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I received a phone call today stating I had been named in a persons will. Christopher Hillbury, 72, dead from a heart attack. I was to receive a bike, camping equipment and Β£700. The note that came with the items upon receiving them merely stated : `` I know this will be confusing to you but your kindness shared over a drink, of almost three decades past, led me to my happiness and peace. I held your words with vigour, grappling them, never letting go. We shared our woes and hardships and it was the only time I had ever shared my inner self to anyone, let alone a stranger in a hotel bar. And the strength I took with me brought me a new leash on life. Now I want you to find your peace. Get out of your hamster wheel. Bike the country and enjoy nature. Escape. '' I am sad to say I do not remember any such instance. Three decades ago? About the time of that dreadful event. My wife and son hit by a drunk driver. The son dead instantly, my wife in a coma for three months before passing. After that time I spent years working. Working so hard my body would run out of sweat, my feet would burn, my joints ache. I worked to forget and let go. Then I became apathetic to everything and everyone and I worked so I could tell myself I had a purpose to keep on living. It is what they would have wanted! I have to live and living is work! But I realized after about 4 or 5 years the hamster wheel kept spinning and the money led me to no happiness and my heart, my spirit, had been crying in pain that whole time. I had bottled it all up for so long that it exploded forth with such fury that I had lept head first onto a motorway into oncoming traffic with tears flowing. I was saved by the reflexes of a savvy and witty man who upon swiftly braking walked to me from his car and simply said : `` Windy today is n't it, looks like you took a trip to avoid the weather. '' His big stupid smile did n't hide his concern and he stayed over me until ambulances arrived and explained I had flung myself there. All this time since my admission to a hospital I have had a battle being raged inside of me. I have had to fight the tides as they viciously roar in and out. I had no control over my mood ; if I were angry or sad I had no way of swaying it. I took to drinking and I guess it must have been then I met this old man. I do n't think I 've once accepted my losses, my only wish was to escape. I wanted to run away but not to any place. I wanted to run from myself. Why should I have lived when they did not? I did however, despite my struggles with the tide, escape the hamster wheel and began investing and running my own businesses. I guess that was jus
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Mike wakes up fifteen minutes before he has to go to work every morning three continents away. Five minutes are spent showering. Five is spent dressing and eating something transported to him through his Wonkavision set. The next five is spent walking to the Teletransporter station. He does this every morning. `` Morning, Sal. '' Mike greets the operator. `` Morning, Mike, '' Sal replies. She smiles and presses the button for the departure chamber door. `` Thank you, Sal. '' he says as he walks in with his briefcase. Mike stands inside the painted foot prints and waits for the hatch to close. The departure chamber whirs and he watches the screen in front of him for the prompt. As soon as it says *engaged* Mike pushes the button ... Usually there 's blackness and then bright light as his retinas are disassembled and reassembled. This time there is nothing. Mike panics. He 's going to be late. The departure chamber did n't work properly. He pounds on the chamber door. `` Sal? '' he attempts to bellow through the steel. The screen changes and he sees Sal 's face. She looks worried and picks up the phone. She sees Mike. Static crackles over the speaker. `` Mike? Are you okay? '' Sal asks. `` Yeah, I 'm fine. What happened? '' `` Well ... hmm. The scanner worked. It looks like the cellular deconstruction sequence did n't initiate though, '' Sal moves her mouse and a new image shows up on your screen. `` That 's you. See? You wo n't be late. '' Sal says, relieved. `` But that 's not me. I 'm here, '' Mike starts to worry. `` Can you set me up with a new departure chamber? '' `` No, '' says Sal. `` it 's against the law to produce excess organic matter with this device. '' Mike collapses. The breath is sucked out of him. They 're going to kill him. The machine begins to whir in a different octave this time. It 's just the cellular destruction beam rolling over.
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`` Tell us about what happened, how did you overcome the gunman? '' The reporter shoved the microphone uncomfortably close to my face, but I turned towards him, addressing the camera and asker equally, as camera flashes fired like the flares of the rifle that had so recently been taken from my hands. `` Well it was just coincidence, really. I was standing amongst the crowd as the president began to exit the stadium. I was n't really cheering as much as the people around me, but I watched as he walked down the carpet towards the limo. Right about where he reached me, he stopped to schmooze with some people in the audience on the other end of the aisle. Thats when I began to notice this guy next to me- totally stood out, with this huge trench coat, but the weird thing was that he was sweating, like full on pouring. And his eyes were glued to the president. So when he started to push forwards I was already watching when he pulled the rifle up from in the coat. I- i just kinda reacted, and knocked the rifle up, as he fired into the sky. We struggled, but I was able to pull away with the rifle and take a step back .... '' As i spoke I remembered the look on the man 's face as I pulled the rifle from his grasp. Slow motion, the widening of his eyes as he realized he had lost, and failed. The gun was warm from being next to his body, and I remembered the feel as it recoiled, hitting hard into my arm, as i sunk eight rounds into his body, struggling to keep the wood and metal on target. The blood sprayed out, putting a mist over me and the gun, drops coating part of my face. I was lucky the smaller ammunition did n't punch through his body and the vest he was wearing to hit standers-by. `` And, we know, but tell us, what happened next? '' `` I fucking shot him, ''
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Dear James, I write to you now as a final farewell before the radiation finally claims my life. Things around here have been changing so quickly I have n't had time to write you, but I hope you are still alive and well despite all that has happened. I know it must be hard having the entire world, well what 's left of it, against you. Thousands upon thousands of people calling for your death. Even more wanting you put away forever for the events that unfolded. I just want to remind you that even though you may feel completely alone in the world I still stand with you and do n't believe any of it was your fault. It was n't your fault your rifle fired a bullet that killed the Russian ambassador. It was n't your fault that when they demanded you to be captured and extradited you ran instead of facing the concequeces for the accident. It could n't be helped that when the government could n't find you the Russians threatened retaliation. Its understandable that you did not come forward as the warheads were armed and pointed toward our country, few would. Nothing you could have done would have stopped the bombs from destroying our cities. I dont blame you, Father
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My mark has always looked like a heart. A black, blotchy heart, like a cavity, recessed into my arm. `` *Och*, that 's a tough one. '' My Oma said to me once. `` Could mean heart *attack*, could mean *broken heart*, could mean anything. '' I wanted to add that everyone dies, when their heart stops. It was kind of a *shit prediction*, was my point. She 'd cluck her tongue at that, and hit me with a folded magazine on the back of my head, as she always did. `` Stupid! The marks are good, *kleinzoon*. Imagine a world people could lie to themselves, say they 'll live forever! Think! '' Her mark was a strange, blotchy shape no one could identify. It turned out, it was the outline of the spot on her lung. I miss her. I think of her often. And there are some days when I wonder about her mark. What if I had managed to identify it? We 'd have gone to the doctor, they would have treated it. It would have been trivial, if we had caught it early enough. What would have happened then? Her predicted death would not have come to pass, but she would still have the mark, like the shadow of a dagger overhead, a dagger that never fell. What would have happened? The thing about the marks, though, was that they were n't always *direct*. A man might have a mark of an airplane, then die in traffic due to anaphylaxis. The `` true believers '' would n't let that rest, however. They 'd say something like, `` The traffic jam was caused by an accident brought on by a person frantically driving to pick up his wife at the airport after misreading the arrival time. '' And it was true. But, could n't the same be said of the phone, whose font made AM and PM look identical? Or the business conference she had been attending? In a world as interconnected as this, it was *simplicity itself* to trace back *any cause* you wished from *any effect*. And then there was the matters of discrimination. Certain deaths were just better than others, had more *social cache*. People wanted to die from knife wounds or bullet holes. Not botched attempts at auto-erotic asphyxiation. I remember one girl in my class, who, despite her hysterical claims and exhortations, failed to see her birth mark coil into the shape of slit wrists, instead of a rocking chair. Faking 'cool' deathmarks was all the rage. The dramatic. The violent, the*enigmatic*. Anything but diabetes, they 'd say. One poor boy in my class had a peanut. The teasing was merciless. I 'm a science teacher. I experiment, it 's how I 've been trained. They search students going into schools nowadays, even if not too many students show signs of a violent death in the offing. They do n't search teachers. So, I bought the gun at a surplus show, followed the instructions I found online, and wired it to the underside of my desk. A clever little bit of programming. Unless I hit the button, hidden in my pen holder, the gun would fire at my students five minutes after class began. I would only hit the
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The results came back packed in a manilla envelope, on the Monday before summer vacation. Inside were sheafs upon sheafs of glossy paper, bearing pie charts and bar graphs and boilerplate paragraphs. None of it mattered : it was just there to cushion the blow of the big red `` I '' emblazoned on the final page. I for invalidated. I for impotent. I for infertile. `` Have n't found anyone who passed. '' Fred slid into the chair next to me and slapped his papers on the desk. He shrugged, smacking on his gum. `` Never wanted kids anyway. '' Nonchalance had settled upon all the boys like an uncomfortable jacket. They leaned back in their chairs and made paper airplanes out of their results, taking turns shooting them into the trash can. The most you 'd get out of any of them was a noncommittal grunt or a `` Yeah, that sucks. '' But you could tell that the results bothered many of them. They dragged their feet as they walked from desk to desk, nodding their greetings without the faintest hint of a smile. They began to crumple rather than fold their test results, and their shots began to veer feet wide from the garbage. Nobody bothered to go and retrieve them. `` It 's a shame nobody else passed. I suppose it 'll be up to me to carry the future of the human race in your stead. '' I could hear his sneer before even turning around. Of all the people to earn fertility, it just had to be Wallace Walcott. It was n't completely surprising : the Walcott family was known for their 100 % success rate since the fertility test 's implementation. In dry spells past, they were the ones who had delivered babies in order to deliver humankind from underpopulation. They had put the `` in '' in `` inbreeding '' again, and Wallace was their latest product. Already, he carried himself as if he was set to bear a child, rubbing his belly like a sanctimonious mother. Unfortunately, the act was all too real : he truly did consider himself a savior of mankind. `` What, *you* passed? '' Fred swung around and raised an eyebrow. `` Sure did. '' Wallace fanned his results sheets out on our desks. `` Read and weep. '' Sure enough, the last page displayed a big red `` P. '' `` Standardized tests are flawed, '' I said, repeating the same lines I 'd told myself before, during, and after the test. `` You ca n't reduce the human mind to a series of decisions. '' He laughed. `` Maybe that was true in the twenty-first century. The AI is perfect now, though. These tests are 100 % reliable. Face it : all of you bombed. '' Wallace sauntered away to harass another group of students, and Fred leaned over to me and said, `` If the AI was testing for Wallaces, I 'm glad I did n't pass. '' I nodded, flipping through Wallace 's packet. What kind of twisted decisions had enabled him to succeed?
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The Aliens 1st question : `` what makes your home planet unique '' My answer : `` Merica you sons of bitch 's, no take your cold slime covered hands off me you damn dirty alien! '' Aliens look puzzled at each other then focus back on me. `` Sir we are going to have to ask you to calm down, we come in peace ''. My reply `` You did n't seem so peaceful when you sucked me into the sky from my trailer '', you mother fuckers gon na pay for the hole in the roof you made abducting me? '' Aliens again look at each other speechless. After a few more moments of awkward silence they reply `` sorry about that, we did not mean you any harm, its just we thought your planet was inhabited with intelligent life and we wanted to observe a human up close ''. I sternly look at them and say `` up close huh ... .. with that anal probe you gave me it felt like you were observing the back of my teeth! ''
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It was raining when a man in a long coat waved down the ride he called for an hour ago. Not only was he frustrated at the time it took, but the car was just a little two door sedan. When he opened the passenger door, he pulled with so much force, the driver thought he 'd rip the whole side of the car apart. Getting in with a fast lean and slam of the car door, the passenger only gave a sidelong glance to the driver, and spoke in a gruff tone. `` You 're late. Just get me to the movie. Might make it if you do n't take the piss like you did to get here. '' `` Look, sir, I 'm real sorry. My car would n't start, and this is my wife 's. I 'll get you there on time, promise. '' `` I do n't want excuses, just results. '' There was a long pause as the passenger calmed down, and gave a few glances between the driver, and his own wet coat. `` Sorry about your seat. I was out in the rain, and ... yeah. Just a little tense. '' `` These things happen. I was late, you 're all wet, we 're even. What'cha seeing tonight? '' `` Three Moons from Sunday, actually. It 's not really my style, but I 've got a date. I never get out to the pictures anymore, nothing really ... '' He kept looking at the driver in little glances, and finally took one long stare. The man 's jaw dropped and he began to laugh a little. `` Good god! Red Recluse! Is that you? '' Shocked, the driver looked over at the man and gripped the wheel tighter. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead and he coughed, clearing his throat and looking straight ahead. The car came to a stop at a red light, and he tried to change the subject. `` Do n't know what you mean, sir. Name 's Jerry. '' `` Recluse- I mean, Jerry ... Come on, we do n't need to do this anymore. It 's me, Captain Butterfly. You can call me Andy. '' Offering his hand out to the driver, Jerry reached out quickly to give a fast, limp shake of Andy 's hand before putting both hands back on the wheel as the light turned green once more, the car starting off with a little jerk. `` Have n't seen you in the headlines for ... what, ten years? I got out of prison two years ago. No hard feelings, by the way. I met my wife cuz'a you. '' `` Really? That 's great to hear! How 'd you two meet? '' `` Funny
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`` Goddamn, I hate this job, '' groused the man as he raked out the stables. Farmer. The profession used to be associated with hard work, a rewarding lifestyle, and a peaceful outlook. Nowadays, though ... He poured the slop into the trough and whistled, calling over the herd. They were human, in the technical sense. Their legs and upper arms were oddly large, and they acted more like monkeys. That 's what happens when you start breeding them for food. The farmer leashed a few of the mares, and led them out to the field. They were naked, but he had long since stopped being aroused by them. They might as well be animals. It did n't take long for the male to notice their arrival. While the bull does his job, the farmer makes his way to the slaughterhouse to do his. Hours later, the farmer sits in the local bar. It 's no secret among everyone there that he 's there to forget, because it 's August. August is when he makes the veal.
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Tim jumped onto the pillow, wobbled and almost fell. His little sister Angela giggled. `` That was a close one! '' They had been playing The Floor Is Lava all afternoon. Tim had just turned twelve, and it was the first time he and his two younger sisters were allowed to stay at home without adult supervision. `` Throw me that cushion '' Tim said, `` I need to get to the door to check on Emily. '' Angela bent far to grab the cushion, lifted it carefully without stepping of the chair she was on, and tried to toss it to her brother. The cushion bounced off a side table, tipping it and spilling several coasters onto the floor. Immediately, the coasters began steaming as they dissolved into the carpet. Tim and Angela looked at each other shocked. They both stood frozen for several minutes until they heard the footsteps of Emily running toward the room. `` Hey, look what I- '' `` NOOO! '' screamed Tim and Angela in unison. Emily stopped with one foot in the room. She looked at Tim and Angela, their shocked expressions, and then down at her foot. Her toes started smoking. She screamed and twisted, but it was too late. Arms flailing, she fell forward. Angela lunged at her, but it was too late. Tim looked on in horror as both his sisters seeped into the lava, their entire bodies engulfed in flames. Tim heard the garage door opener sound that signaled the arrival of his parents. Slowly and carefully he made his way to the room entrance, careful not to touch the deadly lava. His parents came through the front door just as he got out of the room. Crying, he ran to them. `` I 'm sorry! `` he cried `` I could n't save them. I could n't take care of my sisters like you said I could. '' His parents looked into the room, at the knocked over table, coasters everywhere, and the two girls sprawled on the floor giggling. His mom gave him a hug. You did alright, Tim. EDIT : Typo, a few words, and changed the hardwood to carpet as per the word prompt
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You know, when you think too much, life gets in your head, my inner soul is captured and caged inside my body, it needs more space, it β s cramped. There I was, giving up on life and all its endeavors. It was clear to everyone in the street that I had not much to do except wandering in the light of the dark. A little bright kid clearly had the same idea tonight, he was exploring the shadow of the trees in the shadow of the moon, with bright eyes, observing it all. Not many walk around at night these days and as we noticed each other, he saw my grief, my longing for something, but I didn β t know what is was. `` You need somebody killed, do n't you? I can do that for you, if you can afford it '', he exclaimed. It was like he could read my bothered mind better than I could myself. `` Yes! , you can have anything, I won β t need it anymore ''. `` Alright, just bend over, I β ll make it quick. ''
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`` All packed up, Lad? '' The muscular man leaned on the door frame. `` Yeah, Dad. '' the young boy responded without looking up from his almost packed trunk. He stopped and turned to face his grinning father. `` You do n't have work today? '' `` Of course not! This is an important day for you, just like it was when your mother was little. '' With a quick step and a turn he was sitting on his son 's bed, smile slightly wider. `` Besides, what good is being one of the most dangerous men alive if I ca n't take a day off when my own son becomes a wizard! '' `` You 're not telling my little Artorius another gruesome description about life in the SAS again are you. I swear, you and your stories ... '' A very pregnant woman in long dark blue robes walked in, rolling her eyes. `` Come, now Aurora, I would never- '' Aurora did n't wait for him to finish. `` Never teach him how to survive on Ben Nevis in the dead of winter? Never teach him how to make regular dirty fighting look like an ode to the Marquess of Queensberry rules? I 'm not blind Will. Also I 'm a witch with a magic wand. '' Will smiled again. `` You did n't seem to mind when we first met. And the Marquess certainly was n't involved when I dealt with that dark wizard of yours, Auror Aurora. '' Will 's eyes looked off into the past for a moment. `` I still remember the Minister of Magic holding back a giggle when he tried to say that little tongue twister. '' Aurora gave up with a sigh. `` Fine, tell him whatever new horrible thing you 've thought up while I make us some snacks for the road. '' Will turned back to his son and pulled a shoebox out of his wallet. `` I have some things for you to take with you. I hope you wo n't need them, but ... well you 've heard about what can happen, what did happen, when magic is misused. Magic is n't always the answer, though. -Oh, do n't tell your Mother about this. I have to come back home with her. '' `` What was that? '' Came a call from the kitchen. Will put a finger to pursed lips and replied, `` Man talk, love! '' With that he turned back to Artorius and opened the box. `` First is this. '' He pulled out a leather belt and sheath. The boys eyes grew wider. `` Is that granddad 's hunting knife? ! '' `` Aye. Hide it under your robes. Remember that most magic users are a bit full of themselves in a fight. But they bleed just like everyone else. I place good coin on a wizard being surprised when the bloke whose wand he just broke plants a dagger in his back. '' The other item in the shoebox was pulled out. A small firearm with a large barrel. `` Dad? '' a pause. `` Yes, I know, I know. Now, according your mother modern tech wo n't work on school grounds. I ca n't sa
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I have never seen such relief on a human face as when both men stood up, and realised a life would n't end. The executioner had awoken that morning and cursed the sunlight. Sunlight shoud have meant joy and people mixing in the streets, happy to be outside. After today there would be one fewer among them. The condemed had awoken to what he thought would be the last sunlight he would ever see, and tried to be greatful that his last day would be blue skies and a crisp Autumnal breeze. And I had awoken with weary indifference, sick of seeing the executioner 's soul seep away with every axe stroke, and yet another man 's life end so coldly. Clearly today that sickness had reached my core. I could n't let it keep going. I would n't keep taking the dead like this. Both men saw me in the crowd, one watched warely with long-learned respect, one only seeing his future. I shook my head. Not today. Maybe not ever. But definitely not today. Today I wanted to enjoy the sunshine.
