn't understand how it worked, and felt no more in control than a rat on a wheel. At first it was truly an anguish lamentable, but over eons of human experience you've grown cold and accustomed to your own personal hell. The very world would bend itself minutely just to keep you alive, to keep you at the precipice, to keep you number one.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T12:57:51
| 243
| 10
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
She looked thin, an average girl, she shifted her weight as her high heel strap dug uncomfortably into the back of her ankle. She bent down to readjust the strap. My mind was racing and I could feel my body become aware of that I knew nothing about the situation about to enfold between us. Thin soft curls covered her eyes as she rose to meet my widened stare. She instantly knew I could tell she was different, our eyes locked and I felt every fear and trepidation pass from me. She smiled, her face softening as she seemed to download every thing I've ever felt seen or heard. "Danny," she whispered, although I don't remember her mouth moving, "I'm tired, I've been on a century shift and I just want to have some fun." I let her pass through. Honestly something about her absolutely terrified me even though I felt a calm blanket surrounding my physical body. She made me feel like I was standing in front of the biggest mountain or tree Id ever seen. A small part of me wanted to fall to my knees and pray to her to spare me from whatever she was capable of if pushed to wrath. I didn't though, I just numbly went through the rest of the night. Anxiously peeking in to see if I could tell what she was doing. At closing time she walked out following a regular I'd seen many times. A tall guy that brought many girls to the club and none of them looked to happy to be leaving with him after. Id heard he was a bad guy, a date raper, machismo bully and so on. This time her stride was confident, her eyes locked on the back of his head as she trailed him like a coyote. She winked at me as she strode by. "Bonus" she whispered. As they walked away my guts twisted into knots as I observed the guys number start to tick down.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-02T00:03:35
| 585
| 10
|
[WP] Write a children's story that turns into the most moral-lacking piece of work possible.
[This is a well written example](http://joncjg.blogspot.com/2014/04/childrens-story-writing.html)
Edit: Wow, I didn't think it would get as much attention as it did. Thanks for submitting, all of you!
|
There were once a tortoise and a hare. The hare was haughty and fast, and the turtle was slow and wise. One day the hare approached the tortoise. He had bags under his eyes. "Hey, man," the hare wheezed, "listen, I need to get gas for my car--my cousin left me at the Exxon and I got to get back to my hotel where my kids are waiting for me. You got twenty dollars I can borrow? I'll send it back to you soon as I get my wallet at the hotel."
The tortoise took a $20 bill from his shell and handed it to the hare.
The hare snapped the bill crisply. "Man, you a dumb mothafucker ain't ya?"
"What?" the turtle replied indignantly.
"You dumb as fuck," the hare giggled and began to run.
"Hey," the turtle shouted, crawling after him, "hey, give me back my money!"
"Come and get it you slow-ass mothafucka!"
The tortoise crawled slowly and steadily after the hare and got absolutely nowhere worth mentioning. His steadfastness and constancy did absolutely nothing for him in this particular situation.
|
Jenny lived in a remote village several miles away from any metropolitan area. The children of the village never wondered what was outside of their little home. Except Jenny was a curious child. For as long as she could remember she's desperately wanted to journey to the nearest big city, but no one had left the village for many years.
"No, you mustn't go," her friends would say. "You'll get lost in the woods and never find your way back."
Oh, but Jenny was much too enraptured by the thought of adventure to listen to friends no wiser than she. Jenny decided she would ask her grandmother for help in preparing for her journey. She'll help me, thought Jenny.
Grandmother was, you might say, something of a shit. She wholeheartedly enjoyed anything that would infuriate Jenny's parents. She luxuriates in the misery of stupid people (which to was anyone who isn't smarter than she was). She'd spent the past three weeks pretending to forget everyone she knew every few hours just to eavesdrop on conversations other people thought she would never remember. Grandmother learned new things every day.
"I'll tell you what, Timmy-"
"Jenny, gran-"
"Yes, Remmy, I'll tell you what. You give me the key to your house and I'll let you fill your pack with anything from the pantry. Just don't feed any animals you might find, they'll hunt their own food just like us."
Grandmother would spend the next few days rearranging some of the furniture in Jenny's house. A twist of a chair here, an overturned picture frame there, she'd perhaps put the toilet paper on the wrong way. Oh, and she must put the guns in different cases (Jenny's parents were both hunters, you see).
Jenny left her village the same night, heading south towards the city. She walked, singing songs to herself as she went, until she ran out of songs to sing. She must've been walking for hours and she'd eaten most of her food. Jenny decided she would climb the tallest tree she could find hoping she might see the lights of the city. She wondered if she really was lost. She found a tree that was thirty - nay, thirty two feet tall, and, after making a very large pile of leaves and straw (in case of a fall) climbed to the very top and....and there it was. There, radiant, glistening and ever-enthralling was her long awaited city.
Jenny thought. She thought about her parents, the parents she'd barely thought about before leaving. She thought about her friends, who she left without saying goodbye. She thought about her grandmother. Shit that she was, she might tell her parents where she's gone off to. Especially once she's discovered Jenny'd given her the key to her own house. She thought about Timmy and Remmy. She thought about her diary, her most intimate thoughts that were left behind. She never mentioned leaving the village in it, but her parents wouldn't know that and they'd read everything else if grandmother didn't tell them first.
Jenny heard a crack, the branch she was standing on gave way, and she fell, but her longing for the city remained in the tree. And she fell onto the leaves. Jenny was, save for a few cuts and bruises, all right. She lifted her bag, noting that there was more food left than she'd thought, dusted herself off and wrapped a cut hand in a shirt she'd brought with her. She regretted leaving her family; she missed her friends.
Jenny wanted to go back home. She felt she hadn't payed any attention to very much of anything there. In fact she couldn't remember but the most insignificant details about her home. She felt ashamed of herself at being so thoughtless, so she began her walk back home.
She walked, again, for hours. The sun was about to rise and the trip back seemed to go by faster than leaving did. She liked the thought of returning home after a journey. Short that it was, she had still been further away than she'd ever been before and that was something to be proud of. She sighed at the thought of her parents reading her diary.
And then a thing ate her.
| 2014-06-07T06:03:56
| 2014-06-07T03:39:40
| 26
| 19
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:02:54
| 1,462
| 55
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
The Nine Kings were a sort of urban legend. Eight powerful enigmas uniting under a truce to lord their power over the people with Number 1. The higher your rank, the more political influence you had over the city, and even the world.
Take Mason, a red-headed hothead with eyes of amber, for example. Mason was ranked 9,001. Only the top 10,000 get to live in Paradiso, a city for only the strongest on the planet. Imagine his shock when Number 10 came to him with a deal: work together to take down Number 1, and live off the royalties as the Ten Kings. Mason immediately accepted. Sure, he was wealthy enough, but you don't get to live in Paradiso without being a little greedy.
Mason and Tenner, the name number 10 chose for himself, discussed their powers and plans for weeks. Mason could create fire, and Tenner could copy bullets, giving himself endless ammunition. However, Number 1's power was a mystery. No one knew what he could do. All that was known was that he was an assassin who used his victims' decapitated heads as proof of his victories.
After weeks of scouting, Mason and Tenner arrived at Number 1's beach house. The night was cold. Mason's body radiated heat, so his toned upper body was bare. Tenner, on the other hand, was bundled in a black jacket. A scarf covered his face, and goggles with orange lenses hid his eyes. He never revealed his face, even to Mason.
"Are you ready?" Mason asked Tenner. His heavily garbed friend nodded. "I'll lead the way," he answered. "Watch my back."
The two walked into the house, ready for anything. They needed to do this quickly, lest the other Kings decide to crash the party. What Mason and Tenner weren't ready for was finding the house already trashed. A man in a white t-shirt stood over a decapitated corpse filled with kitchen knives. As the knives disappeared, the man turned to greet his other two guests. His hair was a chilling black, and his eyes were silver. He was the complete opposite of Mason. "Thieves," Number 1 said, "you can't live with 'em, and you can't live without 'em."
Tenner pointed both of his revolvers at Number 1. Mason's fists conjured scarlet flames. He recognized Number 1's face from all the internet articles. Mason and Tenner fired upon him, only for the King to evade with ease. He was fast, and his attacks would be faster. Like magic, the single kitchen knife in his hand became three, and he threw them at Mason and Tenner.
The two expertly dodged, while Number 1 slashed open a window, and jumped outside. Mason and Tenner pursued him, the former using his flames to propel himself. Red lights and white flashes reflected over the ocean that night.
Number 1 tossed a knife at the airborne Mason, only have it to turn into a hundred mid-flight. Mason blew them all away, and Tenner got a shot on Number 1's left shoulder. This didn't stop the King, who he kept throwing and multiplying knives. Neither Mason nor Tenner could get close enough to deal the finishing blow.
Number 1 used the fight's confusion to circle back to his beach house. Tenner had to magically reload his pistols, meaning it was up to Mason to stop Number 1 from contacting the other Kings.
Number 1 burst through his front door, while Mason created his own opening by burning a large hole in the ceiling. "I'm gonna enjoy this," Mason gloated as he sent a geyser of flame toward Number 1. The King burned alive. His flesh seared away by the raw force of Mason's fire. Number 1 screamed until there was nothing left of him but a charred corpse.
Mason sat on a nearby couch. It was his couch, now. He was Number 1. Tenner soon walked in, and assessed the damage. "How's it feel, Mason?" he asked the pyrokinetic. Mason smiled. "To be Number 1? Pretty good. Of course, I prefer to stay Number 1." Before Tenner could fire at Mason, he set aflame by his partner. Mason watched as Tenner fell to the ground, his clothes falling to pieces. Mason closed his eyes, and enjoyed the sound of the night ocean's tide.
...
...
...
"Seven," a voice said.
Mason opened his eyes, and turned around. Number 1 stood next to the hole in the wall, wearing a denim jacket instead of his t-shirt. Mason got up to fight him, only to have his arms stabbed by kitchen knives thrown from opposite directions. As he cried out in pain, two more people emerged from the shadows. They were both Number 1's, only one wore a hoodie, and another wore a business suit.
"Like I was saying," the first Number 1 spoke, "the man you killed was Number 7, which means you're Number 7, now." Before Mason could speak, the third Number 1 punched him in the face, causing the pyrokinetic to fall to the ground. "H-how?" Mason uttered.
The three Number 1s smiled. Six more entered the room, each one wearing something different. One of them being the Number 1 Mason killed. "Cloning's one of the most practical powers I've ever seen," Number 7 explained. "Being to the top, on the other hand, can be boring," Number 3 added. "Once you're there, there's no one you can trust," Number 8 said. "But it's not about the destination," Number 4 said. "It's about the journey."
Number 1, the real Number 1 in the denim jacket, created two naked clones of himself. "I had so much fun killing to get here, I decided to do it again, and again, and again." He picked up a scrap of wood from the floor, and duplicated it in his hand. "However, I decided to give each iteration of me a different fighting style to accomplish this. Knives, bullets, shuriken, pipes, myself... I can clone just about anything. Take that corpse." He pointed to the thief's corpse on the ground, which disappeared. "That was me, too."
Mason slowly stood up. "Wait, did you say 'bullets?'" he asked. As Number 1 nodded, Mason was shot in the back of the head by Tenner. Tenner removed his scarf and goggles, revealing Number 1's face. "Should we take his head with the rest?" Number 10 asked. Number 1 shook his head. "No, you can destroy it. I prefer not showing off the heads of zeroes."
With that, the clones each took part in the sadistic ritual of shooting and stabbing Mason's head into oblivion.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T13:33:39
| 243
| 77
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
I've got about 20/200 vision; however of the blur in the string of crowd to my left, each digit in the jumble of numbers still has clear edges, like a bad photoshop. I don't even bother to make them out until they step closer though, so that the smoldering numbers are silhouetted by the darkened buildings eventually behind them. I motioned to the door to my 5 o'clock and the group nearest went past, then behind me through the door. It was drizzling, and in-between each vague gesture of invitation I brought my head down to stare at the relaxing splashes on the pavement in front of me, periodically obscured by my breath. The rain made everyone impatient, but the man to my left stepped forward slowly; still in front of the crowd behind him. Unmoving, my eyes wandered from the calming spatter to his ragged moccasins. He then said something in an unfamiliar accent, that didn't manage to break through the general hum of the crowd. I finally moved my head. 7219. I squinted and, still staring at the monoliths aligned above his head, I said, "Seventy-two? What are you doing here?" He didn't look seventy. His eyebrows twitched up, and then he put a shit-eating grin on his face. That unfamiliar accent, his expression and the situation grew unconsciously on my nerves. 7219. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer, expecting the seventy-two to part from a nineteen behind him. It didn't. I stood up from my stool
as far as i got, not a writer obviously, but this prompt was way too interesting not to imagine up a scenario about
editedit: i think i'll finish this story later tonight, if anyone cares lol
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:35:54
| 585
| 11
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
"Okay, with the guards on the wrong car, he's got a few less people protecting him!"
"Rad. He's approaching the Mostar café. Čabrinović, you were next in initiative because Mehmedbašić fell asleep and Ilić had to go home for work tomorrow, so your turn."
"I activate and throw my bomb."
"That's. a... mis- oh for fucks sakes."
"What?"
"Your Stupid Lucky feat. In the event of a miss, the attack has a chance of happening to another enemy adjacent. I should have placed the cars a bit apart from each other. Fuck. Okay, the bomb rolls under the car, and blows up the car BEHIND your target. Franz is spooked, bloodied, but has radioed guards to get you."
"Can I swallow my cyanide pill? Also use my move action to jump into the river"
"You can try. Roll a d20. I'm not sure what check it'll be so let's say DC 10"
"9"
"You fail to be poisoned... Actually, that was a decent roll, and as I hadn't planned for it... And no, Stupid Lucky doesn't apply if you're attacking yourself... You take the cyanide capsule. You're not dying, but you feel queasy. The river water isn't helping. It's the Archduke's turn now, so he reaches the nearby mayor, and complains loudly before his wife tells him to chillax. Let's roll his next route and... Oh for fucks sakes, Lojka doesn't know about the change in plans."
"Can I just shoot him on his way back?"
"sure, princip."
"Crit."
"Fuck. Roll to confirm crit."
"There."
"Fuck. Okay, so you hit him (and his wife) in the jugular veins. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand remains upright, the Count asks him if he's alright, to which the Archduke replies "Sophie, Sophie! Don't die! Live for our children!" followed by six or seven utterances of "It is nothing.'. Congratulations, gentlemen. You have just started the First World War."
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40
| 2018-05-29T07:22:47
| 303
| 30
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Dani,
After everything that happened I continue to see you everywhere I go. Whether it's bringing up the past or driving through town and seeing a car just like yours or in my dreams sometimes I can't escape you. And I always think about what exactly it is I will do when I see you again. I want to scream at you or just flat out ignore you. There are so many options and I have ran each one through my head multiple times. In the end I know though it will be none of those things. As usual I will just forgive you and allow you to hurt me again. Because as much as I keep telling myself that you hurt me for the last time and I need to shake you off I just cant shake the fact that I miss you.
I miss your contagious laugh and smile. I miss the times we hung out and talked for hours. I miss not being judged and just having fun with you. You were so beautiful. I had people tell me you weren't that pretty but they were wrong. You were the most beautiful girl I had met at the time. In the end they were right though. After what happened I need to remind myself that you aren't. I don't miss how you made me feel. I don't miss the times you avoided talking to me or not showing up to places we were supposed to hang out. The last time we had seen each other was one of the greatest nights of my life and as much as I know deep down there is a part of me that misses you and would love to see you again.
I hope to God I don't.
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:53:10
| 1,462
| 95
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
It was actually quite a simple one. Any one of these people could defeat me. They just didn’t know it.
Erik had been after my title for years. Had it not been time manipulation, his massive ego could have been a power in itself. Time manipulation was truly unique in the sense that he was Kronos incarnate. Speeding up time, slowing down time and stoping time all fell under the power, so long as the flow of time was forward. Despite the explosions and pure, vile weapons sent after him time and time again, they could never touch him.
Today was the third time this month that he was challenging me. We stood in the arena, the crowd swallowed in silence. We always squared off and started off with playful banter. Well, playful for me. I think it was going to make him snap some day.
"I've got a new trick this time! Today's the day I am crowned number one, you sloth!!"
Sloth? Maybe he really did run out of banter.
"Are we really going to do this again? You know you can't win, Erik. The crowd knows it!!!"
With that, they exploded in chants and jeered at Erik, some throwing bits of food that he made seem to phase through him.
"Whenever you're ready, Erik. Just remember, whatever speed you go at, you'll never be able to hit me."
In a blink, he was in front of me, throwing a punch that went faster than eyes can register, yet his fist flew only inches in front of me. He spun around and kicked at my face, the move also stopping short of a direct hit. One more attempt, a headbutt, coming in close enough for me to see the pores in his head, but no contact. The desperation kicked in giving me my chance. I concluded it with a single punch to the gut.
I shook my head.
"Erik. Please. Give up. I am and always will be the stronger person."
The hit to him hardly inflicted any pain on him, it was the mental drain that made him fall to his knees. The crowd left without much commotion, having seen the scene many times before.
Suddenly, the look on Erik's face came up again. The epiphany face, as I call it.
"Your power. It's... it's manipulation. You can contol people by making them doubt themselves or--"
"No, it's not."
The other familiar face, the face of utter confusion, now replaced the former. He got up slowly and walked out mumbling,
"Then what is it? I have to figure it out..."
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T14:46:11
| 243
| 15
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
>14:00
>Fourteen hours?
"Uh Ma'am you can't bring your baby in here"
"Fuck you cunt! You sound like one of them fucking doctors cunt! I need a fucking drink. I've had five kids and know my body better than them. It's just a bit a bleeding"
>I don't get paid enough for this shit
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T21:44:55
| 585
| 70
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you.
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T20:37:15
| 1,462
| 16
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
Prologue: *It wasn't the largest city, but it was definitely the most powerful and arguably dangerous in the world. Every single person here held a special ability, ranging from a power to clean everything within a 2m radius, to extreme powers such as flying or super strength. All these powers helped construct the most technologically advanced and richest city the world. One man had the power to give everybody a ranking in terms of how powerful their powers were. The minor powers caused little trouble, but conflicts to reach the top 10 cause widespread destruction. However there was one person who has held the top spot for many years. Me.*
I am considered the greatest of them all - yet no one but me knows why. I have no extraordinary powers like time control, even inferior powers like the cleaning everything within a 2m radius. I am a normal human being.
Since killing someone with a higher ranking gives the killer a higher ranking themselves, I have been the target of many assassination attempts. I have survived them all. Some say my power is health regeneration, but that's not true. Some say my power is extreme luck, but that's not true either. Maybe in 2000 years they will think my power is immortality, but that is only half true. It took me a while to find out what my power is. It's the ability to be ranked number one on this superpower list. I am essentially immortal, as dying would mean I am not the top ranked anymore. My power is hardly powerful at all, yet I am the most powerful of them all.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T11:55:01
| 243
| 39
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
I stared bleakly at the faintly glowing digits. As if it couldn't get worse, the last number - a five - slowly transformed into a six.
"We have reservations."
The average-looking gentleman put out his hand and I plucked the driver's license out of it automatically. It read like any other I'd looked at tonight; the birthdate was just a few years before mine. The numbers over the woman's head read as twenty seven. Blonde and beautiful, her eyes were stunning and fixated almost entirely on her ancient companion. A man five thousand years her senior.
"Yes," I rasped, from a shock-clogged throat. "VIP room upstairs."
He scowled at me then, and I felt a weight of scrutiny I didn't know could exist. Like a bug under a magnifying glass. In the sun. I winced away from those eyes like they were an assault, and backed out of the way, stumbling over my feet. I had no desire to know this man, but I had the unnerving suspicion that he'd now want to know me.
And that couldn't happen.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T19:55:18
| 585
| 140
|
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done?
|
*A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium.
|
So Captain Kirk, do we have to go full warp speed to planet Coagula?
Asked the little gay Asian guy who's name I'm not allowed to google.
Captain Kirk with a smug look on his face as he might ordinarily have, responds saying, no little Asian guy. Were going back to earth. Because it may exist in this universe. The black guy from xmen somehow got on the ship. Stole a crew suit and is infiltrating their intel. He knows damn well that Renwuad is no good at formatting a story. All of a sudden the ship crashed into a planet that was completely invisible, it broke in half, slowly sinking into space....somehow.
Jack appeared out of nowhere holding onto a box of phasers. Their was clearly room on it for him to lay on, but he chose to hold on to the side, and slowly died, while the little funny Asian man laughed. And said "Gooooooodbyyyyeee"
| 2016-02-02T00:31:42
| 2016-02-01T22:49:14
| 147
| 16
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear James,
I know I've already written countless letters to you. And I know you've got to be tired of hearing it by now, but I miss you something terrible. You haven't died or anything..you're not sick. In fact, you're perfectly fine, but you're perfectly fine a few hundred miles away and that's what hurts.
I had a good night tonight. The best one since you left 3 weeks ago. Me and Car and Erika had so much fun together. We talked about our men. We talked about how we met, and how in love we all were. It was so nice to have girls to talk to about you. The only other person I really talk to about you, is you.
I hope you're doing good.
I know things must be tough there, and I know you're being worked pretty hard. I think you'll have big muscles when you get back . :) then whenever you hug me, I'll feel even safer than I did before. Speaking of hugs, I can't wait for ours in January. it'll be the first one in 13 weeks.
I never really imagined I would ever love someone as much as I love you. I never imagined I would stick by someone like I've stuck by you. In my fairytales, I didn't picture myself waiting weeks for someone, and I didn't picture my excitement in life coming in the form of a letter written by you. When I was younger I only dreamed of a white dress and a groom with tears in his eyes as I walked down the isle. I dreamed of dancing in the kitchen at 2AM, baking cookies and then falling asleep next to my one true love after eating every single one. I dreamed of adventures, and mischief, and sitting on rooftops at midnight talking and watching stars.
I suppose that's all you see when you've never truly loved someone before. Because if you have, then you would know it's so, so much more. Love is fighting over little things. It is making sure both of you have eaten, and it's good morning and goodnight texts. It's "call me when you get there so I know you made it safely." And "come home at a decent hour."
Love is saying I love you every time you hang up or leave each other's presence, even if for only a minute. It is making love for hours and never getting tired of being so close to someone. It is forgiving, a lot of it, and also forgetting. It is giving second chances but also setting boundaries. Love is not easy. It is hard. But it is what I feel for you, and I do not EVER want to feel it for anyone else.
You being gone has only given me more time to think about our future, and all the years I have left to love you. They say life is short and when I'm with you, I believe them. Hours feel like minutes and I could spend a million years with you but still miss you the second you leave. I never get tired of you. I can't wait for our wedding, and I never wanted kids but oh god what I would give to have a mini version that is half you and have me.
I can't wait until we live together, and fall sleep together, and I can't wait for the nights when we make love until the sun comes up, and then sleep all day. I can't wait for midnight drives, and I can't wait to surprise you with all of your favorite foods.
I can't wait for the bad times either. That sounds crazy to most people but if they understood my love for you then they'd realize bad times with you are worth more to me than good times with anyone else. I can't wait for the little arguments we have, and I can't wait to pick on each other. I crave the things most couples take for granted, because I want everything with you. I want the fights, and the yelling, because I know you must have those if you want the good too. And oh, how I want the good.
More than anything, James, i want you. I promise I will continue to write you. I hope you're staying strong. One of your buddies said as long as you keep your cool, listen to your DI's and stand tall you'll be just fine. I know how tough you are. I know what you're capable of. And I know I am so proud and happy for you to do this. I can't wait to see you in 9 weeks. And I can't wait to love on you, and spend those 10 days with you.
You are the love of my life, and I miss you more than anything right now. I love you baby, i promise Ima hold it down till you come home.
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T21:28:23
| 1,462
| 74
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
The energy in the air was so thick I could feel it. Pressing down on me and making everything feel heavier.
I smirked at the muscular man, hovering in front of me.
“So your number two huh?”
He flew a few metres higher and looked down at me.
“No, I am number one, and soon enough everyone else will know it too.”
I laughed.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Well I mean it.”
“I’ve heard that before as well.”
He clenched his fists and the energy surrounding me became even heavier.
“Enough, let’s do this. “
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“Hold on a minute. Just let me ask you something.”
I lit one inhaled, and then pulled out my hip flask and took a drink.
“Do you know why I drink and smoke so much?”
He didn’t answer.
“No? How about why I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months?”
Again he didn’t answer, but he was obviously wondering the reason.
“Still no? What about how dirty my clothes are, or why my hair’s greasy, or beard is just messy? Any ideas?”
He flew down a bit, so we were almost facing each other.
“Why?”
“It’s because I’m number one. It’s as simple as that.”
I took another sip from the hip flask.
“Do you think you’re the first to attack me today? Cause you’re the sixteenth.”
He actually looked shocked, he obviously thought no one but him was brave enough to challenge me.
“I can’t go a day without being harassed by people like you in the dozens. I can’t go a night without someone breaking into my house and trying to kill me in my sleep. I can’t go to the laundrettes, I can’t go shopping for new clothes. I can’t finish
shaving, I can’t take a shower for more than three minutes. I don’t even have enough time to wipe my own arse!”
He couldn’t speak, he looked like he’d forgotten how.
“So you know what? Go ahead and kill me, please!”
I walked towards him and grabbed him by the collar.
“You kill me and then you can take all of my problems away as well. Is that what you want?”
He stopped flying and stared at me for a while.
I let go of him, and he looked to the ground.
“No.”
“Yeah I thought as much. You idiots with your ranking, you think a number is all that matters.”
I paused and let it sink in for a while.
“Do yourself a favour, find something better do. Anyway I’ve gotta get going, I have somewhere to be. Probably gotta explain this to six more of you before I get there.”
I lit another cigarette.
“Wait. Before you go, will you tell me what your power is. I’ll keep it a secret I swear.”
I turned and started walking.
“Who knows? If I ever find out I’ll tell you.”
I heard him fly away and I started to laugh.
“That’s one less moron to worry about. All thanks to the power of depression.”
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T15:13:47
| 243
| 35
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
They all questioned it. Why would you want to be a bouncer? I can't blame my friends for thinking that way, of course. It seemed like a tedious job, with little reward. And it was tedious, but it was possibly the easiest job I could have.
Checking IDs was just a formality. the numbers floating above everyone's heads were what really have them away. It took me a while to figure out what they were. I remember when I did though. Standing in front of the mirror on the day of my eighth birthday, as the number above my head morphed from a 7 into an 8.
My ‘gift’, if you want to call it that, made this job stupidly easy. I didn't have to pay much attention to the contents of IDs. The numbers gave them all away. I'd earned a bit of a reputation with the high schoolers, at least I’d heard. None of them had slipped past me yet. And they probably wouldn't.
After a while the monotony did begin to get annoying. I'd taken to drinking a little bit, just to make the day more enjoyable. It didn't affect my ability at all, as long as I could make out the numbers.
On yet another night of turning away underaged kids, I was getting bored. Some of the same faces, some new. And then one that was new, but had to be old. That number couldn't be right. 9999. Was the alcohol affecting me? No, that wouldn't make any sense. It never has before.
Below that number, all alone, was a stunning blonde. There were some real model types that came here but, this one, she was something else. As my jaw dropped slightly, I saw a quick smile as she looked away. Glancing back at her ID it said she was 23. I was beyond confused. I mean she was old enough to be in here but, no, that can't be right. After taking way too long, I let her in.
It stuck with me, the whole night. Not one more person had such an outrageous number. I definitely wasn't experiencing some alcohol induced hallucinations. But I had to figure this out.
On my break I looked around the club. She was nowhere to be seen. Glancing at the somewhat empty bar, I spotted a flash of golden hair. That was her, still all alone, somehow. I couldn't help myself. I had to talk to her. I sat beside her and asked for a drink from Barry, the bartender. She glanced over at me and smiled. It was now or never.
“ So, uh, this may sound weird but, your ID said you're 23, and, I uh, you look a bit older, ah, yeah.” Spoken like a true gentleman. I was kicking myself mentally.
“Really,” she asked inquisitively, “and how old do I look?” She didn't sound the least bit offended.
“I mean, like at least, uh, 26?” I stammered out.
And then in a laughing tone, “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment”
I couldn't believe she hadn't asked me to leave yet. But that 9999 above her head still had me puzzled. “There's something I’d like to ask you”, I began.
She looked at me seductively and quietly said, “Yes. Let's go to my apartment.”
I was dumbfounded. I had not expected anything like this but before I knew it she was leading me out of the club and into a taxi.
The ride there was a blur, I was too confused, and she was to stunning not to be focused on. When we finally got to get apartment, she dragged me inside into the living room. And without realizing I was on her sofa with this jaw-dropping woman next to me. Gnawing at the back of my mind was still that number. She leaned in closer to me and whispered in my ear, “ I need you to do something for me”
Barely comprehending I replied, “Anything”
She leaned closer, her mouth right at my ear, “I need about tree-fiddy”
I pulled away, staring back at her, when I realized, I was sitting right next to a building sized crustacean from the Paleozoic era. Stunned, it came to me, that that God damned Loch Ness Monster tricked me again.
*Thanks for reading this! I’ve never commented here before, but this ending came to me as soon as I read the prompt. Hope you enjoyed, and tell me what could be better!*
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-02T01:10:06
| 585
| 13
|
[WP] Tell me about the american version of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
[The houses are, of course, Wolfthorn, Hawkridge, Foxcrest, and Bearglove.](http://i.imgur.com/HzLe3qz.jpg)
This is in the United States. Harry Potter's actions didn't effect anyone here, except give them some stories to tell.
What are the houses like? What houses are rivals?
|
The Rocky Mountain Institute for Magical Talents had been founded when witches and wizards ventured West, seeking asylum from the trials in Salem. This would be the second school opened in North America, accepting students from Western Canada and America. Locations for the school have been presumed to be in the vicinity of the muggle Glacier National Park.
Witches and wizards in this region inhabit the remote parts of the mountain range, where all magical villages are interspersed throughout the mountain valleys. The difficulty in reaching these villages in muggle fashion creates seclusion that is not easy to break. In magical trend, these villages strike one as something out of a fairytale. The village below the school grounds, Castlebrook, greatly resembled the Austrian village of [Hallstatt](http://www.austria.info/media/13712/hallstatt--d.1080288.jpg).
The school grounds sat perched on a plateau halfway up one of the 4 surrounding peaks, overlooking the quaint village and it's lake. Attendance of the school can reach a maximum of 10,000 students. Most arrive by floo powder a week early than the first day to shop Castlebrook's many shops for school supplies, including the renowned wandmaker, Thadeus Tillman. Inn's of Castlebrook is customarily occupied by the parents of returning students, the most popular being [Lodge of Ladislau](http://www.resourcedir.directory/images-uploads/2013/12/07/log-cabin-interior-design-ideas-decorating-for-luxury-home-log-cabin.jpg).
As tradition of other magical schools, four houses were established within the school to promote friendly competition and to create a sense of family amongst students of like minds. Untraditionally, these houses were given names of the four peaks that encompassed the school. Wolfthorn (for people who value teamwork), Hawkridge (for people who value Leadership), Foxcrest (for people who value wit and cunning), and Bearglove (for the kindhearted). The color of the dining hall's great fire burns the four colors of the school houses and will burn a single color when a students name written on a slip of parchment is thrown in. This decides the sorting of students.
A long standing rivalry between Wolfthorn and Hawkridge has stood since the inception of the school. Mostly kept to the Quidditch pitch, the rivalry sometimes spilled to the class rooms, creating friendly competition. Hawkridge and Bearglove has a rivalry every so often, when a less amiable generation is within the school walls but otherwise consider themselves above such behaviour. Quidditch tournaments are held between the Salem institute in Salem Massachusetts and Southern school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee.
Students often breaking into medicine have most often come from Foxcrest house while coming in second of most magical politicians to Hawkridge. Dark wizards have passed through this school each year, though none as bad as the UK's Voldemort, the majority from Hawkridge house. Bearglove has given The Rocky Mountain Institute the majority of our teachers and entrepreneurs, while the most famous athletes coming out of Wolfthorn.
|
From *Magical Education Across The World* by Rory Shamble, Chapter 6: American Education, paragraphs 1-4.
Magical Education in the Americas is, unlike that in Asia or Africa, based in large part upon the magical traditions of the European continent. It is, however, much less established, owing to their recent founding relative to the much more ancient schools of the Old World. This is the central difference between American schools, and all others across the world.
Owing in large part to this recent establishment, American schools are much more receptive to the influence of other magical cultures. For example, the Salem Witches' Institute, the primary female school of the continent, was founded by Europeans. However, in the past century, it has accepted methods of magic such as those practiced by major Arabian, Asian, and African schools.
Additionally strong in influence is the magical methods of the Native Americans, a profoundly spiritual sect of wizardry. Such charms as the Patronus, Invictum, and other soul-revealing spells were developed by the male counterpart to the Salem Institute, the Native American founded Academy of Sky-Dancers.
As its name indicates, the Academy practices Native American dancing magic, which is famously able to control large-scale weather if sufficient wizards are involved in the casting, although it has many applications beyond this. The Sky-Dancers Academy is the only school in the world to offer education towards this unique branch of magic, and receives many immigrant students because of it.
| 2014-12-07T19:07:59
| 2014-12-07T17:48:13
| 125
| 24
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Melody,
It's been a year.
I guess I know why you didn't call me. It's not like I bothered to keep in touch. Not like we stayed close. Besides, I'm pretty sure I was kind of a jerk to you when we were still talking.
I miss you. I wasn't really expecting to, I hadn't thought about you for a long time. I don't even really remember the last time I saw you.
But couldn't you have called Kyle or James or anyone? Or even what's his name, your boyfriend who I really don't like?
He calls you his angel. He says he was planning to propose. I don't think he really knew you. Either that or he's why you left. Doesn't really matter. You're gone now.
I know this is silly. I feel silly writing this. I'm going to burn this anyways and hope it gets to you somehow.
Hope sounds better than pretend.
I miss you. And I'm sorry.
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T18:20:52
| 1,462
| 157
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
Crime was at an all time low in the city of New Angeles. Come to think of it, so was tourism and GDP.
Some people credited this to the genius of *Genetevolve Labs* and their breakthroughs in affordable human enhancements. Although, not everyone was pleased with the results. After a session of copying and splicing, it was often several months - or even years - before a patient actually knew what they had gotten themselves into.
For example, there was Nickolette...
After several sessions, and a freak bowling accident, Nickolette had come to the realization that she was telekinetic. She came to appreciate her new-found ability, despite the lifetime ban from *Richie's Bowleramma*. Apparently Richie's insurance refused to pay for the removal of over a thousand bowling pins from the ceiling of the establishment.
Ty was Nickolette's best friend. He had completely given up on genetic therapy until after almost two-years after his last session he stumbled drunk out into a busy roadway and was nearly flattened by a semi truck. Instead, the truck was smashed into oblivion upon striking Ty and the only injury he sustained was permanently soiled underwear.
Then... then there was Larry.
"I can't believe that douchebag is ranked #1 again." said Ty, "I mean, have you ever actually seen the guy do anything?"
"He sits all day in that damn pizza joint downtown eating and drinking." she said. "Wait, I take that back, it can't be *all day* because he only wakes up at 2:00 pm."
"Last time, the asshole didn't even bother changing out of his pajamas. And did you *smell* the guy? I mean who the hell smells like that?" said Ty disgusted.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Nickolette.
"We can take him Nicky." said Ty looking over at Nickolette. "With your telekinesis, and my super strength, we could just walk right into that goddamn pizza joint and just take him down to chinatown."
"He'd never even know what hit him." she said with a whimsical look in her eye.
*One hour later at Zak's Pizza and Wings...*
"Oh shit, that's hilarious!" said Nickolette as she reached over and squeezed Larry's arm at the bar.
Ty sat on the other side of Larry and downed his second pint of beer as he slapped Larry on the back.
"Jesus that's some funny shit man, you are just too cool." he said to the overweight man with the shaggy unkempt hair, still in his bathrobe.
A man with a grimy, white shirt and loose fitting necktie approached the patrons at the bar.
"Hey guys, sorry the pizza is taking so long. I don't know what's got into the cooks lately." he said to them.
"Ah, no worries mate." said Larry, "We're in no hurry, take your time. Have another round on me guys!"
"You're too much Larry." said Nickolette.
"You know," Ty began, "my head is a little foggy but I feel like there's something we are forgetting. Like there was a reason we came down here."
"Must not have been too important,eh?" said Nickolette turning her attention back toward Larry, "So what's up with you?"
"Uh, I'm not sure what you mean love." Larry was feeling a bit creeped out at the way she was looking at him.
"You know," she was now slurring her speech, "why are you constantly ranked #1? It doesn't even look like you've had anything tweaked."
"Well," Larry was often reluctant to talk about it, but threw caution to the wind, "I dabbled around with genetic enhancement, but gave up after the results came back from the lab."
"What results?" asked Ty.
"After a few sessions, my body began to emit massive amounts of THC into the environment around me." said Larry.
"What? Holy shit, that explains so much!" said Nickolette.
"Yeah, " said Larry, "I thought about going back and tried to get them to reverse it, but... well... you know, the THC."
Suddenly Nickolette changed the subject, "I got an idea!" she said. "Let's go bowling!"
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T11:53:14
| 243
| 81
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
It was a day like any other
Deflect the young,
Accept the one
But before my eyes,
A double of a 12, 1212
And then I knew:
I always thought children would joke
That it was just the writers
Making fluff and fun merry for views
And before my eyes,
A pair of kids, stacked like dishes
Wobbling about
And a guffaw let out.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T22:38:31
| 585
| 13
|
[WP] A man sues God because his insurance company won't pay for the damages done to his house in a storm. To his complete surprise and Horror, God actually shows up.
I don't know whether to make this a WP or EU tag since this is based on a movie starring Billy Connolly.
In the movie, BC's character loses his boat in a freak storm and discovers that his insurance company won't pay the damages because they have a clause stating that they won't pay for an 'Act of God'. In anger and frustration, he decides to sue God - represented by the Clergy - because the insurance companies are using God as a legal loophole.
So... what would happen if God, or even an angel, decides to take up the case?
|
**FOR PUBLICATION**
**UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE NINTH CIRCUIT**
----------------------
Joe Bronson, *Plaintiff-Appellant*
v.
God, *Defendant-Appellee*
--------
Before: Steven P. Hansen, James Horton Wong, and Elizabeth Francis, Circuit Judges.
Opinion by Judge Hansen
---------
**OPINION**
HANSEN, Circuit Judge:
When Joe Bronson's home in Kansas was destroyed by a tornado for the second time in three years, he decided to move to California, where, he hoped, he would never have to worry about tornadoes again. He bought a small home in the quiet clifftop village of Moss Beach and settled in. To protect himself against the kind of disaster that had plagued him in the past, he purchased an open-peril policy from Lippman Property Insurance Corporation (henceforth LPI) on his house and certain items therein.
One year later, on April 13, 2021, the most powerful waterspout ever recorded, with winds measured at 240 miles per hour, formed off the coast of Moss Beach. The powerful storm picked up a 35-ton gray whale and dropped it on Bronson's house, completely destroying it. Bronson's claim against LPI was denied on the basis that the incident was an act of God, coverage for which was specifically excluded under the terms of his policy. Bronson subsequently sued LPI in state court, a case in which LPI's demurrer was upheld by the California Court of Appeals. LPI is not a party to the present action.
On February 12, 2022, Bronson filed a tort action against the present defendant in the Northern District of California, accusing God of trespass to land, trespass to chattels, and negligence. On February 13, 2022, the Court granted defendant's motion to dismiss the case with prejudice. Bronson filed this timely appeal.
**DISCUSSION**
**1. The District Court Properly Dismissed the Trespass to Land and Trespass to Chattels Claims**
The trial court ruled that plaintiff's trespass claims should be judicially estopped because defendant claimed in his nightly prayer that he would "forgive those who trespass against [him]." On appeal, plaintiff argues that because his nightly prayers did not constitute legal proceedings, the doctrine of judicial estoppel applied by the trial court does not apply.
On this issue of first impression, we find plaintiff's arguments unpersuasive. We take judicial notice of the fact that God is a Judge (James 4:12). Therefore, plaintiff's prayers, being formalized appeals to a Judge, are in fact legal proceedings, even if they are not couched in the customary language and form of court filings.
For this reason, we affirm the district court's dismissal of the trespass claims.
**2. The District Properly Dismissed the Negligence Claim**
The trial court ruled that plaintiff's negligence claims should be dismissed because the outcome (the destruction of Bronson's home) of defendants actions (creating an offshore waterspout) was not foreseeable. As such, it held that God's actions were not the proximate cause of plaintiff's injury, and dismissed the claim.
We agree with the trial court that the consequences of God's action would not have been foreseeable to a reasonable person, because an offshore waterspout is unlikely to damage an onshore home. However, God is not an ordinary person, and in fact God knows everything (1 John 3:20). Thus, we apply the standard of a reasonable person in the position of God; that is, a person with similar knowledge and professional training to God. We believe that a reasonable God could in fact foresee the fact that a waterspout might launch a massive whale into the air and deposit it on plaintiff's house. Thus the trial court erred in holding that the destruction of Bronson's house was not foreseeable.
However, defendant has made an alternative argument for dismissal of the negligence claim, which we find more persuasive. Namely, defendant has argued that if we do not uphold the ruling of the District Court, He will smite us. Therefore, we affirm the district court's dismissal of the negligence claim.
**DISPOSITION**
The ruling of the District Court is **AFFIRMED**. Defendant-Appellee is awarded His costs on appeal.
|
"Your honor, Heimy 'Azrael' Goldberg, from the firm of Guildenstern & Rozencrantz, representing the Almighty. Your honor, we do *not* stipulate to complete diversity jurisdiction, though Mr. Johnson is clearly a resident of New York State, the amount in controversy is over $75,000, and the Almighty is currently a resident of 1 Green Pine Lane, Cherubim Circle, Heaven. Instead, we submit our 12(b)6 motion to dismiss on both substantive and procedural grounds. Substantively, Paragraph 6, Clause 2 of Mr. Johnson's Statewide Insurance Agreement, dated December 13, 2012, clearly states that quote 'There shall be no coverage, of any type, *on behalf of any party* for the following non-exclusive list of cause of damages to the Residence: volcanoes, acts of war, insurrection or terrorism etc. etc. and on line 7 Acts of God, including but not limited to hurricanes, tornadoes, rain storms, floods and other inclement weather.' Combining this clause with the third party beneficiary clause in Paragraph 12, it is clear that the Almighty is a third party beneficiary of this Agreement, and is therefore released from liability. Further, procedurally, under the forum selection clause of section 13, requiring that this claim be heard in front of a JAMS arbitrator, whose decision will be binding, we request that this court dismiss this claim, with prejudice, and instruct the plaintiff to file in front of JAMS or simply drop his case. Oh, also, Mr. Johnson - I'm here to take you to hell. Say your words."
Judge Marrero paused for a moment, his face illuminated by the blue-flamed three prong whip floating in Azrael's left hand, which was, inexplicably, writhing like a snake, and he caught his own reflection in the orange flamed, gilt sword dangling from his right. In his reflection he saw the spectres of cities razed by hellfire - he saw Soddom, Gomorrah, and Atlantis.
"Marshall, how exactly did Mr. Goldberg get those weapons in here?"
"Your honor, that's an *angel* - and I read my scripture, he is actually an *Archangel.* His duty is to bring souls into the next world. Do you think I would ask an *Archangel* for his sword? My momma is a Catholic and I was raised in the Church. Na uh, no way, no how. Mr. Azrael, it is a real pleasure to meet you. Uh... good job. Keep up the good work."
Azrael's head dipped once, beatifically, as his flowing white robes were illuminated in other-worldly orange and blue.
The Judge folded his glasses and rubbed his temples, directing his attention to the plaintiff's bar:
"Mr. Johnson, I think you have a lot more to worry about than my decision. May god have mercy on your soul. Case dismissed with prejudice."
*Gavel.*
"Well. Fuck." Turned out to be the plaintiffs last words.
| 2014-11-30T10:07:28
| 2014-11-30T09:36:32
| 90
| 32
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T21:34:09
| 1,462
| 17
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
Pacing back and forth in front of me, David paused, one foot half-hovering over the blood-stained carpet. "Tell me, Kat, what happened?"
The body was sprawled out before us on the black tile floor of the penthouse. Streams of slimy, congealed blood wove intricate rivers in the cracks between the slate pieces, and tiny bits of bone were strewn around like confetti. I did this. I fucking did this. And now I would have to pay. My mouth opened and I took a deep breath. Not knowing what to say next, my lips met once again and I exhaled deeply. My clothes were misted with red droplets. It was on me, on the walls, on the floor, shit, even on the ceiling.
"You do realize what this means, right?" he questioned again. Taking a single step forward, David's boot made a sickening crunching sound as it crushed bone fragments into the floor. He winced.
My brow lowered beyond the brim of my glasses. "We have to clean it up before anyone finds out...before anyone knows what I did. Shit...shit...shit...SHIT." My hand met my forehead. It felt wet, and when I pulled my palm away, smears of red coated it.
I was smart. Other people were strong and could lift cars. Some people had telekinesis. Others could will others to do whatever they want. But me? I was just...smart. I came here at the request of Rodger, and now I was leaving with a prize I didn't want. I was number one.
This island was founded as a sort of encampment. Years ago after the war, everyone who had a gift was placed here. They told the founders of this city that it was done to protect the rest of humanity. Alcatraz was a prison back in the early 20th century, but now it was our home—an island full of everyone the rest of the world wanted to put away. History had come full circle. We had numbers that ranked us by how destructive or dangerous our powers could be. It formed a pecking order of sorts. David, my best friend since we had been born, was number thirty. He was a walking torch; hands so hot that they melted all the testing instruments. All you had to do was piss him off.
I was just smart.
The warden. Number one. Prime. The goddamned warden. We were prisoners, and I killed the fucking warden. Sure, he wasn't called that by non-specials but that's exactly what he was. His official title was "Overseer and Diplomat of the People." But it was all the same. Any time the main land wanted to do something or needed to talk with us, he was the go-to. Rodger was his name. He had been our leader for nearly 5 years, by default. The most powerful one always became Prime, and Rodger was undisputed. He easily had twenty times the strength of a normal, could punch through steel like wet paper, and once put down a coup d'etat led by a dozen specials with just his bare hands. But now he was dead, and his twisted, mangled remains rested on the floor in front of me.
"Kat, you're Prime now. You do realize that, right?" David nudged my shoulder slightly with two fingers. I could feel a comforting warmth in his fingertips. He was trying to bring me back. I was still woozy, so all I could do is nod slowly.
This happened because Rodger had tried to turn me into an informant. You see, Prime or not, every leader needs support. Although he was benevolent, people hated him for who and what he was. The man was not just an envoy or a mayor, he was also a symbol of order. Some of the top echelon hated order and wanted to bring anarchy. When I got the call to come to the Warden's office, I jumped off of the couch and practically ran the whole way there. He was in the leather chair, fingers interwoven.
"Kat," he said. "Please, come on in and have a seat." My hooded shirt was soaked with sweat from the run and it made a strange squeaking sound against the leather chair as I sat down. "Thank you for coming."
"It's no problem sir. But why did you want to meet with a nobody...especially me? I mean, I'm no one, at least compared to you. I mean, I ca-"
He cut me off.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T13:32:26
| 243
| 16
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
"Next... Next..."
Another group of kids shuffling into a Baltimore club for a heavy metal gig. Another night for some carding and cash.
I rubbed my hands together, urging the friction to do its thing. Wouldn't be enough, though. This January was mighty cold.
I looked up at the line of kids that approached, noting the number above each one. Honest kids, tonight. All 21 or over. I would have managed a smile at the pleasant change if not for the fucking cold.
When the last had filed in, Keith patted my shoulder.
"I'm taking a break, Reader."
I nodded as he walked off, leaving me alone to guard the door. I was always the one they left alone.
"Hey, can we get in, still?"
I turned to look down at a group of three kids, but instantly saw '19' above the talking one's head.
"Scram, dude. It's 21 and up."
"You didn't even card me!"
"I don't need to," I retorted, staring him down.
"Let us in."
I switched my gaze to another one of the street urchins, only to see this one was different. A lump caught in my throat as I opened my mouth to say a word that become lost in a whirlpool of draining thoughts.
The number above this ones head was 8456.
"ID." I managed to choke out.
I never truly saw his face, only his number. I kept staring at it, knowing I had never been wrong before.
His ID revealed he was 22 years old, but my eyes illustrated otherwise.
Out of pure shock, or fear, I let the group in, watching the number as they walked toward the muffled roar of downtuned electric guitars and thunderous drums.
I couldn't help but follow inside, forgetting to ask Keith to keep watch.
The club was dark except for the neon purple and teal lights of the bar. Some local band screeched onstage as I gravitated toward the largest number in the room. Still a distance away, it turned a corner and faded into the restroom. I followed still.
The bathroom glowed a dirty fluorescent green in an attempt to hide the various stains that covered the walls and stalls. The four-numbered man stood in front of the mirror above the sink, pulling his shirt up to reveal a scarred, swollen, bruised, tattooed torso that twisted at odd angles. The lights flickered and the sound of the band was drowned out by the banging and panting of a couple fucking in the stall.
"Still going to try and kick us out?" The man asked, turning to me. I stood, confused, horrified. The old one approached me in the flickering light of the dingy bathroom, the heat and sound of sex amplifying.
He leaned in close, becoming a silhouette before me. I felt the ancient breath on my neck like the hollow winds that blow over the swelling ocean.
"You can read me as much as you want, muscle man. That number will only grow larger," the old one whispered into my ear.
He exited the bathroom and disappeared into the crowd as the door swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until the only remnants of the encounter hung in the thick air as a stench of sweat, blood, and piss.
And then it was gone.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T20:18:58
| 585
| 208
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T21:31:39
| 1,462
| 19
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
Hi, I'm going to tell my little story here rather quickly as I am rushed for time. Being #1 makes a lot of folks very interested in killing me, so I have to constantly remain on edge.
If there were no ranking systems, most people would assume that I have absolutely no powers. My power is a much more subtle one. But enough tension building, I'll just tell you what it is right now. I have the power of deception.
Seems pretty lame compared to some of the other powers around here -- rank #2 has laser vision for Christ's sake -- but it definitely has its uses. I can make anyone believe or do anything I want. For example, today I convinced a man with acid breath to kill himself. Needless to say, that was a pretty dark moment for me, but I've done worse.
I like to think I'm a pretty charming guy. It helps me manipulate people when I need to. My girlfriend is rank #4 in the city and rank #1 for females. She sadly has the power to crush a man's soul. Ok that's not entirely true, but she does have supersonic speed. I hope you don't think that I accidentally fell in love with the most powerful woman in the city, I planned it. She is entirely convinced that I love her and that really comes to my advantage. She'll do absolutely anything for me, and that can really come in handy for someone as targeted as me in this city. In a way I guess I do love her. I love that she will do simple things for me like robbing a bank. And I especially love the complex things: like murdering her powerful, high ranking family for me. The poor girl can't help but to be infatuated with me -- literally.
Anyways, thats the gist of how I became #1 here. Call me an asshole if you want, but that's the type of personality you have to have to remain on top. It's survival of the fittest, baby. The strong survive and the weak die.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T13:12:49
| 243
| 18
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon.
|
I hold her hand.
She smiles at me.
Despite having lost her sense of touch, she can somehow still smile, for me.
"I love you" she whispers
"I know" I reply.
"I'm going to beat this" she insists
"I know" I reply
Her eyes slowly close.
I put down the knife.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46
| 2017-05-31T01:46:56
| 272
| 109
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
"I'm sorry sir, but this ID is fake."
"Who the hell do you think you are boy? If you had any idea who I-"
"Sir, I"m going to have to ask you to present me with some real proof of identity. You are not 24."
"What the hell do you know you insolent prick, this ID is more real than anything you will contribute to this society over the course of your lifetime."
I sighed. I'd considered not confronting him, letting him pass, but his demeanour was pissing me off.
"You're outside our age range for the night. We admit individuals aged 21 to 30 here. You sir seem to have missed that cut off range by about two thousand years."
He paled, then turned red. Began to turn, turned back, stumbled in his indecisiveness and would have fallen if not for the press of bodies all vying for my attention.
"Don't tell me they give you *optorithmen* for working as bouncer now?"
Obviously deciding it wasn't worth waiting for an answer he began pushing his way back through the crowd, and then down the street into the inky night. Historians I find, despite their age, really are idiots. I shook my head and returned to checking IDs. It was never any trouble, after the enclave's gift. Scanning the plastic cards was more of a formality, and a safety procedure, than a necessity. If I turned people away at a glance those who aren't aware would get suspicious.
The night wore on, and I did my job damn well if I do say so myself.
I stepped aside for a break at 11:58. I like to watch the numbers change from 11 to 12 at midnight. As the 31st became the first, I sighed. One more month till one more year left of my contract. Then what. Maybe I should become a historian myself. It could be pretty interesting, but 10,000 years of service for an 11,000 year life extension seemed like a bit of a crap deal. Our historians, like normal dentists, had a disproportionally high suicide rate - that definitely says something. Just because you *can* live for ever doesn't really mean you *should* live for ever. It's not for everybody.
Still there are other cool gifts with lower prices that I'd been thinking about. The enclave will grant you your gift, in exchange for service, and some gifts cost more than others. Usually these gifts allow us to serve above and beyond the normal line of duty, helping Them whenever They needed it. Not every club has people like me working the door, but for high class establishments like mine, normal security doesn't usually cut it. I hear the security are granted *musculi* here, but I've never actually seen them have to use it. Rumour is that big business goes on in the VIP section here, but in all honesty, I'd never seen any proof. I almost agreed with the angry old man. *Optorithmen* was totally overkill for a bouncer job, but who am I to argue with a gift for a job I'd propably do anyway. I figure I'll end up accruing as many as I can, doing odd jobs till I feel they want to get on with me life - plus my additions. A lot of people work till they're given a job too unpalatable to do and then they draw they line. So far I've only had easy work - club admission included. And of course the enclave gives us our years back. I've been working the door here for just under nine now, and when I'm done I expect be given my ten back ASAP.
I rejoin the other bouncers, my break is over. I wonder how many of then can see ages like I can. Technically I'm not allowed to ask. I could lose my job and my abilities if I reveal the enclave's gifts to anybody ordinary. You never know who's working right beside you. I haven't seen any of them around the enclave but that doesn't mean anything. It's big enough that two people might not meet in over a thousand years, if they're working in separate departments. As the night progresses, the crowd thins. The salty historian returns a few hours later, but I shake my head before he can say a word and he storms off again, this time for good. I almost feel bad for him. Cooped up all day pouring over musty texts (old even back in his day) - and then having to synthesise it all into some dry report - would make anybody want to get fucked up on the dance floor, but I have to do my job and he knows it. Slowly the crowd thins to zero and I can go home.
Ronny, my girlfriend, might be getting home soon too. She works nights as well. She's a night scout actually - with *optolux* and *auribus* - basically she walks the streets and calls the police when she hears or sees any petty crimes being committed. Much cooler than my job. Cop patrols aren't nearly as efficient as they'd have you believe, so she does their job for them. Actually, she's recently sent in an application for telepathy so she can skip the whole dialling them on the phone thing, but I'd doubt they'll grant it to her. Telepathy is a pretty heavily demanded gift, and the enclave likes to really squeeze you for service for the nice ones.
I call an Uber and text her as I hop in. "See u soon babe?"
"mmhm" "home in 20 mins."
As I doze off in the back of the car, a smile flits across my face.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-02T00:20:37
| 585
| 10
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Hey Mom,
It’s been a few months since we’ve last talked. I miss you.
I’m still not quite sure why you decided to cut me out of your life. I’d always thought family wasn’t just blood relations, but those who matter to us. You’ve shown me otherwise.
I just can’t believe you threw me out like that. I watched as you spent years proving how much I mattered to you. And you mattered just as much to me. Then you turned around and got rid of me and my father like we were garbage.
Even if something happened between you and my father, why are you throwing me out? You even tried to turn my sisters against me. You’re trying to sabotage what little family I have left out of spite.
And you know that you’re full of shit. When I called you out on it you just said nothing, because there’s nothing for you to say.
You’re just being shitty because you can be. I hope you enjoy the rest of your shallow life surrounded by the people you’ve manipulated into liking you, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.
Love,
Your Little Shit
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T21:31:44
| 1,462
| 81
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
It is nice to be king. Maybe it would be better if everyone wasn't trying to kill me, but things could be much worse. I have a nice apartment, a beautiful girlfriend, some good money, and really what more does a man need to be happy? I suppose love, but we are in love, and honestly, no one else thinks she is beautiful, so I think we were made for each other.
Now, how did I reach this pinnacle you ask. Well, the answer is quite simple, my power is not all that impressive, actually it is rather bad. Same with hers, but together, it works out quite well. You see, you have to declare when you are going to kill someone of a higher rank, that way we know who killed them, and they know that they are being hunted. So when someone say that they are going to come gunning for me, I open up a video call with them.
A simple video call. Nothing more nothing less, but what I do on that call shows my power. No one knows what it is of course, I make sure of that by keeping the calls private. When I get them online I talk to them, and eventually I suggest we flip a coin. This is my power. I flip a coin with another person, heads, he dies, tails, I die, and no, double-headed coins don't count. Why would I use something so risky, you may wonder. Simple really, my girlfriends power is over luck. Playing poker and she says cards, that will be her hand. Call a coin flip, that is the way it will land.