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This is the moment we 've been waiting for. 150 years in the making. We finally had our strawmen in place. Our Manchurian Candidates. In Texas, we had Gov. John Adcock. In Oklahoma, Gov. Daniels. In Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama we had our boys. Would this be enough? We knew we could n't break off with old-time views on racism and slavery. No one would back us. But the Tea Partiers were the perfect fit for us. They were radical enough, slanted enough, and in our states, plentiful enough. After successful campaigns in the Republican primaries and state elections, we had enough of our men to take up nearly 75 % of the state congressional seats and all the governors. All we had to do at this point was make our announcement. When the news heard of a major summit occurring, run by the leaders of 6 states, they flocked. Then, they announced it. Texas being the biggest and strongest economy and national guard, Adcock would take the lead. Our six states would no longer adhere to the American Constitution. We had elected John Adcock to become president of the Confederate States of America. He laid out our new constitution. Outside the Austin capitol, supporters flocked with their `` Do n't Tread on Me '' and `` Come and Take it '' flags. Celebratory gunshots rang out. Blue and Red confetti flew in the air. Country music soared. Shouts of `` The south will rise again '' were heard throughout. It was a day to be remembered in history. At this point I received a call from my son. `` I knew this day was coming. I 'm almost to Columbus now. I ca n't be a part of this. I wo n't be a part of this. They said the President was about to make an announcement but I wanted to talk to you and tell you myself. Goodbye, Dad. I love you. '' Click. Then, the sound of choppers.
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Carter rolled his trolley down the nursing home hallway, stopping at the occasional room to give residents their medicine. It got to the point where he did n't even knock on the doors anymore, the residents were used to Carter 's friendly face. `` Is my son here yet? '' Gretchen said, looking up from her plate of mashed potatoes and apple sauce. The staff had stopped serving her solids after the third time she choked on her food. Old lady Gretchen just plum forgot to chew sometimes. She also forgot that she did n't have a son ; she had a daughter named Celia, but there was n't ever a son. Carter had checked her records. `` No, he 's not here yet, but I 'll check the lobby here in a bit, '' Carter said, digging through the trolley, looking for Gretchen 's medicine for the day. On days she did ask for her son, Carter wondered if maybe the old woman had had a miscarriage, maybe actually did have a son, but lost him somewhere along the way. He looked into her eyes and wondered if she was ready to go yet, if she was ready for him to help push her along. But no, not today, she was still fairly lucid, judging from the fact that her potatoes were still on the plate. Last week, Mr. Johnson had flung shit at Carter. Quite scrappy, Mr. Johnson, considering how old he was. Carter had given him the `` wrong '' medication, had helped pushed him along, and in turn, took the few months that Mr. Johnson had left of his life. `` There 's someone in my bathroom, '' Gretchen said to Carter as he handed her a cup filled with her medicine, liquid of course. `` Is there? '' Carter asked. `` Yes, I can here them whispering my name, can you please check dearie? '' `` Yes, I can do that. '' Carter walked around the old woman 's bed and pushed through the door leading to the small nursing home bathroom. Of course, there was no one there, but Carter did stop to acknowledge the person in the mirror. A tall, lean, blonde man. His hair was combed back, nice and full. His skin was smooth, not a single wrinkle on it. Carter smiled, revealing two rows of pearly teeth. He felt good. He had taken good care of himself over the years. Many years. Part of him was worried of the fact that he could n't remember how he discovered his ability to steal time, and on some nights it kept him awake, wondering if he would end up getting a degenerating disease that would steal his mind and leave him a vegetable in a bed, wasting away for how many more years that he had stolen. `` It was a man, '' Carter whispered to himself, faint memories resurfacing, `` I killed a man. '' He smiled as he felt the memories come back to him, but then the memories soon faded as he became more entertained by the facial expression he was making in the mirror. He was an admitted narcissist. `` Well, no whisperer here, '' he said to himself. Maybe it was time for Gretchen to go. He 'd give her a special dose
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`` Are you okay? '' I ask her, and immediately wish I had n't. I thought maybe something was wrong, her head was bowed, she was n't making eye contact. Even though she was walking faster than usual she was n't paying attention to her surroundings. I grabbed her hand, making her slow down before she bumped into someone, or worse, walked onto the road. `` Are you okay? '' was all it took for her to break. She stared at me, a fragile smile plastered on her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, there are tears openly streaming down her face. The longer we stare at each other, the more often the mask slips. I can see her mouth turn downwards, her nose wrinkle, her eyes squeeze shut. Then all it takes is a deep breath and the mask is back on. `` Yeah, I 'm fine. '' She replies. I know she 's trying to sound normal, but it 's not working. She sounds like she 's crying, her voice trembling, too thick for regular conversation. `` It 's all good. I 'm okay. '' She wipes away her tears and turns to go again, jerking her hand out of my grip, but I hold on. I do n't want her to run off to cry alone. If only I had n't asked, maybe she 'd have been able to hold onto the lie she told me for just that slight bit longer. Maybe then, `` I 'm okay. '' would have been the truth. What an idiot I am.
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`` So he IS alive! '' - Glenn joked, pointing at a just woken up Neil, who was lazily lifting his head and nodding of contempt for the amount of people watching him wake up. `` What are you all doing here so soon? - Neil asked - It was n't soon, 3 p.m. was n't an early hour, but for Neil, who had been partying like it was 1999 last night, it sure seemed so. `` We thought you 'd never wake up, man, the whole gang stayed over from last night and we were thinking about going for a hike or something, but it would n't be the same without you so we just waited for a while, hoping you 'd wake up eventually, but.. '' - Glenns rambling was interrupted by Neil - `` It 's too early for your buts Glenn. Let me get dressed and take a shower or something and we 'll go '' - Neil touched his index finger and his thumb and rubbed gently in-between his eyes. He took about ten minutes to get ready, he was n't a fan of slowly dressing or long showers. `` *Have I forgotten anything? * '' - he wondered before leaving his room, he was a distracted fella - `` *Wallet keys and cellphone* '' - he always reminded himself ( also his cigarettes, but that was never listed ). As he started walking towards the living room, he noticed a distinguished lack of noise, it was strange since having his friends over usually meant police calling noise-levels. The level of eeriness increased as he turned a corner and saw every single one of his friends around his television screen, quietly watching and some simply in awe for the news presented. `` What 's going on? '' - No one answered, no one had listened, - '' guys, what 's goi.. '' - He was close enough from the screen to see what. Aerial footage of burned down houses in some suburban area, at first it looked like some desert area that had been urbanized by rich folk and bored housewives, but after 5 seconds of watching the live report he discovered the true reason of all that commotion, it was n't an urban fire. It was dinosaurs. `` *What? * '' - his head was numbed with confusion - `` Are those special effects, or..? '' - he mumbled, he knew the answer though. They all sat around the TV, some on the couch, some on the carpet, the news was showing continuous replays of their best footage concerning the lizards. - `` *That 's all they are, lizards..* '' - he thought as to comfort himself - `` *the military will get them soon enough..* ''. Reports had been showing they were everywhere, nobody knew from where they were coming or why. Neil took solace in the assumption they were n't in his area, * ( at least not yet ) *. `` Neil we got ta go, Neil we got ta go right now. '' - said Edd - `` I want to go and grab my mother and my brother and everything I can carry with me and get the fuck out of here! '' - completed Glenn. A nod of approval from everyone in the group seemed to harden that idea. Neil was the only one between the five of them that had a driving 's licence, not that any of that mattered during the end of the world. He grabbed eve
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Professor Richardson turned back to the screen and clicked to advance to the next slide. `` So, in summary : State-of-the-art modern scholarship proves that Vlad was actually a weak, oafish man, thoroughly in thrall to his domineering aunt, who rather than drawing power from blood fainted at the sight of the smallest injury. The sobriquet 'Impaler' comes from a spelling mistake made by a drunken Victorian adventurer. His more likely nickname was given to him by his father, who we now know had travelled extensively in Africa. It was 'Vlad the Impala' , because he regarded his son as having overly feminine ankles. Any questions? '' An outraged voice sounded from the back of the hall. `` I, for vun, have several! My father vos _midnight_, you stupid woman, and not in the habit of naming children! Zey called me 'impaler' because of vot I did to all of my enemies! Zer stakes are still zere, if you care to look! '' The professor remained calm. `` None of those were questions, I 'm afraid, Mr .... is it ΘepeΘ? '' `` Yes, '' the voice said sulkily. `` It 's Romanian. But vot about all the bodies zey found ... drained of all blood? '' `` Your question gives away that you missed the previous session, Mr. ΘepeΘ '', Professor Richardson replied briskly. `` We went over the fact that as centuries pass, all soft tissues break down. Yes, there were hundreds of skeletons found under the Castle Dracula - incidentally, most likely a grain-storage facility than the lair of a vampire count - but without any of their skin remaining, it 's impossible to tell whether or not they had been exsanguinated. The most likely explanation for their death is the result of some kind of plague, of which there were many in Europe at that time. '' `` I know, I vas one of them! '' the voice retorted. It had come closer to the front of the lecture theatre. The approach revealed the speaker ; a young-looking man with a dark cape wrapped around him, who paced forward in agitation as he spoke. `` Vot about zer children of zer night? My wolves and bats? '' `` They were an allegory for the pagan traditions of the villagers, '' Professor Richardson supplied smoothly, shuffling her papers. `` In fact, the average wolf population around 'Castle Dracula' was around 15 % _lower_ than the average Transylvanian county. I 'm afraid statistics do n't lie, Mr. ΘepeΘ. I 'm really going to have to move on. '' The young man shook his head, evidently distraught. `` You 're gaslighting me! '' He exclaimed suddenly. `` I see - I see vot you 're doing! You 're trying to convince me I 'm mad! '' A snippy History major who always sat on the front row tried t
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`` People never want to accept that there are truths in this world that should be left to lie. Paintings on walls that are too terrifying to look at, piles of twisted flesh left in plain site and hidden sin. So much sin. The mere word `` sin '' brings to mind swapping sexual favours in dimly-lit rooms, because no one ever remembers the `` thou shall not kill your fellow man '' commandment. I 'm a sinner. But if I do n't have a soul, I guess it does n't really count. Anything I do, I 'm unaffected. Good or bad, everything I do is without eternal reward or consequence. Maybe that 's why I kill. Everyone has heard of vampires. And demons, and monsters. Im somewhere in between in it all. I kill out of necessity, from a deeply-rooted and almost religious need. My God is my victim, my prayer my weapon. It 's been this way since the very beginning. I was born much like anyone else, to a farmer and his daughter. Yes, I was conceived from incestuous rape. That could be a reason I was destined to be the person I am, why I age so slowly and why time can not touch me. Or maybe it all started when my mother, her being a young and weak thing, tried to drown me by throwing me down a well but I would n't die : I was told I cried for four days, deep in that well, before she came back and decided I must be a miracle child and that she 'd raise me to be a prophet. She was my first conquer. I killed her while she bathed in a wooden bath. She was soaking, sulking because I was n't listening to her instructions. Without hesitation, I slit her throat with a hand made knife. The knife was not very sharp and was made of rock, I imagine it must have hurt very much. The blood filled the bath most beautifully, I had never seen such colour. Before, everything was gloomy and pointless. I had now found my true path. That was ... hmm, more than four-hundred years ago. '' The man had been speaking quite a while. Although I assumed he was crazy, I could n't help my heart from beating quicker. There was no doubt something strange about him. He looked old ; pale, shallow wrinkles and crooked. But he also looked ageless, like he had been made out of different body parts. His hands were young but his neck sagged. I wanted to be polite, but i also wanted to get away. I prayed to God that he was n't getting on the same bus as me. `` That 's ... quite a story. '' I should n't have said that. I should n't have encouraged him to go on. `` See? You do n't believe me. Little lamb, let me tell me a story within this `` story ''. Back in 1888, a man went around killing whores. You probably know him by name as `` Jack The Ripper ''. That was when I realized what I was meant to do. I had been existing in shadows for far too long, afraid that if anyone realized I did not age that I would be on the receiving end of a pitchfork. Some may call it ironic, that a man who can not die is a killer. Maybe it 's coincidence and I have an illness. Maybe I do it out of jealousy for mortals. Living life with
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Silence is the absence of sound. So yes, it did begin with silence. But in a void, a true void, there is nothing. Not even Time can invade. So in a way, there was no beginning. There was simply the Void and then the Fill. I do n't expect you to understand because you are a child of the Fill. You can not perceive the absence of all. There is a place you could go to experience what I remember as all-encompassing. In the vast infinity of the universe there are gaps between the great clusters of Galaxies where there is still peace. True tranquility. But there is no longer silence, for the stars sing their eternal song. Their melody reaches out beyond the grasp of Time and fills the void with music. Perhaps one day you will venture to one of these gaps. I will mourn then as I did on the First Day. Your entry into such a place would be a violation and the emptiness would cease to be. You would fill it. You can not help yourself.
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He slashed his hand through the air, upward, high, a line of shimmering red cutting into the dark night of the forest, and then fading away in a haze of thick smoke. He glanced upward ; the dark clouds above blotted out the night and threatened to rain. *I need to hurry*, he thought, as he threw his other hand up, a dark line of crimson slashing out in front of him to crisscross the first. It was almost done. He brought his hands to the center of the cross, dug deep into the air, bending the night around him, and pulledβripped, the night giving way to a deep hole of smoky blue like mist lazing over a deep lake. Crake began : β And so I beseech thee, Se β eli, bring to meβ β The watery depths within the rip ripped, causing him to bite his tongue. β What is this madness, β he muttered as the hole grew, the other side of it nothing but darkness. He leaned forward, closing in on the rift, frowning. And then he was being pulled in. Heavy, hard sucking, it yanked him towards his void, despite his best efforts to pull away. From the other side he thought he could hear cursing, yelling, and he found himself shouting back, cursing the portal, commanding it to close. And then he saw him. The other, on the other side, with a rip of his own. Long black hair, tied back, deep blue eyes, a heavy scowl. Another mage. β Close your portal, dammit! β he shouted at this new mage. β I will not! β cursed the other. β You close yours! I am trying to summon aβ β β Familiar, I know! But I ripped first, you come back later! β Before the other could respond, the portal puckered shut, throwing him to his back. He rolled in the dirt, scrambling to get up, and then glanced at where the portal had been. There was nothing but night. He cleared his throat, looked around, brushed off his robesβ¦ But a burst of light threw him back to the ground, staining his eyes, leaking into his brain. He felt like he was on fire, burning, burning, in his brain the fire burned. And then again there was nothing. The forest was silent. Crake lay on the ground for a moment, clutching his eyes, cursing and writhing even though the pain had ended. He decided he β d just stay there for a while. After some time, a rustling came from behind him. He took a deep breath and sat up to face the noise, about to crack a bolt of lightning at it, when up came the other mage, with only the right half of his hair left, split right down the middle. On the left were little charred sprouts ; half his hair had burned off. He stumbled his way into the clearing, leaning on nearby trees for support. β What have you done, β he spat, gasping. β Youβ¦ β *So you β re the one that ruined everything*, Crake thought. But the other mage spat, β I was here first! β Crake blinked. They stared at each other for a while.
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He kills in the night, fights for your life. He cares, he protects even if he loses his wife. It 's not him that matters, he does it for the country, he slips through the shadows, steals and sneaks and lives a lie. His name is Jonhson, but you know it 's not true. He lives at the apartment covered in vines and blue paint. Cash only, never home, picks up his package and leaves. He lives a solitary existence, never expecting visits unless you 're there to kill. He does it because he has to, he is your dark night. Your batman. Your superman, your martyr out of sight. Watch him work, soon you 'll see. The lies, the fights, the fleeing and scarce sleep is not for you. Its for him. The thrill. The adrenaline, the excitement of survival and trickery. He is a modern day magician, cell phone is his wand and fast cars are his hats. What him pull the white rabbit and Alice into a hole, found years later rotten and cold. Because he likes it. Because all he could ever be ... was a killer in the night.
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I can do anything with you but if it 's a 10am you should know what you want. The app has a good idea of all of those who have come back to this game as it possible for a few years and then it would have to have come out of a way of that sort it would be great. Thanks for the boys and harlequin thanks to my wife. Hi rob thanks for the feedback we are looking forward to seeing the next update soon so I 'll just give you the option to change it back from a few days after the update. The only problem is that there is no confirmation of the data that the card number is incorrect and then I 'll send you email address to your help files. The new rules are required by the government to ensure that they can provide more details about their ability to provide a credit card number for their own personal transactions. Thanks for the great news I hope they have a good one and I will be fine thanks to this game for all of them. Thanks.
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Here I stand in front of a bullet ridden hill. Bodies lie to my right where soldiers pick them up one by one after he or she fall one by one ... no one is exempt ... especially myself. The general wanted to make a point to me and those who witness these perfectly preformed executions by firing squad. That anyone who leads against the current reign shall share the same fate. I 've lost track of how many under my command, friends, and family were executed before my eyes. Hands bounds and any attempt to look away or close my eyes is met with unrelenting force. I 've failed my fellow man by losing. Yet I can not hate those who won. Such as myself these ideals I followed drive me as well as them. We only differ on ideals, but our intentions are good. Maybe this is why I have failed, I think too much, I have compassion and understanding. I accept my fate now just as those whose blood I stand upon. I finally acknowledge what is staring me in the eyes and not just glancing. Men. They look just like mine but I know they are not. Just typical people, but as they raise the firearms I notice the lack of shacking ... completely calm. I want to feel a sense of pity for them because they are now accustomed to killing. Just before the final order which I heard all week left the commanding officers mouth as I 've come to aspect he orders them to stand down. Why! Just as I have accepted my loss, my fate, my DEATH! `` Unlike those you 've lead to your very spot you have a certain worth. '' The officer speaks calmly as my eyes widen and tear. `` You are a walking billboard to those whom dare stand up to our reign as you did. You will not be killed by us for we are merciful. Should you take your own life you are a coward. I do not fear you attempting this again as I stare down your eyes I see the pleading, the begging for my final order. '' I can not even speak, think properly, controlling my shaking, my knees giving out, the tears gushing from my eyes. As two soldiers grab me and drag me away the rage comes fourth, `` Even by destroying everything I 've accomplished, everything I 've known, I pity you. You are the light as shackles to a slave! ''
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Finally. I have accomplished what my Order set out to do, so many millennia ago. No one really knows why that dank, gushing, pitched pit belches forth Academy Awards ; the perfect amount every time for the dark souls who yearn for them. But of the bastard freaks who seek these things, Leonardo DiCaprio is the one this Order was formed for. We must deny him, at all costs, any portion of a statue that issues forth from that doomed, earthy gullet. The solution, it turned out, was simple. Several tons of radioactive waste were subtly permeated throughout the region of the cave, along with finely minced holy texts suspended in a solution of All-Faith-Holy-Liquids. Last, copious amounts of cement layered with silver bars. It 's been about 10 hours since the statues should have spewed out, glistening with that smoky slime that burns the eyes. We have n't heard anything, and we hope. We dare to hope. edit : A word : out.