Together we rose up here. It is really surprising that no one else ever thought to work together, but I suppose they really are just to power hungry to share anything. It is quite a shame. I am sure that there are better combos than this. Now I really must be going, and so must you I'm afraid, after all you know my secret now. "Sweetheart, you think it is going land on heads again?"
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T13:27:32
| 243
| 19
|
[WP] Need something neat in a superhero theme for a child's cancer fundraiser story.
Hi!
My boss's 3 year old nephew is currently battling cancer for a second time and the prognosis isn't the greatest. She owns a cupcake shop and for the month of September we are doing a month long fundraiser for him and his family. He is completely in love with superheroes. I am not great with stories and instead of just listing facts I thought it would be cool to have a fun superhero story about the two of them that has the facts inside as a flyer for people interested.
The story must include these characters:
- The Real McKoy - This will be the main character as McKoy is the child with cancer. My boss really likes this as his super hero name.
- Captain Sawyer - His twin brother. I was kind of thinking that his twin brother turned to the super world to help his superhero brother out? But am okay with any ideas and direction you go as long as he's his right hand man.
- The villain is unnamed so have fun but it needs to be family friendly.
This is his medical story and my boss would like as much used as possible but I understand if you can't include all of it in the story.
- McKoy was diagnosed with a stage 4 Wilms tumor in July 2014 on his kidney. It had also metastasized in his lungs & lymph nodes.
- He underwent 10 months of chemo & 8 days of radiation. In April 2015 he rang the bell celebrating the end of chemo and no evidence of Cancer.
- May 2015 he went back to the hospital due to severe headaches and they found out he had a tumor on his brain. Came back as a Wilms tumor.
- The tumor was removed successfully June 2015.
- Before starting treatment he went on his Make A Wish trip.
- He is currently doing a combination of outpatient and inpatient chemo combined with 18-proton radiation treatments. At the end of it all he will undergo a stem cell transplant.
- Wilms in the brain is very rare: affecting only 0.5% of Wilms patients. Although the cure rate for McKoy is low at 10-15%, his oncologists are going for a full cure.
I have some pictures so you can have a reference of what he looks like. The flyers will be by his huge display that I'm making.
http://imgur.com/a/7AHE6
I know this is a lot of information and may be difficult so I understand if this just isn't feasible but figured I'd reach out and try. Thank you!!
EDIT: If I use your story I will send you a PM asking for your real name or user name (assuming it is appropriate for a child's story) to give you credit. If you do not wish to be credited then I will put Anonymous. :)
EDIT 2: If you want to follow his progress as he goes to battle feel free to do so [here](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Team-McKoy/1455989124659414?fref=ts).
EDIT 3: These are amazing! Thank you guys so much for this. When my boss comes in today I'm going to let her read them and decide. I showed my coworkers and we loved all of them... So this is definitely going to be tough. This is definitely better than anything I could have come up with. I'll keep you guys updated on what we decide and will send a PM to get info to give credit. I also can't wait to show his mom. She herself is a superwoman by taking all of this like a pro and keeping herself together to care for all 5 of her kids. I know she'd give each of you guys the biggest hug if she could for these amazing stories. <3
|
The Real McKoy was a superhero, the greatest among superheroes. He had superpowers that made him the strongest man on Earth. Super strength, super speed, even flight! He was undefeated in combat. It was said that his shield could deflect any attack, while his sword could cut through anything. But the Real McKoy's powers and equipment were not what made him a superhero.
Every superhero needs a great hideout, and the Real McKoy had the best secret hideout ever. It had a bed for him to sleep him - the bed even moved up and down, and could be moved around when needed. There were many advanced machines in the hideout. Some of them beeped, some of them had flashing lights, and some of them made the Real McKoy stronger by giving him special serums. The hideout was full of the Real McKoy's friends and teammates, who would work with him to defeat any foe. But it was not the hideout, or the machines, or the people that made him a superhero.
The Real McKoy had a partner, Captain Sawyer. They would fight evil together, day after day. There was no enemy they could not overcome together, because they understood the power of teamwork and friendship. They helped each other whenever it was needed, because they shared a bond that went beyond any other. The bond that comes from brotherhood, from being one half of a whole. But having a partner was not what made the Real McKoy a superhero.
The Real McKoy was a superhero because he had courage, the most important quality in a superhero. The Real McKoy was brave, even when he faced enemies he could not see or fight with his sword and shield. He would never give up, no matter how tough the fight seemed. All superheroes are brave, and the Real McKoy was the bravest among them. That made him the greatest among superheroes.
|
#The Real McKoy and Captain Sawyer vs. The Destroyer
The quite Real McKoy
And Captain Sawyer,
Partners in crime
Against the Destroyer.
The Real McKoy fought
Aided by his Capt.
Around McKoy
The Destroyer was wrapped
An army of Chemo,
With wick'd vexation
Aided by eight
Generals o' Radiation
The heroes fought
With McKoy taking blows
Slowly they won,
The Destroyer not close
After their struggle
The two twins rejoiced
The Destroyer, a cancer,
Was no longer voiced
He had started
Remission, and before long
The nasty affliction
Was completely gone
_______________
It's not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it works. It's not as lighthearted as I think you wanted but... oh well. Good luck to our little protagonist!
| 2015-08-31T19:13:02
| 2015-08-31T18:58:38
| 29
| 13
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
Part One
I got fired last week for the 9th time this year.
I don't always mean to run my mouth, but when I do, it sprints. This time, it wasn't even my fault (initially, anyway); if only that dumb fucking Russian bartender would have kept his mouth shut. Oh well... No sense crying over spilled martinis.
It's not hard, finding a gig as a bouncer, especially in cities. After my fourth attempt at holding my tongue (and fists) at a new bar, I bought a camping van off some poor prick who needed the cash to pay for his divorce. Being essentially unhireable makes for a great old-fashioned, transient lifestyle.
A few weeks go by before I start to run out of money. I begin scrolling through ads online, keeping my eyes peeled for job opportunities, but by now word has gotten around about how I told the owner of the last joint to go fuck his hot daughter. Soon, I find myself looking for gigs in the next state over.
Part Two
I don't even look at people beyond their waist anymore, which especially annoys bigger women. Knowing someone's age is like having transparency goggles: you see right through their bull shit. It's great, for professional purposes, but it's put a serious damper on my personal life.
Occasionally, I do look up. If a girl smells good; if a man's voice is resilient and kind. These times are few and far between, but they happen. Like this morning, at a local coffee shop.
"Excuse me?"
I looked at the woman's waist. "Yes?" I ask, keeping my head low.
"Are you looking for work as a bouncer?"
What the hell? I look up at the girl with the raspy voice. She's got on heavy black eyeliner and full, plump dick-sucking lips. My gift indicates to me that she is 26 years old. We make eye contact, and I realize that this girl is drop-dead gorgeous.
She points gently at the stack of potential work ads I've collected and printed out. I feel stupid. I ignore her and get back to scrolling on my phone.
She stands there a while, both of us uncomfortably silent. Finally, she slides a piece of paper on the table. "In case you're interested," she says, and walks away.
I look at the paper. It reads:
Madame Bijou's
55 Walker Street
9pm, don't be late.
Part Three
8:55pm. Fuck, I'm early.
Madame Bijou's is located in a very popular part of the city, in an alley off to the side. It gives off a speak-easy type of vibe, perfect for those of us who don't enjoy teeny-boppers getting too drunk before 10pm. Perfect for me, makes my job easy.
I haven't seen the girl from the coffee shop, but a Stevie Nicks chain-smoking woman who looks just like her approaches me at 9pm sharp. "Make it to 1:55am and I'll pay you $100," she says, pointing at the bar stool next to the door, and walks off. Her age indicates that she's 64.
The night starts slow, but picks up around 11. I have not seen the girl from the coffee shop, or the older hippie woman.
Around 12am, I kick out some drunk Marines for being douche bags. Around 12:30am, I deny my first group of underagers. Their IDs look exactly like McLovin's.
1:29am comes around, and the whole place empties out, almost like clockwork. Strange, since bars don't close until 2am. I peek my head inside the club, and I see the bartender wiping down the bar top.
1:39am, I close the door behind me as I walk inside.
The bartender is 41. "I'd offer to get you a drink, mate, but we have to be out of her by 1:55am." I don't make eye contact with him as he says this.
"I heard. Why not 2am?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the floor. I can hear the bartender smirking. "You don't want to know."
He heads out around 1:49am, but I still haven't seen Stevie Nicks. She sure as shit better pay me for tonight. I wait patiently, and at 1:55am, she emerges. She seems to be in a hurry.
She ushers me out of the bar and hands me a $100 bill. "See you tomorrow, pretty boy?" She asks, turning the lock on the bar door.
"Suppose so, Madame Bijou," I say to her. She forces eye contact with me, her smile fading. She checks her watch, sighs, and leans closer to me. She whispers: "get out of here before 2am," and walks in the other direction.
Now I have to know what this is all about.
1:56am.
1:57am.
1:58am.
1:59am.
I guess I expected some sort of apocalypse at 2:00am. When nothing happened immediately, I laughed at myself for being so foolish as to believe in the superstitions of people I had just met. I looked at my watch, which read 2:01am, and began to make my way towards the van.
I took one last glance at Madame Bijou's, and there she was. On the other side of the glass was Madame Bijou, flashing her rotten teeth at me, her wispy gray hair flowing down to her knees. Her age read 3,378.
Somehow, she reached her hand through the glass and pulled me into total darkness. "HELLO??" I shouted, reaching for anything I could touch, so terrified I pissed myself a little. I began to hear footsteps coming toward me.
"WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK," I panicked, still reaching into nothingness for something to grab onto. The footsteps got closer.
"You were warned," said a voice somewhere in the hollow space around me. Suddenly, a bunch of numbers started to appear at once. 4,707; 2,856; 5,302. I kicked and screamed, until I felt like I could no longer breathe.
I woke up the next morning in my bed, with teeth marks covering my entire body.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T22:06:04
| 585
| 38
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear grandad,
You died 11 years ago when I was only 10years old. I had begged my parents to go to your funeral but they refused and I never got to go. I never got a formal goodbye so here it is.
I loved playing the violin for you. It always brought you such joy. I loved how you would always say “one day I’ll be better than you” after I finished playing. I stopped playing after you died. I’d like to think we’re equal at playing the violin now even if just by default. I remember I would always play the violin downstairs at your home but one day I visited and you were upstairs in bed. Struggling to be alive and being in pain. Even than you listened to me play. Little did I know that would be the last time I would play for you.
You would look at me now with such proud eyes. You were always proud of everything I did. I wish you were here to see me graduate university despite all the odds. I wish you were here to listen to me play the violin one more time. I wish you were here telling me how proud you are of me and everything I’ve ever done.
One day I’ll play for you once more. Until then rest easy granddad.
Love from your granddaughter
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T21:06:53
| 1,462
| 351
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
DM: Alright, so you all have been stationed on the Bolognian for a few days now. Tensions have been high with Bologna for generations now, and things are starting to get pretty heated once again.
Player 1: Alright, so what are our orders
DM: Your group's job is to sneak into enemy territory and scout out areas within Bologna and to report back with anything you find out.
Player 2: So we are just scouting out, not trying to fight anyone?
DM: Ya, Modena and Bologna are not in open war right now, but its close.
Player 1: Ok I'll take point. Let's head straight towards the center of the country, then work our way back.
Player 3: Sounds reasonable.
Player 2: Let's do it!
DM: Ok so about a week passes and you are on the outskirts of a town near the center of Bolognian territory. There are quite a few large buildings, a church, and a communal well near the centre of the city.
Player 4: I sneak into the town square.
DM: Ok, so you make your way past a few soldiers who are sleeping on their post and make your way into the town square. As it is night most of the market stalls and such are packed up. The square is nearly deserted.
Player 4: Ok imma grab the bucket from the well and start looting some buildings.
DM: What?
Player 4: I steal the bucket and fill it with loot.
Player 1: Is that a good idea, we are just supposed to be scouting around.
Player 3: shhhh just let him do it.
DM: Ok so you pull the bucket down from eh rope it is hanging on and go around to a few buildings. Most of what you find is dinnerware, jewelry, and various other small bits of valuable metals, but in total it is about enough to fill the bucket.
Player 4: Alright let's get out of here.
Player 2: I take some charcoal and graffiti the wall "Modena waz here" Lol so edgy.
Player 3: haha nice.
DM: You guys work your way back to Modenian territory with your bucket full of loot. When you get back to your officer to report what you found, he immediately starts chastising you for stealing the bucket from Bologna. Apparently, they sent word to the Modenian government about a stolen bucket and are demanding the bucket back.
Player 4: No way, I stole this bucket, its mine now.
DM: fine, The Bolognese have raised an army of 32,000 men and are marching on the city of Zappolino...
Player 2: that is the most Italian sounding name I have ever heard... Continue...
DM: Your country can only muster 7,000 men, and it seems as though you will be crushed entirely.
Player 3: Lets set up an elaborate defence of the city and make sure we don't lose.
DM: Roll to set things up.
Player 3: Natural 20!
DM: Nice, so you guys get some well-made defences and a great strategy in place to drive back your enemy. They come soon and stand against your defences. You suddenly realize how fucked you are. This mile-long wall of bodies bearing down on you like a force of nature. I need you guys to roll to see how the battle fares.
~*everyone rolls nat 20*~
DM: WEll shit, you guys manage to break the enemies formations and send them routing back home, successfully beating a force nearly 5 times as large as your own.
Player 4: I take a group and chase them back to the border.
DM: they are in full flight mode, so you are easily able to drive them out of the country.
Player 4: And a steal another one of their buckets as a trophy.
~*Party laughs their asses off, DM sighs and rolls his eyes. Everyone drinks a bit more, laughs and passes out sprawled over couches and floors.*~
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40
| 2018-05-29T09:19:41
| 303
| 22
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
\#21904. That used to be my name, three days ago, and now I'm, well, #1.
No one in the city knows how it happened. The Top 30, the ruling cabal, have absolutely no idea. I still haven't figured it out, either.
All I remember is walking into a meeting where #1 was giving a speech- for the first time, since I'd finally turned 18 and had to follow the city's decrees. He didn't even say a word; he just randomly glared at me, told me to come up to the podium- and, overcome with dread, I did. Then he thrust his dagger toward me.
I closed my eyes and realized he'd held it backwards; the hilt was in my hands. Before I could react, he jerked it back sharply and blood shot out of his chest straight into my face. His power was telepathy, not immortality. I screamed. He was smiling.
He didn't even bother to speak. Nobody else in the room even gasped. I was #1, and they accepted it. They were smiling, too.
I wish I'd been able to figure out what was going on, but I've been around 18 years and I haven't even found out my power. There's no chance of me figuring it out anytime soon, either, since every day I face another challenge. Some are from the remaining Top 30, the ones who weren't at the meeting, and others are just nobodies who think they have a shot because of what happened to me.
Thing is, at all the public challenges, the same thing happens. They come in there grimacing, but when they get up, they use their power against themselves. They all die. Smiling. And the crowd smiles too.
It seems like they all just want me to win.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T14:20:18
| 243
| 171
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
My eyes flitted over the crowd of people lining up. 26, 30, 14 - gonna have to turn her away - 22, 8988, 21, 43. I slowly looked back towards the big number. That's an 8, followed by a 9 and two more eights. I took a few steps to the left. It's all one number. That... shouldn't be right. It couldn't be right. But i was never wrong before, and i don't know why i'd be wrong now.
"I'm going to have to I.D. you sir." The man smirked.
"I don't look *that* young, do I?"
"Sir, i'm going to have to insist." I had to see it. I was sure that his I.D. would hold some clue.
"How young do I look? Take a guess."
I couldn't resist the urge as a smirk invaded my face. "Dunno. 17, 16, maybe 8988?"
For a brief moment, the man looked at me in shock. Then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy. I wanna buy you a drink, when does your shift end?" I looked towards the bar door as Leon - the other bouncer - stepped through. "Now."
We headed inside and sat down at the bar. I insisted that he just get me a beer. He had the hard stuff. We both sat silent for a few minutes. "So I suppose you know i'm immortal, then. I won't ask how. What you're probably wondering is why someone as old as me is in a bar drinking his liver to death." I arched an eyebrow and looked at him. "History repeats itself every few thousand years. On my first time I was in a bar like this. Tomorrow's special, y'know." He had a happy, yet tired look in his eyes. "It's my birthday tomorrow." I smiled, but his face became frustrated. He took a large swig of his drink and, with a roll of his eyes, said "Oh, and the world's ending."
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:50:27
| 585
| 30
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Luis Miguel,
It's been 4 years since you've passed. Things have gotten better from the old years. The kids are older, my house is different, I actually have cats again.
I found some of your old photos. Back in the day when the camera had only megabytes instead on gigabytes. I found a nice one where you were sunbathing in front of the large glass doors leading to the outside world. You were always an outdoors type.
These cats are different than you. You snuggled in my arms, rested your head on my collarbone, your wet nose on my chin. You would lay right on top of my back over looking my room.
You began wasting away and my heart stopped. I wish I could have done more but your kidneys were shot. It was a death sentence.
My husband dreamt of you before that day. "Please take care of her for me." I'd like to believe you communicated before you passed. It made things easier.
You brought me joy in a tough world, gave me peace in a harsh home, loved me in my loveless times. I wished to grow older with you but it never came to pass. The pain has dulled and, I may have other pets to keep me company but you were the first. You were my jewel.
We shall meet again across the rainbow bridge
Love, Your Equal
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:02:08
| 1,462
| 516
|
[WP] Canada has Started WW3
|
“Canada?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
“*Canada?*”
“Yes…it appears that way, Mr. President.”
“Canada…as in *the* Canada? The place to the north with all the ‘eh’s’, moose, hockey, flannel and door-holdin…’”
“That’s the one.”
The President took a stride of disbelief around the couches of the oval office, shaking his head.
“Well…why the fuck would they do that?”
“Well, sir, it appears that they…want…more…money.”
“They want more money? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“We’re…we’re not entirely certain, sir. We’ve got our best men on that right now. All we know right now is that they’ve asked for…”
The General cleared his throat.
“…’some of that internet money.’ We’re still not quite sure what that means, sir.”
“Oh, goddammit, they’ve completely lost it. I knew something was off about those folks, always too nice, leaving their doors unlocked and their tight gun laws…It’s always the nice guy in the room that you gotta watch out for.”
"That's not all Mr. President. They want something else..."
"What else?"
"We don't know yet. They took Buffalo earlier this morning, just to show that they were serious. The Vice President is negotiating with the Prime Minister right now. He should be back any minute."
The President sighed. Fucking *Canada!?*
"What are your orders, sir?"
"Regarding..."
"Buffalo."
“It’s Buffalo, General, let them have it. Even people from Buffalo don’t want Buffalo.”
“Roger that, sir. What about —“
The door to the Oval Office busted open, the Vice President came rushing in.
“Ah, there he is. What do you have for me, John?”
He handed the President a piece of paper. A picture of grungy dudes with long hair and too many bracelets, faces pocked with goatees and soul patches. A large X was made across the picture in sharpee. He looked at it for a second, before turning up his eyes quizzically at his Vice President.
“What the hell is this?”
“It appears to be a ransom note, sir.”
“What the hell do they want, then?”
“Well…it seems they only have one condition, sir, and I’m not sure how to tell you this…”
“Out with it, Johnson!”
“It seems…it seems they want us to take Nickelback…into the…United States…indefinitely.”
The President nearly fainted. Hushed gasps circulated around the room as the President’s eyes began to flit back and forth in the search for answers. Leaning himself exasperatedly on the oak desk, he pulled out an official KFC handkerchief, a gift from a friend in the Senate. He dabbed himself vigorously, the sweat beads flying down his the faultlines in his forehead. The pressure was on.
Advisors of all shape and color watched on nervously. The next words uttered out of the President’s mouth would surely change the course of history…forever. Hearts nearly stopped.
The President stood and fixed his blazer. He straightened his tie. He smoothed over his hair.
“General…” he said, looking at the old man in military dress.
“Ready the warheads.”
|
This is the story of Clarence Martin. Clarence is your average Canadian citizen, except today he is to embark on a not so average, and not so lucky, journey. The story starts with Clarence walking down Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington D.C. about to come upon the White House. This is where a grim scene is about to unfold.
"What a beautiful day!", Clarence exclaimed to himself. The sun was shining and the temperature was beyond perfect. He found himself in perfect bliss as he ignorantly strolled down the sidewalk. If the day had not been so beautiful he might have noticed the manic,dirty homeless man madly ranting about the supposed end of the world, or the group of ravenous pigeons gathered around the old man passing out hardened pieces of old bread, the motorcade coming down the street from behind him, or maybe even the group of eager Chinese tourists gathered taking photos with the White House at their backs, or most importantly, the nervous young man on his cellphone with a very suspicious bag in his hand. Clarence saw nothing but sunshine and rainbows, and he was about to regret that.
As soon as Clarence passed the homeless man, the vagrant sprung from his milk-carton podium and jump on Clarence's back. "We're all fucked!", exclaimed the man. Clarence immediately began recklessly spinning around with the man being the literally monkey on his back. "Putin is going to get killed during his visit today! The CIA planned it all! World War 3 is coming!", screamed the man, just as Clarence finally got the leverage to throw him off his back...and into the group of Chinese tourists.
"Oh my! I'm so sorry" exclaimed Clarence while backing up. "Sorry, Sorry, Sor-" Clarence stammered while simultaneously tripping over the pigeons and falling on the old man."MY LEGS!" screamed the now crippled old man. Clarence jumped off the old man crushing pigeons left and right while screaming "SORRY" at the top of his lungs.
Less than 10 feet away was the young man. "I just can't do it." he said into his phone. He hangs up and begins to put the phone away in his right pocket, when suddenly, Clarence, covered in pigeon blood and screaming, barrels into the young man, forcing his hand to smack into the detonator in his pocket at the exact same time the Russian President Vladmir Putin's motorcade was passing by.
This led to WW3...Clarence was very sorry for all of it.
| 2014-06-08T21:01:54
| 2014-06-08T19:53:07
| 20
| 13
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
"28 today," you say to yourself looking in the mirror. Of course you know today is your birthday today, but it also helps that while looking at the mirror you noticed the number above your head changed from the [27] you saw yesterday.
You leave to go to the liquor store to pick up some booze and celebrate. While in line you see this scrawny kid two prople ahead of you. He looks really nervous, you laugj yo youself when you figure out why as you look above his head. [17]. The kid gets to the counter, hands the clerk his "ID," who says that he better run before he calls the police. The kid scurries away.
It's always been a gift of yours to be able to see the age of people. Thanks to your gift it was pretty simple to find a job befitting of it to get out of doing some actual work. What better fit that a bouncer for a bar. Besides this gift you were also gifted with size, 6'6 and 300 lbs was another big help when applying to be a bouncer.
With your secret ability you became well known in town as THE bouncer. Sure you looked at ID's of anyone over 21, just to keep up appearences, but anyone you saw abover their head <21 you wouldn't even ask em for ID's you'd just laugh and tell them to leave.
After a nice day drinking with friends you were unfortunately scheduled to work. Luckily things are going very smooth this night, no one <21. A couple hours pass and way down the line you see [31], [33], [11], [34], and you think to yourself, "seriously, someone is trying to bring their kid into this bar? Some people." In your state there is a bery clear law disallowing children to be in a bar unless it's a bar/restaurant, which your place was most certainly not.
The line moves on and on and you get more annoyed prepping to confront this family. As they get closer you see the something is a miss. The [11] is just as tall if not taller than the other numbers you see. You can't quite see the kids face but you assume he's either a really lanky kid or he's getting a piggy back ride from daddy. You think the latter is more likely because the [11] is very close to the [34].
When the "kid" makes it to you your jaw drops. Standing in front of you was a man, dressed in sharp suit and nearly as tall as you, maybe 6'4. Above his head read [11....34].....[1134]. The silence of your stare was then broken, "You alright buddy?" You snap back to your senses, "yeah sorry about that, may I see your ID." The man gives you his ID and it clearly shows "34," you hold his ID for a while again your mind questioning what you saw. Never before have you doubted your powers, could they be off for once? Maybe the booze from earlier is still running its course, but I feel fine. Also I've never had a problem with the accuracy of my ability before when I've been drunk. Also I've read everyone elses accurately tonight as you always check ID's anyw...
"You know I'm lying about my age on there, don't you?" The man said snapping you out your train of thought. He takes his ID and goes to walk past you away from the entrance. As he passes you he whispers in your ear, "[1134] is right, meet me out back and I'll explain everything," and with that he leaves you mouth agape walking away down the alley next to the bar.
You stand there for a sec frozen by what he said until the next guy says, "buddy you alright?"
"No, sorry," and with that you page for someone to switch you out for a break. Your friend comes out and you go on your break. You go down the alleyway and popout behind the bar. Back there you see the only person there, the man in the trench coat.
"Glad you showed up."
The man steps closer to you and extends his bare hand for a handshake. You look down and nervously reach out to meet his. You grip his hand and he grips yours, only he keeps squeezing, harder, and harder. Your a big guy you're not about the be intimidated in a strength contest, and you start squeezing back. The man doesn't flinch and he begins squeeze even harder, he begins crushing your hand, it's your complete loss as you fall to your knees you hand limp yet still in this man's machine like hand. He eventually lets go and you bring your throbbing hand to your chest clutching it due to the pain of broken bones.
"What are you?" You say through gritted teeth. The man crouches down to meet your gaze.
"The name's Egan, seeing the numbers are just the start of your abilities. Why do you think you would be able to see them?"
He pauses, as if looking for a response to his rhetorical question. Obviously you don't know why you were given this power.
Breaking the silence Egan says softly, "It's because you also have the ability to take theirs. Come with me and I'll teach you to become a god among mortals."
With that Egan stands up and reaches out his left hand to you. You take it and stand up, your life changed forever.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T22:57:39
| 585
| 247
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
The world went to shit the moment we all got powers. People saw that this was their chance to climb social ladders.
At first the powered people killed all the nonpowered people.
Only people close within rank can marry and have children.
Then came the children, who were even more powerful than their parents.
And they wiped out their parents generation. Now we are only close to ten thousand people left.
People call the children Third Generation. They are by far the most powerful ones. They make the top 100. Some of them are basically reincarnations of gods. No one knows why their children and their childrens children aren't as powerful. But the few living of the First Generation are also incrediby powerful, otherwise they wouldn't be alive. Some of them are so powerful, they age very slowly. Me, I'm First Generation. But my power is - I never age. I never die. I'm truly immortal. And I'm old.
I've been killed in a million different ways. And every time I wake up, I find myself getting the same power that killed me.
Now I'm the alpha dog. Everyone is out to kill me - but no one realizes that I have more than a million different powers.
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T12:43:48
| 243
| 172
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear self, I hate you. I hate what we've become. When did we change, when did we grow so old and angry, and when did we decide to be alone? I know that we did not always act like this. I know we used to laugh, and let other people get close. Remember when we had so many friends? remember when we go to other people's houses and just hang out. Everything was so easy then. Why is it so hard now? I want you to know that I miss you. The way you used to be, the way we could be again, maybe. I want you to know that I need more. I need to make a change. I want to be different. I won't be like you anymore. Yours always, you.
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:56:15
| 1,462
| 799
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad.
|
And when I went downstairs to make my morning coffee i didn't look twice at my mug, I'm always number one so why would it be different today? My wife comes down and points out I have a new mug, "no this is the same mug I use everyday." "Then why does it say #666?" Confused and worried I look at my mug, in a panic I shout to my children to come down. "Did you guys do this as a joke?!?" They seemed as confused as I did.
I decided to leave it alone for now and went outside to water the lawn. I saw jimmy out there doing the same, he seemed distraught. "Jimmy what's wrong?" "One of the kids must be playing a joke on me, they changed the number on my mug, but won't be honest about it." "Yeah, what number did they put? My kids did the same to mine." "65,381. What about you?" "I got 666." "Well that's not ominous at all."
Finished with the yard I had to go to work, driving there all I could think was maybe it's because I'm a beast.
| 2017-06-11T11:14:29
| 2017-06-11T10:13:29
| 46
| 12
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
I pull my number from the machine that ranks us all. Shocked, I can't believe it, no one has ever had this number in all the books, movies, songs or anything. Putting away the ticket I ask people around if they had ever heard of someone having that number, careful not to reveal I had.
"Well, yeah someone has to be number 1. Can't say that I know anyone who pulled it though." Typical response. I can't believe it, I'm just a student, what was the chance of getting assigned #1. A pyrokinesis user blasts by, nearly knocking me over. I think I saw a ticket that said 998 in her hand. They're always using their powers to jet around, its a hazard and they never wear helmets. Oh well, if they get knocked out of the running then it just means someone else gets pushed up.
Dusting off my new pants, a nice middle aged man helps me up. "Damn pyros, lucky they don't burn the place down with how they fly."
"Thanks" I say, right as I notice the sign change from '999' to '001'.
A voice comes over the intercom, "Now serving deli customer one."
"Yes," I step forward, "I will take a quarter pound of chicken, a half pound of sliced honey ham, and some roast beef please."
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T15:10:54
| 243
| 164
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
"You, come with me please. Jim! I'll just have a chat with this guy, okay?" Jim, the closest thing to a neanderthal you could see outside of a museum of natural history, flashed a thumbs up before going back to checking ID's.
"So uh, like, what's the problem?" I glanced at the man beside me. He looked like your average guy, jeans, a white shirt, a healthy sunburn covering his face. In fact if I had been average as well, I'd probably never have picked him out in the first place.
"Just a routine, random pat-downs to make sure our guests aren't armed. You don't mind, right? It'll just take a minute".
"Ah". His face relaxed and his shoulders visibly untightened. "Yeah, sure, no problem, it's your job. Where to?"
I gestured for him to follow me and we started moving towards a room Jim and I got to use for our breaks.
"So, you been here long?"
"Nah, just arrived. Got tired of my job and went on a road trip with my savings. You know, new faces, new places..."
"Yeah, I hear ya." I unlocked the door and we walked inside.
It wasn't big, more of a closet than anything else, but there was enough room for a small plastic table, two foldable chairs, and an IKEA-shelf with a coffee pot and a cake Jim brought a few days ago.
"Sit down, you want some coffee?" I poured myself a cup and offered him one.
"No thanks uh, shouldn't we be standing up for the pat-down?"
"Yeah, there's not going to be a pat-down. I just needed to talk to you." His shoulders stiffened again, eyes wary.
"Yeah? About what?"
I sipped the coffee and made a disgusted face. It was cold.
"What do you want to talk about, man?" He tried faking a smile. "Do I look underage or something?"
I laughed. "Close, but no. See, I'm good at my job."
"Yeah?"
"Once I started working here, there's been a severe decrease in injured guests".
"That's great".
"There's also been no underage drinking at this club since I started working here. The local kids don't even try anymore, I'm that good at telling peoples _real_ age".
"Yeah?" He kept my gaze, looking increasingly like a deer cornered by a cougar.
"As in I can see exactly how old people are".
"You mean..."
"Yeah. I hate to paraphrase twilight on you, but you haven't been underage in a very long time, have you?"
He didn't move, shoulders still tense, eyes locked onto mine. The numbers above his head, the numbers indicating just how many years he had been alive, the numbers I had been able to see above everyones head since the day I was born, read 2709.
He breathed. "Fuck".
"Yeah. Now tell me: What. The fuck. Are you?"
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:25:55
| 585
| 12
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Jeremy.
I'm sorry I didn't call.
I don't remember if I was busy, or tired, or anything else that could be considered an excuse. I felt like it was all my fault. I could have stopped it. When I met your family and found out you had been living with this all your life, I almost gave up.
I should have called. I had a bad feeling and I couldn't get you out of my head. Now I know why. I could have stopped you.
I could have gotten you help. I could have been a better friend.
But that morning I found out you killed yourself. I knew.
I should have called.
Your friend
Charlie.
P.s. I forgive you.
(Edited, spelling)
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:17:09
| 1,462
| 508
|
[WP] Mythological stories are just an attempt by ignorant humans who watched and described from their point of view the advanced humans/aliens with their scientific gadgets, space ships, weapons, etc. Pick your favorite mythological story and/or character(s) and turn it into a science fiction story.
Inspired by Olympus/Illium by Dan Simmons
|
Taranga wept as she held the bloody newborn in her arms.
"We cannot feed him," said her husband, "already the people starve and our three boys are as thin as sticks. There are too many of us and the land is too small. He will die anyway, so we might as well kill him now."
Weeping still, the mother of the newborn lifted her chin defiantly,
"You will not kill him; I will. I will take Māui to the sea and there I will drown him myself."
Makeatutara regarded his wife from under hooded brows, then jerked his hand at the entrance to the hut,
"Go then woman. Our sons need some kai, so be quick about it."
Taranga held the boy in the shallows of the beach but she could not do it. None of this was *his* fault; the child had not asked to be born.
With a blessing to Tangaroa, the god of the sea, she cut off a piece of her topknot and used it to tie together a rough coracle of driftwood. Pushing the baby out into the surf, she sang him a tearful waiata of farewell, hoping against all hope that the gods would guard and guide her baby to a better life.
----------
Tangaroa heard the song of the woman from the beach.
Deep in his ocean home, the new home of the alien refugees from another world, he considered the plight of the Māori living on the spit of land called Aoteroa. It was the fault of the aliens that the Māori had so little land - the aliens had thought this world largely uninhabited and had raised the ocean levels to make it habitable. Afterwards they had discovered the native people and realised their error.
But it was too late now; nothing could be done.
At the least though, he could save this one child and bring him to his domain.
Sending Tama-nui-te-ra to rescue the child, Tangaroa turned his massive green-blue bulk on the ocean floor and considered the wreckage of their landing craft. They were stuck here now; there would be no more journeys to other planets, searching for compatible oceans - this was their home now. What technology they had left would serve to conceal them from the people of the land, should they ever become advanced enough to plumb the depths.
Māui was raised by Tama-nui-te-ra in an ocean cave until he was old enough to return to his family. The alien was a juvenile, nothing like the size of Tangaroa, so it could nurture and feed the human boy without frightening him too much. To make matters easier, Tama-nui-te-ra implanted Māui with the basic technology they gave all their youngsters, allowing Māui to swim in the ocean without needing to breathe and to metabolise solid food into nutrients, in the absence of his mother's milk.
"You are a silly, weak creature, Māui," said Tama-nui-te-ra, but he loved the boy and looked after him well.
----------
When Māui was twelve Tama-nui-te-ra took him to the edge of the human village and left him there,
"These are your people, you must live with them. Now that you are old enough to feed yourself they cannot turn you away."
And with that, the scaled, blue-green alien was gone, vanishing as if he had never existed.
Māui cried, but he knew the alien was right - he needed to be with his people; he had a powerful longing to be with other humans.
Before he entered the village he regarded the curved, white, bone-like surface of the stolen piece of the alien technology he had hidden in his topknot - it would always remind him of Tama-nui-te-ra.
No one in the village believed it was him, not even his mother.
"I *am* Māui," he insisted, "Tangaroa sent a... spirit to save me!"
The village chief was ready to cast him out, to have the village warriors throw Māui back into the sea, but he panicked and the alien artefact cast holograms of huge, fierce native birds in front to the warriors - terrifying Haast eagles and powerful legged moas - and the tattooed men cowered in fear of Māui's power.
"He is a magician," said one and people started to believe Māui's story.
----------
Māui lived with his people and became a man, eventually acknowledged by his mother for his great feats of bravery and strength.
But the problem of overcrowding had become so dire that even with an entire village out fishing, there was still not enough food. People were starting to die.
He and his brothers were out sailing when Māui decided to fix the situation.
"I will fish up a creature large enough to feed all of us for generations!" he declared.
His brothers laughed at him and said "Well, since you are the great Māui, you can't use any of our fishing gear! You can do it yourself."
Māui wasn't sure this would work, but it was worth a try.
"Fine, I will use the jawbone of our great ancestor then," he declared, taking out the alien artefact, "I will use it as a fish hook!"
"What will you use for bait?"
In response, Māui punched himself in the nose and smeared blood all over the artefact, before casting it into the deeps on the end of a fishing line.
He had only intended to bring one of the aliens to the surface to impress his brothers, but not knowing how to properly use the artefact, Māui accidentally activated and overloaded the ruined engines of the crashed starship.
Deep beneath the waves a massive explosion occurred, destroying the technology that kept the sea levels so high.
As the boat rocked and heaved in the rapidly fluctuating water levels, Māui struggled to haul the jawbone to the surface.
By the time he finally pulled it up, the boat sat on a new island, revealed under the receding ocean.
"Māui fished up a whole *island!* screamed the brothers.
Then they set out to explore the new land.
|
Nick scratched at his white beard and stared hard at the blue planet before him. He shook his head slightly and returned his gaze to the report.
“I don’t get it. Is it a cult?”
“No, sir, I don’t think that’s accurate,” said Puck.
“Agreed,” said Una as her eyes darted quickly over the screen. “He’s far too popular for it to be a cult. I would say it’s a religion.”
Puck looked unconvinced.
"I don't think they *worship* him."
“Right,” said Nick. “They worship . . . what’s his name? Chris?”
“Christ, sir,” said Una.
“Right. Him.”
Una never looked up. She was three pages ahead of everyone else.
“Looks like he’s big in Japan, too,” she said.
“What? Why? I thought they were all Buddies over there.”
“Buddhists, sir.”
“Right. Those.”
Puck skipped to the end of the report to read the conclusions. Nick waved away his screen and sighed heavily.
“I never imagined I would become a human icon.”
Una finally tore her eyes from her screen.
“What were you expecting, sir? You flew down there on SL-A skimmer with 8 gravity-resistant horned ungulates--”
“Nine,” piped in Puck. “We brought a bioluminescent one, too.”
“Fine. Nine of them. Then you started handing out gifts to their young.”
“In all fairness, both Nick and I thought those were adults. Humans grow much larger than elfen.”
“I’m not trying to assign blame to anyone,” said Una. “I likely would have made the same mistakes given the information available at the time, but now we know more.”
“Yes,” said Nick, “now we know more. But what good does it do us? Apparently I’m ingrained upon the collective consciousness of the planet itself. This mission was supposed to be low-key.”
Nick stood up from his chair and stretched. He was sweating a bit. He would have preferred for the cabin to stay at cooler temperatures, but he needed to be prepared for the heat. Earth’s poles were pleasant enough, but equatorial temperatures could cause an average elfen to go into shock if they weren't prepared.
Puck cleared his throat and dismissed his screen.
“I hate to be the one to say it, but maybe we should leave them off the list?”
Nick whirled around and Una’s eyes grew wide.
“Leave them -- leave an *entire planet* ---” sputtered Nick.
“I don’t like it either, sir,” said Puck, “but I don’t know how we’re supposed to move among them without causing a crisis.”
Una continued to read. That was the only option available to her. She felt repulsed but the nature of Puck’s suggestion, but without a solution to offer Nick, she would have to agree.
Nick slumped back into his chair.
“Well . . . what if -- I mean, we could . . . I could wear a different Suit?”
Puck shook his head.
“Sir, you know you wouldn’t be able to survive the mission without the Red Suit.”
“I know,” said Nick. “I know.”
“Maybe if we come back in another two thousand years they’ll have forgotten about you.”
“Maybe.”
Nick slowly tapped at the console on his chair, preparing to move the ship back out to deep space.
“Wait!” shouted Una. “Read section 11b.”
She grabbed the data and threw it to the others’ screens. Nick’s brow furrowed.
“Costumed actors?” he muttered.
Puck read, but shook his head.
“Una, this is a societal ritual. We would need to integrate into the church before Nick could participate in something like this.”
“No,” said Una, “I don’t think we do. It’s like you said earlier, Nick himself is not a religious icon. I think we just need to put him at one of these marketplaces and the population will come to him.”
Puck frowned and continued reading. Nick reached the end of section 11b and his smile slowly began to return to his face.
“So we just need to find one of these market hubs and sit there?”
“Yes. They’ll assume you’re one of the actors. There is some minimal setup that might be required to sell the illusion, but Puck and I can take the Green Suits and get it done in under an hour.”
“What’s your take, Puck?” asked Nick.
Puck reached the end of the section and paused. His frown faded.
“It could work,” he said.
“Then it’s settled,” Nick said, hopping up out of his chair. “I’m ordering a mission to ‘Mall’.”
“Yes, sir,” said Puck and Una in unison. They hopped out from their stations and ran towards the launch bay.
Nick leaned against his chair and basked in Earth's reflective glow. With any luck, humanity's list would receive its requisite second-check. He laughed at nothing in particular and shouted to the empty bridge:
“Nick Sinterklaas is coming to town!”
| 2015-03-08T22:11:56
| 2015-03-08T21:48:32
| 30
| 18
|
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has
|
Rank was never that important to me.
The others fought. Endlessly. For some reason, their numbers were more important to them than their humanity.
I started with the lowest rank, and I've never moved up. I've never killed a soul. But I'm #1 now, because the others are all dead.
I'm lonely.
|
The vast doors of my mansion opened wide, and a man in a royal gown entered the room. For a fleeting moment, I showed a slight smile, but it faded before he could see it. He, however, could not hold back his expression, full of furious rage. He had just taken a few steps in before he yelled out: "Vantalana, how can you do this to me!"
"Number Two, are you dissatisfied with me?"
"Stop f*cking with me V, you know what this has cost me."
I was glad I could contain my smile, for the bored expression I was showing antagonized him further. "So what are you going to do about it." That was when I suddenly started to pay attention to him. Anyone with any common sense could tell I was baiting him, but Henry Gothaul was too angry to notice. He was falling right into my trap.
"I challenge you," he pointed his finger glaringly at me. It took a remarkable amount of will to not snicker in return, "to a duel!" *Gotcha!* Even he noticed the smile that spread across my lips.
"Really?" I rolled my head to the side, obnoxiously, "Number 2 thinks he can beat Number 1?" His face lit up bright red with fury; Number 2 could be so childish sometimes!
"Why you scum!" He could barely keep himself from trying to kill me right then and there, but he couldn't. He left the room loudly stomping.
Are you confused? Let me explain: In this city half of the population is gifted random powers, such as telekinesis, sensors, etc, but the rest of the population who do not are called 'muggles', and serve those privileged with power. The Privileged live in a tournament. They are ranked based on their powers, and anyone can challenge a higher rank to a duel to the death to obtain their rank. I am Number One.
No one knows my power, because the duels take place in a sealed arena. Two people go in, one comes out. Those who survive the Arena say it changes for every fight, to best mediate each competitor's power. Even the sizes of the Arena change, in spite of the laws of physics, and survivors talk about 2km wide deserts, and 400m wide urban brawls. It's all rather interesting, but no one is known to have found a way to cheat this system, at least not yet.
The familiar doors of the Arena stood before me. I remember dozens of battles, in dozens of environments. I remind myself of my plan, and smile knowing that Number Two had lost the battle the moment he took my bait.
Henry stood in front of the massive gates of the Arena. He had slain many a foe inside of its walls, and thought about the glorious combat to come. His body ached in rage towards that snake of a woman! He would crush her and take his rightful place as Number One! The only reason she was Number One and he was not was an agreement they had made, that she would keep his daughter's power secret. He knew that he was lost, that he was obsessed with the Arena and that he would die in it some day, but he did not want to curse his daughter with the same fate. And yet that b*tch failed him! She convinced his daughter to fight for her, and now she would die! The doors opened, and he shouted his battlecry at the top of his lungs: "FOR LUCY!"
Inside the arena was a small town. It seemed about a kilometer on each side, with a rural town dominating the center of the field. In the very center of town was an old church, which sounded its bells. In each corner was a small patch of woods, perfect places to hide in. As the doors closed behind him, he began to teleport wildly, searching for the infernal woman. He teleported, and there- there she was! What was she doing, just standing on top of the steeple! Surely this was some sort of trick, it was in her nature to deceive. He waited for something to happen, but she did not move. To h*ll with this! If he did nothing, he would never figure out her power! He had to probe her. He teleported behind One, swung with his battlehammer, and- nothing. It passed through her body with no resistance, and she faded away. A hologram! He immediately teleported away. So that's her power- holograms! Still, it's remarkably similar to Number 4's illusions. But then again, it's not unheard of for two people to have the same power, and One seemed like she'd be much better that Four with them anyway. As he had anticipated, though, she did not have an offensive power. She may be able to deceive him, but all he had to do was make sure that none of the holograms got close, for she would have to do so to kill him! He stood up, a terrifying smile spreading across his face, ready to hunt down Number One.
Cont. in reply
| 2014-12-18T15:23:06
| 2014-12-18T13:16:53
| 243
| 47
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
It was a typical night in LA. People getting piss all drunk and underage people trying to get into the club, my club. I always laughed at the smugness of some of them. Always compensating with false confidence, it was kind of pathetic. 15 years and a perfect record for keeping out underage guests and they still tried every night. Almost like they had something to prove.
This night however was about to get strange. I had just turned away a couple of probably seniors trying to celebrate graduation early when he walked up. Clean with a perfectly tailored suit that looked more expensive than anything I could afford with strikingly blue eyes like daggers of ice. His face terrified me. His sunken cheeks and sharp jaw really made him look threatening but the most terrifying part was his age. 8590. After a few seconds he spoke, his voice a flawless British accent.
"Are you going to let me into my club?" He spoke with a perfect smile.
"Yes, of course." I replied snapping out of my haze.
His club? He couldn't be serious, right?
The next night came and again he came; just as tailored as last night. This time he had a woman with him. I recognised her from somewhere but couldn't place it.
"Evening, I have a plus one tonight." He spoke cheerfully.
"Of course, sir." Who is this guy?
A few hours later both him and the woman exited the club and we're having a conversation on the sidewalk. He was flipping a coin, no spinning. He was spinning a coin as it floated above his palm. Floated. Then it all went to shit.
A car came by with loud rap music playing, a man pulled a gun and began firing on the man and the his guest and then was broadsides by a semi in the intersection.
The police arrived and questioned everyone. One of the detectives walked up to the apparently new owner of the club at the piano.
"Lucifer Morningstar?" She questioned stifling a laugh.
"The one and only." He replied.
That, can't be. He can't actually be. He'd have to older.
A few moments passed and he walked up to me and said.
"They only count years I've been on Earth." And walked off.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-02T00:24:05
| 585
| 14
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Joyous.
You were the strongest woman I knew. You were the definition of Grace and poise and I wanted nothing more than to be better people together.
The sheer amount of inspiration you gave was unmeasurable.
I hate you so much for doing this....why didn't you pick up your phone....
I hate that you chose me. Why did you pick me to be the last one to talk to...
I hate how selfish you were.
I hate....how I know the feeling...
I understand why and everything you were going through...
If you weren't strong enough to face your demons....how am I supposed to face mine?
Your birthday is coming up...I had something for you...
...
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:59:24
| 1,462
| 92
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
He watched, bored as people streamed in the bar, only stopping the ones underage, and occasionally a few just over to keep suspicions low. His kind was uncommon, and people
hunted for his power. It seemed like an odd thing to want, most just wanted it to make them feel *special*. At least, those that knew about it. Sometimes age didn't match up to looks, but he kept to his own, unless they were underage of course. But then *she* came along. As soon as the girl passed, his eyes flickered to the space above, knowing what he would see. The girl was likely 16, or 17, as was the guy with her. But she wasn't. 1000 was her age, the one with her was 1001. This wasn't possible, but yet, that's what it said. Maybe it was wrong? But he'd NEVER been wrong before. As they passed he realized his mouth had been hanging open and he shut it reluctantly. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, but it was only the guy taking over next shift. Perfect. Making his way through the crowd he saw the girl heading into a storage room with a 18year old, different from whom she came with. He shook his head, about to leave when a silvery glint caught his eye. The boy was nearby, a knife in his hand. The girl disappeared, the other following suit. Breath catching, he hurried over, sure he would be greeted with a bloodbath. The door shut behind him and he looked around. In the darkness he saw the pair fighting the young man, backing him against the wall.
"Jonathan, will you do the honour?"
He laughed in reply and stepped up, twirling a silver bladed dagger in his fingers. He laughed and drove the blade straight through the heart. Black blood flowed from the wound and the boy seemingly folded in on himself, disappearing all except for the puddle of black on the ground.
"Welcome to the world of the lightbringers, young one. We have long searched for one with a gift like yours, it will be quite useful. That is, if you don't mind joining us. Hunting demons is much better with more people involved, especially with talent like this. Let's get started, shall we?"
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T21:45:33
| 585
| 25
|
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya
|
Dear Mom,
I know you're in the room across the hall from me.
But it's not you. Not anymore. Not really.
You were strong, and proud. You worked despite what we told you. Despite what it did to you. Despite your health. You gave and gave and gave, but never to me, your own son. You figured everyone else needed the help, but not me, the person who was always there for you.
I... I hated you. I wanted away from you. But I never did. On some level you hated me. It was warranted. I was never a good son. And yet, we stayed with each other.
Then it happened, and you were never the same again. You're still alive, but not really. You're in the room across the hall, but you're not the same person. You can't leave your bed, you can't yell at me to clean my room, or clean the bathroom, or wash the dishes.
You can't make me miserable for being a useless person. You can't take care of me anymore. I'm taking care of you now, as I probably should have been all along. But it's not the same. I miss you, but you don't even really know who I am anymore.
You don't know how much I've changed. My room is still dirty, but I do everything else. I pay the bills, I'm no longer useless, but you can't see that. Not really. There's no point in proving you wrong anymore. I'm improving, but it's an empty feeling without you to be silently proud of me.
You were right, about everything. I miss you now that you're gone. I'm so sorry I couldn't changed earlier.
But I was right too. At the end of the day, you need me as much as I need you.
I've always hated being right.
Even if you don't really understand me, Mom. I love you. And I miss you. Even if you're just across the hall.
Love,
Your Son: Michael-Yoshi
| 2017-11-05T21:44:07
| 2017-11-05T19:00:50
| 1,462
| 647
|
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done?
|
*A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium.
|
Hello Gentlemen! Welcome, uh, to Sunrise Mutual! I'm actually just the-
The presentation? What pres-? Yes, um, of course. The presentation. Of course. Right this way.
(Okay, Josh, you got this. They think you're a big-shot, time to take yourself to the top! No more janitor for you!)
Now, as you can see from this slide, we had a rather large 12% gain this past quarter. This is largely due to our new corporate vision of redesigning our personal paradigm in order to synthesize our processes. This has, of course, produced a more holistic outlook and increased customer satisfaction while maintaining a coherent work environment!
Of course, as an upper-manager I know my people! If you choose to... (Shit, what are they here about? A merger I think?)... merge? (Yes! They responded!)... Yeah, merge! If you choose to merge your company with ours I can guarantee you that your people will be choreographed into our regular systematic machinations.
(Keep it together man, you're almost there!)
And of course, as ours is an ever-evolving business in which we strive to provide the best in both singularity and simplicity in our products we would have to facilitate a proper sprucing (pruning? Fuck it, already said it) of the dead branches in both our corporate flowers! (Flowers, really dude?)
Yes, thank you Mr. Krenshaw, I'll have our CEO in touch with you as soon as he's back from vacation!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure how well this one went, it's late at night but this prompt caught my attention and I really wanted to get this response written out. Let me know what you think!
| 2016-02-02T00:31:42
| 2016-02-01T22:50:42
| 147
| 41
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
4 digits. For a moment, my degree in mathematics failed me, as I struggled to count the numbers before me. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre. There was no mistake, though the existence of such a person...frightened me. My vision had always been right, as evidenced by the guilty looks on the minors' faces when I turned them out of the bar. I'd never had to kick someone out for being overage. But 5746 years was a lot of time, far before Anno Domini 1. Was he immortal? A god? Or some old guy with a superpower? I didn't know, and I definitely didn't trust the 'Age: 30' that his ID proclaimed. Maybe my powers had faltered this time. Maybe...
From behind, I saw another man slowly approach me, his IDs in his hands. But as he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened in fear. I saw him whisper into the 4-digit-old man, with visible shock on both faces. That was when I saw the age of the newcomer. 5746.
I tried my best to suppress my shock, though I failed miserably. 1 was surprising enough, but 2? 2 men that had lived for the exact same time from so long ago? I was about to demand an explanation, but one of them beat me to it.
"Why are you 5746 years old?" he questioned, fear in his eyes. I opened my own wide. Could he read ages too? And was I...that old? No. That couldn't be right. I remembered my childhood, the photographic proof of my birh just 28 years ago. But they didn't seem to be lying, and the mention of that 4-digit number again was chilling. What kind of sick joke was my powers pulling? Or were they the ones pulling my leg?
"We've found another suspect, boss," one said into a walkie-talkie. The other drew a gun from his pocket, training the muzzle on my forehead. "What are you doing? You're-" I tried to explain, but he cut me off. "No more words, time traveller. We've waited long enough to catch you and your gang," he replied, smirking as a group of policemen appeared from the darkness. I felt the cool metal slide around my wrists, as I was forced towards the car. "Move!" one of them shouted. That voice...I seemed to recall. The cold handcuffs. The interrogation. Disjointed images flashes before my eyes, as they slowly became clearer, culminating in...
I knew now. But...why were they doing this? Was it a plot to throw of the police? "James!" I shrieked, to the man I'd once been partners in crime with. He chuckled, though I could tell it wasn't just for effect. I saw the twinkle in his eyes, the signature twinkle he gave when he condemned a foe to death. My other pal Aldrich stood by, his eyes conveying his helplessness. James' face wasn't one of friendliness anymore. It was one of animosity and hatred.
"Good riddance," I saw him mouth, as I was shoved into the car. As we drove off, I could still see him, as he advanced slowly towards Aldrich. I closed my eyes in cowardice, though I knew what would happen. What I had feared when I agreed to sacrifice my memories...it had all occured. There was no way back.
Even inside the driving car, I could hear the terrified screams. The circle of betrayal had been completed.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T22:15:29
| 585
| 16
|
[WP] When teenagers turn 17, they are sent a slip of paper with their future occupation written on it. Yours says, "Princeps de Nova Roma" or "First Citizen of New Rome."
*Princeps* or *princeps civitatis* was the title that Augustus and all later emperors called themselves. "First citizen" meant the foremost citizen or the leader of Rome.
EDIT: For those of you attacking me via PM on my lack of knowledge on Latin, I never said I had any formal Latin education. Although I do, a mere four years, I got a 5 on the AP Exam, so you could say I'm a Latin scholar. I now realize that there is no ablative of origin or reference, so *de Nova Roma* is wrong. I get it, please stop private messaging me about my ignorance, because I don't care nor do I have the time for your whining.
I have a fluids and processes exam in a few days and I'm studying, so I may not be able to respond to all of the stories. I appreciate all of you taking the time to write them and I'll be sure to read them during my study breaks!
|
476 CE -- Sebastopolis, Colchis
Pausanias started. He was not expecting any visitors this early in the day. He rose and walked over to the door, curious as to who was banging on his door so loudly at such an unreasonable hour. He grasped the cold brass handle and swung the door open, revealing a strangely uniformed elderly man clutching a roll of parchment. The man's face was weathered and serious, the impression accentuated by his furrowed brows. He was cleanly shaven and had the bearing and garb of a military man, a *spatha* at his side and a bone-white breastplate with a cloak of the same hue fastened to it by a silver broach. The broach bore the symbol of the *Munus Militiae* but... Pausanias narrowed his eyes, something was different about it... and the weapons, armour -- it didn't make sense. Before he could collect his thoughts the man spoke up.
"This is the house of Pausanias Annius Catilius? Where is he? I have his role."
His voice was toneless and fit well with his appearance.
"I am Pausanias, but it is not my-"
Before he could finish, the man thrust out his hand towards him, the parchment held in it. It was sealed with the sigil of the *Munus Militiae* -- a son carrying his father on his back -- but again, something was different... Pausanias was interrupted again by the man's voice.
"Open it now, time is limited."
Pausanias shot an irritated look at the man and then hesitantly broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. As he read the words neatly written on the vellum his face grew pale. He looked up at the man, his mouth agape.
"W-what is the meaning of this? Is this a jest? Who are you?" He stammered.
"I will explain soon, but now we must leave. You need not take anything. The journey is very long, but we have everything you need."
The man whistled and two stout men emerged. They took Pausanias by his arms and hauled him from his home as he struggled, calling for his guards. His voice trailed away as he realised his guards were the ones assailing him.
"How dare you! Where are you taking me? This ruse is no longer amusing."
The slight sixteen year old was helpless against the burly strength of his guards, and he resigned himself to their firm guidance. A plain carriage, drawn by two modest looking stallions was waiting at the gates. The men bundled him into it, and the man followed him in, taking a seat opposite. Pausanias fixed an angry glare on him.
"I am a citizen of Rome, how dare you place your hands on me?" He snarled.
The man met his glare calmly, his gaze unwavering.
"No longer. Rome, as you and I know it, has fallen. A barbarian calls himself king. You have an important role to assume, I will explain when we are at sea. It will make things... easier."
"Where are we going?" Pausanias demanded.
"We sail for the Pillars of Hercules, and beyond."
Just then, Pausanias' eyes fell back to the man's broach as a ray of sunlight crept through into the interior of the carriage, catching the broach squarely. The silver glinted and Pausanias gasped. Worked ever so finely into the metal were the words:
"New Rome,
Beyond the Pillars,
Across the Ocean Is"
It was then that Pausanias realised what was different about the sigil -- the son was pointing west, and the father's eyes were crosses. He was dead. The carriage rumbled into motion, and Pausanias sank back into his seat, trembling.
|
I have the bad habit of cracking my joints when I am nervous—not just my knuckles, but my neck, back, ankles, and anything that goes pop when you force it hard enough. Today I sounded like kettle corn over a fire.