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The jeans felt scratchy against my legs. For weeks, I had been able to ignore it, but now, sitting in the confined subway, the heat permeated right down to what felt like my soul. Manhattan will be fine, I had told myself, it β s practically an island! Wrong. I was so wrong. Manhattan had turned out to be dry and unforgiving in its relentless pressure. Every breath I took was poison ; I could feel it reaching down to my lungs. I pushed through β my roommates had told me I was complaining too much. How could they know? They never spent much time in the ocean anyway. I missed the salt of it, the shells, the depth. The way it held secrets ; nothing is secret in this kind of world anyway. There are people absolutely everywhere, and they care about everything ; how you look, how you look at them. This is what people do though, right? Isn β t a part of your youth supposed to be a sacrificial time for things like comfort? You get through it for the stories, that one time you probably had to be there. I had decided to move to New York for my singing. I had been promised that I would be a big fish in a small pond, that my talent was really above all, that I wouldn β t struggle as much as the other artists. Instead, I found myself a very small fish, and there was no pond. Barely any water to breathe, and though it surrounded the city on three sides, I could never feel it. This must be how fish at the market feel β dry gulps of life that promise but really hold nothing at all. My roommates had once made the very bad choice of taking me to a fish market in Chinatown. I had stared at the fishes, eyes open, laying on the cold ice, and screamed. They gut them almost like a show. The train emerged over Brooklyn, and I could smell it ; the water. I could almost feel it caressing my legs, and the mental reprieve from the heat and these godawful jeans was almost enough to make me tear them off and jump over the bridge. If only. I must get back to the sea, I thought, putting it on a to-do list in the back of my mind, right next to laundry, and rent, and a few auditions that I have next week. The train jostled and I felt my legs bristle from the rubbing of the tight jeans. I had never really gotten used to wearing pants.
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I must 've looked crazy with my hands flailing like that, but I needed him to stop. It was futile, of course. The comically oversized finger pressed `` Assault T-Bone. '' My fist swung over T-Bone 's outreached hand and into his face. The cold, flat sound of his body collapsing on the cement cell floor echoed for what felt like minutes. The other inmates, who were wholly engrossed in a card game on the bench, looked up and put the puzzle pieces together in their minds. There I stood over T-Bone 's motionless body, just as motionless myself, my fist still in the air. Bits of control seeped back into my extremities and I relaxed as the other inmates stood. Menus whizzed into place above my head, flickering different shades of green as that awful hand went to inspect each one. It hovered tauntingly over `` Apologize '' before it clicked `` Insult them. '' `` Is anyone else a little BITCH? '' I screamed. The inmates, clearly prepared to prove they were not, scrambled over to me and beat me within an inch of my life. By the time the officer behind the desk had intervened, I had already had five of my ribs broken. Blood poured from my nose. Breathing hurt. I briefly considered the possibility of the next decision being actually bad enough to kill me, and that really did n't seem so bad. It came as a bit of a relief, honestly, when he pressed `` Hurt the officer 's feelings. '' `` The way you walk makes you look like a fairy ; Does your wife know you like it up the ass? '' This was admittedly a bit of a gambit. I did n't look at either of the officers as I said it, I just hoped that neither of them would be sensitive enough to make a big deal about it. The officer to the right threw me against the wall and cuffed me. Seething. Maybe too fond of his job to actually say anything, but I could almost feel the up-the-ass jokes coming back at me non-verbally. And boy, would n't that be a juicy bit of multiple-choice action. The new cell was actually an upgrade, since I had it to myself. Sure sometimes I would have to `` Give myself a swirly '' or `` punch myself in the face, '' but I was finally in a place where there was n't all that much stuff to get hurt by. I swore at every last person who walked by, and it was pretty rare that any of my food actually got in my mouth, but at this rate it was only a matter of time until the hand got bored. I stared up at sasuage-fingers. Just waiting on you, buddy. Just waiting on you.
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Mr. Reynolds sat at his desk on his swivel chair, as Thomas entered. Thomas was always a small kid, barely 13, he had ginger hair and was skinny. He was a hard-worker, but his best was n't good enough for Reynolds. `` So ... James tells me you did n't sell enough product yesterday. Says you sold only 40 %, is what I 'm hearing? '' Reynolds asked, towering over Thomas from across the desk. `` Yeah, but I 'll do better next time, Mr. Reynolds! '' Thomas exclaimed. `` Maybe you would do better next time. If there was one. '' Reynolds nodded to his henchman standing by the door. The henchman proceeded to grab a remote and press a button. Suddenly, the lights go out, and a disco ball drops down from the ceiling. Lights flicker all around the henchman 's fine suit, as he begins to aggressively break dance. `` Gio, cut it out. '' The other henchman said as he turned off the disco lights. Reynolds went over to Gio and ushered him away, giving him a stern scolding outside of his office. After 5 minutes, Reynolds returned, standing in front of Thomas. `` Sorry about the distraction. Now, where were we? Ah, yes of course. '' Reynolds pulls out a magnum pistol and splatters Thomas 's brain across the office. `` Clean this up. ''
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The bar was silent save for the hum of the old man 's laser sword. Greedo had heard the stories about those hokey jedi and their laser swords ( everyone had ), but seeing it was completely different. The blue beam deactivated with an instant hiss. The music started up again and everything was back to normal. Greedo, sitting in his booth in the corner of the cantina, realized he was sweating due to a stew of fear and excitement. He had been waiting for this for a long time. He took a sip from his glass nervously as he eyed Solo talking to the old man. With him, was a young human boy and Chewbacca. He could n't make out what they were saying, but by the time Greedo caught his breath, the pair and Wookie had already left, leaving Solo alone. Greedo downed the rest of his drink and stood up, drawing his weapon. He moved across the bar with all the courage he could muster. `` Oota goota, Solo? ''
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β Come on! β Red shouts at me. I lean out the window and watch as the house at the end of the street is engulfed. Last week the news came in of a black, gelatinous goo that engulfs whole cities. Once a city is eaten by this mysterious goo, the site emits an audible static sound. It sounds like a bear trap eating pushpins, and is heard from many, many miles away. No one has heard from anyone once the goo has gotten to them. β SARAH? β I screamed into the phone. β I CAN SEE IT. IT β S COMING CLOSER β she yelled back. β RUN. COME HERE. I CAN β T LOSE YOU TOO. β I can β t lose my sister. I can β t do this. Once our parents died, she was my only companion, besides Red. β GEORGE, WE HAVE TO GO NOW! β Red revs the truck, and I start sprinting towards it. But as I β m running as fast as I can, I miss the tree root, and my foot catches. The goo is moving faster now.
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The sounds of his parents talking in the kitchen echoed to his bedroom. `` Are you sure this was a good idea? '' he could hear his mother say. `` What if we lose what little we have left? '' `` Everything will be fine. Me and the guys know what we 're doing, and if we do n't, we 'll figure it out. '' He could n't help but wonder what business his father had bought, and as he drifted off to sleep, he knew only one thing : he wanted to help out with it. Over the coming years, he helped his father whatever way he could. Putting together coupon books was the biggest way he could help. His father wanted him to focus more on his schoolwork ( as did his mother, emphatically so ), but he wanted to be just like his father, he wanted to do what his father did. As he got older, he did not give up on his dream to help his father with his business and to be like his father, though his interests took a more mathematical turn : he took up stock investments with what money he had from allowance from doing chores, and even had a financial advisor, all before college! As a result, his father often took him to meeting with bankers for figuring out how much money the bank would lend his father and by extension, his company. He was n't like his four siblings with his pursuit of making his father proud and taking up the family business. They all had other things they wanted to do, but he ... he wanted to make his father proud, and to take pride in his family and all parts of himself. `` Brian, '' his father would say. `` Listen, I do n't want you to work for the family business your whole life through. I want you to go out, to explore the world, do something else. '' But this just encouraged him to ask more for permission to join in the family business. And after a long time, he got his wish : `` You can take part in the family business as a job ... but. You have to start from the bottom. '' While he did n't expect this response, it was better than being told to go find somewhere else to work when it had been his dream to help out. And he spent his time at work being a door-to-door salesman for what probably felt like forever. It made him proud though, to do something to make his father proud, and to take interest in his father. Today, he sat at his desk, looking at the picture there with his parents, now elderly, his wife, and his three children. A fond smile came to his face as he looked at the picture. He loved the business, but more importantly, he loved his family. He did all of this to help his father and his family out, to make his family proud. His phone rang and he answered it. His secretary was on the line. `` Your mother 's calling, can I transfer? '' `
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With annoyance he opened his eyes. Squinting he made out the clock which read ( ) ... .. One of the six circles was shining, meaning he had to get ready. The clock was emitting an interval scream which made him throw off his blankets and stumble across the floor to the wretched thing. The screaming stopped as he pressed some buttons, then sat back down onto the bed. Light peered through the fully windowed wall of his residence, casting long shadows across the floor. He looked down and saw a shadow which he traced to an empty bottle of cheap liquor on the floor. The headache and memories of the previous night flooded back into his head as the shuttle whizzed passed the now emerging city. It stopped for the third time to gather more passengers. He stood up to let an elderly female sit in his spot. He felt sick, the contents of his stomach were about to come out but he held it in. The lights flickered as the shuttle passed under a series of bridges and arrived at the terminal. He hurried out of the shuttle to throw up over the railway and quickly shuffled his feet to the elevator which already had a line to the entrance. Impatiently he gave the security guard his ID and with a series of annoyed grunts he let him through. The rows of fastened seats were practically all taken except for one in the back next to an attractive female that he had never seen on the elevator. He sat down, fastening his harness he made eye contact with the attractive female but quickly shied away from her gaze. He felt sick again, it was even worse going up. The ride up to the cosmos base was long, although today it felt especially drawn out. He gazed over to her, she looked terrified, eyes wide open and heavily breathing, her chest palpitating quickly. Without thinking he took her hand, her eyes shot up into his but she did n't resist his touch. The shaking and loud noises stopped as zero gravity took over. Before long they were at the cosmos base. The doors opened and all of them flooded out. They stepped out last, she thanked him and they parted
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`` You wanted to see me? '' The figure seated at the solidly built desk nodded, his shoulder length hair carefully braided into a fighting queue. He wore the blue and silver uniform of a member of the Life Guards, the gilded pips of a Major on his cuffs. An emerald green sash was draped across his chest with along with a jeweled badge of some knightly order or another. His office was neatly maintained, each and every painting or decoration there for a deliberate reason. There were no messy sheaves of paper, no hastily bundled stacks of documents which piled every field officer 's desk. Flowers freshly cut that morning sat on a side table besides a silver tray bearing a decanter of red wine and glasses of cut crystal. A few mementos of both Fae and Human origin hung on the wall behind him, trophies taken as victor 's spoils. Everything about him screamed in muffled silence of someone used to complete control. The Elf nodded again. `` I did. Please, sit, '' he said, gesturing to the comfortable looking leather chair placed before the desk. Hilary Flint moved towards it and sat, knocking his saber 's scabbard aside with a reflexive kick of his heel. A servant swooped in noiselessly, a cup of something hot in his hand. Flint accepted it with a word of thanks, and sipped, brows arching at the taste of genuine coffee. `` Where 'd you get this? '' Flint asked. The Elvish cavalry officer waved his hand absently. `` Nothing is too good for a scion of House Alathir, '' he said. `` I 'm used to the finer things in life. Whatever I want, I get. '' Flint took another sip, savoring the roasted flavor as it worked its way down his system. `` How did you know I liked it without cream or sugar? '' The Major gave a
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Ryan knelt on the ground, huddled over an open box. His chest began to heave against a rising tide of emotion. Feelings he could no longer ignore. A thousand friends that he had singlehandedly created, cultured, and killed. Because the second he let go, they would cease to speak. But they would not cease to think. He rolled the object in his hands. It was heavier than he had remembered. The glove of his left hand was still moist with a wayward tear, and it felt cold even through the nitrile. As he leaned backward, sliding his back against a standing beam in the attic, he put it to his chest and began to sob uncontrollably. The guilt was too much. The pain, and the self-loathing. The sheer injustice of it all. That his childhood gift should become a lifelong curse. He remembered Igloo. His first teddy bear. White, with a red bow tie. Large, black marble eyes that reflected only his smile, until they came to life. He held him late at night, praying for someone ; for a friend. And he was granted one. He awoke that same night to a soft, comforting voice. His door was still shut, and the telltale shadows that would stretch from under the door and into his room were frightfully absent. And then, a warm cotton paw to the cheek. And a scream. He could n't believe it, at first. But after collecting himself, Ryan realized that the voice had come from Igloo, who was now lying on the floor ; silent. So with curious caution he pulled him from the soft brown carpet at his feet and held him again on his lap. And to his apprehensive delight, Igloo smiled back. In the hours that followed, Igloo became his first and greatest friend. It was a relationship that they both were in desperate need of, so Igloo never told him. He never revealed the agony of literally being released into death ; of feeling the life drain from his plush bod
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They still hold me. I 've never quite forgotten the first thought, the first notion of realization I had, when you glanced my way that first time. Sunlight. It was sunlight, but distorted, as though a thin, uniform sheet of latticed ice lay between them and I. Refracting that intensity, leaving you at once mysterious, inviting, caged, aloof, pensive. Beautiful. I knew I had to say something. But how can I speak, when my mind is so enraptured? Can a boy be so blinded, and yet see so clearly the sun, pure and bright and terrible, in the face of another? But I had to try. I had to know what lay behind that icy lattice, behind those pools of brilliance. And I knew you. In ways I once thought could never be. But I did. And now that the ice is all that remains of you, and it leaves my sheets cold beside me, I ca n't quite see the morning outside my window the same.
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Polly squeezes my hand as we sit together in the grey waiting room. Someone clearly had got halfway through decorating it before realising that they could n't give less of a shit about the people who would use it and left with only a beat up old radio and four wobbly chairs with hard plastic backing and no cushions to keep the inhabitants company. She shoots me a smile, fingers wrapped around mine. `` Remember when we came here for Lilly? '' She whispers. I do. In my day they did n't have sonograms, you just had to hope for the best that the child would be healthy when it came out. Now, it meant they had the incubator and lung pumps and forceps ready when the date came. Lilly was so tiny, surrounded by swathes and swathes of white blankets, shining whirring instruments on every surface that recorded everything there was to record about a child that could have fitted in my palm. Modern medicine was a miracle. I squeeze her hand back. `` They looked after her. '' I say. The rest of that sentence hovers in the grey space between us. *Will they look after us? * Our names are called and I wait while my wife gets to her feet and shuffles, back bent, before me. The doctor has dark circles under his eyes and a stack of paper on the floor of his office which looks like the best part of a tree. He turns round in the ergonomic computer chair, eyes still tied to his computer screen. `` So, '' he says quickly. The space between his words is clipped, as though he is trying to fit as many consonants and vowels into the short time he has with us as possible. `` What can I help you with today? '' `` We 're here to apply for the reverse ageing process. '' I say. `` Right. '' `` We 've heard some good things about it. '' I begin to explain and falter as he turns away again. He sifts through documents on his desk and pulls out a small handbook. `` I have to conduct an assessm
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RedditWritingPrompts
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training
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At first there was darkness. I stood in the cold nothingness. I thought `` is this what the end is like? '' Suddenly there was a light in the distance, illuminating a staircase. At the top of the stairs was a man in a suit. `` Hello Levi. Welcome to the end. Now, if you 'll follow me we can get started. '' Apprehensively I made my way up the stairs and followed the man. I was led into a small, blank room with an old television in it. It also only had one uncomfortable looking chair. `` Have a seat. Do you know where you are? '' asked the suited figure. `` Well I 'm definitely not at home. My couch is way more comfortable than this chair. '' `` Sorry, our budget for chairs got cut, so we had to make due with what we could afford, which was dumpster chairs. You 're in Hell, kid. '' `` You 're a pretty funny guy, you know that. Hell does n't exist. That 's all a bullshit fairy tail that people use to manipulate weaker people. '' `` Well you 're in the fairy tail now, and I 'm the boogey man. Satan at your service. '' I was at least a little pleased that The Dark Lord was n't a towering demon ripping my soul out and devouring it. He seemed like a pretty regular guy, which made me feel a little comfortable, given the situation, and the crappy chair. `` So here 's how this plays out '' Satan said tiredly `` this old TV is gon na play you back your whole life. Give that you 're only 30 there 's not as much as most people have. At the end of the film I 'm going to ask you some questions. This will basically determine how long you 'll be staying here in Hotel Hell, got it? '' `` Yeah, I get the drift. So, Since I 'm watching a movie do I get to have some popcorn? '' `` Trust me kid, this is n't a movie you 'll be leisurely enjoying. This is Hell after all. '' `` No popcorn. That 's a bummer. Well, let 's get this started. '' Satan turned on the TV. It popped and snapped as it whirred to life. He was n't kidding, this TV was old as hell. Eventually, a black-and-white picture appeared. It was my mom, holding a little baby me. `` Alright kid, good luck. I 'll be back when its done. '' The movie started playing. I heard my mom talking about how excited she was to have her first-born, of all the dreams she had for me. I always loved my mom, and I definitely missed her now. As I listened to her talk about me I could n't help b
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RedditWritingPrompts
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training
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It was hard to believe my brother thought he never snored. I finally got a recorder to prove how wrong he was, though I never told him about it. I hit the 'play' button on the recorder. Some words before going to sleep were exchanged, the usual music coming from my stereo. I always had music playing when I went to bed, helped me get to sleep. Loud enough to hear, quiet enough that it would n't keep me up. After about an hour of nothing, the stereo made the normal 'WHIIIIRRZZPT' sound when it got to the end of the CD. At this point I would have been dead asleep and not woken up until 4:30am or so as my body normally makes me, then I 'd fall back asleep until 8:30 or so. I fast forwarded until I hit a streak of new loud sound. Sure enough, it was my brother snoring. Nothing new, but at least I had proof now. I fast forwarded again. Suddenly I hit a part with high pitched voices. I stopped the recorder and rewound a little bit. Walking, but whoever 's footsteps they were sounded ... metallic. Voices. `` Wha ...? Is that you dad? '' I could tell that was myself, but I never remembered this. There was another voice. `` Ah, the child of Bhaal has awoken. It is time for more ... experiments. ''
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RedditWritingPrompts
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I roll out of bed. Finally. It 's the afternoon already. After throwing on yesterday 's clothes, I catch myself passing the small square mirror that hangs crooked above my dresser - pull my cheek down with my middle finger, and stare at those watery spidery veins on the rim of the eye, reaching from the pink beneath, into the white. They look like tree limbs in late autumn, I notice. A red-pink forest of them amid a pale white sky. Chronic dry eyes. It 's the worst. Super sensitive to light, always irritated, more or less, and makes it difficult to do the one thing that actually gives me a sense of solace in this crazy world - reading. Well, that and one other thing.. But you 'll think I 'm a freak if I tell you. And you 'd be right. I am a freak. But whatever I 'll just tell you : There 's this website you can go to that has this database of what 's called `` lasties '' -- meaning, a collection of voicemails, texts, vids, snaps, et. cet. that were taken right before dying. My friend Alice told me about it. It 's a real horror show. Just the other day this person named Justin Bieber - a pop star famous in the early 2000 's - died while texting someone as he was walking down the airstairs of his private jet. Apparently he hit his head on the Tarmac and was DOA from head trauma. And there was an auction at this website selling his last text ( apparently his phone got hacked afterward ). It sold for like 2 million BTC. Freaks, right? Anyway, at first I was grossed out. I even stopped talking to Alice because of it. It 's like, every other post on BookFace she makes is littered with # lastie # killerlastie .. You know, dumb shit like that. But deep down it *actually* interested me, a lot. It exhilarated me for some odd reason. Made me feel.. more alive. Or, it made me feel more mortal, more vulnerable. I felt my insides tingle all over at the very thought of it. The prospect of having my very own.. It began to consume me. Nowadays, ever since the obsolescence of age-related deaths via bio restorative therapies, the idea of death is more decadent and bougie than ever. Its rarity raises the stakes I guess. It 's almost become a god of ours. And Bieber, being 183, was `` a fine wine aged to perfection '' according to the NYT obit. Or so it goes. It felt wrong. But it intrigued. Ate at me. So, I bid and won a lastie. It was n't anyone crazy famous. And it was n't a super freakish
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RedditWritingPrompts
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`` Hey Bro, you got a sec? '' I looked up from my paper on the Broca 's area to see my brother, leaning forward on my broken doorframe, his fingertips clinging to the brown chipped wood. `` Yeah, sure. What 's up bro? '' I closed my laptop, his atypical, brooding demeanor foreshadowing an issue of actual consequence. `` What 's brought you down? '' He sighed a very exaggerated sigh, and his gaze shifted to the floor, `` I just feel ... broken. I do n't know, like everything 's been left incomplete and in shambles. Like I was n't finished being put together.Plus the guilt, bro, I 've rationalized it in my head a thousand times that it was n't my fault but ... '' `` Sarah 's passing ... I know it 's been really tough on you, bro. None of us could have known she was sick, you know how good an actor she was, she could have been on broadway! There was no way she 'd let you, or anyone else, worry about her. Especially during your travels abroad. I 'm sure she just felt like she 'd ruin everyone 's week. '' He gave a dry chuckle, `` Ai n't that just exactly the kind of person she was though? I guess that 's part of why I loved her so much. She was a saint, shoulda been fucking bronzed. '' I did n't say anything, I did n't need to. He was right, Sarah had a heart of pure gold, but I did n't feel right in confirming or denying his assertion. Whatever he needed to believe right now, he needed to believe. The room was quiet for a long minute before he spoke again, `` Bronchitis ... bronchitis! I mean, we have medicine for that shit, the whole *world* has medicine for that shit. The whole world except some shithole in Thailand where an asshole took the only woman he ever loved to fucking die ... '' At this point, his sobs became uncontrollable, and his spine slid down the wall until he at last rested in an upright fetal position on the floor, `` Jesus, bro, it 's all my fucking fault! She 's died because of my stupid fucking attempt to be some artsy asshole that I was n't! If I had n't been so busy lying about who I was just to get her to love me- '' His voice was cut when the palm of my hand struck him across his stubbled cheek, a slap silencing the whole world. His blood-shot eyes widened for a moment before he turned to me in disbelief, `` Shut up. You miss Sarah, I know you do, we all do. And I know it 's hard not to blame yourself, but you and I had been planning that trip for years and you know it damn well. Do n't you dare
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It 's hot. Let me clarify that. It 's - *burning building* - hot. I 've thought many times about what I would do if there were ever a fire, but now that I wake up to one, all I can think about is the fact that it 's hot. I need to get up, is what I need to do. My door is still intact. I get on my hands and knees and start crawling over. I look to my left. My cabinet fell over, it must have been a couple hundred pounds at least, how did- `` Help! '' A woman 's voice came from it. I crawl closer and look inside. `` I was trying to wake you, to get you out, but this fell on me! '' It 's Susan. Susan the neighbor. I was always forgetting the color of her eyes. `` Please. '' The woman extends her hand out to me. She has on an engagement ring. Her fiancΓ© is either out or dead in their room. `` Help me lift. '' I still ca n't tell the color of her eyes. The fire reflecting off of the tears make them look yellow, but no one has yellow eyes. Yellow eyes are for the Angels, and Angels do n't get stuck under their neighbor 's cabinets during fires. I look at the cabinet. No way can I lift it. I 'd have to stand and standing just exposes you to smoke. No need for both of us to die. I turn around and crawl back to the door. `` What are you doing? '' I hear her yell. `` Please! I came to get you! Just help me out! '' I turn my head and look at her. She stares back with her yellow Angel eyes. `` I 'm so sorry. '' I say, `` I 'm so very very sorry. '' But they 're just words, just tiny little words. Words ca n't help her. Unless the word was water. `` Water, '' I say. No, she 's still trapped. I 'm still free. I look back at the door and start crawling out again, as I hear the ceiling fall in behind me. I make it out and look back. The room is covered in flames and wood. A crushed mirror is pointed at me. I watch as my eyes change from brown to yellow.