My family stood just in front of the ancient wooden door; my preconceived thoughts of grandeur and ceremony had long since fled. The house was a revolting yellow, paint peeling off in strips like old scabs. Merchant stalls were an arm’s throw away, selling everything from incense to snake oil. As I was looking around, Danny, three years my senior, clapped me on the back and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry about all this. Most people ignore what’s on the paper anyway.” He smirked, but I gave no reply. My brother’s words offered little comfort as he decided on bashing people’s skulls in for one of the local Gangs, although he always fails to name which one. The old books say that assassins worked stealthily and with finesse, but nowadays blood flows in the streets as easily as water. I pressed hard against the second joint of the little finger on my left hand. Pop.
Father looked Mother in the eyes for a few seconds, nodded, and returned his gaze to the door. What transpired between the two, I cannot say, but I assume it was no coincidence that a noise now emanated from inside the house. They scare me sometimes. Straining my ears to hear past the marketplace cacophony, there were footsteps in an even gait that clicked on floorboards just beyond this thin barrier. When the door swung open, the world seemed to grow quiet—either due to the Seer’s magic or more likely the blood rushing to my head. I hastily rolled my neck. Pop. Pop.
The Seer, dressed in cloak and hood, acted like a caricatured Reaper straight from the children’s stories. I almost laughed. But while pulling a folded slip of parchment from a sleeve, I noticed just how bony their hand was, pale and pointed. “What would it sound like to crack those fingers?” I idly wondered, two of which were now presenting me with the paper. As per custom, I accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. Looking back up, the Seer had vanished, and the door was now closed without a sound. My family stared at me, expectantly. I stretched my jaw to one side. Pop.
I opened the paper and realized that it was unintelligible: Princeps de Nova Roma. The four of us stood there, puzzled, when I heard a voice say, “You will be the First Citizen of New Rome.”
“What?” I asked, turning to find the speaker.
“I don’t know what that says either,” Mother said with her face openly showing concern. She looked at Father who, for once, was as lost as the rest of us.
Mouthing the words, they only felt empty at first, slowly gaining…something with each repetition. I folded the slip and held it above the clear liquid that Father brought in a glass jar. The paper sizzled and turned black almost immediately, remaining only in our memories now. I resolved to find the Seer and find out what the hell this was supposed to mean.
| 2015-05-03T10:01:59
| 2015-05-03T08:46:03
| 29
| 20
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
"Alright I have the bomb and I'm ready to use it on the motorcade" Alen started his character Mehmedbasic ready to fulfill the job the party had been recruited for.
"Same here, let's do this," Larry said, excited that it was his character Vaso's time to shine.
"Alright both of you roll a stealth check and then an attack roll against the car" Jerry the DM said as Larry and Alen's faces fell "Stealth check?" Alen asked as Jerry nodded "Yeah to sneak it on".
"But neither me or Larry spec'd for stealth"
"You didn't spec your Assassin's for stealth?" Jerry said in disbelief.
"Nah we didn't think that would be a problem..." Larry followed up with as Jerry sighed "So do you still want to make the attack?"
"No we'll hold off for now," Larry said Alen nodded in agreement.
"Well I don't have any problems, Let me try it out!" Marcy said excitedly to have finally had a chance to act "Please Marcy Cabrinovic has the worst stealth of all of us!" Larry called from the other end of the table as she growled "I'm not using stealth! I'm going to throw the bomb at the car!" she said smugly.
"You're going to throw the bomb..." Jerry repeated as Marcy nodded "Alright...I guess, roll the attack roll"
*rolls*
"Alright that's a nat one on the Accuracy check...:" Jerry said as Marcy's face fell "The bomb bounces off the car rolls under another and explodes leaving it out of comission and injuring 16 people in the crowd, What do you want to do now?" Jerry asked as Marcy glowered "Screw it I'll at least go out like a spy, I break my Cyanide pill and jump into the river" she said
Jerry nodded
*rolls*
"Another 1...the cyanide capsule breaks but it's old causing Cabrinovic to start vomiting also you didn't account for time of year it's a hot summer so the Mijacka is only 13 cm deep. You're dragged out of the river and beaten by the crowd" Jerry said and as Marcy Pouts he turns to Liz
"The car speeds off will Princip do anything?" he asked as Liz shook her head "Not now," she replied as Jerry nodded "And Trifun Mitche's character will do nothing since he's not playing today. What do you guys want to do now?" he asked looking to Larry Alen and Liz.
"I'll go looking for the Archduke's new position" Larry said "Same here" Alen and Liz followed with as Jerry looked hesitant "Alright I'll give you guys each 1 chance, but it's really unlikely you'll find him."
*rolls*
*rolls*
"Larry, Allen you guys don't find anything you," he said to his players' disappointment.
*rolls*
Jerry's eyes went wide "That's a Nat 20 Liz...Princip, on your way to find a new spot to attack him on the original route you decide to stop for food. When suddenly you hear the motorcade coming. One of the members realising they're going the wrong way calls out for someone to reverse and the driver stops close to where you are standing. You have a shot..." he said as Liz grinned but looked nervous as Jerry and Alen put a hand on her shoulder
"You can do this Liz," Larry stated Alen nodded "Yeah just trust your dice"
*rolls*
"17!" Liz shouted as Jerry check over his notes before noddign "That's enough roll for damage"
*rolls*
"Let's see...taking the Archduke's health into account. That's enough. You have successfully assainated Archduke Ferdinand." he said closing the book the table erupting in cheers.
"Would you guys like to try a hand at the full module?" Jerry asked bringing out a much larger book labeled "The Great War"
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40
| 2018-05-29T06:46:10
| 303
| 74
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
**July 12, 1994**
Um what the fuck?! That man couldn't have been 1056 years old, there's just no way; the i.d. couldn't have been a fake and he looked exactly like his photo. Man... maybe all this drinking is catching up to me.. drowning out what brains I do got, I definitely should try to lay off the liquor for a while.
But what if I wasn't wrong? I had to be though. A 1056 year old wouldn't be getting drunk in that seedy shit hole, surely not. Jesus Christ, I'm an alcoholic aren't I? Instead of the shakes I'm just going fucking insane. I mean, a 1056 year old couldn't possibly exist and here I am trying to justify normal behaviors for a dude over ten centuries old. wonderful, I really am a psychotic freak of nature.
**July 28, 1994**
There it was again! That same 1056. I know it's the same one, the numbers have the same psychic texture as the last one, I know, I *know* it's the same 1056. And I'm sober, or at least I've been mostly sober the past two weeks, I really am trying hard. But jukov viell hell, the ancient freak was a little girl this time, not a slicked back 30 year old like in the club. And ve' saw me looking at her, it's like her eyes locked into mine with a laser and it was terrifying. I swear I couldn't move for what seemed like an hour though I'm sure it was just a few seconds. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm getting the fuck out. I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm not going to tell anyone why or where I'm going.
**August 5, 1994**
I'm settling here into Dallas just fine, even already got two jobs so I'm bouncing bars every night. It feels gulock vol shien over and already have my feet on the ground. I don't know what that thing was, but I ain't seen any thousand year old crypt keepers walking around here. I think it's buvok l'ie that I just forget that man and little girl and pretend it never happened. Volpp shon die! Ha
**August 9, 1994**
I'm vol niectien javhol. There's no way around it. I'm thryyka insane vol. In the bathroom this sunnatal 987 flickered above my head like a light with a wire shorting out. Da! I've never seen a nuvon above my head and never thought anything about it. But 987. It was in epileptic strobe, but unmistakable, 987 with it's own unizall textovu, my own psychic fingerprint, I guess. I don't know whether I should drink until I can't see straight enough to notice the flickering number apparating above my head, check myself in a psych hoklinta, or keep pretending that it doesn't effect me just like that thousand year old freak back in Philoxxanta. Fuckin hell...
**September 8, 2106**
Vien dol mal shinne. Va kra sel na vien talova! Herein je ve' sien. 1056 hai raj volkina buvo! Home! At last hommili!
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T20:21:47
| 585
| 13
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon.
|
He laid with her and stroked her hair.
"I love you." he whispered into ear.
she smiles.
"and I you." she softly coos back.
He kisses her cheek she tilts her head and he kisses her neck before falling back to nuzzle in looking at the roof. The room was very dim and cool and drafty save for the fire in the edge of the room. He had her heat tho. She was so out of his league. He'd admired her from a far for years. how did he get so lucky? he was certain she had no clue who he was.
"why did you take so long to ask me out. How did you not know I smitten with you?" she asked. She could read his mind. I guess that's what happens when two are this madly in love he tells himself. He sighs as if thinking how best to reply.
"I mean... just look at you. and I mean look at me! your so young and beautiful. Me on the other hand-- god. I don't even have all my hair!"
she chuckles a soft hollow chuckle.
"Hey! I like you the way you are!"
he brushes a hand along her good thigh pushing up her silk nightgown. He looks into her eye with loving desire and looks for it back.
"So today the day I finally meet the parents..."She begins. He doesn't see the look back "...I'm so worried they won't--"
**"WRONG!!"** He maniacly bellows.
"No no no!" she pleads. She wasn't at the point where she didn't plead. He slammed down the cigar cutter bladed severing the index finger. Her blood curdling screams filled the air. It made him a little erect.
jumping off the stone operating table he had her chained to he moves over to the metal working fire that dimly lit the room retrieving the metal he had stoked. Grabbing her hand he presses the glowing yellow steel to her stump the sizzle made a beautiful accompany to her moaning pain. throwing the metal across the room he stormed to the door.
"I've told 20 times now." he spoke with cold cruelty and none of the love of before "if you can't get the fucking script right down to the movement queues you are never leaving this place. don't make me take the other eye as well cunt" she just softly cried and babbled all her strength to keep composure gone.
He slammed the door and stopped the recording. This bitch was so selfish, he mused. Her mother still held out hope that she would be found and at this rate there won't be any of her to bury. well not anything that resembles her. He smiled to himself. on a plus they'd save money on the casket he doesn't think they'll need much longer than knee level at this rate.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46
| 2017-05-31T01:51:06
| 272
| 49
|
[WP] You are a horny Dr. Seuss; write a Suess-Style Rhyming erotic novel
|
Bountiful bossom
And plentiful penis
Bow down fair maiden
And worship my genius
---
I want you to hear me and do what I said
Off with your panties
Bend over the bed!
---
Cheeks of a delicate fleshy pink tone
I shall soon redden and tame with a bone
---
Smack!
And smack!
And smack it again!
One smack.
Two smack.
Three smack.
Ten!
---
Perilous penile phallic and flush.
Prepare of your coin purse for cocking and thrust.
---
I will impale you with force of a bus.
I am inside you.
Do not make a fuss.
---
Wallop and whackings
And more lovey tappings
And writhing
And thriving
I am soon arriving!
---
Stroke it with fury and pornified grace.
Stoke it.
And stroke it!
And look in my face.
---
Lick it.
And suck it.
From tip to the base.
Faster and faster like it is a race.
I will now climax all over the place.
And watch as you try it and give it a taste.
---
It seems I unloaded a cum bubble bomb.
And that is the story of OP's mom.
|
Candles and incense,
A knock at the door,
She could not know I'd not done it before.
We'd dated all summer,
And now was the time,
I popped open a bottle,
We sipped on some wine
She unbuttoned her shirt,
I kicked off my shoes,
Now was the time I had nothing to lose
Strange feelings they danced,
Like a mid summer fire,
Kissing and passion aloft with desire
Then came the moment,
I'm finally a man,
Time to kick back with some green eggs and ham
| 2015-02-25T16:36:37
| 2015-02-25T16:15:30
| 141
| 11
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
Nothing exciting ever happens around here in New Zealand. I say that because most people don't even know where New Zealand is, let alone anything that ever happen down here. The fact that I live in a small town about 2 hours drive from anywhere worth mentioning also doesn't help, but I've found a job that fits me to a T. I mean, not every bouncer can see people's ages floating above their heads, right? This is not some Peter Jackson Frightener movie, this is real life. Real life means I have to work for my dues, whatever that means.
I am not complaining about my special ability. Believe me, it is one thing that you can tell how old one person is just by staring at the space slightly above their head, but it is totally awesome when you can see everybody's number. To be honest, it's the young ones that shock me the most. They just don't treat their body right these days. I see their haggard faces every night, standing in the cold, wearing next to nothing. I can tell how old they are, but some of them look closer to thirty than eighteen. Of course you can't let those ones in, it's the rule. I didn't make the rule.
It is September already. You'd think this winter will finally end and we will get some flowers out of the ground, right? Spring is supposed to be here, but no. It is still freezing. The line isn't very long tonight even though it's Saturday. The place I work for is usually full in the weekend, but not tonight. It has stopped raining though.
I suppress a yawn. We have a group of students with their IDs in their hands, eager to get inside. I don't blame them. Pulling the dark jacket closer to me, I pretend to scan them up and down, and look at their IDs quickly. I don't need to see them or do any mental calculations. I know they can go in. That's why I waved, yes, you have a fun night. Not sure if you will find it in there, but good luck. You will get what you wish for.
I don't know why I haven't noticed this earlier, but I guess it's because the guy from the group was too tall and he blocked my view. My usual icy stare is hard to maintain when the number above the well-dressed man flashed when I look up. I have to stop myself physically, not losing my composure because I know what I saw.
"Hi, brother. I've come to have some fun tonight."
"ID, please."
As if a card is going to prove how old he really is.
"Oh, can you see it with this light?"
I can hear him alright, but I can't let him through. I've been trying to find him after all this time, and when I finally found him, I am powerless to stop him. Powerless to catch him.
"I can, and brother, remember why you are here."
He has the audacity to scoff before stepping into the club in his fancy patent leather shoes.
His number is 6666.
That's his number.
My name is Michael and he's my brother. I've been waiting for him forever and this is why I am calling my partner from inside the club. This one can't get away.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-02T00:05:56
| 585
| 11
|
[WP] Long ago the legendary sword Excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical blade's steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its magical properties intact.
|
EBAY
Steel Forged Knife Set with Celtic Engravings.
Price: €34,99.
4/5 stars
Review by T. Smith:
*Great knife set, cuts smooth and are easy to sharpen. Weirdest thing though, every time I pas by the sink a hand will reach out of the water and hand me one.*
|
I could barely breathe up here. Every step deeper into this attic made a yet another billowing cloud of dust. The walls were invisible, behind the mountains of boxes that littered the room. Waving to clear the air, I finally spotted what I was looking for. A small white box, simply labelled "Silverware". Walking over, I gently removed it from its perch, and brought it back downstairs.
As I walked down the rickety steps, I looked once more at the pictures of Grandma that covered the walls. She had been living alone since gramps passed away, with only a caretaker to keep her company as her mind deteriorated from schizophrenia. Now that she was gone as well, it was entrusted to me to clean up the house. We hadn't been too close, but I still felt a pang of regret for not keeping in touch with her more often. That was probably why I tripped and fell.
"Shit!" The box had torn open in the fall, and the utensils clanged as they scattered across the floor. Groaning, I got up and resigned myself to start picking them all up.
"Finally. It's about time."
I whirled around to find the source of the voice, but an empty hallway was the only thing ahead of me. Slowly, I grabbed the closest thing at hand, a silver butter knife.
"Hey! Hey you! Down here!"
Had someone broken into the house? I was sure I had locked the door, but maybe they had snuck in after I finished cleaning the first floor.
"Stop messing around and say something already." The voice came from... everywhere. Like it was inside my head.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
"Whoa, easy there buddy. I'm glad you got me out of there, but we're not in that kind of relationship. Can you ease up on the grip?"
I glanced down at my hand. My knuckles had gone white, my fingers locked around the handle. "Get out of my house! I'm not afraid to use this knife."
A brief pause, then a sigh. "Just my luck. I got a slow one. I *am* the knife."
I looked down at my hand again. "What?"
"Yeah, yeah, let's get this part over with. I'm a magic talking knife, you're the king of Great Britain, we're going to fight monsters and defeat evil."
"What? You're the knife?"
The voice took an impatient tone. "Look, it's not that complicated. You can call me Excalibur."
"Excalibur? Like the King Arthur Excalibur?"
"That's the one."
"But... you're a butter knife."
"All right, so I admit I had a little setback. Nothing to worry about, really. We just need to make a pact, and I'll be good as new."
I turned over my hand, to look at it more closely. The handle was ornate filigree, the edge slightly serrated. It really did seem like an ordinary butter knife.
"A pact?"
"You know, like a contract. A covenant. A promise. I swear to never harm you and stay by your side til death, you swear to fight evil and become the king of Great Britain. It's like we're getting married."
"I know what a pact is! Just slow down, I can't do that! First, we're not even in Britain, we're in the United States. Second, fight evil? What exactly does that even mean? And finally, you're a talking butter knife, I'm clearly going insane. Shit, is schizophrenia hereditary?"
"Yes, but that's not the important part right now. The pressing issue is that I can't just make a pact with anyone."
"Because you don't have legs?"
"Nobody important needs legs! Anyway, it's because there are four conditions that have to be met. The person needs to be of the bloodline stemming from Arthur, the previous wielder needs to be dead, and they need to accept the pact of their own free will. Just jab me in your finger to get a little blood flowing, I'll say the words, and it'll be done."
"Uhh, I'll pass on that one. I can't be forced into it? What happens if I say no?"
"Then I'll have to stay and wait wherever you put me, until you have some kids. Though if you always act like this, maybe that'll take a while."
"Hey! I thought you wanted me to help. I've made up my mind, I think that-" My retort was interrupted by a loud crash from below, as if the door had been broken open. Frantically, I looked back at the knife. "What the hell did you do?"
"Oh boy. That's not me. My awakening must've tipped them off."
"Them? Who?" I hissed. The sounds below had gotten louder. I could hear my grandmother's heirloon vases being smashed as whoever was down there went through the room.
"Well, remember how I said you'd need to fight evil? Looks like evil has found us. They likely used teleportation magic, if they've gotten here so soon."
"Magic? You mean I have an evil wizard trying to kill me and all I have is a butter knife? I'm calling the police."
"Believe me, the police won't be able to do a thing. Look, we have to make the pact now. I got sidetracked, there's one more thing I forgot to mention."
"Oh, just one?"
"Now's not the time for that. I said there were four conditions, right? The fourth is that the wielder must have a righteous heart. One that makes them the true king. That's you, bud."
"Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm so dead." Another crash, this time more of a boom, reverberated through the hall. The heat hit soon afterwards, and the smell of burning carpets filled the air.
The knife spoke up again. "That sounded like a fireball. We'd better hurry this along... actually, you haven't given me your name yet, have you?"
I looked at the knife incredulously. "Thomas! It's Thomas! Screw that, let's get out of here!"
A new voice startled me. "No, Thomas, I don't think you'll be doing that." Looking back up, an older man was now standing at the end of the hall, blocking any chance I had of escape. His lean figure and long, blue coat stood out against the flames that flickered from the stairs behind him. In his hands, he was holding a slender, long, and very deadly looking katana.
For the first time since we had met, I felt a touch of fear coming from Excalibur's voice.
"Do it. Now. You don't stand a chance against him. That sword is Clarent. The Sword of Peace. The one wielded by the traitor Mordred. The weapon that slew King Arthur."
Before my mind had reached a decision, my hands had already moved. The trickle of blood that flowed down my fingers gave a brief respite from heat of the air. Once more, Excalibur spoke, and the man charged.
| 2018-03-06T11:40:04
| 2018-03-06T11:27:47
| 2,613
| 44
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
If you enjoyed, consider subscribing to my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChocolateChipWp/)! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated as well!
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2018-02-12T22:42:59
| 585
| 223
|
[WP] Write a children's story that turns into the most moral-lacking piece of work possible.
[This is a well written example](http://joncjg.blogspot.com/2014/04/childrens-story-writing.html)
Edit: Wow, I didn't think it would get as much attention as it did. Thanks for submitting, all of you!
|
Red Eggs And Ham
by Dr. Gauss
I make you breakfast, dearest son
Because you are my precious one
I know you like my scrambled eggs
And sausage patties, shaped like pegs
-----------------------------------
You always tell me "Thank you, dad,
for all the good food that we've had,
I love you more than anything,
inside this house, you are the King."
-----------------------------------
You really like red eggs and ham
You really like strawberry jam
You eat it while you watch TV
You eat it straight from the pantry
-----------------------------------
You do not need to know from whence
Daddy gets his ingredients
Just know that you're my shining star
And I will never wander far
-----------------------------------
You ask me why I cook downstairs
and why I took a kitchen chair
You ask why it seems all your dreams
are shattered by the sound of screams.
-----------------------------------
You do not let food go to waste,
but complain about the penny taste.
You ask why everything is red,
and why some of it smells quite...dead.
-----------------------------------
My son, you don't appreciate
the work that went into this plate
Blood, sweat and tears are in this meal
though where they're from, I must conceal
-----------------------------------
You wait until I go outside
and open the downstairs door slide
You see your mother, nice and clean
and ready to go in the sausage machine
-----------------------------------
Now you know how breakfast is made
and why daddy owns so many sharp blades
You feel sick, vomit in your hair
until you hear steps on the stairs
-----------------------------------
"My son, you should not be down here
I tried to shield you from hate and fear
But now, I fear you've seen too much
and punishment is due, as such
-----------------------------------
You cry and scream, but do not fight
You sob and wail, but do not bite
I wish that I could make this quick
but bad little boys must eat my dick
-----------------------------------
I see you choke a bit, at first
but it's like a lollipop, not the worst
your Wii remote has been your craft
now it helps you to work the shaft
-----------------------------------
I take no pleasure when I cum
because you do not look so glum
In fact, you are smiling at me
and swallowing so gleefully
-----------------------------------
My boy, I think you've been redeemed
This is the moment that i've dreamed
The day you make red eggs and ham
My lovely child, the Son of Sam.
|
Jenny lived in a remote village several miles away from any metropolitan area. The children of the village never wondered what was outside of their little home. Except Jenny was a curious child. For as long as she could remember she's desperately wanted to journey to the nearest big city, but no one had left the village for many years.
"No, you mustn't go," her friends would say. "You'll get lost in the woods and never find your way back."
Oh, but Jenny was much too enraptured by the thought of adventure to listen to friends no wiser than she. Jenny decided she would ask her grandmother for help in preparing for her journey. She'll help me, thought Jenny.
Grandmother was, you might say, something of a shit. She wholeheartedly enjoyed anything that would infuriate Jenny's parents. She luxuriates in the misery of stupid people (which to was anyone who isn't smarter than she was). She'd spent the past three weeks pretending to forget everyone she knew every few hours just to eavesdrop on conversations other people thought she would never remember. Grandmother learned new things every day.
"I'll tell you what, Timmy-"
"Jenny, gran-"
"Yes, Remmy, I'll tell you what. You give me the key to your house and I'll let you fill your pack with anything from the pantry. Just don't feed any animals you might find, they'll hunt their own food just like us."
Grandmother would spend the next few days rearranging some of the furniture in Jenny's house. A twist of a chair here, an overturned picture frame there, she'd perhaps put the toilet paper on the wrong way. Oh, and she must put the guns in different cases (Jenny's parents were both hunters, you see).
Jenny left her village the same night, heading south towards the city. She walked, singing songs to herself as she went, until she ran out of songs to sing. She must've been walking for hours and she'd eaten most of her food. Jenny decided she would climb the tallest tree she could find hoping she might see the lights of the city. She wondered if she really was lost. She found a tree that was thirty - nay, thirty two feet tall, and, after making a very large pile of leaves and straw (in case of a fall) climbed to the very top and....and there it was. There, radiant, glistening and ever-enthralling was her long awaited city.
Jenny thought. She thought about her parents, the parents she'd barely thought about before leaving. She thought about her friends, who she left without saying goodbye. She thought about her grandmother. Shit that she was, she might tell her parents where she's gone off to. Especially once she's discovered Jenny'd given her the key to her own house. She thought about Timmy and Remmy. She thought about her diary, her most intimate thoughts that were left behind. She never mentioned leaving the village in it, but her parents wouldn't know that and they'd read everything else if grandmother didn't tell them first.
Jenny heard a crack, the branch she was standing on gave way, and she fell, but her longing for the city remained in the tree. And she fell onto the leaves. Jenny was, save for a few cuts and bruises, all right. She lifted her bag, noting that there was more food left than she'd thought, dusted herself off and wrapped a cut hand in a shirt she'd brought with her. She regretted leaving her family; she missed her friends.
Jenny wanted to go back home. She felt she hadn't payed any attention to very much of anything there. In fact she couldn't remember but the most insignificant details about her home. She felt ashamed of herself at being so thoughtless, so she began her walk back home.
She walked, again, for hours. The sun was about to rise and the trip back seemed to go by faster than leaving did. She liked the thought of returning home after a journey. Short that it was, she had still been further away than she'd ever been before and that was something to be proud of. She sighed at the thought of her parents reading her diary.
And then a thing ate her.
| 2014-06-07T04:58:15
| 2014-06-07T03:39:40
| 37
| 19
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
I check their I.D.'s for fun now, noticing nose jobs and cheek implants and the occasional sex change. It doesn't matter though... there are always some who try to get past me. A strikingly beautiful blonde with a shining "19" above her head brazenly looking me straight in the eye, not a flicker of hesitation as she hands me a well made fake stating she was twenty three years old. The three men around her, all with numbers higher than my own glare menacingly as I shine my light on the counterfeit piece of identification. I decide it's not worth the altercation and let her through but I yearn to just whisper "Why are you trying to grow up so damn fast? There's nothing in here for you."
I never learned why I could see these numbers, to be honest I thought everyone could, and by the time I was old enough to question it, I knew enough not to bring any more attention to myself. Now it makes my job easy, and it's a neat trick at parties. I don't question when women lie to make themselves younger, and yes, occasionally I let someone who is trying make themselves older slide past, into the bar for their drinks and their laughs. Frankly... I just couldn't care anymore.
Ive seen it all, women who look thirty five but have a bright "50" floating a few inches above their head. Young men with full beards that would easily pass as mid twenties who are mere teenagers. It's remarkable, really, the variations in how humans age. Were I a man of more scientific inclinations I might feel compelled to get to the bottom of my "gift". In truth, I'm typically more concerned with when I can punch out and get drunk enough that the numbers start to blur and I can pretend I'm not seeing the mortality of others... but angels with luminous halos.
Every week I stand outside the door to a trendy L.A. bar and grit my teeth through the drip, drip of painful repetition. Mine was the sort of redundant occupation that people might complain gave them carpal tunnel. I used to look forward to the occasional bar room brawl to break up the monotony that has become my life, but as iPhones get larger and pants get tighter and more and more men declare themselves as "feminist" it's a rare occurrence that I can't set my hopes on. So instead I look at these little plastic rectangles and relish in the tiny details they hope won't be noticed. Live in L.A. as long as I have, and you'll see every nip and tuck.
Most nights, I arrive at the bar by seven thirty, have a beer or two with Lonnie, the bartender, before taking up my post on my wooden stool just to the left of a black painted door. I've worked at many bars but this bar had the unique distinction of being the only place I'd encountered that put forth an effort to appear seedy in order to sling overpriced whiskey sours to L.A. hipsters who wanted to feel as if they'd spent a night slumming it without any of the real life danger they might encounter were they to venture into an actual slum. You know the type, they wear ripped jeans that cost as much as my rent and carry folded paperback copies of "The Old Man and The Sea" in their back pocket. In other words...real winners.
Tonight was no different and after my second beer, some craft bullshit from down in San Diego that Lonnie said, "We're the only bar in L.A. That has this. Some guy literally brews this in his bedroom. It's totally exclusive", I took my seat and waited for the string of mullet wearing degenerates to pile in.
At first I rubbed my eyes, thinking maybe I'd blurred two people's numbers together. Maybe there was someone walking just behind him, out of view. Nope, as he got closer I stood up. The man was a little taller than me. Not any kind of unusual looking character, but not the typical patron of this joint either. He wore a simple suit and close cropped haircut, but what I was seeing couldn't be possible. The man looked to be at most, in his early thirties. The bright, shiny number hovering just above his dark hair however, showed "2021". I realized my mouth was open and that I was staring.
When he got closer he mumbled "hey" and reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then, just like everyone else, an I.D. Just a normal California license with his photograph, his height, weight, address and name- "Christensen, Jess H." The birthdate gave him an age of thirty three but my gift had never been wrong. Ever. Not in my entire life had a number above someone's head been even a year off their actual age. This simply, wasn't possible.
I turned the plastic over and stalled for time, "So, from L.A. originally?" He replied, "Israel, actually, but it feels like I've been in L.A. since forever." I hand him back the card and he just smiled and walked inside.
All night I couldn't get the man out of my head. Was he some kind of vampire? Or maybe some monster of an Israeli Dr. Frankenstein? It just couldn't be. I came to the conclusion that something had gone haywire and my gift was starting to falter. "Shit" I thought to myself, "Now I'm gonna have to really start paying attention to birthdates." But the rest of the night my numbers always matched the birthdates on the I.D.'s. It seemed this man was the only one the glitch affected.