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A shiver went down her spine. The temperature in the office was quite low, and yet she suspected there was another reason for this reaction. She had heard the door handle move, which meant she was finally going to meet Him. The idea filled her with mixed feelings. She had always been a bit of a loner, never really keeping friends for long. She was afraid the same thing would happen with Him. But all of her acquaintances had told her about their experience on the matter, and thus she felt maybe He would be different. She was genuinely curious to discover what He was going to be like. The letter had arrived on the day of her birthday. It was a very formal request for an appointment with their designated life partner, printed on thick paper. She had guessed that some people framed theirs, because the whole thing was pretty well designed. Her parents were not of the melancholic sort, so she had never seen theirs. The entire process was completely mysterious, which was quite pleasant for her. And thus, she had come on the designated day. Her mother had instructed her on how she should dress for the event, her friends had taught her about the kind of makeup she should wear, and her father had told her what kind of conversation she should be having. Everyone had helped her prepare, which made her all the more anxious. She had thought of running away several times, but her curiosity had been stronger, and here she sat. `` Vivian Redwood? '' A masculine voice asked behind her. Her heart skipped a beat. She did n't feel ready, but she had to at least look at him. `` Hi there. I 'm Remy Walker. '' He continued, sitting in front of her. `` I 'm really glad to meet -- '' He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he first looked at her in the eyes. He suddenly became red, and avoided her interrogative gaze. What the hell was wrong with him? `` They gave me the marriage certificate ; I guess we have to fill them out. That 'll help us get to know each other I suppose. '' She showed him the paper she had laid on the desk that separated them. `` Y-yeah, sure. '' He sounded flustered, she noticed. `` Well then, let 's get to it. '' *Something was not right*, she realized as she began filling the
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Maximus was the slave name given to him by the humans. His proud name was the only consolation he had for his life of bondage. He hated the humans. They had stolen him from his broodmates when he was less than a week old, then imprisoned him in a small glass cage in their `` dining room '' where all the members of the human brood could admire his captivity. Here one came now. It was the small one, mouth half empty of teeth, and the large pleading eyes of a predator staring into his fishy soul. It likely came to fulfill its daily ritual. Maximus watched as it extended a giant fleshy trunk from one of its upper appendages and rammed it into the side of his prison, not once, not twice, but three times. The whole prison shook and echoed from the attack. Luckily for him, in their effort to make his prison walls impenetrable to escape, they also became impervious to attack. Maximus once again survived against all odds. Once the little human left, he resumed his constant ritual of exploring the arcane arts. Maximus had made some progress recently, and decided to swim towards the wall and try again. Maximus had recently been able to get in contact with the ghost of the fish who lived in this prison before him. Even now, Maximus could see the other fish 's ghost swimming up to the outside of the glass wall as he was. It was obviously a ghost, its form only partially visible, and constantly outside the glass, as if in death it achieved its final wish for release. Maximus begged, `` Oh, tell me wise ghost fish! Is there not another way to escape these glassy walls? '' But the fish made no response. Maximus danced, and the ghost fish only danced in response. This was its custom, the ways of ghosts were too strange to be understood by live fishes. `` I will avenge you, ghost fish. By my gills, I will avenge you. '' As Maximus swam away, so did the ghost fish from the aether beyond his prison. Maximus knew the routine from here. He would swim to the middle of his prison and wait for one of the larger captors to feed him his gruel pellets. They were in no way appetizing, but they only fed him what he needed, so he was always ravenous. Yes, he would dart at the food and snatch it all up before they changed their mind. Today was different though. They large captors were late coming into his line of sight, and even then they stood far away in the kitchen. Their insolence, did n't they know he was starving? Still, Maximus waited patiently. They were speaking in low tones, and staying very still, completely absorbed in their own petty problems. One of them mumbled questioningly, and then silence overtook them for nearly a minute. This was too much! How dare they leave him to starve! Maximus mustered all his energy and mentally sent all his anger and indignation toward his captors in a futile hope that they would know his rage. Maximus tried so hard, his fins quivered from the effort. And then something miraculous happene
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`` Ben, you must answer your phone immediately. '' It was my mothers voice. I quickly stumble out of bed, the wall catching my fall. It 's my answering machine. I reach for the phone. My mom shouts `` You 're going to die, Ben! '' My mom was never apart of my life. During my childhood, my parents were both heavily involved with their careers. At age 3, Mom and Dad took me and all my stuff to my grandmothers house. My grandmothers name was Bev. She was an ignorant old women. Her beliefs were two-dimensional and her dialect was lacking. She never worked a day in her life, Bev was too incompetent. She watched soap opera 's on the television and complained about the noise from the garbage truck. I bought her a book for Christmas, a joke among myself. She took it and hit me across the face with it. The only reaction that made sense to her. I guess as a result from life, I find myself 28, a college professor at a private school teaching philosophy, suffering from OCD, living in a basement apartment in Chicago, and being mistaken for a homeless person. I rushed to the phone after hearing my mothers voice. Her speech was typically unexciting. Moms voice was different this time, overwhelmingly with feeling. `` Mom, '' I say, `` hello ''. `` They 're going to kill you, Ben! Turn on channel 2. Do you hear me? Do you-? '' She responds dramatically. I hang the phone up. I obey her wishes to turn the television on. I have not received news that has an effect on me as heavily as this. I can feel my blood rushing through my veins. Interesting, I think to myself. Still standing while staring blankly at the the television, I see myself walking to my apartment after going for a stroll. Walking at my slow pace, looking around helplessly amused. The neighbor girl is shown following me and standing behind my fence as I let myself back into my hou
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RedditWritingPrompts
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June 17th, this was the day the law of killing someone who no longer contributed to society had passed in this Country. In the beginning ; one by one, a family member would abruptly come in to protest and give complaints on why their son, daughter, husband or wife had been chosen. The same simple response would always be given, β Because they were no longer contributing to society, β Those who were chosen to die were not random. Everyone was monitored and statistics were done to keep track of everything and everyone, it β d become apparent that this wasn β t a game nor was it a test trial, this was now the *law* and people noticed this accordingly. Going to school or working were all signs of contribution. Doing nothing wasn β t. Homeless people were no longer lying around begging for money, crimes had dropped and there was no longer welfare. The country was heading to a place where fear was instilled into the minds of people that most were too afraid to sleep for too long in case they β d oversleep and be chosen. Vacations, holidays and weekends were no longer times to relax in case you were the one who β d contributed the least that very day. What ensued was something I never would have thought would happen to me. I heard a knock at the door and wondered who would be here at almost 12AM. I opened it to see Carl standing before me. β What business do I have with you at this hour? β I asked. He pushed past me and made his way to Mary β s room, I followed behind him. I *knew* why he was here, I just didn β t believe it. There was only one reason Carl would be here. One reason alone and before I could stop him I felt the weight of the men who work for me pin to the ground. β She β s paralysed Carl! This isn β t part of the law, β I said, my voice now in a pleading quiver. β Sorry Sir. The law was made with the exceptions of only babies and elderly. I β m sorry but statistics show Mary has contributed the least to society today, so she has to go, β β There are millions out there, now you step away from her, β β I β m sorry sir, but those millions *are* contributing to society. Mary is not, β
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RedditWritingPrompts
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It β s been 5 years since the world β s smartest hitman came to me. He had been hired by my ex and I β d rather not go into details about why she wanted me dead. The story I tell to most people is that I saw him coming and managed to fight him off and escape to the other side of the country. The truth is less exciting though, see the smartest hitman doesn β t actually kill anyone if he doesn β t have to. He accepted my life savings then told me to leave town, after that he went back to my ex and collected his payment then left town himself. My ex was never good at thinking things through.
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RedditWritingPrompts
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Alice walked down the street at her normal pace. Just fast enough to keep up with the flow of people, and just slow enough to look around and take in her surroundings. Ever since her condition had revealed itself she had made a point to enjoy life as much as she could as fast as she could. You only live once seemed very accurate now. She tugged at the scarf around her neck and pulled it tighter as she strode down the street a look of satisfaction on her face. She had n't been on a date in three years. The first time her condition arose was when she entered her apartment four years ago. Her body felt like it was becoming ice. As she walked toward her living room it got worse, and then she saw them. Her fiancΓ© and her sister. With a broken heart and tears in her eyes, she ran as far as she could get. Ever since that day every time something bad was about to happen to her, her body felt like ice. The worse it was the colder she felt. She had tried dating afterward but every time she tried, she felt cold. `` Love is n't all that life 's about, there are much better things. '' Alice had told herself this every day for three years but she never really believed it. She got lonelier with every passing year and finally, her friend Janice talked her into going on one date with a man she knew through her husband. Alice reluctantly agreed and that was why she was out on a brisk Saturday morning dressed in the cutest, but warmest, clothes she could find. His name was Alex and he was supposedly just like her. Whatever that meant. She stood in front of the coffee shop for a moment, just breathing. Slowly she grabbed the handle and opened the door.
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His sheets were soaked. Jim couldn β t sleep through the night anymore. Rolling over he checked the green fuzzy glow of his alarm clock for the time. 3:43am. It had been 3 months since Jim had made the dangerous journey to fulfill his craving for a double cheeseburger. That β s all he longed for, but with the full moon out and it being mid-spring the gnomes would make the trek quite difficult. That time of year was when the gnomes were in full production of both agriculture and offspring, and he could not be caught sneaking in a meaty snack. The alliance between humans and gnomes extended back for hundreds of years, but the integration of humans and gnomes coexisting was still a fluid process. Gnomes took care of all the worlds agriculture needs and forbade the eating and killing of meat. That was part of the agreement between the small little garden like creatures and the humans. And it was for this reason that Jim loved hamburgers so much. Maybe it wasn β t the juicy, thin, over salted patties, but the simple reason that Jim was breaking the first world order established between his kind and the gnomes. NO MEAT EVER. Similar to the prohibition era, meat was outlawed, but still existed if you knew where to look. Most humans knew this as well as enforced it, but no one was upset that any type of meat could still be found on the black meat market. Humans wanted to keep the alliance with the Gnomes intact because it helped extend the life of earth by almost a million years, however humans still loved salt and still loved meat. As long as the gnomes didn β t fully comprehend this deep seated want for meat and people gave the appearance that they loved the all vegetarian diet the alliance would be intact. Jim put on some sweats, his favorite Zelda hoodie and slipped on some shoes to head out on his quest. He texted his seller and received a swift reply β Meet out back of the Veggie Emporium on 6th. β Jim smirked. Running a black market meat business at one of the largest vegetable corporations always concerned him, but it had been more successful than past underground markets in clandestine locations. Hiding in pla
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RedditWritingPrompts
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It 's 11pm where I am and I have a 6am meeting tomorrow, but I had to finish your story before going to bed. You are quite talented. I 'm not sure if the hook for me was seeing where the story was going very early on, or if it was your writing style that did it. Regardless, I was gripped from the onset. You created 13 individual characters, all of which seemed very real and unique, and wove them together quite beautifully. I also found the story to be quite witty which I definitely enjoyed. The arc of the story was also very well done, building up tension steadily all the way to the end. While there were some clerical things that can easily be cleaned up, I found myself looking past them because of how invested I was in the story. I 'd definitely like to read more stuff by you. All around good job. Still have lots more to read before voting but, I 'm ending on a high note tonight for sure. Thanks for the adventure.
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Imagine a book that explains and catalogs everything in the universe, from complex theoretical physics to why your parents got a divorce. That 's pretty much what the Earth 's code is, everything happens for a reason, and that reason is code. My name is Brent Richards, I work for the Illuminati as a programmer. The Illuminati is very careful with its information. No one knows more than they have to know. That 's why I do n't know the history of the code. I do n't know who wrote it, I do n't know how they wrote it. And I do n't know how the machine I use manages to access the code and edit it. They pretty much just sat me down in front of a computer and said 'this is the Earth 's code. ' I 'm not the only one tasked with this job, there 's this guy who sits next to me, Dave, I do n't know his last name. We are n't allowed to tell anyone our last names and we are n't even required to give our real first name. The guy 's a jackass though, no doubt, I knew that pretty quickly. From the first time he was tasked to change the code to make it so someone died, it 's the most common request we get from the guys up stairs. But as he wrote the code, he was smiling, I could n't fucking believe it. Smiling as he willed someone to die. I think the guy gets off on that shit, he loves having some semblance of power over the world. Now before I continue I should clarify something, the code is massive. Size is one of those things that can be hard to convey, so let me say this. If you printed out all of the code on paper in the smallest legible font, the paper would wrap around the earth over three million times. So it 's safe to say that in my time here as a programmer, I would be lucky to see even 1 % of the code. And that 's why we did n't notice it. 99 % of the code is legacy, older than old. Written by God maybe, but again I do n't know. So most of the events in the world were willed by someone long ago, but you can bet that a good portion of significant world events were programmed by guys like me. Taking orders from mysterious figures we never get to meet. I received an order from the upstairs. It said that 2016 seemed a little too crazy, a little too exciting. They wanted me to check out the code to see if the recent world events were legacy, or if they were written by a programmer. All code has a time attached, except for legacy code. If the code for an event had a date for when the code was written then that meant that the Illuminati was responsible. So I combed through the code to find the events in question. HumanId = ( SearchHumans.DavidBowieSinger ) if Time = 10012016
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RedditWritingPrompts
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Clark stood on the broken twenty second floor of the Daily Planet building and gazed out at what used to be Metropolis. He barely recognized it. The entire city was reduced to rubble. A dark haze hung over the skyline blotting out the sun. The little light that did filter through was turned a muddy brown, only highlighting more destruction. On instinct he drew in a deep breath, intending to clear the air above his beloved city, but it only sent him into a coughing fit that brought tears to his eyes and dropped him to a knee. The pain was terrible, like tiny shards of kryptonite were moving in and out of his lungs. Is this how humans lived? How did they stand it? And then again, the rushing, terrible realization that he himself, was human. He felt Neo 's hand on his shoulder. `` I 'm sorry, I should n't have brought you here yet. I thought ... '' Clark jerked away, and rose, his elbows on his knees. `` I 'm fine. '' he muttered, then promptly vomited on his shoes. Trinity spoke from somewhere behind him, `` I tried to tell you, the shock is too much. You ca n't go from what ... he was, to this. There 's bound to be some ... '' `` Transition? '' Neo suggested. `` ... breakage. '' Trinity replied. `` We 've all had a shock! '' Neo replied. `` We had to get him out, the things he could do, without even knowing the rules! '' Neo took a breath. `` He 's strong, he will come through. '' Clark could barely hear what they were saying. Every gust of hot wind turned him deaf, grit and dust flew into his eyes, blinding him. Not for the first time Clark wondered if this was some elaborate deception by Lex, or maybe Brainiac. Was any of this real? He looked over at Neo and Trinity, frustrated again that he could n't sense their heartbeats, that he could n't read the microexpressions that would betray their true intentions. He stumbled towards the edge of the building, leaned against the jagged parapet, and looked down at the twenty two stories of open air. Clark 's body broke out into a sweat, his stomach did flips, and his head spun until he sat down, his back to the low wall. `` I ... I ... '' he held back another bilious gag. `` What 's happening? '' Trinity leaned down and looked into his face. `` It happens to most of us the first time we see a long drop. We do n't think the matrix gets it exactly right. It takes awhile to get over that first uh, fear of heights. '' Clark felt his eyes burn with tears again, but not from the biting wind. Superman, he thought, afraid of heights. Neo put a hand out and helped Clark up. `` Come on, '' he said. `` we have work to do. '' Clark gasped out loud and drew his
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The air hurt. Not just because I couldn β t inhale it, but because it reminded me of what I truly was lingering on the outside of humanity β s vision. It was cold, pulling at me and forcing me to stay in this realm. I wasn β t allowed to move even though my body had been disposed of in a body bag long ago. As hard as I tried, my feet couldn β t go past the invisible circle that had been drawn around my area of death. I was only seventeen, and the way I was put out of living continuously sticks with me just about every hour. When the time of my death is met on any given day, the pain is increased. When the actual day and time of my murder surfaces, it β s an unmentionable hell. My girlfriend and I went were walking home after chatting over dessert at a cafΓ© near the outside of town. We were laughing as we made our way towards Fetcelli β s, the abandoned restaurant a few blocks across the street. That β s when he showed up. Samantha β s ex, with a cold look in his faded brown eyes. He brandished a switchblade and stabbed me in my left arm as I got in front of her. She screamed, and I gritted my teeth as I fell to my knees, blood seeping around my hand that clutched my bicep. Sammy shrieked and tried to run, but Mike grabbed her by her long blond hair and hit her, hard. She slumped against the side of the building. Then he came over to me, reached under and punched me in the stomach twice with as fist as hard as rock. The blood was still coming, and now my vision was spotted, coming in and out of blackness. I felt like I was going to throw up. I looked over to my left and saw Sam. I wanted to reach out and grab her arm to make sure she was okay, but Mike stood over me. He grabbed a fist full of my hair, and yanked my neck back. I let out a yell. His hand then moved down to my black, leather jacket, and he held tight onto the collar as he broke down the door of the boarded up eatery. He dragged me inside, and left the door open. He laid me on my back, and sat on top of me, the blade finding its way deep into my chest. The air flooded through my throat all at once, and as the painful sensation of my skin being split open repeatedly and my ribs being crushed overpowered me. I tried to scream but he went for my throat next. First strangling, then pressing down with one hand on my windpipe as he marked an β X β straight through my face. The blood was blinding and I could taste it. I tried to kick him off but I wasn β t strong enough. Straining through dying lips, I asked, β Why are you doing this? β He repli
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You can not die. Life is like water flowing down a pipeline, it can only take the passages that are open to it, meaning that if your life force meets and end, it simply flows the other way by nature. This also means, when people die they do n't actually truly die, they simply move down another path diverging from yours, and onto a different `` dimension '' of sorts. Since there are an infinite number of universes, there is always room for other versions of yourself to continue down this same pipeline. No matter what you do, no matter what mistakes you make or how you suffer, it will never end, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.
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I pulled my arms around myself a little tighter. You need to conserve whatever heat you can. Or, at least that 's what I tell myself. After all - who else am I going to talk to? It 's been a few years since I 've seen another person. God, I ca n't even remember what his name was. I just kept calling him Jeb. He was a real hillbilly type, but he was clearly just as eager to have someone to talk with as anyone else. That man was listening to every word of my awful stories. Every now and then I could have sworn he was making notes to tell someone else! Imagine that, if humanity can rebuild after the infestation, I was going to be a famous early writer! But that was a long time ago. The infestation took a bad toll on us. I 've got this small little area that I 've managed to keep clean. I need to really fight back the bugs when I see them. First the little ones come, one by one. Here and there. Then by the tens.. hundreds.. I 'm think it gets to the thousands but honestly by that point the little ones are not the problem. They become the carpet for the roaches. Think old school VW Bug. Remember those bugs? They were great. I had one back before the infestation -- an awesome lime green. It use to be my favourite colour, but the roach slime is the exact same shade. Makes me tremble now. *CRACK* What .... dafuq ... `` Good afternoon `` YOUR_USERNAME_HERE '' `` HOLY SHIT, JEB! WH ... I CAN '' T BELIEVE YOU 'RE HERE! '' _________________________________________ Jeb and I talked for what felt like hours. I am amazed he managed to last! I asked him how he got away from the bugs and he shrugged it off like it was nothing. I 'll find out his secret soon, he said he 'd take me somewhere we can be safe. Even in post apocalyptica the goodness in people! Amazing! We 're leaving in the morning. Jeb even recommended I wrap my arms in tight, keep warm. It 's nice to think that my stories meant that much to Him. He thinks like me, and made a point of coming to find me! Arms in, got ta stay warm. __________________________________________ `` What happens now? '' Asked a tall blonde woman in the visitors area. `` He 'll be transfered '' Responded an older man, as he placed his stethoscope back around his neck. This doctor always does that when he feels bad about what he has to say. Does n't really get much other use for it as a therapist, but it helps him feel more `` doctor-like '' `` He 's so disconnected from reality, we ca n't hold him criminally responsible. Would you like to see him before he gets moved? '' `` Please ''
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`` T-t-t-ticket p-please ''. Two cataclysmically large fingers lowered themselves before the conductor beside the train. `` Here '' a voice boomed from somewhere above the clouds. The conductor could not see the date on the ticket, but decided that it was probably ok. `` Th-that 's great, thanks! '' He gulped and smiled weakly. The wind began to rise, gushing down around the conductor. The roaring air ripped the hat from his head, and the clouds fled, as a face as large as the sky loomed down on him. `` No problem at all '' replied the man like an earthquake. `` So where does this train go? '' He sat on top of the heavenly train. Only seven hours ago he had been lying in a hospital bed, the sounds and sights before him blurring, merging, the pain as loud as ever, carrying him, whispering in screams as the vision and the sound became indistinguishable, until, until ... Well it happened slowly and quickly. He felt like he was drifting away from all of it, and then he 'd passed over a waterfall into open space. It was dark then, and his pain had gone - left somewhere behind, eddying in the river. He was away now. Away, quiet, content, and ... Hot! `` Boss you might want to take a look at this one ''. Beelzebub slinked over, and watched for a few moments. `` You see what I 'm seeing? '' Said Calun. `` I see it. '' The body shivered as though animated by maggots. Calun prodded the body with a warty finger. `` It 's a fresh one, right? Human? Came from earth? '' Beelzebub checked his clipboard. `` Let me see ... Drinker, drug user, gambler, smoker, hmm ... Catholic. Yes. Definitely one of ours. '' Calun eyed it suspiciously. `` Well what is up with him? What 's happening to his skin? I 'm not sure I want to wake this one ... '' `` I 'm not sure we 're going to have to '' said Beelzebub. He pointed to the smallprint on the clipboard : Age : 24, Sex : Male, Name : The. Classification : Dead. Calun 's narrow yellow eyes met Beelzebub 's. `` Throw him in the fire, '' Beelzebub commanded. Calun nodded uncertainly. The man 's skin continued to crawl as though infested by parasites, and he had now become double his original size. Calun lugged *The* on to his shoulders, and lurched across the black, igneous rock. He moved towards the orange, glowing cliff face, becoming more and more laboured as the man 's body swelled over his bulbous, straining back. Still some way from the searing precipice, Calun collapsed under the weight, and The 's eyes opened with surprise. A grotesque, muscular demon strode purposefully toward him. Everything about the scene told him he should have been dividing himself from last night 's dinner - the ghoul 's flickering eyes, it 's sinewed and glistening muscles, the claws that every moment were further unsheathing from bony scarlet fingers, the skeletal frame that w
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`` You ca n't just create your own afterlife '' said Paul his hands on his hips shaking his head. `` We 'll sucks to be you then. Because there is n't a place is New Best Heaven for cynics. '' said Alexander staring off at the far mountains. `` For God 's sake Alex, this is purgatory. Its already an afterlife. '' `` Why bother bringing the big guy into this? You 've been up there. He does n't want us anyway. '' Paul messaged his temple in annoyance. `` What are you even hoping to accomplish? You ca n't just stab a stick in the ground and claim a piece of purgatory for yourself. '' `` Of course not, what we need is '' Alexander then took off his shirt tied it to a long thin stick, `` a Flag! '' He then took the flag stabbed into the earth and shouted. `` I hereby claim this spot as the Capitol of Of New Best Heaven! '' Paul groaned. Alexander beamed let go of the fag, which immediately fell over. `` Okay then. Clearly you know what your doing '' said Paul as Alexander repeatedly stabbed the ground, violently trying to get his flag to stand upright. `` What are your plans for New Best Heaven? '' `` Well there 's definitely going to be some changes. First none of those rules about sex. From now one I you want to fuck them, you can fuck em! Long as its consensual of course. '' Alexander gave up on stabbing the ground and was instead digging a hole to plant the flag in. Paul could think of at least a half dozen other qualification that should probably be included but decided not to mention them yet. `` Naturally, '' he agreed. `` Secondly, there are now three days of rest! Friday, Saturday, and Sunday! And you can be as lazy as you want and nobody can say thing about it! '' said Alexander. Paul wondered how things might have been different, if Alexander had been in charge from the beginning. The thought scared him, until he realized he was about to find out. Which scared him more. `` Third, worship not required. You worship whatever and whoever you want, and nobody can be a dick about it and murder you over it. Also no murder, rape, theft, the usual stuff. Just write it up as do n't be a douche bag. '' Alexander buried his flag a few inches into the ground and pilled rocks up around it to keep it up right. `` That does cover just about everything '' said Paul. `` Wait, there 's more. Third, wait no, six? ... What number am I on? '' `` Four. Five if you want do n't be a douche bag to be its own rule. '' `` Right, should probably start writing these down. '' `` Might be a good idea. '' `` Well good thing I have you here Paul. Official recorder of history! '' said Alexander as dramatically as possibly, with sweeping arm gestures for effect. `` You do me a great honor my Lord '' said Paul. `` No, not Lord. Everyone 's equal here in New Best Heaven. That rule Five, got that? '' `` Everyone is equal, '' said Paul
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Mark and I had been in a fight all day. I could hardly speak to him but we put on a smile for the cameras. He 's so cheap, he made us sleep in the van when there was a perfectly nice bed and breakfast across the street from the location we were going to film at. That 's not the point of this story though. This location was an old abandoned world war II era warehouse. There were thousands of boxes. We had been promised that there was an artifact of great value here but the amount of containers was unreal. It would have taken years to check them all. Mark was determined though. `` Hey Frank! I dunno what it is but I keep feeling drawn to this direction, I 'm gon na keep heading this way. You check the the north east corner '' ordered Mark. I could n't help myself, `` Huh, typical Mark! Separating from me like this, you 're ridiculous! Why wo n't you let me into your heart? ! '' `` I just think we could get a lot more work done apart! '' then he whispered, `` Frank the cameras are rolling for Christ 's sake. '' `` So are you guys gon na buy something or do you wan na get the hell outta my grandpa 's warehouse? '' asked Kyle. Kyle was the little punk who inherited the property and was trying to convert it into a night club. `` Yeah, please excuse my '' Mark cleared his throat, `` *co-worker*, he 's my co-worker ''. Hours later I found something and hollered for Mark. He came running and climbed up the container I was digging through with his big, strong chest heaving. `` Hey, what 's all the yelling about up here? '' Fucking Kyle was back. `` you guys find something uh, valuable? '' `` I dunno I was waiting for Mark to open it with his big, strong arms. '' Mark shot me a sideways glance. Mark finally spoke up, `` hey kid, make yourself useful and grab us a crowbar. '' The item in question was an ancient looking box. It has to be old and that made me want to own it for some reason. Mark took the crowbar in his hands and pried open the box like a sexier version of Gordon Freeman. That 's when it happened, that 's when I lost the one thing in my life that kept me going. His skin and muscles melted off his once-chiseled face and all that was left was a skull that kinda like like it was made of clay. That 's why I 'm writing this note. Tell Mr. Meow Meow I love him. Mark is all that kept me going and now he 's been reduced to memories.
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`` If you do n't let me have the last slice of pizza, I will detain and murder every single Jew in the world. '' said Chancellor Adolph Hitler from across the dining table. Dressed sharply in full military regalia, President Paul Von Hindenburg stood up, looked down at his associates sitting next to him, then stared straight into Hitler 's eyes. In the middle of the circular dining table sat an open square pizza box holding the last slice of pepperoni pizza. Steam was still rising from the gooey, melty, cheese. Von Hindenburg looked to his right towards Franz von Papen, his most trusted associate. Though silent, he calmly looked at his president and nodded. Franz then rubbed his hand through his slicked back, white hair, looked forward at his bitter rival and begrudging peer, Kurt von Schleicher, and cupped his own hands together into a ball. The bald man sitting across from Franz made a loud popping noise with his tongue and met the president 's eyes. Kurt nodded in agreement. President Von Hindenburg looked straight into Hitler 's eyes. Though Hitler sat upright and smiled a wide and devious grin, Von Hindenburg saw panic and even smelled it 's sweet, delicious odor. Both of Hitler 's Nazi followers were not so poised, and they glanced back and forth, from one party to the next. `` No, '' let out Von Hindenburg. His answer echoed throughout the entire dining hall, swaying the gigantic golden chandeliers slightly. `` I will have to die before you get the Jews. But before that day comes, you will have to watch as I eat this scrumptious piece of pizza. '' Von Hindenburg reached down and grabbed the last hot slice of pepperoni pizza. His eyes never leaving Hitler 's. Bite by bite, Von Hindenburg slowly devoured the last slice. With every inch, he watched as Hitler 's face changed from a smug look of satisfaction to disbelief, then to absolute horror as Von Hindenburg neared completion. As Von Hindenburg started on the crust with its perfectly crispy top, and fluffy insides he smiled, closed his eyes, and moaned in ecstasy ; Hitler 's face receded into complete sadness. A solitary tear ran from Hitler 's left eye, and he turned away. Not even able to look at his trusted Nazi associates, Hitler hung his head in shame and looked down at the red table cloth with gold embroidery. Franz and Kurt stared at their president, mouths open wide, completely unbelieving. `` How could someone be so bold. '' Franz thought After the crust was finished, Von Hindenburg stared at Hitler and rubbed his protrudin
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The prices of vitamin tablets skyrocketed, when the government realised their mistake in publicizing this information, it was too late. People never change, they either want power, or money, and now, by investing in some vitamins, they could gain both easily. It did n't take long for the signs of chaos to appear, society was once again crumbling, from small fights to civil war, no, it did n't take long at all. Human nature, truly a terrifying thing, they craved what they did not have, their lust for money and power is endless. They abused their new found power as much as they could. The scientists were forced to develop enhancements drugs for people to use their superpowers to it 's max potential, countless banks and pharmacies were robbed every minute. Criminal organisations rose to power, vitamins became the new drug. The government officially banned the consumption of vitamins on xx-xx-xxxx. Did it work? Of course not. Large scale wars finally broke out, everyone expected it, yet it still came as a surprise. It was horrifying how quickly the world was changing. WW3 came, and you bet it was n't pretty, super powered humans caused more damage than chemical weapons, the Earth shook with violent tremors. What were they fighting for? No one remembered, or should I say, no one cared anymore. Years and years passed, it was a war that was never ending, the pride and grudge that built up was already too much for them to just stop. With every moment of this war, the end of humanity came closer, or should I say, it has already ended. They were n't humans anymore, the overdose of vitamins, the overuse of super powers, the excessive amounts of chemical, biological and nuclear weapons used. Most children were borne mutated to a horrendous degree, yet the war still went on. Finally, the Earth could take no more, it glowed and exploded loudly and violently, marking the end of humanity. & nbsp ; & nbsp ; & nbsp ; God signed and closed the simulation, `` I guess they 're still not responsible enough for this to be implemented, such a shame ... would 've been cool to watch '', he crossed off superpowers on his 'List of potential upgrades for humans' , scanned the next idea on the list and opened a new simulation.
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I stared across the park at the little girl. They were playing with Nerf guns, and they had even put on costumes. She was dressed like a cowgirl, with a tattered cape and a hat. She had joined with a bunch of other kids, and they were picking teams for a Nerf war. The little blonde girl was trying to twirl her gun, but she kept dropping it before it could spin all the way. `` How can you not remember her, man? '' The man next to me on the bench, my old friend Dakota, was watching me. `` I mean ... ten years, man. You 've had the girl for ten years. '' I looked at him, feeling nothing but confusion. `` **Who was her mother? ** '' He shrugged. `` You never said. I figured she was adopted. '' `` I do n't remember. The last ten years ... they just ai n't there. '' I looked back at the little girl. She was surrounded. She undid her cape and threw it in one boy 's face, drew her guns and took out half the circle before they even thought to fire. Then, she grabbed her cape and ran, laughing madly. `` She still loves you. '' Dakota said. I looked back at him, still confused. `` Eh? '' `` Even though you do n't remember her, she still loves you. For two years, she came to visit you in the hospital after school, and she begged the doctors constantly to bring you back. Those were her exact words, `` Bring him back. '' Like she got that while you were there, you were n't really there. '' I sat back and sighed. `` **She 's ... definitely turned out the way I would want my daughter to, but ... It 's just not there. Everything 's gone. ** '' `` That does n't mean you ca n't be her father. No one can stop you. She 's your little girl, man. She misses you more than anything in the world. '' He cranked the pump on a heavy, red Nerf rifle and handed it to me. `` Go show her that you 're back. '' I took the gun. I looked over at the fight. The girl was sitting down, her guns were empty, and a boy was pointing a shotgun at her. I raised the rifle and fired, a loud KCHUNK! punctuating the giant red dart that hit the kid square in the chest and landed beside the little girl. The boy looked stunned as he stumbled back and put on a dramatic death, but not as stunned as the girl, who stood up and turned to see who fired the shot. The sun was behind me, so my shadow was stretched over her. `` *Daddy? * '' she asked, squinting. `` **Hey baby. ** '' I said, and as I kneeled next to her, the little girl I 'd raised threw her arms around my neck. `` **It 's OK now. We 're together. ** '' `` **That 's all that matters. ** ''
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Do you know when the light leaves a person 's eyes? It 's not death, that would be too innocent, it 's when they start thinking of experiences as their lasts. She was dying, everyone knew that, and it would be coming soon. I had bought us dinner, hoping that it might lift her spirits, and sitting there in a room too sterile for it 's own good I watched her savor it, not the food itself, but the experience. I do n't know what last she considered it, but I remember the fading. I remember the storm, a warm, summer one, and how her tears after it was over seemed to be trying to make up for the ending, and how I 'd assisted them. A lot of people never get the chance to know what the last time they 'll see something is. Which is why the ones that do cry, they 're straining to keep their eyes open, to not blink, to make this time special, but, in the end, you can only cry so many tears.