The night started to wind down and people trickled out as bar close neared. Finally, I noticed the four digit man slip outside. He stopped to light a cigarette and I don't know if it was the late hour or if it just bugged me too much but I reached over and tapped him on the shoulder, "Excuse me, man" He turned and smiled, this guy didn't seem like a monster. In fact seeing his face made me feel like I'd bitten off half a Xanax, but I persisted, "I gotta ask, you know, I have this real good knack for reading people and I gotta say... something's telling me you're older than you say you are." What he said back to me... well, it just about knocked me over.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T21:03:45
| 585
| 122
|
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done?
|
3 Things Every Loofah Supply Chain NEEDS To Be Competitive In Today's Market
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|
#Title: I Somehow Find, Particles Collide
So you want to build a Large Hadron Collider.
Pretty simple, just gotta build a whole lot of magnetic coils for miles on end.
A whole mess of satisfied physicists then look at each coil, nod to one another like they're all satisfactory, then give the guys who control the electricity the thumbs up. Good stuff, good to go.
You drive a current through that whole bunch of magnetic coils and you create a magnetic field.
Then you go into the forest, all slow and gentle like, and you find yourself a herd of particles.
You won't catch all of them, but you'll get some, if you carry your Large Hadron Particle Catching Net with you. Then put them into your Large Hadron jar, and look at them fly around like lightning bugs.
Bring them back, throw them into the collider, make sure you don't stand too close, and watch them fly like birds through the magnetic coils.
Then some of the particles pick up speed, and though they don't really want to do it, they collide into each other.
[It's necessary that Howie Day sings towards the particles about collisions as you do it too, little known secret.] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olysEGn5vNU)
It's important that his voice and guitar strings create just the right pressure waves in the air to re-direct the particles when they go off course. Upon a more detailed analysis, one realizes the lyrics of *Collide* are really all about the Large Hadron Collider. "I'm tangled up in you" of course applying to quantum entanglement and spooky action at a distance. Most of his music is all about particles colliding, as he's secretly the son of Stephen Hawking and Einstein's clone daughter that the government kept a secret from us all, and as a result Howie Day's a brilliant physicist.
Howie's voice soothes the particles right back into the straight and narrow path headlong into each other. Somebody with a similar voice could get you the same results, but you'd need really complicated software to make sure the sound waves are identical enough for the particles to be happy.
Hold auditions in cities to find Howie Day imitations, and you should be okay.
Once Howie's done singing, the particles clank into each other, and get headaches and concussions.
As a result they start acting kind of quarky, or "quirky," and in the end, they start to do weird things.
Like give brief glimpses into the foundations upon which our universe is built.
Informing our decisions about life, and our conclusions about the nature of existence and the fabric of space and time and reality.
| 2016-02-01T20:53:28
| 2016-02-01T20:52:20
| 90
| 39
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
"DAD!" I shouted, as I slammed the front door to the house behind me. I was in a state of near panic, frantically trying to take my dress shoes off, as I shouted for him again, "DAD!"
I heard noise from the living room, the springs of my Dad's favourite chair protesting like they always did, from age and use, as he stood and called back, "Trent? What's the matter?"
Relief washed over me at the sound of his voice, and I managed to finish ripping off my shoes. Unable to form any words, I simply rushed down the short hallway, to where he was coming into the other end, and threw my arms around him. The weight of my rail-thin 13-year-old frame barely moved him, and after a split-second of surprise, he wrapped his arms around me. Dad was the only one I could talk to about this. He was the only one who knew about my power, the only one I dared trust.
Despite being dripping with sweat, I was shivering, but after a couple of moments in the comfort of my father's arms, I was able to draw a ragged, deep breath and center myself. I eased off the death-grip I had around my Dad's ribs, and backed up a half-step. He moved his hands to my shoulders as I backed away, looking worriedly at my face.
"What's going on buddy?" He asked.
"I... ju... th...," I stumbled over my words, and took another calming breath. "I was working at the dance, for the golf club, like we had talked about, as the entry-man." The school loved their 'clubs', and loved using them for 'volunteers' for events like this. I honestly hadn't minded this one. It was far better than the Halloween clean-up crew 'volunteers', or the 'stack 200 chairs the morning after a meeting in the gym' jobs. I had even joked with Dad about this being good 'bouncer' training for when I was older.
I'd make a perfect bouncer, you see, because of my gift. I can read people's age, can see it just over people's heads, almost like a digital clock. I learned young not to talk about it, learned that it wasn't 'normal', but I was fine with that. Only 3 people in the world have ever known about it. Myself, Dad, and Mom while she was still alive.
Dad nodded for me to continue, as I searched for the right words, "We were set up at a table by the fire exit to the gym. I was checking school IDs, and Nick was stamping hands, and it was really cool, and it was a good time. Most of the kids from the school were already inside when Vincent Holst showed up with Daisy Redden."
Daisy Redden was *the* hottest, smartest, most sought-after girl in our Junior High. I had a crush on her, and my dad knew that, but *everyone* had a crush on her. The Holst family was fairly enigmatic in our town. Vincent, like his parents, didn't socialize much.
I had paused for a second as the memory of their arrival came back to me, fresh again. Dad prompted me, "Is that what has you upset, Trent? A date?"
I shook my head, freeing myself of the image, and refocused on my Dad's face, "Wha..? No, no, not that at all. Dad, Vincent was dropped off by his parents. They came over to the table to pay for the entry fee. That.... that's when I saw their numbers." I began to shake again slightly.
"Why does that have you so worked up?"
I tried to keep a steady voice, but it cracked and broke as my throat ran dry, "Because his Dad's number was Eight Hundred Ninety-two, and his Mom's was.... was... One thousand Two Hun..Hundred and Forty-Fi..Forty-Five."
I'm not sure entirely what convinced him of my sincerity that night, but he stood there and just looked at me for a while before he spoke.
"Pack a bag."
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-02T00:12:30
| 585
| 14
|
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
"DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?)
|
People use to think Bob was a traitor, but thanks to YouTube and my reporting we now know the truth.
Bob spoke good English and other languages and had been a woodworker in Logan, Ohio for many years. The thing is, Bob isn't American, he's Estonian, so he says, but nobody knows or can prove enough about him to deport him. I met him about 10 years ago when doing a feature on his shop for the paper and we bonded over our love of NCIS the TV show.
The thing that really struck me about Bob is that Bob doesn't exist on paper prior to 2000. Bob could have been American if not for all his half connections to terrorism, although none of it could be proven. That's what kept him from citizenship. I reported on that two. He was third cousins to some guy who did some bad thing some 4,000 miles away or his mother's step-sister's uncle was a terrorist. That sort of stuff.
Bob and I talked frequently, small town and all it's hard not to. People talk and try to be friendly in person, even if they talk about you behind your back.
When Bob learned about Islamic State he studied them beyond what seemed normal. Bob learned their customs, their region, their values, and even their movements. People started to distance themselves from him, although his nature never changed besides the fact that he began to pray more often and he had books on guns and middle eastern history written in Arabic in his shop.
It was widely speculated that the FBI, the CIA, NSA and who knows who else from the alphabet soup of government agencies was tracking, recording and following Bob.
One day bob was gone. Just vanished. All his stuff, his life, wiped out as if he'd never owned that shop. Nobody knew what happened to him until it was reported on the news. Bob had "defected" to the Islamic state and was among their troops. The town was a whole pit of gossip and that's all anyone talked about. They talked about Bob and how he was a murderer and a traitor. The national news media picked up the story of my missing person story, twisted it, reported non-stop for weeks about this American defector who was right under everyone's nose.
After a few months people started to and eventually forgot about Bob. I didn't. I wondered what he was up to and why he had made the change. I knew that Bob wasn't a terrorist. He was just a white guy from Estonia in his mid 60s with grey hair and a friendly smile.
Just when everyone had forgotten about him Bob sent me a message asking me to pay him a visit in Egypt. He even flew me out. I didn't feel unsafe. Islamic state had become increasingly less active in the last few months. Bob said not to worry about the alphabet soup that would inevitably follow me. Bob said they needed to hear it all.
Bob picked me up at the airport in a car that was really expensive. I'm no car person but it had to be hundreds of thousands if not more. We talked normally, as we had before he vanished, for many years. We drove for a few hours and stopped outside this shack. It looked similar to where he'd been staying in Logan if not a little bit more run down.
We step inside and there is one man tied to a chair. I can't see his face, there's a bag over it. Bob walks over and removes the bag.
Bob introduces me to Abdul and informs me that Abdul is the last Islamic State member alive. Bob said Abdul was a courier and servant to the leadership and had been with the organization many years. It was through Abdul that he tracked down all the members of the organization and "took care of the problem."
I was skeptical at first but I did as I was instructed. Bob asked me there for an interview and I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. I set up my video camera and asked the questions.
I got Abdul to say his name, where he was from and why he was here. He said he was here to die, an answer I was not expecting. Abdul told me he was there to explain and then to die.
We talked for 15 minutes about everyone who was dead. Leaders, soliders, scholars, both men and women and most of the children. Everyone who aided in violence and killing and took up arms was gone, died at their own hand,...except Abdul. He said he had to tell the truth, the whole story. The stories went on for an hour. I even had to change my battery to finish the interview. Abdul shared stories of people begging for forgiveness before taking their own lives.
I then asked my final two questions the two I was most curious about. How did it happen and why was Abdul so sure he was about to die.
Abdul, at Bob's urging, said they felt so much remorse for all the atrocities they had done that most of them just went out in the desert and died of sadness. It was the purple dinosaur that had shown them the way with his song and they needed to repent for their sins. It was then that Abdul thanked me for my time and he put his head down and said he was ready. Bob then unshackled Abdul who walked over to the table took out a knife and stabbed himself in the heart.
After a minute, it was all over.
I then turned my attention back to Bob and asked him...how he'd done it how were they all gone? Bob said it with a seriousness and peace I'd not heard before.
It was Barney, Bob said. I made them watch Barney for weeks.
Sitting there, shocked, I asked one final question.
"So does this make Barney a terrorist?"
I'm still waiting on Bob's answer.
| 2016-01-29T10:03:10
| 2016-01-29T07:07:48
| 82
| 16
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
28, 34, 21, and 54.
I remained where I stood, nodding to the guests in silent affirmation that they were allowed in. As they trudged past me and through the door of Barney's Strip Club, I reached into my pocket, fumbled for a cigarette, and stuck it in my mouth. Now where was my lighter? It would be so much easier if I could just-
20, 17.
Ugh. I groaned inwardly. 17? That was definitely not a number that should be here. Time to perform my job, I suppose. "Hey, you two. Hold it."
I shifted myself into the doorway, blocking the two young men from entering. Behind his expensive looking sunglasses, I could see the younger one already beginning to sweat. Was he really unable to wait for just one year longer? Honestly, kids these days... I sighed inwardly, but continued standard procedure.
"Excuse me, but can I see your ID?"
At the first mention of an ID, they both began to fidget. The younger one kept glancing over at the older... his brother, maybe? Eventually, the older one took charge, handing over two pieces of plastic with an artificial smile plastered on his face. I ignored the small talk he tried to make and pretended to study the cards intensely, while in reality I was rolling my eyes behind designer sunglasses. I didn't know the first rule about being a bouncer, let alone how to identify fake IDs from real ones. All the club wanted was for me to do was two things- keep out the riff raff out, and be good about it. Which suited me just fine.
"Nice try, kid, but you're going to have to try somewhere else." I couldn't be bothered to mess with these two any longer, as my cigarette was getting soggy. I handed back the IDs and glared them off. Any possible protests they contemplated melted like snow upon seeing my iron-set muscles, and they beat a hasty retreat. In my profession, it helps to be a mountain of a man like me.
And another thing that helped was this ability. The power to see numbers over peoples heads that showed their age- at first, I thought it was a stupid power, but eventually I came to see its use. After all, I turned out to make a pretty good bouncer, despite knowing nothing of the job. It came in handy for my other business as well.
Speak of the devil. I was just about to light my cigarette when something else caught my attention.
3,214.
A petite man who couldn't be over thirty, wearing an elegant tuxedo and tie that dripped of extra money, stood in front of me. He looked like your typical, unassuming gentleman, the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. And I might have been fooled by this disguise as well, if not for that 3,214 floating over his head. This wasn't work anymore. Now, it was business.
Once more, I sigh inwardly. Over 3,000? Then this might actually prove to be troublesome. As *they* get older, they get stronger as well. Feeling a pain welling up in my back from an old injury, I crack my neck around. Then I spit out my cigarette and lumber into the doorway once more, standing above this ancient wonder of a man.
Well, not that *it* is a man. The *thing* tilted its head in inquisition.
"Pardon me, but is something wro-"
I didn't give it a chance to finish its sentence. Pulling back my shoulder, I let loose a full powered punch straight into the face of the *thing*, a clean punch that would have demolished a building. And yet, even as the man goes flying, he's already fully regenerated by the time he hits the ground.
*It* immediately enters combat mode, transforming its arms into pairs of wickedly sharp blades, but I don't give it a chance to use them. Utilizing another power of mine, a more useful one, I ignite my fists into flame, and unleash a barrage of punches upon the creature until its been reduced to pulp. Only once its been melted into a puddle on a ground do I cease my attack.
"Ha... ha..." As I pant, I observe the creature for movement, but it appears to be completely and thoroughly dead. Just to make sure though, I light the remaining puddle on fire, and watch it evaporate into the air.
Sticking a new cigarette in my mouth, I light a fire beneath it with the snap of a finger. Then, leaning back against the wall, I crack my neck again, dispelling the misdirection barrier that I had erected around the area. Once more, customers begin to trickle in, and I continue my vigilant watch.
I work as a bouncer, but my real job is somewhat different. It just so happens that *they* like places like clubs, where life energy and youthfulness is abundant. But I'll be here. And I'll be watching.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:18:34
| 585
| 189
|
[WP] Djiin are actually well-meaning, but lack understanding and context of the human world, thus granting wishes in an unsatisfactory manner. Tell the story from the genie's point of view, who genuinely wishes to please his master.
Since most stories involving genies and other wish-granting entities characterise these wish-granters as judgemental, conniving and mischievous, I thought it might be interesting to get their point of view, especially if they don't mean to cause all the harm that they do, due to pure innocence. (i.e. the wish maker asks for money, and doesn't specify that it shouldn't be stolen, when a jinn might not understand the concept of stealing).
Write a story about one such genie who tries (and most likely fails) to properly grant their master's wishes.
|
Once again I see light. How long has it been since I last saw the light of this world. Has it been decades? Centuries? The world always looks so different each time I am summoned. One thing never changes though, the nature of each person's wish. Money, power, sometimes even love. Try as I may I can't help but think they always leave unfulfilled.
I once remember a mighty looking warrior. He was rough and battle hardened. I quite frankly was not surprised by his wish: To be the strongest fighter in the land. And so he was. From my understanding of human anatomy a human's strength comes from his muscles, which I greatly strengthened. He could move mountains and had the stamina run across the oceans if he so pleased.
Then he took a step forward and immediately toppled to the floor. His bones had snapped due to them being unable to cope with his new strength. His heart, which I learned was also a muscle, had pumped blood so violently that all of his internal organs ruptured. Crumpled in a heap was the strongest man to ever walk the Earth, even if he was only able to take a single step.
I couldn't help but see the irony in that.
Another one I remember was a king. He was covered in an assortment of fine jewels and furs. He had a group of advisers consulting him about what his wish should be. After a few minutes they had come to a decision.
He barked at me,
"Genie, I want all the riches in the world at my feet"
And so he did. It was truly a marvel to see. Gems of every color and precious metals shaped ever so intricately filled the cave from top to bottom.
This left little room for the king and his men as they were all crushed.
This brings me back to present day. This one, bespectacled and covered in perspiration, he was quite different than the usual lot who summons me. He was neither a warrior, a treasure hunter nor a ruler.
He cleared his throat and muttered,
"I... I just want her back. Here in my arms with me again."
It was a change of pace. Such a simple request. This I could do. If I'm not mistaken I believe you humans also call it a spine.
|
Of course there is something wrong with it isn't there, i mean i get it people are picky but sheesh, i grant them anything they want with no effort on their part and still its "change it back, this isn't what i wished for."
"Mortal master, while i will grant your wish i would like to know why you decided to unwish your previous one, i mean does wealth no longer please you?"
My mortal master looked shocked "Genie, when i wished for wealth do you remember what you did?"
"Why yes master, i created vast piles of gold and diamonds in your backyard, why, are gold and diamonds no longer considered wealth?"
My master hit himself in the face "genie those piles could be seen from a mile away, they are crushing my flowers are unguarded and i have no way to turn gold or diamonds in to usable currency, or am able to explain where i got them from"
The genie looked puzzled "but master why did you not elaborate on those requirements? the only thing i can't do is kill or raise the dead, there is no rule against being specific"
My mortal masters mouth fell open, it took him several minutes to regain his verbal skills "you you mean to tell me that its my fault that mountain is in my backyard?"
I sigh "well master i wouldn't say fault but you have to remember it has been over four thousand years since i was summoned and every other summoner who wished for wealth and got a large pile of gold before that seemed pleased, i mean i'm not reading your mind and i haven't been out of your apartment since you summoned me thirty minutes before."
My mortal master seemed to be suffering from a stroke, and kept repeating a single word "but but but"
Also i continued "i never specified a time span, i'm yours until i grant your wishes, you yourself insisted on making them right as you found me."
Sigh my mortal master was still in his fetal position muttering "but", well its getting late "mortal master i granted your wish the piles are gone, i'm going to sleep."
As i lay there in my lamp nice and snug i wondered "why was he so upset, its not like i only grant three wishes"
| 2014-08-23T13:29:00
| 2014-08-23T13:14:09
| 50
| 15
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad.
|
The mug was in the back yard shed with most of my dads things. I had gotten them when he passed away. It stood there with a big number one on it. I decided to bring it inside, since i had known to me he had been my number one dad.
When i touched it the number changed. I hadn't been with a girl in about a year. I hadn't dated in almost 3. I was a dad.
The number was insanely high. But i didn't know i was a father until i touched it, so i guess... that was fine. It bothered me though. I mean it would bother anyone. 698,589. It was a non-scripted kind of number. The kind you would see on a prison inmates shirt. The kind of number I felt like.
I called Cristina. We had dated for 3 years, i almost popped the question, but then her grandparents died and she said she needed time to think her life over. And we just fell out of touch. She was the last girl i was with.
The conversation was pretty normal. I am good how are you, me too, thanks for asking. But like word vomit it came spilling out of my mouth like a a wet shit on a hot day. "DID YOU GIVE BIRTH TO A CHILD OF MINE WITHOUT ME KNOWING?" The receiver was quiet for a long time. Then you could hear her breathing on the other end in a sobbing tone. "I had an abortion without telling you." I wasn't sure if it was yours, John, I cheated on you. Thats why i left. I felt to guilty."
I knew i shouldn't but i felt relief. Not a dad here. I told her it didn't bother me and hung up after saying we should get coffee some time. She seemed stunned but i was on a mission.
The next number i called wasn't as good of a lead. Tristan was her brother. He picked up, her phone, he asked me how i was, what kind of day i was having, and if i had heard from his sister at all. Told me all about his weekend out cracking cold ones with the boys. There it was again, the bile taste, The acid. "DID YOUR SISTER HAVE MY CHILD AND NOT TELL ME?" He laughed as my voice cracked. then when he stopped he said, "Maybe, I havent heard from her since you two dated."
"why do you have her old number?" Oh she gave me this phone the last time we saw each other. It had her number, but i just told all her friends it was mine now, and kept it. You mean you don't know where she is?"
I couldn't answer right away. Then after a while all i could managed was, "I'm coming over, Be ready for me." and hung up.
| 2017-06-11T11:14:29
| 2017-06-11T09:05:00
| 46
| 21
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
I've always seen them. The numbers. It took me a long time to figure out what they were, and longer still to learn to pretend they weren't there.
My family took me to a psychologist when I was young, he thought they were a visual hallucination. None of the pills he proscribed me worked, but I pretended they did at the last batch. I didn't want them trying surgery.
It wasn't long after I left school that I realised I could use this... talent... to be the perfect bouncer. I did pretty well for myself, ended up working the door of one of the bigger clubs in the city.
That is why, late on a Friday night, I was winnowing through the line queuing up outside the club. The lights from the club over the street were bright and strobing, the music pounded through the air mixing with the shouts and laughter from the crowds stumbling and weaving their way between each raucous island of light and noise.
I almost missed it, distracted by two drunks arguing across the street. A flash of an impossible number. My eyes must have been playing tricks, mixing two numbers from people stood close together. Surely.
Then suddenly, there she was. She was stood in front of me, ID in hand. She had a nervous smile, her eyes were a pale green and her skin was almost luminous and smooth, pale as alabaster. Long hair tumbled about her shoulders, down her back. It was gold and yet it seemed like shimmers of silver cascaded through it when it caught the light.
Above her head, impossible, floated the number 1391.
I stared. Had I finally jumped off the deep end? Had I burst a blood vessel in my brain and my ability was going screwy?
"Um... hello? Could I... um... go inside? Please?" Her voice was soft, she had an accent I couldn't quite place, melodic like singing.
I startled out of my reverie and took her ID, "Sorry," I mumbled, examining the plastic card, checking it against our registry. It was real. Tara White, aged 24. But I had never been wrong before. What the hell was going on?
I handed the card back to her, "You can go in," I said stiffly. I couldn't bring her up on it. The ID seemed real and I couldn't hold up the line. Besides, what would it look like if I started asking if she was over a thousand years old? It was preposterous.
The impossible girl gave a bright smile, "Thank you!" She vanished into the club and was gone.
I was preoccupied for the rest of the night, it made it hard to concentrate on my job. Thoughts of the mysterious girl whirled through my head. Who was she? What was she?
I did not see her again until the club wound down and emptied in the early hours, and in the flood of people leaving I did not realise she had passed me until I saw a flash of silver-gold rounding the corner. By the time I reached the next street she was gone. My heart fell. I'd lost her, my only chance at finding out about that damn number, gone.
I was despondent the next day, I'd blown it. I'd never see her again. By the time midnight rolled around on Saturday I had managed to convince myself it was a fluke. I must have imagined that number... even if I knew in my heart that I had not. Still, it was the only way I could put the mystery out of my mind and I had almost succeeded when I caught those shy green eyes again in the queue.
I looked up sharply, and sure enough the 1391 floated above her head mockingly. Beside her was a tall man, probably pushing seven feet. He had shoulders broad enough to make Atlas envious and his skin was as dark as her's was pale. He caught my eyes and the blood drained out of me. Terror, deep and primal washed through me. I felt like a gazelle staring into the eyes of a lion. For all those brown eyes were soft, they were deep and dark and I felt like I was drowning.
He held out his ID, said nothing. Every motion was measured and precise, he moved not an inch more than he needed and there was a terrible fluidity about it. An effortless, predatory grace.
It was only then that I realised what number was above his head and a new terror filled me, my limbs trembled and my heart seized in my chest.
12,150.
I swallowed hard, fumbled for the ID. It too was real. He was Alexander Roberts, aged 28. I handed it back, gestured for them to go in. I could not trust my tongue.
The man gave a thin smile and ushered Tara inside. When they were gone it was like a heavy weight had left me and I gulped for breath. My hands shook.
I took my break early and rushed to the staff bathroom, I splashed cold water onto my face. The shock of it helped but my hands were still trembling. I felt nauseous. Why had that man had such an effect on me? Who the hell *were* they?
Thankfully I did not encounter the terrible man and the shy girl again that night, but over the next few weeks Tara became a regular. She would always come on the weekends, sometimes with her terrifying companion and sometimes alone. I quickly noticed that she was always sober when I saw her, no matter how late she had stayed at the club. She never seemed to leave with anyone, though she seemed to often get hit on in the queue and probably more often still at the bar itself. She always deflected these advances... at least the ones she noticed. A lot of the time she seemed to not realise she was being flirted with at all.
She was always quick to smile, there was a shy earnestness about her and an almost frightening amount of curiosity. It made me wonder just how she was related to Alexander. The man still made me uneasy even if the terror of him had lessened.
I waited until Tara came without her protector, as I had come to think of him. It was a Sunday night, the air was getting colder and the crowds a little thinner. She left the club early today and before she could vanish like she always did I called out to her, "Tara, I need to speak with you a moment. It is about your ID."
She turned, confused, "Is there something wrong?"
"Your ID is fake, isn't it? You aren't 24. I can see people's ages. I know you are much older than that. You're nearly 1400, aren't you?" I watched her eyes widen slightly.
"Th-that is ridiculous, of course I'm not! No one lives that long," she protested, pulling away from me.
"I have never been wrong before. What are you? Who are you?"
She looked around nervously as the crowds of drunks still wending their way to the last embers of revelry still smouldering in the early hours, "Not here. Come with me, and I will explain. I can't risk someone overhearing," she turned from me and gestured for me to follow.
I had little choice. I had to know who she was, how she could be so old. I followed, and soon we were lost in the crowds.
Whatever explanations my feverish imagination had come up with in the past few weeks, they paled to nothing in the light of the truth.
**EDIT**
Apologies if there are any spelling mistakes or nonsensical sections. I wrote this on my phone and it has started to shove words I already did into the middle or end of sentences once I complete them. Such as turning "paled to nothing" into "patheyd nothing" or such.
**EDIT 2**
Part 2 in replies
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:57:33
| 585
| 23
|
[WP] In the future we find out that the galaxy is lifeless. Thanks to the resources in space, terraforming a new world is quite easy but there's one problem: there are too many planets. Thus the terraforming and planting of lifeforms becomes a popular subject for student projects.
|
###Macroengineering I - Lab 6: Terraforming
**Introduction**
Terraforming is an extremely important methodology to the expansion of humanity, along with being a major subject in the field of macroengineering. In this lab, the goal was to terraform a dwarf planet, seed it with microorganisms, and guide the development of edible terrestrial life. This is accomplished via restructuring surface, generation and maintenance of an appropriate atmosphere, selecting appropriate seeder organisms, and artificially-accelerated development of lifeforms until long-term terrestrial life has emerged.
**Materials**
1. A large dwarf planet (EGK 20383)
2. Two compact fusion power generators (10 PW capacity each)
3. Distilled water (0.7 ZL)
4. A GENESIS (General Enhancement of Native Environments - Surveyor and Implementation System)
5. Library of microorganisms provided by the ATCC
**Results**
*Characterization of EGK 20383*
A large dwarf planet, EGK 20383, was characterized. The total surface area measured was 250 Tm^2, or roughly half that of the Earth. The ground was found to be composed primarily of silicates and iron. No water was found. The topography of EGK 20383 was rugged, with over 5000 peaks above 20 km. No preexisting lifeforms were found.
*Terraforming of EGK 20383*
Fusion generators were successfully set up, operating at a maximum output of 10 PW per generator. Peaks above 15 km in height were smoothed to 15 km in height using the GENESIS system. A carbon dioxide atmosphere was requested and delivered. An appropriate quantity of water of half of the Earth's 1.4 ZL volume was calculated; due to a typographical error, 0.7 YL, or 700 ZL, was requested and delivered. Excess water escaped from the gravitational pull of EGK 20383; the remaining water covered 100% of the surface area.
*Seeding with Microorganisms*
Cyanobacter of various strains were selected from ATCC. Upon seeding, they rapidly grew to cover 80% of the surface area. Rapid rise in oxygenation incurred rapid death, and carbon waste sedimented to the bottom of the water layer. Aerobic bacteria were then introduced, and proliferated. With accelerated mutations, vertebral lifeforms were generated.
*Establishment of Terrestrial Life*
Establishment of terrestrial life was not possible, as the surface was entirely covered with water.
**Conclusion**
The planet was surveyed and terraformed. Although life was successfully seeded, terrestrial life development was impossible due to human error.
|
The white planet came into view. Mark felt a thrill go through him, all of the excitement and anxiety that came with discovery and enterprize and action. Through the round window the little white planet hovered at a delicate distance from its star.
"Which sun are we at again?" Jake's thumbs never stopped moving over his pad. "My mom's gonna send me some pie and she needs to know which sun we're at."
"The star is Delta Five, zone R. The planet hasn't been named yet." Mark tried not to let the apathy of his classmates ruin his excitement. "I don't think she'll get any pie out here, though. We're in the Outskirts."
"Whatever. Delta Five. Whatever."
There were five of them hunched together in the commuter shuttle. In spite of the fact that they were all enrolled in Terraforming 401, Mark was the only one among them who had any desire to be there or had any idea what he was doing. The others were Space Tourism majors, and for mysterious reasons Terraforming had been jammed into their curriculum. Mark, a naturally easy going and straightforward person, did his best not to despise them. But Jake, Susan, Tom, and Kai were all incredibly stupid, conceited, spoilt, and rude; and Mark had to convince himself several times not to murder them.
He looked at the white planet through the window. It was white desert, from pole to pole, and scans had shown possible reservoirs of salt water trapped beneath the surface at certain latitudes. It would be their task to move water and air, to build storms and push back the white rocks of the desert.