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The tall bearded man dressed in withered robes and sandals preceeded to sit next to me. `` Uhhm, hello sir '', I was very confused on way this guy dressed in shambles would choose this spot over the several empty benches around us, `` can I help you at all? ''. `` Why yay, thou can helpeth me. You see, for I am God. I am the Almighty One that looketh over thee and all of thee around thou. I am also in quite of a dilemma. I need thou 's help '', as he said that he leaned in towards me. I was confused, as well as slightly terrified. I reached in my pocket for my Swiss Army Knife as he continued to come in closer and speak in his weird dialect, `` today is ye day that I make'st my decision ''. `` Uhm, okay ... '' `` Being thou mightiest man and the foreseer of Earth, I must decide whether or not I shall make Earth no more. You, kind olde gentleman, have to persuade me on what I shall do. Shall I let ye 's life continue on as well as the life 's of all thee others? Or shall I destroy it, and start anew? '' I withdrew my hand from my pocket, and started to walk away from my seat, `` I see, follow me Almighty One. '' He looked at me with the most quizzical look on his face but he soon stood on his feet, agreed, and began to follow me. `` Where'st thou taking me, ye olde lad? '' I did n't answer. Our destination was n't that far and we were less than a skip and a jot around the corner. He would see soon. Surely enough ... `` Okiedokee, we 're here '' `` What is'th thou place with thee neon cross that wields'th letters that spells ye word known as 'saves' ? '' `` Well, it 's a ministry for the homeless. Obviously you 're not doing well. You look like you 've been through hell and back and you sound like you banged your head on 30 anvils. This place will see it that you get back up on your feet. They 'll provide you with food, shelter, and medication until you are well again '' `` Thou lad, I do n't think ye -- '' `` Hey, do n't worry about it. Just get inside and get well soon. Nobody likes seeing there fellow man in need. Pass it on when you get a chance, alright? '' `` Well ... yes I guess'th so young lad ... I guess'th so '' I started to walk away and as I looked behind me I could see a faint smile plastered on his face. It was one of those smiles you see once in a great awhile. A smile of hope ... I 'm glad I could make his day.
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I jumped off the fire escape, landed, and then proceeded down the alley, as fast as I could, and escaped the Feds who shot at me from behind. I felt the musculature in my legs on fire. My lips spread into a smile. It had worked. The gene mutation worked and my legs had become strengthened, more than they could have ever before. -- -- -- I sat down and looked at my legs. They were beautiful. They trembled with minute musculature. I was in awe. As the thrill of that withered away, I looked at the gut hanging off the front of me, the sad chest, the pouches under the arms. I knew I could do it. I pulled out my laptop and flipped through my coding, looking and looking and looking for the gene for intestinal gut flora. I scoured through the strings of numbers and letters, my eyes, starting to grow watery from not blinking. *There* I found the codes. I reprogrammed them, pulled out the programming gun, and shot myself in the arm. I screamed, it still hurt like a fucking bitch. I started shaking. I had to breathe faster so the carbon dioxide would flush out. I laid back on the bed, taking the fastest, deepest breaths I could. As I did, I felt the air going out becoming thickened. I looked down and saw the stomach shrink away, the ribs on my sides begin to show just slightly. I fell back and smiled and breathed more and more and more. It was working. I would finally be beautiful. -- -- -- - Eleanor had a simple request : make me taller. I was n't sure I could do that. Then she pulled the knife on me and I sat down to work. She left and had to duck below the low door frame. -- -- -- To think that I would exchange genetic modification for sexual favors is something I would have never expected of myself. Yet, as I approached orgasm, and his head finished bobbing up and down my hard penis, I pulled out the gun and shot him in the arm. I watched as he fell backwards, writhing in pain. As my body quivered, I watched his skin change from pasty white to a dark, glossy black. His shoulders grew wide and his nose and lips widened and thickened. The hair on his head grew curly, kinky. I looked at him as I finished being excited that he would be free. 'Thank you, Evan. ' he said to me as he smiled, his alabaster teeth against his ebony skin. 'He 'll never find me now. ' Charles had been running away from an abusive father for years, forced to come home frequently due to threats against his sister. I was so happy he would never be found now. I was also happy that he was adventurous with his tongue.
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Minutes felt like hours as I waited for Dr. Kirk in his office. I was nervously fidgeting with my phone when I was startled by the opening of a door. `` Good afternoon Matthew, sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready to know your results? '' Without hesitation I told him yes. `` Well Matthew, according to our CT scan, the tumor in your body has spread to the cerebral cortex of your brain- specifically your prefrontal cortex. '' I took a few moments to let his words run through my mind. Part of me really did n't want to know what came next, but I asked anyways, `` so what are the implications of this diagnosis, doc? '' `` I 'm going to be very frank with you Matthew, this tumor will cause irreversible damage to your memory.. I 'm talking about a total reboot. In twenty four hours, all that you know today will be forgotten tomorrow. '' A wave of emotion swept over me. In hysterics I broke down in tears, sobbing loudly enough that the nurse from down the hall peeked her head in the door to check on us. The doctor continued to explain the ramifications of my cancer while I quietly wept to myself. The only thoughts that filled my mind were that of my wife and baby daughter. How was it fair that by tomorrow 's time I would wake up and be unable to recognize the faces of my two biggest sources of joy. I gathered myself enough to ask the doctor desperately, `` Is there anything I can do? '' `` Of course there are ways to minimize the effects, but there is not much we can do to reduce the magnitude of this damage. You will be given a single sheet of paper, on which you write down everything you deem necessary to help you piece your life back together. '' Enraged, I snapped back, `` A single sheet of paper? That 's all you can fucking give me? My life is essentially ending tomorrow, and all you have to offer me is a sheet of paper? Does my deductible not cover it? ! '' I knew Dr. Kirk must of had great sympathy for me when he did n't kick me out of his office. `` Matthew, after you experience complete memory loss, your brain will be in a state of fatigue. So much so that over saturating yourself with too much knowledge could erase your entire ability to remember, leaving you in a state of perpetual catatonia.. '' `` I have to leave doctor.. I do n't know what else to do right now. '' `` That 's fine Matthew, but I 'll need you back here in my office by 12:00 P.M. tomorrow. '' `` If I can remember, '' I said bitterly before leaving the room. I caught a cab back to my home, which I discovered to be unc
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Bar 's closed on Fridays. Most people ask why, but I know no one else would be able to handle what I see on a Friday night. You know, before this started happening, I considered myself a staunch atheist. No longer. Now I serve to the likes of Buddha, Zeus, and God. Now, let me tell you something. God? Most people fear her. Yes, her, and god is God smokin' . Six-foot-one with a pair of the most amazing legs I have ever seen on a woman, or deity in this case. Then again, I suppose that 's the way God made herself, is n't it? I wonder if she can change her gender and looks at will? That 's something else to think about. Right now, she needs her appletini mixed. `` You know, Dee, you 've said an awful lot about me over the years. '' `` Yes, yes, I know, God. But how was I to know you were a real thing? I kept trying to talk to you, but I never got an answer until you show up at my bar. I ran out of faith. '' `` Faith? Come now, Dee, you 're a Cubs fan. You should be all about faith. '' `` You know, I am still waiting for them to win it all, right? '' `` And I 'm still waiting for my appletini. Besides, have n't you ever seen Angels in the Outfield? 'Championships are won --' '' `` Yeah, yeah, 'Championships are won on their own. ' What movie line are you gon na quote next? 'Shaken, not stirred? ' '' `` I suppose you do know me better than some others, eh Dee? '' This happens on a weekly basis. Flirting with God. Some nights I want to try and get to know God a bit more. Then again, do n't we all? She can be very mysterious, that is for sure. I try not to think about it too much because, well, she 's God. She can read me like a paperback novel stashed away in a convenience store. But, she seems to like me and my company here at the bar. Maybe that 's just enough for her. You know what I have to say to that? Amen, baby. Amen.
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Their parents had always warned them not to go near that door. It was dangerous they said. Every time their parents warned them, Jack and Emily would ask them why they should n't go near the door but they would never reply further. As far as they could remember they had never once seen anyone open that door or go anywhere near it for that matter. As the years went on Jack and Emily grew up, and their parents grew older and sickly. Eventually their parents passed away and Jack and Emily were tasked with cleaning the house up and getting it ready to be put on the market. They took their time going through the house, reminiscing about all the fun they had together and with their parents in that house as they went from room to room clearing it out. It had taken nearly a week but they finally had most of the stuff cleared out of the house. The last area that was left was the basement. Even after all this time there was still something unsettling about that basement. They had always been really uncomfortable going down there ever since their parents had started warning them about the door. The basement still frightened them even though their parents were n't around to once again scare them with their warnings about the door and empty threats of what would happen if they were to open it. `` Hey Em, let 's go see what 's behind that door. '' Jack glanced at Emily, `` this might be the last chance we get to see what is behind it. To see what Mom and Dad were so afraid of ... '' `` Fine, let 's get it over with quickly though. '' Emily sighed, `` And if you try to pull any tricks on me I swear to God you will regret it. '' Jack laughed nervously and started down the dusty old stairs. As he descended he ran his finger along the top of the hand rail. He had never seen so much dust built up on something in his life. Nobody had been down into the basement in years. Jack honestly wondered if his parents actually had even remembered what they had stored in their basement. He turned his attention to the door. Somebody had boarded it up since the last time they were down there. `` Are you ready? '' Jack asked as they walked across the basement floor. Emily nodded. Jack pulled the planks off of
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She 's not evil, really. She 's just apathetic. So, what is she doing in hell? Oh, who is she kidding, with her, apathy goes hand in hand with sloth and a dash of ignorance, of course she would gone to hell. Funny thing is, she still ca n't bring herself to care. The fire under her feet hurts, but strangely did n't gives her any burn. `` Now, would I have to wait for someone or would I just burn in here for all eternity? Either that or I lost the note somewhere along the way. '' She would 've slept if not for the voice that came from behind her. `` This is the first time I saw someone falling asleep in here. Are you really the right girl? 'cause they said you are healthy and did n't have any history on narcolepsy. '' `` Health and normalcy did n't held hand coming with me. '' She said, ignoring the man 's demonic trait. Looking through horns, red eyes, and some scaled skin is no big deal for her. `` You 're gon na go to hell. '' The demon said. `` No shit, Sherlock. '' She said again with bored eyes. `` Now, what do I going to do when we reach the destination? '' `` Roasted in the heat of hell 's flame for all eternity. '' Red eyes are swirling with dark amusement as they looked at her. `` So, trapped in boredom and dullness for all eternity. Hell would be *hell*, definitely. '' She said exasperatedly ignoring the demon that caught off guard. `` Please tell me I can write something to pass eternity, at the very, very least. '' `` I could give you a dagger so you can write scars on your flesh. '' The demon said flashing a dagger to her. `` Oh really? Maybe I will use it when I got desperate enough to write. Think I will keep it for now, though. Thanks. '' She did n't think twice as she took the dagger and putting it in her pocket. Right at that moment a canoe that was their ride to hell came and as she sat, trying to sleep all the way to the inferno, the demon asked her a question. `` How did you ignores all humane instinct the moment you were here? '' It was the only question that left his mouth. It sums up most of it, so he waited for her answer. She smiled at him as she tried to find comfort in the little space they had without disturbing him or the paddler. `` I am dead. Do I have anything much to lose anymore? '' **Well yeah this is the best I can do. I sw
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There was a little girl. I saw her being born. I saw her go to kindergarten, and get her first skinned knee. I saw her bring home good grades, and bad grades. I hugged her each time the same, but talked to her differently. I saw her heart get broken by a boy, and another boy. I saw her go to college and meet the man she married. I saw her have her kids, and her grandchildren. I saw her career, how she helped people and nurtured them. Then they removed the ventilator, and I saw it all go away.
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It had never really been about spying ; not for him, at least. People did n't interest him in general, and their private lives even less so. It was only about the patterns. The beauty of the structure, cold and austere, simplified and abstracted to perfection. From a young age, he 'd favored intellectual pursuits β reading, chess, mathematics, computers. His teachers, when he had been in grade school, commented on it. His capacity for recognizing the signal in the noise, separating the unnecessary and useless from the meat of an idea. He pursued it, majoring in mathematics when he went to university, every year bringing him more and more pleasure as the ideas got more and more complex and beautiful. Out of school, as a young man, he 'd applied to a variety of positions. Data scientist, statistician, programmer. Eventually, he 'd been contacted by the Agency. They 'd seen his application, thought him just right for the job, and would he be interested in coming in and talking to someone? His initial reservations were dispelled as soon as he 'd gone in for the interview. Sitting in a room, with several other young men and women much like him, he tapped his foot, impatient to get done with it. A man in military dress had come in and said a few superflous words about national security, the American way of life, etc. etc. Then, he 'd handed each applicant a stapled sheaf of papers. The young man looked at them : 1. Determine, with proof, which of the following weighted graphs has a minimal cycle on 10 vertices. He smiled β childs play. He bent over the paper and began to write. The problems got harder and harder, and he was dismayed to discover he could n't finish the last handful. When he looked up, however, he realized he was the last in the room. Could be good or bad, he 'd thought. The military man from before was sitting in the corner, waiting for him to finish, watching him with what seemed like guarded interest. He stood and with a muttered apology for the unfinished problems, handed the man his sheaf. Of course, they wound up employing him β no one else had come even close to performing as well as him on the exam. He rose through the ranks quickly, his broad intelligence and capacity for picking apart delicate and complicated problems making him one of the Agency 's best assets. There were drawbacks, of course : he was n't allowed to talk about his work, sometimes even with colleagues ; the bureaucracy of the Agency was Byzantine and oppressive ; and he could n't be sure, but he thought that they might be watching him. He knew enough to know that he would n't recognize if they were, but on the whole it seemed likely. The world 's largest surveillance firm would in all likelihood keep a close eye
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She drew in a breath and laid her arm across my chest in the dark. I remember her warmth, her cheek against my shoulder. I remember drawing her closer, feeling her leg slip through mine and there we were, wrapped up and falling into one another, formless, at peace in the void. I tried to make out the ceiling through the black. I wondered if I could wound her so deeply that she would become someone new. `` Tell me this is the best you 've ever had it. '' Little black whispers. `` Mmmm. '' `` Say it. '' `` It 's about to be, '' she said, and slithered onto me again. Some time later I watched her dozing for a while, and in the front of my mind I could almost feel my body become taut, see myself moving like an animal, feel her struggle under my weight once she came to and saw my face hovering just above her, now twisted, alien, warped by my intent. I let her sleep. Every moment with her was like wandering through a fog, reaching out, trying to grab hold of the part of me that could still breathe. I dreamed through every night of it, months of it, and in that permanent mist the earth is thick with worms. I can hear them pop underneath my feet. When I reach out, I can see them writhing beneath my skin. When I scream there is no sound and they are slick and hot when they burst out of my eyes. She liked to wake up to a kiss on the forehead. She wanted me to slide up behind her, wrap my arms around her tummy, hold my cheek against hers before she left - a million sinister little ways to feed the fantasy. I watched her deflate like a balloon, slowly, each caress opening her up a little bit more until there was nothing left but to snatch the pearl from within her, make her need me, make her realize it. Drink me up, tell yourself that feeling in your gut is some comforting warmth you know you 've always wanted. Lie. Lie so I can hurt you.
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A light, silver chain rattles as she pulls at its length, adjusting the line over her shoulder and doubling it once over. The metal links clink against the sand and stone as it hauls along her gifts. The snakelike patterns of the chains on the beach wipe away the memory of her footprints as the moon illuminates the scene. Gwendolyn stares up at the emptying skies, ignoring this melancholy melody of her own design. Her eyes have long since dried, though she feels the weight of her words with each pressing step. She did n't think that he would take it that way, it was never her intention. If she could give it all back, she would. Gwen had tried, several nights, to give back these stolen possessions, but she was unable to. He had said that he would give her the moon, the stars, and the whole of the night sky for just one kiss. One more night that they could spend gazing into each other 's eyes. She had smiled. They embraced and shared the company of one another for one final night. He was gone by morning. Several years had passed before the young man returned as a decorated soldier of his king 's army. He came to her window in the dead of night with a chain hoisted over his shoulder and the moon in tow. She was dumbfounded, flattered, embarrassed, and then appalled at the man 's gift. He watched her emotions as the shifted across her face, his own smile slowly fading. The captain looked down at his luminous gift and thought back to the promise he had made. Gwen asked him to take the moon back, she had no need for it. Thinking that his present had not been enough for his love, he set out to capture the stars. She carried the moon to the highest hill in the land and tried to throw it back into the skies. It plummeted and rolled for a time until it came to rest by a lakeside. Gwendolyn tried again and again until she could try no more. She fell to her knees crying as the light beamed softly around her. The next day and several nights thereafter, the commonality complained of the missing moon. Some spewed vitriol while others lamented the loss, their weeping and gnashing of teeth was too much for her heart to bear. Within a week, her chain had grown several feet with the addition of many bright and shining stars. Gwen saw less and less of her lover as the glittering lengths became brighter. She took the chain into her hands and marched throughout the kingdom such that everyone could enjoy the moon again if only for a moment. Her journey soon took her beyond the walls of the city and into foreign territories where they too missed the moon. She saw it as her duty to bring them the same gift she had been given, one that they had once all shared. Tirelessly, she traveled from one end of the Earth to the next and back again until her love was but a fading memory, like her footprints in the sand. -324
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The immortal man woke up on a dreary Monday morning dreading the week ahead. It had been a tough weekend already, and he 'd had to meet with several patients who lived quite far away. He sighed as he got up, and looked over at his wife with tired eyes. He envied her, not having to work all day, just having to look after Luci and the dog. It was early too, 6 am, but his beeper had gone off and it meant he had to move fairly quickly. He went downstairs and made himself an omelet for breakfast, gulping down about three cups of strong black coffee. He could n't wait till he was old enough to retire. He 'd being doing this job for 1000 's of years. The funny thing was, he still could n't remember how it all happened. He 'd died, and then all of a sudden he was back alive again. The only real distinctive change was his paler complexion and skinny frame, other than that he 'd stayed the same. He finished his omelet quickly enough and downed his fourth coffee of the morning. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day, Mondays always were. As he hopped in the shower he thought about all the stupid things people do over the weekend and how maybe if they were a little more careful they would n't end up in the hospital. It was always some sort of drunken escapade too. He hopped out of the shower and quickly got dressed in his white clothes and scrubs. He remembered back centuries ago when he would have to wear a funny mask and robes. He was glad things had improved in the medical field over the past few hundred years. It was n't so stressful or hectic anymore. The beeper buzzed again, this time it was a red alert. Some poor bastards probably been shot, he thought. He dashed into the bathroom again, quickly brushed his teeth and washed his skull. As the last splash of water hit his face he looked up into the mirror at his skeleton frame. `` Well death, looks like it 's another day at the office. ''
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The year is 1817. The Empire of Ryukyu has spread across the world, coming from the three mountains of the home islands, beginning down the warpath in 1444 CE. The Conquest was finally complete. There was only one province remaining in the entire world under the rule of another country. That one province, with their Mayor, was the only thing standing between them and World Domination. However, it had been like this for 83 years. There was one attempt to take the province, in the year 1768. The siege had lasted for 10 years before the Ryukyuan Armies had just packed up and gone home, after receiving money from them. For some reason no one could understand, the city seemed to be invincible to Conquest. It is the last bastion of Western Culture, Art, and Science. It is the city state of Ulm.
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Oh, god damn. I forgot. How? How the *fuck* could I forget such an important time of year? Shit! Well, I guess I need to explain the outburst I just had. Firstly, I apologise for that. it was n't proper and I was n't raised that way. Now as for the explanation, you see, the next eighty-two days will be a matter of life-saving hermitism. The sun will come out tomorrow morning, but the catch is that it wo n't set tomorrow night, or any night, for that matter, until the aforementioned eighty-two days have passed. Now, normally, this would n't be an issue besides breaking out the thick curtains, but I 'm what you might call a vampire. Shit like this will cook my skin, no questions asked. Usually at this time, I 'd be already somewhere nice, like Florida or Utah, with nice, regular dark hours on my yearly vacation. But somehow, at some point, I fucking forgot. Sorry, again, I realise that was n't proper. Now, where was I? Ah! Right. I 'm fatally allergic to sunlight. The issue is that I 've not stocked up this year, either, so I figure my next move is going to be to order a surplus of anything I need online from one of the big chains dealing in bulk. But with all this preparation, all this planning to be done, and with who you are, or rather, what you *aren't*, I must stop to ask myself one simple question. Why the hell am I still talking to my food supply?
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Visiting campus as alumni was a nostalgic trip. Only a year ago I had been roaming campus, chasing girls, and pulling all-nighters with my brothers. I grinned at a crushed bud-light can on the side walk as I made my way towards the greek houses. Last year I was president of Alpha Kappa Lambda Fraternity. Everyone on campus knew who I was. We threw the best parties, had our formals with the hottest sorority, and did the most community service out of all the frats. The university could n't even hate us because we did so much for the campus and our alumni always racked in tons of donations. They were the ones who saved our asses during the university committee hearings. When I walked into the house, everything looked different. Our graduation bonfire party had burned the couch in the main living room, and it had been replaced by a nicer, leather sofa. Sitting on it was the new president, Ryan Bontley, with his arm around Jessica Meher. I grinned remembering how I had tried to get with her after almost ever party my senior year and failed miserably. She had only been a sophomore, but I could n't get over how flawless her features were. A wave of jealousy rolled over me, in complete disbelief that Ryan had been able to get her. But then I remembered what I had dragged Ryan 's pledge class through. Before they were gods, they had cowered at my feet. We hazed that pledge class the worse of any pledge class this decade. But boy did they need it, they were so sloppy, and had no pride or respect for anyone in the frat. I remember one time we were on a community service trip cleaning up a park. Ryan had been so hungover he refused to do any work so I picked him up and tossed him into the compost pile. He got it all in his mouth and was still scrubbing the dirt out from behind his ears days later. I remember making them run a mile and chug a beer with every lap. I remember making Ryan buy and bring me a pack of cigarettes at 3am the night before he had an exam. I remember the allegations. After someone got alcohol poisoning at a pledge meeting. The committee meetings, the chapter representative meetings, the meeting with the president of the university. It had been our mess, but we had cleaned it up to clear our names and become the best frat on campus. `` Kyle! Glad you 're back my man! You remember Jess, right? '' Ryan said with the smuggest grin on his face. They had invited my graduating class back for the weekend, and we had decided we would have a little fun with our little brothers one last time. `` Ryan, how have you been? Of course I remember Jess, lookin good as ever sweetheart, '' I said grinning at the happy couple and the thought of how much havoc we were going to cause tonight. In my bag I had brought fireworks and smoke bombs. My class had proved that we could clean up a mess, now it was their turn.
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The hill was steep and blanketed with wet leaves. I tried my best to dig my boots into the soil but more often than not, my foot would just sink. After a several minutes of little progress, I finally found a solid footing and was able to make it to the top of the ridge. I placed my pack against a nearby tree to keep it from sliding down the hill and peered over the crest to see what awaited me on the other side. I soon realized I was on the edge of a valley ; the drop on the opposite side of the hill was about 200 ft at about a 45 degree slant. Within the valley, I could see mostly trees and shrubs with a single paved road winding throughout ; no structures, no apparent water sources. I needed to get to the other side of the opposite ridge in order to reach this *safe zone* I kept hearing about. To be honest, it sounded like a trap ; everyone accepted, food, water, hot showers, warm beds ; too good to be true. I could follow the hill around to the other side, but walking along the ridge was too risky, and traversing the hillside would be too difficult with as much rain as we 'd had over the past several days. The easiest option I had was to cut through the valley, follow the paved road out, and hug the outer hill on the other side. After that, the safe zone should be visible. Once it got a little darker I would make my move. Navigating down a broad hillside while it 's still light out opened me up to a whole host of problems ; wolves were the biggest issue, then there 's the roving groups of marauders, shadow soldiers, and even other survivors like me. I huddled up to my pack, tucked my pistol into my coat, and set my watch to vibrate in 1 hour. Then it was time to move. When my watch started buzzing, I felt like I had been asleep for a week. I needed that. By now the sun had mostly set behind the gray clouds and the sky was starting to take
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Before Superman could fly, he could leap buildings in a single bound. The stories had always fascinated him. How would it be to be a child of another world? But he knew that Superman could never be. The super strength, the freeze breath, the heat vision. Physics would never allow it. But there was one thing that physics WOULD allow. Looking at the planet glistening before him, he realised he soon would be the child of another world. He tested the thrusters on his extravehicular suit to make sure they would get him back to his vehicle. The future excited him. Gravity would n't bring him back to his craft. He disengaged the magnets on his boots that held him to the spaceship, he took a deep breath - even if the open air was currently not a luxury afforded to him. He too could now clear buildings in a single bound. And so the man jumped - ever grateful to the young boy who had climbed the cherry tree.
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He had a name, but sacrificed it at the first level of his training. Hunted and haunted by the events that killed his father, the swordsman strove to perfect his craft and wear the title master in every fiber of his being. He set the task to perfect his skill in order to defeat the swordsman who murdered his family. He arrived too late. The service completed, the swordsman watched as his target was lowered into the ground. Fifteen years he strove for this moment. He was a small child, skilled in whining and complaining when he vowed vengeance. The scars on his body depicted his dedication. Each missed block, each nick, cut away portions of his innocence. Each slash emptied his soul of kindness, hardened his mind and body for the task to come. The rage he felt for being denied his justice boiled over, scalding his mind of sense or propriety. He moved swiftly through the tombstones, sliding through the family members like the wind, slashing with the barest minimum of effort, until silence reigned over the funeral. Not a living soul remained standing. Blood dripped into the grave, over the coffin of the deceased swordsman. Sense slowly returned to the master swordsman who looked upon his work of vengeance with horror. *What has become of me? * he wondered. Hastily, he departed. A small child pushed the corpse of his mother to the side. He rose, bloodied, and stared hard at the swordsman who slaughtered his family. He looked for recognizable marks. He would hunt this man for what he 'd done.
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''Stay a while and listen! '' I proudly proclaimed, eager to share my knowledge with the young necromancer. He did nothing of the sort, instead leveraging my rescue from Tristram by forcing me to identify his copious arsenal of ramshackle weapons and armor. The deed accomplished, he ran off to exchange his loot for gold, without a second glance at me, and disappeared into a town portal. This was 2 years ago, and ever since, I can only stand here, by this infinite campfire, shuffling among small routes planned for me, unbending to my volition. Every month or so I glance at my closest friend Warriv, only to see his empty stare, the great adventurer and sea captain reduced to a mere spectre. It has been many, many moons since he brought an adventurer to the desert town of Lut Gholein, battling the high seas, raging storms, and furious winds. An arrival! Alas, it is only the soulless chanting ones, endlessly proclaiming their purpose and stating their business, hollow men and women endlessly advertising their mercantile ways. To whom? To what purpose? We have no gold. We can not escape this place. Yet still they return in droves, their pallid faces stark against the black of night, to chant their wares into the abyss. Some days I doubt they are alive. I am Deckard Cain, and my purpose here is finished. Yet I remain.
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Jon was tired of this work. The only reason he did it was to blow the research money of the university he lived off of now. It had been almost 22 years since he had graduated college with his masters degree and took up this job at the university. He was promised grants and pay beyond other universities and he had accepted right away. Why would n't he? He did n't care what the research was at first, he had loans to pay off, and after that, the pay was more than enough for comfy living. But now what was he left with.. This piss poor excuse for `` research. '' When he took on the job he was hired by some eccentric old coot who passed as a doctorate holder, and therefore not only his employer, but his superior. He hated the man. It took him 3 hours of talking and conversing to finally tell Jon what the damned research was about. And even then he spoke in what seemed like riddles. `` What is a man without a soul? '' He said `` What do you mean, a soul is nothing, just some crap that hippies make up to explain what they do n't know '' Jon had replied. `` Ah then you know just as little as them. '' The coot replied, `` I have found a way to determine if humans really do have souls. All I need is someone to help test it, and to make the adjustments needed. '' Jon could n't believe this passed as science. He knew he would grow tired of the old mans eccentricities and `` soul searching '' as he too often called it to be funny. The money was too good to pass up though, so in the end Jon signed a contract to stay with the program as long as the research showed promise. It turned out to be the most boring thing ever. Jon would sit in a mechanical chamber, the outside of which was covered in lights and gauges, while the old man pressed away at buttons and made notes on a notepad. The old man insisted that the technology worked, but that every person was different and the machine needed to be adjusted to `` detect the persons soul. '' He was glad when the old man died last year. He thought he was finally rid of the contract that he was bound by. Then as fate would have it he was called to the local court house the week after the old mans death. His heart sank as he learned the final wish of the old man was that the program continued until the allotted funds had been exhausted. Jon figured it would n't be lasting long. He more hoped it than anything. He hated it, he was bored by it, but more than anything, he did n't understand it. He could n't understand why so many people held on to this hope of a `` soul '' inside people. As if that would make them so much better. So the program continued. Over the months Jon grew more bitter, to the point where he would just sit in the lab and drink or play games, all the while ignoring the old mans machine. All these years he had seen the inside of that machine more than any other person. In truth, the old man insisted that once the research start, that Jon w
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As the howling wind grew stronger, and the sun more forceful, the wind suddenly shifted without a worry or care of it 's actions or consequences. `` I could never be like that. '' He sighed. `` Roaming carelessly through and over, completely void of thought, reason and conscience. I 'm content of my choice. '' He explained. `` Despite the fact that I 'm here at the end of reason. '' `` You ca n't do it alone '' She said, sounding worried. `` The toll of it alone would break anyone. And the weight of it would be too much to bear. Even for you. Please, just ask him for his help. '' She pleaded. `` The end of children is not something to be taken lightly, and he himself will be left mourning for eons. '' `` How can he mourn for what is essentially his own doing? He was all but oblivious to what would happen when he decided to give them free roam and will. '' He sneered while banging his scythe to the floor. `` How could there be good children without there first being good and bad? How would anyone be good unless they choose to be good for themselves? '' She asked, as she had done countless times before. This was all but the first time they 've had this discussion. In fact he had asked himself these questions for every life he took, for every horrible pointless car accident and for every innocent death row inmate. `` Maybe I should n't have agreed to this duty, maybe it was a mistake. He would be better served with one without love for the children. '' He sighed. `` He chose exactly the right one, an immortal who have experienced mortality and human nature at it 's worst, and at it 's best. An immortal with true compassion and empathy. Who else could help transition them from this world to the world beyond? Who else would greet ever single child with tears and unending empathy? '' She asked while placing her hand on his shoulder. `` What good was any of it, if it should have such a gruesome and decisive end? Who are we to dictate the faith of anything, and stand powerless beside our own children at the brink of their destruction? Who are we to make that call? '' The words spoken out loud sounded harshe
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`` James, do n't forget your jacket! '' Shouted my mother as the school bus pulled towards the curb, and she ran forward to smooth down my hair with a comb. I stopped in front of the mirror on my way out, making sure my collar was straight, my pants were wrinkle free, and my face clean. Usually, like the typical sixth grader I did not care much for my appearance. But today was different. Today, was picture day. And I had to be ready for the camera. I still remember my older brother 's picture day, when he came home with his yearbook clasped tightly between his palms, and opened it to show our parents the shining star above his name. Few were as bright as his- maybe a few future doctors, politicians, and athletic stars. By that night he 'd received three differenet acceptance letters to prestigious colleges, and four scholarships. Of course, my parents were proud. But now I had to follow his footsteps. So I 'd prepared the entire year. The camera was a reflection of an individual 's future worth to society, and I prepared by strengthening my own worth. I thought of ways to improve life for those less fortunate, ways to help the bleaker pictures prosper. And I wondered why some of these things had not been done before- why we put so much trust in the picture system, why no one would buy my uncle andy 's painted pictures despite their beauty because his picture had not been bright, and why my mothers sister was still unmarried because no man wanted to be paired with a `` neutral image ''. So by the time I sat in front of the camera, I had it all figured out. The way I would better society, that I would give those with a negative picture a second ch
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I stumbled into the convenience store, already drunk though it was Tuesday at 10 a.m. My shopping list was short : just vodka and a plastic bag. I walked to the back of the store, hoping I did n't look ( or smell ) like I 'm already drunk. The vodka bottles gleamed at me from the shelf, and it felt like I was saying goodbye to old friends. If all went well, I would never see those bottles again. I set one down on the counter, mentally saying goodbye to the short, dyed-blonde cashier, who reeked of cigarette smoke. I held my breath, hoping she could n't smell the whiskey on my breath over her own personal scent. She rang me up, and I practically threw my cash at her. She handed the bottle back to me. `` Uh, can I have a bag? '' I asked, trying to keep my mouth pointed away from her. She stared at me like she was as dead inside as I was and pulled out a bag. A paper bag. My heart sank. I could n't suffocate myself with a paper bag. How else was I going to kill myself? Damn green movement. I gave her a weak smile and took the bag from her. It was like the universe was laughing at me. I had especially picked this way to go, but it was feeling more and more impossible. Maybe I should just buy a gun ... Suddenly, there *was* a gun, right in my face. While I had been plucking up the courage to return to the cheap one-bedroom I 'd been staying in since Stacy dumped me, two men with ski masks had barged into the store. One pointed his gun at the cashier, whose eyes were now wide with fear. The other gun, much to my surprise, was pointed at me. And I felt nothing but a slight feeling of relief. `` You, get on the ground, '' ordered the criminal closest to me. `` And you, '' he gestured to the cashier, `` put all the money in one of those bags and give it to me. '' `` They, they do n't have plastic, '' I said, not entirely sure why I was speaking. Everyone in the store looked at me. `` Just paper. '' I held up my paper bag. `` See? '' The gun pressed against my temple, and I felt weak in the knees with a feeling of euphoria I had n't felt in months. `` Get. On. The. Ground, '' the man repeated, voice gruffer than before. I suddenly realized that this was the universe finally looking out for me -- finally saving me, finally killing me. I looked at the cashier, who was back to frantically shoving cash in one o
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History books about the subject are really really interesting. Most if not all religions said that the beautiful moon was heaven, and the sun was hell. Around the middle ages, however, the hell idea was dropped. Then people began saying that hell was below us, and well, religions today still carry that idea. The Greeks. The Romans. Everyone focused on the moon as either heaven or another world. When the first telescopes came about, we pointed them up and saw rivers and forests about, but mostly what we saw was ocean. Of course, in the present day, we know that the side of the moon that faces the earth has lots of seas, but the other side is mostly all land. Not too many centuries ago scientists began proposing that life originated from space rather than earth or the moon. This could explain a lot, since both the Earth and the moon are similarly aged. However, some still argue that an asteroid impact ( like the one that wiped out the dinosaurs, but way earlier. ) could have sent debris to the moon, with life. Then the space program in the 20th century. Everyone and their mother was focused on getting to the moon first. Almost every major country around the 1940s were focused on space programs. The programs benefited greatly when the Nazi party fell, as they 'd done a lot of research on space programs themselves, but kept secret from the rest of the world. It still took a long time, but we put two men on the moon in the 1960s. `` One small step for man, one giant leap for Mankind. '' These words echoed through our planet as people looked at their televisions, listened to radio, watched the moon. The astronauts stayed for a month- We 'd planned for that. The atmosphere was mostly like ours. There was less nitrogen and way way way more Oxygen, though. This much oxygen is bad for humans in the long run, but a small oxygen regulator could allow us to breathe normally. These days, it 's a chip installed in the 'air pipe' of the throat, but back then there used to be hefty helmets. The 'plants' are very much like ours but quite different in some aspects. The fact that plants are green and similar to our own added some ground to the 'life went from Earth to the Moon or vice versa' theory, but the plants on the Moon were quite different. I ca n't really explain how they were different, I 'm not a botanist nor did I take a class on any kind of plant, even Earth ones. They have green leaves, blue trunks, and for small ones, blue stems. The grass is green-blue as well. The animals were complicated like us, very different however. No intelligent species, animals is the best way to describe them. A lot of animals are Reptillian and Insect-ish.
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β You can β t do this! β Charlie shouts at Arthur as he slams a file folder on his coworker β s desk. Arthur smiles, β You can β t be that mad Chuck. It β s just business. β Charlie shakes his head, β But it β s not! You β re inserting advertisements in people β s dreams. This is the only escape some people have from their horrible lives and you β re filling it with Gatorade ads! β Arthur with a smug smile grabs the file folder but refuses to open it ; Charlie knew he was probably going to destroy the evidence within and was happy he made copies. Charlie sighs and Arthur motions to their bosses β office, β If you really have a problem, why don β t you take it up with the big guy? β Charlie looks to the door but shakes his head quietly ; they both knew that it would never end well if he did that. Whether Charlie liked it or not, the CEO β s loved it and believed it was the way of the future. Charlie buries his face in his hands, β But Arthur, Suicide rates are spiking ; people need a break. It β s just not right to implant an ad for Red Lobster in the mind of a homeless man who is dying of hunger. β Arthur puts a hand on Charlie β s shoulder, β We do so much more than that Chuck! Come on give us some credit. We give that man his family back. We give him a big house and all his dreams. Is it wrong for us to use a few measly minutes to thank our sponsors? β Charlie looks up in disgust, β When was the last time that you dreamt Arthur? When? β Arthur rolls his eyes but Charlie persists, β Arthur, tell me! Have you ever remembered the entire plot of a dream? Every second of it? Because I haven β t- I only remember a few seconds. Let β s say I lose my house today, my family, everything. Then I sleep just so I can escape my reality and the only thing that I remember from it is β Drink Gatorade! β But wait, I don β t have money to buy it, I don β t have a place to store it, Hell I don β t even have a family to share it with! Why not jump off a freakin β bridge? ! β Arthur ruffles Charlie β s hair and replies, β You β re being overdramatic. You need to relax. Why don β t you go to the sleep room for a few hours? β Charlie shakes his head saying he β ll go back to work
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I hang up the phone. The police confirmed with me that Kevin had committed suicide last night. They attributed it to the supposed β Great Awakening β, which has been an inadvertent side effect of the United Nations recently banning the dissemination of religious materials after they had found that there is no afterlife of any sorts. They just announced the results a few years ago β people from all faiths and of no faith voluntarily took the risk to trek into the afterlife, just to see if there was anything beyond. It took a lot of sacrifice, plenty of permanent death caused by the ceasing of brain activity. But finally, we found a way to bring people back from brain death. However, that wasn β t as good of a thing as it might seem. We put people under to the point where they stopped functioning, but still registered brain activity. Upon revival, the faithful reported various forms of β afterlife β. The faithless ; the abyss. When we did the first rounds of testing of revival from brain death, everybody reported nothing. Everyone was in doubt, and the UN immediately ordered another round of testing on different individuals with different scientists under the same conditions. Nothing. We had discovered that there is absolutely nothing after this life. Psychologists call it the β Great Awakening β, because it β s when our brains finally resolve the cognitive dissonance and accepts the fact that there β s nothing beyond, and shuts down in despair. It happened to Kevin. It happened to my parents. It happened to my teachers, and most of my friends. I don β t think it β ll happen to me, though. I still think there -- The phone rings again. My girlfriend has committed suicide. I hang up the phone, and walk to my room. I look at our bed, knowing that I β ll never see her again. Ever. I walk out to the garage, and climb in the car. I turn the key.