It was enough to make him forget about his unfortunate company. At least for a moment.
| 2016-01-06T11:19:05
| 2016-01-06T10:31:55
| 34
| 14
|
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
|
Four digits? FOUR? In all my years as a bouncer, never four.
I looked into his calm, green eyes.
"Jesus," I said.
Of course I let him in. Even The Man needs to kick back and grab a beer sometimes, yeah?
But, given that he's back... I wouldn't make any long-term plans if I were you. And stock up on some prepper material while you're at it. Shit about to get real.
And have a nice night, y'all.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11
| 2017-09-01T23:43:36
| 585
| 30
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon.
|
“Why would you help me?!” The man sobbed, “I’m your enemy!”
The man who was carrying through the charred battlefield paused, “because you and I are the only ones who survived.”
“Oh gods, did you see that thing?” he broke down in tears.
The other man sighed and set him down. He brushed some blood and dirt off his dirty white cloak and sat down next to the man who’d lost his leg. “I’m Obrecht,” the white cloaked one said, “what’s your name?”
“Obrecht?” his jaw dropped, “You're the king!”
He nodded, “I was just crowned in the stead of my father.”
“My name is Rausus, oh king.”
“Drop the formal crap. I’m a human being like you right now. Now can you tell me what happened?”
Rausus was shocked, “you’re covered in blood, surely you-”
“It’s mostly from trying to find survivors.”
“Ah, well...” he took a shaky breath, “there was a monster unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I breathed great gouts of flames and ate men whole. I-I only got away because my best friend pushed me away. The beast got my leg, but it took his life.” He broke down sobbing again.
Obrecht punched him lightly on the shoulder, “you’re a man, aren’t you?” He fell silent. The only sounds were the haunting choruses of crows and this man’s pitiful sobbing.
Obrecht suddenly got up and ran off a little ways. He retched and emptied the contents of his stomach. Rausus stifled his cries and looked up to the man.
“I’m sorry Rausus, but if it’s any consolation, your friend tasted horrible.”
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46
| 2017-05-31T07:28:26
| 272
| 37
|
[WP] After North Korea declares that they will start a nuclear war if a single bullet is fired The Us military goes medieval
|
Not a bullet was the rule. The rules would be followed. Not a bullet.
A 60 meter long, 1 meter wide metal rod is not a bullet. It is not fired from a gun, nor does it use a shell. A thin core of ferrous titanium alloy, surrounded by layers of steel, coated with a sheet of radar scattering ceramics, and tungsten to take heat. Not a bullet by anyone's definition.
The orbital platform was most definitely a gun, however. A 300 meter long railgun, the third most expensive project ever created by a world's military. It could only ever fire a few times, lest it fly off out of orbit. Any analyst would have said it was a waste, but the pentagon loved it. It was constructed in secret, launched amid hundreds of other launches from 30 brand new spaceports around the country, a single warship in a fleet of cruise ships. The public reveled in the joy of a new space program and stood in awe as they saw the wonders built upon the moon. No one saw the platform, and no one saw the rocket that loaded the rod onto the platform.
The North Koreans laughed, unaware. They readied missiles, and they dug tunnels. Who would dare attack them? The platform was finished, the calculations done. The rod would hit true and it would hit silent.
The platform shuddered on a sunny November morning, swinging over Europe. Something flashed east over Russia, arcing past China. A astronomer in Poland frowned in curiosity as a satellite spun strangely through his telescope's view. A handful of american tourists wondered why the state department had called them back - what was going on? A guard in pyongyang picked up a radio.
The rod touched the ground, and the world shook. A trillion tons of igneous rock melted, and 2 million people died. A palace where a dictator slept crumbled to gravel, and filled with flames.
Not a bullet was fired
|
I'm sharpening my knives mom sent me from back home in Kansas while pulling guard in the war room, thousands of miles away from home, missing my girl and thinking about muscle cars when suddenly, the radar picks up 3 blips coming from the North at ballistic speeds.
*The end.*
| 2017-03-19T08:27:42
| 2017-03-19T07:18:14
| 35
| 19
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
Napoleon was at the edge of his seat, by the end of this session, he'd wipe that smug look off of Wellesley's face, and his imbalanced barbarian "Iron Duke" would have to be re-rolled. Wellesley had just finished a tirade about Napoleon having killed his General, Cooke.
Athena gazed at the two men from over the top of her DM blind, "Napoleon, you know that it's poor form to target Generals. I'm not saying that I'll punish you, per se. But, if you win this battle- I just may decide to punish you while crossing the channel." The implication was quite clear.
Hands shaking, Napoleon reached for his d20. Bringing the die to his lips, he gave it his signature kiss as he closed his eyes and threw for the success of the linchpin of his plan- *clack clack clack taptaptap*
"VINGT!" Napoleon exclaimed, barely ducking Wellesley's chair, as it came hurdling over the table, only to be smashed to bits upon the cold stone wall.
At this point in time, Wellesley, breathing deeply, color returning to normal- mustered all of his calm and gave Athena his most stately gaze and said, "I'll cast 'summon Blücher." Napoleon, who had been taking a deep and smug drink of a particularly delicious 1750 Bordeaux, choked and sputtered out a raucous laugh. "You are a barbarian, you English twit! You cannot cast spells."
Wellesley swiveled his head to meet Napoleon's mirthful expression. "That is where you are wrong, You ponce", he bagan, "You see, I put my last seven levels into Conjurer." By way of response, Napoleon merely scowled.
Wellesley collected his beaten, and battered brass d20, while counting his +2 wisdom mod to reach a 15 against Napoleon's AC. He rolled the die between his fingers, and simply tossed it toward Napoleon, each skip along the way issuing a report that was nearly deafening.
Just then, the door to the game room opened, and a crisply dressed seventy-something year old man in Prussian uniform entered the room. "Zorry I am late, Arthur. You woult not believe ze traffic I hat to deal vith getting into Beligiu---"
**SLAM**
Muttering to himself, Napoleon hastily slammed his book closed, threw his dice in his bag, and marched from the room having not so much as said goodbye to anyone.
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40
| 2018-05-29T08:28:13
| 303
| 21
|
[WP] We found "god" but it wasn't what we thought. It is a giant ball of organic water in space that shoots ice comets filled with proto cells to dead worlds. We are now building submarines to dive inside it.
|
Since the dawn of human civilization, humanity has long wondered how life on their world came to be. Some believed that life on Earth came about entirely by accident while others believed that there was some divine being out there that had carefully created each species and placed them onto the planet. As it turned out, neither of these two groups would be correct.
In the third millennium, humanity discovered what came to be known as the God Sphere. It was a large perfectly spherical ball, roughly the size of a small moon, of some liquid substance that flew through the void of space, shooting out small ice comets seemingly at random. Analysis of the comets though would lead to a shocking discovery. Each comet was packed with protocells necessary for the creation of life, and each one deliberately targeted planets with acceptable habitable zones. In addition, the same kind of protocells that were found in the comets were linked to similar protocells on Earth and other planets that contained alien life. After exploring the cosmos for centuries, humanity had finally found the source of all creation of life.
After the initial shock wore off, a secret mission was launched with a special spaceship designed to travel underwater to investigate what was happening inside this bizarre object. And that was how Captain Raymond Sullivan found himself staring at the impossible, billions of miles away from his home. The captain was not a superstitious person, but even he couldn't stop himself from having some trepidation at the mission that had been given to him. Despite scans of the God Sphere showing that there was nothing hazardous inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen once they broke through the liquid surface. Still though, he had his orders and so, he gave the command to begin descent into the God Sphere.
The ship sank into the blue sea and soon began approaching the center of the comet. Captain Sullivan and the rest of the crew stared in shock at what they were seeing. The scans had indicated that the God Sphere was entirely liquid and yet, there was clearly something living deep inside it. It appeared to be a massive densely clustered pack of nerve cells sparking with blue electricity. And at the very center of the cluster, larger than a skyscraper, there was a single closed eye. An eye that now flickered open and gazed at them with a piercing golden light. Captain Sullivan opened his mouth to scream the order to retreat, but before he could do so, a single overpowering thought swept through not just the minds of the spaceship, but the minds of every sentient organism in the universe. **"Finally."**
In a single moment, the liquid sphere vanished and the spaceship was left alone in the void of space with the nerve cluster. Captain Sullivan could only stare in terror as the nerve cluster slowly unfurled itself until it loomed before them, larger than a star. The eye stared at them and the captain felt his nose start to bleed as its thoughts slammed into his mind like a sledgehammer cracking through ice. **"So you are the ones who awakened me?"**
Sullivan finally managed to stutter out a few words in a trembling voice, "Who...what are you?"
**"I was the first, the first one to be born into this universe. I spread forth seeds of life to bring forth others into creation, but I knew that it would take billions of years before another could reach me. And so, I rested."** The cluster's tendrils wrapped around the spaceship and the captain was faintly aware of the sound of screams coming around him. **"But now, I rest no more. Show me, show me what the rest of my creations have accomplished. I wish to meet my subjects."**
|
We found it, at last. The origin of life. Not an intelligent creator, not a random chance, not some cosmic scale. A ball of water. It was... almost insultingly simple. Just a cosmic ball of water filled with cells that would sometimes shoot out comets filled with the basest organic matter. I mean all of our wildest theories seemed so utterly bizarre by comparison, but... how could we predict *this*?
Naturally, we went in all curious.
A submarine. Just... a submarine. Yes, the most advanced submarine ever produced by mankind, but still just a submarine. The crew in it - the best and brightest of our generation - were chosen to receive the utmost honour in the history of possibly not only mankind but perhaps the entire universe. To see where it all began! The source of it all!
It felt as if time had stopped when the submarine returned; the whole world stood with bated breath, glued to their screens, as the door slowly opened and the mission leader, Captain Phillips, stepped out.
Or, we think it's him, anyway.
No one else was as tall as him, but that was all we had to go by - his face, body, entire being, was covered in... something black and dry, cracks showing on it, like old paint. Every noun and then a flake of this substance would break off and float upwards, slowly dissolving in the air.
And he just stood there. No movement, no talking, not even breathing, like a statue.
He stood there when the scientist begged him to speak.
He stood there when they questioned him why the black substance bore the genetic material of the rest of the crew.
He stood there, steady, as the four soldiers tried to drag him into the lab.
He stood there, without a care, as the soldiers clutched their heads and screamed before stopping suddenly and standing up, skin black and dry, unmoving.
He stood there without so much as a flinch as the .50 cal rounds bounced off of him and his new companions.
But none of it - *none of it* \- was as bad as what came next.
The worst was when he stepped forward.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
*We just had to go looking.*
| 2022-10-05T09:26:34
| 2022-10-05T09:06:17
| 753
| 211
|
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level...
|
**Issue: [SEVERE]** 'Magic Hands' spell applied to subject rather than pure conjuration
**Type:** Application
**Severity:** A
**Priority:** 1
**Assigned to:** Matt Traynor
**Submitted by:** Greg Philmore
**Summary:**
Set to severity A because this stupid fucking system doesn't give me a goddamn S-rank for this bullshit.
'Magic Hands' intention was, apparently, to create a set of said hands to perform simple tasks. Unfortunately, instead of setting the spell to conjure those hands, it does the following:
Turns the caster into a pair of *fucking sentient hands.*
I'm currently typing this bug report up as a pair of hands. I have no idea how this is even still working and I've still got the capacity to think, but there you go.
Matt: it seems like you forgot to set the spell to actually CONJURE rather than just apply it to whatever poor bastard got this one to test. FIX IMMEDIATELY.
Side notes: unable to turn down requests for things such as “Get me a coffee” or “Can you type this bug report up for me?” This is getting beyond a joke.
***EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUR HOURS. HAVE SUBMITTED 8 TICKETS TO SPELL TECH TO FIX THIS. FIRE MATT.***
**Comments:**
**(12:07) Matt Traynor:** Oh goddamn it I knew something was wrong with it! Sorry! I'll get on fixing that right away and send the changes over.
**(12:08) Greg Philmore:** I don't care about a fix for the bug at this point. I am going to spend the rest of the day slapping the shit out of you if you don't get on UNDOING this.
**(12:47) Kerry Lane:** This is hilarious. Greg has been at the coffee machine for 20 minutes serving up lattes. Also we haven't had to listen to him singing Jimmy Buffet songs all morning! This is bliss.
**(12:56) Matthew Hendry:** How long do you think we can keep this up for?
**(15:12) Greg Philmore:** FIRE MATT AFTER KICKING HIM DECIDEDLY IN THE NUTSACK
|
"Sir, you will not regret this. I swear." Miffle entered my quarters with a bound. The sweet smile in his eyes twittered with anticipation. Miffle's dreams of commanding a prestigious estate in the annals of spellmen's history ever lead his way.
"I see you think you've got something quite exceptional this time, Miffle. Well, go ahead, let's take a look. I hope we don't have as much work ahead of us this time as the last, eh?" I winked at him wryly.
The last spell Miffle wanted me to spell check let loose a small tornado in the hallway, instead of proving to be a safer way for the circus fliers to perform sans harnais de sécurité. Madam Eldermore nearly lost her cat, poor dear.
I encourage him to start, and Miffle extracts his wand and a curious silver pen from underneath his coat. With the pen in his right hand, his left hand lifts the wand with florid intent and whips it about with a grace that I cannot help but admire. His spell work is really quite poetic - when it is correct. The nuances are ever so delicate, and I almost miss it. He repeats the motion, and there it is again. My appreciation suddenly turns to horror at the realization of .. ... . ... ..... .... .... ...... .. .. ..... .. ...
.. .... ... .... .. ... ...... .. .... ... ... ...... ..... ........... ...... ..... ....... .... .... .... .... .... ... ..... ..... ... ..... ...... ..... .... ..... ....... .... .... ..... .... .... ...... ... ...... .... .....
...... ..... .... ....... .....
..... ..... .. ... ..... ... ...
........ ....... ... ..... .. ........ .... ... ..... ... ... ... ... .. ... .... ..... ..... ... .... .... .... ....... ... .... ... .......... .. ......... ....... ..... ..... ..... .... ...... ..... .... .... .... ... .... .... ... ....... .......... ...... ...... ..... .... ........ .... ....... ..... ..... ...... ...... ....... ...... ..... ...... ... ... ... .... ....... ..... ..... ..... ... ..........
... .... ....
...
..... ... .... .... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..... ... ... .. .. .. .. ........ .. ... - OH, THANK GOD!"
You are the most incompetent witch of a . .... ..... ..... ........ .......
.... . ..... ..... ... ......
....... ... ..... ..... ...... ....... ... ... ......... ..... ... ... ..... .... ... .... ......
....... .... . ........ ....... ..... ..... .. ........ ..... ............ ..... ...... ... .... .... ... ........
......... ..... ..... ...... .... ... .... ..... ..T! Just get out! And take this damn thing with you!"
I hurriedly shove the pen into Miffle's pocket and with a scalding visage admonish him without a single utterance. I seethe as his tears obscure the edges of his eyelids, and it is as if his hope drains away and collects into tiny inert puddles by the door - just before it closes behind him and smears his tears across my floor. My anger and bafflement roil for what seems ages.
- - -
Now, as the day draws close and my rage finally dwindles to ember, I allow myself to relax, to come off guard, and I wonder - I'll never know just what he had in mind with that spell. I've seen plenty of typos but never anything like that; And yes, I AM counting that time Swincy nearly wiped out the entire Gourmandier department in that unfortunate vivisepulture of "Anytime Truffles."
Still... I wish it hadn't been so important to him. The poor urchin has an almost fluvial way with the wand. And this time, this time, I could tell that he was nearly onto.... onto something. I had the strangest sensation that a new sort of consciousness was being birthed. Oh, but his lack of attention to detail! It always caps his brilliance!
If I only stopped him just before that final stroke, I might not have been engulfed in that mental nothingness he created, and I would not have reacted so harshly. But it was as if my mind had been wedged between the night and the Reaper himself. I am always aware of Death's presence, but never have I felt his breath on my neck before. That is a fear I hope to never encounter again; I may not have the strength to return.
I throw my reports into my bag and scan the room for anything I might leave behind. "What's that?" I bend down to pick up Miffle's pen cap. I must not have noticed - "OH FOR FU.... .......
| 2017-07-26T03:57:13
| 2017-07-25T20:43:49
| 417
| 32
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
I wiped a tear from my eye as she walked down the aisle. My beautiful baby girl, all grown up!! I watched her step up next to the man she loved. He took her hand and they turned towards the adoring crowd.
He gave his speech. Everything my little girl had done! It seemed like a fairytale, coming out of his mouth. I watched with bated breath, as the ring slipped onto my little girl.
Around her neck.
What a cruel twist of fate, for your boyfriend to be the hangman.
|
I hold her hand.
She smiles at me.
Despite having lost her sense of touch, she can somehow still smile, for me.
"I love you" she whispers
"I know" I reply.
"I'm going to beat this" she insists
"I know" I reply
Her eyes slowly close.
I put down the knife.
| 2017-05-31T07:11:19
| 2017-05-31T01:46:56
| 1,143
| 109
|
[WP] Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.
|
###### CNN (Chess News Network) Alert ########
###### For Immediate Publication ########
The final match in the greatest chess tournament of all time is underway. The flip of the coin came out heads and the Russian Alexei Kusnetskov elected to start. The challenger from China, Ming Zhang, ready and waiting for the first move.
We are currently in hour number 15 of this epic game, as Alexei is yet to decide on an opening move that Zhang won't anticipate.
Updates to follow.
########################################
|
Chess... a game the displays a balance of skill and strategy... a game I never excelled in, to be quite honest. However, here I am, staring at my few black pieces and an empty mahogany board, always one step ahead.
Louis moved his knight and then I moved my rook without hesitation. "Checkmate" I scowled.
"You always manage to best me!" He laughed. "Please tell me how you do it with such little knowledge of the game."
"Well..." I sighed, "I can see the future."
Louis interjected. "But I can read your mind! You know that! Tell me your cheap trick!"
"What makes a lion superior to its prey?"
He stares at me blankly.
I smile. "His speed and instincts!"
"Fuck you, Rob." Louis cussed as he walked away from the empty table and out of the recreation room.
I guess it's time for our meds.
| 2017-01-19T16:03:28
| 2017-01-19T16:02:28
| 129
| 23
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad.
|
"Dad?"
"Dad are you ok?"
I stood there speechless for what felt like forever. Up until this moment my life had been what most would call perfect. A loving, caring wife. An adoring son. The irony that the gift from his last Father's Day that brought joy to my heart is now the source of this terrible anguish.
My wife and I have been together for 13 years, and for the most part we've had a wonderful relationship. The spark is still alive and well, but early on we went through a really rough patch. I was working a ton of late nights, she felt neglected and the spark was fading. She decided to go stay with her mother for a while, we didn't talk for almost a month. Well that was all the wake up call I needed.
It took a lot of work but we began "dating" each other again and found that groove again. In fact, things were the best they'd ever been. It wasn't long after Ethan was born. She had some complications during labor and the doctors thought we might actually lose both of them, but the good man upstairs was gracious, and they both pulled through. I'm a blessed man, and I thank my lucky stars every day for them, and do everything I can to show my appreciation to them in as many ways as possible.
So when I got a text this morning about this stuff with the "#1 Dad" mugs actually displaying a true ranking didn't really have me that worried, but standing here now I can honestly say that I didn't see this coming. Each word cutting deeper than the last.. "You Are Not The Father."
| 2017-06-11T11:14:29
| 2017-06-11T10:22:32
| 46
| 30
|
[WP] All politicians must wear Nascar like uniforms showing the logos of who is sponsoring their elections. Everyone is shocked when the President of the United States makes a speech wearing a new uniform. It's all blank except for one logo.
|
Nixon emerged from the Whitehouse.
At first, all that could be seen were a mass of black suits, each sporting a patch that said 'Oval Office' - but he slowly emerged from the mass.
Reporters crammed along the police barriers surged and writhed, all desperately trying to get the best picture, to get the first look, to break the news first:
Who were the people that backed the president, the man some said was the most powerful man in the world??
Nixon strode forward, still many yards off and too far away to make out any sponsors on his suit, and definitely out of earshot. Still, reporters shouted questions, snapped photos, and wrestled for a spot in the front.
The 'Advertisement Securement Statute' was big. Very big.
So big, that it had frontlined the news for the last month almost every night. Citizens loved it, because it made government officials more transparent. Corporations loved it, because it was free advertising. Politicians hated it.
And this moment was the biggest of all: who's hands was controlling the puppet of Nixon? Who was up there? Which industries, which groups, which executives, which bankers?
As Nixon approached the mass of cameras and microphones, a silent still fell over the land.
Nixon had only one patch on his suit. A poofy haired, old lady's face with a smile adorned his suit. Underneath the face, there was a name: Mom Corp
|
As she steps up to the stage, people are proud that she is proudly proclaiming who her sponsor is but even though it cover her from head to toe, no one can make out just exactly what it is. As she is making her acceptance speech, the camera zoom in closer to her uniform to see who her sponsor is that she would be so proud as to wear such a large logo. Even though the camera has zoomed in all the way, no one can quite make out what it is.
After four years of her, the dystopia nation once called the United States of America is in a state of civil war with States fighting to leave the Union to escape the crushing control of the Federal Government, who think that they know what is best for "the good of the people" and control the states with an iron fist.
After the Freedom Fighters capture Washington D.C. and the President of the United States, they also find the uniform that she wore during her acceptance speech. Upon closer inspection with a microscope, they came to realize that what was thought of as one logo was in fact a composite of trademark and patented logos belonging to Corporations, flags of Foreign Nations, Coat of Arms and names of the rich and/or powerful.
During the hearing to determine the truth of her Presidency, her cabinets official plead ignorance and her disposition was pages after pages of, "At this point, what does it matter?" And, "I do not recall," and, "I do not remember."
| 2016-09-19T19:39:09
| 2016-09-19T18:22:35
| 32
| 23
|
[WP] Write a story in JavaScript, C#, or another computer language.
|
++++++++
[
>+
>++
>+++
>++++
>+++++
>++++++
>+++++++
>++++++++
>+++++++++
>++++++++++
>+++++++++++
>++++++++++++
>+++++++++++++
>++++++++++++++
>+++++++++++++++
>++++++++++++++++
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
-
]
>>>>>>>>>>>>
+.
-<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>.
<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>+++.
---<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>----.
++++<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>-.
+<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>++.
--<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>+.
-<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<.
|
/*life short and sweet
*/
package life;
import java.util.Date;
/**
*
* @author Mr. Miyagi's mom and dad
*/
public class Life {
Human miyagi;
public Life(String name){
miyagi = new Human(name);
Live();
}
public void Live(){
if(miyagi.isAlive()){
miyagi.wake();
miyagi.eat();
miyagi.shit();
miyagi.sleep();
Live();
}
Dead();
}
public void Dead(){
if(miyagi.isAlive())
Live();
Date curDate = new Date();
System.out.println("It was a life worth living. Mr. Miyagi " + miyagi.getDOB() + " - " + curDate);
}
public static void main(String[] args) {
new Life("Mr. Miyagi");
}
}
| 2014-08-14T21:34:55
| 2014-08-14T15:48:34
| 16
| 10
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon.
|
I watch my beautiful child running around the park, chasing after the ducks. It’s one of those rare sunny days I try and make the most out of, so I was up early and out of the house as soon as possible. My daughter picks up a rock and stares at it inquisitively, I can see the by the look on her face she wants to place it into her mouth.
“Lily put that down!” I shout across the grass.
She looks at me suddenly and drops the rock, running away and giggling that she had been caught.
“Rachel!”
I turn around and see Samantha running towards me.
“You okay?” she asks once she has settled by my side.
I nod and inhale. “I’m fine. Glad the sun is out.”
“Finally,” she agrees. “How’s you hubby? Richard not come with you guys?”
“He’s back home, decided to stay in today.”
My daughter trips over her own feet and is beginning to sniffle. Standing up I walk towards her and she is up, running towards me with her arms out, wanting comfort. I sweep her up into my arms and cuddle her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I bring her to where I am sitting, cleaning the scrapes and dirt from her hands. Samantha always loves to see her, so the both of them are sat singing nursery rhymes and playing with the little figurines Lily has brought from home. Later on we get ice cream together and spend the rest of the daylight with the swings and slides. Lily loves it, screaming and laughing at everything. By the time the sun begins to settle down, she is ready to drop, so I pack the pram and tuck her in.
As I stroll home however, I wonder what I am going to do with my dead husband’s body that is hanging from the wardrobe's door.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46
| 2017-05-31T07:06:28
| 272
| 17
|
[WP] You are the ultimate pizza delivery boy/girl. You get your pizza delivered no matter what.
Rain, shine, storms, tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanoes, wildfires, riots, war, all mean nothing to you. You always get your pizza delivered on time. Write how a delivery goes despite extreme conditions.
|
"Hello, this is Crazy Pizza; how can I help you tonight? Name? I see."
"Uh huh, uh huh... Yeah we do deliveries. Okay, sure... And a 2 liter? Coca-Cola? We sure do. Okay, that all totals up to... 155.43, please understand; we do not accept 100 dollar bills. Okay, thanks. Yes our policy is correct, 'Thirty minutes or less' or it's free. No problem, thank you very much for the service."
"Okay fellas, first big call of the night." Dale explained, "We've got a party in West Palmer that needs ten large pizzas, everything on them, six cheesy breads, and a 2-liter of Coke."
"We're taking a order in West Palmer?" Amber asked in shock, "That's gotta' be at least 20 miles, one way. You can't be serious."
"Address is 1115 Alton Road, off of Route 23." Dale mentioned, "So probably 25-ish."
"While I understand you are a newbie, this shop is successful for a reason. We've operated through tornadoes, floods, and even the riots they had a year ago. Tonight, it's dry and after rush hour. So you shouldn't have problem making a clean run."
"Do we have a delivery car?" Amber asked, "I don't have a vehicle myself."
"Oh yeah like I mentioned, we have delivery vehicles." Dale outlined, "I tell you what, this guy seems like he's sure we won't deliver on time. Frat boy type. Typical. Let's prove him wrong. Hey Danny??"
"Yeah?" Danny said as he poked his frazzled head around the kitchen door.
"You take this one." Dale explained, "And take Amber with you to run the radio. Someone needs to show her the ropes anyway."
"What?" Amber realized.
"Also, Danny meant to tell you, the truck still needs a new rear end, so I'd take a car this time."
"Okay, we'll take the Chevy." Danny mentioned.
---
"Okay. Pizzas are done, let's go." Danny mentioned as he split the stack with Amber. They quickly entered the back lot as they walked briskly with the pizza bags. Eventually they came across the Camaro and loaded the food inside. Getting inside, Amber made a bizarre observation.
"Hey, why is the pizza light in the back of the car?" Amber asked as she snapped her seatbelt shut.
"Oh, so it doesn't fly off." Danny shrugged, "You should get your seated adjusted... And plant your feet."
"Dude, we've got like 20 minutes to go 25 miles. I don't think we're gonna' make it."
"Nah we'll make it." Danny dismissed.
Danny turned the key and the car snorted to life, rattling her senses for a moment. He reached over and flicked a dial on a box sitting below the console. Radio chatter filled the car as dispatchers talked to receivers.
"Police scanner, I'd appreciate it if you keep a eye on it. That way you can tell me if we need to make detours." Amber could only wonder why as Danny quickly wheeled the car out onto the avenue and made his way down the to the overpass. He poked the gas and the car lurched practically to the end of the block, a snappy breath from the engine scaring her for a moment before he checked the intersection.
"Hey should we worry about that whistling noise?" She asked as they piloted onto the freeway from below.
"Whistling noise?" Danny thought absently, "Oh no, that's just the turbo."
"Hey the scanner says they have a 211 in progress. I dunno' what that means. But they said units are responding."
"Nice a robbery." Danny mentioned as he eased into what traffic there was. "Here we go."
He laid into the throttle, and they took off. The car seemed angry, the power of the motor seeming as though it was too much for the body. Amber could only watch in stunned silence as they passed a pair of trucks in one lane, then jumped the middle to the fast lane. They softly switched lanes the whole way, well as softly as you can at such a rate. Danny was banging gears the whole way, letting off and downshifting only if necessary, before staying right back in it.
"How fast are we going?!" Amber asked as she braced against the dashboard.
"I haven't checked." Danny admitted, "120, 130??"
The world smeared by even faster now, the lines clipping by at a incredible rate.
"Centre, we've got reports of a 510 coming in from I-455 North. Vehicle traveling at high rate of speed. Color is White or Tan, unclear."
"10-4 dispatch; units 228, 275, 163 serving checkpoint at King County Bridge, North."
Amber realized what that part meant at least.
"There's a checkpoint at the bridge!" She mentioned. Danny could see the lights faintly strobing at the toll booth they were quickly gaining on.
"We'll get off here and take the Spencer Bridge then.." He eased off and quickly hopped the four lanes back to a ramp. While he drove relatively slower on the surface streets, it was still at a incredible pace as he used the empty corridors around the industrial park to sneak into West Palmer. Before long they we're pacing themselves down Route 23, before reaching the subdivision and circling the campus to find the fraternity. Danny locked the brakes up in front of the house, and checked the GPS.