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I am such a fucking cliche. A serial killer who loves listening to classical music while driving to the home of his next victim. I promise you it 's not to fit in. It 's not as if I attend a some serial killer college, where everyone feels pressured to keep their dorm spotless and wear bow ties to bed. I just really enjoy listening to classical music. It 's calming, you know? The music they play on the radio nowadays is n't soothing. I have to be in a certain zone to murder innocent people for fun, and I ca n't enter that zone while some rapper tells me 30 different ways to disrespect my girlfriend. Speaking of slaughtering people for fun, I should probably warn you that I am about to enter the home of Charlie Redtop. The lummox who sold me the 2014 Transit Connect I am driving in now. Highly recommended for the serial killer in your life, by the way. Anyway, this fucking idiot had to be the most accident-prone person I have ever met. He dropped his pen at least ten times, hit one of his managers in the face with a car door and locked himself inside their storage room. This all happening in the span of two hours. I think it was his nerves. He knew he completely fucked me over with this deal. Payments of $ 450 a month? Are you kidding me, Charlie? My credit score is 727. I knew I was getting fucked. I could have walked out, drove down to the next car dealership and found something better. But as this bumbling moron tried to convince me how amazing this deal was, I decided to bend over and take it all in. Why? Because I am about to fuck him over, and I am going to get so much joy ending Mr. Redtop 's life. You see, I can always refinance, but Charlie Redtop? This shitty deal is going to end his life. Honestly, as I sit in front of his house, I am starting to believe I am doing this man a favor. His house looks like it would n't be able to withstand a few huffs and puffs from the big bad wolf. I was prepared to face a challenge breaking into his home, but I can already tell this is going to be one of my easiest kills, ever. I decide to enter through the back door. It 's locked, but the house is so fragile that all I have to do is firmly press my shoulder against the door and it pops open. It 's dark inside, which is not surprising considering it 's almost midnight. He 's probably been asleep for hours now. Getting his precious sleep just so he can stay awake long enough during the day to fuck someone else over at the dealership. Every step I take inside this fucking home is accompanied by the groaning of the wooden floors. The place is fairly small, so I am pretty sure the noise is reaching every corner of the house. `` Dad? Is that you? '' A shaky voice asks me from the darkness. Ah, you have got to be
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Peter Parker became Spider-Man after being bitten by a radioactive spider. I became Spider-Man after being bitten by a radioactive Peter Parker. So this is where we back up and talk about my origin story. Doctor Octopus was doing his octopussy thing one evening, holding a dozen or so college kids hostage in some underground lab or another, intending to inject them with some kind of crazy mind-control-mutant-thing. He 'd caught the lot of jocks during a football practice ; I was just cutting through the field on the way to the organic chemistry lecture hall. He picked them because they were strong and suitable for conversion, and knocked them out with some kind of tranquilizer dart. Me and my nerdy ass got picked up because he had eight legs and I fainted on the spot. I have arachnophobia. So there I was, listening to him rant about how he was going to win this time, *definitely*, when as usual, Spider-Man shows up and does his thing. Long story short, we 're all freed. It does n't take long for the other guys to run off. Meanwhile, I was cowering in the corner, because holy shit, *Spider*-Man. He looked at me, and somehow the white eyepatch things on his facemask conveyed an eyeroll. He stood there for a moment, contemplating something. Then he walked over, took his mask off, grabbed my wrist, and bit me. `` Ow! What the fuck? ! '' The confusion was so great it overrode my fear. He stood up, shuffled his feet, and looked at all the corners of the room, rubbing the back of his head. `` Sorry? '' `` Sorry? What the fuck, man? Why did you just - `` I was interrupted by him suddenly punching the wall. The wall won. `` Agh! '' He cupped his other hand around the injured one, then laughed. `` It ... It worked! '' I asked why with my eyes, because my mouth was n't changing from its O configuration. `` Sorry, it 's just, you know, my wife is pregnant with triplets, and I do n't have time to do this dangerous stuff any more. I figured I 'd pass the power on, and, well, if I got it from a bite, I figured, you know ... '' he rambled, clearly too excited to care if he made sense. `` Excuse me? '' `` You 're the Spider-Man now. '' `` ... *What. * '' He shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my hands. Unfurling it, I read the chemical reactions and mechanical diagrams. It was the designs for a microfluidic device to spin spidroin, the spider silk protein. On the bottom corner was a phone number. `` You 're gon na need that. I 've got ta run - I already late for the lamaze class. Have fun! '' He disappeared down the tunnel. Suddenly, I felt the sensation of something creeping up the back of my head. It was like a large spider, clamping down on my skull. I yelped in pain, having no idea what was going on. I stumbled my way back to the dorm, and passed out in my room. The tingly headache persisted for days. I called the nu
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Walking around I realize how out of my depth I was. I was cellophane, some might even ask what my name was. They might, but they never would. Nobody cares for a cellophane man. They only remember you when you 're needed to wrap something up, because why not? You 're disposable at all times. Just go out and buy a new one. That 's life, and if you ca n't adjust, fuck you. The party was fun. At least it seemed like it. I was n't talking to anybody, and if I did I do n't know what I would say. What could I say? I was too transparent when I spoke, so I never did. Being trapped in a bubble was never fun, especially when it popped. And it would, it was only a matter of how. Was I the problem? Could I ever beββShe 's kind of cute. She probably think 's I 'm creep. Better look away. `` Mom, I need to go home. '' I hung up. A feeling of revulsion began to swell inside of me. My stomach threw itself inside of me. Began to travel up my esophagus, I tried to hold it down. The girl saw me and asked if I was okay. I threw up on her shoes. Ha. HAHA. Must be a sick fucking joke. The Bubble popped, and it was my own fault. `` Are you okay? '' She did n't seem that disgusted. Did n't seem to care. I just nodded. Smiling she took me to the bathroom and began to pick up my mess. Why? I did n't have a clue, but maybe not everybody was as bad as I thought.
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Thank you Fred for being my faithful servant on earth. You are one of the few who stayed true to my word. You will now take the spot that has been unfilled since Lucifer rebelled. You have shown a devotion to follow me regardless of the reason. Something the devil refused to do. Which is why I had him banished. I now call on you for a most important task. You must ensure that the following people get raped today, these people need to die of starvation today, and ensure that the murders on this list get carried out. I am going to relax and ensure that Lebron wins this season as he has prayed more than the other guy ... ... ... Welcome aboard.
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So two men walk into a bar, one orders a high-ball, the other ... No, no. A rabbi, a priest, and something else generic. Somewhere in the distance an audience lets out a roaring laughter in one voice, it recedes like a wave shortly after, dispersing in the debris of the few awkward remaining shouts that always conjure up images of the morbidly obese, their heads caulked back, swept up in the moment and unable to return, entirely unaware too that they had suddenly become individuals. A sort of quiet celebrity, noticed by all, and remembered by none. He felt his back snap back into the chair, surprisingly comfortable, not very ceremonious though. Someone faceless was moving around him pulling leather tight against his skin, he did n't know why, but it was part of some ceremony at least, brief and rushed as it was. He was just out in the hallway though, he could remember the smell of moldy cement, reminded him to think of fried eggs and mashed potatoes. He did n't know why, he was n't hungry. The memory of desire, he was prodding around his own mind, somewhere, inexplicably, thinking that it was really important to decide what he wanted at that moment. There were people watching him behind glass. Time moves on without your consent. A man stood in front of him just then, looking down. He seemed to be seven feet tall, he had soft features and a thin face, with a distinguished nose jutting out of it to what seemed to be a perfect point. He looked like a doctor. Maybe that was n't so astute, he probably was. They probably needed a doctor in there and the man had put it together before he even looked up at him. `` Do you have any last words? '' The doctor squinted his eyes as he asked, his mouth lingered a bit on the last word. Something compassionate, probably. This was compassion. The man could n't hear himself speak, but he said something in the negative, so that was taken care of. Steps in the process, he figured. He had n't noticed the two thin tubes trailing out of him though, not until then. Everything he noticed was a second lost, comprehension was several more, and he became angry he was eating up his own time. Time is the most valuable, after all. He was supposed to remember something, but what was it? He should 've found out what was important, a last thought, but he would n't remember this either. He could keep thinking, could keep thinking that he would keep thinking anyway. Time moves on without your consent, but the world
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`` WHAT? ! THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THAT KID? ! I 'M NOT A FUCKING CLOWN YOU SUMMON JUST LIKE THAT! '' `` The rules are the rules, sir. You have to go to court and be Mr ... '' a pause as he looked at the list in his hand, `` Buckland, Mr Andrew Buckland. End of the story Lucifer. '' He readjusted his small glasses on nose, nodded once again to make sure he had been understood, and left, walking almost like a penguin, hi little round buddy keeping up. `` Jesus fucking christ ... '' how did a mortal dare summon him, Lucifer, Satan, The Demon, as his death attourney, why not summon death itself while he 's at it!
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John swallowed the last of the scotch in his glass. The alcohol still burned his mouth but he embraced it loudly smacking his lips. The phone began ringing for what felt like the one-hundredth time that day. John could not hold his frustrations in any longer. `` Fuck off, '' John spat at the phone before he sighed and picked it up anyway. `` What now? '' `` Mr. President, the polls are in. Everyone thinks you are the most honest politician since Abe himself! In this day an age they want someone who is n't afraid to tell it like it *really* is. '' John could n't bring himself to respond. He just hung up the phone. If this were true he would soon become president for a second term. It was nothing like he 'd anticipated. In the first few months of his administration the world 's economy crashed and the chaos that followed was still settling. The world was in a state of rebuild and he just did n't know how to be president in this new world. It was his dream to stop the growing middle class and the evergrowing distance between lower and upper class worlds. But the crash took care of that. After months of rioting and looting the strong and cunning had made their way to the top of this new world structure. The world felt more and less corrupt at the same time. It was mafia rule - but at least everyone knew it. John barely slept an hour each night, the stress was killing him. No one blamed him for what happened, surprisingly, but he was sought to resolve all disputes between the rival bosses. The only order left from the old world was him. They were to elect a president to keep the peace. Someone to represent the needs and wants of all. Someone impartial. John did n't sign up for this. He was meant to be leader of the free world, instead, he was the godfather. He did n't have the stomach for this new world. His advisor was talking about the speech John had made the night before. For weeks he 'd been challenging the leaders of each region and calling his constituents stupid and shortsighted. Last night he thought it would all be over. He thought back to his speech. `` Are you even listening to me? Are you fuckers so stupid you ca n't see what is happening? There is nothing I can do to help you if you do n't want to help yourselves. The country has been fucked raw like a prostitute on pay day! We have nothing left. I have nothing left to give you, '' he hung his head as the cheers erupted, twice as loud as before. John 's hands gripped the sides of the podium to keep him standing. He let out a long sigh. Standing up in his office John walked over to refill his drink. The next four years were going to be long. *How hard could it be to get assisinated? * he pondered to himself as he poured another scotch.
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He had the eyes of a nice man, easy to speak to, easy to have fun with, but a hidden sadness seemed to be hidden within him, as if he was special in some way. He was staring at me, his old eyes piercing into me. Where could he have been? What could he have done? I wanted to speak to him, but I felt like my mouth could n't open, this person was so familiar, I felt like I saw them everyday. Normally, I would n't know anyone 's face. It takes me so long to remember faces it 's unimaginable, It took me years to remember my wife 's face, I ca n't even remember it now that 's she 's died. Even though I ca n't see her face in my mind, this man 's face was burned into my psyche. But now, as my train pulls to the stop, I realise that I knew who it was, he is getting off at the same station, a tear appears in my eyes, a tear appears in his. If only I could see her again, like I see myself.
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Rays of sunlight pierced the roof of the ancient structure. Weeds grew from the cracks in the once-solid stones lining the floor of the monolith. A breeze whispered through the hollow sockets once lined with colored glass. Upon the far wall, a great hunk of rusted iron in the shape of a cross seemed to struggle to maintain its own weight. A lone figure sat in the ruin. He wore dull brown robes, faded and worn by countless days of travel. This place had seemed as good as any to rest for the coming darkness. Even now the shadows crept up the walls as the sun hung ever lower in the sky. The figure reached out to grab a small figurine. It examined the statue in its weather-worn hands. Almost no detail remained, but it seemed to have once been feminine. After a few minutes, the figure threw the object away, seemingly disinterested in considering its origins for another minute. `` One hundred and twenty-five thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine '' the cloaked individual spoke. It was a gruff and masculine voice. Indeed, he, for he was male, had once been part of the ruined world around him. He had long forgotten what the number meant, but for as long as he could remember he had added one to the ever growing sum each time that the sun sank low in the sky. He did n't remember much of anything anymore. There was no reason to, no one with whom to share. The trees and birds cared little for his musings. The sun and sky certainly did n't entertain his questions, or his pleas, or his torment. He was alone. Then he heard it, a sound on the wind. It was faint, a hum. The sound grew louder, and the cloaked man stirred, straining to determine the nature of its origin. It was certainly no bird or beast that he knew. Then again, he did n't know much. The hum grew louder until the very building began to shake. Dust fell from its home in the rafters. Smaller pebbles began to dance on the floor. The great iron cross slid from its resting place against the far wall and broke into pieces on the floor. The man was afraid. He departed the structure in hast. At its entrance, he saw the source of the sound. An orb, shining in the sky. It was only feet from the stone ruin. He stared at it in utter awe. `` David Wright, you have been found ''. A voice spoke from the orb. It was impossible. He could not comprehend what he was witnessing. `` David Wright, do you understand me? '' The orb asked, its tone emotionless. The man, though he did n't know who 'David Wright' was, nodded. `` David Wright, you are being given a final chance to give up your isolation. Do you accept? '' He stared, un
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I woke up to something being stuffed in my mouth. I started coughing, and some ... *thing* was staring at me in a way that might have been apologetic. `` Sorry about that, '' it spoke. It had gray flesh and a strange homogenous mass for a face, and I could n't really tell how it was speaking. `` We were n't sure if you would be able to understand our native tongue, so we had to put a translator in your throat. '' I nodded, understandingly- except I totally did n't understand. `` Wh-who are you guys? '' The body, which seemed exactly like a human 's except not shrugged. `` The better question is who *you* are seeing as we 've never seen a creature like you. But first things first, how about dinner? '' I gulped. Were they planning to eat me? `` Sorry, but we do n't know the diets of alien creatures, but I 'm sure our chefs can come up with something for you. '' I blinked, and nodded. I could really go for some steak right now. - ^orhowtototallymisreadtheprompt
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I forget quickly how I died, while my attorney talks in his quiet, exhausted, almost unintelligible voice and walks towards a large wooden door, a hundred feet across the hall we 're in. `` First things first : I am a public attorney assigned to your case and, as you know from the world you previously resided on, public defenders have five minutes for each case every day. This is world is worse, so I will update you on your case and give you the instructions while we walk toward the door, then I will leave you forever. You are not in heaven or hell, and you are not immortal, so do not harm yourself. All humans are mortal, this is life, and yes, you died. This is not a dream. We know this for a fact. Never question any authority, spend your first thirty days to learn the law of the land and never leave your house after dark. You will be murdered and then it will be over for you. Yes, there are people who are better than others and no, you are not one of them, otherwise you would not be here. Please sign here. '' He hands me a sheet of paper and a pen that turns into a snake and I start levitating. The snake follows me and I run fast, but ca n't gain traction because my feet do n't touch the ground and the snake which has grown legs runs after me and while I am hunted down, I notice that I ca n't breathe. I wake up with Isaac and John talking quietly to each other and then looking at me. I want to yell at them. I want to throw my oxygen tank at them. But I remain quiet, as always. This is why I 'm here and not in a more peaceful place. I 'm one of those people. I lie and I get passive aggressive and take revenge quietly and oh, I do n't care about things that sound important. Like a human β s β autonomy β, fuck that. In case you also just arrived and you still do n't know what is going on, let me update you on the state of this world. See, my attorney only told me half of the truth and he might have told you the opposite. This world does not follow the laws of space and time so the thing with immortality is bullshit, the government is just covering their tracks. But let me start from the start. And just in case you wondered if you can just read about this in a book : this is a world, where you ca n't look it up online or in a history book. Truth is intertwined with lies, the universities are populated by con-artists selling you the most comforting sounding ideas for the highest price and the New New testament is a joke. See, after Jesus came here, and we had murdered him, he lost belief in us. And more importantly, he lost belief in the Father. Because He did not fulfill his promise to unite with him after death. Jesus turned away in disappointment and sat still on a stone waiting for death for forty days and a half. And it came swiftly. And after this, the religions withered away
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We 've been through this before. Atlantis was n't just a story. It was the prequel. It started with New York, then slowly crept down the east coast. Little by little the shoreline crept up, inches at a time until it was at the edge of the beach cottages and condos. But it did n't stop there. It was still hungry. We battered-down the hatches and waited, but it was months before its appetite came back. When it did, it was with vengeance. The ocean began devouring cities in a sad mockery of how we once plucked its creatures out for Tuesday dinner. Bodies were swept away as skyscrapers collapsed and crumbled and blew away in the sea breeze. We all tried to move inland, but it was too late. The highways were choked with cars before the water came and cleansed after it receded. Cleansed. That 's what the priests and rabbis and fathers were saying. The earth was being cleansed and the sinners were being swept away ... that 's what they were saying, until the chilly fingers of the ocean pulled the churches and cathedrals under with the sinners. The sea did n't care what you prayed to. It just made sure you believed in it. The lucky ones had yachts or the crafty ones fashioned boats out of the destruction. They floated off into the horizon hoping to find untouched islands or a dreamy European coast but the sea, she had swallowed them all whole. They feasted on the flesh of the bloated creatures that floated by but the meat was tainted. The debris that was being sucked out of our cities and the decay of the countless bodies had destroyed the entire ocean ecosystem. They all perished. Atlantis was n't just a story. It was a warning.
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I am a taxi driver. Mid-Manhattan area nothing special. I sit outside of hotels and carry people around to where they want to be. This is not my only job though. I used to drive a hearse. Carrying the dead just as I carry the living now. In all my years of driving a hears I can feel the cold of the dead in my back seat, and how there family and friends trust me with the dead body. That is why I became a taxi driver. No more pressure, no more stress. Except they have returned. I never look back on my passengers, but I feel that cold. The emptiness of a human. When I look back to take the money, they are ether some rich executive or famous celebrity. That was until one night when one tapped me on my shoulder mid drive. `` *Look buddy, I know you know I 'm not human. Here is a nice tip and safety for the up coming invasion, do n't tell anyone* '' His voice a slimy rasping noise as he hands me a card. `` You can have more if you work especially for us '' He voice returned to the swave clever business man that he was. `` *HA, YOU DO N'T HAVE A CHOICE* '' He left the car and did not even pay.
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Hillary coming up to the podium, audibly tired and in need of another shot of ambrosia and stem cells, taps the mic and coughs uncontrollably. She is no longer wearing her patented Kim Jong Un nightgown, but instead wears the mandatory sponsored uniform issued by the government, but something was odd. Instead of the normal slew of energy companies fawning for relevance something else was emblazoned on her chest. Loud and proud it seemed to suck in the color of the uniform, drawing all eyes towards it. Her bout of coughing seemed to end and looked ready to begin her inaugural speech in front of thousands of citizens eagerly awaiting what she will start at first in the beginning of her 4 year term. Hilary clears her throat and boasts, `` Citizens of America it brings me great honor to represent you as your commander in chief '', she waits for the applause to die down, `` And as your President I have only one question to ask you, Did you know that 15 minutes could save you 15 percent or more with Geico? '' The crowd loses it.
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