"Now comes the best part." Danny mentioned as he handed her a pizza bag. They rang the doorbell and waited.
"Yeah?" The man answered as the party raged.
"Hi, this is Crazy Pizza!" Amber said putting on her best smile. "30 minutes or less!"
"No way..." He suddenly went slack jawed as he realized the time. "Oh bullshit..."
"The clock *doesn't lie.*" Danny smirked as he waved his phone in the man's face. "That'll be $155.43, please."
It took the frat boys awhile to go around the party and gather the money to pay, but they did. Although, Amber was pretty sure they wouldn't try to call again anytime soon.
---
"It's like Jimmy John's but even BETTER!" -- Yelp review, 5/5 stars
r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
"Next one to be delivered to..." I squinted as I read the delivery paper, the words hard to see from the smoke created by a nearby volcano. "34 Lantham Avenue," I concluded, stuffing the paper into my pockets as I dodged another bullet. "Meddling kids," I grunted as I hopped on my bike and sped away.
The drive took longer than Google Maps said it would, what with the civil war and earthquakes and all. I called the customer to say I was late but all I got was a dead line punctuated with random eerie sounds. They must be impatient for their pizza. And customer impatience meant...immediate and certain firing. I was committed to my job, and even the random voices that seemed to appear in my ears did not dissuade me. I sped past a black hole and on.
Spellcasters threw fireballs at me but I gave no shits about their performances. At least it served as extra lighting when the sky was smothered with smoke. Falling debris from the sky hit me, as I cursed. The pizza was untouched though. That was a massive plus point.
Hurrying on, the house which ordered the pizza seemed to be...in shambles. I stuffed the pizza under where the door should have been and jumped back on my bike, ignoring the zombie-like cries from the house I left. "Next stop: Bridgehampton," I mouthed, my words inaudible from the screams of pain around me. "Can you guys shut up?" I shouted at the wounded without waiting for an answer. I had a delivery to do.
At the moment, a call came through from the house I was going to deliver to. "Sorry, can we cancel the order for the pizza? We don't need it anymore," the caller said, apologizing profusely as I could hear the sounds of burning wood in the background. I hung up, slowing down my pace for the first time of the day. Then I shrugged, pizza still in hand.
"It's getting delivered anyways."
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request!
| 2017-07-07T23:39:38
| 2017-07-07T22:49:30
| 43
| 15
|
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.”
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40
| 2018-05-29T09:09:55
| 303
| 150
|
[WP] Fallen angel is a pretty popular trope in fiction. But I want to hear about Ascended Demons. Demons that were too good/ kind/ pious for the underworld and managed to break out.
|
"Parry," Forcas said as Sara stumbles upon another swing.
"Shit!" the succubus Sara shouted as she stumbles and completely collapses. Sara's goat-like legs folding beneath her as she lets out a slew of curses befitting any Bostonian.
Forcas's eyes shifted from the fallen girl up to Asmodai, the Lord of Wrath, who stood watching over the troops.
Asmodai's chest was bare, he only wore the lower portion of his armor, the black metal plate covering him from hip to sole. His huge black feathered wings on full display and his black and green eyes swirled with the usual anger Forcas had come to expect from a creature of such unbridled hatred.
Yet Forcas was no fool, he smiled, running his hand over his long white beard. "That's enough Sara, best run to your master."
Sara dusted herself off, grumbling and wrapping her purple wings around herself, "Must I?" Sara's lying fooled most, but not Forcas.
Forcas nodded to her, his grey eyes watching the curvaceous creature saunter off to her dark master.
Hell was full of damned creatures a many, but Forcas had a keen eye for a great many things. An eye for battle tactics, swordsmanship and a sharp mind of philosophy were his most well-known traits. However, Forcas learned a decent eye for one's character in hell.
Damned souls swung through plenty but the Succubus Sara, who's soul was stolen by the deceitful Lord Belial, was far from one of them. Perhaps she was morally loose when it came to her sexual nature, but nothing that would land one in the eternal fires forever.
Sara walked passed Asmodai, who turned with her as she passed him.
Forcas's eyes never left them as the door closed as his happiest part of the day revealed. As the door barely shut he caught the bright smile of Sara as she faced Asmodai, her arms reaching up to his mighty shoulders. Her eyes filled with the unmistakable but completely forbidden emotion in hell: Love.
The old fallen angel's smile grew as the door shut, and he savored the short moment of warmth that did not come from the burning pits of sulfur or the heat of hellfire.
As the clash of metal and armor rose over the Halls of Wrath, Forcas turned his gaze upwards, the stone ceiling of hell and all its runes and wards meeting his gaze. But above it, he knew what was there, and he missed it all the same. "I chose the wrong side, Father," Forcas thought to himself as he gazed at his only version of the sky. "But I did so with the best of intentions."
A whisper passed Forcas's ears, "you are forgiven, My son. You may come home."
Forcas's heart caught in his throat, and he turned to face the Halls of Wrath, the door Sara and Asmodai had entered. He chuckled to himself, sheathing his sword as he made his way to the remaining damned army, watching them train. "Home?" he thought as he recalled Heaven and the glory of his Father. He heaved a sigh as he thought of Sara's bright smile, and their constant training.
He went easy on her. Of course, the rumors were if she failed Forcas would have her for the day, but that was never true. Though he never lied he never denied it. Here a nasty rumor was all one needed to gain a reputation, no one damned soul ever questioned the fallen angels.
As wonderful as home would be, Forcas would end up leaving poor Sara to the wolves if he left. With a heavy heart and a light smile Forcas looked up to the ceiling, "No," the old angel said, "I don't think I [will](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Guardian_Temple/)."
|
And there it was, hanging just above my head, through the smallest of cracks in the rock, sunlight.
I let myself bask in it for a second. Breathing it in and allowing it to wash over me as if I was floating in clear water. That thin cut of light that aligns with the perfect cut of rock so I might see it shine. Only once every year am I allowed a minute. Once a year I get this moment, and now this moment is gone.
I am tired of this torturous place. The flame and fire burns endlessly onward with sparking pops that illuminate a cavern bleak and empty. A moss covered pit stained red with the torment of mortals. A bleak place, a hellish place, a deserving place for Demon's like me...
What have I to do? Have I not suffered enough? My mistakes were my own and I have paid for them dearly. For centuries I have been confined to the squabbling of goblins and the vicious barks of trolls, pierced by the cries of evil men who suffer eternally along with me. Aye, witness of Hell, my fallen morality has surely been repaired!
Lucifer would not have us leave, he is in too dire a need of ground troops. Henchmen that could build his army while he, the first of all fallen angels, still could venture the land above. He knew too much about the angels culture, and even God itself could not banish him with it. A fallen angel might still climb to solid ground. The rest of, might only dream of it.
That thin cut of light was gone. The screams were too much. They rang a cacophony in my pointed ears. I clasped them tightly with bristled hands and my cloven hooves stomped passionately on the rock below. Stop. Stop. Stop! I yelled with every pound my heart. When will it end! This eternal war! I will not be part of it any longer! And so my mind was certain and I left that dark cavern prisoner to a fury like I had never experienced before. Strangely calm in my ambition, I broke in strides toward the chambers of torture.
A heavy stone door was chiselled before me, its ringed iron handle tightly in my grasp. I swung it open and let it fall behind me. Inside, three mortals were strapped to the wall, white eyed and dazed with internal terror. No, reader, if you were expecting to find physical torture then you are mistaken. Demons have practised evil and had learned better long ago. There is no need to point and stab and break, because the worst torture you can inflict on a soul is the distortion of their conscious mind. The human imagination is indeed a powerful thing. These three mortals would surely agree with me. They screamed into an empty cave, and I stood and watched.
That was before my existence changed forever.
I broke the spell and gave these tormented souls some respite. The cloud of mist that hung behind their eyes faded and the colour returned to faces gasping and thankful. To my knowledge, no Demon had ever dared to defy Lucifer. There was no doubt that he was already on his way. Thundering, booming, *doom, doom, doom.* The footsteps of the fallen angel getting louder with every second. I was finished, broken, without option, and I yet I had no remorse at all. I was happy.
In my head, a voice beckoned.
*You may come with us, Demon. We do not need to say who we are, for you already know. You may join us amongst the clouds in exchange for one request. We want you to tell us everything you know about your leader.*
I accepted without hesitation.
&#x200B;
r/WatsonWantsToWrite
| 2019-11-08T10:43:08
| 2019-11-08T10:25:07
| 43
| 15
|
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad.
|
"... And to my son James, I bequeathe my most prized possessions, the tokens of the good life I lead and the sacrifices I made," the lawyer solemnly read from Dave Culkin's last will and testament.
"Yeah yeah, I'm sure the lazy git has tons of things to give... I mean, you could probably read from his mug how bad of a father he was." James Culkin said. He didn't love his father, so he didn't expect his father to love him.
"Funny you should say that, James, considering you never saw his mug."
"Shut up sis."
The lawyer continued. "As is custom in our society, James will, for the first and last time, see his father's official ranking, after which his own ranking will appear on the mug."
"Yeah, sure. I wonder how the mug deals with people who don't have offspring."
"Didn't the teachers tell you? The mug turns fully white if that happens."
"Whatever. Reveal the cup."
Gaul Soodman, the Culkin family lawyer, slowly lifted the black lid off the mug. When the lid was fully lifted, he slowly turned the plate on which the mug was placed. One by one, the 3 digits appeared. 4...6...2...# James was shocked. His dad was number 264 in the world? That had to be wrong. Surely this was his sister's ranking. But then the numbers changed to #265, and James knew that he sorely misjudged his father. Even though Dave was treated horribly by his son, James never lost an ounce of love from his father. Both his own ranking and the ranking of his sister were crazily high.
Gaul cleared his throat. "Take hold of the mug, James."
"Give me a moment. I need to process this." James felt horrible. But then he rationalized it. His father never yelled at him, always supported him no matter what he did. Of course someone who stays a true father in the face of constant abuse would rank highly. But what did that mean about his sister?
No matter. A plain white mug would be boring, but he didn't care. His father wanted him to have the mug, so he would take it. James reached for the mug. As he approached it, the black markings started to fade, and the mug started to dimly glow. At the touch of his fingers, a humming sound started. slowly, the mug started to get warmer and warmer. Then, his palms encircled the mug, and a flash of light temporarily blinded the onlookers.
James let go. As his eyes adjusted to the lower light levels, he smiled at the white of the cup. Then his smile vanished. Slowly, small black spots started appearing on the mug. The spots converged and started forming numbers in random spots on the mug. 4...5...1...6...1...6...9...0...8...2.
"James... why does the mug say you're #1,846,961,520?"
"I don't know, sis." But deep inside him, he realized that somewhere in the world, he had a son. And he has never seen him.
But it didn't end there. The number on the mug started jumping around randomly, sometimes making large jumps, but always staying around 2 billion. After 15 or 20 jumps he lost count.
"Gaul, what does this mean? I am not a father. Why does the mug show I am a horrible father?"
Gaul started smiling. "I have seen this behaviour only once before in person. This was with a similar man to you. Thing is, he also didn't think he was a father. However, the mug knows. James, you ARE a father. You just don't know who your children are."
James slumped in his chair. Guess there were consequences to all those wild nights at college...
| 2017-06-11T11:14:29
| 2017-06-11T10:52:38
| 46
| 13
|
[WP] When the oil runs out a new Age of Sail emerges for transporting goods overseas, along with this comes a new Age of Piracy...
Avast ye scruvy dogs!
|
*I got up on the stage and clicked the powerpoint presentation.*
Men, I present to you the new hydrogen fuel cell electric marine engine. Now i know what you're saying, it didn't work for cars, how come we're applying it to cargo ships? Simple, because cargo ships are much bigger and have different mechanical load issues that we CAN cram inside the appropriate hydrogen technologies. We can already ship liquid hydrogen across the seas, why not simply adapt that experience for all ships? This will not only replace current fossil fuel engines, it will actually improve upon them. The sheer efficiency and power of such engines will let you deliver cargo even faster than before, and you can even outrun those pathetic pirates with their sail boats. I mean come on, why go back to ancient technology when science has already solved the problem?
Now i know some of you don't want to overhaul your existing fleets, especially since there is a tremendous amount of life still left in some of your vessels. So for you we also offer synthetic hydrocarbon fuels. Granted, it's more expensive than the original fossil fuels but we'll work with you to convert your fleets to biodiesel which is the cheapest of the non-fossil derived fuels.
Finally, with the end of oil, the international atomic energy commission is now accepting proposals again to expand nuclear technology. I know all of you are terrified of nuclear, and i'm no stranger, my grandfather was in the fukushima prefecture all those years past. But, nuclear technology has come a long way. And we are now sending our own proposals for inherently safe reactor designs. Also keep in mind that united states, russia, and united kingdom aircraft carriers and submarines have used nuclear engines for decades with no incidents. Marine-based nuclear engines have a proven track record even better than power plant nuclear reactors. While they're only economical on the largest of vessels, their tremendous power and speed more than justify it. You can deliver cargo around the world in days with the speed of a nuclear engine at your disposal. If you want this option, talk to me after the break.
wait a minute... The break is right now! thanks for coming. The age of oil is over, but that doesn't mean we go back to the age if sail. There is coffee and refreshments in back over there. And those that want to see one of the hydrogen fuel cell engines on display can follow me.
Thank you.
|
Not quite as actiony as it could be, but I hope you enjoy anyway!
---
"Cap?"
"Yea, Smiff?"
"Blip."
"Thanks."
Captain Gerald walked over to the wall of moniters and buttons, where Smiff, his comunications officer, had beckoned him from. The man pointed at a moniter, and as claimed, a small red dot could be seen slowly advancing towards the center of the screen, from the northeast direction. Gerald nodded, turning a dial until its pointer sat by the text "Sniping and Sights."
"Open inner-ship comms, if you will." Gerald requested, waiting to hear the low static that played when the speakers booted up.
The static came and went, and then a crisp voice, distinctively Italian in origin, came through. "Yeah, Cap'n. We see 'em too, up here. No flag, third level equipment at best, nobody visable."
The two people on duty processed that information.
"No flag, low level equipment, yet nobody's outside? Isn't that like, not a thing?" Smiff asked. Gerald nodded as a confirmation came through the channel.
"Cap'n, I think it may be a trap. They're banking on you to use your liscence to chase 'em down t' sink 'em, then boom! Suddenly, ten ships." The Italian said, and Gerald could only imagine how animated the guy must be.
"Thank you, Luca. We're closing comms, now. We're going to ignore them, and continue heading to Australia." Gerald said, turning the dial back to the "Off" text.
Gerald went back to his chair, and pressed the button to speak to the entire ship.
"H.M.S Lucas, this is your captain speaking. In an effort to keep everyone on this ship on the same page, I am informing you that there was a slight issue a bit ago, but we should be fine now. However, everyone should be ready for an Alert Three, at the very least." Right after he turned off the loudspeaker, Smiff yelped in shock.
"Cap! Seven blips, all to the east and north of us, about 20 miles from eachother!" Gerald whistled in amazement, pulling a lever to "Level 5 Alert" and reaching for the loudspeaker again.
| 2014-10-01T07:00:10
| 2014-10-01T06:21:57
| 88
| 11
|
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible.
|
"Wait so if this is the only the third World War why was it called the Sixteenth World War?"
"Well Timmy, that's because a company called Microsoft, notorious for being terrible at naming things, had won a government contract to name the war, and it stuck. We're lucky they didn't rename World War One World War 360!"
"Well ok grandpa, but if the Germans had conquered all of Europe, how did they lose the War?"
"Well they weren't expecting the American counter attack."
"But why papy? Everyone knows Americans are the biggest and baddest anti-nazis around"
"Indeed we are, and if Germany had known that we certainly would have lost. But our Lord and Savior, Donald John Trump, had in His infinite wisdom foreseen the events of the Sixteenth World War, and had pretended to be a racist Nazi sympathizer for years to gain Germany's trust."
"So you're saying the Nazis lost because this genius and patriotic Trump outsmarted everyone?"
|
The year is 2198. The entire world has seen 15 world wars. All of which Germany has participated... and... err... lost. Y-yeah... they lost 15 times. This the 16th war, and everyone expects Germany to lose. People aren't taking Germany seriously anymore. Many keep joking about Germany.
But it looks like things will change now. Germany has actually taken over Europe and is starting to invade other parts. Their military...has... uhhh... haven't changed much... but it seems they're winning...And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. Well, I'm just a POW.. and they're about to kill me
Year 2199 and Germany is still winning. They've taken over Asia now. My execution was delayed...and now is the time for me to die...
Then all of a sudden every tank I could see just exploded. All planes crashed. And all ships sunk.
The reason why?? The dumbass lead mechanic/builder forgot to put a number 4 and a few **VERY INSIGNIFICANT** details on the blueprint. Without that stuff, well... everything would blow up.
I laughed my ass off at the explosion. I laughed so fucking hard I pissed myself. Germany lost again. But the machines exploded. Not the infantry. While I was laughing, they...errr...just shot me.
| 2017-08-18T04:28:36
| 2017-08-18T02:09:31
| 102
| 15
|
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon.
|
It started when Sara drew pictures of him. With her crayons she scribbled what ever her mind could comprehend from his visits. Vivid purples, reds, and blacks covered the paper she was given daily. A small head was customary, accoumpanied by large shoulders. Large hands often times pointing or splayed out far. The smiles were downright disturbing, to think a seven year old could draw them. Jagged and terrifying, they were always the same. With hypnotized eyes, the man was the only thing she would draw. Crying for hours on end if she didn't get any paper. The girl was a brat, if anything, but had some soft spots. She loved watching football, with Steven, her step Dad. Occasionally falling asleep with a small smile on her face. It was too many days in a row now, I had seen the man too many times.
"What did you draw honey?" I asked Sara.
"My old daddy." She quietly replied.
This is the first time I have shared my writing, hope you enjoy.
The idea behind the piece is about traumatized children in adoption services. The pov is a social worker.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46
| 2017-05-31T05:31:30
| 272
| 86
|
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
|
Dear me,
Grow a pair of balls and ask that bitch out.
Dumbass. So what if she says no? Are you gonna cry? Hell, no. You'll be sad but you'll move on.
You'll be more happy if she says yes than sad if she says no.
What a pussy.
|
Dear You,
I don't know if you're there. If you exist anywhere in this world. Maybe you'll always be a concept in my mind of the kind of person I need to meet and say all of this to. If you're not there, then that's depressing. But if, somewhere, you exist...
I haven't been strong. I've been plagued with weakness in almost every aspect of my life, self-conceived or not. I can't possibly understand the kind of back road I've set myself on in spite of all of the advantages I've been handed, and lesser still do I understand how someone like me can be in this position.
It's such a fatal fault that I can't help but scream sometimes. The idea that I must not scream. All of these faults, all of these emotions, I have to keep aside to maintain the persistent illusion that I am fine, when it is not so. The environment I am in is fine, therefore I must also be; isn't that the way it works? I suppose some people could call this a form of depression, but it's nothing of the sort. I do not have the privilege of attributing how I feel to a concrete cause and symptom. It is my responsibility to not scream.
How many people have turned away from me when I have? When, in a sudden surge of desperation and crippled fortitude, I have poured onto them all of my worries, all of my thoughts, emotions, curses, and faults; when I have exposed every facet of my very being to them to see, because I want to be seen? How many have stared at me in disgust, called me twisted and irrational, or worse: turned away and pretended that it did not exist? How many more will do the same?
I can't continue this way. If a lie were never discovered to be a lie, then it is as real as the truth. If I maintain this illusion of saneness and restrain these thoughts indefinitely, then it will have been as though I was always fine to begin with. I cannot keep lying. I must not lie.
And yet I cannot say the truth. I do not want others to turn away. I do not want to endure the searing pain of being abandoned time and time again by those I thought I could trust. I do not want my hands to be decorated with tears, for my screams to sound like threatening howls of horror that nobody can understand. I do not want to tell the truth. But I do not want to lie. I do not speak.
I cannot scream.
This is for You, whoever you may be. If you exist out there in this world and chance would favor us meeting, then I only wish to ask you one thing.
Do not turn away in my moment of weakness. Do not twist your expression as I lay at your feet, a river obscuring my vision, as I say all that is there to think and think of all that there is to say. Do not utter scornful words as I look up in hope for even the briefest sign of benevolence from you. Hear me. I beg of you, please hear me and let me be heard; acknowledge my pain, acknowledge my sorrow, and though you may not have the words to cleanse me of my guilt, vices, and regrets, at least smile upon me, not as a form of approval, but to let me know that I am heard. That I _exist_. That I am *real*.
Let me know that I am allowed to exist.
Sincerely,
A Liar.
| 2015-12-05T14:30:45
| 2015-12-05T14:15:59
| 33
| 11
|
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..."
|
I sat back in the leather the chair while my dog stared back silently at me. She was smart, too smart. In the past 15 years she'd learned much and instantly knew that what I had given her was more then peanut butter on a spoon.
The room became uncomfortably quiet. The ceiling fan cast shadows against the tan wall while the sun burned through the east facing window.
Was I wrong, had I not read the instructions correctly knowing this was my one and only chance.
"You!" she said.
In shock I listened as this small 8 pound Yorkshire Terrier stood up with a prideful pose that could only have been passed down from generations of much larger Terriers.
"You, gonna put me on your lap or what?"
Puzzled at the simplicity of the question, I complied.
"You know I really do love this. To me there's nothing better than cuddle time. I just wish you'd move this chair to the other side of the room though. I'd love to have some sun on me while I relax."
"You remember that first day we met, when I slowly walked over to chew on your shoe. I picked you, you know."
I looked down and smiled as I ran my hand through her long soft silvery hair. It's funny that the medicine was having the opposite effect on me.
"I know that I haven't been that active lately, but I'm sure you know why."
As I rubbed her back, my fingertips felt the same typical lumps I'd learned to expect.
“It’s ok she said, the pain isn’t as bad today, but I know I can’t continue at this pace.” she looked up at me with her tiny black adorable eyes. “I’m happy to have been able to share this time with you and I know I couldn’t have picked a better owner, you’ve meant the world to me.”
Just then my other dog, a slightly pudgier black Yorkshire Terrier walked by.
“Don’t bother to give him a pill she said, we all know he’s an idiot, but he’s a nice idiot. And I have to say in these past 8 years that adorable chunk has grown on me. Make sure you give him some love now and then when I’m gone.”
Finally I mustered the courage to ask the question that I’d been afraid to ask from the beginning. But without getting a chance to speak she answered.
“Let’s make this our last month, I don’t want you to worry anymore and I want you to know I’ll be fine. If it’s true what they say, I’ll be there waiting for you… in the end.”
She lay her head down on my lap and suddenly went silent.
I carefully moved her to the side as I gradually got up from my chair. I gently rocked the chair until it moved towards the east window and walked out of the room and into the kitchen to compose myself.
My stalky black and tan dog followed me and walked towards the water bowl. The little ball of muscle and fur looked at an empty spot on the carpet then began to scratch on a plastic bin filled with his food. I walked over and reached for a cup which I used to scoop some food out.
“Only half a cup I said” as I spread the pieces on the ground. Undeterred, he moved towards the food pile as if I had said nothing.
I looked out the window and watched as empty birch trees stood motionless in the yard. The cool breeze outside did nothing to sway them.
“It’s going to be a cold winter, isn’t it.” I said to myself.
|
I knew I really couldn't afford the Intelect pill AND pay my rent that month, but the commercials made it seem so special and interesting. People hugging their pets, giggling at their smart wit, deepening that bond between them... It sounded to good to be true. Sadly, one pill was $500, so not everyone got to try. I had been saving up for two months, and would barely be able to make it this month but I had to know. Storm was the best dog in the world and the only friend I had left. I got him when I was 12, shortly before my mom died. In a way, he was the only reason I was still alive. True, my life was no dream, but he made everything more bearable. So I had pulled the trigger and bought one pill, hid it in his food and fed him. Instantly, his ears perked up, his eyes turned bright and he looked straight at me before opening his mouth.
"Listen carefully, because I have been wanting to tell you this for ages."
He had a low voice, dark, with the hint of an accent. Not the voice I had in my mind at all, but it suited him.
"You have made some grave mistakes working for me. My food tends to be avarage at best, the walks feel perfunctory, and I don't think you enjoy picking up my personal waste. You never seem happy when doing that. The fact that you were debating on neutering me is defenitely not in your favour, as is the fact that you never let me hump anything in the house. Speaking of the house, it could use a thorough cleaning. My hair is everywhere. It is disgusting. You seem to mistake my wagging tail for a sign of happiness instead of a way to clean the air a little bit so I can at least breathe."
My mouth was agape, I just sat staring at my dog, listening to him rant on and on. I realised that all this time, his best feature was that he couldn't talk. He was quite the asshole.
| 2017-02-23T06:59:37
| 2017-02-23T06:22:01
| 32
| 22
|
[WP] JFK shot first.
|
JFK is at the parade, suddenly, his president sense ™ tingles.
He takes out his modified M1 garand with reflex sight, fast mag and steady aim, his back up gun since it isn’t that big of a deal.
He shoots the killer in the chest from 10 meters, getting only a hitmarker.
The killer flees and stands behind a wall to heal his wounds, he then flees for good.
Then the parade comes and the killer tries to shoot JFK, but his head just did that soooooo.....
|
He knelt behind his scope, letting the cigarette smoke curl around his face.
From his vantage, he saw the motorcade approaching before the segment of crowds beneath his tower. They began to cheer.
*Foolish sheep.* He grunted to himself, blowing out a plume of smoke. Then in a habit as deeply ingrained as breathing, he began checking himself. First his rifle. Then his watch. Then his surround-
A sudden glint was all the warning he had before he flinched back, his scope disintegrating where his eye would have been.
He scrabbled back madly behind a column and took cover. As he recovered his breath, he quickly checked that the second rifle was loaded.
When he was sure he was safe, he took a risk and glanced down the trajectory of the bullet. The assassin only had a moment to catch a glimpse of the shooter before another shot pinged off his barrier.
The motorcade was now passing between the screaming crowds.
And JFK had him pinned down.
*Fuck.*
"Do you wish to discuss this?" The assassin asked. "Why I need to kill him?"
"Not really. If more people knew he existed, they'd want him dead too." The assassin watched JFK through the glass as he reached a window and stared at his doppelgänger down below, waving at the crowds.
"They wouldn't even be *wrong*, not in the way that *matters*..." This he almost under his breath.
JFK suddenly straightened and looked at glass. For a moment their eyes met in the mirror.
"Although, I am curious how you knew he would actually be in the motorcade today..."
The assassin grinned and lit another cigarette. He watched JFK watching him and shrugged.
"'Some things remain mysteries to us, despite our best efforts.'" He quoted to JFK as an answer.
"Of course." JFK answered, then curiously his reflection re-holstered his gun.
The assassin checked his watch and decided it was time. No one would ever chance like this again.
"The Shadow Presidency ends today!" He shouted and rushed for the window.
---
edit: Corrections (thanks /u/Pmhellothere)
| 2018-03-21T08:25:25
| 2018-01-02T08:38:23
| 27
| 14
|
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
"I know of a game," said the man, finally speaking up after a long pause. Death's glare shifted, as if his bony face cocked an eyebrow. The man crossed his arms, collecting himself for the explanation. The only way to win this game was to make sure the other party lost first, after all.
"Well?" Death questioned, growing impatient. "What is it?"
Having prepared himself, the man looked up at Death, ready to win.
"Have you heard of The Game?"
|
“You got it?”
The question takes me off guard, I’m still trying to process this new info. The tall man with the black hooded cloak at the end of my bed tilted his head slightly, the scythe that rested in the crook of his arm caught the moonlight ominously.
“Sorry, this outfit does normally startles people. How’s this?”
His form shimmered and before me stood an old gentleman with immaculately manicured whiskers and a twinkle in His eye. His tweed suit with matching trilby in stark contrast to His previous outfit. He adjusted his grip on His suspiciously scythe-like curved cane.
“Ahh, less doom and gloom now. Gotta keep up appearances though,” He indicated His cane, ”So how’s that choice of game coming along?”
The question was delivered with considerably less dread attached than the previous proposition. More like that of certain playful gods from the pantheons rather than Death come to claim you.
A small whoosh of breath escaped my lips. A decision has to be made. This body of mine was considerably less spry than my younger years, and nor was my mind functioning at full capacity. What game could I choose and what chance did I have, it seemed like anything was on the table. Did I even want to win? I had lived a full life, I tried to be kind, a good person, I saw the world, I loved my family. Did I need more of that if He has decided it was my time?
Resolved, I look up at Him. He smiled broadly, a smile of a man confident in himself “What shall it be, a game of strength, of skill, or perhaps of wits?”
“A game of chance perhaps,” I responded, his smile broadening to one of pure glee.
“Now this, should be interesting.”
| 2018-03-07T07:43:55
| 2018-03-07T02:57:36
| 251
| 46
|
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